Song Birds and Water Fowl 
the summer boarder. In my mortification and 
disgust I could only maintain my self-respect 
by adopting the views of an English writer, and 
dub the angling art as ‘‘ the cruelest, the cold- 
est, and the stupidest of pretended sports.’’ I 
have a mean suspicion that the one who penned 
this noble opinion had been gluing his eyes 
ona ‘‘bob’’ so long, without a nibble, that 
he waxed furious, and swore he would have 
nothing more to do with fish-lines. 
& 
Just as many a person retains a trace of his 
childhood’s fear of the dark, so a large portion 
of mankind appear to shrink from autumn, as if 
there were something frightful about it; so 
that, in consequence, even the sights and sounds 
peculiar to that season become exceedingly un- 
welcome to them. Possibly such people are in 
the majority, and in that case they must not be 
called peculiar, while that stigma is left attach- 
ing to the fortunate minority who give a hearty 
welcome to the nightfall and to the waning 
year. Apart from the inevitable and powerful 
association of times and seasons, I am positive 
there is no sound in all of nature’s gamut 
more absolutely free from mournfulness and 
226 
