26 THE AMERICAN TROUT. 



the number of herring darting past gave continual 

 promise of the presence of their arch enemy, the trout. 



I had half-filled my basket, and had met with wonder- 

 ful escapes and terrible heart-rending losses, mingled 

 with exhilarating successes. I had made about half the 

 distance, as well as we judged, and felt proud and happy 

 as no king upon his throne ever did or will. My rod, 

 though a fly-rod, was whipped every few inches with silk, 

 and thus strengthened had stood the unequal conflict 

 admirably. Still hoping for better things — who will not 

 hope for the impossible ? — I strode on. Below me the 

 current made a sudden turn at a bend in the stream, and 

 eddied swiftly under the overhanging bank. The brook 

 almost disappeared in what was evidently a vast cavern 

 deep in the bowels of that bank. In such watery palaces, 

 amid the worn rocks, the tangled roots, the undulating 

 moss and weeds, fierce -eyed, monstrous trout delight to 

 dwell. In such fortresses they await unwary travellers, 

 and dark deeds are done in the congenial darkness — 

 outrage, riots and murder ^talk boldly about. The 

 migratory herring, harmless and unsuspicious, peers 

 in and starts affrighted back, then peers again, at last 

 ventures forward, and then, compelled by instinct to 

 ascend, tries to dart hastily by ; there is a sudden rush, 

 a frantic struggle, a piteous look entreating mercy of 

 pitiless hearts ; for an instant the water is dyed with 

 blood and then flows on, washing, all trace of the deed 

 away. 



I approach the den carefully, the feather-like float 

 dancing merrily far ahead over the rippling tide, and as 

 the line is paid out, swaying from side to side, close in 



