AMERICAN AUTUMN. 371 



and the oppressive heat gave way to the most desirable 

 temperature. An English autumn to me is always sad ; an 

 American autumn is quite the reverse, the hues and 

 colours of the former are sombre, in those of the latter 

 brilliancy unsurpassable predominates. An American 

 autumn once seen makes as lasting an impression on the 

 memory of mature age, as the gorgeous fairy scene of the 

 pantomime when first beheld upon that of youth. For 

 some time none of the bright-hued fish had been taken, 

 and I much feared that my acquaintance with them 

 for that year had terminated ; but not so, a few sharp 

 nights of frost took place, and going one morning to 

 obtain sufficient fish for breakfast, in the run that formed 

 the exit of the river from the lake, I with pleasure, in suc- 

 cession, captured several of the beauties. From that day 

 forward, they became more numerous, and the last morn- 

 ing's fishing which I here enjoyed, with the snow flying so 

 thick that I could scarcely see my flies, I killed not only 

 the greatest number, but the heaviest of the brilliant 

 representatives I had captured during the season. With 

 regret, having no desire to pass almost an arctic winter, I 

 turned my back upon the three lonely lovely lakes, with 

 the following unpronounceable Indian names, Molleychun- 

 keymunk, Mooseluckmaguntic, and Moligewalk, to seek 

 the boundless prairies of the far West, and to substitute for 

 constant companion, my double barrel, in place of my well- 

 tried tapering fly-rod. 



In my experience as a fisherman in Scotland and Ire- 

 land, I never knew of our river-trout being captured in the 

 sea. In Long Island, what is there called the brook-trout 



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