90 AN OPEN CREEL 



just above a solitary rush, always a likely position for 

 a free riser, and it took the Wickham at once, with an 

 eager plunge. At last it seemed that a decent trout 

 was destined for the creel, for it played deep and 

 steadily ; and then, without warning, that Wickham 

 that Wickham on a No. i hook came away just as 

 though it had been a "treble nothing"! 



And yet there are people who will maintain that " it 



is better to have hooked " But even now the 



words are too full of bitterness for further iteration. 



7. AUGUST 



The dry fly is an exalted thing, and no doubt makes 

 for exalted moods in them that use it. It is grand to 

 feel that one is captain of one's soul, that one can 

 await the beginning of the rise with calm expectancy, 

 unruffled by the fret and fever of those to whom fly- 

 fishing means twenty-four hours of creeping and 

 crawling with three sparsely- hackled flies ever in the 

 water. The dry fly, in fact, touches the heights of 

 philosophy. But take the case of a dry-fly stream, 

 sulky at all times, in August. Thunder is about ; there 

 are squalls of wind just enough to ruffle the surface of 

 the glide where one fancies one saw a grayling dimple 

 during a brief spell of calm ; the fly there is no fly ; 

 the trout there are no trout, or if there are (during 

 the Mayfly they were visible enough), Poseidon alone 

 knows where they are hid ; moorhens, coots, and dab- 

 chicks scuttle about in irritating fashion ; that wave, 

 or rather those waves, are eloquent testimony that Esox 

 lucius is on the warpath, plague take him ! It is now 



