An old-timer sat on the river bank, obviously awaiting a nibble, though the fishing season had not officially opened. A uniformed officer stood behind him quietly for several minutes. “You the game warden?” the old-timer inquired.

“Yup.”

Unruffled, the old man began to move the fishing pole from side to side. Finally, he lifted the line out of the water. Pointing to a minnow wriggling on the end of the line, he said, “Just teaching him how to swim.”[1]

Mark Twain once spent a pleasant three weeks in the Maine woods but as he was now on his way home, making himself comfortable in the train on the way back to New York, a sour-faced New Englander sat down next to him, and the two struck up a conversation. “Been to the woods, have ye?” asked the stranger.

“I have indeed,” replied Twain. “And let m…