Virginia free press. (Charlestown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1832-1916, 1888-07-05
OLD-STYLE FISHING.
N. Quad FeaIms for the Jolly Days Of
BOBhOOd.

fl were boy again I'd go a-fshing,
writes NJ. Quad in the Detroit Free Press.
When man goes a.fshing it's all solid
business and no romance. He makes his
calculations days ahead, figures on just
how many minutes he can spare, and ey-
cry nibble is reckoned at so much money.
He is always out of pocket, and always
comes home mad, not to try it again, for
a whole year. With boy it is adven-
ture and romance. He has nothing to
lose and every thing to gain. He has all
the time there is, and if he doesn't catch
all the ish in the Roaring river it is not
his fault.
| can remember all about it. In those
'way-back days a real fsh-hOok was per-
sonal property, something to carry to
school tied up in a rag and exhibited on
ly to the large boys-boys old enough to
appreciate it. At home it was hidden
away under the bureau, and its presence
was kept sacred secret. Most any sort
of string would do for fish-line, and
the old hunter who once gave me two
bullets for sinkers is remembered with
deepest gratitude to this day. When
hook and line and sinkers were wound
upon marble chip and tucked away to
wait for the fishing season, it was red
letter day. / would have taken a dozen
of the worst lickings a boy could receive
rather than give up the treasure, and,had
a stranger come along and offered to trade
me horse for the outfit, should have
promptly refused his offer.
When we went to fish in a creek, which
was as much as two feet deep in spots,
and which a boy could hardly jump
across in places, it was mighty river to
to me, beside which the discoveries of
Hendrick Hudson and De Soto were
bantam chickens. There were whales in
there, and our only fear was that one Of
them would nab our angle-worm and
break the hook. There were sharks
which might seize us if we waded over a
rifle ankle deep, and we had heard Of the
devil-fsh which turks under the flood
wood waiting for a bare-footed boy to
come along with his dinner. True, we
never encountered any of these monsters
of the deep, and that was the reason why
mother heaved a great sigh of satisfaction
and said;
80 you are home! Well, never,
never expected to see you again !"
A boys way of fishing is the best way
ever invented. They may bring out their
fancy rods, reels, flies and patent hooks,
but the boy who sticks to the homemade
fsh-pole, the old-fashioned hook, and the
twins fish line rubbed down with beeswdx
isn't going to be left very far behind.
The first we used to pull out-yum
Nowadays those you don't catch are the
largest. A quarter of a century ago
things were different. OF course, we had
some big bites-awful bites-regular old
monsters, but we didn't lie about the size
of the biters. We never put one down
at over a hundred pounds, though we
could have doubled the weight and found
ready believers. In those days nobody
ever fshed without splitting on his bait
If he wanted to catch an awful big fish
he spit twice. There were times when
splitting on the bait didn't bring bite
butno boy ever got discouraged over that
He hadn't given just the right pucker tC
his mouth, or his hook didn't hang right
or the sky was too bright or too cloudy
In these degenerate days a man vii
sit on a wharf or log and bob and jaw
and bob some more and growl, and hau
up his line and blast every body's eyes
because he hasn't caught pickere
eighty-fve feet long. The old-iashioneC
- ,rould traron tbraa T. . nm an,