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diff --git a/1139-0.txt b/1139-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..199563e --- /dev/null +++ b/1139-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4855 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1139 *** + +FISHERMAN'S LUCK AND SOME OTHER UNCERTAIN THINGS + +by Henry van Dyke + + + "Now I conclude that not only in Physicke, but likewise in + sundry more certaine arts, fortune hath great share in + them." + + M. DE MONTAIGNE: Divers Events. + + +DEDICATION TO MY LADY GRAYGOWN + + +Here is the basket; I bring it home to you. There are no great fish in +it. But perhaps there may be one or two little ones which will be to +your taste. And there are a few shining pebbles from the bed of the +brook, and ferns from the cool, green woods, and wild flowers from the +places that you remember. I would fain console you, if I could, for the +hardship of having married an angler: a man who relapses into his mania +with the return of every spring, and never sees a little river without +wishing to fish in it. But after all, we have had good times together as +we have followed the stream of life towards the sea. And we have passed +through the dark days without losing heart, because we were comrades. +So let this book tell you one thing that is certain. In all the life of +your fisherman the best piece of luck is just YOU. + + + +CONTENTS + + I. Fisherman's Luck + + II. The Thrilling Moment + + III. Talkability + + IV. A Wild Strawberry + + V. Lovers and Landscape + + VI. A Fatal Success + + VII. Fishing in Books + +VIII. A Norwegian Honeymoon + + IX. Who Owns the Mountains? + + X. A Lazy, Idle Brook + + XI. The Open Fire + + XII. A Slumber Song + + + + +FISHERMAN'S LUCK + + +Has it ever fallen in your way to notice the quality of the greetings +that belong to certain occupations? + +There is something about these salutations in kind which is singularly +taking and grateful to the ear. They are as much better than an ordinary +"good day" or a flat "how are you?" as a folk-song of Scotland or the +Tyrol is better than the futile love-ditty of the drawing-room. They +have a spicy and rememberable flavour. They speak to the imagination and +point the way to treasure-trove. + +There is a touch of dignity in them, too, for all they are so free and +easy--the dignity of independence, the native spirit of one who takes +for granted that his mode of living has a right to make its own forms of +speech. I admire a man who does not hesitate to salute the world in the +dialect of his calling. + +How salty and stimulating, for example, is the sailorman's hail of "Ship +ahoy!" It is like a breeze laden with briny odours and a pleasant dash +of spray. The miners in some parts of Germany have a good greeting for +their dusky trade. They cry to one who is going down the shaft, "Gluck +auf!" All the perils of an underground adventure and all the joys +of seeing the sun again are compressed into a word. Even the trivial +salutation which the telephone has lately created and claimed for its +peculiar use--"Hello, hello"--seems to me to have a kind of fitness +and fascination. It is like a thoroughbred bulldog, ugly enough to be +attractive. There is a lively, concentrated, electric air about it. It +makes courtesy wait upon dispatch, and reminds us that we live in an age +when it is necessary to be wide awake. + +I have often wished that every human employment might evolve its own +appropriate greeting. Some of them would be queer, no doubt; but +at least they would be an improvement on the wearisome iteration of +"Good-evening" and "Good-morning," and the monotonous inquiry, "How +do you do?"--a question so meaningless that it seldom tarries for an +answer. Under the new and more natural system of etiquette, when you +passed the time of day with a man you would know his business, and the +salutations of the market-place would be full of interest. + +As for my chosen pursuit of angling (which I follow with diligence when +not interrupted by less important concerns), I rejoice with every true +fisherman that it has a greeting all its own and of a most honourable +antiquity. There is no written record of its origin. But it is quite +certain that since the days after the Flood, when Deucalion + + + "Did first this art invent + Of angling, and his people taught the same," + + +two honest and good-natured anglers have never met each other by the way +without crying out, "What luck?" + +Here, indeed, is an epitome of the gentle art. Here is the spirit of +it embodied in a word and paying its respects to you with its native +accent. Here you see its secret charms unconsciously disclosed. The +attraction of angling for all the ages of man, from the cradle to the +grave, lies in its uncertainty. 'Tis an affair of luck. + +No amount of preparation in the matter of rods and lines and hooks +and lures and nets and creels can change its essential character. +No excellence of skill in casting the delusive fly or adjusting the +tempting bait upon the hook can make the result secure. You may reduce +the chances, but you cannot eliminate them. There are a thousand points +at which fortune may intervene. The state of the weather, the height of +the water, the appetite of the fish, the presence or absence of other +anglers--all these indeterminable elements enter into the reckoning of +your success. There is no combination of stars in the firmament by which +you can forecast the piscatorial future. When you go a-fishing, you just +take your chances; you offer yourself as a candidate for anything that +may be going; you try your luck. + +There are certain days that are favourites among anglers, who regard +them as propitious for the sport. I know a man who believes that the +fish always rise better on Sunday than on any other day in the week. He +complains bitterly of this supposed fact, because his religious scruples +will not allow him to take advantage of it. He confesses that he has +sometimes thought seriously of joining the Seventh-Day Baptists. + +Among the Pennsylvania Dutch, in the Alleghany Mountains, I have found +a curious tradition that Ascension Day is the luckiest in the year +for fishing. On that morning the district school is apt to be thinly +attended, and you must be on the stream very early if you do not wish to +find wet footprints on the stones ahead of you. + +But in fact, all these superstitions about fortunate days are idle and +presumptuous. If there were such days in the calendar, a kind and firm +Providence would never permit the race of man to discover them. It +would rob life of one of its principal attractions, and make fishing +altogether too easy to be interesting. + +Fisherman's luck is so notorious that it has passed into a proverb. +But the fault with that familiar saying is that it is too short and too +narrow to cover half the variations of the angler's possible experience. +For if his luck should be bad, there is no portion of his anatomy, +from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, that may not be +thoroughly wet. But if it should be good, he may receive an unearned +blessing of abundance not only in his basket, but also in his head and +his heart, his memory and his fancy. He may come home from some obscure, +ill-named, lovely stream--some Dry Brook, or Southwest Branch of +Smith's Run--with a creel full of trout, and a mind full of grateful +recollections of flowers that seemed to bloom for his sake, and birds +that sang a new, sweet, friendly message to his tired soul. He may climb +down to "Tommy's Rock" below the cliffs at Newport (as I have done many +a day with my lady Greygown), and, all unnoticed by the idle, weary +promenaders in the path of fashion, haul in a basketful of blackfish, +and at the same time look out across the shining sapphire waters and +inherit a wondrous good fortune of dreams-- + + + "Have glimpses that will make him less forlorn; + Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, + Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn." + + +But all this, you must remember, depends upon something secret and +incalculable, something that we can neither command nor predict. It is +an affair of gift, not of wages. Fish (and the other good things which +are like sauce to the catching of them) cast no shadow before. Water is +the emblem of instability. No one can tell what he shall draw out of +it until he has taken in his line. Herein are found the true charm and +profit of angling for all persons of a pure and childlike mind. + +Look at those two venerable gentlemen floating in a skiff upon the +clear waters of Lake George. One of them is a successful statesman, an +ex-President of the United States, a lawyer versed in all the curious +eccentricities of the "lawless science of the law." The other is a +learned doctor of medicine, able to give a name to all diseases from +which men have imagined that they suffered, and to invent new ones +for those who are tired of vulgar maladies. But all their learning is +forgotten, their cares and controversies are laid aside, in "innocuous +desuetude." The Summer School of Sociology is assembled. The Medical +Congress is in session. + +But they care not--no, not so much as the value of a single live bait. +The sun shines upon them with a fervent heat, but it irks them not. +The rain descends, and the winds blow and beat upon them, but they +are unmoved. They are securely anchored here in the lee of Sabbath-Day +Point. + +What enchantment binds them to that inconsiderable spot? What magic +fixes their eyes upon the point of a fishing-rod, as if it were the +finger of destiny? It is the enchantment of uncertainty: the same +natural magic that draws the little suburban boys in the spring of the +year, with their strings and pin-hooks, around the shallow ponds where +dace and redfins hide; the same irresistible charm that fixes a row of +city gamins, like ragged and disreputable fish-crows, on the end of a +pier where blear-eyed flounders sometimes lurk in the muddy water. Let +the philosopher explain it as he will. Let the moralist reprehend it as +he chooses. There is nothing that attracts human nature more powerfully +than the sport of tempting the unknown with a fishing-line. + +Those ancient anglers have set out upon an exodus from the tedious realm +of the definite, the fixed, the must-certainly-come-to-pass. They are on +a holiday in the free country of peradventure. They do not know at this +moment whether the next turn of Fortune's reel will bring up a perch or +a pickerel, a sunfish or a black bass. It may be a hideous catfish or +a squirming eel, or it may be a lake-trout, the grand prize in the Lake +George lottery. There they sit, those gray-haired lads, full of hope, +yet equally prepared for resignation; taking no thought for the morrow, +and ready to make the best of to-day; harmless and happy players at the +best of all games of chance. + +"In other words," I hear some severe and sour-complexioned reader say, +"in plain language, they are a pair of old gamblers." + +Yes, if it pleases you to call honest men by a bad name. But they +risk nothing that is not their own; and if they lose, they are not +impoverished. They desire nothing that belongs to other men; and if +they win, no one is robbed. If all gambling were like that, it would be +difficult to see the harm in it. Indeed, a daring moralist might even +assert, and prove by argument, that so innocent a delight in the taking +of chances is an aid to virtue. + +Do you remember Martin Luther's reasoning on the subject of "excellent +large pike"? He maintains that God would never have created them so good +to the taste, if He had not meant them to be eaten. And for the same +reason I conclude that this world would never have been left so full of +uncertainties, nor human nature framed so as to find a peculiar joy and +exhilaration in meeting them bravely and cheerfully, if it had not been +divinely intended that most of our amusement and much of our education +should come from this source. + +"Chance" is a disreputable word, I know. It is supposed by many pious +persons to be improper and almost blasphemous to use it. But I am not +one of those who share this verbal prejudice. I am inclined rather to +believe that it is a good word to which a bad reputation has been +given. I feel grateful to that admirable "psychologist who writes like a +novelist," Mr. William James, for his brilliant defence of it. For what +does it mean, after all, but that some things happen in a certain way +which might have happened in another way? Where is the immorality, the +irreverence, the atheism in such a supposition? Certainly God must be +competent to govern a world in which there are possibilities of various +kinds, just as well as one in which every event is inevitably determined +beforehand. St. Peter and the other fishermen-disciples on the Lake +of Galilee were perfectly free to cast their net on either side of the +ship. So far as they could see, so far as any one could see, it was a +matter of chance where they chose to cast it. But it was not until they +let it down, at the Master's word, on the right side that they had good +luck. And not the least element of their joy in the draft of fishes was +that it brought a change of fortune. + +Leave the metaphysics of the question on the table for the present. As +a matter of fact, it is plain that our human nature is adapted to +conditions variable, undetermined, and hidden from our view. We are +not fitted to live in a world where a + b always equals c, and there is +nothing more to follow. The interest of life's equation arrives with the +appearance of x, the unknown quantity. A settled, unchangeable, clearly +foreseeable order of things does not suit our constitution. It tends to +melancholy and a fatty heart. Creatures of habit we are undoubtedly; but +it is one of our most fixed habits to be fond of variety. The man who +is never surprised does not know the taste of happiness, and unless the +unexpected sometimes happens to us, we are most grievously disappointed. + +Much of the tediousness of highly civilized life comes from its +smoothness and regularity. To-day is like yesterday, and we think that +we can predict to-morrow. Of course we cannot really do so. The +chances are still there. But we have covered them up so deeply with +the artificialities of life that we lose sight of them. It seems as if +everything in our neat little world were arranged, and provided for, +and reasonably sure to come to pass. The best way of escape from this +TAEDIUM VITAE is through a recreation like angling, not only because it +is so evidently a matter of luck, but also because it tempts us into a +wilder, freer life. It leads almost inevitably to camping out, which is +a wholesome and sanitary imprudence. + +It is curious and pleasant, to my apprehension, to observe how many +people in New England, one of whose States is called "the land of Steady +Habits," are sensible of the joy of changing them,--out of doors. These +good folk turn out from their comfortable farm-houses and their snug +suburban cottages to go a-gypsying for a fortnight among the mountains +or beside the sea. You see their white tents gleaming from the +pine-groves around the little lakes, and catch glimpses of their +bathing-clothes drying in the sun on the wiry grass that fringes the +sand-dunes. Happy fugitives from the bondage of routine! They have found +out that a long journey is not necessary to a good vacation. You may +reach the Forest of Arden in a buckboard. The Fortunate Isles are within +sailing distance in a dory. And a voyage on the river Pactolus is open +to any one who can paddle a canoe. + +I was talking--or rather listening--with a barber, the other day, in +the sleepy old town of Rivermouth. He told me, in one of those easy +confidences which seem to make the razor run more smoothly, that it had +been the custom of his family, for some twenty years past, to forsake +their commodious dwelling on Anchor Street every summer, and emigrate +six miles, in a wagon to Wallis Sands, where they spent the month of +August very merrily under canvas. Here was a sensible household for +you! They did not feel bound to waste a year's income on a four weeks' +holiday. They were not of those foolish folk who run across the sea, +carefully carrying with them the same tiresome mind that worried them +at home. They got a change of air by making an alteration of life. They +escaped from the land of Egypt by stepping out into the wilderness and +going a-fishing. + +The people who always live in houses, and sleep on beds, and walk on +pavements, and buy their food from butchers and bakers and grocers, are +not the most blessed inhabitants of this wide and various earth. The +circumstances of their existence are too mathematical and secure +for perfect contentment. They live at second or third hand. They are +boarders in the world. Everything is done for them by somebody else. + +It is almost impossible for anything very interesting to happen to them. +They must get their excitement out of the newspapers, reading of the +hairbreadth escapes and moving accidents that befall people in real +life. What do these tame ducks really know of the adventure of living? +If the weather is bad, they are snugly housed. If it is cold, there is +a furnace in the cellar. If they are hungry, the shops are near at hand. +It is all as dull, flat, stale, and unprofitable as adding up a column +of figures. They might as well be brought up in an incubator. + +But when man abides in tents, after the manner of the early patriarchs, +the face of the world is renewed. The vagaries of the clouds become +significant. You watch the sky with a lover's look, eager to know +whether it will smile or frown. When you lie at night upon your bed of +boughs and hear the rain pattering on the canvas close above your head, +you wonder whether it is a long storm or only a shower. + +The rising wind shakes the tent-flaps. Are the pegs well driven down and +the cords firmly fastened? You fall asleep again and wake later, to +hear the rain drumming still more loudly on the tight cloth, and the +big breeze snoring through the forest, and the waves plunging along +the beach. A stormy day? Well, you must cut plenty of wood and keep the +camp-fire glowing, for it will be hard to start it up again, if you +let it get too low. There is little use in fishing or hunting in such a +storm. But there is plenty to do in the camp: guns to be cleaned, tackle +to be put in order, clothes to be mended, a good story of adventure to +be read, a belated letter to be written to some poor wretch in a summer +hotel, a game of hearts or cribbage to be played, or a hunting-trip to +be planned for the return of fair weather. The tent is perfectly dry. A +little trench dug around it carries off the surplus water, and luckily +it is pitched with the side to the lake, so that you get the pleasant +heat of the fire without the unendurable smoke. Cooking in the rain has +its disadvantages. But how good the supper tastes when it is served up +on a tin plate, with an empty box for a table and a roll of blankets at +the foot of the bed for a seat! + +A day, two days, three days, the storm may continue, according to your +luck. I have been out in the woods for a fortnight without a drop of +rain or a sign of dust. Again, I have tented on the shore of a big lake +for a week, waiting for an obstinate tempest to pass by. + +Look now, just at nightfall: is there not a little lifting and breaking +of the clouds in the west, a little shifting of the wind toward a +better quarter? You go to bed with cheerful hopes. A dozen times in the +darkness you are half awake, and listening drowsily to the sounds of the +storm. Are they waxing or waning? Is that louder pattering a new burst +of rain, or is it only the plumping of the big drops as they are shaken +from the trees? See, the dawn has come, and the gray light glimmers +through the canvas. In a little while you will know your fate. + +Look! There is a patch of bright yellow radiance on the peak of the +tent. The shadow of a leaf dances over it. The sun must be shining. Good +luck! and up with you, for it is a glorious morning. + +The woods are glistening as fresh and fair as if they had been +new-created overnight. The water sparkles, and tiny waves are dancing +and splashing all along the shore. Scarlet berries of the mountain-ash +hang around the lake. A pair of kingfishers dart back and forth across +the bay, in flashes of living blue. A black eagle swings silently around +his circle, far up in the cloudless sky. The air is full of pleasant +sounds, but there is no noise. The world is full of joyful life, but +there is no crowd and no confusion. There is no factory chimney to +darken the day with its smoke, no trolley-car to split the silence with +its shriek and smite the indignant ear with the clanging of its impudent +bell. No lumberman's axe has robbed the encircling forests of their +glory of great trees. No fires have swept over the hills and left behind +them the desolation of a bristly landscape. All is fresh and sweet, calm +and clear and bright. + +'Twas rather a rude jest of Nature, that tempest of yesterday. But +if you have taken it in good part, you are all the more ready for her +caressing mood to-day. And now you must be off to get your dinner--not +to order it at a shop, but to look for it in the woods and waters. You +are ready to do your best with rod or gun. You will use all the skill +you have as hunter or fisherman. But what you shall find, and +whether you shall subsist on bacon and biscuit, or feast on trout and +partridges, is, after all, a matter of luck. + +I profess that it appears to me not only pleasant, but also salutary, to +be in this condition. It brings us home to the plain realities of life; +it teaches us that a man ought to work before he eats; it reminds us +that, after he has done all he can, he must still rely upon a mysterious +bounty for his daily bread. It says to us, in homely and familiar words, +that life was meant to be uncertain, that no man can tell what a day +will bring forth, and that it is the part of wisdom to be prepared for +disappointments and grateful for all kinds of small mercies. + +There is a story in that fragrant book, THE LITTLE FLOWERS OF ST. +FRANCIS, which I wish to transcribe here, without tying a moral to it, +lest any one should accuse me of preaching. + + +"Hence [says the quaint old chronicler], having assigned to his +companions the other parts of the world, St. Francis, taking Brother +Maximus as his comrade, set forth toward the province of France. And +coming one day to a certain town, and being very hungry, they begged +their bread as they went, according to the rule of their order, for the +love of God. And St. Francis went through one quarter of the town, and +Brother Maximus through another. But forasmuch as St. Francis was a man +mean and low of stature, and hence was reputed a vile beggar by such as +knew him not, he only received a few scanty crusts and mouthfuls of dry +bread. But to Brother Maximus, who was large and well favoured, were +given good pieces and big, and an abundance of bread, yea, whole loaves. +Having thus begged, they met together without the town to eat, at a +place where there was a clear spring and a fair large stone, upon which +each spread forth the gifts that he had received. And St. Francis, +seeing that the pieces of bread begged by Brother Maximus were bigger +and better than his own, rejoiced greatly, saying, 'Oh, Brother Maximus, +we are not worthy of so great a treasure.' As he repeated these words +many times, Brother Maximus made answer: 'Father, how can you talk of +treasures when there is such great poverty and such lack of all things +needful? Here is neither napkin nor knife, neither board nor trencher, +neither house nor table, neither man-servant nor maid-servant.' St. +Francis replied: 'And this is what I reckon a great treasure, where +naught is made ready by human industry, but all that is here is prepared +by Divine Providence, as is plainly set forth in the bread which we have +begged, in the table of fair stone, and in the spring of clear water. +And therefore I would that we should pray to God that He teach us with +all our hearts to love the treasure of holy poverty, which is so noble a +thing, and whose servant is God the Lord.'" + + +I know of but one fairer description of a repast in the open air; and +that is where we are told how certain poor fishermen, coming in very +weary after a night of toil (and one of them very wet after swimming +ashore), found their Master standing on the bank of the lake waiting for +them. But it seems that he must have been busy in their behalf while he +was waiting; for there was a bright fire of coals burning on the shore, +and a goodly fish broiling thereon, and bread to eat with it. And when +the Master had asked them about their fishing, he said, "Come, now, and +get your breakfast." So they sat down around the fire, and with his own +hands he served them with the bread and the fish. + +Of all the banquets that have ever been given upon earth, that is the +one in which I would rather have had a share. + +But it is now time that we should return to our fishing. And let +us observe with gratitude that almost all of the pleasures that are +connected with this pursuit--its accompaniments and variations, which +run along with the tune and weave an embroidery of delight around +it--have an accidental and gratuitous quality about them. They are not +to be counted upon beforehand. They are like something that is thrown +into a purchase by a generous and open-handed dealer, to make us pleased +with our bargain and inclined to come back to the same shop. + +If I knew, for example, before setting out for a day on the brook, +precisely what birds I should see, and what pretty little scenes in the +drama of woodland life were to be enacted before my eyes, the expedition +would lose more than half its charm. But, in fact, it is almost entirely +a matter of luck, and that is why it never grows tiresome. + +The ornithologist knows pretty well where to look for the birds, and +he goes directly to the places where he can find them, and proceeds to +study them intelligently and systematically. But the angler who idles +down the stream takes them as they come, and all his observations have a +flavour of surprise in them. + +He hears a familiar song,--one that he has often heard at a distance, +but never identified,--a loud, cheery, rustic cadence sounding from +a low pine-tree close beside him. He looks up carefully through the +needles and discovers a hooded warbler, a tiny, restless creature, +dressed in green and yellow, with two white feathers in its tail, like +the ends of a sash, and a glossy little black bonnet drawn closely about +its golden head. He will never forget that song again. It will make the +woods seem homelike to him, many a time, as he hears it ringing +through the afternoon, like the call of a small country girl playing at +hide-and-seek: "See ME; here I BE." + +Another day he sits down on a mossy log beside a cold, trickling spring +to eat his lunch. It has been a barren day for birds. Perhaps he has +fallen into the fault of pursuing his sport too intensely, and tramped +along the stream looking for nothing but fish. Perhaps this part of the +grove has really been deserted by its feathered inhabitants, scared +away by a prowling hawk or driven out by nest-hunters. But now, without +notice, the luck changes. A surprise-party of redstarts breaks into full +play around him. All through the dark-green shadow of the hemlocks +they flash like little candles--CANDELITAS, the Cubans call them. Their +brilliant markings of orange and black, and their fluttering, airy, +graceful movements, make them most welcome visitors. There is no bird in +the bush easier to recognize or pleasanter to watch. They run along +the branches and dart and tumble through the air in fearless chase of +invisible flies and moths. All the time they keep unfolding and furling +their rounded tails, spreading them out and waving them and closing +them suddenly, just as the Cuban girls manage their fans. In fact, the +redstarts are the tiny fantail pigeons of the forest. + +There are other things about the birds, besides their musical talents +and their good looks, that the fisherman has a chance to observe on his +lucky days. He may sea something of their courage and their devotion to +their young. + +I suppose a bird is the bravest creature that lives, in spite of its +natural timidity. From which we may learn that true courage is not +incompatible with nervousness, and that heroism does not mean the +absence of fear, but the conquest of it. Who does not remember the first +time that he ever came upon a hen-partridge with her brood, as he was +strolling through the woods in June? How splendidly the old bird forgets +herself in her efforts to defend and hide her young! + +Smaller birds are no less daring. One evening last summer I was walking +up the Ristigouche from Camp Harmony to fish for salmon at Mowett's +Rock, where my canoe was waiting for me. As I stepped out from a thicket +on to the shingly bank of the river, a spotted sandpiper teetered along +before me, followed by three young ones. Frightened at first, the mother +flew out a few feet over the water. But the piperlings could not fly, +having no feathers; and they crept under a crooked log. I rolled the log +over very gently and took one of the cowering creatures into my hand--a +tiny, palpitating scrap of life, covered with soft gray down, and +peeping shrilly, like a Liliputian chicken. And now the mother was +transformed. Her fear was changed into fury. She was a bully, a fighter, +an Amazon in feathers. She flew at me with loud cries, dashing herself +almost into my face. I was a tyrant, a robber, a kidnapper, and she +called heaven to witness that she would never give up her offspring +without a struggle. Then she changed her tactics and appealed to my +baser passions. She fell to the ground and fluttered around me as if her +wing were broken. "Look!" she seemed to say, "I am bigger than that poor +little baby. If you must eat something, eat me! My wing is lame. I can't +fly. You can easily catch me. Let that little bird go!" And so I +did; and the whole family disappeared in the bushes as if by magic. I +wondered whether the mother was saying to herself, after the manner of +her sex, that men are stupid things, after all, and no match for the +cleverness of a female who stoops to deception in a righteous cause. + +Now, that trivial experience was what I call a piece of good luck--for +me, and, in the event, for the sandpiper. But it is doubtful whether it +would be quite so fresh and pleasant in the remembrance, if it had not +also fallen to my lot to take two uncommonly good salmon on that same +evening, in a dry season. + +Never believe a fisherman when he tells you that he does not care about +the fish he catches. He may say that he angles only for the pleasure of +being out-of-doors, and that he is just as well contented when he takes +nothing as when he makes a good catch. He may think so, but it is not +true. He is not telling a deliberate falsehood. He is only assuming an +unconscious pose, and indulging in a delicate bit of self-flattery. Even +if it were true, it would not be at all to his credit. + +Watch him on that lucky day when he comes home with a full basket of +trout on his shoulder, or a quartette of silver salmon covered with +green branches in the bottom of the canoe. His face is broader than it +was when he went out, and there is a sparkle of triumph in his eye. +"It is naught, it is naught," he says, in modest depreciation of his +triumph. But you shall see that he lingers fondly about the place +where the fish are displayed upon the grass, and does not fail to look +carefully at the scales when they are weighed, and has an attentive ear +for the comments of admiring spectators. You shall find, moreover, that +he is not unwilling to narrate the story of the capture--how the big +fish rose short, four times, to four different flies, and finally took a +small Black Dose, and played all over the pool, and ran down a terribly +stiff rapid to the next pool below, and sulked for twenty minutes, and +had to be stirred up with stones, and made such a long fight that, when +he came in at last, the hold of the hook was almost worn through, and it +fell out of his mouth as he touched the shore. Listen to this tale as +it is told, with endless variations, by every man who has brought home +a fine fish, and you will perceive that the fisherman does care for his +luck, after all. + +And why not? I am no friend to the people who receive the bounties of +Providence without visible gratitude. When the sixpence falls into your +hat, you may