66 The American Angler 
about Santa Catalina Island and San 
Clemente abound in schools of barra- 
cuda that often tint the water a rich 
green, and when seen deep in the water 
from the boat present a singular ap- 
pearance of myriads of heads and eyes. 
When the barracuda bites it does it ina 
whole-souled fashion that cannot be 
mistaken; and the lines are kept going 
and there is a constant flapping as the 
long rakish fish come piling into the 
boat. Usually this fish is taken on a 
hand line, and the object is to see how 
many can be caught, and often by fol- 
lowing a school around a boat can be 
almost filled with the fish. 
This past summer I tried them ona 
light rod, and had no difficulty in taking 
8 or ro pound fish on an eight ounce 
split bamboo rod, and curiously enough 
some of the largest on an old oil silk 
trout line of the smallest size. ‘The 
fish varied much in their game qualities; 
some were thorough fighters and gave 
a fine exhibition of strength and skill, 
and fought for twenty or thirty minutes 
before they were brought to the gaff, 
while others, and notably the largest 
fish running up to 12 pounds, simply 
sulked and came in like a dead weight. 
One of the best fighters I have taken 
ona rod in these waters is the oil shark, 
an active shark about five feet in length 
and running up to 70 pounds. 
SYLVAN SOUNDS. 
GUY HERNE. 
Beneath the sylvan boughs I fish alone. 
No more the horrid rumble of the streets 
My tired ear with clangerous rattle greets, 
But sylvan vesper chants of different tone ; 
The bullfrog in the marsh makes ceaseless moan ; 
I hear the story in loud rythmic beats 
Which of sweet Katy’s peccadillos treats, 
The cricket’s shrill metallic monotone, 
The lowing of the home returning herd, 
The surly watchdog’s hoarse resounding bay, 
The twittering of some belated bird. 
But hark—no longer casting may I stay, 
For on mine ear in still small accents borne 
Sounds the alert mosquito’s irritating horn! 
