216 TROUT FISHING 



me into the idea that the Mayfly was a none-such — 

 I apologise for the expression, but it dates from 

 Cavalier-Roundhead days, and my mood is Round- 

 headed. Well, on this Surrey stream I saw such 

 plenty of Mayflies as never was before. Usually 

 twelve flies in an hour make you excited, and twenty- 

 four are the cream of the cream. But on May 14 

 I saw more flies in five minutes than would last 

 half an ordinary day. And the fish ignored them, 

 practically. The manner of their behaviour was 

 this. Upstream, a hundred yards or so away at a 

 vague point A. round a corner, would come a resound- 

 ing splash, and I would hurry thither to await its 

 repetition. Ten minutes w^ould pass, and then 

 would come another splash, somewhere near the 

 spot I had left, an indeterminate B., and I would 

 hurry back. Followed more waiting, and then a 

 third splash at or about A. Renewed expectancy 

 there would be rewarded by a fourth splash — at B. 

 Why, a man will ask, did I not display presence of 

 mind and remain at B. ? I tried that. The result 

 of it would be two and even three splashes at A., 

 which was more than human nature could stand. 

 Also I tried casting at the place where the rises 

 seemed to be as judged by the ear. And that was 

 more than the trout could stand. 



" The day yielded me one wretched trout and 

 one indelible disaster. I did at last find a glorious 



