134 



The American Angler 



I used to fish in several of the trout streams 

 of Delaware County, New York, as far back as 

 1850, and then there were plenty in all the 

 streams, and when I was a boy the Neversink 

 was full of trout. I recollect a visit I made to 

 the place where I was born — Westkill, Greene 

 County, N. Y. The Westkill Creek runs right 

 through the little village, and I said to my 

 brother-in-law, who lived there, that I thought 

 I could get some trout in the stream. He said 

 it was no use, that the tanneries that were 

 there years before had killed all the fish, and 

 no one had caught or seen a trout in twenty 

 years. I had the fever on and was going to 

 try anyway, and said all I wanted of him was 

 to go along and bring the fish back. I fixed 

 up a rig with a pole about ten feet long, started 

 out and right at the little bridge in the village 

 I caught four, and one of them a pounder ; 

 went jon down the stream about a mile and 

 came^to a dam and a nice-looking place below. 

 My pole was too short to reach where I wanted 

 to, and I went to an old shoemaker close by, 

 and he had a nice, long pole, which I bor- 



A/- 



rowed, although he said it was useless to try 

 for trout there, for there were none. I told 

 him I had made up my mind that under that 

 dam there was one that had been waiting years 

 for me to come and get him. I caught eight 

 right there, and one weighed over two pounds. 

 My brother-in-law was surprised, as every one 

 else was in the vicinity, and it did my soul 

 good to see him change hands every little 

 while in carrying the fish home, for we had 

 nineteen pounds in all. On the next day I 

 started for home, and, passing for miles along 

 the road towards Prattsville, saw the stream 

 lined with fishermen. 



I think there are very few men living who 

 have done as much trout fishing as I have, and 

 I never yet found any one that seemed to have 

 the luck that I always have. I have wondered 

 sometimes why I did not become spotted and 

 have scales start on me. The 13th of April 

 next I shall be sixty-eight years of age, and 

 the greatest pleasure of my life is to catch the 

 nice, speckled trout. B. P. Van Hor.ne. 



Chico, Montana. 





Yo' kin sot onto de ribber bank fo' long hours at er time, 

 An' de debbil a fish '11 nibble at yo' bait. 

 But ef deys fishes in de creek, deys boun' ter tek a' hoi', 

 Ef yo's only got de pashuns fo' to wait. 



Yo' kin trabbel in de lane till hit stretehes out so long 

 Dat yo' tink de turnin' pint yo's missed en past, 

 But jes' yo' keep a'gwine en yo'U war dat ol' road out, 

 For de longes' lane am boun' to twast et last. 



Dars so many cloudy days dat it seems as ef de sun, 

 AVasn't nebber gwine to shine on yearth no mo', 

 But gib de ole sun time 'n' he'll bust dem clouds away. 

 An' shine brighter 'n what yo' eber saw befo'.. 



I). P. 



