76 Fly-rods and Fly-tackle. 



and is forced instead to follow its gyrations through the 

 mud and filth of a city street; he who eagerly reaches 

 before him in the darkness for an open door, and finds 

 it with his nose these have experienced the pangs of 

 blasted hope, and can sympathize. Paralysis followed 

 the blow ; and when at length the world rolled on once 

 more in its appointed orbit, I began the old familiar 

 process of endeavoring to convince myself that the re- 

 sult of my own stupidity was an arrow of fate. The 

 fault of the leader it could not be, for it had been tested 

 not an hour previously. The shortening line comes 

 slowly in, watched with anxious eyes. But where is 

 the leader alas ! careering round in the depths of the 

 Moose Brook, a bond of union between two most un- 

 happy trout. 



Then, I fear, not all the Commandments were remem- 

 bered. 



The angler who, under such misfortune, can preserve 

 his equanimity, must possess a degree of philosophy in- 

 deed phenomenal. My philosophy is quite dilute, so I 

 went for John. John good, kind, honest John patient, 

 conscientious, of untiring energy ; courteous and consid- 

 erate alike in sunshine and storm, in time of plenty or 

 famine ; the prince of guides, whose skill at the trap, the 

 paddle, the rifle, and the rod are unequalled; who forgets 

 more overnight of the ways of the wilderness than I shall 

 ever know. A most aggravating fellow is that John. 

 We have been together for years, and many are the dif- 

 ferences of opinion which have arisen. The worst of 

 him is that he is invariably in the right, and that 

 I am always forced in consequence to eat "humble 

 pie." 



"John, you must have let that knot upset when 



