CHAPTER XXVII 
THE CHINOOK OF MONTEREY 
“ Here, when the labouring fish at the foot arrive, 
And knows that by his strength but vainly doth he strive, 
His tail takes in his teeth ; and bending like a bow* 
That’s to the compass drawn, aloft himself doth throw ; 
Then springing with his tail, as doth a little wand 
That bended, end to end, and flirted from the hand, 
Far off itself doth cast; so doth the salmon vaut. 
And if at first he fail, his second somersaut 
He instantly assays, and from his nimble ring 
Still yesting, never leaves until himself he fling 
Above the streamful top of the surrounding heap.” 
THERE are many reasons why the sea-angler is 
a very lucky personage. One is, that often, when 
fishing, he has the charms and delights of both 
sea and forest, and nowhere is this better exem- 
plified than at Monterey, the old California town 
so rich in historic associations. Here, or in the 
adjacent waters, is the true home of the chinook 
1 This explanation of the leap of the salmon was entertained by 
some writers within the last fifty years. 
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