353 Book of the Black Bass. 



Beneath those roots 

 With watchful eye — proud monarch of the pool — 

 A cunning bass doth lie, on balanced fin. 

 In waiting for his prey. 



And now with rod. 

 With faithful reel, and taper'd line of silk. 

 With mist-like leader and two fairy flies — 

 Dark, bushy hackles, both — I make a cast. 

 With lengthen'd line I quickly cast again. 

 And just beneath the tree the twin-like lures 

 As gently drop as falling autumn leaves; 

 And half-submerged, like things of life they seem, 

 Kesponsive to the rod and line. 



But look! 

 Saw you that gleam beneath the flood ? A flash — 

 A shadow — then a swirl upon the pool ? 

 Jly hand, responsive to the sudden thrill. 

 Strikes in the steel — the wary bass is hooked! 

 And now with lightning speed he darts away 

 To reach his lair — his refuge 'neath the root's. 

 The singing reel proclaims him almost there — 

 I " give the butt "' — the ever-faithful rod 

 In horse-shoe curve now checks his headlong flight. 

 Right lustily he tugs and pulls, Egad! 

 But still the barb is fast. 



The hissing line — 

 The rod now bending like a slender reed 

 Resists the tight'ning strain. He turns his course - 

 In curving reaches, back and forth, he darts. 

 Describing arcs and segments in the pool. 

 Ha! nobly done! as with » mighty rush 

 He cleaves the crystal stream, and at one bound. 

 Full half a fathom in the realm above 

 He nimbly takes an atmospheric flight — 

 His fins extended, stiff with bristling point's — 

 His armor brightly flashing in the sun — 



