144 I GO A- FISHING. 



and poling her against the current with the oar, or drag- 

 ging by the bushes, which almost met overhead. Out 

 again into the broader river, and then into the open lake 

 calm and still, a perfect mirror and across it to the 

 foot of the carry, and then over the hills through the for- 

 est to our home. 



Whatsoever else has changed, the old echo of years 

 ago is the same at this spot. It seems to me sometimes 

 as if it were from another world that these responses come 

 in the darkness so long is the interval, and so pure and 

 soft the answer even to a harsh and heavy call. But, 

 alas ! there are no answers audible to the waking ears out 

 of the earthly distances toward which we send our most 

 longing calls. 



I returned, as I have said, to the city, and Dupont aban- 

 doned me. I went back to the St. Regis a week later 

 with an artist friend, the best living painter of fish, and 

 he remained a few days, and then I had the month of 

 June to myself alone. The weather came on suddenly 

 hot. It was welcome, for the trout which in the early 

 spring had been scattered about the lakes, loving cool 

 water, began to gather around the mouths of the cold 

 brooks, and we found them more easily. A leaf from 

 my memoranda will give an idea of how the time for one 

 week was employed. 



Monday, June \vth. John M'Laughlin and Frank 

 Hobart guides ; morning on the Lower St. Regis, in sight 

 of the house all the time ; a dozen fish, two or three a 

 pound each ; after luncheon to Barnum Lake ; carry three 

 fourths of a mile to Osgood ; cross the upper end of Os- 

 good, and carry again a mile to Barnum; no fish till just 

 at dusk, when I got half a dozen, one only going over a 

 pound and a half. 