laugh. When the messenger of an unexpected blessing takes +you by the hand and lifts you up and bids you walk, you may leap and run +and sing for joy, even as the lame man, whom St. Peter healed, skipped +piously and rejoiced aloud as he passed through the Beautiful Gate of +the Temple. There is no virtue in solemn indifference. Joy is just as +much a duty as beneficence is. Thankfulness is the other side of mercy. + +When you have good luck in anything, you ought to be glad. Indeed, if +you are not glad, you are not really lucky. + +But boasting and self-glorification I would have excluded, and most +of all from the behaviour of the angler. He, more than other men, is +dependent for his success upon the favour of an unseen benefactor. Let +his skill and industry be never so great, he can do nothing unless LA +BONNE CHANCE comes to him. + +I was once fishing on a fair little river, the P'tit Saguenay, with two +excellent anglers and pleasant companions, H. E. G---- and C. S. D----. +They had done all that was humanly possible to secure good sport. The +stream had been well preserved. They had boxes full of beautiful flies, +and casting-lines imported from England, and a rod for every fish in the +river. But the weather was "dour," and the water "drumly," and every day +the lumbermen sent a "drive" of ten thousand spruce logs rushing down +the flooded stream. For three days we had not seen a salmon, and on the +fourth, despairing, we went down to angle for sea-trout in the tide of +the greater Saguenay. There, in the salt water, where men say the salmon +never take the fly, H. E. G----, fishing with a small trout-rod, a poor, +short line, and an ancient red ibis of the common kind, rose and hooked +a lordly salmon of at least five-and-thirty pounds. Was not this pure +luck? + +Pride is surely the most unbecoming of all vices in a fisherman. For +though intelligence and practice and patience and genius, and many +other noble things which modesty forbids him to mention, enter into his +pastime, so that it is, as Izaak Walton has firmly maintained, an art; +yet, because fortune still plays a controlling hand in the game, its net +results should never be spoken of with a haughty and vain spirit. Let +not the angler imitate Timoleon, who boasted of his luck and lost it. It +is tempting Providence to print the record of your wonderful catches in +the sporting newspapers; or at least, if it must be done, there should +stand at the head of the column some humble, thankful motto, like "NON +NOBIS, DOMINE." Even Father Izaak, when he has a fish on his line, says, +with a due sense of human limitations, "There is a trout now, and a good +one too, IF I CAN BUT HOLD HIM!" + +This reminds me that we left H. E. G----, a few sentences back, playing +his unexpected salmon, on a trout-rod, in the Saguenay. Four times that +great fish leaped into the air; twice he suffered the pliant reed to +guide him toward the shore, and twice ran out again to deeper water. +Then his spirit awoke within him: he bent the rod like a willow wand, +dashed toward the middle of the river, broke the line as if it had been +pack-thread, and sailed triumphantly away to join the white porpoises +that were tumbling in the tide. "WHE-E-EW," they said, "WHE-E-EW! +PSHA-A-AW!" blowing out their breath in long, soft sighs as they rolled +about like huge snowballs in the black water. But what did H. E. G---- +say? He sat him quietly down upon a rock and reeled in the remnant +of his line, uttering these remarkable and Christian words: "Those +porpoises," said he, "describe the situation rather mildly. But it was +good fun while it lasted." + +Again I remembered a saying of Walton: "Well, Scholar, you must endure +worse luck sometimes, or you will never make a good angler." + +Or a good man, either, I am sure. For he who knows only how to enjoy, +and not to endure, is ill-fitted to go down the stream of life through +such a world as this. + +I would not have you to suppose, gentle reader, that in discoursing of +fisherman's luck I have in mind only those things which may be taken +with a hook. It is a parable of human experience. I have been thinking, +for instance, of Walton's life as well as of his angling: of the losses +and sufferings that he, the firm Royalist, endured when the Commonwealth +men came marching into London town; of the consoling days that were +granted to him, in troublous times, on the banks of the Lea and the Dove +and the New River, and the good friends that he made there, with whom +he took sweet counsel in adversity; of the little children who played +in his house for a few years, and then were called away into the silent +land where he could hear their voices no longer. I was thinking how +quietly and peaceably he lived through it all, not complaining nor +desponding, but trying to do his work well, whether he was keeping a +shop or writing hooks, and seeking to prove himself an honest man and +a cheerful companion, and never scorning to take with a thankful heart +such small comforts and recreations as came to him. + +It is a plain, homely, old-fashioned meditation, reader, but not +unprofitable. When I talk to you of fisherman's luck, I do not forget +that there are deeper things behind it. I remember that what we call our +fortunes, good or ill, are but the wise dealings and distributions of a +Wisdom higher, and a Kindness greater, than our own. And I suppose that +their meaning is that we should learn, by all the uncertainties of our +life, even the smallest, how to be brave and steady and temperate and +hopeful, whatever comes, because we believe that behind it all there +lies a purpose of good, and over it all there watches a providence of +blessing. + +In the school of life many branches of knowledge are taught. But the +only philosophy that amounts to anything, after all, is just the secret +of making friends with our luck. + + + + +THE THRILLING MOMENT + + + "In angling, as in all other recreations into which + excitement enters, we have to be on our guard, so that we + can at any moment throw a weight of self-control into the + scale against misfortune; and happily we can study to some + purpose, both to increase our pleasure in success and to + lessen our distress caused by what goes ill. It is not only + in cases of great disasters, however, that the angler needs + self-control. He is perpetually called upon to use it to + withstand small exasperations." + + --SIR EDWARD GREY: Fly-Fishing. + + +Every moment of life, I suppose, is more or less of a turning-point. +Opportunities are swarming around us all the time, thicker than gnats +at sundown. We walk through a cloud of chances, and if we were always +conscious of them they would worry us almost to death. + +But happily our sense of uncertainty is soothed and cushioned by habit, +so that we can live comfortably with it. Only now and then, by way of +special excitement, it starts up wide awake. We perceive how delicately +our fortune is poised and balanced on the pivot of a single incident. We +get a peep at the oscillating needle, and, because we have happened to +see it tremble, we call our experience a crisis. + +The meditative angler is not exempt from these sensational periods. +There are times when all the uncertainty of his chosen pursuit seems +to condense itself into one big chance, and stand out before him like +a salmon on the top wave of a rapid. He sees that his luck hangs by a +single strand, and he cannot tell whether it will hold or break. This is +his thrilling moment, and he never forgets it. + +Mine came to me in the autumn of 1894, on the banks of the +Unpronounceable River, in the Province of Quebec. It was the last day, +of the open season for ouananiche, and we had set our hearts on catching +some good fish to take home with us. We walked up from the mouth of +the river, four preposterously long and rough miles, to the famous +fishing-pool, "LA PLACE DE PECHE A BOIVIN." It was a noble day for +walking; the air was clear and crisp, and all the hills around us +were glowing with the crimson foliage of those little bushes which +God created to make burned lands look beautiful. The trail ended in +a precipitous gully, down which we scrambled with high hopes, and +fishing-rods unbroken, only to find that the river was in a condition +which made angling absurd if not impossible. + +There must have been a cloud-burst among the mountains, for the water +was coming down in flood. The stream was bank-full, gurgling and eddying +out among the bushes, and rushing over the shoal where the fish used to +lie, in a brown torrent ten feet deep. Our last day with the land-locked +salmon seemed destined to be a failure, and we must wait eight +months before we could have another. There were three of us in the +disappointment, and we shared it according to our temperaments. + +Paul virtuously resolved not to give up while there was a chance left, +and wandered down-stream to look for an eddy where he might pick up a +small fish. Ferdinand, our guide, resigned himself without a sigh to +the consolation of eating blueberries, which he always did with great +cheerfulness. But I, being more cast down than either of my comrades, +sought out a convenient seat among the rocks, and, adapting my anatomy +as well as possible to the irregularities of nature's upholstery, pulled +from my pocket AN AMATEUR ANGLER'S DAYS IN DOVE DALE, and settled down +to read myself into a Christian frame of mind. + +Before beginning, my eyes roved sadly over the pool once more. It +was but a casual glance. It lasted only for an instant. But in that +fortunate fragment of time I distinctly saw the broad tail of a big +ouananiche rise and disappear in the swift water at the very head of the +pool. + +Immediately the whole aspect of affairs was changed. Despondency +vanished, and the river glittered with the beams of rising hope. + +Such is the absurd disposition of some anglers. They never see a fish +without believing that they can catch him; but if they see no fish, they +are inclined to think that the river is empty and the world hollow. + +I said nothing to my companions. It would have been unkind to disturb +them with expectations which might never be realized. My immediate duty +was to get within casting distance of that salmon as soon as possible. + +The way along the shore of the pool was difficult. The bank was very +steep, and the rocks by the river's edge were broken and glibbery. +Presently I came to a sheer wall of stone, perhaps thirty feet high, +rising directly from the deep water. + +There was a tiny ledge or crevice running part of the way across the +face of this wall, and by this four-inch path I edged along, holding +my rod in one hand, and clinging affectionately with the other to such +clumps of grass and little bushes as I could find. There was one +small huckleberry plant to which I had a particular attachment. It was +fortunately a firm little bush, and as I held fast to it I remembered +Tennyson's poem which begins + + + "Flower in the crannied wall," + + +and reflected that if I should succeed in plucking out this flower, +"root and all," it would probably result in an even greater increase of +knowledge than the poet contemplated. + +The ledge in the rock now came to an end. But below me in the pool there +was a sunken reef; and on this reef a long log had caught, with one +end sticking out of the water, within jumping distance. It was the only +chance. To go back would have been dangerous. An angler with a large +family dependent upon him for support has no right to incur unnecessary +perils. + +Besides, the fish was waiting for me at the upper end of the pool! + +So I jumped; landed on the end of the log; felt it settle slowly down; +ran along it like a small boy on a seesaw, and leaped off into shallow +water just as the log rolled from the ledge and lunged out into the +stream. + +It went wallowing through the pool and down the rapid like a playful +hippopotamus. I watched it with interest and congratulated myself that +I was no longer embarked upon it. On that craft a voyage down the +Unpronounceable River would have been short but far from merry. The "all +ashore" bell was not rung early enough. I just got off, with not half a +second to spare. + +But now all was well, for I was within reach of the fish. A little +scrambling over the rocks brought me to a point where I could easily +cast over him. He was lying in a swift, smooth, narrow channel between +two large stones. It was a snug resting-place, and no doubt he would +remain there for some time. So I took out my fly-book and prepared to +angle for him according to the approved rules of the art. + +Nothing is more foolish in sport than the habit of precipitation. +And yet it is a fault to which I am singularly subject. As a boy, in +Brooklyn, I never came in sight of the Capitoline Skating Pond, after a +long ride in the horse-cars, without breaking into a run along the board +walk, buckling on my skates in a furious hurry, and flinging myself +impetuously upon the ice, as if I feared that it would melt away before +I could reach it. Now this, I confess, is a grievous defect, which +advancing years have not entirely cured; and I found it necessary to +take myself firmly, as it were, by the mental coat-collar, and +resolve not to spoil the chance of catching the only ouananiche in the +Unpronounceable River by undue haste in fishing for him. + +I carefully tested a brand-new leader, and attached it to the line with +great deliberation and the proper knot. Then I gave my whole mind to the +important question of a wise selection of flies. + +It is astonishing how much time and mental anxiety a man can spend on +an apparently simple question like this. When you are buying flies in a +shop it seems as if you never had half enough. You keep on picking out +a half-dozen of each new variety as fast as the enticing salesman shows +them to you. You stroll through the streets of Montreal or Quebec and +drop in at every fishing-tackle dealer's to see whether you can find a +few more good flies. Then, when you come to look over your collection at +the critical moment on the bank of a stream, it seems as if you had ten +times too many. And, spite of all, the precise fly that you need is not +there. + +You select a couple that you think fairly good, lay them down beside you +in the grass, and go on looking through the book for something better. +Failing to satisfy yourself, you turn to pick up those that you have +laid out, and find that they have mysteriously vanished from the face of +the earth. + +Then you struggle with naughty words and relapse into a condition of +mental palsy. + +Precipitation is a fault. But deliberation, for a person of precipitate +disposition, is a vice. + +The best thing to do in such a case is to adopt some abstract theory of +action without delay, and put it into practice without hesitation. Then +if you fail, you can throw the responsibility on the theory. + +Now, in regard to flies there are two theories. The old, conservative +theory is, that on a bright day you should use a dark, dull fly, because +it is less conspicuous. So I followed that theory first and put on a +Great Dun and a Dark Montreal. I cast them delicately over the fish, but +he would not look at them. + +Then I perverted myself to the new, radical theory which says that on a +bright day you must use a light, gay fly, because it is more in harmony +with the sky, and therefore less noticeable. Accordingly I put on a +Professor and a Parmacheene Belle; but this combination of learning and +beauty had no attraction for the ouananiche. + +Then I fell back on a theory of my own, to the effect that the +ouananiche have an aversion to red, and prefer yellow and brown. So I +tried various combinations of flies in which these colours predominated. + +Then I abandoned all theories and went straight through my book, trying +something from every page, and winding up with that lure which the +guides consider infallible,--"a Jock o' Scott that cost fifty cents at +Quebec." But it was all in vain. I was ready to despair. + +At this psychological moment I heard behind me a voice of hope,--the +song of a grasshopper: not one of those fat-legged, green-winged +imbeciles that feebly tumble in the summer fields, but a game +grasshopper,--one of those thin-shanked, brown-winged fellows that leap +like kangaroos, and fly like birds, and sing KRI-KAREE-KAREE-KRI in +their flight. + +It is not really a song, I know, but it sounds like one; and, if you had +heard that Kri-karee carolling as I chased him over the rocks, you would +have been sure that he was mocking me. + +I believed that he was the predestined lure for that ouananiche; but it +was hard to persuade him to fulfill his destiny. I slapped at him +with my hat, but he was not there. I grasped at him on the bushes, and +brought away "nothing but leaves." At last he made his way to the very +edge of the water and poised himself on a stone, with his legs well +tucked in for a long leap and a bold flight to the other side of the +river. It was my final opportunity. I made a desperate grab at it and +caught the grasshopper. + +My premonition proved to be correct. When that Kri-karee, invisibly +attached to my line, went floating down the stream, the ouananiche was +surprised. It was the fourteenth of September, and he had supposed the +grasshopper season was over. The unexpected temptation was too strong +for him. He rose with a rush, and in an instant I was fast to the best +land-locked salmon of the year. + +But the situation was not without its embarrassments. My rod weighed +only four and a quarter ounces; the fish weighed between six and seven +pounds. The water was furious and headstrong. I had only thirty yards of +line and no landing-net. + +"HOLA! FERDINAND!" I cried. "APPORTE LA NETTE, VITE! A BEAUTY! HURRY +UP!" + +I thought it must be an hour while he was making his way over the hill, +through the underbrush, around the cliff. Again and again the fish ran +out my line almost to the last turn. A dozen times he leaped from the +water, shaking his silvery sides. Twice he tried to cut the leader +across a sunken ledge. But at last he was played out, and came in +quietly towards the point of the rock. At the same moment Ferdinand +appeared with the net. + +Now, the use of the net is really the most difficult part of angling. +And Ferdinand is the best netsman in the Lake St. John country. He never +makes the mistake of trying to scoop a fish in motion. He does not grope +around with aimless, futile strokes as if he were feeling for something +in the dark. He does not entangle the dropper-fly in the net and tear +the tail-fly out of the fish's mouth. He does not get excited. + +He quietly sinks the net in the water, and waits until he can see the +fish distinctly, lying perfectly still and within reach. Then he makes a +swift movement, like that of a mower swinging the scythe, takes the fish +into the net head-first, and lands him without a slip. + +I felt sure that Ferdinand was going to do the trick in precisely this +way with my ouananiche. Just at the right instant he made one quick, +steady swing of the arms, and--the head of the net broke clean off the +handle and went floating away with the fish in it! + +All seemed to be lost. But Ferdinand was equal to the occasion. He +seized a long, crooked stick that lay in a pile of driftwood on the +shore, sprang into the water up to his waist, caught the net as it +drifted past, and dragged it to land, with the ultimate ouananiche, the +prize of the season, still glittering through its meshes. + +This is the story of my most thrilling moment as an angler. + +But which was the moment of the deepest thrill? + +Was it when the huckleberry bush saved me from a watery grave, or when +the log rolled under my feet and started down the river? Was it when the +fish rose, or when the net broke, or when the long stick captured it? + +No, it was none of these. It was when the Kri-karee sat with his legs +tucked under him on the brink of the stream. That was the turning-point. +The fortunes of the day depended on the comparative quickness of the +reflex action of his neural ganglia and mine. That was the thrilling +moment. + +I see it now. A crisis is really the commonest thing in the world. The +reason why life sometimes seems dull to us is because we do not perceive +the importance and the excitement of getting bait. + + + + +TALKABILITY + +A PRELUDE AND THEME WITH VARIATIONS + + + "He praises a meditative life, and with evident sincerity: + but we feel that he liked nothing so well as good talk." + + --JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL: Walton. + + + + +I. PRELUDE--ON AN OLD, FOOLISH MAXIM + + +The inventor of the familiar maxim that "fishermen must not talk" is +lost in the mists of antiquity, and well deserves his fate. For a more +foolish rule, a conventionality more obscure and aimless in its tyranny, +was never imposed upon an innocent and honourable occupation, to +diminish its pleasure and discount its profits. Why, in the name of all +that is genial, should anglers go about their harmless sport in stealthy +silence like conspirators, or sit together in a boat, dumb, glum, and +penitential, like naughty schoolboys on the bench of disgrace? 'Tis +an Omorcan superstition; a rule without a reason; a venerable, idiotic +fashion invented to repress lively spirits and put a premium on +stupidity. + +For my part, I incline rather to the opinion of the Neapolitan fishermen +who maintain that a certain amount of noise, of certain kinds, is likely +to improve the fishing, and who have a particular song, very sweet +and charming, which they sing to draw the fishes around them. It is +narrated, likewise, of the good St. Brandan, that on his notable voyage +from Ireland in search of Paradise, he chanted the service for St. +Peter's day so pleasantly that a subaqueous audience of all sorts and +sizes was attracted, insomuch that the other monks began to be afraid, +and begged the abbot that he would sing a little lower, for they were +not quite sure of the intention of the congregation. Of St. Anthony of +Padua it is said that he even succeeded in persuading the fishes, in +great multitudes, to listen to a sermon; and that when it was ended +(it must be noted that it was both short and cheerful) they bowed their +heads and moved their bodies up and down with every mark of fondness and +approval of what the holy father had spoken. + +If we can believe this, surely we need not be incredulous of things +which seem to be no less, but rather more, in harmony with the course +of nature. Creatures who are sensible to the attractions of a sermon can +hardly be indifferent to the charm of other kinds of discourse. I can +easily imagine a company of grayling wishing to overhear a conversation +between I. W. and his affectionate (but somewhat prodigal) son and +servant, Charles Cotton; and surely every intelligent salmon in Scotland +might have been glad to hear Christopher North and the Ettrick +Shepherd bandy jests and swap stories. As for trout,--was there one in +Massachusetts that would not have been curious to listen to the +intimate opinions of Daniel Webster as he loafed along the banks of +the Marshpee,--or is there one in Pennsylvania to-day that might not be +drawn with interest and delight to the feet of Joseph Jefferson, +telling how he conceived and wrote RIP VAN WINKLE on the banks of a +trout-stream? + +Fishermen must be silent? On the contrary, it is far more likely that +good talk may promote good fishing. + +All this, however, goes upon the assumption that fish can hear, in +the proper sense of the word. And this, it must be confessed, is an +assumption not yet fully verified. Experienced anglers and students of +fishy ways are divided upon the question. It is beyond a doubt that all +fishes, except the very lowest forms, have ears. But then so have all +men; and yet we have the best authority for believing that there are +many who "having ears, hear not." + +The ears of fishes, for the most part, are inclosed in their skull, and +have no outward opening. Water conveys sound, as every country boy +knows who has tried the experiment of diving to the bottom of the +swimming-hole and knocking two big stones together. But I doubt whether +any country boy, engaged in this interesting scientific experiment, has +heard the conversation of his friends on the bank who were engaged in +hiding his clothes. + +There are many curious and more or less venerable stories to the effect +that fishes may be trained to assemble at the ringing of a bell or the +beating of a drum. Lucian, a writer of the second century, tells of a +certain lake wherein many sacred fishes were kept, of which the largest +had names given to them, and came when they were called. But Lucian +was not a man of especially good reputation, and there is an air of +improbability about his statement that the LARGEST fishes came. This is +not the custom of the largest fishes. + +In the present century there was a tale of an eel in a garden-well, in +Scotland, which would come to be fed out of a spoon when the children +called him by his singularly inappropriate name of Rob Roy. This seems +a more likely story than Lucian's; at all events it comes from a more +orthodox atmosphere. But before giving it full credence, I should like +to know whether the children, when they called "Rob Roy!" stood where +the eel could see the spoon. + +On the other side of the question, we may quote Mr. Ronalds, also a +Scotchman, and the learned author of THE FLY-FISHER'S ENTOMOLOGY, who +conducted a series of experiments which proved that even trout, the most +fugacious of fish, are not in the least disturbed by the discharge of a +gun, provided the flash is concealed. Mr. Henry P. Wells, the author of +THE AMERICAN SALMON ANGLER, says that he has "never been able to make a +sound in the air which seemed to produce the slightest effect upon trout +in the water." + +So the controversy on the hearing of fishes continues, and the +conclusion remains open. Every man is at liberty to embrace that side +which pleases him best. You may think that the finny tribes are as +sensitive to sound as Fine Ear, in the German fairy-tale, who could hear +the grass grow. Or you may hold the opposite opinion, that they are + + + "Deafer than the blue-eyed cat." + + +But whichever theory you adopt, in practice, if you are a wise +fisherman, you will steer a middle course, between one thing which must +be left undone and another thing which should be done. You will refrain +from stamping on the bank, or knocking on the side of the boat, or +dragging the anchor among the stones on the bottom; for when the water +vibrates the fish are likely to vanish. But you will indulge as freely +as you please in pleasant discourse with your comrade; for it is certain +that fishing is never hindered, and may even be helped, in one way or +another, by good talk. + +I should therefore have no hesitation in advising any one to choose, for +companionship on an angling expedition, long or short, a person who has +the rare merit of being TALKABLE. + + + + +II. THEME--ON A SMALL, USEFUL VIRTUE + + +"Talkable" is not a new adjective. But it needs a new definition, and +the complement of a corresponding noun. I would fain set down on paper +some observations and reflections which may serve to make its meaning +clear, and render due praise to that most excellent quality in man +or woman,--especially in anglers,--the small but useful virtue of +TALKABILITY. + +Robert Louis Stevenson uses the word "talkable" in one of his essays +to denote a certain distinction among the possible subjects of human +speech. There are some things, he says in effect, about which you can +really talk; and there are other things about which you cannot properly +talk at all, but only dispute, or harangue, or prose, or moralize, or +chatter. + +After mature consideration I have arrived at the opinion that this +distinction among the themes of speech is an illusion. It does not +exist. All subjects, "the foolish things of the world, and the weak +things of the world, and base things of the world, yea, and things that +are not," may provide matter for good talk, if only the right people are +engaged in the enterprise. I know a man who can make a description of +the weather as entertaining as a tune on the violin; and even on the +threadbare theme of the waywardness of domestic servants, I have heard a +discreet woman play the most diverting and instructive variations. + +No, the quality of talkability does not mark a distinction among things; +it denotes a difference among people. It is not an attribute unequally +distributed among material objects and abstract ideas. It is a virtue +which belongs to the mind and moral character of certain persons. It +is a reciprocal human quality; active as well as passive; a power of +bestowing and receiving. + +An amiable person is one who has a capacity for loving and being loved. +An affable person is one who is ready to speak and to be spoken to,--as, +for example, Milton's "affable archangel" Raphael; though it must be +confessed that he laid the chief emphasis on the active side of his +affability. A "clubable" person (to use a word which Dr. Samuel Johnson +invented but did not put into his dictionary) is one who is fit for the +familiar give and take of club-life. A talkable person, therefore, is +one whose nature and disposition invite the easy interchange of thoughts +and feelings, one in whose company it is a pleasure to talk or to be +talked to. + +Now this good quality of talkability is to be distinguished, very +strictly and inflexibly, from the bad quality which imitates it and +often brings it into discredit. I mean the vice of talkativeness. That +is a selfish, one-sided, inharmonious affair, full of discomfort, and +productive of most unchristian feelings. + +You may observe the operations of this vice not only in human beings, +but also in birds. All the birds in the bush can make some kind of a +noise; and most of them like to do it; and some of them like it a great +deal and do it very much. But it is not always for edification, nor are +the most vociferous and garrulous birds commonly the most pleasing. A +parrot, for instance, in your neighbour's back yard, in the summer time, +when the windows are open, is not an aid to the development of Christian +character. I knew a man who had to stay in the city all summer, and in +the autumn was asked to describe the character and social standing of +a new family that had moved into his neighbourhood. Were they "nice +people," well-bred, intelligent, respectable? "Well," said he, "I don't +know what your standards are, and would prefer not to say anything +libellous; but I'll tell you in a word,--they are the kind of people +that keep a parrot." + +Then there is the English Sparrow! What an insufferable chatterbox, +what an incurable scold, what a voluble and tiresome blackguard is this +little feathered cockney. There is not a sweet or pleasant word in all +his vocabulary. + +I am convinced that he talks altogether of scandals and fights and +street-sweepings. + +The kingdom of ornithology is divided into two departments,--real birds +and English sparrows. English sparrows are not real birds; they are +little beasts. + +There was a church in Brooklyn which was once covered with a great and +spreading vine, in which the sparrows built innumerable nests. These +ungodly little birds kept up such a din that it was impossible to hear +the service of the sanctuary. The faithful clergy strained their voices +to the verge of ministerial sore throat, but the people had no peace in +their devotions until the vine was cut down, and the Anglican intruders +were evicted. + +A talkative person is like an English sparrow,--a bird that cannot +sing, and will sing, and ought to be persuaded not to try to sing. But +a talkable person has the gift that belongs to the wood thrush and +the veery and the wren, the oriole and the white-throat and the +rose-breasted grosbeak, the mockingbird and the robin (sometimes); and +the brown thrush; yes, the brown thrush has it to perfection, if you can +catch him alone,--the gift of being interesting, charming, delightful, +in the most off-hand and various modes of utterance. + +Talkability is not at all the same thing as eloquence. The eloquent man +surprises, overwhelms, and sometimes paralyzes us by the display of his +power. Great orators are seldom good talkers. Oratory in exercise is +masterful and jealous, and intolerant of all interruptions. Oratory in +preparation is silent, self-centred, uncommunicative. The painful +truth of this remark may be seen in the row of countenances along the +president's table at a public banquet about nine o'clock in the evening. +The bicycle-face seems unconstrained and merry by comparison with +the after-dinner-speech-face. The flow of table-talk is corked by the +anxious conception of post-prandial oratory. + +Thackeray, in one of his ROUNDABOUT PAPERS, speaks of "the sin +of tall-talking," which, he says, "is the sin of schoolmasters, +governesses, critics, sermoners, and instructors of young or old +people." But this is not in accord with my observation. I should say it +was rather the sin of dilettanti who are ambitious of that high-stepping +accomplishment which is called "conversational ability." + +This has usually, to my mind, something set and artificial about it, +although in its most perfect form the art almost succeeds in concealing +itself. But, at all events, ''conversation'' is talk in evening dress, +with perhaps a little powder and a touch of rouge. 