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164
Glaucus; Or, The Wonders of the Shore
·
Charles Kingsley
143
The
natural
history
of
these
flies,
I
understand
from
Mr.
Stainton
(one
of
our
most
distinguished
entomologists),
has
not
yet
been
worked
out,
at
least
for
England.
The
only
attempt,
I
believe,
in
that
direction
is
one
made
by
a
charming
book,
“The
Fly-fisher’s
Entomology,”
which
should
be
in
every
good
angler’s
library;
but
why
should
not
a
few
fishermen
combine
to
work
out
the
subject
for
themselves,
and
study
for
the
interests
both
of
science
and
their
own
sport,
“The
Wonders
of
the
Bank?”
The
work,
petty
as
it
may
seem,
is
much
too
great
for
one
man,
so
prodigal
is
Nature
of
her
forms,
in
the
stream
as
in
the
ocean;
but
what
if
a
correspondence
were
opened
between
a
few
fishermen—
of
whom
one
should
live,
say,
by
the
Hampshire
or
Berkshire
chalk
streams;
another
on
the
slates
and
granites
of
Devon;
another
on
the
limestones
of
Yorkshire
or
Derbyshire;
another
among
the
yet
earlier
slates
of
Snowdonia,
or
some
mountain
part
of
Wales;
and
more
than
one
among
the
hills
of
the
Border
and
the
lakes
of
the
Highlands?
Each
would
find
(I
suspect),
on
comparing
his
insects
with
those
of
the
others,
that
he
was
exploring
a
little
peculiar
world
of
his
own,
and
that
with
the
exception
of
a
certain
number
of
typical
forms,
the
flies
of
his
county
were
unknown
a
hundred
miles
away,
or,
at
least,
appeared
there
under
great
differences
of
size
and
colour;
and
each,
if
he
would
take
the
trouble
to
collect
the
caddises
and
water-crickets,
and
breed
them
into
the
perfect
fly
in
an
aquarium,
would
see
marvels
in
their
transformations,
their
instincts,
their
anatomy,
quite
as
great
(though
not,
perhaps,
as
showy
and
startling)
as
I
have
been
trying
to
point
out
on
the
sea-shore.
Moreover,
each
and
every
one
of
the
party,
I
will
warrant,
will
find
his
fellow-correspondents
(perhaps
previously
unknown
to
him)
men
worth
knowing;
not,
it
may
be,
of
the
meditative
and
half-saintly
type
of
dear
old
Izaak
Walton
(who,
after
all,
was
no
fly-fisher,
but
a
sedentary
“popjoy”
guilty
of
float
and
worm),
but
rather,
like
his
fly-fishing
disciple
Cotton,
good
fellows
and
men
of
the
world,
and,
perhaps,
something
better
over
and
above.
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