Quabbin; the story of a small town with outlooks upon Puritan life . deration. *Du yeou ever go a-fishin t asked the farmer. Seldom, said Wentworth. I walk about thecountry whenever I can : it refreshes me, soul andbody ; but fishing seems to me a rather indolent amuse-ment ; and then, I never have any luck, which is thesame as to say I have no skill. I dont fish much, nuther, but I like sometimes togo to a quiet, shady place long with some sensiblefeller. While yeou air flingin a line yeou dont talkmuch; only a word naow an then, — jest the notionof the minnit, — sunthin like a float that bob
Quabbin; the story of a small town with outlooks upon Puritan life . deration. *Du yeou ever go a-fishin t asked the farmer. Seldom, said Wentworth. I walk about thecountry whenever I can : it refreshes me, soul andbody ; but fishing seems to me a rather indolent amuse-ment ; and then, I never have any luck, which is thesame as to say I have no skill. I dont fish much, nuther, but I like sometimes togo to a quiet, shady place long with some sensiblefeller. While yeou air flingin a line yeou dont talkmuch; only a word naow an then, — jest the notionof the minnit, — sunthin like a float that bobs onthe wMter when an idee comes along ; an the pond, anthe trees, an bushes say the rest ont. Naow thersa pond not moren a mile fm here, an not fer fm theroad ; an when yeou air on the bank yeou cant see ahaouse nor a sign of a livin creetur. Yeoud thinkyeou was ten miles in the woods ; jest trees an sky,an a poorty leetle pond, raound ez a bowl, so still, anamost mournful-like, cf it want fer the water-lilies. You make me wish to see the pond, said the ^?I. A TALK BV THE ROADSIDE 295 schoolmaster; and I like your notion of naturesfilling in the gaps in a conversation. Yes, I shouldlike to go with you some good day. * Take the fust lowery day, when it aint actillyrainin. Ive poles an lines, an yeou might bring longa couple of new hooks. Some leetle shaver in thevillage will git us the shiners (minnows). Wemaynt ketch pickerel, but well hev the fun of tryin. The good people of Quabbin will think us a coupleof boys. I alius expect to be a boy myself. An thers noman that is a man, who cant be a boy sometimes. 296 QUABBIN CHAPTER XXX AN ARRIVAL The morning stage-coach from the Deepo (thenearest railroad station), one day brought to the villagehotel (styled * tavern no longer) a passenger, whoseappearance and kit excited some curiosity. Therewere straggling groups of people near the hotel verandaand about the post-office, who, besides diligently chew-ing tobacco, had the respon
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