WE GO A-FISHING. 121 



watching the bottom, a few feet below us, we 

 estimate that the boat is moving at the rate of 

 one yard a minute, at which pace we shall get 

 there some time next year. This is part of fish- 

 erman's luck, and the man who should feel re- 

 sentment or show impatience in such circum- 

 stances has no business to go fishing on the 

 Great South Bay, or anywhere else. We have 

 books with us, we have hopes of a breeze to 

 come and fish to be caught. 



The true fisherman enjoys fishing whether he 

 catches fish or not. The love of fishing is 

 much akin to the love of gambling ; whether 

 you win or lose there is pleasurable excitement 

 about it. It is the hope of getting something 

 for nothing, so to speak, and your true fisher- 

 man will sit upon the edge of a boat or the 

 string-piece of a wharf all day, content to be 

 there and meditate upon what he might have 

 caught or may yet catch. The best fisherman 

 I know are the old fellows who dangle their 

 legs over the edge of the Paris quays waiting 

 for goujons to bite little fish half the size of 

 a herring ; and the catch of a round half-dozen 

 makes a red-letter day for the Seine fishermen. 

 I remember a picture of two of these enthusi- 



