My Boyhood and Youth 



for such cunning palates. They would drink 

 their fill from brown, smoky Indians, or from 

 old white folk flavored with tobacco and whis- 

 key, when no better could be had. But the 

 surpassing fineness of their taste was best 

 manifested by their enthusiastic appreciation 

 of boys full of lively red blood, and of girls in 

 full bloom fresh from cool Scotland or England. 

 On these it was pleasant to witness their enjoy- 

 ment as they feasted. Indians, we were told, 

 believed that if they were brave fighters they 

 would go after death to a happy country 

 abounding in game, where there were no mos- 

 quitoes and no cowards. For cowards were 

 driven away by themselves to a miserable 

 country where there was no game fit to eat, 

 and where the sky was always dark with huge 

 gnats and mosquitoes as big as pigeons. 



We were great admirers of the little black 

 water-bugs. Their whole lives seemed to be 

 play, skimming, swimming, swirling, and waltz- 

 ing together in little groups on the edge of the 

 lake and in the meadow springs, dancing to 

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