128 NOT A SCOTIA. 



And there is not only one river, but three, within six miles 

 of your home. You can drive half way to Gold River, and 

 fish the Middle Eiver, a tolerable stream, or take the oppo- 

 site direction to the East River, a glorious runway for 

 salmon, with splendid falls and cold brooks tumbling into 

 it at intervals, at the mouth of which large trout can be 

 caught two at a time, if the angler be skilful enough to land 

 them when they are hooked. If one chooses, he can put up 

 at Mrs. Frails' s, upon the very bank of this stream, and take 

 his morning and evening fishing, with a noon siesta and a 

 quiet cigar and book ; and it is not improbable that he will 

 meet some officers from Halifax, now thirty-nine miles away 

 by the stage route. Between this and Indian River, before 

 mentioned, there is no good fishing. 



Three pleasant seasons have I spent at Chester. I idolize 

 its very name. Just below rny window a lawn slopes down 

 to a little bay with a jetty, where an occasional sloop lands 

 some stores. There is a large tree, under which I have 

 placed some seats ; and off the end of the pier the ladies can 

 catch flounders, tomcods, and cunners, in any quantity. 

 There are beautiful drives in the vicinity, and innumerable 

 islands in the bay, where one can bathe and picnic to hearts' 

 content. There are sailing-boats for lobster-spearing and 

 deep-sea fishing, and row-boats too. From the top of a 

 neighboring hill is a wonderful panorama of forest, stream, 

 and cultivated shore, of bays and distant sea, filled with 

 islands of every size and shape. Near by is a marsh where I 

 flushed fourteen brace of English snipe one day in July. 

 And if one will go to Gold River, he may perchance see, as 

 I have done, cariboo quietly feeding on the natural meadows 

 along the upper stream. Beyond Beech Hill is a trackless 

 forest filled with moose, with which two old hunters living 

 near oft hold familiar intercourse. They trapped a wild-cat 

 last summer, and his stuffed skin is at Chester now. 



Very much should I like to go over the ground again wifh 

 the reader, or take him, in imagination at least, to the in- 



