,*5s|ii*«to* , ^.«=,^,j 



CHAPTER II. 



THE BOY-HUNTEE. 



I MTJST surely have been intended for a hunter, as the first 

 thing I can remember was an animal. 



I have often tried to trace as far back as possible into the 

 days of my childhood, the period when consciousness first 

 became linked with external things ; — or, in other words, — 

 my memory of life began. Curiously enough, I have never 

 been able to get farther back than to a time when I was kick- 

 ing and screaming in my nurse's arms, in extacied and uncon- 

 trollable eagerness to get my hands upon a beautiful little 

 white rabbit which had been sent home by my father in a 

 basket. 



34 



