on any common thing.  Even going fishing in one of the wild mountain brooks was hardly up to the mark, for we could sometimes do that on a rainy day.  Going down to the village store was not very exciting, and was, on the whole, a waste of our precious time.  Unless we could get out our military company, life was apt to be a little blank, even on the holidays for which we had worked so hard.  If you went to see another boy, he was probably at work in the hay-field or the potato-patch, and his father looked at you askance.  You sometimes took hold and helped him, so that he could go and play with you; but it was usually time to go for the cows before the task was done.  The fact is, or used to be, that the amusements of a boy in the country are not many.  Snaring “suckers” out of the deep meadow brook used to be about as good as any that I had.  The North American sucker is not an engaging animal in all respects; his body is comely enough, but his mouth is puckered up like that of a purse.  The mouth is not formed for the gentle angle-worm nor the delusive fly of the fishermen.  It is necessary, therefore, to snare the fish if you want him.  In the sunny days he lies in the deep pools, by some big stone or near the bank, poising himself quite still, or only stirring his fins a little now and then, as an elephant moves his ears.  He will lie so for hours, or rather float, in perfect idleness and apparent bliss.  The boy who also has a holiday, but cannot keep still, comes along and peeps over the bank.  “Golly, ain’t he a big one!” Perhaps he is eighteen inches long, and weighs two or three pounds.  He lies there among his friends, little fish and big ones, quite a school of them, perhaps a district school, that only keeps in warm days in the summer.  The pupils seem to have little to learn, except to balance themselves and to turn gracefully with a flirt of the tail.  Not much is taught but “deportment,” and some of the old suckers are perfect Turveydrops in that.  The boy is armed with a pole and a stout line, and on the end of it a brass wire bent into a hoop, which is a slipnoose, and slides together when anything is caught in it.  The boy approaches the bank and looks over.  There he lies, calm as a whale.  The boy devours him with his eyes.  He is almost too much excited to drop the snare into the water without making a noise.  A puff of wind comes and ruffles the surface, so that he cannot see the fish.  It is calm again, and there he still is, moving his fins in peaceful security.  The boy lowers his snare behind the fish and slips it along.  He intends to get it around him just back of the gills and then elevate him with a sudden jerk.  It is a delicate operation, for the snare will turn a little, and if it hits the fish, he is off.  However, it goes well; the wire is almost in place, when suddenly the fish, as if he had a warning in a dream, for he appears to see nothing, moves his tail just a little, glides out of the loop, and with no seeming appearance