The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1904-06-18
rHE COOKING OF TEE rRour.

ter than another, said the Rural
Philosopher, "it is the eating of a
trout after it is cooked.
"Oh, yes! I know what you are
going to say about what your Mary
can do! Certainly! Your Mary
and my Eliza Jane, and somebody
else's- Jerusha think they can cook a
trout, and maybe they can. 1t isn't
their fault, if they can't, because
they can't help it if the best part of
the trout is gone by the time it
reaches their hands. But the best
part of it is gone, all the same; but
even if it wasn't, they couldn't cook
a trout, anyhow.
"In the first place, they don't go
at it right. When they get hold of
the fsh-even if it hasn't been ly-
ing stiff on the ice or with its insides
stuffed with salt-our women folk
go straight to work and souse it in
water; wash it and wash it; rip it
open as if it were a seam in an old
garment they were making over, and
then drench its insides until it looks
like piece of bob veal.
"Then they roll it in flour until
you can't tell wether it is luscious
trout or a bony sucker, and no mat
ter if it is two-pounder-which, as
a matter of fact, it is not likely to
be nowadays, if you stick to the
truth-slap! it goes into the frying
pan with a slice or two Of pork; and
there it sizzles and sizzles, and snaps
its Juice all over the stove, and gets
hard on the outside, remains half
raw on the inside and smells more
like sausage when it is served than
like the sweet scented, quivering,
sparkling thing you drew out of the
eddying pool just at the foot of the
swift bend in the brook down yon-
der, where the a1ders nod and the
-e''''f1tld; orfgtlte;ncfe;; Gome7 'te,d enarln
of it, is another reason why your
Mary or my Eliza Jane, or some
body's Jerusha can't cook trout,
because half of the cooking of a
trout lies in the killing of it. How's
that? Well, I'll tell you:
"You are camping for a day or
two on your favorite creek. You
have arrived there, say, late in the
afternoon. because, naturally, on
your way out you wandered here
and there out of your course because
you wanted to see what sign there
was of woodcock, and whether the
old hen and grouse had had good
luck with their broods, and perhaps
to cast an eye out for the prospects
for deer, and to have look at the
swamp edges in the hope of seeing
a bear or two wallowing in the soft,
moist earth.
so you reach your camping place
late in the afternoon, and by the time
you get things in shape you are a
little too tired to let the trout know
that you have arrived that evening,
and you bunk on your bed of fresh
cut henlock boughs, and before you
have heard the whipporwill call
twice, sitting as he is out beyond
your cabin, and making the hush of
the gathering darkness seem deeper
with his plaintive note, you throw
one arm up over your head, and be-
hold; you are asleep!
"When you awake, far in the
East a saffron tint is hera1ding the
morning The brown-winged
thrush is just astir in the leafy copse,
and is piping cheerily to the passing
breeze.
"The breeze carries the greeting
to other thrushes, and other thrush
es send theirs along with it. Birds
that are not thrushes toss their ma
tin voicing on the bosom of the will
ling breeze until it is bearing here
there, everywhere, the gladness and
the sweetness of natures jubilate
"a saucy red squirrel cl1atters II
the big chestnut over in the dewy
swale. The leaves tremble ane
shake and scatter down little show
ers of silver that will glitter like
jewels by and by, when the SUI
sees them.
"You can't quite see the brook
but you can hear it shouting tc
you from beyond the stretch of hem
locks. You go out and look arounc
and swell your lungs and say:
"'Aha! This is gloriousY
"Then you dig your fireplace
You dig it a foot deep and as wild
as you please. You dig it in tn
messy spot at the foot of the grea
old rock, only step or two from tn
cabin.
"Then you will build a hardwoo'
fire and keep it going, so that b
the time you have your flies tied on
and everything is in shape for goinl
over and trying the impatient brook
you have foot deep, almost, of tn
cleanest, hottest Goals and ashes tha
ever snapped and glowed and wait
ed to be used.
"You find the brook just right
While you are looking it over
green-winged fly drops on the water
"In spite of its struggles. the rip
Piles bear it along until it circle
around the edge of the big rock thu
divides the brook just below you
a rock that looks proud of the mos
that covers it, and seems to say:
"'Don't YOU wish you were