February 4, 1893] 
THE FISHING GAZETTE 
VV 
un ” from Drew the keeper, but we don’t catch 
him. I have had many black Mondays since 
then, but I think that one at Chertsey Weir holds 
the record for pure and unadulterated cussed¬ 
ness ; ” to break both rods at once was bad 
enough, but to lose a trout, and be “ sold ” by a 
tip hunting shepherd, then to hear of a “beauty” 
being taken by someone else, all in one day, 
proved a conglomeration of bad luck, that, to use 
the words of Artemus Ward (or somebody else), 
has been “ equalled by none, surpassed by few.” 
Another Monday in particular I shall never 
forget. Anglers who have experienced the same 
luck, will, I am sure, condole with me. 
I had long coveted leave to fish a certain 
private water near N-; an acquaintance, then 
living in that town, knew the stream well, and we 
had many times watched the movements of the 
trout, with which the water teemed; but, though 
be had often requested permission for a day’s 
fishing, it had invariably been denied us, the 
owner always making some excuse (though no 
fisherman himself) : it was, “ Oh ! I have let the 
fishing,” or “ I don’c want the fish caught,” or 
“ Ask me again next week,” or some equally non¬ 
sensical reason for refusing to give leave. 
Much to my surprise, therefore, I received a 
telegram late one Friday evening in June from 
B. “ Got leave for Monday.” Very short, but 
very sweet it was ; I could hardly believe my 
eyes; “ Hooray! what a day we will" have, and 
won’t we just make up for lost time 1” I spent 
the Saturday morning in looking out tackle, and 
laying in a stock of Mayfiies of different pat¬ 
terns; perfect woiks of art they were, too; rushed 
off to Padaington, wiring my friend, “Am under 
way; ” and on the journey down, indulged in 
visions of the fly being “ up,” and huge baskets 
of trout. 
B. met me with the dog-cart, and our long 
drive was perfectly enjoyable; “How did you 
manage it ? ” was my first question ; “ Oh ! went 
and badgered him once more, and he actually 
said YES! ” Ic turned oxit afterwards that “Old 
Surly,” as we nicknamed him, had just landed a 
lucky “spec.” in Kaffirs, and was in consequence 
in the best of humours. 
We strolled off on Sunday afternoon, and had a 
look at the water; nothing could have been 
“ fishier; ” a slight rise of fly, the trout madly 
on, feeding freely everywhere, and every pros¬ 
pect of grand sport on the following day. 
We took things very quietly on the Monday 
morning, being so certain of doing well. Had 
breakfast, and then drove placidly off. “ Come 
for us about eight o’clock to-night,” says B., and 
we jump down, and cross over the stile, putting 
our tackle together long before we reach the 
waterside. Near the stream the Mayflies were 
fluttering about in hundreds, and the swallows 
were “tucking them in” no end. “I shall get 
that one under the willow. He was a good one.” 
“ Eight you are,” nods B., and we walk down to 
the bank. Horror of horrors! the river is 
crammed with floating weeds ! “ Monday again,” 
say I. While we peacefully slept, weed cutting 
had been commenced in the upper waters, and 
our day’s fishing, so long waited for, was irre¬ 
trievably spoilt. 
I look round at B., and B. looks at me. 
With a tear in his eye, and he says, “ Can this be f ” 
We are ruined by wretched weed cutters, 
Which the same I most plainly could see.* 
We did no good all day, though we tried hard. 
We fancied at times that a long throw into an 
apparently clear space might get a fish ; but no, 
the line invariably dragged somewhere, scaring 
everything. We returned home with only a brace 
and a-half of small trout, the odd one being 
taken by myself from behind a stump which now 
and then checked the huge masses of weed for a 
while. We have never found out whether “Old 
Surly ” had anything to do with the weed cutting, 
but had our suspicions. Iffy journey home was 
not a pleasant one, especially as I was met with 
open arms, and a 
“ Well dear, and where are the fish ? ” 
If you are Interested In Books 
•end lis. (5d. in stamps for a copy post free every week for 
3 months of Tiim Puhmsiiers’ Circular and Booivsejh.eus’ 
KECt)KD/’ St. Dunstan's House, Fetter-lane, Fleet-street, 
London. 
