GEORGE W. SIMPKINS. 71 



spent the night with me he would have amended his say- 

 ing: "Dreams are the children of an idle brain." Mine 

 was busy. 



Bait had been provided and the river was reached. Mr. 

 Simpkins had often fished before, but it was evident that 

 my schooling under Reuben Wood and John Atwood 

 rendered me competent to show him how to rig his lines, 

 select his poles, and how to properly impale a worm. He 

 chose a low point of land where there was a high bank and 

 a deep hole on the opposite side, in the bend, and we 

 fished. At that early day there were no black bass in 

 either Schroon Lake or the river, and we took a fine lot 

 of perch and a few other fishes. He was an observant 

 man and showed me where kingfishers had nested in a 

 hole in the bank, under a stump, and we dug out the nest 

 and a lot of fish bones, and the nesting habits of this bird 

 were learned. 



Gray squirrels were plenty; they could be seen and 

 heard in all directions from the house, and as this kind of 

 game was rare about Greenbush, where the little chicka- 

 ree, or red squirrel, was abundant, there was every morn- 

 ing either fishing or squirrel shooting, and in the evening 

 a shot or two at the great northern hare, a new animal to 

 me, which they said was white in winter. Mother went 

 home after a week, saying that she had eaten fish and 

 game enough to last for some time, and I went up the 

 mountain the day before she left and brought her five 

 ruffed grouse (we called them "pa'tridges") to take home 

 to the family. I made the usual promise which a mother 

 always expects, to be a good boy ; no hard matter, with no 

 schoolmaster near and all the time to do as I pleased. 



One day we were fishing in the river, taking an occa- 

 sional fish and watching the little rafts of boards float by, 

 when one with a man on it came in sight. He was steer- 



