304 
THE MAINE WOODS. 
quick, probably as fast as the stage or the boat, though 
the last dozen miles was dead water. 
Polis wanted to sell us his canoe, said it would last 
seven or eight years, or with care, perhaps ten; but we 
were not ready to buy it. 
We stopped for an hour at his house, where my com¬ 
panion shaved with his razor, which he pronounced in 
very good condition. Mrs. P. wore a hat and had a sil¬ 
ver brooch on her breast, but she was not introduced to 
us. The house was roomy and neat. A large new map 
of Oldtown and the Indian Island hung on the wall, and 
a clock opposite to it. Wishing to know when the cars 
left Oldtown, Polish son brought one of the last Bangor 
papers, which I saw was directed to “ Joseph Polis,” 
from the office. 
This was the last that I saw of Joe Polis. We took 
the last train, and reached Bangor that night. 
