224 I GO A -FISHING. 



down to it. The roar of the Pemigewasset all along the 

 road for miles was like the sound of Niagara. For we 

 had had heavy rains of late, and the rivers were swollen 

 and strong. Mountain-top was bound to mountain-top 

 by the great mass of cloud. We traveled under a vast 

 arch of gloom. 



Two miles below the Flume House are the first mill- 

 dams on the river, and as trout will rise to a fly here and 

 lower down the river, I pulled up to try a few casts under 

 the first dam. The behavior of a trout-rod is sometimes 

 inexplicable. I had with me this morning a heavy fly- 

 rod, which in case of need I could use as a bait-rod. It 

 was a good rod, had done excellent service, and I thought 

 was trusty. I was casting only twenty feet of line, and at 

 the third or fourth cast, snap went the second joint close 

 at the ferrule. The occurrence is not uncommon, nor 

 does it ordinarily require much time to repair such a dam- 

 age, which is one of the least importance to which rods 

 are liable. I kindled a small fire of drift-wood, extracted 

 the ferrule from that of the butt, burned out the broken 

 wood, replaced it on the second joint, and cast again. A 

 small fish, not over four ounces, rose to the fly. I struck 

 him as gently as if he were a butterfly, and snap went the 

 tip, at half its length. There were extra tips in the rod- 

 case in the wagon, and one was soon substituted, and 

 again I began to cast. I took a half-dozen fish, and then, 

 as I was trying to throw a fly very lightly through an 

 opening in the falling sheet of water and on to the still 

 water behind the sheet and under the dam, I threw two 

 thirds of the rod away, as the butt broke with a long di- 

 agonal split from the ferrule upward. 



A writer on gaming recommends his pupils never to run 

 against luck, but when they find it decidedly bad, to aban- 



