DIES PISCATORIiE. 521 



sort of " fish stories" Irom persons who had explored the northern regions ; 

 1 had listened to their statements with silent acquiescence, but inwardly 

 distrusting ; but when the reality came, there was no exaggeration that 

 could at all come up to the simple fact. Innocent stranger ! Thou who 

 readest these lines ! perhaps you never caught a Trout. If so, thou knowest 

 not for what life was originally intended. Thou art a vain, insignificant 

 mortal ! pursuing shadows ! Ambition lures thee. Fame dazzles, Wealth 

 leads thee on, panting ! Thou art chasing spectres, goblins that satisfy 

 not. If thou hast not caught a trout, this world is to thee, as yet, a blank, 

 existence is a dream ! Go and weep. Come with me, and thou shalt see 

 for what man was made. Thou shalt learn for what those faculties were 

 given, that thou art wasting on minor objects. The brook rolls brightly 

 before thee ; the forest is deep and wild, and its branches hang over the 

 stream ; it leaps on with silvery laughter, like youth that bounds joyfully 

 to the dark ocean of age. Its smooth waters dash against the rocks, and 

 become brawling foam, as broken hopes are turned to raging passions. It 

 darts through narrow places, over opposing obstacles, as untiring energy 

 bursts its way through untried and devious paths. It gathers in quiet 

 pools, and returns in gentle eddies up the stream, as the thwarted purpose, 

 the disappointed wish recoils upon itself, or settles into sluggish apathy. 



Now, put up your pole, and take your first Trout, poor innocent. Rig 

 on your fly ! not that great big red thing — put on that little gray one 

 with the small hook. Don't you know that a Trout is the daintiest, most 

 delicate fish that swims ? You pitch at him a bait as big as your fist, and 

 he'll turn up his nose in disgust ; but just cover the point of your hook with 

 the smallest possible piece of worm, or take the smallest fly, and he'll go 

 at it like a Shark. Now, do you see that dark object off yonder, lying by 

 the side of that stone? — that's about a pound and a half: we'll have him. 

 Pitch in your fly, and skip it over the water lively ; not that way — that's 

 down the stream ; cast your fly up. If you had any sense, which you 

 haven't, you'd know that Trout always lie with their heads up-stream ; and 

 if you cast down-stream, in the first place, they'll see you, and won't bite, 

 and if they do, you'll pull the hook right out of their mouths ; but if you 

 throw up-stream they bite faster, and you have a better chance of striking 

 your barb through their gills. There ! your fly touches the water ; see those 

 fellows jump at it ; but those are little fellows, and don't weigh more than 



a quarter of a pound. Follow N 's suggestion, and put up a notice 



on the bank : " Small Trout are requested not to bite !" 



Now heave again. See there ! — that was a pretty jump he made; bet 



