A FINE BAG ON THE TEST. 



127 



We had passed an hour or two smoking and chatting, 

 when we noticed a few puffy clouds coming up from 

 the west, which gradually increased in size until the 

 glare of the sun was partially obscured, and the light 

 air which wafted them grew into a nice breeze. 



To see if anything was on the move we walked about 

 half a mile up stream, until we arrived at a bend where 

 the water was deep and about 20 yds. wide — as a rule 

 dead as ditch water, the leeward bank being bordered 

 by high flag rushes extending several feet thick, where 

 generally it was impossible to rise a fish, but to-day 

 matters were different. 



By this time the light airs had increased to a stiffish 

 breeze and a fine rain commenced to fall, so we at 

 least could count upon getting a wet skin of some sort. 



The feed, chiefly duns and sedge-flies, was being blown 

 in hundreds straight from our feet to the opposite bank, 

 until they came in contact with the rushes aforesaid, 

 and sooner or later dropped into the water, when as each 

 fly fell there seemed to be a trout awaiting to claim him. 



We put on a yellow dun with a thick stufiy body, 

 such as no trout would condescend to look at upon 

 any ordinary occasion — at all events these specimens 

 had been the oldest tenants of our fly-book up to then; 

 but now the fish were fairly on the feed and apparently 

 off their heads. 



We commenced casting scarcely ten yards apart, the 

 strong wind at our backs lending us material assistance 

 in making the long cast so as to reach the rushes. 



