Tragic Fishing Moments 



the many losing battles scattered through those years, 

 I find the one that to me spelled greatest tragedy at 

 the moment is the one which I am about to relate. 



The prolonged zero weather of the winter of 1919- 

 1920 as usual failed to reduce even by one-tenth of 

 one degree my " fever," and as actual fishing was of 

 course out of the question, I had to find what con- 

 tentment I could in the winding of rods, repairing of 

 tackle and the materializing of a few of my own con- 

 ceptions in the line of lures. Time crept by at a 

 snail's pace but at last July and vacation came, 

 finding me near the breaking point of repression. 



It was during that winter of planning and dream- 

 ing that there awoke in me a desire to take in a fair 

 fight a Northern pike or musky of twenty pounds or 

 better. The desire consistently grew and flourished 

 and strengthened with each of my many fireside 

 siestas until it became a veritable obsession. 



My reason for mentioning this is to give you a 

 glimpse of my state of mind on that never-to-be-for- 

 gotten summer morn when the tragic incident oc- 

 curred, for the degree of tragedy, indeed the very 

 element of tragedy itself, that any particular incident 

 holds for us is determined by the state of mind. 



That year I spent my vacation in Wisconsin in the 

 hope that fortune would favor me with the gratifica- 

 tion of my ambition. Through those weeks I en- 

 joyed many fine days of sport, but only once were 



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