28 WHAT I HAVE SEEN WHILE FISHING 



We saunter up and up, and on and on, listening 

 to our intelligent gillie's history of every likely spot, 

 and noting how, from where, and with what, to 

 fish it on the morrow. What greater or purer joy 

 does life hold than a day spent on the banks of a 

 far-away, heather-hemmed mountain-stream, where 

 breezes seem to blow for us alone ? We travel up 

 until the stream grows less and less. 



Refreshed by breezes from mountain tops, we 

 saunter on and up until every sense is filled with 

 pure delight, and we become in fancy relative to 

 the birds that fly, the fish that swim, and the hills 

 that surround us. So greatly may this feeling 

 possess you in such solitudes, especially on the 

 seventh day, that you will long for something other 

 than ignorant man to speak. 



" All these and many more of His creation, 



That made the heavens the angler oft doth see, 

 And takes therein no little delectation, 



To think how strange and wonderful they be." 



The sky was blue, and cloudless, as the photo 

 shows, yet before the instrument that took it was 

 boxed, a rumbling noise came down the mountain- 

 side that told of clouds at sea, which almost suddenly 

 came rolling in like vast volumes of hurried smoke, 

 followed closely by vaster and denser clouds that 

 darkened everything. Then the lightning streaked 

 golden cracks in the sudden darkness, and the 

 thunder followed, echoed and hung, re-echoed and 

 hung again, amongst the hills, until louder peals 



