Welcome back everyone to one thousand one classic short stories and tales. This is your host and storyteller, John Haggardorn. It's time for a Frank Stockton

story. He's one of my favorite authors. There's something wonderfully timeless about his stories.

He had a gift for taking ordinary people, placing them in slightly ridiculous situations,

and letting human nature do the rest. And in today's tale, our archery club, Stockton turns his sharp eye and sharper wit toward the world of amateur sports,

long before little league, bowling leagues, or weekend softball teams ever existed.

This is a story about pride, competition, friendship, and the way a simple pastime can bring out the very best,

and sometimes the very

funniest in all of us.

If you've ever joined a club, tried a new hobby, or found yourself suddenly taking something

far more seriously than you meant to, this one will feel familiar.

So settle in as we step back into the late 19th century when archery was the fashionable sport of the day,

and when one small club discovered that he needed a target isn't always the hardest part.

And now our story, Our Archery Club by Frank Stockton.

When an archery club was formed in our village, I was among the first to join it,

but I should

not, on this account, claim any extraordinary enthusiasm on the subject of archery, for nearly

all the ladies and gentlemen of the place were also among the first to join.

Few of us, I think, had a correct idea of the popularity of archery in our midst until the

subject of a club was broached.

Then we all perceived what a strong interest we felt in the study and the use of the bow and arrow.

The club was formed immediately, and our 30 members began to discuss the relative merits of

Lancewood, U, and Greenhard Bowes, and to survey yards and lawns for suitable spots for setting up targets for home practice.

...