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I I — L_l!J!lilil!iiE______JLJ- 
 
 fj AN AaWOLBRt^ LAlOMt. 
 
 i (BY <J, Jtf. FAIEjOfflU), JE.) 
 
 p Sfi?' "® ' *^*^ ^ should other fish to fry 
 1 When trout, like magnet, draw me to the 
 . north, 
 
 And in mv dreams I'm ever casting fly 
 2" i*"y**" J*he, then mraking I am wroth 
 To find in what meshes I but ^foumiei 
 As helpless as a bird to a limed perch 
 Instead of having landed a four pounder. 
 For mcker from my fate i vainly search, 
 My friends all carp and say I cod them. 
 Yet, do they drink my bass, and io my 
 
 herring 
 Lauf^h at my pickerel, and my beer con- 
 demn. 
 If 1 had dock-ed *em, then without fearing 
 My ale-wi/e*8 wrath, I'd had 'em on aptt«, 
 A grinding crowd of w(rel»ne«, smallmtnnou;. 
 iiut my wife s*had smelt a mouse, and like 
 Mother, who'd rather see her mn-Jish now. 
 
 Has on^>077M>M« brought me to this sorry 
 pass. 
 
 But I'll get square, I'U yet whaie all 
 
 creation. 
 When once I'm free, for I'm bound to 
 
 amass 
 Gold, fiah and fame; egad I'm forsensation. 
 Not even shall a loeah-fiah pass me then. 
 And many a Uuejiah will lament its mate. 
 I must show myself a mail among men. 
 That I was born to fisherman's estate. 
 
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ROD £!!d CANOE, 
 
 RIFLE ^ SNOWSHOE 
 
 IN 
 
 Quebec's Adirondacks 
 
 BY 
 
 G. M. PAIRCHILD, Jr., 
 
 EDITOR OF CANADIAN LEAVES, ETC. • 
 
 QUEBEC: 
 
 Printed by Frank Carrkl 
 Daily Telegraph Office. 
 
 1896 
 
 ■ 1 JULi|L'J_L.' 
 
K 
 
 F 
 
 r65 
 
 RKJJi.srKUKn in the Office of the Minister of Agrlcultnro in 
 conloinjlty \vitl\ tho hiw passed by tlie rarlianient of Canachi, in tlie 
 year ISO.'}, by thu anthor, O. M. Falrcliild, Jr. 
 
 g ^ ^ ^ /^ 
 
To 
 
 TiiK Hon. John Siiaui'les, Qukbhc, Canada, 
 
 AND 
 
 lloiJKIfT IJI.KAKIK, Esg., lioSTON, MaSS., U. S. 
 
 witli tlu; utlVn»ti()iiato regards of the Author. 
 
 " Ilavenscliffe," 
 
 Cap Rouge, Quebec, 
 
 May 5th, 1896. 
 
SasKc 
 
PKEFATOIJV NOTE. 
 
 In the fnlluwiiii^ pngos I liave einlMxlicd, in a 
 soiiunvlnit iiltcrcMl foiin to suit tlu; scoje of the j-rosoiit 
 work, one or two contributions of my own to various 
 j»ublicutions in the United States, nota])ly tliat sj^orts- 
 nian's old favorite " The Forest and Stream." 
 
 I am conscious of tlie many sliorteomin<^'s in my 
 attempt to exploit Quebec's lake regions, but should it 
 inspire some one to undertake a fuller and more 
 complete work, I shall l)e among the first to rejoice and 
 to extend a right hearty welcome to the new comer. 
 
 i^l 
 
I 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 1 ' I 
 
 Chap. V I. — Quebec's Adirondacks. 
 
 II.— Quebec— Lake St. Charles. 
 III. — Lake Beauport. 
 
 IV.— The Jacques Cartier River. 
 ^ V. — Lake St. Josepli. 
 
 VI.— In the Kingdom of the Tourilli Club. 
 VIT. — Lakes Tantari and Belle Truite. 
 VIII. — The Laurentides National Park. 
 
 IX. — Lake Edward. 
 
 X.— Ouananiche Fishing— Lake St. John. 
 XL — Angling Notes. 
 XII. — Caribou Hunting. 
 
 XIII.— Fishing Clubs— Game Laws, 
 
 ' « ,- 
 
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9 
 
 ClLVrTKl?. FIRST. 
 
 QUEBEC'S ADIRONDACKS. 
 
 •'Laurentia ! Superb Laurentia ! 
 Thy uiountains in the ganneiits of the cloud ; 
 Thy rivers pouring down o'er crystal leagues 
 Their glassy waters to the solemn sea ; 
 Thine isle-geuinied lakes ; thine old, old solitudes." 
 
 The city of Quebec i,s the jiortal to the last reiiiain- 
 iiiokiiio;(lom of the angler-siKH'tsinau. Tlie darkjjurple- 
 Laurenlides, frowning grimly into the smiling face of 
 the vnllov of tlie St. Lawrence and ni)on the rockv" 
 heights of the city of Champlain, are the outer harriers, 
 of ji vast jirimeval wilderness whose only northern: 
 boundary is the great arctic land. In the rugged fast- 
 nesses of the mountains this modern despot sets at 
 defiance the further progress of civilization and reigns 
 supreme over a. limitless territory. His subjects are 
 the few scattered Indian tri])es, the adventurous coureura 
 de h(As, and his guides. With tliese forces at Jiis 
 command he lays tribute nj/ou the untamed l)easts of 
 
10 
 
 ^ 
 
 llie loix'sl, iiiid liic M.sIk's of tlk' lakes jiiid ri\('rs. Xo 
 AViissailiiiu kiiii* ol" aiiciciil (hivs licld liinlicr revelry 
 Avidiiii liis eoiiri, than does tliis Avild-laiid ruler within 
 the ehaiiiied iiircle of his littU^ eaiup lire amidst the 
 gloom of solemn forests, tlie roar of rushing' >\aters. 
 He has diank at the fountain oflieuhli, and his intoxiea- 
 
 tioii is that of com- 
 
 jilete fieedom, of 
 
 simjde living in the 
 
 great outdoor of na- 
 
 ture, the excitement 
 
 of the chase, the 
 
 ^ in<lescril )al \q charm 
 
 «.>t^ of angling in the 
 
 /rough rivers of the 
 
 \s.^^^^fe- ' North land, or npon 
 
 the i>lacid hosom of 
 forest girt lake. And 
 it hrings the glow 
 
 of strength, the conscionsness of power, and mental 
 
 rest. .•■.■..:>:.,■'■".:./■•-■■ 
 
 The very nearness of this kind of savage Nature to 
 the old civilization within the gates of Quebec is one of 
 
 m%. 
 
 OLD TKESCOTT GATE. 
 
 (/ 
 
11 
 
 the staillinu features w lii«*li lirsl arrests tlie attention of 
 tlie visitinn' aiiLfler-s) oi'tsiiian, and. it' Ik' is cIom* of 
 ol)servation, lie \\\\\ not I'jiil to i'urtlier note lliat it lias 
 loft a certain inij.ress n] (Ui the mah' ]o|nilation at 
 least. Tliev are full of the leuvnd and lore of the 
 hush. The I'liarni of the life has entered into their 
 hearts, and is a jiart of their heinu, horn in tluMii ]'er- 
 ha])S from anceslrv, who fon^ht the Avilderness from 
 love of adventure, and the ^ain of ]i(dfrv. Tt niahes 
 good fellows of them,- and the eani]) fire glow is 
 enlivened hy the eoniiadeshi]* of one ol" the^e big 
 hearted, unselfish, thorongh going sjiortsinen. . / 
 
 These irregular, hroken, forest covered, picturesijue 
 old Laiirentidi'S are the silent, hoarv L»uardians of Nast 
 inland seas, lakes and lakelets, whose iniinher,s are as 
 the leaves of the trees. Sheltered and liuarded bv over- 
 hanging nionntain and dense forest they have slowly 
 nnhosomed themselves to thead\entnrous anyler, and 
 even to-dav, well Avithin sonnd of the Citadel uun of 
 Quebec, there are still hidden away num}>ers of little 
 lakes that bhibhinglv await his conung. The verv ureat 
 irregularity of this primitive earth's n]iheaval almost 
 defies a eonqdete exjdoration of its surface, but enough 
 
ll> 
 
 Jjjis ln't'ii iuu'(nii]>lisluHl to itvove {\\(i rest, aiul to the 
 sjiovtsiiijiii is left the added pleasure of new discoveries 
 to Mliet his a])| etite, for every hit of living' water 'Con- 
 tains trout ; and carihou and moose seek the seclusion of 
 tlicse unvisited lakes on Avliose horders thev feed and 
 increase. Here too the heavers love to huild their dams, 
 
 VIEW FKOM KlXd's JJASTION. 
 
 and create colonies. I have discovered dozens of lakes, 
 and lost them ayain, swallowed up in the <^reat forest, 
 hut I felt no regret at this for there were always others 
 unexpectedly turnino- uj). Following a carihou trail 
 one winter's dav I crossed no less than five of tliese 
 little mountain lakes, and they were innocent of man 
 
 h 
 
1:5 
 
 until then, a wliiti' nian at any rate. 1 lisl»e<l one where 
 I cain])e(l -n the snow that ni^ht and ean,u:lit innr or five 
 1 Ih. Hsh, jnst enongh for a lHin;>ry man's snpper and 
 Itreakfast. 
 
 The rivers tioAvini>' from tlie mountains and en)pty- 
 ing into tlie river St. Lawrenee or Lake St. John are 
 the arteries of this region, tliroi.gh wliieh the angh*r- 
 sportsman niny find his way into tlie heart of the hind 
 of lakes, for it is on the tahle land of the diviih', where 
 they exjiand into vast liodies of water, extend in 
 chains of unknown h'ngtli, wliere one may canoe fur 
 days at a stretclj, and fish until the arm drops lieljdess, 
 and the a])])etite cloys with satiety. And if it is in the 
 early antnmn, wlien all nature seems ], lifting forth its 
 final notes of rejoicing, and tlie mountains are clad in a 
 "wealth of eoh)ring, the rifle will alternate witli the rod, 
 and a carihou or ])erha])S a moose will further gladden 
 the heart of him who seeks. 
 
 Another and inn»ortant hinhway into this kinmlom 
 is the Quehec and Lake St. John IMJ., which was con- 
 structed to hring the jiarishes surrounding this himous 
 lake into communieation with the greater world. For 
 two hundred miles it was literally pushed into the 
 
14 
 
 wildc'i'iu'ss ; Iml ;i wildcnicss it will ri'iiuiiii iiotwitli- 
 stjiiidiiiL'' till' ii'(»n-ii(»r,su aiul l>an(l of steel, fur the 
 ini^^htier i'mves of uiitun? liavu ],r(M*liiiine(l this inter- 
 V('iiini»' tcri'itorv a^ "uly the eiii])ire of the sjiortsinaii, 
 and the laltcr with sovcveiLiii aiitlnuitv has turned the 
 railroad to his own jairpose. The very stations on the 
 
 1!1':tlkn of i'hk huntsmen. 
 road are Imt the cani])S of individual s|,ortsnu'n, or elub,^ 
 
 whieh ha\'e ])eeu or^ani/ed for good lello\vshi[), trout 
 and game. The railroad, quick to i-ecognize the con- 
 trolling force of destiny, has placed its resources at 
 the coiunumd of this ruling power, and the road might 
 he jiistly called the (Quebec & Lake St. John, Anglers* 
 
 r. 
 
u 
 
 and Spoi'tsiiu'ii's IJ.U. Vdii li5iv(! Imt to board one of 
 its oiitnoiiiy; or iu('oiiiini» triiiiis mid lliis fa''t is driven 
 lioine. It is in posses.^ioii of Indians, ^nides, sports- 
 men and an^^lcrs, witli tlicir in»] rdinicnta of eanoes, 
 ])a('k',>, ritles and rod cases. The eonversali(»n amid 
 dense clouds of sni(d<e is of (lie Itusli, lisliv or Liainv. 
 ^lij^hty yarns are spun, and were llie shades of Biiroii 
 ]\[uncliansen to ];resent thenis(dves, tliev \V(Uild he jtut 
 to the hhish, hy these later knii^hts of the lon^ how ; 
 but everythinj^' j^oes, as the sayinj^" has it, for the 
 eti([nette of the craft frowns n]>on any doubt bein^' cast 
 n}»on tli(^ criMliliility of oiu* of the fratei'iiity. 
 
 Lake St. fJohn, the objective (loint of the ]iailroad, 
 is but the ])e,L!;iniiin,L»: a^ain of another sportsman's land 
 of plenty. In the lake itself, its tributary rivers, the 
 Grand Discharge, the ouananiche, that gamiest of the 
 sal mo family, makes its honu\ In ch)se ]»roximity to 
 the best fishing- uronnds t^\'o famous hotels have been 
 built for the accommodation of angler.-:*. AMien tin^l of 
 the luxury of the life here om^ can taki> Indian guides 
 at Pointe Bleue and strike ])oldlv into the wilderness to 
 seek the mysterious Lake Mistassini. 
 
 T'pon the borderland of the Laurentides dwell a 
 
16 
 
 siii;^ular pcdplc, ji race loii^ x'ltlcd iij.nii ilic land tliey 
 till, Imt who, amidst the ] »i( >«4;ies.s of the last two tTiitu- 
 ries, htive .successfully resisted its enci'oa«*huieiits, and 
 to-dav exhibit the stranye anonialv of French customs, 
 manners and hahits of the 17th century i)reserved to 
 the I'.'tli in the new wcnld, under a foreign »^overnment. 
 A ha)>]»ier, more (M)ntented jteasantry do not exist, and 
 their virtues are manifold. They are a social, loving 
 ])eo])le, and delight to li\i' within sound of the iiari.sh 
 church liell. \'ery devcnil, they have an immense 
 number of fete days, during which all labor is sus- 
 pended to enable them to attend the mass, and the sub- 
 ,se({uent festivities. Sunday is jire-eminently the hap- 
 I)iest day of the week. If in summer, no sooner is 
 mass concluded than the wlude ])arish adjourn to the 
 i^reensward Ti]»on the riv(^r bank to ])artake of their 
 frugal meal amid mucli raillery and laughter, and then 
 the afternoon is oiven up to dancin«»' and sinuinn', court- 
 ing and fenoeing, and other innocent amusements. 
 
 They labor no harder than is necessary to provide 
 for their simjde wants. They are a self-contained ])eo- 
 ple, and extreme indigence is rare among thera. The 
 vives and daughters si)in and weave their own linen 
 
 i, 
 
</ 
 
 «3 
 
 17 
 
 uiid wouk'.ii clotli wlicrcw itli tlu'V clothu lln'iiLsi'lvcs ; 
 their .siimll fjinns yield sutlicicnt Inr tin* faiiiilv n.so ; tlie 
 luuplo Imsli tlic siii^jir and synii> ; the lu'aivst stivain or 
 lak(* alunidaiicc ^A' luscious trout tor fast davs ; tho 
 aajnn swani]* its ([uota of suar^Ml hares and j artridLjes. 
 TIk'v have little to sell, still less to ]Mirehase. 
 
 Tliev are exceedint^ly eoiirleous and ] (dite in their 
 intercourse with each other and toward st ran ;4ers ; even 
 the little ciiildi'eu how a!id c«»urtesy on tlu^ road when 
 passinj^ you. They are hos])itahlc in tin' extreme, and 
 unticijiate the every wish of tlu^ traveler who seeks 
 their door. Ahove all they are devoted to their native 
 soil, le heau Cai\a(Ja. AVheii the loni,' arctic winter 
 spreads o'er tla; land, .and all laltor is snsjiended, the 
 people ahandon themselves to the deliuhts of that social 
 intercourse' of which they are so fond. Day and ni«4ht 
 the roads resound witli the livelv tinklint*- of sleigh hells 
 and the nierrv laui»h and sonii', as i^av iiarties of vount; 
 and old wend their Avay to and from eaeh (jther's houses. 
 
 " Neither locks had to their doors, nor bars to their windows ; 
 
 But their dweUings were open as day and the hearts of the 
 owners ; 
 
 There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abund- 
 ance." 
 
16 
 
 HiH»i»y llic iUigler who, in his slioit vi's|»ile IVuiii 
 tlic liunassjiin; cairs ^A' llio luisv wniM, finds his wav 
 aiiioUL' such |»h'asiiiit ]»astnivs urt'oii. 
 
 Ci"o\V(h"ML;' thi! t'noliiills closet', ami in-ar to llir trail 
 of the hiisii, ai'c the lioincs ot'lhe tiapi»('is and mii(h*s. 
 TIm'V t'niin a, <*lass hy thcniscdvt's soin-'wliere ln'twceii 
 {\w kabitaii and tln' Indian. Tlicy arc the (U'scrndant.s 
 oT tlu' old cuurcurs ('e bois and ]iOssi'Ss all the traits of 
 their ancestors. Uiid -r the (dd i*'reneh re»»iine large 
 nnmbers of the voniiir mou with a disinclination for 
 honest lahor in tla^ tields, handed together in small ]tar- 
 ties and slrnck out into tiie w ildi-rness to trade with 
 the Indians for heaver skins, or to tra]> them on their 
 own account. I have a suspicion that a too close eccle- 
 siastical su]>ervision, and freipient jienance lV)r the 
 fnniks of vouul*' hlood, niav have hastened their de- 
 parture, hut upon this point the ri'cords are silent. In 
 vain did the Governor proclaim tlieir ]»roceedings illegal 
 and threaten outlawry against them ; e([ually vain the 
 threats of excomniunication thundered after them hy 
 the Jesuit fathers aud the llec(dlet.s, tlie taste of the 
 freedom and license of the camp-fire was far more 
 potent, and defections from the raidss of the yonnger 
 
 f. 
 
I'J 
 
 iin'ii ill tlic cnlniiy still conliiiiiiMl until it was I'sliniatcd 
 that over ciulil IhiiiiIkmI of tlicni wcrti ('ii«i:au;»'<l in the 
 "nclaiious" pursuit tA' the licavt-r. Animated liy a 
 spirit nt' athi'iiturc, tliiv ) ciK'tiatctl tlir ^rcat mikiidwii 
 •W'lMiaiKfss IVoui lla^ sIkucs ot' tliti JSt. Lawri'iicc to the 
 Hudson's Hay. Afauy nl" iIkmii coiitiactiMl alliancns 
 with the (lu^ky iiiaidi'ns nl' the forests and a('<|uirt'd 
 coiisidcraltic iiilluciH'i' in llic councils ol" tlic trihcs I'roiu 
 "which thuy took their s(|ua\vs, ami in linic hccanie 
 nhnost ns .savaL»c. 
 
 Once a year it was their custom to re| air to one 
 of thti FreiK.'h towns. Francis Parknian thus describes 
 tho return of a party cd' these gentry tVoiii their rovinjjjs : 
 
 "Montreal was their haritoiin^ jilace, ami they 
 conducted themselves much like the crew (»t'a man-of- 
 war ]iaid olV after a Ion.*) cruise. iVs lon_n as their 
 heaver skins la-;ted they set no iMUind to their license. 
 The new-comers were hedizeiied with a stranj^e mixtnre 
 of French and Fmlian finery, while some of them, with 
 instincts moi-e thorouuhly sava<4e, stalked about the 
 streets as nakcMl as a I'otawattamieor a Sioux. Drink- 
 ing and <»amblin<4' filled the day and ni^ht. When at 
 last solier, they son«iht alnohition from the jiviests and 
 
20 
 
 once more di.sjqjjieaied Mitliin tlie sliades of the fore.st," 
 After the conquest of Canada the Hndson's Bay 
 Company .sjn'an^^ into vJLjorous being, and tlie Goureurs 
 de hois at once found their idh)ted ]»hice in its employ. 
 Of late years the Company lias dispensed with the 
 services of many of tliesi' forest rangers, who have 
 returned to the viHajjes of llieir l)irth, and marrying, 
 have settled down on a laisli farm u])on tlie edge of 
 that wilderness they love so well. Tiie domestic ties 
 are not sulticientlv stron«) to wean tliem from their first 
 love. Old Jean L? Blanc is a good example of his 
 race. When tliG frosts of autumn have tino-ed the 
 mountains witli a tliousand dazzling hues Jean becomes 
 uneasy and restless. At all hours of the dav he mav he 
 observed at the corner of liis little log house, that com- 
 mands a view of tlie forests, blowing thick clouds of 
 smoke from his sliort, black ]iipe, and taking observa- 
 tions. Some fine morning iie is seen entering the edge 
 of the bush, (dd llintlock under Ins arm, snoAvshoes 
 slung over his shoulders, together with his small pack 
 of traps and other necessaries. What becomes of him 
 after VN'ard no one knows ; l»ut early in the sinking he 
 reappears smelling strongly of smoke, and drawing 
 
 w^ 
 
21 
 
 of 
 
 })ehiiKl liim a very lieavily laden tiaineau, the inocecds 
 of lii.s winter work, the skins of tlie caribou and moose 
 that have fallen ])efore ohl tlintloek, and the jielts of 
 beavers, minks and martins to his tra]>s. 
 
 Jean is a good traj^ier, a jioor shot ; he is full of the 
 lore of the bush, but i,i>;norant of every thini^ else ; super- 
 stitious as the Indians jnnonLi: whom he has so lonsr 
 dwelt, and as full of omens, but considers himself a 
 good Catholic ; cheerful and as light-hearted as a 
 schooll)oy, he is the guide par excellence. 
 
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 w 
 
'2:\ 
 
 CHALTKK SKCONI). 
 
 QUEBEC-=LAKE ST. CHARLES. 
 
 "() fortress city, l)athe(l by streams 
 Majestic as thy memories i^reat, 
 Where mountains, Hoods and f<)rests mate 
 The j^randeur of tlie glorious dreams, 
 Hoon of tlie hero hearts, wlio died 
 In founding here an Empire's pride 
 
 I" 
 
 Clias. Fiiiiiliaiu, mIio lia>! written entertainingly of 
 the varied jdiases of Canadian life, says of Quebec, that 
 it is the Poet's Corner of America. I am not going to 
 dispute the fact that there is everything in the life and 
 history of the (juaint old city to inspire a poet's muse, 
 but I am going to add a sub-title to Mr. Farnhani's to 
 complete the full text, which now reads : "The Poet's 
 Corner of America, and the Angler's Tryst." Where 
 else on this broad continent do these knights errant of 
 the rod and rifle so love to fore-yrather in mightv council. 
 
 On the site of the old Chateau St. Louis, the for- 
 mer castle of the early governors from the warlike 
 Frontenac, the representative of le grand Monarque, 
 
24 
 
 to tlie diivs of Lord Avliner, the Eimlisli vice-rov, now 
 sits a statelv pile of l)!^!!^!!"'.^ known as tlie Chateau 
 Frontena(3 Hotel, the; i>Teat coiincil-liou.se of these mo- 
 dern seigneurs of the hush. From itsturreted windows 
 tliey command the houndary of their own domain as 
 
 they sit in cheerful conclave and })lan expeditions for 
 the collection of tithes from river, lake and forest. 
 Theirs is a mission of peace and oood will towards all 
 conditions of men, and i>'ood fellowshi]) the motto of 
 their order. 
 
 In time tliey come to know this sti'angely curious. 
 
 ■f* 
 
25 
 
 city and its stoiiud i)ast, and tliey luve to linger within 
 its gates and live in imagination the scenes of long ago. 
 The romances of Gilbert Pavker, of AVm. Kirby, and 
 the chronicles of Jas. Le;Moine haA-e entered deep into 
 their hearts. The many curions phases of life in the 
 old French city are endoweil with fresh interest with 
 the new liglit of knowledge of the tragic and dramatic 
 events wliich have centered in this early capital of 
 EuroDean government on this continent. 
 
 The past is ever close to the present in this 
 ancient stronghold, or rather I shonld have said, that 
 the present ever recedes into the middle ages, and you 
 are merely a s]>ectator from some far away Altrnria or 
 what is transi»irinL»' about vou, and vou wander altout 
 in a mist of delightful sensations with a mind stored 
 with its traditions and romance into Avliicli everything 
 fits and becomes a part of ihis illusion. Convents, 
 monasteries and churches jostle barrack, casemate and 
 magazine, and the Citadel hovers above them all. The 
 call of trum])ets, the roll of drums for the morning in- 
 sjiection of trooi)s are answered by the pealing of })ells to 
 remitid the faithful of their religious duties. Nuns in 
 3 
 
21) 
 
 solemn soUer |)r(>ce.ssi()ii, ])rie-<ts clad in siirtanne and 
 lii^li beavers, monks in strange ^arl), solditns in <^ay 
 tra]>iiin<>s of war, sailors in l»liie, hahitans in Hoffe du 
 pays iind lon«>' h^ef moccasin-*, market women in short 
 qnilted skirt and lti^>' snn sli.ide-;, make n]) tlie same 
 street life as of yore, lii^u _i>nns and little .uuns, lonj^ 
 
 CITADKL (;ATE. ' ■ 
 
 guns and short gnns, pyramid-! of shot and shell, mas- 
 sive Avails and great stone gates, ditches and end)ank- 
 ments recall tlie periods of seiges, assaults, rei)ulses and 
 con([uest. There is a confusion of little, narrow, dark 
 and crooked streets running up and down hill and 
 Ijringing up abruptly and absurdly against some coii- 
 
viait wall, or biji,' <^im jilatfonu, ;in(l tlie houses wliii'li 
 line them are of high and lo\\ (K'«>iee, l>ut all jiushing 
 out into the thoTon«,djtiire lor closer eomnmnion with 
 the human lite ahout them ; hut thev are of another 
 age, a period when the lily of France floated ahove the 
 Castle St. Tiouis, and in the tradition and atmos]»hero 
 of that regime their inhahitants still live, ])roud of their 
 French descent, proud of their ancient language, laws, 
 and institutions, true Britons in lovaltv, hut French 
 at heart. 
 
 Directly heneath the Chateau Frontenac Hotel, and 
 several hundred feet above the St. Lnwrence, which 
 washes the base of the clifl', is the Dufl'erin Terrace 
 from which the ])anorama is surpassingly beautiful, nay 
 grand. All anglers smoke. Lot ns therefore enjoy our 
 after evening-dinner cigar while strolling along the 
 favorite promenade. It is now in shadow, and the cool 
 breeze of coming night invites to exercise. The setting 
 sun Hoods the vallev, lights the mountains and casts 
 deep shadows in their valleys, crowns the tni spires 
 and roofs of distant churclies, sends dancing ravs over 
 the water to the Island of Orleans, whitens the sails of 
 ships far out in the harbor, ad then goes down in a 
 
28 
 
 burst of color that fairly i)ales a masterpiece of Turner's. 
 Wc linger until the cold gray light of northern twilight 
 proves the day has gone to rest. 
 
