A Brief Essay on Man's Finer 
Appreciation of the Real Wild- 
wood. With Occasional Reference to Boy¬ 
hood’s Reactions to It. Sonnyboy Learns 
More Concerning Forest Fires, Human Nature and the Lure of 
the Mountain Trout. We Come to Know That an Abandoned Farm 
Can Bring Greater Happiness Than a Mansion. 
J UST wondering. Just trying to 
figure out if modern man has a 
proper appreciation of, a wise 
valuation of, the sublime restfulness of, 
Mother Nature, at her primitive best. 
Has an editorial hint, eh? Well, we 
just can’t help it. 
There are so many “Isms” in the 
world today. It might not be amiss to 
throw out a love-of-the-outdoors-wave. 
It is barely possible that the suggestion 
may be caught up by some who really 
need the basic idea. If Radio could 
broadcast the true story of rod-and- 
reel, of gun and of the perfume of 
bacon, frying just outside a mountain 
tent, we believe the morals of the world 
might be benefited. 
There has not been enough of it. 
Take such publications as this— 
Forest and Stream —the circulation 
figures show that the men who buy it 
are confirmed sportsmen for the most 
part, with a sprinkling of those who 
are just beginning to see the light. 
Those men and women who have 
never hunted, fished, gone to remote 
places, and lived outside their own high 
civilization, so called, should be the 
REAL readers of journals of this kind. 
They need it most. Some of the best 
By W. LIVINGSTON LARNED 
medicines are not in bottles at all. 
Such as, the scent of the pine and the 
natural hunger which results from a 
long day’s hike. America is awakening, 
we grant you that. There are more 
eager campers than ever and the high¬ 
ways are throbbing with people who, 
while sincere, do not quite know what 
to do or how to do it. 
We are almost prepared to say that 
the biggest piece of news in America to¬ 
day, is the gradual consciousness of 
Nature and what she has to bestow. 
The Government is aware of the trend. 
More and more documents are ready 
for public study. The man who grows 
stale half way along in life has only 
himself to blame. 
These thoughts are inspired by a 
recent experience. The man who has 
been an outdoor enthusiast all his life 
loses sight, very often, 
of the great, great other 
half.” But there comes 
THE SHERIFF. WHO IS A 
FAMOUS TROUT FISHER¬ 
MAN IN HIS OWN RIGHT 
AND WHO MAKES PEOPLE 
RESPECT GAME BY RE¬ 
SPECTING IT HIMSELF. 
an hour when his conscience hurts him. 
He wants all men to know. 
“Father,” said Sonnyboy, “Mister 
Chip said he would take us to a trout 
stream this morning, didn’t he?” 
It was our third dawn on the old 
farm. Sickness now seemed strangely 
foreign to me. My physician had been 
right. “Quiet,” he had said, “complete 
rest, and elbow-touch with green things. 
You have been devoured by the big city 
viewpoint.” 
I was enamored of an abandoned 
farm. I found all of Sonnyboy’s youth¬ 
ful enthusiasms reawakening within 
me. I was his age again, in thoughts, 
at least. And that is one of the grestest 
possible arguments in favor of this 
story. Oh, you fathers . . • you 
middle-aged men, who have lost illu- 
giQXis . . . what a wonderful thing it 
is to brush in close contact with Youth! 
OL, TUMBLING WATERS, FLECKED 
TH SUN AND SHADOW AND THE 
(ME OF EQUALLY RESTLESS TROUT. 
AND ON, OYER GLISTENING BOULD- 
S FROM A SOURCE DEEP IN THE 
UPPER HILLS. 
DOWN DIZZY ALTITUDES OF ROCK 
GREY-GREEN WITH MOSS AND FILLED 
WITH MYSTIC GROTTOES, THE BEAU¬ 
TIFUL WATERS FLOW'. WHO WOILD 
NOT BE A TROUT WITH THESE 
PLACES FOR HOME? 
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