SHOOTING A DEER. 65 



LETTER X. 



SHOOTING A DEER — SUPPER IN THE WOODS — MODERN 

 • SENTIMENTALISTS — THE INFLUENCE OF NATURE. 



After we had pitched (not our tent, but) our shan- 

 ty, we began to cast about for supper. I told Mitchell 

 I could not think of eating a piece of salt pork for 

 supper, and we must get some trout. So, rigging 

 our lines on poles, we cut on the shores of the lake, 

 and, taking our rifles with us, we jumped into our 

 bark canoe, and pushed for some rapids in the Rack- 

 ett River, where it entered Crotchet Lake. As we 

 were paddling carefully along the edge of a marsh 

 that put out into the water, Mitchell, w^ho was at the 

 stern, suddenly exclaimed, "Hist! I see the head of 

 a deer coming down to feed." I sometimes thought 

 he could smell a deer, for he would often say he saw 

 one before both its ears had fairly emerged from the 

 bushes. ''Shoot him," said he to me. "I can't," I 

 replied; "I am too tired: shoot him yourself." So, 

 stooping my head to let the bullet pass over me, I 

 watched him as he took aim ; «,nd it was a sight 

 worth seeing. The careless, indolent manner so na- 

 tural to him had disappeared as if by magic, and he 

 stood up in the stern of the boat as straight as his 

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