“How glorious!” I exclaimed, impulsively.

“Yes; it is a first-rate morning for fishing,” said my uncle, whose mind was evidently upon business, and not upon the beauties of nature.

After rowing about three miles, we stopped, and prepared for fishing.  Each of us had two lines, about twenty feet long.  The hooks were about as big as large trout-hooks.  Pewter had been run around the upper part of them, so that “sinkers” were not required.  The pewter answered a double purpose; it did duty as a sinker, and, being bright, attracted the notice of the fish.  Uncle James had brought with him some clams, which we cut from their shells and put on the hooks.  We threw in our lines and waited for a bite.  We did not wait long, for, in less than a minute, George cried out, in the most excited manner, “There’s a fish on my hook!”

“Pull, then!” shouted his father.

He was too agitated to pull at first, but, at length, managed to haul in his line, and, behold, a slender fish, about eight inches long, showing all the colors of the rainbow, as he held it up in the morning sun!  It was our first mackerel.  While admiring George’s prize, I suddenly became aware of a lively tug at one of my own lines.  I pulled it in, and found that I had caught a fish just like the other, only a little larger.  No sooner had I taken it from the hook than my other line was violently jerked.  I hauled it in hurriedly, and on the end of it was—­not a mackerel, but a small, brown fish, with a big head and an enormous mouth.  I was about to take it from the hook when my uncle called, “Look out!” He seized it, and showed me the long, needle-like projections on its back, with which, but for his interference, my hand might have been badly wounded.  This unwelcome visitor was a sculpin.  Sculpins are very numerous in this region.

[Illustration:  Mackerel-boats.]

Uncle James explained how I happened to catch one of them.  They swim at a much greater depth than mackerel usually do, and, while I was busy with one line, the other had sunk some twelve or fifteen feet down where the sculpins dwelt.

When mackerel are inclined to take the bait, they are usually close to the surface of the water.  They began now to bite with the greatest eagerness, and gave us all the work that we could do.  As soon as I had taken a fish from one line, the other demanded my attention.  I did not have to wait for a bite.  Indeed, as soon as the hook was thrown into the water, several mackerel would dart for it.  As George said, they were very anxious to be caught.  This was very different from my previous experience in fishing for trout in the little brooks near my home.  I used to fish all day and not get more than two or three trout, and often I would not get one.  Those that I did catch were not more than four or five inches long.  I guess some of my boy readers have had the same experience.