A HARD FIGHT. 301 
fish who had thus performed, that my fly was much frayed 
and worn. 
After waiting for many minutes, trusting that my foe 
would change his mind and his quarters, I became im- 
patient, and, believing my tackle to be good, put on a little 
extra purchase; this ruse was successful, for with astound- 
ing velocity the fish started down stream at racing pace 
for parts unknown. The reel fairly yelled, and instead of 
the well-made sonorous click being heard, a discordant 
screech was its utterance. Close on a hundred yards of 
line rushed through the heated rings before he slackened 
up, and a good twenty yards more I had followed his 
course ; at the end of this dash he broke water splendidly, 
causing the spray to fly for many feet around.- Again and 
again his argentine flanks reflected brilliant radii in the 
sunlight, and at each glistening reflection of the solar rays 
I feared that we should part company without the most re- 
mote chance of further or more closely renewing our ac- 
quaintance. Fortune and good tackle, however, favored 
me; and I had the satisfaction of turning his head for the 
source of the river, and probable birthplace of himself and 
relations. With the greatest satisfaction I took in yard 
after yard, my hopes rising as the body of my reel expand- 
ed; at length I saw the loop which attached the line to the 
leader, and the sight caused me more satisfaction than one 
can imagine who is engaged in the ordinary pursuits of life. 
Oh salmon-fishing! what pleasure have I enjoyed follow- 
ing thy peaceful pursuit! What ecstasy, what delight! 
Would that I had the pen of the most fluent writer, or 
tongue of the most eloquent spokesman !—I could do you 
far more justice; but still I doubt if it is in power of words 
to mete to you an iota of the laudation and praise your 
fascinations so eminently deserve. 
Why wander from facts? Simply because I can not 
