Morning journal and courier., 1892-03-09

never bW6ar, ana others stll lmpute Oul
 sucoess to the circumstance that under
 no circumstances whatever will VIC go fishing on a Sunday. There, are | those, we repeat, who honestly lay oul I suocess to these secret causes; but they are I all in grievous error.
 Our remarkable accomplishments do not depend at all upon these trivial things; We catch fish simply because we were born | with that subtle. indefnsble genius for | catching fish which cannot be comprehend ed save congepitally or by the processes of heredity.
 The question which arises is whether it would be righteous of us to prostitute this
 noble genius to the ends which Messrs. Read and Waterloo suggest. Would it not be criminal waste of time for us to de- vote from six to eight hours day to that lsckadaisical fooling which these misguid- | ed friends of ours call fishinga It strikes ! that us we could be much better employed than at the questionable sport of dodder- | ing about in an awkward yawl in pursuit | of emacisted perch and neurasthenic pick l erel. When we fish, we want to fish, and | we are not content with cadaverous lillipu- | tian prey; we demand heroic game.
 Messrs. Read and Waterloo are very clev- CT gentlemen, but they have yet to learn that just as a rolling stone gathers no moss, so a rowing angler comprehends no game. These two amateur sportsmen no sooner get into boat and cast their lines than they filled with the absurd conviction that the best fishing is to be found mile away, ,un- der distant bank; yet no sooner is this far-off spot reached than they are pos sessed of another and more violent convic- tion that still more desirable angling spot is the rushes against the further shore of the lake. And so from one locality to an- other they must be transported, never con-
 tent to try the present waters, but always
 goaded on by the insane hope of finding
 enormous success elsewhere.
 Life is full of this spirit of impatience
 and unrest, and that is why there are so
 few fish caught. AS for us, it contents us
 to push out from shore, drop the anchor,
 and cast our line-no worry, no fretting,
 no labor-simply equanimity and repose
 and success. What sweeter thing is there
 to be practised or imagined than this sport
 as we pursue it! We lie in the bottom of
 the boat, ,our head pillowed upon cushion
 at the bow; a green umbrella forefends the
 ardor of the sun, and with & companions
 ble book the hours are beguiled. The hum-
 ble but serviceable bob spprises us when it
 is time for action. Oh, this is fishing that is indeed fishing! Why toll hither and
 thither over the ruffied expsnse when frui- ton comes easier with reposet The veri- est clod can row and sweat,> but only a genius can philosophize and catch fish.
 In itself, fishing is a desirable pursuit as teaching mankind much that is to be de- sired. From it one may learn patience and finesse; then, too, it breeds and fosters in good men certain humane equality, for a good and kind man surely will not keep the fish he catches. Thousands, yes, millions, of fish have we caught, yet we threw them back in again, for, to say nothing of the fact that a fish diet never beseemed our di- gestion, we certainly could not have the heart to murder a guileless, helpless little fish. There still turks within us (we own it in sorrowD enough of the old Adam to find a certain delight in outwitting the sil- ly fish to the extent of inveigliDg them out of their element; it is species of practical joking. maybe. But to cast the poor creat ures into the bottom of boat to die, or to string them on a cruel, gummy twine to expire slowly by drowning-thst is cap- ping the comedy with a tragedy, and we cannot approve it. Go back into the cool, beautiful stream again, you silly little fish! We would not rob you of the sweets of life. Take the hook with you, too; in your fool ish zeal you have swallowed it, and l will not lacerate your vitals and tear that pret- ty mouth in an endeavor to extract the barbed thing; will cut the line. and back into the stream shall you go, bearing that treacherous hook with you!
 It is the purpose, as we hear, of Messrs. Read and Waterloo to revisit the water in the locality of Quincy, where they met with such failure some years ago. Strick- en with remorse over that absurd faux pax, Colonel s. P. Bartlett, secretary of the state fish commission, has urged these amateurs to return, and he has urged them k<f as<xla into sptp sumably with a view to insuring a notable string of fish. Our last experience with Colonel Bartlett was a delightful one. Of course Colonel Bartlett is no fisherman; he knows all about fish, the different breeds, l their customs, vices, etc., but he is not | (except, perhaps, in theory) a catcher of fish. If it all depended on Bartlett's skill | as an angler the human brain would soon run out of phosphorus. But as a host and as | an entertainer Colonel Bartlett is une- qualled; he has that cordiality, hospitality, and restless thoughtfulness for which | every dweller in the charming town of | Quincy is righteously famed. To renew | with him and those other bright, kindly | people the friendship of the past would be | a great pleasure.
 Yet fish are not the only fish for which | to angle in fair Quincy. Just think of the | other prey to be found there! The old | the relics. the curios, the folk | lore-why, Quincy is full of these delight full things. The lovely old mansions teem with treasures, and even the atmosphere is I hallowed with the soothing spirit of dear | and poetic suggestions. Four | years ago we were calling on Major Row land, governor of the Soldiers home. | Looking into his bookcase, we alighted up- on little bit of a volume whose quaint | muslin cover fairly enraptured us. "Put | it in your pocket" said the major, fit is of | no use to me, and you may care to read it." | It was first edition of Whittier's "Mogg | Megone." eral Singleton, the veteran pioneer states | man.
 ''You are sitting in famous chair, !" said | he. "Henry Clay used it in his library at | Washington; when he quit public life he | gave me the chsir-a homely, prim, green, wooden affair, but to be treasured for as- sociations' sake"
 Then he showed us-but no we shall not | speak further of these things lest certain | designs we long have nurtured be ciroum- vented by the crafty saint, Bristol, or the | equally crafty sinner, Gunther. This | much, however, we will say and say bold | ly: If we go to Quincy with Brother Read | and Brother Waterloo, it will not be to be- | come witness to a confirmation of their | egregious imbecility as fishermen; it will be to dignify an otherwise inglorious en- terprise, to renew the delights of valued friendships in that lonely old riverside city, and to take up with enthusiasm the course of exploration interrupted four years ago.
 SILKS OF CHINA AND JAPAN. The Decorations Are Printed in