A Day’s Fishing
by Mary Joanna Porter
Edited by Jane Mouttet
Six lively boys had been spending their vacation at Clovernook Farm, and, as anyone may imagine, they had been having the liveliest sort of a time.
There were Mr. Hobart’s two nephews, James and Fred, Mrs. Hobart’s two nephews, John and Albert, and two others, Milton and Peter, who, though only distant cousins, were considered part of the family.
To tell of all the things that these six had been doing during the eight weeks of their stay would be to write a history in several volumes. They had had innumerable games of tennis and croquet; had fished along the banks of streams; helped in the harvest field; taken straw rides by moonlight; traveled many scores of miles on bicycles; taken photographs good and bad; gone out with picnic parties; learned to churn and to work butter; picked apples and eaten them, and they had plenty of energy left still.
The climax of their enjoyment was reached on the last day of their visit. Mr. Hobart had promised to take them for a day’s fishing on a lake about ten miles from his house. On this fair September day, he redeemed his promise. A jolly load set out in the gray of the early morning, equipped with poles, lines, bait, and provisions enough for the day. Having no other way to give vent to their spirits, they sang college songs all along the road. Of course, their vigorous rendering of familiar airs surprised many an early riser. Even cows, chickens, horses, and pigs gazed at them with wondering eyes as if to say, “Who are these noisy fellows disturbing our morning meditations?”
As the boys approached the lake, they saw a strange-looking object in the water. They could not decide for a while what it might be. Certainly, it was not a boat, and what else could be floating so calmly several feet out from the land?
At length, their strained eyes solved the mystery. It was a rudely built raft with a stool upon it, and upon it sat a ragged urchin ten or twelve years of age.
“Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!” shouted the six boys in unison.
“Fine rig you have there!” called one.
“What will you take for your ship?” shouted another.
The stranger simply stared.
“Don’t hurt his feelings, boys,” said Mr. Hobart kindly. He’s getting enjoyment in his own way, and I suspect that it’s the best way he knows.”
Conscious of impoliteness, the boys subsided, and nothing more was thought of the stranger for several hours.
About noon, however, as they were resting on the shore, he appeared before them with an old cigar box in his hand.
“Want some crickets and grasshoppers?” he asked timidly. “I’ve been catching them for you if you want them.”
“Yes, they are exactly what we need,” replied Mr. Hobart. How much do you want for the lot?”
“Oh, you’re welcome to them. I didn’t have anything else to do.”
“Well, that’s what I call returning good for evil. Didn’t you hear these chaps laugh at you this morning?”
“Yes, but that’s nothing. I’m used to that sort of thing. Folks have laughed at me always.”
“Well, we won’t laugh at you now. Have some dinner if you won’t have any pay.”
The boy refused money but could not refuse the tempting sandwiches and cakes. His hungry look appealed to the hearts of the other boys quite as forcibly as his comical attitude had before appealed to their sense of the ludicrous.
Now, they shared their dinner with him in the most hospitable manner. Fortunately, Mrs. Hobart was generous and provided an abundance of food. Otherwise, the picnic baskets might have given out with this new demand for their contents.
“What shall we call you?” said Mr. Hobart to the unexpected guest.
“Sam Smith’s my name. I am generally called Sam for short.”
“Well, Sam, I think you’re right down hungry, and I’m glad you happened along our way. Where do you live, my boy?”
“I’ve been working over there in the farmhouse yonder, but they’ve got through with me, and I’m just deciding where to go next.”
“Seems to me you’re rather young to earn your own living. Have you no father or mother?”
“Yes, in the city. But they have seven other boys, and getting along is pretty hard work. I’m the oldest, so I try to make money for myself. A gentleman got me this place and paid my way out here, but he’s returned to town now. I suppose he hoped the folks would keep me, but they don’t need me no longer.”
Mr. Hobart was a man of kindly deeds. More than that, he was a Christian. As he stood talking with the stranger lad, the words of the Master ran through his mind: “The poor ye have with ye always, and whensoever ye will ye may do them good.”
Indeed, there was an opportunity to help a friendless boy. It should not be thrown away.
“How would you like to engage with me for the fall and winter? These boys are all going off tomorrow, and I need a boy about your size to run errands and help me with the chores.”
“Really? Honest?”
“Yes, I really do. I want a good boy who will obey me and my wife, and I have an idea that you may suit.”
“I’ll try to, sir.”
“Then jump into that boat and help us fish, and I’ll take you home with me tonight.”
Sam cast a farewell glance at his raft, just then floating out of sight. He had nothing else to take leave of and no further arrangements to make, no packing to do, and no baggage to carry. He had simply himself and the few clothes he wore. In the evening, he went home with Mr. Hobart in the most matter-of-course way. When the load of fishermen drew up at the barn door, he jumped out and began to unhitch as though that had been his lifelong work.
Mrs. Hobart, coming out to welcome the chattering group, appeared rather puzzled as she counted heads in the twilight. Mr. Hobart enjoyed the surprise he had been expecting.
“Yes, wife,” he said, answering her thoughts. I took out six this morning and brought back seven tonight. We’ve been fishing for a day, you know, and I rather guess I’ve caught something more valuable than bass or perch, though they’re good enough in their way.”
“Where did you find him?” asked Mrs. Hobart.
“Sitting on a raft out on the lake.”
“He’s a poor, homeless fellow, and I reckon there’s room in our house for one of Christ’s little ones. Isn’t that so, wife?”
“Yes, Reuben, it is.”
“Then we’ll do the best we can for this young chap. I want to write to his parents, for he gave me their address. There should be no trouble in arranging to have him stay with us. We’ll see what we can make out of him.”
“Reuben, you’re always looking for a chance to do some good!”
“That’s the way it ought to be, wife.”
This conversation took place behind the carryall. None of the boys heard it. The six visitors, however, all caught the spirit of benevolence from their host. Before departing the next day, each one had contributed some article of clothing for Sam from his wardrobe, and they all showered him with good wishes as they left.
“Hope to find you here next summer,” they shouted while driving off.
“Hope so,” responded Sam.
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