IRLF

IIVERSITY OF
aiFORNIA

er

FLY-FISHING

IN MAINE LAKES;

OR,

CAMP-LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS.

BY

CHARLES W. STEVENS.

God made the country, and man made the town." — COWPER.
|

HOSTON:
CUPl'LKS, U I'll AM, AND COMPANY.

I

COPYRIGHT, 1884,
BY CHARLES W. STEVENS.

jFrankltu \jlitss:

RAND, AVERY, AND COMPANY,
BOSTON

To the best of listeners, the kindest of critics,
who for many years has shared with me the cares
and comforts of a happy home, and who has been
my fond companion in my journeyings to lake and
stream ; in memory of many pleasant hours passed
in canoe and camp, this book is affectionately ded-
icated.

M838953

WHY.

F the making of books," said a sacred writer,
" there is no end." Possibly the desire to
make one myself arose from the fact that I
have taken so much mental recreation in
writing these sketches, thus renewing past enjoy-
ments, and indulging anticipations of their repetition
in the future.

A part of the contents, through heavy bribes and
friendly editors, have found their way into the col-
umns of the press, though I have never learned that
the sale of the respective papers has thereby been
visibly increased.

As this book has been written by one daily en-
gaged in the cares and perplexities of a mercantile
life, I hope that it may escape, if noticed at all, harsh

i

2 " WHY.

criticism. To claim for it any thing more than a
description of a sportsman's pleasures, by a keen
lover of nature, would be magnificently absurd.

To the many friends who have encouraged this
publication, I know that its pages will sometimes be
welcome.

To those'who have visited and enjoyed the locali-
ties it describes, I hope it may be. If it should call
up to all who may read it some happy remembrances
of the past, the why and the wherefore will have been
accomplished.

THE- AUTHOR.

BOSTON, August, 1880.

was an agreeable task, the writing of this
little book ; and if half the pertinent con-
versations indulged in by the participants
in its sports, during its making, were inter-
spersed in its pages, it would have been a long one.
It was this that made the occupation so pleasant,
living over many delightful experiences, and looking
forward to others not yet seen but hoped for.
I have also very much appreciated the enjoyment

3

4 INTRODUCTION TO THIRD EDITION.

my friends have had over its contents, and the un-
expected favor with which it has been received by
other lovers of the sport and the wilderness.

The press of my own and other cities have spoken
many kind words for it, far beyond what I should
have dared to hope : for this I am truly grateful.

Believing, from the recognition it has received,
that it may still enlarge its circle of readers, the
third edition is issued (the second being ex-
hausted) ; to which have been added new chapters
and numerous illustrations.

The sketches were drawn by my friends Mr.
Joseph P. Livermore and Charles W. Reed of this
city ; who have caught the true spirit of their sub-
jects, and interpreted them with artistic skill and
fidelity. I here tender them my warmest thanks
for their kindness, and for the interest they have
taken in their work.

And now, dear reader, in parting may we take to
heart in their full significance these charming lines
of Tom Moore : —

" Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy,
Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features which joy used to wear."

VALE.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

I. STARTING ....

II. ON THE LAKE

III. IN CAMP

IV. AN UNFORTUNATE DAY .

V. GOOD-BY, JOE ....

VI. DEPARTURE .

VII. ON THE ROAD .

VIII. THE WHITE HILLS .

IX. CRYSTAL AND GLEN ELLIS FALLS

X. GRAND LAKE ....

XI. How NOT TO GO .

XII. TOMAH JOSEPH.

XIII. RUNNING THE RAPIDS.

XIV. A STIFF BREEZE .

5

PAGE

9

23

33

46

56
70
79
91
104

"5

122
136
M7

166

6 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

XV. PARMACHENEE LAKE 174

XVI. PICKEREL-FISHING IN WINTER . . 183
XVII. A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN . . . .194

A RETROSPECT 209

SUPPLEMENTARY 212

FRONTISPIECE.

FIRE! STOP THE BOAT! .... PAGE 14

TESTING JOHN'S MATTRESSES 22

STUDIES BY OUR ARTIST 24

THE SOCIAL PIPE . 32

A BROKEN TIP 39

FRANK, SMUDGE OUT THE CAMP .... 45

RIVER WEIGHT 55

A FULL CAR (pull-man) 58

TIME TO GET UP 69

LEGS -vs. WINGS 76

A WITHERING LOOK 78

AN INTERVIEW 90

MEETING THE PRINCE ... ... 103

MISTER, YOUR COAT-TAILS ARE GETTING WET . 107

DRIVE ON 114

THE NET RESULT 121

7

8 ILL US TRA TIONS.

A GRACEFUL SKIP PAGE 124

As BLIND AS A BAT 135

SHE'S A RIPPER 146

RUNNING THE RAPIDS 157

WHILE YOU TURN OVER 165

WITH A PIE IN HER HAND 171

GOING UP •. . . .173

THE MAGALLOWAY 182

RUN, JOHNNY! Go IT, TOM! 188

MAKE THE CIRCLE A LITTLE LARGER . . .195

BIG JAKE ENTERED ON TIPTOE 204

THE VICTIM 209

FINIS 217

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES,

CHAPTER I.

STARTING.

E was a very good sort of a man,
but he had a weakness for going
a-fishing."

If he who made this remark, in
speaking of one who had departed
this life, had profited by the les-
sons of the New Testament, he might have sur-
mised that perhaps the Master gave evidence of
superior wisdom in selecting his disciples, not from
those who bought and sold, and would fain have
pursued their mercenary traffic within the sacred
walls of the temple, but from those of an humble
calling, that hardy race of men who " go down to

9

10 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

the sea in ships," and who were wont to cast their
nets in the blue waters of the Galilee.

"But, my dear sir," say you, "that was their
business, and not a pastime."

" True enough ; but do you not believe that there
was something in the very nature of their calling
that especially fitted them for the great work they
were to perform?"

" Well, admit it, for the sake of the argument :
what then ?

" Simply this : if the life of a fisherman has that
about it that provokes a healthy body and a noble
soul, is it a weakness for us to choose for a recrea-
tion, and love it too, that which brings us into a
more intimate communion with nature, and teaches
us to look up with feelings of reverence and love,
from the most beautiful of created things, to Him
that has created them?"

Oh, yes, my friend ! if I could only make you
appreciate the true delights of the angler's pastime
as I feel it, there would be less of the fashionable
watering-place sojournings, I warrant you. " Come,"
said I to one who could not find an opportunity
to leave his business for more than two or three
days at a time, " come with me : leave these piles
of brick and mortar for a couple of weeks at least,
and inhale the pure air of the mountains ; wander

STARTING. II

beside sparkling rivulets ; learn a little of the fish-
er's art, and enjoy his homely fare, his hours of ease
and nights of rest ; and go back to business with
renewed vitality, delightful recollections, and a
longer lease of life." And so at last, after much
converse, I prevailed upon my friend, and aroused
some faint enthusiasm for the excursion. And oh !
how I have heard the young man " enthuse " since
that time over the remembrance of that vacation
and several others of like nature which we have
passed together !

I had chosen a new locality. Having fished
Moosehead and other smaller Maine lakes with
success, I had decided to try the Umbagog waters,
and for seven successive seasons, a part with the
friend above referred to, have I cast my flies upon
the bosom of those charming lakes ; and, with all
respect to brother Murray, a most delightful region
have I found it. Naturally the outfit of our party
fell upon myself, and after-experiences have taught
me much in that respect ; and, were I writing for
novices, I might give some valuable hints in that
direction, — a few perhaps, as it is, may not come
amiss. And, first of all, wherever you may go for
trout, in June or July, take with you a goodly quan-
tity of black-fly poison. I have used several kinds ;
but decidedly the best I have found is prepared by

12 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Dr. Almy, now made by W. B. Mead, 218 Washing-
ton Street, Boston. A dollar box will suffice for one
person for a three-weeks' trip : it is perfectly harm-
less, and to me rather agreeable than otherwise.
Now take a pair of long stockings, cut off the end of
the foot, make a hole for the thumb, and slip them
on the hand as you would a mitt, securing them at
the elbows with an elastic, and you are prepared to
resist those accompaniments to good fishing, black
flies and mosquitoes, which abound where there are
trout to be taken. A piece of mosquito-netting
usually comes in play for night service. These
three articles I consider indispensable, and should
as soon think of going on a cruise without an extra
rod as to leave one of these behind. For the
rest of your outfit, should some novice peruse this
sketch, I would refer him to " The Fishing Tour-
ist," by Charles Hallock, one of the most sensible
books on fishing that I have ever read.

My journal says it was " Monday evening on the
6th of June, 18 — ," that a hack might have been
seen being driven down to Central Wharf, Boston,
on its way to the Portland boat ; on the back seat
my better half (she goes a-fishing) and myself; on
the front seat our new acquisition to the disciples
of Walton, not yet fully convinced, and wondering
if he could get a lemon on board in case of sea-

STARTING. 13

sickness ; while inside and out were numerous pack-
ages and portmanteaus which go to make up a
fisherman's outfit.

The voyage to Portland by steamboat, on a star-
light night, with a soft westerly wind and a smooth
sea, is riot an extra hazardous one, nor does it
admit of any glowing imagery of description. Char-
lie didn't need his lemons, so that first conun-
drum of his was never solved. We chatted on
the after-deck, of our happy exodus, and specu-
lated on coming enjoyments, till one by one our
fellow-passengers had retired and we held full pos-
session ; then Charlie insisted that I should sing
"The morning light is breaking," which I kindly
did, although I could hardly see the appropriate-
ness of the selection, saving its being the only sec-
ular piece I do sing : however, it served to stir up
things a little, for, before I commenced on the sec-
ond line, my wife and Charles bade me good-night,
and left me to finish my hymn to the mermaids.

It always did take my wife a long time to let
down her back hair : so I lit a fresh cigar, and gazed
off upon the " moonlit waves " (copied by permis-
sion) . I had finished my cigar, and still sat gazing
far away to where Thacher lights were gleaming in
the distance, when a different kind of smoke from
that in which I had been indulging invaded my

14 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

nostrils, — a sort of cross between a burning bed-
blanket and a piece of burned leather. Now, a
smoke usually proceeds from a fire j and a fire on
a steamboat outside of its own legitimate domains,
unless it be at the end of a cigar or in the bowl of
a pipe, is not a thing to be especially desired, and
the more I snuffed the stronger grew the smell : so
up I got, and proceeded on a tour of investigation,
through the saloon, down between decks, forward
and aft. For five crowded minutes, accompanied
by one of the officers of the boat, to whom I com-
municated my suspicions, and who divided with me
the honors of the smell, did I search for that fire ;
when suddenly I felt something hot drop upon a
bald spot I wear on the top of my head. Now
surely there was cause for alarm : taking off my hat,
a felt one, the origin of the fire was found j a spark
from the smoke-stack had lodged upon the crown
of my hat, and committed an act of incendiarism.
Rather ludicrous it seemed to strike my friends, but
I was never able to see the joke in the same light
which they did. Why should I ? I told my wife, as
I climbed into the upper berth, that it was a serious
subject : the boat might have been on fire ; and,
giving a final twist to her locks, that woman who had
sworn to " love, honor, and obey," " and all that
sort of thing," actually laughed. I always get the

STARTING. 15

better of that back hair in the morning, and usually
enjoy about forty winks while it is being tortured
into shape ; but this morning the boat's crew seemed
to take especial delight in banging away below us,
while above our heads the water-bucket and the
broom were doing active service. Sleep after four
o'clock was under these circumstances something
which the inventor of, probably not having been
similarly situated, had neglected to provide for ; and
therefore we did the next best thing, — lay awake till
a reasonable hour for getting up arrived, and the
colored cabin-boy had notified us by numerous
knocks upon our stateroom-door that our absence
would not be seriously missed. We then held a
council of war, and decided to dress — one at a
time, as the limited capacity of our room did not
admit of much sociability in that proceeding. Our
toilets completed, we were met in the saloon by
Charlie, who confessed to a good night's rest and a
prodigious desire for breakfast. Proceeding to the
wharf, we were met by a most gentlemanly person,
who kindly proposed to take us in his carriage to
the Falmouth Hotel or to any other place in the
"natural seaport" which we might wish to visit.
In fact, I think we must have been looked upon as
rather important personages, as several gentlemen
joined him in offering the use of their carriages :

1 6 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

we, however, accepted the first invitation, and were
soon enjoying a splendid breakfast with mine host
Wheeler at the Falmouth.

The train on the Grand Trunk on which we
were to leave for Bryant's Pond Station not leaving
until two o'clock, we had abundant opportunity to
enjoy a drive about the beautiful city of Portland ;
the Promenade (so called) around Munjoy Hill
giving us a fine view of Casco Bay with its numer-
ous islands, and that around BramhaU's Hill, at the
western extremity of the city, a view of the sur-
rounding country with the tall peaks of the White
Hills in the far distance for a background.

Two o'clock, and away we go. " All aboard," has
been shouted by our veteran conductor (Gould) ;
and a dejected old gentleman views with despair
his trunk — which he has neglected to check — on
the platform, as we pass out of the depot. Just
a glimpse of the mammoth pier which was built
for the "Great Eastern," when she should make
the "natural seaport" her first port of entry, but
which time never came; a glance at the new
marine hospital at Westbrook, with White Head
towering up in the distance, — and we are rattling off
into a charming country, dotted here and there
with such farm-houses as only one can see in New
England, from the window of a railroad-car.

STARTING. 17

"Coin' a-fishin?" accompanied with a poke on
my left shoulder, drew my attention from a pretty
farm-picture on which I was gazing, to a rural
specimen of the genus homo on the seat behind
me. " What der yer 'spect ter ketch? "

" Any thing, sir, that will rise to a fly ; wouldn't
object to a salmon, but will be content with a
trout."

" Rise to a fly ! guess if they rise to flies you'll
see lots of fish."

" Oh ! then trout are plenty this season, are
they?"

" Don't know nothing about trout, but flies air.
Where yer from?"

" Boston."

"Where yer going?"

" Upper Dam, Richardson Lake."

"Sho ! she going too?"

"Yes."

"Fishing?"

" Certainly."

" Gosh ! cummin' all the way from Boston to go
a fishin'. Not in them clo'es, is she? "

We explained that our fishing-outfit was quite
different from our present dress, and that we were
accustomed to roughing it. The idea of our
"cummin5 all the the way from Boston to go

1 8 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

a-fishin', and she goin' too," so impressed the
old gentleman that he lapsed into profound medi-
tation, and we heard nothing more from him till
we stepped from the car at Bryant's Pond, when I
overheard him say to an old lady opposite, —

" Jess think of it ! he said they'd come all the
way from Boston to go a-fishin'."

The stage-coach — that old-fashioned, charming
vehicle of locomotion which we had been advised
would be in waiting to take us to Andover —
greeted our vision as we alighted from the train ;
and, scrambling for outside seats, we little heeded
the remark of our driver, that " she wouldn't bal-
ance unless some of us got inside."

Get inside? not much. We had anticipated
this glorious ride too much for that : so we stowed
our luggage on the lower deck, with one or two
way-passengers, and kept our lofty seats, hugging
to them, and to each other, as we sped away right
merrily down hill and up hill, stopping now and
then to deliver a lean mail-bag to some female
government attachee, who would cast shy glances
at the members of the party on the outside, who
" cum all the way," &c., and then trip gayly back to
the post-office, to sort the mail, and guess at the
contents of the letters.

We soon found our driver to be a lively and

STARTING. 19

communicative chap, as they usually are; and
before we had proceeded many miles he had
sifted us down pretty well, and given us a very
good history of himself, family, and horses.

One of us observed that the leaders didn't ap-
pear to be quite well matched.

" Well matched ! Gentlemen, there never was
a pair of better-matched horses than them air
leaders. You see, the off one wants to do all
the work, and the nigh one is perfectly willing
he should."

That wasn't bad, and we gave it the laugh it
deserved. The next year I got the witticism with-
out any suggestion on my part, and didn't laugh
quite so loud. I have heard it seven times, and
the worthy deacon seems to enjoy his little joke
more and more. I can see him now, gathering
himself up, and giving the " nigh one " a little
tingler on the left ear, as introductory.

Well, here we are at Rumford, ten miles from
Bryant's Pond, and as many more to Andover,
where we are to spend the night and make our
preparations for departure to the lakes. The driver
informs us that we sup here. The landlord looks
inviting, and the table more so. We do full justice
to the meal ; but "six boiled eggs," Master Charles,
I will never confess to. We have disputed that

20 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

point many times : I acknowledge four, but "six "
— excuse me.

"Beg your pardon, madam," said a lady to Mrs.
S., as she was leaving the parlor for her outside
seat. "Do you not remain with us?" My wife
remarked that our journey lay farther on, behind
the hills.

" Oh, I am so sorry ! this is such a lovely spot,
so romantic ! such a superabundance of beauty, it
would seem as if nature had thrown every thing
into wild confusion." Fortunately, before we had
quite digested this burst of eloquence, the cry of
" Stage ready " prevented our being obliged to ex-
tend the conversation ; but as we whirled away from
the door I launched at her from my lofty pinnacle
a few harmless, disconnected adjectives, just to
show her we knew how it was done.

A short ride brings us to the banks of the
Androscoggin, dividing the village of Rumford,
and which we cross on what is known as a rope-
ferry, — a rope stretched across the river, on which
runs a pulley attached to another rope made fast to
the boat : the force of the current, with a little guid-
ance from the "bold ferry-man," is all that is re-
quired to land us on the opposite shore, up which
our horses canter, and we are bowling along at a
lively pace toward Andover.

STARTING. 21

Our mail-foags grow leaner as we pass them out
from under the boot ; the deacon has talked him-
self out, and with an occasional, " Rup there,"
"Whoa, Sail," we hear but little from him. The
madam leans rather heavily upon my right shoul-
der, as if her journey, Rumford eloquence, or ca-
tering, had been too much for her. Charlie thinks
his creature comfort demands his winter overcoat.
The patriarch of the flock lights his pipe, and, fail-
ing to arouse any enthusiasm over what a charming
sunset there might have been under certain con-
tingencies, sinks into a brown study, cogitating what
flies he will use for his first cast. Darkness settles
down upon us, and the sparkle of thousands of
fireflies seem but the reflection of the twinkling
stars.

" Only one mile more," from the deacon, rouses
us from our meditations ; and, as the village bell
rings out the hour of nine, we whirl up to the door
of the Andover House.

I don't suppose that Uncle John Merrill, our
landlord, will ever forget, or. cease to remind me,
how resignedly my wife fell into his arms that night
as she descended from her lofty perch. Charlie
and myself had no such: kindly reception, but were
made very welcome, and were soon on nearly as
intimate terms with, our good-natured host, who

22 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

had been apprised of our coming, and whose best
chambers had been swept and garnished for our
arrival. A short talk over our prospects at the
lake, and we were ready to test John's mattresses.

CHAPTER II.

ON THE LAKE.

HEN you have reached a quiet
country village, late at night, after
a long day's journey, refreshingly
tired, have you not thought how
you would sleep long into the morn-
ing? And when the early morning
came, did you not find yourself sadly disappointed ?
Talk about the country stillness ! generally speak-
ing, that's all moonshine : you hear plenty of noises.
The " early village cock " is the first to give token
of the morn ; then some noble Newfoundland, or
cur of low degree, launches his bark on the sea
of time's new day ; and you wish, just for that brief
interval between trying to get a morning nap and
finally giving it up, that you were back again to your
own bed and listening to the accustomed sounds
which you do not hear. However, when you do

23

24 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

become fully aroused, shake off the bedclothes, and
put your head out of the window, and get a sight
of the far-off hills, and one good wholesome coun-
try smell, all animosity is fled : you forgive both
fowl and beast for early rising ; and you sit there
in the cool of the morning, or I often have, drink-
ing in the glories of the budding morn. Oh ! isn't
it delicious ? One doesn't need to pour exhilara-
tion down his throat to give him an appetite for
breakfast : it is drank in through the other senses,
and sends a thrill of pleasure over the whole body.
And when we all sit around John's neatly-spread
table, and taste the fresh eggs and the dainty
trout, we begin to feel already a newer life and a
most voracious appetite.

"It does me good to see you take hold," said
John, as he bustled about the table, his gray hair
and long beard glistening in the morning sun.
" But, bless your souls ! this is nothing to what you
will be able to do when you get back. And now
hurry up, and get ready for a start : the buckboard
will be at the door in half an hour."

If our friend, who interviewed us on the cars,
could have seen us as we were ready for departure,
he would scarcely have recognized us ; " them
clothes " having been laid aside for the fisherman's
garb. My wife never looked better in my eyes

ON THE LAKE. 25

than she did when about to mount the buckboard :
a bloomer suit, made of dark waterproof, good
stout boots, buck gloves with armlets reaching to
and well secured at the elbow, a gentleman's felt
hat, and white tarltan veil fastened to the band,
completely encircling the head, and secured by an
elastic to the collar of the dress, thus affording an
effectual barrier to the flies and mosquitoes that
awaited our coming and were thirsting for city
blood.

After three miles of quite rapid travelling over an
ordinary country thoroughfare, we left civilization,
and turned into the road which leads to the arm
of the lake, — nine miles through a dense forest
where locomotion becomes slow, and were it not
for its novelty might become tedious, as it takes
three hours to accomplish the distance. But we
are a gay and happy party, and with jokes, stories,
and song the hours soon slip by ; and, before we
begin to feel at all wearied with our jaunt, we come
out upon a small clearing, and our driver says,
" Here we are." We see a small black-looking
camp, but no lake, so completely is it hidden by
the dense woods. Here we prepare our lunch, and
eat it with a hearty relish, first making a smudge on
the cook-stove to clear the camp of " flies and
bich." Our guides unloose our baggage from the

26 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

blackboard, and, hoisting it upon their shoulders,
disappear through a labyrinth of trees and under-
brush, while we stand wondering where they are to
find boats and water. But we have faith, and show
it by our works, as we pick up some of the lighter
parcels, and follow.

" Don't stumble, Frank ! look out there ! Don't
you see you have the package marked ' Glass, with
care'?"

" I know it, sir ! and I'll take good care I don't
drop it : I allers look out sharp for them packages
— contents good for wet soles, ain't they, sir? "

"Yes, and dry uppers."

"Well, sir, here's the boat, she's all right: the
lady had better stay by that smudge till we get her
stowed — the boat, I mean."

We see the boat, and believe in that, also in our
guides ; and our faith, though slightly wavering as
we gaze down the narrow, dirty stream not ten feet
wide, still holds out. Charlie will insist upon my
unloading my revolver, which I had carefully laid
in the stern sheets for the benefit of some erratic
loon ; which done, and the madam called and com-
fortably seated on the softest blanket, we push off
with kind good-bys and good wishes from Uncle
John.

We thread for a moment or two the narrow wind-

ON THE LAKE. 27

ing passage in which our boat lies concealed. At
first a hush, a solemn stillness, then a burst of sur-
prise from each as we glide forth upon the bosom
of the lake. A gentle breeze, and a fair one.
Hoisting our sail we move gracefully onward.
And now our faith is lost in sight, as the wide ex-
panse of water, fringed on all sides with the un-
broken green of undisturbed forests, meets our
gaze.

" Oh ! how beautiful, how beautiful ! " bursts
from the lips of the gentler one as she throws up
her veil (no fear of flies here) . " How could Mr.
Murray write as he did about the scenery of
Maine?"

" Probably because he never had seen it."

" Fortunately for us he hadn't, or we might be
sailing up the lake to-day with a small fleet, instead
of being solitary voyagers as we appear to be.
But what are those tall peaks over there in the dis-
tance?"

" Those are the White Mountains ; those small
buildings you see in the line of the hills down by
the shore are Middle Dam Camp. There's the
source of the Androscoggin : good fishing there,
but not near as pleasant as our destination." All
this from the intelligent guides Charles Cutting
and Frank Merrill.

28 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

The breeze, which had been quite fresh at start-
ing, now died away to almost a calm, so that in
spite of the helmsman's skill the sail flapped idly
against the mast, and scarce a ripple stirred the
waters beneath our stern.

" I thought so," said Cutting as he choked off a
prolonged whistle with which he had been en-
deavoring to "raise the wind." "It's got to be a
white-ash breeze, Frank, and that means you and
me. It never blows in the narrows, and when it
does it's sure to be the wrong way. Put out your
trolling-line, Mr. Stevens, and you may get a trout
or two for supper."

That was a pleasant suggestion, and, as I . after-
wards learned, an uncommon one for a guide to
offer, for it adds somewhat to the weight of an
oar when a hundred feet of line attached to a troll-
ing-spoon is being dragged behind ; but we had an
unusual passenger (for at that time few ladies had
visited our camping- ground) and our boys were
polite accordingly. I put out my line, and the
silver spoon glistens brightly in the sun as it floats
away upon the water. I was just shaking off the
last few yards of line from the reel which was turn-
ing summersaults between my feet in the bottom of
the boat, when a quick, sharp jerk almost pulled it
from our hands, and in less time than I can describe

ON THE LAKE. 29

it — instantly, almost — Charlie B.'s white hat was
jammed down over his eyes, and faint mutterings of
" Oh, oh, don't ! I didn't mean to ; I won't ! "
were heard beneath it. I had been too quick for the
boy, and caught him even with hi:; fingers on the
line. Taken in the act, his punishment was sharp,
quick, and decisive ; and not until the youth had
promised to cut me six pipes of tobacco did I
withdraw the " felt."

On we pulled, leisurely but steadily, with just
speed enough to keep the line on the surface, for
it does not do to hurry in this country. And now
no fingers give that jerk, but the mouth of some
member of the finny tribe has closed over the
spoon. The boys back water, and hand over hand
we pull, " Gently, not too fast, sir : that's better ; "
and in a few moments our first trout lies before us.
" Beautiful ! " well you may say so, for what is more
beautiful than a well-developed pound trout ? and
he weighed just a pound ; one scale more would
have turned the scale.

Six longing, loving eyes gazed tenderly upon him,
a bright flush lit up their anxious faces, and (alas !
frail human nature) three hungry mortals wondered
whether there was enough of him to go round.
Over goes the line again, and the boys, made happy
by our success, hurry up a bit, and pull ten strokes
more to the hour.

30 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Before we were through the narrows, two more,
just about the size of the first, left their watery
abodes for that bourn from which no trout returns.
And now, our supper secured, we reel up, and feast
our eyes on the first trophies of our anticipated
sport ; not taken, however, as the educated sports-
man is wont to entice this brightest jewel in Un-
dine's crown. No, the true sport is to come, when,
as sunset glories tinge the waters with a golden
hue, our dancing flies skip to the gentle music of a
southern breeze, over the rippled surface of that
nameless cove, tempting with their varied colors
this queen of the lake and mountain streams. But
we grow poetical : " Charlie, pass the tar."

