THE PEMIGEWASSET. 209 



the wild gorge below. Dupont and myself have often 

 done it, but never with so great difficulty as in the sum- 

 mer of 1872, when, in consequence of the continuous rain, 

 the river was very high and strong. 



" Will you fish a brook to-morrow ?" I said to Dupont 

 as we were parting at midnight. 



" What brook do you want to fish ?" 



" The Pemigewasset, below the bridge." 



" Can we get through with the water as high as now ?" 



" We can try." 



And so we met at an early breakfast, and were off down 

 the valley with Jack and the buck-board before the sun 

 was up. The sound of the water in the Basin was thun- 

 derous. I confess that I began to think of backing out, 

 but I said nothing. At the Basin we put on our wading 

 trousers and went in. 



It was a clear, cool day, with a soft breeze shaking the 

 birch-leaves and cooling our heads, which would other- 

 wise have been very hot while our feet were in the cold 

 water. For the temperature of the Pemigewasset is sel- 

 dom above forty-five. 



For me there is always more pleasure to be derived 

 from fishing a brook than from any other angling. Flow- 

 ing water is always attractive, and every rod of this river 

 is exquisitely beautiful. 



The piscatorial dilettante is fond of condemning bait- 

 fishing as a low business. I differ from him. It is a fine 

 art, and in all the classics of our art-history has taken 

 high rank. If the test be found in the amount of skill re- 

 quired for its practice, then without dispute it ranks as 

 high as fly-fishing. I grant freely that sitting in a boat 

 or on a lake-shore and fishing for trout with a deep line 

 and a float is not one of the fine arts. Any one can do 

 O 



