1 A SUMMER BOATING TRIP 



and long up into the whispering branches overhead, 

 he has left what he cannot bring away with him, 

 the flame and the ashes of himself. 



Of certain game-birds it is thought that at times 

 they have the power of withholding their scent; no 

 hint or particle of themselves goes out upon the air. 

 I think there are persons whose spjrrtual pores are al- 

 TEays seajgdjup , and I presume they have the best time 

 of it. Their hearts never radiate into the void; they 

 do not yearn and sympathize without return; they 

 do not leave themselves by the wayside as the sheep 

 leaves her wool upon the brambles and thorns. 



This branch of the Delaware, so far as I could learn, 

 had never before been descended by a white man in 

 a boat. Rafts of pine and hemlock timber are run 

 down on the spring and fall freshets, but of pleasure- 

 seekers in boats I appeared to be the first. Hence my 

 advent was a surprise to most creatures in the water 

 and out. I surprised the cattle in the field, and those 

 ruminating leg-deep in the water turned their heads 

 at my approach, swallowed their unfinished cuds, and 

 scampered off as if they had seen a spectre. I sur- 

 prised the fish on their spawning beds and feeding 

 grounds; they scattered, as my shadow glided down 

 upon them, like chickens when a hawk appears. I 

 surprised an ancient fisherman seated on a spit of 

 gravelly beach, with his back up stream, and leisurely 

 angling in a deep, still eddy, and mumbling to him- 

 self. As I slid into the circle of his vision his grip on 

 his pole relaxed, his jaw dropped, and he was too be- 

 wildered to reply to my salutation for some moments. 

 As I turned a bend in the river I looked back, and saw 

 him hastening away with great precipitation. I pre- 



