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164
Glaucus; Or, The Wonders of the Shore
·
Charles Kingsley
141
I
said
just
now,
that
happy
was
the
sportsman
who
was
also
a
naturalist.
And,
having
once
mentioned
these
curious
water-flies,
I
cannot
help
going
a
little
farther,
and
saying,
that
lucky
is
the
fisherman
who
is
also
a
naturalist.
A
fair
scientific
knowledge
of
the
flies
which
he
imitates,
and
of
their
habits,
would
often
ensure
him
sport,
while
other
men
are
going
home
with
empty
creels.
One
would
have
fancied
this
a
self-evident
fact;
yet
I
have
never
found
any
sound
knowledge
of
the
natural
water-flies
which
haunt
a
given
stream,
except
among
cunning
old
fishermen
of
the
lower
class,
who
get
their
living
by
the
gentle
art,
and
bring
to
indoors
baskets
of
trout
killed
on
flies,
which
look
as
if
they
had
been
tied
with
a
pair
of
tongs,
so
rough
and
ungainly
are
they;
but
which,
nevertheless,
kill,
simply
because
they
are
(in
colour,
which
is
all
that
fish
really
care
for)
exact
likenesses
of
some
obscure
local
species,
which
happen
to
be
on
the
water
at
the
time.
Among
gentlemen-fishermen,
on
the
other
hand,
so
deep
is
the
ignorance
of
the
natural
fly,
that
I
have
known
good
sportsmen
still
under
the
delusion
that
the
great
green
May-fly
comes
out
of
a
caddis-bait;
the
gentlemen
having
never
seen,
much
less
fished
with,
that
most
deadly
bait
the
“Water-cricket,”
or
free
creeping
larva
of
the
May-fly,
which
may
be
found
in
May
under
the
river-banks.
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