But what have I been summoned here for? I demand a copy of the
complaint.'
"'My dear sir,' said I, 'I'm not a member of the court. I don't belong
to the bar--I'm not the plaintiff--I'm not in the profession, nor on
the bench. I'm neither sheriff, constable nor juror. I'm only a
spectator. In the Rackett Woods, among the lakes and streams of that
wild region, with a rod and fly, I'm at home with the trout, but;----'
"'Oh! ho!' he exclaimed with a chuckle, 'you're the chap I was
consulted about down near the mouth of the Rackett the other day, by a
country trout, who was on a journey to visit his relatives in the
streams of Canada. He showed me a hole in his jaw, made by your hook
at the mouth of the Bog river. I've filed a summons and complaint
against you for assault and battery, and beg to notify you of
the fact.'
"'I plead the general issue,' said I.
"'There's no such thing known to the code,' he replied.
"'I deny the fact, then,' I exclaimed.
"'That won't do,' he rejoined; "'the complaint is put in under oath,
and you must answer by affidavit, of the truth of your denial.'
"You see my dilemma. I remembered the circumstance of hooking a noble
trout at the place alleged, and as the affair has been settled, I'll
tell you how it was. At the head of Tupper's Lake, one of the most
beautiful sheets of water that the sun ever shone upon, lying alone
among the mountains, surrounded by old primeval forests, walled in by
palisadoes of rocks, and studded with islands, the Bog River enters;
this river comes down from the hills away back in the wilderness,
sometimes rushing with a roar over rocks and through gorges, sometimes
plunging down precipices, and sometimes moving with a deep and
sluggish current across a broad sweep of table land.
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