to the Bulldog; the least to be done was another trial with a fly of a
different pattern. But he remained sulky or scared.

Then we took to the boat, and began to fish the well-known water with
careful assiduity. And my heart sank as time sped along, and
resting-place after resting-place for fish was deliberately worked
without result. Low clouds, in horizontal strata of white masses,
shrouded the mountain sides, there was a miserable shiver of wind upon
the water, and for any token to eye or hand there might not have been a
fish in the river. By and by we came to the conclusion that, for the
time being, the game was not worth the candle; and we went ashore to
snatch a hasty luncheon under the dripping eaves of a boat-house. In
the bows of the boat there were two fish, so insignificant that we
would not weigh them, though we afterwards found that they were each
about 2 lb. We shrugged our shoulders on the surmise that either there
had been no run of sea trout during these propitious moonlight nights,
or that they were by one consent in one of their non-taking humours.
Sea trout, however, are notoriously capricious, and not being likely to
get any moister than I already was from the rain, I determined, before
saying a final good-bye, to toil on through the two hours after low
water, notwithstanding that what remained was the lower part of the
beat on which the slight incoming tide made itself felt earliest.

When you are fishing on the forlorn-hope principle, you are not
thinking much about the immediate chances of sport. At times of
anything like encouragement, you are keenly particular as to the fall
of the fly and its correct working on an even keel; nay, you are so
sensitive and alert that the touch of a passing leaflet on the hook
produces some sort of excitement. Every cast goes out with a cluster
of hopes in pursuit, and dreams as to possibilities; you keep looking
round to be satisfied that the gaff is ready to hand, and everything in
the boat shipshape for action. As it was after luncheon to-day, you
think of anything but a fish taking hold; you swish on monotonously and
mechanically; you muse of friends at home and abroad, of the sport you
enjoyed yesterday or the day before, of chances lost, perhaps even of
your general career through either a well-ordered or misspent life as
the case may happen to be; and then, hey presto! you are startled,
brought up with a round turn by a sudden plunge of the rod