He is indeed the prince of monsters, the paragon of giants; so thick, so deep, with so small a head for so large a body; such brilliant hues: the fins so red, the blue and carmine spots so numerous and delicate. I wash him off and stand gazing at him in my hand regardless of further sport. I have captured the king, and care not to follow his subalterns. I lay him gently in my basket; he will not lie at full length. I cover him with moss, filling the little room left, and forcing my way through the overhanging bushes, and, reaching the broad light of day, proudly await the arrival of my companion. Then the moss is carefully removed, and the beauties of my darling are unveiled, and flash and gleam in the sunlight.
There are several ways of landing a trout, but not all equally sportsmanlike. Large trout may be gaffed, small ones landed in a net, and where neither of these means is at hand, they must be dragged out of water, or flirted up among the bushes, according to the taste of the angler and the strength of his tackle.
A tyro was once fishing on the same boat with me, using bait, when he struck his first trout. One can imagine how entirely misspent had been his previous existence, when it is said he had never taken a trout, no, nor any other fish before. It was not a large fish; such luck rarely falls to the share of the beginner, and in spite of what elderly gentlemen may say to the contrary, an ignorant countryman, with his sapling rod and coarse tackle, never takes the largest fish nor the greatest in quantity. Were it otherwise, sportsmen had better turn louts, and tackle makers take to cutting straight saplings in the woods. My companion, nevertheless, was not a little surprised at the vigorous rushes the trout made to escape, but his line being strong and rod stiff, he steadily reeled him in. Great was the excitement; his whole mind was devoted to shortening the line, regardless of what was to be done next. We had a darkey named Joe with us to row the boat and land the fish, and our luck having been bad during the morning, he was delighted at this turn of affairs, and ready, net in hand, to do his duty. The fish was being reeled up, till but a few feet of the line remained below the top, when, with a shout of “land, Joe, land him,” my companion suddenly lifted tip his rod, carrying the trout far above our heads. There it dangled, swaying to and fro, bouncing and jumping, while the agonized fisherman besought the darkey to land him, and the latter, reaching up as far as he could with the net, his eyes starting out of his head with wonder at this novel mode of proceeding, came far short of his object. Never was seen such a sight; the hopeless despair of my friend, the eagerness of the darkey, who fairly strove to climb the rod as the fish danced about far out of reach. What was to done? The line would not render, the rod was so long we could not reach the tip in the boat; and the only horrible alternative appeared to be my friend’s losing his first fish. The latter, however, by this remarkable course of treatment, had grown peaceable, and when he was dropped back into the water, made but feeble efforts, while my companion, as quietly as he could, worked out his line till he could land him like a Christian. Great were the rejoicings when the prize earned with so much anxiety was secured. That is the way not to land a trout.