d is so sweet to the ear;
The hum of the line, the buzz of the wheel!
Where the crystalline brook runs so clear.

Here's a shade on the stream, where the willows bend down,
Where the waters sleep drowsy and dim,
And there where the ripples whirl amber and brown,
The lords of the rivulet swim.

Then fling the light tackle with delicate cast,
Let your fly like a cobweb alight,
A dash and a splash and the victim's fast,
While your reel sings a song of delight.

See, yonder a green-moss'd boulder enchecks
The stress of the turbulent tides,
And there amid bubbles and foam-bell flecks
The gold-spotted brook-trout hides.

The sweet breezes blow, the morning sun shines,
The white clouds drift slow down the sky;
'Tis a day that is perfect for sport with the lines,
For artistic cast of the fly.

Ah, haste to the shore, brother angler, to-day,
On the weedy, gray rock take your place,
Where the surf, at its base, makes glorious race,
And, like rainbows, glitters the spray.

Cast your eye o'er the blue expanses of sea;
How lovely, how grand is the scene!
The great rolling waves, now dusky, now green,
Forever rejoicing and free.

See the flash of the bluefish over the main,
The gleam of the bright striped bass!
Then the braided line fling, let the reel hum its strain,
And so the gay moments shall pass.

FISH LINES.

By Jessica H. Lowell.

A fish sat him down with a blink to think,
And dipped his fin thoughtfully into the ink;
Then finned this short note:
"Dear Tommy," he wrote,
"In response to your line of the other day
I hasten to thank you without delay.
But had not that squirming, delicious young worm
Shown a set in his curves too suspiciously firm,
I might not be here
To write you, my dear
(What you may not believe, 'tis so monstrously queer),
That the wriggler you sent
With most kindly intent
Had swallowed a pin that was frightfully bent!

"You see--if I'd greedily taken a bite,
The pain and the shock would have finished me quite;
So, the next time you send,
My juvenile friend,
Just mark if the worm has a natural bend
Ere you dangle him temptingly down here to be
The death of some innocent young thing like me."
And he grinned as he used some dry sand for a blotter