io8 THE TROUT ARE RISING 



" I thought you'd get him, sir," said the water- 

 bailiff. 



My fourth triumph (I regarded each capture 

 as a triumph then) was on the old little river, the 

 Tern, at Market Drayton. A trout kept rising, 

 but he ignored the wet fly, three times changed. 

 Then I perceived that he was feeding on a small 

 black gnat. Promptly I put on one, dry. In- 

 stantly the trout came to terms, and was landed. 

 " That's what I call good fishing ! " said some 

 kind onlooker on the opposite bank. In point 

 of fact, it was fair fishing, long delayed, for obser- 

 vation ought to have got to work sooner. But it 

 is nice to put on record his generous words, as a 

 set-off against certain unfavourable comments 

 (doubtless deserved) that have come my way. 

 Perhaps the most picturesque was that of my 

 friend, the Major. He contemplated a knot 

 which I had tied in my cast, and said, " What a 

 knot ! Are you trying to invent something to 

 anchor a man-of-war with ? " But one improves, 

 and the Major is a just man. I am glad to be 

 able to record that later he was constrained to 

 observe, " Glad to see that at last you can tie a 

 knot looking a little less like St. Paul's 

 Cathedral." 



I have caught other trout on the dry fly, but 

 the instances recorded have somehow impressed 

 me most, and I had not hitherto taken the busi- 

 ness as a matter of course. On the Teme, how- 

 ever, one got into the habit of coming back with 

 grayling, all taken on the dry fly ; and, although 



