amount of judicious pulling could bring him within reach of the gaff; and the haymakers laughed silently.

Nearly half an hour was spent in these fruitless attempts, and at last, in sheer despair, we took to the boat again to make trial of a shallower place lower down, a proceeding which the salmon accepted as an indication that we were sufficiently rested for further travel, for he immediately started down river at a spanking pace, and dragged us doggedly for nearly half a mile, over shallows and through deep holes, before we could pull him up. At last, at six o'clock, he paused, far down in a pool of inky blackness and mysterious recesses beneath a precipitous cliff; and as there was a most convenient little sandy beach just opposite, we determined to make a great effort to get him out. Nor were we disappointed: inch by inch I drew him across, and, after a few minutes of steady and continuous hauling, succeeded in bringing him within the fatal circle of the steel; then of course the unerring Norwegian struck home, and I theatrically dropped the pike rod with a gasp of genuine relief.

It was exactly four hours from the start, and we were a good mile below my fly rod and tackle-bag, which, with Anders' coat, were still reposing by the crumbs of the luncheon table beneath a birch grove. The fish was fresh-run and foul-hooked in the shoulder, two of the three hooks having deeply penetrated the flesh; but he only weighed a trifle over fifteen pounds. He would probably have succumbed sooner on a big rod with a heavy line, but I do not think that, with the tackle I had, I could have shortened his struggles by a minute.

Anders gave an almost British "Hooray," and hastened off along the bank to get our

luggage, and, I have little doubt, to reassure the haymakers on the subject of trolls. I was pleased to hear that another angler in the same water had had a fish on for the same length of time earlier in the year, but had lost him. I never contemplated such a catastrophe as that for myself; and when the boatman seriocomically suggested that, with this demon, there would come a time when we should have to break the line or the hold in order to get home by midnight, I coldly and firmly

explained that the fish and I were going back to the house in the same cart, regardless of what day of the week it might be. I think that if it had been my ill-fortune to "loose him" after all our trouble, I should have let fall the unmanly tear and the ungodly word; as it was

Hæc olim meminisse juvabit.

THOSE who go a-fishing for the Princes of the great river are usually armed either with experience or advice. There is, of course, the Retiarius, or net-fiend, who needs neither; but he is the foe of all true men, and may be here dismissed with an anathema. The young angler who is equipped only with advice never appreciates the solemn warnings of his elders on the prime necessity of attention to detail; nothing but practice, disasters, and the love that is bought by actual loss can teach that. There are perhaps few, if any, who have killed the first half-dozen salmon hooked, and the risk of losing a good fish is of course infinitely

greater to a man, however skilful, who cannot rely on his knots and his gut as he would on his mother's affection; but if he is really expert, he will have served his apprenticeship, and will not fear a vote in reduction of his salary for negligence.

The worst part of it is, that the particular fish you lose through defective gut or recalcitrant reel is always a monster (or he would not have broken you, don't you know), and the longer you have him on, and the more feeling you get up about it, the more likely he is to find out your weak spot and take his legitimate advantage. The rule is simple: do not have any weak spots; that is, do not give any points to the adversary which prudence and diligence can save. Cricketers know that the man who bats with a loosely-made cane-handled willow, which clicks when he hits the ground, deserves that unfortunate and wholly mistaken verdict from the umpire when the whole field simultaneously cry out "How's that?" and the bewildered professional raises the fatal finger. A good workman, says a musty and somewhat foolish old proverb, never finds fault with his