III.
THE ISLAND POOL.
Among the mountains there is a gorge. And in the gorge there is a river. And in the river there is a pool. And in the pool there is an island. And on the island, for four happy days, there was a camp.
It was by no means an easy matter to establish ourselves in that lonely place. The river, though not remote from civilisation, is practically inaccessible for nine miles of its course by reason of the steepness of its banks, which are long, shaggy precipices, and the fury of its current, in which no boat can live. We heard its voice as we approached through the forest, and could hardly tell whether it was far away or near.
There is a perspective of sound as well as of sight, and one must have some idea of the size of a noise before one can judge of its distance. A mosquito’s horn in a dark room may seem like a trumpet on the battlements; and the tumult of a mighty stream heard through an unknown stretch of woods may appear like the babble of a mountain brook close at hand.
But when we came out upon the bald forehead of a burnt cliff and looked down, we realised the grandeur and beauty of the unseen voice that we had been following. A river of splendid strength went leaping through the chasm five hundred feet below us, and at the foot of two snow-white falls, in an oval of dark topaz water, traced with curves of floating foam, lay the solitary island.
The broken path was like a ladder. “How shall we ever get down?” sighed Greygown, as we dropped from rock to rock; and at the bottom she looked up sighing, “I know we never can get back again.” There was not a foot of ground on the shores level enough for a tent. Our canoe ferried us over, two at a time, to the island. It was about a hundred paces long, composed of round, coggly stones, with just one patch of smooth sand at the lower end. There was not a tree left upon it larger than an alder-bush. The tent-poles must be cut far up on the mountain-sides, and every bough for our beds must be carried down the ladder of rocks. But the men were gay at their work, singing like mocking-birds. After all, the glow of life comes from friction with its difficulties. If we cannot find them at home, we sally abroad and create them, just to warm up our mettle.
The ouananiche in the island pool were superb, astonishing, incredible. We stood on the cobble-stones at the upper end, and cast our little flies across the sweeping stream, and for three days the fish came crowding in to fill the barrel of pickled salmon for our guides’ winter use; and the score rose,—twelve, twenty-one, thirty-two; and the size of the “biggest fish” steadily mounted—four pounds, four and a half, five, five and three-quarters. “Precisely almost six pounds,” said Ferdinand, holding the scales; “but we may call him six, M’sieu’, for if it had been to-morrow that we had caught him, he would certainly have gained the other ounce.” And yet, why should I repeat the fisherman’s folly of writing down the record of that marvellous catch? We always do it, but we know that it is a vain thing. Few listen to the tale, and none accept it. Does not Christopher North, reviewing the _Salmonia_ of Sir Humphry Davy, mock and jeer unfeignedly at the fish stories of that most reputable writer? But, on the very next page, old Christopher himself meanders on into a perilous narrative of the day when he caught a whole cart-load of trout in a Highland loch. Incorrigible, happy inconsistency! Slow to believe others, and full of sceptical inquiry, fond man never doubts one thing—that somewhere in the world a tribe of gentle readers will be discovered to whom his fish stories will appear credible.
One of our days on the island was Sunday—a day of rest in a week of idleness. We had a few books; for there are some in existence which will stand the test of being brought into close contact with nature. Are not John Burroughs’ cheerful, kindly essays full of woodland truth and companionship? Can you not carry a whole library of musical philosophy in your pocket in Matthew Arnold’s volume of selections from Wordsworth? And could there be a better sermon for a Sabbath in the wilderness than Mrs. Slosson’s immortal story of _Fishin’ Jimmy_?
But to be very frank about the matter, the camp is not stimulating to the studious side of my mind. Charles Lamb, as usual, has said what I feel: “I am not much a friend to out-of-doors reading. I cannot settle my spirits to it.”
There are blueberries growing abundantly among the rocks—huge clusters of them, bloomy and luscious as the grapes of Eshcol. The blueberry is nature’s compensation for the ruin of forest fires. It grows best where the woods have been burned away and the soil is too poor to raise another crop of trees. Surely it is an innocent and harmless pleasure to wander along the hillsides gathering these wild fruits, as the Master and His disciples once walked through the fields and plucked the ears of corn, never caring what the Pharisees thought of that new way of keeping the Sabbath.
