60 Tue Aroostook Woops. 

’ 
Not a wholly fruitless barren ‘‘ seemingly,” when George 
and Jeff came in one day in the fall of the year, each with his 
saddle of venison, and returning the next with the Captain 
(promising us a treat at tea time) when at a late supper hour 
they came trudging to camp over the blazed trail, with a full 
creel of trout and three bushels of the finest large, red 
cranberries. These, or rather the promise of them, the ‘‘ jolly 
jovials” had espied, all in their bud and bloom, early in the 
fat fishing season, in June, while they were quietly paddling 
around the shores of the little lake, and switching their flies 
up and down the winding stream, returning late at night all 
flushed and animated with their day’s sport, their creels again 
full, packed with nicely dressed speckled beauties. 
The large barren contains many an acre and all through its 
length, in and out and around the turns, runs the crooked, 
winding stream, cool from many springs, yet wrongfully 
termed the dead water, from the fact of its having but little 
current. But the dead does not well apply to this pretty little 
winding river, for we have seen it so many times glistening in 
the sunshine in one place, rippling away in little wavelets at 
another, while at the next bend below having quite asweep of 
the wind fair across it, the little rollers were chasing each other 
over to the land, where the hard-hack bushes on the floating 
boggy shore at first were bowing to them as they came, then 
dancing up and down and rocking to and fro, while on the 
long, wide reach farther down, the stream was wide awake 
and surely all alive, with its many white caps and jolly little 
breakers at the rocks far below. 
We have many pleasant recollections of the old barren, of 
heppy hours during lovely sunshiny days; of lucky and 
successful expeditions; of the good appetite at noontime 
