TROUT FJSHING IN MAINE. 267 



break of fish, or sudden appearance or descent of the 

 great northern diver, whose wild weird notes have not 

 unfrequently startled the uninitiated, brought a cold 

 shiver to their system, or vividly recalled stories of 

 ghosts, sprites, panthers, and wild cats. You are at 

 last fairly in the wilds, miles from man's habitation 

 if you except a couple of fishing shanties only occupied 

 a few weeks yearly. You may strain your eyes up 

 and down, no snow-white, smiling cottage will greet 

 your vision. This country is the same still as in the 

 days when the red man knew no superior, and owned 

 every inch of soil from the Atlantic to the Pacific, save 

 it be that the cruel axe of the lumberman has culled 

 out the choicest giant monarchs of the forest. But 

 having done a pretty good day's walking, we may as 

 well lay up for an hour or so, before making our debut 

 on the Androscogan ; moreover, the trout in the 

 middle of the day do not rise so freely, and a couple 

 of hours' work in the evening, if the weather is pro- 

 pitious, will afford as many fish and as much sport as 

 the most exacting can possibly desire. 



In the spring the best fishing is to be obtained under- 

 neath the dam which is built across the river a few 

 hundred yards below where it debouches from the lake, 

 and formed for the purpose of gathering a good head of 

 water to assist in shooting the lumbermen's logs. In 



