Chapter 16 fishing fun (2)

Once, my bookseller took me fishing on a lake in Wisconsin.It was the property of a fishing club of which my bookseller friend was a member.Since I was going to be away for a few days, I took a big bag of books with me.I think proper reading is really the most important sideline to a fishing expedition.I wondered what old Walton would think of my bookseller friend's odds and ends carrying enough tools for a whaling expedition.If he could condescend to join our party, it would be with his modest equipment: hooks, fly baits, and his delicacy. The lake we are going to is vast, beautiful and pleasant, surrounded by picturesque scenery.In my imagination, she is the concrete embodiment of the exquisite elegance and reverie of poetry.I set out to study minnows, dace, and trout, but my bookseller soon told me that the lake had been cleared of all bad species and only stocked with fishing fish like perch, pike, etc. kind.

I don't at all like this kind of secretly belittling traditions I've always respected.The more I read about the modern art of fishing with my bookseller friend, the less I like it.If you can't enjoy the beauty of nature while fishing, I don't like this kind of fishing either.My bookseller friend told me to keep quiet, but I don't need to pay attention to such a prohibition, because facing the picturesque hills, river valleys, woods, meadows and blue sky around me, I must have been immersed in it like a wooden man, Silent. Luckily for me, I also have my own Nighttime Delicious.When I had finished pouring out my admiration for the wonders of nature and my bookseller would not speak to me again, I opened the book in my hand and read Christopher North and Etri The famous passage between the shepherds of the gram, in which the shepherd boasts of his prowess as a master fisherman.

The sun was high and the heat was unbearable, so I held up a parasol.My bookseller objected to this sagacity--indeed, few of my bookseller friends did not object to any reasonable suggestion to pass my time.Finally, I took "Newcastle Fisherman's Corolla" out of the basket and began to chant the animated lines: Let us be free from trouble and sorrow, They overgrow the weeds in the paths of life. Pleasant cups make flowers bloom, It will also make the happy time fly lightly. He gathered his rod and tackle and declared that it was no good trying to catch fish at such a messy hour.

For me, it's a happy time to be able to enjoy it.Of course, I didn't catch a single fish, but why am I happy?To be honest, I could still catch a fish if I wanted to, but, as I have shown you, and I have always been (and always will be) in the view that in our graceful and graceful art of fishing Of the many pleasures enjoyed, the sheer pleasure of catching fish is the least. Even my bookseller friend finally had to admit: I was a true disciple of Walton.When I returned to the club hotel and shared dinner, I shared with my companions many pleasant stories and sweet songs that I had collected from books.Indeed, before I returned to the city, I was made an honorary member of the club to applause - not because of how many fish I caught (I didn't catch any), but because of my knowledge of the science of fishing. The mastery of the world contains a wide range of knowledge: literature, tradition, religion and philosophy, all of which I have acquired through the gift of books.

It is said that because of the braces on his feet, Macaulay can talk ably about French poetry, art and philosophy.But he had never visited Paris, so he hadn't gone through the trouble of wrangling French customs officials (which can be really annoying). Also, I'm an angler with a guard strapped on.I would like to warm my feet in front of a roaring fire, with Judge Methuen sitting beside me, enjoying the joy and pride of fishing.Methuen was also a "fishing buddy," and anyone would admit to having heard him speak of Father Prout. ] wrote the parson and the flounder, and heard him sing:

Bring your fishing rod, bring your carefree mood, Our good hearts are as clear as a mirror, and we set off happily. To the pebbly brook, to the gurgling brook, Never let the worries and sorrows disturb our dreams. And how to make those anglers who strap on the guard happier?No cold, tonsillitis, or asthma followed him into that imaginary territory.In the realm of fantasy, the clear streams and calm lakes, there are only groups of minnows, dace, and shuttlehoppers waiting for him; Once sharing the friendship of Christopher North, the Shepherd, and the noble Edinburgh Band; ] trek together on the banks of the Blackwater River; in the Land of Fantasy, he can hear the music of the Tyne, and feel the coolness and freshness of the wind blowing across the Valley of the Demons; in the Land of Fantasy, he can recognize the only Friendships—those of the Immortals, where their souls soar, are filled with the love and sympathy of the Man they aspire to.

How I love you, my treasured book—my Prout, my Wilson, my Philip, my Bernays, my Doubleday, my Roxby, my Charlie Thor, my Crowhall!You are full of joy and joy, and your songs lift me up and make me young and strong again. And you, the ordinary little thing, with the brown cover and the withered pages, are more precious to me than all the gems on this earth—come on, let me take you off the shelf, dear Hold you tightly in my hands, and gently press you close to my decayed and sluggish heart!Do you still remember how I found you out of a pile of discarded things fifty years ago?Didn't I take you for sixpence with all my heart?All these years, haven't I always cherished your treasure with tenderness?My Walton, we will part soon. At the moment of farewell, I want to say to the next person who has you: An old man takes his last breath, bless you!