124 NOVA SCOTIA. 



their connecting streams, and when his last camp is made 

 among the delightful islands of " Fairy Lakes/' he can paddle 

 his canoe up stream to Maitland, pay off his men and send 

 them back, and mount his wagon for other parts. He will 

 always remember his trip as one of the rainbow-tinted ex- 

 periences of his life. 



Having surfeited myself with fishing at Ponhook, and 

 mentally anathematized the Indians for dipping such quan- 

 tities of this valued fish, I returned to the forks, where, by 

 the way, is a very neat and comfortable house for wayfarers. 

 I then drove off to Greenfield, a little mill town on the Port 

 Medway, where a canoe was to meet me, so that I could fish 

 down stream. 



Did you never hear of Saul the Indian ? He is the king 

 of fly-fishermen in this region, as well as the chief of his 

 tribe. He can tie a fly as neatly as our friend Michael at 

 Andrew Clerke's; and as for the number of salmon he has 

 in a single season killed, on a beautiful rod of his own man- 

 ufacture, I dare not trust my memory to tell. How many 

 miles we have tramped together! how often have we been 

 wet to the skin ! We used to start from Mill Village, near 

 the mouth of the Port Medway Eiver, walk our six miles to the 

 third falls, fish all day, and tramp back with the weight of two 

 salmon over our shoulders. If we caught more than we could 

 carry, we sent a wagon for them. But now, with our canoe, 

 it was all luxurious ease. A noble stream is the Port Med- 

 way, where we launched our bark below the dam at Gfeen- 

 field, seventeen miles above salt water. Eapidly and wih 

 somewhat turbulent current it tumbles on its winding course 

 for a few miles, sometimes under water-willows that overarch, 

 and anon under the glare of the full sunlight ; and when no 

 drive of logs is running, the angler can pick out a salmon 

 here and there from occasional pools. But the best fishing 

 is below, where the river flows for the most part with a deep, 

 still volume one hundred yards wide, and at intervals is 

 broken by the most glorious falls that salmon ever leaped. 



