THE AMERICAN ANGLER. 
WGL, 25. 
JANUARY, 1895. No.5; 

AADAY ON THE OUTLET.* 
BVDR. C. 
4 
Come ye lovers of sweet Nature, 
Ye who love the fields and flowers, 
Love the birds, and bees and blossoms; 
Ye who love the streams and forests, 
Love the hill-sides and the valleys, 
Come and listen while I tell you, 
Tell you of a day’s fine outing 
On the swiftly flowing Outlet. 
The day which inspired what I have 
here written was ushered in by the pure 
and stainless ‘‘ Daughter of the East,”’ 
‘as gloriously as had been other summer 
days before it, when speeding her chariot 
in advance of the Sun God, along the 
horizon, the fair and noble maiden 
scattered many-hued blossoms along 
the eastern sky. My companion and I 
were on the road to the stream just as 
the sun opened the gates of the morning 
to admit the white-winged ‘‘ Angel of 
Light” to human habitations. How 
delightful to our senses was the awaken- 
ing of Nature from a night of repose; 
how beautiful and grand the burst of 
color that rose from behind the eastern 
hills, dispersing the gloom and painting 
the sky crimson and gold; how delicious 
the early morning air, laden with fresh 
nectar from the goblets of the gods. 
Dew drops glistened in the sunlight, 
and way-side flowers looked up dripping 

*The Outlet referred to in this article is that of Canandaigua Lake. 
Ate MAAN Cas aes 
as from a midnight bath, as the vapors 
of night were swept away by the scented 
breath of the morning. 
‘““The sweetest songbirds from each bending 
twig 
And coppice poured their souls in liquid 
strains; 
‘The heavens above were sunshine, and the 
earth 
Rejoicedin full fruition of the day.” 
Who can drink from such a cup, over- 
flowing with the sublimity of ‘Creation, 
with more gratification than the angler 
on his way to the stream? His unshaded 
eyes fall leisurely upon the near-by fields 
and distant hill-sides, radiant in the 
glow of a new-born day, but are quick 
to rest upon the upper reaches of the 
stream that follow the winding of the 
road he travels. There is a charm pe- 
culiar to a swift running stream, bor- 
dered with trees, bushes and tall grasses, 
through which one catches glimpses of 
ripples, eddies and stretches of smooth 
waters, felt only by the enthusiastic 
angler. The rippling water makes mu- 
sic in his heart as he catches the infinite 
variety of tones expressed by the 
murmuring voice of the stream; the 
tumbling roar of the rock-bound current 
increases the melody that rings back 
It flows with alternate smooth and 
broken current, ina gently winding northeasterly direction, through meadows, woods, and cultivated fields, 
through some little villages nestling on its banks, where dams obstruct its way, forming deep ponds bordered 
by living foliage of trees and shrubs; it is decorated with delicate water-lilies and tall growing flags, for several 
miles, when it turns almost directly eastward, gently winding through similar scenes, till finally it is lost 
in Seneca River. 
