Notes and Sport of a Dry -Fly Purist. 189 



Epliemeridae, least of all to one in its imago dress. 

 Indeed, it must be a wonder to all fishermen why 

 trout can be so silly as to rise to tiny wisps of 

 feathers and hooks. Nevertheless, in an angler's 

 eyes they all look " killers/' and, in his opinion, will 

 assuredly lead to sport. But, happily, on the 22nd 

 a change came o'er the spirit of his despondency, for 

 the day became bright and genial, hopeful for fly 

 fishing, more especially so because for the previous 

 twenty-four hours a continuous downpour had 

 freshened and aerated the river Itchen, swelling its 

 volume, yet leaving it perfectly clear. A social 

 engagement prevented a trial with the rod on that 

 date, but on the 23rd for under two hours good 

 practice was made, as described below. 



As early as eight o'clock the angler rose from his 

 breakfast table to examine shut-in imagine flies 

 vainly struggling on the casement panes to escape 

 into the outward air, where also gnats were 

 disporting, rising and falling in graceful gyrations- 

 all good signs. Accordingly about 10.3ft a.m. he 

 was by the riverside, on the east bank, ready for 

 the fray. The wind being west made casting 

 awkward, and the water in mid-channel was rippled. 

 Eecently arrived songsters from tree tops and 

 hedges bursting into leaf trilled forth melodious 

 greetings to the spring and to their nested mates, 

 but as yet the sedge by the margin had scarcely 



