The Birmingham age-herald., 1921-07-31

me one afternoon to help get my bearings. We had fun and sport both, and put 20 beautiful bass in our boat.
 Two more evenings were rewarded with the limit of 20 bass over IF inches long. Some of them ran a. high as three and half pounds They rose, struck, darted and lunged like artists. The water was so clear it was easy to observe maneuvers six to eight feet below the surface. Nc brush interferred with action. Five ounce rods nine and half feet long were used, with No. hooks and oil lines of good weight. At times
 'coachmen," professors "parama- cheene belles," and other bright lures, proved acceptable to the small CT sized fish; but the larger ones appeared to prefer king of waters "beaverkill," deer fly" and the more conservatively dressed varieties while the darker "Hackflies and 'gnats usually turned the trick. A net with several feet of handle was essential Without one 75 per cent of the fish when brought to the boat shook off or tore out. These quick witted bass know all the tricks oi avoiding the "yanking" process; its | no problem for them. They appear  must have lost a dozen fine spec | imens, including one large enough to be tutor, by experimenting without the net.
 | Lure of Coves
 l Along the shores of coves and in- l lets a hundred yards wide and run ming up to shady narrow points, ! wealth of mountain laurel and other | fresh foliage hangs several feet out l little above the surface. It is com paratlvely easy to put your fly under this slopes from mainland are rather sudden. The waters are several feet deep a yard or so from shore. In such places we took most of our fine catch. Each bass when hooked rushed for cover; but there was little, and few escaped by tangles and snarls. Usually they could be coaxed, guided or dragged by main strength and awkwardness into deep CT waters far from Instructions Of | any kind Then the contest ragged for
 several minutes at times with spir- 1 ited beauty darting far towards bot l tom, undertaking to run under the boat, skimming the surface, zig gag ging or leaping a foot or two for violent shakes-the latter a scheme resorted to by almost every normal
 bass. as soon as he reaches the age i of discretion.
 The third evening on this lovely little inland sea smiling amid a prize picture of Nature would have been as delightful an experience as 1 ever | had with the game fish, but for one word spoken incidentally at a mo- ment that marred the whole effect Let me tell you about 1t. An awk- ward youth of IS reared In the bushes with no sort of education advantages handled the one paddle Occasionally he bi /.e the silence with an ili-con- structed sentence, indicating he was not on speaking terms with his mother tongue. As they used to say in Virginia, he didn't speak the language of the tribe" About all he knew was where to find good fishing That was satisfactory. however, If he hadn't blurted the word that spoiled wonderful picture ana besmeared what might have been the memory of lifetime.
 Scene of Serenity
 We were drifting from a fetching cove into the open at sunset Scarce ly ripple disturbed the surface save from the boat and gentle swish of the single paddle. The sun, en route to slumberland, sank slowly behind Mt Mitchell. Pale pink and violet clouds drifted over the rays, leaving flaming dark red and baby blue lights, varied with all the choicest blendings of sapphire and emerald olive, old rose and wisteria, royal purple and lilac, orange and old gold. Indigo and dove tints, with touches of white and yellow, seemed to steal their way in to help complete the scheme. A catbird and wood thrush on opposite shores competed for supremacy in the realm of tone; robin redbreast fitted over the space with clear final evening good night, and two crickets sneaked in just to show they could sing, too. It was such a scene as few mortals witness in lifetime. Dame Nature seemed in her dream jest mood, as though helpless to re- sist the temptation of subtle spell of coQuetry.
 There came sudden flash, mo- mentary splash; three pound bass had my upper fly and was gone. The reel chimed in; rod tremb1ed and bent well nigh double. That glass like lake surface became all commo- tion 50 feet around. The water lit- orally sparkled in variety of tones and tints, reflecting delicate shades and shadows from surrounding fol- iage and lights OCT head. The usual plunges, darts, slashes and skins fol- lowed when healthy, astute bass first seizes an alluring fly.
 Up to that time my laundering companion sat perfectly still as if dazed, and fixed his startled eyes on the performance. Soon my beautiful fish discovered his position was crit icaI: the hook was firmly set. he was in for it. There were no roots, brush, rushes or other possibilities within reach. He was in deep, clear water.
 Then came the leap. It must have been five feet straight up, with quick. violent shakes. There was never prettier scene. But alas! while my wonderful prize beauty was in the air that green mountain youth balled He's shimmying"
 The short leader on my fly snapped. The bass darted toward the depths. A song sparrow chirped once from a honeysuckle bank. The sun dropped behind old Mitchell. A half moon peeped from over lofty peak. apparently smiling at the joke, and a stin lizzie" started chugging back to the sleepy little town of Marion. nestling among the foothills of the beautiful Blue Ridge.
 The beacon lights of long ago had a brightness of few candlepower. The beams of modern lighthouses