PLEASURES OF ANGLING. 259 



course, and instead of to the trout, which seemed 

 eager to be taken, my fly hooked to a monster 

 saw-log, which was pursuing its mad dance in the 

 surging eddies. I " caved " at the possibility of 

 landing so huge a catch, but was ambitious to save 

 my tackling. The struggle was protracted and 

 exciting, being in doubt whether, instead of saving 

 my tackling, we would not ourselves be caught in 

 the whirlpool, upon the very verge of which the 

 struggle was progressing, and thereby give our 

 friends at home an opportunity to laugh at our 

 mishap or mourn at our funeral. But, fortunately, 

 perhaps, in the adventurous spirit which had seized 

 us, the saw-log was the victor. In making an un- 

 usual swirl, as it encountered some unusual eddy, 

 helped by the bump of a score of others in a like 

 predicament, my line snapped, and leader and flies 

 were left prisoners of war, where they are still ac- 

 companying these fugitive saw-logs in their dizzy 

 whirl at the foot of Pearsfield Falls. A few small 

 trout, a sumptuous lunch, a drink of delicious water 

 from one of the coldest springs in the wilderness, 

 and several hours of unalloyed enjoyment, sufficed 

 to fill our cup full of that quiet sort of pleasure 

 which I find nowhere so abundantly as in these 

 quiet forests. 



My largest fish at Setting Pole rapids weighed 

 three pounds. But I was enabled to go a pound 



