A TROUT SUPPER. 127 



of which burst on us through the trees as we rounded 

 a point of the outlet, and shot upon the bosom of the 

 quiet lake. " Look, R — ffe," I exclaimed, " yonder 

 is the camp fire, and now another light moves down 

 to the beach, where they are dressing the trout for 

 supper." He sprang to the oars, and the light boat 

 fled like a wild deer toward that cheerful flame. 

 Islands and rocks flew by, and under a cloudless sky, 

 and myriads of bright and glorious stars, we sped 

 gaily On, till, at length, the boat grated on the pebbly 

 beach, and a joyous shout that made the solemn old 

 forest ring, went up from the camp and shore. In a 

 moment all was bustle and preparation for supper, and 

 the noblest dish of trout I ever ate I took there by 

 fire light in the woods. My appetite, it is true, was 

 sharp, and we made a sad inroad into our pile of 

 fish. 



After supper we lay around in every variety of 

 attitude upon the dry earth, lazily snuffing up the fra- 

 grance of the woods, and looking off on the still sur- 

 face of the lake in whose clear depths the stars of 

 heaven stood trembling, and listening to wild hunting 

 stories, interspersed now and then with flashes of 

 broad humor, till at length the deep breathing of the 



