JIM THE TRAPPER OF LAKE CHELAN 55 



unfortunate of the same species on the top of the 

 grandfather's clock in the corner of the dining- 

 room adjoining my studio where I am working; 

 but I have not yet recovered from the guilty feel- 

 ing I had while sketching that poor rat. 

 There is a great deal of needless 



CRUELTY EXERCISED IN THE NAME OF SPORT, 



more in the name of science, and some in the name 

 of art, but whatever name you may apply to the 

 act it can neither lessen the pain inflicted,- nor 

 modify its cruelty. 



HOW IT FEELS TO BE CAUGHT IN A TRAP 



After a trip on the lake, another in a stage 

 coach and an exciting one by steamer down the 

 Columbia River, we reached the railroad at We- 

 natchee and took the train going East. At one 

 of the stations, where we stopped, an old gentle- 

 man came aboard and as soon as he secured a seat 

 he threw up the window sash and stood with his 

 hands on the sill smiling at his family of grown- 

 up daughters, as they stood on the platform of the 

 railroad station ready to wave him an adieu with 

 their handkerchiefs. 



As the train started, the car gave a lurch and 

 down came the window, catching the old man's 

 fingers on the sill. A half-dozen of us rushed to 

 his assistance; we struggled and sweat and pulled 

 at the window sash in vain, the old gentleman's 



