70 Fisuine ry AmericAN WATERS. 
azza trying to joint my rod, but I can not get a light, and 
“daylight don’t appear.” 
S. Bravo! Tl be with you in a minute. 
D. The sea fog sets in chilly; what say you to a cocktail 
and a cracker ? 
S. Oh! Do you know where we are? 
D. Certainly; we are near Plymouth Rock, the blarney- 
stone of America. 
S. Tush! I will accompany you, and we will take a sto- 
machic and a cracker; but do not—for appearance sake— 
call drinks by their ordinary names in this “land of steady 
habits,” where it is unlawful to taste diffusible stimulants. 
D. For medicine? 
S. Of course not, if prescribed by a physician ! 
D, Yt was upon that hypothesis I ventured the invitation. 
I brought my diploma with me, and, as a doctor, I prescribe 
the potion. 
S. Ahem! you are right; I feel that your prescription is 
a good antarthritic. And now we will hie to the Hopper 
Rocks, take our stands, joint our rods, and be ready by the 
time Mosier gets the fish chummed in. Mosier calls up the 
bass here just as a farmer brings his chickens to feed. Let 
us prepare; but there is no use to make a cast before sunrise. 
_ Mosier, Pve throwed in the chum of six fish, an them 
scups an cachockset comes up an takes it just for all the 
world as if they was game! an I hain’t seen nothin of no 
bass yet. 
S. That is right, doctor! you have jointed your rod per- 
fectly; every joint should be driven home. Now, in fasten- 
ing the hook to your line, cast two half hitches with the end 
of your line over the shank, just below the head; then turn 
up the end of the line, and cast a half hitch over it and the 
shank, and turn the hook round in the tie thus formed to see 
that it revolves easily—cut off any superfluous end of line. 
See how Mosier chops up the chum, and where he throws it ; 
and just where he throws the chum, cast your baited hook. 
