Do you know, I haven't been fishing in more than three years, and me not yet of age ?" "Well, now's your chance, and you may not have another until after the war is over.

They say it's a fine stream, though, of course, it's not like the beautiful little rivers of Vermont, that come dashing down from the mountains all molten silver, where they're not white foam.

Splendid fish! Splendid rivers! Splendid sport! Dick, do you think I'm facing now in the exact direction of Vermont ?" He had turned about and was gazing with a rapt look into the northeast.
"I should say," said Dick, "that if your gaze went far enough it would strike squarely upon the Green Mountains of Vermont." Warner's hand rose in a slow and majestic salute.
"Great little state, mother of men, I salute thee!" he said.

"Thou art stern and yet beautiful to the eye and thy sons love thee! I, who am but one among them, love all thy rocks, and clear streams, and noble mountains and green foliage! Here, from the battle fields and across the distance I salute thee, O great little state! O mother of men!" "Quite dithyrambic," said Dick, "and now that your burst of rhetoric is over let's go on and catch our fish.

Will you also use your romantic science of mathematics in fishing?
By the way, what has become of that little algebra book of yours ?" "It's here," said Warner, taking it from the breast pocket of his tunic.
"I never part with it and I most certainly expect to use its principles when I reach the fishing stream.