

Ly Se 
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TAB. LDY L 
BY H. E. 
One day, in the early part of summer, 
I donned my fishing rig, and sallied 
forth to spend the afternoon among the 
cool shadows and the seclusion of some 
trout stream. Ere long, quite unex- 
pectedly, I came upon such aone. It 
was a stranger to me, but it was as 
beautiful a stream as heart could wish, 
now winding over ledges of rock, under 
the tall trees that kept it in a perpetual 
twilight, then out into some natural 
clearing and the sunny day. 
I fished for a time with pretty fair 
luck, but for some reason I was not as 
keenly alive to the sport of catching 
the brook beauties as usual. The sol- 
itude of the forest through which I had 
been passing impressed me. ‘There is 
a difference in wading a stream through 
the woods and having it running about 
you, than in merely traversing the 
forest ; the stream seems to be alive as 
it constantly ripples past you ; in its 
ceaseless murmut it tries to be a com- 
panion, and yet is not one; it pulses 
with a life you know nothing of, and, in 

OF 
A STREAM. 
HAYDOCK. 
so doing, drowns familiar sounds or dis- 
torts them. It stimulates the imag- 
ination, and as I pass down it slowly, I 
glance on either side, almost expecting 
to see some fairy or water sprite. 
Directly before me there is a huge 
pile of rock, around which the water 
boils, then ripples out over the dark ex- 
panse of the still pool beyond. As I 
look I feel sure that something is lurk- 
ing there, but, upon near approach, my 
elf fades to only a shadow; yet, under 
that shadow, the real deity of the stream 
Kes: 
As I cast in my lineon the fall, and it 
pays out into the eddy, I feel a sudden 
jerk, and out of the water, as darkly 
colored as the pool and the shadow that 
lies above it, save for the flecks of 
crimson on its sides, comes the form of 
the trout. For a moment, in landing 
and securing him, I feel the fisherman’s 
love of gain, and the surroundings are 
forgotten. 
A little way beyond the stream 
breaks from the confines of the forest 
