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Updated: June 16, 2025
She was a small, delicate and timid woman, extremely unfitted to play the heroine, and only used to suffering, which she bore like a saint. On the contrary I aged seven, armed with a long fishpole, threatened the advance of the rebels, and was eager to have them come on. I did not go far from my mother and sisters however.
And now Splash perched himself up in the bow, or front part of the boat, and quietly sat there, looking across at the other shore. Bunny looked down over the side, where he was sitting, and saw some fish swimming about, for the water of the lake was very clear. "I wish I had brought my fishpole," Bunny said. "I could catch some fish for dinner."
Jeff's reedic'lous fond of fishin'; which he'd sooner fish than read Paradise Lost. I'm romancin' along, sim'larly bent, when I notes Jeff perched on the bank. To my boyish imagination Jeff at once turns to be a Paynim. I drops my bait box, couches my fishpole, an' emittin' a impromptoo warcry, charges him. It's the work of a moment; Jeff's onhossed an' falls into the Branch.
And yet this man is possessed of an unshakable faith that by some mysterious legerdemain of chance a fish, with ten thousand square miles of water to swim in safely, will seek out the little minnow less than an inch in length which he has lowered beside the breakwater. And so, the victim of preposterous conviction, he sits and eyes the tip of his fishpole with unflagging hope. It is warm.
What is the matter Oo! it's a snapper!" "A what?" cried Lil, dropping the fishpole. "A snapping turtle," explained Bobby. "Now you have caught it! I'll lose hook and all, like enough." She jerked the turtle ashore. Lil had seen only its reptilian head. The beast proved to be more than a foot across. "Makes bully soup," said the practical Bobby.
I may say that Aaron and I kept a tight rein and a good pace till we struck a water-course on the other side, and that we clattered down it with no want of decision till it emptied into a larger stream which we knew must be the East Branch. An abandoned fishpole lay on the stones, marking the farthest point reached by some fisherman.
Gwendolyn shook her head with deliberation. "Johnny Blake wasn't pokey," she denied. "He had a willow fishpole, and a string tied to it. And he caught shiny fishes on the end of the string." "Johnnie Blake!" sniffed Jane. "Oh, I know all about him. Rosa told me. He's a common, poor little boy. And" severely "I, for one, can't see why you was ever allowed to play with him!...
He is able to believe with passion in things invisible. He can achieve a fantastic confidence in the Unknowable. Here he sits on the breakwater near the Municipal Pier, a fishpole in his hand, staring patiently into the agate-colored water. He can see nothing. The lake is enormous. It contains thousands of square miles of water.
Why, even a long fishpole would scarcely be long enough, and he couldn't get purchase enough on the end " "I admit it sounds difficult, sir, but they do pretty clever things that way." "And, too, I can't suspect my neighbour's servants! Why, I've not the slightest cause for such suspicion!" "Oh, no, I can't think it's that way, either," said Dolly. "Why, that caretaker is a nice old man.
Bunny had a real fishpole and line and hook now, with "squiggily" worms, as Sue called them, for bait, and the little boy caught some real fish. It was about a week after Tom's adventure in the drifting boat that one day, as he was walking through the woods with Bunny and Sue, on their way back from a farmhouse where they had gone after milk, that Tom suddenly came to a stop along the path.
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