436 



RECREATION. 



the coal regions. Without a murmur of 

 complaint that predetermined boy would 

 go to his task, and in coming reluctantly 

 away from it he would sigh when out of 

 the twilight would come darkness, and he 

 could no longer see to bait a hook. 



Nor did this praiseworthy creature of an 

 environment that uncovers none of those 

 temptations which beguile one from the 

 straightforwardness of duty, at any time 

 show a disposition to shirk. He would fish, 

 fish, fish ; that fellow would fish, not for a 

 day, or a week, or a month, but until, by 

 the rigors of a Blue river winter, his ach- 

 ing feet should be driven to the cob-heated 

 stove of the home sitting room, over whose 

 doorway the vine had long since shriveled. 



Those admirable traits, that by and by 

 should go to the making of useful man- 

 hood, were only discovered in him as we 

 became gradually better acquainted; and I 

 thought I could foresee a time in his career 

 when he should become the object of envy 

 in the hearts of those of his companions 

 who were less gifted. 



After the common salutation, in which I 

 wished him good morning, I asked if they 

 were biting any ; having no reference, of 

 course, to mosquitoes, or to fleas. He was 

 quick to reply. 



"Yep, Mister, they're tol'able peart." 



Aware that bait fishing is by some re- 

 garded as a degradation, nevertheless I put 

 on a chub minnow and dropped in below 

 Pete in the back swirl of the eddy, taking 

 pains to keep out of his way. 



"I'm a thinkin' you'll get nothin' with 

 minners, Mister !" 



"Why not?" I inquired. 



"Bekase, I've done tried 'em a'ready." 



"What are you baiting with?" 



"Hell'mites." 



"And you have had some luck?" 



"Yep, consid'able much. Thar goes one 

 now. Mister; see?" 



With the dexterity of a Henshall he 

 swung in a pound and a half bass, made 

 with it to his string, from which depend- 





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_. 





mam 





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*%>, 

 *£*. 



■ ^ 



ed some 6 or 7 others, and held aloft the 

 big mouthed treasures, that I might have 

 a look and, for all he knew, perhaps be- 

 come jealous. 



"I'm right down glad to git 'em," he re- 

 marked. "You see, Mister, our bacon's 

 turned skippery ; and ma, which she ain't 

 well, cain't eat it any more to hanker for. 

 That 2-pounder fer her." 



I was not long in finding that the bass 

 had no more appetite for the minnow than 

 my friend's ma had for the inhabited meat. 



"Have you a hellgramite or 2 to spare, 

 Peter?" I asked. 



"Yep, certain ; there's plenty for both of 

 us in that gourd thar. Hope yourself, an' 

 welcome." 



"You are a generous young man, Peter. 

 Where do you live ?" 



"Nigh on 2 mile up Corydon way. Not 

 a fur piece from your camp thar at Bab- 

 cock's." 



"Then you know I am of the camp?" 

 Yep, sure. 



I did not ask him how he knew, con- 

 tent with the assumption that the glitter of 

 my rod and reel, if nothing else, betrayed 

 me. It was not long until I had matched 

 up to his string in numbers and weight, 

 and I made ready to go. 



"You have been kind to me, Peter," I 

 said, "and I want to see and know more of 

 you. Will you come over to the camp and 

 have breakfast with me to-morrow ?" 



"Will I come ! Do you mean it, Mis- 

 ter? Well, now, wouldn't I want to the 

 worst way !" 



"Very well. Be there not later than 7 

 o'clock and I shall see that the cook 'has 

 something to our liking. And, say, Pete, 

 bring more hellgramites and we will go to 

 the riffle again and put in the day. Now, 

 Peter, I hope you are as willing to come as 

 I am anxious to have you." 



"Willin'!_ Great Smoke! Master, it's 

 more'n that I am, bekase I've got a feelin' 

 in my in'ards that I jist have to. I'll be 

 thar, certain, afore 6." 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY GEORGE C. EMBODY. 



A CHOICE SPIDER FOR THE BABIES. 



Winner of 5th Prize in Recreation's 5th Annual Photo 

 Competition. 



FROM BABYHOOD TO CHILD- 

 HOOD. 



I saw a sweet young mother stand 

 Where snow had drifted o'er the land. 

 A babe was lying on her breast, 



Its fragile form 

 Against herself she fondly pressed 

 To keep it warm. 



In later years I passed once more 

 And saw her at the cottage door; 

 A boy was lying on her knee; 



Her look was grim, 

 And, suffering Joshua! how she 

 Was warming him! 



— Chicago Times-Herald. 



