ARROW-FISHING. 57 
The rippling brook, as it dances along in the sun- 
shine, bears with it the knowledge, there is truthfulness 
in water, though it be not in a well. We can find 
something, if we will, to love and admire under every 
wave ; and the noises of every tiny brook are tongues 
that speak eloquently to nature’s true priests. 
We have marked, that with the rise of the waters, 
the fish grow gregarious, and that they rush along in 
schools with the waters that flow inland from the river, 
—they thus choose these temporary sylvan lakes as 
depositories of their spawn; thus wittingly providing 
against that destruction that would await their young, 
in the highways of their journeyings. 
It is a sight to wonder at, in the wilds of the primi- 
tive forest, to see the fish rushing along the narrow in- 
lets, with the current, in numbers incredible to the im- 
agination, leaping over the fallen tree that is only half 
buried in the surface of the stream, or stayed a moment 
in their course by the meshes of the strong net, either 
bursting it by force of numbers, or granting its wasteful 
demands by thousands, without seemingly to diminish 
the multitude, more than a single leaf taken from the 
forest would perceptibly alter the vegetation. 
We have marked, too, that these fish would besport 
themselves in their new homes, secluding themselves m 
the shadows of the trees and banks; and, as the sum- 
mer heats come on, they would grow unquiet; the out- 
lets leading to the great river they had left would be 
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