The casual reader of Francis Francis' A Book on Angling may have overlooked the rather innocuous footnote for "The Claret" salmon fly which appears in the list of general salmon flies:

" I call this a claret. I hardly know what would be the proper term. Some might call it a fiery brown, but having the fate of Martin Kelly before me, I eschew Fiery Browns."

And even again, as we proceed to read Francis' description of flies used on the Laxford, we read about the description of the hackle used in "The Lascelles" and frightfully begin to wonder what is this all about?

" . . .hackle, claretty brown (this is what I consider fiery brown, only, as I have said, I fear the fate of Martin Kelly, if I attempt to decide this awful shade of mystery). . ."

It was not until I acquired a book entitled Salmon Fishing in Canada By A : Resident edited by Col. Sir James Alexander published in 1860 that the mystery of Francis' words took on new meaning.

Herewith I extract from chapter three, with homage to the editor and publisher of Salmon Fishing in Canada By A Resident, the story of Martin Kelly and the curse of the fiery brown.

Although perfectly aware that only a very general and imperfect answer has been given to the question at the head of the last chapter, I prefer asking and answering another in this one, in order that the angler who resolves to visit the Jacques Cartier, may know with what to try his hand there, and for the reason that I have found the same flies which were successful in that river, as killing as any others in the streams and pools lying to the eastward of Quebec, the description of and mode of approaching which will constitute the greater part of this little book.

The flies I have invariably found the best are those which the Shannon fisherman call "tassels," that is, the wings of which are composed of a number of minute fibres of the feathers of different birds, in which no one colour largely predominates; the whole taken together being rather a rich brown than of a gaudy hue. The favourite bodies are made of mohair of every tint, from "fiery brown" to "dark claret." The tinsel or gold twist or silver, the streamer or tail a small feather from the golden pheasant's topknot. When however I speak of size, I do not mean to have it inferred that larger flies are never to be used, nor smaller ones tried; every fisherman knows that the size of his fly should be proportioned to the depth of the water in which he angles; flies may therefore, generally, be of the medium size, with this proviso, that I have very seldom found larger flies of any use, and have often had good sport with smaller ones.

Having mentioned "fiery brown" in the foregoing paragraph, it occurs to me to state that I do not know any colour which is so difficult to be obtained, or concerning which there are so many conflicting opinions. When I lived in the county of Clare, and fished Rossroe Lake, a son of a Captain Bridgeman, who resided in the neighbourhood, used frequently to accompany me in my excursions, and whenever the trout were sulky and the sport was dull, my young friend used to heave a heavy sigh, and utter an ardent wish that we had " 'one' fly made of his father's real fiery brown." As this was often the case, and we could not by any manoeuvring get hold of the old gentleman's book of colours, I wrote to Martin Kelly to send me a dozen of "fiery browns." In a few days I received the flies, which appeared to me to be everything that a man or a trout could wish for, in an extremely civil letter from old Martin, in which he expressed an ardent hope that they would be found according to order, and an earnest expectation of further commands. I hastened to notice my friend Bridgeman to meet me at Roger Hickey's, the usual rendezvous, early on the following morning, convinced that I had got the real thing, and that we should have a boat full of trout before the shades of evening fell upon us. When at length we had got under weigh, I handed my tail fly to my companion with the question, "Well, Bridgeman, what do you think of that?" "Well," said he, "that's a neat fly, and ought to do." " That's the "fiery brown' " said I. " Oh no," said he, "it's a good 'brown,' but it's not the real 'fiery' brown."

Our sport on this occasion was indifferent, so on the following day I addressed another epistle to old Martin Kelly, telling him I was pleased with the flies he had sent me, and convinced that earlier in the season they would have done good work, and requesting him to send me a dozen of the real 'fiery' browns of the same size. In due time Martin transmitted to me the flies, stating that extreme pains had been taken to meet my wishes; and expressing a confident hope that they would give satisfaction.

Again I summoned my friend Bridgeman; again we failed to realise the sport which he had always promised me from the possession and exhibition of "the real 'fiery brown.' " Rather impatient at the bad sport, and disgusted at the imputation cast upon the credit of my ancient friend Martin, I held a fly between Bridgeman's eyes and the light, and rather testily asked him, while I pointed to the glistening fibres in the body;

"If that is not fiery brown, will you be good enough to tell me what is?" "Oh," said he, "the fly is well enough, and as neatly tied as one could wish; but still it's 'not' the 'real' fiery brown."

Strong in my faith in old Martin, I again addressed him, emphasising in my order for another dozen of flies the word "real;" again I had an extremely civil reply, enclosing another dozen of well-tied flies, and assuring me that, in compliance with my former orders, he had done his utmost, as well as in the present instance, to meet my wishes; and venturing very respectfully to suggest that I should send him a pattern of the coloured fly I required, in which case he had no doubt but that he would execute the order in such a manner as to give satisfaction. In answer to which, after having failed to have any great success with the flies he enclosed, I wrote to him to say "that a specimen or pattern of the 'real fiery' brown was the very thing of which I was in search, and that if he could not furnish it I must only say it was by no means creditable to his establishment." Upon this I received a short well-written letter, in which the old man asserted that he had spared no pains, having sent to both Scotland and England for varieties of the fiery brown, specimens of all of which he had sent me; but that he perceived with regret that in the present instance he could not please me, and begged therefore very respectfully to give up the commission." Very shortly after the termination of this correspondence, which was seriously commenced, and towards the conclusion carried on in banter, old Martin Kelly died; and one of my imaginative friends insisted that his inability to discover the 'real fiery brown,' was the cause of his illness and his death. I should add that the desire for the real fiery brown had spread very widely amongst Irish fishermen at this time, several having read the letters above alluded to, and mentioned the matter to others, so that I believe few days passed over during that summer in which there was not some application at Kelly's shop in Sackville Street for this mysterious and unobtainable fly.