'T is like one of +those wise virgins who are said to look their best by lamplight. And +doubtless this is an excellent thing, and not without its advantages. +But for my part, commend me to one who loses nothing by the early +morning illumination,--one who brings all her attractions with her when +she comes down to breakfast,--she is a very pleasant maid. + +Talk is that form of human speech which is exempt from all duties, +foreign and domestic. It is the nearest thing in the world to thinking +and feeling aloud. It is necessarily not for publication,--solely an +evidence of good faith and mutual kindness. You tell me what you have +seen and what you are thinking about, because you take it for granted +that it will interest and entertain me; and you listen to my replies and +the recital of my adventures and opinions, because you know I like +to tell them, and because you find something in them, of one kind or +another, that you care to hear. It is a nice game, with easy, simple +rules, and endless possibilities of variation. And if we go into it +with the right spirit, and play it for love, without heavy stakes, the +chances are that if we happen to be fairly talkable people we shall have +one of the best things in the world,--a mighty good talk. + +What is there in this anxious, hide-bound, tiresome existence of ours, +more restful and remunerative? Montaigne says, "The use of it is more +sweet than of any other action of life; and for that reason it is that, +if I were compelled to choose, I should sooner, I think, consent to lose +my sight than my hearing and speech." The very aimlessness with which +it proceeds, the serene disregard of all considerations of profit and +propriety with which it follows its wandering course, and brings up +anywhere or nowhere, to camp for the night, is one of its attractions. +It is like a day's fishing, not valuable chiefly for the fish you bring +home, but for the pleasant country through which it leads you, and the +state of personal well-being and health in which it leaves you, warmed, +and cheered, and content with life and friendship. + +The order in which you set out upon a talk, the path which you pursue, +the rules which you observe or disregard, make but little difference +in the end. You may follow the advice of Immanuel Kant if you like, and +begin with the weather and the roads, and go on to current events, and +wind up with history, art, and philosophy. Or you may reverse the order +if you prefer, like that admirable talker Clarence King, who usually set +sail on some highly abstract paradox, such as "Civilization is a nervous +disease," and landed in a tale of adventure in Mexico or the Rocky +Mountains. Or you may follow the example of Edward Eggleston, who +started in at the middle and worked out at either end, and sometimes at +both. It makes no difference. If the thing is in you at all, you will +find good matter for talk anywhere along the route. Hear what Montaigne +says again: "In our discourse all subjects are alike to me; let there +be neither weight nor depth, 't is all one; there is yet grace and +pertinence; all there is tented with a mature and constant judgment, and +mixed with goodness, freedom, gayety, and friendship." + +How close to the mark the old essayist sends his arrow! He is right +about the essential qualities of good talk. They are not merely +intellectual. They are moral. Goodness of heart, freedom of spirit, +gayety of temper, and friendliness of disposition,--these are four fine +things, and doubtless as acceptable to God as they are agreeable to men. +The talkability which springs out of these qualities has its roots in a +good soil. On such a plant one need not look for the poison berries of +malign discourse, nor for the Dead Sea apples of frivolous mockery. +But fair fruit will be there, pleasant to the sight and good for food, +brought forth abundantly according to the season. + + + + +III. VARIATIONS--ON A PLEASANT PHRASE FROM MONTAIGNE + + +Montaigne has given as our text, "Goodness, freedom, gayety, and +friendship,"--these are the conditions which produce talkability. And +on this fourfold theme we may embroider a few variations, by way of +exposition and enlargement. + +GOODNESS is the first thing and the most needful. An ugly, envious, +irritable disposition is not fitted for talk. The occasions for offence +are too numerous, and the way into strife is too short and easy. A +touch of good-natured combativeness, a fondness for brisk argument, a +readiness to try a friendly bout with any comer, on any ground, is a +decided advantage in a talker. It breaks up the offensive monotony of +polite concurrence, and makes things lively. But quarrelsomeness is +quite another affair, and very fatal. + +I am always a little uneasy in a discourse with the Reverend Bellicosus +Macduff. It is like playing golf on links liable to earthquakes. One +never knows when the landscape will be thrown into convulsions. Macduff +has a tendency to regard a difference of opinion as a personal insult. +If he makes a bad stroke he seems to think that the way to retrieve it +is to deliver the next one on the head of the other player. He does +not tarry for the invitation to lay on; and before you know what has +happened you find yourself in a position where you are obliged to cry, +"Hold, enough!" and to be liberally damned without any bargain to that +effect. This is discouraging, and calculated to make one wish that human +intercourse might be put, as far as Macduff is concerned, upon the gold +basis of silence. + +On the other hand, what a delight it was to talk with that old worthy, +Chancellor Howard Crosby. He was a fighting man for four or five +generations hack, Dutch on one side, English on the other. But there was +not one little drop of gall in his blood. His opinions were fixed to a +degree; he loved to do battle for them; he never changed them--at least +never in the course of the same discussion. He admired and respected +a gallant adversary, and urged him on, with quips and puns and daring +assaults and unqualified statements, to do his best. Easy victories were +not to his taste. Even if he joined with you in laying out some common +falsehood for burial, you might be sure that before the affair was +concluded there would be every prospect of what an Irishman would call +"an elegant wake." If you stood up against him on one of his favorite +subjects of discussion you must be prepared for hot work. You would have +to take off your coat. But when the combat was over he would be the man +to help you on with it again; and you would walk home together arm in +arm, through the twilight, smoking the pipe of peace. Talk like that +does good. It quickens the beating of the heart, and leaves no scars +upon it. + +But this manly spirit, which loves + + + "To drink delight of battle with its peers," + + +is a very different thing from that mean, bad, hostile temper which +loves to inflict wounds and injuries just for the sake of showing power, +and which is never so happy as when it is making some one wince. There +are such people in the world, and sometimes their brilliancy tempts us +to forget their malignancy. But to have much converse with them is as if +we should make playmates of rattlesnakes for their grace of movement and +swiftness of stroke. + +I knew a man once (I will not name him even with an initial) who was +malignant to the core. Learned, industrious, accomplished, he kept +all his talents at the service of a perfect genius for hatred. If you +crossed his path but once, he would never cease to curse you. The grave +might close over you, but he would revile your epitaph and mock at your +memory. It was not even necessary that you should do anything to incur +his enmity. It was enough to be upright and sincere and successful, to +waken the wrath of this Shimei. Integrity was an offence to him, and +excellence of any kind filled him with spleen. There was no good cause +within his horizon that he did not give a bad word to, and no decent +man in the community whom he did not try either to use or to abuse. To +listen to him or to read what he had written was to learn to think a +little worse of every one that he mentioned, and worst of all of him. He +had the air of a gentleman, the vocabulary of a scholar, the style of a +Junius, and the heart of a Thersites. + +Talk, in such company, is impossible. The sense of something evil, +lurking beneath the play of wit, is like the knowledge that there are +snakes in the grass. Every step must be taken with fear. But the +real pleasure of a walk through the meadow comes from the feeling of +security, of ease, of safe and happy abandon to the mood of the moment. +This ungirdled and unguarded felicity in mutual discourse depends, after +all, upon the assurance of real goodness in your companion. I do not +mean a stiff impeccability of conduct. Prudes and Pharisees are poor +comrades. I mean simply goodness of heart, the wholesome, generous, +kindly quality which thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity, hopeth +all things, endureth all things, and wisheth well to all men. Where you +feel this quality you can let yourself go, in the ease of hearty talk. + +FREEDOM is the second note that Montaigne strikes, and it is essential +to the harmony of talking. Very careful, prudent, precise persons are +seldom entertaining in familiar speech. They are like tennis players in +too fine clothes. They think more of their costume than of the game. + +A mania for absolutely correct pronunciation is fatal. The people who +are afflicted with this painful ailment are as anxious about their +utterance as dyspeptics about their diet. They move through their +sentences as delicately as Agag walked. Their little airs of nicety, +their starched cadences and frilled phrases seem as if they had just +been taken out of a literary bandbox. If perchance you happen to +misplace an accent, you shall see their eyebrows curl up like an +interrogation mark, and they will ask you what authority you have +for that pronunciation. As if, forsooth, a man could not talk without +book-license! As if he must have a permit from some dusty lexicon before +he can take a good word into his mouth and speak it out like the people +with whom he has lived! + +The truth is that the man who is very particular not to commit himself, +in pronunciation or otherwise, and talks as if his remarks were being +taken down in shorthand, and shudders at the thought of making a +mistake, will hardly be able to open your heart or let out the best that +is in his own. + +Reserve and precision are a great protection to overrated reputations; +but they are death to talk. + +In talk it is not correctness of grammar nor elegance of enunciation +that charms us; it is spirit, VERVE, the sudden turn of humour, the +keen, pungent taste of life. For this reason a touch of dialect, a +flavour of brogue, is delightful. Any dialect is classic that has +conveyed beautiful thoughts. Who that ever talked with the poet +Tennyson, when he let himself go, over the pipes, would miss the savour +of his broad-rolling Lincolnshire vowels, now heightening the humour, +now deepening the pathos, of his genuine manly speech? There are many +good stories lingering in the memories of those who knew Dr. James +McCosh, the late president of Princeton University,--stories too good, I +fear, to get into a biography; but the best of them, in print, would not +have the snap and vigour of the poorest of them, in talk, with his own +inimitable Scotch-Irish brogue to set it forth. + +A brogue is not a fault. It is a beauty, an heirloom, a distinction. A +local accent is like a landed inheritance; it marks a man's place in the +world, tells where he comes from. Of course it is possible to have too +much of it. A man does not need to carry the soil of his whole farm +around with him on his boots. But, within limits, the accent of a native +region is delightful. 'T is the flavour of heather in the grouse, +the taste of wild herbs and evergreen-buds in the venison. I like the +maple-sugar tang of the Vermonter's sharp-edged speech; the round, +full-waisted r's of Pennsylvania and Ohio; the soft, indolent vowels +of the South. One of the best talkers now living is a schoolmaster from +Virginia, Colonel Gordon McCabe. I once crossed the ocean with him on +a stream of stories that reached from Liverpool to New York. He did not +talk in the least like a book. He talked like a Virginian. + +When Montaigne mentions GAYETY as the third clement of satisfying +discourse, I fancy he does not mean mere fun, though that has its value +at the right time and place. But there is another quality which is far +more valuable and always fit. Indeed it underlies the best fun and makes +it wholesome. It is cheerfulness, the temper which makes the best +of things and squeezes the little drops of honey even out of +thistle-blossoms. I think this is what Montaigne meant. Certainly it is +what he had. + +Cheerfulness is the background of all good talk. A sense of humour is a +means of grace. With it I have heard a pleasant soul make even that +most perilous of all subjects, the description of a long illness, +entertaining. The various physicians moved through the recital as +excellent comedians, and the medicines appeared like a succession of +timely jests. + +There is no occasion upon which this precious element of talkability +comes out stronger than when we are on a journey. Travel with a +cheerless and easily discouraged companion is an unadulterated +misery. But a cheerful comrade is better than a waterproof coat and a +foot-warmer. + +I remember riding once with my lady Graygown fifteen miles through a +cold rainstorm, in an open buckboard, over the worst road in the world, +from LAC A LA BELLE RIVIERE to the Metabetchouan River. Such was the +cheerfulness of her ejaculations (the only possible form of talk) +that we arrived at our destination as warm and merry as if we had been +sitting beside a roaring camp-fire. + + +But after all, the very best thing in good talk, and the thing that +helps it most, is FRIENDSHIP. How it dissolves the barriers that divide +us, and loosens all constraint, and diffuses itself like some fine old +cordial through all the veins of life--this feeling that we understand +and trust each other, and wish each other heartily well! Everything into +which it really comes is good. It transforms letter-writing from a task +into a pleasure. It makes music a thousand times more sweet. The people +who play and sing not at us, but TO us,--how delightful it is to listen +to them! Yes, there is a talkability that can express itself even +without words. There is an exchange of thought and feeling which is +happy alike in speech and in silence. It is quietness pervaded with +friendship. + + +Having come thus far in the exposition of Montaigne, I shall conclude +with an opinion of my own, even though I cannot quote a sentence of his +to back it. + +The one person of all the world in whom talkability is most desirable, +and talkativeness least endurable, is a wife. + + + + +A WILD STRAWBERRY + + + "Such is the story of the Boblink; once spiritual, musical, + admired, the joy of the meadows, and the favourite bird of + spring; finally a gross little sensualist who expiates his + sensuality in the larder. His story contains a moral, worthy + the attention of all little birds and little boys; warning + them to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits + which raised him to so high a pitch of popularity during the + early part of his career; but to eschew all tendency to that + gross and dissipated indulgence, which brought this mistaken + little bird to an untimely end." + + --WASHINGTON IRVING: Wolfert's Roost. + + +The Swiftwater brook was laughing softly to itself as it ran through a +strip of hemlock forest on the edge of the Woodlings' farm. Among the +evergreen branches overhead the gayly-dressed warblers,--little friends +of the forest,--were flitting to and fro, lisping their June songs of +contented love: milder, slower, lazier notes than those in which +they voiced the amourous raptures of May. Prince's Pine and golden +loose-strife and pink laurel and blue hare-bells and purple-fringed +orchids, and a score of lovely flowers were all abloom. The late spring +had hindered some; the sudden heats of early summer had hastened others; +and now they seemed to come out all together, as if Nature had suddenly +tilted up her cornucopia and poured forth her treasures in spendthrift +joy. + +I lay on a mossy bank at the foot of a tree, filling my pipe after a +frugal lunch, and thinking how hard it would be to find in any quarter +of the globe a place more fair and fragrant than this hidden vale among +the Alleghany Mountains. The perfume of the flowers of the forest is +more sweet and subtle than the heavy scent of tropical blossoms. No +lily-field in Bermuda could give a fragrance half so magical as the +fairy-like odour of these woodland slopes, soft carpeted with the green +of glossy vines above whose tiny leaves, in delicate profusion, + + + "The slight Linnaea hangs its twin-born heads." + + +Nor are there any birds in Africa, or among the Indian Isles, more +exquisite in colour than these miniature warblers, showing their gold +and green, their orange and black, their blue and white, against the +dark background of the rhododendron thicket. + +But how seldom we put a cup of pleasure to our lips without a dash of +bitters, a touch of faultfinding. My drop of discontent, that day, was +the thought that the northern woodland, at least in June, yielded no +fruit to match its beauty and its fragrance. + +There is good browsing among the leaves of the wood and the grasses of +the meadow, as every well-instructed angler knows. The bright emerald +tips that break from the hemlock and the balsam like verdant flames have +a pleasant savour to the tongue. The leaves of the sassafras are full +of spice, and the bark of the black-birch twigs holds a fine cordial. +Crinkle-root is spicy, but you must partake of it delicately, or it will +bite your tongue. Spearmint and peppermint never lose their charm for +the palate that still remembers the delights of youth. Wild sorrel has +an agreeable, sour, shivery flavour. Even the tender stalk of a young +blade of grass is a thing that can be chewed by a person of childlike +mind with much contentment. + +But, after all, these are only relishes. They whet the appetite more +than they appease it. There should be something to eat, in the June +woods, as perfect in its kind, as satisfying to the sense of taste, as +the birds and the flowers are to the senses of sight and hearing and +smell. Blueberries are good, but they are far away in July. Blackberries +are luscious when they are fully ripe, but that will not be until +August. Then the fishing will be over, and the angler's hour of need +will be past. The one thing that is lacking now beside this mountain +stream is some fruit more luscious and dainty than grows in the tropics, +to melt upon the lips and fill the mouth with pleasure. + +But that is what these cold northern woods will not offer. They are too +reserved, too lofty, too puritanical to make provision for the grosser +wants of humanity. They are not friendly to luxury. + +Just then, as I shifted my head to find a softer pillow of moss after +this philosophic and immoral reflection, Nature gave me her silent +answer. Three wild strawberries, nodding on their long stems, hung over +my face. It was an invitation to taste and see that they were good. + +The berries were not the round and rosy ones of the meadow, but the +long, slender, dark crimson ones of the forest. One, two, three; no more +on that vine; but each one as it touched my lips was a drop of nectar +and a crumb of ambrosia, a concentrated essence of all the pungent +sweetness of the wildwood, sapid, penetrating, and delicious. I tasted +the odour of a hundred blossoms and the green shimmering of innumerable +leaves and the sparkle of sifted sunbeams and the breath of highland +breezes and the song of many birds and the murmur of flowing +streams,--all in a wild strawberry. + + +Do you remember, in THE COMPLEAT ANGLER, a remark which Isaak Walton +quotes from a certain "Doctor Boteler" about strawberries? "Doubtless," +said that wise old man, "God could have made a better berry, but +doubtless God never did." + +Well, the wild strawberry is the one that God made. + +I think it would have been pleasant to know a man who could sum up +his reflections upon the important question of berries in such a pithy +saying as that which Walton repeats. His tongue must have been in close +communication with his heart. He must have had a fair sense of that +sprightly humour without which piety itself is often insipid. + +I have often tried to find out more about him, and some day I hope I +shall. But up to the present, all that the books have told me of this +obscure sage is that his name was William Butler, and that he was an +eminent physician, sometimes called "the Aesculapius of his age." He was +born at Ipswich, in 1535, and educated at Clare Hall, Cambridge; in the +neighbourhood of which town he appears to have spent the most of his +life, in high repute as a practitioner of physic. He had the honour of +doctoring King James the First after an accident on the hunting field, +and must have proved himself a pleasant old fellow, for the king looked +him up at Cambridge the next year, and spent an hour in his lodgings. +This wise physician also invented a medicinal beverage called "Doctor +Butler's Ale." I do not quite like the sound of it, but perhaps it was +better than its name. This much is sure, at all events: either it was +really a harmless drink, or else the doctor must have confined its use +entirely to his patients; for he lived to the ripe age of eighty-three +years. + +Between the time when William Butler first needed the services of a +physician, in 1535, and the time when he last prescribed for a patient, +in 1618, there was plenty of trouble in England. Bloody Queen Mary sat +on the throne; and there were all kinds of quarrels about religion and +politics; and Catholics and Protestants were killing one another in +the name of God. After that the red-haired Elizabeth, called the Virgin +Queen, wore the crown, and waged triumphant war and tempestuous love. +Then fat James of Scotland was made king of Great Britain; and Guy +Fawkes tried to blow him up with gunpowder, and failed; and the king +tried to blow out all the pipes in England with his COUNTERBLAST AGAINST +TOBACCO; but he failed too. Somewhere about that time, early in the +seventeenth century, a very small event happened. A new berry was +brought over from Virginia,--FRAGRARIA VIRGINIANA,--and then, amid wars +and rumours of wars, Doctor Butler's happiness was secure. That new +berry was so much richer and sweeter and more generous than the familiar +FRAGRARIA VESCA of Europe, that it attracted the sincere interest of all +persons of good taste. It inaugurated a new era in the history of the +strawberry. The long lost masterpiece of Paradise was restored to its +true place in the affections of man. + +Is there not a touch of merry contempt for all the vain controversies +and conflicts of humanity in the grateful ejaculation with which the old +doctor greeted that peaceful, comforting gift of Providence? + +"From this time forward," he seems to say, "the fates cannot beggar +me, for I have eaten strawberries. With every Maytime that visits this +distracted island, the white blossoms with hearts of gold will arrive. +In every June the red drops of pleasant savour will hang among the +scalloped leaves. The children of this world may wrangle and give one +another wounds that even my good ale cannot cure. Nevertheless, the +earth as God created it is a fair dwelling and full of comfort for all +who have a quiet mind and a thankful heart. Doubtless God might have +made a better world, but doubtless this is the world He made for us; and +in it He planted the strawberry." + +Fine old doctor! Brave philosopher of cheerfulness! The Virginian berry +should have been brought to England sooner, or you should have lived +longer, at least to a hundred years, so that you might have welcomed a +score of strawberry-seasons with gratitude and an epigram. + +Since that time a great change has passed over the fruit which Doctor +Butler praised so well. That product of creative art which Divine wisdom +did not choose to surpass, human industry has laboured to improve. It +has grown immensely in size and substance. The traveller from America +who steams into Queenstown harbour in early summer is presented (for a +consideration) with a cabbage-leaf full of pale-hued berries, sweet and +juicy, any one of which would outbulk a dozen of those that used to grow +in Virginia when Pocahontas was smitten with the charms of Captain John +Smith. They are superb, those light-tinted Irish strawberries. And there +are wonderful new varieties developed in the gardens of New Jersey and +Rhode Island, which compare with the ancient berries of the woods and +meadows as Leviathan with a minnow. The huge crimson cushions hang among +the plants so thick that they seem like bunches of fruit with a few +leaves attached for ornament. You can satisfy your hunger in such a +berry-patch in ten minutes, while out in the field you must pick for +half an hour, and in the forest thrice as long, before you can fill a +small tin cup. + +Yet, after all, it is questionable whether men have really bettered +God's CHEF D'OEUVRE in the berry line. They have enlarged it and made +it more plentiful and more certain in its harvest. But sweeter, more +fragrant, more poignant in its flavour? No. The wild berry still stands +first in its subtle gusto. + +Size is not the measure of excellence. Perfection lies in quality, not +in quantity. Concentration enhances pleasure, gives it a point so that +it goes deeper. + +Is not a ten-inch trout better than a ten-foot sturgeon? I would rather +read a tiny essay by Charles Lamb than a five-hundred page libel on +life by a modern British novelist who shall be nameless. Flavour is the +priceless quality. Style is the thing that counts and is remembered, in +literature, in art, and in berries. + +No JOCUNDA, nor TRIUMPH, nor VICTORIA, nor any other high-titled fruit +that ever took the first prize at an agricultural fair, is half so +delicate and satisfying as the wild strawberry that dropped into my +mouth, under the hemlock tree, beside the Swiftwater. + +A touch of surprise is essential to perfect sweetness. + +To get what you have been wishing for is pleasant; but to get what +you have not been sure of, makes the pleasure tingle. A new door of +happiness is opened when you go out to hunt for something and discover +it with your own eyes. But there is an experience even better than that. +When you have stupidly forgotten (or despondently forgone) to look +about you for the unclaimed treasures and unearned blessings which are +scattered along the by-ways of life, then, sometimes by a special mercy, +a small sample of them is quietly laid before you so that you cannot +help seeing it, and it brings you back to a sense of the joyful +possibilities of living. + +How full of enjoyment is the search after wild things,--wild birds, wild +flowers, wild honey, wild berries! There was a country club on Storm +King Mountain, above the Hudson River, where they used to celebrate a +festival of flowers every spring. Men and women who had conservatories +of their own, full of rare plants and costly orchids, came together +to admire the gathered blossoms of the woodlands and meadows. But the +people who had the best of the entertainment were the boys and girls who +wandered through the thickets and down the brooks, pushed their way into +the tangled copses and crept venturesomely across the swamps, to look +for the flowers. Some of the seekers may have had a few gray hairs; but +for that day at least they were all boys and girls. Nature was as young +as ever, and they were all her children. Hand touched hand without a +glove. The hidden blossoms of friendship unfolded. Laughter and merry +shouts and snatches of half-forgotten song rose to the lips. Gay +adventure sparkled in the air. School was out and nobody listened for +the bell. It was just a day to live, and be natural, and take no thought +for the morrow. + +There is great luck in this affair of looking for flowers. I do not see +how any one who is prejudiced against games of chance can consistently +undertake it. + +For my own part, I approve of garden flowers because they are so orderly +and so certain; but wild flowers I love, just because there is so much +chance about them. Nature is all in favour of certainty in great laws +and of uncertainty in small events. You cannot appoint the day and the +place for her flower-shows. If you happen to drop in at the right moment +she will give you a free admission. But even then it seems as if the +table of beauty had been spread for the joy of a higher visitor, and in +obedience to secret orders which you have not heard. + +Have you ever found the fringed gentian? + + + "Just before the snows, + There came a purple creature + That lavished all the hill: + And summer hid her forehead, + And mockery was still. + + The frosts were her condition: + The Tyrian would not come + Until the North evoked her,-- + 'Creator, shall I bloom?'" + + +There are strange freaks of fortune in the finding of wild flowers, +and curious coincidences which make us feel as if some one were playing +friendly tricks on us. I remember reading, one evening in May, a passage +in a good book called THE PROCESSION OF THE FLOWERS, in which Colonel +Higginson describes the singular luck that a friend of his enjoyed, year +after year, in finding the rare blossoms of the double rueanemone. It +seems that this man needed only to take a walk in the suburbs of any +town, and he would come upon a bed of these flowers, without effort or +design. I envied him his good fortune, for I had never discovered +even one of them. But the next morning, as I strolled out to fish the +Swiftwater, down below Billy Lerns's spring-house I found a green bank +in the shadow of the wood all bespangled with tiny, trembling, twofold +stars,--double rueanemones, for luck! It was a favourable omen, and that +day I came home with a creel full of trout. + +The theory that Adam lived out in the woods for some time before he was +put into the garden of Eden "to dress it and to keep it" has an air of +probability. How else shall we account for the arboreal instincts that +cling to his posterity? + +There is a wilding strain in our blood that all the civilization in the +world will not eradicate. I never knew a real boy--or, for that matter, +a girl worth knowing--who would not rather climb a tree, any day, than +walk up a golden stairway. + +It is a touch of this instinct, I suppose, that makes it more delightful +to fish in the most insignificant of free streams than in a carefully +stocked and preserved pond, where the fish are brought up by hand and +fed on minced liver. Such elaborate precautions to ensure good luck +extract all the spice from the sport of angling. Casting the fly in such +a pond, if you hooked a fish, you might expect to hear the keeper say, +"Ah, that is Charles, we will play him and put him back, if you please, +sir; for the master is very fond of him,"--or, "Now you have got hold of +Edward; let us land him and keep him; he is three years old this month, +and just ready to be eaten." It would seem like taking trout out of cold +storage. + +Who could find any pleasure in angling for the tame carp in the +fish-pool of Fontainebleau? They gather at the marble steps, those +venerable, courtly fish, to receive their rations; and there are +veterans among them, in ancient livery, with fringes of green moss on +their shoulders, who could tell you pretty tales of being fed by the +white hands of maids of honour, or even of nibbling their crumbs of +bread from the jewelled fingers of a princess. + +There is no sport in bringing pets to the table. It may be necessary +sometimes; but