 On my angling pilgrimages to Canada I have 
 invaria})ly found that the week which I gave to Quebec 
 was far too short. Every stone, street, bastion, convent 
 
 I 
 
29 
 
 and clmrch })Osses.ses .some liistnrical i^t('^^^st, iind the 
 inultifurm life, and luiiiian interests ])ast and ])resent 
 liinds one to the scene, and after thirty years 1 find 
 new ])leasures, for I liave tasted of the sweets of a 
 warm-hearted lios]»itality, wliicli a ] ermanent residence 
 now of some five vears on tlie outskirts of theokl stroma- 
 hold, has not lessened. 
 
 Beautifid and fascinatini; as Qnehec is, the eager 
 longing to go-a-tisliing tem])ts us to a day's outing on 
 Lake St. Charles, a d(jzen miles from Quebec over a good 
 road. It is to be a sort of Dreliminary skirmish with 
 the trout, to warm the l)lood and steel the nerves ])re- 
 paratory to the greater cam]:aign. In the early morn 
 we drive out of the citv across the Dorchester Bridge 
 and up the Charlesbourg Eoad. Alexis is our carter. 
 He is French of course, but with a voluble flow of 
 curious English and a strange philosophy verging on to 
 fatalism that kee])s him in unfailing good humor with 
 himself. His historical lore is somewhat mixed, but 
 we make it a point to draw him out on all occasions. 
 
 The flush of early sunrise lights the valley, and 
 the dew-drops clinging to every blade of grass reflect a 
 thousand rays. Great fields of timothy wave gently in 
 
'M) 
 
 tlie lij^lit l)ri3eze. The swtHit siiujll of cattle and white 
 clover is home on the air. Tliin trails of sniuke from 
 wi<le-nioutli(Ml ]io,s|)itahle cliijnney.s show these country 
 I>eo])le to l>e early risers even thoii<;h wt; had (►tlier 
 evidence in tlie fat, jolly lookin^i; hahitaii women Jog- 
 uin<4 alon«>- on tlicir wav in to the city market, seated 
 
 ^r; 
 
 Mdr^. ,/^.<^^^^ 
 
 -jiocK^ter^^K^^^f 
 
 Ng 
 
 Ab 
 
 f\^C'fi\4 
 
 in the middle of their two wheeled cart witli its sipiare 
 topped canvas roof, and surrounded hy Ijoquets of 
 garden and wihl flowers, little Ininches of ])arsley and 
 radishes, a dish of boudin, half a dozen spring chickens, 
 some maple sugar, two or three dozen eggs, a few })airs 
 of home knit socks, a piece of home made catalagne 
 
:;i 
 
 m 
 
 
 and nilnr tiny ndds and ciuls of a tlnif't y iHHiscwifc's 
 gatl^e^in;^^ t<> lu3 l»ai;^faintMl away <ni tlie ii\>i.'i\ market 
 siHiaiv amidst much cliattevinji*- and gossip. 
 
 Tliese virln«»ns and liii|>i>y ,sj>nusi's are ]»r(»l»al»ly tlic 
 direct descendants of tli(>.se vouny; damsels who were 
 consiji^ned to Canada at the in-itijiatiiui of Intendant 
 Talon to lu'comc the wives ol' the s(ddiers of the 
 Cariynan-ISid'ie iC'i rej^imcnt w liicli lunl l)eeii dishaiided 
 in Canada in or(hM' to increase the numi)er of setthirs. 
 Later, tlie Intendent writes to Coll»ert, and ;,',rows ([uito 
 entliusiastic over the I'esuU of these marriages in tlie 
 numerous oiVsjdinu: which was ln-inj^' jidded to the 
 l»oj.ulation of('.uiada. Ilow \\A\ successive ^'enerat ions 
 have maintained this reputation for fccnn(h'ty is evi- 
 dence<l ineverv household vou enter. Families of sixteen 
 or eiiiliteen are not unusual, while those of twcdve or 
 thirteen, which entitles the head of family to a honus of 
 one hundreil acres of land from the (lovernment, ure id' 
 such fre([uent (jccurience Ji.s to occtisiun no remark. 1 
 niyscilf know one still hloominj^- matron, fat, fair, and 
 still in the forties, who has heen the ])roud mother of 
 twenty-two children, and she is nut without hope that 
 her hushand may yet claim another (Jovernment grant. 
 

 But we liJivu now riMclu'd (lit.! villii;,'(* of Cliailes- 
 bourg willi its greut church, liuu laushytery aiul l)ig 
 convent, ami turning west folhtw ahuii^' the crest of tho 
 U]>lan(l that lends to th(^ n ilhi^e of Loretto. Another 
 ])anorania is unfolded of nnnli ]>astoml heanty with 
 the I'uofLivd yrav rock (d' ()uelKH' and its tliiminy; min- 
 
 CITADEL 0HSI:KVATUI{V. 
 
 arets, and tlie lu'oad St. Lawrence as a hackground. 
 Our roadway is niacadannzed and we howl alonf' in 
 good style until we reach the chemin de patate that 
 leads over the low mountain to the lake. The country 
 is now rougher and the soil |ioorer, the houses and 
 barns more diminutive, hut in the countenances and 
 
 I 
 
33 
 
 nil' of the iiicii iiiid womi'ii nm' iini'l mi llic V(»a«lsi<lo 
 tht'ie is an iipi ciiiaiici* <»1 j^Mvater ;z«»o(l iiatiiiu and t'on- 
 lentnicnt. Our old fellow \\v met driving' a sorry little 
 laill with ]atcli('(l lianu'ss, and a cart wliosc wlicids 
 M'ere travcdin^' at ri^lit an»^dt's to cacli other, hut tlio 
 world soenicd vrrv swei't to the old chaii wlio was 
 ciirolliii;' ''A la CLaire Fov/aiiw* in a hi«,di ])it('luMl key 
 <]uite nnniindliil of onr ])assi]iLj otlu r tlian a, '' sidut 
 M*sieur8 I" 
 
 "Alexis, what do these iseople live on in the h)ng 
 winter ? " 
 
 •'B'gosh," !^^onsieur, "I tink dey niiist live h'on a 
 cliew h'uf de gum, and a tune h'of de fiddle." 
 
 The less burdened the French-Canadian is witli 
 worldly ]>osses8ions the more c<»m])letely ha]»]»y lie is. 
 *'No cow no care" is his motto. Yet s<iualid jioverty 
 is unknown amon«,' them from the very sim|»licity of 
 their livinjjj;. tFean's ch)thes niiiy be well patched, l»ut 
 he is never in rags ; his little house nuiy contain only 
 the bare necessaries, Ijut it is as white as whitewash 
 can make it ; the children run l)aref()oted, but they get 
 enough to eat to keep them fat and rosy. In the gath- 
 ering twilight the sound of fiddle or accordian is heard 
 
in the IjukI, jukI li«>lit liearts <^T(>\v li^liter to tlie air of 
 *'La Canadienne" 
 
 L{>ke St. Charles comes into view from tlie siiiii- 
 mit of the Jiill ; a loii^- wiiidin^n' slieet of l»liiest of l>lue 
 water, tlic 1 uver end in a small valley cultivated to tlie 
 water's ed^c, the ii])])er amidst Inoken mountains still 
 
 MAHTELLO TOWER. 
 
 in all their M'ihlness. We stop at the comfortal)le little 
 hostelry of wido V Stanstield in a ^rove of spruce and 
 flowers. 
 
 The remainder of our day was full of quiet plea- 
 sure. We drifted idly about tlie lake, now and again 
 taking a trout of moderate si/e. In the greater heat of 
 
35 
 
 the (lay we went asliore on a wooded ])oint, l)oiled oTir 
 tea over a little camp fire, smoked and discoursed of 
 many thinj^s. Towards eveninjL^, in the shadows of the 
 mountains, we rose and landed some few large fish, but 
 that su[)reme angler's hour on these clear water lal\es 
 before the darkness we missed, for we had arranged to 
 return to Quebec; that same evening. 
 
w 
 
 
 sj 
 
 a 
 o 
 
37 
 
 "h f 
 
 CHAPTHU THIED. 
 
 LAKE BEAUPORT. 
 
 " Of recreation there is none 
 So free as fishing, is, alone ; ■ • 
 All other ])astinieH, do no less ; ' 
 
 Than mind and body, both possess ; 
 • My hand alone my work can do , 
 
 So, I can fish and study too." . : 
 
 I once heard Henry Ranger, tlie artist, say that 
 outside of Quebec no country in the world other,, 
 perhaps, than HoHand could produce such cloud eft'ects, 
 and I believe him. Tlie day we drove to Lake Beauport 
 we vere favored with an exhibition that aroused all our 
 admiration. From out of tlie west and over the moun- 
 tains there ke]>t rollint^- out in rapid succession snowy,, 
 fluftV, lloatinu-, ra^Lied frinoe<l balls of varvino; sizes and 
 depths, and the sun kept getting in among them and 
 setting fire to tlieir ragged borders which })lazed up in 
 yellows and reds and crimsons, leaving trails of pearl 
 gray smoke. In time the vault of the sky was filled 
 with these vapory forms moving in graceful stately 
 
38 
 
 quadrilles d*honneur, aiul oyer the Ijindseajje driftcMl 
 tlieir sliadowv fovnis chasing tlie sunslnno fvoin place to 
 place ill laiigliiiig mood. One or two sniall clouds in 
 the dark livery of nHjiirning dro])]ied silent tears ii]>oii 
 the 1)080111 of mother earth, hut thev were unnoticed in 
 the <>eneral hilarity. 
 
 At (rasjiard's we stop lonjj" enoui>h to enjoy a 
 heartv lunch served in mine host's hest stvle. This is 
 a famous rendezvous for (^uehec's jeunesf^e d^or^e, and 
 in the louo- winters a slei<4hin<i' ]»arty to Gaspard's, with 
 supper and dance, is anionic the delightful events. 
 There is an ap])earaiice of homely comfort ahout the 
 estahlishmeiit, and a quiet air of genuine lios]»itality 
 that lends a charm to the picturesque old phice in 
 pleasant contrast to the average village or wayside inn 
 on this continent, which is too often a dirty, ill kept 
 house, with scant and saucy attendance. 
 
 We turn aside here to pay a Hying visit to the 
 ruins of the Chateau Bigot of uusavorv name, around 
 which tradition and romance have woven a storv of 
 w^oman's frailty and imprisonment, a man's lust and 
 riotous dissipations, the murder of the woman, the hnal 
 undoing of the man, who Avas sent to France, arrested, 
 
39 
 
 and (I'ieil Inr liis many crimes against Ins King and 
 country, a blending ol' facts and fiction somewhat dilti- 
 cnlt to disentangle even Avere I so inclined, Imt i;eiish 
 the thonglit, for rninons chateans Avith liistorical and 
 romantic associations are far too scarce in onr new 
 Avoild, and J am going to cling to my })elief in all that 
 is related of this one. liesides, does not the career of 
 Francois Bigot, the last Intendant of France in Canada, 
 .sup])ly the material for a score of dramatic romances 
 suiticient to invest tlie chiijean with rare interest, and 
 unknown i)ossil)ilities for the future novelist :* Has 
 not Gilbert Parker, with consummate genius, told a new 
 story in his "Seats of the ]\IiL>htv," and invested it with 
 every api^earance of reality ? Is not the "Scarlet 
 Woman" a possible successor in the chateau to the 
 Algon(|uin maid? :^^' j 
 
 " I en({uired our way to the ruins from an" old wo- 
 man who was gathering wild strawberries in a fi(dd 
 near by. -; ^ - 
 
 AVith smiling alacrity and much yolul)ilitv she 
 offered to show us the A\'av. 
 
 Her berry boxes Avere tubes of l)irch bark with 
 bottoms sewed in. They were all gathered together for 
 
40 
 
 convenience tA^ eaTrvin<^^ l)y ji Hjit knitteil woolen strings 
 Would Madame sell her berries and boxes ? 
 
 Certainly, '\{ Movsieur eonnnands, and she would leave 
 
 the ])rice to him. 
 
 A silver Hfty cent niece makes her eves dance in 
 
 her head, and the Ooniniodore reaches out for the boxes, 
 
 and is about to put them under the seat. 
 
 " Would Monsieur mind, but the boxes are tied 
 
 toii'ether with niv carters, and if ^^■e have no use for 
 
 them?" ' 0: ;.. ' 
 
 " What," exclaimed the Commodore, " are these 
 garters," holding uj) the woolen strings l)efore alluded 
 to ; " well, if Madam doesn't object to going w^ithout 
 those aj^pendages a while longer I would like to buy 
 those self same gartei's U) take home as a present to 
 my wife " — and another (piartor is handed out, and the 
 Commodore's face is wreathed in smiles. 
 
 Tfoyii soH qvi mal y pense, but I'm going to hang 
 these boxes and garters in mv librarv in Xew York. 
 " And what al)out vour wife Commodore ? " 
 " Well I must wait until I get her," replied that 
 suave dissimulator. 
 
 The severity of tlie climate in Canada does not 
 
41 
 
 lend itself with gentle leniency to rnins. Two luilf 
 destroyed i»id)le walls, some jiles of stone, among which 
 the l)la(;lv al(kn" and I'asi.herrv uiew Inxniiantlv, were 
 all that were left to mark the former site of i»rot1igate 
 Inxurionsness. During the blockade of Quebec in the 
 winter of ITT'VTli some of Benedict Arnold's troops 
 occui)ietl the Chateau, and it is the tradition that they 
 set hre to it upon their de]»arture, but such is not the 
 case, for as late as l8o4 it w[is in a fair state of i)reser- 
 vation. In the early part^ of the century a club of 
 bon-vivants, the " Baron's," fre([uently fore-gathered 
 at the Chateau to re-enact the revelries of the davs of 
 Bigot. 
 
 Witli many exchanges of conij.liments with the^ 
 ohl danu', we continued our journey to the lake. 
 ^ The picture ^(|ue is rarely absent on the roadsides 
 
 about Quebec. 
 
 At a gateway, leading into one of the low eaved 
 farm-houses, stood a, handsome black-eyed uirl of 
 eighteen with a conii)lexi(jn like a peach, and teeth of 
 wondrous whiteness. She was dressed in a short l)lne 
 hom;--spun Vuw.njupon, l)eneath wliich showed a jtair 
 
42 
 
 of Itriglit red .stockiuos. A 1>i«4' jiliiiiie home-plaited 
 straw liut covered a shapely head and was gathered in 
 with a rihhon under a saiiey chin. She held two fi'iskv 
 calves in leash while she made eheerfnl gossij) with old 
 Foy, the i)rofessional heggar, sitting in his dog wagon, 
 and the dogs were enjoying a qniet loll in the dust 
 with tonmies extended. 
 
 
 i^ 
 
 BEGGAR AND DOG. 
 
 The Commodore raved over this ])icture the re- 
 mainder of the day, and would not be comforted. It 
 was evidently a case of love at first sight. 
 
 The mountains close in about Lake Beauport and 
 it nestles cosily among them ; a lovely little sheet of 
 water of many headlands and bays. Several pretty 
 summer cottages cling to the mountain sides, and the 
 little hotel at which we put up, known as Bigaouette's, 
 
43 
 
 luis a iiiiiiil)^!' (»f iKTiiiaiieiit suniiiier l>oai(k'is. It is 
 M'ell kept, tiiid the jn'oja'ietor tiiixioiis to {itloid every 
 facility to visiting anglers in the way of boats and canoe- 
 men. Onr tniide's stories proved a ureat sonrce of 
 amnsenient to us in the intervals between a rise, strike, 
 and a struggle, for the trout in this lake are the gamiest 
 tishin Canadian waters, and as thev run to a weight of 
 2 J lbs., capital sport is to l)e had if the angler is expert 
 and fertile in resources, for the water is clear, and the 
 trout shy. We soon discovered that a shot on the casting 
 line, and allowing the tail Hy to trail well under water, 
 was a most killing method during the early evening, 
 but as the shadows deepened the fish rose to the Hy on 
 the surface for a short time, and then as suddenly 
 stopped. AVe put up our rods, lighted our j>i])es, and 
 listened to Gabriel's bear story as he paddled us down 
 the lake in the moonlight. 
 
 H'all dese montagnes 'ere ver' fine place for bear. 
 He com h'every summer tree, four mebbe, h'an some- 
 time I catch him li'on de traj), udder time I shoot him. 
 Wen I was boy, p'r'aps sixteen, my fadder giv me de 
 gun wat he use h'on de Papineau war at St. Eustache, 
 I'm ver' proud h'on dat gun, h'an wau day I say to 
 
44 
 
 riiilciiKui Gurvais who 'iiv ••uii tno : "riiileiiiuii we ixo 
 shodt «l(^ ])<ii'tii(l<ie hehiii (Ui l)eej>; inoiitaiine wut you 
 .s«H'." I o;() Willi side, li'jui IMiilciMon he <r() Won (K; 
 luhler. JUiiihy 1 com to l)ee«4 pine tree wjit de wind 
 brake li'iii two Itoiit twaiity feet froiii _<iTowii. Dere 
 
 was I'laiity seratelies h'oii 
 dat tree, li'an Mlieii T 
 look h'ii]» I .see dere wan 
 ? de beeg hole. 1 lak ver' 
 well to see wat was li'iii 
 dat 'ole, h'an I yo for fin 
 a small dead spruce to 
 ]»ut aiiaiust de pine. Den 
 1 dim h'u]) de s])ruce li'au 
 I look li'iu de 'ole, luit 
 T aiiit see uuddiu^', I 
 reach li'over sum more, weu de wood she give way^ 
 h'an I fall down h'iu dat tree. I fall h'on sumtiug dat 
 sof, and I d'ont remenl)er h'any more for long time. 
 
 When I wake h'up I feel scar' h'almos to det, and 
 someting sof was move near me, h'an I know dat h'it 
 was some leettle hear. B'o(),sh ! I veil and call for dat 
 feller riiilemon, h'an I'av fear dat I go he die h'in dat 
 
4^: 
 
 ij 
 
 true. Jiini-l»y I Wr iioisu li'oii <lt' Im.sli h'jin T yc4l 
 sum more, iraiuleii I 'esir sca'iiteli, scratcli. 1 look li'n]> 
 to see de })eeg miidder l)ear wid .'er''ead lookiu down 
 h'at me. She turn roim for come down. l\foiil)ieu! 
 I .u'oiie now for sure, l)ut wan she trot near I <rial, h^r 
 l)iliiue leg wid botli luins, h'an 1 let a beeu veil. She 
 run h'up dat treelike she mad, h'an T \)\ h'on ti«>li(, h'jm 
 yell suiu more. Down de h'outsidc^ she "o ver' cjuick 
 h'an Avhen she reach de jL,n-own I let oo h'an de hear she 
 run h'ott" in the bush, h'an I not stop till I net h'in my 
 fadders 'ouse. • ' 
 
 The sound of banjo and a deej* bass voice floated 
 over t\w. water, and the sono; was : 
 
 "Slowly flown the west the weary day is dying. 
 Slowly up the east ascends the mellow mystic moon. 
 Swift swoop the hawks ; the hooting owls are tlying, 
 Tlirough the darksome splendor breaks the lonesome cry 
 
 [of loon." 
 
 A lono- mockino- laugh of loon was the answer from 
 far up the lake. 
 
 The drive back to town in the moonlight was not 
 the least ])leasant } art of our day's outing. 
 

 QUIET J5EACII ON THE JACQUES CARTIEK. 
 
47 
 
 ClIAlTKli KOLKTII. 
 
 THE JACQUES CARTIER KIVER. 
 
 "Above the WHters' blink 
 llush'd wIiuIh iiijike sumiiioi' riot ; 
 Our thirsty Hpirits drink 
 l)eo|>, deep, the Huininer (piiet." 
 
 There is no river in llu^ l*n>vin(M' of Quebec more 
 filmed in aiii^lin*,' literature than the .Ia(M|ues Cartier. 
 It deserves all the encomiums passed upon it by suces- 
 sive generations of anglers for tlie maj^rnificent trout 
 which haunt its waters, and tlui varied and romantic 
 scenery throughout its course. The h)vver valleys of 
 the river were colonized many years aoo bv Scotch, 
 Irish and PiUghsh settlers, and souie of their descendants 
 yet remain on this outpost ot civilization, but the 
 mountains crowd down on the little valleys and forbid 
 any extension into their domain, and the settlement has 
 reached its limit. Shut in by the mountains on the 
 one side, and crowded by the French ])arishes on the 
 other, it has become a little world unto itself, with many 
 strange customs and quaint traditions. 
 
 Scotch as a highland glen, as Irish as the lakes of 
 
48 
 
 Killaniey, as Kugiish as Yorkshire, and yet, a ciiriuiis 
 cuiiiiiiiiigliu'^' of racial characteristics and national jjccu- 
 liarities which is all verv interest inji-. The snrvival of 
 the fittest has prodnced a hardy peoi)le to cope with 
 the ruo'jred conditions of life on this ronyh frontier, but 
 they are h(jspitahle and kindly to the stranger at their 
 gate, and the word angler is an " open sesame " to tlieir 
 homes. In this valley reach of the river it twists and 
 turns, frets and fumes, bubldes and gui'gles, but is no- 
 where too rou!>h for canoeinj^.and in the still reaches ureat 
 trout lurk in the dee[) holes, but trout there ave every- 
 where within its waters. Like all the northern tribu- 
 taries of the St. Lawrence that take their source in the 
 wild and sterile mountain region, the Jac<iues Cartier, 
 liowino- from the lake of the .>^.ame name, for the first 
 thirty miles of its course is a very rough river, every- 
 where im])eded by chaotic rocks, and broken into dozens 
 of falls, but as the mountains recede from its banks 
 it subsides into a brawling river of many rapids, but 
 canoeable. 
 
 In a subsequent chapter I shall have occasion to 
 treat of the upper section of the river, and of the Great 
 Lake Jacipies Cartier. 
 
49 
 
 U])oii my retui'ii tVoiu Lake Beaupurt I foujul a 
 letter a\vaitin<^' me, from which 1 extract the following: 
 
 " liiver ill excellent coiiditiou ; Charles will come 
 for you \N\idijes(lav. " 
 
 Irresistible temptation !^ — a hasty oiling of rods, 
 testing lines and tlies, and looking u]) the other re([uisites, 
 and Wednesday found me waiting the departure of 
 Charles from his ([uarters, Cote (VAhr<tham, 
 
 "Now, come! pitch those tra])s of yours into the 
 cart; time's u]), and I can't wait while you sit there 
 makin<i^ eves at Jane." ' 
 
 . • I hasten to com])ly with this ])erempt()ry riMpiest, 
 and while arranginii' mv traps sounds reach mv ears, 
 as thouLjh some one was eui^agfed in a lively double- 
 shultle, and then Jane's voice, in tones of remonstrance, 
 is heard : '• Charley, you'i'e a wretch, and if you attempt 
 to kiss me again I'll send w'ord to your wife." 
 
 . "And I'll be the bearer for you 1" I cried, as I 
 entered the house. " That was a ])retty excuse of liis 
 to get me out of the Avav ! Charley, I'm ashamed of 
 you — an officer in Her Majesty's service, and a married 
 
 man ; 
 
 Of 
 
 Further discussion is cut short l)y the ai)pearance 
 
50 
 
 of tlie cart at the door, and, waving a farewell, with a 
 few flying com})linieiits to the fair Jane, Charley puts 
 whij) to the hovse and we are on the way from Quebec 
 to Valcirtier, distant eighteen miles. At Oharleshourg 
 a ray)id exchange of banter takes placc* l)etween Charley 
 and the pretty daughter of tlie ]ost master in the 
 choicest of Canadian French, and I am evidently ])eing 
 .shown \\]) by Cliarley as an eligible bachelor from the 
 States lookiiiL)" for a Canadian wife. 
 
 Charley has seen life, tasted it in many phases, 
 cast his bread n})on many waters, and roving, 
 gathered many ex])eriences to exploit to interested 
 audiences in the h>ng winter evenings around his 
 cheerful hearth on the banks of the Jacques Cartier. 
 He fought his way to California in 1850, and 
 pioneered many i gulch in seeking for gold. He 
 crossed the Isthmus bv the Nicaragua route, on his 
 return to New York, to seek the gold fields of 
 Australia. His adventures in the Antipodean gold 
 fields, were fraught with romance, but after a few more 
 years of wanderings in strange places, Charley returned 
 to Canada. 
 
 We put the horse up fov an hour at the Indian 
 
51 
 
 village of Ln'ette, and while Cliailey is coiKjocting a 
 " back-boiie stitt'ner" as lie terms it, I amuse myself 
 in wandering about among these degenerate descendants 
 of the on(3e mighty Hurons, and watching the various 
 industries carried on l)y the men and squaws. Tliey 
 all savor of the primitive life of the Indian, but in the 
 faces of men and women there is little trace remaining 
 of their savage ancestors, and their village life is not 
 unlike that of their French neighbors. They still 
 maintain a tribal form of government, with their big 
 chiefs and little chiefs. An Indian agent watches over 
 their affairs, and the reservation is still jealously 
 exclusive of the white man, unless he bears the name 
 of Sioui, Groslouis, Gonzague et cetera, patents of original 
 red blood. 
 
 The men, true, however, to the tradition of their 
 nol)le progenitors, are still hunters and trappers, and of 
 late years, also act as guides and canoemen to adven- 
 turous parties of anglers and sportsmen. In the inter- 
 vals, which are spent in the bosoms of their families, 
 they make snowshoes, tan skins for moccassins, buihl 
 canoes, and swagorer about the village. The women 
 make the hundred and one prettily worked birch-bark 
 
r)2 
 
 (3oiistructi()ii8 that are sold in Quebec, iiioccassius, 
 and splint baskets, and bear a nnmerous progeny. 
 The small chajiel wliere they worship dates back to 
 
 HAUn AT WORK. 
 
 1721. Crowning the heights above the valley of the St. 
 Lawrence, and beside the river St. Charles, which now 
 
' 7 
 
 53 
 
 makes a inad leaj) into a deep cliasin cut tliroiii^li the- 
 limestone, the little villaj^e })ossesos a decided ])ictures- 
 queness, and is well worthy of a visit. 1 (jllered pennies 
 to be sl)ot at by young l>raves, with bows and arrows, 
 and in tlie fulness of mv ojood will towards all 
 conditions of men and cliilih'en, I ventured to liand a 
 youngster of tender age a l)right five-cent jiiece. He 
 held it before liis eyes, and then l)olted it, but not soon 
 enough to esca])e the argus eye of mama S([uaw. 
 
 Sei/ins:j tlie vounirster, bv wliat should have been 
 the seat of his pants, she stood liini on his head and 
 proceeded to woUop him so vigorously that the coin 
 soon made its ap}>earance. 
 
 Great excitement and interest on the ])art of the 
 crowd. (Jreat rejoicing on mania s([na"w's i)art on 
 recoverhig the coin. . . 
 
