,CHAPTER XXI. 
TROLLING IN JUNE. 
. 
“TROLLING,” anywhere over good water, has its merits, 
but “trolling” over Lake Pleasant and Round Lake, of a 
sultry, pulseless summer’s day, after the season has gone 
by, has its romance; and it is concerning this striking 
feature thereof, that I propose now to write. 
“Patience is a virture of the serene gods,” say the meek 
brothers of the angle; but I say their godships never sub- 
jected that sublimest attribute to the test of trolling one 
of the last days of June anywhere in Hamilton county; 
neither do I believe Old Nick ever thought of that merciful 
dispensation in favor of Job, or we should have heard a 
different story. It passeth all comprehension—not “ 
still imagination in bottomless conceit—” could. ! But 
I anticipate! 
I was extremely ambitious of salmon trout—or “lakers,” 
as they call them; and must confess that my inner visuals 
were so preoccupied by the glistening image of a twenty- 
pounder dancing in the air before them, while preparing 
to come here, that it never once occurred to me to inquire 
whether I should be in season or out of season for them. 
As for my friend Piscator, his contented fancy had never 
soared above a brook-trout of three pounds; and when he 
heard the stories of these huge fellows, his large eyes would 
grow rounder, and lambent with a liquid inspiration at the 
thought. 
With what an eager smile, betwixt wonder and awe, he 
would listen, while he toiled at his delicate tackle, renewing 
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