FALSE SENTIMENTALITY. 181 



But I like to have forgot — the pork, too, was the flesh 

 of an animal, and it would be difficult to convince a 

 hog that he had not as good a right to life as a deer. 

 At all events, we enjoyed the venison, though perhaps 

 the sentimentalist might say we were punished in the 

 end^ for it made us all outrageously sick. We either 

 cooked it too soon, (for in twenty minutes from the 

 tirjie the deer fell, a part of her was roasting;) or we 

 ate it too rare, (for we were too hungry to wait till it 

 was perfectly done ;) or we ate too much, (for we were 

 hungry as famished wolves ;) or probably did all three 

 things together, which quite upset me. 



But after the things (i. e. the chips) were cleared 

 away, I stretched myself on the ground under a tree 

 whose dark trunk shone in the light of the cheerful 

 fire, and began to muse on the day that had past. 

 How is it that a scene of quiet beauty makes so much 

 deeper an impression than a startling one? The 

 glorious sunset I had witnessed on that sweet lake — 

 the curving and forest-mantled shores — ^the gTcen 

 islands^the mellow mountains, all combined to make 

 a scene of surpassing loveliness : and now as I lay and 

 watched the stars coming out one after another, and 

 twinkling down on me through the tree-tops, all that 



