234 PLEASURES OF ANGLING. 



merry nod to the trout and a long look at the old 

 rock we left behind us, we reeled up and went on 

 our way rejoicing. 



There are several points between these rapids 

 and Bartlett's, five miles distant, where any one 

 unused to these waters, and the habits of trout, 

 would expect success at any season deep spring 

 holes and cold brook outlets. But it is only a 

 waste of time to fish them before the first or mid- 

 dle of July. Trout have their summer watering 

 places as well as tourists ; and it is not until the 

 heated denizens of the towns and cities begin to 

 move off toward Newport and Saratoga that these 

 aristocratic tenants of our inland brooks and rivers 

 leave the rapids and " riffs " for the cooler retreats 

 of deep pools and refreshing spring holes. 



This is one of the first lessons I learned in the 

 art of angling. I had ridden fifty miles over a 

 rough road on a hot day in August, to a stream 

 where, according to the universal verdict, trout 

 were as " plenty as blackberries." I placed myself 

 under the guidance of a gentleman whom I sup- 

 posed " knew the ropes " and upon whom it would 

 be safe to lean. Early on the morning after reach- 

 ing our destination, following his lead, I plunged 

 into the stream translucent as the atmosphere 

 and began to whip right and left, for a rise. 

 Occasionally we would be rewarded by the capture 



