A LABRADOR SPRING 
lander from a poky little suburb of a great city, 
a clear-eyed, well-bronzed, rosy-cheeked man, 
spare and sinewy. He had spent fourteen years 
on this coast and he loved the life, and so did his 
wife, who joined with him in trapping and 
shooting. They lived in a comfortable house 
in a lovely bay protected by a fringe of pointed 
firs and higher land on the north, and by an 
outlying island on the south. A spring of 
clear cold water bubbled forth summer and 
winter on the little beach in front of the house. 
They had no neighbours but the white-throated 
sparrows and hermit thrushes in summer, the 
ptarmigan and snow buntings in winter, for 
the nearest settlement was eighteen miles 
away, but they did not lack for occupation and 
diversion, and they had much of interest to 
show and talk about when they hospitably 
received us at their table. Of birds, as always 
when we met intelligent people, we talked much, 
and our host showed us some stuffed birds, his 
own handiwork, including an albino murre, and, 
of live birds, a pair of black ducks he had 
brought up as pets. Of trapping he had many 
tales to tell, both of his successes and failures. 
He had that day returned from setting some 
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