FLY FISHING FOR TROUT AND GRAYLING. 315 
fail ; but, short of this extreme case, a palliative may be adopted 
—more wholesome, I admit, than savoury—by a keeper who 
will condescend to details. A few of the crows, magpies, stoats, 
or cats, that have fallen victims to his professional zeal, may be 
hung on branches overhanging the water holes in which the fish 
are gathered to keep their enforced Lent, and a goodly shower 
of gentles will greatly soften the rigour of the fast. In fact, no 
source of supply should be overlooked. 
Few anglers are unacquainted with the annoyance of fre- 
quent wasps’ nests along the bank of the stream they are fishing. 
I have myself more than once been driven to ignominious 
flight from a promising pool, and the thought has come into 
my mind, ‘1 hope when that nest is taken its fragments may be 
thrown into the stream.’ If anyone asks, ‘Why, what’s that 
good for?’ I reply with Shylock, ‘To bait fish withal !’ 
GRAYLING. 
I have thus far spoken almost exclusively of trout. The 
grayling, however, deserves more than a mere casual notice, 
and Cotton’s ghost might haunt me if in writing of ‘ fine and 
far off’ J ignored the fish he loved so well. 
And indeed, ‘for my own particular,’ I greatly admire the 
grayling, who, I think, is less prized than he deserves. His 
beauty is the least of his merits—yet how beautiful he is ! 
Taken out of season—in June, for instance, or early July—the 
dull yellow-brown of his back and sides is not attractive ; but 
when he has recovered his condition, and adds the charm of 
colour to his always graceful shape—when he shows a rich 
dark tint down to the mesial line, and silver mail as bright as 
that of the salmon in level lines below, while his lofty back. 
fin, like some ‘storied window, richly dight,’ transmits the 
sunshine through purple, red, and gold, no. lovelier prize, save 
the rarely caught red char, can grace an angler’s creel. The 
curious vegetable fragrance, again, whence he draws his name 
