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." 



