The Springdale news., 1915-01-15

And in Heaven with joy to greet her Where no more farewell tears are
 shed.
 Oscar Meth, of this place, is great fisherman and the following let ter was written by him to a friend in Tulsa It describes in a glowing way life in the Ozarks.
 Jim Ny wife and I stayed close to business while We were in Tulsa to make the money, and now we are enjoying 1T in the scenic Ozarks
 We are now seeing our happy days, and our greate St pleasure is hunting and fishing, either in the lazy Ozark Indian Summer days, or in the fall when the forest is clad ill it's beautiful autumn plumage, and the new generation Of game is wait- ing to match their instinct against our ingenuity and prowess. The streams ara clear and the nuts are dropping Either afloat or afield there is excitement on every hand, here on an over hanging branch squirrel barks at you, and the Bob White calls to his mate over in the clearing somewhere, while out i'll the water the bass jumps after an elas= i've minnoWin the nipples Of the shoal.
 On and on we go, partakng of this granduer \ rod and reel, light shot gun and rifle for birds and squirrel shooting, a goodly supply of eatables, less the meat, our camping outfit, and we are off for another trip down the Illinois for the big bass and the croppies. On We go, stopping many times to chat with farmers gathering corn, or to fish where W. please, filling our string day after day, catching them just for the pure sport Of the thing, turning back all We can't eat 10 swim away in their natural element. happy U be loose again.
 With a whizz, the line aHreels and tie wooden minnow drops in I dark circle. \ Hash, and have him this time, biz one and lie is cutting up bad. He jumps, two, three times he raises full foot out of the water, shaking Is head, bowed in the snn- light like mad bull Back and forth he planges, under the boat he goes and out again, while am a-whipping and playing him, until even ill the cool autumn air, between labor and excitement the sweat stands out in beads upon my fore head. And now he is coming in slow ly, slowly, earefully-ah, the woman slips the net under him and We have him, a big green bass-nature's lux ury.
 And now for the Jack Salmon, that has not yet graced our string Down the White River we go, into Benton county, fer We must catch him in his natural home lying ill the deepest holes under the bluffs, under some big rock, like wolf in his den. We stop and pitch our tent and plan trap for our quarry. For he IS as elusive as a deer as fierce as tm- Der wolf and when hung is as sulky as a balky mule. Big minnows are the thing to bring him out, six inch es long or longer, if you can get them This fishing takes carefully tested line We pick a likely spot. Then cast and sit and wait. The best time for this is as the sun Is setting and deep shadows are begin ming to cover the river. There IS not sign of strike. Interest slacks and then a terrific strike, the rod is nearly wrenched from my hand. But 1 must wait and be still, ten seconds slip by and then anoth- CT five, and the line begins slowly to move out, reel clicking. Five, ten, fifteen feet play out, then pull hard yank and hang him. Just struggle or two with bending rod, then cant budge thing. I pull my line taut, and hold 1t steady for hell come in a minute, about a foot at 8 time. Oh, how tired my arm is with steady pulling, when at last we see him out there in the fading sun | HOhf anN pou paarnr nnarAr ah