RECREA TION. 



99 



The wary otter, deceived by the appar- 

 ent absence of any thing suspicious, 

 went to that hole and, as I expected, 

 chose the shallowest place to land. His 

 fate was sealed, for one hind foot sprung 

 the trap which closed on it like a vice, 

 and he met the end of the other victim, 

 a bullet from my pistol. For the next 

 six weeks I visited the beaver pond 

 regularly, hoping that another otter 

 might arrive, but none came ; nor did 

 anything touch my poisoned bait until 

 the beginning of March. Then, when 

 going to look after my horses, which 

 had wintered up the valley, I found 

 some meat had been eaten, and less than 

 eighty yards away found the body of a 

 giant wolf. It had been rolling and 

 tearing up the frozen snow in its agony, 

 but the poison worked too surely and 

 quickly to permit of its running far. It 

 was a savage looking brute, but had a 



fine, thick coat, and when I came to lift 

 the wolf I found it as heavy as a fair 

 sized doe. This was the last animal 

 I killed on Kettle river, for I shortly 

 afterwards started out, and, after eight 

 days of hard traveling in deep snow, 

 reached the Okanogan valley. Not 

 until then did I learn who Len was, or 

 the reason why he stayed in such a re- 

 tired and lonely place, for all through 

 these regions he had a record that ex- 

 tended as far as Oregon. As govern- 

 ment interpreter, frontiersman, and 

 reckless adventurer, he ranked with 

 Wild Goose Bill, Okanogan Smith, and 

 other Washington celebrities. He 

 also bore the name of a most daring 

 horse and cattle thief, and there were 

 warrants out for him, to avoid which 

 he had crossed the line into British 

 Columbia. Len Armfield was an 

 outlaw. 



READING BY RAIL. 



Irma Irskoff. 



There is no part of the human ana- 

 tomy so aimlessly and habitually 

 abused as the eye. Every mo- 

 ment is leased, as it were, far in advance, 

 and in order to meet our requirements 

 the eye is overworked most rashly. 

 Though there may be times when, from 

 necessity, the hands are folded, the eye 

 is called upon either to cater to our 

 pleasure, or to perform extra duty to 

 enable us to gain an extra dollar. 



The habit of reading, and oftentimes 

 writing, in street cars, on elevated 

 trains, and on railway trains, at midday 

 or midnight, in the blazing sun of noon 

 or the darkness of twilight, or with 

 constant changes of light and shadow, 

 is most abusive and injurious to the 

 optic nerve. If there were a sliding 

 glass made, for reading on the street 

 car, with visible mechanism so subtle 

 that the focus could be self-adjusted 

 with every trembling of the object — say 



if a wheel should fly back and forth like 

 the balance-wheel of a watch — would 

 not the reader begin to understand the 

 task which he imposes on the muscles 

 and nerves of his eyes when he opens 

 a newspaper or book in a moving car ? 

 Why abuse an organ so valuable, and 

 yet so sensitive, so intricate and so dif- 

 ficult to remedy when injured ? The 

 habit of reading the daily papers in 

 these jolting vehicles has become a 

 national one; but like all other evils, leav- 

 ing a marked impression easily accounted 

 for, and which readily explains why 

 so many of the youths of America 

 seek the aid of eye-glasses. Less cu- 

 riosity, less desire for the sensations 

 of the hour, and more effort at thought 

 and observation, while on lines of travel, 

 would afford a more rational and valu- 

 able way of filling in the time, and would 

 result in fewer young persons requiring 

 the services of the oculist. 



