10 The American Angler 
days of anxious thought and study, or 
devotion to business pursuits, and brings 
a quiet restfulness much desired. One 
is transported from the scenes of daily 
toil to the elysian fields of Nature, 
where, in blissful communings with his 
Creator, whose unbroken seal is visible 
on even the mosses and lichens which 
grow at his feef, his thoughts are ab- 
sorbed in their new environments, and 
he receives the blessing for which he 
may long have prayed; while his ex- 
panse of soul brings him in touch with 
the universal soul of things. He who 
steals away from the busy haunts of 
men into the green solitude of Nature, 
along the banks of rippling, winding 
streams, under the checkering lights of 
sun, leaf and cloud, may always hope to 
cast his line in pleasant places. .The 
beauties of Nature, as revealed in his 
surroundings, the sparkling water, the 
shadow and sunshine, the rustling 
leaves, the song of birds, the hum of 
insects, the health-giving breeze, make 
up to him a measure of true enjoyment 
and peace and thankfulness that is 
totally unknown to others. If it is true 
that one grows like what one contem- 
plates, nothing but good can come from 
these sweet and hallowed communings 
with Nature while enjoying a day’s out- 
ing and angling on a stream whose 
graceful windings take one through 
the woods and fields, far removed from 
the dust and din of city streets. One’s 
imagination renews itself by absorbing 
and assimilating the precious exhala- 
tions from the bosom of Mother Earth; 
and one’s memory is filled with fresh 
sights and fresh sounds, that later 
come back like echoes from a distant 
shore. 
One who has loved the stream, the 
woods and fields, with all that they em- 
brace of life, and spent much time, 
either in the pursuit of knowledge, or 
in the enjoyment of recreation in the 
wild paths of Nature, can enter the 
realm of memory, with its myriad 
streams of recollections, and see many 
bright visions, hear many sweet sounds 
and feel many impulsive thrills that 
bring back the days that are gone to a 
newness of life. Much of the charm of 
the angler’s life would be lost but for 
these hours of thought and memory. 
Even in the far-away land of dreams, 
the beauty of the stream haunts one 
still; the faces of old angling friends 
cluster around; the rippling murmur 
of the stream seems not far distant; and 
the coloring of Nature seems as vivid 
as if all were real. Then, again, if in 
old age we possess more earthly happi- 
ness in memories than in worldly pos- 
sessions, what greater delight can one 
anticipate, when the days of the sere 
and yellow ieaf come, when the hand is 
too feeble to grasp the favorite rod, and 
the legs refuse to bear you up amid the 
stream’s wild rush, and the winter of 
age wraps you in its snowy mantle, than 
to sit in the old-arm chair in the chim- 
ney corner, where fire flashes light up 
the wrinkled face, and rehearse to on- 
coming generations the charming stories 
of angling and outing days on the sweet- 
flowing Outlet? I am heartily in sym- 
pathy with any person whose heart even 
sometimes quivers in unison with the 
murmur of the stream, the songs of the 
birds, and the whispering's of the wind; 
and whose eyes are open to the beauti- 
ful in the wildwood flower, in the tiny 
shell, and in the pebble from the wave- 
lapped shore; whose upturned face 
recognizes the magnitude of the star-lit 
or sun-emblazoned sky, the grandeur of 
the storm clouds, and the blessedness of 
the dew from heaven. There grows up 
in the hearts of lovers of Nature for 
