LONG ISLAND. 63 



of a Long Island deer one of the tribe of which a few are 

 still left to roam the scrubby waste lands of the Plains. 

 This is a simple pen-picture of the sportsman's rendezvous 

 on this " sea-girt isle." 



Starting out betimes, when the tide, serves right, we 

 anglers follow a narrow lane that leads to the marshes be- 

 yond, and leaping an old rail -fence stride forth upon the flats. 

 Before us stretches a wide expanse sere and brown, bounded 

 in the distance by the blue ocean on which a single white 

 sail is making an offing. There is nothing else to break the 

 dreary monotony save the distant masts of a couple of large 

 fishing-smacks which are high and dry upon the banks of 

 the creek in which we are to fish. The cold wind blows in 

 our faces sharply, and whistles through our delicate fishing- 

 tackle now rigged and ready for use, and each heavy tramp 

 falls with a squelch and a splash on the marsh, and the short, 

 crisp, salt grass whisks up the blue ooze high on our boots. 

 Is this the poetry of the gentle art ? 



Ah ! here is the creek at last. Whew ! how the wind 

 drives through its broad, deep channel, and throws up the 

 waves against its muddy banks with a cold goblin chuckle ! 

 What a cast of the fly ! Away it whisks, clear over the creek, 

 and lodges upon the opposite bank. Foot by foot we cover 

 the creek as we make our frequent casts, but yet no rise. At 

 length we take one trout at the bend a small one ; after a 

 while another ; anon another, a little larger than the rest. 

 But, bless me if I like this sport ! This is not the trout 

 fishing I fancy. In my . mind this pastime and the dark 

 forest, the whirling eddy, and the tumbling torrent are ever in- 

 separable. I would cautiously toss my fly under yon moss- 

 covered stump that throws its shadow over that pool, and 

 with drawn breath await the magnetic thrill which I know 

 will stir my nerves. I would trail it lightly across that 

 circling eddy just below the sparkling foam, or cast it under 

 that rocky arch where the water is black and still. I would 

 pause betimes, that the eye might measure the lofty columns 



