. The story of a pilgrim family from the Mayflower to the present time : with autobiography, recollections, letters, incidents, and genealogy of the author, Rev. John Alden in his 83rd year . fourand one-half pounds each. We fished in about fifteen feetof water, shoreward. When one of those furious fellowsfelt the hook, he would rush for the centre of the lake,making the reel sound like a lightning train of cars in thedistance. He would not slacken his furious speed short offifty feet. Then we would reel him in. It often took fromtwenty to thirty minutes. He would outdo old Euclid inmaking ang
. The story of a pilgrim family from the Mayflower to the present time : with autobiography, recollections, letters, incidents, and genealogy of the author, Rev. John Alden in his 83rd year . fourand one-half pounds each. We fished in about fifteen feetof water, shoreward. When one of those furious fellowsfelt the hook, he would rush for the centre of the lake,making the reel sound like a lightning train of cars in thedistance. He would not slacken his furious speed short offifty feet. Then we would reel him in. It often took fromtwenty to thirty minutes. He would outdo old Euclid inmaking angles in speed, if not in number. It is rarethat a real speckled trout is caught that weighs over twelvepounds. Dr. S. R Hubbard, of Taunton, Mass., who wasmy family physician when I was settled in Westfield, wasone of the party, and one of the best doctors in NewEngland in catching trout or saving human life. I thinkmy love of this sport has prolonged my life. Whenoppressed with toil and care, a good sweat, chasing thetrout up and down the mountain streams, saved me, per-haps, from paralysis. Where I stand in this picture is atthe head of a fall nearly seventy feet. I would not take my. STORIES FOR WINTER EVENINGS. 213 oath that it was the roughest spot in the universe, for Ihave not travelled it all over. It was in this place my son,A. E. Alden, took this picture of me. His picture and hisbrothers are seen in this view. All through the sublime mountain region there are hun-dreds of acres on which it is probable no white man everclimbed. It is the most romantic, clandestined, clancularplace I ever saw. If I could think of any more expressiveadjectives I would insert them, and then feel how weak islanguage to express the grandeur of this scenery. Onfiring a pistol we could hear half a dozen echoes. The preceding cut represents a scene in one of my fish-ing trips. It is found near Capt. George M. Esteys Green-vale House, at the head of the Rangley Lakes, and is men-tioned by Capt.
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