TALES OP FISHES 



that never was there an Englishman on earth like 

 the one I portrayed in my novel. But my critics 

 never fished with Lord L. ! 



These English friends went with me to the station 

 to bid me good-by and good luck. We were to part 

 there, they to take ship for London, and I to take 

 train for the headwaters of the Panuco River, down 

 which unknown streams I was to find my way through 

 jungle to the Gulf. Here I was told that C. had 

 lost his only son in the Boer War, and since then 

 had never been able to rest or sleep or remain in 

 one place. That stmmed me, for I remembered 

 that he had seemed to live orJy to forget himself, 

 to think of others. It was a great lesson to me. 

 And now, since I have not heard from him dxmng 

 the four years of the world war, I seem to divine 

 that he has "gone west"; he has taken his last 

 restless, helpful journey, along with the best and 

 noblest of England's blood. 



Because this fish-story has so little of fish in it 

 does not prove that a man cannot fish for other game 

 than fish. I remember when I was a boy that I 

 went with my brother — the E.. C. and the Reddy 

 of the accompanying pages — to fish for bass at Dil- 

 lon's Falls in Ohio. Alas for Bill Dilg and Bob 

 Davis, who never saw this blue-blooded home of 

 bronze-back black-bass! Li the heat of the day my 

 brother and I jabbed our poles into the bank, and 

 set off to amuse om-selves some other way for a 

 while. When we returned my pole was pulled down 

 and wabbling so as to make a commotion in the 

 water. Quickly I grasped it and pulled, while 



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