66 Fish Stories 



grove seemed to live in a hollow tree near to the brow of 

 that primrose hill. There I sat viewing the silver streams 

 glide silently towards their center, the tempestuous sea; yet 

 sometimes opposed by rugged roots and pebble stones, 

 which broke their waves and turned them into foam; and 

 sometimes I beguiled time by viewing the harmless lambs; 

 some leaping securely in the cool shade, whilst others 

 sported themselves in the cheerful sun ; and saw others crav- 

 ing comfort from the swollen udders of their bleating dams. 

 As I thus sat, these and other sights had so fully possest my 

 soul with content, that I thought, as the poet has happily 

 exprest it, 



" I was for that time lifted above earth ; 

 And possest joys not promised in my birth. 



" As I left the place and entered into the next field, a 

 second pleasure entertained me ; 'twas a handsome milkmaid, 

 that had not yet attained so much age and wisdom as to load 

 her mind with any fears of many things that will never be, 

 as too many men too often do; but she cast away all care 

 and sung like a nightingale." 



It is much the same to-day; fish stories are not all fin- 

 breadth escapes, or violent givings of the butt; with the true 

 disciples of Walton, they are rather dissertations on all the 

 accessories of the art, discourses on the various incidents 

 of the catch, which may be foreign to it, or a part of its 

 most exciting history. Indeed, the most extraordinary expe- 

 riences of every angler are those which relate to the fishes 

 which got away. 



A very mathematical and abstruse friend of mine, albeit 

 a good angler, once, while broiling trout, and I toasting 

 bread, in the heart of the splendid forests of Oregon, esti- 

 mated that if all the mighty fish which have got away in 

 divers fashions could be piled on dry land, they would form 

 a piscatorial pyramid which would reach to the moon and 

 half-way back. If the lines lost on these titans could be 



