Adam the Htcnter 3 1 7 



Again the boat shot like an arrow — no wild duck 

 this time. As soon as the shore was approached 

 sufficiently to determine its character, it was seen 

 to be a mass of rushes reaching well out into the 

 lake. We were darting right at the breast of the 

 rush bank, but nothing else was to be seen, and to 

 prevent plunging into them Gordon was holding 

 hard with his paddle to arrest the motion of the 

 boat, when a flash-light picture, really the most 

 beautiful thing I ever saw, was printed on my mem- 

 ory. A reflecting hunting-lamp makes a round disk 

 on which everything appears light colored. A dead 

 tree is a ghastly white, green is a light yellow, red 

 is gray, all the colors are changed. A deer was 

 behind the rushes with his head down, feeding, and 

 therefore invisible. Suddenly raising it, there he 

 stood, his blue coat shining above the yellow rushes, 

 his large, lustrous eye black as a coal, his crown of 

 antlers white as ivory — spirited, startled, splendid, 

 in a nimbus of unearthly light — and I not fifteen 

 feet away! That one instant would have been 

 worth ten thousand dollars to Rosa Bonheur. 



A ministerial friend from Chicago, Dr. W. T. 

 Meloy, visited me in Paradise one bright summer 

 day. I desired to give him an experience of the 

 sport Adam took his delight in, carried him to the 

 North Twin, seated him in the prow of a light 

 canoe, bound a reflecting lamp over his forehead, 

 and with a few deft strokes of the paddle cleared 

 the lily-shingled waters of the shore, leaving a 



