Flies tied on eyed hooks with cocked or upright wings, in imitation of the natural fly when floating down a stream, are coming into use more and more, and apparently will supersede those tied on gut, and with flat wings.
WHEN TO GO FISHING.
A century ago it was not possible to get forecasts of the weather from the daily papers, and the death of Admiral Fitzroy in middle life, and in the midst of his scientific discoveries, was a great blow to the advancement of this branch of science. But with greater facilities for conveying intelligence round the whole globe, it could not but happen that more accurate information of air currents should be sent forward to the countries likely to be affected by them.
The following is from the "Art of Angling," published in 1810:—"It is the best fishing in a river somewhat disturbed by rain, or on a cloudy day when the waters are moved with a gentle breeze; the south and west winds are the best, and if the wind blows high, yet not so but that you may conveniently guide your tackle, then fishes will rise in the still deeps; but if there is little wind stirring, the best angling is in swift streams.
"In casting your line, do it always before you, and in such a manner that the fly may fall first on the water. When you throw your line, wave the rod in a small circumference round your head, and never make a return of it before the line has had its full scope, or the fly will snap off.
"Although when you angle the day is cloudy and windy, and the water thick, you must keep the fly in continual motion, otherwise the fishes will discern the deceit.
"'... Upon the curling surface let it glide
With nat'ral motion from your hand suppli'd;
Against the stream now let it gently play,
Now in the rapid eddy float away.'
"When fishes rise at the fly very often, and yet never take it, you may conclude that it is not what they like, therefore change it for the one they do."
PLAYING A FISH.
"... Should you lure
From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots
Of pendent trees, the monarch of the brook,
Behoves you then to ply your finest art;
Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly,
And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft
The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear:
At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun
Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death
With sullen plunge: at once he darts along,
Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthen'd line,
Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed,
The cavern'd bank, his own secure abode;
And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool,
Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand,
That feels him still, yet to his furious course
Gives way, you, now retiring, following now
Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage,
Till floating broad upon his breathless side,
And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore
You gaily drag your unresisting prize."