A BROOK-TROUT. 319 



Bays and arms of the sea, innumerable small islands, numer- 

 ous reefs of rocks and uncountable mountain peaks stretch- 

 ed as far as the eye could see; while almost beneath my 

 feet lay our goodly little schooner, reduced by distance to 

 a mere cockle-shell ; the busy crew, passing to and fro upon 

 the beach, looked scarcely larger than ants. Here, with 

 the unobstructed breeze playing upon me, I got a little 

 peace from the troublesome insects, and I would have re- 

 mained longer but that the hour indicated the close prox- 

 imity of the time to close my evening fishing. 



The fly I had used in the morning had done me such 

 good service that I determined to re-employ it, and the re- 

 sult was quite equal to anticipation. I soon got to work, 

 and in a few minutes, was fast to a fine fish, who, although 

 he made a noble struggle, succumbed in less than twenty 

 minutes. Moving my position from some slow water, I 

 took a cast in the throat of a stream formed by the projec- 

 tion of some rocks not that I expected to rise a fish, but 

 to get the line out of my way as I scrambled over some 

 rough ground ; in fact, the water, although rapid, looked too 

 shallow for the retreat of any thing over a pound weight. 

 With surprise I rose a fine brook-trout (Salmo fontinalis). 

 Of course such a fish was not to be despised, so I gave him 

 a second chance, and had the satisfaction of succeeding in 

 striking him. With my strong tackle and rod I treated 

 him cavalierly, and in about ten minutes had the pleasure 

 of handling and canvassing his weight, which was a trifle 

 over five pounds, 



I never remember to have seen a fish of more brilliant 

 coloring and beautiful proportions, and I have little doubt 

 that on a seven-ounce trout-rod he would have given a good 

 half-hour's pleasure. These streams or those which lie in 

 this portion of the American continent swarm with trout, 

 more particularly when you ascend some distance above 



