BY FRANCIS STERNE PALMER.
One evening early in April two boys of about fifteen were talking together at the home of one of them in New York city. They were close friends as well as classmates in one of the largest schools for boys in the city. In a few days this school closed for the spring vacation.
George Corey, who was a stalwart, athletic fellow, was speaking. "How about the vacation, Arthur? Have you made any plans for spending it?"
"There are several works on chemistry that I want to read, and I think I'll give the two weeks up to them," said the other, somewhat wearily. He had a pale, intellectual face, and his languid movements were in strong contrast to his friend's healthy alertness.
George laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. "See here, Arthur, you'll kill yourself studying. I know it's fine in you to be ambitious and to work so, and some day you're going to be a great scientist and make us all proud of you. But you mustn't neglect your body altogether—'a healthy brain in a healthy body,' as some old philosopher says."
"But there are so many things one ought to learn," protested the other.
"Yes, and there are some things that can't be learned from books. Now I've a plan to propose to you. You know my uncle has a cottage at Chateaugay Lake in the Adirondacks; I've visited him several times in the autumn, and had a fine time. At this season, of course, there is no shooting; but there's the fishing, and, I dare say, plenty of other things to do. My uncle's there now for the salmon-trout fishing, and he writes to know if I want to spend my vacation with him; and what's more, he says I may ask a boy to go with me. Arthur, I want you to go."
At first Arthur could not reconcile himself to this disarrangement of his plans; but by the next afternoon, having consulted his family in the mean while, he was ready to go. Such an opportunity was not to be lost; moreover, he hoped to be so strong after his return that it would be easy to work harder and make up for lost time.
On a fine spring morning, two days later, the boys left the little narrow-gauge railroad at Lion Mountain, and were driven to the shore of Chateaugay Lake; there they were met by a boat of Mr. Corey's, and rowed to his cottage.
That afternoon and the next day they spent trolling for salmon-trout. Arthur enjoyed it; sitting quietly in the stern of a boat and being slowly rowed over the lake required no unpleasant exertion of the body. The fish did not "strike" often, and much of the time he could sit with closed eyes and dream. But George chafed under this inaction, and finally he took an old guide, Antoine Brusoe, into his confidence. "I want to have some camping out and tramping in the woods; and that's what my friend needs too."