The voice in the canoe behind me ceased.The rain let up.The SLISH, SLISH of the paddle stopped.The canoe swung sideways to the breeze.I heard the RAP, RAP, RAP of a pipe on the gunwale, and the quick scratch of a match on the under side of the thwart.
"What are you doing, Ferdinand?"
"I go to light the pipe, m'sieu'."
"Is the story finished?"
"But yes--but no--I know not, m'sieu'.As you will.""But what did old Girard say when his daughter broke her engagement and married a man whose eyes were spoiled?""He said that Leclere could see well enough to work with him in the store.""And what did Vaillantcoeur say when he lost his girl?""He said it was a cursed shame that one could not fight a blind man.""And what did 'Toinette say?"
"She said she had chosen the bravest heart in Abbeville.""And Prosper--what did he say?"
"M'sieu', I know not.He said it only to 'Toinette."THE GENTLE LIFE
Do you remember that fair little wood of silver birches on the West Branch of the Neversink, somewhat below the place where the Biscuit Brook runs in? There is a mossy terrace raised a couple of feet above the water of a long, still pool; and a very pleasant spot for a friendship-fire on the shingly beach below you; and a plenty of painted trilliums and yellow violets and white foam-flowers to adorn your woodland banquet, if it be spread in the month of May, when Mistress Nature is given over to embroidery.
It was there, at Contentment Corner, that Ned Mason had promised to meet me on a certain day for the noontide lunch and smoke and talk, he fishing down Biscuit Brook, and I down the West Branch, until we came together at the rendezvous.But he was late that day--good old Ned! He was occasionally behind time on a trout stream.For he went about his fishing very seriously; and if it was fine, the sport was a natural occasion of delay.But if it was poor, he made it an occasion to sit down to meditate upon the cause of his failure, and tried to overcome it with many subtly reasoned changes of the fly--which is a vain thing to do, but well adapted to make one forgetful of the flight of time.
So I waited for him near an hour, and then ate my half of the sandwiches and boiled eggs, smoked a solitary pipe, and fell into a light sleep at the foot of the biggest birch tree, an old and trusty friend of mine.It seemed like a very slight sound that roused me:
the snapping of a dry twig in the thicket, or a gentle splash in the water, differing in some indefinable way from the steady murmur of the stream; something it was, I knew not what, that made me aware of some one coming down the brook.I raised myself quietly on one elbow and looked up through the trees to the head of the pool."Ned will think that I have gone down long ago," I said to myself; "Iwill just lie here and watch him fish through this pool, and see how he manages to spend so much time about it."But it was not Ned's rod that I saw poking out through the bushes at the bend in the brook.It was such an affair as I had never seen before upon a trout stream: a majestic weapon at least sixteen feet long, made in two pieces, neatly spliced together in the middle, and all painted a smooth, glistening, hopeful green.The line that hung from the tip of it was also green, but of a paler, more transparent colour, quite thick and stiff where it left the rod, but tapering down towards the end, as if it were twisted of strands of horse-hair, reduced in number, until, at the hook, there were but two hairs.And the hook--there was no disguise about that--it was an unabashed bait-hook, and well baited, too.Gently the line swayed to and fro above the foaming water at the head of the pool; quietly the bait settled down in the foam and ran with the current around the edge of the deep eddy under the opposite bank; suddenly the line straightened and tautened; sharply the tip of the long green rod sprang upward, and the fisherman stepped out from the bushes to play his fish.
Where had I seen such a figure before? The dress was strange and quaint--broad, low shoes, gray woollen stockings, short brown breeches tied at the knee with ribbons, a loose brown coat belted at the waist like a Norfolk jacket; a wide, rolling collar with a bit of lace at the edge, and a soft felt hat with a shady brim.It was a costume that, with all its oddity, seemed wonderfully fit and familiar.And the face? Certainly it was the face of an old friend.Never had I seen a countenance of more quietness and kindliness and twinkling good humour.
"Well met, sir, and a pleasant day to you," cried the angler, as his eyes lighted on me."Look you, I have hold of a good fish; I pray you put that net under him, and touch not my line, for if you do, then we break all.Well done, sir; I thank you.Now we have him safely landed.Truly this is a lovely one; the best that I have taken in these waters.See how the belly shines, here as yellow as a marsh-marigold, and there as white as a foam-flower.Is not the hand of Divine Wisdom as skilful in the colouring of a fish as in the painting of the manifold blossoms that sweeten these wild forests?""Indeed it is," said I, "and this is the biggest trout that I have seen caught in the upper waters of the Neversink.It is certainly eighteen inches long, and should weigh close upon two pounds and a half.""More than that," he answered, "if I mistake not.But I observe that you call it a trout.To my mind, it seems more like a char, as do all the fish that I have caught in your stream.Look here upon these curious water-markings that run through the dark green of the back, and these enamellings of blue and gold upon the side.Note, moreover, how bright and how many are the red spots, and how each one of them is encircled with a ring of purple.Truly it is a fish of rare beauty, and of high esteem with persons of note.I would gladly know if it he as good to the taste as I have heard it reputed.""It is even better," I replied; "as you shall find, if you will but try it."Then a curious impulse came to me, to which I yielded with as little hesitation or misgiving, at the time, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
