THE WEEDY LOCH. 99 



A fisherman in the neighbourhood gave me a strange 

 account of a moss-hole for it deserves no more dignified 

 name which breeds trout of twelve pounds' weight. As 

 the " weedy loch " was only half an hour's walk from 

 Inverary, I took advantage of the first favourable day to 

 give it a trial, both with fly and bait, for one of these 

 monsters. I thought my guide was joking when he 

 pointed to a shallow hole, no bigger than an English 

 duck-pond, and so overgrown with water-plants that 

 there were scarcely three square yards clear. After 

 watching for a little time, a great break of the water, but 

 slow and heavy, in the midst of the weeds, betokened the 

 kind of customers I should have to deal with. The 

 trolling-rod was quickly baited, but there was some diffi- 

 culty to find opening enough for the hook to sink. After 

 shifting several times, for the great bubbles at top of the 

 water were still seen at distant intervals, I put on the 

 most approved fly for the " weedy loch," viz., a red wing 

 from the landrail's feather, (a partridge tail feather will 

 do as well,) and a green body. It was the strangest 

 fishing I ever attempted, to pitch the fly at every open 

 space, however small, and twitch back again without 

 playing it an inch. Even thus, you were almost sure of a 

 weed at each endeavour. I did hook a fish, however, and, 

 thanks to the goodness of my tackle, landed him in spite 

 of them. It was the shortest, thickest, and most silvery 

 yellow trout I ever brought to the bank of loch or river. 

 Weight, two pounds and a half. Angus, my guide, told 

 me that all the very large ones were caught with worm ; 



