When a man dwelling in the Drowned Lands of Canonoque, Canada, is capable of accumulating a small fortune by catching frogs for the New York market, surely some of our young people who are now spending their vacations near the shores of our lakes, rivers, and ponds ought also to make considerable pocket-money, if not as large a fortune as that of Pat Bowman, of the Drowned Lands, who follows up the frogs from early spring until late in the fall.

It is not only the pocket-money that is to be picked up, but while on the frog-hunts many lessons are to be learned in aquatic natural history. Then there is the fun of the thing. It's fun to get sunburned, and have a brand-new skin at the end of a week to attend church in. It's fun to step into a bumble-bees' nest, and have the bees chase you until you are only too glad to take refuge in the water, where they can't find you out. And it's fun to break through a musk-rat or turtle run, and to have your companions pull you out covered with black peat; then come the washing out of your clothes, and hanging them in the sun to dry; and while they are drying, then the sand-flies and mosquitoes come swarming about you in clouds, until in sheer desperation you conclude to do as the cows do—stand in the water and splash. And after you have stood in the water a few minutes, you find the horse-leeches and boat-flies have discovered you have legs, and are having a feast on them. By this time your clothing is dry. All this sort of experience was fun to me when I was a boy, and I often sigh for those happy days to return.

At the age of thirteen I became a frog-catcher. I discovered there was a demand in Fulton and Washington markets for frogs' legs, and that the price paid for them, as they ran, large and small (not very, very small), was one dollar and a half per hundred. But here was the trouble: how could I manage to keep the frogs alive and healthy until I had one hundred of them ready for market? At last I hit upon a plan, which was no less than to construct a pond in our then very large garden, and plant it with pond-lilies, sweet-flag, and cat-tails; in fact, to make it as picturesque as possible. To have the pond hold water, the bottom and sides were lined with clay to the depth of half a foot. To fill the pond we made a series of wooden gutters that connected with the garden pump. Every night we pumped and pumped, until we thought the old pump would surely go dry.

In our house lived a blind sea-captain; he was a bright, kind-hearted, good-natured old gentleman. He could navigate all over our large garden without tramping down the smallest radish, and as for thinning out carrots and beets, he could do it beautifully; he knew every weed by touch and smell. He was just as good as good could be, and all we boys thought the world of him, and he thought we were the best boys ever born. Now the captain liked everything in nature that had a voice, such as birds, crickets, locusts, katydids, and tree-toads, with which we kept the garden well supplied, so that at night there was nearly a full orchestra of nature's musicians. On bass, basso, and basso-profundo we were short, but knew full well that as soon as the intended inhabitants for the pond were secured, those voices of the night would be forthcoming.

The first frogs we captured were taken with a scap-net toward evening, when they drew near the shore to feed, and to secure them we tied them by their hind-legs to a string. One evening we discovered a frog by his voice, which was that of a pure basso-profundo, and in strength that of three bull-calves in one. His home was in a small ditch of water, which, the minute approached, he would plunge into, and was lost to sight. By the great splash he made we knew that he must be a monster of a bull-frog. Night after night we tried to capture him, but failed. At last we determined to devote one entire Saturday to his capture.

There was one particular spot on the side of the ditch where he always sat when taking a sun-bath, but the minute he caught sight of us, in he would plunge, and disappear for an hour's time. At first we imagined he dived down into the deep mud bottom, and remained there until he thought all was quiet, or that we were gone away.

At last, by mere accident, we discovered his secret hiding-place to be a musk-rat hole, the entrance of which connected directly with the water of the ditch, so that all he had to do was to make a strong and long dive for the musk-rat hole, and he was safe every time. The only way left was to secure the entrance to the hole with a net, and then to go after him with spades and shovels and dig him out; which we did, and wasn't he a beauty? He weighed over a pound, and must have been seven or eight years old. After being in the pond a week, one bright moonlight night he condescended to join in with the other musicians.

We greatly increased the power of our orchestra by adding twenty-five common toads, which in the breeding season frequent the water, and are very noisy, and also one hundred of the shrill-piping Hylodes, or tree-toads, and two screech-owls, which were kept in separate cages at different parts of the garden, so that all night long they were calling to one another.

At the end of every two weeks one of the four members of the "Great Long Island Frog Company" took to market from two hundred to two hundred and fifty live frogs, for which was received a dollar and a half per hundred. In course of time sufficient capital was accumulated to purchase four hundred breeding gold-fish with which to stock the pond, so that on the second year we were marketing live frogs and gold-fish. All this happened many years ago, but the traffic in bull-frogs and bull-frogs' legs has been growing steadily, until it has attained wonderful proportions, as the following statements will show:

It is estimated by good judges that no less than fifteen hundred-weight of frogs' legs are sent to the New York market every year. New York State, New Hampshire, Maine, Pennsylvania, and the Canadas are the principal sources of supply. There is one dealer who has agents catching and purchasing frogs in all the above-named places.

Frog-catching begins early in the spring, and lasts until late in the fall. The frogs are caught without bait, all the tackle used being a rod or pole cut in the woods, to which is fastened a short and stout line. On the end of the line is fastened a broad stout hook. When a frog is discovered, the "froggist" drops the hook under the jaw of the frog, and with a quick jerk Mr. Frog flies up into the air, and is taken from off the hook, and placed in a bag. The frogs think the hook is alive, and snatch at it eagerly. Sometimes a frog, when the hook tickles his nose or passes over one of his ears, will lose his temper, and make a terrible lunge at it. I have seen old frogs lose their tempers entirely, so that the minute they caught sight of the end of the pole they would jump clear out of the water, and bite at it fiercely. A frog will never bite at anything when under water, as he is afraid to open his large mouth from fear of drowning. A frog kept entirely in the water, with nothing to rest on, will in course of time drown. When the hook is ornamented with a piece of red flannel, the frogs will jump for it several feet. Frogs bite best on warm, sunny days. When fishing for frogs at night, a reflector or bull's-eye is fastened at the bow of the boat. The bright light seems to daze the frogs to an extent that admits of their easy capture.

The frogs, when caught, are placed in cages made of laths or slats; the cages are about five feet long by four feet wide, and one foot in height. These cages are placed half in the water and half on land; the bottoms of the cages having a slight inclination, to allow the frogs to leave the water when so disposed. After being caged for a few days, they will begin to take food. Their favorite food is young frogs, small live fish, insects, mice, and angle-worms. All of these must have life and motion, or the frogs will not eat them. Many attempts have been made to breed frogs artificially, but so far all have failed. The principal trouble seems to be the difficulty of obtaining natural food in sufficient quantities to prevent the old frogs from devouring their young, which they will do on all occasions. Again, the young frog, from the tadpole stage up to the perfect frog, is surrounded by enemies night and day—aquatic birds, turtles, lizards, snakes, leeches, insects, fish, water-rats, and, worst of all, his own relations. A female frog at five years of age will produce over a thousand eggs every year. Out of the thousand eggs not more than twenty-five ever attain over two years' growth, so constant is the warfare of their enemies.