Notes and Sport of a Dry -Fly Purist. 119 



tree to rest awhile. But reflecting that I had done 

 fairly well, and the 2.36 Great Western train was 

 available, I hastily put my tackle together, 

 interviewed the keeper to show the sport, shouldered 

 the creel, and arrived at the station just in time. 



On July 31st I again had the privilege of fishing 

 in the park. A gentle wind stirred the leaves to 

 whisper, and it was only pleasantly warm. While 

 I sat in the garden reach making all ready to begin 

 sport, the gurgle of the falling water through the 

 six hatches had a soothing influence on one's spirit, 

 and taking Tennyson's " In Memoriam " from my 

 side pocket, I read a few passages, but as that was 

 hardly in form for a dry-fly fisherman with the clear 

 stream at his feet and fish in view waiting to be 

 caught, I soon went above the hatches, and from 

 the cottage gardens on the east side by 11.30 a.m. 

 managed to creel a brace, and above Shawford 

 Bridge from the west bank, another brace by two 

 o'clock. Then, as before, I went back by train, and 

 resumed practice in the evening ; but there was no 

 rise until 7.45, when phryganidaB were on or hover- 

 ing over the surface of the water, chiefly in mid- 

 channel, and trout, also grayling, were eagerly on 

 the feed, making a splash, sometimes " a boil," as 

 they seized a fly. For a full hour with little 

 cessation I was casting over them, hooking, 

 unhooking, killing two brace, or returning fish. 



