from the shore, and soon I had the fish in deep water and away from all obstructions. For the next fifteen minutes I think I experienced nearly every feeling that the human soul can know, from the ecstasy of delight when the excited fish flashed into the air before my very eyes, to the dull anguish of utter despair as the line slackened and I thought I had lost him.

Of course I didn't lose him. If I had, he would have weighed more than three pounds. No man ever loses a fish as small as that. It is against the unwritten rules of the brotherhood, and it is worthy of note that we all observe those unwritten rules, even if the decalogue suffers a little. I presume that Jonah exaggerated the size of his companion du voyage when he was safe on dry land. But then Jonah had good reason to speak well of that fish. It would take a mighty mean man to undervalue a fish under such circumstances.

Finally the rushes grew less frequent and shorter, and then as the bass passed slowly by, too much exhausted to make more than a feeble protest, Jack slipped the landing net under him and soon he lay on the bottom of the boat. I sank back into the seat with a sigh of delight, and then with an attempt to look as though I was in the habit of catching three-pound bass every day in the Frog-pond, I observed, as carelessly as possible, "Hum! Not quite as big as I thought he was. Weigh about two pounds, or two and a half, perhaps?"

"Oh, he'll weigh more'n that," said Jack; "good deal nearer three an' a half. But I'll weigh him as soon's you git your line out agin."

"How are you going to weigh him? said I, as indifferently as possible.

Now right there Jack gave additional proof that he was not an angler, but simply a fisherman, by taking a pair of balances from his pocket and weighing my bass. "Jest a shade under three an' a half," he announced, with a magisterial air, and I received the verdict with much the same air as a sweet girl graduate receives her blue ribboned diploma.

My line had soon run out again, but it hardly reached the limit when another vicious tug and whirr of the reel brought me to my feet again. This time it was two smaller ones, and they made a very pretty fight, at times leaving the

line almost slack when they were pulling against each other, and then making the rod bend as they started off together.

I continued to troll, with more or less success, until eleven bass had been transferred from the lake to the box in the bow of the boat.

After a while I took the oars and Jack trolled. His first capture was a gigantic chub, that came in with all the grace of an amateur hippopotamus, and looked pretty nearly all mouth as he lay on the bottom of the boat.

"That 'ere fish reminds me a good deal of Mose Harper," said Jack. "If he'd only keep his mouth shet he'd look a blame sight purtier an' git into less trouble. Mose Harper allus has his mouth open and it often gits him inter trouble. Why, one day las' summer Mose came in to Deacon Jim Lawrence's store where the boys was all tergether a-waitin' fer the noon mail to be in. Wall, Mose has got the biggest mouth in town, an' jest as he come in the Deacon's boy, Bill, took up a molasses cookie an' took a thunderin' big bite. Wall, the boys all laughed and Mose thought he'd go the young feller one better, so he up an' opens his mouth till he looked a good deal like that chub down there. Wall, the boys all laughed agin and Mose strained his mouth wider still. Pritty soon he began to look scart and put both han's up ter his mouth as if ter push it to. But he couldn't do it. The pesky idjut had slipped his jaw back an' it had stuck, an' he stood there jest like that bullcalf we heard with his mouth wide open. Then he started on the dead run down to the Corners to ol' Dr. Child's bareheaded an' with his mouth wide open. Wall, the boys all started after him an' pritty soon half the village was going down the road tight as they could git, so that ol' Aunt Sallie Butterworth went over into Pelham an' tol' all the folks over there that Mose Harper had gone crazy and run into the woods an' all the men in town was out a chasin' him with pitchforks. Mose was mad as blazes when he heard of it.

"Wall, Mose come to the Doctor's an' flung the door open an' run right in where the doctor was eatin' dinner. The crowd came right in an' stood there behind Mose and those that couldn't git in tramped down all Mis' Child's flower

beds tryin' ter peak in the winder. The ol' doctor is a pritty putchiky old chap, an he was riled, but he tried not to show it an' said as calm as he could:

"Mornin', Mose. Can I do anythin' for you?'

"Mose stood there an' pointed to his mouth and sort of gurgled a good deal like that chub is doin' now. Then the doctor spoke up again rather short-like, 'What's the matter, Mose? Can I help you any?' Mose never said a word but stood there a pointin' to his mouth an' rolling his eyes, an' some of the fellers began to laugh. The ol' doctor thought they was laughin' at him, an' he flared right up and roared to Mose:

"Shet yer mouth, you d- fool,' and with that he hit Mose a slap side the jaw and Mose's mouth snapped to like a snuff-box. Then the fellers stepped in an' explained matters an' it all ended up in a laugh, but I don't think the doctor ever quite forgive Mose. At any rate he sent him a bill of two dollars fer performin' an operation."

By this time Jack was fishing again and was soon rewarded with a lively bass that weighed just two pounds.

We fished by turns all day except when we landed and boiled our coffee and broiled a couple of fresh bass over the coals. Talk about epicures. The man who hasn't eaten a bass fresh from the water and broiled over the coals doesn't know the meaning of good liv

ing.

Of course the sun is hot and the smoke gets into your eyes when you are near the fire, and the wood-flies when you are not, but after all a smoking black bass spread out on a flat rock is a temptation worth enduring.

Night came all too soon and we rowed slowly down the lake in the gathering dusk, tired, hungry and happy. We climbed wearily up the hill to the shop and divided the spoils in the twilight and as I turned away down the road I heard Jack murmur to himself:

"I might a-fixed that mowin' machine fer Mose Harper, an' it didn't rain after all; but then, I guess it's jest as well."

Yes, it was just as well. We had brought home two dozen bass, weighing from half a pound to three and a half. Not a big catch, surely, my brothers from the South and West, where bass grow so big that they cannot turn around in the rivers. No, not a big catch nor very big fish, but they were caught up amidst the gray New England hills where the mountain-tops are photographed on the water, and the silent pines look on with majestic approval. They were caught in the land. where the surroundings, rugged and hard, make men that are in keeping with themselves, and it seems to me that even the fish partook of the grim New England character and came up to the boat with that obstinacy and resistance characteristic of New England.