276 
ever, as we had come prepared with 
wading suits, it caused us but little 
trouble. 
Although this part of the river passes 
through a thickly settled, well-tilled 
country, the stream looks almost as 
wild as when scantily clad red men 
paddled their slight graceful canoes 
upon its clear waters. Old logs that 
have lain in its bed for perhaps a cen- 
tury have collected huge heaps of drift 
that rise in places above one’s head, 
and underneath are deep, dark looking 
pools, in which old bronze-backed pa- 
triarchs lie in wait ready to dash in 
cannibal ferocity upon the first de- 
fenseless creature that passes their 
lurking places. 
I can imagine no pleasure greater 
than drifting down a stream like this, 
every bend seen ahead promising a 
1ew panorama of varied beauty, the 
tall primeval trees, here and there, 
casting their sun flecked shadows across 
waters that are slowly gliding without 
perceptible sound, or singing musically 
as they pass around some large boulder 
to break into a chorus that would be 
the despair of an orchestra to emulate 
or render more pleasantly musical. 
This pleasure is not lessened by the 
splash of a magnificent bass that rises 
to Drummer’s flies, and the sudden 
strain on the line that tells he has met 
the fate usual to those who fool with 
the practiced hand of my friend; that 
is, he is fast—fast on the line of an 
angler who has no heart in affairs of 
this kind. What if he does leap two 
feet into the air and shake a wildly dis- 
tended mouth; that soft smileon Drum- 
mer’s face, that little malicious twinkle 
in Drummer’s eyes, means strictly 
business. In a low, sweet tone Drum- 
mer commences talking to his fish: 
‘There, there, little one, keep away 
The American Angler 
from that snag, it might hurt your 
tender body. That is right, move out 
to the centre of the stream, everything 
is lovely there. No! no! no! you don’t, 
my beauty! Such actions are not al- 
lowed. When I want you to go under 
that log, I'll speak to you about it. Of 
course, of course! Come up stream as 
fast as you like, I’m waiting for you! 
Now, here is a soft little net for your 
bed. Stand ready, Isaac!” 
But, alas, for Drummer’s expecta- 
tions! Just as I was about to shove 
the net under the fish, a final shake rid 
him of the hook, and he was away, 
ready for other anglers to practice their 
skill upon. 
‘‘Contemporary monopoly!” said 
Drummer, turning toward me, with 
eyes shining like a pair of bicycle lan- 
terns. ‘‘Why, cauterize your contem- 
plative anatomy, the job I gave you 
was dead easy!” 
I said nothing, but commenced a 
hurried search for our bottle of Mrs. 
Winslow’s soothing syrup, and after ad- 
ministering a couple of large doses, and 
bathing his head with a little cool 
water, restored him to normal condi- 
tion, and once more set him to casting. 
It was now well along inthe afternoon, 
and we commenced looking for a good 
place in which tocamp. A satisfactory 
place was at last found, and, unloading 
our plunder, I commenced setting the 
tents, while Drummer _ started our 
evening meal. 
For the benefit of those who have 
not found an entirely satisfactory 
camp stove, I will give a description 
of ours, which worked to acharm. It 
is made of heavy sheet iron, two feet 
long, one foot wide and ten inches 
deep. It has no bottom, the fire be- 
ing built upon the ground. There are 
no doors or dampers whatever. On 
