,342 TROUT FISHING. 



moauing in tlie deep monotony of its calm^ or thundering in 

 the hoarse fury of its storm, against its pebbly barrier. 



"Now we are in the land of Trout streams, baymen, and 

 wild fowl, 



'' The rippling dash of falling waters catches our ear, at every 

 half-mile as we roll along, and every here and there, the raised 

 bank on our left hand with its line of stunted willows bent 

 landward by the strong sea-breeze, the sluice-gate, and the little 

 bridge, with the clear stream rushing seaward under it, tell us 

 that we are passing a Trout pond, 



" On the right hand, the salt meadows stretch away, a wide, 

 waste, desolate expanse, to the bays, which glitter afar off under 

 the declining sun, whence you hear at times the bellowing roar 

 of a hea^y gun, telling of decimated flocks of brant and 

 broadbill. 



" Now we pass by a larger pond than any we have yet se.en, 

 with a mill at its outlet, and in a mile farther, pull up at the 

 door of Jem Smith's tavern. 



" And there we will halt to-night, although it be a better 

 station for fowling than fishing, for we are sure of neat 

 though homely accommodation, and of a kindly welcome ; 

 and here it is that the first essay is to be made of Long 

 Island waters. 



" On this stream there are two ponds, both of which were 

 formerly private property, and closed against all persons except 

 those who were furnished with a permit ; they are now open to 

 all persons indiscriminately, and I believe without restriction as 

 to the number that may be taken by each individual, or by a 

 party. The consequence of this is, that these ponds have 