One who sits beside me as I write these lines
suggests that I reserve a few adjectives with which
to describe the beauty of the scene that greeted us
as we passed out from the narrows into the upper
lake. But it's of no use : I never could do it full
justice. We that have been there know, yes, can
see it all now as it burst upon our astonished vision
that June afternoon, again as it appeared in the soft
moonlight when one evening we viewed it from
our boat, lazily drifting with the current, ay, and
many times since.

Where are those mountains, shorn of their trees
from base to summit, of which the " pastor " tells

ON -THE LAKE. 31

us? Surely yonder sentinel towering up at the
head of the lake is not one of them, for that the
foot of man has never trod, nor yet those twin sis-
ters on our left. Where is the " debris" the slabs
and sawdust that denote the lumberman's camp ?
Surely not in the clear sparkling streams that pour
their waters into this grand reservoir of nature.
Fie, Mr. Murray ! you didn't know what you were
writing about ; and, faith, I hope you never will.

•We must leave preachers and preaching, for
here we are at the landing. That building at the
foot of the lake, which has such a civilized look
about it, is Joe Whitney's camp ; and a fine one it
is too, and beautifully situated, as you can see. Call
there some time in passing : if Joseph is at home,
you will find the latch-string on the outside, and a
sportsman's welcome ; if not at home, brother Cole
will do the honors, and accept from you any news-
papers that you have brought along.

But come, pick up some light baggage, and let
us find our camp ; for it is getting late, and Joe may
be cross when he sees a woman coming. Joe is
our cook, u. French Canadian, of seventy summers
and nearly as many winters, and who has been
here for about twenty-five years : we will tell you
some of his eccentricities in our next chapter.
But no, Joe is not cross, for there is not a fisher-
man in camp, and he is getting lonesome.

32

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

" Joe, this is Mr. B and my wife."

" How do you do, well ? " '

"Plenty fish, Joe?"

" Plenty feesh and plenty fly, my God. You
troll, get feesh for supper?"

"Yes, Frank will bring them up in a minute."

"Fry him?"

"Yes."

"You bring butter, eggs, yes? "

" All the good things, Joe."

" You got camp all to yourselfs, lucky, yes."

"Well, Joe, I reckon we will get into it, and stow
away our traps," which we did ; and after a glori-
ous trout supper, a social pipe and chat, retired at
an early hour to dream of the morrow's sport.

CHAPTER III.

IN CAMP.

T was four o'clock by my watch when
I awoke in the morning. Thanks to
Joe's comfortable bed and our mos-
quito-canopy, we were undisturbed by
the festive mosquito, and our sleep
was quiet and restful. The madam
said she had " slept like a top." I complimented
her on her fresh appearance, congratulated her that
she had rested so well, and then provoked her by
asking if she could tell me how a top slept. I
could never exactly see why this comparison, and
I am sorry to say I got no information this time. I
suggested that probably a top slept to hittn, and we
didn't, but that did not improve matters.

It was four o'clock by my watch, I said, when
we awoke : there was a little dispute about that
also ; the party of the other part said it was three

33

34 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

minutes past, — a small portion of time to vex one's
self about so early in the morning, you would say.
If you had seen that room after we had discussed
the matter in a calm and reasonable manner for
about five minutes, you might think differently. I
finally gave up, as usual, set my watch three minutes
ahead, and commenced to repair damages. This
little episode served to give us a good appetite for
breakfast, to which we did full justice.

If my readers who have journeyed with us thus
far are disposed to tarry with us yet a little longer,
it is very proper that they should be given some
brief description of our abode. Upper Dam Camp
is situated at the head of a small and rapid stream,
called Rapid River, which separates the two lakes,
Mooselucmaguntic and Mollychunkemunk. I like
to write those two names, there is such a sense of
relief when I get through. If I were a schoolboy
I would write a composition often about the Maine
lakes, their names would fill up so well.

The camp, comprising two buildings, one for
cooking and eating, the other for drinking and
sleeping, is within a stone's-throw of the dam itself,
a splendid structure and well calculated to improve
one in gymnastic exercises. From the piers of
this dam we cast our flies, and entice the wary
trout; and for such sport, if you will forgive the
seeming paradox, it has no peer.

IN CAMP. 35

Half a mile from the camp, near the outlet of
Mooselucmaguntic, is Trout Cove, beautifully situ-
ated, commanding a fine view of the lake and dis-
tant hills ; the joy of the angler's heart, for beneath
the surface of its clear, cold waters, sport, in all
the vigor of a healthful growth, the finest speci-
mens of the salmo fontinalis to be found in any
section of our country. In the spring they var)
in size from a quarter of a pound to four pounds
in weight, the average being about a pound, quite
a number weighing from two to three, while one of
four is of course rarely taken. In the fall they run
as high as eight pounds, while they have been taken
weighing twelve.

Our fishing is done from flat-bottomed boats, usu-
ally one fisherman and guide in each, and the trout
preserved alive in cars moored to the shore of the
cove. Our average catch, thirty per day, morning
and evening fishing, taken altogether with the fly.
To those accustomed to taking brook-trout, this
may seem a small number; but the ease, excite-
ment, and size of the game, more than out-balance
the greater number of small fry which may be
caught in any quantity in the streams which abound
in this locality. The cove, the dam, and the outlet
of the stream, comprise our fishing-grounds, all
within easy distance of the camp and within hear-

3<5 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

ing of Joe's horn which he blows to call us to our
meals ; and, as promptness at the table so far as
guests are concerned is one of Joe's particular
hobbies, this is worthy of note. Speaking of Joe
reminds me that I promised in my last chapter to
introduce him more particularly to your notice.
Joseph is in all respects the major-domo of the
camp : he cooks, washes, irons, makes the beds,
builds the fire, makes the smudge, milks the cow,
feeds the hens, in fact, does every thing but " clean
feesh," make out your bill, and take your money.
In regard to the latter, I have found that a green-
back between your palm and his when shaking
hands with him upon arrival does not lessen the
cordiality with which you are received.

Joe has some peculiarities :' who of us have
not? One of his greatest is doing what you tell
him to do (an A i quality) . If he has a dish in
his hand, and you should say "Joe, drop that," he
would do it, on the table or floor, just where he
happened to be. I never have tried it, nor do I
propose to, for it's a waste of property, and there is
a sequel to it ; but I have seen those who have.
Joe has a way of saying " My God," which seems a
cross between an oath and a supplication, which
would be equally acceptable to a Bowery boy or a
circuit -preacher, I never could believe that he

IN CAMP. 37

meant it wicked, and it conveys a great deal. But
above all, and over all, more than compensating for
his minor failings, Joe is strictly honest : he will
take all you give him, but nothing that you do not :
not even a State constable's bete noir, though he
loves it, and never refuses when asked. I would
not give so much space to Joe, were it not that he
is part and parcel of the lakes themselves : all the
fishermen look upon him as their godfather ; and I
verily believe the trout are so fond of him, that
they cook themselves to a lovelier brown as they
look up from the pan into his anxious furrowed
face. I can see him now as he appeared at the
door of the camp- some two hours after our amiable
discussion in regard to tempus fitgit, and recall his
first salutation, thoughtful and kind as a mother's
care: "Miss Stevens sleep good, rro?rr — "Yes,
Joe, first-rate, splendidly. rr — "No- fly, rrrerskeeter,
no? " — " Not a sign of 'em. See here, Joe,'r and
we take him into our room, and show him the can-
opy suspended over the bed He takes a: survey
of it, and a look of wonder gathers over his face :
the expression we have quoted above welte up to
his lips, but he restrains it. " Well, Joe, what do
you think of that?" — " It is mce.rr— " Yes, so it
is, my dear fellow, a camp-luxury. But how about
breakfast ? " — " You have feesh, Mr. Stevens? " —

38 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

« Yes." — " You have him fry ? " — " Yes." — " Egg
fry, yes?" — "Certainly, Joseph, all the fixings."
— "Coffee, tea, no?" — "Yes, both, and hurry it
up, for we are getting hungry."

While Joe is getting breakfast, we get out our
fishing-tackle, select our flies, joint our rods, and
make the necessary preparations for the day's sport.
I would not be positive in regard to the cast I used
that day, though, as my journal says the day was
cloudy, I should judge I started out with a " fiery
brown " and " scarlet ibis : " the former is a fly tied
for these waters by John McBride, of Mumford,
Munroe County, N.Y. ; and I wish to put on perpet-
ual record, or as near to it as type, ink, and paper
will do it, that he ties the best flies, both for beauty
and strength, of any one in the country — perhaps
Mr. Whitney, the famous guide of Upton, excepted.
If I had had his flies and casting-line when I struck
that six-pounder — Well, never mind, I am going
to tell you all about that anon.

Our breakfast was a hurried one. Joe had done
himself full justice ; he most always does ; but we
were anxious for our first rise, and were soon, clam-
bering down over the piers, seeking the favorite
spots, Mrs. S. seating herself above us to share our
sport. The day and the stage of water were both
in our favor, and our expectations were ranged ac-
cordingly.

IN CAMP. 39

The first cast I made, I struck the top log of a
pier with my tail-fly, and, while I was gazing at
a broken tip, had the supreme satisfaction of seeing
Charlie net a two-pound trout a short distance
from me ; but, as the said Charlie had always in-
sisted that I would break my neck, I viewed this
slight disaster with complacency. Adjusting a new
tip, and taking a better survey of my background,
my next cast was more successful, and before my
flies had hardly touched the water, a trout rose to
each ; I struck and hooked them both : so sudden
and unexpected was this response to my invitation,
that nothing but the sharp click of the reel brought
me to my senses. Round the pool in a circle they
dashed like a pair of circus-horses ; once, twice,
three times, did they follow each other, swift as the
wind, in the same pathway ; then for a moment, as
if pausing to consider the situation, they halted,
sank to the bottom, and sulked. " Are they gone ? "
echoed a voice from above. " Not much," was the
reply, as I wiped a little tar and perspiration from
my brow ; " merely giving us both a breathing-
spell." Before the words were fairly uttered, they
were up and at it again. For full fifteen minutes I
played those two trout : they were beauties, mettle-
some and gamey as one could wish ; but the little
seven-ounce rod was too much for them, and they

40 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

at last "threw up the sponge." My skilful guide
succeeded in netting them both : they weighed
very nearly a pound and a half each, and were
splendid fish.

As I read this to one who, " as a looker-on in
Venice," had shared the sport: "True, to the
life," said she. "And to the death?" I ques-
tioned. " And to the death. I remember that pair
distinctly, and lively ones they were." Three times
that morning did I repeat that catch, and the six
trout did not differ in weight more than a quarter
of a pound. Charlie was equally successful in
point of numbers, but did not have quite so good
luck on his " pairs." We cast about the dam until
nearly eleven, when, as is the usual custom, we
repaired to the camp to enjoy our lunch. This
usually consists of crackers and cheese, an olive or
two, moistened with a little dram of " suthin' " nice,
all of which comprise a part of the stores which the
fisherman should bring with him.

" Well, old Stevens," said Charlie, " this is pretty
good sport. Smashed your tip, didn't you ? "

" Should say so."

"Bad?"

"Not very."

"Show me the pieces." I brought them in ; and
Charlie got out his tool-chest, and went to work

IN CAMP. 41

repairing it. Not being a very bad break, and the
young man a good workman, it was soon put in
working order again. I used to think, considering
my size, that I was pretty careful of myself, as well
as my rigging ; but Charlie has patched up rods so
many times, from butt to tip, and picked me up
from among stones and brush-wood when I had
lain down for a rest, that I haven't quite that con-
fidence in myself that I was wont to have. There
isn't the slightest doubt but what, if that individual
could be prevailed upon to free his mind on the
subject, he would tell you he expected, the next
time we whip the water together, he will have the
grim satisfaction of getting that new split bamboo
into his clutches for repairs. But I have some
slight revenge on the youth for his hilarious scoffing
at what he calls my " clumsiness : " he doesn't eat
olives, turns up his fastidious nose at devilled ham,
can't do much in the way of "schnapps;" says
it affects him as contradiction did Mrs. Sternhold,
it "flies to the head." So I eat and drink his
share of these accompaniments, and he pays for
half; but let him alone on the solids : for a little
fellow, he does dispose of — Never mind, that's
Joe's lookout, and, if he can keep him " cooked
up," I don't care.

"What do you think of Murray ?" said Charlie,

42 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

as he put the finishing touch to the restored tip,
and I lay on the leather lounge, smoking my pipe,
and watching his operations.

" In regard to his being a fisherman, — a true
sportsman, you mean, I suppose? "

" Exactly."

" I think he's a humbug : he professes to know
too much in regard to too many things, to excel in
any one. I don't believe he could have mended
that tip as you have ; and yet, if he had described
the ' how to do it ' with his pen, which admitted he
handles with vigor, you would have thought him
a perfect adept in the art of rod- making. When a
professed fisherman tells us to go to Read's for the
best rods, and recommends a rod with the reel eight
inches from, instead of at, the butt ; tells you that
he who ' directs a ball, or hooks a fish, out of mere
sport, is deserving of fine and imprisonment,' and
then shoots deer out of season, fires thirty or forty
shots at a poor loon for the mere ' sport ' of the thing,
and leaves dozens of trout on a bank to rot, — I
don't propose to take much stock in him. For-
tunately, however, he doesn't care for my opinion,
and, I reckon, precious little for any one's else.
What's your sentiments?" — "Ditto." — "Ditto,"
from the other one, who looks up from her book,
evidently quite surprised at the forcible and decided

IN CAMP. 43

expression of opinion, but re-echoing the sentiment
expressed. And if we judge him from his book,
by which I suppose he is willing to be judged (waiv-
ing some of his yarns which he does not expect us
to believe), ours is a righteous judgment.

Having disposed of this subject to our satisfac-
tion, we spend the time between lunch and dinner
in a lounging, lazy sort of manner, discussing the
merits of different rod-makers, variety of flies, and
such like fisherman's talk, occasionally practising al
a mark with our pistols and rifles ; after dinner, a
smoke and a snooze.

At about four o'clock we take a trip to the cove
for our afternoon sport, which, if exciting, we con-
tinue until sunset. My experience has been, that
more trout are taken between nine and eleven
o'clock in the forenoon, and four and six in the
afternoon, than at any other time, though they
often rise quite lively for half an hour before sun-
set. Early-morning fishing, with me, has not been
a success. I have tried it more times than I pro-
pose to again. Charlie was always opposed to it
on principle. " Let 'em rise," he would say : " I
won't ; " and he don't, till breakfast is ready.

If the sport at the cove is tame, we return at
the call of Joe's horn, and take a six-o'clock sup-
per, and cast awhile at the dam till darkness begins

44 FL Y-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

to fall ; then we gather about the smudge at the
door of our carap, and watch the blue cloud of
smoke as it floats gracefully upwards. Now is the
time for reflection ; and as we think of ourselves
some twenty miles or more away from any human
habitation, excepting a few like our own, in the
depths of a vast wilderness with the never-qeasing
sound of rushing water falling upon our ears, we
can hardly realize the bustle and commotion, with
all its attendant incidents of joy and sorrow, that is
hourly transpiring in that busy centre which we
have left. Aside from the excitement of our fish-
ing we have little to disturb that perfectly contented
frame of mind and body which we enjoy. A new
arrival or a stray guide with a bundle of correspond-
ence from Andover makes a slight ripple upon the
tranquillity of our daily life. We spend no anxious
thought in regard to change of apparel, no precious
moments are wasted in unnecessary ablutions : we
have no time to devote to scandal with our nearest
neighbors, no bickering with servants.

We are all kings and queens together. 'The
guides eat at the same table, drink from the same
goblet or tin cup, as circumstances demand ; and, if
on a tramp, the same blanket at night covers their
weary limbs and ours.

I have met fishermen here from my own city,

IN CAMP.

45

and in a week's stay felt as if they had been
acquaintances of a lifetime, parted from them to
meet only again, perhaps one or maybe two years
afterwards, in the far-off wilderness. Yes, we re-
turn again to active life, we mingle with the crowd,
are jostled from the sidewalk, or from the world
for that matter, and the gap is filled : it's only
" somebody's darling that's dead and gone."
There's this difference between the city and the
country : the latter remembers you longer. It may
be for good, and it may be for ill.

But we are getting sentimental. " Frank, smudge
out the camp."

CHAPTER IV.

AN UNFORTUNATE DAY.

UT still a happy one, as they all
were, and as such days ever will be
to those who enjoy the sportsman's
life : would there were more that do !
And there will be ; for I believe, as
a people we are growing more and
more to appreciate this' recreation, its benefit to the
health, its widening of our sphere of vision. Grad-
ually will our business-men be attracted more to
the haunts of nature, and away from the dissipations
of the conventional watering-places. Also the field
of the angler and the hunter will be enlarged, the
protection and propagation of fish and game in
streams and forests will do much to encourage
these manly sports, fishing will be found nearer
home, and, the taste once cultivated, more distant
waters and less frequented localities will be sought
46

AN UNFORTUNATE DAY. 47

after. Fish not before known in the sportsman's
vocabulary as game-fish are being brought into
notice. The shad which throng our northern
rivers, it has been found, will take the fly. A speci-
men of the English grayling, one of the gamiest of
the finny tribe, has been recently discovered in the
Michigan waters, and will form a great acquisition
to the angler's store ; and thus the supply will con-
stantly increase with the increasing love for the
sport.

To return, however, to our little family in the
woods. For the first few days our sport had been
excellent, and we had quite a goodly family of
trout in our several cars to feast the eyes and the
palates of our friends at home. But the past day
or two had been hot and cloudless, and no allure-
ments, in the way of diversified casts, would tempt
the sportive beauties from their cool retreats ; so
we idled away the time, enjoying nature and each
other's company. As I was leaning over the rail
of the bridge that crosses the dam, enjoying the
play of the waters as they dashed and foamed at
my feet, I saw a black object drop from where I
was standing into the rushing stream below. It
did not take me but a moment to recognize my fly-
book, which, opening as it fell, scattered a well-
selected assortment of McBride's best flies upon

48 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

the rushing tide. I have discarded the old meth-
od of carrying flies in a book in which you are
obliged to wind the snell and place it in a space
in the leaf prepared for the purpose. I always
keep the snell perfectly straight, for obvious rea-
sons ; and my flies were thus lying loosely in my
new style of book, which resembles an old-fash-
ioned long leather wallet. I am particular in this
description, proposing to draw slightly upon your
imagination in what follows. I knew very well
what Charlie would say when I told him of my
misfortune : " It's a great wonder that you did not
tumble over with them," or some such encouraging
remark, so that I was in no particular hurry to make
known my loss, but stood gazing at the white-
crested waves over which they were being borne
to the somewhat more quiet waters farther on. As
I lingered I imagined a dozen or two fine, hand-
some trout lying in the unfished stream, tempted
by the unwonted attraction, rising for their prey
and hooking themselves ; and how they would look
to each other as they went around, comparing notes
with six inches of snell hanging from their mouths :
they might tickle each other's noses perhaps. I
had really begun to pity the poor fellows, when the
thought of it brought an anecdote to my mind
which I had come across somewhere, and I laughed

AN UNFORTUNATE DAY. 49

outright. Let me tell it, and, if my readers fail to
see the connecting-link, study Darwin, for my little
incident relates to a " tale." A superintendent of
a certain Sunday school, in the vicinity of the
" Hub," was speaking to the scholars, at the close
of the exercises, of the lesson for the day, which
was the story of the Israelites' making brick with
straw. As he came to the oppression of Pharaoh,
in demanding the same tale of bricks when no
straw was supplied as before, he asked the question
of the scholars, "What is meant by the tale of
bricks? " At once a bright little fellow held up his
hand, and answered, "A piece of straw sticking
out of the end of a brick."

Returning to camp, I told the story of my loss ;
as was expected, only smiles and ridicule for my
carelessness from those to whom I naturally should
have looked for sympathy. Our guides only,
showed sorrow for my misfortune, and would have
swam the stream in undress-uniform had there
been a forlorn hope of a recovery. Later, however,
Charlie came round, and compromised the matter
by offering me the use of his fly-book. Not hav-
ing had any luck himself during the day, he de-
clined going to Trout Cove in the afternoon ; but
as towards sundown a little breeze sprang up, I de-
termined to try it again, as the time for our leaving
camp was fast approaching.

50 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

"What do you think of the prospect?" I asked
my guide, as we trudged along over the familiar
path.

"It's my notion that they'll rise to-night: the
wind's got round to the south'ard, and there'll be

just a good ripple. I'm thinking Mr. B will

wish't he'd come along."

" Don't you think you had better whistle to keep
my courage up ? Still the trout are there, and they
must be getting hungry."

"'Well, it won't take us long to find out, Mr.
Stevens : " this last remark was made as he pushed
the boat off from her moorings, and sprang into
her.

Our fishing-grounds were but a few minutes' pull
from the shore, and we were soon at anchor and
ready to receive visitors.

I had changed my casts several times during the
day, and now had a casting-line with a couple of
nondescript flies, which I had found in my old
book as it was left from the year before.

"There's a swirl," said Cutting, as he points over
my left shoulder : " and there's another, and no
fool of a fish."

" Hadn't we better get to work? "

Things looked a little encouraging, to say the
least. " Ah, there's another ! " — " Yes, and we'll

AN UN FOR TUNA TE DAY. 51

send him an invitation." I cast quite near to
where he rose, and he responded immediately : I
struck and hooked him, and in a few minutes he
was safely netted. The next cast, and two rose,
one of which was lost, the other weighed quite two
pounds.

We had not been on the grounds more than ten
minutes before the cove all around us was literally
alive with trout, and in twenty minutes I had half
as many trout, alive, in the well-room of the boat.

" Well, this keeps us pretty busy : what a pity Mr.
B didn't come along ! "

" That's so, but we haven't got time to go for
him : the sun's not more than half an hour high."
This slight conversation occurred while I was put-
ting on a couple of fresh flies, for by this time the
old ones had got to looking a little frayed. Not
more than twenty-five feet of line had I got out
before a parting of the waters, a rush, and a most
noble fish broke the water, taking my tail-fly as he
went down. He hooked himself firmly, down
went the butt, and down went Sir Trout to the bot-
tom, taking but a few yards of line from my reel.

"What do you think of that?" said I, turning to
my guide, who sat complacently smoking his pipe.

" I think you have got all you want to attend to
for the next half-hour: that fish will weigh six
pounds if he weighs an ounce."

52 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

I knew he was an old hero, but I hardly thought
him so large as that. After calmly surveying the
situation I tapped the butt of my rod with my ringer,
and he quickly responded with a whirl of the reel ;
at least seventy feet of line did he take before com-
ing to a halt ; then he turned, and came towards us,
I gathering in the slack as fast as possible ; fortu-
nately he was so well hooked that I felt safe : now
he took several swift turns around the boat within
twenty feet of us, then off again with at least
eighty before I dared check him. This amusement
on his part was kept up, as my guide suggested it
might be, for just about half an hour ; when as the
sun had sunk behind the hills, and darkness was
coming on, I began to feel slightly nervous, and a
strong desire to see my fish safely landed ; and to
this intent I cautioned my guide to be ready with
the net, as he seemed now disposed to come to
terms, and indeed allowed me to reel him in in a
very quiet and sensible manner. " Now, then, stand
ready with your net," and the sure-handed, quick-
sighted one who scarce ever lost me a fish stood
ready for his work — when, with a plunge and a
rush, my anticipated trophy broke the water, turned
over on its surface, snapped the casting-line, and
disappeared beneath the calm waters of Trout Cove.
I sat down upon the thwart of the boat, and my

AN UNFORTUNATE DAY. 53

guide did the same, facing each other. For nearly
five minutes — no? well, say three — not a word
was spoken. The first to break the silence was
Cutting, and in these words : " Mr. Stevens, I'd
given three days' pay rather than had you lose
that trout : he was over six pounds " —

" Charles, I would have doubled your pay rather
than to have lost him. So much for using a last-
year's leader."

Don't do it, my young friends, or old friends.
You may never have the occasion to regret doing
so, as I did that evening, and you may save a six-
pounder by not doing so. It might, you say, have
been something else if not that : true, but I doubt
it, for my fish was well hooked, and my guide cool
and collected, and nothing but a weak casting-line
cost me that fish. I purchase my flies and leaders
nowadays almost exclusively, the latter always, of
McBride, before mentioned. I like to write the
old gentleman's name (he is gone now, and his
daughter succeeds him in the business) : I never
saw him, but I know he was an honest man, and I
believe he loved the work he was engaged in ; at all
events, he did it well, and when once he had pro-
vided you with an outfit of these articles, to use a
vulgar expression, you will never " go back " on
him any more than they in some trying situation

54 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

will go back on you. (A little digression induced
by the remembrance of after-reflection and blasted
hones.)

" Well, Cutting, that's the end of to-night's sport.
Up anchor, and let's go home."

Not much conversation on the road that night.
Oh, laugh if you will, stoic ! call it silly to mourn
over the loss of a single fish, were he the very levi-
athan of the deep. But discard for a few years
your city pleasures, and go a-fishing, pit your lightest
tackle and your best intelligence against this wary,
gamy fish; and when, after becoming a lover of
this healthful sport, you lose the largest trout you
ever saw, you may perhaps indulge in the feelings
we shared on our homeward tramp.

The smell of Joe's cooking, the welcome of the
waiting ones, and the rehearsal of the exciting
strife, soon restored the accustomed frame of mind,
a happy one ; and by the time that supper was ready
the disappointment of the day was nearly forgotten
in the anticipations of the morrow, — the morrow
which was to be our last day in camp, and on the
result of which high hopes were builded.

" Don't you wish you had gone along, Charlie? "
"Yes, stupid : why didn't you drag me? "
" Oh, yes ! keep on stuffing at this rate, and you
will want * Old Brownie ' and the buggy to take
you over to the cove."

AN UNFORTUNATE DAY.

55

" Do you think he would weigh six pounds,
Stevens?"

" Do I ? If you don't believe me, ask Cutting."
And he did, and Cutting said, "Yes, more."

~~^r3=r~, -^

CHAPTER V.

GOOD-BY, JOE.

UR last day in camp, and we had
returned the preceding night with
ardent hopes of a good day's sport,
so much so, that for a wonder four
o'clock in the morning found the
three Charlies and the one "Frank"
young man on their way to Trout Cove, — one of
the Charlies already lamenting his share of the
morning walk, and with all his love of the sport,
which is great, wishing himself back again between
his blankets.

" I tell you it's no use, Stevens : trout ain't such
fools as to get up before breakfast."

" Oh ! then you think they take their early food
as Hood says Thomson wrote about early rising,
— lying in their beds."

" Well, what's the use encouraging them in such
56

GOOD-BY, JOE. 57

bad habits? You know the old story about the
worm : if he hadn't been out, he wouldn't have
been caught."

" True enough, nor the bird have had his break-
fast."

