light hearted over the sport of the day and the bag 

 of beauties he could show and talk about. Before 

 making the final slow climb to our domicile, I took 

 occasion to remind him that the true sportsman should 

 be charitable, and it would not be becoming in him 

 to criticize Uncle Scott before others on his poor 

 luck fishing. I told him the rule was to divide the 

 string among the party, and to speak of them as 

 l 'Our fish." This instruction he followed out in the 

 presence of his mother, sisters, and friends who 

 crowded about the front porch on our return to view 

 the specimens and to take "a snap shot" of them. 

 He did not, however, in thoughtless glee neglect to 

 tell them all how he had protected the sandwiches 

 intended for Uncle Scott and as to how the latter 

 went without his lunch. 



Retiring to our room, wet shoes, stockings, under- 

 drawers and breeches were soon off and swinging 

 on the porch in the mountain breeze to dry. This 

 move was followed by cold sponge baths and clean 

 linen, as well as a careful putting away of materials 

 and implements. Our good cook Mary prepared the 

 fish for our breakfast and after a hearty supper my 

 son and I prepared for that night's rest which should 

 follow a laborpus day's sport. Our eyes closed to 

 the world after going over the details of the trip 

 with Uncle Scott, who finished a cigar, not forgetting 

 the ridiculous features, arid my boy had his eye teeth 

 cut in bass fishing. After thanking God for bed, 

 the boy made a last remark in slow, measured, half- 

 distinct words, "Fa-ther to catch bass you've got to 

 hustle, haven't you, and so you must do to make a 

 success at anything." We both of us regretted in the 

 morning that we had not seen the cook bleed the 



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