296 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



epicurean dish. I ate it years afterward from choice 

 while camping with Mort. Locke, John Fish and Wm. 

 Downey on Cayuga Lake, N. Y., as the two last named, 

 now living at Honeoye Falls, N. Y., will testify, if they 

 have any regard for the truth; but that is another story, 

 and there's no use telling how we played it on one of the 

 party for something else in the way of game. 



When the contents of the camp kettle were cool the 

 squaw brought it in, and a group formed around it on 

 one side of the fire. I was not only hungry, but was 

 curious to taste muskrat, which is a very clean feeder; 

 but somehow the cook and the surroundings were not 

 conducive to much appetite; but they asked me to join, 

 and I joined. They dipped their hands in the kettle, and 

 it is doubtful if they had been manicured recently. Dirty- 

 face handed me a piece, and I wondered if any in the 

 party might be named Dirty-hand. I wasn't hungry 

 now, and said so, but felt a delicacy about refusing to eat 

 with these friendly folk, and also felt a delicacy about 

 eating food served in this manner. They omitted nap- 

 kins and finger bowls, and somehow didn't seem to miss 

 them. I ate a little, very little; said it was good, but I 

 wasn't hungry just then, and went out. The air outside 

 was excellent. 



I could have said with Petruchio : 



"Where is the rascal cook? 



How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser, 

 And serve it thus to me that love it not?" 



Gratiano, in "The Merchant of Venice," asks a ques- 

 tion to which he evidently expects no answer: 



"Who riseth from a feast 

 With that keen appetite that he sits down?" 



