twinkling. How came it in the water? That was my wonder, and I can only
guess that it was a young bird that had never before flown over a pond
of water, and, seeing the clouds and blue sky so perfect down there,
thought it was a vast opening or gateway into another summer land,
perhaps a short cut to the tropics, and so got itself into trouble. How
my eye was delighted also with the redbird that alighted for a moment
on a dry branch above the lake, just where a ray of light from the
setting sun fell full upon it! A mere crimson point, and yet how it
offset that dark, sombre background!

I have thus run over some of the features of an ordinary trouting
excursion to the woods. People inexperienced in such matters, sitting
in their rooms and thinking of these things, of all the poets have sung
and romancers written, are apt to get sadly taken in when they attempt
to realize their dreams. They expect to enter a sylvan paradise of
trout, cool retreats, laughing brooks, picturesque views, and balsamic
couches, instead of which they find hunger, rain, smoke, toil, gnats,
mosquitoes, dirt, broken rest, vulgar guides, and salt pork; and they
are very apt not to see where the fun comes in. But he who goes in a
right spirit will not be disappointed, and will find the taste of this
kind of life better, though bitterer, than the writers have described.


VI
BIRDS AND BIRDS


I

There is an old legend which one of our poets has made use of about the