30 THE AMERICAN TROUT. 



feeble efforts, while my companion, as quietly as he 

 could, worked out his line till he could land him like a 

 Christian. Great were the rejoicings when the prize 

 earned with so much anxiety was secured. That is the 

 way not to land a trout. 



One afternoon of a very boisterous day, I struck a large 

 fish at the deep hole in the centre of Fhillipse's Pond, on 

 Long Island. He came out fiercely, and taking my fly 

 as he went down, darted at once for the bottom, which is 

 absolutely covered with long, thick weeds. The moment 

 he found he was struck, he took refuge among them, and 

 tangled himself up so effectually that I could not feel 

 him, and supposed he had escaped. By carefully exert- 

 ing sufficient force, however, the weeds were loosened 

 from the bottom, and the electric thrill of his renewed 

 motion was again perceptible. He was allowed to draw 

 the line through the weeds and play below them, as by 

 so doing they would give a little, while if confined in 

 them he would have a leverage against them, and could, 

 with one vigorous twist, tear out the hook. When he 

 was somewhat exhausted, the question as to the better 

 mode of landing him arose. The wind was blowing so 

 hard as to raise quite a sea, which washed the weeds 

 before it in spite of any strain that could be exerted by 

 the rod, and drifted the boat as well, rendering the latter 

 almost unmanageable, while the fish was still so vigorous 

 as to threaten at every moment to escape. I besought 

 the boatman, who was an old hand and thoroughly up 

 to his business, to drop the boat down to the weeds and 

 let me try and land my fish with one hand while holding 

 the rod with the other. He knew the dangers of such a 



