130 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 



fair Katherine. The driver, a veteran of some 

 eighteen summers, bold and self-possessed, firm, 

 but modest. There you have them. 



The passengers to be carried, a lady resident 

 of Princeton, a commercial traveller, madam, and 

 myself. 



The baggage, one medium-sized trunk, one 

 small ditto, one canvas tent, one stove in canvas, 

 one box, one case of fishing-rods, several hand- 

 bags, and one package of samples. 



The commercial traveller and the samples re- 

 mained at Forest Station : the balance of animate 

 and inanimate freight went to Jackson Brook, and 

 in this way. The seat was moved forward to the 

 very front of the wagon, the baggage was all stowed 

 away in the rear : the two ladies mounted the seat ; 

 madam handled the ribbons, and thus we started. 



"Yes, but yourself and the driver?" 



" Oh ! we walked behind the wagon." 



The road was poor, and the load a reasonably 

 heavy one for one horse ; and had it not been for 

 the rear-guard, who under the most favorable cir- 

 cumstances could hardly have been expected to 

 trot, any thing faster than a walk was positively out 

 of the question, and we walked. 



I have always held that the writer of travels 

 should lean decidedly towards the truth, and saving 



