THE "BIG WOODS." 215 



read of pleasant pools, refreshing shade, and tumbling foam, 

 but who has courage to tell us all the truth of these blood- 

 thirsty little fiends, the flies and mosquitoes? Who has 

 ever dared to paint the picture in its true colors ? Is it that 

 men are ashamed to make the confession, or because they 

 fear some future retribution from the malignant foes they 

 can neither avoid nor kill ? Or do they expect to purchase 

 lasting immunity by silence? Certain it is, these insects 

 sadly mar the charms of angling. Here we actually breathe 

 them. They rise in clouds at every step. They haunt us 

 perpetually. It is impossible to live without protection for 

 the body. Horses will stand in the smoke for relief. They 

 will stand to their necks in sloughs. We cover our faces 

 "with finest gauze-; we protect our hands with buckskin 

 gloves; we tie our trousers tightly, and thrust them into 

 our cowhide boots. In vain! In the excitement of our 

 pastime we may be unconscious for the time being of suffer- 

 ing or infliction, but presently the pain and irritation come, 

 the irremediable heat and the swelhng, the useless scratch- 

 ing and the trickling of blood from tender spots. The 

 hands puff up like bladders ; eyes close ; neck and ears swell 

 to deformity. We find the pests inside our boots, all round 

 our wrists, and even in our smarting eyes. All day long the 

 black flies torture and torment, and when night comes the 

 mosquitoes are doubly savage. All through the long and 

 feverish evening, and through the small hours of night, our 

 tired bodies seek for rest and sweet repose; and our un- 

 ceasing lullaby is the droning and everlasting hum of the 

 remorseless myriads — swarms that dim and becloud the hght 

 of the stars which would otherwise sliine pleasantly in our 

 eyes, as recumbent and meditating we gaze upward into the 

 blue canopy above us. There is only one preventive of 

 tribulation. As I have already repeatedly enjoined — take 

 plenty of tar and oil. It will be efficacious, I guarantee. 



The routine of camp-life, its incidents and vexations, form 

 so large a part of the angler's experience that it is impos- 



