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the question whether your fly will stay on the line or not, 

 and then send it forward with a quick motion that winds 

 up with a jerk of the wrist. This jerk communicates its- 

 self to the tip, and gives that peculiar springy motion 

 that will be noticed with all first-class fly fishermen. 

 Never try to help your rod by a long, slow awkward 

 sweep of the arm. It won't answer the wrist must do 

 the work. Do not let your rod go too far back, it should 

 never reach more than an angle of forty-five degrees. 

 And now, reader, if these directions don't suit you, 

 you need not follow them, they are poor enough 

 at best, and you may work out your own fishing salvation 

 in your own way. If they do, and you will courageously 

 snap off about fifty flies, we think at the end of that time 

 you can probably cast a line fifty feet long, and drop your 

 tail fly in a lily pad three times in five casts, in which 

 case you can begin to take trout. 



Fish have sharp *eyes, and in trying to allure them to 

 their death we must do our best to keep out of their sight. 

 They know a man as their natural enemy by instinct. In 

 approaching a stream, get behind a bush, or stump, or 

 rock. We have before now crawled on our knees within 

 reach of a hole in which we knew that a peculiarly large 

 and desirable trout had taken up his abode. In fishing 

 from a boat, always sit down and have the seats arrang- 

 ed to face towards the stern. Omit no precautions that 

 will tend to lull the suspicions of the trout, which years 

 of persecution have rendered most acute. Never pound 

 on the bottom of the boat, or jar the bank of the creek. 

 Talking will do no harm, but rattling oars or jumping 

 ,from one log to another, or splashing in the water, or even 

 treading heavily on the ground will alarm the fish and 

 often make them dart about in terror. When once 

 alarmed, trout will never bite. It is worse than useless 



