and that the size of a fly rather than its colour is the important point for the angler’s consideration.  Others again go some way with the supporters of the colour-scheme and admit the efficacy of flies whose general character is red, or yellow, or black, and so on.  The opinion of the majority, however, is probably based on past experience, and a man’s favourite flies for different rivers and condition of water are those with which he or someone else has previously succeeded.  It remains a fact that in most fly-books great variety of patterns will be discoverable, while certain old standard favourites such as the Jock Scott, Durham Ranger, Silver Doctor, and Thunder and Lightning will be prominent.  Coming out of the region of controversy it is a safe generalization to say that the general rule is:  big flies for spring fishing when rivers are probably high, small flies for summer and low water, and flies medium or small in autumn according to the conditions.  Spring fishing is considered the cream of the sport.  Though salmon are not as a rule so numerous or so heavy as during the autumn run, and though kelts are often a nuisance in the early months, yet the clean-run fish of February, March or April amply repays patience and disappointment by its fighting powers and its beauty.  Summer fishing on most rivers in the British Islands is uncertain, but in Norway summer is the season, which possibly explains to some extent the popularity of that country with British anglers, for the pleasure of a sport is largely increased by good weather.

Two methods of using the fly are in vogue, casting and harling.  The first is by far the more artistic, and it may be practised either from a boat, from the bank or from the bed of the river itself; in the last case the angler wades, wearing waterproof trousers or wading-stockings and stout nail-studded brogues.  In either case the fishing is similar.  The fly is cast across and down stream, and has to be brought over the “lie” of the fish, swimming naturally with its head to the stream, its feathers working with tempting movement and its whole appearance suggesting some live thing dropping gradually down and across stream.  Most anglers add to the motion of the fly by “working” it with short pulls from the rod-top.  When a fish takes, the rise is sometimes seen, sometimes not; in any case the angler should not respond with the rod until he feels the pull.  Then he should tighten, not strike.  The fatal word “strike,” with its too literal interpretation, has caused many a breakage.  Having hooked his fish, the angler must be guided by circumstances as to what he does; the salmon will usually decide that for him.  But it is a sound rule to give a well-hooked fish no unnecessary advantage and to hold on as hard as the tackle will allow.  Good tackle will stand an immense strain, and with this “a minute a pound” is a fair estimate of the time in which a fish should be landed.  A foul-hooked salmon (no uncommon thing, for a fish