574 AMERICAN ANGLER'S BOOK. 



" Angler'i Souvenir," that he was more of a philosopher than 

 an angler. Talk of "dressing for dinner," when the fish are 

 rising ! Steady and slow, my boy, you are giving in at last — 

 two pounds and a half or not an ounce ! now I see you " as 

 through a glass, darkly" — a little nearer, my beauty — Bah ! 

 what a fool I am ! here a fish of a half-pound has hooked 

 himself amidship, and of course offering five times the resist- 

 ance he would if fairly hooked in the mouth, and no damage 

 to his breathing apparatus while fighting, either; for he 

 keeps his wind all the while. If he had been regularly 

 harnessed, he could not have pulled with more advantage to 

 himself and greater danger to my tackle in this rough water. 

 I thought I had been deceived in this way often enough to 

 know when a fish was hooked foul. 



Now I call it strong wading coming down through that 

 dark ravine ; I must take a rest and put on a fresh dropper. 

 And so my friend asked me if it was not very lonesome, fish- 

 ing by myself. Why these little people of the woods are 

 much better company than folks who continually bore you 

 with the weather, and the state of their stomachs or livers, 

 and what they ate for breakfast, or the price of gold, or the 

 stock-market, when you have forgotten whether you have 

 a liver or not, and don't care the toss of a penny what the 

 price of gold is; or whether "Beading" is up or down. 

 Lonesome! — It was only just now the red squirrel came 

 down the limb of that birch, whisking his bushy tail, and 

 chattering almost in my face. The mink, as he snuffed the 

 fish-tainted air fiom my old creel, came out from his hole 

 amongst the rocks and ran along within a few feet of me. 

 Did he take my old coat to be a part of this rock, covered 

 with lichens and gray mosses ? I recollect once in the dim 

 twilight of evening, a doe with her fawns came down to the 

 stream to drink ; I had the wind of her, and could see into 



