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Show SOME REMARKS ON GULLS choose some flies-a silver doctor and a queen of the water-how would those do? Or perhaps a royal coachman would be--Chrrr-p! goes the reel. I turn hastily around, just in time to see the trollingrod vanish over the stern of the boat. Stop, stop! Back water-hard as you can! Too late! There goes my best-beloved little rod, with a reel and fifty yards of line, settling down in the deep water, almost out of sight, and slowly following the flight of that invisible fish, who has hooked himself and my property at the same time. This is a piece of bad luck. Shall we let the day end with this? "Never," says the Gypsy. "Adventures ought to be continued till they end with good luck. We will put a long line on the other rod, and try that beautiful little phantom minnow, the silver silk one that came from Scotland. There must be some good fish in the pond, since· they are big enough to run away with your tackle." Round and round the shore she rows; past the points of broken rocks, underneath the rugged bluffs, skirting all the shelving bays. Faintly falls the evening breeze, and behind the western ridge of Jordan 267 |