 " She'm bad boy, swal h(.^ap much mone," exclaimed 
 an old s({uaw. 
 
 Last summer, when at Lake St. John, I visited the 
 Indian village. j\Ieeting a good s([uaw with ])apoose 
 on her back, I said : , 
 
 " Little Indian," at the same time chuckling the 
 youngster nnder the chin ? ^ - 
 
54 
 
 " Yes, lillj injiii, lilly injiii(»er." 
 
 Late ill the evening, seated in the coiiifoital)le little 
 .siuokiiio-rooiii of my old friend and companion du hois 
 enjoying my cigar, 1 listen with a sympathetic ear to 
 his ie}K)rt ol' a had attack of rhenmatism that has placed 
 him Itovs (in combat, though with his accustomed kind- 
 ness and forethought, everything is ])re])ared for my 
 enjoyment and si)ort. "Suppose you fisli down the 
 river to-morrow," suggests my friend, " for since the 
 dam was l)uilt at the head of the fiills it has thrown the 
 water back for several miles, and there are some 
 immense fish lurking about the deep pools betw^een • ;\^ 
 here and Sullivan's." 
 
 The morning dawned a little too bright, but there 
 was a good stiff breeze blowing, which in part made 
 amends. Douglas, my old guide and canoe-man, w^as 
 early on hand, and advised taking the small Hat as . - I 
 more comfortable to fish from, and as I entertain a 
 profound res])ect for mine ease, I had a high-back chair 
 placed in the prow. A bountiful lunch provided ^ '^, ''^v:tl.ff- 
 the girls is safely stowed away, our anchor shipped, . 
 and we slowlv drift alonor. The river iust here is 
 extremely beautiful in its meanderings among the 
 
55 
 
 liuiulieds of lovely little elm-covered islets, and from 
 its lake-like jippearance. Our noiseless movements are 
 only interruj)ted hy the occasional rise of a trout at my 
 Hies, and the sudden and mysterious transfer of the 
 same to the creel, or the ]>lunoe of a kinj^tisher into the 
 water and his noisy chattering as he Hies to his perch 
 on some dead limh overhangino- the hanks, there to 
 wait and watch another opportunity to procure his 
 breakfast. Feeling comi)elled to keej) one eye on us 
 while the other goes huntim^, he has missed his mark 
 several times. It was just in a bend of the river, 
 beneath a high, precipitous bank, that I observe, "close 
 in shore, a heavy swirl, but su})posing it to be caused 
 by a muskrat, I at first i)aid no attention to it until it 
 was rei)eated, Avhen I discover my error. Douglas 
 brings the canoe to a stand, and I ])erceive the 
 reason for the fish's singular appearance in this 
 most unlooked-for of places. Above the bank was a 
 field of grass, and every moment or so a grassho])per 
 would over-jump his mark and fall into the water, that 
 moment to be sucked in bv a trout. My fiv-book 
 contains an imitation and I re-fashion my leader. A 
 long cast neatly made, and in a second the hook is 
 
r,(; 
 
 fiiiiily fhster.c, 1 iji tlic jaws of ;i t\V()-]>f)Uiul tisli. A 
 ijijiid vuii or two, s(tino lofty tiiiiibliiig, and my trout is 
 sat'clv laiidiMl. A«'aiii did I trv a cast in tliorc and with 
 ])i'(M'is(dy till' same result — another two-jiound tish. 
 There were no more, and neNcr aj^ain did 1 take <i trout 
 near that spot, bij^ or little. 
 
 fiiist summer ii Friend and I were fishing the 
 river, \\hen tlie IblloNN'in^ occurred : My fiicnd, who 
 was orul»l>ini>' it with a worm on llie bottom, lelt a tu*^^ 
 on his line ; he stru(d\, and ;i miiL»niticen( trout broke 
 the surfiice of the water a second afterwards, ajipiirently 
 well hooked. My friend jdayed it until h'c tliou^'ht 
 it >ai'e to brini>' it alon<>side the boat for me to 
 land. I took tlie line, but the moment tlie full 
 M'ei<j;ht of the {\>\\ came I fell somelhiuL;' Li'i\(; way, 
 and I liinded, not the trout, but a two-inch gudgeon 
 as lively as a cricket. The gudgeon had gorged the 
 woi'iii iir.d ho(d\, and it second afterwards the trout 
 ciunv along and bidted the gudgeon. The ho(dv 
 being buried in tlu^^udgeon, there was nothing to h<dd 
 the trout. 
 
 ]\loving along slowly, as the iish rise less freijuently 
 to mv tl V, conversation becomes more aniniated. The fol- 
 

58 
 
 luwiiiu varn, which Doiij^las related to me, will hear 
 
 repeating : 
 
 " Well, sir, one night after young I'at came to 
 camp, he say.s suddenly to me, * Douglas, I'm going to 
 catch one of those mocking devils of loons ; they've 
 hung around my raft all day, hooting and diving, until 
 sorra a fish could I take. ' ' 
 
 " I wish you luck, Paddy, my hoy, " says I, 
 
 ; laughing, for I thought it was joking the fellow was . 
 but next night, when I got hack to camp, Paddy was 
 there, and looking as proud and as satisfied as you 
 please, for, by the powers ! he had a hjon, and tlie old 
 
 ' father-bird at that, and this w^as the way he took him. 
 He caught a small minnow near the shore and halted it 
 on a large, strong hook, to which he tied a line about a 
 hundred feet long, with, tiie other end of the cord 
 fastened to a good-sized block of wood, and otf he starts. 
 
 I Presently, dowai comes the loons. 
 
 • " ' Ho ! ho ! ho ! whoa ! ' cries the old fellow. 
 
 ; " ' Faith, ' says Pat, ' you'll soon change your tune, * 
 
 making ready his line and slowly circling round the 
 loons until he was half-way, when he began to pull in 
 .hisline right across the track of the old bird, who gi^'es 
 
' 
 
 a startled look at livst, and llit'ii laiij^lis a i[\U(j\ lau«^^li at 
 his being so uervous like, and takes a good s(|uint at 
 the tish slowly swimming awav in front of him, and 
 tlien nuikes a rush for it. Paddy strikes hanl, and 
 then pitches the float overboard. The loon U'ts out an 
 awful yell, and down he goes, but tlie Hoat soon i)ulls 
 him up. In the end Taddy knocks him on the head. 
 ' He thinks that was the best morning's s])ort he ever 
 had." 
 
 "A very remarkable catch, certainly, Douglas. I 
 am glad you were there to vouch for the truth of it. " 
 
 " Halloo ! this is the first smolt I have taken in 
 the Jac(|ues Cartier for two years. Since the dam was 
 l)uilt at tlie falls it has presented an almost 
 insurmountable obstacle to even the more active salmon 
 that have overcome the formidable falls at Dayree's. 
 I have been laughed at for years for maintaining that 
 salmon ever ascended above Sullivan's falls, but I 
 know well-authenticated instances of their capture l)y 
 the settlers along the river ; and have not I taken their 
 progeny in countless nundjers in times past ? The 
 heavy flood of last year has In'ought a few salmon up 
 again, as this smolt testifies." ' ' »• 
 
<;o 
 
 ' " l)oii<,'las, who i.s tliat standiiij^' on the oi)])osite 
 bank ^ Old Dulkin, i.s it not i Let us stuer in tliuro and 
 have a chat with the old t'eliuw." 
 
 "Well, Dulkin, how are yon ?" 
 
 " Och, l)y niy .sowl, and is it your honor? And iVa 
 a proud day for me, so it is, to shake your honor'n 
 hand. It was your father, sir, God bless him ! that 
 was good to m«% and many's the lift he's given me 
 coming from town, and a wee drop of the eratur." 
 
 Here is a hint. It won't do for the ])resent 
 generation to l)e outdone l)y the former; "Dulkin, 
 here's something that will help you climb the mountain 
 to-night." 
 
 The old man's eyes sparkle as he takes the cup, 
 and with " Here's to your honor's health," he gulps 
 down a good gill of whisky without so much as winking. 
 
 I am sorrv to add that Dulkin's reijutation for 
 veracity is questioned, l)ut he is such a jilausible, wily, 
 old fellow that he would deceive a saint. A few years 
 ago he had all the otticers of the garrison out here, 
 from the gallant Colonel Strange, the Commandant, 
 down to the lieutenant, hunting bears, tliough it turned 
 out to be a wild-goose chase for them and a perfect 
 

 Gl 
 
 ^'odsiMid tor Dulkiii, who for scvoriil moiitli.s ut'terward 
 lived like a lord ott* their liberality. I hardly need say 
 that not a l)ear had heen seen near Dulkin's phiee, 
 but the old man's fertility in resources to raise 
 tlie wind took him to town witli won(hM'ful stories of 
 
 dulkin's house. 
 
 the bears that were depleting tlie ranks of his sheep, 
 and praying for succor. The truth leaked out, and it 
 w^as long before the participators in the hunt heard the 
 last of Dulkin's bears. 
 
(\2 
 
 I liave often remarked that trout, without any 
 accountable reason, and with great unanimity of action, 
 will suddenly stoj) rising, and tlie most tempting tiies 
 will utterly fail to lure them from the bottom, and even 
 though you shift your ground, yet the result is the 
 same. " Douglas, do you see that birch whose low^- 
 reaching braniihes will furnish us a pleasant shade from 
 the sun ? There will we tie our boat, and until the 
 trout chanLje their minds ai^ain, we will indulge in a 
 smoke and quiet meditation, for the work of this past 
 hour has been ([uite exhausting." 
 
 Lulled by the gentle breezes that steal under our 
 
 leafy covert and the soft rip])le of the water against the 
 
 boat, I drift fast into that delightful angler's dreamland, 
 
 when there breaks upon my ear the sweet voice of 
 
 some fair wood nymph, evidently approaching the 
 
 river near our place of concealment, singing to herself 
 
 the old Scotch ditty : 
 
 "Last May a braw wooer came down the lang glen, 
 And sail" by his love he did deave me. 
 I said there was naething I hated like men, 
 The deuce gae wi' m to believe me, believe me, 
 The deuce gae wi' 'm to believe me." 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 Our enchantress, a pretty, rosy-cheeked girl of 
 
fr 
 
 :■ ■■ ' '.uji^"; ■■■'.'• • ■,,.,., 
 
 s 
 
 eighteen, dressed in a short petticoat, and ])arefooted, 
 hatless, with her wavy, light hrown hair tied in a k^ose 
 knot, rendered her a fitting ideal for the Highhmd 
 lassie of " Burns. " Dipping lier pail full of water, she 
 
 returns up the hank un- 
 conscious of our presence. 
 AVaitini^ until her song 
 (lied awav in the distance 
 we ])Ushed out irito the 
 stream again. 
 
 The loss of our an- 
 clior and jiart of our rope 
 cable brings to niv nnnd 
 a predicament I got in last 
 year on the river that might have resulted seriously. 
 A nrile or two below Eoche Platte the river contracts to 
 about half its usual width, with a very heavy rapid. 
 There are always a few tine trout to ])e taken at the foot 
 of this ra])id, but in order to tish it you must anchor at 
 the liead of it. On this particular day, when we came 
 to pull np anchor, it resolutely refused to be budged an 
 inch in spite of our tugging. Here was a pretty mess, 
 and Etienne and I looked at each other in dismay. 
 
 MHPMVWAMrc jt,, mjU^M. 
 
 mmmanmemsmagsmi 
 
64 
 
 " Ktieiiiie, this is a ))a(l job. What are we going 
 to do?",.,.,, .^, V.,,, ,, ■, .. ■' -;^ ' ,1': .'._., 
 
 " Sacre ! me not know ; for sure go be die." 
 
 " You swim ? " imitating the motion. 
 , "No; me go (h.)wn like Avhat you call dam stone." 
 
 Umj)h ! So mucli for having a chain, fastened with 
 a stai)le, instead of a rope. "Here, you black rascal, 
 cniwl ])ack and let me get there ! " For two mortal 
 hours did I saw at that chahi with mv })ush knife and 
 then w^ith Etieinie's before we were released from our 
 dangerous berth. ; ■ 
 
 " J)ouglas, my boy, did you see that rise? Now, 
 gently, and -I'll see how he likes this professor, or red 
 hackle. There, so, that will do. I knew it ; tlie red 
 hackle against the field in this river. A four-pounder, 
 Douglas, without a doubt, and well hooked. Softly, 
 softly, my speckled beauty ! not too many such somer- 
 saults, tliough 1 love dearly occasionally to see your 
 fine form and mottled sides. The landing-net, Douglas, 
 and see to it that you get it well under him. Oh ! my 
 charmer, kick away there in the creel, you can do no 
 liarm, for your hours are numbered ! To-morrow you 
 shall grace the table of the cm% and fill him with envy 
 
 
of my prowess, if so genial and open-hearted a man is 
 capable of such a feeling. No^^', Douglas, turn the 
 prow of our boat homeward, fov I have had s})ort 
 enough for one day. I will not give the number of the 
 slain nor the weight, for are not all such statistics said 
 to be born of the brain of the angler ? But the Jacques 
 Cartier forever 1 " 
 
 %e CooK 
 
07 
 
 CHAl'TEll FIFTir. 
 
 ' LAKE ST. JOSEPH. 
 
 "But yet, though while 1 hsh I fast, 
 I make good fortune my repast ; 
 And thereunto my friend invite, — 
 In whom I more than that delight, — 
 Who is more welcome to my dish, 
 Than to my angle was my fish." 
 
 An hour bv train, or four hours by buckboard, is 
 the distance to Lake St. Joseph, whatever that may be 
 in miles. I like that good old fashioned hahita7i 
 method of reckoning distances by pipes. It leaves mucli 
 to the pipe, and to tlie imagination if you are not a 
 smoker, but everyone smokes in French Canada, even 
 the very small boy yon meet on the roadside has a long 
 clay pipe stuck in the corner of his mouth. The 
 farmers grow their own tobacco, but cure it so badly 
 that it is rank ])oor stuff, antl they call it fris^ ])ecause 
 it makes your hair curl to smoke it, and your nose 
 curl to smell it. 
 
 For tlie angler who likes his ease, a fair share of 
 good fishing, cheerful companionship after a day on the 
 
68 
 
 "water, and a feather bed to invite sound slumber, Lake 
 St. Joseph is a very elysiuni. It is a lovely sheet of 
 water of noble dimensions, wooded shores, and fine firm 
 sand ])eaches. There are several comfortable little 
 ho^telries which harbor a j^oodly com})any of guests in 
 the summer season, an<l a tiny steamer plies l)etweeii 
 them and the railroad station, and nuikes tours of the 
 lake. Canoemen familiar Avith the lake will put the 
 angler on the good fishing s])ots either for trout or 
 l)lack bass, this latter fish being very abundant in this 
 lake and alfording famous sport. Tuladi, or lunge, are 
 also denizens of its waters and reach a size of on lbs. 
 
 I confess to a keen enjoyment in driving about the 
 country near Quebec, and if after the nuicadamized 
 roads are abandoned, the dirt roads are no better than 
 elsewhere, a good Inickboard makes easy journeying. 
 It must -be in the early jiiorniiigv/hcJ^-it^iV-J^titTii'*^ 
 
 instinct with the life of the opening day, ahd the slowly 
 rising mists in the valleys leave wooded islands in fairy 
 lakes, from which come the sweet melody of bird 
 matins, and the odors of pastured meadows. In these 
 high latitudes the summer day breaks soon upon the , 
 closing night, but in the short intervening hours the 
 
09 
 
 northorii breeze has .swej)t over miles of forest covered 
 mountain and conies laden with cool balsamic ozone, 
 as exliilai'ating as cliam]){tgne. 
 
 I believe that I expressed some snch sentiments 
 to my old fviend, Jas. ^f. LeMoine, Esq., Quebec's 
 famed historian, who had kindly ottered to accompany 
 me on a drive to Lake St. Jose])h, but when I proposed 
 four a.m. as our time of de])arture he perce]>til y winced, 
 yet offered no word of remonstrance, ana it was so 
 settled. Driving down tlie long wooded avenue leading 
 to the charmino'lv situated sylvan retreat of my 
 companion cZit voyage, Ijeautiful " Spencer Grange," I 
 recalled Kirbv's lines : 
 
 "I k)ve Queboc for these good reasons, one, 
 Her niafchless beauty that so takes the eye, 
 Her fatuous history in the years gone by, 
 . And last for sake of him, her worthy son, 
 
 . T^n)> ^^j£ jj^j;LJ>^^w >. :^^ef^'j^.v,tiTb|jeTrTias rjjij— '*-»'•— ■ 
 
 ___Jlb4vjy4^i tiHues of legendary lore tliat vie 
 
 Wi h what the world loves best ; and so love I 
 Quebec for these good reason, and ui)on 
 — ' The plinth of Wolfe and Montcalm lay my hand,. 
 And call to witness all the varied land 
 Seen from the lofty capes embattled coigne. 
 Mountain and vale and river, isles that gleam 
 Resplendent with the memories that beam 
 Upon them from the p- iS of LeMoine.'' 
 

71 
 
 Some thirty or forty piil)lislii'(l volumes upon the 
 history, iirchcfology, l^otauy, ornithology, fisheries, chase, 
 jind the legendary lore of the Province of (,)uebec 
 attest the varied accom])lishments and industry of Mr. 
 LeMoine. He is the most approac]ial)le and genial of 
 men, as hundreds of visiting kuights of the rod will 
 certify U>. 
 
 I do not know that we selected the most direct 
 route to the lake, but we chose a most picturesque and 
 interesting one through some of the ohl settled parishes, 
 and then over the mountain of Bel-Air on an unfre- 
 (^uented road through a wild Inish down upon a sandy 
 plain, long since deserted by its former inhabitants, 
 "until we reached the little church of the })arish of 8t. 
 Catherine, on the southerly l)ank of the River Jacques 
 Cartier. We crossed the river on a flat bottomed scow 
 drawn by a wive cable and windlass, and thence after a 
 short drive we reached the lake in time to partake of a 
 hearty dinner. 
 
 Some of the incidents of our pleasant journeying 
 are recorded in my journal. 
 
 At St. Foye's, Mr. LeMoine pointed out an old 
 earth work erected by the American troops under Gen. 
 
w 
 
 Montgomery in 1775. They wintered here, and when 
 sniallpox l»roke out the churcli was converted into a 
 liospital. Ti'adition asserts, tliat a soldi(;r who was' 
 dying asked tor a ])riest, hut his rei^nest was denied. 
 In tlie sprin*; after the snow was goni^ a Aati^arj, ]>assing 
 the grave saw an iirin and liand uplifted. W^ith the 
 instinct of humanity, he procured a spack^, and duly 
 replaced tlie ex])osed members in nu^ther earth ; l>ut to 
 his astonislmumt, npon passing the same spot tlie 
 following morning, tlie arm and hand were again 
 outstretched. Tcrritied at snch an occurrence, he at 
 once informed his neig]d)()rs, and together they went to 
 consult AFsieur le C\iv4. After pondering some moments 
 over so remarkahle an incident, he announced his 
 intention of })roc(HMling to till! grave to i)ut at rest tlie 
 uneasv spirit. Takini* with him a small crucifix he 
 placed it in the open hand, which immediately closed 
 U])on it, and uttering a jaayer for the repose of the 
 soul of the dead, the arm and hand were again reverently 
 interred, and Jie troubled spirit was at rest. 
 
 I remarked that an unlettered i)eople were great 
 lovers of the marvellous, and that their folk lore was 
 richest in extra vagent legends, tales, and superstitions.. 
 
 j 
 
3 
 
 " It is peculiarly .so jiui()n<; the French CaiuKlians," 
 said Mr. LeMoiiie, "and were 1 youn«^ aj^ain, I shouUl 
 • devote niys< If to rescuing miich that will soon pass 
 awiiy. Ahhe H.-lt. Casgrain has done something in 
 this direction in his * Legendes Canadiennes,' but there 
 still remains an interesting field of research for the 
 explorer. Dr. Prosper Lender, of Boston, ])robahly, 
 l)0ssesses the most coniplet(; knowledge for such a work 
 and I believe tliat he intends some day to publish 
 
 one. 
 
 "The long winter evenings among the hahitans'* 
 continued Mr. LeMoine, " are devoted to veilUe at 
 each others houses. The conteurs of the parisli are 
 the honored guests, and are called upon to exj)loit the 
 su])ernatural, the loup-garou, lutin, feu-follet, sorcler;, 
 la jongleube, until the audience is fairly s};ell-bound and. 
 terrified with vague fears, or some fantastic story is. 
 told clothed in all the wealth of imagery and exaggeration; 
 the coittcni' is capable of imparting to it until his hearers; 
 fairly shriek with laughter. The chanteur also comesj 
 in for a share of the ] o[)ulnr favor, es];ecially if hfs 
 rejiertoire includes a goodly number of tiie old ronuincea 
 
 '■ ■ :... . , •- --' ■ -■: 
 
.74 
 
 and com,plalnte» f^mv^ to tlio accompjiniiiKMit of the 
 accordion with which every Canadian house is supplied." 
 "Many years ago," .said I, "an American journal 
 ])nblished a serie-i of artitdes on tlie songs of French 
 Canada with translations of many of them. Apart 
 from those of undonbted French origin, the Canadian 
 songs are many of them valnahle as ]>ictures of the life 
 of these simj)le peasants. The anthor of " Le petit 
 bois de VAil" deserves immortalitv. He commences 
 by alluding to the fjict that there is a whole regiment 
 of drunkards in the parish, of which he, Francois 
 eTunean, merchant, is captain. With amusing incon- 
 sequence he then continues : 
 
 "Upon one Sunday night, 
 In pleasant summer weather 
 y When we went out to walk 
 Francois and I together, 
 At old man Gauthier s house 
 The evening there we spent, 
 And there came to pass 
 The following strange event." 
 
 His audience being now prepared for a catastrophe, 
 he proceeds to sketch a veilUe : 
 
76 
 
 *'Wcl] HO I lit my |,ip„^ 
 
 An Ih my uhidiI way, 
 
 Andto(hef(,lk (,f tho Ii„use 
 
 A few words ditl [ nay, 
 
 To Dolimu I Huid : 
 "Will you permit mo to 
 Draw further from the rest 
 So as to draw nearer you !" 
 
 "Ah, yes indeed, with much 
 Pleasure" then answers slie, 
 'If you have come to-night 
 'Tis but to laujrh at me. 
 You far to faitliless are 
 To talk of love to me ; 
 The one you always love 
 Is your little Jerimie." 
 
 [ The bard now <' returns" to a .subject which he 
 Iiad never remotely lunted at, and draws a veil of 
 provoking mystery over all the 
 
 evening : 
 
 occurrences of the 
 
 "To return to the old man. 
 
 Out comes his night-capped head. 
 
 At the top of his voice he says ; 
 "Lima be off to bed ! 
 
 You who dwell in the town, 
 
 Suburbs, or parish away. 
 
 Withdraw immediately, 
 
 For it»lmo3t'day." 
 
-•■■ -«— 
 
 TO 
 
 "I don't let tlie old man 
 This for a second time say, 
 So to Francois I said : 
 Do you come home my way i 
 Good night my Delima 
 I cut my lucky, and 
 Bareheaded I ii,o home, 
 With !ny hat in my hand." 
 
 ThiiH Avitli Wurdswurtliiau siniplicitv is told the 
 tra«^edv of " Le Petit hois de VAil. " 
 
 *' The Bed chez Boule" is aiiotlier of those truth- 
 ful })ictures of Cauadiau life, Avith an al)surd clinuix. 
 *' Bans lea chantiers noiib hivemons" depicts the daily 
 life of the lumberman in the shanties. When the 
 ballad is descriptive it hastens to its conclusion, the 
 action is direct, the language simple. Where incidents 
 are introchiced they are either conventional (►r impossible. 
 
 That Dortion of our road that lay through the 
 parish of St. Augiisiin clearly showed a thrifty and 
 well-to-do i)0]>uLition. Many of the houses were of 
 pressed brick tronts, while the barns and outbuildings 
 were numerous and sj acious. The glowing crop was 
 mainly hav, timothy of rich growth. Large herds of 
 co'"s grazed on the upland meadows. Every farm had 
 its spring or stream flowing through it. Before a dairy 
 
/ / 
 
 « large Newfo,„„lIa,ul ,log „„ h tvea,lmill worked a 
 
 olmn,. He I>a,l „„ ti.,.e to tnvn to look at us, or to 
 
 utter a bark, but continued steadily at his deu.nitiou 
 gnn,I. A n^erry party of youngsters in a buekboard 
 
78 ■ ■ " 
 
 drawn ])y a (|uiet scidate little bull passed us on their 
 "way l)erryiiig. We halted at a spring that looked cool 
 and inviting, and had an amusing conversation with an 
 old dame who came alon<'. 
 
 " If the Messieurs would stop at the next house 
 they would be heartily welcome to some fresh milk. 
 Slie lived there with her daughter Liza, who had 
 married Hilarion Gendron, and slie had a hand loom in 
 the house, and perhaps tlie Messieurs would like 
 some catalagne (liand made rag carpet) made, or some 
 toile (\\i\Q\\) V 
 
 " Thank you, no, " replied Mr. LeMoine, " my 
 friend here is from the States, New York, and we are 
 going a-fishing. " 
 
 "What, the Monsieur from tlie States," why then 
 turning to me, " I must know her son well ; Flavien 
 Travail, who works in the brick yards near St. Louis." 
 
 I replied that I hadn't the pleasure of knowing 
 her son Flavien, and that St. Louis was some twelve 
 hundred miles from New York. 
 
 This statement we could see made a bad impression, 
 and the old lady })lainly regarded me as an impostor, 
 not an American at all, but iin Anglais. 
 
79 
 
 I partly appeased her, however, by purchasing a 
 very handsome li(jmespun, hand-woven linen apron in 
 colored stripes that she wore, for whicli I paid the 
 munificent sum of twenty-five cents. 
 
 After turning oft' the main road to cross the 
 mountain we passed througli somt3 rcnigh poor country. 
 About mid- way, in a long swam[>y sapin l)iish, we 
 came to a small clearing in whicli, struggling for 
 existence, was a patch of half drowned oats, some drills 
 of submerged potatoes, A\hile in a field over-grown with 
 ferns grazed a diminutive cow and a few ragged shee[). 
 Further on we espied a log cabin, and a shed that 
 evidently served for a barn. Before the door of this 
 primitive abode a man was chopping some balsam wood. 
 Drawing rein, I en(]^uired my way, and finding I was 
 on the riglit road, we entered into conversation. 
 
 "My friend," said I, "this apjiears to be a poor 
 place for a man to settle." 
 
