Notes and Sport of a Dry-Fly Purist. 131 



could it be much restrained without risk until it 

 had drifted to the ford, where I was in the act of 

 trying to draw it over the shallow side to dry land, 

 not intending to use the net, when a man watching 

 from the bridge, a black retriever at his side, called 

 out, "Shall I come and land him for you, sir?" 

 At that instant his dog rushed round to the 

 shallows, and, wildly jumping about, repeatedly 

 tried to seize the fish in fact, to retrieve it as he 

 would a moorhen. The chance of hooking the dog 

 was so likely, and the consequent breakage of my 

 tackle, perhaps losing the fish also, that I promptly 

 used the net handle to beat him off, and as I 

 landed and unhooked the grayling (afterwards 

 found to weigh lib. 7oz.), the dog looked on, 

 wagging his tail and barking excitedly possibly he 

 expected praise rather than a beating. 



For the next half hour, at intervals, a few dark- 

 winged Ephemeridse were seen to emerge on the 

 surface. I knotted on to the fine-drawn gut point 

 of my cast a red quill dressed on a cipher hook, and 

 after many attempts, baffled by the wind, to present 

 it just right, a grayling that could plainly be seen 

 in a clear run close under my bank rose to it and 

 was hooked and brought to net, weighing 15oz. 

 Another an ounce heavier soon followed. After- 

 wards, about 8 p.m., when the wind had lulled, some 

 sedge-flies hovered over the surface in mid-channel, 



K 2 



