SIXTH DAY.
HALIEUS—POIETES—ORNITHER—PHYSICUS.
MORNING.
Hal.—Well met, my friends! It is a fine warm morning, there is a fresh breeze, the river is in excellent order for fishing, and I trust our good behaviour yesterday will ensure us sport to-day. There must be a great many fresh run fish in the pool; and after twenty-four hours’ rest, some of those that were indisposed to take on Saturday evening, may have acquired appetite. Prepare your tackle, and begin: but whilst you are preparing, I will mention a circumstance which every accomplished fly fisher ought to know. You changed your flies on Saturday with the change of weather, putting the dark flies on for the bright gleams of the sun, and the gaudy flies when the dark clouds appeared: now, I will tell you of another principle, which it is as necessary to know as the change of flies for change of weather; I allude to the different kinds of fly to be used in particular pools, and even for particular parts of pools. You have fished in this deep pool; and if you were to change it for a shallower one, such as that above, it would be proper to use smaller flies of the same colour; and in a pool still deeper, larger flies; likewise in the rough rapid at the top, a larger fly may be used than below at the tail of the water: and in the Tweed or Tay, I have often changed my fly thrice in the same pool, and sometimes with success—using three different flies for the top, middle, and bottom. I remember, that when I first saw Lord Somerville adopt this fashion, I thought there was fancy in it; but experience soon proved to me how accomplished a salmon fisher was my excellent and lamented friend, and I adopted the lesson he taught me, and with good results, in all bright waters.
Poiet.—I will try the correctness of your principle. Look at the fly now on my line; where would you recommend me to cast it?
Hal.—It is a large gaudy fly, and is fit for no part of this pool, except the extremely rough head of the torrent: there I dare say it will take in this state of the waters.
Poiet.—Good, I hooked a large fish, but alas! he is off: Yet I thought he was fairly caught.
Hal.—The hook, I think, turned round at the moment you struck, and carried off some scales from the outside of his mouth.
Poiet.—You are right: see, the scales are on the hook. I cannot raise another fish: I have tried almost all over the pool. I thought I saw a fish rise at the tail of the rapid.
Hal.—You did: he refused the fly. Now put on a fly one third of the size and of the same colour, and I think you will hook that fish.
Poiet.—I have done so—and he is fast; and a fine fish; I think a salmon.