n6 Sporting Sketches 



when conspicuouslypacked against some inaccessible 

 masonry, and the naturalized citizen wants them 

 with that keen craving for small things which seems 

 to possess the majority of imported citizens. 



The song of the beggar is as exasperating as his 

 insolent small person. He seems to " Chir-uff-chirr- 

 chirr-chirr-up," but woven through it is an undertone 

 which distinctly says, " Ow ! come out o' that, you 

 bloomin' beggar; chuck away that bally pen ; stop 

 meddlin' with the blawsted stationery ; it's spring out 

 'ere." 



Only the old-time teaching, that not a sparrow 

 shall fall, keeps me from flicking at him with the 

 trout-tackle. And, as if he were not sufficiently 

 exasperating, there is the everlasting New York boy, 

 proud of new rubber boots and a handy puddle. I'll 

 bet two dollars on that boy : one that he wishes he 

 was a centipede so he could demand a whole lot 

 more boots, and the other that he has attended one 

 of the sportsmen's shows. Do you see that motion 

 with the bit of lath? That is his idea of fly-cast- 

 ing. In his mind that lath is nine feet long, tapered, 

 pointed, reeled, and lovely like the things he 

 saw at the show. To his ghost-wand is attached 

 a silken dream-line, and that puddle is foam-flecked 

 and thrilling with stream music. That one out-of- 

 plumb cobble-stone is a big rock, and that bit of 

 banana peel is a trout a two-pounder, mind you ! 



and that silent, earnest, wading boy is going to 

 get him. When ? Never mind when. Sometime 



perhaps in the Adirondacks, Maine, Wisconsin, 

 or Quebec the dream will come true. How do I 

 know all this ? Because that boy is allowed to come 



