134 BRITISH SPORTING FISHES. 
“for is not the green drake on?” asks Kingsley ; 
‘‘and while he reigns, all hours, meals, decencies, 
and respectabilities must yield to his caprice. 
See, here he sits, or rather tens of thousands of 
him, one on each stalk of grass, green drake, 
yellow drake, brown drake, white drake, each 
with his gauzy wings folded on his back, waiting 
for some unknown change of temperature, or 
something else, in the afternoon, to wake him 
from his sleep and send him fluttering over the 
stream ; while overhead the black drake, who has 
changed his skin and reproduced his species, 
dances in the sunshine, empty, hard, and happy.” 
‘For no one will eat him, he well doth know.” 
