APRIL 113 



fellows, albeit a shrill nor'easter swept the pines on rugged 

 Craig-y-barns, and fitful glares of sunshine seemed but 

 to sharpen the fangs of ' blackthorn winter.' They meant 

 business, and transacted it too; for never did I behold 

 such an abundant rise of that most succulent ephemerid, 

 the March Brown, as took place on this 20th April (1905). 



They emerged from the water at several intervals during 

 the day, but the chief display was shortly after noon. 

 For fifteen minutes or so the broad river was crowded 

 with them. Drifting in swathes into the slack, hundreds 

 were gobbled up before their new wings were tough enough 

 for flight. Those that escaped the trout rose in the air 

 to be whirled away on the bitter blast whither ? At 

 such brief times one has but to rig up a trout-rod and 

 chuck and chance it among the guzzling crowd, with any 

 colourable imitation of this most popular insect, to pull 

 out as many as he lists while the rise lasts. When it is 

 over, not a fin stirs on the surface, and one might as 

 hopefully angle for oysters in the ornamental water of 

 St. James's Park. 



The odd thing one odd thing, at least about the 

 March Brown is the periodicity of the rise. Three or 

 four times to-day, millions of perfect flies were emerging 

 from the nymphs, which is what constitutes 'the rise,' 

 and, by comparing notes with other anglers, I have ascer- 

 tained that it was simultaneous over several miles of 

 river. Between the different rises there were hours when 

 no fly came to the surface; neither was there a single 

 individual of the previous rises to be seen. 



The larvse of March Browns are flat, and harbour under 

 stones. Not until air collects under their skins, rendering 

 them buoyant and forcing them to the surface to undergo 



