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JOE WAYRING AT HOME.

Joe Wayring, who was so highly excited that he could not stand still. I recollect he afterward told his chums that the fish jumped clear out of the water two or three times, and then started from the middle of the spring hole and ran toward the angler at the top of his speed, trying to loosen the line so that the hook would drop out of his mouth; but the automatic reel took up the slack as fast as he made it, and his mad rushes about the spring hole had no other result than to tire him out, so that he could offer but feeble resistance when he was reeled in to the bank. The moment he was brought within reach Joe slipped a landing net under him and lifted him out.

"Two pounds and three ounces," he almost shouted, after he had weighed him on his pocket scales. "Now, Uncle Joe, what's your opinion of that rod?"

"A fair sized fish for these waters," said Uncle Joe, as he stepped to the edge of the spring hole for another cast. "As for the rod it's as good a one as you need wish for. If you will take care of him, he will last as long as you will, barring accident."