FLY-FISHING.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 51, 19 December 1891, Page 715

FLY-FISHING.

IMMY LEIGHTON was a real little waterousel for wading and splashing in the water. The mountain water was cold, too, and the rrj, mountain wind chapped his bare, wet legs and feet so that they had to be rubbed with mutton-tallow every night, while Jimmy whimpered. Yet every morning, the first thing when they plunged out of bed, plump those same obstinate legs and feet would go in the ditch by the door. So when he saw I'ncle Jim getting his rod and flies ready to go a-fishing, Jimmy ran up and begged to go along. • Oh, your legs are so short you could never stand in the swift water,’ said Uncle Jim, looking down at his small namesake. * And if yon slipped and were swept down a big trout would snap you up for a fat bull-pout.’ ‘ I ain’t a bull-pout,’ said Jimmy. ‘ And I wade in the ditch all the time. Let me go too, Uncle Jim.’ ‘ No, you can’t go this time,’ Uncle Jim said; ‘but I’ll show you my flies. ’ Then Uncle Jim knelt and opened his fly-book, and spread out all his gay-coloured flies before Jimmy. ‘ Now, yon must not touch,’ he said, ‘or you’ll get a hook in your fingers, and then I’ll have to shut up> the book.’ Jimmy sat on the doorstep and held his hands clasped tight behind him to keep from ’.onching, for he felt just like a big trout ready to rise and take one with a snap, they looked so tempting. ‘ Oh, ain’t they pretty, Uncle Jim ! What are they made out of ?’ ‘ Silk and feathers and tinsel,’ said I'ncle Jim. ‘ I think this big red one is the prettiest,’ said Jimmy, and put his pudgy forefinger on what Uncle Jim called a ‘ royal coachman.’ But no sooner had he touched it, than Uncle Jim closed the fly-book and took up his rod and said, ‘ I must be going. Good-bye, Jimmy.’ Jimmy ran after him to the yard gate and looked over and saw him wading, away down the creek, casting his flies.

Then, when he was clear out of sight, Jimmy ran to where mamma was reading. ‘ O mamma, you make ms a fishpole and some flies, and I’ll go fishing, too.’ So mamma laid aside her look and went out to the thicket of supple jacks, and cut and peeled a nice slim fly-rod for her little boy. Then she tied on it a long length of cord for a line, and bent a piece of bailing wire for a hook. But still Jimmy wasn’t satisfied. He ran to the chicken house and came back with a glossy green rooster feather. ‘ Now, mamma, you make a fly,’ he said. Mamma laughed. But she snipped the feather with her scissors and tied it on to the hook to please Jimmy. Then she said :

* Now run along and fish in the ditch, and bring me the first one you catch. But you mustn’t wade. Try not to wade Mis one time, Jimmy, for your feet are so chapped.’ ‘ 1 won’t wade this time, mamma,’ said Jimmy, stoutly. And for once he didn't, but just walked along the bank and let the feather float before him.

But the trout didn’t rise, and the sun was hot, and when he reached a little clump of willows growing by the ditch he sat down to rest in the shade.

When Uncle Jim came along with his sack of trout, he found Jimmy still resting, for he was fast asleep, with his rod lying in the ditch and the feather floating in the water. Uncle Jim Jooked at it and laughed. He took it up, and when he put *it back in ths Hater he laughed still more, only not so loud as to awaken Jimmy. Then he went on to the house, and began to clean his fish.

Mamma was standing near him in the doorway when up came Jimmy. He was breathless and his eyes were very

big, for he carried a great big tine speckled trout swung to his line.

• Oh, what a great big beauty !' cried mamma. ‘ 1 got him,’ said Jimmy. ‘ I got him, and I didn’t wade, neither.

* Let me see, said I ncle Jim, ‘ Why, it’s bigger than any I have here.’

And he and mamma laughed, and Uncle Jim said Jimmy could beat him fishing. Then Uncle Jim cleaned it, and mamma fried it. And though it was a big trout, Jimmy ate it all himself, he was so hungry after going a fishing.