A great deal in this direction can be learned by an occasional emptying of a trout’s stomach into a glass of water, and an examination of the débris after they have been separated by a brisk stir round. It is most instructive, and it shows how catholic fish are in their feeding. It shows too, not infrequently, the reasons for a poor day’s sport, and often gives a hint which may turn failure into success on some future occasion.

Though a knowledge of insect life is highly important, it is equally necessary to learn to adapt oneself to varying conditions.

This latter point may at the first glance appear unnecessarily elementary, so much so as to seem hardly worth making, but speaking from personal experience, the writers think that, probably on account of its very obviousness, it often receives far less attention than it deserves.

How many anglers, after working the long winter through begin, as the trout season draws near, to let their thoughts wander to some favourite stream and live for days, aye, almost weeks, in anticipation of the opening day? They conjure up in their minds all the details that have gone to make up some red-letter day in the past, the whole scene comes up as fresh as ever, and memory, ever willing, gives them a most vivid picture of the pool in which the fish of the season put up his last gallant struggle. They recall those exciting moments when the strength of the cast was taxed to its utmost as the fish wildly endeavoured to reach the roots of an overhanging tree, and the joyful feeling of power that crept over them when at last the lusty trout, having somewhat spent himself, allowed them to regain a foot or two of line. Then came that last mad rush when the captive perceived the net.

These memories are happy indeed, though often enough they lead one astray, as, when the eve of the opening day arrives, one has probably definitely decided to begin operations at the exact pool that was the scene of one’s former success. Is this adapting oneself to circumstances? It can hardly be so, and yet probably very few can say that they have never fallen a victim to such foolishness.

The wise man waits until the morrow, when he can see how the wind strikes his favourite stream or reach, whether the water is too high or too low, and whether the sport that it normally might be expected to yield is going to be adversely affected by any other condition. If so, even though disappointed, he will find a more suitable place at which to begin and no doubt at the end of the day his creel will reveal the reward of his adaptability to circumstance.

The consideration of adaptability to circumstance naturally brings one to a classification and subsequent subdivision of the methods of fly fishing, which methods, judiciously and intelligently combined, make for the true road to success.

Fly fishing may be practised in two principal ways, with the wet fly and with the dry fly.

In the former, as the name implies, the flies are fished slightly submerged; and three or sometimes four flies may be used on the cast. They are placed some 20 inches or so apart, but varied as to distance according to the state of the river, greater distance between them being necessary, and fewer flies being used, in low clear water. In dry-fly fishing, as perhaps it is unnecessary to state, only one fly is used, and it is made to float by being whipped through the air after each cast, so as to shake off any globules of water that may be attached to the feathers, a process which is generally assisted by the fly being lightly touched with oil before use.

Before going further it is as well to say a few words regarding the rod and tackle. The length of rod the writers find most useful is 10 ft. 6 ins., and, if it is to be used for wet-fly fishing exclusively, they would unhesitatingly recommend a two-piece rod made of greenheart, or of hickory for the butt, with greenheart top, not too whippy and not too stiff. Such a rod is softer in the action and less tiring to the wrist than one made of split cane. That is a matter well worth consideration when one is whipping the stream for long periods at a stretch.