A TROUT BREAKFAST. 295 



We never asked if we could be accommodated for the 

 night ; that would have been superfluous politeness, and 

 would have quite astonished the man. Of course we 

 had got to be accommodated, so thought the whole 

 family, for they turned out of bed with the utmost 

 cheerfulness. By the time our horses were well taken 

 care of for the night, a nice fire was crackling in the 

 stove and a pan of short-cake baking for supper. A 

 cup of tea was soon ready, and these, with some wild 

 strawberries the children had picked the day before, 

 made us a most excellent supper. 



In two hours from the time we drove up to that lonely 

 dwelling, it was again silent and dark as before, and we 

 were all stowed away after a fashion for the night. 



As I stepped out of doors in the early morning, and 

 stood looking at the desolate scene, I saw a little boy bare- 

 foot, with nothing on but shirt and pantaloons, thread- 

 ing his way amid the stumps towards the house, bearing 

 something heavy in his hands. As he drew near, I dis- 

 covered that he was the son of our host, who had started 

 off with the dawn for a trout-brook, and was now com- 

 ing back loaded down with fresh, bright brook-trout for 

 our breakfast. I venture to say that no gourmand of 

 the city ever looked on a sumptuous breakfast with 



