The Brook Trout 99 



A farmer's boy says: "I don't neow 

 es heow thar be eny treauts 'bout, but I 

 ofen sees sum city chaps pull ouet a few 

 little fish with little bits o' feather an* 

 wool on rods no bigger 'n a ridin' whip." 



Another walk of a few minutes in the 

 same direction along the car track reveals 

 another cunning little stream of pure 

 spring water running just like the first. 

 There are fine bits of wood on both sides 

 of the track and they seem filled with song 

 birds and sweet-smelling wild flowers. 

 The stream is remarkably clear, and its 

 little pebbles glisten in the sun at the 

 bottom of the two feet of water like so 

 many pearls and nuggets of shining gold 

 and silver. A large pipe carries the water 

 under the railroad bank as in the case of 

 the first stream. Here, too, I make up 

 my mind to return some day and wade 

 in the stream far into the quiet woods. 

 On the north side of the railroad bank, 

 I see hundreds of tiny minnows. They 

 sport away in fright up the stream as my 



