Just Wait, Mr. Bass 



I wish there were more fishermen like the fish- 

 erwoman whose story follows. There is no doubt 

 that Mrs. M. M. Green, of Shelternook Farm, Al- 

 bany, Missouri, has a true love of God's outdoors; 

 neither is there any doubt of her love of the gentle 

 art of angling. It is a privilege to print her story 

 and I know every fisherman who reads it will be 

 charmed by it, too. Hats off, fishermen, to Mrs. 

 Green, a " Queen of the Waters " after your own 

 heart. 



I know it really isn't necessary to apologize, in a 

 story like this, for my love of rod and reel. But 

 you see I have gotten in the habit of it. The wife 

 of a Middle-West farmer is not supposed to prefer 

 slipping along the stream and casting the rocky riffles 

 to the meetings of the neighborhood Fancy Work 

 Club. There is something very peculiar about her 

 if she finds the snelling of hooks and winding of rods 

 more interesting than her tatting. And so I have 

 fallen in the way of telling my amused, matter-of- 

 fact friends that the hatchery demands my almost con- 

 stant attention from February to June, and that an 

 occasional complete change of thought and scenery 

 is a necessity. Nerves they can understand. It would 



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