MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



I fished it alone, and so required to land my own 

 fish, if and when I hooked them. 



It was one of those lucky days when all went well. 

 I started by hooking a ten-pounder just where the 

 current widened out into the broader sweep, and duly 

 beached him on the gravel. Then followed a run 

 of fortune. Every third or fourth cast I was into 

 another fish, none of them large, and landed every 

 one. 



Eventually MacGregor appeared from the upper 

 water with one good fish of 18 pounds, to find 

 me smoking the pipe of satisfaction, and seven 

 fish from 7 to 14 pounds lying on the gravel at my 

 feet. 



I had no doubt happened by chance to meet a 

 school of fresh-run salmon that for a few hours were 

 resting in the Long Pool before facing the strong 

 rapid above. 



This was really an instance of ' duffer's luck,' for 

 the river had not been fishing well at the time, and 

 what few fish were running were inclined to move 

 quickly through our beat to the upper stretches of 

 the river. 



There is no doubt that c duffer's luck ' is a real and 

 constant feature in all forms of sport possibly 

 designed by a kindly Providence for the encourage- 

 ment of young beginners. 



A young man I knew once left Euston by the night 

 mail to fish the Irish Erne. He knew little or 

 nothing of salmon-fishing, and had never previously 

 set eyes on the noble river he was going to fish. 



Arriving at Bally shannon next afternoon, he 

 promptly was taken by Pat Kogan, his appointed 

 gillie, to a favourite stream on the south bank, known 



