IN A FISHING COUNTRY 



tour feet high, and upon large stones, round 

 which the earth is all burnt to ashes . . . 

 We tore our hands, faces and clothes, every 

 instant. . . We were all as black as negroes, 

 from the effects of the burnt wood and 

 sweat . . . We had little or no rest last 

 night from the rain and the mosquitoes' but 

 'I gave my men a bottle of spirits with their 

 supper which made them forget their 

 fatigues . . .' 



Nich. Andrews' journal is dearly re- 

 mindful of other explorings in these parts 

 fifty years later — forty years ago — the 

 trivial inconveniences forgot, one fingers 

 the yellow page and dreams . . . 



A single other extract must I give for a 

 personal reason: because it bears out a 

 private notion of my own that fish are 

 deteriorating in size and fighting quality. 

 He was on the St. Lawrence, near the Baie 

 des Rochers, when this befell him: — 



We had not proceeded far when we were 

 pursued by a monstrous fish of prey, in con- 

 sequence of which we put ashore again. 

 This animal was four hours about us, and 

 apparently watching us. It came some- 

 times within twenty feet of the rock on 

 which we were. It was at least from t\venty 

 to tvventy-five feet long, and shaped 

 26 