And here is a bed of moss beside a dashing rivulet, inviting us to rest and be thankful. Hark! There is a white-throated sparrow, on a little tree across the river, whistling his afternoon song
“_In linkèd sweetness long drawn out._”
Down in Maine they call him the Peabody-bird, because his notes sound to them like _Old mān—Péabody, péabody, péabody_. In New Brunswick the Scotch settlers say that he sings _Lōst—lōst—Kénnedy, kénnedy, kénnedy_. But here in his northern home I think we can understand him better. He is singing again and again, with a cadence that never wearies, “_Sweet—sweet—Cánada, cánada, cánada!_” The Canadians, when they came across the sea, remembering the nightingale of southern France, baptised this little gray minstrel their _rossignol_, and the country ballads are full of his praise. Every land has its nightingale, if we only have the heart to hear him. How distinct his voice is—how personal, how confidential, as if he had a message for us!
There is a breath of fragrance on the cool shady air beside our little stream, that seems familiar. It is the first week of September. Can it be that the twin-flower of June, the delicate _Linnæa borealis_, is blooming again? Yes, here is the threadlike stem lifting its two frail pink bells above the bed of shining leaves. How dear an early flower seems when it comes back again and unfolds its beauty in a St. Martin’s summer! How delicate and suggestive is the faint, magical odour! It is like a renewal of the dreams of youth.
“And need we ever grow old?” asked my lady Greygown, as she sat that evening with the twin-flower on her breast, watching the stars come out along the edge of the cliffs, and tremble on the hurrying tide of the river. “Must we grow old as well as gray? Is the time coming when all life will be commonplace and practical, and governed by a dull ‘of course’? Shall we not always find adventures and romances, and a few blossoms returning, even when the season grows late?”
“At least,” I answered, “let us believe in the possibility, for to doubt it is to destroy it. If we can only come back to nature together every year, and consider the flowers and the birds, and confess our faults and mistakes and our unbelief under these silent stars, and hear the river murmuring our absolution, we shall die young, even though we live long: we shall have a treasure of memories which will be like the twin-flower, always a double blossom on a single stem, and carry with us into the unseen world something which will make it worth while to be immortal.”
1894.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A SONG AFTER SUNDOWN
THE WOOD-NOTES OF THE VEERY
_The moonbeams over Arno’s vale in silver flood were pouring, When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring: So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie, I longed to hear a simpler strain, the wood-notes of the veery._
_The laverock sings a bonny lay, above the Scottish heather, It sprinkles from the dome of day like light and love together; He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie; I only know one song more sweet, the vespers of the veery._
_In English gardens green and bright, and rich in fruity treasure, I’ve heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure;_ _The ballad was a lively one, the tune was loud and cheery, And yet with every setting sun I listened for the veery._
_O far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing, New England woods at close of day with that clear chant are ringing; And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary, I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery._
1895.
INDEX
Affection, misplaced: an instance of, 157, 158.
Altnaharra: 111.
Alt-Prags, the Baths of: their venerable appearance, 202.
Ambrose, of Milan: his compliment to the Grayling, 286.
Ampersand: derivation of the name, 70; the mountain, 71; the lake, 89; the river, 71.
Ananias: a point named after him, 254.
Anglers: the pretensions of rustic, exposed, 30; a group of, 57, 58; a friendly folk, 145, 146.
Angling: its attractions, 3-5; an education in, 4 ff.; Dr. Paley’s attachment to, 136; a benefaction to fish, 159.
Antinoüs: the cause of his death, 17.
Architecture: prevailing style on the Ristigouche, 144; the superiority of a tent to other forms of, 300; domestic types in Canada, 238, 239.
Arnold, Matthew: quoted, 140.
Aussee: 272.
Baldness: in mountains and men, 85.
Barrie, J. M.: 97.
Bartlett, Virgil: a tribute to his memory, 72, 73.
Bear-stories: their ubiquity, 62.
Bellinghausen, von Münch: quoted, 297.
Birds: a good way to make their acquaintance, 24; differences in character, 25-27; a convocation of, 321.
