The American angler . el perched upon hishaunches, nibbling the husk from anunripe nut, or scampering up the treewith a saucy whisk of the tail at yourintrusion. The timid little chipmunk,with a startled squeak, skims along thestony wall, or old fence rail, to reach hisden amid the tangled roots of stump ortree. Perchance he may unexpectedlymeet the gaze of a pair of languid eyes,watching him from the long deep grassat the edge of the wood, and discoverhis friend, the rabbit, nibbling the sweetclover stems at a safe distance from hisburrow. His ears are quick to catchthe sound of the red-heade
The American angler . el perched upon hishaunches, nibbling the husk from anunripe nut, or scampering up the treewith a saucy whisk of the tail at yourintrusion. The timid little chipmunk,with a startled squeak, skims along thestony wall, or old fence rail, to reach hisden amid the tangled roots of stump ortree. Perchance he may unexpectedlymeet the gaze of a pair of languid eyes,watching him from the long deep grassat the edge of the wood, and discoverhis friend, the rabbit, nibbling the sweetclover stems at a safe distance from hisburrow. His ears are quick to catchthe sound of the red-headed wood peckertapping on an old hollow tree; and asthe drum-like music rings throughthe woods, it reminds him of boyhoodschool days, when his attention wasdemanded by similar tapping of themasters ferule on the desk. Should hecome to the remnant of a bridge thatonce spanned the streain, he will mostlikely get a glimpse of the Phoebe bird,one of the firstlings of the spring, whosenest, he knows, is safely lodged against. Pond at Littleville, Above Dam, Looking South. an old log or sheltering stone some-where in the dilapidated structure. Be-ing armed with only rod and line,engaged in the quiet and peaceful avo-cation of angling, he has no thoughts ofthe destruction of these wildwood crea-tures as game. He loves to share withthem their wildwood life for the day,and feel at night that he has been withdelightful company, from whom he haslearned a little science but a great dealof Nature. What can be more delight-ful than to cast ones self into the be-witching arms of Nature, and listen tothe bird talks, the stream songs, theleaf murmurs, and study the poeticlanguage of the perfume laden flowerson the banks of the graceful windingOutlet ? To the mind opened by thedeft fingers of Nature, the stream, thewoods, the birds, and the flowers, arethe pages of a great book most delight- ful to peruse. Eloquence, music, poetryand painting can be better appreciatedwhen the windows of the soul h
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectfishing, bookyear1895
