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HE'LL TELL YOU HOW!
By ROBERT H. MOULTON
T H E world is full of people who
are not only willing but actually
aching to give you advice
on any subject under the sun,
from playing the stock market
to raising gooseberries, but, so far as
is known, the only man to wear the title
of piscatorial adviser extraordinary to
the citizens of the United States is Dixie
Carroll, of Chicago.
Dixie, indeed, is a national institution
and holds a position unique in the annals
of sport. For many years now he has
been the trusted counselor of innumerable
veterans of the rod and reel, and the
tutor-in-chief of countless youngsters
just graduating from the bent-pin stage
of the game.
When the Wall Street Banker decides
to switch temporarily from pursuit
of the elusive dollar to the still more
elusive rainbow trout in the wilds of
Canada, he writes to Dixie and forthwith
receives what is, in effect, a passport
to the choicest fishing grounds of
the region he wishes to visit. In a
heart-to-heart talk Dixie explains everything
in minutest detail: just where
and when to go, how to get there,
what to take and what not to take in the
way of equipment, the whole illustrated
with sundry diagrams, which, if followed
faithfully, invariably lead to certain tried
and tested pools where one may be morally
certain of finding the largest and
scrappiest specimens of the finny tribe.
If the small boy writes in to ask
whether worms should be hooked
through the end or the middle, he receives
from Dixie the same kind of
"pal-to-pal" letter, not only giving the
desired information but a wealth of other
suggestions which are calculated to be
of value in teaching the young idea how
in angle successfully along the lines of
true sportsmanship.
That's the charm of Dixie's style. He
makes you feel that he has no other object
in life than to help you catch that
"big fellow", or to solve whatever angling
problem confronts you. Fishing lore
fairly oozes from him, and he is so eager
to impart it to others that he has been
known to postpone his own vacation in
the middle of the very best fishing period
merely to help a brother fisherman decide
the momentous question of whether
he should buy a landing net or a gaff,—
which is some sacrifice for the dyed-inthe-wool
fisherman to make.
Needless to say, Dixie's services as
official guide and companion are eagerly
sought by those who want to take no
chance of failure in locating and landing
a forty pound muskellunge or an old
grand-daddy bass, and he probably could
spend the rest of bis life in comfort at
this kind of job. "But no more of that
stuff for me." he says. "I've been chief
mourner at enough fish funerals, and I'd
rather help fifty fellows by proxy than
one in person any day."
There are books galore on fishing.
But shall the man who wants to know
whether pork strips for bait should be
cut thick or thin wade through the entire
contents of weighty tomes to gain this
simple information ? Not any more than
the one who is sick needs to peruse a
history of medicine to find out what is
the matter with him ; he merely goes to
a doctor who points out the trouble and
prescribes the remedy. Similarly, the
anxious fisherman writes to Dixie, and
at the expense of a two-cent stamp is
relieved of all his worries.
Dixie is strong for the observance of
all fishing laws and the throw-the-littlefellows-back
stuff. "Don't be a cradlerobber,"
is one of his pleas. "Give the
infant fish a chance to grow up, and if
you do happen to hook one, send him
back to school to complete his education.
tS7