Abundant as are the May-flies at the latter end of May and the beginning of June in this country, in other countries they are sometimes more astonishingly numerous. In some parts of Holland, Switzerland, and France, their great numbers have been compared to pelting flakes of snow. "The myriads of Ephemeræ which filled the air," says Reaumur, "over the current of the river and over the bank on which I stood, are neither to be expressed nor conceived. When the snow falls, with the largest flakes and with the least interval between them, the air is not so full of them as that which surrounded the Ephemeræ." The occurrence of such prodigious numbers is, I believe, unknown in the British isles. In the perfect or imago state the May-fly lives but a short time. The word ephemera means "living only for a day;" and though individuals may live longer, yet the term is fairly correct as expressing their short existence. The May-flies (Ephemeræ) have all three long fine hairs at the end of the tail; some members of the same family, but belonging to a different genus, have only two hair-like appendages. For instance, the fly known to fishermen as the "March-brown" belongs to the same family as the May-fly; it is smaller than it, and has only two hairs at the end of the tail; but with this exception, the natural March-brown and the May-fly are wonderfully alike; yet it is most curious to notice what a wonderful difference there is in the larvæ of these two insects. Significant facts, no doubt, lie at the bottom of such differences in the case of insects so evidently allied, but these I will not speak of. Here are the two forms of larvæ, the one being the larva of the common May-fly (Ephemera), the other that of the March-brown (Baëtis).
LARVA OF BAËTIS, WITH BREATHING PADDLES, MAGNIFIED.
LARVA OF EPHEMERA, OR MAY-FLY, MAGNIFIED TWO DIAMETERS.
Come, we have lunched, and rested, and watched the May-flies; let us try to catch a few more trout. It is very strange why sometimes the fish will not rise, though the weather is propitious and the water in first-rate order. Holloa! master Willy, what game are you after now? "Oh, papa," he exclaimed, "there are a lot of dace on this shallow, so I put the spinning hooks on, and, see, I have managed to hook a couple out, by simply throwing the tackle on the other side of the fish and then drawing it smartly through the water over them." Well, that looks like a bit of poaching, at all events; the fish are spawning amongst that water-crowfoot, no doubt; just hook out some weed, and I dare say we shall see some eggs. To be sure; there they are, dotted over the long thread-like leaves of the plant, like little pearls. You have caught enough, for I think it is not sportsmanlike conduct to take such unfair advantage of the unfortunate dace. Put on your casting line and try under the old forge bridge. You think there is not much use? A true fly-fisherman should never say so. I have taken many a trout under the bridge, and I dare say you may be successful this time. There! I told you so. Keep your line tight, and Jack shall land him. He is not a large fish evidently, but very lively. Now you have him, throw him on the grass. Are there any parasites on him? Yes; but different to the last we observed. Here is a leech-like creature, rather small and cylindrical; it is the Piscicola, a not uncommon parasitic leech on fish. Well, put him into the bottle; we can take him home and examine him at leisure. How many trout have we taken now? "We have got nine, papa, and, remember, I have caught three." Yes; but I suppose you include the poaching? "No; I have caught three trout with the fly, and I don't count the dace." Not a bad day's sport, after all; for I threw back again three small fish. What is this showy plant, with large, yellow, globe-like blossoms? How pretty it is, growing in abundance in a little spot near the river! It is the globe flower, so called from the rounded shape of the corolla; it is one of the buttercup family, as you will, perhaps, guess. In its wild state I believe it is found in mountain districts, so I suspect it has found its way here from some of the cottage gardens which are only a quarter of a mile distant. We will grub up a few roots; perhaps Mrs. Charlton would like them for her wild garden shrubbery. When you go a-fishing always be provided, if not inconvenient, with a trowel and a small basket, as well as with a few wide-mouthed bottles; they will be very useful, especially if the trout will not rise. The trowel and basket you can leave at a cottager's house, and the bottles are indispensable to every angler-naturalist. What are you running after, Jacko? Oh! I see; one of the most beautiful insects that are found in this country. Ah! he is too quick for you. It is the brilliant steel-blue dragon-fly. Let us sit down for a few minutes and watch its flight. How rapidly it flies, now pursuing the course of the river, now suddenly darting back again. It is the Agrion virgo, the most splendid of all the dragon-flies, even rivalling the gorgeously coloured insects of tropical countries. All the dragon-flies proceed from water larvæ; strange creatures of unbecoming forms and ferocious dispositions. The mouth, or rather the lower lip of the larva is of very singular form. Two jaw-like organs are at the end of the lip, its basal portion being articulated to the head; this mask, as it has been called, is folded beneath the