mounted on the animal, started off at a
smart trot. It was quite exhilarating, and the boats dashed along merrily
at a capital rate. A gray mist hung low on the river, and thin wraiths of
it rose off the water of the canal and crept up the mountain-side,
shrouding the black pines and hiding the summit from view. Beyond, the tops
of the hills on the Virginia shore were beginning to blush as they caught
the first rays of sunrise, and the fish-hawk's puny scream echoed from the
islands in the stream. It was a lovely morning, and promised a day, as Mr.
McGrath observed, on which some elegant fish should die. After a few delays
at locks, in which canal-boats took precedence of us, we reached our point
of transshipment, hauled the boats out on the bank, and our horse drew them
sleigh-fashion across field and down to and out into the water.

I had a light split bamboo rod, a good silk line and a fair assortment of
flies. Mr. McGrath had a common bamboo cane, a battered old reel, and the
value of his outfit might be generously estimated at half a dollar. In his
live-bait bucket were about a hundred fish, varying in length from two to
six inches. He did not prepare to fish himself, but was watching me with
the deepest attention. He held the boat across the stream toward the
opposite shore, and by the time we dropped down on a large flat rock I was
ready. I got out, and there being a pleasant air stirring, I made my casts
with a great deal of ease and comfort. There was a deep hole below the
rocks, bordered on both sides by a swift ripple--as pretty a spot as ever a
fly was thrown over. I sped them over it in all directions, casting fifty
and sixty feet of line, and admiring the soft flutter with which they
dropped on the edge of the ripple or the open water. Mr. McGrath was
surveying the operation critically, nodding his head in approval from side
to side, and uttering short ejaculations of the most flattering nature. I
kept whipping the stream assiduously, so satisfied with my work and the
style of it as to feel confident that no well-regulated fish could resist
it. But there was no appearance of a rise: not a sign appeared on the water
to show even the approach of a speculative fish. I was about to note the
fact to Mr. McGrath when that gentleman remarked, "Begorra! but it's
illigant sport it'd be if the bass 'ud only bite at them things!"

"Bite at them?" said I, turning round: "of course they'll bite at them."

"Sorra bit wi