Year: 1869

| hCt ny udl duu Dl uiSuts OueC VI tUiOO ~


deed he had thought he could see through tho


mystic and spiritual glamour which surround


ed the new philosophy, but when lie had dash


ed at it with the same headlong impetuosity


with which he Jumped out 10 walk upon the


surface of the sea, he found himself mistaken


rebuffed and even called Satan for his pains


And SO with self-distrust, with a suspicion


that he may have mistaken his vocation in set


ting up for disciple and teacher of new


fsith his feelings revert to his old calling, as i


he had said all this subtle doctrine taught in in.


soluble parallels is too much for poor head


like mine, but catching fish is something ]


know something about. I 80 a fishing.


Every man has times when he teels like the


iinpetuous disciple. 1t is WEAKNESS of the


strain of civilization, a desire to revert to the


state whence we have progressed of the saw.


age, whose employmentsa as we learned at school


were hunting, fishing and war; George Will


liam Curtis, in late Harper, describing this


inconsistencies for the natural, excited by the


bare reading of Genio Scott's book on Fish
| ing in American Waters" says, ''It awakens


in us city-bound mortals such provoking mem


ories Of the past and such tantalizing desires
/ iOF IUe luIuTe, US dlc DCyohu oiA Cuu ulNuCc.


So when the Husbandman, worn out with


his literary labors, and exhausted with his mu-


sical ecstacies. said ono day last week 81 90


fishing" we responded with the language OF


the fellow disciples, We also go aoitt thee" By


"we" is not meant the royal or editorial pro-


noun, but myself and my young friend whose
| relish of this trip was 50 fresh and keen


| There is a tradition of trout in Bryant
Pond, on the Grand Trunk Railway not num-


erous or easy to catch but large, fat and fierce.
Indeed, the Husbandman six years ago had


caught about eighty, of weight from 1-2 lbs.,
the largest, to IL lbs, the smallest and knew
their very habitat. 1t mattered not that the
station agent did not believe there were any
trout there, that the landlord of Bryant's Pond
House, to whom the fact of eighty trout caught
would be little fortune, feared there were
none there, that all the human dwelers at the
pond scoffed at the idea of anything there but
perch and cells. So they doubted, so they scof-
fed six years ago till he marched through their
village, second Columbus, trailing string Of
spotted beauties along the dusty street. The
more the world doubted, the more firmly the
Husbandman believed. It was early summer
then; it is early summer now. The wild pear
was in bloom then; tits in bloom now. The
trout feed voraciousy at that time. The more
they eat the more they want, and they will
bite anything. Such fish-lore the Husband
man had acquired fishing in all streams and
waters, even in Lake Superior and the Sa-
guenay river. How firmly we leaned upon
faith like this.


OF the Grand Trunk railroad we need only
say, it did not break cur necks. Let The Hus-


bandman, who was dead-head, praise its un-
rivalled speed and well kept appointments. OF
the Bry ants Pond House we will speak, since
we felt that its comfortable bed and well cooked
and wholesome food was not half paid for at a
| dollar day. M


1t was too windy to stir up the fish the night
we arrived there, but we went to the margin
Of the pond and witnessed its picturesqueness.
| A hill, or if you please a mountain rises shear
| up from its western side several hundred feet


showing grim boulders of gray granite among
the birches, poplars and pines that give varied
| tints Of green to the precipitous face of The


natural pyramid. The pond twined around its
base like shining blue snake, it's surface ruff
| fled by north wind that blew through the
tunnel OF the valley from the distant noun
tains, whose sides still cleaned with the be-
Lated snow. aal 4t3 slss 6 "
We were picturesque too as we walked along
the next morning the Husbandman heading
| the procession, clad in q buffalo coat and car
| rying q kitchen chair. The boat was ready for
| us having both oars broken, one paddle split
and the other unfinished, and the thole pins
| hopelessly driven in. But we embarked hope
| full the Husbandman sitting in his chair in the
bow, with his buffalo coat to break the wind
while we bent sturdily to tho paddles and
| struggled for the opposite shore. When we


reached the spot where the splutter of an un-
| seen mountain brook reached our cars the Hus-
| baudman threw out our granite anchor and
| pronounced the auspices favorable Three
| lines were soon sunk in the lake, but the only
| sport was an excitement of the imagination as
| the Husbandman described with much relish
how he drew out ten spotted monsters from
| this very hole six years ago. Ruthless destroy
| er; he had exterminated the race; not q great
| grand-child remained to tell their story. One
might as well set a lobster-trap for saurien
or an iguanodon upon any of the oozy shores
| of the historical period. M


So we pulled up and dropped southward and
came to anchor under huge boulder that had
| fallen over his fellows into the lake. Scarcely
were our lines in when the Husbandman sol
emnly cS mmanded silence, saying in stage
| whisper, "He is herer' Sure enough, some
thing was agonizing on his. line. We even saw
the rich mottled belly turned up a few inches


below the surface Then rose the Husbandman


soemnly from his kitchen chair, the buffalo


coat filed majestically with the wind, as he


laid about himself to perform fittingly the aw-


full rite that devolyed upon him. The kitchen


chair fell over, his white hat toppled into the


lake, and with venerable locks and an episco-


pal lift Of the buffalo surplice, he landed the
three-pound monster, Topping and defiant, slap
upon the bottom of the scow. We claim the
first returning prudence OF thinking Of the hat
drifting fast to leeward. What cared the Hus-


bandman for an old white hat! He would


have thrown after it in his reckless enthusiasm


the buffalo coat had it been his own "Yes
yes'' we demonstrate, 'slet us save the hat tco,
since the trout is secure" So up ca1ne the
heavy granite again and down the lake we
padded in chase of the hat, which we at last
rescued full of water. The wind meantime
had freshened, and throwing the killeck we
were humping against the jutting crags of
the Shore In less than half an hour lull fa-
voring us, by polling against shore and bottom
we regained our first shelter, and again came
to anchor. With a white and red handker-
chief, strip of factory cloth, and copy of the
Portland Press, we bound up the head of ths
Husbandman, and again essayed the bottom
But what with the splashing of paddles, the
splurge of our anchor, and the frightful por-
tent Of the Husbandman arrayed in his ghost
ly head-gear, the timid trout betook them
selves as fast as fin and tail bould carry them,


to the other side of the lake. So we padded


back to the eastern shore, and marched through


the village, the Husbandman with his drowned


hat in one hand, the trout in the other, and


triumph and the impromptu night-cap sitting
on his brow l q
The trout was fried and ate tceU, and great
expectations excited the host of the Bryant's
Pond House and all the hangers-on, of what
the next days fishing should achieve. The
wind continued till sunset. We lay awhile in
sheltered place on the east shore and got an
| Insignificant nibble or two from some con-
temptible perch, but that was all.


The next morning was lovely. The scow
glided away at the least propulsion of the pad
dies. The steep mountain side fairly glittered


ia the morning light, and the poplars seemed
to have turned to FURNISHED silver We found
our place noiselessly under the mountain. The
anchor slipped to the bottom as if through