was, and then I could decapitate it, and take out the hook at my leisure. So back to camp we went, Euphemia picking up the little fish as we passed, for she did not think it right to catch fish and not eat them. They made her hands smell, it is true; but she did not mind that when we were camping.     

       I prepared the big fish (and I had a desperate time getting the skin off), while my wife, who is one of the daintiest cooks in the world, made the fire in the stove, and got ready the rest of the supper. She fried the fish, because I told her that was the way cat-fish ought to be cooked,       although she said that it seemed very strange to her to camp out for the sake of one's health, and then to eat fried food.     

       But that fish was splendid! The very smell of it made us hungry. Everything was good, and when supper was over and the dishes washed, I lighted my pipe and we sat down under a tree to enjoy the evening.     

       The sun had set behind the distant ridge; a delightful twilight was gently subduing every color of the scene; the night insects were beginning to hum and chirp, and a fire that I had made under a tree blazed up gayly, and       threw little flakes of light into the shadows under the shrubbery.     

       “Now isn't this better than being cooped up in a narrow, constricted house?” said I.     

       “Ever so much better!” said Euphemia. “Now we know what Nature is. We are sitting right down in her lap, and she is cuddling us up. Isn't that sky lovely? Oh! I think this is perfectly splendid,” said she, making a little dab at her face,—“if it wasn't for the mosquitoes.”      

       “They ARE bad,” I said. “I thought my pipe would keep them off, but it don't. There must be plenty of them down at that creek.”      

       “Down there!” exclaimed Euphemia. “Why there are thousands of them here! I never saw anything like it. They're getting worse every minute.”      

       “I'll tell you what we must do,” I exclaimed, jumping up. “We must make a smudge.”      

       “What's that? do you rub it on yourself?” asked Euphemia, anxiously.     

       “No, it's only a great smoke. Come, let us gather up dry leaves and make a       

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