THE SALMON. 89 
from out our waters. The willful, stupid obstinacy in 
building dams without fisbwajs, in crowding the rivers 
with nets, and neglecting all measures for their protec- 
tion, have annihilated the noblest of game fish. They 
are now only to be found in Maine, and to the north- 
ward of it. The rivers of Maine are no longer worth 
the angler's attention, and if he would have good sport 
he must proceed to the wilds of Kew Brunsw^ick or 
Lower Canada. 
In the wild w^oods of those famed regions they 
abound, and there, amid the solitude of nature, in its pri- 
meval grandeur, the w^riter has cast the fly over thou- 
sands, has lured hundreds from their hidden depths, and 
seen myriads moving about in their romantic pools, or 
darting away when disturbed ; has waited, casting 
patiently, for their appearance ; has felt the vigor of 
their first rush ; has seen them leap, maddened, high out 
of water ; has experienced all the variations of hope, 
the exultation of success, and, alas ! the agony of fail- 
ure. He has known them to dart away resistlessly down 
some imj)as3able rapid, and leap for joy as they broke 
his frail tackle, and he has seen them panting with the 
gaflF in their sides and the dark blood streaming over their 
resplendent scales, as his quick-eyed assistant had secured 
them at the moment the hook was tearing out. Aye, he 
once had the good luck of having one that was thrown 
out of water by the blow, the hook tearing out at the 
same time, caught on the gaff ere he fell back into the 
watery grave of hope. 
The glorious sport ! Ye delvers after the ore of gold, 
hidden as it seems to be in boxes of silk or bales of cot- 
