NOVEMBER. 103 



many years, the remnants at the close of the season, 

 are the needle brown, lion and house fly, the bronze 

 beetles, and the ear wigs, with some small hardy gnats, 

 beetles, etc., that are of no use to the flyfisher. The 

 angling flies have dwindled away, a touch or two of 

 frost and all the top food of the fishes will be swept off. 

 The needles are the last to give in ; and imitations of 

 bygone flies will not prevail. The fish will continue to 

 rise so long as flies come naturally on the water, but 

 not longer ; they rarely rise in the absence of all top 

 food. The hardy winter craftsman with his bramblings 

 may pack his pannier with black fat graylings, but the 

 flyfisher's occupation 's gone"; his flimsy foundations 

 have perished ; they were but a breath, subject to all 

 the skiey influences, which begins and ends their career; 

 and the genial breath of air that imparts vigour and 

 action to the flies, gives spirit and appetite to the fishes. 



FAREWELL, the homely village Inn ! and adieu to 

 the fishernran's revels ! Farewell, flyfishers ! The ele- 

 ments of your art are all laid prostrate ; your sports 

 get starved and solitary, and gone are the days of its 

 charms ; the scenes are changed ; murky mists and 

 rains, and ominous sable clouds now darken the short- 

 ened day ; the torrents' roar swells in the gale, and 

 howls and rattles through the leafless woods. The 

 lightsome day, the leafy shade, and the flowery banks, 

 have passed away. The warblers have fled ; the lark, 

 the blackbird, and the thrush, swelled their wild carol; 

 but now they are silent all. Fishermen, farewell ! 



END OP THE LIST OF FLIES. 



