OLD HOMESTEAD 



AMUSEMENTS 



" Where the pools are bright and deep, 

 Where the red trout lies asleep, 

 Up the creek and over the lea, 

 That's the way for Billy and me." 



Such amusements and sports as we got had to be snatched 

 or stolen. We always had excellent trout fishing close by, and 

 used to get our share of it. 



Deer Creek ran through the farm and was well stocked with 

 a superior grade of speckled trout from its source to its mouth — 

 I mean the broad, red-bellied fellows. If we were good boys 

 and had finished the most pressing of the work, we could go 

 fishing the first rainy day. Of course, if we got away in a rainy 

 morning we did not get back until we wanted to, even if the sun 

 came out and the day cleared up. 



Brother John was the best fisherman of the family. Father 

 was too busy and had no disposition to ''fool away time," as he 

 regarded fishing and hunting. Our tackle was a home-made, 

 shaved ash rod or natural pole cut from the woods. We made 

 our own lines, either black or white, by twisting the hair from 

 horses' tails by means of quills. Old Dick furnished the white 

 lines, old Tom the black ones. 



Hooks cost money and were a scarce article, and the loss of 

 one was the cause of much regret. If a hook got fast we waded 

 in to release it, no matter how deep or cold the water. The 

 hooks were tied or wound on with silk or strong black thread. 

 There were no snoods, leaders or flies; no reels, fish-baskets or 

 landing-nets. The bait used was the angleworm, which, by the 

 way, has never been excelled for catching brook trout. 



We never ''played" or fooled with them when they bit, but 

 yanked them out with a vicious jerk — " twitching," we called 



iig 



