To Mountain Tarn 



child may dabble with his bent pin. Around the 

 lure will break the circles of the rise. The thrill 

 of a bite will pass to the chubby hand, which 

 holds the shepherd father's crook. 



There is a great republic of the waters. Men 

 will do well to see they do not slip out of their 

 hands. No streamside should be barred to any 

 one who is there for no purpose save for the 

 shadow on the pool, the song of the current, 

 the freshness of the environment, and the art and 

 mystery of the sport. 



Nor should the life of our streams be ener- 

 vated by pet fish reared in tanks, nor changed to 

 the rainbow hues of some stranger from other 

 waters. Not that I think the evil ineradicable. 

 If they do no good, after a little time they may 

 do no harm. The stream will take possession, 

 and shape and tone them into the likeness of its 

 own kind, till those who put them in at first 

 would stoutly disown them as any handiwork of 

 theirs. 



It is a while before the stranger finds out what 

 is wanting in the borders. He is impressed by 

 what is there. He looks around, and the wrinkle 

 of speculation is on his eyebrows. And then he 

 bethinks himself that there are no lochs. None, 

 or few. So very few, that one may ascend hill 

 after hill and see no gleam. 



In imagination, he places a sheet here and 

 there a spark round the edge of yonder law, a 



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