A NIGHT HUNT UP THE CUNGAMUNCK. 493 
deer “by torch-light,” which has been so often described— 
but I have some doubts about his being so with that of 
hunting them “by candle-light,” which, I believe, is peculiar 
to the Lake country. This hunt must take place during the 
warm months, when flies are most abundant. Indeed, it is 
as much to escape from their persecutions as to browse upon 
certain varieties of water-plants, which then make their 
appearance along the edges of the marshes, streams, and 
lakes, that the deer come into the water to feed, and thus 
. afford an opportunity for this evening sport. 
Yes, the “dander” of my placid associate, Piscator, “is 
riz!” He vows in his mild, but not the less significant 
manner, that nothing short of a “ten prong buck” will 
satisfy him, and so proceeds in a severe and ominous silence 
with his preparation. 
The beautiful “‘double-barrel”—which had heretofore been 
guilty of nothing more serious than wood-cock and ducks— 
was to be unscrewed, taken apart, and cleaned to the last 
degree of scrupulous nicety, in preparation for the more 
important work on hand. Then, with mathematical pre- 
cision, it was duly charged, and then, with a flask in each 
pocket—for two kinds of ammunition are indispensable on 
such occasions! and a well-filled cigar case, he is ready! 
And he casts his eyes about—something is wanting! Yes! 
yes! the “India rubber overall.” For Piscator, like all 
true brothers of the angle that I have yet met, has a peculiar 
horror of risking the wetting his skin. 
I have, after much study, accounted satisfactorily for this 
phenomenon, by the philosophical conclusion, that they are 
haunted by the constant apprehension of transmigration into 
the corporate forms of the trout, to which they are so devoted. 
I had even ventured to hint as much to Piscator, but the 
nervous dread with which he evidently avoided the subject, 
caused me to forbear, in courtesy, pressing it farther! Being 
a zealous disciple of Priesnitz, I have no fear of cold water 