head when in repose, but it can be suddenly shot out in front of the head so as to seize any small creatures that may pass near it which the larva thinks good to eat. Imagine one of your arms being joined on to your chin, bend your elbow up till your hand covers your face—this will represent the dragon larva with the mask in repose; now shoot out your arm in a straight line from the head—this will represent the mask unfolded and in use; your fingers may be considered to represent the jaws of the creature. When the larva wishes to turn into an insect, it leaves the water and creeps up the stem of some water weed or other object out of the water, bursts its skin, and commences its new state of existence. If we look about us near the water side, we shall be sure to find some empty pupa skins. Here are two on this sedge; you see a slit on the back through which the dragon-fly has come out. The dragon-flies are the largest and most active of our British insects, and, to quote the descriptive words of Professor Rymer Jones, "are pre-eminently distinguished by the rapidity of their flight and the steadiness of their evolutions while 'hawking' for prey in the vicinity of ponds and marshy grounds, where in hot summer weather they are everywhere to be met with. Equally conspicuous from their extreme activity, their gorgeous colours, and the exquisite structure of their wings, they might be regarded as the monarchs of the insect race. The very names selected for them by entomologists would testify the perfection of their attributes; their titles ranging from that of Anax imperator, indicative of imperial sway, to epithets expressive of feminine delicacy and ladylike grace, such as virgo, puella, demoiselle, and damsel-fly, which are appropriated to the sylph-like forms that many of them exhibit. In their habits, however, they by no means deserve the gentle appellations bestowed upon them. They are, in truth, the tigers of the insect world, and their whole lives are devoted to bloodshed and rapine. Indomitable in their strength of wing, furnished with tremendous jaws, and possessed of acuteness of sight and rapidity of motion scarcely to be paralleled, there seems to be no escape from their ferocity, and terrible is the slaughter they effect amongst the insect legions they are appointed to destroy." It must not, however, be supposed from the above description that the dragon-flies are creatures that deserve to be killed. On the contrary, they are most serviceable to men, and destroy countless numbers of injurious flies and butterflies whose larvæ do damage to vegetation. "Well, papa," said Jack, "the boys in the village always kill them if they can catch them, and say they sting horses." I know that this is a popular tradition, inherited by the rural folks of our day from their great-great-grandmothers' grandmothers. Dragon-flies are often called horse stingers; in America they are sometimes called devil's darning-needles; in Scotland, I believe, they are known by the name of flying adders. Where is my net? I will try and catch a demoiselle. There! I have her, or I should rather say him, for these dark spots on the wings disclose the sex; the female has unspotted wings, and is of a rich green colour. "How splendidly it shines in the sun," said Willy; "nothing can exceed the beauty of its wings." Well, now you have looked at him closely and admired him, I will let him go again. Off he flies, none the worse for his temporary captivity. Now for my friend the trout, who would not take my fly an hour ago. Ah! I have got him the first throw; see how he jumps. Now, Willy, for the landing-net. Bravo! all safe, and a good fish too. Our sport is over for the day, and we must get ready to drive home. To-morrow, Willy, you may learn these lines from Thomson's 'Seasons:'
"When with his lively ray the potent sun
Has pierced the stream and roused the finny race,
Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair;
Chief should the western breezes curling play,
And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds.
Just in the dubious point where with the pool
Is mixed the trembling stream, or where it boils
Around the stone, or from the hollowed bank
Reverted plays in undulating flow,
There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly;
And as you lead it round in artful curve
With eye attentive mark the springing game,
Straight as above the surface of the flood
They wanton rise, or urged by hunger leap,
Then fix with gentle twitch, the barbed hook.
Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank,
And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some,
With various hand proportioned to their force.
If yet too young and easily deceived,
A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod;
Him, piteous of his youth, and the short space
He has enjoyed the vital light of heaven,
Soft disengage, and back into the stream
The speckled captive throw. But 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 leap,
With sullen plunge. At once he darts along,
Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line;
Then seeks the furthest ooze, the sheltering weed,
The caverned bank, his old 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 abandoned, to the shore
You gaily drag your unresisting prize."
There is some good advice here worth remembering; at any rate, persevere, persevere, and no doubt you will become in time
A MOST SUCCESSFUL ANGLER.