" Did it ever occur to you, Charlie, that Nature
in the abundant disposal of her gifts, and in her
ample provisions for the lower orders, had so organ-
ized and perfected her plans as to — as to — to " —

" No, I never did ; that is, hardly. Ask me an
easier one ; reserve, my boy, such an abundant flow
of natural eloquence till after breakfast, do : a
vacancy exists here, which even that half a cracker
failed to fill, and I fear to dwell long upon so ab-
struse a subject. Pass the tar, please : the flies are
up early, at all events."

"The flies, Charlie, — these, now, are another
illustration, and show the wisdom of" —

" Bringing along the tar? "

And thus did the disturbed elements in the
young man's frame show themselves as we trudged
along over the well-trod road to the cove.

"There, that's the last time I ever cast a fly
before breakfast," was the next remark I heard from
those amiable lips, as about an hour afterwards,
after superhuman efforts to get a rise, he reeled up
his line, and thus gave vent to his feelings in a

58 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

somewhat tragic manner : " I knew just how it
would be, and why didn't I know enough to lie
abed?'*

"Pity we hadn't; but we have gained some
experience," said I, as I reeled up for a start.

And so after all the success of the evening
before, on the same spot, an hour's faithful fishing
had failed to reward us with a single rise. Truly
the ways of the trout are past finding out, but the
fact is potent to every sportsman that sometimes
you can and sometimes you can't. But we had a
good appetite for Joe's " fried feesh " and griddle-
cakes ; and, always determining to make the best of
every thing, we exploded a little in vain ejacula-
tions, and then went to breakfast.

Now, to prove the truth of the foregoing classic
and sage remark, that " sometimes you can," etc.
After satisfying the demands of hunger, and chatting
for awhile over our pipes, we again set out for Trout
Cove ; and this time we did not return until about
forty beautiful fish, after having given us all the
sport that heart could wish, had joined a large
number of their captured companions, and were
listening in the confines of our cars to their tale of
captivity.

It was on the last day of our camp-life that poor
Joe was destined to receive a surprise that almost

GOOD-BY, JOE. 59

overcame his natural serenity, and threw him into
the depths of profound amazement. In looking
over our remaining stores, which we had taken to
camp, Mrs. S. found a couple of cans of corn,
which somehow had been overlooked, and sent
them in to Joe, by one of the guides, with the re-
quest to have them for dinner. Now, Joe, although
a good cook, and, as we already know, possessed
of other valuable characteristics, had in youth re-
ceived no book-education, and could neither read
nor write ; and though he knew the contents of a
can of tomatoes, by the picture of the fruit on the
outside, he was in profound ignorance of the con-
tents of these. So in he came to madam to ask
for an explanation : but somehow the poor fellow's
brain was muddled, and we couldn't make him
understand the contents; so we appealed to one
of his remaining senses, his eyesight, and opened
the cans for him. The consternation depicted on
his countenance must have been seen to be appre-
ciated; he drew himself up to his full height,
and this exclamation burst from his lips : " Mrs.
Steven, my God, it is corn ! " Corn on the
ear, and corn in a can, were, to his uneducated
mind, as widely separated as a corn on the foot
from acorn on the oak.

I have just learned that Joe has left the camp.

60 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

gone forever, unless he goes back as a visitor to the
secluded spot where he has spent so many years
of his life. And though many, perhaps, who peruse
these pages, may only have known him in these
simple sketches, those who have will look back
upon his stewardship with a partial feeling of re-
gret that in future his gray hairs will be missed,
and his peculiar speech heard no more. Good-by,
Joe ! may your declining years be made happy ; if
not in the companionship of loved ones, at least in
the thought that you have made others happy, and
done the best, in your simple way, to improve the
few talents committed to your care.

It was a hot day, this last in camp, for even in
the far-off mountain regions does the sun proclaim
his mastery ; and so after dinner we had no dispo-
sition to interview his sunship's burning glances,
but preferred the shadow of the camp, with its cool-
ing draughts, to the shining surface of the cove or
stream. Mrs. S. was lazily perusing the last pages
of "Put Yourself in his Place,1' too immensely
satisfied, however, with her easy rocking-chair, to
think of doing so. Charlie was lying at full length,
upon the lounge, his hands clasped above his head,
his eyes gazing from his tarry countenance into the
starry realms above. I was making myself as com-
fortable as three chairs, a sofa-pillow, and a bowl

GOOD-BY, JOE. 6l

of natural leaf, with a cherry-stem attachment,
could make me : when suddenly my reveries were
slightly disturbed, and the book fell from the mad-
am's hands, as Charlie repeated the question, wh;ch
he at first pronounced as if thinking aloud, —

"Do you expect to die a natural death?"

Now, of all subjects in the range of my thoughts,
this was about the farthest removed ; and, though
in some situations this was a question which might
very naturally have been asked, it fell like a thun-
derbolt in our midst ; and I, recovering my wan-
dering senses, Yankee-like, answered his question
by asking another : " Why ? "

" I was only thinking : travelling as much as you
do, and tumbling about as you are in the habit of
doing, that it would be a wonder if you should not
some day break your neck, run off the track, or
drown yourself."

"Thank you for such interesting reflections in
regard to my earthly exit. As for the latter, I don't
believe that fate is ordained for me, as three times
I have been overboard, and once'remained so long
in the water that those most interested in my fu-
ture existence had about given me up. The old
adage, ' A man that's born to be,' £c., you know ;
and, as for a sudden death not being a natural
death, in a great many cases of course it is, and

62 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

much more to be desired, according to my way of
thinking, than a lingering, hopeless decay."

" Well, I agree with you fully as to that ; but seri-
ously, in all your travels have you not been in some
trying situation, where you felt for a longer or
shorter time your life was actually in danger?"

" Oh, yes ! several times."

" What was the most fearful, the one where you
suffered the most in the shortest time? "

"As to that, I don't think I feared or suffered
much in either case, — certainly no physical suffer-
ing, and scarcely any mental; but I have often
looked back to one rash incident of my life as
being, as well as perhaps very foolish, very danger-
ous, and in which for a few minutes I felt my life
hung in the balances."

"What was that?"

"You have been to Quebec?"

"Yes."

"And the Falls of Montmorency? "

"I have. I believe they are a hundred feet
higher than Niagara."

"Nearly."

"You didn't imitate the illustrious Sam Patch,
and jump them, did you? "

"Not exactly, but 1 slid down them in winter."

"That's a cool statement : explain yourself."

GOOD-BY, JOE. 63

" You have heard of the famous ice-cone that is
formed at the foot of the fall in winter, by the
spray freezing upon the rocks, until it reaches nearly
the base of the cataract, and forms almost a sugar-
loaf in appearance, and about two hundred feet in
height?"

" Yes, I saw a picture of it at the Russell House,
last summer."

" Well, I slid down that cone once on an Indian
'tarbogan,' a sort of double-ended sled; and I
think, for rapid locomotion and dangerous situa-
tions, that you could give points to the most daring
aeronaut that ever sought the eastern current
through the boundless immensity of space."

" How did you get to the top ? "

" By steps cut in the solid ice, and I think now
that I should go up a good many times rather than
slide down once. There were several in our party ;
and we were bantering each other in regard to tak-
ing the slide, when, being younger and rather more
reckless than the rest of the party, I determined to
make the descent.

" Seating myself behind the Indian, and grasping
him about the middle, my legs clasping his firmly,
we started. Yes, I am quite sure we started, and
I am just as sure that a moment afterward I wished
we hadn't. I said we slid, better, that we flew, for

64 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

we dashed down at the rate of seventy miles an
hour ; breathing was out of the question, and think-
ing almost. But once started, nothing was to be
done, but, Davy Crockett like, ' go ahead ; ' and go
ahead we did till, in a much less time than I have
been describing it, we were far out upon the ic*y
surface of the St. Lawrence."

" And you didn't try it again, I imagine."

" Not much. It was dangerous sport. As one
of the party said, ' I wouldn't mind sliding down
the roof of a house, but from the eaves to the
ground — excuse me.' "

"So you think that was the most dangerous
incident of your life? "

" So far as I am able to be the judge, I most cer-
tainly do ; for the slightest break or mismanagement
on the part of the. guide would have certainly cost
a limb, most likely a life."

"Well, from my recollection of the picture, I
should class such an undertaking ' extra hazard-
ous.' "

" Positively, I never have looked at that picture
since, without a shudder, and a wonder that I
should have done what so few attempt."

"Really, old fellow, I didn't think my abrupt
remark would have drawn out so long a story."

" No : I suppose, if you had, you scarce would
have made it ? "

GOOD-BY, JOE. 65

"Perhaps."

" Charlie, did you ever see a spook ? "

"A what?"

"A spook, ghost."

" Oh, certainly ! a ghost — of a chance."

" No ; but sincerely, did you ever see a bona-fide
ghost?"

" Not much."

" I have : shall I tell you about it ?

" No, excuse me : I fear I should only detect
symptoms of a disordered stomach."

" You may laugh : a poor argument that, against
ten senses."

11 Ten ? I thought we had but five."

" True enough, but she saw it too. Fact, Char-
lie."

" Well, I don't quite see the ten yet. You didn't
smell or taste his ghostship, did you?"

" No, we did not : you have me there ; but we
both heard, saw, and felt it; and you could no
more convince either of us that it was not a verit-
able spirit than that we are not now at Upper
Dam Camp."

" Well, let's have it."

" No, not to-day : perhaps some time we'll tell
you all about it, when that time comes, as it some
time will, when more will believe that there are

66 PL Y-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

such sights to be seen ; when all will be more ready
to admit that there are more things in heaven and
earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy."

" Shakspeare, hem ! as Dr. Pangloss would say."

" Yes, the immortal bard, as I think I once heard
him called. By the way, Charlie, what character of
his resembles a cart-rut? "

" Give it up."

" Pericles."

"Why?"

" Because he's the Prince of Tyre."

"Oh ! take something, won't you?"

" No, I thank you."

" I have a conundrum, boys," said Mrs. S., who
had been, up to this time, a very patient listener,
having put " Put Yourself in his Place " in a safe
place, and devoted herself to the present company.
"Shall I ask it?"

" Certainly ! " from both of us.

" It's original."

" Oh, then it must be good ! " again from both
of us.

"Why was Jeff Davis, when he was captured,
like Bunker-hill Monument?"

"When did you originate that?"

" Never mind : can you guess? "

"Jeff Davis like Bunker-hill Monument" —

GOOD-BY, JOE. 67

"Yes, when he was captured."

" Because he — no, he wasn't, that's a fact. Why
was Jeff Davis — Oh, let's give it up, Charlie ! "

" I'm willing."

" Well, we give it up."

" That's as far as I have got : I haven't made an
answer yet. So far, I think it's pretty good ; don't
you?"

"Y-e-s, r-a-t-h-e-r. — Charles, isn't it about time
to try the pool?"

"I was just thinking so, myself. Excuse me,
Mrs. Stevens: 'Why was Jeff ?' — < Walker '"-
and we left the madam to her august reflections.

The pool, or rather the trout which were sup-
posed to be in it, were as lazy as we had been, and
refused all endeavors on our part to come to the
surface. After a variety of flies Charlie proposed
a yeast-cake, thought that might make them rise.
I responded by suggesting a volume of " Young's
Night Thoughts," thinking that might possibly turn
their thoughts upwards : but suggesting and acting
were all to no purpose ; like a lazy schoolboy they
were determined not to rise, and they didn't.

It wasn't just pleasant to be obliged to give it up
so on the last day, but there was no alternative ; so it
was reel up, and leave them to the next comers. I
do think, for a moment, that Charlie felt like going

68 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

back to first principles, and worming out a few from
his once (for this pot-hunting performance) favorite
pier. But his truer sporting feelings predominated ;
and we were content to talk about past victories,
and look forward to a season yet to come when we
should return to our favorite haunts, and again
listen to the rushing roar of Royal River, as it
foams, eddies, and sparkles amid its leaf-fringed
banks in its short yet most beautiful and pictur-
esque windings to the majestic lake which receives
it.

And this evening we linger long and lovingly
upon the most favored spots, where we can drink
in the full glories of the sunset hour, for we feel
that when we retrace our steps to camp, packing
tip is next in order ; and though we ought to be,
and no doubt are, thankful for the pleasant homes
to which we may return, yet there is not quite so
much anticipation or enthusiasm in packing up to
return to them, as after they have nurtured and
sheltered us for nearly a year we are willing to leave
them without the faintest suspicion of regret.

Here is a splendid opportunity to moralize, and
wind up my chapter on the beauties of home, the
necessity of recreation, etc. ; but as my moral-
" Liza " is averse to being flattered, and there are
some poor forlorn bachelors among my friends,

GOOD-BY,

69

tvho may read these sketches, and wish they had
when they could as well as not, we will skip all
reflections of this nature, and, bidding you good-
night, call you early in the morning to witness our
preparations for departure.

CHAPTER VI.

DEPARTURE.

HE next morning we arose early;
but our guides had been up hours
before us, and the long row of
beautiful trout, spread upon the
grass preparatory to packing for
friends at home, greeted our admiring eyes as we
saluted the morning air.

Various are the methods of packing trout for
transportation. I clean mine, and pack them in
moss which has been thoroughly dried in the sun,
placing a goodly quantity of ice at the top and bot-
tom of the box, but none in close proximity to the
fish. Except in extremely hot weather, I have
found that trout packed in this manner reach Bos-
ton in very fine order, and have quite a trouty
taste and appearance ; but — and it's a long but
— if one wishes to know the true taste and flavor
70

DEPARTURE. 71

of the trout, they must go to them : the transport
of eating is lessened by transportation, and their
radiant spots must be seen on the spot. This
many of you well know : and those among my
readers who do not, will, I hope, take the first
opportunity of proving it themselves ; they, also,
will be improved thereby.

" I am sorry you go, Miss Stevens : you have egg,
boil, ten minutes ; you have ham, cold, for lunch,
yes," was Joe's salutation, as we sat down to break-
fast.

" Plenty men, my God ! few women," contin-
ued Joe, without waiting for a reply from the mad-
am, who was unconsciously blushing at so flattering
a farewell, but who at "last sufficiently recovered to
thank Joe for his compliment.

A regretful feeling, on the part of us all, that this
is our parting meal, renders us less enthusiastic over
the freshly-killed trout, which Joe has cooked with
unusual care, and we eat like those who go, rather
than those who come ; but we shall soon regain
our appetites, for a pleasant journey is before us.

Our traps, already packed, are hoisted upon the
backs of our ever-willing guides ; and we are gath-
ering our lighter articles to follow with them to the
landing. It is a glorious morning, and the wind is
fair : as we shall have plenty of time, we stop on oui

72 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES,

way at Whitney's Camp, where we pass the compli-
ments of the day with brother Cole, whom we find
sole occupant of this delightful retreat.

Here we are again, just entering the narrows ;
and, true to Charlie Cutting's prophecy, we have a
head-wind at first, and shortly none at all : the
sail flaps idly against the mast, and the boys fill
their pipes preparatory to a practical lesson on the
enlargement of muscle.

While they row along leisurely, as usual, we
amuse ourselves by waking the echoes of the dis-
tant hills, or chaffing each other on various events
that have transpired during our pleasant sojourn
among the hills. Soon the narrows are passed ;
and a famous spurt, which would do credit to a
college crew, and reminding us of Tom Moore's
pretty little song, —

" Row, brothers, row ! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past," —

brings us, in quite a lively manner, upon the wa-
ters of the lower lake. Now a fine breeze springs
up, and once more we hoist our sail to its speed-
ing influence. A short hour and a half brings us
to the arm of the lake, where ten days ago we
bade good-by to Uncle John Merrill, and where we
are to-day to meet him and his comfortable buck-
board.

DEPARTURE. 73

We have just time to build a fire, for Charlie and
the madam would die if they couldn't have their
cup of tea, when we hear a crackling of the bushes,
and a trampling of feet ; and the old black mare,
her tail revolving like a windmill, in vain attempts
to switch off the flies, followed by Uncle John's
smiling face and white beard, emerges from a wil-
derness of leaves.

"Well, boys, what luck?" was John's first salu-
tation, as with the back of his hand he brushed
the perspiration, and a few black flies, from his
forehead.

" Splendid."

"Capital."

"Lovely," — was the quick response from the
united voices (I leave it to the reader to distin-
guish them), as we point with pride to the boxes,
under which the guides are struggling, and which
soon are securely lashed to the buckboard, and
are completely sheltered from the sun by John's
forethought in covering them, as the robins did the
little babes in the woods, " all over with leaves."

"Any thing new down in the world, John, — the
wicked world? "

" No, nothing to speak of: hay's promisin'."

Our thoughts just then were farther on than the
hay-fields, — to the region of bricks and granite,

74 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

where are heard a Babel of voices and the din of
the city ; but a fresh application of tar (for at the
Arm the mosquitoes and flies hold high carnival)
soon turned the tenor of our thoughts to time pres-
ent. After a hearty lunch, our own enriched by a
few slices of cold spring lamb and a nice little
leaf-lined box of wild strawberries which Mrs.
Merrill's thoughtfulness had provided, from John's
end of the route, we were ready for a start. The
horses, having also finished their dinner, were quite
ready and willing to leave this " winged begirt spot,"
although knowing that a long and hard journey
was before them.

Such a heap of talk, and such wonderful yarns,
did we pour into John's ears for the first hour of our
homeward ride ! I don't wonder, remembering
our volubility, that the poor man said, if I'd drive,
he guessed he'd walk, as 'twas rather hard on the
horses. Hard for him, too, perhaps : but John
was always patient, and a willing listener to stories
oft repeated ; and never would he, by look or ac
tion, seek to throw discredit on the largest, most
extravagant tale. Only once, he couldn't swallow
the bear-story which Badger and Richardson, from
the Middle Dam, had been bruin for our edifica-
tion, and with which they filled our listening ears
on our arrival at Andover.

DEPARTURE. 75

"I don't believe it," said John: "bears don't
act that way — leastwise, when they have cubs;"
and that ended the discussion, so far as John was
concerned ; and we, — why, we thought as John did.
And it soon turned out that there was no bear and
no cubs, and they didn't come out of the woods to
frighten sportsmen from Boston, who hadn't said,
" Go up, baldhead ! "

John was walking briskly along some distance in
advance of the buckboard, a heavy stick in one
hand, and a twig of green in the other with which
he was brushing away at the moving insects, when
suddenly he turned and motioned us to stop : com-
ing towards us, he pointed to a spot ahead, where
his keen eye had discovered a partridge with her
brood lurking in the bushes by the roadside.

Jumping from the buckboard, I hurried to the
spot, thinking to catch a sight, a novel one to me,
of the young brood. When I was apparently right
among them, the old bird started down the road,
limping and dragging one wing upon the ground,
appearing to be very much crippled, either by the
hand of man or by some of the denizens of the
wilderness.

John saw the bird running away, and shouted to
me to catch it ; which I nearly succeeded in doing,
several times getting my hand almost upon it, when

76 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

a greater exertion of the wounded fowl would take
her just beyond my reach. Suddenly, to my great
surprise, but evidently not to John's, whose loud
guffaws reached my ears, the poor lame creature
spread its wings, and, " swift as an arrow from an
archer's bow," sped away from me, and was soon
lost to sight in the abundant foliage.

I don't know just how I felt when I reached the
buckboard on the home stretch. I am unable to
describe just how a man does feel when he appre-
ciates that he has been sold : comment, however, is
unnecessary — probably " you know how it is, your-
self."

And why should his best friend, and the wife of
his bosom, join with a gray-haired sire in endeav-
oring to outdo each other in hilarity, when only
laziness kept the two former from falling into the
same trap ? Such, I am sorry to say, was the fact ;
and when I now refer to it, as an incident of the
past, to one sitting beside me, poring over " The
Newcomes," all the satisfaction I get is —

"You were pretty well sold, weren't you? " As
if she, "poor thing," didn't fondly expect partridge
that night for supper !

I do not propose to argue upon the reasoning
faculties of the species in general, or my individual
partridge, and have only stated a fact, which, to

DEPARTURE. 77

three of our party at that time was entirely new
and strange, but which Uncle John assured us he had
often seen before, — the parent bird thus endeavor-
ing by cunning artifice to draw attention from its
brood, by encouraging a hope of easy capture of
itself; for it takes but a few moments for the young
to conceal themselves so effectually, that you may
pass them on every side, and not discover their
hiding-places.

After passing the Notch, finding we are in good
time, we improvise a couple of rods by cutting
birch-saplings, and coax out from a few pools in
Black River, whose course our road follows, some
thirty or forty trout in a much less number of min-
utes.

These trout average about three ounces, and are
most delicate eating. The stream is full of them :
I think a lively fisherman could capture three hun-
dred in a day, and not have to travel far either.
Having taken all we needed for our supper, we are
off again for Andover, which we reach in quite a
fresh condition at about five o'clock.

And now commences the putting-off of tar and
fisherman's clothing, and putting on cleanliness
and city habiliments ; for we are once more in civ-
ilized society, and must conduct ourselves after the
manner of men. At nine o'clock the stage arrives,

78 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

and brings a few sportsmen, whose ears we regale
with marvellous fish-stories, sending them to bed
with bright anticipations of the sport in store for
them.

B and I were smoking our last pipe on the

piazza, watching the moon as it sank behind the
far-off hills, both of us in a dreamy, half-uncon-
scious state, when suddenly he turned to me, and
in a serious tone of voice propounded the follow-
ing momentous question : —

" Stevens, which had you rather — or go a-fish-
ing?"

This remark was not new : I had heard the same
question put in the same manner, for the first time,
several years after, and double that number before.
Neither was the time or place appropriate for such
a question. I was displeased that he should put it
in that manner : it hurt my feelings ; and, more than
that, it made me mad. I cast upon him a withering
look; and with all the theatrical scorn I could
crowd into the short sentence I replied, —

" B , you're a fool. Go to bed." And he

did, and so did I.

CHAPTER VII.

ON THE ROAD.

HALL I mention his name ?

It is S . He is an undertaker.

He sits at his window on Tremont
Street ; and, as I pass up and down
in the horse-cars, I often have a
bow from him, also a sweet smile, being an ac-
quaintance.

I know what he is saying to himself : —
" One of these days, old fellow ! I'm waiting,
waiting patiently ; but you must come to my little
net one of these days."

I don't think an undertaker is a cheerful acquaint-
ance anyway ; and I wouldn't care to add many
to my list of friends, though without doubt they
are an excellent class of people, but they look at
you as if you were somehow their property, only to
be waited for.

79

8o FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

It makes me just a little provoked sometimes,
when Mr. S. smiles so blandly at me \ and as vaca-
tion time comes around, and I begin to lag a little,
and the work of the year shows itself in the face
and frame, somehow my friend's smiles grow more
bland. Far be it from me to suspect that there is
a trifle of business in that look : not for the world !

But as I disrobe myself to-night, and feel the
renewed strength and the elasticity of youth, and
the mirror reflects the bronzed countenance, the
arms browned and strengthened (having just re-
turned from a glorious camping vacation, not only
the arms but the accompaniments), I feel that I
have got a little start on my friend, and I chuckle
inwardly to think that the next time his smile will
be less "childlike and bland," and that he will be
obliged to lengthen my lease a little.

I felt that way, so far as renewed strength is con-
cerned, as I jumped out of bed the morning after
our arrival at Andover.

We had been watching a little cricket, running in
and out among those fresh green spruce and pine
boughs with which Mrs. Merrill, like many other
farmers' wives, had adorned her fireplace.

He had been chirping merrily for quite a while,
and of course we were reminded of the genial
author who has almost immortalized him.

ON THE ROAD. 8l

It was rather rude and unpoetical on my part,
after the madam had been so enthusiastic over him,
to ask her why a cricket was any more lovable
than a water-bug. Her reply was as feminine as it
was satisfactory : "I guess it's because they don't
get into things you don't want them to, little harm-
less creatures ! " Then I was mean enough to say,
" Don't you think, if we had as many crickets in
our kitchen as water-bugs, they would be equally as
troublesome?"

"Well, but we don't."

"That's true," said I; "but"— And I was
about to proceed with a forcible argument to show
that like precious stones, rare coins, and the like,
the " little harmless creature " was beloved because
he was scarce, and not often found in the pantry ;
but I happened to remember the argument we had
in camp, in regard to the difference of our watches,
and refrained. I never dc like to argue with a
woman on general principles, with my wife for par-
ticular reasons : I prefer the barber. It is much
more comfortable to have it cut off than pulled out,
and the difference in the expense is trifling. One
other reason also for not prolonging the argument :
I believe in crickets, I don't in water-bugs ; and
arguing for the sake of argument, before breakfast,
is absurd.

82 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Such a charming morning, such an appetite for
breakfast, and such a breakfast ! tiny trout, mere
fingerlings, fried so crisp they were simply deli-
cious ; thin slices of dry toast with the sweetest of
butter; griddle-cakes upon which we poured the
purest of maple sirup ; coffee without the slightest
suspicion of chiccory, mantled with the richest
cream, — no wonder that we felt regretful at leav-
ing such an hostelry.

Next to a meal under one's own roof, where
your own and your loved one's tastes are known
and catered to, give me one like this, though served
in simple manner : let the cloth be white and clean,
the napkins large and ditto, the forks four-tined,
— I ask no more. For me no costly service, no
elaborate bill of fare at hotel of 'high-sounding
name, has half the charm. I have tried both ; the
latter too much for comfort, the former — well, I
hope next year may find us there again.

Good-by, John ! may the winter's frosts deal
gently with thee and thine, and returning spring
bring with it renewed strength and vigor, and bring
us too, John, all of us, to this much-loved spot.

"Deacon, those three top seats, remember."

" Oh, they'll be all right ! no danger of any-
body's wantin' 'em at this end but your folks :
country people like the inside best."

ON THE ROAD. 83

Which is a fact I have often noticed, but whether
it can be explained by the same process of reason-
ing that will enable us to tell why Boston people
never visit Bunker-hill Monument, I am unable to
say. I only know, and knew it long before the
Deacon mentioned it that morning, and many of
my readers will bear me out in the fact, having un-
doubtedly witnessed the same thing very many
times themselves, and which was, as Mr. Squeers
would say, in this instance " a very pleasant thing
for all parties."

And so, after seeing the traps well and snugly
stowed, we mount to our lofty positions, and find
ourselves nearly on a level with the top of Uncle
John's piazza.

The last duty, that of receiving the mail-bag
from the hands of Mr. Purington, having been per-
formed, the great morning event of the day takes
place ; and amid the good-bys of our friends, the
barking of a few village curs, and the rumbling of
wheels, we are fast leaving the scenes of so many
delightful pleasures.

" Take your last look at Old Bald Pate, friends,
for there will be less hair upon your own, perhaps,
when next his form you see : some deeper shadows
than those resting upon his leafy bosom may cross
your path before you come again. What, woman 1

84 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

shedding a few tears? well done ! Not tears,
merely a little dust in your eyes, is it? Well, I
wouldn't have ridiculed them, were they of joy at
pleasures past, or a passing fear of what may come
•hereafter ; but better, much better the former, and
I know you too well to believe it could be the
latter."