 " Ah no ! Monsieur is mistrJven, the land here is. 
 very fine. " 
 
 " But, " said I, " it is half under water. " 
 
 " That, " replied he, " is because wt. have had sa 
 much rain this summer, but Monsieur sliould see how 
 
80 
 
 dry it is when tliere has heen no laiii for a long time. " 
 
 " Did 3^011 liave a good cro[) of oats hist year ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " Monsieur shouhl have seen my oats hist summer ; 
 there was never anything to beat them, but the frost 
 came so early that tliey were frozen before they ripened 
 and I liad to fee<l tlieni to the cow." 
 
 " Well, yonr hay crop made up the loss of your 
 oats ? " 
 
 '' Mon (lien, such hay, it was waist high, but while 
 ive were away for a few days to attend the weddinoj of 
 my wife's sister, the cow and the sheep Ijroke into it, 
 and when we returned it was all tranii)ed down." 
 
 "And your ])otatoes, how did they turn out?" 
 
 " I had a magnificent crop, but the pits tilled with 
 water from a oreat rain which came in the early winter, 
 and they rotted." 
 
 " What did you do niv j?ood man to tide you over 
 the long winter ? " 
 
 " Why Monsieur, I cut cedar rails to sell, Init if 
 the good Lord is gracious I shall have good crops tins 
 year, and then we will do well. It is a fine place, that 
 is when the summers are not too wet." 
 
81 
 
 I IiuikIlmI him a ([uavtev to bL' distributed among 
 the half dozen sturdy little tow hejids who had drawn 
 around ns, and drove on. 
 
 "There," exclaimed Mr. LeMoine "is an ex}iin])le 
 of contentment with one's lot, and exem])liti(^s the old 
 
 song 
 
 "8;)1 Canadien, terre cherie 
 l*ar des braves tu fus peni)lee." 
 
 Another cal)in which we i>assed had severnl juiirs 
 of caribou horns nailed over the door, but its s])orting 
 occupant was absent, ])rol)ably gone a-tishing, and we 
 couldn't blame him ; there was nothing cheerful or 
 inviting about his location, but I have never found one 
 of his class whose civilized sun'oundings were much 
 better. When the life of the bush gets into a man's 
 whole svstem he has heart or eves for nothing else. 
 
 After crossing the Jaciiue."^ Cartier we turned aside 
 from our road to take a look at the old manor house of 
 the Seigaiors Duchesnav. It is built of red brick, and 
 of (juaint design. It overlooks the river, and close 
 beside it is a brawling stream that drives the banal 
 mill, but the ancient glory of these old manor houses is 
 departed. The only remnant of the feudalism of the 
 
'mm 
 
 82 
 
 past is the cents tt rentes ] ay able tu the .seiguiur at 
 Martinmas. 
 
 "The .seii>iiorial tenures," remarked ^Ir. LeMuine, 
 " were most eurious, in the conditions imposed n])on both 
 seii>iiior and censitaire. Tiie seignior received a grant of 
 wild land from the King on condition that he sliould put 
 settlers uj)on. it. He had to preserve the oak timber for 
 shi})buihling, and the red pine for the manufacture of tar, 
 and to notifv the Kind's a«^ents if he found minerals on 
 the seignioi'y. He liad to go through the form of paying 
 homage and fealty to the King's representative at 
 Quebec when he entered on possession, sometimes 
 oftener, and to pay a tiftli of the purchase money, if he 
 sold the estate, to the royal coffers, though he was 
 allowed a rebate of two-thirds for cash down. The cen- 
 sitaire or hahltan, who held land under the seignior, 
 had to pay the annual cens et rentes, often a sol (cent), 
 or half a sol, with half a pint of wheat or a few live 
 capons or eggs for each arpent. The land of the censi- 
 taire passed to his heirs, but in case he sold during his 
 lifetime, the tods et ventes came into play and one- 
 twelfth of the purchase money went to the seignior. By 
 the droit de retrait the seignior could compel a pur- 
 
8S 
 
 chaser within forty days of the stile to transfer the 
 property to him at the price paid if lie thought it had 
 not fetched enough. The censiiaire had to get his 
 wheat ground at the seignior's mill, and on some 
 seigniories to have his hread haked at the seignior's 
 oven, paying a toll in each case ; to give a tithe of the 
 fish he caught to the seignior, to do corvee or road work, 
 and to get out stone and timber for public purposes." 
 
 Mrs. Douglas, who manages the little hotel at the 
 lake, made us most comfortable. Mr. LeMoiiie met 
 some agreeable Quebec friends, and remained with 
 them, and I went a-lishing for black bass, but with a 
 trout rig in reserve. 
 
 The black bass, at all times a game fish, becomes 
 the very incarnation of a tighter in the cold w^ater of 
 these northern lakes. I caught my first fish oft' a little 
 wooded point shortly after we started, and although it 
 only proved to be about 1\ lbs. in weight when landed, 
 yet it gave me more sport than a fish twice its size in 
 more Southern waters. 
 
 A little bay into which tumbled a tiny cold brook 
 elicited from my canoeman the remark : " Ver' good 
 place for la truite Monsieur" I change rods and 
 
84 
 
 after some jjatient casting and several clian«i;es of Hies I 
 take a couple of nieiliuni sized fisli. 
 
 And so, moving along and with alternate rods I 
 ])iek \\]) a bass or a trout, and listen with interest to 
 
 the stories of my man, of the wonderful skill and 
 success of some of les Messieurs from Quebec wdio 
 come to fish the lake. I am afraid that my modest 
 showing w^ould have paled before the creels of those 
 
sr, 
 
 worthy ,liseii,le« of tl.. n.d, but I |,ad ., gl.,,io,H 
 afteruoou on the water, und when the sun went down 
 in a great burst of «j,lendor over the «,ountains amidst 
 son>e clouds, I felt that the day luul not been in vain 
 
O 
 Q 
 O 
 h-1 
 
 « 
 P 
 O 
 H 
 
CHAITKIi SIXTH. 
 
 IN THE KINGDOiVl OF THB TOURILLI CLUB. 
 
 " N) oiires or busiruss he.'e distur') our hours, 
 While III) lonioath those .sh'uly, i)efict!fal bovvers. 
 In cool (lelii'ht and innocence we stniv, 
 And midst a thousand pie isuros pass the day. 
 Sometimes upon a river buik we lie, 
 When skinuning swallows o'er the surface fly ; 
 Just as the sun declining, witli his beams 
 Kisses, and gently warms the gliding streams ; 
 Amidst whose current, rising fishes j lay, 
 And roll in wanton liberty away." 
 
 When I. Emerson ralmer, kindest hearted, most 
 genial of all good sportsmen, wrote to me and said 
 " I am weary, shall we go a-iishing i " I felt the force of 
 his appeal, for I knew that for months past he liad l)eeu 
 engaged in perfecting some machine which was to do 
 what no machine had ever done before, one of the many 
 clever inventions wliich has given him fame and fortune, 
 and added to the world's progress, so I wired back : 
 '' Yes, and at Tourilli. Meet me Quebec June 4th." 
 
 To an over taxed brain Nature's remedv — rest — is 
 nowhere found but in the solitude of these great Xorth 
 
<*•. 
 
 A^*^, 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 ■A4 12.8 
 
 ■" 136 ■ 
 m 
 
 lU 
 
 124 
 
 2.2 
 
 L2 I^O 
 
 J£ 
 
 1.25 11.4 
 
 m 
 
 Sk 
 
 m 
 
 ^ ^.^' 
 
 V/ 
 
 '^' 
 
 7 
 
 # 
 
 ^ 
 
 
;\ 
 
88 
 
 
 woods. A few weeks of canoeiug, cjunpiiig jiiul tisbiii 
 restore the exhausted vitality, and renew the waste 
 of gray matter to the l)rain. He is Avise who hearkens 
 in time to the warning of the inward monitor, and goes 
 a-fisliiug. 
 
 Somewliere about 18(S8 or 'SO Commodore J. U^ 
 Gregory, of Quebec, Geo. A'an Felson, and E. A. Panet^ 
 N. r., of St. Jtaymond, secured from the Provincial 
 Government, under lease, the East and West branches 
 of the St. Anne's Iliver, the Tourilli Itiver, and all the 
 lakes and streams tliereto contributary from tlieir sources 
 in the Xcnth to the limit of the settled jiarishes to the 
 South. " Tiie Tourilli Fi.sh and Game Club" was duly 
 formed and incorporated, and a limited numl)er of 
 Canadians and Americans admitted to membership. 
 The aim of its founders was to make it the most com- 
 plete organization of its kind, and with a high entrance 
 fee of Sif25().UU, with annual dues of from $2."") to SoO, to 
 secure only members who could aid in carrying out the 
 aims of its \ romoters. Their domain was a princely 
 one, some one hundred S(|uare miles, the greater };ortion 
 an unexplored wilderness, and to render this accessilde 
 to the members involved a large expenditure of money.. 
 
80 
 
 What has been accomplished in thin direction is aldy 
 set forth in the rei)ort of the Secvetarv, ^Ir. Geo. Van 
 Felson, for 1894, a i)ani}>l)let of some 35 pages. 
 
 Tourilli Lodge, the main cam]), is situated on the 
 main l)ranch of the St. Anne Iliver, about thirteen miles 
 from St. IJayuiund, the beginninj^^ of the Club's limits ou 
 this branch of the river. It is of noble pro] ortions and 
 stands like the old lUiinish Castles on a spur of a 
 mountain with the brawling river below, and a great 
 wall of verdure covered mountains on the oj)]iosite 
 shore. Hoary old birches dot the hillside to the 
 river, and wild flowers cover the ground beneath 
 their shade. Down the narrow river vallev cluster 
 the little log cabins of the guardian and guides, and the^. 
 tiny farm buildings belonging to the club. Up the valley 
 nothing but forest and rugged outline of mountain. 
 
 As is fitting, the club house is built nuissivelv of 
 solid s])ruce logs, with a great stone chimney and 
 am])le tire jdace in the large living room. Twenty 
 guests find roomy accommodation, and sixteen guides, 
 can also be i)rovided for. If the interior decorations; 
 and a])[)ointments are not ijuite e([ual to the Waldorf's^ 
 
90 
 
 the coiiifdi't is ui'iiatcr, iindcxtiuisite cleunlinoss la'cvails. 
 Madamo Le.ssavtl, the steward's wife, and the cook is an- 
 accomidinhcHl artist in hor de] artineiit and javsents tlie 
 guests with a daily menu of delicacies- of surprising 
 variety. She waits upon them in a snowy white apron, 
 with gentle and smiling apology in (piaint English that 
 she hasn't more at her command to tempt the memiears 
 ai)petite, and if after the fifth or sixth course there is a 
 cessation of hostilities, for even an anglers's a]»})etite 
 has a limitation, madame will suggest that cotVee l)e 
 served on the verandah. A spacious store house 
 enaldes the members to sup})ly all their wants for a 
 short or long cruise in the bush, even to champagne or 
 Keina Victorias, if inclined for such luxuries. 
 
 Thirty-six miles from Tourilli Lodge, in the depth 
 of the wilderness, with no other means of access than 
 by canoe and trail, is Camp George, another charming 
 rustic lodge on the shores of Lake George, containing 
 every necessary appointment, even to a store house, 
 and will accommodate 12 guests. It cost $1600, but 
 as windows, doors, sashes, nails, lime, stoves and 
 furniture had to be patiently hauled over the trail in 
 winter on hand sleds, employing 24 men almost the 
 

 91 
 
 entile season, it cannot be considered an extraviiifant 
 outlay. This canip is situated at the head of the 
 Itivers Tourilli and St. Anne, on a table land which is 
 covered with lakes, big and little, not one half of which 
 are even known. Onlv last season an adventurous 
 
 % 
 
 . . 1 ^ V 
 
 
 .._.i 
 
 
 "BBPi 
 
 
 ' i 
 
 '' . - ■'■■ -^ " 
 
 1 
 
 
 *. * - . 
 
 * * * 
 
 PORTAGING ON THK TOURILLI RIVER. 
 
 inendjer discovered one over seven miles long. I am 
 not certain that they may not yet find another Lake 
 !Mistassini hidden away on the limits. The number of 
 lakes actually known is bewildering, but those yet 
 awaiting a discoverer must be legion. Every member 
 
92 
 
 of tlie club might have a river, several .streams, and ii 
 score or so of lakes ]»la(*ed at his sole disjosal, aiul 
 there would still remain several hundreds just for 
 friends. The management lavs out fortv or tiftv miles 
 of new trails yearly, merely to give the; memlters an 
 infinite cljoice of countrv. It has huilt i^ood substantial 
 log camps in twenty different localities, and each is 
 fitted out with stoves, chairs, tables, and kitchen kits. 
 Bark canoes, boats, and Gasjie canoes, to the number 
 of sixty, are i)lacedon rivers and lakes. Eighteen tents 
 are also distril)uted among the cani];s to allow meml>ers- 
 an opi^ortunity for further exploration and adventure. 
 A large kennel of sjianiels is kejit for those who are 
 fond of partridge shooting in the fall. I believe that in 
 the dreams of some of the managers for the future of 
 the club is an electric car service to connect all the 
 rivers and lakes, but, as it is, I consider it the most 
 fully provided for organization of its kind in the 
 Province of Quebec, and instead of its i)resent meml»er- 
 ship of fifty it should have at least one hundred. 
 
 Palmer arriving promptly on time by the Quebec 
 Central enabled us to take the train on the Quebec 
 and Lake St. eTohn K.II. the same afternoon. An hour 
 
\K] 
 
 and }i lialfs ride ln'oiiglit us to the village of St. 
 Rayiiiond, at the forks of the St. Anne Itiver, where we 
 <lebarked. Several hundred j)eople were gathered at 
 the station to see the train arrive, and there \ as much 
 speculation as to who we were, and wiience we were 
 going, but there wa:^ notliing rude or ol>trusive about it. 
 Kailroads and strangers are yet novelties in the parish, 
 and take the place of the newspaper. 
 
 Ferdinand (lodin, the club guanban, took charge 
 of our baggage and the two extra Indian guides w^e 
 brought with us from Lt)rette, and Palmer and I took 
 possession of a last century buckboard for the long 
 drive in the gathering twilight. 
 
 The river valley is exceedingly beautiful, an amphi- 
 theatre of successive tablelands, all well cultivated. The 
 dull roar of the river is ever within sound ; often we 
 skirt its banks for lon</ distances, and the moonlight 
 softly shimmering througli the trees uj)on the broken 
 waters, produces a weird scene of wild beauty. 
 
 Madame Lessard exjiected us ; a glorious little sup- 
 per at 10 p.m. proved so. Commodore Gregory expected 
 lis, and had remained this one night longer to bid us 
 welcome, and to niake merry a long evening sitting 
 
U4 
 
 around the tire of logs in the big chimney. The genial 
 author of " En Racontant " has had experiences as 
 extended, as his jurisdiction in the Department of 
 Marine and Fisheries, and that I believe reaches to the 
 Straits of Belle Isle, on the Labrador coast. I cannot 
 forbear repeating one of the amusing stories of the 
 Commodore's, told us that night. 
 
 " It was once my misfortune," said the Commodore, 
 " to entertain a very distinguished savant, and he was 
 for ever bringing conspicuously to my attention my 
 extrenie ignorance of many cf the ologies by questions 
 abruptly put, to which I could only make answer, that 
 I really was not informed on the subject in (question. 
 I iinally liad to explain that since early youth I had 
 had to devote my energies to other pursuits, but tliat 
 in my otticial career I liad ac [uired some knowledge of 
 our Canadian birds and fishes." 
 
 " Umph ! " replied this distinguished man, " I know 
 the American birds very well, and many of them I can 
 name from their song." 
 
 •• For an outing, and some fishing, I took him to 
 Lake St. Charles. We had the outing, but no fishing,, 
 for the water was like a mirror." 
 
" TliG song of a ])ir(l in the bush attracted my friend's 
 attention, and lie quite correctly said, ' that is the hermit 
 thrush ^ ' A little later another song is heard of (juite a 
 dilferent kind." 
 
 " I somewhat maliciously a^ked him if he knew th6 
 name of that bird." . | 
 
 " Why yes, (|uite well,t]iat is the — the — well,reallyv 
 the name has escajjed me for the moment. What do 
 you call it Mr. Gregory ?" 
 
 " That, Sir, is the Irisli nightingale, a bird without 
 feathers, in other words, a ])ulLiirog." • ' 
 
 " And that," said the Commodore, " was my sweet 
 
 revenge. 
 
 if 
 
 The following mornino: Talmer and I stowed our- 
 selves and our impedimenta in two Gaspe canoes, and 
 with two capable canoemen to each, father and son iii 
 both instances, we commenced the ditHcult ascent of 
 the river, which is an almost continuous rapid. A good 
 canoeman must be quick of eye, strong of arm, and of 
 unerring judgment on these waters. Long light polea 
 shod with an iron point are used almost (Entirely to force' 
 the canoes up the rapids. Upon the man at the bow 
 devolves the duty of guiding the canoe in and out 
 

 ft 
 
 en 
 
 ffl 
 
 H 
 
 o 
 
 hj 
 o 
 o 
 
07 
 
 aiium.n tilt' lioiilders, aroiiinl wliicli tlu' waters iniully 
 fuiiiii. Ill tin* heaviest eiinent iiiv two Cfinoemeii could 
 hold tlie raiioe stuti(»narv for an iii;letiuite time wliile I 
 fished. Some hue pools liere and there gave tlie men a 
 Tes])ite, and ourselves sonu; capital sport. Carrier pool 
 Jias a name for verv lari'e tish, lait we faiU'd to hreak 
 the record of O.l lbs., but we Hshed it in mi<l-(hiv under 
 a ln'ight sun. The Parmachenee BiiUe api)eared to be 
 the most killing tly. At the forks of the Tonrilli Kiver 
 another tine jjooI temj)ted us, l)ut there was something 
 radically wrong, and nothing larger than 1 h ll)s. rewarded 
 our skill. The day, however, was very bright, the 
 water low and very clear, and trout any way are erratic, 
 so we consoled ourselves, landed and had a jolly good 
 smoke. Twenty-seven years before, with oidy one 
 Indian, carrying each our pack, we had made our way 
 laboriously over the mountains from the dacipies Cartier 
 Eiver, and had camped at this very spot on our way to 
 the p^che a Marlham, some ten miles further up the 
 St. Anne. We made a rude raft of spruce logs to cross 
 the Tourilli. For an hour Viefore sun-down I used it 
 to fish this pool, and if my memory is not treacherous 
 I believe that I took some half dozen fish of from two 
 
98 
 
 to five pounds, T might liave taken twenty ec^nally large. 
 About a mile up the Tourilli are the Falls and the 
 pool of the same name in which some very large trout 
 are always to be found. 
 
 Our course was still up the St. Anne to the forks 
 of River Cachd, but at the four mile rapid the water 
 was too low for our heavily laden canoes, and Palmer 
 
99 
 
 mid I took tlie trail on the hank. Capital exercise ImsU 
 tramping on a l)lazeil trail, ))y no means a mere me- 
 chanical movement of the legs, Imta series of gymnastics 
 of much varied novelty ; high jumj)ing, long distance 
 jumping, halancing, walking a slippery log over a deep 
 stream, climbing a perpendicular wall of rock, sliding 
 down a 00^ declivity and Lmding on your feet, })itching 
 somersaults over treacherous roots into nests of raspberry 
 bushes, maintaining an e<iuilibrium on a sharp point of 
 rock over a boiling rapid. For two rather stout middle 
 aged gentlemen somewhat out of training that four mile 
 tramp supi)led us up, and gave us our wind ihr the climb 
 over the mountain trail to Lake Jambon, a half mile 
 into the clouds in very much the same distance, but we 
 had a good rest before the men got up with the canoes. 
 
 I'almer said he was feeling better in many ways, 
 but that he had a constant gnawing sensation in his 
 stonuich which he couldn't account for and which was 
 rather alarming. 
 
 "Well my boy," said I, "those symptons will be 
 much more alarming to our cook within another twenty- 
 four hours." And there, and then, I cut me an alder pole, 
 and with a piece of casting line and a discarded fly, I 
 
lUO 
 
 waded into the river, and caii<i;lit a Jialf dozen small 
 trout, which I ])roc33djd to t)ast over our little smudge 
 fire, and Palmer devoured tliem idl, remarking' that tlie 
 more ]>ainful symptons had subsided. 
 
 There is a most comfortable little log cam]) at this 
 ])oint of the river with several wire mattresses, and 
 camp ou 
 
 Lake dambon is a lovelv sheet of water with some 
 six or eight miles of shore line. It is situated almost 
 ut the mountain level, and is of immense depth and of 
 such wondrous clearness that I l)elievea sixpence could 
 l)e seen at a depth of fifty feet in its waters. There 
 is a roomy camp here, and a number of good boats. 
 
 When the snn dro])ped low in the west, and the 
 shadows crept out from the shores over the lake, we 
 went a-fishini?. Out of the icy cold water rose trout 
 ufter trout, and such vigorous fighters that a half- 
 ])ounder seemed endowed with the strength and life of 
 half a dozen ordinary trout. It was almost dark when 
 I hooked my largest fish, and for at least ten minutes 
 it towed lis round and round, but I finally landed it, 
 and it only turned the scales at lA lbs. Palmer's 
 success was even greater than mine. 
 
101 
 
 The men had built a j^n'eat camp tire at the water'* 
 edge, and Ijefore we turned in for tlie night they treated 
 ns to an ini})rovised concert and many stories of hunt- 
 ing and trapping adventures about tliis secti(ni. In tlie 
 fall and winter the shores of this lake are mucli resorted 
 to by caribou. 
 
 FISHIN(; THU()U(iIl TIIK ICE. 
 
 We remaiiiel at thy lake for several diys, 
 enjoying good s])ort, and then returned to the St. 
 Anne. 
 
 We ran that four mile raj id j ust for I 'aimer's benelit,. 
 
102 
 
 to stimulate his liver and excite his heart action. I 
 hadn't time to analyze my own sensations. Tt was all 
 so sudden, and I was too absorbed in wondering how 
 the men were sroint^ to avoid the thousand and one orreat 
 boulders upon which the canoe was rushing to des- 
 truction with lightning speed, when — the canoe was 
 suddenly swung into the mouth of a little stream, our 
 mad race was ended. 
 
 Sitting before me on a rock was Ch:is. Forrest, of 
 Hartford, fighting the Idack flies. 
 
 " My dear fellow, how are you, and won't you have 
 a nip," exclaimed that hospitable gentleman all in a 
 breath." 
 
 I could only gasp, " Forrest, you better believe it !" 
 
 Palmer was speechless when he arrived ; it took 
 two nips to revive him, and his first remark was : 
 
 " Fm darned 1 " 
 
 Whereupon we assured him that he certainly would 
 be if he made use of such strong language. 
 ' ' " Boys," said he, "Fve lived twenty years in the 
 last twenty minutes. Do you notice that I've grown 
 any grayer 
 
 ?" 
 
 And we laughed him to scorn ! 
 
103 
 
 Our down fishing to tlie club house was capital 
 and we were about tied. 
 
 A joyous nioht, another pleasant day, and the tr 
 bore us back to Quel)ec. 
 
 am 
 
 ^5^ 
 
A TWO rOlNDKlJ. 
 
105 
 
 CHAPTER SETENTH. 
 
 LAKES TANTARI AND "BELLE TRUITE." 
 
 *' Oh 'tis swjet to feel the plastic 
 Rod, with top and butt elastic 
 Shoot the line in coils fantastic 
 Till, like thistle down, the fly 
 Lightly falls upon the water, 
 Thirsting for the finny slaughter, 
 
 As I angle 
 
 And I dangle 
 
 Mute and sly." 
 
 A hard day's tramp over the mountains from the. 
 settlements lies the beautiful Lakes Tantari, and beyond' 
 them, in a deep recess of the mountains, nestles Lake .. 
 Belle Truite, which is known of few men, for not even 
 a blazed trail leads to it, and years may pass without a- 
 fly being cast upon its waters, but to him who comes is 
 awarded the certainty of battles royal with the hard 
 fighting denizens of its waters. 
 
 You slip suddenly from out of the gloom of dense . 
 forest upon the shores of Lake Tantari, and spreadi 
 
 8 
 
106 
 
 before you, ia tha sweet suu^luiie of afternoon, is as 
 lovely a slieat of water as ever gladdened the eye of 
 angler. In the years gone by iny only craft upon its 
 waters was a log raft, which here let me add, is rather a 
 primitive affair, simply three logs about thirteen feet in 
 length, joined together by birch withes to shorter pieces 
 placed crosswise upon it to form the seats, and in the 
 centre a large corseau of bark makes a safe receptable for 
 the iish. I can assure the reader, that these rafts are as 
 well adapted for Hy-fishing as any canoe I have ever 
 ilshed from. Their broad, flat surface affords a secure 
 foothold, and being elevated but a couple of inches 
 above the water, makes an easy landing for the trout. 
 It is propelled with small effort, and if wind favors, a 
 sail made from a blanket materially assists its progress. 
 Piling the packs in the centre, but retaining my 
 gun by my side for a stray shot at a duck, with which 
 these inland lakes teem in spring and early autumn, we 
 seize our paddles and our united effort quickly lands us 
 at our old camp on the opposite shore. These summer 
 camps are very similar in construction to the winter 
 ones, with the exception of the stockade, which is dis- 
 pensed with. Charlo gathers together the remnants of 
 
107 
 
 our old fire, and soon has t\ui kettle boiling for our tea 
 and some pork grillades frying, which throw out an 
 aroma grateful to hungry men. After our meal we 
 light our pipes and throw ourselves down before the 
 fire for that sweet half hour of perfect rest which comes 
 from living in the woods, but mine was destined to be 
 cut short this day by the following enquiry from 
 Charlo : • • • ' • . • 
 
 " Did you ever hear, sir, of ^ic d la Belle Triiite ? " 
 At this unexpected question I roused myself, and 
 sitting up, exclaimed " Heard of Belle Tridte ? 
 What an idea ! " I had dreamed and talked of it the 
 past six months, ever since Etienne had come into 
 Quebec with a corseau of fish, such as had rarely been 
 seen. All inquiries as from whence they had come 
 only elicited the laconic reply, " Belle Tridte" and as 
 no one knew anything of Belle Truite, no one was much 
 the wiser. As I had visited Etienne's camps last 
 winter and made myself somewhat familiar with his 
 haunts, I felt within myself a glowing ambition to go 
 and discover Belle Truite. After a long discussion it 
 was decided we should make the attempt, and start 
 forthwith, and sleep that night at Etienne's first camp, 
 
108 
 
 to coiuiiience our .search from there on the morro\v\ 
 We resume our places on the rafts, and jiassing 
 through the inlet that connects the lakes, we enter the. 
 second. Kising abruptly from its shore some hundreds, 
 of feet is Caribou Leap, a mountain so named from aa 
 event which happened many winters ago. Charlo's 
 father and companion, while hunting, started a caribou, 
 far above the lakes. The snow was deep and yielding^ 
 and they rapidly gained upon it. The caribo\i made 
 for the mountain, his pursuers still closely following, 
 and a shot from Charlo's father wounding it, it dashed 
 wildly toward the precipice, and with one bound sprang 
 from its edge and fell lifeless at the foot. 
 
