116 AN ANGLER'S SEASON 



it fortunate, on the whole, that rainbows 

 do not willingly make homes in this 

 country. They are beautiful fish, and 

 very game ; but, it is said, they cease to 

 rise at fly when they have attained a 

 weight of about 2 lb., and it is beginning 

 to be feared that our native trout suffer 

 from them severely. 



Over the heather-clad uplands at the 

 back of the crag which has been men- 

 tioned flows the Moness, towards which, 

 when May comes round, our neighbour 

 the Provost turns an eager fancy. At 

 half- past five one bright morn, looking 

 out of the window of my room, I saw 

 him, in his garden, staring fixedly at our 

 roof. I dressed, went out, and asked 

 whether anything was wrong. O, no. 

 He had only been watching for the 

 appearance of smoke from our chimneys ; 

 which would let him see that the house- 

 hold was astir. There had been heavy 

 rain in the night, and the burn would 