the true sportsman would always prefer to leave the +unpleasant task of execution to menial hands, while he goes out into the +wild country to capture his game by his own skill,--if he has good +luck. I would rather run some risk in this enterprise (even as the young +Tobias did, when the voracious pike sprang at him from the waters of the +Tigris, and would have devoured him but for the friendly instruction +of the piscatory Angel, who taught Tobias how to land the monster),--I +would far rather take any number of chances in my sport than have it +domesticated to the point of dulness. + +The trim plantations of trees which are called "forests" in certain +parts of Europe--scientifically pruned and tended, counted every year by +uniformed foresters, and defended against all possible depredations--are +admirable and useful in their way; but they lack the mystic enchantment +of the fragments of native woodland which linger among the Adirondacks +and the White Mountains, or the vast, shaggy, sylvan wildernesses which +hide the lakes and rivers of Canada. These Laurentian Hills lie in No +Man's Land. Here you do not need to keep to the path, for there is none. +You may make your own trail, whithersoever fancy leads you; and at night +you may pitch your tent under any tree that looks friendly and firm. + +Here, if anywhere, you shall find Dryads, and Naiads, and Oreads. And +if you chance to see one, by moonlight, combing her long hair beside +the glimmering waterfall, or slipping silently, with gleaming shoulders, +through the grove of silver birches, you may call her by the name that +pleases you best. She is all your own discovery. There is no social +directory in the wilderness. + +One side of our nature, no doubt, finds its satisfaction in the regular, +the proper, the conventional. But there is another side of our +nature, underneath, that takes delight in the strange, the free, the +spontaneous. We like to discover what we call a law of Nature, and make +our calculations about it, and harness the force which lies behind it +for our own purposes. But we taste a different kind of joy when an +event occurs which nobody has foreseen or counted upon. It seems like +an evidence that there is something in the world which is alive and +mysterious and untrammelled. + +The weather-prophet tells us of an approaching storm. It comes according +to the programme. We admire the accuracy of the prediction, and +congratulate ourselves that we have such a good meteorological service. +But when, perchance, a bright, crystalline piece of weather arrives +instead of the foretold tempest, do we not feel a secret sense of +pleasure which goes beyond our mere comfort in the sunshine? The whole +affair is not as easy as a sum in simple addition, after all,--at least +not with our present knowledge. It is a good joke on the Weather Bureau. +"Aha, Old Probabilities!" we say, "you don't know it all yet; there are +still some chances to be taken!" + +Some day, I suppose, all things in the heavens above, and in the earth +beneath, and in the hearts of the men and women who dwell between, will +be investigated and explained. We shall live a perfectly ordered life, +with no accidents, happy or unhappy. Everybody will act according to +rule, and there will be no dotted lines on the map of human existence, +no regions marked "unexplored." Perhaps that golden age of the machine +will come, but you and I will hardly live to see it. And if that seems +to you a matter for tears, you must do your own weeping, for I cannot +find it in my heart to add a single drop of regret. + +The results of education and social discipline in humanity are fine. It +is a good thing that we can count upon them. But at the same time let us +rejoice in the play of native traits and individual vagaries. Cultivated +manners are admirable, yet there is a sudden touch of inborn grace and +courtesy that goes beyond them all. No array of accomplishments can +rival the charm of an unsuspected gift of nature, brought suddenly to +light. I once heard a peasant girl singing down the Traunthal, and the +echo of her song outlives, in the hearing of my heart, all memories of +the grand opera. + +The harvest of the gardens and the orchards, the result of prudent +planting and patient cultivation, is full of satisfaction. We anticipate +it in due season, and when it comes we fill our mouths and are grateful. +But pray, kind Providence, let me slip over the fence out of the garden +now and then, to shake a nut-tree that grows untended in the wood. Give +me liberty to put off my black coat for a day, and go a-fishing on a +free stream, and find by chance a wild strawberry. + + + + +LOVERS AND LANDSCAPE + + +"He insisted that the love that was of real value in the world was +n't interesting, and that the love that was interesting was n't always +admirable. Love that happened to a person like the measles or fits, and +was really of no particular credit to itself or its victims, was the +sort that got into the books and was made much of; whereas the kind that +was attained by the endeavour of true souls, and that had wear in it, +and that made things go right instead of tangling them up, was too much +like duty to make satisfactory reading for people of sentiment."--E. S. +MARTIN: My Cousin Anthony. + + +The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is +another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month. + +The first day of spring is due to arrive, if the calendar does not break +down, about the twenty-first of March, when the earth turns the corner +of Sun Alley and starts for Summer Street. But the first spring day +is not on the time-table at all. It comes when it is ready, and in the +latitude of New York this is usually not till after All Fools' Day. + +About this time,-- + + + "When chinks in April's windy dome + Let through a day of June, + And foot and thought incline to roam, + And every sound's a tune,"-- + + +it is the habit of the angler who lives in town to prepare for the +labours of the approaching season by longer walks or bicycle-rides in +the parks, or along the riverside, or in the somewhat demoralized +Edens of the suburbs. In the course of these vernal peregrinations and +circumrotations, I observe that lovers of various kinds begin to occupy +a notable place in the landscape. + +The burnished dove puts a livelier iris around his neck, and practises +fantastic bows and amourous quicksteps along the verandah of the +pigeon-house and on every convenient roof. The young male of the human +species, less gifted in the matter of rainbows, does his best with a +gay cravat, and turns the thoughts which circulate above it towards the +securing or propitiating of a best girl. + +The objects of these more or less brilliant attentions, doves and girls, +show a becoming reciprocity, and act in a way which leads us to infer +(so far as inferences hold good in the mysterious region of female +conduct) that they are not seriously displeased. To a rightly tempered +mind, pleasure is a pleasant sight. And the philosophic observer +who could look upon this spring spectacle of the lovers with any but +friendly feelings would be indeed what the great Dr. Samuel Johnson +called "a person not to be envied." + +Far be it from me to fall into such a desiccated and supercilious mood. +My small olive-branch of fancy will be withered, in truth, and ready to +drop budless from the tree, when I cease to feel a mild delight in the +billings and cooings of the little birds that separate from the +flocks to fly together in pairs, or in the uninstructive but mutually +satisfactory converse which Strephon holds with Chloe while they dally +along the primrose path. + +I am glad that even the stony and tumultuous city affords some +opportunities for these amiable observations. In the month of April +there is hardly a clump of shrubbery in the Central Park which will not +serve as a trysting-place for yellow warblers and catbirds just home +from their southern tours. At the same time, you shall see many a bench, +designed for the accommodation of six persons, occupied at the sunset +hour by only two, and apparently so much too small for them that they +cannot avoid a little crowding. + +These are infallible signs. Taken in conjunction with the eruption +of tops and marbles among the small boys, and the purchase of +fishing-tackle and golf-clubs by the old boys, they certify us that the +vernal equinox has arrived, not only in the celestial regions, but also +in the heart of man. + + +I have been reflecting of late upon the relation of lovers to the +landscape, and questioning whether art has given it quite the same place +as that which belongs to it in nature. In fiction, for example, and in +the drama, and in music, I have some vague misgivings that romantic love +has come to hold a more prominent and a more permanent position than it +fills in real life. + +This is dangerous ground to venture upon, even in the most modest and +deprecatory way. The man who expresses an opinion, or even a doubt, on +this subject, contrary to the ruling traditions, will have a swarm of +angry critics buzzing about him. He will be called a heretic, a heathen, +a cold-blooded freak of nature. As for the woman who hesitates to +subscribe all the thirty-nine articles of romantic love, if such a one +dares to put her reluctance into words, she is certain to be accused +either of unwomanly ambition or of feminine disappointment. + +Let us make haste, then, to get back for safety to the ornithological +aspect of the subject. Here there can be no penalties for heresy. And +here I make bold to avow my conviction that the pairing season is not +the only point of interest in the life of the birds; nor is the instinct +by which they mate altogether and beyond comparison the noblest passion +that stirs their feathered breasts. + +'T is true, the time of mating is their prettiest season; but it is very +short. How little we should know of the drama of their airy life if we +had eyes only for this brief scene! Their finest qualities come out +in the patient cares that protect the young in the nest, in the varied +struggles for existence through the changing year, and in the incredible +heroisms of the annual migrations. Herein is a parable. + +It may be observed further, without fear of rebuke, that the behaviour +of the different kinds of birds during the prevalence of romantic +love is not always equally above reproach. The courtship of English +sparrows--blustering, noisy, vulgar--is a sight to offend the taste +of every gentle on-looker. Some birds reiterate and vociferate their +love-songs in a fashion that displays their inconsiderateness as well as +their ignorance of music. This trait is most marked in domestic fowls. +There was a guinea-cock, once, that chose to do his wooing close under +the window of a farm-house where I was lodged. He had no regard for +my hours of sleep or meditation. His amatory click-clack prevented the +morning and wrecked the tranquillity of the evening. It was odious, +brutal,--worse, it was absolutely thoughtless. Herein is another +parable. + +Let us admit cheerfully that lovers have a place in the landscape and +lend a charm to it. This does not mean that they are to take up all +the room there is. Suppose, for example, that a pair of them, on Goat +Island, put themselves in such a position as to completely block out +your view of Niagara. You cannot regard them with gratitude. They +even become a little tedious. Or suppose that you are visiting at a +country-house, and you find that you must not enjoy the moonlight on the +verandah because Augustus and Amanda are murmuring in one corner, and +that you must not go into the garden because Louis and Lizzie are there, +and that you cannot have a sail on the lake because Richard and Rebecca +have taken the boat. + +Of course, unless you happen to be a selfish old curmudgeon, you +rejoice, by sympathy, in the happiness of these estimable young people. +But you fail to see why it should cover so much ground. + +Why should they not pool their interests, and all go out in the boat, or +all walk in the garden, or all sit on the verandah? Then there would be +room for somebody else about the place. + +In old times you could rely upon lovers for retirement. But nowadays +their role seems to be a bold ostentation of their condition. They rely +upon other people to do the timid, shrinking part. Society, in America, +is arranged principally for their convenience; and whatever portion of +the landscape strikes their fancy, they preempt and occupy. All +this goes upon the presumption that romantic love is really the only +important interest in life. + +This train of thought was illuminated, the other night, by an incident +which befell me at a party. It was an assembly of men, drawn together by +their common devotion to the sport of canoeing. There were only three or +four of the gentler sex present (as honorary members), and only one +of whom it could be suspected that she was at that time a victim or an +object of the tender passion. In the course of the evening, by way of +diversion to our disputations on keels and centreboards, canvas and +birch-bark, cedar-wood and bass-wood, paddles and steering-gear, a fine +young Apollo, with a big, manly voice, sang us a few songs. But he did +not chant the joys of weathering a sudden squall, or running a rapid +feather-white with foam, or floating down a long, quiet, elm-bowered +river. Not all. His songs were full of sighs and yearnings, languid lips +and sheep's-eyes. His powerful voice informed us that crowns of thorns +seemed like garlands of roses, and kisses were as sweet as samples of +heaven, and various other curious sensations were experienced; and at +the end of every stanza the reason was stated, in tones of thunder-- + + + "Because I love you, dear." + + +Even if true, it seemed inappropriate. How foolish the average +audience in a drawing-room looks while it is listening to passionate +love-ditties! And yet I suppose the singer chose these songs, not from +any malice aforethought, but simply because songs of this kind are so +abundant that it is next to impossible to find anything else in the +shops. + +In regard to novels, the situation is almost as discouraging. Ten +love-stories are printed to one of any other kind. We have a standing +invitation to consider the tribulations and difficulties of some young +man or young woman in finding a mate. It must be admitted that the +subject has its capabilities of interest. Nature has her uses for the +lover, and she gives him an excellent part to play in the drama of life. +But is this tantamount to saying that his interest is perennial and +all-absorbing, and that his role on the stage is the only one that is +significant and noteworthy? + +Life is much too large to be expressed in the terms of a single passion. +Friendship, patriotism, parental tenderness, filial devotion, the ardour +of adventure, the thirst for knowledge, the ecstasy of religion,--these +all have their dwelling in the heart of man. They mould character. +They control conduct. They are stars of destiny shining in the inner +firmament. And if art would truly hold the mirror up to nature, it must +reflect these greater and lesser lights that rule the day and the night. + +How many of the plays that divert and misinform the modern theatre-goer +turn on the pivot of a love-affair, not always pure, but generally +simple! And how many of those that are imported from France proceed +upon the theory that the Seventh is the only Commandment, and that the +principal attraction of life lies in the opportunity of breaking it! The +matinee-girl is not likely to have a very luminous or truthful idea of +existence floating around in her pretty little head. + +But, after all, the great plays, those that take the deepest hold upon +the heart, like HAMLET and KING LEAR, MACBETH and OTHELLO, are not +love-plays. And the most charming comedies, like THE WINTER'S TALE, and +THE RIVALS, and RIP VAN WINKLE, are chiefly memorable for other things +than love-scenes. + +Even in novels, love shows at its best when it does not absorb the whole +plot. LORNA DOONE is a lovers' story, but there is a blessed minimum of +spooning in it, and always enough of working and fighting to keep the +air clear and fresh. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN, and HYPATIA, and ROMOLA, +and THE CLOISTER AND THE HEARTH, and JOHN INGLESANT, and THE THREE +MUSKETEERS, and NOTRE DAME, and PEACE AND WAR, and QUO VADIS,--these are +great novels because they are much more than tales of romantic love. As +for HENRY ESMOND, (which seems to me the best of all,) certainly "love +at first sight" does not play the finest role in that book. + +There are good stories of our own day--pathetic, humourous, +entertaining, powerful--in which the element of romantic love is +altogether subordinate, or even imperceptible. THE RISE OF SILAS LAPHAM +does not owe its deep interest to the engagement of the very charming +young people who enliven it. MADAME DELPHINE and OLE 'STRACTED are +perfect stories of their kind. I would not barter THE JUNGLE BOOKS for a +hundred of THE BRUSHWOOD BOY. + +The truth is that love, considered merely as the preference of one +person for another of the opposite sex, is not "the greatest thing in +the world." It becomes great only when it leads on, as it often does, +to heroism and self-sacrifice and fidelity. Its chief value for art (the +interpreter) lies not in itself, but in its quickening relation to the +other elements of life. It must be seen and shown in its due proportion, +and in harmony with the broader landscape. + +Do you believe that in all the world there is only one woman specially +created for each man, and that the order of the universe will be +hopelessly askew unless these two needles find each other in the +haystack? You believe it for yourself, perhaps; but do you believe it +for Tom Johnson? You remember what a terrific disturbance he made in the +summer of 189-, at Bar Harbor, about Ellinor Brown, and how he ran away +with her in September. You have also seen them together (occasionally) +at Lenox and Newport, since their marriage. Are you honestly of the +opinion that if Tom had not married Ellinor, these two young lives would +have been a total wreck? + +Adam Smith, in his book on THE MORAL SENTIMENTS, goes so far as to say +that "love is not interesting to the observer because it is AN AFFECTION +OF THE IMAGINATION, into which it is difficult for a third party to +enter." Something of the same kind occurred to me in regard to Tom and +Ellinor. Yet I would not have presumed to suggest this thought to either +of them. Nor would I have quoted in their hearing the melancholy and +frigid prediction of Ralph Waldo Emerson, to the effect that they would +some day discover "that all which at first drew them together--those +once sacred features, that magical play of charm--was deciduous." + +DECIDUOUS, indeed? Cold, unpleasant, botanical word! Rather would I +prognosticate for the lovers something perennial, + + + "A sober certainty of waking bliss," + + +to survive the evanescence of love's young dream. Ellinor should turn +out to be a woman like the Lady Elizabeth Hastings, of whom Richard +Steele wrote that "to love her was a liberal education." Tom should +prove that he had in him the lasting stuff of a true man and a hero. +Then it would make little difference whether their conjunction had been +eternally prescribed in the book of fate or not. It would be evidently a +fit match, made on earth and illustrative of heaven. + +But even in the making of such a match as this, the various stages of +attraction, infatuation, and appropriation should not be displayed too +prominently before the world, nor treated as events of overwhelming +importance and enduring moment. I would not counsel Tom and Ellinor, +in the midsummer of their engagement, to have their photographs taken +together in affectionate attitudes. + +The pictures of an imaginary kind which deal with the subject of +romantic love are, almost without exception, fatuous and futile. The +inanely amatory, with their languishing eyes, weary us. The endlessly +osculatory, with their protracted salutations, are sickening. Even when +an air of sentimental propriety is thrown about them by some such title +as "Wedded" or "The Honeymoon," they fatigue us. For the most part, they +remind me of the remark which the Commodore made upon a certain painting +of Jupiter and lo which hangs in the writing-room of the Contrary Club. + +"Sir," said that gently piercing critic, "that picture is equally +unsatisfactory to the artist, to the moralist, and to the voluptuary." + + +Nevertheless, having made a clean breast of my misgivings and +reservations on the subject of lovers and landscape, I will now confess +that the whole of my doubts do not weigh much against my unreasoned +faith in romantic love. At heart I am no infidel, but a most obstinate +believer and devotee. My seasons of skepticism are transient. They +are connected with a torpid liver and aggravated by confinement to a +sedentary life and enforced abstinence from angling. Out-of-doors, I +return to a saner and happier frame of mind. + +As my wheel rolls along the Riverside Drive in the golden glow of the +sunset, I rejoice that the episode of Charles Henry and Matilda Jane has +not been omitted from the view. This vast and populous city, with all +its passing show of life, would be little better than a waste, howling +wilderness if we could not catch a glimpse, now and then, of young +people falling in love in the good old-fashioned way. Even on a +trout-stream, I have seen nothing prettier than the sight upon which I +once came suddenly as I was fishing down the Neversink. + +A boy was kneeling beside the brook, and a girl was giving him a drink +of water out of her rosy hands. They stared with wonder and compassion +at the wet and solitary angler, wading down the stream, as if he were +some kind of a mild lunatic. But as I glanced discreetly at their +small tableau, I was not unconscious of the new joy that came into the +landscape with the presence of + + + "A lover and his lass." + + +I knew how sweet the water tasted from that kind of a cup. I also have +lived in Arcadia, and have not forgotten the way back. + + + + +A FATAL SUCCESS + + + "What surprises me in her behaviour," said he, "is its + thoroughness. Woman seldom does things by halves, but often + by doubles." + + --SOLOMON SINGLEWITZ: The Life of Adam. + + +Beekman De Peyster was probably the most passionate and triumphant +fisherman in the Petrine Club. He angled with the same dash and +confidence that he threw into his operations in the stock-market. He was +sure to be the first man to get his flies on the water at the opening of +the season. And when we came together for our fall meeting, to compare +notes of our wanderings on various streams and make up the fish-stories +for the year, Beekman was almost always "high hook." We expected, as +a matter of course, to hear that he had taken the most and the largest +fish. + +It was so with everything that he undertook. He was a masterful man. +If there was an unusually large trout in a river, Beekman knew about it +before any one else, and got there first, and came home with the fish. +It did not make him unduly proud, because there was nothing uncommon +about it. It was his habit to succeed, and all the rest of us were +hardened to it. + +When he married Cornelia Cochrane, we were consoled for our partial loss +by the apparent fitness and brilliancy of the match. If Beekman was a +masterful man, Cornelia was certainly what you might call a mistressful +woman. She had been the head of her house since she was eighteen years +old. She carried her good looks like the family plate; and when she came +into the breakfast-room and said good-morning, it was with an air as if +she presented every one with a check for a thousand dollars. Her tastes +were accepted as judgments, and her preferences had the force of laws. +Wherever she wanted to go in the summer-time, there the finger of +household destiny pointed. At Newport, at Bar Harbour, at Lenox, at +Southampton, she made a record. When she was joined in holy wedlock to +Beekman De Peyster, her father and mother heaved a sigh of satisfaction, +and settled down for a quiet vacation in Cherry Valley. + +It was in the second summer after the wedding that Beekman admitted to +a few of his ancient Petrine cronies, in moments of confidence +(unjustifiable, but natural), that his wife had one fault. + +"It is not exactly a fault," he said, "not a positive fault, you know. +It is just a kind of a defect, due to her education, of course. In +everything else she's magnificent. But she does n't care for +fishing. She says it's stupid,--can't see why any one should like the +woods,--calls camping out the lunatic's diversion. It's rather awkward +for a man with my habits to have his wife take such a view. But it can +be changed by training. I intend to educate her and convert her. I shall +make an angler of her yet." + +And so he did. + +The new education was begun in the Adirondacks, and the first lesson was +given at Paul Smith's. It was a complete failure. + +Beekman persuaded her to come out with him for a day on Meacham River, +and promised to convince her of the charm of angling. She wore a new +gown, fawn-colour and violet, with a picture-hat, very taking. But the +Meacham River trout was shy that day; not even Beekman could induce him +to rise to the fly. What the trout lacked in confidence the mosquitoes +more than made up. Mrs. De Peyster came home much sunburned, and +expressed a highly unfavourable opinion of fishing as an amusement and +of Meacham River as a resort. + +"The nice people don't come to the Adirondacks to fish," said she; "they +come to talk about the fishing twenty years ago. Besides, what do you +want to catch that trout for? If you do, the other men will say you +bought it, and the hotel will have to put in a new one for the rest of +the season." + +The following year Beekman tried Moosehead Lake. Here he found an +atmosphere more favourable to his plan of education. There were a good +many people who really fished, and short expeditions in the woods were +quite fashionable. Cornelia had a camping-costume of the most approved +style made by Dewlap on Fifth Avenue,--pearl-gray with linings of +rose-silk,--and consented to go with her husband on a trip up Moose +River. They pitched their tent the first evening at the mouth of Misery +Stream, and a storm came on. The rain sifted through the canvas in a +fine spray, and Mrs. De Peyster sat up all night in a waterproof cloak, +holding an umbrella. The next day they were back at the hotel in time +for lunch. + +"It was horrid," she told her most intimate friend, "perfectly horrid. +The idea of sleeping in a shower-bath, and eating your breakfast from a +tin plate, just for sake of catching a few silly fish! Why not send your +guides out to get them for you?" + +But, in spite of this profession of obstinate heresy, Beekman observed +with secret joy that there were signs, before the end of the +season, that Cornelia was drifting a little, a very little but still +perceptibly, in the direction of a change of heart. She began to take +an interest, as the big trout came along in September, in the reports +of the catches made by the different anglers. She would saunter out with +the other people to the corner of the porch to see the fish weighed +and spread out on the grass. Several times she went with Beekman in the +canoe to Hardscrabble Point, and showed distinct evidences of pleasure +when he caught large trout. The last day of the season, when he returned +from a successful expedition to Roach River and Lily Bay, she inquired +with some particularity about the results of his sport; and in the +evening, as the company sat before the great open fire in the hall of +the hotel, she was heard to use this information with considerable skill +in putting down Mrs. Minot Peabody of Boston, who was recounting the +details of her husband's catch at Spencer Pond. Cornelia was not a +person to be contented with the back seat, even in fish-stories. + +When Beekman observed these indications he was much encouraged, and +resolved to push his educational experiment briskly forward to his +customary goal of success. + +"Some things can be done, as well as others," he said in his masterful +way, as three of us were walking home together after the autumnal dinner +of the Petrine Club, which he always attended as a graduate member. "A +real fisherman never gives up. I told you I'd make an angler out of +my wife; and so I will. It has been rather difficult. She is 'dour' +in rising. But she's beginning to take notice of the fly now. Give me +another season, and I'll have her landed." + +Good old Beekman! Little did he think--But I must not interrupt the +story with moral reflections. + +The preparations that he made for his final effort at conversion were +thorough and prudent. He had a private interview with Dewlap in regard +to the construction of a practical fishing-costume for a lady, which +resulted in something more reasonable and workmanlike than had ever been +turned out by that famous artist. He ordered from Hook and Catchett a +lady's angling-outfit of the most enticing description,--a split-bamboo +rod, light as a girl's wish, and strong as a matron's will; an oxidized +silver reel, with a monogram on one side, and a sapphire set in the +handle for good luck; a book of flies, of all sizes and colours, with +the correct names inscribed in gilt letters on each page. He surrounded +his favourite sport with an aureole of elegance and beauty. And then he +took Cornelia in September to the Upper Dam at Rangeley. + +She went reluctant. She arrived disgusted. She stayed incredulous. She +returned--Wait a bit, and you shall hear how she returned. + +The Upper Dam at Rangeley is the place, of all others in the world, +where the lunacy of angling may be seen in its incurable stage. There is +a cosy little inn, called a camp, at the foot of a big lake. In front of +the inn is a huge dam of gray stone, over which the river plunges into +a great oval pool, where the trout assemble in the early fall to +perpetuate their race. From the tenth of September to the thirtieth, +there is not an hour of the day or night when there are no boats +floating on that pool, and no anglers trailing the fly across its +waters. Before the late fishermen are ready to come in at midnight, the +early fishermen may be seen creeping down to the shore with lanterns +in order to begin before cock-crow. The number of fish taken is +not large,--perhaps five or six for the whole company on an average +day,--but the size is sometimes enormous,--nothing under three pounds is +counted,--and they pervade thought and conversation at the Upper Dam to +the exclusion of every other subject. There is no driving, no dancing, +no golf, no tennis. There is nothing to do but fish or die. + +At first, Cornelia thought she would choose the latter alternative. +But a remark of that skilful and morose old angler, McTurk, which she +overheard on the verandah after supper, changed her mind. + +"Women have no sporting instinct," said he. "They only fish because they +see men doing it. They are imitative animals." + +That same night she told Beekman, in the subdued tone which the +architectural construction of the house imposes upon all confidential +communications in the bedrooms, but with resolution in every accent, +that she proposed to go fishing with him on the morrow. + +"But not on that pool, right in front of the house, you understand. +There must be some other place, out on the lake, where we can fish for +three or four days, until I get the trick of this wobbly rod. Then I'll +show that old bear, McTurk, what kind of an animal woman is." + +Beekman was simply delighted. Five days of diligent practice at the +mouth of Mill Brook brought his pupil to the point where he pronounced +her safe. + +"Of course," he said patronizingly, "you have 'nt learned all about it +yet. That will take years. But you can get your fly out thirty feet, and +you can keep the tip of your rod up. If you do that, the trout will hook +himself, in rapid water, eight times out of ten. For playing him, if +you follow my directions, you 'll be all right. We will try the pool +tonight, and hope for a medium-sized fish." + +Cornelia said nothing, but smiled and nodded. She had her own thoughts. + +At about nine o'clock Saturday night, they anchored their boat on the +edge of the shoal where the big eddy swings around, put out the lantern +and began to fish. Beekman sat in the bow of the boat, with his rod over +the left side; Cornelia in the stern, with her rod over the right side. +The night was cloudy and very black. Each of them had put on the largest +possible