182 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
some look, the clear complexion, the bright eyes 
of a little girl revelling in the open air, catching 
her first trout. 
It is a picture I prefer to that of the girl who 
was lunching with two other ladies at a table near 
mine in a London restaurant. Between two 
courses she produced a bag, from which she.sud- 
denly extracted a small looking-glass. The result 
of careful inspection was the adjustment of a few 
wisps of hair. Afterwards out of the bag came a 
powder puff, which was duly and artistically 
employed. I rather enjoyed the observation of 
one of the other ladies who had been watching all 
this. “I say, Gertie, haven’t you brought your 
tooth-brush ?” 
Another instance of fisherwoman’s luck occurs 
to me. It was on the Mooi river in Natal. The 
family came down to the river where I was fish- 
ing, and my host and his two daughters threw a 
fly for the first time. Fishing had not much 
appealed to them, although they delighted to see 
their guests having sport and being happy. But 
this time they had a try. Before long my host 
got a small trout, and then came an excited call, 
‘“Oh! I’ve got one!” from one of the daughters, 
With a light fly-rod and a Hardy’s favourite the 
fair angler had hooked what was obviously a good 
trout. She made an appeal for the rod to be 
taken over, but this was firmly vetoed. It is a 
sound principle for each angler to catch his or her 
own first fish, unless, as in the case mentioned 
before, it is making for tree-roots, when a little 
