SMALL TROUT. 



217 



I never see this glorious river rushing by us, pure and 

 clear and strong, but I think — I think — how many hours I 

 have sat here thinking 'Are there no rocks in the streams 

 that flow in the celestial fields ? Is the river that runs 

 clear as crystal always a calm smooth stream, or does it 

 not sometimes leap and flash in the holy light and add 

 its voice to the grand harmonies?' No, no, it can't be 

 there a long calm, a never-ending uniformity of existence. 

 Oh for a breath of the winds that toss the hair and fan 

 the cheeks of the white-robed ! Oh for a drop of the 

 spray from the crystal stream ! Oh for an hour among 

 those hills where the winds blow in tempests of joy, where 

 cataract answers to cataract in riotous music. But the 

 day is hurrying along. Let us start." 



So we went down stream. 



" Isn't it a glorious afternoon ? Throw down yonder. 

 I saw the wave of a fin in the eddy under that rock — 

 good — a half-pounder, the best fish to-day." 



"Yes, and the best this season in the Pemigewasset. 

 I believe the trout in this brook never would grow large. 

 Can they be a small variety, a species that do not exceed 

 a quarter of a pound except in rare instances of mon- 

 sters?" 



My friend's idea was one that I have often had. I have 

 fished this river for a great many years, and I never took 

 but one trout weighing a pound in it, and he was probably 

 a wanderer from the lake. It is just possible, however, 

 that all the large fish go up into Profile Lake, and all the 

 small fish come down into the brook. The Cascade 

 brook, however, is different. Here at the junction we 

 often take such fish as that half-pounder, and as we go 

 up we find the run of trout much larger than in the Pem- 

 igewasset, until we come to the Moran Lake brook. In 



