A TASTE OF MAINE BIRCH. 53 
to the seams till we reached this lake. When I knelt 
down in it for the first time and put its slender ma- 
ple paddle into ‘the water, it sprang away with such 
quickness and speed that it disturbed me in my seat. 
I had spurred a more restive and spirited steed than I 
was used to. In fact, I had never been in a eraft that 
sustained so close a relation to my will, and was so 
responsive to my slightest wish, When I caught my 
first large trout from it, it sympathized a little too 
closely, and my enthusiasm started a leak, which, how- 
ever, with a live coal and a piece of rosin, was quickly 
mended. You cannot perform much of a war-dance 
in a birch-bark canoe; better wait till you get on dry 
land. Yet asa boat it is not so shy and “ ticklish” 
as | had imagined. One needs to be on the alert, as 
becomes a sportsman and an angler, and in his deal- 
ings with it must charge himself with three things, — 
precision, moderation, and circumspection. 
Trout weighing four and five pounds have been 
taken at Moxie, but none of that size came to our hand. 
I realized the fondest hopes I had dared to indulge in 
when I hooked the first two-pounder of my life, and 
my extreme solicitude lest he get away I trust was par- 
donable. My friend, in relating the episode in camp, 
said I implored him to row me down in the middle of 
the lake that I might have room to manceuvre my fish. 
But the slander has barely a grain of truth in it. The 
water near us showed several old stakes broken off 
just below the surface, and my fish was determined to 
wrap my leader about one of these stakes; it was only 
for the clear space a few yards farther out that I 
prayed. It was not long after that my friend found 
himself in an anxious frame of mind. He hooked a 
large trout, which came home on him so suddenly that 
