STARTING. I? 



"Coin' a-fishin?" accompanied with a poke on 

 my left shoulder, drew my attention from a pretty 

 farm-picture on which I was gazing, to a rural 

 specimen of the genus homo on the seat behind 

 me. " What der yer 'spect ter ketch ? " 



" Any thing, sir, that will rise to a fly ; wouldn't 

 object to a salmon, but will be content with a 

 trout." 



" Rise to a fly ! guess if they rise to flies you'll 

 see lots of fish." 



" Oh ! then trout are plenty this season, are 

 they?" 



" Don't know nothing about trout, but flies air. 

 Where yer from?" 



"Boston." 



"Where yer going?" 



" Upper Dam, Richardson Lake." 



"Sho! she going too?" 



"Yes." 



"Fishing?" 



"Certainly." 



" Gosh ! cummin' all the way from Boston to go 

 a fishin'. Not in them clo'es, is she ? " 



We explained that our fishing-outfit was quite 

 different from our present dress, and that we were 

 accustomed to roughing it. The idea of our 

 " cummin' all the the way from Boston to go 



