56 DAYS OUT OF DOORS. 



haul was made, and with what impatience this exultant 

 shout was waited for by the anxious housewives who stood 

 at the open doors, with hands curled back of their ears 

 that they might be sure to catch the welcome sound that 

 told of the men's success 1 



The site of the old fishery remains ; a bit of one old 

 net is preserved ; the double door of the old kitchen that 

 faced the river is still swinging, and above it where it has 

 rested for more than seventy years is a rusty sturgeon 

 spear ; but of the happy folk who lived here, that drew 

 their nets in these waters and deftly speared the floun- 

 dering sturgeon, now not one remains. There is not left 

 one link between the closing years of the last century and 

 this prosy, artificial year of 1888. 



Those of to-day may smile if they will, and prefer to 

 buy what fish they need ; but the world lost something, 

 however much it may have gained, when many a feature 

 of more primitive times was swallowed up in the customs 

 of to-day. And this trivial matter of a shad for tea is one 

 of them. " Catch your shad at 5 and eat it at 7." This 

 was the long-established rule of one old farm-house not 

 far away, and no skill of modern cookery can improve 

 upon the right royal satisfaction of such a feast. 



The mid-river alone retains the wildness of primeval 

 days, the shores being all too likely to be strewed with the 

 slops of cities. No growth of splatter-dock so rank as to 

 hide that ubiquitous horror, a rusty tomato can. Even in 

 the remotest nooks, where I fancied myself the first man 

 to enter since Indian days, I have found this relic of some 

 recent feast. 



Unless you are in a substantial bateau, no little skill 

 is required to baffle the waves when the March winds 

 blow, for a mile-wide stream gives them full play, and 

 many a white-cap peeps above the gunwales. But you 



