COLONEL CHARLES H. RAYMOND. 87 



back, because she never hunted with another dog until he 

 had her. How could she? That is not just what trou- 

 bled me. There was an insinuation that at eighteen years 

 old I could not train a bird dog to perfection. That thing 

 tasted sour forty years ago, but to-day it looks as if my 

 cousin Charles may have been right. 



It is many years since I have cared to shoot anything 

 except ducks, which come to hand dead. I have grown 

 tender-hearted, and say, with lago, "Though in the trade 

 of war I have slain men," yet I have cried over a doe 

 whose fore-shoulders I had broken, and refused to shoot 

 more when my retriever brought a live quail to be killed 

 by hand. Therefore fishing came to be the more enjoya- 

 ble sport, because there was no regret when the lower 

 form of life was taken, no keen suffering, because of a 

 lower nervous system; but there is always a latent interest 

 in any kind of sport in which a man has once engaged. 

 To prove this it is only necessary to point to the fact that 

 Colonel Raymond still has a faint liking for fishing. Not 

 for the kind which we had in boyhood, for it is possible 

 that a pond full of painted and spotted tortoises, or a pool 

 full of frogs with an assortment of stones at hand, would 

 hardly be attractive to him to-day. He is blase on turtles, 

 frogs and sunfish, and needs more exciting game and a 

 broader field. He fishes occasionally, incidentally, as it 

 were, when nothing better offers in the way of sport.. 

 Every June he visits, as a guest, Camp Albany on the 

 Restigouche River, and there he occasionally casts for, 

 and even occasionally lands, a fine salmon; but I fancy he 

 does this in a perfunctory way, because there is nothing 

 else to be done. How I would like to stand on the bank 

 and criticise his fly-casting, and thereby get revenge for 

 his remarks on the training of Nell! 



The owners of Camp Albany are Messrs. Dudley Ol- 



