Library of the best American literature: Containing the lives of our authors in story form, their portraits, their homes, and their personal traits, how they worked and what they wrote; choice selections from eminent writers, embracing great American poets and novelists, foremost women in American letters, distinguished critics and essayists, our national humorists, noted journalists and magazine contributors, popular writers for young people, great orators and public lecturers
General
Library of the best American literature: Containing the lives of our authors in story form, their portraits, their homes, and their personal traits, how they worked and what they wrote; choice selections from eminent writers, embracing great American poets and novelists, foremost women in American letters, distinguished critics and essayists, our national humorists, noted journalists and magazine contributors, popular writers for young people, great orators and public lecturers
American literature
Miss Dodge was a cousin to the distinguished statesman, James G.
Blaine, of whom she was very fond. Much of her time during the last
few years of his life was spent with his family at Washington, and
when Mr. Blaine died in January, 1893, she undertook, in the interest
of the family, to write his life, which work she finished and the
book was published in 1894. It is the only authoritative life of
the statesman endorsed by the family. This was Miss Hamilton’s last
book. It was a congenial theme to which she devoted perhaps the most
painstaking and best work of her life. The last years of the busy
author were marked by failing health. She died at Washington in 1896.
* * * * *
FISHING.
(FROM “GALA DAYS.”)
SOME people have conscientious scruples about fishing. I respect
them. I had them myself. Wantonly to destroy, for mere sport, the
innocent life in lake or river, seemed to me a cruelty and a shame.
But people must fish. Now, then, how shall your theory and practice
be harmonized? Practice can’t yield. Plainly, theory must. A year ago
I went out on a rock in the Atlantic Ocean, held a line――just to see
how it seemed――and caught eight fishes; and every time a fish came up,
a scruple went down. * * * * Which facts will partially account for
the eagerness with which I, one morning, seconded a proposal to go
a-fishing in a river about fourteen miles away.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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