160 DRY-FLY FISHING 



mostly restricted to heavily bushed streams and 

 rock-bound pools, where the angler is so near his 

 fish that he cannot cast to them. 



The sport reaches its perfection in midsummer, 

 when days are hot and trout in the main river are 

 lifeless. Then it is pleasant to wander up some 

 cool, shady glen under the trees and among the 

 crags, peering now and then through the leaves or 

 over a sharp ledge of rock into a deep, black pot. 

 Almost every scramble reveals a trout poised near 

 the surface or leisurely swimming round looking 

 for something wherewith to satisfy its appetite ; 

 if nothing is seen, then the bubbling water at the 

 foot of the fall is sure to conceal a good one. 



Let the angler then pass his rod slowly and 

 carefully over the rock let it be not the favourite 

 rod worth, or rather costing, a guinea a foot, but any 

 old weapon of historic interest perhaps, but little 

 intrinsic value and push the fly over after it. 

 Let him lower the fly gently until it lightly touches 

 the water, and refrain to answer the almost inevit- 

 able rise until the fly has quite disappeared from 

 view. This is more difficult than it seems, and 

 in fact anyone at his earlier attempts is almost 

 sure to strike before the open-mouthed trout has 

 even reached the fly. Perhaps the best plan the 

 angler can adopt is to allow the trout to turn, 

 before he dares to drive the hook home, but much 

 depends on the method of attack. It is certain 

 that the beginner will vastly enjoy the unusual 

 and thrilling experience of being able to witness 

 the whole performance. 



We have pleasant recollections of hours spent 

 among the rocky fastnesses of the Black water 



