THE LOVE OF FISHING. 13 



he tarry till I come " words which he must have recalled 

 when he uttered that last longing cry, " Even so come, 

 Lord " all these were associated with that last recorded 

 fishing scene on the waters of Gennesaret. 



Fishermen never lose their love for the employment. 

 And it is notably true that the men who fish for a living 

 love their work quite as much as those who fish for pleas- 

 ure love their sport. Find an old fisherman, if you can, 

 in any sea-shore town, who does not enjoy his fishing. 

 There are days, without doubt, when he does not care to 

 go out, when he would rather that need did not drive 

 him to the sea ; but keep him at home a few days, or set 

 him at other labor, and you shall see that he longs for the 

 toss of the swell on the reef, and the sudden joy of a strong 

 pull on his line. Drift .up alongside of him in your boat 

 when he is quietly at his work, without his knowing that 

 you are near. You can do it easily. He is pondering 

 solemnly a question of deep importance to him, and he 

 has not stirred eye, or hand, or head for ten minutes. But 

 see that start and sharp jerk of his elbow, and now hear 

 him talk, not to you to the fish. He exults as he brings 

 him in, yet mingles his exultation with something of pity 

 as he baits his hook for another. Could you gather the 

 words that he has in many years flung on the sea-winds, 

 you would have a history of his life and adventures, min- 

 gled with very much of his inmost thinking, for he tells 

 much to the sea and the fish that he would never whisper 

 in human ears. Thus the habit of going a-fishing always 

 modifies the character. The angler, I think, dreams of 

 his favorite sport oftener than other men of theirs. There 

 is a peculiar excitement in it, which perhaps arises from 

 somewhat of the same causes which make the interest in 

 searching for ancient treasures, opening Egyptian tombs, 



