4 FISHING WITH THE FLY. 



the reflection of a star. I have stood on heights afar 

 off at the opening of the season, ere my unconsecrated 

 rod had chance to exercise its magic, or my lips and 

 feet to kiss the river, and with the combined exhilara- 

 tion of impatience, desire, and joy, watched the inces- 

 sant spirits of silvery spray until my chained and chafed 

 spirit almost broke at the strain ; and I have lain on 

 my conch at midnight sleepless and kept awake by the 

 constant splash of the salmon leaps. More interesting, 

 if not so stimulating, is the leap of the salmon at ob- 

 structing falls, with the air filled with dozens of dart- 

 ing, tumbling, and falling fish — the foam dashing and 

 sparkling in the sun, the air resonant with roar, and 

 damp with the ever-tossing spray. Nay, more : I have 

 seen a fall whose breast was an unbroken sheet thirty 

 feet perpendicular, inclosed by lateral abutments of 

 shelving crags which had been honey-combed by the 

 churning of the water in time of flood ; and over these 

 crags the side-flow of the falls ran in struggling rivu- 

 lets, filling up the holes and providing little reservoirs 

 of temporary rest and refreshment for the running 

 salmon ; and I have actually seen and caught with my 

 hands a twelve-pound salmon which had worked its 

 way nearly to the counterscarp of the topmost ledge in 

 its almost successful effort to surmount a barrier so in- 

 superable ! Surely, the example of such consummate 

 pertinacity should teach men to laugh at average 

 obstacles which stand in the pathway of their am- 

 bition ! 



