down the numerous rapids was intensely exciting. It requires a quick eye and a steady hand to run the chute in safety. But accidents are rare. The Indian guides, who were born on the river, are as familiar with every hidden bowlder and every dangerous eddy as the denizen of the city is with the pathway to his place of business, and they take their canoes safely through channels where, if directed by the uninitiated, they would be inevitably dashed into fragments. As a rule, it is perfectly safe to go where an Indian is willing to take you. He has just that sort of discreet courage which leads him to keep as far from danger as possible; and he will never take his canoe into waters he is not quite sure he can safely navigate. I only once insisted that my guide should go through a channel which he pronounced unsafe. He obeyed orders under protest, wondering at my foolhardiness and temerity. The result of the experiment may have given him a favorable opinion of my courage, but I am sure it depreciated his previous estimate of my good sense. The sensation was somewhat thrilling as we dashed through the boiling cauldron, but it was purchased at the expense of saturated garments and a halffilled canoe. But for the almost superhuman ef forts of the faithful fellow we would have been inevitably swamped, if not badly bruised and bat tered by the jagged rocks which everywhere show themselves in the midst of these impetuous rapids. I never again asked my Indian to take me where he didn't wish to go himself. After a short stop at our first camp, the capture of a few more salmon in Shedden pool, and the proper packing of our camp equipage to be in readiness for our hoped-for visit next June, we "reeled up" and were off. We had had a month of rest and enjoyment such as can only be attained in the solitudes of the forest and on a river famous for the magnificence of its scenery and the size, vigor and kingly character of its fish. And just here, in closing up these rambling sketches, it may be proper to remind some of my readers of the old adage that "what is one man's meat is another man's poison." It is not conclusive that because angling, with its pleasant concomitants, affords the highest pleasure to the few, that it would be found equally attractive to the many. It may not be true to the extent assumed by good old Sir Izaak, that to become an expert angler or a true poet, one "must be born so." But it is true that peculiar tastes are necessary to the full enjoyment of any special pastime. The man who is only happy in a crowd, would soon become tired of the stillness and solitude of the forest. He who finds his chief pleasure amid the luxuries and ornamentations of artificial life, would speedily weary of the cloud-capped mountain, the shadow of the woods, the melody of the singing waters, the cheery abandon of camp-life, the informal and unostentatious courtesy and pleasant conversation of the "simple wise men" who find delectation in these quiet places. Every angler has melancholy memories of this fact-the recollection of many spoiled vacations by reason of the uncongenial companionship of "dear friends" who had mistakenly fancied that what gave pleasure to others could not fail to contribute to their own happiness. But on trial, instead of pleasure they found only ennui; and by their evident discomfort they rendered every one about them as miserable as they were themselves. And this, not because they were not au fuit in all the courtesies and proprieties of social life, nor yet because they were indifferent to the happiness of others, but simply because their tastes were not in harmony with their surroundings, and so were disappointed in the realization of their high anticipations. I would, therefore, recommend no one to seek pleasure from a protracted sojourn in the woods, either with rod or rifle, until he tests his tastes by brief excursions. If he so enjoys a few days "under canvas" that he longs for a repetition of the pleasure, he may reasonably hope that a month on a salmon river would not be tedious. But, as you regard your own comfort and the comfort of others, do not assume that, because your friend finds his highest pleasure in the practice of the gentle art, you also must needs be happy in its pursuit. To give variety to our trip we took carriages from New Richmond for a thirty-mile ride along the borders of the Bay of Chaleur; and we enjoyed it greatly. Almost the whole distance is a continuous village, and nearly all the houses are the abodes of men who make a precarious living by catching and curing codfish for the markets of the world. For more than a hundred and fifty years this has been the chief occupation of all the residents of this coast. The result is extreme poverty and contentment. The men of to-day live and labor as their fathers had done through many generations. This, however, can be said for them - they are the most polite people on the continent. Meet whom you would, man or boy, on foot or borne along in his rickety cart or jaunty calash, no matter, you were sure of a graceful greeting. During our ride of thirty miles, in no single instance was this act of courtesy forgotten. It was a custom I had met nowhere else in all my wanderings. Taking the steamboat at Paspebiac, we had a |