136 GOLDEN DAYS 



that the meal was still in progress down 

 below. Of course, the obvious deduction 

 was that the fish were feeding on the 

 hatching nymph before it could reach the 

 surface. My butter-muslin bag upset the 

 theory ; it divulged not the grey nymph of 

 the Mayfly, but a small red creature. I 

 have no idea what this being may have 

 been, but in my fly-box was a fly which, 

 though not an exact likeness, was close 

 enough to experiment with. This local 

 pattern is, perhaps, worthy of description, 

 as at times it is very killing, fished wet 

 under bridges and in deep water. Hackle, 

 a dark honey-dun ; body, a light claret 

 pigswool ribbed with fine gold wire ; small 

 tag of cream-coloured floss silk tied on a 

 No. 2 hook (dry-fly scale). On this 

 special occasion the fly was fished up- 

 stream, like a dry-fly, except that it 

 drifted down submerged in the stream 

 and not upon the surface. This is a 

 fascinating form of fishing, whatever the 

 purist may say to the contrary ; moreover, 

 the exact moment wherein to strike is not 

 as difficult and uncertain a problem as 

 might be supposed, for there is always a 



