1 1 o hi the Canadian Fo7'ests v 



lake, and scrambling along its uncertain and slippery- 

 surface, we made a few hopeless casts in the clear 

 brown water, which was undimpled by the sign of 

 a fish. Just one more cast under that leaning spruce, 

 and what's that ? A fish ? Aye, and a big fish too, 

 showing his crimson sides through the transparent 

 water. A short struggle, a dash by the fish into 

 the mass of logs that floored the lake, and he was 

 gone. Another try, another fish, and at length 

 our united efforts landed one of the loveliest creatures 

 in the world, the purple-backed, ruby-flecked, crimson- 

 bellied, spotted trout of Canada, in perfect condition, 

 and in colour excelling the gaudiest opah that ever 

 blundered on British shores. Three or four more 

 were added to the bag, and then, dreaming of great 

 things for the morrow, we wended our way home- 

 ward rejoicing. On reaching camp we found Mr. 

 Ollivier, the owner of the location, just landing to 

 look after his property. He offered us seats in his 

 canoe, which we joyfully accepted for the next 

 day. 



The following morning the mist hung heavy on 

 the lake as we cruised along in the birch-bark, but 

 we saw enough to convince us that we were in the 

 midst of some very lovely scenery. Of course, the 

 little lake had its little islands, and each little island 

 its little forest of pines, cedars, birches, and poplars. 

 We tried, almost in vain, for trout, and at last went 

 ashore, built a big fire, and waited for the return 

 of our fellow -voyagers, who had gone inland to 



