236 
FOREST AND STREAM 
April, 1918 
FRANK W. BENSON’S 
AMERICAN WILD FOWL PLATES 
Copyright Elson Art Publication Co., Inc. 
VII—SWAN FLIGHT 16^" x 4634" 
Intaglio 
engravings 
printed by 
hand on 
the copper 
plate press 
under the 
supervision 
of the artist 
VI—BLUEBILLS 19"xl5j4 
Edition 
limited to 
100 copies of 
each. Of 
several of the 
plates all 
but a very 
few copies 
are sold 
V—THE WHISTLERS 14J4" x 20' 
II—OLD SQUAWS 13" x 20" 
A notable achievement in American Art. The result of 
lifelong observation and the expression of mature genius. 
Nos. I to VI—$15.00 Each. No. VII—$25.00. 
Subject to return if not found satisfactory on receipt. 
ELSON ART PUBLICATION CO., Inc. 
BELMONT, MASS. 
A WEAK WEEK-END 
AT WILLEWAGASSETT 
(continued from page 203) 
now 2 p. in. The eel kept constantly slip¬ 
ping and slithering out of Ted’s hands. 
Once he squeezed it so tight it shot up and 
kissed him on the nose! At last he tied his 
handkerchief around its neck and dragged 
it, nearly wearing out its tail. We reached 
camp about 4, dog-tired, famished and 
peevish. Then we began skinning the eel. 
Jevver skin an eel? No? Well, by rights 
it requires a sharp knife, four able-bodied 
men, a vise and several Stillson wrenches. 
Ted held the eel (or tried to) while I 
operated on it with my knife, but after it 
slipped suddenly and I nearly amputated 
his thumb he threw up his job. Then I 
nailed its head against a tree and continued 
While I tried to skin the eel Ted tried to 
hold it, but he was very nervous 
the surgery. At last I got off the pelt and 
removed its internal economy. Then I cut 
it into sections, dumped them into a stew 
kettle of water and set it on the stove. 
While our supper (also breakfast and 
dinner) was steaming away I enlarged to 
Ted on the merits of boiled eel as a rare 
and nutritious table delicacy. “Do you 
know,” says I, “how much you’d haft to 
pay for a small order of eel in a city 
hotel ?” “I wouldn’t haft to pay anything 
for it,” says Ted, “because I would order 
a steak.” “You’d haft to pay,” I goes on, 
“not less than a dollar and a half whereas 
we’ve got a whole eel between us.” “I 
have a feeling,” says Ted, “I ain’t gonna 
like that eel.” “Course you’ll like it,” says 
I; “let me tell you, boy, you never fast¬ 
ened your fangs into anything as tender 
and juicy and delicious as boiled eel.” “It 
looks an awful lot like a snake,” says Ted 
shakin’ his head; “does it taste like a 
snake?” *T’ve never) devoured enough 
snakes to know,” says I, “but I’ll tell you 
one thing—I’m so hungry I could eat a 
fried cat, or a toad-stew.” 
From time to time I jabbed a fork into 
the eel and at length pronounced it done. 
I served two large sections of it on plat¬ 
ters and we sat down to the table. “Gosh, 
but don’t it smell good!” says I, carving 
into my helping and watching Ted out of 
the corner of my eye. “Smells like , a 
glue-factory to me,” says Ted dubiously, 
picking up his knife and fork; “don’t you 
put any salt on it?” “Some folks do—if 
they have the salt,” says I, “but we’re just 
out of salt.” 
I took a big hunk of the eel into my 
face and began to chew it. “M-m-m-m 1 ” I 
gurgles; “that’s the best eel I ever tasted!” 
To tell you the nude truth it was the 
FIRST eel I had ever tasted and I had all 
I could do to worry down that first mouth- 
