Where Town and Country Meet 



greatly esteemed is the privilege of dropping 

 line and hook in its crystal depths for a day. 



I shall never forget a certain June day 

 spent on the pond with one of the village 

 fishermen and his thirteen-year-old boy. 

 The boy was always taken along by his 

 father as a "mascot," and so thoroughly 

 established was the old fisherman's faith 

 in what he called "boy luck," that he told 

 me he would "almost as soon think of going 

 without bait as without Ned." 



We started before daylight from the vil- 

 lage as, according to time-honored tradition, 

 one "must get to fishing at sunrise if you 

 are going to catch them when they are bit- 

 ing." This same strenuous philosophy 

 seems to extend to all enterprises in the 

 country, and is, I doubt not, one of the 

 thorns of the "terrible conscience for labor," 

 which a writer ascribes to New Englanders. 

 That there is any intrinsic value in the day- 

 break philosophy I am inclined to doubt, 

 however ; for, according to my observation, 

 there is more nerve-energy lost between the 

 first peep of day and a reasonable breakfast 

 hour than is ever regained in practical re- 

 sults. 



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