A SPORTSMAN'S EDEN. 



LETTER I. 



Typical Hotel, Montreal, 



Sept. 6, 1887. 

 DEAR LENA, 



At last I have a few minutes in which 

 to rest and write to you. The long dinner with 

 its many courses of quaintly-named dishes is over, 

 and the men of our party have gone off, they 

 say, to smoke ; but I shrewdly suspect their 

 search is rather for those stimulants which the 

 Yankees deny them at dinner, than for the inno- 

 cent cigarette. 



This should be the cosiest hour of the day, 

 but here nothing is cosy ; it is all too big and 

 bare and brassy. How can one settle down in a 

 tea-gown and slippers in a room with only big 

 furniture in it (no knick-knacks), bare walls, no 

 fire, and not even a fireplace ? The whole hotel 