From the first person singular to the first person
plural ; and which of us shall hold the umbrella, is
now the subject of anxious debate ; for although —

" As yet the early rising sun
Has not attained his noon," —

and there is little fear of his deepening the tints of
ruddy brown upon our faces, yet a covering such
as this gives a subdued tone to the pretty farm
scenes about us, and enables us to gaze with a
clearer vision upon the far-off hills, which, like
mighty barriers, seem to hem us in on every side.
Naturally in this discussion the madam gracefully
withdrew, and hid herself under another covering,
— that of her sex, woman's rights being for the"
moment forgotten. It remained, therefore, for the
question to be decided between Charlie and myself;
which was settled somewhat summarily by the
Deacon, who remarked that " he guessed the little
fellow couldn't hold it against the wind anyhow : '

ON THE ROAD. 85

so I spread the gingham, and prayed for passing
clouds.

And now the summit of Zurkin comes into view,
is seen for an hour, then fades and disappears be-
hind the many lesser hills which border our path-
way ; we cross the Androscoggin again, and Rum-
ford greets our sight ; and we regret to hear, as we
leave the hotel where we change horses, that our
female friend, she of the eloquent tongue, has been
ingulfed in a torrent of her own eloquence, and
perchance now in other lands beyond the stars is to
coming strangers unveiling the glories that await
them.

But we must not allow sober thoughts to detract
from the pleasure of this glorious ride ; and, to tell
the truth, she didn't die, had merely returned to
her home as we were doing — let us hope, with a
soul as fully satisfied as ours.

"That there plant which you see, that little
patch down yonder, on that sidehill, is terbacker.
The chap that lives there come from Connecticut :
he's trying to raise it, but I guess it won't come to
much."

This from the Deacon, to party in the family
circle.

" Well, Deacon, let us hope he will succeed ; for,
if it is a curse, it is a most fascinating and enjoya-

86 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

ble one, to say the least : so forgive me for quot-
ing one who knew all about it, — hush !

* Sublime tobacco ! which from east to west
Cheers the tar's labor or the Turkman's rest ;
Divine in hookahs, glorious in a pipe,
When tipped with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe ;
Like other charmers, wooing the caress
More dazzlingly when daring in full dress;
Yet thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties — give me a cigar ! '

" One of those little ones, Charlie, I fain would
smoke ; and hold the umbrella, my boy, while I
light and prepare for the remaining ten miles."

A puff of the fragrant smoke into the left nostril
of the Deacon wakes him from a revery, and causes
him to tickle the right ear of the off leader, at the
same time reminding him of a little "swap" he
made with a brother stage-driver a few days before.
How he chuckled over the good trade he made !
and the nigh pole horse got an extra " cut " in
token of his satisfaction. Very likely the party of
the second part might, even then, be relating to
some willing listeners by his side the story of how
he "jewed the Deacon : " at all events, there never
was a man but thought his the better trade in
"swapping horses."

The Deacon's experiences brought forth a similar

ON THE ROAD. 87

one on the part of the " little fellow ; " and the pure
fresh air soon roused us to song and shout, and we
behaved very much like a party of school-children,
who were soon to resume their desks and studies ;
and very likely we felt like them, for well we knew
that all too soon were we to put off our country
manners and customs, and don our city ways.

The madam thought the elderberry-wine, which
we surreptitiously obtained at a wayside " agency,"
had something to do with raising our spirits ; feel-
ing she might possibly be correct, we lowered the
spirits accordingly, which reminds me, memo., never
say " elderberry " to Charlie again.

In due time we arrived at Bryant's Pond to find
nearly half of the male inhabitants of the village
bear-hunting ; for under cover of the night, and
having not the fear of the selectmen before his
eyes, one of these audacious fellows had descended
from his mountain fastness to the plains below,
and taken from under their very noses a goodly
quantity of fine spring lamb ; and now with many
a weapon, from the old queen's-arm which gran'ther
used in the Revolution, to the last breech-loader in
the hands of the great-grandson just arrived from
town, they had gone in search of his bearship.

I had almost a mind to say that the old chap
knew something was bruin ; but it's cheap, I pauset

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

and simply say he was too much for them ; for,
as one by one returned from the hunt, it was the
same story, " nary bear." The anger and mortifi-
cation showed itself strongest in the young men, as
visions of untold quantities of bear's-grease, with
which to anoint their flowing locks for some fair
Dulcinea's gaze, had danced before their eyes and
vanished forever.

The landlord at whose house we dined shrugged
his shoulders in a manner which seemed to say,
" It's lucky, old fellow, for your hide, that I didn't
go out." "You see, marm," said he, "there ain't
many of 'em as knows a bear's ways ; " and the
madam said "Yes." But, for all of his vanity and
self-assurance, he gave us a good dinner ; to which,
thanks to the bracing stage-ride and the elderberry,
we brought good appetites.

" And so, my dear boy, you are fully and irrevo-
cably fixed in your decision, are you ? Very well,
then, we very soon must part."

This to Charlie, whom we had endeavored to
prevail upon to accompany us to the White Hills,
now so near; but "circumstances over which lie
had no control " rendered it necessary that he
should return, and so here was to be our parting.
And here, then, kind reader, shall we part ; for this
fishing story is at an end, unless you will take the

ON THE ROAD. 89

journey, no doubt a familiar one to you, and go
with us through one more chapter, and revel once
more in your mind's eye among the glories of
those cloud-capped mountains.

But, as I have said, this fishing story is at an end ;
not for want of material, for there are other scenes
and other times of equal pleasure that crowd my
memory as I write these lines. And so will it ever
be to you, my friend, should you, even in your
later years, take up the angler's art : it grows with
its growth, and strengthens with its strength, and,
if uncurbed, may perchance, with many of us, be-
come a passion.

But, for all that, it will fill the storehouse of our
memories with many a scene of unalloyed pleasure,
which in the sunset of life we may look back upon
with fondest satisfaction.

If in the minds of any one of you who as yet
are ignorant of the charm of fishing, as it has here
been revealed, I have induced the desire for a test,
" stand not 'ipon the order of your going, but
go at once," provided it be the season, and, the
word of an old fisherman for it, you will thank
me for these random pages.

If you do not, the pleasure it has been to talk over
past experiences as I write, with the one to whom
these pages are dedicated, has been sufficient, with-

9o

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

out the additional satisfaction of fresh converts to
the gentle art.

" Charlie, I hear the whistle : for a few days, fare-
well ; and remember, for it's worth your while, —

Should cutters cut up like the deuce,

And customers gang fail,
You've interviewed the gamesome trout,

And thereby ' hangs a tale.' "

" Good-by, Mrs. S , and old Stevens, and be

sure you don't tumble down the mountain."
And so we parted.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE WHITE HILLS.

[ROM my boyhood days I have been
taught almost to reverence them ;
not taught, but naturally, from early
association, I looked up to them, —
literally so ; for from the windows
of my home I could, on a clear
spring day, see the snow-clad peak
of Mount Washington glistening under the warm
sunlight.

And, to be more practical, the first real feast of
apples I ever enjoyed was from a barrel, all my
own, sent to me by a good woman of North Con-
way, who said it was a pity "the boy couldn't,
for once, have all the apples he wanted." Could
I ever forget her, dear Susan Hanson, afterward the
wife of the late celebrated portrait-painter of our
city, Albert Hoyt?

91

92 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Her mountain home was under the shadow of
those lordly hills. Then the pictured story of the
Willey family, as seen in our early geographies,
telling in such vivid language the story of their
sudden destruction : these, and oft-repeated stories
of our New England hills, the sight of the well-
filled and top-crowded stage-coach, driven by that
pioneer of mountain travel, Joseph Smith, the
veteran whom all old Portlanders will well remem-
ber, united to fix indelibly in my young mind the
wish that I might soon be old enough to be indulged
with a nearer view of what, to my youthful imagina-
tion, seemed a world beyond my ken.

And so I grew up to love and revere these
" Hills ; " and from my first ascent of Mount Wash-
ington, by bridle-path from Crawford's, to later
ones by rail, from the same starting-point, and by
carriage-road from the Glen, till now, when with
past memories fresh in my mind I look forward
with fond anticipation of renewed enjoyment, I
feel, as it were, that these hills were a part of the
better part of myself.

And for far more than what I have written, — for
the remembrance of those excursions includes the
memory of a brother, a wife, and a mother, who
shared the excitement of the ascent, and the
rich return in the sublimity of the scenes spread

THE WHITE HILLS. 93

out at one's feet, whether in sunshine or in storm,
when from the heavy clouds below came the crash-
ing of the artillery of heaven, and the mutterings of
the tempest, or when the glad sunlight lit up the
distant hills, and made the countless lakes and
streams beneath to sparkle and glow like sheets of
silver.

But it is forward, and not backward, we must
now look ; and our landlord informs us that the
train is about due which is to take us to Gorham.
It soon appears ; and we are seated, — not in com-
pany with the multitude, but, through the courtesy
of the engineer, we are allowed the " first seat in
the synagogue," and place ourselves by his side in
the cab of the locomotive.

" With pleasure, if you will take your own risk,"
was that gentleman's reply to my request for the
privilege of a seat beside him. I do not think,
aside from the novelty of the situation, the change
from the accustomed seat was a favorable one.
There was a little satisfaction in being ahead, but
not so much in being jolted from side to side in a
manner strongly suggestive of getting a little too
far on one side, and not getting back in season.

From Bryant's Pond to Gorham, where we take
stage for the Glen House, the distance is about
twenty-five miles ; and at four in the afternoon we

94 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

reach that well-known locality. Here at that time,
but which has since been burned, was a fine hotel,
— the Alpine House, — where the traveller from a
distance would often stay for a day or two, to re-
cover from the fatigues' of his journey, and enjoy
the fine view of the mountains to be had at this
point. But the stage-coach, and a nearer view of
the hills, had more charms for us ; and so, amid the
rush of happy tourists, we climb to our lofty outside
seats.

The fall before our visit, Mr. J. M. Thompson,
who for many years had been the proprietor of the
" Glen," was drowned during one of the greatest
freshets that had occurred for many years, and
which completely changed the course of many of
the mountain streams.

His sons were this year keeping the hotel, in
company with Mr. Stephen Cummings of Portland.
The care of the horses and carriages devolved
upon Mr. Whitney Thompson, and the office
duties upon another son, Charles, — all old school
acquaintances. That the stable duties required a
person of energy and experience, may be under-
stood when I mention that something like three
hundred horses were usually required to supply
the demand : they were employed on the stages
between the Glen and Gorham, in ascending the

THE WHITE HILLS. 95

mountain, both by carriage and under the saddle,
and for the private use of the guests. A finer lof
of animals is seldom seen ; and, if I have digressed
a little, it is because my thoughts are taking me
back so vividly to that afternoon stage-ride. Six
coal-black horses, as smooth and sleek as can be
found in any city stable or making the tour of
Chestnut Hill, composed our team.

A dozen outside passengers, and a happy party
we were. Being a steady ascent for ten miles, our
ride was not a rapid one : still the changes of the
scenery, the bracing air, and the constant expecta-
tion of something new to wonder at, made the time
pass rapidly and pleasantly ; and so we rattled on,
until, all too soon, the journey was at an end, and
our proud steeds stood impatiently pawing the
ground, as we descended in front of the broad
piazza of the " Glen."

As I look vacantly about me, collecting my
thoughts for the next passage, my eyes rest upon
the centre-table in our library, where I am writ-
ing: there are seven books in the rack, display-
ing the different literary tastes of the family ; but,
as I remember my feelings at that time, the book
to which I should turn to describe my emotions
is not among them, — no, nor is it in my library ;
yet such an one there, is somewhere about the

96 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

house ; my impression is, that it will be found in
the kitchen-table drawer, sandwiched between sun-
dry napkins, newspapers, flatiron-holders, and per-
haps a few stray love-letters to Bridget. Oh ! you
can guess now, can you? you are right, it's the
cook-book. And though I am fully aware, dear
reader, that you would have gone without your
supper to have gazed upon those grand and lofty
peaks as they faded in the decline of day, yet the
truth shall be spoken if we forfeit your regard .: we
left them, and sought the dining-room. We were
hungry : we knew the mountains would keep, but
the supper — well, there were doubts about that.

We did not have Harvard or Yale students to
wait at table in those days, but we needed no
college lore to teach us our method of procedure :
in the language of Uncle John Merrill of Andover,
we "took hold," and did full justice to our hosts
and our appetites.

And after supper, how pleasant it was, — having
lighted my cigar, and taken my chair to a lone cor-
ner of the piazza, and with only one beside me, but
that one's every pulse beating in unison with mine,
— to gaze up, far upward upon the shadowy peak of
Washington, to see the sunlight fade away, the twi-
light come, and one by one, the stars appear ! One
does not feel like talking much under such influ

THE WHITE HILLS. g^

enoes. I am inclined to think that I just sat and
smoked, and listened to the stillness about me ;
and that my companion of these glories was alike
silent and thoughtful.

If I could only write how self-satisfied I feel at
such times, — at peace with all the world, and for-
getful of all its rough, hard edges ! but it is no use
attempting it : you have appreciated the feeling, of
course you have ; if not, you would have laid aside
this book long before you came to this ; for, if you
are not such a lover of nature, you can never have
journeyed with us thus far.

Then the darkness came, — a darkness that you
could almost feel, very different from that of the
half-lighted city or the unlighted village ; a dreamy
darkness, not so unlike but what we knew that it
meant, to tired mortals, bed-time. We took the
hint, and retired, hoping the clouds would dispel,
the morrow be fair, and our ascent of the mountain
a favorable one ; and it was.

All mountain parties are merry ones ; and it does
not fake long for the front seat to get acquainted
with the rear, or all to become on free-and-easy
terms with the driver. True, the romance is some-
what taken away, as we go up by carriage-road
instead of the old bridle-path ; but there's lots of
fun left, nevertheless. The chances are, you will

98 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

have among your number a talkative man, a fright-
ened woman, and several gushing misses : we did, —
had them all, and managed to extract fun from
each.

It is perfectly astonishing how familiar one gets
to be on a short acquaintance, and the largest lib-
erties are allowed on these occasions. It is not
rapid locomotion, this ascent of mountains, even
if in this day of improvements you do, if you are so
inclined, travel by rail ; and we had ample oppor-
tunity to study character on our way up. I do not
propose to attempt a description of the beauties
of the scenery that greeted our sight as different
turns in our upward march constantly brought new
scenes before us.

" Isn't it just charming? " " Don't you think we
are going too near the edge, driver? " " Oh ! how
lovely ! " such were the exclamations, varied some-
what, from time to time, by a comparison from the
talkative man who had travelled abroad, and who
apparently knew more about foreign countries than
he did about his own.

And now the call for shawls and overcoats tells
us that we are reaching the end of our upward
journey; and the black and scurrying clouds,
which are close above our heads, bid fair to give
us a little wetting before we reach the summit.

THE WHITE HILLS. 99

But no, only a few flakes of snow, just enough to
remind us of winter, and the clouds pass on, and it
is sunshine again, and we are at the top -of the
mountain.

Such a chattering of teeth, and such a rush for
the stove, by the ladies ! such drawing of pistols
(pocket ones) by the gentlemen ! " It's so ab-
sur-ur-ur-d," said one young miss, " to be shiver-
ing in July : I suppose down below they're fan-an-
anning themselves."

But it did not take long to warm up ; and, hun-
ger succeeding to cold, dinner was the next thing
in order. Whoever, among my readers, has dined
at the "Tip-Top," will agree with me, that, al-
though in one sense the meals are of a high order,
and the price demanded in the same category, yet
there is a wonderful chance for improvement in the
cuisine.

Perhaps the worthy proprietor may have thought,
that, the mind being well fed, the body could get
along for one day on cold victuals and bad coffee ;
but that is poor logic, particularly when you are
charged for a good dinner. I am told that it is
better now, and hope I am told the truth.

" Hold on to the iron rods, or you will be blown
away, my dear ! Yonder pile of rocks is Lizzie
Bourne's monument : you shall go to it, and add
your stone, when the wind lulls."

100 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Our view is better than the average ; and after
gazing with rapture and awe upon the many peaks
beneath us, and the winding streams which are
flowing onward to the distant ocean, upon the
boundless forests stretching far away into the dis-
tance, the little villages scattered here and there,
with their white cottages, and church-spires pointing
heavenward, we prepare for our descent.

Words fail to convey the satisfaction felt by every
one ; and even the ladies are silent amid so much
grandeur and glory. But they soon find their
tongues as our sure-footed horses break into a trot,
and our carriage rattles over the well-built road.
The brakes are strong, and the driver knows his
business ; and, unheeding the " Oh, dears ! " we
rapidly journey downward ; and, in less than half
the time that the ascent required, we are at the
door of the "Glen," where an excited crowd are
waiting to receive us. Then our experiences are
told to those who go up to morrow, and every one
is happy. A short time after our arrival, the rain,
which had threatened us going up, began to fall ;
and the fair ones sought the shelter of the house,
or needed rest in their rooms.

As there were several hours of daylight yet, and
my rubber coat being handy, I could not resist the
inclination to try a few casts in the stream which

THE WHITE HILLS. IO1

flows by the house ; so, jointing my lightest rod, and
selecting my smallest flies, I was soon in readiness
for business.

" Follow the stream down to the mill-pond, and
fish that," said Charlie Thompson, as I started out :
" you will find larger trout, and you may meet Mr.
Arthur and his friend ; they went out a little while
ago." So, without stopping to inquire who Mr.
Arthur might be, I directed my steps to the stream,
and " followed it to the mill-pond " some half a
mile below, now and then stopping for a cast, and
being rewarded by the capture of several youngsters
of about a finger's length, but losing more than I
was taking, owing to my flies being too large.

Reaching the pond, I had rather better Tuck, and
took out several of nearly a quarter of a pound ; but
this was tame fishing after the glorious rises and
magnificent play of the older members of the fami-
ly with which I had been regaled. As the rain
increased, I reeled up, and started for home by the
road. Half way tc* the house I met two young
gentlemen in Scotch suits, their rods over their
shoulders, apparently oblivious of the rain which
was then coming down in torrents. Naturally sup-
posing this might be " Mr. Arthur and friend," I
saluted them, and put the usual question, " Well,
boys, what luck?"

102 FLY-FISHING IN -MAINE LAKES.

"We have just started out," was the answer
" What have you done ? "

By way of reply, I put my hand into my coat-
pocket, and "brought out a handful of small fry ; re-
marking that I might have had many more, but that
I had been fishing for larger game, and found my
flies were too large to do good service.

This brought a very kind offer on their part to
furnish me with a supply of a suitable size : telling
them I should probably have no further use for
them, thanking them kindly for their offer, and
pointing out the direction to the mill-pond, I wished
them good luck, and started for the house, which
was then in sight. As I entered, I met Charlie T.,
who said, —

"Well, I see you met the Prince."

"Met who?"

" Why, Prince Arthur : that was he and his friend
Col. Elphinstone, that you were talking with just
now ; that's who I meant by Mr. Arthur and friend.
Didn't you know they were here?"

" No, I did not."

And so I had been keeping a scion of royalty
standing in the rain to hear me expatiate on two-
pound trout ! Well, for once the plebeian had the
advantage, for my skin was dry, and his must have
been a trifle wet ; but I imagine it did him little

THE WHITE HILLS.

103

harm, for does he not come from a reigning family ?
We had our little brooklets cooked for supper ; and,
after a pleasant chat over the incidents of the day,
retired at an early hour to dream perchance of the
glories of these everlasting hills.

CHAPTER IX.

CRYSTAL AND GLEN ELLIS FALLS.

S. THOMPSON says we must
stay over one day more, and she
will take us to Glen Ellis and the
Crystal Cascade. She says we
shall have the finest turnout in the
stables : now won't you stay to-morrow, dear ? You
know this is my first visit ; and, besides, I haven't
seen the Prince, either, and" —

" Oh, good-night ! do - go to sleep, I'm so
sleepy ! "
. "Well, that's a good boy; won't you?"

" Oh, yes ! a week, a month — any time, any
thing, so you let me go to sleep. Good-night ! "

And so in the morning, the first thing I heard
was, "You are real kind to stay another day."
"Who's going to stay another day? "
104

CRYSTAL AND GLEN ELLIS FALLS. 105

" We are : you know you said so last night."

Then it flashed upon me, a faint recollection
that I had said something of the kind ; and, before
I could fully recall the conversation, it was all set-
tled on the part of my better half, and the plans
for the day fully arranged, — all I had to do was to
submit gracefully. I had long since learned to re-
treat in good order, and I flatter myself that I can
move off the field with as much dignity as though
I had won the battle.

Meeting Prince Arthur in the reading-room after
breakfast, we renewed our fishing chat ; and he
again offered his flies so politely that I accepted a
few, one of which I keep in my fly-book as a
reminder of our pleasant meeting, and as a souve-
nir of his visit.

It was the unanimous decision of both gentle-
men and ladies, that he couldn't have been any
more of a gentleman if he hadn't been a prince ;
for a more modest, well-informed, and agreeable
young man (he was then about twenty), one seldom
meets.

During the forenoon we fished the stream in the
vicinity of the house, and caught some twenty or
thirty little shavers ; but none of any great size, the
river being so constantly whipped by the guests of
the house, that the trout have but poor show foi
attaining any growth.

106 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

After dinner our four coal-black horses were
driven to the door, and as the guests of Mrs.
Thompson we started for Glen Ellis and the Cas-
cade. A beautiful drive, and then a charming
walk through the woods, brought us to the former.
Long and lovingly did we watch the dashing waters,
as they leaped from rock to rock in their rapid de
scent. The Glen Ellis is not an abrupt fall, bui
rathei a succession of rapids, whose foaming waters
seemingly gather strength as they press onward for
their final plunge into a pool of crystal clearness.

We viewed them from their commencement ; then
we descended by staircases to the rocky bank, where
I left the ladies, and, climbing over the huge masses
of rock, followed the cataract in its descent till the
rushing torrent had again become a peaceful river,
and was murmuring onward, onward, to the sea, so
far away.

Then I bathed my forehead in its cooling stream,
and drank of its liquid clearness ; and as I looked
back to where in its mad career it seemed to be
impatient to reach its goal, and was beating itself
against its mighty barriers, I thought : Yes, it is
just so with humanity ; we rush forward in the
struggle for supremacy, we beat against impassable
barriers, now catching our breath for a fresh start,
now borne onwaid by the passing wave of popular

CRYSTAL AND GLEN ELLIS FALLS. 107

applause, again, like yonder silent eddy, turning in
at the wayside to get a little rest before we leap into
the unknown beyond.

" Mister, your coat-tails are getting wet ! " This
salutation from a barefooted urchin below me — who
with a sapling as youthful as himself was flinging
his line across the stream — aroused me from my
meditations, and caused me to take a more literal
look at things present. Wringing the moisture
from my garment, I retraced my steps to the less
hazardous position where I had left our party, and
who were patiently awaiting my return.

Retracing our steps, we were soon again seated
in our mountain wagon, and bowling along at a
rapid pace for the Crystal Cascade. Here a much
longer walk, but for which we were well repaid,
awaited us; and following the well-trodden path,
with an occasional rest on a wayside seat, we were
soon within sound and sight of this beautiful fall.

What a contrast ! here no rude, rushing, rioting
waters plunge seemingly on to their own destruc-
tion ; but gently as the April shower falls upon the
thirsting earth the sparkling waters pause upon the
precipice's brink, break into a thousand crystals,
and, as if fearing to disturb the calmer depths
below, toy with each other in their slow descent,
reflecting rainbow glories as they pursue the pris-
matic gems that have preceded them.

108 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

" Oh ! how restful, how soothing ! " came from
the lips of the one I had been closely watching, as
she turned from the silvery sheen, and looked intc
my eyes. "Could any thing be more beautiful?"
The dancing, happy streamlet waited not my an-
swer, but sang its song of welcome, and dashed its
foamy fleckness at our tired feet, bringing sweet
repose and an upward thought to Him who at crea-
tion's birth formed these glories, and gave us the
sensibilities to appreciate and reverence them as
the work of his hands. And so we gazed in silence,

" Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her," —

until the shadows of evening fell upon our pathway,
and reminded us that we were far from home.
Gathering a few mosses from the river's bank, we
bid good-by to the laughing waters ; and, with
hearts brimful of thankfulness for the enjoyment
which we had received, we sauntered back to the
roadside where our impatient horses were pawing
the ground, eager for our coming.

Our homeward drive was joyous and happy ; and
to the question, as we alighted upon the piazza., of
" Now, sir, aren't you glad you staid another day ? "
I could only reply, as I looked into those gleaming
eyes, " Yes, very."

CRYSTAL AND GLEN ELLIS FALLS. 109

It is wonderful how naturally one takes to theii
food, and what a relish it has, on these vacation
trips. I remember how many times I have come
back to the table, after finishing my hasty meal, to
find Charlie passing the madam another bit of cold
chicken, and the madam reciprocating with a deli-
cate slice of cold beef; then I would indulge in
another smoke, and come again to find them gossip-
ing over the third cup of tea : stanch tea-drinkers
they, — would have concealed a little in their stock-
ings, had they lived in the rebellious times of our
forefathers. But, Charlie having left us, I was
obliged on this occasion to remain, and do the
honors at the supper-table long after my own
slight ( ?) appetite was appeased. " How can
you?" said I, as one choice morsel after another
disappeared.

" How can you, after witnessing such beautiful
creations of nature, descend to the common vulgar
habit of eating?"

" How can I ? Should not the mind and the
body maintain a just equipoise? (Another trout,
please.) If the soul is filled to overflowing with
the grandest scenes of nature, should not (the dry
toast, thank you,) the body be strengthened to
sustain the weight of so much mental excite-
ment? What time do we breakfast?"

HO FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

My answer was anticipated by our watchful
waiter; and I fancied I noticed the faintest sus-
picion of a smile lurking about the corners of his
ruby lips, as he removed our chairs. I would not
say positively ; but I think, as we left the supper-
room, I saw that smile expand into a grin, as with
one hand in his pocket, and the fingers of the
other wandering abstractedly through his curly
wool, he surveyed the vast array of empty dishes
spread before him.

Had his thought found utterance, we should
probably have heard a remark something like this :
" It's nuthin' to me, but it does beat de debble ;
dar's suthin' 'bout dese ar mountins, dat gibs um
all a big appetite, dat's shore."

To the piazza again, to our favorite corner ; and
as the blue vapors from my fragrant bowl float
upward in miniature resemblance to those which
are settling down upon yonder vales, as twilight
fades and night comes on apace, we fall into rev-
ery : silence becomes the rule, speech the excep-
tion.

But I do remember one slight diversion. We
were both gazing intently at a few fleecy flecks of
clouds that were chasing each other in seeming
playfulness across the pathway of the moon, then
at its silvery roundness; when, turning her face

CRYSTAL AND GLEN ELLIS FALLS, ill

from that of Cynthia to mine, the madam pro-
pounded the following question : —

" Why are we like the moon ? "

Instantly my mind went travelling into the past,
seeking to recall a passage from some favorite poet
that should answer the question. But in vain : I
could find plenty of quotations ; but all were too
sickly sentimental, too "moony," for our time of
life, and at last I gave up in despair.

