When we reflected on our fishing, it was a little hard to tell where the fun came in; but on the whole this is true of most childish sports, and, for that matter, it holds good with all those of later years. But this has no tendency to make us stop the sport, or rather the hope of sport, for to give up hope is to give up life. The last time I drove across the old covered bridge I stopped for a moment by the stone pier where I used to sit and fish. I looked over at the muddy stream, and the hard gray abutment where I had watched so patiently through many hot and dusty days; and there in the same place where I once sat and expectantly held my pole above the stream was another urchin not unlike the one I knew, or thought I knew, so long ago. I lingered a few moments, and shuddered as I saw the cruel boy push the barbed hook through the whole length of the squirming worm. I watched him throw the bait silently into the yellow stream, and, behold! in a short time he pulled out a little wiggling fish. I went up to him as he took the murderous hook from the writhing fish, and tried to make him think that it was so small that he ought to throw it back. But in spite of all I could say, the little brute stuck a willow twig through its bleeding gills and strung it on a stick, as I had done when I was a little savage catching fish. CHAPTER XVI RULES OF CONDUCT I was very young when I first began to wonder why the world was so unreasonable; and now I am growing old, and it is not a whit more sensible than it used to be. Still, as a child I was in full accord with the other boys and girls about the stupidity of the world. Of course most of this perversity on the part of older people came from their constant interference with our desires and plans. None of them seemed to remember that they once were young and had looked out at the great wide world through the wondering eyes of the little child. It seemed to us as if our elders were in a universal conspiracy against us children; and we in turn combined to defeat their plans. I wonder where my little playmates have strayed on the great round world, and if they have grown as unreasonable as our fathers and mothers used to be! Reasonable or unreasonable, it is certain that our parents never knew what was best for us to do. At least, I thought so then; and although the wisdom, or at least the experience, of many years has been added to my childish stock, I am bound to say that I think so still. Even a boy might sometimes be trusted to know what he ought to do; and the instinct and teachings of Nature, as they speak directly to the child, should have some weight.