down into their former lazy condition, and the anglers’ hopes were sinking, when it suddenly occurred to the Irishman, that if the fish were stirred up with a pole they might be again roused to an appreciation of their advantages. Accordingly a pole was cut, the trout were judiciously stirred up, and several of them actually took the bait in the course of the afternoon—whether under the influence of the unwonted excitement we do not pretend to say, but certain it is that before sunset an excellent dish was secured for supper!
Equally peaceful and pleasant were the experiences of our hero and the trapper on that tranquil day. They wandered about in a state of silent happiness all the forenoon; then they shot a grizzly bear, the claws and teeth of which were claimed by Will, as he had drawn first blood. After that a deer chanced to come within range of the trapper, who brought it down, cut off the best parts of the meat, and, kindling a fire on the spot, sat down with his companion to a fat venison steak and a pipe.
“This sort o’ life is what I calls happiness,” said Big Ben, puffing out a cloud, through the hazy curls of which he gazed at a sunny landscape of unrivalled beauty.
“So it is,” assented Will Osten, with enthusiasm.
“An’ yet,” pursued Big Ben, thoughtfully, “when I come to think on’t, this sort o’ life would be no happiness to an old man, or to a weak one.”
“No, nor to a woman,” added Will.
“Not so sure o’ that,” said the trapper; “I’ve know’d Injun women as was about as good hunters as their husbands, an’ enjoyed it quite as much.”
“That may be so, Ben, but women of the civilised world would scarcely think this a happy sort of life.”
“P’raps not,” returned Ben. “Happiness is a queer thing, after all. I’ve often thought that it’s neither huntin’ nor farmin’, nor fair weather nor foul, that brings it about in the heart o’ man or woman, but that it comes nat’ral to man, woman, and child, when they does what is best suited to their minds and bodies, and when they does it in the right way.”