fly, one a "Bee-Pond" and the other a "Dragon;" but even these +were invisible. They measured out the right length of line, and let +the flies drift back until they hung over the shoal, in the curly water +where the two currents meet. + +There were three other boats to the left of them. McTurk was their only +neighbour in the darkness on the right. Once they heard him swearing +softly to himself, and knew that he had hooked and lost a fish. + +Away down at the tail of the pool, dimly visible through the gloom, the +furtive fisherman, Parsons, had anchored his boat. No noise ever came +from that craft. If he wished to change his position, he did not pull +up the anchor and let it down again with a bump. He simply lengthened or +shortened his anchor rope. There was no click of the reel when he played +a fish. He drew in and paid out the line through the rings by hand, +without a sound. What he thought when a fish got away, no one knew, +for he never said it. He concealed his angling as if it had been a +conspiracy. Twice that night they heard a faint splash in the water +near his boat, and twice they saw him put his arm over the side in the +darkness and bring it back again very quietly. + +"That's the second fish for Parsons," whispered Beekman, "what a +secretive old Fortunatus he is! He knows more about fishing than any man +on the pool, and talks less." + +Cornelia did not answer. Her thoughts were all on the tip of her own +rod. About eleven o'clock a fine, drizzling rain set in. The fishing was +very slack. All the other boats gave it up in despair; but Cornelia said +she wanted to stay out a little longer, they might as well finish up the +week. + +At precisely fifty minutes past eleven, Beekman reeled up his line, and +remarked with firmness that the holy Sabbath day was almost at hand and +they ought to go in. + +"Not till I 've landed this trout," said Cornelia. + +"What? A trout! Have you got one?" + +"Certainly; I 've had him on for at least fifteen minutes. I 'm playing +him Mr. Parsons' way. You might as well light the lantern and get the +net ready; he's coming in towards the boat now." + +Beekman broke three matches before he made the lantern burn; and when he +held it up over the gunwale, there was the trout sure enough, gleaming +ghostly pale in the dark water, close to the boat, and quite tired out. +He slipped the net over the fish and drew it in,--a monster. + +"I 'll carry that trout, if you please," said Cornelia, as they stepped +out of the boat; and she walked into the camp, on the last stroke +of midnight, with the fish in her hand, and quietly asked for the +steelyard. + +Eight pounds and fourteen ounces,--that was the weight. Everybody was +amazed. It was the "best fish" of the year. Cornelia showed no sign of +exultation, until just as John was carrying the trout to the ice-house. +Then she flashed out:--"Quite a fair imitation, Mr. McTurk,--is n't it?" + +Now McTurk's best record for the last fifteen years was seven pounds and +twelve ounces. + +So far as McTurk is concerned, this is the end of the story. But not for +the De Peysters. I wish it were. Beekman went to sleep that night with +a contented spirit. He felt that his experiment in education had been a +success. He had made his wife an angler. + +He had indeed, and to an extent which he little suspected. That Upper +Dam trout was to her like the first taste of blood to the tiger. It +seemed to change, at once, not so much her character as the direction +of her vital energy. She yielded to the lunacy of angling, not by slow +degrees, (as first a transient delusion, then a fixed idea, then a +chronic infirmity, finally a mild insanity,) but by a sudden plunge into +the most violent mania. So far from being ready to die at Upper Dam, +her desire now was to live there--and to live solely for the sake of +fishing--as long as the season was open. + +There were two hundred and forty hours left to midnight on the thirtieth +of September. At least two hundred of these she spent on the pool; and +when Beekman was too exhausted to manage the boat and the net and the +lantern for her, she engaged a trustworthy guide to take Beekman's place +while he slept. At the end of the last day her score was twenty-three, +with an average of five pounds and a quarter. His score was nine, with +an average of four pounds. He had succeeded far beyond his wildest +hopes. + +The next year his success became even more astonishing. They went to the +Titan Club in Canada. The ugliest and most inaccessible sheet of +water in that territory is Lake Pharaoh. But it is famous for the +extraordinary fishing at a certain spot near the outlet, where there +is just room enough for one canoe. They camped on Lake Pharaoh for six +weeks, by Mrs. De Peyster's command; and her canoe was always the first +to reach the fishing-ground in the morning, and the last to leave it in +the evening. + +Some one asked him, when he returned to the city, whether he had good +luck. + +"Quite fair," he tossed off in a careless way; "we took over three +hundred pounds." + +"To your own rod?" asked the inquirer, in admiration. + +"No-o-o," said Beekman, "there were two of us." + +There were two of them, also, the following year, when they joined the +Natasheebo Salmon Club and fished that celebrated river in Labrador. The +custom of drawing lots every night for the water that each member was +to angle over the next day, seemed to be especially designed to fit the +situation. Mrs. De Peyster could fish her own pool and her husband's +too. The result of that year's fishing was something phenomenal. She had +a score that made a paragraph in the newspapers and called out editorial +comment. One editor was so inadequate to the situation as to entitle the +article in which he described her triumph "The Equivalence of Woman." It +was well-meant, but she was not at all pleased with it. + +She was now not merely an angler, but a "record" angler of the most +virulent type. Wherever they went, she wanted, and she got, the pick +of the water. She seemed to be equally at home on all kinds of streams, +large and small. She would pursue the little mountain-brook trout in +the early spring, and the Labrador salmon in July, and the huge speckled +trout of the northern lakes in September, with the same avidity and +resolution. All that she cared for was to get the best and the most of +the fishing at each place where she angled. This she always did. + +And Beekman,--well, for him there were no more long separations from +the partner of his life while he went off to fish some favourite stream. +There were no more home-comings after a good day's sport to find her +clad in cool and dainty raiment on the verandah, ready to welcome him +with friendly badinage. There was not even any casting of the fly around +Hardscrabble Point while she sat in the canoe reading a novel, looking +up with mild and pleasant interest when he caught a larger fish than +usual, as an older and wiser person looks at a child playing some +innocent game. Those days of a divided interest between man and wife +were gone. She was now fully converted, and more. Beekman and Cornelia +were one; and she was the one. + +The last time I saw the De Peysters he was following her along the +Beaverkill, carrying a landing-net and a basket, but no rod. She paused +for a moment to exchange greetings, and then strode on down the stream. +He lingered for a few minutes longer to light a pipe. + +"Well, old man," I said, "you certainly have succeeded in making an +angler of Mrs. De Peyster." + +"Yes, indeed," he answered,--"have n't I?" Then he continued, after a +few thoughtful puffs of smoke, "Do you know, I 'm not quite so sure as I +used to be that fishing is the best of all sports. I sometimes think of +giving it up and going in for croquet." + + + +FISHING IN BOOKS + + + "SIMPSON.--Have you ever seen any American books on angling, + Fisher?" + + "FISHER.--No, I do not think there are any published. + Brother Jonathan is not yet sufficiently civilized to + produce anything original on the gentle art. There is good + trout-fishing in America, and the streams, which are all + free, are much less fished than in our Island, 'from the + small number of gentlemen,' as an American writer says, 'who + are at leisure to give their time to it.'" + + --WILLIAM ANDREW CHATTO: The Angler's Souvenir (London, + 1835). + + +That wise man and accomplished scholar, Sir Henry Wotton, the friend of +Izaak Walton and ambassador of King James I to the republic of Venice, +was accustomed to say that "he would rather live five May months than +forty Decembers." The reason for this preference was no secret to those +who knew him. It had nothing to do with British or Venetian politics. It +was simply because December, with all its domestic joys, is practically +a dead month in the angler's calendar. + +His occupation is gone. The better sort of fish are out of season. The +trout are lean and haggard: it is no trick to catch them and no treat to +eat them. The salmon, all except the silly kelts, have run out to sea, +and the place of their habitation no man knoweth. There is nothing +for the angler to do but wait for the return of spring, and meanwhile +encourage and sustain his patience with such small consolations in kind +as a friendly Providence may put within his reach. + + +Some solace may be found, on a day of crisp, wintry weather, in the +childish diversion of catching pickerel through the ice. This method of +taking fish is practised on a large scale and with elaborate machinery +by men who supply the market. I speak not of their commercial enterprise +and its gross equipage, but of ice-fishing in its more sportive and +desultory form, as it is pursued by country boys and the incorrigible +village idler. + +You choose for this pastime a pond where the ice is not too thick, lest +the labour of cutting through should be discouraging; nor too thin, lest +the chance of breaking in should be embarrassing. You then chop out, +with almost any kind of a hatchet or pick, a number of holes in the ice, +making each one six or eight inches in diameter, and placing them about +five or six feet apart. If you happen to know the course of a current +flowing through the pond, or the location of a shoal frequented by +minnows, you will do well to keep near it. Over each hole you set a +small contrivance called a "tilt-up." It consists of two sticks fastened +in the middle, at right angles to each other. The stronger of the two is +laid across the opening in the ice. The other is thus balanced above +the aperture, with a baited hook and line attached to one end, while the +other end is adorned with a little flag. For choice, I would have the +flags red. They look gayer, and I imagine they are more lucky. + +When you have thus baited and set your tilt-ups,--twenty or thirty of +them,--you may put on your skates and amuse yourself by gliding to +and fro on the smooth surface of the ice, cutting figures of eight and +grapevines and diamond twists, while you wait for the pickerel to begin +their part of the performance. They will let you know when they are +ready. + +A fish, swimming around in the dim depths under the ice, sees one of +your baits, fancies it, and takes it in. The moment he tries to run away +with it he tilts the little red flag into the air and waves it backward +and forward. "Be quick!" he signals all unconsciously; "here I am; come +and pull me up!" + +When two or three flags are fluttering at the same moment, far apart on +the pond, you must skate with speed and haul in your lines promptly. + +How hard it is, sometimes, to decide which one you will take first! That +flag in the middle of the pond has been waving for at least a minute; +but the other, in the corner of the bay, is tilting up and down more +violently: it must be a larger fish. Great Dagon! There's another red +signal flying, away over by the point! You hesitate, you make a few +strokes in one direction, then you whirl around and dart the other way. +Meantime one of the tilt-ups, constructed with too short a cross-stick, +has been pulled to one side, and disappears in the hole. One pickerel in +the pond carries a flag. Another tilt-up ceases to move and falls flat +upon the ice. The bait has been stolen. You dash desperately toward +the third flag and pull in the only fish that is left,--probably the +smallest of them all! + +A surplus of opportunities does not insure the best luck. + +A room with seven doors--like the famous apartment in Washington's +headquarters at Newburgh--is an invitation to bewilderment. I would +rather see one fair opening in life than be confused by three dazzling +chances. + +There was a good story about fishing through the ice which formed part +of the stock-in-conversation of that ingenious woodsman, Martin Moody, +Esquire, of Big Tupper Lake. "'T was a blame cold day," he said, "and +the lines friz up stiffer 'n a fence-wire, jus' as fast as I pulled 'em +in, and my fingers got so dum' frosted I could n't bait the hooks. But +the fish was thicker and hungrier 'n flies in June. So I jus' took +a piece of bait and held it over one o' the holes. Every time a fish +jumped up to git it, I 'd kick him out on the ice. I tell ye, sir, I +kicked out more 'n four hundred pounds of pick'rel that morning. Yaas, +'t was a big lot, I 'low, but then 't was a cold day! I jus' stacked 'em +up solid, like cordwood." + +Let us now leave this frigid subject! Iced fishing is but a chilling and +unsatisfactory imitation of real sport. The angler will soon turn from +it with satiety, and seek a better consolation for the winter of his +discontent in the entertainment of fishing in books. + + +Angling is the only sport that boasts the honour of having given a +classic to literature. + +Izaak Walton's success with THE COMPLEAT ANGLER was a fine illustration +of fisherman's luck. He set out, with some aid from an adept in +fly-fishing and cookery, named Thomas Barker, to produce a little +"discourse of fish and fishing" which should serve as a useful manual +for quiet persons inclined to follow the contemplative man's recreation. +He came home with a book which has made his name beloved by ten +generations of gentle readers, and given him a secure place in the +Pantheon of letters,--not a haughty eminence, but a modest niche, all +his own, and ever adorned with grateful offerings of fresh flowers. + +This was great luck. But it was well-deserved, and therefore it has not +been grudged or envied. + +Walton was a man so peaceful and contented, so friendly in his +disposition, and so innocent in all his goings, that only three other +writers, so far as I know, have ever spoken ill of him. + +One was that sour-complexioned Cromwellian trooper, Richard Franck, who +wrote in 1658 an envious book entitled NORTHERN MEMOIRS, CALCULATED FOR +THE MERIDIAN OF SCOTLAND, ETC., TO WHICH IS ADDED THE CONTEMPLATIVE AND +PRACTICAL ANGLER. In this book the furious Franck first pays Walton the +flattery of imitation, and then further adorns him with abuse, calling +THE COMPLEAT ANGLER "an indigested octavo, stuffed with morals from +Dubravius and others," and more than hinting that the father of anglers +knew little or nothing of "his uncultivated art." Walton was a Churchman +and a Loyalist, you see, while Franck was a Commonwealth man and an +Independent. + +The second detractor of Walton was Lord Byron, who wrote + + + "The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb in his gullet + Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it." + + +But Byron is certainly a poor authority on the quality of mercy. His +contempt need not cause an honest man overwhelming distress. I should +call it a complimentary dislike. + +The third author who expressed unpleasant sentiments in regard to +Walton was Leigh Hunt. Here, again, I fancy that partizan prejudice had +something to do with the dislike. Hunt was a radical in politics and +religion. Moreover there was a feline strain in his character, which +made it necessary for him to scratch somebody now and then, as a relief +to his feelings. + +Walton was a great quoter. His book is not "stuffed," as Franck +jealously alleged, but it is certainly well sauced with piquant +references to other writers, as early as the author of the Book of Job, +and as late as John Dennys, who betrayed to the world THE SECRETS OF +ANGLING in 1613. Walton further seasoned his book with fragments of +information about fish and fishing, more or less apocryphal, gathered +from Aelian, Pliny, Plutarch, Sir Francis Bacon, Dubravius, Gesner, +Rondeletius, the learned Aldrovandus, the venerable Bede, the divine +Du Bartas, and many others. He borrowed freely for the adornment of +his discourse, and did not scorn to make use of what may be called +LIVE QUOTATIONS,--that is to say, the unpublished remarks of his near +contemporaries, caught in friendly conversation, or handed down by oral +tradition. + +But these various seasonings did not disguise, they only enhanced, the +delicate flavour of the dish which he served up to his readers. This was +all of his own taking, and of a sweetness quite incomparable. + +I like a writer who is original enough to water his garden with +quotations, without fear of being drowned out. Such men are Charles Lamb +and James Russell Lowell and John Burroughs. + +Walton's book is as fresh as a handful of wild violets and sweet +lavender. It breathes the odours of the green fields and the woods. It +tastes of simple, homely, appetizing things like the "syllabub of new +verjuice in a new-made haycock" which the milkwoman promised to give +Piscator the next time he came that way. Its music plays the tune of A +CONTENTED HEART over and over again without dulness, and charms us into +harmony with + + + "A noise like the sound of a hidden brook + In the leafy month of June, + That to the sleeping woods all night + Singeth a quiet tune." + + +Walton has been quoted even more than any of the writers whom he quotes. +It would be difficult, even if it were not ungrateful, to write +about angling without referring to him. Some pretty saying, some wise +reflection from his pages, suggests itself at almost every turn of the +subject. + +And yet his book, though it be the best, is not the only readable one +that his favourite recreation has begotten. The literature of angling +is extensive, as any one may see who will look at the list of the +collection presented by Mr. John Bartlett to Harvard University, or +study the catalogue of the piscatorial library of Mr. Dean Sage, +of Albany, who himself has contributed an admirable book on THE +RISTIGOUCHE. + +Nor is this literature altogether composed of dry and technical +treatises, interesting only to the confirmed anglimaniac, or to the +young novice ardent in pursuit of practical information. There is a good +deal of juicy reading in it. + + +Books about angling should be divided (according to De Quincey's method) +into two classes,--the literature of knowledge, and the literature of +power. + +The first class contains the handbooks on rods and tackle, the +directions how to angle for different kinds of fish, and the guides to +various fishing-resorts. The weakness of these books is that they soon +fall out of date, as the manufacture of tackle is improved, the art +of angling refined, and the fish in once-famous waters are educated or +exterminated. + +Alas, how transient is the fashion of this world, even in angling! The +old manuals with their precise instruction for trimming and painting +trout-rods eighteen feet long, and their painful description of +"oyntments" made of nettle-juice, fish-hawk oil, camphor, cat's fat, or +assafoedita, (supposed to allure the fish,) are altogether behind the +age. Many of the flies described by Charles Cotton and Thomas Barker +seem to have gone out of style among the trout. Perhaps familiarity has +bred contempt. Generation after generation of fish have seen these same +old feathered confections floating on the water, and learned by sharp +experience that they do not taste good. The blase trout demand something +new, something modern. It is for this reason, I suppose, that an +altogether original fly, unheard of, startling, will often do great +execution in an over-fished pool. + +Certain it is that the art of angling, in settled regions, is growing +more dainty and difficult. You must cast a longer, lighter line; you +must use finer leaders; you must have your flies dressed on smaller +hooks. + +And another thing is certain: in many places (described in the +ancient volumes) where fish were once abundant, they are now like the +shipwrecked sailors in Vergil his Aeneid,-- + + + "rari nantes in gurgite vasto." + + +The floods themselves are also disappearing. Mr. Edmund Clarence Stedman +was telling me, the other day, of the trout-brook that used to run +through the Connecticut village when he nourished a poet's youth. +He went back to visit the stream a few years since, and it was gone, +literally vanished from the face of earth, stolen to make a watersupply +for the town, and used for such base purposes as the washing of clothes +and the sprinkling of streets. + +I remember an expedition with my father, some twenty years ago, to Nova +Scotia, whither we set out to realize the hopes kindled by an ANGLER'S +GUIDE written in the early sixties. It was like looking for tall clocks +in the farmhouses around Boston. The harvest had been well gleaned +before our arrival, and in the very place where our visionary author +located his most famous catch we found a summer hotel and a sawmill. + +'T is strange and sad, how many regions there are where "the fishing was +wonderful forty years ago"! + + +The second class of angling books--the literature of power--includes +all (even those written with some purpose of instruction) in which +the gentle fascinations of the sport, the attractions of living +out-of-doors, the beauties of stream and woodland, the recollections of +happy adventure, and the cheerful thoughts that make the best of a day's +luck, come clearly before the author's mind and find some fit expression +in his words. Of such books, thank Heaven, there is a plenty to bring a +Maytide charm and cheer into the fisherman's dull December. I will name, +by way of random tribute from a grateful but unmethodical memory, a few +of these consolatory volumes. + +First of all comes a family of books that were born in Scotland and +smell of the heather. + +Whatever a Scotchman's conscience permits him to do, is likely to be +done with vigour and a fiery mind. In trade and in theology, in fishing +and in fighting, he is all there and thoroughly kindled. + +There is an old-fashioned book called THE MOOR AND THE LOCH, by John +Colquhoun, which is full of contagious enthusiasm. Thomas Tod Stoddart +was a most impassioned angler, (though over-given to strong language,) +and in his ANGLING REMINISCENCES he has touched the subject with a happy +hand,--happiest when he breaks into poetry and tosses out a song for the +fisherman. Professor John Wilson of the University of Edinburgh held the +chair of Moral Philosophy in that institution, but his true fame rests +on his well-earned titles of A. M. and F. R. S.,--Master of Angling, +and Fisherman Royal of Scotland. His RECREATIONS OF CHRISTOPHER NORTH, +albeit their humour is sometimes too boisterously hammered in, are +genial and generous essays, overflowing with passages of good-fellowship +and pedestrian fancy. I would recommend any person in a dry and +melancholy state of mind to read his paper on "Streams," in the first +volume of ESSAYS CRITICAL AND IMAGINATIVE. But it must be said, by way +of warning to those with whom dryness is a matter of principle, that all +Scotch fishing-books are likely to be sprinkled with Highland Dew. + +Among English anglers, Sir Humphry Davy is one of whom Christopher +North speaks rather slightingly. Nevertheless his SALMONIA is well worth +reading, not only because it was written by a learned man, but because +it exhales the spirit of cheerful piety and vital wisdom. Charles +Kingsley was another great man who wrote well about angling. His +CHALK-STREAM STUDIES are clear and sparkling. They cleanse the mind +and refresh the heart and put us more in love with living. Of quite a +different style are the MAXIMS AND HINTS FOR AN ANGLER, AND MISERIES OF +FISHING, which were written by Richard Penn, a grandson of the founder +of Pennsylvania. This is a curious and rare little volume, professing +to be a compilation from the "Common Place Book of the Houghton Fishing +Club," and dealing with the subject from a Pickwickian point of view. +I suppose that William Penn would have thought his grandson a frivolous +writer. + +But he could not have entertained such an opinion of the Honourable +Robert Boyle, of whose OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS no less than twelve +discourses treat "of Angling Improved to Spiritual Uses." The titles +of some of these discourses are quaint enough to quote. "Upon the being +called upon to rise early on a very fair morning." "Upon the mounting, +singing, and lighting of larks." "Upon fishing with a counterfeit fly." +"Upon a danger arising from an unseasonable contest with the steersman." +"Upon one's drinking water out of the brim of his hat." With such good +texts it is easy to endure, and easier still to spare, the sermons. + +Englishmen carry their love of travel into their anglimania, and many of +their books describe fishing adventures in foreign parts. RAMBLES WITH +A FISHING-ROD, by E. S. Roscoe, tells of happy days in the Salzkammergut +and the Bavarian Highlands and Normandy. FISH-TAILS AND A FEW OTHERS, by +Bradnock Hall, contains some delightful chapters on Norway. THE ROD IN +INDIA, by H. S. Thomas, narrates wonderful adventures with the Mahseer +and the Rohu and other pagan fish. + +But, after all, I like the English angler best when he travels at home, +and writes of dry-fly fishing in the Itchen or the Test, or of wet-fly +fishing in Northumberland or Sutherlandshire. There is a fascinating +booklet that appeared quietly, some years ago, called AN AMATEUR +ANGLER'S DAYS IN DOVE DALE. It runs as easily and merrily and kindly +as a little river, full of peace and pure enjoyment. Other books of the +same quality have since been written by the same pen,--DAYS IN CLOVER, +FRESH WOODS, BY MEADOW AND STREAM. It is no secret, I believe, that +the author is Mr. Edward Marston, the senior member of a London +publishing-house. But he still clings to his retiring pen-name of "The +Amateur Angler," and represents himself, by a graceful fiction, as all +unskilled in the art. An instance of similar modesty is found in Mr. +Andrew Lang, who entitles the first chapter of his delightful +ANGLING SKETCHES (without which no fisherman's library is complete), +"Confessions of a Duffer." This an engaging liberty which no one else +would dare to take. + +The best English fish-story pure and simple, that I know, is "Crocker's +Hole," by H. D. Black-more, the creator of LORNA DOONE. + +Let us turn now to American books about angling. Of these the merciful +dispensations of Providence have brought forth no small store since Mr. +William Andrew Chatto made the ill-natured remark which is pilloried at +the head of this chapter. By the way, it seems that Mr. Chatto had never +heard of "The Schuylkill Fishing Company," which was founded on that +romantic stream near Philadelphia in 1732, nor seen the AUTHENTIC +HISTORICAL MEMOIR of that celebrated and amusing society. + +I am sorry for the man who cannot find pleasure in reading the appendix +of THE AMERICAN ANGLER'S BOOK, by Thaddeus Norris; or the discursive +pages of Frank Forester's FISH AND FISHING; or the introduction and +notes of that unexcelled edition of Walton which was made by the +Reverend Doctor George W. Bethune; or SUPERIOR FISHING and GAME FISH OF +THE NORTH, by Mr. Robert B. Roosevelt; or Henshall's BOOK OF THE BLACK +BASS; or the admirable disgressions of Mr. Henry P. Wells, in his +FLY-RODS AND FLY-TACKLE, and THE AMERICAN SALMON ANGLER. Dr. William C. +Prime has never put his profound knowledge of the art of angling into a +manual of technical instruction; but he has written of the delights of +the sport in OWL CREEK LETTERS, and in I GO A-FISHING, and in some of +the chapters of ALONG NEW ENGLAND ROADS and AMONG NEW ENGLAND HILLS, +with a persuasive skill that has created many new anglers, and made +many old ones grateful. It is a fitting coincidence of heredity that his +niece, Mrs. Annie Trumbull Slosson, is the author of the most tender and +pathetic of all angling stories, FISHIN' JIMMY. + + +But it is not only in books written altogether from his peculiar point +of view and to humour his harmless insanity, that the angler may find +pleasant reading about his favourite pastime. There are excellent bits +of fishing scattered all through the field of good literature. It seems +as if almost all the men who could write well had a friendly feeling for +the contemplative sport. + +Plutarch, in THE LIVES OF THE NOBLE GRECIANS AND ROMANS, tells a capital +fish-story of the manner in which the Egyptian Cleopatra fooled that +far-famed Roman wight, Marc Antony, when they were angling together on +the Nile. As I recall it, from a perusal in early boyhood, Antony was +having very bad luck indeed; in fact he had taken nothing, and was sadly +put out about it. Cleopatra, thinking to get a rise out of him, secretly +told one of her attendants to dive over the opposite side of the barge +and fasten a salt fish to the Roman general's hook. The attendant was +much pleased with this commission, and, having executed it, proceeded to +add a fine stroke of his own; for when he had made the fish fast on the +hook, he gave a great pull to the line and held on tightly. Antony was +much excited and began to haul violently at his tackle. + +"By Jupiter!" he exclaimed, "it was long in coming, but I have a +colossal bite now." + +"Have a care," said Cleopatra, laughing behind her sunshade, "or he will +drag you into the water. You must give him line when he pulls hard." + +"Not a denarius will I give!" rudely responded Antony. "I mean to have +this halibut or Hades!" + +At this moment the man under the boat, being out of breath, let the line +go, and Antony, falling backward, drew up the salted herring. + +"Take that fish off the hook, Palinurus," he proudly said. "It is not +as large as I thought, but it looks like the oldest one that has been +caught to-day." + +Such, in effect, is the tale narrated by the veracious Plutarch. And +if any careful critic wishes to verify my quotation from memory, he may +compare it with the proper page of Langhorne's translation; I think it +is in the second volume, near the end. + +Sir Walter Scott, who once described himself as + + + "No fisher, + But a well-wisher + To the game," + + +has an amusing passage of angling in the third chapter of REDGAUNTLET. +Darsie Latimer is relating his adventures in Dumfriesshire. "By the +way," says he, "old Cotton's instructions, by which I hoped to qualify +myself for the gentle society of anglers, are not worth a farthing for +this meridian. I learned this by mere accident, after I had waited four +mortal hours. I shall never forget an impudent urchin, a cowherd, about +twelve years old, without either brogue or bonnet, barelegged, with a +very indifferent pair of breeches,--how the villain grinned in scorn at +my landing-net, my plummet, and the gorgeous jury of flies which I had +assembled to destroy all the fish in the river. I was induced at last to +lend the rod to the sneering scoundrel, to see what he would make of it; +and he not only half-filled my basket in an hour, but literally taught +me to kill two trouts with my own hand." + +Thus ancient and well-authenticated is the superstition of the angling +powers of the barefooted country-boy,--in fiction. + +Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, in that valuable but over-capitalized book, +MY NOVEL, makes use of Fishing for Allegorical Purposes. The episode of +John Burley and the One-eyed Perch not only points a Moral but adorns +the Tale. + +In the works of R. D. Blackmore, angling plays a less instructive but a +pleasanter part. It is closely interwoven with love. There is a magical +description of trout-fishing on a meadow-brook in ALICE LORRAINE. And +who that has read LORNA DOONE, (pity for the man or woman that knows not +the delight of that book!) can ever forget how young John Ridd dared +his way up the gliddery water-slide, after loaches, and found Lorna in a +fair green meadow adorned with flowers, at the top of the brook? + +I made a little journey into the Doone Country once, just to see that +brook and to fish in it. The stream looked smaller, and the water-slide +less terrible, than they seemed in the book. But it was a mighty pretty +place after all; and I suppose that even John Ridd, when he came back