LXFIII.— Fishing 



WHAT would spring be to a small boy 

 without fishing? At the present writ- 

 ing fishing is at high tide, though we 

 are still living on the same old fare. 

 Although fish-lines and hooks have been bought, fish- 

 ing-poles trimmed to shape with the butcher-knife 

 and loads of bait dug, I have yet to see an actual 

 fish. I cannot deny that years ago I used to get 

 plump chub in the Government drain, and one year 

 some carp weighing five pounds and over came up 

 with the spring flood, but it is long since I have 

 seen anything bigger than a minnow. Still, the 

 littlest boys know that there were fish in the drain 

 once, so why not now? There is a spot about half 

 a mile away where willows were allowed to grow on 

 the bank and the spring floods scooped out holes 

 in which driftwood accumulated. In these mysteri- 

 ous depths fish are supposed to hide, and a baited 

 hook will be stripped of its bait in a few minutes. 

 There is no lack of nibbles that appear to give the 



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