66 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



I caught my first bass and goggle-eye, the 

 stream along which I fished on many a day 

 when the star of hope hung high, when life 

 ahead loomed big. Along its banks, during my 

 afternoons, I wish to fish and dream again, as 

 I have dreamed and fished before. In it I wish 

 once more to cast my lines cast them baited 

 with an angleworm cast them for small fry 

 and be a boy again. In the forenoons I shall 

 seek in nature's realms peace for my soul, leaven 

 for my brain, rest for my body. 



As I lie stretched out upon the grass the 

 shadows of evening are thickening. Twilight 

 deepens and a thin mist is rising o'er the valley. 

 A myriad fireflies vie with each other to outdo 

 the lightning's flash which now and then doth 

 illumine all the west with a vivid glow. No 

 sound there is except at intervals the dull dis- 

 tant boom of nature's cannon. No warble of 

 bird, no hum of insect, no quaver of frog doth 

 break the solitude/ At 8 :30 the rain begins to 

 fall, and I seek my cot and sink to slumber to 

 the refrain of the patter of the drops upon my 

 canvas roof. 



Wednesday, June 7. ' ' Pe-chew pe-chew, 



^ xx 



pe-chew qui-it, qui-it," the clear ringing call 

 of the cardinal is my reveille. The sky is 

 bright with the coming of the sun, bright and 

 crystal blue with many a star yet visible and 



