THE BASSES: FRES H-W ATER AND MARINE 



County Club's Wolf Pond. I was alone in the 

 boat and had slipped an oar, and the bass had 

 reeled out nearly all my line. For the life of me 

 I had not strength to reel him back. He was 

 making toward New York for all he was worth. 

 A stranger, fishing some distance away, yelled, 

 "Why don't you get him in?" I replied, "I 

 wish I could." He came rowing up at full speed 

 and said, " Hand me your rod." I thankfully did 

 so. Well, he set to work and whirled the rod 

 around like a windmill. I said ruefully, " That 

 rod 's a good one, but I doubt if it 's as strong 

 as an oar. Remember it 's not yours, but mine, 

 you are jimcracking with." " Oh, damn the rod. 

 Let 's get the fish," he replied. After some more 

 whirlwind passes he certainly turned the traveller 

 toward my boat, and consequently to my net, and 

 began to reel in like mad, so that together we 

 soon had safe a fine three-pound bass. For the 

 rest of the day we fished together and I learned 

 a good deal that was useful to me in after life. 



Another instance of my early bass-fishing days 

 was when my wife and I were out on the lily- 

 pond some miles back of Roscoe. A beautiful 

 sheet of water it was, but we had little success 

 and at last decided to try the lily-pads for pike. 



We used a minnow and a large fly. Hardly 

 had we cast the first bait when my wife had a 

 shock and her reel began to whirr. The fish started 



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