NOTES ON THE MONTHS FOR FLY-FISHING. 195 



ton and Cotton shone above their numerous contempo- 

 raries so conspicuously was owing to the fact of their 

 having proved themselves to be half -a- century ahead of 

 their times, by ignoring such like trash. About noon a 

 smart breeze sprang up, the sun being occasionally ob- 

 scured by drifting clouds, and an odd fish or two now 

 began to rise. The prim little Iron Blues quickly ap- 

 peared, as though by magic, on the water's surface, jaunt- 

 ily riding the tiny billows in quaint style. Now all set 

 to with right good will. The party separated for busi- 

 ness, and during the ensuing hour-and-a-half we had 

 taken as many fish as could be conveniently creeled, as 

 had also a neighboring rodster, when one of the Scotch- 

 men hove in sight around a sudden turn. " Now for an 

 exemplification of the relative virtues of spider and flies," 

 observes our neighbor. "Science versus ignorance and 

 presumption," was our response. 



Scotchman ' ' The fish are really playing and not feed- 

 ing; I have risen dozens, but have not hooked a single 

 fish." 



"Indeed," was the reply, "but then you see you do 

 not use alluring ointments! " 



At this moment our acquaintance of the morning 

 hooked a good fish, which, judging from the unceremoni- 

 ous way in which it was landed over some weeds, must 

 have been hooked very well indeed. 



" They would seem to be feeding a little better here- 

 abouts. " 



"Bather," sagely observes our friend, as he opened his 

 well-filled creel to squeeze in his late capture. 



"By heavens!" ejaculates the disciple of typical delu- 

 sion, "you don't mean to say you have taken that basket 

 of fish this afternoon?" 



" That's precisely what I do mean to say, nevertheless; 

 and what is more, I will wager the price of a dinner that 



