at the outlet, fishin’ and huntin’, and layin’ around loose, in a promiscuous way, all alone by myself, havin’ nobody along but the old black dog that you,” appealing to Hank Wood, who nodded assent, remember.  “That dog,” continued Cullen, “was human in his day, and if anybody has another like him, and wants a couple of months lumberin’ in the place of him, I’m ready for a trade; he may call at my shanty.  Wal, Crop and I had Seen about all there was to be looked at about Tupper’s Lake, and havin’ hearn some pretty tall stories about the deer and moose up about the head of Bog River from an Ingen who’d hunted that section, I mentioned to Crop one mornin’ that we’d take a trip into them parts.  ‘Agreed,’ said he, or leastwise he didn’t say a word agin it, and, by the wag of his tail, I understood him to be agreeable.

“Mud Lake, as you’ve discovered, aint very near now, and it was a good deal farther off then.  The settlements hadn’t been pushed so far into the woods then as now.  But we put out, Crop and I, for Mud Lake; we passed the eight carryin’ places afore night, and reached the first chain of ponds while the sun was hangin’ like a great torch in the tree-tops.  I’ve seen a good many deer in my day, but the way they stood around in those ponds, and in the shallow water of the river below, among the grass and pond lilies, was a thing to make a man open his eyes some. I saw dozens of ’em at a time, and if it didn’t seem like a sheep paster I would’nt say it.  I had my pick out of the lot, and knocked over a two-year-old for provision for me and Crop.  I aint at all poetical, but if there was ever a matter to make a man feel like stringin’ rhymes, that evenin’ that Crop and I spent on the lower chain of ponds, or little lakes on Bog River, was a thing of that sort.  The sun threw his bright red light on the tops of the mountains away off to the East, spreading it all over the lofty peaks, like a golden shawl, while the gorges and deep valleys around their base rested in deep and solemn shadow.  The loon spoke out clear, like a bugle on the lakes, and his voice went echoin’ around among the hills; the frogs were out and out jolly, while the old woods were full of happy voices and merry songs as if all nater was runnin’ over with gladness and joy; even the night breeze, as it sighed and moaned among the tree-tops, seemed to be whisperin’ to itself of the joy and brightness and glory of such an evenin’.  As the night gathered, the moon, in her largest growth, came up over the hills and walked like a queen up into the sky, and the bright stars gathered around her, twinklin’ and flashin’ and dancin’, as if merry-makin’ in the brightness of her presence.  Away down below the bottom of the lake were other mountains and lakes, another moon with bright stars shinin’ and twinklin’ around her, other broad heavens just as distinct and glorious as those which arched above us.  Don’t laugh, Judge, for me and Crop saw and heard all that I’ve been describin’ to you, and we felt it too, may be quite as deeply as if we’d been bred in colleges and stuffed with the larnin’ of the books.