Turning towards me with a most self- satisfying
look, though breathing a contradictory sigh, —

"We are like the moon, my dear," said she,
"because we are full."

Whenever in simple truthfulness I have related
this little occurrence to a circle of listening friends,
it has always, by the madam, been emphatically
denied; and the last time, to prove the whole
story an invention of my brain, she triumphantly
produced an almanac of that year, and showed to
the listeners that on the evening in question there
was no moon, at least within range of our vision.

To say that I was dumbfounded, would convey
but a slight idea of my feelings. With the remem-
brance of Luna's silvery brightness as she shone
upon us that summer evening, and the sparkle of the
madam's eyes, as the practical answer to her own
query came from her lips, and to gaze into them as

tI2 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

she pointed with stubborn finger to the fatal page,
— could I but blush, and stand amazed ?

Was it really a delightful fiction of my own, told
so often that I had come to believe it? I have
heard of such cases. In the language of the press,
" that powerful engine," — et cetera, et cetera, — the
tide of popular feeling was turning toward her, and
so rapidly that in the face of the proof I was power-
less ; when, in turning the pages of the yearly chron-
icler, I made a discovery. The artless ( ?) one had
privately pasted the covers of an almanac of that
year upon the fresher pages of the present one ;
thus seeking, by one bold stroke of generalship, to
banish once and forever all further allusion to the
subject.

One cannot sit on the piazza all night, any more
than one can eat all day. The last pipe must be
smoked, and the last look taken ; and so, as I
knocked the ashes from my bowl, we took one
good-night look at the grand old hills, and sought
the rest that was needed after the sight-seeing of
the day.

" Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep," —
" Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care," —

unknits rheumatic stitches, and the tangled meshes
of an active brain ; that many a conscience-stricken

CRYSTAL AND GLEN ELLIS FALLS. 113

soul would fain enjoy, but cannot ; that the beggar
finds with the closing of his eyes, while all the
courting of a kingly crown

" Can't woo her to his bed."

Sleep, that near sister to the silent grave, soon
spread her mantle over us, and brought sweet
dreams. I am not so sure about the dreams — I
had forgotten the supper ; but, at all events, we
slept, I am sure of that, or we shouldn't have woke
in the morning, which we assuredly did, — woke to
the realizing sense that we were to take an early
start, and that, if we wished to take any thing else,
we must be up and about it. As it was, we were a
little late, and the tangles came out of that back
hair in a hurry : the idea of losing our breakfast —
"oh! monstrous thought " — made nimble fingers
active fly.

Good-by to you, ye cloud-capped peaks ; good-
by to you, ye lesser hills, your tops new glistening
in the morning sun; good-by, foaming cataract
and purling streams ; good-by, sweet fields, that,

" Beyond the swelling flood,
Stand decked in living green."

Farewell ! but we shall meet again. Summer's
green shall change to autumn tints ; winter shall .

114 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

wrap with whitest covering, and chain with icy fet-
ters; but a budding spring and another summer
shall unveil your beauties, unloose your bonds, and
bring the wanderers back once more to behold
your glories.

" Driver, we're ready : drive on."

CHAPTER X.

GRAND LARK.

O I suppose," said the madam, one
bright January day, as I entered the
library, with my favorite bamboo rod
in my hand ; " that Mr. McAtee's
coming to see you has aroused your
enthusiasm, has it ? "

"Well, partly that, and partly Edward Seymour's
paper on 'Trout-Fishing in the Rangeley Lakes,' in
the February 'Scribner.' The fact is, last year's
strain on this old friend was a little too much for
its strength ; and it has got to visit the maker, and
be overhauled."

As I drew from the case its several joints, and
gazed upon them with the air of satisfaction and
pleasure which a sportsman feels when handling
some tried and trusty companion of his joys, was
it at all a wonder that the good times associated

"5

Il6 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

with this silent though lifelike friend should come
thronging through my memory, and awake once
more the slumbering past?

Faithful friend ! what wonder that these slender
joints should weaken with your last season's work,
— fifty land-locked salmon, with their twenty times
fifty runs and leaps, captured with thy aid, in a
single day ! Is it not asking and expecting quite
too much from eight and a half ounces of split
bamboo ?

"And did it accomplish such a feat?" I hear you
ask.

It did ; and the memory of that day's sport, with
many others akin to it, has tempted me once more
to take up the pen, and, by the warm fireside, look
through the frosts and snows of January back to
the sunshine and showers of June.

The. locality of which I am about to write is no
new sportsman's elysium. The shores of " Grand
Lake Stream" had been trod, and its surface
paddled over, by the ardent fisher and his Indian
guide, long before the writer stumbled over his
A B C's; and, if ever a shadow of discontent
flitted before me as I have cast my flies upon its
rushing waters, it was that I could not have visited
its sylvan shores before the hand of civilization had
shorn its surroundings of many of its beauties.

GRAND LAKE. 117

There is — and in our day and generation there
will be at least — good fishing and hunting far
away from the haunts of men ; but little can be
found, even at this day, near enough to the man of
business, combining every thing in its surroundings
and its sport to make glad the heart of the true
angler.

I think, had I not been lured from the salmon
trout of the Rangeleys, by stories of the leaps of
the land-locked salmon of Grand Lake Stream, the
steamboat's puffing now heard breaking the stillness
of those charming waters would have finished me.
And yet I have been to Grand Lake for the past
four years, and actually have swallowed two steam-
boats and — on horror's head horrors accumulate —
one tannery every year.

I reason like this : had the steamboats followed
me, as much as the fishing delights and charms, I
should probably have " folded my tent," as many a
disheartened sportsman has done before me, " and
quietly stole away ; " but, expecting them and their
accompaniments, I tolerate them, as many others
are willing and obliged to, for fishing that cannot —
I say it with due deliberation — be excelled in the
United States.

I do not believe there is a true sportsman but
that enjoys the companionship of nature nearly, if

Ii8 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

not quite, as much as "the fishing itself. One with-
out the other would not be sufficient ; and for
myself, though I love fly-fishing next to my wife
and children, I am free to say that I would better
enjoy a vacation, with them about me, among the
hills of New Hampshire, leaving the rod behind,
than taking the most gamesome fish within a dozen
miles of the Hub.

You that have had the sweet experience of the
angler's haunts need not be told how much the
solitary dip of the paddle, the unbroken lines of
forest-trees, their clear-cut shadows in the placid
lake, and the cry of the startled loon, add zest to
your enjoyment. And now, if you will excuse me
for so much apparent digression, induced, I fear,
somewhat to apologize for my acquaintance with
the before-mentioned steamboats, I will tell those
of you who do not know, as well as those who do,
the whereabouts of these famous fishing-grounds,
and how you may go there and enjoy only a bowing
acquaintance with Robert Fulton's addition to our
civilization.

The St. Croix River forms a part of the boundary-
line between the State of Maine and the Province
of New Brunswick. It has two branches, each
rising in a chain of lakes called The Schoodics,
though now more familiarly known as the Eastern

GRAND LAKE. 119

and Western Grand Lakes, — the largest lake in
each chain being called Grand Lake. Johnson,
however, on his map, gives the name of the largei
Eastern lake as The Schoodic, or Grand Lake. In
the waters of all these lakes, and the beautiful
streams connecting them, are found, in goodly
numbers, that mettlesome and much-discussed fish,
— the land-locked salmon.

The eastern chain are reached by the North-
American and European Railroad, from Bangor,
which crosses the river at a small station called
St. Croix, where, I understand, outfits and guides
can be procured.

It is, however, with the western chain that I
propose to acquaint you by the aid of my map,
designed and executed by that experienced guide,
scholar, — though his studies have been from
Nature, not books, — and sportsman, Tomah
Joseph, added to my own information, picked up
in five seasons of sporting on its waters.

The most northerly of the chain is Duck Lake,
about twenty miles from Winn, Me., — a station on
the railroad before mentioned. Near the shore of
this lake resides Mr. Albert Gowell, a sturdy
farmer, and the fisherman's friend, who by ap-
pointment will meet you at Winn, and take you
to the lake ; or Mr. Gates, the proprietor of the

120 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

village hotel, — an obliging and agreeable gentle-
man,— will perform for you the same service.

Just overlooking this charming sheet of water, a
camp has been recently built, owned, and occupied
in the season, by the Messrs. Barber, Davis, and
others, of Boston and vicinity, where a sportsman's
welcome is always given when the occupants are
"at home."

Duck Lake — about a mile and a half in length

— connects with Junior Lake, six miles in length,
by Duck Lake Stream ; at the left of Junior lie
Scragby and Pleasant Lakes, both beautiful sheets
of water. On the right of Junior, and approached
through Junior Stream and Compass Thoroughfare,
lie Compass Lake and the two Sisladobsis, known
more familiarly as the Dobseys, where the well-
known " Dobsey Camp " is situated.

Passing through Junior Stream, about two and a
half miles in length, we enter Grand Lake, a beauti-
ful sheet of water, twelve miles long ; again, Grand
Lake Stream, three miles in length, connects with
Big Lake, Long Lake, and Louis Lake, where rises
the West Branch of the St. Croix, and where is situ-
ated the village of Princeton, Me.

Here one can take the railroad — twenty miles

— to Calais, steamer to Eastport, and the Inter-
national Line of Steamers to Boston, making, in

GRAND LAKE.

121

good weather, a very pleasant way of returning ;
or, at Calais, you may take the all-rail route through
Bangor to Boston, — time, twenty-four hours.

Now, you have been there and back, in your
imagination ; if you are willing to follow me still
farther, or rather over the same ground, or water,
as you may prefer, at a somewhat slower pace, I
will tell you how I once went, with whom, and, by
"an honest count," the net result of our trip.

CHAPTER XI.

HOW NOT TO GO.

LOUGHLY blew the wind, the rain
poured in torrents, "the waves
rolled mountains high," and the
madam lay in her state-room, oh !
so sick.

" Shall I bring you a cup of tea ? "
" Oh, no, no ! "
" Or a lemon, or " —

" No, nothing, nothing. Oh ! who would have
thought yesterday that we should be tossed about
in this way?"

And indeed who would ? It was the eighteenth
of June, eighteen hundred and seventy-five, the day
after the grand Bunker-hill centennial celebration ;
and we had driven to the International steamer,
through streets hung with banners wet and droop-
ing that but yesterday waved in the bright sunlight

HOW NOT TO GO. 123

as thousands of the flower of the volunteer militia
of the United States passed under them.

I had been in the saddle ten hours on that event-
ful day, spent the evening in packing camp luggage
for our annual fishing-trip to Grand Lake, and
retired thinking that our pleasant sail on the mor-
row would give us ample opportunity for much-
needed rest and recuperation.

But, alas ! the highly old and respectable firm of
Pluvius and Boreas put their heads together ; and
the latter so stirred up the former, that rest and
comfort to us poor landsmen was one of the lost
arts.

We were pitching along through a heavy sea, a
stiff easterly gale blowing, the rocky coast outline
being scarcely perceptible through the mist and
rain.

I had been gazing out of the stateroom-window
at the any thing but inviting prospect, occasionally
administering a few crumbs of comfort to the limp
specimen of womanly beauty and equal rights who
lay so quietly in her narrow berth ; when at her
feeble request to consult the officers of the boat as
to whether there might be or was a presumptive,
presumable, plausible probability of the storm let-
ting up a little, — " For," said she, " if I've got to —
stand — this — all — the way — to — Eastport — I "

124 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

— and then she quite gave out, — I opened the
stateroom-door, and with a graceful skip and a
bound landed under the saloon-table in search of
the captain.

He was not there, however ; and so I picked up
a modest little pin, and stuck it into the lappel of
my coat, and came up smiling. One old chap, who
stood as firm as though he was planted, smiled too,
a sarcastic smile as though he doubted that I was
really after that pin : it irritated me, and I felt dis-
posed to be pugilistic ; but my better feelings tri-
umphed, and I rushed into his arms, and embraced
him like a long-lost brother.

By means of forced marches, sudden halts, and
an occasional "double-quick," I succeeded in
reaching the forward deck, where I found less rain,
but more wind and sea. Here I also found one
solitary son of the sea, pacing up and down, seem-
ingly very comfortable in his oil jacket and sou'-
wester. He cast his eyes in such a knowing man-
ner at the clouds and round the various quarters
of the globe, that, although I felt convinced that he
was not the captain, I was sure he was my weather
chronicler. Having secured a place in his track,
and found something to lean against, I waited till
he bore down upon me, then hailed him.

"What do you think of the weather, sir? "

HOW NOT TO GO. 125

"Thick.'1

" Thick?"

" And nasty."

This was certainly a very decided and correct
answer to my question ; but wasn't exactly what I
was after, having come to the same conclusion my-
self, though I don't think that I could have worded
it quite so expressively.

Waiting till he bore down again, I sent him
another hail : —

" Do you think she'll clear up, sir? "

Somehow I had the idea that " she " sounded a
little more sailor-like ; but when he stopped short,
and looked at me, I wished I hadn't : he read me.

First he took off his sou'wester, shook the rain off
it, put it on, then hitched up his trousers, shifted
his quid, looked at me again, down at the water,
up at the clouds, then nowhere in particular but
everywhere in general, and finall}r delivered himself
of this opinion : —

" Why, you see, sir, it's liable to be a nasty night,
sir : the wind's piping it strong from the east'ard ;
blowed so all last night, and them 'ere low clouds
'long there looks ugly. If it works round a little
more to the nor'ard and east'ard, sir, I reckon 'fore
we gets into Frenchman's Bay cups and sarcers
will rattle sum."

126 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

With this comforting intelligence, I returned, by a
circuitous route, to "Stateroom B," and proceeded
to deliver my information to the afflicted one, in
truly nautical style ; embellishing it, however, suf-
ficiently to have it appear to my own mind, that it
would be " extra hazardous " for us to continue on
the boat farther than Portland, which city happily
we were now approaching.

Wishing to be left alone to try and sleep, I left
the feeble one, and returned again to the deck, to
cultivate the more intimate acquaintance of my
" nor' east by nor' " friend.

I found he had been joined by another " salt,"
who was pointing to a low ridge of rocky coast,
which we were passing within easy hailing-distance.
Seeing they were both somewhat excited, I man-
aged to get near enough to overhear their conver-
sation.

" Now Bill, 'spose 'tis : do you really b'lieve 'tis
buried there?"

" B'lieve it ! thar's no sort'er doubt on't. I've
seen the cap'n p'int it out ter passengers time and
time ag'in ; and I heard him tell somebody one
night when I was on watch, that he'd had a man
digging there for a month ; the chap he told it to,
asked him if he commenced to dig on the full of
the moon ; and Cap. said he didn't know 'bout that ;

HOW NOT TO GO. 127

and the man told him that 'twas no use, unless he
did : he was sure not to find it."

"The captain ought to knowed that," responded
the new-comer.

" Knowed it, of course he had ! everybody
knows Cap'n Kidd al'ers buried his money on the
full 'er the moon. Cap'n ought'er know better."

" Ain't you goin' to try your luck some time ? "

"Ain't I? Ain't I savin' all my wages, just for
that? there ain't no sorter doubt, there's a million
dollars buried there, — it's sure as truth ; I'm
watchin' for signs, and, when they come right, you
bet I'll be there a-diggin'."

The appearance of the mate, with an order for
the sailor, interrupted the conversation at this
point ; but I had heard enough to interest me. I
had seen another locality where the late Capt.
Kidd had buried his treasure. When I was a boy,
I used to visit with awe a certain spot on the back
of Munjoy Hill, in Portland, where many a man
had dug and dug for the supposed hidden ducats
of this, to my now thinking, much over-estimated
"bold privateer."

As I write these lines, I read in the papers of
the day, that the people in the vicinity of Coffin's
Island, near New Jersey, have gone stark-staring
mad over a rumor, a report, a. tradition, or a clair-

128 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

voyant's vision, or a something or a somebody, who
has discovered that this island is full of the cap-
tain's gold.

A company has been formed, and I read they
intend .digging up the entire island. I hope they
may find "millions in it," but have my doubts.
Two hundred years is a long time ; and Capt.
Kidd might have been a mythical character, or at
all events, if he was not, there is not much doubt
but what his buried treasures are a myth. If those
Jersey men will devote themselves to planting and
then digging sweet potatoes, and such other com-
modities as their climate encourages, they will
probably be both happier and richer in the end,
than if they dug up Coffin's Island, and shovelled it
into the Atlantic Ocean.

Arriving in Portland we find the storm increas-
ing; and, as the prospect of the steamboat pro-
ceeding farther that night seemed a faint one, we
go to the Falmouth Hotel ; and on the morrow
take the cars for Bangor and Forest Station, dis-
tant about two hundred miles, where we were told
a stage would be found to take us across the coun-
try to Princeton, distant thirty miles.

We arrive there at noon ; and find the station
and the forest, for which it is so happily named,
and nothing else. Oh ! yes, — the stage and its
driver.

HOW NOT TO GO. 129

If I should ask you, my reader, to stop here for
a moment, and describe that stage, you would prob-
ably reply, " A Concord coach with yellow trim-
mings, with four well-groomed horses pawing the
ground, impatient to begin their labors." You
wouldn't? Oh! you know better, do you? You
have seen some of these country coaches, have
you? Then you would say, "A clumsy, well-
muddied, two-seated wagon : said seats covered
with buffalo-robes strongly reminding one of Tom
Hood's poem of 'The Lost Heir,' with but two
horses 'hitched' to it, not 'pawing,' and not at
all impatient to start ; " and now you think you
have got it, don't you ?

Well, you have not, with all your wisdom. " Sea-
son your imagination for a while," and I will de-
scribe that conveyance, its driver, what it was
expected to carry to Jackson Brook, and how near
it came to fulfilling its mission.

The stage was an ordinary one -seated wagon ;
imprimis : the body old and rickety, the seat droop-
ing and shaky ; the forward axle sprung, the rear
apparently about ready to spring ; the wheels way-
worn and weary, and oh ! so tired. The motive-
power, one horse, a modern Rosinante ; the har
ness, from bridle to crupper, like that which cov-
ered Petruchio's steed when he went to woo the

130 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

fair Katherine. The driver, a veteran of some
eighteen summers, bold and self-possessed, firm,
but modest. There you have them.

The passengers to be carried, — a lady resident
of Princeton, a commercial traveller, madam, and
myself.

The baggage, — one medium-sized trunk, one
small ditto, one canvas tent, one stove in canvas,
one box, one case of fishing-rods, several hand-
bags, and one package of samples.

The commercial traveller and the samples re-
mained at Forest Station : the balance of animate
and inanimate freight went to Jackson Brook, and
in this way. The seat was moved forward to the
very front of the wagon, the baggage was all stowed
away in the rear : the two ladies mounted the seat ;
madam handled the ribbons, and thus we started.

"Yes, but yourself and the driver?"

" Oh ! we walked behind the wagon."

The road was poor, and the load a reasonably
heavy one for one horse ; and had it not been for
the rear-guard, who under the most favorable cir-
cumstances could hardly have been expected to
trot, any thing faster than a walk was positively out
of the question, and we walked.

I have always held that the writer of travels
should lean decidedly towards the truth, and saving

HOW NOT TO GO. 131

in some harmless imagination never o'erstep its
boundares; and truth compels me to state that
there was nothing on this ride of three miles, in the
way of scenery or of rural homes, to excite our
admiration or turn our thoughts from the discom-
forts of the situation. Truth also compels me to
say that I beguiled my time by lying to the driver.
It was rather a mean advantage, considering his
age, I admit ; but I was drawn into it by a flattering
remark from the youth, and the fact that

" Satan finds some mischief still,
For idle hands to do."

The madam had very dexterously avoided a
mud-hole on one side, and a huge stone on the
other, which caused the lad to say, —

" She kin drive, she kin."

" She ought to, brought up to it, sir ; broke colts
when she was young ; can ride any horse in the
world, do any thing with them ; born to it."

" Sho ! " (walking round to the side of the wagon
to get a good look.) " Is she your woman? "

" My wife, sir."

"What else can she do?"

" Shoots a little."

"You don't say so!"

" On the whig entirely, sir ; bags her game every

132 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

time, rarely misses. It would make you open your
eyes to see her handle a rifle ; got a natural instinct
for shooting."

" Well, I swow ! Can she fish ? "

"Fish? you ought to see her: that's her best
hold. Why, she can paddle a canoe, strike a trout,
and net him, all at the same time."

" I reckon some of our fellers would just like to
see her."

" Yes, but you should hear her sing and play the
flute, and talk eleven different languages : then- you
would begin to think she knew something." And
so I went on like a villain, while his jaw dropped,
and his eyes rolled in wonder, until I began to
"eel that the earth might open and swallow me.

After a while even this choice amusement failed
to amuse, and we plodded along in silence, up hill
and down, I quieting my conscience by the thought
that he couldn't possibly believe my Munchau-
sens j but I am afraid he did, for when at last the
dismal ride and walk had come to an end, and our
fares were to be paid, he pointed to the heroine
of rod, rifle, and rein, and said with an air of pro-
found veneration, —

" I sha'n't take nothin' for her."

Then my conscience smote me so hard that I
insisted on full payment, and, as I bid the youth

HOW NOT TO GO. 133

good-by, remarked that perhaps I had somewhat
overrated my wife's sporting accomplishments ; but
he was, I fear, too firmly fixed to be shaken.

At Jackson Brook, a little village of probably two
hundred inhabitants, we dined.

The tavern was neat and comfortable. While
we were waiting for our dinner to be prepared, we
had ample time to rest, and make comments.

I will describe the furnishing of the sitting-room,
to the best of our united remembrances, as it may
bring to the recollection of the reader some room
similarly adorned where in bygone days he or she
may have passed a pleasant hour.

A rag-carpet ; two round braided mats ; a melo-
deon, on which lay several well-worn sacred tune-
books ; a high-backed, wooden-seated rocking-
chair ; several straight-backed wooden chairs
painted in black, with yellow ornamentation ; a
Franklin fireplace filled with a tasteful collection
of green branches ; a high mantle-piece adorned
with two plaster-of- Paris parrots, in green and yel-
low plumage, a vase of lilacs, and one of syringas ;
above them, looking down upon the peaceful scene,
a highly colored print of Grant and his Generals ;
on the table, covered with a red embossed cloth,
a Bible, hymn-book, one or two secular volumes,
Robert B. Thomas's Almanac, and a copy of " The
New York Ledger."

134 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Thus you will see a general air of neatness and
taste pervaded the modest apartment.

The bedrooms of these country taverns, one or
more of which are found in every little village, are
usually neat and tastily furnished : but the beds
are bad, the food and cooking, to the city taste,
abominable ; for which reason we prefer camp-life,
our bed of boughs, and our guide's proficiency in
the culinary art.

A rather stronger horse and a two -seated wagon,
with a change of horse at Topsfield, carried us the
rest of our journey to Princeton, about twenty
miles ; not a pleasant ride, although the day was
fine, for we felt that we were too mucli of a load
for the patient animals.

The only object of special interest, aside from
being questioned by nearly every one we met, as to
the cause of a dense smoke which filled the air,
completely shutting out the scenery about us, and
which we knew as little about as they, was a horse-
man who passed us at a rapid rate, turned, came
back, and inquired the distance to a certain house
on our road.

"That man," said our driver, as he rode away,
" is as blind as a bat : he tunes pianos and melo-
deons, and he goes round this country as you see
him now."

HOW NOT TO GO. 135

Just then he turned his horse, a beautiful black
colt, out from the road, rode up to the door of a
cottage some little distance off, exchanged a few
words with a couple of girls, turned, and passed
down the road before us on a rapid canter, and was
soon lost to our sight.

It seemed hard to believe the evidence of our
senses ; but, after all, it was only another illustra-
tion of the acuteness acquired by the remaining
senses, when one or more are lost.

I suggested to the driver that his horse must
know him, and be strongly attached to him.

" Know him," he replied : " I guess he does ; that
hoss knows he's blind just as well as I do."

And perhaps he did.

Thankful and happy were we when just at dusk
we stepped from our "stage" upon the piazza of
the hotel, and were met by our Indian guide, whose
greeting was cordial and welcome : —

" Here at last, Tomah."

CHAPTER XII.

TOMAH JOSEPH.

|UST a few evenings since, I read in
my "Transcript" the following ex-
tract, which most readers would
have passed unnoticed ; which hav-
ing perused, I leaned back in my
chair, and laughed so heartily that I
had to explain myself, and so I read this,
aloud : —

" The Passamaquoddy Indians are represented at
Augusta, Me., by their delegate Tomah Joseph, who
presented a petition for a road from Big Lake to
Grand Lake Stream, fifty dollars, a priest, a stove,
a chimney, and a dance-hall."

Shades of the departed ! whose mantle has fallen
upon thee, Tomah, that we should thus behold thee
in this new sphere of usefulness ?

Whence the vaulting ambition that led thee to
136

TOM AH JOSEPH. 137

forsake thy happy hunting-grounds for the halls of
legislation ?

And now, forsooth, instead of "Joe, you Injun,
pass the net," it must be : " Will the honorable gen-
tleman from Peter Denis's Point assist me to land
this salmon?"

But one thought affords me consolation in this
trying affliction.

It was my boots that trod those legislative halls.
It was my waistcoat that swelled with natural pride
when the speaker recognized the delegate from the
Passamaquoddy tribe.

Tomah Joseph, the son of his father who still at
an advanced age occasionally acts as guide, is now
about forty years of age, is himself father of several
embryo guides, and as 'cute an Indian as ever pad-
dled a canoe. To enumerate his several accom-
plishments in his particular line, would require
more space than we can afford to give him at this
time. In casting a fly I have never seen him ex-
celled, scarcely equalled. In mending rods he is
an adept. I think, after seeing him run the rapids
on the stream, Mr. Murray would preach a sermon
from that text.

The flute is Joe's evening companion ; and to its
sweet music the dusky maidens, and their happy
partners move gayly in the merry dance, or the tired

138 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

fisherman reposing upon the bank after a day of
pleasant toil is often soothed to rest by its softest
notes.

If it should ever happen that Joe should read
this allusion, — which he probably never will, for two
reasons ; first because he can't read, and secondly
being too old to learn, — he would, I fear, never for-
give me for saying that he was a trifle lazy : such,
however, is the fact. I don't mean to say that he
would shirk any real duty ; but if he had any heavy
job on hand he would somenow manage to make
you see that it were best not to do it at all, or sug-
gest some plan by which a somewhat similar result
might be reached with less manual labor.

It is rather amusing now, to look back and think
how he had his way on many of our little excur-
sions when I fondly supposed I was having my
own.

Willing to indulge in a little " fire-water " when
asked, I never knew him to ask for it, or to obtain
it elsewhere when acting as my guide.

