Tragic Fishing Moment^ 



tion presented the dilemma even better than I could 

 present it myself. I was 'twixt love and duty, and 

 compelled to choose. 



Aye, 'twas a problem. Bass or Business ? It seems 

 like yestere'en. How time flies! With a quiet, yet 

 withal a kindly, "Good-night," I left Bill to his 

 gloomy thoughts and sought the porter, a colored 

 brother whom I had tipped liberally for trifling serv- 

 ices rendered, who stole my cigars, but who, notwith- 

 standing my knowledge thereof, I deemed trust- 

 worthy in the premises, if tipped. 



"Wash, here's four bits," I whispered. I didn't 

 want Bill to hear. " I've got to go to Hagerstown in 

 the morning. Call me in time for that train and you 

 get a whole dollar." 



"Yessir, yessir, thank you, Marsa, Fse gwine to 

 call you in plenty time fo' de train. Yessir, yessir." 



With that warm glow of conscious virtue that 

 comes to all who are really dutiful, I lay me down to 

 the healthy sleep of youth and virtue. 



I had cast the die. It was Business, not Bass. 



A persistent knocking at my door, sleepily heard at 

 first, eventually roused me to the fact that the glad 

 morning time had come. 



"Yes! Yes! Wash, all right," I said. 



Came the chuckling answer through the door : " Get 

 up, Marse Chappie, de train am gone, an' Marse Bill 

 am er waiting fo' yo'-all." 



66 



