The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1874-05-01
FISHING.
A Dry Old Joke ON Wet Fisher Of the
SportIVe Bass.

sportIve Bass.
The other day I met Ben Martyn.
who looked so downcast and blue as TO
lead me to suppose he had recently been
admitted as a silent partner into one of
the old-established undertaking firms.
I stopped him to inquire into the cause
of his dejectedness, and asked him If
he had been sick.
No. said he, I haven't been exactly
sick. Been a fishing and got IA mae
nish-er-mac mac. nish-o-got a fearful
cold and am sneezing myself thin. I
went out on White river as one of q
small fishing-party. There were four
of us-Jerry Gill, Bob Wade, Jim
Wright and me. We went out to Rock
ford on the evening train, aud camped
or the banks Of the mill-race for three
days 'rastle with those Indiana bass,
and set our hearts on having a good
time generally and plenty of-er, mac
snish-er, er, mac-snish-ry-pienty of
sport /; but as for me, I can't say that
my anticipations were fully realized.
We turned into our blankets early af-
ter supper IN order to get a good, sound
sleep, so as to be up afore day and,
when we got at our work the next morn
ing, the air was raw and chilly, but I
never saw the signs look more favorable
for big catch. A small scow, with a
fiat bottom, lay tied to q root, and it
was proposed to occupy this boat and
fish out of it, which we did, until the
rest of 'em tired of the plan and wanted
to go ashore again. You know how it is
with a fisherman. You never saw one In
your life who wouldn't change his spots
-er, mac-mac-er, er, mac-nish-ree-
oftener than a chained bear, or hired
girl. But knowing a quiet thing or
two which kept to myself, after those
scoundrels had passed out, I stayed In.
I had had several as fine bites out of
the stern OF tnat boat as ever curved
rod or started reel, and I think I got
one light feel of pike, but / won't be
mighty glad to get rid of 'em, and got
them cut as quickly as possible, fearing
they might change their minds and con-
cIude to stay. But they got out-and
right here, blast them, is where they
fixed up Job on me that nearly made
a Job for the coroEer. You see, there
was a two-inch plug, for'ard IN the
boats bottom, that 1 hadn't observed,
and as they got ont one of 'em-I don't
know which, and it is now the main
purpose of the rest of my life to find
out which one it vas,-one of 'em-er,
ac-nishro-oo- er, mac-nish-ri-ydb-con
found it will / sneeze myself blind {?
One of 'em quietly withdrew this plug,
and then skunk off lower down the
dam to watch the result. Well, mind
you, there were seven or eight four
pound bass turning handsprings
about my line. and, every moment ex-
pecting one to run with the minnOw, I
became so absorbed over my cork, and
so eager for the game, as to be totally
oblivious of the fact that the boat was
filling, until, suddenly, she careened
and sunk, pitching me overheard head
foremost. I went down like q hickory
shad, but managed with difficulty to
swim out, though completely exhausted
and nearly drowned. But I didn't
MUD drowning half so much as I did
the actions of that party after the thing
happened. There they were, Just un-
der the point below, with their idiot
faces ablaze with laughter over what
they facetiously calIe d dry joke on me.
Think of it, will you? Think of
drowning companion being the object
of such levity. And those murderers
who set themselves up to be judges of
good thing-this trio Of assassins that
don't known, m, er, mac-snish-yo-er
mac.um-don't know a good thing when
they see it, and who might read Bailey's
Budget through and through, and pore
over Mark Twain's last book until they
became gray-haired, and not have ap-
preciatiYe sense enough to smile. i
say, these assassins who didn't smile at
a real good thing must coarsely laugh
their sides sore over such a feeble joke
as that which they played on me. But
it's all right. I didn't stay on White
river to settleit I came home on the
first train, and found a friend in the
baggage-man who loaned me some dry
clothes. The party will be in on the
noon train, and must be off to the
depot. A few friends from number six
teen engine-house will go down with
me-and by the way, if you are good
on obituaries, you might shake off a
first class thing in that line, leaving the
name blank for the present. Good byel
John GLGde8, an COasTier-JOuTndI.