Amos Kilbright; His Adscititious Experiences: With Other StoriesStockton, Frank R.
Science
Amos Kilbright; His Adscititious Experiences: With Other Stories
Stockton, Frank R.
African Americans -- Fiction
sport. He couldn't give him the butt and spin him out, and reel him in,
and let him jump and run till his pluck is clean worn out. Now, I likes
to git my fish ashore with all the pluck in 'em. It makes 'em taste
better. And as fur fun, I'll be bound I've had jist as much of that, and
more, too, than most of these fellers who are so dreadful anxious to
have everythin' jist right, and think they can't go fishin' till they've
spent enough money to buy a suit of Sunday clothes. As a gen'ral rule
they're a solemn lot, and work pretty hard at their fun. When I work I
want to be paid fur it, and when I go in fur fun I want to take it easy
and cheerful. Now I wouldn't say so much agen these fellers," said old
Peter, as he arose and put his empty pipe on a little shelf under the
porch-roof, "if it wasn't for one thing, and that is, that they think
that their kind of fishin' is the only kind worth considerin'. The way
they look down upon plain Christian fishin' is enough to rile a
hitchin'-post. I don't want to say nothin' agen no man's way of
attendin' to his own affairs, whether it's kitchen-gardenin', or whether
it's fishin', if he says nothin' agen my way; but when he looks down on
me, and grins at me, I want to haul myself up, and grin at him, if I
kin. And in this case, I kin. I s'pose the house-cat and the cat-fisher
(by which I don't mean the man who fishes for cat-fish) was both made as
they is, and they can't help it; but that don't give 'em no right to put
on airs before other bein's, who gits their meat with a square kill.
Good-night. And sence I've talked so much about it, I've a mind to go
fishin' with you to-morrow myself."
The next morning found old Peter of the same mind, and after breakfast
he proceeded to fit me out for a day of what he called "plain Christian
trout-fishin'." He gave me a reed rod, about nine feet long, light,
strong, and nicely balanced. The tackle he produced was not of the fancy
order, but his lines were of fine strong linen, and his hooks were of
good shape, clean and sharp, and snooded to the lines with a neatness
that indicated the hand of a man who had been where he learned to wear
little gold rings in his ears.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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