AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL 



"Oh, that was an old shark," he replied, laughing. 



Well, it might have been, but I had my doubts. 

 Arid at the close of 1918 I believed, though I could 

 not prove, that Lone Angler let the most of his fish 

 go free. Hail to Lone Angler! If a man must 

 roam the salt sea in search of health and peace, and 

 in a manly, red-blooded exercise — ^here is the ideal. 

 I have not seen its equal. I envy him — his mechani- 

 cal skill, his fearlessness of distance and fog and 

 wind, his dexterity with kite and rod and wheel, but 

 especially I envy him the lonesome rides upon a lone- 

 some sea — 



Alone, all alone on a wide, wide sea. 



The long, heaving swells, the windy lanes, the 

 flight of the sheerwater and the uplifted flukes of 

 the whale, the white wall of tuna on the horizon, 

 the leap of the dolphin, the sweet, soft scent that 

 breathes from off the sea, the beauty and mystery 

 and color and movement of the deep — these are 

 Lone Angler's alone, and he is as rich as if he had 

 found the sands of the Pacific to be pearls, the 

 waters nectar, and the rocks pure gold. 



Happily, neither war nor business nor fish-hogs 

 can ruin the wonderful climate of Catalina Island. 

 Nature does not cater to evil conditions. The sun 

 and the fog, the great, calm Pacific, the warm 

 Japanese current, the pleasant winds — these all have 

 their tasks, and they perform them faithfully, to 

 the happiness of those who linger at Catalina. 



Avalon, the beautiful! Somehow even the fire 

 that destroyed half of Avalon did not greatly mar 



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