The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-08-11

used it for ten years, and never broke
or even strained tip. 1t is my COM
panion now. Already l have captured
during the week 155 trout with it, all of
which were carefully saved and thank.
fully eaten in camp, or by friends among
whom / have sojourned, and 1 never
Joint or uDjoint it without pleasant
thought of the maker and donor. 1t Is
magician's wand not only to call out
the denizens of. the lake and stream,
but to comm 4cate the vigor of nature
to tired ve and muscle and the elixir
Of health to the effete pirit. One of
the pleasing episodes O. my sojourn in
the Maine woods, is many a meal of
that most delicious gustatory cOmbina-
tion, that perfect blend of relishes that,
when married together, seem to have
been preordained for each other-broOk
trout and wild strawberries. Only New
England seems to be able to produce the
wild strawberry in profusion and per-
fection. 1t is beyond compare. Each
one seems to contain within its dimin-
utive globe the concentrated aroma and
flavor of an entire pineapple, and all
| the cultivated varieties have been de-
veloped in size at the expense Of quail
| ity. Just now the road sides and often
the fields are red with them, and they
are heaped on many table. Alone, or
with any article of food, they are delici-
Gus, but with brook trout the combina-
| tion is perfect; it is like Emusic married
to immortal verse" After one has
consigned as many trout to their proper
destination as the limited capacity of
the finite receptacle will allow, and he
adds as many of this ultimate essence
of the vegetable kingdom as he can pos
sibly contain, there remains no further
possibility of tempting the appetite,
and as he lays aside the spoon, the only
language he can uss is that of the salts
fed epicure-"Fate cannot harm me,
| have dined to-day!'' l wish could
send every reader of THE UNIVERSAL
IsT a photograph of myself as l perform
the part of the lone fisherman. At four
in the morning emerge from camp,
attired in fitting gear, and silently row
my canoe to the proper part of the lake.
The loon, the gull, the blue heron are
| before me, and their dissimilar voices
| either welcome or warn me away, am
uncertain which. The guitar of the
feminine and the bassoon Of the smala
| frog are heard from the distant marsh.
| Shoals Of minnows rullie the water like
passing breezas. Here and there a trout
leaps from the lake, or gulps natural
fly, as if to whet his appetite for the
gaudy counterfeit have in store for
him. AS my canoe breaks the mirror
of the CLASSY waters, 1 think of the poets
lines:
ION st. Marys lonely lake
There fingers not breeze to break
! The mirror hat the waters make"
| drop my anchor to the bottom and
draw my fly along the surface. An
eager fish seizes it, and soon the slayer
! is slaiu-the wOuid-be ensnarer is
ensnared, and after two or three hours
thus employed, with lungs surcharged
with oxygen, and an appetite that only
such pursuits can eDgender, l respond
to the call to breakfast with an alacrity
/ sv,r = hi fn rhn fwIya
chamber to dining room, and wonders
why the coffee and chop are no better
This suflices for the morning.
The middle of the day is passed in
reading, sauntering, listening, looking,
dreaming, and vegetating; and then a
portion of the afternoon resumes the
pursuits of the morning and whets the
edge of appetite for supper, and soon
after, on my bed Of balsamic boughs
enjoy such sleep as only comes when
''tired ey elids rest on tired eyes, and
to muscles that have been attuned to
slumber by honest exercise. l suppose
| there are these who see nothing attrac-
tive in such recreatiOns as come from
welding the anglers fly on lake or
stream, and who would experience no
thrill when capturing, as l have done
the past week, twenty trout weighif g
twenty pounds, besides one monster
lacking but two ounces of three pounds;
but | confess a great delight in such
experiences, aud full sympathy with
piOus Sir Henry Walton:
Abused mortalsl did you know
| Where joy, hearts ease and comforts grow,
You'd scorn proud towers
And seek them in these bowers,
| Where winds sometimes our woods may shake; F.;
| But clustering care could never tempest make,
Nor murmurs eer come nigh us,
Saving Of fountains that glide by us.
Blest silent groves; OH. may you be
| Forever, mirth's best nursery!
May pure contents
Forever pitch their tents
| Upon these downs, these meads, these rocks,
these mountains;
And peace still slumber by these fountains,
Which we may every year
Meet when we come a-hshing here.
BALzAc remarks the habit Of "monoto-
nous regularity that becomes " the sup
port Of those who have been the subjects
of great sorrow" Regularity in doing
our task is a support to others than the
beregved. II it Is medicine 10 the suf-