THE AMERICAN TROUT. 35 
splendid ones. Who lias not said or thought such words 
as he stood in the bright summer's day under the grate 
ful shade of ~the piazza running round the old country 
house where he played, a boy ? 
He does not make the nerves thrill and tingle like the 
salmon, he does not leap so madly into the air nor make 
such fierce, resolute rushes, he has not the silver sides 
nor the great strength ; but he is beautiful as the sunset 
sky, brave as bravery itself, and is our own home dar- 
ling. How he flashes upon the sight as he grasjDS the 
S23urious insect, and turns down with a quick little slap 
of the tail ! How he darts hither and thither when he 
finds he is hooked ! How persistently he struggles till 
enveloped in the net ! And then with what heart-rend- 
ing sighs he breathes away his life ! Who does not love 
the lovely trout ? With eye as deep and melting, skin 
as rich and soft, and ways as wildly willful as angelic 
woman — who loves not one loves not the other. Who 
would not win the one cares not to win the other. 
Strange that man should " kill the thing he loves ;" but 
if to possess them kills them, he must kill. If women, 
like the Ephemerce^ died as they often do in their love, we 
should still love them. Such is man ; do not think I 
praise him. No one kills fish for the pleasure of killing ; 
but they cannot live out of water, nor we in it, therefore 
one of us must die. We would willingly save them ; 
we have tried to bring them home alive, but it is not pos- 
sible. They are too delicate. With what a feeling of 
affection we look upon a beautiful fish as he lies upon the 
moss, the sunlight sparkling from his colors fading in 
death! with how deep a sadness we see his strength 
