THE NECESSITY FOR THE DRY-FLY 21 



away, and the season of plenty is at hand. The flies 

 alight upon the pool ; the wind buffets them about, 

 blowing them across to the farther shore towards the 

 saughs, that also have answered the call of spring. 

 The brown insects dance from wave to wave of the 

 rushing throat, but there is no time to observe them 

 all, for, from the first moment of their advent, the 

 trout are leaping joyously, leaping to welcome the 

 gift of April, leaping until not one fly remains. 



The angler's rest ceased with the first grand leap, 

 his rod has awhile been active ; but, though he finds 

 its labours not quite without reward, he is perplexed 

 with doubts and vexed with questionings. 



Why should his fly disappear beneath the surface, 

 when the beautiful insect it copies sails the wave ? 

 Though it be an exact imitation in form, size, and 

 colouring, can it give him faithful service when it 

 errs in such a conspicuous and important particular ? 

 Why does it not remain in full view, bobbing to 

 every wavelet, sitting naturally on the water, answer- 

 ing the wind and the current ? 



Will the wise and wary trout not look with sus- 

 picion upon his lure, made with infinite pains and 

 skill though it be, and treat it with the contempt it 

 merits? The younger fry, not yet versed in the 

 wiles of man, and still unaware of the dangers that 

 surround them, may accept the unnatural object 

 without hesitation ; but the older, experienced 

 trout will flee from its vicinity. 



With so much to persuade him the angler will 

 retrieve his unsuccessful fly, which miserably 

 fails to yield the sport that the pool can give, and 

 the conditions allow ; he will dry it carefully, anoint 

 it with some preparation which will enable it to 