^Tret Harte adapted. 
KEEP YOUR LINE IN THE 
WATER.^^ 
By the “Old Duefer.” 
A GOOD old maxim, to be observed by all 
brothers of the angle; but there is another, 
which, I think, ought to be hooked on to it, viz., 
“ keep your bait fishing.” There are two ways in 
fishing, as in everything else, a right and a wrong, 
and we erring mortals too often choose the latter, 
forgetting that each pool has its own peculiar 
individuality, if I may use such a word in con¬ 
nection with a river. The author of that useful 
and practical book, “ By Hook and by Crook,” 
seems to have that idea in his mind when he 
makes the remark, “ Some pools seem to favour 
particular anglers—it maybe that that particular 
angler’s method of casting may suit a pool better 
than that of others,” As regards the right and 
the wrong way, I think it may be briefly sum¬ 
marised thus : In fly-fishing, cast so that your 
fly fishes,the moment it touches the water, con¬ 
sequently you get a straight and fair pull at your 
risen fish. This is best accomplished by throwing 
a fair amount of line at an angle of about 4.5de,g. 
Should your line become bellied, from force of 
wind, or other causes, and this often happens when 
there is a strong stream, and comparatively 
slack water on either side, “take the belly or 
curve out”; if you do not your fly will not 
fish properly until it is close on your own 
side. This is accomplished by throwing the 
curved line over; but though easy enough to 
do, I should advise any one who does not under¬ 
stand the wrinkle, to study the diagrams on casting 
in the first volume of Fishing, Badminton Library. 
They will find the time spent in so doing much 
to their advantage. In worming dirty water for 
trout and sea-fish, “ keep the point of your rod 
over,” or even below your bait, and have “ no 
slack line.” Endeavour to do this, wind per¬ 
mitting, and you will reap the benefit of a good 
creel-full, if fish are at all on the move. Worm 
fishing in clear water I would describe ‘ as 
fishing up stream with a worm instead of a fly,” 
and a very killing process it is if artistically per¬ 
formed, but a precious difficult knack to get 
into. As regards rough fishing, I offer no opinion, 
not being well enough up in tnat branch of sport, 
but am very fond of having a day in a punt, 
nevertheless. I always try to act up to the 
heading of this article, and work hard while at 
the river side, and as I’ve been at the game since 
I was a very small urchin until now, when I’m a 
bit “ frosty on the pow,” I think I have as much 
chance of proving the truth of the saying as 
most people. This last season, while salmon 
fishing, it was well exemplified. For eight days 
I worked fruitlessly, trying many changes of 
flies both in sizes and colours, and would not 
be sure that I rose a fish, certainly I never got 
such a “ lug ” as I could safely swear by". If the 
water had not been in capital order, and a good 
peat colour the whole time, I might have thought 
I was in the position of the fisherman described 
in General Outram’s poem, and that the fish wei’e 
performing the same antics on mo— 
“ Bnfc deep, deep the stream in, 
I taw his sides a-gleaiiiiu’, 
The king of the sanraon sae pleasauntly lay he. 
I thought he was sleepin’. 
But, on further peepin’, 
I saw by his teeth ho was lauclun’ at me.” 
However, a change came over the spirit of my 
dream, and I broke the spell. 
Sept. 29.—Rained a good deal last night, and, 
on going down to the river before breakfast, I 
found the water had not risen materially^ though 
there was every indication of its doing so soon, 
as the small burn near my diggings was running 
a shade dirty, and there were some leaves coming 
down the main stream—a sure sign of rising 
water. While at breakfast the rain came on 
again, and my chum, who was a bit seedyr, said he 
would not tempt Providence by going out, and 
advised me to stay at home. But being, like the 
“ baste that pays the rint,” a bit pig-headed, I got 
into my waders, mackintosh, and felt-hat—the 
best head-gear possible for a wet day, particularly 
if old and comfortable—and started for the B. 
pool, about a short mile away. This I fished 
with no result. Just as I finished the catch, the 
river showed signs of thickening, but still I 
thought there was time, so I hurried on to “ The 
Lower R.” When I got there it was blowing 
hard and raining in torrents, and I knew that in 
about ten minutes fly fishing would be over for 
the day. In a few casts I was into him, and my 
re-1 was singing that sweet music so dear to a 
fisherman’s ear. 
