Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 1, January 1849Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 1, January 1849
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
diversified with all sorts of verdure peeping from out the crevices.
These terraces seem created on purpose for houses, from the porches or
windows of which the proprietors of the rich fields and meadows beneath,
might overlook their beautiful possessions, and thank a bounteous
Providence for having cast their lot, not in Araby, but Illinois the
blest.
Looking toward the north, from my window at the hotel, the great rolling
prairie, extending from Ottawa to Chicago, presented itself in a
succession of gentle risings and waving lines, all green, yet of such
various shades, that there was nothing like sameness or dull insipidity.
The Fox River approaches in this direction, and may be seen stealing its
way with many windings of coy reluctance, toward that union with the
Illinois where it is to lose its name and identity forever. Indeed, in
all directions the views are almost unequaled for softness and delicacy,
and I hope I may be pardoned for this vain attempt to communicate to my
readers a portion of the pleasure I derived from their contemplation.
Travelers have a right to such indulgence, since nothing can be more
disinterested than for a man to undergo the fatigue of visiting distant
places, merely for the gratification of making others as wise as
himself.
Ottawa is a fine place for sportsmen, most especially those disciples of
Job and St. Anthony who deal with the fishes. The traditionary fishing
in the Illinois and Fox Rivers is capital, and there is scarcely a man
to be met with, who has not at least once in his life been eminently
successful. But it is certainly somewhat peculiar to the gentle science
of angling, that the best fishing is always the greatest way off. It is
never where you happen to be, but always somewhere else. It is never in
the present tense, but always in the past or the future. However
excellent it be on the spot, it is always better somewhere else: and the
farther you go, the farther off, to the end of the chapter. Then, ten to
one, it is too late, or too early; the sun shines too bright; the wind
blows too hard, or does not blow at all. In short, there is ever some
untoward circumstance in the way of success, and I know no school of
patience and philosophy superior to the noble apprenticeship to angling.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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