126 I CO A-FISHING. 



places it is a strange and a melancholy sound, but no- 

 where so much so as in the deep forest. It is at first a 

 heavy, distant breath, like the deep respiration, or rather 

 the expiration of many weary men — nay, rather of wom- 

 en, for it is gentle and low. But it rises into the sound 

 of a great grief, the utterance of innumerable sighs ; and 

 now. sobs interrupt it, and low wails of single sorrow that 

 have no comparison with other woe, and that will not be 

 appeased by any sympathies. Just such a sound, had you 

 been on the hill-side above Zahleh the night after the 

 Druses made havoc of the Maronites in that city of Leb- 

 anon, you would have heard floating up the heights of the 

 mountain from the doomed city : the sounds of sorrow in 

 a thousand homes ; the mournful cry of the women and 

 children ; and now and then the sob of the dying, gur- 

 gling out with blood. Just such a sound I once heard, or 

 thought I heard, in the night, when I lay awake on the 

 east side of the Rhine, and for an hour on the western 

 side the thunder of cannon ceased, and I could hear the 

 agony of Strasburg, beleaguered by the German hosts, the 

 low moan of her agony ascending above the spire of her 

 holy minster. 



But while I listened to the wind in the pine-trees, the 

 gloom had increased, and a ripple came stealing over the 

 water. There was a flapping of one of the lily pads as 

 the first waves struck them ; and then, as the breeze 

 passed over us, I threw two flies on the black ripple. 

 There was a swift rush — a sharp dash and plunge in the 

 water. Both were struck at the instant, and then I had 

 work before me that forbade my listening to the voices of 

 the pines. It took five minutes to kill my fish — two splen- 

 did specimens, weighing each a little less than two pounds. 

 Meantime the rip had increased, and the breeze came 



