A Dry-Fly Purist's Advice to a Beginner. 1 



wind will half carry the line over. After several 

 attempts your fly falls delicately, as it should do, and 

 a trout comes up to it just as a drag is beginning, 

 and that is fatal to your chance. Your next essay 

 is made a few yards higher up ; your cocked fly, 

 seen as it first sails, you all at once miss, and you 

 think it has become wet and has sunken, but on 

 lifting the rod a movement of the line shows that a 

 fish is on ; you strike, but too late the fish on 

 feeling the hook-pricks leaps out of water, and is- 

 free. This is a bad beginning, but although you 

 are vexed you are hopeful still. Larger pale- 

 winged Ephemeridse are now coming down under 

 your own bank, and you can see several trout 

 eagerly feeding on them : you can even hear the 

 familiar and always welcome sound, like " chop,'* 

 as their mouths sharply close on their repast. The 

 sight rather excites you, and your throws are 

 made in too much of a hurry : fish after fish is put 

 down, and those within view await your departure, 

 they have seen enough of your movements. 



A little further on you come to a bend in the 

 river where there is a deep eddy, on the edge of 

 which, in mid-stream, a fish is steadily rising, and his- 

 every movement can be watched ; he is too far off for 

 you to reach, you fear, but, on the maxim " nothing 

 venture, nothing have," you dry your fly and kneel 

 as close as possible on the nearest point of the bank, 