 • At the entrance to the third lake we disembark,, 
 and hauling up our rafts for greater safety against our 
 return, assumed our packs, and picking up the line of 
 blazes, we reach Etienne's first camp at dusk, and were 
 only comfortably domiciled ere the rain came down in 
 torrents. Our tire spits and sputters in it, but burna 
 up fiercely nevertheless. We sit back under the com- 
 fortable shelter, and having improvised a checker board 
 and checkers from birch bark, we while awav the few 
 hours before it is time to turn in. I slept soundly,. 
 
109 
 
 lulled ]>y the incessant ])atter of rain on the bark roof 
 of the camj), and the fatigues of the day's tramj). 
 
 The morning broke fair, and we started out to 
 discover the mysterious hike. The bearing's are taken 
 and we finally make a bold push, and ere noon I was 
 rewarded by a sight of our Eldorado — a i)retty little 
 •sheet of water embosomed among the spruce-covere<l 
 mountains, about two miles from camj). It would 
 scarcely cover twenty acres iu all, and its size certainly 
 conld be no criterion for that of its trout. In vears 
 past a family of beavers had formed a dam across the 
 outlet, flooding the few level acres around it, denuding 
 them of trees and underbrush. The capture of this 
 interesting family and the destruction of the dam 
 caused the subsidence of the waters to their former 
 level. A rich covering of coarse wild grass now 
 affords famous feeding for the caribou, and w^e fonnd 
 numerous fresh tracks. The beavers have left many 
 evidences of their industry and skill, in cuttings of all 
 sizes, from one to four inches in diameter, and from the 
 length of cordwood down. Their habit is to bring 
 these twigs and billets to their houses, and after de- 
 vouring the inner rind or bark, to cast them adrift. 
 
no 
 
 Charlo selects an old dry sound spruce for our raft. 
 Late in the afternoon we launch our craft on the 
 lake, and set out on a voyage of discovery. I splice 
 my rod, and attachinj> my most tempting tlies to my 
 casting line, Charlo paddles towards some lily pads 
 that show themselves in the centre of the lake. As 
 we near them I cast, and scarce had my fly touched 
 the water when rushing uj) wards with open mouth, a 
 huge trout seizes it, a twist of my hand and I feel 
 that it is secured. Two dozen trout, averaging two 
 pounds in weight, rewarded my skill and fully sus- 
 tained the name of this little mountain gem. Never 
 before, as a fisherman, had I enjoyed such s])ort, and 
 it was long after dark before I thought of returning to 
 camp. 
 
 - It is a difficult thing to jmss through a forest at 
 night. It is particularly so where you are obliged to 
 cross numerous windfalls. You walk ten feet on some 
 fallen monarch and are surprised when it comes to an 
 unexpected termination and you are launched into 
 spac3. Our experience that night returning to camp 
 was, to put it mildly, rough. Rent clothes, scratched 
 hands and faces bore full evidence of it. A good supper 
 
Ill 
 
 and CDiiipiiuioii pipe juit us in good humor and these 
 annoyances are forgotten. 
 
 This cainj) is Etienne's head(iuarters for balsam 
 gathering, and his implements and ladder^ are carefully 
 laid beside the stockade. The process of gathering it is 
 quite simple. A small can, the shape of a tin tea-j)ot, 
 is used to ])rick the blister tilled with the gum with 
 which 'fhe balsam trees are covered at certain seasons. 
 Large quantities are thus collected, the market price of 
 which is some ten shillings ]>er gallon. Its healing 
 (qualities are well-known. 
 
 Upon our return to Tantari we decide to spend 
 the night on the island and enjoy one evening's fishing 
 oft' the point, which proves to be good. I rose some 
 large trout. It was almost dark when we reached the 
 site of what should have been a camp, but no camp 
 could be found and we ruefully surveyed the })rospect 
 of having to build one. No tiui'j wa-j to be lost, and 
 setting Charlo to work to peel bark and break balsam 
 branches for the bed, I cut what wood we re>[uired for 
 the night, and starting a fire, by its light we finished 
 building our camp, laid our bed and prepared the 
 meal, and not a moment too soon. The dark lowering 
 
ffi 
 
 112 
 
 clouds that had beciu gathm'ing during the (hiy now 
 opened their floodgates. The thunder and lightning 
 seemed fairly to rend the mountains, and the wind 
 shrieked through the ]>ines. No fire could live long 
 with such a torrent y»ouring u]ion it, and it finally 
 went out, leaving us in total darkness and increas- 
 ing our discomfort. Our cam]), hastily ])Ut up, was 
 not free from flaws aivl cracks, through wlifcli the 
 water trickled down, novv on our ))acks, heads and 
 legs. Charlo in his haste, in peeling the bark, had split 
 it in a number of ])laces. We lighted our pipes and 
 silently smoked, looking out upon the elements at war, 
 and taking what little comfort was left us. Tl.e 
 morning dawned and tlie storm liaving ceased, we 
 crawled out from our uncomfortable berth stiff' and 
 chilled through to the bone. Having patched up our 
 raft we pulled out to some lily pads in the middle of 
 the lake. They were on a shallow bank some hundred, 
 yards in circumference, and at dawn and evening fairly 
 alive with the leaping fish feeding on the large yellow 
 moth or fly that is so abundant on these lakes at certain 
 seasons. The fish take the imitation Avith avidity. Our 
 showing that morning was five or six dozen beauties. 
 
113 
 
 » 
 
 Wliilc foUowinjj; i\w slune on my return to camp 
 I stftrted out a Hock of yoiin^ untlcdged (lucklin{j;s and 
 
 CARIBOU hunters' CAMP NEAR TANTARI. 
 
 an exciting chase ensued. Using their h'ttle wings as 
 paddles, they soon distanced me, and took refu;^'e among 
 
lU 
 
 dome drift wood. I determined to possess myself of 
 one if possible, and I redoubled my efforts to affect a 
 capture. I chased them finally into a corner, and 
 quietly chuckled as I thought how I had entrapped 
 them. I carefully api)roached, and stooping down to 
 pick one out, when down tliey went under my raft, 
 coming up some twenty feet distant. I was totally 
 iinp.repared for this early evidence of duck learning, 
 but recovered myself and started again in hot pursuit, 
 but was finally obliged to give it u[) from sheer exhaus- 
 tion. The old mother duck in the meantime had been 
 swimming around me in a great state of excitement, 
 frequently coming within reach of my pole. Happy* 
 over the escape of her young progeny, she exultantly 
 swam off' with them to some more secure retreat. 
 
 On my last visit to these lakes, while quietly 
 fishing oft' the island in the third lake in company with. 
 Mr. Neilson, two .stately moose came crashing through 
 the underbrush down to the lake, and, walking in, slaked 
 their thirst and disported themselves in the water to 
 relieve themselves of the flies, which torment them ter- 
 ribly in summer, and to feed upon the w^ater lilies. To 
 our astonishment they appeared quite indifferent to our 
 
115 
 
 presence, and remained for some time, giving us ample 
 opportunity to admire their great size. 
 
 We fished oft' the si)ring that evening for large 
 trout and captured several after a hard and desperate 
 fight. I found though that the fish Avere beginning to 
 gather, even this early, for spawning, and were not in 
 as good condition as earlier in the season. In one 
 spawning place I counted thousands, but we contended 
 ourselves with taking only those which still remained 
 near the lily pads. 
 
 An amusing incident occurred here last season to 
 my friend Dr. W., of Staton Island. He is a tall, long- 
 legged fellow, and it is proverbial among his friends 
 that these same legs are a source of no small amount 
 of misery to him. He either has no control over them, 
 or they over him. We were each out on our raft early 
 one morning, and having an exciting time among the 
 trout, which rose greedily to our files. I had struck a 
 large fish, which was giving me some trouble, as he 
 proved sulky and obstinate. All my energies were 
 devoted towards making a successful landing, when a 
 loud splash ! splash 1 about a hundred yards behind 
 me in the direction of the Dr. admonished me that 
 
;. 116 
 
 Somithing was up. " Ah ! lia ! " I mentally ejaculated, 
 " the Dr. has hooked tlie big tisli." A succession of 
 s})lashes here followed, and fearful lest the Dr. should 
 lose his fish, and intent upon my own, T yelled out to 
 him without turning my head, " Play it, Dr., play it, 
 or you w411 lose it." No answer was vouchsafed this, 
 and having by this time landed my own fish, I turned 
 enviously to the Dr. and took in the situation at a 
 glance. It was the Dr. himself who was creating all 
 this commotion, in his vain endeavors to pull himself 
 on the raft, but each effort only resulting in a fresh 
 splash. The thing was so absurl) that I simply roared. 
 As soon as I could command mv risibles I went to his 
 assistance. Hat, seat, fish, rod, corseau, and tuout, all 
 floating about promiscuously ! Collecting what we could, 
 we made for camp, and starting a fire the Dr. divested 
 himself of his outer garments and hung them up before 
 it to dry. This was all very well until the flies, scent- 
 ing him out as legitimate prey, made such an onslaught 
 that the Dr., with a howl of pain, made for the lake at 
 a 1-40 rate, never once stop})ing until he had submerged 
 himself to the neck in the water, and there remained 
 disporting himself until his clothes were dry. His 
 
 II 
 
ir 
 
 account of the accident was, he had hooked a fish, but-. 
 
 in some unaccountable, 
 manner, he liad tripped 
 and gone in headfore-. 
 most. 
 
 We spent a night at 
 St. Micliel Lake. Notake^ 
 A peculiarity of this lake 
 is that only once or twice 
 in a season will the trout 
 take a iiy, and then such 
 sport ! On our way along 
 the base of the moun- 
 tains, on the Jacques 
 Cartier, we saw the rava- 
 ges made by a party of 
 bears the night previous 
 in an oat field. Not a 
 spear left standing. Wliat 
 was not eaten was tram- 
 pled and rolled down as 
 Hat as a pancake. Their 
 depredations upon the, 
 
118 ' • 
 
 crops of the settlers are sometimes enormous, and yet 
 no systematized method of destroying or capturing 
 them is resorted to. 
 
 The last ray of sunshine hung lovingly around the 
 summits of the eastern mountains that close in the 
 valley when wearily we launched our canoe upon the 
 swift, dark waters of the river, and i)addled to the other 
 shore, where stood our little camp of a departed year of 
 fragant memories. We are just comfortably settled in 
 our bark wigwam when : . • 
 
 " Night draws her sable curtain round 
 And pins it with a star " •• ' 
 
 The warmth of our good log fire, the narcotic odors 
 of the balsams, the murmur of the river and the sough- 
 ing of the wind through the pines, together with the 
 fatigue of the long day's journey, invite a night of 
 refreshing and undisturbed slumber. 
 
 Early fishing in these high northern rivers is pro- 
 ductive of nothing but discomfort to the angler, if not 
 worse — an attack of rheumatism. The early morning 
 air is too cold for the fish to rise to a fly, and there is 
 always a heavy mist over the water that is as soaking 
 
119 
 
 as a Scotch rain. We therefore leisurely i)rei)are our- 
 selves for the day's "work. Our little craft dances 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 ■ ^^i v'l0^C Vj«" • . *mm\ 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 , r ^?^v^'. 
 
 ■'' '" '-i- LJL'','' 
 
 p 
 
 ■>■; 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 ^ ■ P 
 
 ■ < 
 cc 
 
 
 
 
 ife 
 
 
 
 v"^/-"r'i--'v--.A-i,l%>'i>Mi'- ■ ■ -i^iM 
 
 (in 
 I— I 
 («^ 
 
 CO 
 
 merrily in the current and tugs impatiently at her rope 
 to be off on her mad career down the foaming rapids. 
 
120 
 
 Charlo takes the helm, with anchor and rof e close afe 
 his hand to drop when I give the word. We run the- 
 first few rapids without stopping, as from past know-^ 
 ledge of the river we know them to be barren of fish,, 
 but a per})endicular blue clay bank directly ahead 
 points out first stop. About midway down the rapid^ 
 anchor is cast out ; there is a sudden tug, a straining to 
 be free, a slight drag and the canoe brings up just where 
 it admits of a good cast into the back current, foam- 
 covered and dark from the depth of the water. A few 
 fine fish are taken, and as the rises are then few, we 
 again proceed. We cover nine miles of the river this 
 day, confining our fishing to those pools and rapids that 
 contained the large fish. On arrival at our destination 
 the weight and score of our fish are duly recorded,, 
 which if given would startle the P^astern angler into 
 making, perhaps, a resolve never to again wet a line in 
 other waters. 
 
 Lakes Tantari and Btlle Truite are now the pro- 
 perty of Frank Eoss, Es(|., of Quebec. His son, who is 
 an enthusiastic angler, has built a beautiful little camp 
 on the shores of the former lake, where he spends 
 many happy days. I beg leave here to acknowledge- 
 
121 
 
 my indebtedness to his kindness, which has enabled 
 ine many times to revisit these scenes of long ago, 
 and again to enjoy the pleasure of fishing theii- 
 waters. / \ 
 
CO 
 
 Pi 
 w 
 
 O 
 
 (y 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 
123 
 
 1 1 
 
 CHAPTEK EIGHTH. 
 
 THE LAURENTIDES NATIONAL PARK. 
 
 " And through its midst there ran a crystal Hood 
 With many a murmering song and eltin ^hout, 
 In whose clear pools the crimson spotted trout 
 Would turn his tawny side to sun and sky, 
 Or sparkling upwards catch the summer fly." 
 
 The Laurentides National Park in the Province of 
 Quebec is the largest forest and game preserve in the 
 world. By the act of the Provincial Legislature creating 
 it, some 2,500 square miles of the public domain was 
 set aside for this purpose, and proper laws for its gov- 
 ernment were adopted. A committee of the Executive 
 Council recommended that the general management of 
 the Park should be vested in the Hon. Commissioner of 
 Crown Lands, and the Superintendent, and such other 
 officers as the Hon. Commissioner may appoint to carry 
 out the intention of the Legislative Act. 
 
 The Park is the result of the direct and unceasing 
 efforts of the present Minister of Crown Lands, the 
 Hon. E. J. Flynn. His name is now forever linked 
 
124 
 
 with Olio of the wisest {iiid most benefieient measures 
 ever j)asse(l by a legislative body. It means the pre- 
 servation of the great forests on the water sheds of 
 some of the most imjtortant rivers in the Piovince* 
 The bearing of this upon the future water supply to- 
 these rivers, and upon the rainfall, is now too well 
 understood to require further explanation. The pro- 
 tection to lish and game, which is incidental to the 
 main object, is of sutticieiit importance, however, to 
 receive the careful attention that it deserves, and ta 
 futurity is conserved a vast breeding gi'ound for the 
 fish that now swarm its waters, the game that haunt* 
 its forests. 
 
 The southerly boundary of the Park reaches down 
 to within twenty-five miles of the city of Quebec at 
 some j)oints ; that to the north is the Chicoutimi 
 Grande Ligne ; to the west the river Batiscan and the 
 Lake St. John R.K., to which 1 have before alluded ; to 
 the east the river Saguenay and the St. Urbain road.. 
 The more precise boundaries will be found in the 
 appendix, as well as text of the act creating the Park. 
 
 The more important rivers taking their source 
 within the Park, and lowing through it, are the Jaci^ues. 
 
12:1 
 
 <Jiirtier, 8t. Anne, Tourilli, Mettiljetchouan, l'i)ikauba, 
 Boisvert, Mars, Murray, Afontniovenci, and tlifir trilm- 
 taries, also some of the lari^uu" tributaries of the IJatiscan. 
 The great divide, from wliich How waters to the 
 four cardinal points of the compass, is literally peppered 
 
 at 
 
 with lakes, big and little. In one expedition to this 
 country, on snowshoes many years ago, in eleven days 
 journeying we were never off a lake more than twenty 
 minutes. This will give the reader some idea of the 
 
120 
 
 iiniiiense uumber which dot the surface of this plateau. 
 Great Lake Jacques Cartier, the source of the river which 
 bears its uame, has a shore line of some twenty-live 
 miles, and is justly celebrated for the abundance and 
 size of its trout. I shall have occasion further on to 
 say more of this lake, as well as of Snow Lake, the head 
 of the Montmorenci lliver, another famous sheet of 
 water. To the west a few miles from Lake Jacques 
 Cartier is Lake Noah. 
 
 Lake des Roches, Vert, Long, a Noel, d la Coupe 
 Fraser, d Regis, (i VEpanle all discharge into the 
 Jacques Cartier Eiver, and are easily accessible by the 
 colonization road from Quebec to Lake St. John. 
 
 Why attempt to further name the lakes in this 
 section, it would only confuse the reader, and the subject 
 is far too vast for the scope of a chapter. I would refer 
 those who seek for more detailed information in this ^ 
 direction to a little pamphlet recently published in 
 Quebec under the auspices of the Department of Crow^n 
 Lands entitled, " Our Kivers and Lakes ". The south- 
 west, west, north-west, and north edges of the Park 
 have been leased to angling Clubs, and this is a wise 
 measure for the greater protection of the fish and game 
 
127 
 
 within the Park limits. These organizations are all 
 directly interested in the increase of fish and game, and 
 jealous guardians of their own leaseholds. It has drawn 
 a cordon of keen watchfulness around the l*ark, and 
 poaching, or killing game out of season, is rendered 
 almost impossible without instant detection. 
 
 The whole of the unleased territory within the 
 Park, some 1500 or IGOO sc^uare miles, is to be thrown 
 open to the American and Canadian angler-sportsman 
 upon conditions that every true lover of sport will be 
 only too ready to subscribe to. At ])resent only one 
 section is readily accessible, but as this is to be the 
 highway into the greater domain, and as it embraces 
 some of the best fishing waters, and caribou country, I 
 shall describe it more fully, with suggestions to intend- 
 ing visitors. • , 
 
 The last house on the Jac([ues Cartier Eiver is 
 Bayard's, a famous little resort for those of the angling 
 fraternity who have been initiated into the comfort and 
 good fare provided by mine hostess, Madame Bayard, 
 and the exceptionally fine fishing in the river hard by. 
 Both are destined to become more widely known in 
 the near future. The Bayards are already adding a 
 
128 
 
 wmg to tlieir house to i)rovide more ample accommo- 
 dation. It is Dwenty-seveii miles from (Quebec over a 
 fairlv f^ood roi-d, and mav be reached in a four and a 
 
 I/O ' V 
 
 half hour's drive. 
 
 Mr. Geo. Colvin, the guardian of that section of 
 the l*ark known as the Jacques Ccirtier ]3asin, resides 
 here, and under his superintendence parties going into 
 the J'iirk can l)e su})plied with guides, canoes, and tents. 
 I know the guides on tliis u])per section of the river 
 and they are all capital river men and thoroughly 
 familiar ^itli tli" countrv, trails, and lakes. 
 
 The .Tac({ues Cartier is canoeable to the Grand 
 Portage, after which it becomes too turbulent, broken 
 })y falls and heavy rapids. To this point, hovrever, there 
 fire nund)ers of famous i)Ools from which trout of seven 
 lbs. and over are not infrequently taken. At the mouth 
 of the Sautoriski lliver, and for some distance up that 
 stream, trout are particularly abundant and of good 
 ^ize, and this statement applies as well to the River a 
 VEpaule, both tributaries of the Jacques Cartier. The 
 scenery is magnificently wild, the mountains broken 
 into every conceivable form, a great chaotic upheaval, 
 through which the river winds its noisy, fretful course. 
 
129 
 
 With Bayard's as lieadt[narters, trips may be made 
 either up down the river, witli a^ much or as little 
 camping as the angler cares f(>r. 
 
 To him who seeks the wilderness " far from the 
 madding crowd ", and prefers the shelter of his little 
 
 
 *..' v--;*^-v 
 
 
 WINTER SCENE ON OOLONJZATION liOAD. 
 
 tent or bark lean-to, with the bush and the waters as 
 his foraging ground, a trip to Grand Lake Jacques 
 Cartier will afford a variety of experiences and adven- 
 ture, and the record breaking big brook trout may be 
 
130 
 
 IM 
 
 ■. 1 
 
 ^ ! 
 t 
 
 lured by his fly and fall a victim to his skill. Monstrous 
 fish lurk in these waters. A nine pounder has already 
 been placed in the scales, but better than this may be 
 expected. 
 
 The long disused colonization road from Quebec to 
 Lake St. John passes close to Lake Jaci^ues Cartier, 
 whicli is distant about thirty miles from Bayard's. An 
 effort will be made to have this road re-opened for the 
 passage of buckboards this season, and canoes and boats 
 placed permanently upon the lake, besides a substantial 
 log camp at the discharge, 
 
 ' John Burroughs, than whom no name is so fami- 
 liar to American readers, as the author of " Wake 
 Eobin ",• " Winter Sunshine ", and other works of one 
 of the most observant of field naturalists, visited Lake 
 Jacques Cartier some years ago, and most charmingly 
 recorded his adventures in the pages of the Century 
 Magazine. Mr. Burroughs very kindly consented to 
 my making some extracts from his article to conclude 
 this chapter: , ^ v 
 
 "About four o'clock we passed another small lake, 
 and in a few moments more drew up at the bridge over 
 the Jacques Cartier Eiver, and our forty-mile ride was 
 
131 
 
 finished. There was a stable here that liad been used 
 by the road-builders, and was now used by the teams 
 that hauled in their supplies. This would do for the 
 , horse : a snug log shanty built by an old trapper and 
 hunter for use in the winter, a hundred yards below 
 the bridge, amid the spruces on the bank of the river, 
 when rebedded and refurnished would do for us. The 
 river at this point was a swift black stream from thirty 
 to forty feet wide, with a strength and a bound like a 
 moose. It was not shrunken and emaciated like similar 
 streams in a cleared country, but full, copious and 
 strong. Indeed, one can hardly realize how the lesser 
 w^atercourses have suffered by the denuding of the 
 forest covering until he goes into the primitive 
 woods and sees how full and athletic they are there. 
 They arc literally well fed and their measure of life 
 is full. 
 
 " Three miles above our camp was Great Lake 
 Jacques Cartier, the source of the river, a sheet of 
 water nine miles long and from one to three miles 
 wide ; fifty rods below was Little Lake Jacques Cartier, 
 an irregular body about two miles across. Stretching 
 away on every hand, bristling on the mountains and 
 
1 *^») 
 
 'darkling in the valleys was the illimitable spruce woods. 
 The moss in tliem covered the ground nearly knee deep, 
 and lay like newly fallen snow, hiding rocks and logs, 
 filling depressions, and muilling the foot. When it was 
 dry one could find a most deligthful couch anywhere. 
 " It was a dull rainv dav ; the fog rested low 
 upon the mountains, and the time hung heavily upon 
 ■our hands. About three o'clock the rain slackened and 
 we emerged from our den, Joe going to look after his 
 horse, which had eaten but little since coming into the 
 woods, so disturbed was the poor creature by the 
 loneliness, and the black-liies ; I to make preparations 
 for dinner, w^hile my companion lazily took his rod 
 and stepped to the edge of the l)ig pool in front of camp. 
 At the first introductory cast, and when his fly was not 
 fifteen feet from him upon the water, there was a lunge 
 and a strike, and apparently the fisherman had hooked 
 a boulder. I was standing a few yards engaged in 
 washing out the coffee pot, when I heard him call out: 
 
 ' I have got him now ! 
 
 t > 
 
 " ' Yes ; I see you have,' said I, noticing his bend- 
 
 « 
 
 ing pole and moveless line ; * when I am through, I 
 will help you to get loose.' 
 
133 
 
 " ' Xo ; but I am not joking,' said he ; 'I have got 
 a big fish.' 
 
 "I looked up again, but saw no reason to change- 
 my inapressiou, and kept on with my work. It is. 
 proper to say that my companion was a novice at tly- 
 fish.mg, he never having cast a fly till upon this trip. 
 
 " Again he called out to me, but deceived by hia. 
 coolness and his unchanged tones, and by the lethargy 
 of the fish, I gave little heed. I knew very well that 
 if I had struck a fish that held me dow^n in that way I 
 should have been going through a regular war dance on- 
 that circle of boulder tops, and should have scared the 
 game into activity, if the hook had failed to wake him 
 up. But as tlie farce continued, I drew near. 
 
 " ' Does that look like a stone or a log ? ' said my 
 friend, pointing to his quivering line, slowly cutting 
 the current up toward the center of the pool. 
 
 " ' My skepticism vanished in an instant and I 
 could hardly keep my place on the top of the rock. 
 
 " ' I can feel him breathe,' said the now warming 
 fisherman ;' just feel of that pole?' 
 
 "The fish yielded more and more to the relent- 
 less strain, till in about fifteen minutes from the time< 
 
134 
 
 he was struck be came to the surface, then made a 
 little whirlpool when he disappeared again. But pre- 
 sently he was up a second time lashing the water into 
 foam as the angler led him toward the rock upon 
 which I was perched, net in hand. As I reached 
 toward him, down he went again, and taking another 
 circle of the pool, came up still more exhausted, when 
 between his paroxysms I carefully run the net over him 
 and lifted him ashore, amid, it is needless to say, the 
 wildest enthusiasm of the spectators. The congratu- 
 latory laughter of the loons down on the lake showed 
 how even the outsiders sympathized. Much larger 
 trout have been taken in these waters, and in others, 
 but this fish would have swallowed any that we had 
 ever before caught." 
 
 " What does he weigh ? " was the natural enquiry 
 of each ; and we took turns " hefting " him. But 
 gravity was less potent to us just then than usual, and 
 the fish seemed astonishingly light. - 
 
 " Four pounds, we said ; but Joe said more. So 
 we improvised a scale : a long strip of board was 
 balanced across a stick, and our groceries served as 
 weights. A four-pound package of sugar kicked the 
 
13 
 
 ij 
 
 beam quickly ; a pound of coffee was added ; still it 
 went up ; then a pound of tea, and still the fish had a 
 little the better of it. But we called it six pounds, not 
 to drive too hard a bargain with fortune, and were 
 more than satisfied. Such a beautiful creature ! marked 
 in every respect like a trout of six inches. We feasted 
 our eyes upon him for half an hour. 
 
 " This success gave an impetus to our sport that 
 carried us through the rest of the week finely. We had 
 demonstrated that there were big trout here and that 
 they would rise to a fiy. Henceforth big fish were 
 looked to as a possible result of every excursion. To 
 me, especially the desire at least to match my compa- 
 nion was keen and constant. We built a raft of logs 
 and upon it I floated out upon the lake, whipping its 
 waters right and left, morning, noon, and night. Many 
 fine trout came to my hand and were released because 
 they did not fill the bill." 
 
