44 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 



to fall ; then we gather about the smudge at the 

 door of our camp, and watch the blue cloud of 

 smoke as it floats gracefully upwards. Now is the 

 time for reflection ; and as we think of ourselves 

 some twenty miles or more away from any human 

 habitation, excepting a few like our own, in the 

 depths of a vast wilderness with the never-ceasing 

 sound of rushing water falling upon our ears, we 

 can hardly realize the bustle and commotion, with 

 all its attendant incidents of joy and sorrow, that is 

 hourly transpiring in that busy centre which we 

 have left. Aside from the excitement of our fish- 

 ing we have little to, disturb that perfectly contented 

 frame of mind and body which we enjoy. A new 

 arrival or a stray guide with a bundle of correspond- 

 ence from Andover makes a slight ripple upon the 

 tranquillity of our daily life. We spend no anxious 

 thought in regard to change of apparel, no precious 

 moments are wasted in unnecessary ablutions : we 

 have no time to devote to scandal with our nearest 

 neighbors, no bickering with servants. 



We are all kings and queens together. The 

 guides eat at the same table, drink from the same 

 goblet or tin cup, as circumstances demand ; and, if 

 on a tramp, the same blanket at night covers their 

 weary limbs and ours. 



I have met fishermen here from my own city, 



