THE THOUSAND ISLES.' 201 
exposed to tlie full fury of the wind, and the water 
dashed in over the bow or broke against the side, while 
the oarsman had all he could manage to row against the 
blast. 
Kound and round this spot we moved, ever with the 
same result ; the lines were not half out before they 
would be seized, it was almost impossible to keep the two 
rods in play. This lasted till we were both ntterly worn 
out with the excitement and the exertion, and were com- 
pelled- to give up from sheer exhaustion. My fingers had 
many a bloody mark left by the reel-handle, that a sudden 
rush had jerked from rny grasp, and being compelled in 
the uncomfortable seat to turn my body round to reel up, 
my back was almost broken. The man had rowed as 
long as he could, but was forced to run down between 
the Powder-horn and Shot-bag Islands and rest awhile 
before breasting the storm homeward. 
We had had great luck, taking in the last hour and a 
half seventy-three bass. It was a glorious sight when 
we arrived at home to see our fish laid out side by side, 
the mascallonge at their head, and tapering regularly 
down to a half-pound black bass. The latter do not 
average any great size, rarely exceeding three pounds 
and never known to be taken over six ; but a day upon 
the St. Lawrence among those beautiful Thousand 
Isles, either in pursuit of the mighty mascallonge, 
the furious pickerel, or, best of all, the spirited black 
bass, will never be regretted by the poet or the sports- 
man. 
