A NOVA SCOTIAN SALMON STREAM IN SPATE 43 



and time does not wither nor custom stale its infinite variety. 

 How charming this mood of untamed fury ! How the flood revels 

 in its wild new-found strength ! 



Until the sun drops behind the western hills in a red glow, pacing 

 the little bridge I talk of fish, nothing but fish, with my genial host, 

 my guide to be on the morrow. The old old story was told once 

 more of the salmon so big that ' sonny ', whom he had sent up river 

 with the gentleman owing to a bad ' twist ' of rheumatics, was too 

 frightened to put the gaff in. ' Wonderful high water, sir ; kind 

 of dubersome, but you never know, bless your soul ! quare fish the 

 salmon he will not come easy in this water, but when he does 

 muzzle the fly he comes mighty savage.' Thus my friend, summing 

 up his view of the situation. Every now and again we pause spell- 

 bound to watch the unlooked for revels of our woodland stream, 

 usually so quiet and domesticated, now exceeding all bounds of 

 decorum as it wildly spurts against the piers ; riots in ropy swirls, 

 tosses hither and thither creamy masses of whitey-brown foam ; 

 and springs tiger-like with an exultant roar at the big grey boulders 

 which dare to oppose its tumultuous passage. We can trace its 

 fascinating movement until it is lost in yonder sleeping bay of 

 curving outlines some two or three hundred yards distant, and watch 

 it steadfastly for minutes at a stretch with unabated interest this 

 glorious June evening as nature smiles on us in one of her most 

 gracious moods : 



Now do the woods wfth soft reveille ring, 

 Now in thy blood the challenge of the spring, 

 Bids thee forget the narrow days behind, 

 The winter weather and the winter mind. 



This day has been the first of the warmer days of the earlier 

 summer, when that indefinable feeling of the awakening of a new 

 life assures the angler that the best season in his calendar is about 

 to begin. The whole scene around us is well suited to ' a lover of 

 the angle'. The fresh vivid greens of the bursting leaflets of the 

 deciduous forests, the crimson tassels of the blossoming scarlet 

 maples, the dark glowing maroons of the ash, the tender terra- 

 cotta of the Indian pear trees, splash the hillsides with a pleasing 

 variety of colour, while here and there the bloom of the wild cherry 

 bursts like white foam over large patches of the woods. Withal 

 everywhere in the air there is the pleasing sound of the nuptial 

 songs of birds. 



What happy walks we have had together, Tan and I, up the banks 

 of this pleasant little river : our only luggage the rod and gaff and 

 the well-filled luncheon basket ; starting in the freshness of the 



