292 FISHING GOSSIP. 
As the angler descends, the music of the song-bird 
meets his ear from every bush, and the groves 
resound with the cooing of the wood-pigeon or the 
soft notes of the cuckoo, And now he approaches 
the scene of his anticipated triumph. There is the 
deep rocky pool and racing shallow, the whirling 
eddy and rippling stream—-now foaming over rocks, ' 
and now meandering slowly between green banks. 
Now it pauses as if to enjoy the glory of the pro- 
spect, then rushes impetuously forward, eager to drink 
in the grandeur of some new scene. Everything 
seems endowed with life to welcome the return of 
summer, and the very river is alive with leaping 
trout. No wonder that with Sir Henry Watton he 
finds “ fly-fishing” a “cheerer of the spirits, a tran- 
quilliser of the mind, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a 
diverter of sadness.” 
And then the art itself is lively and graceful. 
Look at the angler as he approaches some favourite 
spot. See him as he observes the monarch of the 
pool regaling himself on the incautious insect that 
sports in fancied security upon the surface. In- 
wardly he vows that it shall be avenged. Cautiously 
he approaches, concealing himself by kneeling, or 
keeping behind some bush, lest by any chance his 
expected prey should discover him and so be warned. 
Gracefully wheeling his long line behind, he lays 
his flies down softly as a snow-flake just above the 