to +it in after years, found it shrunken a little. + +All the streams were larger in our boyhood than they are now, except, +perhaps, that which flows from the sweetest spring of all, the fountain +of love, which John Ridd discovered beside the Bagworthy River,--and I, +on the willow-shaded banks of the Patapsco, where the Baltimore girls +fish for gudgeons,--and you? Come, gentle reader, is there no stream +whose name is musical to you, because of a hidden spring of love that +you once found on its shore? The waters of that fountain never fail, and +in them alone we taste the undiminished fulness of immortal youth. + +The stories of William Black are enlivened with fish, and he knew, +better than most men, how they should be taken. Whenever he wanted to +get two young people engaged to each other, all other devices failing, +he sent them out to angle together. If it had not been for fishing, +everything in A PRINCESS OF THULE and WHITE HEATHER would have gone +wrong. + +But even men who have been disappointed in love may angle for solace or +diversion. I have known some old bachelors who fished excellently well; +and others I have known who could find, and give, much pleasure in a day +on the stream, though they had no skill in the sport. Of this class was +Washington Irving, with an extract from whose SKETCH BOOK I will bring +this rambling dissertation to an end. + +"Our first essay," says he, "was along a mountain brook among the +highlands of the Hudson; a most unfortunate place for the execution of +those piscatory tactics which had been invented along the velvet margins +of quiet English rivulets. It was one of those wild streams that lavish, +among our romantic solitudes, unheeded beauties enough to fill the +sketch-book of a hunter of the picturesque. Sometimes it would leap down +rocky shelves, making small cascades, over which the trees threw their +broad balancing sprays, and long nameless weeds hung in fringes from the +impending banks, dripping with diamond drops. Sometimes it would brawl +and fret along a ravine in the matted shade of a forest, filling it with +murmurs; and, after this termagant career, would steal forth into open +day, with the most placid, demure face imaginable; as I have seen some +pestilent shrew of a housewife, after filling her home with uproar and +ill-humour, come dimpling out of doors, swimming and courtesying, and +smiling upon all the world. + +"How smoothly would this vagrant brook glide, at such times, through +some bosom of green meadow-land among the mountains, where the quiet +was only interrupted by the occasional tinkling of a bell from the lazy +cattle among the clover, or the sound of a woodcutter's axe from the +neighbouring forest! + +"For my part, I was always a bungler at all kinds of sport that required +either patience or adroitness, and had not angled above half an hour +before I had completely 'satisfied the sentiment,' and convinced myself +of the truth of Izaak Walton's opinion, that angling is something like +poetry,--a man must be born to it. I hooked myself instead of the fish; +tangled my line in every tree; lost my bait; broke my rod; until I gave +up the attempt in despair, and passed the day under the trees, reading +old Izaak, satisfied that it was his fascinating vein of honest +simplicity and rural feeling that had bewitched me, and not the passion +for angling." + + + + +A NORWEGIAN HONEYMOON + + + "The best rose-bush, after all, is not that which has the + fewest thorns, but that which bears the finest roses." + + --SOLOMON SINGLEWITZ: The Life of Adam. + + +I + + +It was not all unadulterated sweetness, of course. There were enough +difficulties in the way to make it seem desirable; and a few stings +of annoyance, now and then, lent piquancy to the adventure. But a good +memory, in dealing with the past, has the art of straining out all the +beeswax of discomfort, and storing up little jars of pure hydromel. As +we look back at our six weeks in Norway, we agree that no period of our +partnership in experimental honeymooning has yielded more honey to the +same amount of comb. + +Several considerations led us to the resolve of taking our honeymoon +experimentally rather than chronologically. We started from the +self-evident proposition that it ought to be the happiest time in +married life. + +"It is perfectly ridiculous," said my lady Graygown, "to suppose that +a thing like that can be fixed by the calendar. It may possibly fall in +the first month after the wedding, but it is not likely. Just think how +slightly two people know each other when they get married. They are +in love, of course, but that is not at all the same as being well +acquainted. Sometimes the more love, the less acquaintance! And +sometimes the more acquaintance, the less love! Besides, at first there +are always the notes of thanks for the wedding-presents to be written, +and the letters of congratulation to be answered, and it is awfully hard +to make each one sound a little different from the others and perfectly +natural. Then, you know, everybody seems to suspect you of the folly of +being newly married. You run across your friends everywhere, and they +grin when they see you. You can't help feeling as if a lot of people +were watching you through opera-glasses, or taking snap-shots at you +with a kodak. It is absurd to imagine that the first month must be the +real honeymoon. And just suppose it were,--what bad luck that would be! +What would there be to look forward to?" + +Every word that fell from her lips seemed to me like the wisdom of +Diotima. + +"You are right," I cried; "Portia could not hold a candle to you for +clear argument. Besides, suppose two people are imprudent enough to get +married in the first week of December, as we did!--what becomes of the +chronological honeymoon then? There is no fishing in December, and all +the rivers of Paradise, at least in our latitude, are frozen up. No, my +lady, we will discover our month of honey by the empirical method. Each +year we will set out together to seek it in a solitude for two; and we +will compare notes on moons, and strike the final balance when we are +sure that our happiest experiment has been completed." + +We are not sure of that, even yet. We are still engaged, as a committee +of two, in our philosophical investigation, and we decline to make +anything but a report of progress. We know more now than we did when we +first went honeymooning in the city of Washington. For one thing, we are +certain that not even the far-famed rosemary-fields of Narbonne, or +the fragrant hillsides of the Corbieres, yield a sweeter harvest to the +busy-ness of the bees than the Norwegian meadows and mountain-slopes +yielded to our idleness in the summer of 1888. + + +II + + +The rural landscape of Norway, on the long easterly slope that leads up +to the watershed among the mountains of the western coast, is not unlike +that of Vermont or New Hampshire. The railway from Christiania to the +Randsfjord carried us through a hilly country of scattered farms and +villages. Wood played a prominent part in the scenery. There were dark +stretches of forest on the hilltops and in the valleys; rivers filled +with floating logs; sawmills beside the waterfalls; wooden farmhouses +painted white; and rail-fences around the fields. The people seemed +sturdy, prosperous, independent. They had the familiar habit of coming +down to the station to see the train arrive and depart. We might have +fancied ourselves on a journey through the Connecticut valley, if it had +not been for the soft sing-song of the Norwegian speech and the uniform +politeness of the railway officials. + +What a room that was in the inn at Randsfjord where we spent our first +night out! Vast, bare, primitive, with eight windows to admit the +persistent nocturnal twilight; a sea-like floor of blue-painted boards, +unbroken by a single island of carpet; and a castellated stove in one +corner: an apartment for giants, with two little beds for dwarfs on +opposite shores of the ocean. There was no telephone; so we arranged +a system of communication with a fishing-line, to make sure that +the sleepy partner should be awake in time for the early boat in the +morning. + +The journey up the lake took seven hours, and reminded us of a voyage +on Lake George; placid, picturesque, and pervaded by summer boarders. +Somewhere on the way we had lunch, and were well fortified to take the +road when the steamboat landed us at Odnaes, at the head of the lake, +about two o'clock in the afternoon. + +There are several methods in which you may drive through Norway. The +government maintains posting-stations at the farms along the main +travelled highways, where you can hire horses and carriages of various +kinds. There are also English tourist agencies which make a business of +providing travellers with complete transportation. You may try either of +these methods alone, or you may make a judicious mixture. + +Thus, by an application of the theory of permutations and combinations, +you have your choice among four ways of accomplishing a driving-tour. +First, you may engage a carriage and pair, with a driver, from one of +the tourist agencies, and roll through your journey in sedentary case, +provided your horses do not go lame or give out. Second, you may rely +altogether upon the posting-stations to send you on your journey; and +this is a very pleasant, lively way, provided there is not a crowd +of travellers on the road before you, who take up all the comfortable +conveyances and leave you nothing but a jolting cart or a ramshackle +KARIOL of the time of St. Olaf. Third, you may rent an easy-riding +vehicle (by choice a well-hung gig) for the entire trip, and change +ponies at the stations as you drive along; this is the safest way. The +fourth method is to hire your horseflesh at the beginning for the whole +journey, and pick up your vehicles from place to place. This method is +theoretically possible, but I do not know any one who has tried it. + +Our gig was waiting for us at Odnaes. There was a brisk little +mouse-coloured pony in the shafts; and it took but a moment to strap our +leather portmanteau on the board at the back, perch the postboy on top +of it, and set out for our first experience of a Norwegian driving-tour. + +The road at first was level and easy; and we bowled along smoothly +through the valley of the Etnaelv, among drooping birch-trees and green +fields where the larks were singing. At Tomlevolden, ten miles farther +on, we reached the first station, a comfortable old farmhouse, with a +great array of wooden outbuildings. Here we had a chance to try our +luck with the Norwegian language in demanding "en hest, saa straxt som +muligt." This was what the guide-book told us to say when we wanted a +horse. + +There is great fun in making a random cast on the surface of a strange +language. You cannot tell what will come up. It is like an experiment in +witchcraft. We should not have been at all surprised, I must confess, if +our preliminary incantation had brought forth a cow or a basket of eggs. + +But the good people seemed to divine our intentions; and while we were +waiting for one of the stable-boys to catch and harness the new horse, a +yellow-haired maiden inquired, in very fair English, if we would not be +pleased to have a cup of tea and some butter-bread; which we did with +great comfort. + +The SKYDSGUT, or so-called postboy, for the next stage of the journey, +was a full-grown man of considerable weight. As he climbed to his perch +on our portmanteau, my lady Graygown congratulated me on the prudence +which had provided that one side of that receptacle should be of an +inflexible stiffness, quite incapable of being crushed; otherwise, asked +she, what would have become of her Sunday frock under the pressure of +this stern necessity of a postboy? + +But I think we should not have cared very much if all our luggage had +been smashed on this journey, for the road now began to ascend, and the +views over the Etnadal, with its winding river, were of a breadth and +sweetness most consoling. Up and up we went, curving in and out through +the forest, crossing wild ravines and shadowy dells, looking back at +every turn on the wide landscape bathed in golden light. At the station +of Sveen, where we changed horse and postboy again, it was already +evening. The sun was down, but the mystical radiance of the northern +twilight illumined the sky. The dark fir-woods spread around us, and +their odourous breath was diffused through the cool, still air. We were +crossing the level summit of the plateau, twenty-three hundred feet +above the sea. Two tiny woodland lakes gleamed out among the trees. Then +the road began to slope gently towards the west, and emerged suddenly +on the edge of the forest, looking out over the long, lovely vale of +Valders, with snow-touched mountains on the horizon, and the river +Baegna shimmering along its bed, a thousand feet below us. + +What a heart-enlarging outlook! What a keen joy of motion, as the wheels +rolled down the long incline, and the sure-footed pony swung between the +shafts and rattled his hoofs merrily on the hard road! What long, +deep breaths of silent pleasure in the crisp night air! What wondrous +mingling of lights in the afterglow of sunset, and the primrose bloom +of the first stars, and faint foregleamings of the rising moon creeping +over the hill behind us! What perfection of companionship without words, +as we rode together through a strange land, along the edge of the dark! + +When we finished the thirty-fifth mile, and drew up in the courtyard of +the station at Frydenlund, Graygown sprang out, with a little sigh of +regret. + +"Is it last night," she cried, "or to-morrow morning? I have n't the +least idea what time it is; it seems as if we had been travelling in +eternity." + +"It is just ten o'clock," I answered, "and the landlord says there will +be a hot supper of trout ready for us in five minutes." + +It would be vain to attempt to give a daily record of the whole +journey in which we made this fair beginning. It was a most idle and +unsystematic pilgrimage. We wandered up and down, and turned aside when +fancy beckoned. Sometimes we hurried on as fast as the horses would +carry us, driving sixty or seventy miles a day; sometimes we loitered +and dawdled, as if we did not care whether we got anywhere or not. If a +place pleased us, we stayed and tried the fishing. If we were tired of +driving, we took to the water, and travelled by steamer along a fjord, +or hired a rowboat to cross from point to point. One day we would be in +a good little hotel, with polyglot guests, and serving-maids in stagey +Norse costumes,--like the famous inn at Stalheim, which commands the +amazing panorama of the Naerodal. Another day we would lodge in a plain +farmhouse like the station at Nedre Vasenden, where eggs and fish were +the staples of diet, and the farmer's daughter wore the picturesque +peasants' dress, with its tall cap, without any dramatic airs. Lakes +and rivers, precipices and gorges, waterfalls and glaciers and snowy +mountains were our daily repast. We drove over five hundred miles in +various kinds of open wagons, KARIOLS for one, and STOLKJAERRES for +two, after we had left our comfortable gig behind us. We saw the ancient +dragon-gabled church of Burgund; and the delightful, showery town of +Bergen; and the gloomy cliffs of the Geiranger-Fjord laced with filmy +cataracts; and the bewitched crags of the Romsdal; and the wide, +desolate landscape of Jerkin; and a hundred other unforgotten scenes. +Somehow or other we went, (around and about, and up and down, now +on wheels, and now on foot, and now in a boat,) all the way from +Christiania to Throndhjem. My lady Graygown could give you the exact +itinerary, for she has been well brought up, and always keeps a diary. +All I know is, that we set out from one city and arrived at the other, +and we gathered by the way a collection of instantaneous photographs. +I am going to turn them over now, and pick out a few of the clearest +pictures. + + + +III + + +Here is the bridge over the Naeselv at Fagernaes. Just below it is a +good pool for trout, but the river is broad and deep and swift. It is +difficult wading to get out within reach of the fish. I have taken half +a dozen small ones and come to the end of my cast. There is a big one +lying out in the middle of the river, I am sure. But the water already +rises to my hips; another step will bring it over the top of my waders, +and send me downstream feet uppermost. + +"Take care!" cries Graygown from the grassy bank, where she sits +placidly crocheting some mysterious fabric of white yarn. + +She does not see the large rock lying at the bottom of the river just +beyond me. If I can step on that, and stand there without being swept +away, I can reach the mid-current with my flies. It is a long stride +and a slippery foothold, but by good luck "the last step which costs" is +accomplished. The tiny black and orange hackle goes curling out over the +stream, lights softly, and swings around with the current, folding +and expanding its feathers as if it were alive. The big trout takes +it promptly the instant it passes over him; and I play him and net him +without moving from my perilous perch. + +Graygown waves her crochet-work like a flag, "Bravo!" she cries. "That's +a beauty, nearly two pounds! But do be careful about coming back; you +are not good enough to take any risks yet." + + +The station at Skogstad is a solitary farmhouse lying far up on the +bare hillside, with its barns and out-buildings grouped around a central +courtyard, like a rude fortress. The river travels along the valley +below, now wrestling its way through a narrow passage among the rocks, +now spreading out at leisure in a green meadow. As we cross the bridge, +the crystal water is changed to opal by the sunset glow, and a gentle +breeze ruffles the long pools, and the trout are rising freely. It is +the perfect hour for fishing. Would Graygown dare to drive on alone to +the gate of the fortress, and blow upon the long horn which doubtless +hangs beside it, and demand admittance and a lodging, "in the name of +the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress,"--while I angle down the +river a mile or so? + +Certainly she would. What door is there in Europe at which the American +girl is afraid to knock? "But wait a moment. How do you ask for fried +chicken and pancakes in Norwegian? KYLLING OG PANDEKAGE? How fierce it +sounds! All right now. Run along and fish." + +The river welcomes me like an old friend. The tune that it sings is the +same that the flowing water repeats all around the world. Not otherwise +do the lively rapids carry the familiar air, and the larger falls drone +out a burly bass, along the west branch of the Penobscot, or down the +valley of the Bouquet. But here there are no forests to conceal the +course of the stream. It lies as free to the view as a child's thought. +As I follow on from pool to pool, picking out a good trout here and +there, now from a rocky corner edged with foam, now from a swift +gravelly run, now from a snug hiding-place that the current has hollowed +out beneath the bank, all the way I can see the fortress far above me on +the hillside. + +I am as sure that it has already surrendered to Graygown as if I could +discern her white banner of crochet-work floating from the battlements. + +Just before dark, I climb the hill with a heavy basket of fish. The +castle gate is open. The scent of chicken and pancakes salutes the weary +pilgrim. In a cosy little parlour, adorned with fluffy mats and pictures +framed in pine-cones, lit by a hanging lamp with glass pendants, +sits the mistress of the occasion, calmly triumphant and plying her +crochet-needle. + +There is something mysterious about a woman's fancy-work. It seems +to have all the soothing charm of the tobacco-plant, without its +inconveniences. Just to see her tranquillity, while she relaxes her mind +and busies her fingers with a bit of tatting or embroidery or crochet, +gives me a sense of being domesticated, a "homey" feeling, anywhere in +the wide world. + + +If you ever go to Norway, you must be sure to see the Loenvand. You can +set out from the comfortable hotel at Faleide, go up the Indvik Fjord +in a rowboat, cross over a two-mile hill on foot or by carriage, spend a +happy day on the lake, and return to your inn in time for a late supper. +The lake is perhaps the most beautiful in Norway. Long and narrow, it +lies like a priceless emerald of palest green, hidden and guarded by +jealous mountains. It is fed by huge glaciers, which hang over the +shoulders of the hills like ragged cloaks of ice. + +As we row along the shore, trolling in vain for the trout that live in +the ice-cold water, fragments of the tattered cloth-of-silver far above +us, on the opposite side, are loosened by the touch of the summer +sun, and fall from the precipice. They drift downward, at first, +as noiselessly as thistledowns; then they strike the rocks and come +crashing towards the lake with the hollow roar of an avalanche. + +At the head of the lake we find ourselves in an enormous amphitheatre +of mountains. Glaciers are peering down upon us. Snow-fields glare at us +with glistening eyes. Black crags seem to bend above us with an eternal +frown. Streamers of foam float from the forehead of the hills and the +lips of the dark ravines. But there is a little river of cold, pure +water flowing from one of the rivers of ice, and a pleasant shelter of +young trees and bushes growing among the debris of shattered rocks; and +there we build our camp-fire and eat our lunch. + +Hunger is a most impudent appetite. It makes a man forget all the +proprieties. What place is there so lofty, so awful, that he will not +dare to sit down in it and partake of food? Even on the side of Mount +Sinai, the elders of Israel spread their out-of-door table, "and did eat +and drink." + + +I see the Tarn of the Elk at this moment, just as it looked in the clear +sunlight of that August afternoon, ten years ago. Far down in a hollow +of the desolate hills it nestles, four thousand feet above the sea. The +moorland trail hangs high above it, and, though it is a mile away, every +curve of the treeless shore, every shoal and reef in the light green +water is clearly visible. With a powerful field-glass one can almost see +the large trout for which the pond is famous. + +The shelter-hut on the bank is built of rough gray stones, and the roof +is leaky to the light as well as to the weather. But there are two beds +in it, one for my guide and one for me; and a practicable fireplace, +which is soon filled with a blaze of comfort. There is also a random +library of novels, which former fishermen have thoughtfully left behind +them. I like strong reading in the wilderness. Give me a story with +plenty of danger and wholesome fighting in it,--"The Three Musketeers," +or "Treasure Island," or "The Afghan's Knife." Intricate studies of +social dilemmas and tales of mild philandering seem bloodless and +insipid. + +The trout in the Tarn of the Elk are large, undoubtedly, but they are +also few in number and shy in disposition. Either some of the peasants +have been fishing over them with the deadly "otter," or else they +belong to that variety of the trout family known as TRUTTA DAMNOSA,--the +species which you can see but cannot take. We watched these aggravating +fish playing on the surface at sunset; we saw them dart beneath our boat +in the early morning; but not until a driving snowstorm set in, about +noon of the second day, did we succeed in persuading any of them to take +the fly. Then they rose, for a couple of hours, with amiable perversity. +I caught five, weighing between two and four pounds each, and stopped +because my hands were so numb that I could cast no longer. + +Now for a long tramp over the hills and home. Yes, home; for yonder in +the white house at Drivstuen, with fuchsias and geraniums blooming in +the windows, and a pretty, friendly Norse girl to keep her company, my +lady is waiting for me. See, she comes running out to the door, in the +gathering dusk, with a red flower in her hair, and hails me with the +fisherman's greeting. WHAT LUCK? + +Well, THIS luck, at all events! I can show you a few good fish, and sit +down with you to a supper of reindeer-venison and a quiet evening of +music and talk. + + +Shall I forget thee, hospitable Stuefloten, dearest to our memory of all +the rustic stations in Norway? There are no stars beside thy name in the +pages of Baedeker. But in the book of our hearts a whole constellation +is thine. + +The long, low, white farmhouse stands on a green hill at the head of +the Romsdal. A flourishing crop of grass and flowers grows on the +stable-roof, and there is a little belfry with a big bell to call the +labourers home from the fields. In the corner of the living-room of the +old house there is a broad fireplace built across the angle. Curious +cupboards are tucked away everywhere. The long table in the dining-room +groans thrice a day with generous fare. There are as many kinds of hot +bread as in a Virginia country-house; the cream is thick enough to +make a spoon stand up in amazement; once, at dinner, we sat embarrassed +before six different varieties of pudding. + +In the evening, when the saffron light is beginning to fade, we go out +and walk in the road before the house, looking down the long mystical +vale of the Rauma, or up to the purple western hills from which the +clear streams of the Ulvaa flow to meet us. + +Above Stuefloten the Rauma lingers and meanders through a smoother and +more open valley, with broad beds of gravel and flowery meadows. Here +the trout and grayling grow fat and lusty, and here we angle for them, +day after day, in water so crystalline that when one steps into the +stream one hardly knows whether to expect a depth of six inches or six +feet. + +Tiny English flies and leaders of gossamer are the tackle for such water +in midsummer. With this delicate outfit, and with a light hand and +a long line, one may easily outfish the native angler, and fill a +twelve-pound basket every fair day. I remember an old Norwegian, an +inveterate fisherman, whose footmarks we saw ahead of us on the stream +all through an afternoon. Footmarks I call them; and so they were, +literally, for there were only the prints of a single foot to be seen +on the banks of sand, and between them, a series of small, round, deep +holes. + +"What kind of a bird made those marks, Frederik?" I asked my faithful +guide. + +"That is old Pedersen," he said, "with his wooden leg. He makes a dot +after every step. We shall catch him in a little while." + +Sure enough, about six o'clock we saw him standing on a grassy point, +hurling his line, with a fat worm on the end of it, far across the +stream, and letting it drift down with the current. But the water was +too fine for that style of fishing, and the poor old fellow had but a +half dozen little fish. My creel was already overflowing, so I emptied +out all of the grayling into his bag, and went on up the river to +complete my tale of trout before dark. + +And when the fishing is over, there is Graygown with the wagon, waiting +at the appointed place under the trees, beside the road. The sturdy +white pony trots gayly homeward. The pale yellow stars blossom out above +the hills again, as they did on that first night when we were driving +down into the Valders. Frederik leans over the back of the seat, telling +us marvellous tales, in his broken English, of the fishing in a certain +lake among the mountains, and of the reindeer-shooting on the fjeld +beyond it. + +"It is sad that you go to-morrow," says he "but you come back another +year, I think, to fish in that lake, and to shoot those reindeer." + +Yes, Frederik, we are coming back to Norway some day, perhaps,--who can +tell? It is one of the hundred places that we are vaguely planning to +revisit. For, though we did not see the midnight sun there, we saw the +honeymoon most distinctly. And it was bright enough to take pictures by +its light. + + + + +WHO OWNS THE MOUNTAINS? + + +"My heart is fixed firm and stable in the belief that ultimately the +sunshine and the summer, the flowers and the azure sky, shall become, as +it were, interwoven into man's existence. He shall take from all their +beauty and enjoy their glory."