CHAPTER XVI 



MY FIRST SALMON : A FISHING TRIP TO 

 NEWFOUNDLAND* 



IF the reader is no fisherman he had better turn 

 the pages over until he find something more to his 

 fancy, for my extravagant phrases the result of 

 fresh enthusiasm will seem to him like the ravings 

 of a madman. I am writing while my first salmon 

 line is scarcely dry, and in spite of unfavourable 

 conditions this taste of the sport has fairly whetted 

 my appetite. A resolve, witnessed by the rushing 

 river, has been registered by both myself and my 

 companion to revisit the same dark pools next year. 

 Never again, however, can we have the unforget- 

 able experience of catching our first salmon. The 

 thought of the very best day's shooting falls flat 

 when compared with the memory of that moment 

 of terrific excitement, when the line was tightened 

 after a rise, and of the subsequent view of the great 

 fish making its first leap from the water in its 

 endeavour to break away from the silken cord which 

 held it captive. 



My friend and I had often heard of the wonders 

 of Newfoundland as a fisherman's paradise, so we 

 determined to take the trip. A guide was imme- 

 diately engaged, also two packers, one of whom 

 was to act as cook. Our outfit was bought and 



* First published in Country Life in America. 

 W.L.C. Q 



