THE WEATHER 173 



conduct of that symbol of inconstancy, the wind, which, 

 starting from the east at break of day, accompanies the 

 sun upon his daily race, and slips quietly back into the 

 east again as night prepares to spread her mantle o'er 

 a tired and slumberous world. On the eveninor of such 

 a day the trout are almost certain to be rising freely. 



Of one June evening of the kind I still retain a very 

 pleasant memory. The sun is setting amid streaks of 

 purple cloud in a sky of amethyst and green. The loch 

 is placid as a mirror, save where an occasional caddis- 

 • fly, just relieved of its pupal-case, 



- ^~^r^\CBKSS^^ scurries along the surface of the 

 ~^^^^^^^ water. The flies pursue their 



aimless way unchecked, for the 

 trout are not yet on the move. Neither is the 

 angler. He lies outstretched upon the grassy bank, 

 falling, like the mild-eyed Lotus-eaters, asleep in a half 

 dream. It is an hour inviting to reverie. Sunk in 

 thought, he lies unconscious of his surroundings. A 

 pair of summer-snipe flit past him, emitting their 

 peculiar note, but he does not see them; a "peesweep" 

 overhead, coming on him unawares, utters a cry of 

 alarm as it suddenly diverges in its flight, but he does 

 not hear it. There is but one sound to which his ears 

 are open. The loud "flop" of a feeding fish recalls 



