248 I GO A- FISHING. 



again and again without varying the drop of the tail fly 

 more than three feet. This is a tremendous cast, and 

 few will be able to get out much over seventy feet. 



Another of my rods is twelve feet long, and weighs 

 nine ounces, the additional weight being chiefly in the 

 second joint and tip. This makes a stiffer rod, and suit- 

 able for river and brook fishing, where the cover forbids 

 long casting, and where a short line is often to be guided 

 on running water among overhanging bushes. 



The weight of the line will always depend on the weight 

 of the rod. I prefer the ordinary braided-silk line to any 

 other. The prepared lines are not objectionable until 

 they are worn, when they give trouble. But all anglers 

 have their fancies, as I mine, and the best rule for every 

 one is to use the rod and line which best suits him. He 

 is an ill-judging angler who allows himself to be made 

 uncomfortable for the sake of following the notions of 

 dilettant anglers. I have seen many times the nonsense 

 of following rules. One evening, when the sun was going 

 down on Follansbee Pond in a tempest, and large trout 

 were rising as fast as I could throw two scarlet ibis flies, 

 a strong fellow struck the bobber and carried away the 

 leader, and I had not a red fly left in my book. I made 

 up another leader with dark and light flies, but nothing 

 rose. Then I saw that my old guide Steve Turner had 

 on a red flannel shirt, and I shouted to him, for he was 

 in another boat, for a piece of it. He whipped out his 

 knife and cut off a piece and brought it to me; and with 

 a rag of red flannel on each fly I took large trout at ev- 

 ery cast, till the deep darkness and heavy rain drove me 

 ashore. That was more than fifteen years ago, and 

 Steve's red shirt has served my turn many a day since, 

 and a fragment of it lies in an old fly-book to this day. 



