The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1899-07-28
illustrated Youth and Age. Nashville. Tenn.I
EN- ROUTE, May 6, 1899.
To the Fishermen.
DEAR BRETHREN:

EN- ROUTE, May s, 1899.
To the Fishermen:
DEAR BRETHREN:
The blIssful days have come,
The gladdest of the year,
OF purpling hills and fragrant bloom,
And rivers bright and clear.
The banks of the brooks are green;
the boughs of the trees bend down; the
trout are nuttering in the streams be-
low, and the birds are nesting above.
The bees are humming among the flow
ers; the forests are singing; the waters
are laughing, and all the world is
radiant with joy. Love rides on every
passing breeze and turks in every flow
er. 1t is natures sweetest resurrec-
ton, and beauty reigns supreme.
What glorious time to resurrect the
fishing tackle from it's dusty tomb in
the lumber room, and the red worm
from his Shiny sepulchre under the
sod, and to impale him on the hook and
send him diving after suckers! What
glorious time to camp and frolic on the
margin of the froliclling stream, with
slxillets and lard, and streaked and
striped bacon, and plenty of onions,
and corn bread, and good butter and
eggs, and fiddlers to play, and mig
gers for cooks; big fat trout frying in
the pan, black coffee simmering in the
pot, and snake medicine" in the
''chist!' 1t is the Eden of the seasons;
it is the heaven of life.
What joy TO Iinger by the fishing hole,
And laZly hold your fishing pole,
And wait for the fish to bite! What a
delightful thrill is the thrill of nib
bic! And when you hook a two-pound
bass and eagerly undertake to land
him high and dry, what beautiful
thoughts pass through your brain and
what eloquent figures of speech escape
from your lips when your line gets
tangled among the limbs ten feet above
your head, and you see your f1uttering
prize dangle for moment in the air,
and then, with farewell flounce, bid
you good evening as he drops back into
the water and darts away like an ar
rowl This is a splendid illustration of
the feelings of a candidate for political
Office who is sure of his election. He
sees victory dangling for moment in
the air about ten feet above his head,
and then, with farewell bounce, it
gets away from him, and there is
weeping and gnashing of teeth"
Fishing is the greatest sport in the
world. There is nothing so exhiIarating
to the nervous system as the shock of
jerk, and there is nothing so relaxing
as the sight of vanishing perch with
broken hook in his mouth. There is
also great deal OF relaxation in sitting
on snag five hours with bated breath
and baited hook waiting for an exhilar-
alton which never comes. [ have known
gentlemen to engage in this sort of re-
taxation all day long, and save their
reputation as fishermen only by buying
Il string of the finny tribe from some
old duslSy wizard of the piscatorial art,
and then swearing in camp that they
did it with their little red worms"
This is another illustration of the sue
cess of some statesmen.
The ultima thule of happiness is the
sweet expectancy of a laughing and
warming gang of fishermen advancing
to the fishing ground in the morning
with buckets full of minnows, and
hands full of tackle, and pockets full of
cigars and tobacco and ''sich like"
Poets may sing of banquets in gilded |
halls where all the mingled sweets of
the culinary art are heaped upon the !
table, and where fairies CLINT like
speckled trout in the crimson depths of
wine, and painted devils dance in the |
amber floods of corn and rye" but !
give me fisherman's lunch and
appetite beneath the |
tree down by the riverside in
the deep-taRgled wildwood, where the |
waters murmur at my feet and birds |
make music all the day. Let the red |
nOsed jewellers sip their wine and |
chuckle over the triumph of their trusts |
and combines, but give me drink of !
water from the cold noun
-ain spring and liberty among the hills.
Let the men of millions have their !
pleasure in their palaces; l envy them |
not; let them pass the gilded hours |
Dowing and scrapiDg on velvet carpets |
md lolling on sill1en sofas; but give me |
he pleasure of the reel and line, and |
ct me bow and scrape on natures rich |
,arpet of green, among the redbuds |
md houey-suclles, and loll on the moss
covered logs amid violets and bluebells
lcar the bend of the river, where the
ranes bow and scrape to the tadpoles,
nd the bullfrog sings his sweetest
oug. Let historians tell of the glory
# heroes bringing home their spoils
rom conquered lands, but give me
riumphal march to my own happy
rome with beautiful string of fish.
The hero will roll and tumble at night
With horrible dreams of blood and
eath, but 1 will sleep like baby, and
ream of trout four feet long.
Did you ever hear the old story of the
amily of five brothers who lived in a
abin? The only spleeping arrange
1ents they had were two quilts; they
u slept together on one, and covered
With the other, and in the night when
ne wished to turn over he shouted
spoon" to the rest, and they all turned
( once. One day one of the boys went
o the river to shoot fish; he climbed
rec on the bank and crawled out on
imb over the stream and lay there
boxing down and watching for scaly
ictim to shoot at; but his position was
o comfortable that he went to sleep,
nd a mischievous fellow passing by,
moving the habit of the family,
houted spoon" at the top of his voice;
he sleeping fisherman Immediately
,hirlad over and fell ton feet SnlaSbipT
lto the water. The best way to in