176 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
Prominent among lady anglers is Mrs, R. B. 
Marston, which is very fitting considering her 
husband’s position in the fishing world. Indeed 
he says she is the keenest fisher he has ever met— 
and he must have met quiteafew ! Mrs. Marston 
delights in dry-fly fishing, watching for rises in 
the approved manner and observing what Mrs. 
Battle called “the rigour of the game.” “The 
weather does not matter to her, and the difficulty 
is to get her away from the water when she is out 
with rod and line.” Her daughters are anglers 
too. 
Some women throw a very pretty fly. I 
watched a lady fishing on Torquay reservoir last 
year, and admired the way in which she handled 
a three-quarter pound trout. I admired also the 
ease with which she cast. She did it equally well, 
it seemed to me, with either hand. Ambi- 
dexterity in fishing is not only admirable, but also 
of physical benefit; obviously, the muscles get 
relief. 
Once when wet-fly fishing in Natal I essayed 
seriously to throw with the left hand. Being 
naturally right-handed, I found my left awkward, 
but I got along pretty well and made fair practice. 
But the thing was spoilt by the periodical convic- 
tion that at certain spots I was sure to get a good 
rise—and then almost unconsciously back went 
the rod to the right hand! In England, last 
year, I sometimes threw with the left hand, but I 
found myself afflicted with the same tendency to 
trust only the right hand in times of need. Asa 