Quick to take a joke, good at repartee, and
withal brighter than the average white man in
"those parts," Tomah not only fulfilled every thing
required of him in his position, but was always the
best of company.

When in deep thought he has a habit of stroking

TOM AH JOSEPH. 139

his chin with his thumb and fingers, as if feeling foi
whiskers which he never found.

He was doing this about eight o'clock the morn-
ing after our arrival at Princeton, as we stood on the
little wharf at Louis Lake with quite a pile of traps
lying about us.

" That's a stove, you say, in that canvas, Mr.
Stevens?"

" Yes, that's a stove, camp-stove."

" And that big canvas bag's got your bedding in
it, humph?"

"Yes."

" Ugh ! Twouldn't do to get them wet, would
it ? The birch might leak going up, and it might
be " (scratching his head a little) " safer to " —

"To what, Joe?"

" I was thinking, we might send 'em up on the
steamer."

"What will it cost?"

" Oh ! a quarter."

" All right : take them over to the boat." Which
he did not exactly do, but went over to where the
boat lay, and returned with the captain and engi-
neer who compose the crew ; and they transfer all
our plunder, with the exception of my rods and a
small satchel or two, to the deck of the steamer.

"How's this, Tomah?"

140 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

" Got him to take it all for a quarter." Now, that
was a fair illustration of Joe's shrewdness. He
knew that if he had proposed to send all our bag-
gage up by boat, I should have thought him lazy,
and the expense greater than it was, and unneces-
sary. The upshot was, that the luggage got to the
top of Missionary Hill, where we were to camp,
without his handling twenty pounds of it.

The day was fine, and we had before us twelve
miles of canoeing. Our route lay through Louis
Lake, Long Lake, and Big Lake. Very prettily sit-
uated on the shore of the latter is one of the vil-
lages of the remnant of the Passamaquoddy tribe
of Indians, the residence of Joe, and many other
guides of note.

I have been a good deal of a traveller in my life,
and have journeyed in many different conveyances,
both by land and water, on business or pleasure. I
hardly think you could mention one in use in our
country in which I have not travelled more or less,
from a canal-boat to an ocean-steamer, from a
buckboard to a Pullman car. Once in my life I
tried ballooning, but only for the matter of a couple
of thousand feet with a good stout cable attached
to the air-ship.

I can truly say that I know no manner of loco-
motion more exciting and exhilarating, more restful

TOMAH JOSEPH. 14*

and refreshing, as the case may be, than canoe-
ing.

You sit in the bow of the birch, on comfortable
robes, with one at your back, with your face to the
front, a trolling- lint, in your hand, your rifle or re-
volver within easy reach, your pipe in your mouth,
and you are ready for repose or excitement.

A bend in the stream or lake unfolds new beau-
ties to your view ; you gaze dreamily upon the far-
away mountain-tops and the unbroken forests with
their different shades of green. You are recalled
to your senses by the cry of an erratic loon : you
scan the calm surface of the lake until your eye
seeks him out ; but the quick-sighted Indian has
seen him before you, and a few strong sweeps of his
paddle send us flying towards him.

He is down, he is up again, and a bullet goes
whizzing after him ; it misses, of course, and down
he goes to be greeted with another when he rises :
after an exciting chase and a few more harmless
shots, we permit him to rest, and pursue our onward
course. And now a strong pull from behind gives
us a new sensation ; and with an "I've got him," we
pull alongside a handsome salmon. The guide
slips the net under him, and we feast our eyes upon
this king of the waters. Oh ! this is unalloyed hap-
piness : care comes not here. With a clear con-

142 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

science within, bright sunshine without, the sparkling
waters below, and God's pure sky above, one can
almost say with the sacred poet, —

" There can I bathe my weary soul

In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast."

We are now in sight of our landing, have enjoyed
every moment of our sail. Just as we pass from
the lake into the stream, Joe, who sees every thing,
stops paddling, says, " Sh ! look," and pointing with
his paddle we descry, at the top of a decaying tree
of immense size, " the proud bird of our country,"
an American eagle. He sees us at about the same
moment, but does not like the cut of our jib, for he
stretches his wings, and soars away.

We were glad to see him in repose, but his flight,
grand and majestic, was a more sublime sight.

" A good omen, Joe," said I, as the canoe
touched the bank, and we prepared to disembark.

" Yes, that means plenty salmon."

Getting out of a canoe, and preserving your equi-
librium, is no easy matter to the uninitiated ; and
my advice to such is, don't hurry, take it coolly.
The madam hurried once, or made a misstep, and
when I turned to assist her she lay on her back by

TOMAff JOSEPH. 143

the shore of the stream, but no harm came of it :
two strong Indians fished her out, and I — Well,
I'm afraid I stood on the bank, and laughed " shuste
a leetle bit."

The stage, this time- a lumbering two-seated
wagon with two strong horses, is awaiting us ; our
luggage, having reached here before us, is snugly
stowed, all but one box of stores which we left on
the steamer at Portland to follow us. Our canoe
is firmly lashed to the side oi the wagon ; we
mount to our seats, and rattle off at a comfortable
pace, on our ride of three miles to our headquar-
ters at the foot of Grand Lake.

We decide to pitch our camp on "Missionary
Hill." Why missionary, I don't know. We select
this spot because Tomah says, " Good breeze, few
flies." I am inclined to think that if Joe were
engaged to cook a fortnight for a party expecting
to encamp there, he would now say, " Bad place,
sun hot, flies thick, mosquito he bite, midges, ugh ! "
The fact is, Joe found it too much up-hill, and I
think we all did. Jim Coffin's front yard is a better
spot.

Camp " Prouty," a name familiar to all lovers of
the angle, as that of a gentleman well versed in the
fisher's art, built by a gentleman from Calais, Mr.
Sawyer, now occupies the summit of the hill, and

144 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

with its out-buildings covers what was the best
camping-ground ; so that the white canvas of the
fisher's tents, with floating flags, so pretty a sight to
one coming down the lake, will in future be rarely
seen.

Here we are at last at our journey's end ; and
now to getting into camp. We have two tents, one
with a fly for sleeping, and the other our mess-tent,
also a canvas canopy to protect our stove.

Twelve miles of paddling in smooth water is play
for an Indian ; but now, Joe, you have got to do a
little work

But Joe knows what to do first ; finds his axe,
leans on it a few minutes, strokes his chin, scratches
his head, looks at each point of the compass, sur-
veys the ground, gives us a bit of advice where to
pitch our tents, whistles, and disappears in the
woods close at hand.

While the driver, "Son" Ripley, unloads, we
survey the ground, unroll the tents, and bring to
light our new camp-stove. Soon Joe returns, drag-
ging after him enough poles to establish a good-
sized hop-garden, and our work commences.

But Toman's quick eyes have discovered the
stove, and he drops his axe, and goes down on all-
fours to interview it; he soon has it apart, and han-
dles every piece, from the lifter to the oven.

TOM AH JOSEPH. 145

When he sees its contents, — pails, pans, legs,
funnel, plates, knives, forks, spoons, toaster, coffee-
pot, tea-kettle, covers, and all which were packed
within it, now lying about covering a world of
space, we know he is surprised, excited; but he
does not show it, — the same stolid Indian gaze,
every bit of it.

"Well, Joe, ever seen the like of that before? "

" Never ! "

"What do you think of it?"

" Can't cook with that ; don't believe it'll work ! "
another stroke of the chin. " Guess I better use the
old fireplace, and let Mrs. Stevens and you run
that." '

" Not much, you ignorant Injun : you'll swear by
that stove before you get through, old boy."

"Swear at it, I reckon."

But when as the sun went down we were enjoy-
ing our first good 'meal for three long days, — fried
salmon, fried potatoes, bacon and eggs, with a
splendid cup of tea, and the minor accompani-
ments, all cooked in a superior manner, by that dis-
trusted stove, — Joe relented.

Instead of a quarter of a cord of fuel, he had
used but a few pieces of hemlock-bark, and as
many sticks of wood. He surveyed the object of
his distrust for a moment, walked about it, gazed

146 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

upward at the thin, curling smoke issuing from the
funnel, strode to the tent where we were eating,
with a bread-pan in one hand, and the toaster in
the other, and thus unbosomed himself : —

" Mr. Stevens, I give it up : that just beats any
thing I ever saw ; I could cook for ten men with
that stove ; she's a ripper."

And Joe told the truth.

The afternoon was spent in preparing camp, and
by the time that darkness came we were ready for
it; our bed in order, with the mosquito-canopy
spread. " Good-night, Tomah : we have done a
good afternoon's work, and you may sleep in the
morning."

CHAPTER XIII.

RUNNING THE RAPIDS.

O longer sits the wind in the east.
For three and twenty days, almost
without intermission, had that scourge
of our New-England spring ( ?), the
east wind, been blowing upon the
Hub.

Like colors nailed to the mast, the vanes of
orthodox and heterodox churches alike seemed
firmly fixed, and unalterable as the laws of the
Medes and Persians.

We went about through the fog, mist, and rain,
poor " demnition moist bodies : " it penetrated our
pores, it ached our joints, it froze our marrow, it
made us wheeze, it made us sneeze ; and only by
thinking of its source, and its refreshing coolness
on a hot July afternoon, could we refrain from
wrathful words.

148 FLY-FISHING IN MAINP LAKES.

And now what wonder that we feel the blood
rush tingling through our veins, as we stand on the
brow of Missionary Hill this glorious June morning,
and drink in the invigorating draughts of a freshly
rising western breeze ?

The lake feels its influence ; and at our feet its
rippling waves dance with delight, and mingle their
low murmur with the rustling leaves.

Up comes the sun, "dispelling the mists, driving
the shadows far back upon the hills.

We hail the new-born day : we rejoice in the
glad sunlight ; the clear atmosphere makes us light
of heart ; we stretch out our arms to embrace dear
old mother Nature, and we exult in our freedom.

We shout, and the wooded hills send back their
echoes ; we sing (the madam), and the warblers of
the wood assist in the chorus ; we snuff the odor of
the hemlock and the pine : and, oh ! human na-
ture, something else,

"Bacon."

Bob Southey's " Jacob " would ne'er " turned up
his nose in scornful curve at yonder pig," had he
breakfasted on " Joseph's " bacon.

With each foot firmly planted on its parent soil.
Joe stands a statue ; the frying-pan upon the stove
before him, the bacon sizzling and gurgling in its
fatty bed. An egg in his hand is ready to be brok-

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 149

en, and add its country freshness to the, sportsman's
morning meal. But Joseph moves not; he has
caught the savory smell ; his nostrils expand under
its bewitching influence ; his chest upheaves as he
draws in each willing breath ; his —

" Joe, will you turn that bacon ? "

The statue moves, and the egg falls to the ground
lost to us forever.

Excuse me, gentle reader, for dwelling upon this
subject ; but health and happiness depend so much
upon a good appetite and proper food, that, should
you decide to test the enjoyment of camp-life, do
not neglect to provision yourself before starting.

Salt pork and Indian meal are indispensable :
bacon is a luxury. Calculate, to a nicety, just what
you think your party will need of each : multiply
the quantity by two, and then double the amount
of bacon.

"You don't like bacon?"

Why, man alive ! your education is incomplete :
improve it. If you must go down to your grave
unhonored and unsung, pray do not go unbacon-
ized.

On a par with bacon, and not to be overlooked
or forgotten, are Bermuda onions.

Oh ! reader, turn not up in scorn thy sensitive
nose ; confess to me now, that you do sometimes

150 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

eat them at your own table. I am sure I do, but
not with beefsteak : either in themselves, but not
united.

In camp, slice them raw, cover with vinegar, and
add a little pepper and salt ; they are better than
all the fancy pickles that ever Crosse & Blackwell
stamped with their signature : and those, you know
are good.

One day, a friend of ours from the city, an old
Umbagog fisherman, dropped in upon us, and right
glad were we to greet him. He had secured board
and lodging at one of the few villagers near our
camp.

In the afternoon of the first day, a little girl from
the house called upon us, with the request, —

"Would you sell my mother some onions?"

" No, my child, but we will give your mother a
few ; " and she thanked us with maiden simplicity,
and departed.

As the shadows of evening fell, our friend came
to us to talk over the result of his first day's sport,
to say " Good-by, Umbagog," and to tell us how
his lines had fallen in pleasant places, what a cap-
ital house he was staying at, how well he fared.

" Yes, boys ! the living is just splendid ; for sup-
per we had fried salmon, boiled salmon, fried pota-
toes, baked potatoes, good bread, and — would you

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 151

believe it, way down here, in these woods, what do
you think? — sliced Bermuda onions.".

The mistress of that modest mansion knew a
fisherman's tastes. Take all you require, my friend,
and a few to give away. Injun, he like 'em, too.

You would not forget your coffee, — Mocha and
Java equally mixed, I hope suits your taste ; it does
mine : but you might not think of condensed milk.

" What ! go to the country, and use condensed
milk ! "

Yes, for your coffee ; try it at home or abroad,
and you will find that it's much better than milk,
and better than city cream ; and, besides, you can't
often get milk when in camp.

" Now, Joe, be careful that you keep that can
covered ; for though we might not object, at times,
to our lemonade with a stick in it, we don't want
black flies wading round in our milk."

" All right : I'll keep him covered up. Go down
stream this morning?"

" Yes ; but wash the dishes first, and the madam
will wipe them, while I smoke my pipe and joint
my rod."

" Bring plenty wood-duck-wing fly, — yellow
body?"

" Child of the setting sun ! degenerate aborigine !
attend to your culinary duties, and waste not our
precious time with idle curiosity."

152 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

I turn to my work. Does the browned son of
the forest do likewise?

No : he has discovered my fly-book by my side ;
a satisfied grunt attracts my attention ; I look behind
me, and see the work of Sarah McBride's delicate
fingers passing under the examination of his critical
eye.

" Those good flies, Mr. Stevens, — McBride ? "

"Yes, Sarah's."

"Sarah she make good fly; that fly made like
one I sent you ; salmon take that fly, sure."

"Undoubtedly, Tomah, she made these from
your sample ; but will you be kind enough to
take that dish-cloth and proceed to business?"

" I suppose, Mr. Stevens, a wood-duck-wing, and
yellow body, will kill more " —

" I suppose, if you don't get at those dishes, you
lazy Injun, I'll kill you, and serve you out to the
fishes. You'd make splendid food for suckers."

At last, by threats and entreaties, our household
duties are performed, and Joe shoulders his paddle,
reaches for the landing-net, and is happy.

The middle gate of the dam is up, and the water
is rushing on its down-hill course, feathery white.

" Do you think you can take us through the gate,
Joe, or shall we take the birch below? "

"Run that? That's nothing, — white man run
that easy, if he knew how."

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 153

"Yes, if he knew how; run himself and birch
upon the other shore of the Styx if he didn't."

"Sticks ! No sticks in the channel."

" Oh, unclassical, untutored Indian ! let us see
you ' go it alone,' and, if all is well, come back for
us."

The words were scarcely out of my mouth, when
Joe, standing in his canoe, straight as an arrow, is
cutting the water of the lake ; a moment more,
and the birch is in the boiling vortex below the
dam, having passed over the swiftly-running cur-
rent, and, in less time than it has taken me to
write these few lines, Joe has pulled to the shore,
and is awaiting our commands.

From the pool below the dam, for a distance of
half a mile, the stream is one continuous rapid, its
dark and seething waters boiling and foaming as
they rush forward on their down-hill course.

Here and there, in its wild track, the waters leap
up to embrace a rocky boulder, and scatter their
flecks of foam high in air. A wild, turbulent, and
tortuous pathway to the comparatively smoother
water below.

A few of the older guides often descend these
rapids alone, in their birches ; but rarely do they
take any one with them, as a slight error in judg-
ment, a change of current, or the breaking of a

154 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

paddle, would shatter their frail craft, and place the
occupants in a decidedly unpleasant, if not danger-
ous position.

This morning we were lions in nerve : our breakfast
had tamed our appetites, but not our spirits, and we
were ready for adventure, — thirsting for it.

" Darest thou leap into yonder birch, and tempt
the roaring flood?" Thus, or in words of similar
import, I addressed madam. And she, with spar-
kling eye, though looking somewhat askant at the
miniature Niagara, replied, —

"Where thou goest, I will go."

Beckoning to Joe, I gave him a sign, — by trans-
forming myself for a moment into an Italian image-
peddler, — which he, understanding the imagery,
answered by making a head-dress of his canoe,
and marching towards us.

"Joe," said I, as he gently deposited his grace-
ful burden at our feet, "do you dare to run us
through in the birch? "

A thoughtful look overshadowed his face, and
his hand went to his chin ; he turned toward the
stream, casting his eyes in the direction of the
rapids, whose roar he could hear, but whose rush-
ing current he could not see ; then, turning to us,
he replied, —

"Yes; I think it's safe, — but you mustn't be
afraid of a wetting."

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 155

" Not a bit. But did you ever know a lady to
go over this rapid ? "

"No; but there's no danger if you only sit
qv.iet."

" Very well : there's got to be a first one, and
we'll try it. Are you agreed, madam ?"

"Yes, if you say so."

Seating ourselves in the canoe, Joe spreads the
rubber clothing over us, and we are ready. It is
an anxious moment ; and I begin to wish that a
little of our adventurous spirit had been quenched
with our breakfast, — but we had gone too far to
retreat. I knew Joe's heart was in his work ; and,
proud of his skill and our pluck, it would have been
a feather from his plume and ours had we " paused
upon the brink."

And, besides, a few observant fishermen noticing
our movements caught the inspiration of the mo-
ment, and, divining our intentions, took positions
where they could be observers of our exciting
trip.

I doubt if any adventurer that left his native
shore in search of the country whose possessors
were Tomah's ancestors e'er felt a greater pride
when his foot first touched its soil than did Joe
when, all being in readiness, he surveyed his pre-
cious freight, and "pushed his shallop from the
shore."

156 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

No retreat, now : a few sharp strokes of the pad-
dle, and a graceful turn brings us face to face with
the boiling, rushing flood, — a pent-up lake, which,
caught and confined by the hand of man, is seek-
ing its outlet between two wooden walls not twenty
feet apart.

On we are driven ; and now Joe guides our boat
of bark into the narrow opening. For an instant
the water beneath us is like burnished glass, and
but for an instant, for now we take a flying leap
into the caldron of yeasty foam. Our frail craft
shivers for a moment, as if stunned by the shock,
then rises buoyantly, uplifted by the swelling, rush-
ing, maddened waters, shoots out of the foam and
mist, and floats once more, with airy lightness, on
the pool below.

u Well done, Joseph ! " went up from the shore ;
and, as soon as we are able to breathe freely, we
mingle our plaudits with those about us.

" That's the easy part. Mr. Stevens : the work has
got to come. Shall we go ahead? "

" By all means ! " said I ; for we were now in
for it, and nothing could stop us.

" Then, don't either of you move an inch unless
the birch goes out from under you; don't look
ashore, look straight ahead, and don't speak to me
till we get into smooth water."

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 157

" All right ! that's business, fire away ! " And I
knew he meant business ; for he had taken off his
hat and coat, and stood bareheaded and erect, with
his eyes sparkling with unwonted fire.

Well, we started ; a few strokes of the paddle
brought us to the edge of the first fall, and again
we plunge into the roaring waters ; away we flew,
Joe steering for the wildest water, knowing it to be
the safest : now we pass close by a heavy boulder
just rising to the top of the stream ; and now we
take a bucket of water over the bow, and feel it
trickling down our cheeks, but we move not ;
another bucketful. " Look out, old boy ! don't
swamp us " (this in thought, for not a word was
spoken) .

On, on we dash; thump, thump, resistless as
death, the waves strike the bottom of the birch ;
now the wild water seems to be rolling towards us,
and now dashing on ahead with the speed of a
race-horse ; the air about us is flecked with foam,
and we seem vying to outrun the flying waters
themselves. We pass beneath the bridge, and the
lookers-on cheer us as we dart into sight again : we
are in rough water, we are in rougher water, we are
in white water, and we are in foam. And now we
round a bend in the stream, and in an instant strike
out upon the smoother water below.

158 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

"Well, Mr. Stevens, we're here."

I turned about slightly in my seat : Mrs. S —,

who had hardly dared to wink, was now shaking
the " dew-drops from her mane," and Joe actively
engaged in mopping his brow with his shirt-sleeve.

" Yes, we are here, Joe ; and my impression is,
we haven't been a very long time getting here.
Don't you think it was a little hubbly in some
places ? "

" Well, a trifle so ; but your wife has got some-
thing to talk about when she gets home."

" Yes, Joe ; but you will have to come to Boston
and tell the story : I fear our friends would hardly
believe us when we tell of it."

" Never mind : we know all about it, and they
can't take away the grandness of that trip by doubt-
ing us."

"That's so."

" And now, Joe, for a salmon."

Drawing in to the shore, to give Tomah a little
rest, I let my line float out upon the stream to
straighten the leader and be prepared for action.
I pass my rod to the madam, while I fill my pipe,
and take a survey of the stream. The outlook is a
good one : the water is at a proper height, but one
canoe is in sight, a gentle breeze is blowing, and
the sky is slightly overcast.

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 159

Suddenly the madam starts, quickly passes me
the rod, with the remark that " something's on the
line."

Sure enough ; the whiz of the reel, that ever-
musical sound, tells the story : he has hooked him-
self, firmly let us hope, but most likely otherwise.

I am ready for him, and it is a fair fight now.
Oh ! there's a leap for you, fully four feet clear from
the water, another and another ; the reel whizzes,
and the line lengthens. And now, my boy, walk
this way, please : no ? well, have your own way,
then, for a while.

And he had it till at last tired, quite tired out
with his rushing and leaping, he submits to his fate,
allows himself to be reeled to the canoe's side, the
net is deftly slipped beneath him, and he is safely
landed.

Not so ; for when, taking him from the net, I told
Joe to hold him up for the madam's inspection,
which he < did, when the reviving fish made one
more successful leap over the side of the birch into
his native element.

He was a handsome fish, fully two pounds in
weight, and Joe felt a bit ashamed at his loss ; but
we didn't care, for we were assured of plenty of
sport, and we had it.

After a few moments' casting; I. struck a pair, and

160 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

at the end of a hard-fought battle had the satisfac-
tion of saving them both, two beautiful fish fresh
run from the lake.

And now let me pause here, and tell you why I
prefer this fishing to that of the salmon-trout; and
while I would not detract from the latter sport, and
can appreciate the shake of the head from those
who have enjoyed year after year only trout-fishing,
I am free to say, having had many years' experience
in both, the land-locked salmon is my preference
now and forever.

Catching a little inspiration from the immortal
bard, and parodying one of his lines, I state it

thus : —

The leap, the leap's the thing
Wherein I call the land-locked salmon, king.

I once took a fish above the dam in smooth
water, weighing about two pounds, that made nine
successive leaps varying from three to six feet clear
from the water, and all within five minutes' time.

This was witnessed by my wife, who was in the
canoe with me, and who counted the leaps, and by
others who were fishing near us.

No salmon-trout ever did that, nor ever will. It
is seldom that the trout goes out of water after
coming out to take the fly (Mr. Murray to the con-
trary notwithstanding) : his tendency is toward the

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. l6l

bottom, and he rarely goes out of the water till
netted, while the salmon rushes with such velocity,
nose upward, that he is in the air before he knows
It.

In taking the fly, I award the palm to the trout,
as he usually throws himself out of water to do so.
The salmon does not, he scarcely more than shows
himself; but after being hooked the sport com-
mences, and it is all activity to the death, rarely any
sulking.

As regards beauty, while the palm must be
awarded to the trout, yet the salmon is a very
handsome fish. I think his form is better moulded
than that of the trout, and he has a much finer
head, which is beautifully spotted. The young fish
has bright red spots upon the body, which dis-
appear as he matures ; the only spots then being
small crosses of black, which form a pleasing con-
trast with the silvery lustre of the skin. When
first taken from the water, they are a most beau-
tiful specimen of the finny tribe.

And now, having painted this lord of the stream
from my mind's palette, perhaps you may ask,
" How does he affect another palate? "

And I answer you : Decidedly he is equal, if
not superior, to my taste, to the trout ; such is my
decision after a fair test, and it is also that of man)

1 62 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

of my friends who were quite surprised that they
should arrive at such conclusions.

Last year while "on the stream," a friend of
many years, an ardent fisherman, who had for
nearly twenty seasons made the Rangeley Lakes his
camping-ground, dropped down upon us quite
unexpectedly. He had heard a good deal of land-
locked salmon and their gamesome qualities. Be-
fore he had been three days among us, he was the
most enthusiastic individual I ever saw ; early and
late he was "up and at 'em."

Poor Gabrielle, his guide, had no rest for the sole
of his foot, or the muscles of his arm ; and it was
not much wonder that the cry of, " Good -by,
Umbagog," became a byword in camp.

And so with my good friend, and fellow-fisher-
man, Walter B. McAtee of Baltimore, whose ac-
quaintance I made at the stream, and who I know
will pardon me for putting him in print.

It was one of those happy accidents, as they are
called, which led him into the regions of the
salmon, and away from his accustomed haunts, the
Adirondacks.

And now, should you ask him which fishing he
prefers, he would say, —

" I tell you it's no use talking : it just lays over
any fishing I know of, and I don't want any better."

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 163

Next June we hope to renew some of the pleas-
ant scenes through which we have passed, one or
two of which I may allude to in these pages.

It just occurs to me, that I have digressed to an
alarming extent, and left the madam to entertain
Joseph, while I have been cramming you, my gen-
tle reader, with my individual opinion and that of
a few friends, on a subject whereon even doctors
disagree, and you yourself may believe, excuse me,
in your ignorance, t(f)out au contraire.

So, if you please, we will attend to our fishing.

" How many have we now, Joseph? "

" Nine, and all good fish."

"Did you count the one you dropped over-
board?"

"No."

" Well, that makes ten, and that's enough for our
forenoon sport. I reckon we will reel up, and go
home."

Being obliged to kill the fish that are taken upon
the stream, we never take more than can be used
to advantage.

A true sportsman intends that every fish caught
shall be eaten by some one. And many of our
friends hundreds of miles away have tasted the
fruits of our enjoyment.

I once kept two fish, weighing four pounds each,

1 64 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

two days upon the ice \ took them to Boston, and,
when served, they were pronounced equal to the
true salmon.

A walk of about half an hour, the same distance
by water on our downward trip, occupying, say,
five minutes, brought us to our tents on the hill,
and we make preparations for dinner.

It is very amusing to see Joe get ready : first, he
goes down the hill for an armful of wood ; when he
gets that, he finds that he needed a little bark for
kindling ; back he goes after that ; then he discov-
ers that a bucket of water is wanting, and down he
goes after that ; making three trips when one would
have answered as well.

Finally, after all the little drawbacks attendant to
cooking an out-of-door dinner are overcome, we
are enabled to say, "Thank heaven, the table is
set ! " and with keen appetites, such as are only
attainable in the woods, we sit down to partake ;
and rise only when both fish and flesh, like the
grasshopper, "becometh a burden."

