VIII. 



THE ST. REGIS WATERS NOW. 



MY latest visit to the St. Regis waters was in the spring 

 of 1872. It was early in May, the fifth or the sixth, when 

 Dupont and I drove up to the door at Paul Smith's, now 

 a large hotel capable of accommodating a hundred and 

 fifty guests. Thus early in the season there were no 

 sportsmen in the house, and we had it all at our service. 

 It was so pleasant that, with the exception of a week in 

 town, given to business, I remained there until the first of 

 July. Reasons touching the state of my health made it 

 desirable for me to spend all the days, rainy or sunny, in 

 the open air, and I took more or less fish every day, ex- 

 cepting Sundays. 



We had passed the night at Franklin Falls, and reached 

 Smith's a little before noon. We had no unpacking to 

 do, for our baggage was slender. I looked out of my bed- 

 room window at Peter's Rock across the lake, and won- 

 dered whether trout would still rise to a fly over there as 

 in other years. Descending to the front piazza with our 

 Norris rods in hand, we found a small assembly of guides 

 waiting to greet us. When they saw the fly rods they 

 opened their eyes and mouths. 



" You don't think of fly-fishing at this season, do you ?" 



"Why not?" 



" Why, the trout never rise to a fly here till the first of 

 June." 