--RICHARD JEFFERIES: The Life of the +Fields. + + +It was the little lad that asked the question; and the answer also, as +you will see, was mainly his. + +We had been keeping Sunday afternoon together in our favourite fashion, +following out that pleasant text which tells us to "behold the fowls +of the air." There is no injunction of Holy Writ less burdensome in +acceptance, or more profitable in obedience, than this easy out-of-doors +commandment. For several hours we walked in the way of this precept, +through the untangled woods that lie behind the Forest Hills Lodge, +where a pair of pigeon-hawks had their nest; and around the +brambly shores of the small pond, where Maryland yellow-throats and +song-sparrows were settled; and under the lofty hemlocks of the fragment +of forest across the road, where rare warblers flitted silently among +the tree-tops. The light beneath the evergreens was growing dim as we +came out from their shadow into the widespread glow of the sunset, +on the edge of a grassy hill, overlooking the long valley of the Gale +River, and uplooking to the Franconia Mountains. + +It was the benediction hour. The placid air of the day shed a new +tranquillity over the consoling landscape. The heart of the earth +seemed to taste a repose more perfect than that of common days. +A hermit-thrush, far up the vale, sang his vesper hymn; while the +swallows, seeking their evening meal, circled above the river-fields +without an effort, twittering softly, now and then, as if they must give +thanks. Slight and indefinable touches in the scene, perhaps the mere +absence of the tiny human figures passing along the road or labouring in +the distant meadows, perhaps the blue curls of smoke rising lazily +from the farmhouse chimneys, or the family groups sitting under the +maple-trees before the door, diffused a sabbath atmosphere over the +world. + +Then said the lad, lying on the grass beside me, "Father, who owns the +mountains?" + +I happened to have heard, the day before, of two or three lumber +companies that had bought some of the woodland slopes; so I told him +their names, adding that there were probably a good many different +owners, whose claims taken all together would cover the whole Franconia +range of hills. + +"Well," answered the lad, after a moment of silence, "I don't see what +difference that makes. Everybody can look at them." + +They lay stretched out before us in the level sunlight, the sharp peaks +outlined against the sky, the vast ridges of forest sinking smoothly +towards the valleys, the deep hollows gathering purple shadows in their +bosoms, and the little foothills standing out in rounded promontories of +brighter green from the darker mass behind them. + +Far to the east, the long comb of Twin Mountain extended itself back +into the untrodden wilderness. Mount Garfield lifted a clear-cut +pyramid through the translucent air. The huge bulk of Lafayette ascended +majestically in front of us, crowned with a rosy diadem of rocks. Eagle +Cliff and Bald Mountain stretched their line of scalloped peaks across +the entrance to the Notch. Beyond that shadowy vale, the swelling +summits of Cannon Mountain rolled away to meet the tumbling waves of +Kinsman, dominated by one loftier crested billow that seemed almost +ready to curl and break out of green silence into snowy foam. Far down +the sleeping Landaff valley the undulating dome of Moosilauke trembled +in the distant blue. + +They were all ours, from crested cliff to wooded base. The solemn groves +of firs and spruces, the plumed sierras of lofty pines, the stately +pillared forests of birch and beech, the wild ravines, the tremulous +thickets of silvery poplar, the bare peaks with their wide outlooks, and +the cool vales resounding with the ceaseless song of little rivers,--we +knew and loved them all; they ministered peace and joy to us; they were +all ours, though we held no title deeds and our ownership had never been +recorded. + +What is property, after all? The law says there are two kinds, real and +personal. But it seems to me that the only real property is that which +is truly personal, that which we take into our inner life and make our +own forever, by understanding and admiration and sympathy and love. This +is the only kind of possession that is worth anything. + +A gallery of great paintings adorns the house of the Honourable Midas +Bond, and every year adds a new treasure to his collection. He knows +how much they cost him, and he keeps the run of the quotations at the +auction sales, congratulating himself as the price of the works of +his well-chosen artists rises in the scale, and the value of his art +treasures is enhanced. But why should he call them his? He is only their +custodian. He keeps them well varnished, and framed in gilt. But he +never passes through those gilded frames into the world of beauty that +lies behind the painted canvas. He knows nothing of those lovely places +from which the artist's soul and hand have drawn their inspiration. They +are closed and barred to him. He has bought the pictures, but he cannot +buy the key. The poor art student who wanders through his gallery, +lingering with awe and love before the masterpieces, owns them far more +truly than Midas does. + +Pomposus Silverman purchased a rich library a few years ago. The books +were rare and costly. That was the reason why Pomposus bought them. He +was proud to feel that he was the possessor of literary treasures which +were not to be found in the houses of his wealthiest acquaintances. +But the threadbare Bucherfreund, who was engaged at a slender salary to +catalogue the library and take care of it, became the real proprietor. +Pomposus paid for the books, but Bucherfreund enjoyed them. + +I do not mean to say that the possession of much money is always a +barrier to real wealth of mind and heart. Nor would I maintain that all +the poor of this world are rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom. But +some of them are. And if some of the rich of this world (through the +grace of Him with whom all things are possible) are also modest in their +tastes, and gentle in their hearts, and open in their minds, and ready +to be pleased with unbought pleasures, they simply share in the best +things which are provided for all. + +I speak not now of the strife that men wage over the definition and +the laws of property. Doubtless there is much here that needs to be set +right. There are men and women in the world who are shut out from the +right to earn a living, so poor that they must perish for want of daily +bread, so full of misery that there is no room for the tiniest seed of +joy in their lives. This is the lingering shame of civilization. Some +day, perhaps, we shall find the way to banish it. Some day, every +man shall have his title to a share in the world's great work and the +world's large joy. + +But meantime it is certain that, where there are a hundred poor bodies +who suffer from physical privation, there are a thousand poor souls who +suffer from spiritual poverty. To relive this greater suffering there +needs no change of laws, only a change of heart. + +What does it profit a man to be the landed proprietor of countless acres +unless he can reap the harvest of delight that blooms from every rood of +God's earth for the seeing eye and the loving spirit? And who can reap +that harvest so closely that there shall not be abundant gleaning left +for all mankind? The most that a wide estate can yield to its legal +owner is a living. But the real owner can gather from a field of +goldenrod, shining in the August sunlight, an unearned increment of +delight. + +We measure success by accumulation. The measure is false. The true +measure is appreciation. He who loves most has most. + +How foolishly we train ourselves for the work of life! We give our most +arduous and eager efforts to the cultivation of those faculties which +will serve us in the competitions of the forum and the market-place. +But if we were wise, we should care infinitely more for the unfolding of +those inward, secret, spiritual powers by which alone we can become +the owners of anything that is worth having. Surely God is the +great proprietor. Yet all His works He has given away. He holds no +title-deeds. The one thing that is His, is the perfect understanding, +the perfect joy, the perfect love, of all things that He has made. To +a share in this high ownership He welcomes all who are poor in spirit. +This is the earth which the meek inherit. This is the patrimony of the +saints in light. + +"Come, laddie," I said to my comrade, "let us go home. You and I are +very rich. We own the mountains. But we can never sell them, and we +don't want to." + + + + +A LAZY, IDLE BROOK + + + "Perpetual devotion to what a man calls his business is only + to be sustained by perpetual neglect of many other things. + And it is not by any means certain that a man's business is + the most important thing he has to do." + + --ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON: An Apology for Idlers. + + + + +I. A CASUAL INTRODUCTION + + +On the South Shore of Long Island, all things incline to a natural +somnolence. There are no ambitious mountains, no braggart cliffs, no +hasty torrents, no hustling waterfalls in that land, + + + "In which it seemeth always afternoon." + + +The salt meadows sleep in the summer sun; the farms and market-gardens +yield a placid harvest to a race of singularly unhurried tillers of the +soil; the low hills rise with gentle slopes, not caring to get too high +in the world, only far enough to catch a pleasant glimpse of the sea and +a breath of fresh air; the very trees grow leisurely, as if they felt +that they had "all the time there is." And from this dreamy land, close +as it lies to the unresting ocean, the tumult of the breakers and the +foam of ever-turning tides are shut off by the languid lagoons of the +Great South Bay and a long range of dunes, crested with wire-grass, +bay-bushes, and wild-roses. + +In such a country you could not expect a little brook to be noisy, +fussy, energetic. If it were not lazy, it would be out of keeping. + +But the actual and undisguised idleness of this particular brook was +another affair, and one in which it was distinguished among its fellows. +For almost all the other little rivers of the South Shore, lazy as they +may be by nature, yet manage to do some kind of work before they finish +the journey from their crystal-clear springs into the brackish waters +of the bay. They turn the wheels of sleepy gristmills, while the miller +sits with his hands in his pockets underneath the willow-trees. They +fill reservoirs out of which great steam-engines pump the water to +quench the thirst of Brooklyn. Even the smaller streams tarry long +enough in their seaward sauntering to irrigate a few cranberry-bogs +and so provide that savoury sauce which makes the Long Island turkey a +fitter subject for Thanksgiving. + +But this brook of which I speak did none of these useful things. It was +absolutely out of business. + +There was not a mill, nor a reservoir, nor a cranberry-bog, on all its +course of a short mile. The only profitable affair it ever undertook was +to fill a small ice-pond near its entrance into the Great South Bay. +You could hardly call this a very energetic enterprise. It amounted to +little more than a good-natured consent to allow itself to be used by +the winter for the making of ice, if the winter happened to be cold +enough. Even this passive industry came to nothing; for the water, being +separated from the bay only by a short tideway under a wooden bridge on +the south country road, was too brackish to freeze easily; and the ice, +being pervaded with weeds, was not much relished by the public. So the +wooden ice-house, innocent of paint, and toned by the weather to a soft, +sad-coloured gray, stood like an improvised ruin among the pine-trees +beside the pond. + +It was through this unharvested ice-pond, this fallow field of water, +that my lady Graygown and I entered on acquaintance with our lazy, idle +brook. We had a house, that summer, a few miles down the bay. But it was +a very small house, and the room that we like best was out of doors. +So we spent much time in a sailboat,--by name "The Patience,"--making +voyages of exploration into watery corners and byways. Sailing past the +wooden bridge one day, when a strong east wind had made a very low +tide, we observed the water flowing out beneath the road with an eddying +current. We were interested to discover where such a stream came from. +But the sailboat could not go under the bridge, nor even make a landing +on the shore without risk of getting aground. The next day we came back +in a rowboat to follow the clue of curiosity. The tide was high now, and +we passed with the reversed current under the bridge, almost bumping our +heads against the timbers. Emerging upon the pond, we rowed across its +shallow, weed-encumbered waters, and were introduced without ceremony to +one of the most agreeable brooks that we had ever met. + +It was quite broad where it came into the pond,--a hundred feet from +side to side,--bordered with flags and rushes and feathery meadow +grasses. The real channel meandered in sweeping curves from bank to +bank, and the water, except in the swifter current, was filled with an +amazing quantity of some aquatic moss. The woods came straggling down on +either shore. There were fallen trees in the stream here and there. On +one of the points an old swamp-maple, with its decrepit branches and its +leaves already touched with the hectic colours of decay, hung far out +over the water which was undermining it, looking and leaning downward, +like an aged man who bends, half-sadly and half-willingly, towards the +grave. + +But for the most part the brook lay wide open to the sky, and the tide, +rising and sinking somewhat irregularly in the pond below, made curious +alternations in its depth and in the swiftness of its current. For about +half a mile we navigated this lazy little river, and then we found +that rowing would carry us no farther, for we came to a place where the +stream issued with a livelier flood from an archway in a thicket. + +This woodland portal was not more than four feet wide, and the branches +of the small trees were closely interwoven overhead. We shipped the oars +and took one of them for a paddle. Stooping down, we pushed the boat +through the archway and found ourselves in the Fairy Dell. It was a +long, narrow bower, perhaps four hundred feet from end to end, with the +brook dancing through it in a joyous, musical flow over a bed of clean +yellow sand and white pebbles. There were deep places in the curves +where you could hardly touch bottom with an oar, and shallow places +in the straight runs where the boat would barely float. Not a ray +of unbroken sunlight leaked through the green roof of this winding +corridor; and all along the sides there were delicate mosses and tall +ferns and wildwood flowers that love the shade. + +At the upper end of the bower our progress in the boat was barred by a +low bridge, on a forgotten road that wound through the pine-woods. Here +I left my lady Graygown, seated on the shady corner of the bridge with a +book, swinging her feet over the stream, while I set out to explore its +further course. Above the wood-road there were no more fairy dells, nor +easy-going estuaries. The water came down through the most complicated +piece of underbrush that I have ever encountered. Alders and swamp +maples and pussy-willows and gray birches grew together in a wild +confusion. Blackberry bushes and fox-grapes and cat-briers trailed and +twisted themselves in an incredible tangle. There was only one way to +advance, and that was to wade in the middle of the brook, stooping low, +lifting up the pendulous alder-branches, threading a tortuous course, +now under and now over the innumerable obstacles, as a darning-needle is +pushed in and out through the yarn of a woollen stocking. + +It was dark and lonely in that difficult passage. The brook divided into +many channels, turning this way and that way, as if it were lost in the +woods. There were huge clumps of OSMUNDA REGALIS spreading their fronds +in tropical profusion. Mouldering logs were covered with moss. The water +gurgled slowly into deep corners under the banks. Catbirds and blue +jays fluttered screaming from the thickets. Cotton-tailed rabbits darted +away, showing the white flag of fear. Once I thought I saw the fuscous +gleam of a red fox stealing silently through the brush. It would have +been no surprise to hear the bark of a raccoon, or see the eyes of a +wildcat gleaming through the leaves. + +For more than an hour I was pushing my way through this miniature +wilderness of half a mile; and then I emerged suddenly, to find myself +face to face with--a railroad embankment and the afternoon express, with +its parlour-cars, thundering down to Southampton! + +It was a strange and startling contrast. The explorer's joy, the sense +of adventure, the feeling of wildness and freedom, withered and crumpled +somewhat preposterously at the sight of the parlour-cars. My scratched +hands and wet boots and torn coat seemed unkempt and disreputable. +Perhaps some of the well-dressed people looking out at the windows +of the train were the friends with whom we were to dine on Saturday. +BATECHE! What would they say to such a costume as mine? What did I care +what they said! + +But, all the same, it was a shock, a disenchantment, to find that +civilization, with all its absurdities and conventionalities, was so +threateningly close to my new-found wilderness. My first enthusiasm was +not a little chilled as I walked back, along an open woodland path, to +the bridge where Graygown was placidly reading. Reading, I say, though +her book was closed, and her brown eyes were wandering over the green +leaves of the thicket, and the white clouds drifting, drifting lazily +across the blue deep of the sky. + + + + +II. A BETTER ACQUAINTANCE + + +On the voyage home, she gently talked me out of my disappointment, and +into a wiser frame of mind. + +It was a surprise, of course, she admitted, to find that our wilderness +was so little, and to discover the trail of a parlour-car on the edge +of Paradise. But why not turn the surprise around, and make it pleasant +instead of disagreeable? Why not look at the contrast from the side that +we liked best? + +It was not necessary that everybody should take the same view of life +that pleased us. The world would not get on very well without people +who preferred parlour-cars to canoes, and patent-leather shoes to +India-rubber boots, and ten-course dinners to picnics in the woods. +These good people were unconsciously toiling at the hard and necessary +work of life in order that we, of the chosen and fortunate few, should +be at liberty to enjoy the best things in the world. + +Why should we neglect our opportunities, which were also our real +duties? The nervous disease of civilization might prevail all around +us, but that ought not to destroy our grateful enjoyment of the lucid +intervals that were granted to us by a merciful Providence. + +Why should we not take this little untamed brook, running its humble +course through the borders of civilized life and midway between two +flourishing summer resorts,--a brook without a single house or a +cultivated field on its banks, as free and beautiful and secluded as if +it flowed through miles of trackless forest,--why not take this brook as +a sign that the ordering of the universe had a "good intention" even for +inveterate idlers, and that the great Arranger of the world felt some +kindness for such gipsy-hearts as ours? What law, human or divine, was +there to prevent us from making this stream our symbol of deliverance +from the conventional and commonplace, our guide to liberty and a quiet +mind? + +So reasoned Graygown with her + + + "most silver flow + Of subtle-paced counsel in distress." + + +And, according to her word, so did we. That lazy, idle brook became to +us one of the best of friends; the pathfinder of happiness on many a +bright summer day; and, through long vacations, the faithful encourager +of indolence. + +Indolence in the proper sense of the word, you understand. The meaning +which is commonly given to it, as Archbishop Trench pointed out in his +suggestive book about WORDS AND THEIR USES, is altogether false. To +speak of indolence as if it were a vice is just a great big verbal +slander. + +Indolence is a virtue. It comes from two Latin words, which mean freedom +from anxiety or grief. And that is a wholesome state of mind. There are +times and seasons when it is even a pious and blessed state of mind. Not +to be in a hurry; not to be ambitious or jealous or resentful; not +to feel envious of anybody; not to fret about to-day nor worry about +to-morrow,--that is the way we ought all to feel at some time in our +lives; and that is the kind of indolence in which our brook faithfully +encouraged us. + +'T is an age in which such encouragement is greatly needed. We have +fallen so much into the habit of being always busy that we know not how +nor when to break it off with firmness. Our business tags after us into +the midst of our pleasures, and we are ill at ease beyond reach of the +telegraph and the daily newspaper. We agitate ourselves amazingly +about a multitude of affairs,--the politics of Europe, the state of the +weather all around the globe, the marriages and festivities of very rich +people, and the latest novelties in crime, none of which are of vital +interest to us. The more earnest souls among us are cultivating +a vicious tendency to Summer Schools, and Seaside Institutes of +Philosophy, and Mountaintop Seminaries of Modern Languages. + +We toil assiduously to cram something more into those scrap-bags of +knowledge which we fondly call our minds. Seldom do we rest tranquil +long enough to find out whether there is anything in them already that +is of real value,--any native feeling, any original thought, which would +like to come out and sun itself for a while in quiet. + +For my part, I am sure that I stand more in need of a deeper sense of +contentment with life than of a knowledge of the Bulgarian tongue, and +that all the paradoxes of Hegel would not do me so much good as one hour +of vital sympathy with the careless play of children. The Marquis du +Paty de l'Huitre may espouse the daughter and heiress of the Honourable +James Bulger with all imaginable pomp, if he will. CA NE M'INTRIGUE +POINT DU TOUT. I would rather stretch myself out on the grass and watch +yonder pair of kingbirds carrying luscious flies to their young ones in +the nest, or chasing away the marauding crow with shrill cries of anger. + +What a pretty battle it is, and in a good cause, too! Waste no pity on +that big black ruffian. He is a villain and a thief, an egg-stealer, an +ogre, a devourer of unfledged innocents. The kingbirds are not afraid of +him, knowing that he is a coward at heart. They fly upon him, now from +below, now from above. They buffet him from one side and from the other. +They circle round him like a pair of swift gunboats round an antiquated +man-of-war. They even perch upon his back and dash their beaks into +his neck and pluck feathers from his piratical plumage. At last his +lumbering flight has carried him far enough away, and the brave little +defenders fly back to the nest, poising above it on quivering wings for +a moment, then dipping down swiftly in pursuit of some passing insect. +The war is over. Courage has had its turn. Now tenderness comes into +play. The young birds, all ignorant of the passing danger, but always +conscious of an insatiable hunger, are uttering loud remonstrances and +plaintive demands for food. Domestic life begins again, and they that +sow not, neither gather into barns, are fed. + + +Do you suppose that this wondrous stage of earth was set, and all the +myriad actors on it taught to play their parts, without a spectator in +view? Do you think that there is anything better for you and me to do, +now and then, than to sit down quietly in a humble seat, and watch a few +scenes in the drama? Has it not something to say to us, and do we not +understand it best when we have a peaceful heart and free from dolor? +That is what IN-DOLENCE means, and there are no better teachers of it +then the light-hearted birds and untoiling flowers, commended by the +wisest of all masters to our consideration; nor can we find a more +pleasant pedagogue to lead us to their school than a small, merry brook. + +And this was what our chosen stream did for us. It was always luring us +away from an artificial life into restful companionship with nature. + +Suppose, for example, we found ourselves growing a bit dissatisfied +with the domestic arrangements of our little cottage, and coveting the +splendours of a grander establishment. An afternoon on the brook was +a good cure for that folly. Or suppose a day came when there was an +imminent prospect of many formal calls. We had an important engagement +up the brook; and while we kept it we could think with satisfaction of +the joy of our callers when they discovered that they could discharge +their whole duty with a piece of pasteboard. This was an altruistic +pleasure. Or suppose that a few friends were coming to supper, and there +were no flowers for the supper-table. We could easily have bought them +in the village. But it was far more to our liking to take the children +up the brook, and come back with great bunches of wild white honeysuckle +and blue flag, or posies of arrowheads and cardinal-flowers. Or suppose +that I was very unwisely and reluctantly labouring at some serious +piece of literary work, promised for the next number of THE SCRIBBLER'S +REVIEW; and suppose that in the midst of this labour the sad news came +to me that the fisherman had forgotten to leave any fish at our cottage +that morning. Should my innocent babes and my devoted wife be left to +perish of starvation while I continued my poetical comparison of the two +Williams, Shakspeare and Watson? Inhuman selfishness! Of course it was +my plain duty to sacrifice my inclinations, and get my fly-rod, and row +away across the bay, with a deceptive appearance of cheerfulness, to +catch a basket of trout in-- + + + + +III. THE SECRETS OF INTIMACY + + +THERE! I came within eight letters of telling the name of the brook, +a thing that I am firmly resolved not to do. If it were an ordinary +fishless little river, or even a stream with nothing better than +grass-pike and sunfish in it, you should have the name and welcome. But +when a brook contains speckled trout, and when their presence is known +to a very few persons who guard the secret as the dragon guarded the +golden apples of the Hesperides, and when the size of the trout is large +beyond the dreams of hope,--well, when did you know a true angler who +would willingly give away the name of such a brook as that? You may find +an encourager of indolence in almost any stream of the South Side, and +I wish you joy of your brook. But if you want to catch trout in mine +you must discover it for yourself, or perhaps go with me some day, and +solemnly swear secrecy. + +That was the way in which the freedom of the stream was conferred +upon me. There was a small boy in the village, the son of rich but +respectable parents, and an inveterate all-round sportsman, aged +fourteen years, with whom I had formed a close intimacy. I was telling +him about the pleasure of exploring the idle brook, and expressing the +opinion that in bygone days, (in that mythical "forty years ago" when +all fishing was good), there must have been trout in it. A certain +look came over the boy's face. He gazed at me solemnly, as if he were +searching the inmost depths of my character before he spoke. + +"Say, do you want to know something?" + +I assured him that an increase of knowledge was the chief aim of my +life. + +"Do you promise you won't tell?" + +I expressed my readiness to be bound to silence by the most awful pledge +that the law would sanction. + +"Wish you may die?" + +I not only wished that I might die, but was perfectly certain that I +would die. + +"Well, what's the matter with catching trout in that brook now? Do you +want to go with me next Saturday? I saw four or five bully ones last +week, and got three." + +On the appointed day we made the voyage, landed at the upper bridge, +walked around by the woodpath to the railroad embankment, and began +to worm our way down through the tangled wilderness. Fly-fishing, of +course, was out of the question. The only possible method of angling +was to let the line, baited with a juicy "garden hackle," drift down the +current as far as possible before you, under the alder-branches and the +cat-briers, into the holes and corners of the stream. Then, if there +came a gentle tug on the rod, you must strike, to one side or the other, +as the branches might allow, and trust wholly to luck for a chance to +play the fish. Many a trout we lost that day,--the largest ones, of +course,--and many a hook was embedded in a sunken log, or hopelessly +entwined among the boughs overhead. But when we came out at the bridge, +very wet and disheveled, we had seven pretty fish, the heaviest about +half a pound. The Fairy Dell yielded a brace of smaller ones, and +altogether we were reasonably happy as we took up the oars and pushed +out upon the open stream. + +But if there were fish above, why should there not be fish below? It was +about sunset, the angler's golden hour. We were already committed to +the crime of being late for supper. It would add little to our guilt and +much to our pleasure to drift slowly down the middle of the brook and +cast the artful fly in the deeper corners on either shore. So I took off +the vulgar bait-hook and put on a delicate leader with a Queen of the +Water for a tail-fly and a Yellow Sally for a dropper,--innocent little +confections of feathers and tinsel, dressed on the tiniest hooks, and +calculated to tempt the appetite or the curiosity of the most capricious +trout. + +For a long time the whipping of the water produced no result, and it +seemed as if the dainty style of angling were destined to prove less +profitable than plain fishing with a worm. But presently we came to +an elbow of the brook, just above the estuary, where there was quite a +stretch of clear water along the lower side, with two half-sunken logs +sticking out from the bank, against which the current had drifted a +broad raft of weeds. I made a long cast, and sent the tail-fly close to +the edge of the weeds. There was a swelling ripple on the surface of the +water, and a noble fish darted from under the logs, dashed at the fly, +missed it, and whirled back to his shelter. + +"Gee!" said the boy, "that was a whacker! He made a wake like a +steamboat." + +It was a moment for serious thought. What was best to be done with that +fish? Leave him to settle down for the night and come back after him +another day? Or try another cast for him at once? A fish on Saturday +evening is worth two on Monday morning. I changed the Queen of the +Water for a Royal Coachman tied on a number fourteen hook,--white wings, +peacock body with a belt of crimson silk,--and sent it out again, a foot +farther up the stream and a shade closer to the weeds. As it settled on +the water, there was a flash of gold from the shadow beneath the logs, +and a quick turn of the wrist made the tiny hook fast in the fish. He +fought wildly to get back to the shelter of his logs, but the four ounce +rod had spring enough in it to hold him firmly away from that dangerous +retreat. Then he splurged up and down the open water, and made fierce +dashes among the grassy shallows, and seemed about to escape a dozen +times. But at last his force was played out; he came slowly towards the +boat, turning on his side, and I netted him in my hat. + +"Bully for us;" said the boy, "we got him! What a dandy!" + +It was indeed one of the handsomest fish that I have ever taken on the +South Side,--just short of two pounds and a quarter,--small head, broad +tail, and well-rounded sides coloured with orange and blue and gold and +red. A pair of the same kind, one weighing two pounds and the other a +pound and three quarters, were taken by careful fishing down the lower +end of the pool, and then we rowed home through the dusk, pleasantly +convinced that there is no virtue more certainly rewarded than the +patience of anglers, and entirely willing to put up with a cold supper +and a mild reproof for the sake of sport. + +Of course we could not resist the temptation to show those fish to +the neighbours. But, equally of course, we evaded the request to give +precise information as to the precise place where they were caught. +Indeed, I fear that there must have been something confused in our +description of where we had been on that afternoon. Our carefully +selected language may have been open to misunderstanding. At all events, +the next day, which was the Sabbath, there was a row of eager but +unprincipled anglers sitting on a bridge OVER ANOTHER STREAM, and +fishing for trout with worms and large expectations, but without visible +results. + +The boy and I agreed that if this did not teach a good moral lesson it +was not our fault. + +I obtained the boy's consent to admit the partner of my life's joys and +two of our children to the secret of the brook, and thereafter, when +we visited it, we took the fly-rod with us. If by chance another boat +passed us in the estuary, we were never fishing, but only gathering +flowers, or going for a picnic, or taking photographs. But when the +uninitiated ones had passed by, we would get out the rod again, and try +a few more casts. + +One day in particular I remember, when Graygown and little Teddy were +my companions. We really had no hopes of angling, for the hour was +mid-noon, and the day was warm and still. But suddenly the trout, by +one of those unaccountable freaks which make their disposition so +interesting and attractive, began to rise all about us in a bend of the +stream. + +"Look!" said Teddy; "wherever you see one of those big smiles on the +water, I believe there's a fish!" + +Fortunately the rod was at hand. Graygown and Teddy managed the boat and +the landing-net with consummate skill. We landed no less than a dozen +beautiful fish at that most unlikely hour and then solemnly shook hands +all around. + +There is a peculiar pleasure in doing a thing like this, catching trout +in a place where nobody thinks of looking for them, and at an hour when +everybody believes they cannot be caught. It is more fun to take one +good fish out of an old, fished-out stream, near at hand to the village, +than to fill a basket from some far-famed and well-stocked water. It +is the unexpected touch that tickles our sense of pleasure. While life +lasts, we are always hoping for it and expecting it. There is no country +so civilized, no existence so humdrum, that there is not room enough in +it somewhere for a lazy, idle brook, an encourager of indolence, with +hope of happy surprises. + + + + +THE OPEN FIRE + + + "It is a vulgar notion that a fire is only for heat. A + chief value of it is, however, to look at. And it is never + twice the same." + + --CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER: Backlog Studies. + + + + +I. LIGHTING UP + + +Man is the animal that has made friends with the fire. + +All the other creatures, in their natural state, are afraid of it. They +look upon it with wonder and dismay. It fascinates them, sometimes, +with its glittering eyes in the night. The squirrels and the hares come +pattering softly towards it through the underbrush around the new camp. +The fascinated deer stares into the blaze of the jack-light while the +hunter's canoe creeps through the lily-pads. But the charm that masters +them is one of dread, not of love. It is the witchcraft of the serpent's +lambent look. When they know what it means, when the heat of the +fire touches them, or even when its smell comes clearly to their most +delicate sense, they recognize it as their enemy, the Wild Huntsman +whose red hounds can follow, follow for days without wearying, growing +stronger and more furious with every turn of the chase. Let but a trail +of smoke drift down the wind across the forest, and all the game for +miles and miles will catch the signal for fear and flight. + +Many of the animals have learned how to make houses for themselves. +The CABANE of the beaver is a wonder of neatness and comfort, much +preferable to the wigwam of his Indian hunter. The muskrat knows how +thick and high to build the dome of his waterside cottage, in order to +protect himself against the frost of the coming winter and the floods of +the following spring. The woodchuck's house has two or three doors; and +the squirrel's dwelling is provided with a good bed and a convenient +storehouse for nuts and acorns. The sportive otters have a toboggan +slide in front of their residence; and the moose in winter make a +"yard," where they can take exercise comfortably and find shelter for +sleep. But there is one thing lacking in all these various dwellings,--a +fireplace. + +Man is the only creature that dares to light a fire and to live with it. +The reason? Because he alone