nd
flavor to the flesh that it would not otherwise possess. Should that
excellent and most estimable gentleman regard this statement with a
sceptical eye, let it be here stated that the bass should be recently
killed, split, crimped and broiled to a delicate brown, with a little good
butter and a sprinkling of pepper, salt and chopped parsley. Should he
pursue the subject upon this basis, he will not be the first gentleman who
has surrendered his convictions and compounded a culinary felony upon
favorable terms.

Below Harper's Ferry there is one of the most picturesque reaches of the
Potomac River. From the rugged heights that frown upon that historic and
lovely spot, where the Shenandoah strikes away through the pass that leads
to the broad and beautiful Valley of Virginia, and where John Brown's
memory struggles through battered ruins and the invading smoke of the
unhallowed locomotive, the river chafes from side to side of the stern
defile that hems it in and curbs its restless waters. Great walls of dark
rocks, crested by serried ranks of solemn pines, stand guard above its
fitful, surging flood, and against the dark blue calm and misty depth of
its gorge the pale smoke rises in a quiet column above the mills and houses
that nestle by the river's bed. Huge boulders stem the current, and the
rocks stand out in shelves and rugged ridges, around which the stream
whirls swiftly and sweeps off into broad dark pools in whose green,
mysterious depths there should be noble fish. Below, the river widens and
has long placid reaches, but for the most part its banks are precipitous,
and the deep water runs along the trunks and bares the roots of great trees
whose branches stretch far out over its surface. Occasionally, the
mountains recede and form a vast amphitheatre, clad in primeval forest, and
there are islands on which vegetation runs riot in its unbridled luxury,
and weaves festoons of gay creepers to conceal the gaunt skeletons of the
endless piles of dead drift-wood. All is in the most glorious green--a very
extravagance of fresh and brilliant color--relieved with the bright
purples and tender leafing of the flowering shrubs and vines that
intertwine among its heavy jungle. Upon the broad, flat rocks one may see
dozens of stolid "sliders," or mud-turtles, some of great size, basking in
the sun like so many boarders at a country hotel. They crowd upon the rocks
as thickly as they can, and blink there all day long unless