A PLEASANT DISAPPOINTMENT. 



My boy was an attentive listener and had early 

 been instructed not to say anything of anybody unless 

 it was something good. I often told him of the mag- 

 nificent accomplishments of would-be fishermen, some 

 of whom he had come in contact with during our 

 rambles. If he heard of their omissions or short- 

 comings he would always view them from a charitable 

 standpoint and remark, "Well ; he'll become an expert 

 like me some day." My own early disappointments 

 while being educated in the p^catorial art afforded him 

 much interest and at times merriment when related by 

 friends or myself. An original companion was Tom 

 Irwin, who would discard boots and socks, roll his 

 pantaloons up to his knees and wade pools, jump from 

 stone to stone, and stand on a sun-heated rock with 

 perfect indifference. My legs were so much softer 

 than his that there were many swift places in the 

 river over which I would jump after he had given me 

 a hand, or reached me the butt of his rod. Tom was 

 very fatherly and instructed and cared for me as he 

 would a son. When wading across or through a heavy 

 and rapid volume of water he was always careful to 

 see that I was not washed down, my weight being only 

 about one hundred and thirty pounds. Tom was a 

 laboring man, but honest, active and fearless, and 

 possessed the best ideas of when, where and how 

 to fish for small-mouthed bass. Now and then he 

 would take a day off to accompany and instruct me 

 in the art. My son was all eyes and ears when I 

 told him Tom and I had traveled over four miles 

 one bright morning to try fishing at a place called 



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