SPECKLED TROUT 



favorite resort of wood-nymphs or sylvan deities. 

 It savored rather of the equine and the bovine. 

 The bark-men had kept their teams there, horses 

 on the one side and oxen on the other, and no Her- 

 cules had ever done duty in cleansing the stables. 

 But there was a dry loft overhead with some straw, 

 where we might get some sleep, in spite of the rain 

 and the midges; a double layer of boards, standing 

 at a very acute angle, would keep off the former, 

 while the mingled refuse hay and muck beneath 

 would nurse a smoke that would prove a thorough 

 protection against the latter. And then, when Jim, 

 the two-handed, mounting the trunk of a prostrate 

 maple near by, had severed it thrice with easy and 

 familiar stroke, and, rolling the logs in front of the 

 shanty, had kindled a fire, which, getting the better 

 of the dampness, soon cast a bright glow over all, 

 shedding warmth and light even into the dingy 

 stable, I consented to unsling my knapsack and 

 accept the situation. The rain had ceased, and the 

 sun shone out behind the woods. We had trout 

 sufficient for present needs; and after my first meal 

 in an ox -stall, I strolled out on the rude log bridge 

 to watch the angry Neversink rush by. Its waters 

 fell quite as rapidly as they rose, and before sun- 

 down it looked as if we might have fishing again 

 on the morrow. We had better sleep that night 

 than either night before, though there were two 

 disturbing causes, the smoke in the early part of 

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