THE GREAT TROUT. 35 
How one should use a landing net 
I'd not the slightest notion; 
But John, a mighty general, 
Directed every motion. 
“O, don’t, don’t let him see it, Dick,” 
Go under, stupid one. 
Just bring it up his back now; good! 
You have him, boy, well done! 
Now hold the rod, I'll lift him out,” 
My happy master cries. 
I willingly resign the net, 
And let him take the prize. 
With open mouth and straining arms 
He makes one mighty sweep, 
And flapping down between us falls 
The giant of the deep. 
We fall beside him in the grass 
And laugh and shout for joy; 
The happiest lads in all the land 
John Pike, and this small boy. 
The beauty of that mammoth trout 
I never shall forget. 
As if it were but yesterday 
I seem to see him yet. 
His head was small, his shoulders vast, 
His back was gently bowed; 
His belly’s deep, elastic sweep 
His generous nurture showed. 
His eyes with vibrant vigilance 
Seemed watching for surprise; 
His every movement seemed to say 
That he was strong and wise. 
His latter end was shapely built. 
His counters tapered true, 
To where, like spreading swallow tail, 
His huge propeller grew. 
His color words can scarce describe : 
It seemed to tone away 
From green and brown with crimson stars 
To gold and silver grey, 
All mantled with a subtle flush 
Of opal, fawn, and rose, 
And all the iridescent tints 
That pearly shells disclose. 
Its length, its weight you want to know 
Spare me, my loving friends; 
I know just where your doubts begin. 
And here my story ends. 


AMATEUR PHOTO BY JOHN H. FISHER, JR. 
AT BREAKFAST. 
Winner of 13th Prize in Recreation’s 8th Annual Photo Competition, 
“Mamie got a diamond ring Christmas.” 
“How did she get it?’ 
“Hung up her stocking. 
“Jack, of course? 
get it?” 
But how did Jack 
“Hung up his watch.”—Illustrated Bits. 
> 
