In the Footsteps of Frank Forester 



THE VALE AND VILLAGE OF WARWICK. 



"In all the river counties of New York, there 

 is none to my mind which presents such a com- 

 bination of all the natural beauties, pastoral, 

 rural, sylvan, and at times almost sublime as old 

 Orange, nor any part of it to me so picturesque, 

 or so much endeared by early recollections as 

 the fair vale of Warwick. 



"Sweet vale of Warwick, sweet Warwick, love- 

 liest village of the vale, it may be I shall never 

 see you more, for the silver cord is loosened, the 

 golden bowl is broken, which most attached me 

 to your quiet and sequestered shades. 



"May blessings be about you beautiful Warwick, 

 may your fields and forests be as green, your 

 waters as bright, the cattle on your hundred hills 

 as fruitful as in the days of old. 



— From the Writings of Frank Forester." 



In 1917, Mr. Pond came to New York as Associate 

 Editor of The American Angler, later on taking the 

 Editor's chair, and he frequently suggested that out of ovir 

 mutual regard for Frank Forester, the Sportsman, Writer, 

 and Lover of the Open we should make a trip to "sweet 

 Warwick, loveliest village of the vale," but it was not until 

 Wednesday, August 21st, 1918, when in my motor at 

 1 P. M. I drew up at the office of the Angler, just off 

 Broadway, that our desires were gratified. 



A few weeks earlier, down at Little Compton, R. I. on 

 one or two rainy days, I had reviewed The Warwick 

 Woodlands, Fugitive Sporting Sketches, and My Shoot- 

 ing Box and marked here and there the points of interest 

 in the trip from New York City to Warwick, fifty-five 

 miles away, as seen by Forester when, with his friend 

 Harry Archer one tine October morning in 1831, they 

 drove across the ferry to the Jersey shore with a brace 

 each of spaniels and setters in the box of his hunt- 

 ing wagon. But one must read a chapter of The Warwick 



