THE YOUNG FISHERMAN.
HEN Charley was eight years old, his father gave him, for a birthday present, a nice fishing-line.
The little boy was greatly pleased. He had fished often in a tub of water with a pin-hook; but now, for the first time, he had a real fishing-line and pole, and was able to go a-fishing in earnest.
The very first pleasant day, he got leave from his father to go to the pond and try his luck.
"Be sure to bring home a good mess of fish, Charley," said his father.
"Oh, yes! papa," said Charley, and with his fishing-pole on his shoulder out he went.
What fun it was! First he dug some worms for bait; then he baited his hook nicely; then he took his stand on a little platform, made on purpose for the use of fishermen, and threw out his hook.
There he stood, in the shade of the old willow-tree, and waited for the fish to bite. As he looked down into the calm, clear water, he saw a boy, just about his own size, looking up at him. He had no other company.
He kept close watch of the pretty painted cork, expecting every moment to see it go under water. But for a long, long time it floated almost without motion.
Charley's patience began to give out. "I don't believe there are any fish here," thought he. Just then the cork dipped a little on one side. Then it stopped. Then it dipped again.
"Hurrah!" said Charley, and he pulled up the line with a jerk. Was there a fish on it? Not a bit of one. But the bait was all gone.
"Never mind!" said Charley, "I'll catch him next time." He baited the hook, and threw it out again. The sport was getting exciting.
Pretty soon the cork bobbed under, as before. "Now I have him!" said Charley. He pulled up once more, and this time with such a jerk that he tossed the hook right over his head, and it caught in the weeds behind him. But there was no fish on it.
"The third time never fails," said Charley, as he threw out his line again. He waited now until the cork was pulled clear under water; then he lifted it out, without too much haste, and, sure enough, he had caught a fish.
How long do you suppose it had taken him to do it? Pretty nearly all the forenoon. No matter! he had one fish to carry home, and he had had a real good time besides.
Charley has caught many a mess of fish since then; but I doubt if he has ever enjoyed the sport more than he did in catching that one fish.
UNCLE SAM.
