The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17,
No. 101,
by Various
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17,
No. 101,
March, 1866, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere
at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it,
give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg
License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 101, March, 1866
Author: Various
Release Date: May 4, 2007 [EBook #21288]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC
MONTHLY ***
Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Josephine Paolucci and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. (This file was
produced from images generously made available by Cornell
University Digital Collections).
THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.
VOL. XVII.--MARCH, 1866.--NO. CI.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by TICKNOR
AND FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
of Massachusetts.
Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected and footnotes
moved to the end of the article.
PASSAGES FROM HAWTHORNE'S NOTE-BOOKS.
III.
Maine, Thursday, July 20, 1837.--A drive, yesterday afternoon, to a
pond in the vicinity of Augusta, about nine miles off, to fish for white
perch. Remarkables: the steering of the boat through the crooked,
labyrinthine brook, into the open pond,--the man who acted as
pilot,--his talking with B----about politics, the bank, the iron money of
"a king who came to reign, in Greece, over a city called Sparta,"--his
advice to B---- to come amongst the laborers on the mill-dam, because
it stimulated them "to see a man grinning amongst them." The man
took hearty tugs at a bottle of good Scotch whiskey, and became pretty
merry. The fish caught were the yellow perch, which are not esteemed
for eating; the white perch, a beautiful, silvery, round-backed fish,
which bites eagerly, runs about with the line while being pulled up,
makes good sport for the angler, and an admirable dish; a great chub;
and three horned pouts, which swallow the hook into their lowest
entrails. Several dozen fish were taken in an hour or two, and then we
returned to the shop where we had left our horse and wagon, the pilot
very eccentric behind us. It was a small, dingy shop, dimly lighted by a
single inch of candle, faintly disclosing various boxes, barrels standing
on end, articles hanging from the ceiling; the proprietor at the counter,
whereon appear gin and brandy, respectively contained in a tin
pint-measure and an earthenware jug, with two or three tumblers beside
them, out of which nearly all the party drank; some coming up to the
counter frankly, others lingering in the background, waiting to be
pressed, two paying for their own liquor and withdrawing. B---- treated
them twice round. The pilot, after drinking his brandy, gave a history of
our fishing expedition, and how many and how large fish we caught.
B---- making acquaintances and renewing them, and gaining great
credit for liberality and free-heartedness,--two or three boys looking on
and listening to the talk,--the shopkeeper smiling behind his counter,
with the tarnished tin scales beside him,--the inch of candle burned
down almost to extinction. So we got into our wagon, with the fish, and
drove to Robinson's tavern, almost five miles off, where we supped and
passed the night. In the bar-room was a fat old countryman on a
journey, and a quack doctor of the vicinity, and an Englishman with a
peculiar accent. Seeing B----'s jointed and brass-mounted fishing-pole,
he took it for a theodolite, and supposed that we had been on a
surveying expedition. At supper, which consisted of bread, butter,
cheese, cake, doughnuts, and gooseberry-pie, we were waited upon by
a tall, very tall woman, young and maiden-looking, yet with a strongly
outlined and determined face. Afterwards we found her to be the wife
of mine host. She poured out our tea, came in when we rang the
table-bell to refill our cups, and again retired. While at supper, the fat
old traveller was ushered through the room into a contiguous bedroom.
My own chamber, apparently the best in the house, had its walls
ornamented with a small, gilt-framed, foot-square looking-glass, with a
hair-brush hanging beneath it; a record of the deaths of the family,
written on a black tomb, in an engraving, where a father, mother, and
child were represented in a graveyard, weeping over said tomb; the
mourners dressed in black, country-cut clothes; the engraving executed
in Vermont. There was also a wood engraving of the Declaration of
Independence, with fac-similes of the autographs; a portrait of the
Empress Josephine, and another of Spring. In the two closets of this
chamber were
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.