70 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
line our southern streams, the quantity of fallen timber, 
the amount of “ snags” and ‘“‘sawyers,” and the great 
plentifulness of game, make the beautiful art of angling, 
as pursued in our Northern States, impossible. 
The veriest tyro, who finds a delicate reed in every 
nook that casts a shadow in the water, with his rough 
line, and coarser hook, can catch fish. The greedy 
perch, in all its beautiful varieties, swim eagerly and 
swiftly around the snare, and swallow it, without sus- 
picion that a worm is not a worm, or that appearances | 
are ever deceitful. The jointed rod, the scientific reel, 
cannot be used; the thick hanging bough, the rank 
grass, the sunken log, the far reaching melumbium, the 
ever still water, make these delicate appliances useless. 
Arrow-fishing only, of all the angling in the interior 
streams of the southwest, comparatively speaking, claims 
the title of an art, as it is pursued with a skill and a 
thorough knowledge that tell only with the experienced, 
and to the novice, is an impossibility. 
The originators of arrow-fishing deserve the credit of 
striking out a rare and beautiful amusement, when the 
difficulties of securing their game did not require it, 
showing that it resulted in the spirit of true sport 
alone. 
The origin of arrow-fishing we know not; the coun- 
try where it is pursued is comparatively of recent set- 
tlement ; scarce three generations have passed away 
within its boundaries. 
