PORTRAITS IN INK 201 



III. THE SHOEMAKER 



THE old shoemaker, grizzled, unkempt, slovenly 

 clad, warped with many years over last and lap- 

 stone, is a cheerful philosopher as he labors or 

 meditates in his untidy shop. 



There among the clutter of leather scraps, worn 

 footgear and lasts, with the battered old gun in 

 the corner beside the worn rod whose term of 

 service is still extended by many bonds of waxed 

 ends, you may sit at your ease or your peril on 

 the rough little counter or on one of the hah* dozen 

 rickety chairs, weak but hospitable even in the 

 decrepitude of age. You will find genial compan- 

 ionship and get more useful information in an 

 hour spent with this unassuming craftsman than 

 in a day with more pretentious sportsmen. 



It is not altogether greed for fish and game that 

 entices him abroad in the few days wherein are 

 conjoined an allurement of propitious weather 

 and slackness of work. He admits with a laugh at 

 himself, that he killed nothing in his last day's 

 outing, but asserts that he had nevertheless a 

 right good time. He got a fortnight's kinks out 

 of his back and shoulders, a heartening smell of the 

 woods, a feast of fresh air, and caught some of the 

 wood folk at a new trick or uttering a heretofore 

 unheard or unrecognized note, or he has seen some 

 strange freak of nature. If you are interested, he 



