412 Book of the Black Bass. 



And how well he knew every muskraf s nm, and every 

 kingfisher's perch, and every bank-swallow's hole; and, 

 though watching his " cork " never so intently, how he had 

 an eye for every water-snake, and turtle, and bull-frog that 

 stirred within ten rods of him! 



And when an unlucky muskrat, or kingfisher, or snake, 

 or turtle, or frog showed itself, how he would lay a rock on 

 the butt of his "pole," and start in quest of it; and how 

 these mammalian forays, and ornithic sallies, and reptilian 

 assaults would rest him; and with what renewed zest he 

 would repair to his fishing, and with what consummate and 

 enduring faith he would -spit on his hook, and resume his 

 waiting and watching! 



Oh I bright, sunny, golden days of youth ! How far — 

 how very far we have traveled down the stream since then ! 

 We may look back, and through the gaps in the trees, and 

 over the low hills catch a sparkle of the stream behind and 

 above us ; but, alas ! we can never go back — never return ! 

 Our course is ever on, on — and down, down — and the 

 stream is ever widening and growing deeper, until it will 

 soon be lost in the great gulf of the unknown ! 



I have much sj-mpathy, and great respect, if not down- 

 right envy for the still-fisher. There is a juvenility, and a 

 childish faith in his methods that are totally unknown, or 

 utterly lost to the blase old hand at fly-fishing, or minnow- 

 casting. 



His tastes are as simple, his expectations as great, his 

 anticipations as easily satisfied, and his enjoyment as ample 

 as in the pin-hook days of the best of us. He is, indeed, 

 but a child of larger growth. 



His life may have been saddened with the experience of 

 time — his hands hardened with years of toil — his heart 

 seared with the inhumanity of man — but he still retains 



