ON MOOSEHEAD LAKE 133 



time the tail is switching at the flies, and the great 

 ears are slowly moving back and forth. Neither 

 mother nor child seems to pay any attention to 

 the spectators, and both remain perfectly uncon- 

 cerned until the small boy begins to whistle and 

 shout. Then, without any signs of fear, they walk 

 out of the water, trot slowly across the meadow and 

 disappear in the woods. The H. C. sadly lays his 

 theory away in the mausoleum where so many of 

 its kindred rest. 



By this time some reader is saying, " I don't 

 care anything about the moose, and less about the 

 fishing. Didn't you go anywhere ? Didn't you see 

 anything worth writing about ? " The rebuke is 

 deserved, and the writer hastens to say that Moose- 

 head Lake is forty miles long and fifteen miles 

 across in the widest part, having an estimated shore- 

 line of something like 400 miles. We saw it all, 

 from Greenville to Southeast Carry; but he would 

 be a brave man or a rash one, who would undertake 

 to put its beauty into words. We drove to Roach 

 River and, from the neighbouring hilltop, looked 

 down upon the sparkling waters of Roach Pond 

 and away across miles of forest to mighty 

 Katahdin. We followed the old lumber roads into 

 the depths of the wood, where the silence is broken 

 only by the chatter of the red squirrel or the harsh 

 cry of the bluejay. In the cool evenings we sat 

 around the wood fire that crackled and leaped in 

 the great open fireplace in the House of Rest, and 



