Piscatorial Theologians on Meadow 
Brook. 
We are all acquainted with Meadow Brook, 
though it may be known to us by some other 
name. Meadow Brook is a constant feature in 
the landscape, an object of perennial affection. 
When the grass begins to turn green in the 
spring we love to follow the stream in its aim¬ 
less meanderings and dream of days to come, 
but not until the insects of June swarm before 
its diminishing water is the trout fishing worth 
while. Then the expert fly-fisherman enters a 
piscatorial heaven. In July and August, when 
the grasshoppers congregate upon its banks in 
engage in wordy battles. Personally—for while 
I am not of the Immersionist’s faith, I com¬ 
mune with that cult at times—I much prefer to 
fish down stream, for then the current arranges 
my flies for the back cast; however, I do not 
care to engage in argument with those who fish 
up stream, for, as they stoutly maintain and 
with apparent logic, trout lie with their heads 
up stream, and when approached from behind 
are not so apt to be alarmed. They are royal 
good fellows, these Immersionists. They are 
not believers in close communion and you will 
enjoy a day with them, though you may not 
hope to convince them of the errors of their 
ways; no more will they convince you of yours. 
would be apt to fall. Sometimes the flies fall 
upon the far bank, and with a gentle twitch of 
the line he jerks them into the water. His is 
the poetry of action. No haste, no excitement; 
cool, methodical; every motion tells. To follow 
the Methodist is to be converted to his way of 
thinking, then you are placed upon probation, 
there to remain until you prove with your rod 
that you are qualified for full membership. 
Every spring there is a great revival when 
the streams first open, and you will see the 
youngsters behind the barn practicing with a new 
fly-rod, determined to fit themselves for full 
membership in the Methodist’s church, but it is 
so much easier to catch trout with grasshoppers 
THE IMMERSIONIST. UNITARIANS AND UNIVERSALISTS. 
Photographed by Dr. W. Photographed by O. W. Smith. 
countless numbers, Meadow Brook fishing is at 
its best. When massed sunflowers, as high as 
a man’s head, all but conceal the water, the skill¬ 
ful fisherman will be rewarded with a bountiful 
basket of trout. When the season is on the 
wane, the large size of the trout found in 
Meadow Brook is a constant source of surprise 
and wonderment to the angler. 
There are ways and ways of fishing Meadow 
Brook. As Drummond makes one of his char¬ 
acters say of courting: 
“Dey’s many ways for spark de girl, an’ you know dat 
o£ course. 
Some way dey might be better way, an’ some dey might 
be worse.” 
There is the sincere enthusiast whom we may 
term the Immersionist. According to his pisca¬ 
torial faith the only way to fish is to go down 
into the water. “In order to catch trout,” says 
he, “you must wade.” We may meet the Immer¬ 
sionist any day on Meadow Brook contentedly 
splashing down the stream or breasting the cur¬ 
rent, as the case may be, for the Immersionists 
do not agree among themselves whether it is 
best to fish down or up stream. So, strange as 
it may seem, people of the same faith often 
There are two great cults of bank fishermen, 
each sure it is possessed of the one true faith. 
The first we will denominate the Methodist; he 
is so certain and methodical in his every act and 
word. A man becomes a Methodist only after 
having served a long probation, so we naturally 
expect him to be cock-sure. However, he is 
clever with his rod, and it is an education in fly¬ 
fishing to follow him when he whips Meadow 
Brook. Knowing the exact location of each 
eddy, snag and boulder, he stands well back 
from the stream and sends his flies with un¬ 
erring accuracy out upon the water. Not only 
is the Methodist acquainted with the stream, but 
he is familiar with the habits of the fish, with¬ 
out which knowledge all his skill would be of 
no avail. He knows that beneath every moss- 
grown log and behind every rock a hungry trout 
is waiting, so he casts above and allows the 
current to carry his line down to the fish. Where 
the current has dug a hole deep under the bank 
he fishes with great caution. Watch him. 
Though he stands so far back from the bank 
that he is unable to see the water, yet he is so 
well acquainted with the stream that his flies 
fall close to the shore, just where an insect 
and worms, therefore it follows that a great 
many probationers backslide. Yes, the Metho¬ 
dist is somewhat dogmatic; we naturally would 
expect a man with his experience to be, but he 
is withal a thoroughly good fellow, and he is 
worth cultivating. 
The second denomination of bank fishermen 
we will term Presbyterian, because he believes 
that it was foreordained from the foundation of 
the world that trout were to be caught just as 
he catches them. He, like the Methodist, is a 
fly-fisherman, though I have caught him in the 
month of August, using a Hook baited with a 
grasshopper. The Presbyterian and the Metho- 
, dist are very much alike, though neither would 
admit it. The former depends more upon sly¬ 
ness than upon skill with the rod. Watch him 
as he creeps up to the bank of Meadow Brook, 
careful not to jar the' ground or agitate the 
grass and weeds close to the water’s edge. He 
drops his flies into the water. Zip—splash—tug! 
a trout is struggling at the Presbyterian’s feet 
and a beatific smile spreads itself over his be¬ 
nevolent countenance. A bend of the stream is 
a favorite position of his, for then he can domi¬ 
nate the pool below without being seen. I have 
