256 
in which to pick up a living, and this 
point recommended itself to me 
strongly when I made my choice. The 
boggy shores of the pond which lies a 
little above our house and of which this 
brook is the outlet, are the haunts of 
numerous frogs; some little ponds still 
farther above, as well as the big river 
below, are the homes of untold mus- 
quash. Both ponds and brook teem 
with delicious trout, while there are 
numerous grouse and other things 
good to eat in the surrounding forest. 
These fish on which you have been 
trying your new teeth during the last 
few days are called brook trout, the 
finest flavored and most delectable of 
any fish that swims. We will all go 
out together in the near future, and | 
will show you how to dive into a pool 
and catch them. How | obtained these 
and the other good things on which 
we have feasted of late, I will tell be- 
fore my story is finished. 
Men, whom, by the way, you should 
always avoid, as many of them kill 
from an unholy delight in killing, have 
often called us thieves and gluttons 
and have pointed the finger of scorn at 
us, being in their ignorance entirely 
misled as to the causes and reasons for 
what we do. To the charge of being 
thieves I have nothing to say, because 
all know that whatever we take is that 
to which we originally had a better 
title than any subsequent possessor has. 
The falsity of the other charge in the 
indictment is well illustrated by some- 
thing your father tells of a lucky find 
he made on Kennebago stream, one 
summer, near where a party of men 
were camping. The campers had con- 
structed in a neighboring brook a cir- 
cular wall of stones, and within this 
cagelike affair had imprisoned about 
a score of their choicest trout to keep 
alive against the time of the party’s 
going home, Your father happened 
along there one night, and, although 
one of the men came out to see what 
caused the splashing in the cage, 
and failed to understand it, Mr. Mus- 
RECREATION. 
telle succeeded in capturing and killing 
every one of the imprisoned fish. He 
had carried away but a few when the 
men were astir, and he was obliged to 
desist. They were angry and said 
many hard things about your pa, even 
to calling him a “fish hog,” the most 
odious term that can be applied to 
anyone who goes into the woods. No- 
tice how they mistook him. He would 
have eaten every one of those fish, but 
that the men buried them where he 
could not find them, even after several 
diligent searches. His only object in 
killing all at once was that they might 
have time to age and reach their full 
flavor and delicacy. Men hang their 
game to ripen. before they think of eat- 
ing it, yet fail to comprehend that we 
most relish our fish when it has been 
given the same treatment. 
I once overheard a fisherman on 
Spencer stream tell his companion that 
they would kill only such fish as could 
be eaten at the next meal, because 
the quicker a trout reached the fry- 
ing pan after leaving the water the 
better it tasted. Poor man! He no 
doubt thought his statement true, but 
people have peculiar ideas about their 
food! Not only are fish much easier 
to eat and much more delicious when 
allowed to age after being killed, but 
musquash, grouse and nearly every- 
thing else improves by the same treat- 
ment. 
A week ago to-day, while I was 
coming home from an_ unsuccessful 
night’s forage, I had a peculiar expe- 
rience. It explains how we have been 
able of late to fare so sumptuously. 
I had been the whole length of the 
brook on each bank, up one shore 
of the pond, had encircled one of the 
little upper ponds, and was searching 
back on the pond’s other shore with- 
out success when I reached the spruce 
erove where the little log cabin is 
situated. As soon as I arrived op- 
posite the camp my nose told me men 
had been there recently, and that was 
corroborated by something which was 
