io8 FLY FISHING 



three flies, probably a March-brown, a coch-y- 

 bondhu and a Greenwell's glory, which I generally 

 used in those days. I remember making straight 

 for a particular spot, which I had often marked 

 in winter as a likely-looking place ; it was one 

 where the current flowed from me under the 

 further bank and made a ripple. There was 

 no thought of looking for a rise, but the water 

 was fished steadily. No trout showed a sign 

 of paying any attention to my flies, and at the 

 end of the allotted hour I left the river, wet 

 and unsuccessful, but keen and reluctant to leave 

 off. The same thing happened day after day, 

 nothing occurred to break the monotony of 

 failure, and my friends ceased even to ask 

 whether I had caught anything : but it was at 

 any rate a drawn battle, for I had no more 

 thought of leaving off fishing than the trout had 

 of taking my March-browns and other wet flies. 

 At last one day at the very bottom of the water 

 a trout did take my fly at the end of a long 

 line down stream, but it was a tiny thing, hope- 

 lessly under the limit of size for the Itchen, one 

 which might have been counted amongst northern 

 dozens, but could not be brought home alone. 



