v FLY-FISHER'S AFTERMATH 91 



lies much of the fascination. A real 

 summer's day is the most perfect thing 

 conceivable, but I know of no other branch 

 of the sport of fishing to which it is suit- 

 able. On a day when the cows are standing 

 in the stream, middle-deep, when the air is 

 heavy with the scent of river-thyme and 

 vibrating with heat and the hum of bees, 

 let the angler clothe himself in grey flannel 

 and a cricket-shirt and cover his head with 

 the broadest-brimmed, saddest-hued hat he 

 possesses, and then make his way down to 

 the river about ten of the clock. Let him 

 take no boat, a boat on such a day is 

 worse than useless, but let him go afoot 

 along the river-bank. Now he must dis- 

 play what powers of scouting he possesses, 

 for he must take advantage of every inch of 

 cover that is to be found, and must be ready 

 to kneel and crawl and even to go like the 

 serpent of Scripture. 



In small rivers there is usually plenty of 

 cover in the shape of bushes, and in large ones 

 there are often fringes of rushes and reeds 

 behind which a man may stand seeing and 

 yet unseen. Let us suppose that the angler 

 has found his bit of cover, and is standing 



