A FLORIDA FISHING PARTY. 
E. M. 
A bright day in March, 189—, found my 
wife and me driving slowly through a 
Florida pine forest. Our outfit was queer 
to our Northern eyes. Our little Florida 
pony was hitched to the skeleton of a 
wagon, and a small round _ bottomed 
row boat was loaded on to the 4 
wheels. We sat in this boat, my wife 
on a tent tightly rolled in the bow, and 
I in the stowsheets, driving the horse. 
We had with us in the boat a basket of 
luncheon, cooking utensils, rods, lines, an 
ax, bedding, and feed for our horse. We 
had been in the South a month and had ex- 
hausted all near resorts, when someone 
told us of a lake 12 miles out in the coun- 
try, where bass, or trout, as they are called 
in Florida, were abundant. To this lake 
we were headed, and were then more than 
half way there. The sand was deep and 
the sun was hot. Our horse was tired, so 
we let him take his own gait, as time with 
us was of no account. We had come from 
mid-winter in New England, and the 
transition from snow and ice to summer in 
so short a time was a marvel which we 
thoroughly enjoyed. There were houses 
only at rare intervals, and no fences; only 
the trail leading through seemingly endless 
pine woods. We came once to a turpentine 
camp, and passed hundreds of pine trees 
gashed to get the turpentine, somewhat as 
maple trees are tapped in the North. We 
found dozens. of small lakes set like jewels 
in the forest. In the town, where we were 
stopping there were 21 within the corpora- 
tion limit, a tract 2 miles square, and most 
of them with neither inlet nor outlet. It 
was a long pull, but about 3 o’clock we 
reached the lake we were bound for. 
On a point jutting out into the water, 
and covered with pine trees, we pitched 
our tent with the open end facing the lake. 
We cut palmetto leaves to spread our 
blankets on, gathered wood for a fire and 
made ready for the night. Then we 
launched our boat, to catch a fish for sup- 
per. The lake was bordered by pine for- 
ests and in places a dense growth of un- 
derbrush, the home of alligators, moccasins 
and water snakes. I had learned when 
blue fishing on Long Island sound that I 
could often get fish on a long line when 
boats using shorter ones could not get a 
bite, and soon found that the same rule 
worked in Florida. When we were half 
way across the first bay we had a strike 
and my wife hooked a fish and _ boated 
him, a trout weighing about a pound; and 
this was followed by others, until we had 6. 
187 
LEETE. 
Not wishing to waste any we started back 
to our little tent, gleaming white against 
the dark green of the woods. 
The sun was nearly down when we 
pulled the boat up on the bank and stepped 
out. Taking our fish, we went up to camp 
and started a fire. It is wonderful what 
a fire will do to make a spot look home- 
like. In the gathenng darkiness. before 
the blaze lit our camp, it did look a trifle 
lonesome, away out there in the pine 
woods, and both of us, for a moment, 
thought of our bed back in town. The fire 
made all the difference in the world, and 
from a lonely spot in the woods the little 
camp was changed into our home. After 
supper there was the horse to feed and 
water, wood to split for the night, and 
then it was bedtime. People who have 
always slept in a bed indoors have no idea 
of the pleasure of a night in camp. Our 
couch was, to be sure, laid on the ground, 
but it was soft and we had plenty of blank- 
ets. The fire made it as light as day and 
cast a grateful warmth in at the open door 
of our tent. Listening to the call of the 
night birds and the sighing of the wind in 
the trees, we fell asleep, to be awakened 
by the sun shining in on us the next morn- 
ing. 
It was worth much to look out on the 
picture spread before our eyes that mori- 
ing. The mirrorlike lake, set in the green 
fringe of the pine trees, lay at our feet, 
with the light morning mist rising from 
the water, while in the blue arch of th- 
sky an occasional buzzard swung in endless 
circles through the still air. It was a 
typical Florida morning. Birds were sing- 
ing in the trees, the air was fresh and cool, 
and it was good to be alive. After break- 
fast we took some live bait, rowed out to 
what looked like a good spot, and anch- 
ored. Rigging our Bristol rods and hook- 
ing On a minnow, we made the first cast 
of the day. For myself, I can scarcely 
wait until I get my line over the first time. 
There is a feeling about the first cast that 
I never lose, even after having fished 
many years. The bait slowly sank in the 
clear water, while we both stood ready for 
the first fish; but he did not arrive We 
moved the boat and tried again, with no 
better success. Not a bite could we get. 
Again we made a change and that time 
found some fish. First the Mrs. hooked a 
lively one, that put a beautiful curve into 
the little Bristol, while the slender line 
cut through the water in a way to delight 
the heart of any angler. The little lady at 
