reflected from their sides. The flesh was deep salmon-color; that of
brook trout is generally much lighter. Some hunters and fishers from
the valley of the Mill Brook, whom we met here, told us the trout were
much larger in the lake, though far less numerous than they used to be.
Brook trout do not grow large till they become scarce. It is only in
streams that have been long and much fished that I have caught them as
much as sixteen inches in length.

The "porcupigs" were numerous about the lake, and not at all shy. One
night the heat became so intolerable in our oven-shaped bough house
that I was obliged to withdraw from under its cover and lie down a
little to one side. Just at daybreak, as I lay rolled in my blanket,
something awoke me. Lifting up my head, there was a porcupine with his
forepaws on my hips. He was apparently as much surprised as I was; and
to my inquiry as to what he at that moment might be looking for, he did
not pause to reply, but hitting me a slap with his tail which left
three or four quills in my blanket, he scampered off down the hill into
the brush.

Being an observer of the birds, of course every curious incident
connected with them fell under my notice. Hence, as we stood about our
camp-fire one afternoon looking out over the lake, I was the only one
to see a little commotion in the water, half hidden by the near
branches, as of some tiny swimmer struggling to reach the shore.
Rushing to its rescue in the canoe, I found a yellow-rumped warbler,
quite exhausted, clinging to a twig that hung down into the water. I
brought the drenched and helpless thing to camp, and, putting it into a
basket, hung it up to dry. An hour or two afterward I heard it
fluttering in its prison, and cautiously lifted the lid to get a better
glimpse of the lucky captive, when it darted out and was gone in a