IN PURSUIT OF THE MAY FLY 101 



juvenile folly in expecting to catch a fish in such 

 an impossible place as that, and I was humbled 

 and contrite. 



Notwithstanding the prevailing inclemency of 

 the weather, and the general disinclination of the 

 May Fly to appear or the trout to rise, we did not 

 fare so very badly. I think I may say that few 

 rising trout escaped us, and on the whole we 

 were satisfied with the result of our daily labours. 

 On Tuesday, the fifth day of June, the bells of 

 our loyal village rang out, and the blacksmith's 

 anvil, converted somehow into a formidable piece, 

 of artillery, sent up roaring and booming blasts 

 to the evening sky Pretoria had fallen! That 

 day was our red-letter day, it marked our greatest 

 success among the trout. The following Thursday, 

 on the other hand, was a day of disaster. 



We drove down the river for three miles, to 

 lunch with a friend who had given us a day's 

 fishing on his portion of the river. The weather 

 was threatening in the morning, and after lunch 

 the rain came down heavily. The river is two or 

 three meadows from the house, and we were 

 pressed to give it up ; but our host's good cheer 

 had inspired us with new ardour. Scorning a 

 guide, over hedge and ditch I went, making, as I 

 thought, to the nearest point for the river. I 

 soon reached it, and began to fish. My first cast 

 over a rising trout below a foot-bridge brought a 

 nice one to grass. It brought up also a figure 

 from behind the bridge, and I was sternly asked 



