262 
FOR E STAND STREAM 
May, 1920 
Your Lunch 
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BURLINGTON BASKET CO. 
1540 Hawkeye Bldg. 
Burlington Iowa 
PRACTICAL EXTERIOR BALLISTICS 
for 
HUNTERS and RIFLEMEN 
by 
J. It. Bevis, M.Sc., Ph.D, and Jno A. 
Donovan, M.D., F.A.C.S. 
The Most Practical Up-to-the-minute Book 
published on the subject; scientific, yet 
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Do your own figuring, and have the sat- 
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ly right. All necessary tables. 
Every problem that comes up in the life 
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ballistics is solved. Be your own authority. 
Cloth, illustrated, 196 pages, 
$1.25 postpaid 
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Phoenix Bldg. Butte, Montana 
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THE LURE OF FISHING 
AN AGE-OLD LONGING TO GO A-STREAM GRIPS 
THE FISHERMAN AT THIS SEASON OF THE YEAR 
By CLINTON H. LOEHLIN 
S the winter’s snow 
has vanished under 
the touch of the 
warm south winds, 
and the cheerful 
robin again pipes 
and warbles from 
the tops of telephone 
poles, and the bud- 
ding leaves and flow- 
ers once more glad- 
den the sight, the 
old restless longing 
to go fishing returns. This fishing fever 
is akin to the spring fever., The mind 
wanders by the grassy shores of cool 
lakes; trees rustle in the warm breezes; 
the hazy sun falls in ever-changing 
checks upon the cool, moist earth. The 
wandering imagination ever sees waving 
patches of lily pads in some quiet, wood- 
rimmed bay, where royal bass and savage 
pickerel are lying in wait. There’s only 
one cure for this fishing fever — going 
fishing. 
There are three stages to going fishing, 
each one more delightful than the others. 
First, there’s the preparation. This usu- 
ally lasts from the end of the fishing sea- 
son in the fall, throughout the winter. 
It is then, when the fish have sought the 
deepest holes beneath the icebound 
waters, that the angler turns to fishing 
in books. What a wealth of scenery, ad- . 
venture, and philosophy awaits him 
there! As he turns the pages of some 
quaint, old-fashioned volume, he smiles 
indulgently at the ponderous descriptions 
of mighty salmon rods twenty feet long, 
of lines twisted from horse-hairs, and of 
wonderful sauces and gravies to garnish 
the vanquished pike or salmon. There is 
in those fishing books a fine spirit of 
thankfulness for the many happy mo- 
ments that have fallen to the angler’s 
lot, and of appreciation for the better 
things of the world, that brings back a 
warm touch of the summer time, and in- 
fuses a breath of idealism into our 
prosaic work-a-day lives. 
The fishing-tackle, too, must regularly 
be inspected, and many petty alterations 
and repairs made. Many a long winter 
evening slips away as a fairy-like fly 
draws toward completion, or some new 
lure — sure to prove irresistible — takes its 
form. New fishing-tackle must be se- 
lected, of which there is a delightful be- 
wilderment and an endless possibility. As 
winter draws to its end, we view our pre- 
parations for the coming campaign with 
satisfaction, and await in feverish an- 
ticipation the opening of the fishing 
season. 
Then comes the second stage, the reali- 
zation of our fondest dreams. We go 
fishing. There is the ride through the 
country in the early morning. The fresh 
sunlight sparkles on fields of dewy clover. 
The lark pours forth its raptures from 
the meadow; beyond the trees a Bob 
White whistles softly; the drowsy Tium- 
ming of bees, and the subdued rasping of 
frogs lend an accompanying undertone. 
At length, through the leaves of that 
patch of trees ahead, we catch the flash 
of water — the lake. What pleasures and 
surprises it may hold for us! 
The long day follows, with its disap- 
pointments, its thrills, and its triumphs. 
The noon-day lunch, under the cool trees 
with the fresh turf for a table, and with 
fragrant promises coming from the coffee 
pot, is by no means the least enjoyable 
part. Somehow, things taste different 
out in the open like that ; the magic atmo- 
sphere of the woods and waters is the 
best of flavorings. And in the evening 
the angler, whether the day’s luck has 
been good or ill, turns his steps home- 
ward with his mind more in touch with 
the life of the great out-doors. He has 
been refreshed and broadened. 
Last are the memories, the reminis- 
cences. Events come back, refined by 
time of the dross of disappointments and 
discouragements, to cheer many a weary 
hour. The angler loves to recall some 
quiet scene, or some stirring struggle: 
how he was fishing for bass with a fine 
line and light rod, when a huge pike — 
the one that hangs mounted yonder — 
seized the bait with a tremendous rush, 
and alternately skulked and literally tore 
up the water for a thrilling half hour be- 
fore he was brought to terms; or how he 
hooked something that fought strongly 
and sullenly, which he took to be a pike, 
sluggish from its immense size, but which 
Realizing the dreams of winter 
