Golly, we'll have
to hurry or it'll be dark fore we git to camp."
Thus they drifted over the waters far out to where the huge
purple rocks made soft outlines with wild, mysterious
impressiveness. They may have been expert fishermen, but it is
to be feared not real anglers; although they took a fine string
of black bass, they caught but few of the glorious reflections
and little of the unearthly beauty of the lake. Heaven had come
down to earth for them and "beauty pervaded the atmosphere like
a Presence." Think of fishing amid scenes like this! One wonders
if there will be fishing in Paradise.
What glorious vistas those waters opened up to all, stretching
away to those purple haunting distances, where may be had a
fleeting glimpse of things which are eternal and the perceiving
ear may catch strains of long remembered melodies ("those songs
without words") which only the finest souls may know. Yet here
were three men who, in their modern Ago, were returning from
their search of the golden fleece. Jason, Hercules and Theseus
could have experienced no greater joy in object won, than these
three "heroes" of the lake returning in the resin-scented
twilight with their long-sought prize of bass! A nickel up on
each black bass and not one red cent on the placid lake and the
radiant sky! Columbus, when he viewed from afar the fronded
palms of the Indies, could not have been more enraptured than
the one with fifty cents to the good.
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