TRAPPING UP LITTLE OTTER 181 



world's age, only the hardiest surviving and pre- 

 serving the vigor to perpetuate their race, nor 

 did the good souls ever think the race would be 

 none the worse now for a judicious infusion of old 

 leaven of rough living. Some wisely do so; some 

 foolishly play at it, because it is the fashion. I 

 never could see what good or satisfaction there 

 can be in camping out in an elegantly furnished 

 house, where you are expected to dress for the 

 luxuriously served dinner of several courses, and 

 gossip, lawn tennis and golf are the chief recrea- 

 tions; or perchance a young lady catches a fish or 

 fires a rifle in the direction of a target, she cele- 

 brates the unique event with a pretty squeal. 

 There is nothing of the wholesomeness of true 

 camp life in it all, none of its freedom from con- 

 ventionalities, of the invention of makeshifts, no 

 living close to the heart of nature. 



Well, there are no more of the happy, care-free 

 days of camping out for us three comrades — one 

 sleeping his long sleep under the sumacs in the old 

 burying ground; one other is a man of affairs, too 

 busy to go camping; and the other bed-ridden, 

 shut in from the bright and beautiful world by a 

 wall of perpetual night. What wonder that he 

 loves to babble of the days when the joy of be- 

 holding the beauty of the world was his. For him 

 is only the inward sight to read the pages of mem- 

 ory whereon the record of things seen long ago is 

 written in the story of youth. 



