A MAYO LAKE 



earned shilling, we get upon the water again under 

 much more favourable auspices. The sun is a trifle 

 too bright, perhaps, but there is a fair breeze from the 

 west, and a white cloud or two sail boldly across the 

 blue sky every now and again, chequering the lake 

 with cool shadows. The sea-trout on Beltra have, 

 however, been rising none too well of late, and we are 

 by no means sanguine. Our boatman manifestly under- 

 stands his business, and, moving steadily round the 

 lough, we get to work, the soft breeze materially as- 

 sisting our casting operations. Three or four brown 

 trout, the biggest of them over half a pound in weight, 

 are hooked and landed, and then comes that delightful, 

 boiling rise, which can never be mistaken, of a strong 

 sea-trout white trout, as they call them in Ireland. 

 The rise is a good one, and the fish is firmly hooked ; 

 and now comes a desperate little battle betwixt fish and 

 angler. There is no better fighter in the world than 

 this pluckiest of the Salmonidce. Three desperate leaps 

 out of the water, displaying the sea-trout's clean shape 

 and silvery sides critical moments these and then 

 the fish bores away frantically, demanding and receiv- 

 ing six or eight yards of line. But the battle is to the 

 strong, and in five minutes the white trout is conquered 

 and brought alongside the boat. One quick sweep of 

 the landing-net, and the fish, a beauty of just upon two 

 pounds, lies before us. 



Having administered the quietus and duly admired 

 the fair proportions of the capture, we get to work 

 again. Another brown trout or two, and then follow 

 in pretty rapid succession the bold, pulse-quickening 

 rises of four sea-trout, three of which, varying in weight 

 from three-quarters of a pound to one pound and three- 

 quarters, are after some minutes of delightful excite- 

 ment brought to bag. Then some few more mixed 

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