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to this one in particular, and informed Mr. Barnett that he could proceed no further; but requested to be "shown out" of that "infernal entanglement" forthwith.

Tom smiled, uttered some words of encouragement, averred that there were a million trout within three miles' distance, that this sort of traveling was "mere fun," and we at length moved slowly forward once more.

We proceeded sluggishly, through the tangled briars and dense woods, another mile, when we were forced to halt again-and recalling our guide, we sat down to rest a second time-Mr. Greene protesting against this sort of fishing-excursion" in most emphatic language, and positively declaring that on no consideration whatever could he now be dissuaded from taking the "back

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Tom, are you?" insisted Mr. Greene, feelingly.

"No, I am not. But they are oncomfortable customers to young gentlemen who arn't 'quainted with their ways, you see."

This kind of inuendo had the desired effect, and Tom had the satisfaction of seeing Mr. Greene " upon his taps" once more, an hour later. We trudged on through the compact woods again, and, some time before sunset, the trouting ground hove in sight, to the north of our starting point.

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Here we ar', boys!" cried Tom, exultingly; "an' now for a sit-down. Strike a light; let's have a fire at the clearing yonder, and then a pipe and a quiet snooze till daybreak."

All this was accomplished in a brief space of time-that is, the light, the

who accompanied us from Gorham, was heard in the thicket near by, yelling most frantically.

Tom sprang to his feet in an instant, suspecting what might be the cause of the sudden disturbance; and, examining the cones of his pistol hastily, plunged aside into the wood.

It seemed the work of but a single moment of time. Tom made for the spot where the dog was barking so furiously, and there he found Pompey, yelling at a bear, that stood wedged sternwise between the boll of a large prostrate tree and a huge rock, which formed an angle, and into which the beast had backed away when the dog discovered him. As Tom reached the side of the fallen tree-trunk, pistol in hand, he saw the condition of affairs, and, without an instant's hesitation, he "let fly"

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ward and delivered the contents of the second barrel promptly into the brute's right ear, thus finishing his business effectually, just as Mr. Greene and his companion reached the scene of the rencontre-the former demanding vociferously, but nervously, "What's the row, Barnett?" as they came up. Upon seeing a very respectable sized bear at Tom's feet, in its final death struggles, Mr. G. was unfeignedly astonished, and at once declared that the prospect for a quiet night en bivouac was, in his opinion, a decidedly dubious proposition.

The carcass of this bear weighed full two hundred pounds. Barnett proceeded to cut the monster's throat immediately, and subsequently secured his skin and claws, which was all the weight he could carry home conveniently. Then,

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having quieted Mr. Greene with the assurance that the lightning didn't often strike twice in the same spot, and that it was quite as

uncommon an oc

currence to find two bears in one place on the same night, we all returned to the edge of the little lake, which was destined to be the scene of our piscatorial efforts on the morrow, and replenished our fire just as the sun's final glimmer was paling away beyond the rose-tipt crowns of the distant western hills.

The evening was not cold, but a chill was on the air, such as we were unused to in July-for it had now got to be near the "Fourth"-and we had originally determined to pass the anniversary of American independence upon the top of Mount Washington, if possible. The atmosphere was clear, however, and dry,

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and in our location there was no wind stirring. Notwithstanding this, the warmth and the light of our camp-fire were both acceptable to our bodily comfort, and cheerful to our spirits; and, whatever were Mr. Greene's other shortcomings, on this occasion he is entitled to the credit of having kept up a most excellent fire, an incessant burning, brilliant and glowing, from sunset to daybreak.

As soon as it was thoroughly dark, we found ourselves in front of the cheering blaze, each enjoying his own thoughts, and thankful for the opportunity to rest and recuperate a little, preparatory to the succeeding day's business.

