"
Having got me ready, Peter took his own particular pole, which he
assured me he had used for eleven years, and hooking on his left arm a
good-sized basket, which his elder pretty daughter had packed with cold
meat, bread, butter, and preserves, we started forth for a three-mile
walk to the fishing-ground. The day was a favorable one for our purpose,
the sky being sometimes over-clouded, which was good for fishing, and
also for walking on a highroad; and sometimes bright, which was good for
effects of mountain-scenery. Not far from the spot where old Peter
proposed to begin our sport, a small frame-house stood by the roadside,
and here the old man halted and entered the open door without knocking
or giving so much as a premonitory stamp. I followed, imitating my
companion in leaving my pole outside, which appeared to be the only
ceremony that the etiquette of those parts required of visitors. In the
room we entered, a small man in his shirt-sleeves sat mending a
basket-handle. He nodded to Peter, and Peter nodded to him.
"We've come up a-fishin'," said the old man. "Kin your boys give us some
grasshoppers?"
"I don't know that they've got any ready ketched," said he, "for I
reckon I used what they had this mornin'. But they kin git you some.
Here, Dan, you and Sile go and ketch Mr.
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