Probably no one who fishes at all can withstand the temptation to try his hand at tarpon when visiting the Gulf of Mexico waters. One hears such stories of the gaminess of this fish, of the fight, prolonged through many hours, at times, which is necessary to land it, that he soon contracts the tarpon fever. In spite of a certain reluctance to go in pursuit of fish which are good for nothing when caught, fish that have never injured us and against which we hold no malice, a sunny morning saw the writer and a boatman starting out for tarpon. We anchored at a favourable point, the hook was baited with half a mullet, tied on as well as hooked, and then came the wait. It was not long, for in less than half an hour the fisherman announced to his oarsman, “I feel something.” “Let him have it,” urged the boatman, for one secret of successful fishing for tarpon is to give the fish plenty of time to gorge the bait. After what seemed to be an interminable time the oarsman said, “Now strike him.” And strike him we did, with the most astonishing result. No sooner had the fisherman struck, than a mountain of burnished silver flung itself out of the water. The oarsman said it was a tarpon of average size; but to the fisherman he looked to be fifty feet long and to weigh a ton. Just how large he was will never be known, for with vicious shakes of his head he flung the baited hook at least fifteen feet away. Disappointed? Not especially. Fortunately we had never really felt that our happiness depended upon catching a tarpon. [Illustration: 0135] [Illustration: 0136] ```_Then weary is the street parade, ```And weary books, and weary trade: ````I’m only wishing to go fishing; ```For this the month of May was `````made._ `````--Henry Van Dyke, `````_An Angler’s Wish in Town._ [Illustration: 0137] X. ON MOOSEHEAD LAKE [Illustration: 9137] E want a quiet place, free from dudes and mosquitoes, with good good fishing.” Thus food and spoke the tired city man to his friend, the Preacher, and the friend answered, “I have heard of such a haven of rest, far in the east, on the shores of Moosehead Lake.” So it came to pass that we--Nell, little Sue and I--made the long journey of 1,500 miles on the strength of a hearsay. Risky? Yes, but the results amply justified our faith. We found the Peaceful Valley and the House of Rest.