PETE MADE HIS MARK. 



E. M. LEETE. 



About the -nicest-thing to ride is a hobby, 

 if you don't aide ...too, much. The hobby 

 that suits me best; is", fishing, from what 

 little I know 'of it.. Of course 1- should not 

 wish to -fish all the time nor make a busi- 

 ness of it. Sundays I would willingly give 

 up the sport,, and-, even on. Saturday after- 

 noon, if my family needed anything, I 

 should enjoy doing what I could for 

 them. 



It has always seemed strange to me that 

 my wife looks at the matter in a different 

 light. She is a sensible woman about al- 

 most everything else. I have argued with 

 her by the hour and tried to show her how 

 much the children enjoyed a fish dinner. 

 I have pointed out that fish was a brain 

 food and saved a whole lot on the meat 

 bill; but talk as I would, and I have even 

 worked nights at it, I could not convince 

 that woman. She will insist on my being 

 at the office nearly all the time. 



There are times, however, when one has 

 a cold, or a corn, or may be a headache 

 that only fresh air will cure. Now, air is 

 never so fresh as when coming over water, 

 and if you are going to take it that way 

 why not fish at the same time? 



One day, as I had a cold or was afraid 

 I should have one, I spoke to my fishing 

 mate, Luther, and suggested that the tide 

 was coming about right for fish the next 

 day, and if he knew where there was any 

 bait we might go. I never like to go alone, 

 and this friend, while not handsome, is 

 useful in a boat. He is a fair angler, 

 mostly catching the small ones that snoop 

 my bait. The big fish I take care of. I 

 did know of his putting one large fish in 

 the boat ; that is, I hooked and played it, 

 and Luther lifted it in for me. 



We had a common friend, Pete, who 

 worked in a bank. He went down at 8 

 or 9 in the morning, and sat on a high 

 stool until 3 p.m. I often envied that 

 man his job. If a man must work, it 

 struck me that he couldn't do much less. 

 We feared Pete was getting run down, 

 and was perhaps going into a decline, so 

 we invited him to come with us. He said 

 he hated to leave his business, but he sup- 

 posed someone must go along to look 

 after us and he would be that one. 



For once everything worked to a charm ; 

 and io o'clock the next day found us at 

 Duck island, with a basket of fish and 

 some bait left. The tide was well up and 

 the fish had nearly stopped biting when we 

 decided to try another ground. There was 

 a rock on the West side of the island, near 

 the shore, called "Junk of Pork," from its 



shape. It was 8 feet square on top, with 

 vertical sides standing 7 feet out of water. 

 It was a hard rock to land a fish on, and 

 not an easy one to land oneself on ; but the 

 fishing near it was good at high tide. 



On that rock I landed my 2 friends, with 

 a basket, some bait and a spare snood or 

 2, while I went just around the other side 

 of the island to Table rock. I anchored the 

 boat, bow and stern, and went to fishing. I 

 fished as hard as I could, for to tell the 

 truth, my companions, while coming from 

 good families, had their faults. Their train- 

 ing had been sadly neglected in some par- 

 ticulars, and if by any chance they should 

 show the most fish when we met, they 

 would be very likely to say unkind things. 

 My boat lay perhaps 5 rods from the shore 

 and between me and the land there were 

 rocks of all sizes, covered with the sharpest 

 of barnacles. 



The light wind of early morning had 

 died out, and the hot sun shone on a sea 

 of glass. Schooners bound East had 

 dropped their jibs and anchored, unable 

 to stem the flood tide. The smoke from a 

 tug with a long tow of barges was black- 

 ening the clear blue of the sky. Aside 

 from a few gulls playing overhead the sea 

 was asleep, and all was quiet. 



I was nearly asleep myself, when hap- 

 pening to glance toward the island, I be- 

 held a strange sight. On that little island, 

 4 miles off shore, with not a soul on it, 

 as I supposed, I saw a man clothed as was 

 our alleged forefather, Adam, save that I 

 noted a lamentable absence of fig leaves. 

 He did not even wear a smile ; in fact, he 

 wore nothing but his skin. I noticed, how- 

 ever, that it was a good fit. As he came 

 nearer I saw red marks on his body, run- 

 ning up and down, with now and then one 

 across. Further inspection showed it was 

 Pete. He was walking carefully, and well 

 he might, for the rocks were covered with 

 barnacles, and barnacles are no better than 

 broken glass to walk on. He limped along 

 by the bushes, down to the water's edge. 

 Then I hailed him. He was not talkative, 

 so I waited and watched. He jumped from 

 one rock to another, now waist deep in the 

 water, now on the surface, and again swim- 

 ming a few strokes until he gained the 

 boat. 



He had been so occupied with his gym- 

 nastics that I could not attract his atten- 

 tion ; but when he was fairly seated in the 

 boat I felt that I had a right to know what 

 ail this was about. 



What he said first I will not repeat, but 

 it had condemnatory reference to barnacles. 



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