A Sportsman 79 



at the side of the pit, and a fire made at the end 

 braced up against a good-sized log of green wood. 



Then comes a change of footwear, and the three 

 pairs of woollen socks worn in snowshoeing, if wet, are 

 hung up to dry, where they will without scorching, 

 and then comes the delicious supper of broiled bird or 

 venison or fish, with which the larder may be supplied. 

 Melted snow supplies the water for tea, without lacteal 

 or saccharine addition, and ye gods ! what feasts can be 

 taken in a comfortable snow pit by one who loves that 

 sort of thing, with healthful rest, so gratifying to the 

 fatigT-ied hunter after a day's tramp. Then perhaps a 

 fragrant pipe, sweeter than can be had amid the haunts 

 of men, away and alone in the beautiful and enchant- 

 ing forest. Think of it : No bells, or buzzing street cars ; 

 no evening papers, or postman ; no notices of servants' 

 quittance, or leaking pipes, discussion of gas bills or 

 electric lights; no engagements for next evening — all 

 away and forgotten, as one reclines upon the fragrant 

 boughs, and watches the ascending smoke and sparks 

 rising through the overhanging tree limbs toward the 

 twinkling stars. Perhaps it may be stormy; then a 

 shelter overhead of a few sticks and boughs, and the 

 home grows more fascinating in change than when 

 the sky is clear, so soul filling and rapturous that, in 

 excess of joy, I have been inclined to leave it and roll 

 in the snow and cry out in very fulness of heart, and 

 as I look now, nearly half a century backward, my 

 soul swells again to fulness, and the recollection 

 drives away the forcing cares which unbidden would 

 prevail. Happy days were those, perhaps the hap- 

 piest of any. 



How I would love, even now, to be thrown out 



