253 I GO A- FISHING. 



The Major had been a week or two at the Profile 

 House, living at his ease, and rather content with the 

 table, which was not by any means a poor one, and sol- 

 aced for any minor failures by his own wine. He did not 

 wander much among the mountains, but contented him- 

 self, book in hand, with the sunshine on the broad piazza, 

 and evenings in his own rooms, where his man John, who 

 had been his personal servant more than thirty years, 

 took care to make him comfortable. His rooms were 

 near mine, and that evening after Dupont and myself had 

 dined — for I make it dinner however late the coming 

 home occurs — I went to see the Major. 



One can be very comfortable in a summer hotel if he 

 will take a little trouble and go to a little expense. One 

 can not be comfortable at any summer hotel in America 

 or the world without these. The rooms of my friend were 

 two ordinary bed-rooms, one of which he used as a sa/on; 

 and by a very little exertion it had been made into a cozy 

 and rather brilliant room. The table was literally covered 

 with books and periodicals, for the Major had a hunger 

 for reading which could never be satisfied, and every 

 mail brought him packages. He was tearing off the 

 envelope from an Innspruck book-catalogue as I en- 

 tered the room, and I recognized the label of an old ac- 

 quaintance. 



" So you get catalogues from Carl Pfaundler, do you ? 

 I have picked up some good things in his shop." 



" Yes. I have a pretty extensive list of booksellers 

 sending me their catalogues, but it's getting to be rather a 

 nuisance. I've about done with buying old books. Come 

 in; find a chair — John, a chair — help yourself to the claret. 

 You dined late I fancy. Did you get me a good trout for 

 breakfast?" 



