THE RIGHT FLY AND THE WRONG 95 



on a certain river, and to use the local patterns, 

 which are but too frequently the poorest mis- 

 representations of the natural flies. He has 

 pinned his faith to some two or three of these 

 patterns, having had more or less success with 

 them. He finds himself on a river with which 

 he has had no previous acquaintance, and which 

 differs very considerably in character from that to 

 which he has hitherto been accustomed. The 

 weather, water, everything, are all that could be 

 desired. Fish are rising ; and good fish, too. 

 He puts on one of his standard flies, but to no 

 purpose ; he tries another, and yet a third, with 

 the same result. Though deftly cast, they pass 

 over the fish unheeded. Still the latter keep 

 rising a flop here, a suck there. It is maddening 

 to him ; he cannot make out what is the special 

 fly which is attracting so much attention, for the 

 wind is from him, and the fish are feeding under 

 the far bank. In despair, he determines to try 

 them with yet another imitation ; and just as he 

 has completed the operation of changing, he 

 espies, during a temporary lull in the wind, a 

 natural fly sailing down within reach of him. 

 He succeeds in slipping his landing-net under it, 

 and congratulates himself on having, as he thinks, 

 secured it ; but, alas ! there is nothing to be seen 

 save the drops of water as the latter hang on the 

 knots of the meshes. The tiny ephemeral was 



