FLAVOR OF TROUT. 183 



lake, and killed a fine lot of large fish. We brought into 

 the Profile House that evening forty-five fish, weighing 

 thirty-nine pounds. Every one of those forty-five fish was 

 taken on a scarlet ibis or a white moth. They would not 

 rise to any other fly. A year had passed, the day was 

 precisely similar in weather and atmosphere, but no trout, 

 large or small, would rise to either of those flies. Yet 

 there were thousands of trout in the lake, as I knew well. 

 I tried several flies of the sort usually best suited to these 

 waters, but could not get a rise. I began to despair. At 

 length I put on for the stretcher a small fly, tied for me 

 at Inverness a crimson body, with shining jet-black 

 wings, each wing tipped with pure white. At the first 

 cast of that fly up came the first trout, a half-pounder. 

 To this fly the small trout rose freely. But no large fish 

 would be coaxed up. I took a dozen fair-sized fish, and 

 then drifted idly about the lake till noon. The Baron 

 was off in the forest, and would not be in camp till even- 

 ing. I had nothing to do but fish or study the forest and 

 the lake. Fishing was without object, since I had already 

 taken all that we could eat, and if I took more they would 

 not be fresh the next day. 



I never attempt to send trout from the forest to friends 

 in town, excepting when I have a special request from 

 some one who desires them. A trout is seldom fit to eat 

 the day after he is taken. In the city we know nothing 

 about the true flavor of this delicate fish, and hence many 

 persons are surprised at the high praise bestowed on them. 

 It is not so strange that a good taste pronounces trout, as 

 ordinarily found in the city, or received there in ever so 

 careful packing, an inferior fish for the table. There are 

 a dozen varieties of fish in the New York market which 

 are better than trout can ever be there. 



