Before he married, he
locked the door, when the fishing was good, and put the key in his
pocket, but now Mrs. Bigglethorpe minded the shop in his absence. Having
supplied Coristine with hooks and lines, and recommended him what kind
of a rod to cut out of the bush for ordinary still fishing, he offered
to lend him one of his own fly rods, and opened his fly book for his
inspection. Soon the pair were deep in all kinds of artificial flies and
their manufacture, Black and Red and White Hackles, Peacock Fly,
Mackerel, Green Grasshopper, Black Ant, Governor, Partridge, and a host
more. The lawyer declined the rod, as the storekeeper informed him that,
so late in the season and in the day, it was utterly useless to look for
trout. He had better get old Batiste at the Inn to dig him up some
earthworms, and go fishing with them like the boys. He would find a
canoe moored near the bridge which he could use. Who it belonged to Mr.
Bigglethorpe didn't know, but it was of no consequence, for everybody
took it that wanted it for a morning or afternoon. If Mr. Coristine
heard of any new kind of fly, perhaps he'd be good enough to remember
him and let him know, something killing for autumn use, or, as people
say here, for fall fishing.
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