Cast not your line when the sun casts no
shadow.

A maxim which it were wise for a fisherman to
follow. May I say, no less to be remembered
because not in quotation-marks?

In the " foolishness of (so much) preaching,"

RUNNING THE RAPIDS. 165

there should certainly be a few words of wisdom ;
therefore do not, my ardent angler, fancy for a mo-
ment that all your daylight hours should be spent in
eating and fishing, but accept the preacher's advice :
when the sun is at its meridian, and for one hour
before and at least two after, wet not your line.

After dinner, take your pipe, select some shady
spot, and as you sit having nothing

"To fret your soul with crosses or with cares," —

indulge in a retrospect of your anti-meridian suc-
cesses. Question your guide as to whether any
one could have saved the fish you lost, the " noblest
Roman" of them all (?). Anticipate your after-
noon sport, select a few flies in which you have
confidence, knock the ashes from your dudheen,
then seek your tent, lie down upon your bed of
boughs, draw your mosquito-net around you, and
woo the drowsy god.

Such is my custom, arrd it is best honored in its
observance ; so if you pleasey my friend, imagine
me lying quietly upon my couch of green, while you
turn over.

CHAPTER XIV.

A STIFF BREEZE.

AYS in camp are all alike, in this
respect at least, that all are enjoy-
able ; and though that gives the
most zest which recounts at night
a famous catch, or some desperate
fight for victory under adverse cir-
cumstances, yet all are happy; and, as twilight
gathers, we sit where the eye can rest upon lake
and mountain, rehearse our triumphs, or perchance
our failures, and form plans for the morrow.

One afternoon Joe and I decided to leave our
birch at Little Falls, about a mile or so down
stream, and go down on foot the next morning, to
get the first fishing at that favorite spot.

Following out our plan, we were on hand in good
season ; but no canoe was to be found. Its ab-
166

A STIFF BREEZE. 167

sence caused Joe to stroke his chin, and remain foi
a moment lost in thought.

"What does it mean, Tomah?"

" Ugh ! look there," pointing to the spot where
we left the canoe.

" Well, I see nothing there but a pile of chips."

" Don't you see ? Somebody make paddle ; and
see here, moccasin-track: that's Gabrielle (Joe's
brother) ; only he round here now wear mocca-
sin."

" Well, what do you think? "

" Gabrielle, his birch up 'bove dam ; I think he
and Mr. Clark, they take walk down stream ; fish
Big Falls, then walk down here to fish from bank ;
see our canoe, make paddle, catch our fish."

And, sure enough, the to-be legislator was right ;
for just at that moment the birch appeared round
a bend in the stream, glided up to the shore, and
the " two thieves," our friend from Umbagog and
Gabrielle, stepped out upon the bank with half a
dozen salmon which I had arranged for.

Candor compels me to say that we hardly en-
joyed the joke as much as they : our feelings were

more of

" That stern joy which warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel"

After some little pleasant sparring between Mr.

1 68 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Clark and myself, and one or two good spanks
upon Gabrielle's back inflicted by Joe with the im-
provised paddle, the latter shouldered his birch, and
we carried around the falls to unvisited fishing-
grounds below We had, however, not much luck,
and, after whipping the stream nearly down to the
outlet, getting a little faint we drew in to the shore
to partake of our lunch. While we were enjoying
our crackers, cheese, and olives, and discussing
what should be our next move, Joe reached out
from the canoe, and took from some debris that
was floating upon the stream what appeared to me
to be a large but deserted cocoon. Replying in
the negative to his question, Did I know what it
was ? he passed it over to me for inspection, when
I saw that possibly there might still be an embryo
life within it.

" That," said Joe, " is a dragon-fly, what we call a
'Devil's darning-needle,'" all the while examining
it critically : "I will put it here on the basket- cover,
and in twenty minutes by your watch you will see
him crawl out and fly away."

I felt a little inclined to say " Shoo fly ! " but
knowing well Joe's experience in woodcraft and
natural history, gained from an intimate acquaint-
ance with nature, I refrained from doubting ; and it
was well I did, for in just eighteen minutes (Joe

A STIFF BKEEZE. 169

insisted upon my consulting my watch) , within two
of the appointed time, one of those huge insects
emerged from the shell, and stood before us in all
the beauty of his variegated colors.

He looked about him for a moment, gave his nose
a rub first with one foot, then with another, stroked
his wings with a couple more as if to satisfy himself
that he was himself, and, before I was well over my
amazement, spread his wings, and sailed off into the
air as if he had been up to that sort of thing for a
very much longer life than he could claim.

No babyhood there, except what was passed in his
darkened cell, no creeping before he could walk,
no fluttering of the wings, but with the strength of
full growth to which he seemed at once to have
arrived he was ready to take his part in the battle
of life.

" Joseph, you have proved yourself a true proph-
et for once, now see if you can find some salmon."

But Joe's eyes are now scanning the heavens,
over which a few white clouds were rapidly passing,
and he looks a little anxious.

" We're going to have a thunder-shower, and a
heavy blow, Mr. Stevens; and I'm afraid Mrs.

S will have a hard time with those tents on the

hill."

" Nonsense, Joe : I don't see any signs of a
storm."

1 70. FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

" Well, I do ; and my advice is, go home. 1 tell
you, I'm anxious about your wife."

" But we must not go home without a few more
fish, Tomah."

" Very well, just as you say ; but you'll wish you
had taken my advice."

In half an hour the storm burst upon us, with all
its fury. The tall trees upon either bank bent
before the blast ; the red lightning leaped along the
sky, and peal upon peal of thunder rent the dark-
ened air. The rain fell in torrents, and our rubber
clothing afforded us but poor protection. Pushing
our birch to the shore, we lay under the branches
of an overhanging tree, which protected us some-
what from the raging elements ; Joe all the while
insisting that there would be trouble in camp. I
confess, I somewhat shared his fears, but would not
admit it to him. At last, during a lull in the storm,
Joe says, —

" Mr. Stevens, we are going home."

We were then about two miles from camp, and
most of the way we were obliged to go on foot.
We started at once, Joe with the birch on his head,
and I following on behind, pretty well loaded down
with my fishing-implements. Before we had gone
half a mile, the rain had ceased, and the sun was
bursting through the clouds; still the wind blew

A STIFF BXEEZE. 171

heavily, and Joe said another shower was coming.
In this, however, he was mistaken.

After half an hour's tedious walking, I got a view
of the hill ; but alas ! the white tents that were wont
to greet our coming were not to be seen, not a
yard of canvas was visible.

Joe's head was enveloped in birch-bark, and I
felt a bit ashamed to tell him the state of affairs ;
but, feeling the need of haste, I suggested that he
take a look.

" Just as I expected : now I leave canoe here,
and we get there pretty quick."

We were soon standing amid the wreck : every
thing was flat, gone by the board.

Like the blossoming fruit, when summer is green,
Our tents on the hill-tops at sunrise were seen ;
Like the leaves of the forest, when autumn had blown,
That camp in the noontime dismantled was strown.

And there lay the stove, with its door opened wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of its pride.
And the smoke of its embers fell faint on the hill,
And the pipe but once puffed, and forever was still.

And there stood the hostess, not caring a groat,

With a pie in her hand, and the rain on her coat,

As she said, with glad gesture, " The storm have I braved,

The bedding's all dry, and the larder is saved."

172 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

The parody has very well described the situation.
Though the appearance of the camp was rather a
disheartening one, there was scarcely any damage

done. Mrs. S had shown herself fully equal to

the emergency; alone and unaided had brought
order out of chaos, had sheltered every thing perish-
able from the rain, and we found her as calm and
collected as though nought but sunshine had crossed
her path during our absence.

The disaster entailed but one loss : our ther-
mometer was fastened to one of the tent-poles, and
both went down together ; the latter to rise again
like a famous insurance emblem, the former to do
so no more, though Arabia's sun should shine upon
it.

Joe, having determined in his mind that the
tents would go down, was now as fully determined
that they should as quickly go up. It was not long,
therefore, before we had the satisfaction of seeing
our camp restored, par excellence, hitherto un-
equalled.

We had brought with us some Chinese lanterns
and fire-balloons, with which to astonish the natives ;
and we decided to celebrate our rebuilded city by
a grand ascension in the evening.

It was highly successful, doubly so in itself and
its effect upon Joseph. It is rarely that the stoical

A STIFF BREEZE. 173

nature of an Indian can be aroused sufficiently to
manifest any outward show of surprise or admira-
tion.

Joe had feasted his eyes upon the gayly colored
lanterns that hung upon ropes encircling our camp,
had watched my preparations for the aerial flight
with mute wonder and astonishment ; but when the
ball of cotton, which he had seen saturated with
alcohol, was set on fire, and the upheld balloon,
swelling out to its full capacity, was let loose to
seek its pathway among the stars, for once Joe for-
got his stoicism, and became almost frantic with
delight, dancing about, and cutting the wildest
capers, fairly rivalling the clown in a pantomime.

We found it necessary to send up three more
before bringing Joe clown to his normal state ; and
by the time they had followed each other, in the
trackless space, we were quite ready to seek repose,
and dream, perchance, of those unknown worlds,
that were showering down upon us their sparkling
glories.

CHAPTER XV.

PARMACHENEE LAKE.

HE Magalloway River is one of the
tributaries of the Androscoggin,
with which it unites a few miles
below its outlet from Umbagog
Lake.

Although a considerable river of something like
one hundred miles in length, and to be found on
all modern maps of Maine, it is evidently not a
school river, as I ascertained one day when I asked
four Boston schoolgirls what they knew about it.

It rises in Canada, and flows through mountain
gorges, and beautiful meadows, now rushing with
mighty swiftness through rocky passes, and as
silently flowing among the dark shadows of mighty
forests.

It is a very crooked river. One of our guides
174

PARMACHENEE LAKE. 175

told us that it was the last one made, and it had to
be coiled in wherever they could find a chance to
put it. I should think so. A corkscrew would
represent it very well.

Thirty-three miles from its mouth as you follow
its winding stream, and about eighteen as the crow
flies, due north, is Parmachenee Lake, a charming
sheet of water, encircled by hills of greater or lesser
height, some attaining to the dignity of mountains,
and all beautiful.

I had often heard of this remote spot, as being
well worth a visit for the beauty of its scenery as
well as its attractions to the sportsman ; for there the
trout, the deer, and the lordly moose abound, or
rather are to be found if one is fortunate enough to
find them.

I had also learned that it was difficult of access
on account of wearisome " carries " across which
we wouid be obliged to walk.

But as this would be to our advantage, so far as
our sporting prospects were concerned, I deter-
mined to make it a visit, and in the early summer
of 1878 made up a small party for a two- weeks'
trip to that locality.

While we were satisfied that trout are plenty in
the lake and surrounding streams, our first experi-
ence was not a success, owing to the lateness of the

f 76 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

season, very bad weather, and "high water." Still
the attractions of the trip are so many and varied,
that I think, notwithstanding our bad luck, there is
not one of the party but hopes and fondly expects
sooner or later to revisit this charming lake.

' After much questioning of the few acquaintances
that had preceded us, we determined upon the fol-
lowing route, which proved in every respect a most
delightful journey.

Leaving Boston in the Portland boat, we arrive
at the latter city in ample season for a good break-
fast, before starting again by rail.

We take the train on the Grand Trunk Railroad
for North Stratford, arriving there about four o'clock
in the afternoon.

Here we chartered a team, and were driven thir-
teen miles to Colebrook, N.H., over a beautiful
road which follows the banks of the Connecticut
River nearly the whole distance. At Colebrook we
spent the night at the Parsons House, a well-kept
hotel whose landlord did every thing to make our
short stay a pleasant one.

We were here met by a small party of Vermont
friends, who were to accompany us on our excur-
sion, and a very agreeable acquisition we found
them. At eight in the morning our conveyance
was driven to the door ; and an inviting sight it was

PARMACHENEE LAKE. TJJ

to look upon, — the vehicle known as a Mountain
Ranger, very comfortable and roomy, with four fine-
looking horses, who appeared as much pleased at
their starting out as ourselves.

Our destination was Errol Dam, on the Andros-
coggin River, twenty-one miles from Colebrook,
through the famous Dixville Notch.

The day was not all we could have wished ; but
our party of seven was a happy one, and the ladies
were in the best of spirits.

Our route lay up the Mohawk River, which, flow-
ing from the north, empties into the Connecticut at
Colebrook. Many were the pools that we saw as
we drove along by the river-side, and strongly were
we tempted to stop and wet our lines, for we knew
that the trout were there. We had been informed
that it was a stream well worth the fishiug.

Soon we began to ascend toward the Notch, and
the forest closed in about us. This, for two miles,
an unbroken wilderness of leaves when suddenly
we came out from the dark shadows, and found
ourselves at the Gate of the Notch. It is one of
the most sublime pieces of scenery this side the
Rocky Mountains. Entirely different in its char-
acteristics from the Notch of the White Mountains,
it has peculiar grandeurs of its own, which must be
seen tc be realfzed, as they cannot be described, —

1 78 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

certainly not by so feeble a pen as mine. Vast
pinnacles of rock, some over five hundred feet in
height, tower like cathedral spires upon either side
of us, as we pass through the narrow defile.

One striking feature is the decaying and crum-
bling appearance of the huge cliffs, — a sort of worn-
out look, — the few bushes upon their sides brown
and scraggy. At one point in the Notch we look
down from our wagon-seats into a vast ravine, where
the sunlight scarcely penetrates, and where snow
lies unmelted throughout the summer. A promi-
nent feature is Profile Rock, — the profile equalling
in outline and size that of Franconia Notch. Al-
together, it is a wonderful piece of scenery ; and I
have no hesitation in saying that the drive from
Colebrook to Errol Dam, through this mountain-
pathway, is one of the finest in America. After
passing the Notch, our course lies beside the banks
of the Clear Stream River, eleven miles to Errol
Dam.

We reached the Dam at noon, and found Bragg's
Hotel a very inviting place, — so much so, that,
deciding to tarry, we spent the afternoon in fishing
at the Dam, and the night with our agreeable host,
who showed us every kindness.

The proper route from this place to Parmachenee
is by steamer through the Androscoggin and Magal-

PARMACHENEE LAKE. 179

loway Rivers, to a point distant about ten miles, —
Brown's Landing. But in the absence of the
steamer, which is a very notional craft, — coming
and going at its own sweet will, — we were obliged
to again take the " Mountain Ranger," and drive a
distance of seventeen miles over a mountainous
road, — partly in Maine, and partly in New Hamp-
shire, — to the extreme end of civilization, where
carries and boating commence.

Changing from our "Mountain Ranger" to a
buck-board, we encounter our first carry of two
miles, — and a dismal, rough, and dreary ride it is.
We pass the night at Fred Flint's camp, near the
Aziscohos Falls, on the Magalloway. For good
cooking, a neat table, and a comfortable bed, com-
mend us to this oasis in the wilderness. Surely
Fred is blessed with a wife worth the having.

For our thirty-three miles of boating, we are
ready at an early hour the following morning ; and
at six o'clock our three boats push off from the
landing, each propelled by a willing pair of oars.

From our start at the falls, the entire distance
to the lake lies through a virgin wilderness, not a
clearing, not a sign of a human habitation, save
a solitary hunter's camp, where we landed and
lunched in primitive style. The trip, were it not
for its novelty, would be somewhat tiresome ; but

l8o FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

the scenery was constantly changing, and we were
not there to be tired, and the hours passed pleasantly.
It took just eleven of them to accomplish the dis-
tance, it being up-hill work all the way. To note
the difference between up and down hill, in river-
boating, we were but six hours in making the return
passage. We reached the landing, five miles from
the lake, — the river, on account of rapids, being
impassable the remainder of the distance, — at five
o'clock, and a comfortable walk of a mile brought
us to Spof. Flint's camp, on the shore of Sunday
Pond, where we spent the night.

In the morning we took our departure through
the, woods, on foot, for the lake, distant four miles.
We were two hours in crossing this carry, — not
rapid locomotion, but fast enough to be agreeable.
Considering the non-macadamized road over which
we passed, the ladies stood the jaunt remarkably
well. Our baggage followed us on a horse-sled.

To say that we lifted up our voices with joy and
gladness when the waters of the charming lake
greeted our sight, would certainly be within the
range of truth, — and close range at that.

Very grateful was the change from our weary
tramp to the delightful sail across the lake, in a
commodious boat to Camp Caribou, beautifully
situated upon a small island near the farther shore.

PARMACHENEE LAKE. 181

With John Danforth, designer and builder, an
adept woodsman, hunter, and guide, a bunch of
muscle, and a brain worth the ownership, we spent
at his hostelry, Camp Caribou, nearly a week ; an
enjoyable one, although the elements were against
us, it being a week of almost continuous rain, and
though in the latter part of June colder than
average May weather.

Our fishing was all done from boats within a
radius of four or five miles from camp.

.There are large trout in the lake, and one of
three and a half pounds, a beautiful fish, was taken
by one of our party ; while during our stay Mr.
Burroughs of the Boston Museum Company, who
with his friend Mr. Carlos was encamped on the
shore of the lake, took one with the fly weighing
four and three-quarter pounds.

As I before stated, our luck was poor. We took,
comparatively, but few fish, and not many of even
a pound weight. At Little Boy's Falls, where the
best fishing is usually had, we did nothing, owing to
" high water." At Little Boy's Pond, near the falls,
upon which we put our boats, we had fair fishing in
point of numbers, though the trout were small.

The camp conveniences, table, boats, and guides
are excellent, and John Danforth is the head and
front of it all. Too much cannot be said in his
praise,, as all who know him will attest.

1 82 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Our journey home, varying our route by return-
ing via Fabyan's, the White-mountain Notch, and
North Conway, with the ascent of Mount Kear
sarge, was one of great enjoyment, and the entire
trip one abounding in beauty and romance.

Our party still believe there is good trout-fishing
at Parmachenee Lake, and, taken all in all, feel
that we are justified in recommending it to others.
The expense of the excursion is more than that to
Rangeley, Moosehead, or Grand Lake, but, for those
who seek for more seclusion than these afford, is
much to be preferred.

Should any of my readers wish to take the trip,
I should be pleased personally to give them any
information in regard to guides, expense, etc., not
here set down, as this does not include " the whole
business."

CHAPTER XVI.

PICKEREL-FISHING IN WINTER.

| LA INLY, it happened in this way:
Tom had often driven by the pond
in summer ; and, occasionally stop-
ping to gather a handful of the
beautiful lilies that float upon its
surface, he one day met a hardy
tiller of the soil, with whom he chatted as he
tossed the fragrant flowers towards the sparkling
eyes in the carriage.

" Pickerel, sir ! you can say pickerel. Why,
there's no eend to 'em, sir, if you takes 'em a
cloudy day when the moon is right."

" Do they ever fish for them in the winter, my
friend?"

" Well, not much. You see, the boys round here,
they likes smelting better ; and the city chaps, as a
gineral thing they don't much like fishing through

183

1 84 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

the ice ; it's apt to give 'em the rheumatics and
sich ; but once in a while a party, they does come
down. (Beg yer pardon, ma'am ! Oh ! he won't
bite : he only barks.) And, when they do, they
usually makes a haul. There was two chaps come
down last winter when she first froze up, and sot
twenty lines, and carried off nigh two hundred as
pretty creeturs as ever you saw; but they ain't
many of 'em as likes the fun."

"Well, sir, I rather enjoy such sport "in the
winter, and I may get up a party, and come down
and try them ; and, by the way, if you will keep
this rather quiet — you live near here, I judge? "

" Oh, yes ! close yonder, right by the pond."

"Well, take this, and buy something for the
babies."

" I'm 'fraid you're too generous ; but mum's the
word. I sha'n't know nothing about the fishing
arter this."

Now, Thomas is not an unbelieving Thomas, as
was he of old, nor does he forget any thing in a
hurry ; and that night, though one of the warm-
est of last summer's many warm ones, he woke
his wife calling for more blankets, dreaming, en-
thusiastic soul, that already he stood, with a happy
party, around the dark, bubbling holes, anxiously
waiting for the tiny flag to give timely notice of the
first bite.

PICKEREL-FISHING IN WINTER. 185

And so it came about, that a fortnight or so ago
he poured this weight of sport which had long bur-
dened his mind into the ears of a few delighted
listeners, who in early spring, with rod and reel,
are wont to tempt the wary trout from lake and
stream, — rugged fellows they, willing to breast the
icy breezes and the drifted snow for a good day's
sport and the prospect of a generous spoil.

First, there was Charley W., who delights to see
his fellow-men well clothed, and who, when sum-
mer breezes blow, dons the seaman's garb, and
from the deck of his swift-going yacht drinks in
the grandeur of old ocean's waves, as the beautiful
craft settles down to her work, and parts the water
like a thing of life.

And Johnny L . Every one knows Johnny ;

a perfect Apollo, both in form and voice ; good at
a story, better at a song ; and, if report be true
(and sure it must when, from such a source it
comes), to his already shining stars he has lately
astonished the world, and a neighboring city, by
appearing as a "Burlesque Comet."

Then a "Mammoth* Cod," a half-amphibious
fellow, who likes the water most every way except
as a steady beverage, — another Charley, fond of
fun and fishing, he must needs be stirred up at the
glowing tale, and consents most willingly to join
the merry crew.

1 86 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

In the language of the novelist, " the auspicious
day at last arrived," which was to furnish sport in
abundance ; and in the best of spirits, our lunch-
baskets well filled, our fishing-gear, supplied by
" Prouty," consisting of — item : one axe, one long-
handled skimmer, one ditto cold-chisel, twenty-four
patent lines, with red-flannel-flag attachments, —
all snugly stowed in the baggage-car; our little
party augmented by Professor Gerry, who was to
have charge of the whole (hole) proceedings, —
we rattled out of the Old Colony Depot, bound for
Lily Pond, Cohasset.

One little incident occurred before starting which
might, to a less-determined company, have proved
a drawback. Tom, with proper foresight, had the
day before purchased a bucket of live bait, cunning
little minnows, who seemed as happy in their nest
of eel-grass, tucked up nicely together, as though
swimming in their native element. Now, Mrs.
J , Tom's better half, discovered this same buck-
et, and the absence of any water in which the lit-
tle chaps might swim ; and, in the kindness of her
heart, poured in a supply, which, under some cir
cumstances, would have proved quite beneficial to
their general health ; but in this case it only damp-
ened their spirits, and our live bait became dead
bait. Poor Tom ! he said he couldn't scold, it
showed such a good disposition.

PICKEREL-FISHING IN WINTER. 187

But we took along our dead " enticements," and
left word with a friend to have another bucketful,
with more life, follow us in the next train.

In due time we arrived at Cohasset, where we
were met by a friend of Tom's, Mr. Hall of Marsh-
field, whose large experience in winter fishing, dis-
played in determining the latitude and longitude of
the holes, the length of the lines, and such matters,
added, undoubtedly, to the success of our day's
fishing. A ride of about two miles brought us to
the pond : in regard to which ride, too much praise
canrot be awarded to our friend Hall, whose win-
ning ways so overcame the stable-keeper, that he
reduced the price of the job from five dollars to
two-fifty, and no extra charge for bringing up the
bucket of bait.

As we drove upon the snow-covered ice, a thrill
of pleasure so filled each breast that it welled up in
one prolonged shout of rejoicing, so loud and long
that it actually started our horse into a trot, the
first since leaving the depot. As we disembarked
from our rude vehicle, known as a pung, a gray-
haired individual rushed across the ice, and was
soon engaged in earnest converse with Tom and
friend Hall, as to our objective point for hole-
building. This proved to be the old gent of last
summer, who lived " yonder, close by the pond."

1 88 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

And now, behold the professor with his axe,
Hall with the skimmer, Tom and Johnny exploring
the little island for the spot and material for a fire,
the two Charleys arranging the lines, and selecting
the most lifelike of the dead minnows for bait,
while the kind old gent wandered calmly about,
telling such fish-stories as would cause the most
stoical to glow with anticipation.

The holes are cut, the lines are set, the little
flags all ready to rise at the slightest indication of
a nibble, and — ah ! there goes a flag, the first
thing ! Run, Johnny ! go it, Tom ! False alarm,
was it ? Must have been the wind. A long wait ;
patience : they don't bite till the noise is stilled, so
the old gent tells us.

A longer wait ; a kicking of shins, and rubbing
of noses to keep warm ; nary bite.

Oh, if that live bait would only come ! It don't ;
and ancient gent takes a quiet nipper of old Med.,
and a dollar from the general fund, and retires to
his cottage " over yonder."

Meantime our fire burns brightly, and we gather
round it, watching anxiously our little flags; but
somehow they don't go up.

A boy, an educated youth, joins our party, who
will persist, in spite of Tom's logic, that the salt
water does not flow into the pond. Innocent child,

PICKEREL-FISHING IN WINTER. 189

unused to guile ! Ah, there comes the live bait !
Now we shall have them ! Quick, Johnny, be live-
ly ! Too much time lost already ! There ! Thun-
der ! They don't seem to notice the difference.
Not a flag rises. Well, we are all getting hungry,
and lunch is proposed, to which no one objects ;
when, just as the baskets are opened, and all are
gathered about them, up goes a flag, and five pair
of legs run quickly to the spot, and our first prize
is landed on the ice. •

Isn't he a beauty? Hall soon extemporizes a
pond in which we deposit our darling ; and we re-
sume our feast, attended by the " knowledgeous "
boy, whose early education in the matter of eating
had evidently not been neglected. An ice-cutter,
engaged on a distant part of the pond, a ragged,
unkempt genius, also favored us with his company,
and chopped down a few trees for our fire, in
regular backwoodsman style. We were not obliged
to board him however, as he procured his dinner
from one of the trees he cut down, which consisted
of a quantity of overgrown black ants (fact) , which
he seemed to relish hugely. We had heard of such
a diet among the Digger Indians, but hardly ex-
pected to see it in Norfolk County. Being desirous
of knowing where this uncouth specimen was born
and reared, I interviewed him to that effect.

190 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

"Well," said he, "I was raised in Scarborough,
Me." He had been, like the "Boots" at Holly
Tree Inn, "a'most everywhere," — had fought with
the boys in blue, and later against the Indians on the
plains ; had raised wheat in Minnesota, and felled
trees in Michigan.

As I was well acquainted in Scarborough, a little
town near Portland, Me., numbering some thousand
souls, three-quarters of whom bear the name of
Libby, to test his truthfulness I asked him if he was
acquainted with any person of that name in the
town. His answer was more expressive than ele-
gant : —

" Libby ! G — d ! Every man in town's name's
Libby, but one, and his name's Libby Johnson."

While partaking of his hearty meal, our joyous
youth became communicative, and informed us that
the kind old gent who had so raised our expecta-
tions had passed the last few years in State's Pris-
on. At hearing which, Tom didn't look at the
flags for seventeen minutes. During the hour and
a half passed in eating and d — rying our feet, one
more poor pickerel was insnared, evidently the* last
of his race, for not another came to taste our
tempting bait ; and soon the lengthening shadows
warned us that it was time to discontinue oui
sport (?).

