174 Dry -Fly Fishing. 



needed, because the fish rose fairly well within easy 

 reach whenever an intermittent rise of Ephemeridse 

 floated down. And then my red quill on hook 

 was as often taken as could be expected, with so 

 many chances of the more attractive natural flies 

 against it. The light on the water enabled me, 

 when kneeling hidden in the withered sedge and 

 still green nettles at the margin, not only to watch 

 the movements of the fish with keen interest, but 

 to discriminate which were rising grayling and 

 which trout, so that I managed to avoid hooking 

 any of the latter, and by the time the sun went 

 down, a blood-red orb of fire leaving no after-glow, 

 three and a half brace of beautiful grayling were in 

 the creel, shining there with a soft silvern sheen, 

 and faintly smelling of thyme. By carefully 

 drawing all the fish hooked down-stream only one 

 broke away. Soon after mist like smoke ros>e 

 from the river the meadows became white, form- 

 less, and void, like an estuary of the sea, and by 

 5.30 p.m., when I left off watching in vain for any 

 further movement of fish, the whole landscape was 

 obscured in fog, which, condensed in drops, fell from 

 every spreading tree and bush, and made everything 

 underfoot on my way to the train dank and disagree- 

 able. Only an enthusiastic and seasoned angler 

 would run the risk of being out m water-meadows 

 during such a fog, or then finding pleasure in the 



