disappointment hastily beat a retreat for home. My 

 son wondered how it was that so good a fisherman as 

 Uncle Scott should have forgotten to place sinkers 

 on those short lines to keep the toads from taking 

 passage on the upper deck of the plank. While the 

 boy's story ; was laughable as it was true, it was not 

 half as serious as another experience had by Uncle 

 Scott some weeks afterwards, which my son fully 

 appreciated. Uncle Scott is a charitable, Christian 

 gentleman and frequently enjoys himself when 

 fishing at the expense of others by ridiculing the 

 younger enthusiasts, so one day the boys determined 

 to have some real fun with him. He started out iwith 

 rod, reel, bucket, and a sandwich, for an afternoon's 

 bass fishing. After much difficult wading and climb- 

 ing he found himself on a large rock in the middle of 

 and when ready for a bait picked up an old 

 canteen, which was represented to contain a choice 

 selection of helgamites. Uncle Scott methodically 

 took off his coat and hat and laid them gently aside 

 on the rock, preparing his rod and line for action, 

 and when ready for a bait picked up the old canteen 

 to extract one for his hook. He pulled out the stopper, 

 shook the vessel a minute, when, to his horror, an 

 army of vicious yellow jackets flew out of the muzzle 

 of the receptacle, and alighting on his head and hands 

 made him dance to his heart's content on that lone 

 rock in the middle of the river. Though somewhat 

 worn and excited, with several respectable swellings 

 as a reminder of his experience with the new bait the 

 boys had provided, he ha-ha-ed at the practical joke 

 and carried it home with him that evening as the 

 most enjoyable part of the afternoon's trip. 



39 



