690 
FOREST AND STREAM 
June i, 1912 
“Now, that Reminds Me”—1. 
By O. W. SMITH 
Photographs by the Author. 
W HEN a company of fishermen are gath¬ 
ered about the camp-fire, pipes lighted 
and good fellowship reigns supreme, the 
events and happenings of the day are recounted, 
laughed at and exclaimed over. Then, as the 
flames leap higher and higher and tired muscles 
relax, the happenings and events of other days 
are levied upon, as narrated incidents recall them 
to mind, until in retrospection many a distant 
forest-bound lake and wild mountain torrent has 
been revisited. Retrospection is as truly enjoy¬ 
able as actual fishing, though the cynic of the 
party listens with a supercihous smile upon his 
face, remarking sotto voce, “That story has 
grown somewhat since I last heard it.” But 
i 
of May, a little matter for which we paid a 
good price in June, but that has nothing to do 
with this story. 
“There were four of us in the party, all good 
fishermen, one being a member of the Assembly 
and noted for his eloquent addresses upon ‘Law 
and its Observance,’ a subject popular to this 
day in the Badger State as you know. Though 
we reached the stream a day before the law was 
out, none of us expected to wet a line until the 
morning of the next, for did we not have with 
us the honorable so-and-so, also a certain theo¬ 
logical student who expected to teach the moral 
law in the near future?* 
“Well, after dinner we strung up our rods 
“Then it was that the honorable member of 
our party ‘rose to the exigencies of the occasion 
like a trout in fly time.’ ‘Boys,’ said he, heav¬ 
ing a great sigh of resignation, ‘there is but 
one thing that will fill the bill now, and that is 
a worm; if I had one I'd put it on.’ 
“ ‘But, but,’ sputtered the theological student, 
‘what would you do if a fish took the bait?’ 
‘‘The member from —nth district gave him 
a withering glance before replying, then, with 
high and lofty scorn, ‘My dear boy. I’d very 
kindly unhook it and let it go its way.’ Some¬ 
how, as I think of it now, he gave the last part 
of the sentence peculiar emphasis. I can see 
him yet as he stood there in the rays of the 
bright April sunshine, his hands shoved deep 
into his pockets, his eyes alight with fun and 
mischief. Suddenly his ■ face went grave, and 
with a great show of astonishment he drew out 
a baking powder can and opened it. It was 
filled with worms, great healthy kickers. 
“‘Well—I—swan!’ he slowly ejaculated, ‘if I 
didn’t clean forget that can I’ And he looked at 
us sharply to see if we doubted his word, but 
not a muscle of our faces quivered. 
“Then the theological student of all men fished 
out a can, the exact counterpart of the one the 
honorable gentleman carried, while the glance 
they exchanged suggested the suspicion that per¬ 
haps the whole thing had been prearranged, 
though be it far from me to utter such a thing. 
In less time than it takes me to tell it we had 
paired off, I going with his honor, while the 
fourth man disappeared under guidance of the 
budding preacher. Now, I do not pretend to 
excuse our action, nor will I attempt to do so, 
though I am sure all true fishermen can appre¬ 
ciate the temptation. Even as I followed that 
erstwhile champion of ‘Law and its Observance,’ 
I found myself exclaiming with David of old, 
‘How are the mighty fallen 1 ’ Then I saw h;m 
land a half pound trout and slip it into his 
basket, and up to that moment I had not not ced 
that he had it with him. 
“ ‘But, but,’ I gasped, grasping as a drowning 
man is said to do at a straw, ‘how in the world 
are you going to reconcile that action with what 
you just told the theological student?’ 
“ ‘I told him,’ replied my companion with fine 
dignity, ‘I told him, that if I hooked a trout I 
would unhook it and let it go its way, and I 
.assure you that that fish went its predestined 
way. Hello, as I am a Presbyterian, here is 
another to keep it company.’ 
“The sight of the second fish was too much 
for me, so I threw my scruples—I am very cer¬ 
tain that I had some—to the wind and joined 
in the illegal sport. How those trout bit 1 They 
say that fish bite best on Sunday, a matter con¬ 
cerning which I know nothing, but I am certain 
that I never found them more ravenous than 
they were that afternoon. As the honorable 
gentlemen carried the only basket, it speedily 
grew heavy, but we did not stop fishing until 
the approach of night compelled us to do so, then 
the fifteen-pound creel was full, full. 
“The night had fallen, black and somber, 
when we essayed to cross the little country ceme¬ 
tery, where the ‘rude forefathers of the hamlet 
sleep,’ the humble couch of each marked by a 
leaning grave stone. So dark was the night that 
we would not discover a stone until almost upon 
it, then it would seem to jump out at us, appar¬ 
ently with the intention of saying ‘boo,’ but only 
PINE RIVER. 
the true angler disregards the cynic’s twisted 
smile and ungracious remarks, knowing full well 
that God did not make him so. 
“Now, that reminds me.” What pleasant hap¬ 
penings and wonderful experiences are prefaced 
with that simple phrase, more meaningful than 
the story book “once upon a time.” It shall be 
my pleasant task, to record in s'mple language 
a few of the yarns spun by the side of a certain 
camp-fire. I shall tell you nothing of the nar¬ 
rators sitting by the camp-fire; they are only 
anglers, but if you, reading between the lines, 
think you discover traits and illusions which re¬ 
mind you of mart, forum and pulpit, you will 
kindly let it pass, for it would not be surprising 
if the color of a man’s narrative were tinged 
with the pigment of his work-a-day world. 
* ^ iK * * 
“‘Now that reminds me’ of the time I was fish- 
■ ing Pine River, down in Waushara county, Wis- 
j consin. Let’s see, that was several years ago, 
so many that I do not care to remember exactly 
how many, but the month was April, and a 
beautiful April it was, too; almost like the last 
and spent some time practicing casting in which 
the theological student easily lead us; then the 
honorable so-and-so suggested that we go down 
to the river and try our hands there, ‘just to 
make it more natural, you know.’ So in due 
‘time we were lined up along the water’s edge, 
casting down stream. Suddenly our stickler for 
law and order said that he was going to add the 
weight of a hook to his line, ‘just to overcome 
the weight of the line.’ Such is the power of 
example that in a few moments we had all 
attached hooks to our lines and were casting 
away for dear life. 
‘‘Now, boys, I swear to you that I was inno¬ 
cent of all guile, so when the leader of the party 
suggested that we add just a wee bit of weight 
to the hooks, again ‘to make it seem more 
natural,’ I began to search the stream’s bank 
for some object that could be attached to the 
bits of steel without interfering with the cast¬ 
ing, but search as I would, nothing came to 
hand. M'e went through our pockets, at least 7 
did mine, without discovering so much as a 
split shot or a lath nail. 
