rHE GERMAN OR 

 BROWN rROUT 



A RIVER, wide in its flowing, rushed 

 on its mission to the sea, encircling 

 the soft green of meadowland, in the 

 glorious sunlight of a perfect morn- 

 ing, with a radiance like that of diamonds. In 

 such a place and on such a day, was I introduced 

 to the salmon trout of foreign antecedents. I had 

 read of him, talked about him. Long discussions 

 had stirred the sultry air into a summer zephyr, 

 when I, a humble listener among the mighty, had 

 wondered who was the truth-teller of them all. 

 By some, this trout was considered a good game 

 fish ; by others, he was rated low. A few thought 

 that he and his Scotch friend, the Loch Leven, 

 were twins, and that no difference could be de- 

 tected between them. Some of the sportsmen 

 who had been fortunate enough to visit this gem 

 of Scottish lakes, and on its beautiful surface cast 

 tiny flies that seemed no bigger than an ordinary 

 gnat, using a leader like a thread from a spider's 



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