Birds named: Blackbird, 339. Bluebird, 4, 26. Cat-bird, 24. Cedar-bird, 322, 323. Chewink, 4, 26. Chickadee, 322. Crossbill, 322. Crow, Hoodie, 115. Cuckoo, 190. Ducks, “Betseys,” 229. Eagle, 112. Grouse, Ruffed, 81. Gull, 229. Jay, Blue, 26, 322. Kingfisher, 27, 162, 229. Kinglet, ruby, and golden-crowned, 321, 322. Laverock, 339. Meadow-lark, 4. Nightingale, 333, 339. Oriole, 25. Owl, Great Horned, 62. Pewee, Wood, 25. Pine-Siskin, 323. Redpoll, 322. Robin, 3, 25. Sand-piper, Spotted, 24. Sheldrake, 77. Shrike, 323. Sky-lark, 188, 339. Sparrow, Song, 4, 26. Sparrow, Tree, 323. Sparrow, White-throated, 162, 333. Thistle-bird, 4. Thrush, Hermit, 4, 28. Thrush, Wood, 28. Veery, 28, 339, 340. Warbler, black-throated green, 82. Warbler, various kinds of Canada, 321. Woodpecker, 31, 32. Woodpecker, Great-pileated, 322. Woodpecker, Red-headed, 81. Yellow-throat, Maryland, 24.
Bishops: the proper costume for, 30; a place frequented by, 177.
Black, William: his “Princess of Thule,” 97 ff.
Black-fly: his diabolical nature, 246.
Blackmore, R. D.: quoted, 37.
Blunderhead: a winged idiot, 245.
Boats: Adirondack, 76.
Bonaparte, Napoleon: as a comrade on foot, 17.
Bridges, Robert: quoted, 93.
Burroughs, John: his views on walking, 67; his essays, 331.
Byron, George, Lord: misquoted, 282, 283.
Cambridge: looks best from the rear, 21.
Camping-out: a first experience, 60-64; lessons to be learned from it, 65; discretion needed in, 301; skill of guides in preparation for, 317.
Character: expressed in looks, 14.
Chub: a mean fish, 276-277.
Cities: enlivened by rivers, 21.
Conservatism: Scotch style of, 108.
Contentment: an example of, 316.
Conversation: best between two, 125; the most valuable kind, 128; egoism the salt of, 156; the fine art of, 163, 164; current coin in, 247.
Cook: the blessing of having a good-humoured, 229, 230.
Cortina: 178-194.
Cotton, Charles: quoted, 286.
Courtesy: in a custom-house officer, 174; among the Tyrolese peasants, 209; of a French Canadian, 231.
Cow-boy: pious remark of a, 34.
Cowley, Abraham: on littleness, 17, 18.
Credulity: of anglers in regard to their own fish-stories, 330.
Crockett, S. R.: quoted, 29, 98.
Darwin, Charles: quoted, 31, 32.
Davy, Sir Humphry: quoted, 136.
Deer-hunting: in the Adirondacks, 78.
Depravity, total: in trout, 118.
Diogenes: as a bedfellow, 17.
Dolomites: described, 169-171 ff.
Driving: four-in-hand, 172; after dinner, 174; the French Canadian idea of, 237.
Economy: an instance of, 241.
Education: a wise method of, 42, 43.
Education: in a canoe, 232.
Edwards, Jonathan: his love of nature, 31, 32.
Egoism, modest: the salt of conversation, 156.
Epics: not to be taken as discouragement to lyrics, 34.
Epigrams: of small practical value, 127, 128.
Failures: the philosophic way of accounting for, 321.
Fame: the best kind of, 182.
Farming: demoralised on the Ristigouche, 142, 143.
Fashion: unnecessary for a well-dressed woman to follow, 186.
Fatherhood: the best type of, 42, 43; its significance, 232.
Fiction: its uses, 96-98, 102.
Fish: fact that the largest always escape, 150.
