PLUNGING IN. 159 



time when in haste ; but each time with the resolution 

 formed that I would one clay sound the depth of that 

 stream, and know more of its character. One of those 

 windy days, when it blew as if the wind had not had a 

 holiday for a year, I drove off from Stonington in the 

 afternoon, and before dark reached a farm-house near the 

 stream and asked for a night's lodging. I found, as I 

 was sure I should, a warm and hospitable reception, and 

 was made comfortable for the night in a large bed in a 

 large room, in a wing of the house around which the wind 

 roared all night long, until toward morning it grew tired 

 of vainly trying to keep me awake, for I slept well, and 

 woke with the day. By eight o'clock I found myself on 

 the stream. I struck it in an open field, just above the 

 swamp in the wood, and it appeared to be necessary to 

 go through the swamp, if I would fairly try the brook. So 

 I plunged into it boldly. It was my first trial of wet feet 

 that year, and I had some misgivings at the first, but they 

 all vanished at the first misstep I made, when I found 

 myself standing in three feet of mud and water, with a 

 coating of both over my right cheek, and a considerable 

 quantity of the former in my left eye. It was natural. I 

 had suddenly a sort of at home feeling. I had expe- 

 rienced such sensations before. I was in my old business. 

 So I plodded my way along, crushing thin ice at every 

 step, and watching for any indications of trout. A musk 

 rat, who made a mistake in getting on the ice instead of 

 under it, was the first animal of the ferce naturce that I 

 discovered. He disappeared in a large open space of 

 water, and suspecting that there were deep spring holes 

 thereabouts, I approached somewhat cautiously, and threw 

 over the darkest hole under the roots of a maple. 



My flies had but touched the surface, when a gentle 



