48 FISHING WITH THE FLY. 



had left this, the most interesting city of English- 

 speaking North. America, in the morning by steamboat, 

 and, after a day of delights upon this majestic river, 

 the St. Lawrence, reached L'Anse a l'Eau, the landing 

 for Tadousac, 130 miles, in the evening of August 1st. 

 We felt as we walked out upon the wide piazza of the 

 Tadousac Hotel that 



" simmer Sunday morn 



When Nature's face was fair," 



and looked up that mysterious river, the Saguenay, 

 and upon its castellated mountains of granite, that in- 

 deed " the lines had fallen to us in pleasant places." 



We had reached the end, as our course lay, of rail- 

 roads and steamboat lines, and must finish our journey 

 in chaloiipe and birch-bark canoe. We were there to 

 leave civilization and its conveniences for nature and 

 primitive modes of life. In the story I am relating my 

 progress up to this point has been as rapid as was our 

 transit. Prom this point on it must correspond with 

 our slower mode of progression ; and hence there must 

 be more of detail in what follows. I hope, but cannot 

 expect, that the reader will find the change as agreeable 

 and free from irksomeness as we found our chaloiqw, 

 canoe, tent, and life in the woods. 



After an excellent breakfast, we lighted cigars and 

 walked down to the humble cottage of my guide, 

 David, on the beach of the little bay of Tadousac, who 

 had in charge our tents, stores, camp equipments, and 

 three new birch-bark canoes, ordered months before. 



