Fishing Books

FISHING WITH A WORM "The last fish I caught was with a worm."—IZAAK WALTON. A defective logic is the born fisherman's portion. He is a pattern of inconsistency. He does the things which he ought not to do, and he leaves undone the things which other people think he ought to do. He observes the wind when he should be sowing, and he regards the clouds, with temptation tugging familiarly at... more...

CHAPTER I. THREE YEARS AFTER. "This is the spot, Bessie," said Levi Fairfield, as he paused on the bank of the brook which flows into the bay near Mike's Point. "But what was the thing you made?" asked Bessie Watson, as she looked with interest at the place indicated, though she could not see anything very remarkable, or even strange. "It was a young saw-mill," laughed... more...

THE CONFESSIONS OF A DUFFER These papers do not boast of great sport.  They are truthful, not like the tales some fishers tell.  They should appeal to many sympathies.  There is no false modesty in the confidence with which I esteem myself a duffer, at fishing.  Some men are born duffers; others, unlike persons of genius, become so by an infinite capacity for not taking pains.  Others, again,... more...

HIS LIFE The few events in the long life of Izaak Walton have been carefully investigated by Sir Harris Nicolas.  All that can be extricated from documents by the alchemy of research has been selected, and I am unaware of any important acquisitions since Sir Harris Nicolas’s second edition of 1860.  Izaak was of an old family of Staffordshire yeomen, probably descendants of George Walton of... more...

CHAPTER I TOM READE HAS A "BRAND-NEW ONE" "Hello, Timmy!" "'Lo, Reade." "Warm night," observed Tom Reade, as he paused not far from the street corner to wipe his perspiring face and neck with his handkerchief. "Middling warm," admitted Timmy Finbrink. Yet the heat couldn't have made him extremely uncomfortable, for Tom Reade, amiable and budding senior... more...

Chapter One It was during the holiday week that Eddie proposed the matter. That is Eddie's way. No date, for him, is too far ahead to begin to plan anything that has vari-colored flies in it, and tents, and the prospect of the campfire smell. The very mention of these things will make his hair bristle up (rather straight, still hair it is and silvered over with premature wisdom) and put a new... more...