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poetry of motion." Although like many of his contemporaries, his frosted locks and furrowed cheeks give token of advancing years, he still finds pleasure in the attractive pastime of angling. You have but to say to him, as Peter said to his disconsolate brethren, "I go a-fishing," to secure from him their response, "I go also."

But however one casts, it is impossible always to distinguish between the strike of a trout and that of a salmon; and as both are often found in the same pool, the angler is frequently annoyed by a call from the one when he is only eager to pay his respects to the other. The most experienced are often deceived, and they sometimes only discover their mistake after many minutes of exciting play. A four or five-pound trout (and trout of these weights are very common in these waters) can no more be hurried home than a twenty-pound salmon. The rod will only bear a certain pressure, and for a little while a five-pound trout reaches this point as unmistakably as the larger fish.

It was not until several days after it happened that Judge FULLERTON had the courage to relate an incident in his experience which goes to show how even a very wise man and a very expert angler may be deceived. He had been casting for some time without success, and was becoming impatient, when his fly was taken by a fish which ran off with

his line as savagely as a forty-pound salmon would have done. The strike was magnificent, and the rush and resistance gave promise of a long fight. It was quite in vain that he tried to reel him in. The fish fought like a tiger, and not only compelled the Judge to frequently give him line, but rendered it necessary to follow him up to save the threatened tackling. So, through the pool he went on a run, then over the rapids with a rush, and down the swift water for half a mile, like a race-horse. His headlong movements were simply irresistible, and there was nothing for it but to follow his lead. So, the canoe and the fish dashed on together, the Judge in an ecstacy of delight with the magnificent play the gallant fellow was giving him. In the height of the battle, angler and gaffer pronounced him a twenty-pounder at least, and would have scorned to take off a single ounce from their estimate. And so the struggle continued for half an hour, hot and heavy, the Judge all aglow with perspiration and excitement, when the fish was brought to gaff, and came up a five-pound trout instead of a twenty-pound salmon! But "mum was the word!" and the gaffer was faithful to his promise. He gave no sign; and it was not until some others of us had related similar experiences that the Judge revealed this adventure with an imaginary twentypound salmon which turned out to be simply a fivepound trout.

There is, I think, a love of novelty in all anglers. We prefer to fish new waters when we can, and it is sometimes pleasanter to explore, even without success, than to take fish in familiar places. New and fine scenery is always worth finding.-W. C. Prime.

HERE are a few pools on this river as on others, where an occasional salmon can be taken at any time from the first of June to the close of the season. Among these is the "Shedden pool," which is known as one of the very best between tide-water and the Forks. But after the middle of July, it is

too near the sea to afford as rich

returns as some others twenty or thirty miles farther up. It is salmon nature when started on their annual pilgrimage, to keep moving until they reach their maternal destination. On this river their chief spawning-places are from fifty to seventy miles from tide-water. But there are pools where they like to tarry on their journey; and we found none more generally thus honored

than the pool referred to. Others might be "whipped" in vain, but this seldom failed to reward the patient angler, no matter when or how often it was visited. A monopoly of it for the season would afford any reasonable fisherman all the sport and pleasure he could desire, if he had no other object in visiting these waters than to fish. But they greatly mistake the temper and tastes of the true angler who assume that he is attracted to these quiet places simply to kill and to destroy. To have the opportunity to fish constitutes but one of the threads in the golden cord which draws him to the grand old forests in whose mountain streams trout and salmon "most do congregate." If he finds pleasure in the rise and strike and struggle of a mammoth fish, so also is he lifted up out of the rut of common-place emotions by his majestic surroundings-by the evershifting shadows on the mountain; by the incessant music of the birds; by the never-ending melody of the singing waters; by the splash and foam and sparkle of the leaping cascade; by the glinting sun-light upon ripple and rapid; by the shadowy depths of the impenetrable forest; by jagged rock and giant bowlder and dark pool and gliding river, and a thousand other " things of beauty which remain upon the canvas of his memory long after the minor incidents of fish-taking are for

gotten. No; it is not all of fishing to fish. That is but an incident in the angler's pleasant pastime. They have other and higher, if not more invigora ting and exhilarating tastes to gratify. This beautiful picture of the poet is as often in their mind's eye as the rush and leap of the silver salmon :

The trees are bursting into bud and bloom;
The hills lie blue beneath a sapphire sky;
The birds breathe music, and the flowers perfume;
The pools lie placid as a maiden's eye.

I am sure that no one of our party would be content to visit any salmon river if they were restricted to such narrow limits as would afford them no variety in landscape, and no range for adventure. Quite as much pleasure is derived from experimenting in untried waters and in hunting up new bits of scenery, as in running up a great "score" to excite the admiration of partial friends or kindle the ire of envious rivals.

As the summer tourist often finds the most charming nooks by diverging from the beaten path, so does the angler often find the most attractive scenery by following up some half-hidden brook or rivulet which empties its crystal waters into the more majestic river which bears them to the sea. I had often fished the "Escumenack pool," which lies at the mouth of the river of that name, and had as often resolved to explore its hidden chan