1 68 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 



Clark and myself, and one or two good spanks 

 upon Gabrielle's back inflicted by Joe with the im- 

 provised paddle, the latter shouldered his birch, and 

 we carried around the falls to unvisited fishing- 

 grounds below We had, however, not much luck, 

 and, after whipping the stream nearly down to the 

 outlet, getting a little faint w drew in to the shore 

 to partake of our lunch. While we were enjoying 

 our crackers, cheese, and olives, and discussing 

 what should be our next move, Joe reached out 

 from the canoe, and took from some debris that 

 was floating upon the stream what appeared to me 

 to be a large but deserted cocoon. Replying in 

 the negative to his question, Did I know what it 

 was ? he passed it over to me for inspection, when 

 I saw that possibly there might still be an embryo 

 life within it. 



"That," said Joe, " is a dragon-fly, what we call a 

 'Devil's darning-needle,'" all the while examining 

 it critically : " I will put it here on the basket-cover, 

 and in twenty minutes by your watch you will see 

 him crawl out and fly away." 



I felt a little inclined to say " Shoo fly ! " but 

 knowing well Joe's experience in woodcraft and 

 natural history, gained from an intimate acquaint- 

 ance with nature, I refrained from doubting ; and it 

 was well I did, for in just eighteen minutes (Joe 



