210 
F O R E S A X 1) S T R K A .M 
May, 1919 
JAMES ALEXANDER HENSHALL 
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE APOSTLE OF THE BLACK BASS, 
FATHER OF THE GREYLING AND DEAN OF AMERICAN ANGLERS 
I F there is any truth in the old adage 
that “the child is father to the man,” 
or in the more plausible one that “As 
the twig is bent the tree is inclined,” it 
would seem that the proper thing to do 
in writing one’s biography is to begin at 
the beginning. Therefore in conformity 
with these well-established proverbs it 
behooves me to commence by saying that 
I was born in Baltimore, Maryland, on 
February 29, 1836, under the zodiacal 
sign of Pisces, the Fishes, and thereby 
hangs a tale. 
On a front page of the almanac is to 
be seen the well-known Anatomical Tab- 
leau, on which is depicted the nude figure 
of a man who has evidently recently 
undergone an operation on abdominal 
surgery. He is surrounded by the twelve 
signs of the Zodiac, each one being ger- 
mane to some portion of his body, that 
of Pisces being assigned to the feet. 
These signs are popularly supposed by 
the credulous to exert some occult influ- 
ence, benign or otherwise, on that par- 
ticular part of the economy to which they 
are assigned, or to govern the future life 
of the person who happens to be born 
under the constellation concerned. 
On the celestial map the constellation 
Pisces is represented by two fishes, 
somewhat separated, but connected by a 
string, which fact might be so construed 
as to suggest some reference to fishing; 
but I can not delude myself with the no- 
tion that because the horoscope at my 
birth showed the moon in the constella- 
tion Pisces, that it had any bearing or in- 
fluence on my subsequent career as an- 
gler, fish culturist or ichthyologist, for 
the very good reason that anglers are 
not born, but made. Moreover, the “in- 
constant moon,” which had just left the 
domain of the constellation of Aquarius, 
the water bearer, a day or two before, 
was about to enter the province of the 
constellation Aries, the Ram. However, 
the “sign” Pisces being in the feet at the 
hour of my entranec to this mundane 
sphere was evidently much more to the 
purpose, for I began walking when eight 
months old. As I was destined to have 
a birthday but once in four years, it was 
perhaps just as well that I should have 
had an early start in the human race, in 
order to insure the probability of my ob- 
taining a show or place if not to win. 
M y parents, Rev. James Gershom 
Henshall and Clarissa Holt Hen- 
shall, were born in England. Our 
family consisted of four girls and myself, 
and as I have no children it follows that 
I am the last of our branch of the family 
to bear the name. Some of my forebears 
and relatives in England were distin- 
guished artists and musicians, and others 
were eminent in the Church of England, 
one of whom. Rev. Samuel Henshall, was 
co-editor of one of the editions of the 
Domesday Book. In Edward Jesse’s edi- 
tion of Walton and Cotton’s Complete 
Dr. James Alexander Henshall 
Angler, 1870, there are several fine steel 
engravings by W. Henshall, and in the 
British section of the art exhibit at the 
Chicago World’s Fair were several very 
fine paintings by John Henshall. As 
both of my grandfathers, my father and 
an uncle or two were clergymen there is 
no knowing what my path in life might 
have been had I been bom under another 
constellation than Pisces. 
H aving started to walk so early in 
life my memory seems to have kept 
pace with my legs, for I have a 
distinct recollection of certain things and 
events of my earliest childhood. I once 
accompanied my mother to a health resort 
in Pennsylvania, and I still have in my 
possession a letter written by her to my 
father during that visit, in which she re- 
lated some of the “smart” sayings and 
doings of “James.” As the date of the 
letter is September 28, 1838, I was then 
but two and a half years old, but I re- 
member as it were yesterday some of the 
incidents of the journey from Baltimore 
to the mountains. 
I recollect well the “chu-chu” cars, the 
rapid whirling by of trees and fences — 
there were no telegraph poles then. I re- 
member leaving the train, which had 
stopped in front of some white houses, 
and then getting into a carriage with two 
horses attached, one white, the other 
black. I also recall driving along a nar- 
row, shady lane where the bushes occa- 
sionally brushed the sides of the carriage, 
but I do not remember the arrival at our 
destination, as I was doubtless asleep by 
that time; but certain other subsequent 
events stand out in bold relief. 
I remember well getting my head fast 
in the rail fence of the orchard, being 
tempted by the smell and appearanec of 
the bright red apples. It seems that I 
forced my head between the rails side- 
wise, and then turning it, I became pil- 
loried until released by some one forcing 
them apart. Being so very young in- 
experienced and unsophisticated, perhaps 
I was not altogether to blame for the 
misadventure, for I may have inherited 
from grandmother Eve the susceptibil- 
ity to be tempted by a big red apple and 
fell at the first opportunity. 
My first experience in wading, one of 
the essential requisites 'of the angler, oc- 
curred during this visit. Eluding my 
nurse, I have been told, I wandered to the 
barnyard where some ducks were disport- 
ing themselves in a shallow pond. With 
the self-consciousness of extreme youth, 
innocence or ignorance, I suppose I at- 
tempted to reach them, but that part of 
the episode is not clear to me. I dis- 
tinctly remember, however, the chang- 
ing of the wet clothes for dry ones, and 
what is more to the point, the patterns 
of the two little dresses are firmly lodged 
in the registering ax’c of my brain. The 
wet dress bore a design of miniature pink 
suns on a white ground, while the dry 
one was decorated with minute sprays of 
light-blue leaves, also on a white ground. 
I have never forgotten them and strange- 
ly enough I have always associated them 
with the quacking of ducks. 
Water has always had a strange fas- 
cination for me from earliest childhood. 
I have ever loved the water from the 
babbling brook, or the unruffled surface 
of a moonlit lake to the wild, tempestu- 
ous seas of a Florida hurricane. I sup- 
pose that I came by this love honestly, 
for it will be remembered that a day or 
two before my birth the “wandering 
moon” left the watery wastes of Aquarius 
and entered the precinct of the constella- 
tion Pisces, which circumstance the as- 
trologer would say might account for my 
predilection for the watery element, but, 
as my nurse used to say, “I have my 
doubts.” Curiously enough, however, I 
have sailed over many rough waters, at 
home and abroad, encountered numerous 
severe gales, and wallowed in the trough 
of heavy ground-swells following tropi- 
cal storms without feeling the least ten- 
dency toward sea-sickness. 
I T is sometimes said that a bright child 
evolves usually into a dull growm-up; 
but, however that may be, I must 
state, if this is to be a truthful narrative, 
that I knew the alphabet when three 
years of age. I have a vi\id recollection 
of the illuminated poster of colored let- 
ters from which I learned my A, B, 
C’s. At the age of five years I was read- 
ing Peter Parley’s Natural History and 