Flowers named: Alpenrosen, 168, 189, 210. Anemone, 4. Arrow-head, 13. Asters, 24, 313. Bear-berry (Clintonia borealis), 312. Bee-balm, 23. Blue-bells, 313, 314. Canada May-flower, 312. Cardinal flower, 24. Cinquefoil, 23. Clover, 188. Crowfoot, 23. Cyclamen, 227, 297. Dahlia, 238. Daisy, ox-eye, 14. Dandelion, 4. Dwarf cornel, 312. Fireweed, 241. Fleur-de-lis, 227, 312. Forget-me-not, 188. Fuchsia, 115. Gentian, Alpine, 188. Gentian, closed, 24, 257, 313. Goldenrod, 24, 312. Hare-bell, 23. Heather, 18, 95 ff. Hepatica, 23. Hollyhock, 238. Honey-suckle, 110, 111. Jewel-weed, 23, 257. Joe-Pye weed, 257. Knot-weed, 13. Ladies’-tresses, 313. Lilac, 39, 290. Loose-Strife, yellow, 23, 312. Marigold, 138, 139. Meadow-rue, 227. Orchis, purple-fringed, 23, 227, 313, 314. Pansy, 209. Partridge-berry, 312. Polygala, fringed, 100. Pyrola, 227. Rose, 39, 115, 125. Santa Lucia, 188. Self-heal, 24. Snow-berry, 312. Spring-beauty, 23. St. John’s-wort, 24. Star-grass, 24. Tansy, 39. Trillium, painted, 23. Tulips, 3. Turtle-head, 313, 314. Twinflower, 16, 233. Twisted-stalk, 312. Violet, 23. Wake-Robin, 312.
Flowers: Nature’s embroidery, 23, 24, 187, 227, 312; the pleasure of knowing by name, 313, 314; second bloom of, 333, 334.
Forests: the mid-day silence of, 81; flowers in, 188, 189, 227, 311-314.
Friendship: the great not always adapted for it, 17; pleasure in proximity, 13; a celestial gift, 124.
Gay, John: quoted, 9.
Germans: their sentiment, 193, 194; their genius for thoroughness, 197; their politeness, 288.
Gilbert, W. S.: quoted, 42.
Goat’s-milk: the proper way to drink it, 168; obliging disposition of the goat in regard to it, 211.
Gray, Thomas: quoted, 27.
Grayling: described, 285-287.
Gross-Venediger: the, 210-214.
Guides: Adirondack, 76; Canadian, 229-234.
Halleck, Fitz-Greene: quoted, 247.
Hallstatt: 278.
Haste: the folly of, 146, 147.
Hazlitt, William: quoted, 267.
Heine, Heinrich: quoted, 227.
Hoosier Schoolmaster, the: the solidity of his views, 14.
Hornet: the unexpected quality of his sting, 79, 80.
Horse-yacht: a description of, 138; drawbacks and advantages, 146, 147.
Hospitality: in a Highland cottage, 115, 116; among anglers, 144; in an Alpine hut, 211.
Housekeeping: the ideal, 315.
Human nature: best seen in little ways, 31, 32; a touch of, 318.
Humour: American, difficult for foreigners, 177; plain, best enjoyed out-of-doors, 224, 25.
Idealist: a boy is the true, 51.
Ideals: the advantage of cherishing, 240.
Idleness: occasionally profitable, 34.
Immortality: the hope of, 130; love makes it worth having, 335.
Indian: the noble, 247.
Insects: classified according to malignity, 245 ff.
Ischl, 282, 283.
James, Henry: his accuracy in words, 30.
Johnson, Robert Underwood: quoted, 23, 24.
Kenogami, Lake, 316 ff.
Lairg, 140.
Lake George, 44 ff.
Lamb, Charles: his poor opinion of aqueducts, 13; his disinclination to reading out-of-doors, 331.
Landro, 198, 199.
Lanier, Sidney: quoted, 28.
Lienz, 203 ff.
Life: more in it than making a living, 35, 36.
Littleness: praised, 17, 18.
London: the way to see, 21.
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth: quoted, 187.
Love: a boy’s introduction to, 50; a safe course in, 98, 99; the true meaning of, 132; uncertainty of its course, 326.
Lowell, James Russell: a reminiscence of him, 10.
Luck: defined, 64.
Lucretius, T.: quoted, 18.
Lumbermen: their share in making our homes, 264.
