THE DRY-FLY SEASON 229 



amid the riot of leaves he detects a golden flush, 

 the beauty of which he admires, but whose sig- 

 nificance he chooses to forget. Along the banks, 

 delaying progress, the long, trailing, clinging sprays 

 of bramble are clustered with rich, dark fruit ; 

 hazel-nuts are browning ; rowan-berries add a 

 touch of brilliancy. The melody of the woods is 

 still subdued, though the silence of August is 

 broken. The cuckoo has sought other climes and 

 will not mock the autumn fisher ; great clouds 

 of lapwings wheel overhead, collecting for their 

 short ^adventure. There is much to distract atten- 

 tion on a September day. 



As soon as the sun charms away the mists of 

 morning, the flies of autumn will venture out, 

 some of them peculiar to the season, while others 

 resemble those of spring. The redoubtable Green- 

 well, the little Iron Blue, the Dark Olive, and 

 the Rough Olive may be brought forth once more, 

 and will do their duty. 



In the strong lights and gentle breezes of Sep- 

 tember, the trout, though eager, are cautious 

 enough, and demand all delicacy in the lure and 

 its manipulation. They have had many escapes 

 during the long season ; some indeed have been 

 hooked, and fought their way to freedom ; all 

 have learned many and many a time that numerous 

 enemies thirst for their blood. Still they dare 

 not abstain from food in view of coming events, 

 and therefore a capture is an ever-present possi- 

 bility. 



The floating fly, unprofitable yet almost alone 

 useful during the previous month, is again fit 

 for great conquests, and many enjoyable days 



