28 THE AMERICAN TROUT. 
torn off by tlie sharp stones. His efforts grow fainter, 
the flashing eye dims, a few convulsive throes and he is 
quiet ; the grim hand of death has pressed upon him. 
He is indeed the prince of monsters, the paragon of 
giants ; so thick, so deep, with so small a head for so 
large a body ; such brilliant hues : the fins so red, the 
blue and carmine spots so numerous and delicate. I 
wash him off and stand gazing at him in my hand 
regardless of further sport. I have captured the king, 
and care not to follow his subalterns. I lay him gently 
in my basket ; he will not lie at full length. I cover 
him with moss, filling the little room left, and forcing 
my way through the overhanging bushes, and, reaching 
the broad light of day, proudly await the arrival of my 
companion. Then the moss is carefully removed, and 
the beauties of my darling are unveiled, and flash and 
gleam in the sunlight. 
There are several ways of landing a trout, but not all 
equally sportsmanlike. Large trout may be gaffed, 
small ones landed in a net, and where neither of these 
means is at hand, they must be dragged out of water, or 
floated up among the bushes, according to the taste of 
the angler and the strength of his tackle. 
A tyro was once fishing on the same boat with me, 
using bait, when he struck his first trout. One can 
imagine how entirely misspent had been his previous 
existence, when it is said he had never taken a trout, 
no, nor any other fish before. It was not a large fish ; 
such luck rarely falls to the share of the beginner, and 
in spite of what elderly gentlemen may say to the con- 
trary, an ignorant countryman, with his sapling rod 
