They are greatly in error who suppose that all there is of fishing is to fish. That is but the body of the art. Its soul and spirit is in what the angler sees and feels—in the murmur of the brook; in the music of the birds; in the simple beauty of the wild-flowers which peer at him from every nook in the valley and from every sunny spot on the hill-side; in the moss-covered rock; in the evershifting sunshine and shadow which give evervarying beauty to the sides and summits of the mountains; in the bracing atmosphere which environs him; in the odor of the pine and hemlock and spruce and cedar forests, which is sweeter to the senses of the true woodsman than all the artificially compounded odors which impregnate the boudoirs of artificial life; in the spray of the waterfall; in the grace and curve and dash of the swiftrushing current; in the whirl of the foaming eddy; in the transparent depths of the shaded pool where, in mid-summer, the speckled trout and silver salmon "most do congregate;" in the revived appetite; in the repose which comes to him while reclining upon his sweet-smelling couch of hemlock boughs; in the hush of the woods when moon and stars shine in upon him through his open tent or barkcovered shanty; in the morning song of the robin; in the rapid-coursing blood, quickened by the pure unstinted mountain air which imparts to the lungs

the freshness and vigor of its own vitality; in the crackling of the newly kindled camp-fire; in the restored health, and in the thousand other indescribable and delightful realities and recollections of the angler's camp-life on lake or river during the season when it is right to "go a-fishing." It is these, and not alone or chiefly the mere act of catching fish, which render the gentle art a source of constant and ever-growing pleasure. But to attain unto the full measure of delight which the pastime affords, the angler must not be merely an expert in the mechanism of the art. Unless he can, withal, appreciate the beauties of nature, and "look from nature up to nature's God," he has neither the spirit of the old masters of the angle, nor a just comprehension of its refining and elevating possibilities.

While plying his vocation in these quiet places, with no noisy babblers to break in upon his meditations, with every nerve thrilling with the intensest satisfaction, with the mind as free from rasping care as the pure atmosphere in which he is enveloped is from the miasma of the far-off lagoon, and with heart and brain in harmonious accord and sympathy with the peaceful serenity of the scene and the occasion, is it strange that sometimes he makes the old woods ring with his shouts in the very abandon of delight? It may not be that these rap

tures come to all the brethren of the angle, but they come in full measure to but few besides; because the true angler, "born so," as good Sir Izaak hath it, has within himself, more than those who have no sympathy with his craft, the elements which are necessary to bring him thus en rapport with Nature. And I say all this, not to elevate the art above what is becoming, but to show that the angler, in the quiet pursuit of his craft, finds other attractions, purer and higher and more ennobling, than the mere act of taking fish. Let not those who are so "of the earth earthy" as to be unable to find any other pleasure in this pastime than that derived from "striking" and "killing" their prey, write themselves down as the disciples of the quiet and gentle Father of the art. For they are "bastards and not sons," and merit a place rather among the pot-hunters of the guild than among its appreciative disciples.

But fondness for fishing is no proof of sanctification. The selfish man at home is selfish in his pleasures; and there is no pastime where one is oftener tempted to be selfish than in angling. Few, indeed, are those who would send a friend to a favorite pool before he himself had tried it. To do so is the very highest proof of magnanimity. I have known a few such in my experience - men who, if asked for their coat would give their cloak

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also; but they are so rare that I can count them on my fingers. There comes up before me, as I write, the grandest specimen of unselfishness, in this regard, who ever cast a fly or kindled a campfire. If he chanced to strike a "school," or discovered other signs of abundant sport, his cheery shout would always indicate to his companions his desire that they might share his good fortune. And this was but a type of his character. He was and still is a living illustration of the scripture assurance that it is more blessed to give than to receive." And I have just received a note from another friend of kindred spirit, who knew no way by which he could better emphasize his appreciation of a trifling favor than to say: "It will give me great pleasure to reciprocate your kindness; and should we ever again meet in the forest, and beside a pool where the speckled beauties await our deceptive lure, I will yield it, and grant to you its undisturbed possession." And he would keep his promise; for thirty years of angling has rendered him as unselfish in his amusements as he is genial in his social life.

moo.

CHAPTER III.

ANGLING AS A MEDICINE.

Yf a man lacke leche or medicyne he fhall make thre thynges his leche and medicyne: and he fhall nede neuer no The fyrfte of theym is a mery thought. The feconde is labour not outrageo. The thyrde is dyete mefurable. Fyrfte that yf a man wyll euer more be in mery thoughtes and have a glad fpyryte, he muft efchewe all contraryous company, and all places of debate where he myghte haue any occafyons of malencoly. And yf he woll haue a labour not outrageo he must thenne ordeyne him to his hertys ease and pleasaunce, wythout studye, penfyfneffe or traueyle, a mery occupacyon, which may rejoyce his herte: and in whyche his fpyrytes may haue a mery delyte. And yf he woll be dyetyd mefurably, he must efchewe all places of ryotte whyche is cause of furfette and fykneffe: and he muft drawe him to places of fwete ayre and hungry and ete nourishable meetes and dyffyable alfo. -[Treatife of Fyffhynge with an Angle, 1496.

CONCUR with those who speak of the pastime of angling as a medicine, not alone from my own experience, although that may count for something, but from the great number of strong men with whom I have been brought in intimate contact during my more than thirty years of out

door life, and who, from their youth up, have found nothing so invigorating as the pure air of the mountains; nothing so sooth