MY HUNTING AND FISHING COMPANIONS. 



Dr. W. H. Steele. 



Those of your readers who have 

 reached the meridian of life and 

 are traveling down the shady side, 

 no doubt often look back to boyhood, and 

 live over again those glorious days, on 

 the stream, in the wood or in the thicket. 

 I am thankful for the faculty that en- 

 ables me to look back and enjoy, in re- 

 trospect, those boyhood days. How 

 well I remember that old single barrel 

 shot gun, with percussion lock, with 

 powder horn, shot bottle and box of "G. 

 D." caps ; that iron-wood " fish-pole" 

 ■cut in the thicket on the banks of the 

 Maquoketa. 



Poor old Sport ! the mongrel pointer ! 

 He was slow, but always sure and faith- 

 ful. When he made a point it could 

 always be relied upon. 



How fresh in my memory is the first 

 day in the woods with that old single 

 barrel. It was a beautiful day in 

 autumn that father took me with him 

 on a squirrel hunt. Game was plentiful 

 in those days, and we had been in the 

 woods but a short time, when a grey 

 flirted his tail at us, and scampered up 

 a large white oak. Father pointed him 

 out to me, away up in a fork ; I took 

 careful aim, pulled the trigger, and at 

 the crack of the gun down came my 

 first squirrel. He no sooner struck the 

 ground, than gathering himself together 

 he started up the tree again. Grasping 

 my gun by the barrel, I whacked away 

 at him with the stock. I missed the 

 squirrel, but hit the tree and, of course, 

 broke my gun-stock. 



I had some copper wire in my pocket, 

 with which father wound the broken 

 stock, and I was in shooting trim again. 

 From this accident I learned two valu- 

 able lessons ; first, how to repair a gun- 

 stock in the field ; and second, never to 

 use the wrong end of my gun on game, 

 unless, compelled to do so in self-de- 

 fense. We had a pleasant and success- 

 ful day's hunt, taking home with us a 

 fine string of pigeons and squirrels. 



This was our first hunt together, but 

 not our last. As long as I remained at 

 home father was my first choice on all 

 shooting and fishing trips. Many a 



happy day we spent together, tramping 

 through the old familiar woods after 

 squirrels, quail and pheasants, or follow- 

 ing the windings of the Masquoketa, 

 after ducks and fish. Where is the faith- 

 ful old pointer, and that single barrel 

 that did me such good service on those 

 tramps ? Those equipments of boyhood 

 were long ago laid aside, supplanted by a 

 double barrel muzzle-loader, shot pouch, 

 and powder flask ; they in turn by a 

 modern breech-loader. These changes 

 were necessary to keep pace with the 

 times. 



We are always glad to make the ex- 

 change, from an old and worn out equip- 

 ment, to a new and improved one, even 

 though we retain fond recollections 

 of the paraphernalia of our boyhood 

 days. What dissatisfied mortals we 

 are ! When boys we long to be men, 

 with the strength and intellect of 

 men ; and when we reach manhood, 

 with all its matured powers, true to our 

 discontented restless natures, we look 

 back with longing for the feelings, emo- 

 tions and pleasures of our youth. 



Where is the lover of rod and gun 

 who would not prefer to spend a day in 

 the old wood, or following the banks of 

 the old stream, rather than spend a 

 whole week any where else? 



My first chum in out door sports was 



Arthur G. . He was of medium 



height, heavy set, had dark hair and 

 eyes ; giving him a predominance of the 

 motive temperament; which, in connec- 

 tion with his large caution, made him 

 slow and careful in acting ; while I was 

 impulsive and incautious. This was a 

 fortunate combination for me ; as his 

 restraining influence held me in check, 

 and kept me from doing many care 

 and foolish things. G. was slow to 

 anger, but had a bad temper when 

 thoroughly aroused. As I was always on 

 the alert to play him a practical joke, 

 I had to be careful not to carry these 

 too far. 



I remember once when I got beyond 

 the limit. It was a hot day in autumn. 

 We had been down the river fishing, and 

 on our way back stopped at a big deep 



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