II A YORKSHIRE BECK & & & ^ 



THE dry-fly man is without doubt one of the 

 noblest products of the age (experto crede that is 

 to say, see his writings passim), and I have always been 

 proud to be his humble imitator. I can dry my fly as 

 vigorously, and put my fish down as masterfully, as 

 any member of the school ; and I can talk of a pounder 

 as a small one, which would of course have had to be 

 returned, had he been caught, with nonchalance. In 

 fact, among those who cast at a venture and those 

 who use the worm, I do not fear to announce myself a 

 disciple of the dry fly, or even to illustrate the methods 

 of greasing a line or slinging an oil-bottle, " as we 

 practise them on the Itchen." But there come times 

 when I forget the good principles that have been pain- 

 fully acquired, when I consult a certain shabby old 

 fly-book instead of the admirable new japanned box, 

 when I even go so far as to strip a hook of its double 

 wings and hackle, and to dig about in the bank for 

 a worm. I fear the truth is that I am not a real 

 " purist," and never shall be ; I take too much interest 

 in fishing at large. 



However, it was as a dry-fly man that I paid my 

 first visit to Ghyll Beck, as I take liberty to call it. It 



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