actor, and which was impressed upon my mind by a process which few
boys are fond of, but which is very apt to make the impression
durable. _I_ fished for trout once without line or hook. I got a fine
string of them, and myself into a pretty kettle of fish in the
bargain. On my father's farm, as it was when I was a boy, was a stream
that came down through a gorge in the mountains that bounded the
pleasant valley in which that farm lay. In the spring freshets and the
summer rains, that stream was a mighty and resistless torrent, that
came roaring and plunging down from the plain above, cascading and
leaping down ledges and rushing though a gorge, on either side of
which precipices of solid rock stood straight up two hundred feet in
height. It was a goodly sight to see that stream when its back was up,
come rushing and foaming, a mighty flood from the deep and shadowy
gulf, rolling in its resistless course great boulders of tons upon
tons in weight, and eddying, and twisting, and roaring onward in its
furious course towards the lake. In the summer time the drouth lapped
up its waters, and it dried away to a little brook, trickling over the
falls, and went winding, a small streamlet, around the base of the
hill; sometimes it disappeared in the gravel, or among the loose
stones, save here and there a pool of narrow limits and shallow depth.
It was a fine trout stream at times. Its waters were cold and pure,
and the brook trout loved to hide away under the great smooth stones
or shelving rocks, and be comfortable in the shade, when the summer
sun was hot and fiery in the sky. When the creek was low, they would
congregate in the pools and still places, and in times of extreme
drouth, might be seen huddled together in such places in
great numbers.

"My father, though not a member of any church, was strict in his
family discipline in regard to the observance of the Sabbath, the