TItc .[incricati Ani;lcr. 



us at last. Jose, thrust thy paddle into 

 the yielding wave, and get us as near 

 them as you can before they go. It is 

 a long distance, but let them have it. 

 One dead and two wounded. vShoot 

 them, Doctor; 3-011 can take no chances 

 on brant." And so we pass the after- 

 noon, until the sun, hiding behind the 

 western cordillera, warns us that camp- 

 ing time is at hand. 



"How does that place suit you. 

 Doc. ? A spring and a cliff, supply- 

 ing water and shade ; two Indian maids 

 for company; while the stone walls, the 

 oxen, and the plowmen, lend a rural air 

 to the scene. Let's go ashore, ere murky 

 night spreads her curtain o'er the land- 

 scape. This thing of making camp in 

 the dark, is not what it's cracked up to 

 be. Tumble out, Joseph, and get 

 soine wood, while we unload the canoe. 

 Pile the plunder against the cliff. Drive 

 that ox away. In his whilom bed, we'll 

 build our camp-fire and slowly toast 

 the savory brant. I'll show you how 

 to cook him. Doctor. Take these birds 

 and pluck them, thou Aztec servitor. 

 Let not a single feather stay adhering 

 to their downy breasts. Many a bird 

 has been spoiled by the flavor of a 

 burnt feather. A brant, a mallard and 

 a teal, and also this little snipe. You 

 cut a wand from yonder quince bush, 

 while I prepare the sauces. First a 

 little mint for the snipe, then oregano 

 for the teal. The mallard shall have 

 some wild celery, while, in the frying 

 pan, with the spoon for a baisting ladle, 

 I will prepare the sauce for the brant. 

 The slightest pinch of curry, a trifle 

 more of cayenne pepper, half a garlick, 

 a teaspoonful of Worcestershire sauce, 

 some sage and a clove ; and now a little 

 butter, flour and water. Cover that 

 little snipe with mint and put him 

 inside the teal, cover the teal with 



oregano and thrust him into the 

 abdomen of the mallard, and then 

 entomb the latter in the cavity of the 

 brant. Insert this wand of savory 

 quince into the now united birds, pass- 

 ing it where their hearts once beat, and 

 Joseph will -turn it before the glowing 

 coals, baisting them ever and anon 

 until the blush of golden brown an- 

 nounces that the cooking is complete. 

 Open the can of cranberry sauce (it is 

 a sacrilege to serve birds like these 

 with plebian canned goods, but neces- 

 sity knows no law ), and fall to, wash- 

 ing it down with the red wine of Spain, 

 and call it a Christmas dinner." 



With a giant rock at the rear, the 

 lake in front, over whose waters the 

 reflection of the camp-fire sparkles, 

 fanned by the gentle breezes from the 

 Pacific, that climb through mountain 

 passes from the land of the orange and 

 the jassamine, bringing the perfume of 

 the pine and the palm, we recline under 

 rock ferns, and discuss, in sleepy 

 syllables, the fortunes of the day, till 

 claimed as willing prisoners by Mor- 

 pheus, gentlest of the Olympian host. 



' ' Doctor, in shooting as in eating, a 

 man of gentle tastes is an epicure, not a 

 glutton. To-day we'll see millions of 

 birds, and shoot dozens. Joseph, get 

 the traps aboard the ship, and we'll 

 start for Texesquite, where we dine. 

 That buzzing, as of a thousand bee 

 hives, that you hear, carries no threat 

 of smarting stings, or promise of honey 

 or the honey comb. It is the hum of 

 myriads of wings, fluttering and hover- 

 ing over a pond concealed in yonder 

 wood. We'll cut across the lake, then 

 through a sinuous creek to the mid- 

 winter convention of the feathered 

 delegates from the North. Here no 

 color line is drawn. All that can get 

 in are entitled to a seat in this blooming 



