t)Oi WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 



meet the rude exigencies of a "tramp" and "shanteeing 

 out" for a few days, amidst storm or sunshine, as the evening 

 heavens may send ! 



" The Bridge" at Jessup's River, is well known to sports- 

 men, and to this point we made our first fly-fishing expedition. 

 The eyes of Piscator glistened at the thought, and early. was 

 he busied with almo^st hasty fingers through an hour of ardent 

 preparation amongst his varied and complicated tackle. Now 

 was Jiis time for triumph ! In all the ruder sports in which 

 we had heretofore been engaged, I, assisted by mere chance, 

 had been most successful — but now the infallible certainty of 

 skill and science were to be demonstrated in himself, and 

 the orthodoxy of flies vindicated to my unsophistic sense. 



The preparations are simple, and were early completed. 

 The tidy housewife soon had ready the huge loaves of fresh 

 nice bread — the can of yellow butter, and other minor 

 appliances of a feast in the woods — the main condiments 

 and dishes of which we were expected to supply from our 

 own sharpened appetites and skill. Then the cooking appa- 

 ratus, which was primitive enough to suit the taste of an 

 ascetic, as it consisted in a single frying pan. Then the 

 blankets, with the guns, ammunition, rods, &c. 



These were all disposed in the wagon of our host, which 

 stood ready at the door. It was a rough affair, with stiff 

 wooden springs, like all those of the country, and suited to 

 the mountainous roads they are intended to traverse, rather 

 than for civilized ideas of comfort. We, however, bounded 

 into the low-backed seat ; and if it had been cushioned to suit 

 royalty, we could not have been more secure than we were 

 of luxurious comfort — a fanciful illusion which it took but 

 little time, however, to dissipate in an astound, as we found 

 ourselves rumbling, pitching, and jolting over a road even 

 worse than that which brought us first to the lake. It 

 seemed to me that nothing but the surprising docility of the 

 pretty span of glossy black ponies which drew us, could 



