160 Dry -Fly Fishing. 



a mile along the bank without seeing a fish move or 

 a break indicative of a rise, save in one instance 

 close under the sedge and overhanging tussock grass 

 I thought I saw one. Instantly assuming the 

 correct position of kneeling, I was waiting to make 

 an initial throw, when up popped the small head of 

 a dabchick, only to dive under again and reappear 

 some distance off flying to the opposite side, trailing 

 its legs along and splashing the water. How often 

 this occurs, and for the nonce the angler is outwitted. 

 Soon after, on looking back, the head keeper and 

 three rods came into view, one of whom was the 

 lessee of the fishery. As a matter of courtesy, 

 therefore, and not wishing to interfere with their 

 chances of sport, I went straight away beyond the 

 Great Western railway bridge before resuming 

 operations. 



The whole forenoon was dull and chilly until 

 about one o'clock, when the first gleam of sunshine 

 broke through the leaden-hued clouds quite cheer- 

 ingly ; a few of the remaining swallow family 

 skimmed over the river, showing flies were about, 

 and, although the wind had decreased in gustiness, 

 it was still enough to make casting difficult ; one's 

 fly was blown back ere it reached its objective, and 

 frequently the gut collar became entangled. Still, 

 in spite of these hindrances, two trout rose to my 

 red quill, and were brought to net, also several 



