240 LATE OCTOBER GRAYLING FISHING. 



I could gather from the keeper, no rod but 

 mine had been out for a fortnight. In spite of 

 it being a public footpath I thought it worth 

 while to sit down on the bank if necessary for 

 half an hour and think what could be done. I 

 made a resolve to cast very seldom and then 

 only for fish which had already risen several 

 times. The Bradshaw not proving a grayling 

 fancy I watched for the fly on the water and 

 dipped a sample out. It was a small grey 

 midge not unlike a sparsely dressed blue upright. 



By standing in a foot of chalky mud I at 

 last got a comfortable seat on a tussock of 

 rushes and waited. Every now and then a 

 passer by would come, usually downstream, 

 would look at the water, stand and watch a few 

 rises, and then intimate the fact to me by 

 pointing at the grayling with his stick. It was 

 only polite to thank each one in the same 

 vacant manner while continuing to smoke as 

 abstractedly as though I had managed to get 

 out without my keeper. After a time they felt 

 nervous and moved on. 



What a feeling of relief it is when this 

 happens, and how short the interval seems 

 between their attentions. Fortunately it is 

 sometimes a female who merely praises one's 

 virtue of patience to her companion in a faint 

 hearted manner as they pass out of earshot. 



Towards twelve o'clock there is an hour or 

 more of perfect quiet : the fish are still on the 

 feed and pop up more confidently. The little 

 grey fly is impatient for action, drops on the 



