But all things have an end, even the antics of a fish that objects to being caught, and at last the sturdy fighter began to grow amenable to discipline. Slowly, line was reeled in and, after many flurries and plunges, he was landed safely in the boat. Natives assured the captor that eighteen pounds was not very large for a channel bass; but even their efforts to minimize the importance of the event did not entirely destroy the angler’s satisfaction. If there is a more uninteresting ride anywhere than that from Palatka to Charlotte Harbour, we do not care to find it. Scrub palmetto, pines, sand, and then sand, pines and scrub palmetto, until the traveller almost wishes the engine would jump the track or bandits hold up the train to break the deadly monotony. After all, that day is a red-letter one, for during it the writer made a friend. At noon, the train stopped near a lonely building in the pine woods to allow the passengers to dine. Other bills of fare may be forgotten, but the menu that noon is imperishably engraved on the tablets of memory. Who would not remember a meal consisting of saleratus biscuits--with strong emphasis upon the saleratus--“sides” of pork and sweet potato pie? It is conceivable that even these may be palatable when well cooked, but the materials used that day had evidently had no fair chance to reveal their excellence when skilfully treated. Among the passengers was a tall, somewhat gaunt man, with long, brown hair and a straggling-beard just showing a hint of grey. The face was rugged but kindly, and the eyes deep-set. One felt, instinctively, that here was a man of power and goodness whom it would be a privilege to know, and when a chance remark made by him to the traveller from the north gave an excuse for further conversation it was eagerly seized upon. It was not until the train was approaching Charlotte Harbour that we learned the name of our travelling companion, a name familiar, then and now, the world over, among those who look and long for a better day for man--Edward Everett Hale. His destination was the same as our own--Pine Island--where we spent three delightful weeks, the greatest pleasure of which was his companionship. After we had been at the little hotel on Pine Island two or three days, the proprietor approached the writer with something of unusual timidity in his manner, and ventured the information that Doctor Hale would preach in the school house the next Sunday. “Would you dare to assist in the service?” he hesitatingly asked. “Dare to take part in the service? Why not? What danger would there be?” “But you know he is a Unitarian, and I understand you are a Baptist. I didn’t know but some one would make trouble for you if they should hear that you had joined in a service with a Unitarian,” said the kind-hearted landlord. When assured that we were quite ready to run the risk, he went out with beaming face to tack up his notices. Among