IQ4 I GO A- FISHING. 



dinner, about ten o'clock, we said, " Let's drink Dupont's 

 health;" and we sent him a telegram to the Profile 

 House in two words, " Your health," and he received it at 

 eight o'clock the same evening. So Alp spoke to White 

 Mountain. 



Nevertheless, as an angler I wish the magnetic tele- 

 graph were among the lost arts. Why should we be an- 

 noyed on the top of a mountain, by the shore of a beau- 

 tiful lake, with the voices of the city ? 



Dupont came into camp, and began to criticise the un- 

 finished breakfast. He abused the burned chicken, as 

 he called it, and ate a wing and a leg and a breast — all 

 that was left of it. He found fault with the coffee, but 

 drank it by the cupful. The trout he declined, for they 

 were cold, but he tasted three or four. 



We passed the day on the lake; but we had poor suc- 

 cess. It was about the hottest day of the hot summer of 

 1872, and although we were some thousands of feet above 

 the sea-level, we felt the oppression of the heat, and the 

 trout in the cool depths knew that it was warm above, 

 and would not come up. 



We were therefore content to fill an eighteen-pound 

 basket with small fish — only a few reaching a pound — 

 and as the sun was setting the Baron came in from his 

 sketching, and we started for home. 



The descent of the mountain is easy if you keep the 

 right track, but difficult and dangerous if you lose it. 

 We have learned the route pretty well, yet are apt oc- 

 casionally to miss it, and once found ourselves just at 

 dark on the verge of a precipitous descent of three or 

 fcur hundred feet, down which we effected an almost mi- 

 raculous passage in safety. 



Now, however, we came down without adventure, and 



