LETTER No. XI. [1887. 



A DAY WITH THE MAY FLY-FISHERS. 



" In lowly dale, fast by a river's side, 

 With woody hill o'er hill encompassed round, 

 * # # # * 



It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground ; 

 And then a season at ween June and May 

 Half-prankt with spring, with summer half-embrowned." 

 Castle of Indolence. 



HE art of May Fly-fishing has in 

 these latter days been elevated to 

 a science. When I was young, all 

 we had to do was first to catch our fly, fix 

 him wriggling, and, if our dull senses could 

 hear, screaming in agony on the hook, and 

 cast him on the water, when up would come 

 the unsophisticated, uneducated trout, seize 

 his natural food with abounding confidence, 

 and be pleasantly landed on the grass. There 

 was no nosing about, no suspicious glance 

 askant, no hesitating nibble he saw, he 

 came, and was conquered. Now, his mind 



