The stream was in eddying whirls of ripples from the constant 'leaping' of the trout. Now and then one bolder than the rest would dash out of the water its full length to seize its departing prey, which sometimes escaped to become a precious morsel in the mandibles of a watching bird. Many of these insects would float on with the current, never able to unfold their soft, creamy-wings, and become easy victims. On the opposite bank was an angler. For an hour in patience he whipped the stream, now up, now down, with 'red hackles,' 'white hackles,' 'black hackles;' he changed fly after fly in vain. At length he folded his rod and passed away among the shadows of the night, without so much as a bite, without so much as a chance to tell of the big fish 'hooked' but lost. "There are many aquatic insects double brooded, or under favorable circumstances, of a succession of broods. Imitations of such can be used throughout the summer months. There are many insects that do not breed in water, yet are successful baits. As a rule, insects that appear in large numbers, whether they belong to land or water, are the proper ones for imitation. Solitary specimens, although dear to the heart of an entomologist, are eyed by the fish with haughty indifference. Water is a great attraction for all insect tribes. The banks of streams constitute the favorite hunting-ground for insect collectors, where they compete with the fish, those practical entomologists, in collecting. Some insects come to drink, others in search of prey, for insects are cannibals, while very many are the sport of the winds. It is probably the bright sheen of the water that draws the fluttering moths into its depths. All nocturnal insects have a strange infatuation for glistening light. What the attraction is for some is beyond the ken of mortals. A _Tipulidæ bibri marci_, or in piscatorial language, the hawthorn fly, an insect whose life is beneath the surface of the earth eleven months of the year, comes crawling, creeping out of the ground on warm June mornings appareled in new livery. After resting awhile on low herbage, all, as if guided by one impulse, fly to the nearest stream. We have kept those insects for weeks in confinement, and they would neither eat nor drink. But every morning for hours they congregate over streams. Keeping time with the ripple of the water, they hold a May dance; darting hither and thither, occasionally touching the water to go down the current, or else down the throat of a fish. When these bright creatures are holding high carnival above, the trout positively refuse other enticement. The larvae of moths is a favorite fish food, and consequently successful bait. Hibernating larvae are drawn from their retreats in warm spring days, and continue the pilgrimage they commenced the previous fall. In their wild journeyings on and on before spinning the pupa shroud, they fall victims in attempting to cross streams.