 " One afternoon quite unexpectedly I struck my 
 big fish in the head of the lake. I was first advised 
 of his approach by two or three trout jumping clear 
 from the water to get out of his lordship's way. The 
 water was not deep just there, and he swam so near the 
 
1:30 
 
 surface tliat his enorinou.s buck cut through. With a; 
 swirl he swept my tiy uuder and turned. My hook was 
 too near lioiiie and my rod too near a per[)endicular to 
 strike well. More than that my ja-esence of mind came 
 near being unhorsed by the sudden apparition of the 
 fish. If I could have had a moment's notice, or if I 
 had not seen the monster, 1 should have fared better^ 
 •and the fish worse. I struck, Imt not with enough 
 decision, and before I couhl reel \\\), my eni})ty hook 
 came back. The trout had carried it in his jaws till 
 the fraud was detected, and then spat it out. He came 
 a second time and made a grand commotion in the 
 water, but not in my nerves, for I was ready then, but 
 failed to take the tlv and so to yet his weight and 
 beauty in these ])age,s. As my luck failed me at the 
 last, I will place my loss at the full extent of the law,, 
 and claim that nothing less than a ten pounder was 
 S2)irited away from my hand that day. 
 
 " We made an excursion to Great Lake Jacques- 
 Cartier, jioling up from the lesser lake in the rude box 
 boat, and presently saw the arms of the wilderness 
 opened and the long deep Ijlue expanse in their embrace. 
 We rested and bathed, and gladdened our eyes with the 
 
137 
 
 singularly l)e{uitiful prospoct. Tlic sliuclows of sumTuor 
 clouds were slowly ci'ee[>ing uj) juul down the sides of 
 the mouiituius tluit hemmed it in. On the fur eastern 
 shore near the head, banks of what wjis doubtless white 
 sand, shone dimly in the sun, and the illusion that there 
 was a town nestled there haunted mv mind constantlv. 
 It was like a section of the Hudson below the High- 
 lands, excei)t that these waters were bluer and colder, 
 and these shores darker than even those Hendrik first 
 looked upon ; but surely, one felt, a steamer will round 
 that ])oint presently, or a sail drift into view ! We 
 paddled a mile or more up the east shore, and then 
 across to the west, and found such pleasure in simply 
 gazing upon the scene that our rods were quite 
 neglected. We did some casting after awhile, })ut no 
 fish of any consei^uenee rose till we were near the 
 outlet again, when they responded so freely that the 
 * disgust of trout ' was soon upon us." 
 
 The Department of Crown Lands charges a small 
 fee to sportsmen fishing or hunting within the Park 
 limits, and a permit must be taken out either in person 
 at the Department in Quebec, or by letter to Mr. W. 
 
 10 ■ ' 
 
138 
 
 C. J. Hull, tlio hiuperiiitondout, rjirlijiiiuiut II(juse, 
 Quebec, who will supply all necessary iufurinatiou and 
 secure .guides and canotjs if wanted. 
 
 The following is a copy of a report of a Conunittee 
 of the Honorable the Executive Council, dated the 15th 
 January, approved by the Lieutenant-Governor on the 
 IGth January, 1890 : — 
 
 No. 10. Concerning the regulations for the manage- 
 tiient^ control and care of the Laurentides 
 National Park. „ , 
 
 The Honorable the Commissioner of Crown Lands, 
 in a report dated the fifteenth of January instant, 
 (1896), sets forth : that in virtue of clause 6 (and 
 subsections of same) of chap. 22 of 58 Vict., establish- 
 ing said park, it is desirable that regulations be drawn 
 np and adopted for the purposes specified. • 
 
 In consequence the Honorable Commissioner of 
 Crow^n Lands recommends that the following constitute 
 said regulations, viz : • 
 
 lo. The general management shall be vested in 
 the Conwnissioner of Crown Lands and the Superin- 
 tendent, together with such officers as the Commissioner 
 
 . 
 
139 
 
 lUHV {i[)i)()iiit, shall, uiuler lii.s divectiuns, supervise, 
 manage, control and care for said park, with full power 
 to carry out and enforce the followin<,' provisions and 
 rules, as wt^ll as any other portions of said Act not 
 herein dealt with. 
 
 a. The preservation and care of the water courses, 
 lakes, etc., and the forests, lands, and minerals. 
 
 b. The prevention and extinction of forest fires. 
 
 c. The protection of fish and game of all kinds, 
 and the destruction of obnoxious animals and birds. 
 
 d. The manner of dealing with trespassers, the 
 confiscation or destruction of fire-arms, explosives, 
 traps, nets, fishing tackle, or any other contrivances for 
 hunting, fishing or trapping of whatsoever nature or 
 <lescription. 
 
 e. The issuing of licenses for hotels, shops or 
 houses for accommodation of visitors. 
 
 /. The issuing of licenses to cut tim})er, or to 
 remove any forest products. 
 
 g. The issuing of prospecting licenses and the 
 working and development of mines. * 
 
 h. The leasing of lands for houses, etc., for the 
 facilities of visitors and tourists. 
 
• 140 
 
 i. The adjustinunt uf any special cases not liei'cin 
 provided for. 
 
 2o. Tiie Connnissionor will define the duties of the 
 Superintendent and other necessary otlicers, and regulate 
 the remuneration to be gi'anted each. 
 
 3o. That all visitors to the Park do comply with 
 the 2)rovisions of the Act establishing same, and also 
 these regulations. 
 
 4o. That a register be kept of names and addresses- 
 of all persons visiting the l*ark. 
 
 5o. That no mutilation or destruction of any • 
 standing growing timber be permitted beyond what is- 
 absolutely necessary for the purposes of camping. 
 
 Go. That all cam[) tires be carefully guarded and 
 extinguishetl before leaving tlie spot, and that all 
 provisions of the Fire Act be strictly observed. 
 
 7o. That the only manner of taking fish permissible 
 in the waters of the Park be that known as iiy-Rshing : 
 that fish taken in anv other manner be held to have 
 been taken illegally. 
 
 80. Tliat the trapping of fur bearing animals in the 
 Park b3 strictly prohibited. .■ * / 
 
 9o. That the carrying and use of fire-arms by 
 
141 
 
 sportsiiion and touristM during (doso seasons for game 
 bo prohibited. 
 
 lOo. That the Tark guardians be vested with all 
 powers exercised by forest-rangers, fire-rangers, and 
 fish and game overseers, in addition to the powers 
 exercised })y them as park guardians. 
 
 llo. That a stated tariff of charges for hunting or 
 fishing, or both, bo adopted by the Commissioner of 
 Crown Lands, according to locality. 
 
 Certified, 
 
 (Signed) GUSTAVP: GIiKXIEU, C.E.C. 
 
Q 
 
 Q 
 W 
 
 o 
 
 O 
 
 t-H 
 
143 
 
 CHAPTEll NINTH. 
 
 LAKE EDWARD. 
 
 " A white tent pitched by a glassy lake, 
 Well under a shady tree, 
 Or by rippling rills from the grand old hills, 
 Is the summer home for me," 
 
 My last visit to Lake Edward, or by its more pic- 
 turesque name of Lac des Gr ancles Isles, was made by 
 railroad. In the stately luxury of a palace car I was 
 whirled there in a less number of hours than it liad 
 taken me days to make the same journey twenty years 
 ago. I still recall the eleven long days of tramp, tramp 
 on snowshoes over mountaiiis and across rivers and 
 many lakes, about as the crow iiies, until we finally 
 camped on the shore of this, the most beautiful of all 
 the lakes in the Province of Quebec, and here we fished ' 
 and hunted the caribou, and were happy for many days, 
 for we reigned alone over a vast solitude. With no 
 other shelter than our little V tent, its bed of balsam 
 branches, and our tiny sheet iron stove, we set the cold 
 at defiance, and we lived royally on trout, caribou, par- 
 
' 144 , -. • 
 
 tridges and liares, with pea-sou]), pan-bread and strong 
 tea. 1 who liad left New York a month before an in- 
 valid had now grown strong of limb, fierce of appetite, 
 and hateful of that busy outside world. Tlie charm of 
 the lake held us until I had explored its shores, and 
 visited many of tlie little isles that crov'd its waters. 
 
 As youth is the period of adventure, so middle 
 age loves ease, and as I lay back in my easy chair and 
 smoke nn^ Havanna, I dream over the incidents of that 
 long ago journey, the scenes of wliich again rapidly 
 pass l)efore my eyes from the car windows, but the 
 snow and ice of arstic winter have given place to joyous 
 verdant June, and the rivers and lakes are instinct 
 with the open life of summer days. The great unbroken 
 wilderness is still here, the forest reachino- down in the 
 vain endeavor to cover the invasion of man's restless 
 enersfv into nature's sacred liaunts. 
 
 Along the Batiscan River, beside which the train 
 runs for many miles, the mountains drop abruptly to 
 its shores, and its turbulent waters drown the noise of 
 passing train. The locomotive whistles, a tiny white 
 tent is seen nestling in a grove on a point, two anglers 
 in a canoe wave a return salute with several OTeat 
 
 I i 
 
14 
 
 o 
 
 trout held at arms length, a bundle is thrown from the 
 
 •car, and on the train rushes, ever anxious seemingly to 
 
 ■escape from the wilderness of which it is no part, with 
 
 no point of sympathy, but always plunging deeper and 
 
 •deeper into it. Panting with the exertions of the last 
 
 two hours, the locomotive brings tlie train to a rest at 
 
 Lake Edward, and dinner at Baker's cosy little hotel is 
 
 announced. A half dozen log houses, and a small 
 
 repair shop constitute the entire settlement on the 
 
 shores of the lake, an inconspicuous blot in the great 
 
 wall of forest and hills that extend around a hundred 
 
 miles of its shore line. 
 
 The fishing in the lake is free to all who come, 
 find were they to come in companies, battalions, a regi- 
 ment of anglers even, there would be ample room for 
 them all, an island perhaps for each man and its sur- 
 rounding water, and every one of them would be 
 certain to have good fishing, at times, for even in this 
 overteeming with trout lake there are days when the 
 most tempting fly, the liveliest angle, the silveriest 
 minnow will fail to coax a trout from out the depths, 
 but they are not many. 
 
 , The lake is yet little resorted to. The Quebec 
 
146 
 
 angler prefers his club and its congenial companionship, 
 and the American is still unfamiliar with the wonder- 
 fully good fishing in these Canadian waters, and their 
 accessibility. Leaving New York or Boston for Quebec 
 via tlie Quebec Central II.R., one may reach Lake 
 Edward within forty-eight hours and step out of the 
 palace car into a boat on the lake. Just think of it, 
 dropped from a palace car in the very heart of the 
 wilderness fairly teeming with game, at the edge of a 
 lake which has no equal on this continent for the 
 quantity, size and beauty of its trout, and which in 
 itself alone is possessed of a gi'eater charm of varied 
 picturesqueness than any other body of water in all 
 our lake region. It is perhai)s some twenty miles long, 
 but of such irregular and crooked shore lines, and so 
 filled with high-peaked, heavily wooded islands, both 
 large and small, as to form a labyrinthian maze of 
 waterways that extend its length to unknown distances, 
 and ])rove most confusing to the uninitiated canoeist, 
 who easily loses his course amid the confusion of 
 channels, with his mind absorbed with the exquisite 
 loveliness of his surroundings. He may not expect to 
 know this lake from one visit or from many. Its^ 
 
147 
 
 elusiveiiess astonishes one, new waters, new islands, 
 are ever opening before you, and you fish, well almost 
 anywhere that fancy prompts, for one thing yon soon 
 learn about itns lake is that trout are every where found. 
 In time you grow cunning and seek for spbts wherein 
 the great trout lurk alone, and nothing short of ") lbs. 
 satisfies your ambition, or is worthy of mention at the 
 evening camp fire, unless it be a brace of four pounders 
 successfully landed on leader and tail fiy. 
 
 Birkett Clarke, better known as Kit Clarke, the 
 author of " Where the Trout Hide," was among the first 
 of American anglers to visit Lake Edward, and so ena- 
 mored was he of its many charms that he leased Isle de 
 Paradis, not far from the discharge, and formed tlie 
 Paradise Fin and Feather Club, which numbers among 
 its members President Cleveland, Jiulge Henry Gilder- 
 sleeve, Dr. Duncan, J. C. Davis, Henry C. Miner, 
 Dr. F]. Lewis, Ex-Mayor Grant, of New York, and 
 others Jovial parties gather at their comfortable camp 
 every year to fish, and be boys again in light hearted- 
 ness. 
 
 The Press Club of Quebec also makes it rendezvous 
 here, and the knights of the <j[uill are no less expert 
 
148 
 
 ^ith tlie rod, while their fish stories prove them past 
 masters of their craft. 
 
 Truth compels tlie statement that in the lake itself 
 in the hot summer months the trout will not rise to the 
 i^y, and trolling or still fishing must be resorted to, but 
 with liglit tackle almost as much sport is obtained, for 
 these Lake Edward trout are the hardest and strongest 
 fighting fish in the WTjrld and re([uire considerable skill 
 in handling. In the inlets and the discharge, however, 
 the trout rise voraciously to a fiy throughout tlie season, 
 but to fish the latter a permit must })e obtained from 
 the Orleans Fishing Club of Quebec, the lessees. If 
 the angler cares to rough it for a day or two any of the 
 smaller lakes within half a day's tramp from his camp 
 will aftbrd him unlimited fiy fishing, though the trout 
 will be smaller. 
 
 I had brought my old guide with me to the lake, 
 as well as my birch canoe and canvas lean-to, three 
 most excellent companions to travel with in the Cana- 
 dian wilds wherever practicable. It prevents uncer- 
 tainties, disappointments and much hard feeling, and 
 adds immeasurably to one's comfort, besides being 
 cheaper. ■ '•■;"-'■■■■>„ •,';•■;•': ;'"■.;,: ' ::V ;.',■ ■ ■■' ;'..._,■' '_' - ■ ,;.■'' ;',■■■■' 
 
140 
 
 We camjed far down the Like towards tlie close of 
 the long June day, ])ut I still had time for an encounter 
 with several large trout, in which I came out triumphant. 
 Flushed w^ith victory, we built a great camp fire near 
 the shore, as a beacon to guide some friends from oppo- 
 site isle, and for hosi)itable warmth of welcome to our 
 lakeside retieat. 
 
 For tlie week the world liad been dead to tliem, 
 and already they sliowed signs of rehii)sing into com- 
 plete barbarism. They were an unkempt, nnshaven, 
 ragged trio of Bohemians, and their faces bore the marks 
 of fierce battles witli the black Hies, so that I scare 
 recognized them, but they were in high spirits and 
 declared that for every black fiy bite tliey could show 
 a trout slain — blood for blood, and they were getting 
 inoculated, and would like to settle their worldly 
 aftairs and spend the rest of their earthly existence here, 
 that their disembodied spirits couhl haunt the same 
 scenes. So they prattled on in tlie joyous ness of men 
 who had lived in the light of another and simpler life, 
 the great out-door of Nature in high altitudes, high 
 latitudes. 
 
 My camp fire blazed and crackled right merrily,. 
 
150 
 
 lighting up the sombre forest, sending dancing shadows 
 and sparks far up the tree tops, and shooting rays to 
 distant isle. The water hipped the Ijeach in gentle 
 cadence to the soft souyhin^ of summer ni<^ht wind 
 througli the spruce. In the dome of the North Hashed 
 the cold light of the Aurora, and from distant hillside 
 came the faint hoot of owl. ^ 
 
 A camp fire begets cheerful rumination, and from 
 that to story telling, if tliere be listeners. 
 
 " Boys," said I, (why is it we are always boys in 
 the l)ush ?) " did any of you ever hear of a trout 
 smoking ? " 
 
 Oh ! come off' Scriblder, we are ready to swallow 
 almost anything up here, even home-made whisky 
 hlanc, but don't, please don't, ask us to swallow any 
 yarn of that kind. 
 
 " But," said I, " listen and judge then for your- 
 selves." 
 
 My friend, F — k H — y, is one of the greatest 
 anglers in Quebec. In the intervals between taking in 
 fire premiums and settling losses he goes-a-fishing, and 
 takes in trout. One Saturdav he was on the Stadacona 
 Club lakes, and although the day was lowering with a 
 
151 
 
 liglit wind and a drizzle, lie whipped the water in vain. 
 Still-iishing it was the same, trolling was no better. 
 Every well known spot was tried, and still no Inck. 
 »' Turning to liis canoenian, he said, " up anchor and 
 we wUl go back to camp," and to emphasize his com- 
 plete disgust at so unusual a condition of affairs he 
 tossed a half smoked and still lighted cigar well out 
 into tlie lake. No sooner had it touched tlie water 
 than a monstrous trout came up with a rush and disap- 
 
 l)eared again with that cigar. H , in telling the story, 
 
 always added that it was his last cigar or he would 
 have tried another as a bait, and nothing that liis 11 y 
 book contained resembled a cigar in any wise, but he 
 tried again and again, but he could not get that trout 
 to rise. 
 
 His chum V , reaching camp somewliat later 
 
 than H , had tlie same story to tell of want of 
 
 success, but added that upon reaching the place where 
 
 he had last seen H fishing, he had taken his little 
 
 paper match box out of his pocket to get a match and 
 finding it empty, had pitched it overboard, and as it 
 reached the water it was seized by the biggest trout 
 that he had ever seen in the lake. 
 
i:)2 
 
 "That's it," suid H, " the very sjinio fi.sh V- 
 
 that touk a cigar of mine, and he was lu(jkin»^ for a 
 
 .■■.r<w 
 
 
 match in that box of your's old fellow to light it again.'" 
 
.33 
 
 " Ulric, (!()ine, sing us a sonj^ ^ " 
 
 " Very well, Gentlemen, but I will first tell you the 
 story, so that you will undersland the wherefore of it." 
 ' Cadieux was a voyageur and interpreter famed in the 
 early history of Canada, a man of no small ability in 
 things other than woodcraft. His wife was an Algonijuin 
 woman. In the winter he hunted and traj)])ed ; in the 
 summer lie traded with the Indians. It was in the 
 days when the Iro([uois waged ceaseless war on the 
 whites and their Indian allies. Cadieux with his fiimily 
 had wintered on the Ottawa Eiver, at the Little Eock 
 of the High Mountain. In the spring a i)arty of Iro- 
 quois appeared. One i)ossible way of esca[)e only 
 remained open to the w^omen and children, to run the 
 boiling rapids, a feat never before attempted, while 
 Cadieux and a companion withdrew the attention of the 
 Iroquois. The signal for tlie canoes to start was the 
 sound of an engagement. Cadieux placed himself and 
 the young Algoncjuin in ambush. 
 
 As the Iroquois approached Cadieux and his 
 companion opened fire, and then retreated, pursued by 
 the whole band of Indians. The young Algonquin 
 
154 
 
 was killed, l)ut Cadieux escaped after incredible exer- 
 tion, only to find death from starvation at the point of 
 the river from which he had started. As his end 
 approached he scratched a shallow grave, into which he 
 crawled after writing his death song on a piece of birch 
 bark. The song was set to a rude but })laintive air, 
 and is still much in vogue among the voyageurs. 
 
 In a full tenor, Ulric sang the song in French, of 
 which I give an English translation of a few verses 
 only : . 
 
 '* Petit Rocher de la Haute Montague, 
 Je vienH tiiiir ici cette caiupagne I 
 Ah I doux dchos eiitendez mes soupirs ; 
 En languissant je vais bientot mourir I " 
 
 Thou Little Rock of the High Hill, attend ; 
 Hither I come this last campaign to end ! 
 Ye echoes soft, give ear unto my sigh ; 
 In languishing I speedily shall die. 
 
 Oh, nightingale, go tell my mistress true, 
 My little ones I leave them my adieu. 
 That I have kept my love and honor free, 
 And they henceforth must hope no more of me. 
 
 Here, then, it is the world abandons me — 
 But I have held Saviour of man, in thee ! 
 Most Holy Virgin, do not from me fly ! 
 Within your arms O suffer me to die ! /; 
 
155 
 
 Xothing moro plaintive and touching could Ik) 
 imagined that the last verse, us the rich voice lioated 
 over tlie water — 
 
 Tres Sainte Vien»e, ali ! m'abaiuloime/. pas, 
 Pertnettez-moi d'lnourir ontro voh bras ! 
 
 Several days of rare sport, and cheerful companion- 
 ship, when silently we folded our tent and stole away 
 in the early dawn so as to catch the train that was to 
 bear us to Lake St. John for a few days with the o\ui- 
 naniche. 
 
 Boats, guides and camp outfits may be arranged 
 for at Lake Edward by addressing Mr. J. W. Baker, at 
 that place, who is most assiduous in caring for the wel- 
 fare of visiting anglers. His little lakeside inn contains * 
 a warmth of welcome, and the comfort that proceeds 
 from good house-wifery. 
 
I— I 
 I— t 
 
 1— I 
 
 < 
 < 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 
15^ 
 
 CHAPTER TENTH. 
 t)UANANICHE FISHING-LAKE ST. JOHN. 
 
 '■ Blue limpid, mighty, restless lakes, 
 God's mirrors underneath the sky ; 
 Low rimmed in woods and mists, where wakes, 
 Through nnrk and moon, the marsh- bird's cry " 
 
 Oiiananiclie fishing is like tlie oi)iiim liabit, once 
 acquired it drags its victim fiirtlier and further from 
 all the other pleasures of liie, and impairs his mental 
 -equipoise until he becomes a monomaniac on the subject 
 and loses all sense of responsibility. To indulge this 
 propensity he Avill face cold, wet, hunger, and Hies. 
 His impedimenta of rods and tackle show an utter want 
 of regard for expenditure, and his last cent will go for 
 a ticket to Lake St. John and return. If he fishes from 
 the shore watch his behaviour as the first thrill of a 
 ouananiche hooked jiasses through his tautened line 
 and rod into the arm, and directly to the brain. An 
 unrestrainable delirium seizes him, the face Hushes, the 
 €yes flash, the nostrils dilate and the whole body seems 
 possessed of springs. He rushes wildly up and down 
 
li^ll 
 
 ■ ■ ■ 1^^ 
 
 the rocks and talks excitedly to himself. His madness 
 communicates itself to the fish, incessant flashes of 
 silver fill the air. Out and across the boiling waters 
 of the rapid the crazed fish wildly dashes in its frantic 
 efforts to escape its implacable enemy, and only when 
 completely exhausted will it allow itself to be reeled in, 
 and fallen upon bodily by tlie insane angler, who rends 
 the air with exultant shrieks of laughter. If he fishes 
 from his canoe the guides will watch him with assid- 
 uous care to prevent him from throwing himself 
 overboard in one of these wild paroxsysms of excite- 
 ment. He is incurable, and the milder delights of trout 
 fishing palls upon his shattered nerves and diseased 
 brain. 
 
 Luckily for the saneness of the race of anglers 
 ouananiche fishing is confined to a limited area of the 
 world's surface. Lake St. John and its tributary rivers 
 are its best known haunts. 
 
 The ouananiche is only a degenerate salmon 
 supposed at some remote period or other to have 
 become land-locked. It has diminished in size from its 
 ancestral progenitors of thirty pounds to a fish rarely 
 exceeding five pounds, but retains all the characteristics 
 
159 
 
 of form and marking besides the fierce strength and 
 subtle cunning of salmo salar. Its habits have been 
 somewhat modified, however, by changed conditions of 
 life, and it not only takes the fly, but at some seasons 
 must be angled for with bait, except in the Grand 
 Discharge, where it takes the fly only. For vigor and 
 gameness size for size it has no compeer. In the rush- 
 ing waters of the Grand Discharge it becomes an 
 antagonist of no mean ability, requiring skill and dex- 
 terity of the highest order to successfully cope with. It 
 fights to the last gasp. For moments the air will be 
 filled with flying fish, succeeded by wild rushes that 
 n: ^ke the reel sing and the nerves tingle, and this amid 
 the roar and wild confusion of waters. Your light rod 
 will be tested to the last ounce of strain, your line to 
 its utmost tension, and you are lucky if nothing more 
 collapses other than your nerves, as the net is slipped 
 under the still struggling fish, and your first ouananiche 
 is landed. The seed of madness is now^ in your viens ; 
 a few days more and you are a hopeless victim. While 
 there is still time flee the scene, and take a week among 
 the trout in some adjacent lake or river. 
 
 The valley of Lake St. John is of considerable 
 
KiO 
 
 
 extent. It is an oasis of rich soil and temperate climate 
 in the heart of a sterile mountain wilderness, an arctic 
 climate. Far removed from the greater world, it has 
 developed a small one within itself. It is a simple 
 civilization rubl)ing slioulder to shoulder with Indian, 
 fur-trader, and voyageur. 
 
 The lake is invariablv describad as an inland sea 
 in appearance, and it is not entirely inap])ropriate, for 
 no opposite shore line is anywhere visible, nothing upon 
 which the eye rests but an expanse of the bluest of Ijlue 
 water. Yet the lake is but twentv eio'ht miles lom^ at 
 its greatest length, if a lx)dy which is almost circular in 
 form can l)e said to have a length. It is the receiving 
 reservoir of a great number of rivers, some of them large 
 size, and hundreds of miles in length. They iiow into 
 it from tlie AVest, North and South. At its easterlv 
 extremity are the two discharges divided by xilma 
 Island, and united they form the head of the mighty 
 Saguenay Kiver. The lake is shallow for so large a 
 body, but it rises and Mis with the rivers which supply 
 it. In the summer great beaches of rock and sand 
 extend for half a mile or more from high water mark, 
 and at a distance of several miles from the shore the 
 
 ■4- 
 
161 
 
 water is only of a dei)th of three or four feet. Sudden 
 and severe storms sweep over it, and ugly seas arise 
 which even prevent the steamers, which have l)een 
 built for navigating its waters, from })utting out into it. 
 The Indians and voyageurs in their canoes never attempt 
 to cross it, but closely hug the shore. 
 
 The geology of the shores of the lake is particu- 
 larly interesting, and the mere casual looker finds many 
 interesting specimens of corallites such as cary ophil- 
 liae, chain coral, madrepores, retepores, millepores, 
 and particularly that corallite so much resembling a 
 bee's hive, and called favosite. Much of the linestone 
 also contains fossil orga'iic reiniius. Mr. Bjiddsley, of 
 the Royal Engineers, made a comidete geological explora- 
 tion of the lake as earlv as 1828, and his interestini;; 
 monograph forms part of the " R3port for Ex[)loriiig the 
 Saguenay and Lake St. John" puldished in Quebec in 
 1829. It was not nntil 1842 that the lease of the 
 King's Posts to the Hudson Bay Company expired, and 
 several years yet elapsed before the lands around the 
 lake were thrown open to settlers, but the parishes 
 increased slowly owing to the absence of any direct 
 communication with the outer world except by steamer 
 
162 
 
 from Chicoutimi, which involved a journey over miles 
 of mountain roads, always in bad condition at the 
 best, and oft'times impassable. In winter they were 
 hopelessly locked in. 
 
