ON A GLASS ROOF 



WINTER fishing in Northern latitudes is not the 

 perfection of the sport of angling. It lacks many 

 of the things which contribute to make that a fine 

 art and a delightful pastime. The fine tackle of the 

 fly-fisher and the skill to handle it properly, the 

 long-contested and exciting fight between man 

 and fish, are not for him who goes fishing in winter. 

 Neither for him is the balmy air that wafts the 

 odor of blossoms and voices of song-birds and 

 babble of free streams, nor verdant sward, nor 

 leafy woods, nor glint of sunlit waters. In fact, 

 it savors somewhat of the pot; for it is often more 

 the object to get fish than sport. But any fishing 

 is better than no fishing; and when we remember 

 that our fishing-days are growing fewer as the path 

 behind us grows longer, it behooves us to make the 

 most of those that are left us. Furthermore, it may 

 be said in favor of this fishing that in one respect 

 it excels all others that is, in the proportion 

 which the pleasure of getting ready for it bears to 

 the actual sport. Though there are no flies to be 

 artistically tied, nor fine rods to be inspected, nor 

 reels to be oiled, the simple tackle must be over- 

 hauled and made ready in its way, and proper hooks 

 and lines provided. If one is to try for pickerel 



