The Trout Streams of the Missions 143 



nearer and nearer the net. There are men I 

 have heard who fish with barbless hooks so that 

 if the game makes a good and gallant fight, he 

 may. escape. Let us hope that this hard fighter 

 so escaped, as up into the sky he went, and with 

 a fling sent the leader high in air, and was gone. 

 I have a particular fondness for the region 

 in southern California marked by the little San 

 Juan and San Luis rivers, as when I first knew 

 them they abounded in trout, and flowed down 

 from the Coast Range through an attractive coun- 

 try that still has a charm despite the dividing 

 up into ranches. Coming upon these little streams 

 along the coast below a lofty mesa covered 

 with flowers, the stroller would wager that not 

 far away, so near that down the wind would 

 come the chimes, would be found a mission. 

 And so one Sunday, when I stood in the little 

 San Juan where it reaches the sea, I caught 

 the tolling of bells of a distant mission, followed 

 the stream upward, and came to the fine ruin of 

 San Juan Capistrano, built near a trout stream 

 by Father Serra, in 1776; a stupendous and 

 splendid pile, cross-shaped, ninety by one hun- 

 dred and eighty feet (if one must have statistics 

 with their trout), after plans of Fray Gorgonio, 

 and of all the missions in this wonderful chain 

 the most pretentious. It was built of quarried 

 stone, had seven domes, and its ruins are beauti- 

 ful and imposing to-day. The earthquake of 



