" Oh, no ; I quite agree with you it is lovely, but 

 I sincerely hope the Mover and maid' will not 

 ' paddle their white canoe ' across Red Camp Pool 

 to-night, for it is my turn to fish it in the morning." 



" What splendid sport you had to-day ! " remarks 

 Napoleon, as we are sitting about the cozy fire in 

 the fishing-room after dinner, puffing the soothing 

 tobacco. 



" Yes, I did have sport. But, do you know, in 

 fishing the killing is most distasteful to me. The 

 part I like is to see the salmon rise and to know they 

 are hooked ; after that I do not really enjoy it, for I 

 cannot get over the thought that it seems cruel to 

 torture these beautiful creatures. Tet I go on day 

 after day killing salmon, with that unpleasant 

 little feeling always present" 



" I suppose," replies my friend, " most anglers do 

 at times regret taking the life of these game fish; 

 but as they are good for food and probably suffer 

 no great bodily pain, wo should not cultivate the 

 romantic view." 



' i'orhaps that is true, Heck; but it is hard for 

 me not to do so. I have the same thought about 

 flowers: I love to see them growing, to inhale their 

 perfume; but to pluck them and have them wither 

 and die makes me feel as though a sweet life had 

 been injured. ' I loved the rose, and left it on its 

 stem,' says Laudor." 



"It does not seem right," replies Napoleon, " that 



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