XVIII, 



TROUTING A DUCK PROTECTING HER YOUNG BY STRATA- 

 GEM SABBATH IN THE FOREST. 



Long Lake, Aug 



Dear H : . 



I believe I broke off my last letter to go a-fishing — 

 well the Indian and myself went ahead, hoping to 

 surprise some deer feeding in the marshes, but were 

 disappointed. Reaching the foot of the lake, we shot 

 noiselessly down the Raquette River, till we came to 

 a huge rock that rose out of the bed of the stream, 

 when we turned off and began to ascend Cold River. 

 When we reached it, the surface was covered with 

 foam bubbles, made by the constant springing of the 

 trout after flies. They had absolutely churned it up, 

 and for awhile our hooks brought them to the surface 

 fast — but we were too late — the sun soon rising over 

 the forest, shed such a flood of light on the water, and 



