A LABRADOR SPRING 



lander from a poky little suburb of a great city, 

 a clear-eyed, well-bronzed, rosy-cheeked man, 

 spare and sinewy. He had spent fourteen years 

 on this coast and he loved the life, and so did his 

 wife, who joined with him in trapping and 

 shooting. They lived in a comfortable house 

 in a lovely bay protected by a fringe of pointed 

 firs and higher land on the north, and by an 

 outlying island on the south. A spring of 

 clear cold water bubbled forth summer and 

 winter on the little beach in front of the house. 

 They had no neighbours but the white-throated 

 sparrows and hermit thrushes in summer, the 

 ptarmigan and snow buntings in winter, for 

 the nearest settlement was eighteen miles 

 away, but they did not lack for occupation and 

 diversion, and they had much of interest to 

 show and talk about when they hospitably 

 received us at their table. Of birds, as always 

 when we met intelligent people, we talked much, 

 and our host showed us some stuffed birds, his 

 own handiwork, including an albino murre, and, 

 of live birds, a pair of black ducks he had 

 brought up as pets. Of trapping he had many 

 tales to tell, both of his successes and failures. 

 He had that day returned from setting some 



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