166 DRY-FLY FISHING 



in their lower reaches, we find it quite impossible 

 to confine ourselves to fishing the rise, and we think, 

 but we do not declare, that others will agree. 



Suppose that a dry-fly angler with all his deadly 

 apparatus in readiness is standing on the gravel 

 beside a fast-flowing stream of Tweed, we affirm 

 that a dozen trout might rise between him and 

 the opposite bank, and he would fail to detect a 

 single one. Rises are of many kinds, and some of 

 them are so quiet and disturb the water so very 

 slightly that it requires very careful observation 

 from close range to distinguish them. Some men 

 can spot a rise when others would see nothing ; it 

 requires not so much good eyesight as trained eye- 

 sight. 



Thinking that some activity is going on which is 

 invisible from the bank, the purist may wade out 

 twenty yards or more and take his stand, motion- 

 less, watchful, and patient as a heron ; but he may 

 stand there for an hour or a day, and there may 

 not occur a single rise for him to see. On the other 

 hand he may see a trout rising on the far edge of 

 the waving stream. To arrive within casting dis- 

 tance he may have to wade farther out, and to avoid 

 the fatal drag he may have to make a detour and, 

 such is the variation from moment to moment 

 on such a piece of water, swinging and swaying 

 from side to side with the wind, or owing to the 

 irregularities of the bottom, that he cannot tell 

 exactly where to place his fly. The spot may be 

 far from the bank, and often there are no land- 

 marks to guide him. If he casts at all he is " fishing 

 the stream " ; if he decides to wait in his chosen 

 position until the trout rises again so that he may 



