THE ETHICS OF FIELD SPORTS. 569 



ness is the bane of camp life. The selfish man is ever seek- 

 ing his own pleasure and gratification regardless of others. 

 He appropriates without shame the best of everything 

 within his reach. He shirks without scruple his share of 

 the duties which devolve upon each, without appreciating 

 in what a contemptible light his conduct is viewed by other 

 members of the party. He forfeits the respect of his associ- 

 ates, and soon contempt takes the place of the mutual 

 respect so necessary to a pleasant outing. 



Egotism is scarcely less to be regretted than selfishness; 

 indeed, it is closely allied to it. The egotist is ever boast- 

 ing of his own achievements and belittling those of others. 

 The success of another affords him no pleasure, but rather 

 mortification. His ambition is to be considered superior to 

 others, and, to secure this end, he will not hesitate to belit- 

 tle their acts, if not by direct words, then by covert insin- 

 uations. 



Geniality is indispensable to a happy life in camp, and 

 this is best promoted when each one seeks to gratify the sen- 

 sibilities of the others, by commending their achievements 

 rather than by boasting of his own. Sportsmen should, above 

 all others, cultivate -a cordial, fraternal feeling, in which the 

 highest honor, integrity, and liberality should prevail. 



I was once at Cedar Key, Florida, and borrowing some 

 fishing-tackle, went down to an old, dilapidated wharf to 

 try my hand for sea-trout, which I was told were taken in 

 those waters. , There I found an elderly man fishing, to 

 whom I introduced myself. I told him I was fond of fish- 

 ing, but was a stranger to those waters and to the sea-trout, 

 which I understood prevailed there. That was introduction 

 enough. He kindly offered to tell me what he knew about 

 them; and, as he was short of bait, I gladly supplied him 

 with some of mine. He explained the mode of angling for 

 sea- trout, and then proposed that we go "cahoots," to 

 which, of course, I gladly assented. I imitated his casts as 

 closely as I could, but somehow the fish knew the differ- 

 ence, for every few minutes he landed a fine specimen, after 

 a lively run; but very few touched my bait. When we 



