Now two of the aforesaid sports were from Wood- 

 bury, N. J. and the other from Boston. The Boston man 

 and one of the Woodbur}' men were built on the corpu- 

 lent model, extremely oil3^ and with a girth that might 

 have rivaled FalstaflF's. But they were not sensitive on 

 that point as some oleaginous men I know are ; men to 

 whom the slightest reference or even glance in a stomach- 

 ward direction would be at once a ras//s belli . 



Our conversation at dinner turned upon the treat- 

 ment they had been experiencing from their guides. 

 " Do you know," said the Boston man, " I have had the 

 most unpleasant experience rubbed into me by these 

 guides and I don't care to have the operation repeated." 



"What was the nature of the operation?" I ventured 

 to ask. 



"Well, you probably have noticed that I have a 

 good deal of butter in my make-up, and I don't care to 

 have it all melted at once, which seemed to be what these 

 guides were after. They told us that the Ambezuskas 

 meadow was a glorious place to hunt in, and so it may be 

 for a lean man ; surely no fat man could find any glory in 

 it unless his fat be of a tougher quality than mine. 

 Imagine three hundred pounds of flesh floundering 

 through mud and water, tripping over cedar roots, falling 

 over logs, struggling for a little temporary foothold in 

 order to pull oneself out of the nuid and regain an upright 

 position while the guide stands at a safe distance away, 

 beckoning and shouting ' ' come on ! " After this part of 

 the programme had been repeated several times, always 

 winding up with " come on," tired Nature gave out and 