PICKEREL-FISHING IN WINTER. 191

So, with great reluctance ( ?) we prepare to leave
the fruitful scene of our day's enjoyment. A half-
dollar more from the general fund for the boy who
wound up the lines, and with our two pickerel in a
bucket of water, for Tom's aquarium, we start for
home. Not much was said as to the grand result.
There was rather a strong feeling manifested by the
two Charleys, that we should have done better if we
had tried Billerica Pond. But then, there were
only five of us besides the professor and the boy,
and but twenty-four lines ; so two pickerel weren't
so bad after all.

It occurred to me the other day, that I would
like to know what the cost of " them air " two fish
might be ; and I give you the result of my fig-
ures : —

One axe $2 50

One long-handled skimmer I oo

One long-handled cold chisel .... o 75

One bucket dead bait I oo

One bucket live bait I oo

Express on ditto o 50

24 patent lines, with flags @ 250 6 oo

10 car-fares, @ 5oc 5 oo

Sleigh from depot to pond 2 50

Perquisite to kind old gent I oo

Perquisite to good young man .... o 50

Lunch for six 4 oo

3 bottles Leather Preservative @ $1.50 . . 4 50

Total $30 25

192 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

Which, divided by the aforesaid two pickerel, giv-
eth the cost of each at $15.1 2 \. Very aristocratic
pickerel. Don't you think so ?

Of course the above does not include our cigars,
and a little something to keep the cold out while
we built the fire ; that's understood.

Not wishing to have this spot all to ourselves, I
have given you the name of the pond, and beg to
annex the following diagram of it and its surround-
ings, that should my readers wish to try their luck,
they may know where to go, and how it looks when
they get there.

[The book-maker says my little sketch has got to
be placed at the top of the next page, and he sends
to me in great haste to fill up this gap. Now, if I
had had more experience in book-making, I should
have several " chunks " written up to supply such
wants ; but as I have not, I will use the space by
showing my readers the uncertainty of fishing, and
the aptness of the phrase, "fisherman's luck : " —

A few days after our excursion, a party of gentle-
men from Cohasset, who were in the habit of fishing
the pond in the summer, visited it for the same
purpose, and, with about the same number of lines
which we had, "toiled all day," and caught nothing.
This is a lie, but it fills up the space just the same.]

PICKEREL-FISHING IN WINTER. 193

A A. — Lily Pond, Cohasset, beneath whose liquid depths, etc., etc.

B. — The cot where lived the gray haired sire (liar).

C. — The road to the pond, o'er which young John, with flying feet,
pursued the sleigh.

D D D D. — Holes (24 in number), by our artist, " Gerry."

E. — The log that furnished the ice-cutter's repast.

F. — This is the fire that Tom built.

G G G. — This is the island surrounding the fire that Tom built.
H. — Rock behind which Charley hid the Leather Preservative.
* I. — Crack in the ice caused by Johnny's sitting down suddenly.
K. — Pond constructed by Hall for keeping our fish.
L. M. — Our fish.

I have endeavored to make this so clear, that the
most educated scholar can understand it ; but I
hope this picture of a winter day's fishing is not
drawn in such bright colors that the pond will be
overrun with fishermen, and our future sport
spoiled.

CHAPTER XVII.

A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN.

T was one of those rare days in the
woods, — which, fortunately for the
sportsman whose time is limited, are
few, — when the shelter of the camp
and the cheering influence of an open
fireplace were much to be preferred
to the cutting east wind that was making a minia-
ture ocean of our usually peaceful lake, and the
drenching which one would receive from the rain
that was falling without in torrents.

We had enjoyed our usual mid-day meal, and
were smoking our pipes, gathered around a brightly
burning fire in John Danforth's snug and cheerful
lounging-room, connected with his camp at Parma-
chenee Lake.

Charlie, who somehow managed either by hook
194

A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN. 195

or by crook to get the softest place, was stretched
in a hammock swung in the rear of the room.

The conversation had taken a turn from fishing
to travelling, and Charlie and Nate had been relat-
ing some of their experiences upon a recent visit
to the Yosemite Valley ; the former concluding
with, " And that is a pleasure you have yet in store,
old man."

" Yes ; and it would have seemed to the world's
end, almost, when the old man was a young one,"
I replied.

" I think, my Kind Commander," said Nate, "you
have met with adventures in the Western country
in your youth : can't you revive an incident to pass
away the time, while the little fishes are taking their
shower-bath ? "

"Yes : I was thinking of one adventure, in par-
ticular, when you were describing that shanty in the
valley where you and Charlie lunched. Call John
and the rest of the boys, make the circle round the
hearth a little larger, and I will spin you a yarn that
will take away your appetite for supper, and send
you weeping lo your beds."

"True, of course?"

" As preaching ; and yet it seems like a dream,
— a shadowy remembrance of the past, the long
past. I can hardly realize that the incident I am

196 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

about to relate ever really occurred ; but certain
memoranda, and this small scar on my forehead
which I shall carry to my grave, are abundant testi-
mony of its truth.

"It was the winter of 18 — . I had been travel-
ling in the western part of the States, or, rather,
what was then known as the Great West ; but with
the exception of a few miserable settlements, mis-
called cities, on the farther bank of the Mississippi,
the broad expanse of country lying between that
mighty river and the Pacific coast was almost the
sole abiding-place of that fast-disappearing race
whose memory and deeds our poets and novelists
have perpetuated in many a romantic tale.

" These aborigines of the soil, known to us through
authors and poets as the 'untutored sons of the
forest,' the ( noble savage,' and the ' red man of
the plain,' were, with the exception of a few hunters,
trappers, and explorers, the sole inhabitants of that
vast extent of country, now divided into States and
Territories, possessing large and thriving towns and
cities, all adding, with their vast resources of cereals
and precious metals, to the wealth of our country,
etc. ; as the historian will .tell you, and all of which
you know as well as I.

" At the time this incident took place I was liv-
ing in the city of New York, and had made several

A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN. 197

journeys to Cairo City, on the eastern bank of the
Mississippi, then a much larger town than Chicago :
in fact, at that time the latter was but a small village,
entirely unsuspicious of its future greatness.

" In company with a gentleman much older than
myself, I had, at that point, or ' city ' as it was
called, established a trading-post to supply ihe
Indians and the border settlers of the vicinity. As
you may surmise, I was rather young to be engaged
in that sort of business. I could tell you how I
drifted into it, but no matter.

"It was near the end of November, as my
memoranda tell me, that I started on my long trip,
making the journey to Buffalo from New York by
stage. At that place I embarked on a schooner,
and after a cold, dismal, and dangerous voyage,
arrived at Chicago on the i2th of December, some-
thing like three weeks from the time I left New
York ; having passed through Lake Erie to Detroit,
then through Detroit River to Lake Huron, through
Huron and the Straits of Mackinaw into Michigan,
across that lake to what is now the great city of the
West, Chicago. We were delayed several days in
the straits by ice, and came near being treated to
an Arctic experience by being frozen in.

" Little did I dream, at that time, of the improved
facilities of travel that we now enjoy : a Pullman

198 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

palace-car would have seemed quite as fabulous as
Aladdin's palace. Many a time in later years, when
making the trip in thirty-six hours from Boston with-
out leaving my car, have I thought of those early
days, and wondered how I could have endured so
much hardship.

" At Chicago I took stage, or an apology for one,
for St. Louis, distant about three hundred miles ;
and on the i9th of December arrived at that city,
then quite a flourishing town of some five thousand
inhabitants.

" At this point it was my intention to have gone
down the Mississippi by boat to my destination, —
the city of Cairo, by river about one hundred miles
from St. Louis, — but the season had been unusually
cold, and I found the river nearly closed by ice, and
the boats hauled up. This was a set-back ; as I had
intended buying some stores, and taking them along
with me. Provisions I must have ; and there was
but one way to get them there, and that was by
carting them across the country.

"After making my purchases, I bought eight
stout mules and two heavy wagons, hired two lusty
bushwhackers for mule-drivers, loaded my wagons,
bought a mustang pony, mounted him ; and off we
started, on a clear, cold morning, upon our long
and tedious journey. It was rather a novel send-off

A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN. 199

for me, though I had previously made excursions of
a day on horseback in that vicinity ; but this was to
be at least five days, and through a part of the
country but little inhabited and scarcely civilized.
Still, I only dreaded the toil of travel. As for fear,
the thought of danger never occurred to me : my
drivers had been well recommended, and at that
time murders were seldom heard of, the reign of
border-ruffianism not having begun.

" On the second day, my suspicions that some-
thing was in the wind were aroused by overhearing
a fragment of conversation between the drivers,
which was suddenly cut short the moment they ob-
served that I was a listener. I had heard enough
to put me on my guard, but not enough to con-
vince me that evil was intended : so, taking care to
manifest no particular concern, I simply held myself
in readiness to prevent any manifestations of devil-
try they might make.

" On that day we were expecting to reach the
little village of Chester, where we intended passing
the night. I was riding a short distance in the
rear of the wagons, when Big Jake, as he was called,
came back to tell me that one of the axles had
broken, and we should have to haul up for the
night ; at the same time informing me that he had
a friend living in a log cabin about half a mile
ahead.

200 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

" Reaching the wagon, it took me but a moment
to satisfy myself that the so-called accident was no
accident at all, but a wilful breakdown on their
part, arranged undoubtedly the night before. I
was on the alert in a moment, but said nothing.
Covering the stores with boughs to shield them in
case of a storm, we unhitched the mules, and
started for the cabin, which we found to be but a
short distance away.

" It was deserted, apparently having been un-
occupied for some little time. Near it was another
rough-looking shanty, which proved of great service
to me in the end, for it contained a dilapidated
forge : though it had evidently not been used for
months, yet, with some tinkering, I saw that it
could be made available for our repairs.

" The cabin was desolate enough. It contained
three rooms, two of which had evidently been used
for sleeping, and the other as a kitchen : in the
centre of this was a large stove, with three wooden
benches drawn up about it ; on the floor were sev-
eral pieces of broken crockery, and the remains of
two or three clay pipes well colored. I saw enough
to convince me that the place had been occupied
by some outlawed band, most likely for no good
purpose.

"In each of the sleeping-rooms was a sort of

A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN. 201

bunk, similar to a sailor's berth in the forecastle of
a ship, capable of accommodating two or three
persons each, if they were disposed to be neigh-
borly. A few withered boughs still remained on the
loose boards. A solitary stool in each sleeping-room
comprised the furniture of the camp, with the ex-
ception of the stove and benches, and a rickety old
table, upon which we spread the few stores we had
brought along for provisions on the way.

"Jake and Short Pete, the other driver, soon
made a fire in the stove, and, after putting out the
mules, went into the bush to cut some fresh boughs
for our beds. While they were gone, I made the
best of my time taking observations. There was
nothing to alarm one about the cabin. Save its
deserted appearance, it might be like many others
in that vicinity; but, while exploring, I made a
discovery which, though comparatively of little
moment, nevertheless set me to thinking.

" In one of the sleeping-rooms, hanging from a
huge spike driven into a log in the roof over one
of the bunks, was about two-thirds of a leg of veni-
son, which, being nearly the color of the surround-
ing objects, had before escaped my notice. Upon
examining it more closely, I saw that slices had
been quite recently cut from it ; and, continuing
my researches, I became satisfied, that, in spite of

202 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

its deserted look, the cabin had been occupied
within a very short time.

" This of itself was of trifling consequence ; but
putting the actions of my drivers, the broken axle,
and the ' friend's ' house together, I certainly felt
that I had some cause for alarm : so, taking the
benefit of their absence to give my pistol a careful
examination, I sat down, and took a mental review
of affairs, concluding with wondering what the ' old
folks at home ' would think if they knew just how
.their hopeful son was being entertained.

"It was the 22d of December, Forefathers' Day,
Old Style ; and, remembering it, I compared situa-
tions, and came to the conclusion that there was
not much to choose between us.

" I had but a short time, however, for reflections ;
as the drivers very soon returned, and prepared the
bunks for our reception. The day, which had been
cloudy, now began to show signs of a storm ; and,
before darkness had come, the snowflakes were
rapidly falling, and soon the ground was completely
covered. I thought the men exchanged sinister
glances, as if the snow-fall was not at all to their
liking. Aside from this, I saw nothing of a suspi-
cious nature.

" We ate our supper together, they appearing as
companionable as one could wish ; and, after a

A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN. 203

long smoke, we retired at about nine o'clock to our
respective bunks. The better of the two, if there
was a choice, was given to me; and I had the
satisfaction of having the haunch of venison for
company.

" A solitary tallow candle, which we found in the
cabin, half-burned, gave me all the light I desired.
I was not long in getting to bed ; my preparations
being simply laying aside my hat, and placing my
pistol under my coat, which I was using for a pillow.
Being thus guarded, you may perhaps think I was
ready to go to sleep. By no means ! I had not
the slightest idea of closing my eyes through the
night : let what would come, I was determined not
to be caught napping. So there I lay, and listened
and thought. The men I could occasionally hear
talking, in a low voice, in their room ; but soon
they stopped, and silence reigned. I hesitated
whether I would not feign sickness, and get up
myself, and call them up; but concluded to let
things take their course as best — or worst — they
might.

" One can think of a good part of his life in
a single night, particularly if he has an idea that
it may be his last on earth.

" I wouldn't have you believe that I thought my
last night had come ; not quite so bad as that.

204 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES.

But I will own up to the fact that I was exceed-
ingly nervous, — well, 'awfully scared,' if you like
that better : there was mischief in the air, and I
knew it, and that was enough. You have felt, every
one of you, a certain something which you could not
explain, warning you of approaching danger : often-
times, though, unfortunately, the impression comes
too late.

" Well, the time wore on. The stillness was pain-
ful, arid my eyeballs ached ; till at last, long after I
had thought that morning must be near, nature
could no longer bear the strain, and I fell asleep.
How long I slept, I knew not ; but when I woke, I
saw something calculated to make one shiver in
his boots, if he had any on ; and I had.

" The door of my room was pushed open, as I
could plainly see by the faint glimpse of daylight
now fast approaching ; and Big Jake, followed by
Pete, was entering upon tiptoe, Pete remaining
just outside the door. How I happened to wake at
that particular moment, is another mystery ; for it
was afterwards proved beyond question that they
entered without a sound.

" Big Jake, with a long, murderous knife in his
hand, advanced to my bed : instinctively I reached
for my pistol, and was ready in a moment, as cool
and collected then as if I had had an army at my
back.

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 205

" Taking the stool in his other hand as he passed
it, Jake was soon by the side of my bunk ; setting
it softly down, he mounted it, bringing himself a
little more than waist-high against my body as I
lay. Cat-like I watched every movement with
half-closed eyes, Pete doing the same from the
doorway where he remained. My finger was on
the trigger of my pistol, and I was ready to pull
at the first real murderous action on the part of
Jake. He ran his finger in a cruel manner across
the edge of his knife, exchanged a significant glance
with Pete, raised himself to his full height, and in
an instant — cut a rousing great slice from the leg
of venison, which I had quite forgotten, over my
head ! "

"And is that all there was about it?"

" That's all : the boys thought I was pretty well
used up, and they would let me sleep until break-
fast was ready, supposing they could carve the
venison without waking me."

" How about the breakdown? "

"All a stupid blunder on my part, — another one
of those unaccountable mysterious forces that drive
you on to absurd conclusions. The boys proved
as fine fellows as ever drove mules, and worked for
me for several months."

"And that little scar on your forehead?"

206 A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN.

11 Oh ! that isn't there any more."

" Chestnuts," from Charlie.

" Oh ! I see : you intimate, from that significant
word, that you have heard a story somewhat akin
to this. Well, I should not be surprised if you
had. An old rod with a new joint or two, that's
all."

"How old are you, Mr. Stevens?" asks John
Danforth, with a sly wink at Nate, who was busy
making faces at a caribou's head high up on a
beam.

" Seventy-two."

" I thought at least that."

"Why?"

" Because," says Charlie, stopping John's mouth
in a very ungentlemanly manner, " no railroads,
and all that nonsense. Didn't he go a long way
round ? Must have liked the lakes as well then as
now. — Never mind, we forgive you. 1 managed to
get a good nap while you were buzzing the guides
and that innocent brother of mine."

"Thank me for that much at least, if not for
originality ; and remember that it was a wise king
that said, 'There is no new thing under the sun.' "

"But he lied," said Nate, still winking at the
caribou, and trying to send him up a mouthful of
smoke.

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 207

" Under a mistake ? "

" No : under a canopy of purple and gold, instead
of a mosquito-netting held up by a gingham um-
brella, as I shall to-night."

" Hush ! — John, where are the toothpicks? "

" In that otter's skull on the table."

" Move over here, all of you ; and I will show
you how a murderer once disposed of all traces of
his victim. Now>pay attention. Fortunately these
are the double-pointed, unbreakable article, par-
ticularly adapted to double teeth ; and I am glad
of it, for, with any other kind, I could not illustrate
my story.

" Observe, I have six ; and I interlace them thus,
placing the first three side by side, about half an
inch apart. The other three I place crosswise of
these, one at each end, and one in the middle,
interweaving them like a mat : thus, see.

" This represents a spring bed or mattress upon
which the assassin placed the body, which I will
ask you, if you can, to imagine this owl's claw to
be; and, if you ever show this to a friend, don't
put on more weight than two or three tooth-
picks.

" Now I light a match, and set fire to this
extreme corner of the bed."

" Won't any corner do as well? "

208

A SERIOUS BREAKDOWN.

" Certainly : it makes no difference. Now watch
the result."

" Well ! my Kind Commander." (Nate.)

" Whew ! " (Charlie.)

" By thunder ! " (John Danforth.)

A RETROSPECT.

^HERE the Androscoggin rises,

'Mid the waving pines of Maine,
^ Rushes o'er its pebbly bottom,

Swelled by spring and autumn rain,
Four charming lakes of wide expanse,
Lie sheltered by the leaf-clad hills ;
Whose sparkling waters gather strength
From coolest spring and clearest rills.

Beneath their waves, the wary trout

Cleave the clear water as they play,
Or tempted by the bright-winged fly,

Dart to the surface for their prey.
The screaming loon, betokening storm,

Swift cuts the air in stately flight,
Or proudly sailing with the breeze,

Dives to escape the fowler's sight.

On the green banks, the lofty trees
Fling out their branches to the sky,

209

210 A RETROSPECT.

Now sighing with the morning breeze,
Now echoing to the cuckoo's cry.

The air is filled with sweet perfumes
Of fragrant mosses, and of vines,

Mingled with odors grand and full,
From hemlock, balsam, and the pines.

Charming retreat from haunts of men,

And city's busy, bustling strife,
I long to tread thy shores again,

There to renew my " lease of life."
The bracing ride on stage-coach top,

The murmuring stream, the village bell,
The shadow on that range of hills

Whereon my eye delights to dwell ;
The throwing off of every care,

The easy lounge, and grateful rest,
Stanch buckboard, way-side spring, —

Each in their turn give zest.

I long to joint my tapering rod,

And cast the bright and tempting fly ;
To see them float upon the stream,

Or hover 'twixt the lake and sky;
To watch the rise, to swiftly strike,

To feel the breath come hard and thick,
To press my fingers on the reel,

And hear the music of its click.

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 21 1

" Come, see ! the west is tinged with red,

The cove is gently rippled o'er;
There's waiting sport for us to-night,

We'll net, my boy, at least a score."

" Just one more cast, I yet can see

That miller's white and dainty wing;
Hold ! there he comes, strike quick and hard;

Oh ! don't he make that leader sing 1
He's doubling on you, look out, sir!

He knows the game, just see him cut !
I'll risk my rod to save that trout:

Stand by now Frank, he's got the butt"

It bends — almost a circle now,

There's music — not another inch;
Good-by, old rod, you're stanch and true,

But yet — ha, ha! Sir Trout, you flinch.
"He's winded, sir" — "The net, please, Frank."

(Head first, my beauty, if you please.)
He'll turn the scale at four, sir, sure ;

Well, that's not bad for joints like these.
Up anchor, boys ! the shadows fall,

The mist is slowly settling down ;
Said one, as trudging to our camp :

"God made the country, man the town."

'

SUPPLEMENTARY.

ET it be first stated, that, in writing
the foregoing pages, I avoided techni-
calities as much as possible, conced-
ing that my readers would be one of
two classes, — those who understand
and enjoy fly-fishing, and those who
do not, and might not care to learn, but would
read my sketches for the amusement of an idle
hour. The question has, however, several times
been asked me by those, it seems, who would learn
the "gentle art:" "Why didn't you tell us what
kind of flies to use, and how to use them? "

In response to these queries, it will give me
pleasure to add a short chapter to this new edition,
which may be of some benefit to novices in their
selection of rods, flies, snells, &c. ; but I sadly
fear I shall fail to impart much information that
will be of great service in the art of fly-fishing, for

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 213

an art it certainly is, my gentle reader. I have yet
to see the scholar who could acquire proficiency in
painting or sculpture from books alone, or the offi-
cer who could manoeuvre his brigade or regiment,
even though he could repeat Upton's Manual from
cover to cover. Practice you must have, with your-
self at one end of the rod and a trout at the other.

But I can give you some idea of what imple-
ments to select for your outfit. First, the rod. A
hexagonal split bamboo, eleven and a half feet in
length, of three joints, with German-silver mount-
ings, and weighing about ten ounces, is my favorite.
Such an one may be had of the maker, Mr. B. F.
Nichols of Boston ; price, I think, with extra tip
and case, twenty dollars. He also makes them
heavier and lighter. These rods having stood the
test for six years, and having received both at home
and at the International Fishery Exhibition of 1883
medals of high honor, are, both as specimens of
beautiful workmanship and durability, well worthy
of the high praise which has been bestowed upon
them by their fortunate possessors.

You should always carry a second rod in case
of accidents. It is a good plan to change your
rods in fishing, resting them as it were. Do not
stand them on end when not in use, but lay them
on wooden pins prepared for that purpose : they

214 SUPPLEMENTARY.

should be kept well varnished ; use copal varnish.
Don't, pray don't, call your rod a " pole." For a
line I prefer a tapering braided silk : forty yards is
sufficient. The reel should be German-silver, nickel,
or rubber ; either is good if well made : don't pur-
chase a cheap one, and avoid what is called a
"multipler," they are a nuisance. Your leader, or
casting-line, should be six feet in length, made of
good strong snell, and capable of sustaining a dead
weight of five pounds.

For trout-fishing three flies are ordinarily used :
though generally I prefer two ; they cast much bet-
ter, and work better on the water. When three
are used, the hand-fly (that next the hand) should
be thirty inches from the middle fly, and the mid-
dle thirty-two inches from the tail fly. When only
two, the second should be thirty-four inches from
the tail fly. As regards the size of hook, that
depends upon the size of the trout. Tell the party
of whom you purchase where you propose to go,
and he will select the proper size. A landing-net
is indispensable.

Flies : a few hackles of various colors you will
always need, also gnats for small trout. Of the
winged flies, the silver doctor, Montreal, fiery
brown, coachman, and scarlet ibis are standards,
and are always good. Three dozen is enough.

FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 215

though your artist will have as many different varie-
ties as that in his fly-book. It is not a good plan to
have many to carry over : the snell is apt to weaken
with age, as I have before said in these pages.

Now you have your implements, step out on that
rock, and begin your casts, first looking behind you
to see that your flies don't go " up a tree." Do not
attempt to get out too long a line : twenty or thirty
feet will be all you will be able to handle at the
start, increasing as you become more expert in the
art. An experienced fly-fisherman will cast seventy
to eighty feet under favorable circumstances. Now
draw your flies gently over the surface of the water,
and at the proper time, as the flies near you, raise
your rod, throwing your line back of you, giving it
plenty of time to straighten. I accustomed myself,
in learning, to count one, two, three, four, moder-
ately, and found the practice quite a help ; remem-
ber all novices fail in not taking sufficient time for
the back cast. The act of casting should be made
from the elbow, and not from the shoulder ; and it
is well to learn to cast with the rod in either hand.

When the fish rises to take the hook, give your
wrist a sharp inward turn, quick, but not too hard ;
this is called " striking." If you miss, and the
trout has riot been pricked, he is likely to come
again. Now is the time for coolness : if you fail

2 1 6 S UP PL EMENTA R Y.

to show it, you will probably have a tangled line.
When you have hooked your fish, which you shall
do if you have " ye patience and ye haunts of
ye trout," let your coolness continue. Give him
time and line ; check him gently ; when he is
stubborn give him the butt, which is done by push-
ing the butt end of the rod out toward the fish.
Five minutes is about the time required to land a
pound trout, though you may frequently be ten. It
does not always depend upon the weight of the fish ;
though, naturally, the larger the fish the longer time
required to bring him to net. If you are fortunate
enough to strike a pair, which is often done, the
lower fish should be first netted. If you should
have three, let your guide remove the upper one
with his hands, after tiring him : the trout should be
netted head first.

Let your guide advise as to changes of flies,
which need not be often, for if the trout are in a
rising mood they will take most any of the before-
mentioned flies. It is well to have a different cast
prepared, which you may wind about your hat, to
be in readiness for use. Always soak your casting-
lines before using.

Finally, remember this, that the sport is in the
pitting of your best endeavors against this wary fish,
and, could you take them as rapidly as you would
naturally desire, the sport would soon grow tame ;

FL Y-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 2 1 7

and also this, that to excel in the art of fishing with
the fly is not, to my mind, the true aim or the
highest purpose of the angler, — but so to enjoy
the sport and your communings with Nature, that
in your latest years, when, perchance, " the grass-
hopper shall become a burden, and desire shall
fail," when the shadows lengthen as the sun de-
clines, Memory, — that

" First, best friend that Heaven assigns below,
To soothe and soften all the cares we know, —
Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm,
When nature fades, and life forgets to charm, —
Its softest view in magic glass reveals,
When o'er the landscape time's meek twilight steals."

B. F. NICHOLS,

MANUFACTURER OF

HEXAGONAL SPLIT BAMBOO

SALMON, TROUT, AND BASS

fi Y
L-i I

FACTORY, 153 MILK STREET,
BOSTON, MASS.

FF/cdals # o[*|~lor)0p.

MASSACHUSETTS CHARITABLE MECHANIC ASSOCIATION.
Silver Medal and Diploma.

1881.
LONDON INTERNATIONAL FISHERIES EXHIBITION.

3 Silver Medals. 3 Diplomas.

The Highest Special Prize, TEN POUNDS, And a Diploma of Honor.
1883.

SEND FOR PRICE-LIST.

RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT
TO—* 202 Main Library

LOAN PERIOD 1
HOME USE

2

3

4

5

6

ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS

Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date.

Books may be Renewed by calling 642-3405.

DUE AS STAMPED BELOW

FORM NO. DD6

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY
BERKELEY, CA 94720