FISHING FOR 'POSSUM. 



ELLIOT C. BROWN. 



I was in Pennsylvania one day, seated on 

 the banks of the Schuylkill, with a rod in 

 my hand and all day before me. With me 

 was my friend, Harry, who prefers hunting 

 to fishing. This day he had an especially 

 good opportunity to press his time worn 

 argument in favor of his pet pastime, for 

 not a single fish would pay any attention 

 to our bait. 



About one o'clock he persuaded me to 

 give his side of the question a fair test. 



We reeled in our lines and set off in quest 

 of 'possum marks, and subsequently 'pos- 

 sums, in the neighboring woods. Harry 

 was not long in finding a tree, the lower 

 part of which had been clawed and 

 scratched until no bark remained, and a 

 good part of the wood itself had been worn 

 away. I saw no difference between this 

 particular tree and 3 or 4 others we had 

 passed, but Harry said " The marks on this 

 one are as fresh as a Nebraska breeze. I'll 



■•■ .. . 



WBBiS^MM&mmfflKmim' 4 'v 



. *"E- ** ;X 



I'LL BET THERE'S A 'POSSUM UP THERE.' 



