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 



