The daily morning journal and courier., 1904-09-13


 thousand wrinkles, his great knotted hands solemnly folded. "Hugh"
 shouted McPeek, leaning over his bar. The old sea-ravaged eyes unclosed, peering up at me. This is the gentle man from New York, who says there are trout in Sedgy pond,' continued McPeek.
 The old man rose, erect as weather beaten spar; we shook hands graVely' His name was Hugh Montgomery; he was eighty-three years old and had never been twenty miles from the vil- Iage where he was born. Many years ago a president of the United States had fshed Sedgy pond, and Hugh had acted as gilly. Since that time fewer and fewer trout had been taken, until ten years ago, Sedgy water was banned as 'ished out" and even the village sot, limping forth into the April sun shine, no no longer turned his steps toward sedgy lake, but snored away the day beside his pole and can of bait where the salt creeks channel widened
 to meet the shallow wateres of the bay.
 Hugh" I said, "are there any trout in the lake?" Trout" he repeated, in his high. cracked voice. They was trout there fifty year since" And now?" "Te-he-he!' he chuckled, "folk tell me it's plump fished out. But 1t was fair water once, young sir,-it was fair water fifty year since"
 When retired to sleep scarcely ex- pected to see old Hugh at sunrise. But was wrong; there was sunrise with out the sun. but old Hugh was there, swathed in oilskins and crowned with tarpauIin. Over one shoulder he bal anced the oars, in his other hand net bag hung. Whats that net for?" asked. "That depends on you, sir" he
 said gfinnly. s:.
 A half-mile walk brought us to the little lake: 1t was drizzling. but, even as we embarked, the drizzle was turn ing to sleet and snow. Hugh at the oars watched me closely as assembled my light rod and knotted on trial cast. The cast was a strange one; l had no idea what fly to offer, 80, as balloon d'essal, decided to feel them with three primitive standards, red Ibis, coachman and black gnat,--a motley . demley, though not entirely illogical.
 Over the leaden water the snow and I bare hands, stitching my fingers as cast. Never had I seen such hopeless lweather on such unpromising water, After a dozen casts I glanced at old
 Hugh, who sat, resting on his oars, lpeering up at me with inscrutable eyes
 Don't fish no more till I tell ye, he lsaid bending suddenly to the oars.
 The boat headed out into the lake; and las I watched, it seemed to me that the
 rover was following some definite lcourse, perhaps an unseen channel known to him since boyhood, Presently The rested on his oars again, bringing lthe boat broadside toward the west
 Try it here," he quavered.
 At the first cast bulky dark shape lcame up in a whirl of gray water; the lreel screamed; and in an instant was fast to three-pound speckled trout three pounds and one ounce he sealed ldressed. Then, in thickening snow lstorm on that first day of April (All Fools day at that.) began the most ex. traordinary two hours of sport that il lhas ever been my fortune to participate in. Ne ..l
 My benumbed hands were almost use Hess, and the fierce fighting of every itrout taxed every bit of ingenuity. 4! for old Hugh, he almost went mad il his excitement. It required but on cast to fasten to a fish; and the fish al ways seized the nearest fly, displaying absolute impartiality. Twice hat three on, saving two; three or four dou bles were played, one only breaking free. The flies were big Maine flies, tn Header very heavy. Had 1t not been fo lola Hugh's lightning skill with thu Handing net Ia short-handled one, tool lshould have lost many a fish, particu larly in doubles, for my hands were al lmost frozen, and my eyes blinded witl wind, spray and sleet. s..ae. s-ss- I have never seen fish fight more say, lagely. have never seen fish in finer condition. At the end of three hour: I've had twenty-eight fish, the largest lbeing the first, and nothing under three-quarters of pound. do not Iknow how long I might have remained there taking trout. When I reeled in . lnodding enough" to Hugh, the trout Iwere breaking everywhere. Thinking that might hook big one, tried a t few more casts, returning to the water 3 those fish which I landed. But, seeing n that the average was about the same :. iclose to a pound-and not likely to vary, :; I ceased scoring at twenty-eight.
 B That net-bag, loaded with noble fish, B Twas the first and last creel ever took I from Sedgy lake, for, within a few days, g was on the ocean, which did not re- e leross in years. To-day the lake is h ithere; but do not care to go back. lone such day Is enough. Besides, old s Hugh is dead, they tell me; and--I hear lthat Sedgy lake is "flshed out"
 l. One notorious "fished out" stream ran e Icfose to my garden wall In a little B French village. then along the edge of a l Ipaved quay, under many bridges where v Echildren sailed boats and cabots while l |thelr mothers washed clothes, setting r lsoapsuds afloat on the sparkling rip- l 1ples; then it tumbled seaward, turning l Ia dozen mills, spreading out deep and Q dark, running swiftly under the copper bottoms and rusted keels of fishing F isioops and coastwise schooners moored F at the freight quay, before it glidad out . between sandy dunes to meet the surge I from the ocean. Everybody knew it to