ul fly in the deeper corners on either shore. So I took off
the vulgar bait-hook and put on a delicate leader with a Queen of the
Water for a tail-fly and a Yellow Sally for a dropper,--innocent little
confections of feathers and tinsel, dressed on the tiniest hooks, and
calculated to tempt the appetite or the curiosity of the most capricious
trout.

For a long time the whipping of the water produced no result, and it
seemed as if the dainty style of angling were destined to prove less
profitable than plain fishing with a worm. But presently we came to
an elbow of the brook, just above the estuary, where there was quite a
stretch of clear water along the lower side, with two half-sunken logs
sticking out from the bank, against which the current had drifted a
broad raft of weeds. I made a long cast, and sent the tail-fly close to
the edge of the weeds. There was a swelling ripple on the surface of the
water, and a noble fish darted from under the logs, dashed at the fly,
missed it, and whirled back to his shelter.

"Gee!" said the boy, "that was a whacker! He made a wake like a
steamboat."

It was a moment for serious thought. What was best to be done with that
fish? Leave him to settle down for the night and come back after him
another day? Or try another cast for him at once? A fish on Saturday
evening is worth two on Monday morning. I changed the Queen of the
Water for a Royal Coachman tied on a number fourteen hook,--white wings,
peacock body with a belt of crimson silk,--and sent it out again, a foot
farther up the stream and a shade closer to the weeds. As it settled on
the water, there was a flash of gold from the shadow beneath the logs,
and a quick turn of the wrist made the tiny hook fast in the fish. He
fought wildly to get back to the shelter of his logs, but the four ounce
rod had spring enough in it to hold him firmly away from that dangerous
retreat. Then he splurged up and down the open water, and made fierce
dashes among the grassy shallows, and seemed about to escape a dozen
times. But at last his force was played out; he came slowly towards the
boat, turning on his side, and I netted him in my hat.

"Bully for us;" said the boy, "we got him! What a dandy!"

It was indeed one of the handsomest fish that I have ever taken on the
South Side,--just short of two pounds and a quarter,--small head, broad
tail, and well-rounded sides coloured with orange and blue and gold and
red. A pair of the same kind,