OUTDOORS 



dry he takes on a furniture-polish glaze that 

 spoils his beauty. In the mountain-streams 

 where I fished it was the rule to throw back 

 all under six inches long. They ran from a 

 third of a pound to nearly half a pound, and 

 on rare occasions I got several half-pounders 

 on one expedition. In a meadow reaching 

 up and into an intervale lying close to the 

 lower slopes of a New Hampshire mountain, I 

 caught a brook-trout of a trifle over a pound, 

 by tossing a grasshopper across an alder bush 

 into the brook where he was lurking. 



The scientific fisher with his " flies " can 

 do great things in trout-fishing. It is not the 

 barefoot boy " with cheeks of tan " and bent 

 pin for hook who catches all the trout, ex- 

 cepting in the comic papers. One of these 

 " scientific fellers " fished with me one day, 

 and he caught trout right along. He would 

 stand and whip a fly into the brook, maybe a 

 half-dozen times in rapid succession, right* 

 under overhanging roots or projecting shelves 

 of rock by the pools, and the first thing I 

 would know some wily old half-pounder 

 would come out with a rush and nab the fly. 

 He certainly was a good fisherman. He told 

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