Mabie, Hamilton W.: quoted, 216.
“Maclaren, Ian,” 97.
Manners: their charm, when plain and good, 209.
Marvell, Andrew: quoted, 226.
Medicinal Springs: an instance of their harmlessness, 59, 60.
Meditation: an aid to, 161; on the building of a house, 264; at nightfall, 290.
Melvich, 113.
Memory: associated with odours, 39; capricious, 120; awakened by a word, 217; sweetest when shared by two, 335.
Metapedia, 137.
Midges: animated pepper, 228.
Milton, John: quoted, 316, 332.
Mint: a symbol of remembrance, 40, 41.
Misurina, Lake, 195.
Mountains: their influence, 11; invitations to climb, 71, 72; growth of trees upon them, 83-85; the Adirondacks, 87; the Dolomites, 169 ff.; the Hohe Tauern, 205 ff.; of the Salzkammergut, 270 ff.
Mountain-climbing: charms of, 79 ff.; moderation in, 187; disappointment in, 213, 214.
Mosquito: his mitigating qualities, 246.
Naaman, the Syrian: his sentiment about rivers, 16.
Naming things: pleasure of, 313.
Navigable rivers: defined, 60.
Neu-Prags: the Baths of, 201.
Noah: a question about, 164.
Nuvolau, Mount, 187 ff.
Old Age: sympathy with youth, 126; the wisdom and beauty of, 128-130; preparation for, 333.
Ouananiche, 228, 235, 236, 252, 253, 256-258, 306 ff., 330.
Oven: the shrine of the good housewife, 240.
Paley, the Rev. Dr.: quoted, 135.
Patience: not the only virtue, 46.
Peasant-life: the perils of, in the Tyrol, 206-208.
Perch: a good fish for nurses to catch, 44.
Philosophers: a camp of, 88; their explanation of humour, 167.
Philosophy: of a happy life, 128; of travel, 167; of success, 183; of housekeeping, 313-315; of perpetual youth, 333-335.
Photography: its difficulties, 89-91; a good occupation for young women, 146.
Pian, Mount, 196.
Pike, 243, 252, 302.
Pleasures: simple, not to be purchased with money, 165.
Plenty: a symbol of, 72.
Prayer: the secret of peace, 130, 131; in a Tyrolese hut, 211; thoughts almost as good as, 293.
Preaching: under supervision, 103.
Predestination: an instance of faith in, 114.
Prime, W. C.: quoted, 302.
Pronunciation: courage in, 141.
Prosperity: should be prepared for in the time of adversity, 240.
Quarles, Francis: his emblems, 39.
Quebec, 297.
Railway travel: beside a little river, 19; its general character, 168.
Rapids, 222 ff.
Relations: the advantage of temporary separation from, 315; distinguished from connections by marriage, 316.
Religion: the best evidence of, 130.
Resignation: the courage of old age, 128.
Rivers: their personality, 9, 13; in different countries, 15; little ones the best, 16-19; methods of knowing them, 22, 33; advantages of their friendship, 22-30; their small responsibilities, 33; pleasure of watching them, 161; variety of life upon, 236; disconsolate when dry, 250; merry in the rain, 272; the voice of, 327.
Rivers named: Abana, 17. Æsopus, 20. Allegash, 18. A l’Ours, 237, 241. Amazon, 18. Ampersand, 19, 69. Arno, 19, 21. Aroostook, 18. Ausable, 18. Batiscan, 15. Beaverkill, 18, 23. Blanche, 250. Boite, 171, 172. Boquet, 15. Cam, 21. Connecticut, 16. Dee, 123. Delaware, 16. Des Aunes, 237. Dove, 19, 144. Drau, 203. Ericht, 19, 147. French Broad, 20. Glommen, 20. Grand Décharge, 220 ff., 302 ff. Gula, 20. Halladale, 19. Hudson, 16. Isel, 203. Kaaterskill, 58-60. La Belle Rivière, 220, 317 ff. La Pipe, 220. Lycoming, 53. Metapedia, 142. Mississippi, 18. Mistassini, 220. Mistook, 229. Moose, 18. Neversink, 18, 59. Niagara, 18. Opalescent, 63. Ouiatchouan, 220. Patapedia, 142. Penobscot, 19. Peribonca, 19, 220, 259 ff. Pharpar, 17. Piave, 171, 172. Pikouabi, 220. Quatawamkedgwick, 142. Raquette, 18. Rauma, 19. Rienz, 20, 171. Ristigouche, 19, 137 ff. Rocky Run, 54. Rotha, 19. Saguenay, 219. Salzach, 19. Saranac, 18, 64, 73. Swiftwater, 18, 40, 65. Thames, 19, 21. Traun, 267 ff. Tweed, 19. Upsalquitch, 142. Wharfe, 226. Ziller, 19.
