THE HALCYON IN CANADA. 251 



of the dam and tumbled helplessly back ; he shot up 

 like a bird and rolled back like a clod. This was the 

 only view of salmon, the buck of the rivers, we had 

 on our journey. 



It was a bright and flawless midsummer day that 

 we sailed down the Saguenay, and nothing was want- 

 ing but a good excuse for being there. The river 

 was as lonely as the St. John's road ; not a sail or a 

 smoke-stack the whole sixty-five miles. The scenery 

 culminates at Cape Eternity, where the rocks rise 

 sheer from the water to a height of eighteen hundred 

 feet. This view dwarfed anything I had ever before 

 seen. There is perhaps nothing this side the Yosem- 

 ite chasm that equals it, and, emptied of its water, 

 this chasm would far surpass that famous canon, as 

 the river here is a mile and a quarter deep. The 

 bald eagle nests in the niches in the precipice secure 

 from any intrusion. Immense blocks of the rock had 

 fallen out, leaving areas of shadow and clinging over- 

 hanging masses that were a terror and fascination to 

 the eye. There was a great fall a few years ago, 

 just as the steamer had passed from under and blown 

 her whistle to awake the echoes. The echo came 

 back, and with it a part of the mountain that aston- 

 ished more than it delighted the lookers-on. The 

 pilot took us close around the base of the precipice 

 that we might fully inspect it. And here my eyes 

 played me a trick the like of which they had never 

 done before. One of the boys of the steamer brought 

 to the forward deck his hands full of stones that the 



