The Black Bass as a Game Fish. 351 



and flower, and my breath inhaling the sweet fragrance of 

 upland clover and elder-blossom — I say I can find more 

 true enjoyment in this — than paying court to the lordly 

 salmon, or the lovely trout, in its stifE and silent demesne, 

 with anointed face, gloved hands, and head swathed in 

 gauze. If this be treason, my brother, make the most of it. 

 I am content. It is my honest conviction. After killing 

 every species of game-fish east of the Eocky Mountains, 

 from Canada to Florida, and some in foreign lands, I find 

 the knightly bass and his tourney-field all sufficient- 



THE CAPTURE OF THE BASS. 



My brother of the angle, go with me 

 This perfect morning in the leafy June, 

 To yonde'r pool below the rapid's foot. 

 Approach with caution ; let your tread be soft ; 

 Beware the bending bushes on the brink. 

 Disturb no branch, nor twig, nor leaf, my friend, 

 The finny tribe is wary. 



Rest we here. 

 Be'hold the lovely scene! The rippling stream, 

 Now dancing, sparkling, in the morning sun; 

 The blue-eyed violet nodding at your feet; 

 The red-bird, all ablaze, with swelling throat, 

 Chants loud his song in yonder thick-set thorn. 

 The dreamy, droning hum of insect wings 

 Is mingled ever with the rustling leaves. 

 Sleek, weel-fed cattle there contented stand. 

 On gravelly shoal beneath the spreading beech. 

 Across the narrow stream a sycamore, 

 A weather-beaten giant, old and gray, 

 With scarr'd arms stretching o'er the silent pool, 

 With gnarl'd and twisted roots bathed in the flood 

 For, lo, these hundred years. 