 For years the people clamored for a railroad, but 
 the undertaking was too great for private enterprise ; 
 finally large government subsidies made it feasible, and 
 the Quebec and Lake St. John R. li. became an accom- 
 plished fact. Population largely increased, and an era 
 of prosperity dawned upon the settlers. Tlie area of 
 cultivable land, how^ever, is narrowly circumscribed and 
 will soon be exhausted. 
 
 At Roberval, on the border of the lake, the enter- 
 prising builder of the railroad, a citizen of the United 
 States, has erected an hotel which in size and appoint- 
 ments compares more than favorably with the Ameri- 
 can summer hotels in the mountains ; the cuisine is 
 admirable. The Inland House at the Grand Discharge 
 is an adjunct much resorted to by ouananiche anglers. 
 A beautiful little steamer, the Mistassini, now plies on 
 the lake and connects the two hotels. 
 
 A few miles to the west of Roberval is Pointe 
 Bleue, wliere a Post of the Hudson Bay Co. has been 
 
163 
 
 established for a hundred years or more. Near the Post 
 is the Moutagiiais Reservation, and hither for a couple 
 of months of the summer gather these nomads of the 
 North land to trade their furs, build their birch canoes 
 and enjoy the sunshine of a short plenty. Each family 
 has a small house, which, however, they never occupy, 
 but instead erect their tepees in the yard, using the house 
 simply for storage. They have j)reserved their nat' e 
 language and customs, and are probably the purest 
 blooded Indians remaining, owing doubtlessly to their 
 limited intercourse with the white man. In August 
 each family sets out for the hunting and trapping 
 grounds far up some river, where they remain until the 
 breaking up of the ice on the rivers in the following 
 spring. Farnham thus descrilied one of these autumn 
 migrations : 
 
 " The families that were to ' leave town ' w^ere on 
 foot early in the morning, packing up for their long and 
 solitary voyage. As I had discovered no leave-taking 
 on the previous day, I was on the watch for it during 
 the loading of the canoes at the water's edge. The tent 
 was spread on the bottom amidships to protect the bags 
 of flour, rolls of blanket, guns, ket^^ s, traps ; there 
 
1G4 
 
 Avere also rolls of bircli \n\rk for roofirii' llie cabin, a 
 roll of baby packed in moss for swatliing-clothcs and 
 laced up in its straight envelope, and from tliree to five 
 dogs in each canoe. The only people on the beach, 
 besides the travellers, were half a dozen girls, who 
 squatted on the sand, and surveyed tlie preparations 
 with considerable inditi'erence." 
 
 "' Abroad '! said the man. His wife struck her 
 paddle against the side of the canoe, and dipped her 
 moccassined feet in tlie water to get rid of tlie sand, 
 and then climbed over the baggage to her place in the 
 bow. The dogs were thrown in for tlie fourth time, the 
 children settled among the packs, and he shoved off. 
 Tliey paddled away in silence, the wife kneeling in the 
 bow, the heads of the children and dogs showing above 
 the gunwale, and the man sitting up on the bar at the 
 stern. Their families and their valuables were all 
 intrusted to a frail little craft ; their separate routes lay 
 through a wilderness, following the tracks of wild 
 animals ; and their last stage may be a fruitless hunt, 
 starvation, and death in a polar night. And yet there 
 was not the wave of a hand from a single soul, nor 
 even a last look at a friendly face." . . 
 
1G5 
 
 The Oiiiiitclioujiuiche was high and noisy, and 
 fuani crested where it pours over the rocks into the 
 lake, and the village of R jbarval was locked in silent 
 sleep when we launched my canoe for our long paddle 
 down the lake to the Grand Discharge. I had no 
 mandate, however, to be back in Quebec at any particu- 
 lar date, and preferred this means of reaching our 
 destination rather tlian bv steamer, and we were out- 
 fi'^ted like the voyageurs of old, ])repared to live upon 
 the country. We ran into the mouth of the Ouiat- 
 chouan River and landed for breakfast, and a tramp to 
 the falls a mile inland. I lost my way ,a dozen times 
 amid the labyrinth of cow paths among the rucks, 
 alders and swamp, but coming suddenly uj)on the falls, 
 their wild and majestic beauty held me s])ell l»ound. 
 From out of the sky dropped a vast volume of amber 
 water lashed in its descent by great projecting rocks 
 into yellow spume, and through the uplifting mists a 
 brilliant rainbow flashed against the dark green moun- 
 tain side. The great pool into which the water sank 
 eddied and fi'etted .against the flower covered bank, 
 upon which I threw myself to dwell upon the enchant- 
 ing prospect. 
 

 \Wm 
 
107 
 
 There is a cai)it{il l)it of ouaiianiche water between 
 the falls and the mouth of the river, but it is controlled 
 by Frank Ross, Km\., of Quebec, and I was without a 
 permit to fish it. 
 
 Lakeward from our canoe the horizon is an expanse 
 of water and sky, but in shore the liglit and sliade of 
 the human life which attached to it robbed it of any 
 loneliness. A continuous row of houses marks the lino 
 of road which follows the border of the lake at varying 
 distances. The fields are carpeted in many shades of 
 green. Tlie background of low mountains shows the 
 effect of the devastating fires which have run over them, 
 but they are full of color, and devoid of the sombreuess 
 of the spruce clad hills. 
 
 We camped at even-tide on a point at the mouth 
 of the Metabetchouan River, not far from an old Hudson 
 Bay Post, but all traces of the yet older Jesuit mission 
 and chapel have disappeared. I wonder if these good 
 fathers in their wildest dreams ever pictured this far 
 away wilderness peopled by those of their own race 
 and faith. They were wonderful explorers these 
 Jesuits, and their geographical knowledge of the interior 
 of the country was more complete than is ours to-day. 
 
KiH 
 
 Tho Motahctchouaii River tsikos its source not far 
 from Lake Jactpies Cartier. Its ui)i)er waters are now 
 under lease to the riiila(lelj)liia Fishing and Game 
 Cluh, of wliieh Mr. Amos J{. Little is presi(hmt. The 
 central jiortioii is controlled hy the MetabetclK)uan 
 Clul), of which U. S. Senator IMatt, of Connecticut, is 
 president. Some twelve or liftecn miles of the h)wer 
 part of the river is hehl l)y the Amal)ilish Cluh, and 
 Mr. E. T. Brewer, of Sprin^^lield, Mass., is its })resident. 
 Itight worthily do Ihe members of these clubs uphold 
 the honor of Uncle Sam in Her Majesty's Dominion, as 
 representative citizens, aiul ardent knights of the rod» 
 The comino' of les Grand Messieurs is one of the si^^nal 
 financial events in the vear auionfi; the host of those 
 who benefit from their lil)erality. This very excess of 
 liberality lias lent to every American the rej)utation, 
 among these simjde Canadians of being bien riche^ and 
 he is worshipped accordingly, and welcomed as the 
 dispenser of all good things. _' 
 
 The following morning we passed the mouth of 
 la Belle Riviere^ the old canoe route to Chicoutimi on 
 the Saguenay, through Lake Kenogami, and down the 
 An Sable Eiver, instead of by the Grand Discharge, 
 
100 
 
 Avliicli necessitates loii;^ and heavy carries. At tlio 
 Little Discharge I found the two canoenien, M'ho were 
 to ])c my guides through the tnrhuhmt waters of the 
 river to the haunts of the ouananiche, in readiness to 
 proceed, a pair of sturdy, hardy-looking feUows, full of 
 self reliant courage, and tlie most wonderful ack'pts in 
 piloting their frail craft up and down the treacherous 
 rapids, the swift whirling currents, witli only their 
 l)addles, stout arms, and unerring judgment. I have 
 forced my way up stiff rapids, I have run miles of rough 
 water, but I should have been as a novice in the mighty 
 currents of the Discharge. I could appreciate to tlie full, 
 however, tlie skill and coolness of these intrepid 
 voyageurs under all the conditions of their dangerous 
 calling. Yet accidents are of rare occurrence. 
 
 In a whirling eddy, out of the broue, churned into 
 being l)y the vast force of the water, and floating in 
 circles, I hooked and landed my iirst ouananiche with 
 many encouraging words and friendly suggestions from 
 my clever mentors as what was best to do in the 
 exciting moments of the great struggle. I caught 
 many more, and also lost not a few, for this fishing 
 
 12 
 
170 
 
 was new to me, and I was fighting a foe whose wiles 
 and strengtli were nnlike anything in my previous 
 experience. I had to unlearn some knowledge and 
 acquire other, 'out the spirit of these wild waters, the 
 desperate battling of the fish, filled my whole being, and 
 forgetful of civilized training, I became as the primitive 
 man with tiie fierce love of killing upon me. 
 
 At night my camp fire became the scene of another 
 kind of piscatorial contest that tested the resources of 
 the cook, and proved all the game qualities of salmo 
 solar ^ variety Sehago, and the staying powers of four 
 ravenous men, counting the cook. These orgies were 
 followed by pipe, song, and graphically told legends of 
 the dark river. 
 
 The days passed quickly until the regretful one of 
 bon voyage Monsieur^ un autrefois ! and Le Huron 
 sped away up the lake on the return to Chambord 
 Junction under the strong stroke of paddles. 
 
 The land of the ou.ananiche, its life and struggles 
 are the theme which has engaged the literary leisure 
 for some years past, of an ardent devotee of ouananiche 
 fishi'"<T, and shortly, so 'tis said, the angling literature of 
 the world is to be enriched by an exhaustive work on 
 
171 
 
 the subject from his pen. The gifted writer, E. T. I). 
 Chambers, of the editorial staii of the Quebec Chronicle, 
 is the greatest hving authority on the ouananiche, and 
 his forthcoming work will be certain to receive an 
 enthusiastic welcome. 
 

 WINTER FISHING. 
 
 HI 
 
•I HrO 
 
 ii o 
 
 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 
 AN ANGLER'S NOTES. 
 
 *' If thou wouldst read a lesson that will keep 
 The heart from fainting, and the soul from sleep, 
 Go to the woods and hills I No tears 
 Dim the sweet look that Nature wears." 
 
 nature's SUrPLY STORE. 
 
 In the northern wiklerness, Nature has abun- 
 dantly provided man with the requisites for a moderate 
 luxury. It is no exaggeration to say, that were an old 
 woodsman placed in the heart of the wilderness and 
 deprived of everything but his clothes, a flint and steel, 
 and a knife, and told to shift for himself, lie would in a 
 very short time make himself exceedingly comfortable, 
 leading a regular Crusoe existence in face, and in time 
 would make his way to the settlement,^ richer in worldly 
 goods that when he started. 
 
 Erom thiibt he cannot sufl'er, as water, pure and 
 undefiled as the dews from heaven, is everywhere 
 a])undant, but to allay the cravings of hunger he must 
 
174 
 
 speedily devise means. Every little balsam swamp, he 
 knows, abounds with hares and partridges, and without 
 losing any time he sets to work to eft'ect their capture. 
 With the aid of his knife and the abundance of dead 
 brush he constructs a low fence extending several acres 
 across this swamp. At intervals he has left small 
 openings. He next gathers some of the long, tough, 
 pliant roots of the swamp spruce and fashions them 
 into slip-nooses, which he sets at the openings he has 
 left in his fence. His next care is to provide himself 
 with shelter. Yonder yellow birches yield their outer 
 bark readily, and from it a small lean-to is formed, and 
 a fragrant and soft couch is made from the balsam 
 branches. A short search about the camp discovers 
 some Indian tea growing. This makes a very agreeable 
 substitute for the tea of commerce. But how is he 
 going to boil water for tea ? exclaims the reader. 
 Nothing easier ; the birch bark from which the wood- 
 man has constructed his lean-to can be fashioned into 
 vessels that will hold water, and stones heated and 
 dropped into the water bring the latter to boiling point 
 in incredibly short time. Undismayed by his position 
 and certain of a good breakfast in the morning, our 
 
 
175 
 
 woodsman goes siipperless to bed. Sure enough, <a visit 
 to the snares in the morning discloses sevenil hares and 
 partridges suspended in mid-air. After a hearty meal 
 is partaken of, our friend sets himself to fashion a line 
 from the intestines of one of the liares, and then to 
 make himself a rude hook from a tough splinter of birch 
 wood. As primitive as are tliese appliances, and with 
 no bait but a piece of partridge meat, he succeeds in 
 landing several dozen small trout from the brawling 
 stream near by that literally teems with fish. Well 
 provisioned now, he packs his provender in a spruce 
 bark corseau, and, laying his course by the stream, he 
 jogs oft' as light hearted as a schoolboy. He knows 
 this stream must ftxll into a river somewhere, and that 
 river must bring him sooner or later to the settlements. 
 When after a couple of days he reaches the river 
 he remains camped beside it several days, laying in a 
 store of provisions and constructing himself a canoe of 
 spruce bark to float himself down stream. He searches 
 out a large, clean stemmed tree and denudes it of its 
 bark in one large sheet for some ten or twelve feet from 
 the ground. He then makes a frame of cedar poles 
 that wiil exactly fit the bark, and the two are lashed 
 
17G 
 
 firmly toj^etlier with tlio spruce roots. Some gum and 
 rosin arc next hunted up and apphcd to the seams at 
 the ends to render the canoe water tight. While by no 
 means as serviceable as a birch canoe, the spruce canoe 
 with care proves an excellent makeshift. We shall now 
 leave our woodsman, conscious that the remainder of 
 his journey will be uneventful. 
 
 FOREST BIRDS. 
 
 The silence and solitude of the irreat northern 
 forests is rarely broken by the ])lithesome song or pre- 
 sence of Ijirds, yet in the trackless wilds of the far 
 interior I have made the acipiaintance of several rare 
 and interesting species by habits of close observation. 
 They are an unobtrusive family, as their predilection 
 for the deep forests attests, and not much inclined to 
 court the society of man, though there is one note- 
 worthy exception to this rule, as, I shall presently 
 show. So full are they of the immensity and grandeur 
 of these sombre old woods, that it has imparted to them 
 a sober, quiet thoughtfulness, a joyous peal of light- 
 hearted melody being rarely heard — not that they are 
 gloomy or morose, but only earnest, intense, finding 
 
 ' : ,■ 'i" 
 
177 
 
 life soinetliing more precious tliau an idle Ivoli'lay to be 
 spent in frivolity. They no doubt also feel a quiet 
 thankfulness in their escape from the manifold dangers 
 that encompass their less thouglitful brethren of the 
 field from tlie predatory attacks of hawks, crows, 
 reptiles and man. The latter, by the way, ceases to be 
 a foe of the small feathered race as soon as he is Ijeyond 
 the pale of civilization ; the former rarely extend their 
 journeyings beyond it. 
 
 There is a little dun-colored bird that has a call 
 that sounds precisely like the thud of an axe in a log. 
 The imitation is so exact that I have several times 
 •diverged from my course to find o\it who was encamped 
 near by, to be suddenly recalled to a knowledge of the 
 chopper by hearing the sound rejieated in another 
 •direction as my shy little feathered friend Hew off at 
 my approacli. There is still another little inliabitant 
 •of the forest, not in good repute, however, with old 
 bushmen, as its presence and short, querulous k-a-t-e 
 is said by them to be followed by a storm. It defies 
 the severest cold of the long arctic winter. It is called 
 the red-bellied nuthatch (Sitta canadeubis). 
 
 The snowy owl — the great northern hunter as it 
 
178 
 
 is aptly named — the barred owl and the cinereous owl 
 are to-day only stragglei's into the dei)th.s of the forest, 
 .ad venturous travellers, thougli tlieir forefathers were 
 dwellers therein. Their change of habitat has been 
 brought about l)y the greater abundance of food to be 
 procured upon the outskirts of tlie settlements or the 
 barren lands. The northcirn hare, u})on which the 
 snowy owl and the cinereous largely subsist, has mul- 
 tiplied ten-fold within the lx)undaries of civilization, 
 as has also the ruffed grouse. The barred owl is said to 
 have the curious habit of burying its body in the soft 
 snow, the large head conspicuous by a pair of bright 
 black eyes only appearing above the surface, forming 
 a grotesque sight. 
 
 At rare intervals I have had my camp intruded 
 upon by one or the other of tliese owls, who, having 
 satisfied its traveller's curiosity, uttered its blood-curd- 
 ing, sleep-destroying cry, w^ould Ijetake itself again into 
 the quiet shades of night. 
 
 Twice in mid-winter I have seen a pair of ravens 
 circling high in air over the frozen lake. At times, 
 uttering their hoarse croaks, they appeared the embo- 
 diment of loneliness. What could have tempted them 
 
 
179 
 
 from the sea-coast to tlie far interior I know not. 
 
 The woodpecker family is about the most fully 
 represented one throughout the forest region, the most 
 conspicuous, l)otli for its size and rich markings, being 
 P. pileatus. It is ])y no means common, though widely 
 distributed. The woodpeckers jday an important part 
 in nature's economy. By their i)erforations, in the 
 trunks of dead trees they hasten their decay and fall. 
 Four species winter in Canada, but during the preva- 
 lence of severe cold they entirely disappear, a slight 
 thaw, and they are again actively at work. I have 
 been led to think from this that they might hibernate 
 for short periods. 
 
 The exception to the shyness of the forest birds is the 
 Canada jay, alias whiskey jack, moose bird, etc. It is 
 about the size of the blue jay, but unlike its congener, its 
 plumage is of a dull, leaden color, and its song a soft con- 
 tinuous warble. I have never camped in the wilderness, 
 winter or summer, that I have not had a visit from a pair 
 of these singular birds. Fearless of man, they would take 
 up their quarters on the nearest twig to the fire and 
 watch their opportunity to steal whatever was left 
 unwatched a moment. Growing bolder each day we 
 
180 
 
 remained, tliev would ali<dit at our feet and scranildo 
 iind (luavrel for tlie tidl)its tlirowu to tliem, and otlier- 
 wise cut uj) Hucli ([ueer sober antics as to constantly 
 excite my risihles. It is said to ])roed in midwinter, 
 Imt if sucli is the case the male must relieve the female 
 upon the nest, as the germ in the^ eggs would perish 
 upon the least exposure to the intense cold. I am 
 rather incredulous al)out this, as I am about the stories 
 that are told concerning its ability to capture fish in the 
 water like a kingfisher. 
 
 The aquatics are a numerouly represented family 
 throughout the lake region, where they breed, and ia 
 the early fall the angler, wliile fishing, obtains many a 
 chance to l)ag a few ducks to add to his bill of fare. 
 
 THE ItED SQUIRREL. 
 
 If there is a sedateuess and sobriety on the part of 
 the forest birds, the levity and volubility of this little 
 denizen of the coniferous forests enlivens the general 
 gloom. Summer and winter it is equally cheerful and 
 active. While its favorite haunts are in the deepest 
 recesses and solitudes of the wilderness, it is becoming 
 a frequent visitor and resident of the settlements. The 
 
181 
 
 IiulijiiiH of the lower provinc(;s have a very ]»retty little 
 legend about the red Hquirrel. According to this the 
 squirrel was once ujjon a time a very larg(j aud lenxjiou.s 
 animal, much feared by the peo])le, but the good Mani- 
 ton, desirous of conferring a mark of esteem npon ono 
 of the old men of the tribe, asked him what it was he 
 most desired. The reply was, " To have this mighty 
 sqnirrel made smidler." The CJreat Si)irit at once 
 granted the reqnest, and the old man going forth, s])read 
 ont his arms and commanded the si[uirrel to become 
 smaller, and imnuMliately it was reduced to its ])resent 
 size. This is the reason assigned by the natives 
 for its qnerulonsness upon the sight of man, its old 
 enemy. 
 
 This little chatterbox is given to migrating occa- 
 sionally, and if in the course of its journeyings it comes 
 to a lake or a river it takes to the water unhesitatingly 
 and appears as much at home in it as its first 
 cousin the muskrat. In the coniferous woods the 
 red squirrel lays by no provision for the winter, but 
 depends upon the cones to furnish it with a sufficiency 
 to carry it through the long months of snow and 
 ice. 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 /. 
 
 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 11.25 
 
 <" Hi 12.2 
 
 ■UUu 
 
 .V 
 
 r, 
 
 
 7i 
 
 /^ 
 
 ^ °^^^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 ^^^ 
 
iV 
 
 Siit' -■ 
 
 ■.vSKlv, 
 
182 
 
 JOTTINGS BY THE WAY. 
 
 The elevation of the banks of a river at the foot ot 
 a rapid mark the height of that rapid. In the estuaries 
 of rivers and the head of rapids islands are always 
 formed. Deep holes in rivers instead of filling up from 
 the deposits brought down from above by the floods 
 gradually grow deeper. To effect this there must be a 
 strong under-current, during heavy freshets, or whirl- 
 pools with a set toward the lower end of the pool. In 
 no other way could they purge themselves. Among 
 ledges of limestone and blue clay in river bottoms large 
 round holes are frequently found. These holes are 
 formed by a hard flint-like spar stone, and the action of 
 the current, which whirls tliem around and around 
 precisely as the burr stones of a mill^ revolve. 
 
 Snow is dissolved by thawing to one-fortieth part 
 of its bulk, and the process of melting it is so slow and 
 toilsome that it is of the utmost importance in winter 
 to find water near camp. It is always advisable, there- 
 fore, to camp beside a lake or a rapid stream. From 
 the former enough water can be collected from the 
 surface of the ice by scraping away the snow. The 
 
183 
 
 weight of the latter depresses the ice and causes the 
 water to rise over it, which it also prevents from 
 freezing. All frozen waters must have a breathing 
 place, therefore air-holes are always to be found, or 
 rather avoided, in lakes and rivers. They are necessary, 
 too, for the life of the fish as well. 
 
 In summer thunder-storms are of frequent occur- 
 rence, and rage with great violence for a short time. 
 They spring out of what was but a few moments before 
 a bright, unclouded sky, but they as quickly disaj)pear, 
 and all nature smiles again. Wind storms are not 
 uncommon that lay waste extensive tracts of country, 
 leveling the mighty forest before them like so many 
 reeds. Such tracks are termed windfalls by the settlers, 
 and are execrated by every one who has occasion to 
 cross them. 
 
 Forest Indians always walk intoed for two very 
 good reasons. Were they to walk with the toes turned 
 out they would be constantly tripping amidst the loose 
 roots and the brush, and secondly, the habit of wearing 
 snowshoes enforces the intoe step. It is an imperative 
 law of snowshoeing, to red and white alike, to walk 
 with toes well turned in ; an attempted violation of this 
 
184 
 
 unwritten code is swiftlv followed by a severe punish- 
 ment— -a "header" into four or five feet of snow, from 
 which it is no easy matter to extricate one's-self. 
 
 Cattle on a bush farm, where they are much 
 troubled with flies and mosquitoes, soon lose all dread 
 of a fire, and often seek its protection as against their 
 little winged tormentors. Often large smudge fires are 
 burned for them in their pastures. I have seen them 
 rush headlong into it to obtain relief from the venomous- 
 attacks of the insects. 
 
 Largo forest trees much exposed are often split by 
 the extreme action of the frost, which expands their 
 outer fibres more than they can bear. The rent is 
 always accompanied by a loud report like the explosion 
 of a small cannon, and is startling in the extreme in the 
 quiet stillness of night. Eocks are sometimes similarly 
 acted upon where there are seams iuto which the water 
 percolates and then freezes. * 
 
 Wherever extensive fires have burned off the coni- 
 ferous forests an entirely different growth takes place. 
 Birches, poplars, wild cherry, etc., spring at once into 
 luxuriant gi'owth and form a tangled gnarl, through 
 which it is difficult to force a way. Many bush fires- 
 
185 
 
 are occasioned by the lightning striking some old dry 
 chicot. 
 
 Trout are not often captured by the fish hawks, 
 for they are about as quick as tlieir feathered foe, and 
 at the first Hash they dart away. It is the heavy slug- 
 gish fish, such as the suckers, which lie motionless 
 and asleep in the warm, shallow waters, that fall a 
 prey to the keen-eyed hawk. As the capture of such 
 vile fry is no small gain to a stream, the fish hawk 
 must be considered a benefactor to the race of auii- 
 lers. Suckers consume an immense amount ol trout 
 spawn. 
 
 People always smile incredulously when the angler 
 relates his ill luck in losing his largest fish, but it is 
 neverthless the case that the very large fish more often 
 escape than find their way into the angler's creel. I 
 have captured some old stagers that from the nume- 
 rous scars about the mouth showed their frequent 
 acquaintance with the angler's fly. 
 
 Kivers upon which much logging is carried on, 
 while they may abound with trout, afford poor fly 
 fishing. The fish are so often disturbed by the drifting 
 
 13 
 
186 
 
 logs that they seek the still, deep waters, and feed upon 
 the bottom. Some of the most beautiful rivers in Lower 
 Canada, and famous for large fish, have been almost 
 ruined for fly fishing the past few years from this 
 cause. 
 
 Trout when they attain a very large growth, 
 become almost entirely cannabalistic. The better to 
 conceal their nefarious practices, they keep to the deep 
 dark waters of some hole in the stream, sallying forth at 
 niglit upon their smaller and more helplesa brethren. 
 Early in the spring they seek the rapids to cleanse 
 themselves from the parasites that infest them, and 
 they will then rise to the fly, but very rarely at other 
 times. 
 
 Feeding and the nature of the water are the two 
 principal causes of the diversity in the coloring of trout, 
 and their form. In very rapid, clear streams the trout 
 are very brilliantly marked, and are lithe and long. 
 In the quiet waters of the lakes the lazy life and abun- 
 dant food gives them a rotundity of form and duller 
 markings. 
 
 Large trout are usually found in couples. Can it 
 be that as they advance in life they permanently 
 
187 
 
 mate? Is it simply a platonic affection, the desire 
 for the congenial companionship, the mutual aid 
 and sympathy extended to each other ? Who knows ? 
 
 
1^ f^Ai^ii^ 
 
180 
 
 CHAPTEE TWELFTH. 
 
 CARIBOU HUNTINQ. 
 
 *' See how the great old forest vies 
 With hU the glory of the skies, 
 In streaks without a name ; 
 And leagues on leagues of scarlet spires 
 And temples lit with crimson fires, 
 And palaces of flame I" 
 
 Early in September from out of the dome of the 
 North, Jack Frost sets forth as the early herald of 
 coming winter. Jauntily tripping over mountain and 
 table-land, with his magic frozen tipped wand, he gaily 
 touches the maples and birches, and their green livery 
 of summer is instantly changed to the many dazzling 
 hued dress of autumn. The mountain sides fairly 
 blaze with color. He drops in among the ferns and 
 wild flowers that carpet the ground, and all but the 
 gentians, the golden rods and the ragged asters wither 
 at his first approach. With the pines and hemlocks, 
 the spruces and balsams, he has no concern, and they 
 sigh gentle requiems over the departed summer of 
 
190 
 
 many fragrant memories. The wild ducks from the 
 farther north fill the lakes and streams, and the lone- 
 some cry of loon in the still night, is replaced by the 
 honk of passing geese high over tree tops. Again the 
 partridge drums upon the fallen tree, while the woods 
 resound with the shrill cries of blue jays. 
 
