242 I GO A- FISHING. 



stream which turned a rude wheel of the mill of E'ma-al- 

 a-ha. The spring was alive with fish. He was a perse- 

 vering angler then, as now. He had taken some fish in 

 the Sea of Galilee, descendants of the sacred fish of an- 

 cient times ; he had whipped the Jordan with all sorts of 

 flies ; he had, in fact, fished all the waters of Israel ; and 

 this spring, pouring its water into the Lake Merom, on 

 the Upper Jordan, was certainly as fine-looking a place 

 to fish as we had seen. We could see hundreds of large 

 fellows sailing around in the clear water, but we took no 

 fish there — not a fish, not the fin of a fish." 



John told the simple truth. 



It was more unintelligible to me than the hieroglyphics 

 of Egypt were to Champollion. It bothered me more than 

 a cuneiform inscription. They were large fish ; they were 

 plenty; they were active. I had good tackle, enough of 

 it. My old rod had done service in its day ; but it was 

 of no use there. I tried every fly in the book. They did 

 not even look at the cheats. I tried every bait imagin- 

 able. They never approached it. I used all the insects 

 and animals I could catch near the spring ; all the grubs 

 and worms that live in the soil of the Jordan valley. I 

 even tried raw meat and flour paste. I worked at the 

 spring till long after dark, and began again at daylight in 

 the morning : but it was of no use. Since then Dr. 

 Thompson, of Sidon, the good and distinguished mission- 

 ary, has told me that those fish are celebrated, and that 

 no one has ever succeeded in taking one of them. But a 

 few days' study and attention would do the work. It is 

 only necessary to learn the habits of fish to be able to 

 catch them. 



" Have you killed any trout in Echo Lake this year ?" 

 said the Doctor. 



