120 A SCOTTISH FLY-FISHER 



trout have begun to rise and the prospects of sport to 

 brighten. Its effects are disastrous. The fish are 

 leaping all around in seeming derision of the plight of 

 the unhappy anglers, but the maze is intricate and hard 

 to follow, and tempers strained to breaking threaten to 

 give way entirely at the irritating delay. The wisdom 

 of the ancient adage in which we are advised to hasten 

 slowly is verified in the experience of the fishermen ; in 

 their impatience their fingers refuse obedience to their 

 wills, and much valuable time slips quickly away into 

 the past before the mischief is repaired. It is rectified 

 at last, however, but just too late ; the fish have dis- 

 appeared and the water is again empty and still. The 

 anglers have lost an opportunity unlikely to recur, 

 and they resume their occupation in gloomy silence. 

 The pleasure has all gone out of their sport. They 

 continue to cast, but half-heartedly, without interest ; 

 one painfully conscious of offence but aggrieved at the 

 dumbly accusing countenance of his companion ; the 

 other righteously indignant, suppressing with difficulty 

 a wrath he would fain pour out in floods of lurid 

 language. The day, which arose in hope and continued 

 in joy, descends in disappointment and despair. The 

 ties of a life-long friendship have been rent asunder on 

 provocation much less grave. 



