THE SALMON. 197 



be made subservient to the exigencies of peculiar times and seasons, or 

 unexpected events, and thus are useful. 



The working of the fly for salmon after it has fallen on the water 

 requires tact, and tact only. This can only be derived from experience. 

 The more salmon one catches, and the greater the variety of rivers 

 from which they are taken, the more likely is the angler to work his 

 lure pleasingly. He will recognise similarities of stream, and other 

 indescribable niceties which guide his eye and inform his perceptions of 

 the necessities of the water and their hidden prizes. 



In drawing a fly along the water let us consider its appearance. The 

 weight of the current, as it meets the fur and feather material of which 

 the lure is composed, must compress these. If, therefore, the fly be 

 steadily drawn against the stream its collapse is complete, and the chief 

 of its attractions are hidden, those on the body especially, by the closed 

 wings, which become themselves also attenuated and by no means 

 conspicuous. The chances of a salmon taking the trouble to surmount 

 the strong stream and follow up a questionable bait shorn of half its 

 attractions are also small. Bather is it likely that the fish will relinquish 

 the pursuit disgusted. " Ephemera " details several observations which 

 lead to the inference that this is precisely what the fish do when the bait 

 is drawn through the water without pause at a swift rate of progress. 



Obviously, therefore, the proper thing to do is to so manage it when in 

 the water that its appearance will be as attractive as possible, and that 

 its pace will not overcome the curiosity or desire of the salmon by reason 

 of the trouble necessary to gratify it. For it may be safely presumed 

 that fish like as little trouble as possible in the pursuit of their object. 

 Perch will always take by choice a wounded or hooked minnow, and this 

 is chiefly because the exertion necessary is less. The motion imparted 

 by the skilled salmon fisher to his lure is a sort of sinking and drawing 

 movement, the "sinking," of course, opening the hairs or feathers of the 

 bait to their full expansion. A fish often follows the bait, and this 

 sinking is frequently the means of overcoming the "dare not" which 

 waits upon " I would," and so compasses the ruin of the lordly "fysshe." 



Notwithstanding the reasonableness of the idea that the fly should be 

 worked as described, Mr. Francis characterises the notion as " all chips 

 and porridge," and then allows that when the fish are capricious you 

 work your bait anyhow ; with "an undulation of the rod point, then an 

 even draw ; then a regular frantic witches' dance, bobbing and jerking 

 and working as though your fly were possessed of St. Vitus or a tarantula 

 bite." Now, Mr. Francis must know that a steady draw will not display 

 the fly as well as the motion referred to, and his own experience is quite 

 sufficient for him to decide upon, without calling to his aid somebody 



