290 THE MOOR AND THE LOCH. 



a long line than with any sanguine hopes of a rise, I swept 

 my fly twice over this bit of water. At the second throw up 

 came a famous fellow. He turned his head down stream, and 

 dashed along, making my reel ring. There was now a race 

 different ways my son for the post-boy, and I with the fish. 

 Jehu came up puffing like a grampus, ready to grip his prey. 

 He soon saw that his services would not be required for some 

 time, as the salmon was fresh and strong, and making beauti- 

 ful play. Patience and caution at length brought the fish to 

 the bank ; and for the first time the post-boy, after having a 

 firm hold, lost it from the strength of the salmon. It was a 

 little while ere I could bring him within reach again, for the 

 fright gave him fresh vigour ; but the clutch at the root of the 

 tail was more sure next time, and we landed the finest fish as 

 yet taken in the Orchy since the season opened sixteen 

 pounds. I had both hooked and killed every fish I rose, and 

 with the same fly. 



Here let me caution gentlemen to be neither too sanguine 

 nor dispirited by the fishing-guide's prognostications of success 

 or failure from the weather. When you have good sport, they 

 are sure to say the day is all that can be wished. If, on the 

 contrary, you don't stir a fin, they will as certainly console you 

 with some flaw in the wind, water, or sky, how propitious 

 soever they all may have been. Catch them telling the angler 

 (what is more often than not the true cause) that it is his own 

 want of skill. The greatest bungler may more easily catch a 

 salmon than one of these chaps make such a mistake. 



Wild and uncouth were the exclamations and comments 

 from a circle of Highlanders, when the salmon were paraded 

 before the inn ; and truly absurd was the edification depicted 

 in my little fellow's features, as he stared from one rugged 

 weather-beaten face to another, severally delivering themselves 

 of their Gaelic sentiments. 



The cuckoo is a bird of bad omen if heard for the first time 

 before you break your fast. So said some mountain sage to 



