THE NORTH AMERICAN FISHERIES. 19 



bade me welcome in the sweetest voice I ever heard. 

 I thought I was transported into some other planet, 

 a paradise of angels. 



I have no intention of wearying my readers with 

 all the details of the delights of this Capua, where 

 I ultimately stayed a fortnight. Knowing my 

 fondness for sport, Mr. P. and America exhausted 

 their ingenuity to invent every day some new plea- 

 sure of this kind. 



One evening, after supper, the conversation turned 

 upon trout-fishing. On one side of the princely 

 domain of Mr. P. was a rapid stream, which rushed 

 down in cataracts towards the lake. The depths 

 below each fall were reservoirs of trout, which fre- 

 quently attained there the most gigantic proportions. 

 I had seen some of them of at least five-and-twenty 

 pounds weight, served upon Mr. P.'s table, and their 

 flavour had astonished me quite as much as their 

 size. 



Next morning, after breakfast, my hosts of Lake 

 Manor and myself, proceeded to the spot in an 

 elegant open char-d-banc, which America herself 

 drove with admirable skill and grace. She was 

 attired in a dress well fitted for a sportswoman, — 

 short petticoats, very wide trousers, strong boots, 

 and a jacket which would have been called a Zouave 

 if the fashion had been known in those days. 



We alighted at a place where the stream fell at 

 least twenty feet into a natural basin, whose borders 



