IN THE DAYS OF THE 

 MAY-FLY 



" From the recesses of the silent lake 

 Upshootsthe pebble-cradled, soft Green-Drake: 



Next look along the silver-pebbled strand, 



The Stone-fly from its shell now crawls to land." 



| HERE is still some 

 evidence to show that 

 the two classes of ang- 

 lers wet and dry fly 

 advocates have not yet 

 done attempting to draw 

 " odious " comparisons 

 between the merits of 

 their respective sports. I say " at- 

 tempting," because to compare the two 

 methods is as impossible as it is ridicu- 

 lous. A dry fly, for example, may excel 

 where a wet fly would be a failure, and 

 the contrary is no less true. A low, cry- 

 stal-clear chalk stream, meandering its 

 unruffkdcourse through alevel country, 

 is the paradise of the former, but to the 

 champions of the latter (excepting on 

 4 



