308 I GO A- FISHING. 



ters, up hill and down, through forest, passing fine farms, 

 then new frame houses, then log huts, and at last pulling 

 up short at the end of the road by a small cottage and a 

 barn, wherein we placed the steeds for rest and refresh- 

 ment. 



In later years Dupont and and I have made 



that little house a fishing home, and have seen there such 

 days of long delight and starry evenings, full of all man- 

 ner of joyousness, as I shall never know again. 



A half-mile walk, through a primeval forest, brought us 

 to the bank of the lake. Look again at your map of New 

 Hampshire, if you have one, and note the locality. You 

 will not find the lake laid down. There are a hundred 

 lakes hereabouts which are unknown to the map-makers. 

 It is possible, however, that you may find the head of the 

 Androscoggin River flowing west out of Lake Umbagog, 

 and receiving the Magalloway River before it bends south- 

 ward. Now go up the Magalloway ten miles, and you 

 will find the Diamond River coming into it from the west. 

 Diamond River flows from Great Diamond Lake, which 

 receives by a short stream the waters of Little Diamond, 

 on whose bank we stood. It is nearly round, not much 

 over a thousand feet in diameter, surrounded by forest. 

 The bank is nowhere accessible for casting a fly. There 

 was one old boat on it, a wood-cutter's scow, which should 

 have been found at the spot where we pushed through the 

 low brush to the water's edge. But it was missing. A 

 few shouts brought a response, and at length the boat 

 came in sight, paddled by one man and holding three 

 others, who had been in camp across the lake for several 

 days. The boatman was a Frenchman, who lived in one 

 of the log huts we had passed, and who, on learning that 

 we wanted the boat, exhibited a common phase of human 



