ny moral--is, use hooks according to
the size of fish you expect to catch.

And, when you are in a permanent camp, and fishing is very poor, try
frogging. It is not a sport of a high order, though it may be called
angling--and it can be made amusing, with hook and line. I have seen
educated ladies in the wilderness, fishing for frogs with all eagerness
and enthusiasm not surpassed by the most devoted angler with his
favorite cast of flies.

There are several modes of taking the festive batrachian. He is
speared with a frog-spear; caught under the chin with snatch-hooks;
taken with hook and line, or picked up from a canoe with the aid of a
headlight, or jack-lamp. The two latter modes are best.

To take him with hook and line: a light rod, six to eight feet of
line, a snell of single gut with a 1-0 Sproat or O'Shaughnessy hook and
a bit of bright scarlet flannel for bait; this is the rig. To use it,
paddle up behind him silently and drop the rag just in front of his
nose. He is pretty certain to take it on the instant. Knock him on the
head before cutting off his legs. It is unpleasant to see him squirm
and hear him cry like a child while you are sawing at his thigh joints.

By far the most effective manner of frogging is by the headlight on
dark nights. To do this most successfully, one man in a light canoe, a
good headlight and a light, one-handed paddle are the requirements. The
frog is easily located, either by his croaking, or by his peculiar
shape. Paddle up to him silently and throw the light in his eyes; you
may then pick him up as you would a potato. I have known a North Woods
guide to pick up a five-quart pail of frogs in an hour, on a dark
evening. On the table, frogs' legs are usually conceded first place for
delicacy and flavor, For an appetizing breakfast in camp, they have no
equal, in my judgment. The high price they bring at the best hotels,
and their growing scarcity, attest the value placed on them by men who
know how and what to eat. And, not many years ago, an old pork-gobbling
backwoodsman threw his frying pan into the river because I had cooked
frogs' legs in it. While another, equally intelligent, refused to use
my frying pan, because I had cooked eels in it; remarking
sententiously, "Eels is snakes, an' I know it."

It may be well, just here and now, to say a word on the importance of
the headlight. I know of no more pleasant and satisfactory adjunct of a
camp than a good light that can be a