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ache with lifting them. No sooner does the worm, or piece of venison, sink in the water than they crowd round it in swarms.

The salmon trout are noble fellows-these two hunters say they have caught them weighing over thirty pounds.

I have often been struck with the singular attachment hunters sometimes have for some bird or animal, while all the rest of the species they pursue with deadly hostility.

About five hundred yards from Beach's hut, stands a lofty pine tree, on which a grey eagle has built its nest annually during the nine years he has lived on the shores of the Raquette. The Indian who dwelt there before him, says that the same pair of birds made their nest on that tree for ten years previous -making in all, nineteen years they have occupied the same spot, and built on the same branch. It is possible, however, that the young may have taken the place of their parents. At all events, Beach believes them to be the same old dwellers, and hence regards them as squatters like himself, and entitled to equal privileges. From his cabin door he can see them in sunshine and storm-quietly perched

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on the tall pine, or wildly cradled as the mighty fabric bends and sways to the blast. He has become attached to them, and hence requests every one who visits him not to touch them. I verily believe he would like to shoot the man who should harm one of their feathers. They are his companions in that solitude-proud occupants of the same wild home, and hence bound together by a link it would be hard to define, and yet which is strong as steel. If that pine tree should fall, and those eagles move away to some other lake, he would feel as if he had lost a friend, and the solitude become doubly lonely.

Thus it is you cannot by any education or experience, drive all the poetry out of a man-it lingers there still, and blazes up unexpectedly-revealing the human heart with all the sympathies, attachments, and tenderness that belong to it.

He, however, one day came near losing his bold eagle. He was lying at anchor, fishing, when he saw his favorite bird high up in heaven, slowly sweeping round and round in a huge circle, evidently awaiting the approach of a fish to the surface. For an hour or more, he thus sailed with motionless wings above the water, when all at once he stopped and hovered a mo

ment, with an excited gesture-then rapid as a flash of light, and with a rush of his broad pinions, like the passage of a sudden gust of wind, came to the still bosom of the lake. He had seen a huge salmon trout swimming near the surface-and plunging from his high watch-tower, drove his talons deep in his victim's back. So rapid and strong was his swoop that he buried himself out of sight when he struck, but the next moment he emerged into view, and flapping his wings, endeavored to rise with his prey. But this time he had miscalculated his strength-in vain he struggled nobly to lift the salmon from the water. The frightened and bleeding fish made a sudden dive, and took eagle and all out of sight, and was gone a quarter of a minute. Again they arose to the surface, and the strong bird spread his broad, dripping pinions, and gathering force with his rapid blows, raised the salmon half out of water. The weight, however, was too great for him, and he sank again to the surface, beating the water into foam about him. The salmon then made another dive, and they both went under, leaving only a few bubbles to tell where they had gone down. This time they were absent a full half minute, and Beach said he thought it was all over

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with his bird. He soon, however, reappeared with his talons still buried in the flesh of his foe, and again made a desperate effort to rise. All this time the fish was shooting like an arrow through the lake, carrying his relentless foe on his back. He could not keep the eagle down, nor the bird carry him up-and so now beneath, and now upon the surface, they struggled on, presenting one of the most singular yet exciting spectacles that can be imagined. It was fearful to witness the blows of the eagle as he lashed the lake with his wings into spray, and made the shores echo with the report. At last, the bird thinking, as they say west, that he had "waked up the wrong passenger," gave it up; and loosening his clutch, soared heavily and slowly away to his lofty pine tree, where he sat for a long time sullen and sulky-the picture of disappointed ambition. So might a wounded and baffled lion lie down in his lair and brood over his defeat. Beach said that he could easily have captured them, but he thought he would see the fight out. When, however, they both staid under a half minute or more, he concluded he should never see his eagle again. Whether the latter in his rage was bent on capturing his prize, and would retain his hold though

at the hazard of his life, or whether in his terrible swoop he had struck his crooked talons so deep in the back of the salmon, he could not extricate himself, the hunter said he could not tell. The latter, however, was doubtless the truth, and he would have been glad to have let go, long before he did. The old fellow probably spent the afternoon in studying avoirdupois weight, and ever after tried his tackle on smaller fish. As for the poor salmon, if he survived the severe laceration, he doubtless never fully understood the operation he had gone through.

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