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ounce beauty at my side on the bank. " That's 

 the first fish I've seen caught from the bridge," 

 said an admiring native, and it was the only 

 one I ever caught, although my line has dropped 

 there many times before and since. 



Now I know the trick. I made a stout cord fast 

 to a stump above the bridge, and let my canoe 

 float down under and through the bridge , then I 

 cast my fly, and a boy sitting in the bows slowly 

 pulled me through again up to the stump. The 

 fish seeing no splash, only the passing shadow of 

 the silent canoe, took my fly readily, and in the 

 early morning I was sure of a fairly good catch. 

 If fished for from the bridge, they will lie there, and 

 never move a fin ; the current is weak, and if scared 

 away by a stone or twig, they will return in a sec- 

 ond or two, almost to the same spot. I fancy the 

 first one I caught was not a regular " bridge bass," 

 but was one swimming up stream at the edge of 

 the weeds in search of his breakfast. Now if any 

 of my fishing friends think they can catch these 

 bridge bass, I will guarantee to show them (or they 

 can go and see for themselves) from six to a dozen 

 of the beauties lying there at any time. 



When I do not succeed with them to my satis- 

 faction, I get some one to systematically drop 

 stones and drive them up stream, where, perhaps 

 out of pure unadulterated cussedness, they seem to 

 readily take a fly. A great advantage of this spot 

 up stream is that the baby bass and sun fish give 

 but little trouble. The principal nuisances are the 



