Peripatetic Meditations 



They too make a fine show when they turn a lit- 

 tle to one side or the other, but if directly be- 

 neath us, they are, like all fishes, but dark 

 streaks in the water. Evidently their color was 

 not meant to please the idle rambler that hap- 

 pens this way. In all probability the world was 

 far more beautiful before man saw it, than it 

 has been since. Man came upon the scene after 

 everything was old and much was ruined. He 

 is now a good deal like the creator of a museum 

 of archaeology, a caretaker of the antiques time 

 has spared to us. If these pretty fish are not 

 pleased, looking at each other, why such a dis- 

 play of color? These are long days but not long 

 enough for those who begin asking questions. 

 The sunlight reaching to the white sand is at- 

 tractive to the fish, and they gather about it, 

 but they are never incautious. The shadow of 

 my broad-rimmed hat, as I moved, fell upon 

 them and when I looked again, not a fish was to 

 be seen. Probably they had the thought of a 

 heron or a king-fisher and took no chances. 

 They indulged no curiosity to-day, surely, but 

 fled from the vaguest hint of danger. 



Not all summer's leafy bowers are on dry 

 land. Submerged plant-life luxuriates here, 



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