The weekly Shasta courier. [volume] (Shasta, Calif.) 1872-190?, 1873-08-16
ANECDOTES.

a Asst lR0UT.-Dan Marble, in crossing
the Allegheny Mountains one summer, fell
in with fishing party from Philadelphia,
and they insisted on Dams holding up, and
going out to fish with them. "Well," says
| Dan, eve went, fished, and fshed, and fish
ed. We drank barrel of NJ onongahela, and
carried about two pounds OF fish back to the
hotel in Hollidaysburg. j got strayed of
one morning from the party, and, rod in
hand, was overtaken by an old covey in an
ancient-built gig, high as a three-story corn
crib. His sober face, broad-brimmed hat
and square-tailed coat, bespoke him a
| Quaker. The old fellow drew up, eyed me
for moment. and coming to the conclusion
that was human being he invited me to
| get in and ride down the mountain; and as
had some distance to 60, to overtake my
friends, | mounted the concern, and the old
fellow gave his mare the string, and away
| she went"
"Thee's trouting, Ell ?"
"Slightly," said l.
I" Has thee fondness for fshing?"
"Not so very strongly inclined that way, y
says |.
1.-The trout is very cute fish," said the
old fellow.
Yes replied.
al once had very tame trout in my
pond. put him in my pond when he was
about as big as my finger. fed him regu-
larly, and he became very social. / fire.
quently lifted him from the pond in my
hand; and he grew on, till l reckon he
weighed matter of three pounds good
and thought, one day, as had some city
friends to dine with US, I'd take out my fish
and have him cooked. Ha, ha! really be-
lieved the critter guessed my intention, for
he never would come near me, after that. !
coaXed, and tried to inveigle him, for some
time; but it was no use; friend trout was
shy, and avoided all sociability. l baited a
hook with most tempting morsel, but no
plague take the critter, he was done with
me. | next borrowed a scoop net, and
thought I'd get it very nigh under him, and
then away he'd dart beneath a stone, and
out of my reach.
1.-The trout grew bigger and bigger, and
so saucy that | had made up my mind that
he must be eaten. Ha, ha! at last I made
snare. Now, my old friend said l,
thees bound to come out Plague take
the fellow, the moment put the moose over
his body, he'd poke his nose down into the
gravel at the bottom of the pond, wiggle
his TAIL and off would slip the wire, of
course, the sleek rogue actually appearing
to be laughing at me; and went away, de-
claring that the provoking creature might
live forever if he could"
"Wel," says l, interested in the fish
story, Ibid he still continue to live and
| hourish?"
"Not long; for my son he'd bet most
anything he could catch him, and he did"
"Ah, indeed! !" said |, in amazement,
how did he proceed?"
Ha, ha! I'll tell thee. Reuben caught
dozen large grasshoppers, and threw them
into the pond--the fish was very fond of
Hrasshoppers !; and having eaten them all,
became SO very springy that, in jumping for
fly, he actually sprang clear out of the
pond, and Reuben caught the critter before
he could jump back again"
al told my Quaker friend / guess I'd get
out about then"
THE LITTLE QUAKEREss.-An amusing
matrimonial story is told of the olden time
in New England. 1t so fell out that a
young couple became very much smitten
with each other-as young people do. The
young womans father was wealthy Quak-
err; the young man was respectable. The
father could stand no such union, and reso-
lutely opposed it, and the daughter dare not
disobey-that is to say, she dare not dis
obey openly. She "met him by the moon
light" while she pretended never to see
him--and she pinned and wasted in spite of
herself. She was really in love-a state Of
| signs and tears, which women oftener reach
in imagination than reality. Still the father
remained memorable.
Time passed on, and the rose on Mary's
damask cheek passed off. She let not con-
| cealment like worm in the bud prey on
that damask cheek, however; but when her
father asked her why she pinned, she always
| told him. The old gentleman was a widow
er, and loved his daughter dearly. Had it
been widowed mother who had Mary in
charge, a woman's pride never would have
given way before the opportunities of a
| daughter. Men are not, however stubborn
in such matters; and when the father saw
that his daughters heart was really set upon
the match, he surprised her one day by
breathing out:
Mary, rather than NOPE to death, thee
had better marry as soon as thee chooses,
and whom thee pleases."
And then what did Mary? Wait till the
birds of the air had told her swain Of the
change, or until her father had time to alter
his mind again? Not bit of it. She
capped her neat, plain bonnet on her head,
walked directly into the street. and then di
rectly to the house Of her intended as the
street would carry her. She walked into
the house without knecking-for knocking
was not then fashionable-and she found
the family just sitting down to dinner.
Some little commotion was exhibited at so
unexpected and so unusual an apparition, as
the heiress in the widows cottage, but she
needed it not John looked up inquiringly.
She walked directly up to him, and took
both his hands in hers.
"John," said she, father says | may
have thee"
And John got directly up from the din
ner-table, and went to the parsons. In
iust twenty-five minutes they were man and
wife.