with us over the island. Throwing the string into the 

 bubbling stream to keep the fish alive, we expressed 

 our regrets at his poor luck and apoligized for allowing 

 him to go hungry. We gave him a left over sandwich, 

 however, and during the devouring thereof he 

 philosophized to my son. "It only goes to show that 

 a man should think twice before he decides upon a 

 place to fish, and even after that, in order to be 

 successful, my son, there must be some work done. 

 Like makin' a living, the more pluck, energy and 

 intelligence you put into it, the better off you will be. 

 Patience is a good thing, but there are other ingre^ 1 

 iients such as I named should go with it. A wise 

 man, attired in fisherman's clothes, was discovered 

 sitting on the bank of a small muddy pond one day by 

 an ignorant colored boy. The man was fishing, 

 watching the movements of a float which showed as a 

 brilliant buoy upon the dusky water. Said the boy, 

 'Mista, what is yer got fer bait?' 'Patience,' replied 

 the man, 'En wha' is yer fishin' fer?' the boy asked, 

 '.Kor recreation' came the response. 'Ugh!" grunted 

 the boy, "pay-chance may be er good bait, but yer can't 

 ketch no recreation in dis yer pon' kase dere's nothin' 

 but er tader-poles en frogs in er heah! M Like me, 

 you see, my son, the man had patience and had the 

 judgment to select a spot where he couldn't catch 

 even 'recreation.'" Uncle Scott had now begun to 

 reel in his line and my son and I arranged our fish and 

 in a few minutes we three were plodding homeward 

 along the narrow mountain trail, which was grown 

 over with willows and high grass. We were tired and 

 wet, and by the time we recrossed the dam were quite 

 hungry. Having to rest our catch every now and 

 then made our return trip a slow one. My son was 



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