Roberval, 220.
Rome: the best point of view in, 21.
Rudder Grange: the author of, 14.
St. John, Lake: 218 ff., 298 ff.
Salmon: a literary, 106; a plain, 152-155; a delusive, 158-160; curious habit of leaping on Sunday, 162; manner of angling for, 151-153.
Sea, the: disadvantages of loving, 10.
Semiramis: her husband, 17.
Seneca, L. Annæus: his advice concerning altars, 12.
Scotch character: contrasted with the English, 107-110; caution, 103, 118; Orthodoxy, 119; true religion, 128-131.
Seriousness: may be carried too far, 34.
Shakspere, William: quoted, 295.
Slosson, Annie Trumbull: her story of Fishin’ Jimmy, 331.
Solomon: improved, 42; quoted, 104.
Songs, French, 324 ff.
Stevenson, Robert Louis: on rivers, 8; on friendship between young and old, 127; his last prayer, 131; on camping-out, 318.
Stornoway, 100 ff.
Sunday: reflections upon, 159-161; a good way to spend, 331-333.
Sun-fish: their superciliousness when over-fed, 44.
Tea: preferred to whisky, 233.
Tennyson, Alfred: quoted, 14, 27, 33, 53, 141, 251.
Tents: their superiority to houses, 299, 300.
Time, old Father: the best way to get along with, 146.
Titian: his landscapes, 173.
Toblach, Lake of, 198-200.
Trees: their human associations, 10-12; their growth on mountains, 83-85; advisability of sparing, 238; on their way to market, 250; their personality, 302.
Trees named: Alder, 54, 241, 270. Ash, 270. Balm of Gilead, 39, 239. Balsam, 83, 227, 251, 301, 314. Beech, 81. Birch, white, 55, 226, 257, 303 ff. Birch, yellow, 80. Cedar, white, 226, 251, 256. Fir, 205, 270, 290. Hemlock, 16, 25, 54, 83, 85, 301. Horse-chestnut, 10. Larch, 174, 185. Maple, 9, 54, 80. Oak, 11, 289. Pine, 84. Poplar, 240, 268. Pussywillow, 3, 36. Spruce, 16, 83-85, 226, 248, 251, 256, 301, 317.
Trout-fishing: a beginning at, 46; a specimen of, 74; in Scotland, 110, 111, 116-118; in the Tyrol, 195, 199; in the Traum, 269 ff.; in Canada, 149, 242 ff., 318 ff.
Universe: no man responsible for the charge of it, continuously, 34.
Utilitarianism: a mistake, 40.
Venice: in warm weather, 167, 168.
Veracity: affected by fish, 254.
Virgil: quoted, 269.
Walton, Izaak: quoted, 33, 36, 75, 165, 276; his ill fortune as a fisherman, 163.
Warner, Charles Dudley: his description of an open fire, 19.
Watts, Isaac: quoted, 18.
Whitman, Walt: quoted, 256.
Wilson, John: his description of a bishop, 31; his skepticism about all fish stories but his own, 330.
Wish: a modest, 3-5.
Wolfgang, Saint: his lake, 288; his good taste, 289.
Women: prudence in expressing an opinion about, 18; more conservative than men, 184; problematic quality of, 297; generous rivals (in angling), 311.
Words: their magic, 217.
Wordsworth, William: quoted, 27, 120, 229, 250.
Youth: the secret of preserving it, 334.
Transcriber’s note.
The original punctuation and spelling has been preserved, except on Page 320, where a double quotation mark before “But” has been removed.