THE TALE OF THE FISHES 



in the evolutionary process — for the pleasure of man. 

 And the lacustrian charr that has for thousands of years 

 affected the mysterious depths of Dublin Pond repre- 

 sents a lingering "relic," Dr. Kendall suggests to me, 

 "of a southward distribution of the intermediate race" 

 with many representatives still surviving in Canadian 

 waters — the present-day derivative having become 

 specialized in the common brook trout we all know and 

 love so well. The very mention of that name fills each 

 of us with eagerness. Another month or two and he 

 will be awaiting our deftly offered temptations in the 

 nearby streams — and is he not associated with all that 

 makes our Northern spring the very proxy of Heaven? 



In that glad season atween June and May — 



When chlorophyl tints leaf and bud, 

 And incense breathes from field and wood 



Of blooms run idle through the days 



Of languid clouds and mountain haze. 

 When music such as art knows not 



Bursts from each joyous feathered throat. 

 And endless factors swell the bliss 



Of a soul-spelling synthesis — 



I can but obey the call of the wild, and am con- 



34 