“ A birr, a whirr, a salmon's on, 
A goodly fish, a thumper ; 
And if I land him I will quaff 
In good old Scotch a bumper.” 
Oh, that little word “ if.” Here I was stuck 
into my first fish of the season, and “ Master, he 
was a good one,” on the bank of a rapidly rising 
mountain river, and the chances being very 
remote that any one would turn up to help me. 
Had I been able to “ run him,” I could have 
stranded him on the shingle lower down, but the 
state of the river precluded this, so the only 
chance was to fight him near where I was ; a 
good enough place provided he did not come in 
near the bank, which was heavily weired with 
fresh bushes. Fortune favoured me, for presently 
I got him near a tolerably safe place, so I unslung 
my gaff, and made a stroke with it; this was 
rather an unlucky venture, for I scratched him 
slightly, and a brilliant run was the result; but 
that being over the steady strain broke his 
heart, and he came in slowly but surely. I 
ran his head and shoulders on to a sloping 
cast track, laid down my rod, reel upwards, 
stepped quietly towards him, inserted the gaff 
into hif! gills, and the prize was mine. I carried 
him, and the rod a good way from the river 
before I attempted to take the fly out or kill him. 
He was a clean run fish of 26Ub., and we found a 
couple of sea lice on him, when being weighed at 
home. I was pretty well done after this perform¬ 
ance, so had a pull out of the flask, just tor luck’s 
sake, and as I also managed to light my pipe, 
began to feel fairly comfortable. While T was 
stowing him in the bag, the keeper came up, and, 
as he was going to the village, I was rather glad 
to see him, for having admired the fish, and 
guessed the w'eight, he put the bag on his back, 
and the river being now like “ pea-soup,” I gave 
up for the day. So much for keeping your line 
in the water, and going in for the off-chance. Last 
autumn was a leaky one until the end of October, 
and consequently we had lo s of water, and often 
too much of it, flood after flood coming down ; 
but would you be “ surprised to hear ” that I got 
two fish in five days under the conditions detailed 
above?—viz., going out on the off-chance when 
the water was rising, and with the same fly. We 
read that anglers are the greatest “romancers,” 
to put it mildly, under the sun, bnt every one 
is not so incredulous as “ The Angler’s Wife,” who 
disputed the veracity of a letter in your columns 
some time ago; should she “really” be so un¬ 
believing, I pity the butcher, baker, &c., when she 
puts their goods on the scales. Perhaps some of my 
readers may take the tip, and try for a salmon 
with a good big fly, when the water is rising. 
Some anglers say, and with a great deal of 
truth, that flies kill best under certain conditions ; 
would that we had those theories and facts put 
into a tangible form. We know that silver is 
good in a sun; black and yellow, either singly or 
combined, shows well in a brown or peat water, 
so a “Durham Ranger” or “Jock Scott” are 
grand at the tail of a flood; and I have done 
well with a Beaufort Moth when it was so dark 
I could not tell where my fly fell. I wish some 
accomplished angler w'ould put facts such as these 
into a collated form, coupling them with instances; 
and to help on the idea, I give the dressing of the 
fly I killed the fish with; the conditions were— 
a rising w"ater, a gale of wind, and a leaden sky. 
Dressing. 
Tag. —Silver and blue floss silk. 
Tail. —Topping, gallina, tippet, blue and red 
macaw. 
Butt. —Blue, herb 
Body. —Golden yellow floss, silver tinsel and 
gold thread. 
Hackle. —Dark orange yellow all over. Gallina 
at shoulder (large spot). 
Wing. —Topping. Teal, red and blue swan, 
golden pheasant tail. Dun turkey (a brown 
leather with large black bar and white tip). 
This would be a useful fly in any water, with 
ving perhaps modified a little. 
