seeing the energetic twitching of the cork (red and green duly mixed 

 preferred), for it reminds me of the motion of a fish's fins. I put the 

 hook in the water, which is the stereotyped way of doing when one fishes, 

 though I have very often had the same degree of success when I have 

 left the hook on land. I thrust the pole into the shore with a jab which 

 insures the pole staying, whatever the cork does. Having done this, a 

 glow of virtue suffuses my frame as it does with a man who has gone to 

 church with his wife. 1 have done my duty. What need I do more ? 

 The line is in the water ; the pole is in the bank ; and I am on the bank 

 near the pole. Now let the fish do his duty. Let him make the cork 

 bob; let him, 1 say, for I shall exert myself no more. I am fishing. 

 Here I sit. Except for nettles, I am complaisant and self-righteous. 

 If the fish do their duty and measure up to their responsibility, why then 

 the cork bobs, whereat my fisherman luck is satisfed, and my passion 

 of sportsmanship is in a manner allayed. I consider the desire ex- 

 hibited among many fishermen to catch fish to be a rabid species of 

 militarism which I can not approve. Seeing the fish had expressed 

 neither viva voce nor aqua voce, a desire for the mild rule of my flag or 

 frying pan, I can not think of thrusting my sovereignty on them by im- 

 paling them on a hook, for this would be a glaring instance of militarism 

 and expansion ; and I am too true a mugwump (?) to be a friend to 

 either. No, fishermen have missed the point of the argument. Catch- 

 ing fish is not the end of fishing, Seeing the cork bob is the end of 

 fishing, and is the whole duty of the fisherman. Here is an advanced 

 idea which I hope may revolutionize the piscatorial art. New ideas I 

 know are frequently received with hostility. Great ideas often are. I 

 anticipate antagonism. I do not care. I may be a martyr, but no 

 matter. I reaffirm I do not care. I have the martyr's spirit. My an- 

 cestors were buccaneers and their valor survives in me, and if a sort of 

 fishy martyrdom awaits me for the bold, unflinching, intrepid, deter- 

 mined presentation of this grand and revolutionary thought, I will sit by 

 my bobbing cork and wait my death calmly. So strong is virtue. 

 When the cork bobs I feel a sense of relief as of a duty per- 

 formed in a satisfactory and even in a praiseworthy manner. I 

 shall now feel free to go on with my fishing. If the cork does not 

 bob I feel free from responsibility. I have done my duty. My business 

 is to bait the hook, not to bite at the bait. Let every fish bear his own 

 burden. Nor am I a monopolist. My soul spurns that thought. I have 

 done my part: I will not monopolize functions. Let the fish have room 



86 



