AN AUTUMN FISHING 169 



" got him " from the man lying full length 

 along the fallen tree, and soon a gleaming 

 fresh-run twelve-pounder was passed back 

 to safety, where he lay resplendent under 

 the lee of a furze-bush. Prompt dexterity 

 alone could have succeeded in such a pool. 

 An extra minute must have seen the line 

 caught in the snags and the fish lost. 



The local patterns of salmon flies will 

 doubtless come as somewhat of a shock to 

 the visitor when first he arrives in Brittany. 

 They are indeed gaunt, clumsy- looking 

 creatures in effect, destitute of what we 

 understand as "wing." Only experience 

 can teach that they are here more suc- 

 cessful than our customary full-winged 

 patterns. For some mysterious reason 

 Jean Pierre and the Breton salmon do 

 not approve of wings. My old friend has 

 sanctioned our Jock Scott, Popham, and 

 Black Doctor — or, rather, he likes their 

 colour but not their form. These three 

 flies he ties in sizes ranging from 12 to 16 

 (Limerick " Rational " scale). The dress- 

 ing is very sparse and the wings practically 

 negligible, the few wing fibres which exist 

 being made to lie along with the hackles 