Tom Barnett busied himself with roasting a slice of bear-steak, artistically cut from the haunch of the recently slaughtered Bruin. This delectable titbit was selected from the upper round of the haunch, and was cut about an inch and a half in thickness. Thrusta white-oak sapling through its edge, Tom squatted before the bright fire, and roasted his precious morsel to a turn." The unctuous juices spirted in the blaze, and Pompey watched proceedings with interest and an anxious eye. The dog had eaten nothing since morning. His master and companions had fared much better than this.

The artist, seated upon a stone near by, enjoyed a whiff at Barnett's pipe during the process of cooking supper; while Mr. Greene, disconsolate and greatly fatigued, indulged in another Havana, as he sat moodily gazing alternately into the camp-fire, or out upon the darkness, calculating the chances of being devoured by bears before morning, perhaps, or dying with over exertion in prospective.

We gathered around the savory meal, at length, and did ample justice to the supper provided so acceptably by our admirable cuisine de montagne. Tom gorged himself. I say it, with no disposition to defame that worthy voyageur, but if he eat an ounce, he devoured fully two pounds of that bear-the gourmand! And, ten minutes afterward, he lay at full length, with his huge cow-hides to the fire, snoring like a Dutch trooper.

The spot chosen by our piscatorial conductor for the next day's sport was called "Round Pond"-a local name, only-distant about twenty-one miles from Gorham Centre. It was one of

the loveliest little lakes imaginable, and proved to be well stocked with fine large trout-much larger, in the average, than any that are obtained in the frequented mountain streams. We returned to our camp-ground at three o'clock, with about eighty-five fish, seven out of every ten of which were taken by Tom Barnett, at any rate.

I hastily made the following sketch of Round Pond and its pretty vicinity. Why it was called "round" I did not learn, as its only rotundity existed in the semi-circular pool that was formed at the foot of the little torrent which gushed from the hills beyond it, and emptied its sparkling waters into the basin from which our fish were taken. The lake itself covered a considerable expanse, and was fringed with masses of birch, alder, and scrub-oaks, peculiar to that region. Numerous "well-holes" of considerable depth were accessible from the margin of the pond, in whose clear and cool waters immense numbers of trout were secreted-some of them, Tom said, of extraordinary size. The pond is located in the very heart of the forest, and is but little visited except by those well acquainted with the country there. A sojourn of four-and-twenty hours upon its banks-although we secured a goodly quantity of superb trout meantime-did not so prepossess me in its favor, however, that I shall be ambitious of another similar "pleasure jaunt"-as Tom called it-to the spot which will certainly live green in the memory of my companion and myself for a long

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were broken from the soles, and altogether he was especially woe-begone, and generally wrecked."

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You call this sport-do you, Mr. Barnett?" said Greene, at last, sulkily. Capitle!" said Tom, holding up his bear-skin, and pointing to his trout-"capitle, to be sure. Don't you?"

"No, sir." responded Mr. Greene, firmly. It's an infernal imposition, sir. And when you catch me venturing upon a similar undertaking, Mr. Barnett -just tell me of it-that's all!"

We reached the hotel, at length, in safety, however, and Mr. Greene's passion for trout-fishing was satiated for the present. We heard nothing further from him in reference to his qualifications (or his exploits) with the rod !

Having tarried at and enjoyed the hospitalities of the "Alpine" a sufficient

length of time to recover from the effects of our recent adventures, we started one fine clear morning, early in July, for the Glen House, seven miles distant-another spacious hotel located in Peabody valley, near the base of Mounts Adams and Jefferson, and whence parties ascend Mount Washington, who approach from the northerly side.

This house is built upon what was formerly known as Bellows' Clearing-a gentleman by that name, from Vermont, having been the pioneer there. The present hotel is of ample dimensions, modern in style, and is well conducted. From the balcony of the Glen House may be had a superior view of two of the three highest peaks of the White Mountain range-Mount Adams and Mount Jefferson standing in front of the house, in all their sombre grandeur; the one conical, in a measure, and the other of an oblong rotundity, at the apex. Far away beyond, to the left of these, and "towering to the skies," looms up Mount Washington--the hoary-headed patriarch of the group, whose bald and storm-beaten crown is elevated more

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