Among the Troiits of the Pacific Slope 



to possess worms, and are certainly 

 not delectable to look upon. 



On returning to Mamniouth Hot 

 Springs, I concluded to remain over a 

 day. Through the courtesy of Captain 

 Anderson, Sixth United vStates cavalry, 

 commanding post, and the kindness of 

 Mr. I. Jay Haynes, who accompanied 

 me, I had a beautiful morning's angling 

 on the Gardiner river, bountifully 

 stocked with our Eastern brook trout. 

 Starting about 9 o'clock, we drove 

 some eight miles through the Golden 

 Gate to reach the river, which flowed 

 through a picturesque cailon. To find 

 out whether any fish were below, Mr. 

 Haynes lengthened out his line and 

 dropped a fly into a pool beneath where 

 we stood. Immediately a game little 

 six-to-the-pounder fastened on, and up 

 he came to the top of the canon, and 

 down we went. The stream was per- 

 fect for brook work. Wadeable through 

 the length we fished, with pleasant 

 pools and sparkling rapids, filled with 

 the genuine old-fashioned wild fish, 

 such as I caught when a boy, in Henry's 

 Run, with dear old Thad. Norris as 

 preceptor. Peace be to his ashes, for a 

 more finished angler or more lovable 

 sportsman has not arisen since his time. 



I know of no fish that rises with such 

 avidity as our fontinalis. All the trout 

 of the Pacific are behind him in this re- 

 spect, and oftener take the fly under 

 water than on the surface. It was a 

 charm, indeed, to be again among the 

 old friends of the brook. These had 

 brought with them a full measure of 



the vigor of the race to which they 

 belonged, and a merry dance we had 

 with them. Little fellows the}^ were, 

 to be sure, but they were plentiful and 

 active; the sport was so hot that it 

 actually made me laugh. Jumping 

 clear of the water after the dancing 

 fly, they made too lively a measure to 

 tire one of the song, and its sportive 

 melody recalled the happy days of my 

 youth and those never-forgotten memo- 

 ries that cling to boyhood. It is diffi- 

 cult, however, to put three pints into a 

 quart measure, and although I had 

 hung a huge 20 lb. creel over my 

 shoulder, I found, ere 2 o'clock had 

 come, that fish were getting out of the 

 hole in the cover, and when I packed it 

 up to the top of the caiion, I knew 

 there was something on my back. 



Reaching the wagon and emptying 

 the creel, 118 speckled beauties fell out 

 upon the grass, while my friend had 

 ninety-seven. The best morning's 

 brook fishing in my experience. 



This ended my angling in the West. 

 My rods are carefully rolled in their 

 cases, the flies quietly resting in their 

 books; and like the old darky who 

 brought down the coon, I will say in 

 closing — dali ! 



I am stopping at Dawson, S. Dakota, 

 on the way home, with the grouse, the 

 ducks and the geese. When they take 

 up their annual flight south, let us hope 

 that we may soon follow. Once again 

 in balmy Florida, I trust it m^y be my 

 good fortune to see your salt-water 

 tackle, your artist, and yourself. 



