Paddling under Palmettos — page 170: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Paddling Under Palmettos. 163 He did not call it sport, but slaughter. “I never went in for quantity,” he said. “Up at Greenwood Lake, in New York State, made famous by Frank Forrester’s sporting stories of ‘Warwick Woodlands,’ you remember, I enjoyed a day in my little cedar boat with the utmost zest, and never caught a fish. To me the surroundings are nine- tenths of the sport in angling.” | “Well, what do you think of your surroundings here?’ asked Dick. | Archie looked about him and shrugged his shoul- ders, at which both of the others laughed, for, like most sportsmen who have read up Florida for years, he found much room for disappointment in the real thing. True, the fish, the game—everything was there that he had expected, and yet his surroundings were so different that he could not enjoy them with the zest anticipated. “Tf we could unite this air and these fish with our Northern scenery—ah! then we’d have something to talk about.” So many a sportsman has said, as, sweltering in the heat of a hot day, he looked down upon his pile Gomichboo cS (E(0) m