The herald., 1897-04-25

and in no way like the hare of the
east.
The larger hare. or jack rabbit, is
like the hare of England as fine in fla
yor when we'll cooked and not too old
and a runner shod with the wind.
Where the blue larkspur is beginning to
nod over the pink and scarlet of the
painted cup, and the lavender tulip is
unfolding over the paling orange of the
pcppy he scuds over the carpet of dry
Ing afilaria with joyous bounds that
seem to dare you to the race. Too cum
ming he has become for the shotgun,
unless you catch him in the brush TAX
ing his siesta, when he may be little
careless. and when you try your fa
vorite rifle on him and see bullet after
bullet send the dust aloft in shower
behind his f1eeting form, you will think
even the rifle too slow. Still more will
you be surprised when you mount
swift horse and try to keep up with the
tearing greyhound. The purple heads
of the mint fly in fragrance from the
bounding foofs and the dogs stretch
closer to the ground but still the game
glides along as if only playing. When
he finds himself Understanding the
another link of concealed speed, flat
tens himself little more to the ground,
end if he only had the bottom the spark
ling green of the chapparal would close
over him long before you could reach
1t. Even with his failing breath he
makes marvellous bursts of speed and
twists that throw the dogs aside in a
whirl of lost energy. and it is not until
your speed makes the big mountains
swim in a haze about you that one of
the dogs finally tumbles over him in
q medley of revolving hair, legs and
ears.
And who would not expect to find
trout where, over the boulders of quartz
and granite, icy water is torn with
speed into the whiteness Of the snow
from which its purity was just born on
the mighty hills above? And who can
resist a strange feeling of certainty
when he sees it sleep for a moment
IN the darxsome pool under the ader's
Aolemn canopy, or whirl for moment
In transparent green. fringed with
white, before resuming its onward rush
down the dark defle of the riven hills?
And here he is. as pretty a trout as
flashes in the seething basin where the
water pauses in its onward leap. And
no trout has a more lovely home in
which to entertain his company than
these great halls of granite, fringed with
the dropping maidenhair and illumined
by the gold Of the mountain mimulus
Beside the water MODS the scarlet of
the columbine and the tiger lily swings
its brighter red in the bit of meadow be-
side 1t; the wild gooseberry hangs its
armful of carmine along the lower hills,
and vetch trails its long lines of GRIM
son bloom over the fragrant lavender
Of the wild lilac beside it, Far above
the sunlight plays on polished cliffs,
and the wind sighs through the needles
of mighty pines that brstle along the
canyon walls, but in the deep shades OF
the great incense cedar and under the
sparkling sheen of the silver fir you
seem in another world, SO sudden is the
transition from the outer land when you
enter the portals of the great hills.
But quick stroke upon the pole
brings you to yourself if you have cast
rhe right fly with care and on the hook
you have something showering silvery
light in a thousand lines as it comes
thrashiEs and dancing on head and tail
out Of the water. This is the mountain