GEORGE DAWSON. 



MY FIRST TROUT. 



ABOUT 1850 my people moved across the river into 

 Albany, and I was a student in the "Classical In- 

 stitute" of Professor Charles H. Anthony, on 

 Eagle street. Among the scholars was George S. Daw- 

 son, eldest son of George Dawson, who at that time was 

 assistant editor of the Albany Evening Journal. Young 

 George told his father that I knew of a good trout stream 

 down near Kinderhook lake, and it led to an interview. 

 Mr. Dawson wanted to go, and we would take an early 

 train for Kinderhook station, on the B. & A. R. R., and if 

 the distance was too far to the brook he would hire a 

 horse to take the three near the stream, for George S. 

 would go. This seemed a reckless bit of extravagance 

 to a boy whose whole expenditures for fishing had been 

 a few pennies for hooks and lines and of leg muscle to get 

 to the fishing places. 



The only thing that serves to fix the time of year is the 

 memory that pond lilies were in bloom; the cat-tails were 

 just pushing up their curious blooms, and had not burst 

 to scatter their seeds, and the black-cap raspberries were 

 ripe. It must have been early in July, for the swallows 

 were skimming the meadows and had not begun to con- 

 gregate on the telegraph wires. These things are re- 

 called by Mr. Dawson's wish to take home the pond lilies, 

 our picking berries near the railroad station, and young 

 Dawson's doubt of my statement that swallows could 

 gather on wires charged with electricity. What a thing 



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