y long experience where were the best haunts of
pickerel, considerately placed me at the most favorable point. I threw out
my line as I had so often seen others, and waited anxiously for a bite,
moving the bait in rapid jerks on the surface of the water in imitation of
the leap of a frog. Nothing came of it. "Try again," said my uncle.
Suddenly the bait sank out of sight. "Now for it," thought I; "here is a
fish at last."

4. I made a strong pull, and brought up a tangle of weeds. Again and again
I cast out my line with aching arms, and drew it back empty. I looked at
my uncle appealingly. "Try once more," he said; "we fishermen must have
patience."

5. Suddenly something tugged at my line, and swept off with it into deep
water. Jerking it up, I saw a fine pickerel wriggling in the sun. "Uncle!"
I cried, looking back in uncontrollable excitement, "I've got a fish!"
"Not yet," said my uncle. As he spoke there was a plash in the water; I
caught the arrowy gleam of a scared fish shooting into the middle of the
stream, my hook hung empty from the line. I had lost my prize.

6. We are apt to speak of the sorrows of childhood as trifles in
comparison with those of grown-up people; but we may depend upon it the
young folks don't agree with us. Our griefs, modified and restrained by
reason, experience and self-respect, keep the proprieties, and, if
possible, avoid a scene; but the sorrow of childhood, unreasoning and
all-absorbing, is a complete abandonment to the passion. The doll's nose
is broken, and the world breaks up with it; the marble rolls out of sight,
and the solid globe rolls off with the marble.

7. So, overcome with my great and bitter disappointment, I sat down on the
nearest hassock, and for a time refused to be comforted, even by my
uncle's assurance that there were more fish in the brook. He refitted my
bait, and, putting the pole again in my hands, told me to try my luck once
more.

8. "But remember, boy," he said, with his shrewd smile, "never brag of
catching a fish until he is on dry ground. I've seen older folks doing
that in more ways than one, and so making fools of themselves. It's no use
to boast of anything until it's done, nor then, either, for it speaks for
itself."

9. How often since I have been reminded of the fish that I did not catch.
When I hear people boasting of a work as yet undone, and trying to
anticipate the credit which belongs only to actual achievement, I call to
mind that sce