126 FISHERMAN'S LUCK 



guide him toward the shore, and twice ran out 

 again to deeper water. Then his spirit awoke 

 within him, he bent the rod like a willow wand, 

 dashed toward the middle of the river, broke the 

 line as if it had been pack-thread, and sailed 

 triumphantly away to join the white porpoises that 

 were tumbling in the tide. * Whe-e-eiu] they said, 

 ' whe-e-ew, psha-a-aw^ but what did H. E. G 

 say? . . . 'Those porpoises,' said he, 'describe 

 the situation rather mildly, but it was good fun 

 while it lasted.'" 



The Thrilling Moment is the title of a very 

 interesting chapter. In the autumn of 1894 Mr. 

 Van Dyke, his friend Paul, and Ferdinand their 

 guide, went a-fishing for ouananiche in what he 

 calls the Unpronounceable river. It was the last 

 day with the land-locked salmon ; they found the 

 water coming down in flood. The stream was 

 bank-full, gurgling and eddying out among the 

 bushes, and rushing over the shoal where the fish 

 used to lie, in a brown torrent ten feet deep, and 

 their last day seemed destined to be a failure. 

 Paul wandered down-stream to look after an eddy 

 where he might pick up a small trout or two. 

 Ferdinand resigned himself without a sigh to the 

 consolation of eating blueberries, and our author, 

 more disconsolate than his comrades, sat down 

 among the rocks, and (to my gratified surprise) 

 took from his pocket An Amateur Angler's Days 

 in Dovedale, and settled down "to read himself 

 into a Christian frame of mind." 



