276 
F 0 R E S T A N D STREAM 
■June, 1919 
JAMES ALEXANDER HENSHALL 
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE APOSTLE OF THE BLACK BASS. 
FATHER OF THE GREYLING AND DEAN OF AMERICAN ANGLERS 
I T is perhaps just as well to go back 
a few years to say that my first ex- 
perience in school was when I was five 
years old. I went with an older sister 
as a visitor to a private seminary for 
girls and boys. The teacher was a lady, 
who probably seeing in me a prospective 
pupil, very graciously and sweetly gave 
me a seat on the platform beside her. 
The experience was a novel one to me 
and I became quite interested in the pro- 
ceedings, being of a studious nature. But 
my experience was destined to be a brief 
one, for one of the small boys committed 
some breach of discipline and was called 
up to the rostrum. Then the sweet-tem- 
pered lady placed the boy prone across 
her knees, pulled out the busk from the 
front of her corset, like a sword from its 
sheath, and proceeded to inflict on the 
thin nankeen pants of the culprit a sound 
spanking, despite his vigorous protesting 
kicks and audible whining. Thinking 
that this procedure was one of the reg- 
ular and necessary features of the cur- 
riculum, and that it would be my turn 
next, I fled incontinently and ignomin- 
iously from the room and ran home as 
fast as my short legs could carry me, 
thoroughly disgusted with the method of 
imparting, or rather, administering edu- 
cation to the young. It was some years 
thereafter before I could be induced to 
enter a school room again. 
My father’s brother John, whom I nev- 
er saw, lived in Louisiana. He was an art- 
ist whose specialty was painting minia- 
ture portraits in oil on ivory. He was also 
an accomplished musician, and as I al- 
ways understood, was a fine performer 
on the flute. After his death his effects 
were shipped to my father in a large 
black oak chest, some four feet square 
and about three feet high, with a deep 
recessed lid. It was bound at the cor- 
ners with iron, and had a strong spring 
lock. It was used at that day in lieu of 
the modern iron safe. The double-wards 
of the key had been broken off in the 
lock, so that when it became accidently 
locked it had to be pried open, and for 
this purpose a hand-axe w^as kept con- 
veniently near. The chest was kept in 
the attic, and was utilized by my mother 
for storing bed blankets during the sum- 
mer months. She repeatedly cautioned 
us children not to meddle with the “big 
chest” as we called it, and to give force 
and emphasis to her warnings had sev- 
eral times read Thomas Haines Bayly’s 
tragic poem, “The Mistletoe Bough.” 
It happened one day that a little sister 
about four or five years of age and I 
were playing hide and seek in the attic. 
After we had exhausted all the good hid- 
ing places I though of the big chest, and 
swinging back the lid against the wall, 
I crawled on top of the blankets, with 
which it was filled to the rim, attempted 
to let the lid down carefully, so as not 
to lock it, but sad to relate it slipped from 
my hands and closed with an ominous 
SECOND PAPER 
click. I was forced face downward on 
the pile of blankets. I could neither 
move nor speak, and after a few seconds 
1 ceased to breathe. My little sister then 
came from her hiding place and rapping 
on the chest said: “I foun’ ’oo ” and ran 
down stairs and out in the yard. 
My mother, apprehensive of something 
wrong because I did not come down 
called to the little girl and asked where 
her brother was. She replied; “he in ’e 
big chest!” My mother, now thoroughlv 
alarmed, lost no time in reaching the 
attic, and her w'orst fears were realize.i 
when she discovered the chest closed an'l 
locked! She seized the hand-axe and 
after repeated efforts, and with a 
strength enhanced by fearful forebod - 
Dr. Henshall at 40 years of age 
ings, she at last succeeded in forcing 
open the heavy lid, and discovered me 
limp and lifeless, pulseless and breath- 
less. She dragged me to an open window, 
and after a long time of hopeless en- 
deavor, using every means at her com- 
mand for the relief of suspended anima- 
tion, she at last had the joyful satisfac- 
tion of hearing a faint sigh, and then an- 
other, and redoubling her efforts, until 
at last I became once more a breathing 
soul. 
That evening my mother again read to 
the assembled children the “Mistletoe 
Bough,” and dwelt with unusual solem- 
nity and impressiveness on the conclud- 
ing lines: 
“ At length an old chest that had long lain hid, 
Was found in tlie castle — they raised the lid, 
-And a skeleton form lay mouldering there. 
In the bridal wreath of the lady, fair! 
O, sad was her fate! — in sportive jest 
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest. 
It closed with a spring! — and dreadful doom, 
The bride lay clasped in her living tomb! ” 
M y chum Johnnie attended a gram- 
mar school in our neighborhood and 
he was constantly extolling its ad- 
vantages, praising the teachers and the 
boys of his class, and was untiring in his 
efforts to persuade me to become a pupil. 
So, at last I concluded to accede to his 
wishes, and with the cheerful acquies- 
cence of my parents I was duly enrolled. 
I was then nine years old, but since the 
age of five years I had been tutored by 
my mother, so that I was somewhat in 
advance of Johnnie in the three R’s, 
“readin’j ritin’ and ’rithmetic.” At our 
solicitation, however, we were placed in 
the same class, and I was assigned to a 
seat at the same desk with Johnnie. Be- 
ing naturally fond of study I soon rose 
in the estimation of my teachers, as I 
was never reprimanded for lack of at- 
tention to my books or for violating the 
rules of decorum. I was usually selected 
to work out problems on the blackboard, 
and with a cane rod to point out on the 
wall maps the seas, bays, rivers, capes 
and cities of the world, while the class 
gave the audible responses in unison. I 
suppose that I became somewhat puffed 
up in my own estimation in consequence 
of my distinction in the class, and some 
of the less fortunate boys became envious 
and jealous owing to the favoritism 
awarded me. I was never quarrelsome, 
but this unfriendly feeling was the cause 
of my becoming engaged in a number of 
battles on the vacant lot back of the 
school building after the last session of 
the day. 
The famous prize fight between Tom 
Hyer and Yankee Sullivan was pulled 
off about this time on Poole’s Island in 
Chesapeake Bay, and the boys being 
somewhat familiar with the details of 
that event our battles were conducted 
according to the rules of the ring. I 
was small for my age but often van- 
quished boys much larger in size but not 
so proficient in fisticuffs, for I soon 
learned that if I got in the first hit, and 
a good one, that the battle was half w'on. 
Johnnie was my second in these affairs 
and alw'ays insisted on a fair field and 
no favors, and no hitting below the belt, 
which was a handkerchief tied about the 
waist. I w’as always fond of animals and 
w'hile I was said to be mischievous I 
was never cruel, but I had many scraps 
with older boys for imposing on smaller 
ones, or for torturing dogs or cats. Tying 
a tin can to a dog’s tail was a declara- 
tion of w’ar to Johnnie and me, and the 
perpetrators of so cruel and mean an act 
were soundly pummelled if we caught 
them red-handed. 
I possessed a boy’s book of sports with 
numerous illustrations which was pub- 
lished in England. The pictures repre- 
senting boys riding ponies, fishing, flying 
kites, playing marbles or engaged in any 
other sport, invariably depicted them 
wearing the high silk hat usually worn 
by men. This feature seemed very ab- 
