Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1902-08-21


. fisherman, always a fisherman.
Many years ago, when the writer
could not vote, he formed one of a par
" of young men who got up long be-
fore light on cold March morning to
go down to the wharfs in Boston and
Fish for smelts. Arriving on the
Wharfs over in South Boston we found
several fishermen already getting in
their work. They had brought along
lanterns, for it was yet too dark to see
to bait the hooks. And there they sat
on the wet wharf. a cod, damp snow
falling, covered with overcoats and
gloves, hauling out two and three
smelts on as many hooks al one time
and occasionally boastirg over their
less fortunate neighbors. And about
sunrise one old covey proudly showed
I, pail containing seventy-five smelts,
not one over six inches long. Then
from sln adjoining livery stable came
this old fellows carriage and driver,
aud AWAY be was driver. to n hundred
thousand dollar residence on Roxbury
heights. And put it down in your note
books that no man in Boston enjoyed
his breakfast that morning better than
the millionaire who ca,ght with his
own hands Il pail of smelts that his fish
Elarketman would have sold him for a
quarter. And the writer has an idea
that this old rich chap lived many
years afterward and went smelling"
every spring on South Boston wharfs,
in fact is probably at it vet. tho this to
be remembered scene WAS back in the
al al
liz years. But such men don't "die
young. Rather they do die young
always after three score years and ten.
And the writer may be pardoned if a
bit of personal experience is related
here. 1t is so fresh i'm the mind. hap
pened only Il few weeks ago at Okoboii
III came after Il weeks dull fishing.
Came as a reward to the persistent dis
ciple of Walton. Bulheals and perch
had stolen our minnows till patience
had ceased to be virtue. The sun had
burned our wrists and neck and faces
We only had three clubs left and then
We're going to quit. None of the occu-
pants of any of the boats around us had
had any luck. Some were reeling UP
their lines, preparatory to going home,
when the writer had "a strike" 1t re-
quired no remarks to announce that
something" was at the end of that line
The small silk line was going thru the
water n hundred miles AN hour The
bent steel rod was shaped like an OK
yoke. The oars We're shipped. the string
of fish on the boats side were pulled
in the anchor was pulled up. everybody
stopped fishing and all commenced Civ
ing advice. one excited Individual
made a grab ut the swshing line. only
TO be told something not ordinarily used
in words of polite conversation. Mean
while the reel sang sweet tones as his
started down towards Millers
bay. There came the click, click of the
reel as the slack was taken up. Half n
dozen times 'he was lost because he
turned and came towards the boat, and
as many more times hell break your
line If you don't give him more line.
And twice. as he went under the boat
only the elastic ever-bending steel rod
kept him from getting a twist on us and
breaking line warranted to hold twice
as many pounds as he weighed. And
then. after an eternity of fun. probably
not more than five minutes by the
watch the six pound pike was coaNed
up alongside of the boat. quick fingers
inserted in the open gills and the WALL
eye was lifted into the boat. to the sat
isfaction of the writer and the envy of
the other watching fishermen.
Now all this is nothing wonderful. 1t I
has happened before. ii will happen
again. But reader. if this unsatisfac- |
tory description of catching big pike
does not interest you, does not make
YOU want 10 go 4 fishing, one of two |
things is sure. Either this tame de- |
scrption is the cause. or your early /
education Was neglected. You may /
have heard the birds sing. perhaps
''have loved Il tree or flower" but never
have you known the joys of bullhead |
fishing. Accept the coincidence of