FLY-FISHING. 251 



m this case they have but one fault, they are brittle. 

 A cedar rod never warps ; it springs to the hand as 

 quick as thought to the brain ; it is never slow or 

 heavy ; it cannot be kept down by the wind or the 

 current ; it is never aught but quick, lively, and 

 vigorous ; it will cast three feet farther than any other 

 rod except the bamboo, and strike a fish with twice 

 the certainty. The wood is extremely light, but the 

 grain is short ; it never loses its life, but will snap 

 under a sudden strain. 



I once struck a salmon with an eight-ounce cedar 

 trout-rod ; it was at the basin below the Falls of the 

 Nipisiquit, where the current of the river, rushing 

 against the calm water of the deep pool, creates a 

 gentle ripple. The hour was near midday, and I 

 was catching sea-trout in that profusion with which 

 they abound in the northern waters, when out of 

 the ripple, a few yards beyond my reach, rose a 

 mighty monarch of the flood, and turning over as 

 he sank, caused a heavy surge in the tide. 



My Canadian guide, an enthusiastic Frenchman, 

 was with me, and our nerves tingled and our cheeks 

 flushed at the sight ; approaching the canoe, a long 

 cast brought him out again, but only to miss the 

 tiny trout-fly. Convinced that he would rise, I 

 hastily substituted a small salmon-fly for the stretcher, 

 leaving on the leader the two small droppers I had 

 been using, and again carefully cast over him. Out 

 he came, the water breaking round him and rolling 

 away in miniature circling waves, and the foam fly- 

 ing from the powerful blow of his tail as he turned 



