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 