 If the ang>,r will now discard, at times, his rod 
 for trusty rifle, and seek the seclusion of- some distant 
 lake for caribou, his quest will not unlikely meet with 
 a reward. Silently his canoe must be paddled around 
 its shores until the day and hour comes when rounding 
 some point, there, in all its beauty, standing in the water, 
 is a buck of noble proportions with mighty antlers. A 
 quick and well directed shot, as he turns to reach the 
 shore, and the proudest moment of your life will be 
 revealed. Your guide will soon disrobe him, preserving 
 the head, which is to adorn your hall. The hind- 
 quarters will supply you with most delicious roasts and 
 steaks to vary the diet of pork and trout. You have 
 become an open and avowed admirer of Eangifer 
 Tarandus over all of the other deer family, and this 
 will not be your first and last visit into its haunts. 
 
 The woodland caribou is more or less numerous 
 
191 
 
 throughout the entire Province of Quebec, but it thrives 
 best in tlie great forests which cover the mountains and 
 plateaus on the north shore of the St. Lawrence River. 
 It requires room, for with its restless instinct it is ever 
 on the move. However attractive its environment may 
 be, the charm is but temporary before the consuming 
 desire for pastures new. The caribou, which is here 
 to-day, may be a liundred miles away within the next 
 thirty-six hours, and always at home in its every 
 change. I doubt whether the same caribou ever returns 
 to the same spot a second time. Yet the vast numbers 
 which roam this wilderness make an endless procession, 
 but of uncertain movement, without much purpose. It 
 is capable of prodigious and long sustained movement 
 over the roughest country ; nothing stays its course if 
 once thoroughly alarmed, and following its trail under 
 such circumstances would be very much like running 
 after an express train. 
 
 The nomadic habits of the caribou are among its 
 safeguards against its greatest enemy — man, but nature 
 has abundantly provided it with others to prolong its 
 continuance until long after every other variety of 
 deer has been exterminated. Its shallow hoofs possess 
 
192 
 
 an immense area, terminating in sharp edges, while its 
 dew-claws, whicli are also large, serve a ])urpose too. 
 l^assing over treacherous bog or deep snows,the hoofs and 
 dew-claws are widespread, enabling it to skim lightly 
 over their surfiice. It walks a fallen tree like a goat 
 and in jn-odigies of mouiitain climl)ingor jum])ing from 
 a height the caribou might compare with the chamois. 
 No lake or river is too wide for it to swin, and the 
 poorer the country the greater abundance of its favorite 
 food. It revels in the intense cold and deep snows of 
 winter, for its deep thick fine coat of hair amjdy protects 
 it against all inclemencies of weather, and the long 
 gray moss hanging from fir and spruce, or that which 
 adheres to the bark of the birches ui)on which they 
 snbsist for many months in the year, are the more 
 readily reached from high snow-lmnk. 
 
 A buck caribou will stand about four and a half 
 feet at the fore-shoulder, and will weigh about five 
 hundred pounds. The color is very variable in different 
 animals at all seasons, from the almost perfect white of 
 an old bull in winter to a reddish brown in summer, 
 but no two are ever alike either in markings or in 
 antlers. The latter in general resemble a reindeer's, 
 

 193 
 
 Leiiig somewlmt i»aliimtecl, but of very gi'cat uiieveness 
 in size and form. The rij^ht aatler never j.erfectly 
 matches tlie left, and one brow antler is sometimes 
 missing, or jierhaps both. The cows are also provided 
 with dimiiHitive antlers — unlike all others of the 
 cervidae. Thev are somewhat smaller than the buck, 
 weighing about three hundred pounds. They calve late 
 in May or early June. 
 
 The caribou is fond of the companionship of its 
 own kind, and not infrequently droves of ten to fifteen 
 are met with, but oftener three or five. The sense of 
 smell ajqiears highly develojied, and uf on it, it relies 
 to warn it of api)roaching danger, to the exclusion 
 almost of sight and hearing. Up wind it may be stalked 
 to within thirty yards, and a dozen shots fired before 
 those remaining are driven oil". 
 
 It loves the borders of lakes in winter and will 
 spend the greater part of the day in the sunshine on 
 the snow covered ice, the whole herd gambolling about 
 like young lambs, pawing up the snow and slush, prod- 
 ding and poking each other about, and otherwise com- 
 porting themselves in a most ridiculous manner, until 
 the leader, a bull, gives the signal, and the herd falling 
 
194 
 
 sedately into line, they slowly march off into the bush 
 in single file like a lot of old cows to pasture. 
 
 When lakes and rivers are locked in icy fetters, 
 and all the land and frozen waters are covered with a 
 deep soft carpet of snow, the hardy and intrej)id sports- 
 man dons his snowshoes — those matchless snow canoes 
 
 nter which lay bare to him many of the hidden 
 secrets of the bush — and their trail will now lead over 
 many miles of mountains, and across rivers, lakes and 
 swamps, as the crow Hies, until well within the passing 
 haunts of the caribou. He is i)repared to face days of cold 
 and exposure, and if necessary the long arctic night, with 
 no other roof over him save the star-lit vault of heav6n, 
 a bed of balsam boughs in the snow, and a big log fire 
 at his feet for warmith, but this only when caught far 
 from camp at the close of the short day after a success- 
 ful chase may be. I have spent numbers of nights in 
 this manner while following the fresh trail of a herd of 
 caribou, to pick it up on the following morning with 
 the settled knowledge that I should come upon my 
 ^ame upon some lake, or (juietly feeding in some swamp. 
 If chance favored and a good first shot is obtained at 
 one of the bulls, another not unlikely becomes a victim. 
 
195 
 
 Building a gi'eat fire in the snow, the two caribou are 
 skinned before it, the choice bits are cut out and rolled 
 in the still wet skins, and my In»lian and I each shoulder 
 a load to carry back to our main cam]). The bucks 
 rarely carry horns in winter and no attention is there- 
 fore paid to the heads. 
 
 Atkins, one of my guides, once wounded a buck by 
 a long distance shot, but it eseai)ed into the bush with 
 Atkins in hot pursuit on its track. He had not travelled 
 a mile when he observed that the trail of the wounded 
 caribou was joined by that of a loup cervier, evidently 
 in as lively chase of tlie buck as he was himself. 
 Coming out upon a little lake, he was just in time to 
 see the caribou staggering into tiie bush on the opposite 
 side with the loup cervier firmly fastened upon its 
 foreshoulders, and tearing away at its throat with its 
 teeth. Hastening on, he found the caribou fallen and 
 the loup cervier gorging itself on the flesh of the still 
 gasping buck. The loup cervier was disposed to 
 dispute possession with George, but a well directed 
 bullet ended its career. The lynx or loup cervier 
 roams the whole north, and preys principally upon the 
 great northern hare, but it will at times even attack a 
 
196 
 
 •caribou in the manner just described and bleed it to 
 death while clinging to its back. 
 
 There is a profound quiet in the winter woods, but 
 they are by no means destitute of life, as one might 
 otherwise suppose were it not for the tell-tale records 
 in the snow of the most minute track of mouse even. 
 Our snowshoes carry us into tlie resorts of all the 
 animals which inhabit the wilderness, and if my guide 
 happens to be an Indian no sign is so trivial as to 
 escape his watchful eye, and each tells its story to his 
 experienced knowledge of the sign manual of the bush. 
 A balsam, whose bark has been torn off on one side five 
 or six feet from the ground, shows him that a bear has 
 been there in the spring to suck the fresh run sap, a 
 medicinal draught, and the claw marks indicate its size 
 and age. He calls my attention to some bushes and 
 branches of trees that have been nipped, and says, that 
 two or three moose had passed there in the early fall, 
 and were browsing ag they travelled, a bull and two cow^s 
 " mebbe." If I question the correctness of his inter- 
 pretation of the signs, he will carefully and logically 
 prove that he has read them aright. A gutter like trail 
 in the snow, as though a log had been hauled along it 
 
197 
 
 by some invisible hand, and he informs me that an 
 otter has crossed from one stream to another not more 
 than a couple of hours ago. A wolverine track — the 
 carcajou of the Indian, rouses all the savageness of my 
 guide ; the despoiler of his traps, the bete noire of his 
 winter life, a thieving, cunning rascal who sets him at 
 defiance, and robs him right and left, and the beast will 
 not be caught nor decently allow himself to be shot. 
 The poor Indian's camp even isn't free from the villain's 
 raids while he is absent — and much else of a highly 
 abusive nature. He make the sign of the cross, for he 
 f.rmly believes the carcajou to be the Indian's devil, or 
 evil spirit. 
 
 Pointing to a clot of broken snow on the 
 otherwise smooth surface, he says, partridge buried 
 there, cuts a long slender balsam with bushy toj) 
 and stealthily advancing, brings the top down with 
 a crash over the spot. There is a confused whirr 
 and struggle, but my Indian has dropped the pole 
 and thrown himself bodily upon the struggling bird^ 
 which he soon holds up to my gaze with conscious 
 pride. 
 
 He finds signs of beaver about the little lake near^ 
 
198 
 
 the camp, but there is only one, an old male, and 
 his habitat a hole in the high bank. He will trap him 
 sure. 
 
 My little camp is but a small canvas tent well 
 banked at the sides with snow , with sheets of bouleau 
 bark spread over the top to keep in the heat. A diminu- 
 tive sheet iron stove, that folds up for greater conve- 
 nience of carrying, and telescopic pipe, keeps us suffi- 
 ciently warm through the long cold nights. We have 
 carpeted the floor with a great depth of balsam boughs, 
 over which our caribou skins are spread. No more 
 comfortable bed could be devised. A candle, stuck in 
 a split stick, gives us ample light to carry on our light 
 domestic duties, or the odds and ends of repairing to 
 snowshoes and clothes, the cleaning of rifles. By eight 
 o'clock we are in sound slumber, which only the 
 diminishing fire and the increasing cold rouses one of 
 us to pile in more wood, followed by a quiet smoke in 
 the dark. Sometime in the night the candle is again 
 lighted, a caribou steak is fried and eaten, and again 
 sleep is courted. 
 
 Shortly before we reached camp on the pre- 
 ceding evening we found what T took to be a 
 
199 
 
 single caribou track crossing our old trail, but my 
 Indian said that there were three, that they h<ad 
 travelled a long distance and were not feeding, but 
 they would undoubtedly stop at the little lake on 
 the mountain to sleep, and feed about the shores in the 
 morning. 
 
 A look, at peep of day, disclosed it was snowing, 
 
 " Bon" exclaimed Charlo, " we get em caribou, no 
 fear." 
 
 The Indian was right, we stalked those caribou 
 up wind on the lake border to within thirty yards. 
 My shot dropped the buck to his knees, and Charlo 
 finished him with another. The does we allowed 
 to escape, though they circled about their fallen 
 leader for some moments in a most distraught manner, 
 and we might easily have killed them both. 
 
 Breaking camp is always a regretful hour, for 
 despite some hardships which we may have under- 
 gone, the life possesses a singular fascination, and 
 we become attached to our little mountain home. 
 Toboggans are laden, a last farewell smoke is in- 
 dulged in, snowshoes are tied, and the homeward trail is 
 taken. 
 

 FlUST H0U8E IX QUEBEC. 
 
CHArXER THIRTEENTH. 
 An8:lin8: Clubs in the Quebec and Lake St. John District. 
 
 KlVER OR LAKES. LESSEES. 
 
 Saguenay River (Part) .... J. G. Aylwin Creighton 
 
 Wessoneau ..... ... , . . Laurentian Club 
 
 Metabetchouan (central part) . Amabelish Club of 
 
 Springfield, Mass. 
 " (upper part) . Penn Fishing k G. Club 
 
 Tourilli & St. Ann Tourilli Fish & G. Club 
 
 Jeannotte Orleans Fish & G. Club 
 
 Metabetchouan (lower part) , . E. Wurtele 
 Grand & Little Peribonca . . . H. J. Beemer 
 Islands of Lake St. John .... H. J. Beemer 
 
 Aux Ecorces Upikauba F. k G. Club 
 
 Aux Rats Press Club 
 
 Little Batiscan, &c Little Saguenay F&GO 
 
 Riviere aux Rognons, etc. . . . Stadacona F. k G. Club 
 
 Des Commissionaires F. M. Ryder 
 
 Long, Des Isles, Vert, etc. . . . Club Les Laurentides 
 
 Najouaoualank MetabetchouanF.&G.O. 
 
 Clair W. P. Greenough 
 
 Kiskisink Metabetchouan F&G.C 
 
 Des Passes, Batiscan, etc ... . Triton Fishing Club 
 
 Clair Dr. M. H. Brophy 
 
 Kenogami Rev. W. Barrab^ 
 
 14 
 
= 202 
 
 ExTi{A(JTS from the Game Laws of Queljec l*rovince. 
 Close season in which it is forbidden : 
 
 1. — To hunt, kill or take deer and moose from 
 January 1st to Oucober 1st. 
 
 2. — To hunt, kill or take caribou from February 
 1st to September 1st. 
 
 3. — To use dogs for hunting moose, caribou, and 
 deer, but red deer may be so hunted in the counties of 
 Ottawa and Pontiac between the 20Lh of October^ and 
 1st of November. 
 
 4. — To hunt, kill, or take moose and deer while 
 yarding. 
 
 5. — To hunt, kill, or take at any time fawns up 
 to the age of one year, or the young of moose or 
 caribou. 
 
 6. — No person can, in one season's hunting, kill 
 or take alive more than two moose, three deer, and 
 two caribou. 
 
 N.B. — The Commissioner, however, may grant 
 special permit to any person domociled in the Province, 
 on payment of Five Dollars, to hunt, kill, or take alive 
 three additioanal caribou and deer at most, or he may 
 
203 
 
 exempt from payment of such fee any bona fide settler, 
 or Indian, whose poverty has been establishod to his 
 satisfaction and who re(|uire such game for subsistance 
 to himself or family. 
 
 7. — To hunt, kill or take any beaver up to the "* st 
 pf November, 1900. 
 
 8. — Any mink, otter, martin or pekan from April 
 1st to November 1st. 
 
 9. — Any hare from February 1st to November 1st. 
 
 10. — Any musk-rat from May 1st to January 1st. 
 
 11. — Woodcock, snipe, — from 1st February to 1st 
 September. 
 
 12. — Partridge of any kind, — from 1st February 
 to 15th September. 
 
 « 
 
 13. — Black duck, teal, wild duck of any kind, 
 (except sheldrake and gull,) — from 1st May to 1st 
 September. 
 
 N. B. — And at any time of the year, for the above 
 mentionned birds, between one hour after sunset and 
 one hour before sunrise. It is also forbidden to keep 
 exposed, during such prohibited hours, lures, or decoys, 
 ^fec. 
 
 Hunting by means of snares, springs, cages, &c., 
 
204 
 
 bf any of the birds mentioned in Nos. 6, 7 and 8, is 
 strictly prohibited. 
 
 Nevertheless in that part of the Province to the 
 East and North of the counties of Bellechasse and 
 Montmorency, the inhabitants may, at all seasons of 
 the year, but only for the purpose of procuring food^ 
 shoot any of the birds mentioned in No. 8, 
 
 14. — Birds known as perchers, such as swallows^ 
 king-birds, warblers, flycatchers, woodpeckers, whip- 
 poorwills, finches, (song-sparrow, red-birds, indigo- 
 birds, &c.,) cow-buntings, titmice, goldfinches, grives^ 
 robin, woodthrushes, &c.,) kinglets, bobolinks, grakles,. 
 grosbeaks, humming birds, cuckoos, owls, &c., except 
 eg-gles, falcons, hawks, and other birds of the falconidie,, 
 wild pigeons, king-fishers, crows, ravens, wax-wings 
 (r^collets), shrikes, jays, magpies, sparrow and starlings,. 
 — from 1st March to 1st September. 
 
 1. — It is forbidden to take nests or eggs of wild 
 birds, — at any time of the year, 
 
 N.B. — Fine of $2 to $100, or imprisonment in 
 default of payment. 
 
 No person who is not domiciled in the Province 
 of Quebec, nor in that of Ontario can, at any time, hunt 
 
205 
 
 in this Province without having previously obtained a 
 licence to that effect from the Commissioner of Crown 
 Lands. Such permit is not transferable. 
 
 Strangers to the Province must first apply to the 
 Commissioner of Crown Lands who, if he deems expe- 
 dient, grants a game licence to the applicant on payment 
 of a fee of from S30 to $10, according to the game 
 sought to be hunted. This licence is valid for a whole 
 season. 
 
 If the applicant is a member of a duly organized 
 club in the Province the fee for the licence is only one 
 half the regular charge. 
 
20() 
 
 CLOSE SEASON FOR FISHING IN THE 
 PROVINCE OF QUEBEC. 
 
 1. — Salmon (angling), — from ir>th Angust to 1st 
 Febrnary. 
 
 2. — Ouananiche, — from loth September to 1st 
 December. 
 
 3. — Speckled trout, (salmo fontinaliff) — from Ist 
 October to 1st May. 
 
 4. — Largo grey trout, lunge, touladi, land-locked 
 salmon, — from loth October to 1st December. 
 
 •">. — rickerel, — from loth April to loth May. 
 
 6. — Bass, — from 10th May to 1st July. 
 
 7. — Maskinong(?, — from 25th May to 1st July. 
 
 8. — Whitefish, — from loth October to 1st Decem- 
 ber. 
 
 Fine of $5 to $20, or imprisonment in default of 
 payment. 
 
 N.B. — Angling, only l)y hand, (with hook and 
 line), is permitted for taking fish in the lakes and 
 rivers under control of the Government of the Province 
 of Quebec. 
 
207 
 
 No person, 'who is not domiciled in the I'rovinco 
 of Qnebec, can, at any time, fish in the lakes or rivers 
 under control of the Government of this Trovince, not 
 actually under lease, without having ja-eviously obtain- 
 ed a ])ermit to that effect from the Commissioner of 
 Crown Lands. Such permit is only valid for the time, 
 place and persons therein indicated. 
 
 I , 
 
Quebec * (gentijal ® Ks. 
 
 Ji THE TOURIST and SPORTSflAN'S ROUTE • 
 
 — BETWEEN — 
 
 VUEBEC and NEW YORK, 
 
 QUEBEC and BOSTON. 
 
 .. QUEBEC and PORTLAND, 
 
 yi\'^ ?r f y M QUEBEC and SL JOHN, N.B 
 
 ■mr 
 
 The Short Line to the White Mountains, AtlanMc Beaches, 
 St. John, N.B., Portland, Boston and New York. 
 
 Through Pullmans in connection with the Boston & Maine 
 and Maine Central Railways, 
 
 Be sure your tickets rend via the Quebec Central Railway. 
 
 Apply for tickets and all information at General Ticket 
 Oftice, 32 8t . Louis Street, Quebec, and Chateau Frontenac 
 Agency. ? ' 
 
 SHERBROOKE, QUE. 
 
 FRANK GRUNDY, 
 
 General Manager. 
 
 R. M. STOOKING, City and District Agent, 
 
 32 S. Louis Street, Quebec. 
 
 ^J. H. WALSH. 
 \ Gen. 
 
 Pass. Agent. 
 
 QUEBEC & LAKE ST. JOHN RAILWAY. 
 
 .. .The Anglers' Paradise 
 
 — BETWEEN — 
 
 /.:M 
 
 Qneljeo & Lake St. John, Ohioontimi and tke Par-Famed Sagnenay River. 
 
 Two hundred and fifty miles of Laurentlan Scenery, with 
 thousands of square miles of teeming Fishing Reserves. 
 
 —^^ SPECIAL RATES FOR CLUBS. <f^*^ 
 
 Send for Illustrated Pamphlets, Guide Books, Etc. 
 
 R. M. STOCKING, 
 
 r 3VdH; city Passenger Agent, 32 St. Louis Street, Quebec. 
 
Arawana Mills 
 
 ^ COTTON TISSUE 
 
 >^n(>v ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 P almer:^ 
 
 '■^}i£,} 
 
 P atent ^ 
 
 jlammoc^?. 
 
 "'iit- f« ■ 
 
 Hi,- 
 
 'W 
 
 
 PALMER'S . 
 
 PATENT 
 
 111 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 TURNOVER. 
 
^ 
 
 ^tuana+lgills « 
 
 COTTON TISSUES. 
 
 
 
 
 »-.5w 
 
 
 
 .-^ Palmers patd . 
 
 ^i»?s^ Royal 
 
 °;^S^|s^;SS(i'.iSi((Pi. 'cut no 567o-v.:5A^;i|ltwa;f%|f 
 
 ;^ . . ALSO MANUFACTURER OF - . ., ,, 
 
 Mosquito Nettingg, Window 
 
 and Piano Screen Cloth,, 
 
 -^CRINOLINE LININGS, Etc.^ 
 
 I. E. PALMER, 
 
 Middleton, Conn., U. S. A^ 
 
 fFull descriptive Catalogue to the Trade onhf. 
 
THE . . . 
 
 Sportsman's Paradise. 
 
 Ouananiche 4 and ^ BpooIj-^TiiouS 
 
 ON VIEW DAILY. 
 
 .i^vrm 
 
 ,%tVV ^ ■"■> 'A 
 
 •J 
 
 < 
 & 
 
 0U 
 < 
 
 Q. 
 < 
 
 n 
 
 < 
 n 
 
 r 
 m 
 
 H 
 Z 
 
 u 
 
 H 
 
 (/) 
 U 
 
 z 
 
 < 
 
 HIGH GRADE FISHING TACKLE FOR 
 
 ^ m 
 
 H 
 Z 
 
 > 
 
 o 
 
 Salmon, Ouananiche, Trout and Bass 
 
 ' '" ' MOST COMPLETE LINE. 
 
 SPORTSMEN'S REQUISITES. ,.^ - CAMP OUTFITS. 
 
 The 
 
 V. & B. Sporting Goods Co, 
 
 P- 6. Box 1059. 51 FABRIQUE STREET., QUEBEC. 
 
Hotel + Victoria 
 
 Special Rates and Accommodation for 
 
 ...Fishing : Parties..; 
 
 2 Minutes Walk from Lake St. John, 
 
 Montmorency & Charlevoix and 
 C. P. R. Stations. 
 
 ^^ >fe Mgl^ W^ W W WW W^ Me' Nfcf ^ S^ %f ^ ^ 
 
Q. & C. HOSSACK 
 
 -^>5- GROCERS <i^ 
 
 *•' '^^injz ♦ and ♦ ^p\rit ♦ 
 
 IjzaUr^, 
 
 Cor. ANN and GARDEN Sts. 
 
 Opposite the English Cathedral. 
 
 ^ QUEBEC. ^ 
 
 Pisl7ir\| ©I'ders (Attended ^o. -o- 
 
 •^■5 
 
 ■ \- » 
 
 ANDJiAKE 
 
 *S- John Ry. 
 
 The New Route to the Far-Famed Saguenay, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 ONLY rail route to the delightful nummer resorts and flshing^ 
 grounds north of Quebec and to Lake St. John and Chicoutimi, 
 through the 
 
 CANADIAN ADIRONDACKS. 
 
 Trains connect at Chicoutimi with Suguenay Steamers for 
 Tadousac. Cacouna, Murray Baj' and Quebec. A round trip unequalled 
 in America, through matchless forest, mountain, river and lake 
 Scenery, down the majestic Saguenay by daylight and back to the 
 Portress City, touching at all the beautiful seaside resorts on the 
 Lower St Lawrence, with their chain of commodious Hotels. 
 
 Hotel Roberval, Lake St. John, has flrst-class accommodation 
 for 300 guests. 
 
 Apply to ticket agents of all principle Cities. 
 
 A beautifully illust ated guide book free on application. 
 
 ALEX. HARDY, *^ " '^ ^^ J. Q. SCOTT, 
 
 :-4:'- Qen. F. & P. AoT., QuEBEa 4>'"i 
 
 Sec. & MANAQEtt. 
 
J.+ E.+LlXERNOIS 
 
 St. John Street, 
 
 . . . QUEBEC. 
 
 Views of Quebec, its Environs, Lake St. John, 
 
 Sftguenay, eto. 
 First PrizH for Views of Canadinn Scenery. 
 Amateur OutfitB. 
 
 All possible assistance given to Photo. Amateurs. 
 Agent for Kodak, Novelette, Premier, Triai, and 
 
 all kinds of Cameras. 
 Flash Lamp for taking picture at night. 
 
 Fishing a^d Hunting 
 
 Supply Orders 
 
 A SPECIALTY. 
 
 A.GRENIER, 
 
 Grocer and Wine Merchant 
 
 94 ST. JOHN ST. 
 
 Telephone 241. 
 
H. L. BASILEN. 
 
 V • • • • ^\ 
 
 ^ 
 
 Pleasure, - - | fOAl ■ . .. 
 
 River and Lake I lUlLDER. 
 
 b; 
 
 ¥ 
 
 Hamilton, 
 Ont. 
 
 Season 1896 
 
 NOW ON HAND 
 
 120 IhTev/ "Pleasure Baals and 
 75 Second Bfaad Boats for Sale. 
 
 Pamil^ I^oWin^ af\d Sailing Boafs a Specialty. 
 
 Any kind of Boat, 
 Lap Streaked or 
 Smooth, Made to 
 Order. 
 
 Write for Illustrated Circular and Price List to 
 
 H. L. BASTIEN. "^^0!. 
 
 °^ ■^^? V. & B. SPORTING GOODS CO., 
 
 Agents, Quebec, Canada. 
 
J. B. L ALl BERTH 
 
 145 St. Joseph St., St. Roch's, 
 
 -~ QUEBEC. 
 
 H*s always on hand a great and varied 
 assortment of Furs, such as ... . 
 
 badies pur Seal Sacques, Muffs, ^aps, (Jollars, §0 
 
 ...GENTS SEAL AND OTHER COATS... 
 
 ;uF \infid ^ircular^ & liolmaiif , ^Ic. 
 
 (LATEST STYLES AND PATTERNS) 
 
 SLEIGH ROBES 
 
 in all the most fashionable kinds. 
 
 Musk Ox, Red and Arctic Fox, 
 
 Wolf, Bear and Goatskins. 
 
 also a very large assortment of ^ 
 
 Indian Cuf^iosities and othef^ Fancy Goods. 
 
 m 
 
 Tourists visiting the Capital are res- 
 pectfully invited to viisit our vast 
 establishment, the largest of the kind 
 in the Dominion . 
 
 Correspondence solicited and car cf idly attended to.