has learned how to put it out. + +It is true that two of his humbler friends have been converted to +fire-worship. The dog and the cat, being half-humanized, have begun to +love the fire. I suppose that a cat seldom comes so near to feeling a +true sense of affection as when she has finished her saucer of bread and +milk, and stretched herself luxuriously underneath the kitchen stove, +while her faithful mistress washes up the dishes. As for a dog, I am +sure that his admiring love for his master is never greater than when +they come in together from the hunt, wet and tired, and the man gathers +a pile of wood in front of the tent, touches it with a tiny magic wand, +and suddenly the clear, consoling flame springs up, saying cheerfully, +"Here we are, at home in the forest; come into the warmth; rest, and +eat, and sleep." When the weary, shivering dog sees this miracle, he +knows that his master is a great man and a lord of things. + +After all, that is the only real open fire. Wood is the fuel for it. +Out-of-doors is the place for it. A furnace is an underground prison +for a toiling slave. A stove is a cage for a tame bird. Even a broad +hearthstone and a pair of glittering andirons--the best ornament of a +room--must be accepted as an imitation of the real thing. The veritable +open fire is built in the open, with the whole earth for a fireplace and +the sky for a chimney. + +To start a fire in the open is by no means as easy as it looks. It is +one of those simple tricks that every one thinks he can perform until he +tries it. + +To do it without trying,--accidentally and unwillingly,--that, of +course, is a thing for which any fool is fit. You knock out the ashes +from your pipe on a fallen log; you toss the end of a match into a patch +of grass, green on top, but dry as punk underneath; you scatter the +dead brands of an old fire among the moss,--a conflagration is under way +before you know it. + +A fire in the woods is one thing; a comfort and a joy. Fire in the woods +is another thing; a terror, an uncontrollable fury, a burning shame. + +But the lighting up of a proper fire, kindly, approachable, serviceable, +docile, is a work of intelligence. If, perhaps, you have to do it in the +rain, with a single match, it requires no little art and skill. + +There is plenty of wood everywhere, but not a bit to burn. The fallen +trees are waterlogged. The dead leaves are as damp as grief. The charred +sticks that you find in an old fireplace are absolutely incombustible. +Do not trust the handful of withered twigs and branches that you gather +from the spruce-trees. They seem dry, but they are little better for +your purpose than so much asbestos. You make a pile of them in some +apparently suitable hollow, and lay a few larger sticks on top. Then +you hastily scratch your solitary match on the seat of your trousers and +thrust it into the pile of twigs. What happens? The wind whirls around +in your stupid little hollow, and the blue flame of the sulphur spirts +and sputters for an instant, and then goes out. Or perhaps there is +a moment of stillness; the match flares up bravely; the nearest twigs +catch fire, crackling and sparkling; you hurriedly lay on more sticks; +but the fire deliberately dodges them, creeps to the corner of the pile +where the twigs are fewest and dampest, snaps feebly a few times, and +expires in smoke. Now where are you? How far is it to the nearest match? + +If you are wise, you will always make your fire before you light it. +Time is never saved by doing a thing badly. + + + + +II. THE CAMP-FIRE + + +In the making of fires there is as much difference as in the building of +houses. Everything depends upon the purpose that you have in view. There +is the camp-fire, and the cooking-fire, and the smudge-fire, and the +little friendship-fire,--not to speak of other minor varieties. Each of +these has its own proper style of architecture, and to mix them is false +art and poor economy. + +The object of the camp-fire is to give heat, and incidentally light, to +your tent or shanty. You can hardly build this kind of a fire unless you +have a good axe and know how to chop. For the first thing that you need +is a solid backlog, the thicker the better, to hold the heat and reflect +it into the tent. This log must not be too dry, or it will burn +out quickly. Neither must it be too damp, else it will smoulder and +discourage the fire. The best wood for it is the body of a yellow birch, +and, next to that, a green balsam. It should be five or six feet long, +and at least two and a half feet in diameter. If you cannot find a +tree thick enough, cut two or three lengths of a smaller one; lay the +thickest log on the ground first, about ten or twelve feet in front of +the tent; drive two strong stakes behind it, slanting a little backward; +and lay the other logs on top of the first, resting against the stakes. + +Now you are ready for the hand-chunks, or andirons. These are shorter +sticks of wood, eight or ten inches thick, laid at right angles to the +backlog, four or five feet apart. Across these you are to build up the +firewood proper. + +Use a dry spruce-tree, not one that has fallen, but one that is dead and +still standing, if you want a lively, snapping fire. Use a hard maple +or a hickory if you want a fire that will burn steadily and make few +sparks. But if you like a fire to blaze up at first with a splendid +flame, and then burn on with an enduring heat far into the night, a +young white birch with the bark on is the tree to choose. Six or eight +round sticks of this laid across the hand-chunks, with perhaps a few +quarterings of a larger tree, will make a glorious fire. + +But before you put these on, you must be ready to light up. A few +splinters of dry spruce or pine or balsam, stood endwise against +the backlog, or, better still, piled up in a pyramid between the +hand-chunks; a few strips of birch-bark; and one good match,--these +are all that you want. But be sure that your match is a good one. It is +better to see to this before you go into the brush. Your comfort, even +your life, may depend on it. + +"AVEC CES ALLUMETTES-LA," said my guide at LAC ST. JEAN one day, as he +vainly tried to light his pipe with a box of parlour matches from the +hotel,--AVEC CES GNOGNOTTES D'ALLUMETTES ON POURRA MOURIR AU BOIS!" + +In the woods, the old-fashioned brimstone match of our grandfathers--the +match with a brown head and a stout stick and a dreadful smell--is the +best. But if you have only one, do not trust even that to light your +fire directly. Use it first to touch off a roll of birch-bark which you +hold in your hand. Then, when the bark is well alight, crinkling and +curling, push it under the heap of kindlings, give the flame time to +take a good hold, and lay your wood over it, a stick at a time, until +the whole pile is blazing. Now your fire is started. Your friendly +little red-haired gnome is ready to serve you through the night. + +He will dry your clothes if you are wet. He will cheer you up if you are +despondent. He will diffuse an air of sociability through the camp, and +draw the men together in a half circle for storytelling and jokes and +singing. He will hold a flambeau for you while you spread your blankets +on the boughs and dress for bed. He will keep you warm while you +sleep,--at least till about three o'clock in the morning, when you dream +that you are out sleighing in your pajamas, and wake up with a shiver. + +"HOLA, FERDINAND, FRANCOIS!" you call out from your bed, pulling the +blankets over your ears; "RAMANCHEZ LE FEU, S'IL VOUS PLAIT. C'EST UN +FREITE DE CHIEN." + + + + +III. THE COOKING-FIRE + + +Of course such a fire as I have been describing can be used for cooking, +when it has burned down a little, and there is a bed of hot embers in +front of the backlog. But a correct kitchen fire should be constructed +after another fashion. What you want now is not blaze, but heat, and +that not diffused, but concentrated. You must be able to get close to +your fire without burning your boots or scorching your face. + +If you have time and the material, make a fireplace of big stones. But +not of granite, for that will split with the heat, and perhaps fly in +your face. + +If you are in a hurry and there are no suitable stones at hand, lay two +good logs nearly parallel with each other, a foot or so apart, and build +your fire between them. For a cooking-fire, use split wood in short +sticks. Let the first supply burn to glowing coals before you begin. +A frying-pan that is lukewarm one minute and red-hot the next is the +abomination of desolation. If you want black toast, have it made before +a fresh, sputtering, blazing heap of wood. + +In fires, as in men, an excess of energy is a lack of usefulness. The +best work is done without many sparks. Just enough is the right kind of +a fire and a feast. + +To know how to cook is not a very elegant accomplishment. Yet there are +times and seasons when it seems to come in better than familiarity with +the dead languages, or much skill upon the lute. + +You cannot always rely on your guides for a tasteful preparation of +food. Many of them are ignorant of the difference between frying and +broiling, and their notion of boiling a potato or a fish is to reduce it +to a pulp. Now and then you find a man who has a natural inclination to +the culinary art, and who does very well within familiar limits. + +Old Edouard, the Montaignais Indian who cooked for my friends H. E. G. +and C. S. D. last summer on the STE. MARGUERITE EN BAS, was such a man. +But Edouard could not read, and the only way he could tell the nature +of the canned provisions was by the pictures on the cans. If the picture +was strange to him, there was no guessing what he would do with the +contents of the can. He was capable of roasting strawberries, and +serving green peas cold for dessert. One day a can of mullagatawny soup +and a can of apricots were handed out to him simultaneously and without +explanations. Edouard solved the problem by opening both cans and +cooking them together. We had a new soup that day, MULLAGATAWNY AUX +APRICOTS. It was not as bad as it sounds. It tasted somewhat like +chutney. + +The real reason why food that is cooked over an open fire tastes so good +to us is because we are really hungry when we get it. The man who puts +up provisions for camp has a great advantage over the dealers who must +satisfy the pampered appetite of people in houses. I never can get any +bacon in New York like that which I buy at a little shop in Quebec to +take into the woods. If I ever set up in the grocery business, I shall +try to get a good trade among anglers. It will be easy to please my +customers. + +The reputation that trout enjoy as a food-fish is partly due to the fact +that they are usually cooked over an open fire. In the city they never +taste as good. It is not merely a difference in freshness. It is a +change in the sauce. If the truth must be told, even by an angler, there +are at least five salt-water fish which are better than trout,--to eat. +There is none better to catch. + + + + +IV. THE SMUDGE-FIRE + + +But enough of the cooking-fire. Let us turn now to the subject of +the smudge, known in Lower Canada as LA BOUCANE. The smudge owes its +existence to the pungent mosquito, the sanguinary black-fly, and the +peppery midge,--LE MARINGOUIN, LA MOUSTIQUE, ET LE BRULOT. To what it +owes its English name I do not know; but its French name means simply a +thick, nauseating, intolerable smoke. + +The smudge is called into being for the express purpose of creating +a smoke of this kind, which is as disagreeable to the mosquito, the +black-fly, and the midge as it is to the man whom they are devouring. +But the man survives the smoke, while the insects succumb to it, being +destroyed or driven away. Therefore the smudge, dark and bitter in +itself, frequently becomes, like adversity, sweet in its uses. It must +be regarded as a form of fire with which man has made friends under the +pressure of a cruel necessity. + +It would seem as if it ought to be the simplest affair in the world to +light up a smudge. And so it is--if you are not trying. + +An attempt to produce almost any other kind of a fire will bring forth +smoke abundantly. But when you deliberately undertake to create a +smudge, flames break from the wettest timber, and green moss blazes with +a furious heat. You hastily gather handfuls of seemingly incombustible +material and throw it on the fire, but the conflagration increases. +Grass and green leaves hesitate for an instant and then flash up like +tinder. The more you put on, the more your smudge rebels against its +proper task of smudging. It makes a pleasant warmth, to encourage the +black-flies; and bright light to attract and cheer the mosquitoes. Your +effort is a brilliant failure. + +The proper way to make a smudge is this. Begin with a very little, lowly +fire. Let it be bright, but not ambitious. Don't try to make a smoke +yet. + +Then gather a good supply of stuff which seems likely to suppress fire +without smothering it. Moss of a certain kind will do, but not the soft, +feathery moss that grows so deep among the spruce-trees. Half-decayed +wood is good; spongy, moist, unpleasant stuff, a vegetable wet blanket. +The bark of dead evergreen trees, hemlock, spruce, or balsam, is better +still. Gather a plentiful store of it. But don't try to make a smoke +yet. + +Let your fire burn a while longer; cheer it up a little. Get some clear, +resolute, unquenchable coals aglow in the heart of it. Don't try to make +a smoke yet. + +Now pile on your smouldering fuel. Fan it with your hat. Kneel down and +blow it, and in ten minutes you will have a smoke that will make you +wish you had never been born. + +That is the proper way to make a smudge. But the easiest way is to ask +your guide to make it for you. + +If he makes it in an old iron pot, so much the better, for then you can +move it around to the windward when the breeze veers, and carry it into +your tent without risk of setting everything on fire, and even take it +with you in the canoe while you are fishing. + +Some of the pleasantest pictures in the angler's gallery of remembrance +are framed in the smoke that rises from a smudge. + +With my eyes shut, I can call up a vision of eight birch-bark canoes +floating side by side on Moosehead Lake, on a fair June morning, fifteen +years ago. They are anchored off Green Island, riding easily on the +long, gentle waves. In the stern of each canoe there is a guide with +a long-handled net; in the bow, an angler with a light fly-rod; in the +middle, a smudge-kettle, smoking steadily. In the air to the windward +of the little fleet hovers a swarm of flies drifting down on the +shore breeze, with bloody purpose in their breasts, but baffled by the +protecting smoke. In the water to the leeward plays a school of speckled +trout, feeding on the minnows that hang around the sunken ledges of +rock. As a larger wave than usual passes over the ledges, it lifts the +fish up, and you can see the big fellows, three, and four, and even five +pounds apiece, poising themselves in the clear brown water. A long cast +will send the fly over one of them. Let it sink a foot. Draw it up with +a fluttering motion. Now the fish sees it, and turns to catch it. There +is a yellow gleam in the depth, a sudden swirl on the surface; you +strike sharply, and the trout is matching his strength against the +spring of your four ounces of split bamboo. + +You can guess at his size, as he breaks water, by the breadth of his +tail: a pound of weight to an inch of tail,--that is the traditional +measure, and it usually comes pretty close to the mark, at least in the +case of large fish. But it is never safe to record the weight until the +trout is in the canoe. As the Canadian hunters say, "Sell not the skin +of the bear while he carries it." + +Now the breeze that blows over Green Island drops away, and the smoke +of the eight smudge-kettles falls like a thick curtain. The canoes, the +dark shores of Norcross Point, the twin peaks of Spencer Mountain, the +dim blue summit of Katahdin, the dazzling sapphire sky, the flocks of +fleece-white clouds shepherded on high by the western wind, all have +vanished. With closed eyes I see another vision, still framed in +smoke,--a vision of yesterday. + +It is a wild river flowing into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, on the COTE +NORD, far down towards Labrador. There is a long, narrow, swift pool +between two parallel ridges of rock. Over the ridge on the right pours +a cataract of pale yellow foam. At the bottom of the pool, the water +slides down into a furious rapid, and dashes straight through an +impassable gorge half a mile to the sea. The pool is full of salmon, +leaping merrily in their delight at coming into their native stream. The +air is full of black-flies, rejoicing in the warmth of the July sun. On +a slippery point of rock, below the fall, are two anglers, tempting the +fish and enduring the flies. Behind them is an old HABITANT raising a +mighty column of smoke. + +Through the cloudy pillar which keeps back the Egyptian host, you see +the waving of a long rod. A silver-gray fly with a barbed tail darts out +across the pool, swings around with the current, well under water, and +slowly works past the big rock in the centre, just at the head of the +rapid. Almost past it, but not quite: for suddenly the fly disappears; +the line begins to run out; the reel sings sharp and shrill; a salmon is +hooked. + +But how well is he hooked? That is the question. This is no easy pool to +play a fish in. There is no chance to jump into a canoe and drop below +him, and get the current to help you in drowning him. You cannot follow +him along the shore. You cannot even lead him into quiet water, where +the gaffer can creep near to him unseen and drag him in with a quick +stroke. You must fight your fish to a finish, and all the advantages are +on his side. The current is terribly strong. If he makes up his mind to +go downstream to the sea, the only thing you can do is to hold him by +main force; and then it is ten to one that the hook tears out or the +leader breaks. + +It is not in human nature for one man to watch another handling a fish +in such a place without giving advice. "Keep the tip of your rod up. +Don't let your reel overrun. Stir him up a little, he 's sulking. Don't +let him 'jig,' or you'll lose him. You 're playing him too hard. There, +he 's going to jump again. Drop your tip. Stop him, quick! he 's going +down the rapid!" + +Of course the man who is playing the salmon does not like this. If he is +quick-tempered, sooner or later he tells his counsellor to shut up. But +if he is a gentle, early-Christian kind of a man, wise as a serpent and +harmless as a dove, he follows the advice that is given to him, promptly +and exactly. Then, when it is all ended, and he has seen the big fish, +with the line over his shoulder, poised for an instant on the crest of +the first billow of the rapid, and has felt the leader stretch and give +and SNAP!--then he can have the satisfaction, while he reels in his +slack line, of saying to his friend, "Well, old man, I did everything +just as you told me. But I think if I had pushed that fish a little +harder at the beginning, AS I WANTED TO, I might have saved him." + +But really, of course, the chances were all against it. In such a pool, +most of the larger fish get away. Their weight gives them a tremendous +pull. The fish that are stopped from going into the rapid, and dragged +back from the curling wave, are usually the smaller ones. Here they +are,--twelve pounds, eight pounds, six pounds, five pounds and a half, +FOUR POUNDS! Is not this the smallest salmon that you ever saw? Not +a grilse, you understand, but a real salmon, of brightest silver, +hall-marked with St. Andrew's cross. + +Now let us sit down for a moment and watch the fish trying to leap up +the falls. There is a clear jump of about ten feet, and above that an +apparently impossible climb of ten feet more up a ladder of twisting +foam. A salmon darts from the boiling water at the bottom of the fall +like an arrow from a bow. He rises in a beautiful curve, fins laid close +to his body and tail quivering; but he has miscalculated his distance. +He is on the downward curve when the water strikes him and tumbles him +back. A bold little fish, not more than eighteen inches long, makes a +jump at the side of the fall, where the water is thin, and is rolled +over and over in the spray. A larger salmon rises close beside us with +a tremendous rush, bumps his nose against a jutting rock, and flops back +into the pool. Now comes a fish who has made his calculations exactly. +He leaves the pool about eight feet from the foot of the fall, rises +swiftly, spreads his fins, and curves his tail as if he were flying, +strikes the water where it is thickest just below the brink, holds on +desperately, and drives himself, with one last wriggle, through the +bending stream, over the edge, and up the first step of the foaming +stairway. He has obeyed the strongest instinct of his nature, and gone +up to make love in the highest fresh water that he can reach. + +The smoke of the smudge-fire is sharp and tearful, but a man can learn +to endure a good deal of it when he can look through its rings at such +scenes as these. + + + + +V. THE LITTLE FRIENDSHIP-FIRE + + +There are times and seasons when the angler has no need of any of the +three fires of which we have been talking. He sleeps in a house. His +breakfast and dinner are cooked for him in a kitchen. He is in no great +danger from black-flies or mosquitoes. All he needs now, as he sets out +to spend a day on the Neversink, or the Willowemoc, or the Shepaug, +or the Swiftwater, is a good lunch in his pocket, and a little +friendship-fire to burn pleasantly beside him while he eats his frugal +fare and prolongs his noonday rest. + +This form of fire does less work than any other in the world. Yet it is +far from being useless; and I, for one, should be sorry to live without +it. Its only use is to make a visible centre of interest where there are +two or three anglers eating their lunch together, or to supply a kind of +companionship to a lone fisherman. It is kindled and burns for no other +purpose than to give you the sense of being at home and at ease. Why the +fire should do this, I cannot tell, but it does. + +You may build your friendship-fire in almost any way that pleases you; +but this is the way in which you shall build it best. You have no axe, +of course, so you must look about for the driest sticks that you can +find. Do not seek them close beside the stream, for there they are +likely to be water-soaked; but go back into the woods a bit and gather +a good armful of fuel. Then break it, if you can, into lengths of about +two feet, and construct your fire in the following fashion. + +Lay two sticks parallel, and put between them a pile of dried grass, +dead leaves, small twigs, and the paper in which your lunch was wrapped. +Then lay two other sticks crosswise on top of your first pair. Strike +your match and touch your kindlings. As the fire catches, lay on other +pairs of sticks, each pair crosswise to the pair that is below it, until +you have a pyramid of flame. This is "a Micmac fire" such as the Indians +make in the woods. + +Now you can pull off your wading-boots and warm your feet at the blaze. +You can toast your bread if you like. You can even make shift to broil +one of your trout, fastened on the end of a birch twig if you have a +fancy that way. When your hunger is satisfied, you shake out the crumbs +for the birds and the squirrels, pick up a stick with a coal at the end +to light your pipe, put some more wood on your fire, and settle down for +an hour's reading if you have a book in your pocket, or for a good talk +if you have a comrade with you. + +The stream of time flows swift and smooth, by such a fire as this. The +moments slip past unheeded; the sun sinks down his western arch; the +shadows begin to fall across the brook; it is time to move on for the +afternoon fishing. The fire has almost burned out. But do not trust it +too much. Throw some sand over it, or bring a hatful of water from the +brook to pour on it, until you are sure that the last glowing ember is +extinguished, and nothing but the black coals and the charred ends of +the sticks are left. + +Even the little friendship-fire must keep the law of the bush. All +lights out when their purpose is fulfilled! + + + + +VI. ALTARS OF REMEMBRANCE + + +It is a question that we have often debated, in the informal meetings of +our Petrine Club: Which is pleasanter,--to fish an old stream, or a new +one? + +The younger members are all for the "fresh woods and pastures new." +They speak of the delight of turning off from the high-road into some +faintly-marked trail; following it blindly through the forest, not +knowing how far you have to go; hearing the voice of waters sounding +through the woodland; leaving the path impatiently and striking straight +across the underbrush; scrambling down a steep bank, pushing through +a thicket of alders, and coming out suddenly, face to face with a +beautiful, strange brook. It reminds you, of course, of some old friend. +It is a little like the Beaverkill, or the Ausable, or the Gale +River. And yet it is different. Every stream has its own character and +disposition. Your new acquaintance invites you to a day of discoveries. +If the water is high, you will follow it down, and have easy fishing. +If the water is low, you will go upstream, and fish "fine and far-off." +Every turn in the avenue which the little river has made for you opens +up a new view,--a rocky gorge where the deep pools are divided by +white-footed falls; a lofty forest where the shadows are deep and the +trees arch overhead; a flat, sunny stretch where the stream is spread +out, and pebbly islands divide the channels, and the big fish are +lurking at the sides in the sheltered corners under the bushes. From +scene to scene you follow on, delighted and expectant, until the night +suddenly drops its veil, and then you will be lucky if you can find your +way home in the dark! + +Yes, it is all very good, this exploration of new streams. But, for my +part, I like still better to go back to a familiar little river, and +fish or dream along the banks where I have dreamed and fished before. I +know every bend and curve: the sharp turn where the water runs under the +roots of the old hemlock-tree; the snaky glen, where the alders stretch +their arms far out across the stream; the meadow reach, where the trout +are fat and silvery, and will only rise about sunrise or sundown, unless +the day is cloudy; the Naiad's Elbow, where the brook rounds itself, +smooth and dimpled, to embrace a cluster of pink laurel-bushes. All +these I know; yes, and almost every current and eddy and backwater I +know long before I come to it. I remember where I caught the big trout +the first year I came to the stream; and where I lost a bigger one. I +remember the pool where there were plenty of good fish last year, and +wonder whether they are there now. + +Better things than these I remember: the companions with whom I have +followed the stream in days long past; the rendezvous with a comrade at +the place where the rustic bridge crosses the brook; the hours of sweet +converse beside the friendship-fire; the meeting at twilight with my +lady Graygown and the children, who have come down by the wood-road to +walk home with me. + +Surely it is pleasant to follow an old stream. Flowers grow along its +banks which are not to be found anywhere else in the wide world. "There +is rosemary, that 's for remembrance; and there is pansies, that 's for +thoughts!" + +One May evening, a couple of years since, I was angling in the +Swiftwater, and came upon Joseph Jefferson, stretched out on a large +rock in midstream, and casting the fly down a long pool. He had passed +the threescore years and ten, but he was as eager and as happy as a boy +in his fishing. + +"You here!" I cried. "What good fortune brought you into these waters?" + +"Ah," he answered, "I fished this brook forty-five years ago. It was in +the Paradise Valley that I first thought of Rip Van Winkle. I wanted to +come back again for the sake of old times." + +But what has all this to do with an open fire? I will tell you. It is +at the places along the stream, where the little flames of love and +friendship have been kindled in bygone days, that the past returns most +vividly. These are the altars of remembrance. + +It is strange how long a small fire will leave its mark. The charred +sticks, the black coals, do not decay easily. If they lie well up the +hank, out of reach of the spring floods, they will stay there for years. +If you have chanced to build a rough fireplace of stones from the brook, +it seems almost as if it would last forever. + +There is a mossy knoll beneath a great butternut-tree on the Swiftwater +where such a fireplace was built four years ago; and whenever I come to +that place now I lay the rod aside, and sit down for a little while by +the fast-flowing water, and remember. + +This is what I see: A man wading up the stream, with a creel over his +shoulder, and perhaps a dozen trout in it; two little lads in gray +corduroys running down the path through the woods to meet him, one +carrying a frying-pan and a kettle, the other with a basket of lunch on +his arm. Then I see the bright flames leaping up in the fireplace, and +hear the trout sizzling in the pan, and smell the appetizing odour. Now +I see the lads coming back across the foot-bridge that spans the stream, +with a bottle of milk from the nearest farmhouse. They are laughing +and teetering as they balance along the single plank. Now the table is +spread on the moss. How good the lunch tastes! Never were there such +pink-fleshed trout, such crisp and savoury slices of broiled bacon. +Douglas, (the beloved doll that the younger lad shamefacedly brings +out from the pocket of his jacket,) must certainly have some of it. And +after the lunch is finished, and the bird's portion has been scattered +on the moss, we creep carefully on our hands and knees to the edge +of the brook, and look over the bank at the big trout that is poising +himself in the amber water. We have tried a dozen times to catch him, +but never succeeded. The next time, perhaps-- + +Well, the fireplace is still standing. The butternut-tree spreads its +broad branches above the stream. The violets and the bishop's-caps and +the wild anemones are sprinkled over the banks. The yellow-throat +and the water-thrush and the vireos still sing the same tunes in the +thicket. And the elder of the two lads often comes back with me to that +pleasant place and shares my fisherman's luck beside the Swiftwater. + +But the younger lad? + +Ah, my little Barney, you have gone to follow a new stream,--clear as +crystal,--flowing through fields of wonderful flowers that never fade. +It is a strange river to Teddy and me; strange and very far away. Some +day we shall see it with you; and you will teach us the names of those +blossoms that do not wither. But till then, little Barney, the other +lad and I will follow the old stream that flows by the woodland +fireplace,--your altar. + +Rue grows here. Yes, there is plenty of rue. But there is also +rosemary, that 's for remembrance! And close beside it I see a little +heart's-ease. + + + + +A SLUMBER SONG FOR THE FISHERMAN'S CHILD + + + Furl your sail, my little boatie; + Here 's the haven, still and deep, + Where the dreaming tides, in-streaming, + Up the channel creep. + See, the sunset breeze is dying; + Hark, the plover, landward flying, + Softly down the twilight crying; + Come to anchor, little boatie, + In the port of Sleep. + + Far away, my little boatie, + Roaring waves are white with foam; + Ships are striving, onward driving, + Day and night they roam. + Father 's at the deep-sea trawling, + In the darkness, rowing, hauling, + While the hungry winds are calling,-- + God protect him, little boatie, + Bring him safely home! + + Not for you, my little boatie, + Is the wide and weary sea; + You 're too slender, and too tender, + You must rest with me. + All day long you have been straying + Up and down the shore and playing; + Come to port, make no delaying! + Day is over, little boatie, + Night falls suddenly. + + Furl your sail, my little boatie; + Fold your wings, my tired dove. + Dews are sprinkling, stars are twinkling + Drowsily above. + Cease from sailing, cease from rowing; + Rock upon the dream-tide, knowing + Safely o'er your rest are glowing, + All the night, my little boatie, + Harbour-lights of love. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Fisherman's Luck, by Henry van Dyke + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1139 *** |