Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1890-09-21

graveyard, and that was why my friend
(who is a native of the town spoke of a
place where there wasn't any cemetery
as the last possibility in the way of prime
val calm. If | had known the hardshipS
to which he proposed to subject me |
should never have consented to 90 TO a
place where the one thing ! was most
likely to need was most conspicuously
lacking.
But in my innocence ! accepted his
invitation, partly because he promised
me some good fishing. Now, | am too
unlucky to be of any account as fish
erman. 1t is right there that | lead
Jonah about one lap. for he could make
the fish bite, and | can't. But my friend
said it didn't make any difference about
that-he would take me to streams
where luck couldn't shut man out. |
said that that was the sort OF stream /
had been waiting for, and so we pre-
pared to 90.
There was to be three in the party.
A brother Of my friend was the third.
He was a callow youth, and we called
him the Kid. My friend is called Sam.
He is Il man | have always looked up TO,
because he is distinctly my superior in
the very point wherein l most excel.
Before met him | looked upon myself
as the LATEST man alive but he has COM
PEELED me To modify that Judgment. He
is aware of his great gift of perpetual
leisure. and affects TO regard il as an in
trinity.
Il don't want the Kid TO grow up like
me-" said he land on this trip | shall
endeayor to cultivate habits of industry
in him"
Then he tipped me the peculiar, tired
wink for which he is famous, and after
wards he sighed Doubtless he was
thinking of the work which he had laid
out for the Kid sam is a skillful canoe
list. He can sit i'm the bottom Of her
and give the other fellows no end of
good points about padding. That was
the way he taught me 10 sit in the
steerman's place and keep her head up
to her course. He threw more energy
into this matter of my instruction than
have ever known him o devote to any
other cause, but think it was a good
investment. Otherwise he might have
had to paddle now and then. during our
trip. As it was, / toiled in the stern,
the Kid in the bow, while Sam sat
amidshipS and looked ont that our nice,
soft blankets didn't blow overheard.
We padded across a slice Of PenobScot
bay and up the river which bears the
same name. 1t is an Indian name. !
suppose. couldn't learn just what it
meant. A translation is put down in
Il. a
such sources of information. \ little
later on ! tried my hand at working out
derivationS of Indian names. and I'll bet
that mine are just as near right as nine
ty-nine in a hundred Of those that get
into print.
After we had worked up the bay nine
miles or so, and had made a beginning
on the river, the Kid and showed signs
Of exhaustion. Sam said he wished that
he could relieve one of us, but it would
be dangerous to change places out there
in the stream. If we could hang on a
little while longer we should come to a
nice place for making the shift. So
the Kid and l toiled on. and Sam lay
back on the blankets and told us how
to do it,
a big island splits the lower part of
the Penobscot river. and we took the
right hand branch. Our immediate deS-
tinabon was Orland town which ad-
joins BuckSport, and thus becomes the
only exception to the rule that every
place is just eighteen miles away. The
perSiStency with which that peculiar
distance "bobs up" is exasperating.
There is tradition that a commercial
traveller once arrived IN Bucksport, and
was naturally in something of a hurry
to get out again. SO he accosted a ma
tive and asked him how far he was from
Bangor.
Bout eighteen mile" said the ma
tive.
'How far am from Castine?"
Bout eighteen mile"
ELLSWORTH"
"'Bout eighteen mile"
"Belfast?"
Bout eighteen mile
''Bankety-blank the blank town,
exclaimed the drummer; chow far am l
from sheOl?"
"Judgin' by your language. stranger"