234 THE WAY OF A TROUT WITH A FLY 



Next time I visited the water was for two days 

 at the beginning of September. Apart from their heat, 

 there was nothing worthy of recording about these two 

 days. On each occasion I had my couple of brace before 

 the evening. On each occasion the evening rise was in 

 two stages. First, there was a sudden wild outbreak of 

 the surface into a flutter of tiny little pale duns. They 

 were not Ccenis; the body was a pale greenish primrose, 

 and nothing in the fly-box would imitate them. A few — 

 a very few — fish began to rise at them, but these all fed 

 steadily. One in particular, rising at the head of a long 

 bank of weed which showed out of the water two-thirds 

 of the way across, impressed me as being a real good fish ; 

 but he was plied with Quill Marryat and No. I Whitchurch 

 on ooo and Pale Olive Tup in vain, and ultimately 

 went down, and I moved on to another fish. At this 

 time the heat was so oppressive that the perspiration 

 constantly clouded the eyeglass, and rendered it a gym- 

 nastic feat to keep it in position. Suddenly the rise 

 stopped, and for a moment it looked as if, with the cooling 

 of the temperature, all was over for the evening. Presently, 

 however, there were seen on the surface a few of the large 

 blue- winged olives which so often lead to priceless sport. 

 That made the big chap at the head of the weed-bed worth 

 thinking of. There sure enough he was rising, taking the 

 fly with the large, bold, distinctive swirl which spells 

 blue-winged olive to the initiated. In the fly-box was 

 a new effort at the representation of that insect. 



Wing. — Coot secondary — rolled and reversed. 



Body. — Greenish-yellow seal's fur, rather rough. 



Tag. — Flat gold. 



Hackle. — Blue dun dyed greenish-yellow olive. 



Whisk.— Ditto. 



Hook. — No. i. 



