lengthened and swept gracefully across the current of the pool. Foot by foot he worked his way to the objective point, where rested what he coveted more than the verdict of judge or jury. And now, at last, the fly drops gently upon the glistening surface of the dark water, just at the point desired, when there followed a rush and strike, and a momentary pause, as if fish and fisher were alike astounded, and then click, whiz, whir-r-r went the reel, as if harnessed to a lightning train with a thunderbolt for a locomotive. Away went the fish with two hundred feet of line, but stopping at that distance as suddenly as if arrested by a peremptory order of the court. Then came the tug of war; first to hold him—that required muscle; then to bear with him while he sulked - that required patience. The Judge had both, and both were brought into skilful requisition. For ten minutes not a fin stirred; but the taut line, as it resisted the combined pressure of the current and the fish, thrummed like an æolian harp, and made every nerve tingle with delight. As became the watchful angler that he is, the eyes of the Judge were immovably fixed upon his line as it stretched out straight before him. He believed the fish near the opposite bank in a direct line with his rod, and he was looking intently for some sign of life from the spot where he supposed his fish

was sulking, when click! click! whiz-z-z, again went the reel, and a huge fish leaped his whole length out of water a hundred feet above him. "Hello," said the Judge, "there's another fellow!" "No, that's your fish," said the Indian gaffer. "Blazes! you don't say? What's he doing there? He's not within a hundred feet of my line." "It's your fish, sir. The swift current makes your line bend like the new moon." And this was the fact; but the illusion was so perfect that it required several like experiences to convince him that his Indian gaffer was not "fooling him"

occasion.

upon that

After an hour's struggle, and with a skill and judgment which excited the admiration of all who witnessed the contest, the fish was killed and captured. When he kicked the beam at the twenty eight pound notch, the Judge was a proud and a happy man. There are many things he will forget as old Time weaves silver threads amid his auburn locks, but he will never forget his astonishment when that fish showed himself one hundred feet from the point where he was intently watching him.

The next day DUN was awarded the Judge's pool and had his usual luck—making a larger score than any of us, and breaking more rods; not because he had less general skill, but because he