a2 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 
Don’t know as we will need them—may be not; really 
don’t think we will, but on the bow, in an old dirty 
coffee-sack, they are not conspicuous; and if noticed 
at all, have the grim appearance of the butt of an old 
log, or decayed stump, and they serve in no small 
degree as a blind. I would as soon think of going 
on a trip from home without change of collars and 
cuffs, as to think of going hunting in my scull boat 
without decoys. They are to me as mucha part of 
my outfit, as my boots, coat, indeed, as anything, ex- 
cept my gun. 
Karly the next morning we start by train, going up the 
Mississippi from Clinton, 18 or 20 miles. Through 
the courtesy of the conductor, our boat and luggage is 
varried in the baggage car, and we are put off the train 
midway between stations, at the point requested. The 
train moves swiftly along, and you and I are on the 
banks of the Mississippi, whose swift flowing current 
runs so quietly at our feet. 
The day is an ideal one. Had we power to have se- 
lected it, our choice would have been just such a day. 
Tis fall; and the frequent rains in the North have 
overflowed the Black, the Wisconsin, the Chippewa, 
and numerous small rivers all pouring vast floods into 
the Father of Waters. The river has steadily risen. 
Sandbars are covered; lowlands submerged. The 
narrow channels have been filled, until, between the 
marked shores, distinct by the aid of tall trees and 
overhanging willows, the eye beholds one vast sea of 
water. Notice the boat at our feet! no skiff, no float, 
no punt, but the graceful elegance of her outline 
attracts your admiration at once. If I have pride in her 
appearance, it is a pardonable one, for she is new; only 
