Notes and Sport of a Dry -Fly Purist. Ill 



o'clock, and for two hours made good and almost 

 continuous practice. A sparse rise of rather large 

 sub-imagines was developing, just enough to make 

 the trout on the alert to intercept and suck in every 

 one as it floated down. My artificial fly was oftener 

 risen to than could have been expected, with so 

 many chances against such a comparatively clumsy 

 lure of feather and quill on a dangerous hook, so 

 that by 4.5 p.m., when I had to hurry away for my 

 train (putting my rod in its case and adjusting 

 impedimenta on my way as I almost ran), three and 

 a half brace of lOin. to 14in. grayling were in the 

 creel. Not one fish broke way, and the hooking of 

 any fario was avoided. And as the sport was all 

 obtained in mid-stream, one capture was so much 

 like another on this occasion that full details may 

 be excused. 



On Saturday, December 30th, my last fishing day 

 of the year, after two dull and wretchedly wet days, 

 when it seemed hopeless to attempt grayling fishing 

 with the dry-fly, the forecast of the weather reading 

 " showery to fair " was not altogether unsatisfactory, 

 and about 11 a.m. the sun's rays broke through the 

 obscuring leaden-hued clouds, and for several hours 

 flooded the wintry landscape in pallid yet cheering 

 light. My thoughts were on the river side : the 

 longing to be there, rod in hand, could not be 

 repressed : therefore, after an early luncheon, and a 



