THE FLY 73 



fish at large ; he bides his time, and casts only to rising 

 fish. He has no vague hope that his fly may fall in the 

 neighbourhood of an expectant trout ; he knows that it 

 will. He anticipates a rise, not at any, but at every 

 cast, and while he is actually engaged in fishing, his 

 interest is maintained at its liveliest. His pleasure is 

 intensified by concentration. In wet-fly fishing there 

 is no excitement until a fish has risen ; in dry-fly fishing 

 the excitement begins with the cast, rises gradually as 

 the fly approaches the spot at which the fish may be 

 expected to appear, and culminates in a paroxysm of 

 delight when the water breaks, the lure vanishes, and 

 the line suddenly becomes taut ; or flickers out like a 

 spent candle as soon as it is obvious that the advances 

 of the angler have been unfavourably received. I must 

 not, however, be taken too literally. The wet-fly fisher 

 has also his opportunities of casting over rising fish, 

 and his interest is then much keener than when casting 

 on chance, and in hope rather than in expectation ; but 

 the circumstances are not quite the same, and the dif- 

 ference is in favour of the dry-fly angler ; his fly is on 

 the surface and within sight. 



We dearly love a sensation. The spectacle of a 

 hawk in pursuit of a small bird or of an unhappy hare 

 coursed by the hounds has for us an intense, if horrible, 



