THE MAYFLY. 159 



flowing ale should moisten the lips of the 

 utterer. 



After this the fly was only taken by the very 

 largest grayling, which, on being hooked, bore 

 down stream like small salmon in their first 

 rush. It soon became easy to tell them from 

 trout. They constantly missed the fly, and 

 always left a bubble on the surface after doing 

 so; besides showing their large back fin as they 

 turned away. If they took the fly and were 

 held hard, a constant wriggling motion, as well 

 as their persistent pulling down stream settled 

 all doubt. As I had a distaste to landing and 

 unhooking them, I found after a few days, that 

 the easiest way was to let them get well below 

 one in the current, and then give the line a 

 sharp tweak, which usually brought about the 

 desired parting. 



One rise, where a long cast had to be made 

 upstream, over some rushes, and right into the 

 sunlight, was followed by a gollop, a strike, 

 and a course downstream that made the reel 

 seem a humming top until the line was out to 

 its last few yards of backing. Although I had 

 hurried after it with the rod bent down to the 

 water quite a wrong position for the situation- 

 he was round the bend into a deep channel, and 

 strong current, before I could check him. 



For fully five minutes I could do nothing but 

 hold on; standing out in a tongue of mud at 

 the end of the rushes, where a deepish dyke 

 came into the main stream. 



The strain on the rod was so great that I 



