The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1896-12-30
THE MASTER ANGLER
he COULD DEFEAT OLD iZAAK WAL
TON AT LONG ODDS.

TON AT LONG ODDS.
Emmett futile Was His Name, and His
Home Was In Bennington County, VT
Some Long Bow Stories of His Wonder
full Exploits With the Rod.
In every art there has been one great
master. Painting had its Raphael, sculp-
ture had its Michael Angelo, poetry its
Homer and trout fishing has had Its En-
met Tuttle. Since the days Of Andrew
and Peter there have been many fisher
men, but there has been only one Emmett.
He was the angler sans-pareil, the king OF
all fishermen. He so far excelled all 9th
ers that comparison belittles him. He
could have 1shed the stream after old
Izaak Walton himself and filled his basket
first.
1t Is a truism that fishermen are born,
not made The whole Tuttle line was
fishing line, and Emmett himself was born
under the sign of Pisces 1t is related OF
him that when baby, just able to walk,
he toddled down the road to small brook,
few rods from the house, and there, with
a safety pin for hook and house flies for
bait, caught seven large trout. That night
when his mother undressed him for bed,
80 the story runs, she found four finger
lings crumpled and crisp, hidden away
under his little blouse So soon did the
anglers nature show itself.
Some men fish for pleasure others fish
for profit. Emmett futile fished for profit.
He divided his time about equally between
his garden and the stream. On bright,
still days he hoed his potatoes and corn,
but when the sun hid behind the clouds
or the wind would rutfle the surface of the
water Emmett laid aside his hoe for his rod.
Like all good "brothers Of the angle, -" this
worthy Knight of the rod rested on the
Sabbath day, for he was God fearing
man. No oath ever burst from his lips to
mar the symphony of summer day, no
empty bottles aecked his trails. He was
as tireless as a dog, as patient as trained
nurse.
In one of the streams Emmett used to
frequent there was deep pool, around
which the alders had formed an almost
impenetrahle rampant, and the other fish
ermen passed it by. One day Emmett cut
a hole through the bushes with his pocket
kullG, anu l&orlIB GAIouSA SNuhcou -
trout, the smallest of which would have
weighed two pounds. A few days later he
returned to this spot, and batting his hook
with q huge bumblebee carefully poked
his rod through the opening he had made.
Skillfully swapping the bee across the pool,
no let 1t dangle for moment from the tall
swale grass that grew on that side. Sew
eral times he did this, always nearer and
bearer the smooth surface of the water,
until at last one great fellow, who had
been watching the struggling insect with
eager eyes, seized it, only to be dragged
from his retreat through the bushes. At
regular intervals through the summer
Emmett visited the pool, and at each visit
he took out of the H., and when the
summer was ended the last Of the II had
been carried away in Emmet's basket.
Unlike the other fishermen I have
known, Emmett never exaggerated the
number or size of his fish. He was more
inclined to underestimate them. Ho was
no boaster. No one ever heard him tell how
he lured his prey or where the best holes
were. Ho preferred to fish alone, and
when he did allow some curious body to
go with him, as I did once, he rarely
youcbsafed word of advice. l remember
he even seemed unwilling to have mo
watch him. l observed him as well as l
could that day, but did not learn his Sc
cret. We used the same sort of bait and
tackle. His method of hooking his grass
hoppers was not unlike mine l noted this
particularly. had been told that he al
ways made sign with his hands whom
ever no approached the brook at new
place. If he did, could not detect him,
We 1lshed through the same rifles and in
the same holes, but when the lengthening
shadows beckoned us home his basket
was full to OVERLOOKING, while the bottom
of mine was scarcely covered.
The simple people of the village believed
that Emmett exercised some mysterious in
1uence over the trout in the neighboripg
streams, and If wandering country an
gler SAW old Emmet's hat over the tops Of
thu bushes his heart sank, and unjointing
his rod he would start across the fields
for home, His days sport was spoiled.
As we'll might fish for trout in washtub
as fish behind Tuttle. Indeed one veteran
angler has told the story that he was fish
ing down the "Kill'' one afternoon, when
large trout rose to his hooper" but in
stead of taking it the old man stoutly
AYERS that it turned with the remark,
Excuse me, thought you were Tuttlo,"
and straightway darted up the stream.
Be this as it may, it was well known that
Emmett carried little red leather book in
which he had the name, size and address
of every trout in bennington county.
After the old mans death an exhaustive
search was made for this book, but ii
could not be found. Tuttle doubtless de-
stroyed it before he died.
Emmett Tuttle seldom used a fly, al
though he could cast longer line than
any other man I ever knew. He was
bait fisherman from choice, and such u one
as the world will not soon see again. Mons
deeds live after them, and 30 long as there
are those "wbo are lovers of virtue and
dare trust in his providence and be quiet
and go a-angling" SO long will there be
those who will cherish the memory of cid
Tuttle. The streams that he knew SO well
still tumble over the rocks and linger in
the sweet meadows The summers come and
go, but Emmet's rod has cast Its last
shadow-it lies in dusty attic, unhonor-
cd and unused.-A. ". Pettibone In st.
Louis Globe Democrat.