154 I G0 A -FISHING. 



man's favorite camp. Built in a swamp, with intent to 

 have it where it will not be burned by forest fires, it is the 

 chosen resort of many million mosquitoes and black flies, 

 and yet it has been the resting-place of a hundred sports- 

 men in past times. For the lake abounds in trout, and 

 is a choice feeding-place for deer. In the evening Ave 

 paddled up to the mouth of the principal inlet brook and 

 took out some trout for supper ; for those which I had 

 taken in the day I had sent home by a boy who came in 

 with Frank. The twilight was fading into a soft moon- 

 light, and I lay back in the boat, on the lonesome lake, 

 and remembered scenes in old days that will not come 

 back, call them ever so loud, ever so beseechingly. 



Once I was on this lake, with John M'Laughlin for my 

 guide as now, and when the evening came down it began 

 to rain, and the fish rose fast. It was the deer season 

 then, but we were after trout. I was seated on the bow 

 of the boat, John at the stern holding her fast by his 

 paddle driven into the sandy bottom. A rifle lay in the 

 boat at his feet, but we had not thought of using it. I 

 had on a white rubber coat — one of the light English 

 coats, almost as white as linen, and a broad-brim white 

 felt hat, turned down all around to shed the rain. As 

 I was casting I raised my eyes to the opposite shore 

 of the pond, a hundred rods across, and saw a buck 

 come out of the cover to the shore. I spoke in a low 

 voice — 



" John, there's a deer." 



"Where?" 



"Just to the right of the Quebec landing." 



" I see him. I'll try how near I can paddle you up to 

 him, if you'll shoot." 



"No, I'll sit still if you'll paddle and shoot, but with this 



