Outing . same manner and a trial madeof the Salmo trutta in our own waters. The fish is wonderfully game. Mr. Wm. , writing from Loch Lomond, Scot-land, speaks of catching a sea trout. is a veteran angler as well as an ac-complished one and has fished extensively inthe waters of the United States and favorite fish is the small-mouthed blackbass, which he prefers to the brook trout be-cause it leaps from the water when fightingafter it is hooked. Knowing his fondness forthe bass we were amused to read in his letter : For ten minutes the fish (sea trout) gave m
Outing . same manner and a trial madeof the Salmo trutta in our own waters. The fish is wonderfully game. Mr. Wm. , writing from Loch Lomond, Scot-land, speaks of catching a sea trout. is a veteran angler as well as an ac-complished one and has fished extensively inthe waters of the United States and favorite fish is the small-mouthed blackbass, which he prefers to the brook trout be-cause it leaps from the water when fightingafter it is hooked. Knowing his fondness forthe bass we were amused to read in his letter : For ten minutes the fish (sea trout) gave meas good sport as ever I had, and twice it clearedthe water at least three feet, and, unlike theblack bass, was perfect grace itself. He is not the only warm admirer of the seatrout, Salmo trutta, for Mr. H. Cholmondeley-Pennell says of it ; There is no fish that swimswhich will rise so boldly at the fly, or which,when hooked, shows for its size such indomita-ble pluck,such gallant and determined I GO A-FISHING. A CLOUDY sky, no zephyr nigh, With heart elateI take my way, sure of my prey, With worms for bait. Lonely in death ! Language is weak To picture howHope and despair in my poor heart Alternate now. Now were afloat, I and my boat, Upon the brine ;A fish darts past—I anchor cast, And then my line. The turning tide favors me not ; All hope I through my tired finger ends feel My patience ooze. What time I wait I antedate The rapture sweetWith which Ill lay my shining prey Low at her feet! No ! What is this whose restless weight Drags the line thus ?Quick throbs my heart—sure tis the draught Miraculous ! O, fairest one ! thus sings my heart, Sparkling and brightFrom the salt depths I bring to thee — Aha ! a bite ! My trembling joy dies at its birth ; One frantic lookShows me a vile sculpin that has Swallowed the hook ! Only a bite ! Lightly my line Answers the test;Off goes my fish, thinking himself Merely my guest. Finished my task—a few faint stro
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade, booksubjectsports, booksubjecttravel
