San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1894-06-22
ON THE LoITER.
VI.
vi.
4 DAYS FISHING WITH OLD ISAAC

in hand, on his way to market.
Half an our later he returns laden
with vegetables and meat, and
with fish, perhaps for religion and
variety, on Friday. At Z o'clock
he once more passes on his way to
work. On Sundays, however, he
changes his customary routine to
the extent that instead of going to
work, he hurriedly shambles by
early in the morning, on his Sun
day fishing. For years and years,
at least as long as can remember,
l have seen him pass on his piscato.
rial expedition, with his grey
SLOUGH hat, his old brown suit, his
short cane pole and square bait
can, and for years and years, as
long as L can remembers
L have seen him come
home just as he set out, with his
same old hat, his same old suit, his
same old pole and identical square
bait-can-but never with a single
fish.
DOZENS of times had / asked him
what he had caught and every time
he had new excuse for having
come home empty-handed. The
water was too muddy; the wind
was blowing rather strong; the
fish had been too well fed, and
Heaven knows what all did not
happen to be the case on each par
ticular Sunday, about which l hap
pened to ask, that had prevented
him from making haul. Amuse-
ment at the old mans i'll luck,
which indeed was equalled only by
his perseverance, at length gave
way to curiosity to learn just
what old Isaac Gray found
enchanting in the sport of fishing
when luck was so maliciously and
persistently dead set against him.
Soon l got myself invited to spend
the day with him "a pulling out
the finny tribe" as he modestly
called his fishing expeditions.
What ! saw and heard during that
queer days sport l will endeavor
to faithfully record, leaving the
reader to puzzle out the why and
wherefore of the strange facts, most
of which were entirely too subtle
for my comprehension.
"Mr. Gray, you have been going
fishing for quite long time," 1
ventured to observe, as we passed
along Avenue C, towards the head
of the river.
"Nigh on to seven or eight years,
now," responded the old man, and
he kept up his quiet, steady, dog
trot walk, as if he were going to
his regular week days work and
was half afraid lest he should come
late.
Now and then l said a word or
two in order to appear social, but
the old man barely responded and
1 was not long to see, that though
the day might be of interest, it
would prove a rather still and
lonely one. Finally we reached a
shaded spot on the river near the
old stone quarries, and safely put
ting away our lunch, we prepared
the lines.
"a splendid day for a pulling
out the finny," said the old man.
"What do you want to do about a
place to fish and when do you like
to eat, because I've got fixed habits
in those things"
"That's all right Mr.. Gray" 1
answered, Gust you carry out
your regular program, I'll adjust
myself TO that" and then we
fished.
It was a nice pool, full of three
and four inch perch. l fished here
and there, now and then pulling
out a lively little fellow.
Every time / got a fish or
pulled the line, the old
man looked up, but never said a
word. Frequently he pulled his
line, replaced his stolen or disturb
ed bait, and then continued to fish
away in the same identical spot.
He said nothing, but seemed to re-
gard my plan of walking up and
down the stream, pulling out
perch here and a perch there, as
not very scientific way of in
dulging in the sport. Then threw
my line in close to where a fish
was nibbling at his bait and 10 in
a little while l caught three nice
perch. l said nothing to the old
man for fear of aggravating him,
and he said nothing, but quietly
fished away. Up and down the
stream | rambled, miserably hun
cry, for it was nearly four o'clock
In thn nffnrrnnnn Int lntnn.