74 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 



where are heard a Babel of voices and the din of 

 the city ; but a fresh application of tar (for at the 

 Arm the mosquitoes and flies hold high carnival) 

 soon turned the tenor of our thoughts to time pres- 

 ent. After a hearty lunch, our own enriched by a 

 few slices of cold spring lamb and a nice little 

 leaf-lined box of wild strawberries which Mrs. 

 Merrill's thoughtfulness had provided, from John's 

 end of the route, we were ready for a start. The 

 horses, having also finished their dinner, were quite 

 ready and willing to leave this " winged begirt spot," 

 although knowing that a long and hard journey 

 was before them. 



Such a heap of talk, and such wonderful yarns, 

 did we pour into John's ears for the first hour of our 

 homeward ride ! I don't wonder, remembering 

 our volubility, that the poor man said, if I'd drive, 

 he guessed he'd walk, as 'twas rather hard on the 

 horses. Hard for him, too, perhaps : but John 

 was always patient, and a willing listener to stories 

 oft repeated ; and never would he, by look or ac- 

 tion, seek to throw discredit on the largest, most 

 extravagant tale. Only once, he couldn't swallow 

 the bear-story which Badger and Richardson, from 

 the Middle Dam, had been bruin for our edifica- 

 tion, and with which they filled our listening ears 

 on our arrival at Andover. 



