Notes and Queries 



105 



a piece of middling and cut it into small cubes, 

 saying : 



"You jes take one of dem pieces and run de 

 bottom hook through de rine, and let de pint 

 come up in de fat part; 'pears to me a big fish 

 will take it. I knows hit is good every time 

 for a snapper, becase I has cot 'em in de mill- 

 dam over thar, when I wanted some good 

 soup. But look here, chile, don't ketch your- 

 self wid dat fine fish-trap er yourn, for if you 

 does dere will be a big doctor's bill to pay. 

 Now mind, I tell you ! You better go to de 

 mouth of old Stony, whar de water is deep, 

 for I 'lows dat you will ketch some big fish, 

 but dey aint no white fish gwine to fool hesself 

 onto no whale hook." After these affectionate 

 and impressive injunctions from my oracle, off 

 I trudged to the water. 



My rod was of a long, light pine wood, and 

 it enabled me to strike the center of the 

 channel, and, holding it with both hands, I 

 waited patiently for a bite. I waited so long 

 that I became careless, and thought my hook 

 had scared the fish away, and, besides, I was 

 amused at the birds all around me. Two 

 kingfishers were chattering to each other in a 

 willow tree near by, and presently the male 

 bird poised himself in the air a moment, dived 

 into the water, and fluttered out with a small 

 fish which he tossed into the air and caught it 

 head foremost, swallowed it, and flew back to 

 his wife in the tree. She rubbed against him 

 and praised him for what he had done. This 

 feat he repeated twice before he caught one 

 for her. I was enchanted ! It was Saturday, 

 you will remember, and I was taking it all in. 

 The cow buntings, meadow pipits, the Caro- 

 lina wrens and the blue birds were making the 

 meadow ring. A bee marten elicited my 

 admiration by poising himself in the air and 

 daring them all to fight him ; and to cap the 

 climax, a lark stuck his head out of the grass 

 and yelled delirium tremens, accusing the 

 whole feathered tribe of being drunk. I was 

 so disgusted with my bad luck in the water, 

 but so delighted with the birds and their 

 carryings on, that I allowed my imagination 

 to run away with me about what they were 

 saying. Do you, brother anglers, remember 

 your schoolboy Saturdays, and take in the 

 situation ? 



Then a strange thing happened. Up went 

 the butt of my rod (which was lightly grasped) 

 and I looked down and saw my cork was under 

 the water. I pulled but it was no go ; my hook 



was fast. I shed off my clothes, went to the 

 bottom, and found the upper hook fast in a 

 root. I thought my investment was a failure. 

 Nothing daunted, however, I tried lower down 

 the stream, and was soon rewarded by another 

 bite. On pulling, I felt something very heavy, 

 then a wriggle, and up came a pretty large 

 blue and white catfish ; the upper hook had 

 struck him in the snout. 



I pulled out a principe, lighted it with a blue 

 head Shanghai match (the best match in those 

 days), and puffed away. The next bite was a 

 big one, but there was simply a dead weight 

 and no motion whatever — the fish was dead 

 before he came to the surface (as Jake put it, 

 "he was cot comin'" and "killed gwine") 

 and was fast on the lower hook, the top one 

 being buried deep in his head. After catching 

 five or six fish of this kind, I started home, 

 delighted with the working of my purchase, 

 but disgusted with the bottom feeders which I 

 had caught, and I have never gotten over my 

 aversion to them to this day. I wondered if 

 Jake would like the fish ; I knew that negroes 

 ate " possums," coons and ground hogs. The 

 two latter they would boil and then roast, but 

 I did not know anything] about catfish, as 

 these were the first I ever caught. 



I saw Jake sitting on a stool near the gate, 

 evidently waiting for me, and I circled around 

 him, kept out of sight, and came upon him 

 unawares. 



" Ha ! you has had big luck dis day ; how 

 come nether on us nuver thought uv catfish ?" 



"They are yours. Uncle Jake, if you want 

 them." 



" No, chile ! don't you know dem channel 

 cats is de best fish in dese waters ; dey makes 

 de best soup, when you biles 'em down, uv 

 anything excusin' a snapper." I made him 

 take them, and the pleasure it gave him was 

 part of my day's sport. T. S. Slabber. 



A Rare Club Opportunity. 



A club, leasing nearly 3,000 acres of quail, ruffled grouse 

 and rabbit lands, and over six miles of trout waters, 

 with comfortable club house, completely furnished and 

 appointed, desires to increase its membership, and will 

 admit a limited number of desirable and active mem- 

 bers, presenting to each a share of the club property and 

 franchises, free of charge. The property is within 32 

 miles of New York City and possesses unusual attrac- 

 tions and facilities for busy men. Address, " Club Mem- 

 bership," care of the American Angler, 19 Park Place, 

 or call on its editor at the same address. 



