JOE AND CRONIE. TLS 

out his disgust for such landlords. The eggs for their break- 
fast, and enough also to carry with them for dinner, have 
been boiling twenty-five minutes, and Joe now speaks the word 
“¢ breakfast !” 
Just at four o’clock, a little dark and cloudy, but no very 
positive signs of rain, they throw the straps of the fishing 
baskets over their shoulders, one packed with dinner for two, 
the other containing a variety of fishing particularities, and 
strike out for the ‘‘elysium,” white water rips. Over the 
ridges, by the edges of the swamps, leaping the small brooks, 
then walking the old down pine as they cross the brook again 
beyond, on up the rise then through the fir and spruce groves 
so dark and shady, where the squirrel is always seen, and 
where for winter he gathers many cones, and the sable and 
fisher come visiting with no good intentions toward him. 
Down again and through the strip of burned land now grown 
up thickly with small white birches, little dwarfed firs and wild 
cherry, then through a pretty grove of tall white birches, often 
flushing the grouse, who before he takes to wing will elevate 
his feathers, saying ‘‘pletes, pletes, pletes,” which means, 
‘dang it, I am not at all pleased with your intrusion.” 
Always keeping upon the trail they had spotted, or blazed 
years before, and partly underbrushed, that they might hasten 
quickly on at times when they wished, without too many 
stumbles and sudden sit-downs, coming out at last upon the 
same stream where they had been fishing the previous days, 
several miles farther down to follow the stream, yet nearer to 
camp because of its winding way. 
They find here at this time in the season, good fishing on 
the swift waters, and in an hour their baskets are full. Sitting 
down at the edge of the pool they dress, wipe dry and pack the 