Several years subsequent to these events, and after I had been four years in Canada, and had ascertained the virtues of the fiery brown in the waters of the Marguarite and Eschemin, having occasion to write to my old friend, college companion, and law agent about some legal matters, I requested him to send me a small parcel of that colour in his reply, to which I received the following answer:

"Dublin, 41 Upper M. Street.

19th July, 1845.

"MY DEAR FRIEND, - I rejoiced at receiving your epistle, notwithstanding that it was silent as to my last to you. Perhaps it will not surprise you to learn that I have cut the old profession, and become a probationer at the 'otium cum dignitate," whereby and by which I have totally forgotten everything belonging to law, that I am obliged to resort for explanation of any thing legal to my professional adviser. It follows therefore that it is out of my power to tell you what you are to do with Bluack. When I 'was' in the profession, as well as I can recollect, I would have advised a bill to remove him or make him account; for, by the piper, he seems a most negligent trustee in one respect, inasmuch as he leaves the money he should take and make fructify - uselessly lying in the bank, and the cash he 'has' taken into his employment he employs to his own benefit and your loss. I am told he is an honourable man and of strict integrity, but, by the honour of man, he has a queer way of showing it. However, as you do not much want it now, it will, I suppose, accumulate for the benefit of those who shall come after you, called posterity.

"I essayed to gratify your desire for the 'Fiery Brown,' immediately upon learning your wishes, and 'I'll ever remember the day,' as the song has it, for 'may I never do an ill turn' but I was near suffering, for it.

"The most natural place for getting the fiery brown was of course the most celebrated, and the most convenient, so I toddled to Martin Kelly's. It goes by the same name still.

"And, 'Pray,' says I, 'have you got any fiery brown?'

" 'Say that again,' says a fellow with an ugly aspect, that put me in acute remembrance of your brother-in-law Dr. Bell.

" 'Have you any fiery brown?' said I again.

" 'Oh by the holy,' says he, 'you're one of the gang that killed my father - fire me if I don't 'brown' you. '

"And without doubt he seemed bent on making me 'black and blue,' for he let fly the butt of a salmon rod at me, which, most fortunately for me, being misdirected by his wrath, went against the glass door of the shop, which it smashed. I forthwith threw myself on the protection of a policeman who was passing, and who advised me to charge him; this however I declined to do, dreading the publicity of so a ridiculous a history as would have come out, and by which, as sure as a gun, would have been laid hold of by Lever, and I'd have been persecuted to the death by the wags.

"The next day I went to a decent man of less notoriety, who does a little splicing for me now and then, and sells me flies. On my proceeding to make the inquiry for you, he grew very red about the gills, and said he was 'sorry to find I came to humbug him.' I assured him I had no such intention, and that I wanted the article for a gentleman in Canada. 'Oh now,' said he, 'I am sure you're going it, for it was a fellow who went there that killed poor Kelly with his fiery brown;' and then altering his tone he added, "Sir, I'd rather not have anything to do with the fiery brown at any price; I am striving to rear a large small family, and for God's sake, Sir, leave me to do so in peace.'

"Now I'll tell you what I did next. I followed Kelly's example, and gave up the commission, but I hope it will not cost 'me' my life. Any other kind of brown you want I'll do my utmost to procure, but just don't ask me to mention fiery brown again in Dublin, or I think it will blow up the city.

"1st August, 1845.

"After I had written the foregoing, and before I could seal and dispatch it, I happened to meet in the street your friend Bomford, and amongst other topics of conversation turned up your commission to me for the fiery brown, and my failures. 'Oh,' said he, 'come with me to Ettingsal on the quay, he does a deal of business in Galway and knows me very well.' Of course as I was most anxious to get you what you wished for, I went with Bomford to the shop. 'Pray,' said I, in the most bland manner possible, 'Can you procure me some fiery brown?' Whereupon, the individual who was behind the counter, after looking steadily at us in silence for a minute or so, drew up his left hand to a level with his mouth, applies the thumb in a very significant manner to. the tip of his nose, protrudes a considerable length of tongue, cuts some cabalistic figure or motion with his right hand, and asks if - 'my mother is aware that I amount?

"I am fearful, my boy, that you have been playing tricks with me, and that either no such thing ever existed as pig's wool, or that a certain black gentleman shaved it all off when he took to amusing 'hisself in that way; but I am as

Ever your affectionate friend, T. B.”

I need not take the trouble to explain to my piscatorial readers - and I desire no others - that the fiery brown is now well understood, and may be obtained not only at Martin Kelly's but at any other respectable fishing tackle warehouse, without. the slightest danger of being smitten with a salmon rod or of disturbing the peace of an industrious tradesman. And moreover I would not advise any vendor of fishing tackle to come to Canada without an ample supply of it, though I am quite confident that the 'exact' hue of the 'real' fiery brown will with difficulty be agreed upon by any two fisherman or manufacturers.