A SUMMER VOYAGE 



on the boughs, where he made his coffee or broiled 

 his trout over the coals, where he drank again, and 

 again at the little brown pool in the spring run, 

 where he looked long and long up into the whis- 

 pering branches overhead, he has left what he can- 

 not 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 spiritual pores are 

 always sealed up, 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 surprised the fish on their spawn^ 

 ing-beds and feeding-grounds ; they scattered, as 

 my shadow glided down upon them, like chickens 



