ROD AND REEL. 133 



unimpeded sweep around liim ! Ah, then it is 

 that one discovers what will and energy lie with- 

 in the mottled skin of a trout, and what a mir- 

 acle of velocity he is when roused. I love the 

 rifle, and I have looked along the sights and held 

 the leaping blood back by an effort of will, steady- 

 ing myself for the shot, when my veins fairly 

 tingled with the exhilarating excitement of the 

 moment ; but if one should ask me what is my 

 conception of pure physical happiness, I should 

 assure him that the highest bodily beatitude I 

 ever expect to reach is, on some future day, when 

 the clear sun is occasionally veiled by clouds, to 

 sit in a boat once more upon that little lake, with 

 John at the paddle, and match again a Conroy 

 rod against a three-pound trout. That 's what I 

 call happiness ! 



Well, as I said, I struck ; and, as we afterwards 

 discovered, the huge salmon-hook was buried to 

 the shank amid the nerves which lie at the root of 

 a trout's tongue. Then came a fight for the mas- 

 tery such as never before had I waged with any- 

 thing that swims. Words should have life in them 

 to depict the scene. Quick as a flash, before I 

 had fairly recovered my balance, partially lost by 

 the energy with which I struck, the trout started, 

 and before I could get a pressure upon the line, 

 not twenty yards were left on the reel. A quick 

 stroke from John, and the boat shot one side ; and 



