80 FISH HARVESTING. 
My first attempt in the swift scour was a 
lamentable failure. Warily I threw my newly- 
created monster well across the stream, and, 
according to the most approved method, let it 
slowly wash towards me, conveying to the rod 
and line a delicate and tempting tremble; not a 
rise, not a nibble; my hopes wavered, and I began 
to think these trout wiser than I had given them 
credit for. I tried the pool as a last chance; so, 
leaning over the rock, I let my tempter drop 
into the water; it made a splash. like throwing 
in a stone; but imagine my delight, ye lovers 
of the gentle art, when a tremendous jerk 
told me I had one hooked and struggling to 
get free! Depending on the strength of my 
tackle, I flung him out on the bank; and ad- 
mitting all that may be said against me as 
being barbarous and cruel, I confess to standing 
over the dying fish, and admiring his brilliant 
colour, handsome shape, fair proportion—and, last 
thought not least, contemplated eating him! I 
pitied him not as, flapping and struggling on the 
grass, his life ebbed away, but thought only of 
the skill I had displayed in duping him, and the 
feast in store for me on returning to camp. 
Having discovered a secret, | pressed eagerly 
on to turn it to the best advantage, and that 
