350 Fly-rods and Fly-tackle. 



around parallel to, and at a short distance from the shore, 

 I cast towards it. When about one-eighth of the circum- 

 ference had been passed, we neared a bend where two 

 white-birch trees had fallen into the water years before. 

 The smaller branches had disappeared to a great extent, 

 but the tops projected some distance under the water, 

 leaving quite a space between them. No sign of a trout 

 had as yet been seen ; but when I cast towards these tops, 

 a swirl, evidently caused by a good-sized fish, followed. 

 I struck and fastened him, held him for a moment, when 

 the hook detached and he escaped. It was a bitter dis- 

 appointment. He was evidently a very nice fish, and the 

 opportunity so long desired to obtain at least a little 

 definite information of the rate of growth in these waters, 

 seemed to have slipped from me at the very moment when 

 within my grasp. "It's tough, John, but I've lost him." 

 A deep sigh was the only response, and the canoe, mov- 

 ing as silently and almost as slowly as the shadow on 

 the dial, withdrew about fifteen feet, arid presented its 

 broadside to the snags. Believing I had exhausted all 

 the luck I could reasonably expect in finding one at all, 

 I cast once with but little hope, and raised nothing ; 

 again, and the water boiled. This gentleman was evi- 

 dently in earnest, and I struck him on the instant. At 

 once the canoe began to withdraw towards the middle of 

 the pond, while with all the bend which could be put 

 upon the rod, I supplemented the resistance of the click 

 by additional friction applied by my fingers to the line 

 always giving a little, and but a little, arid making him 

 work for every inch. It was risky fatal if the hold 

 was slight but it was imperative he should not regain 

 the shelter of the snags. The struggle was protracted 

 and severe, but at last he swung away from them, and 



