APPENDIX. 369 



descent. Too poor for an object of capture, he slips down unnoticed, 

 save by the idle or curious, where, a few weeks before, a whole popu- 

 lation watched his ascent. It is said those marine wolves, the eels, 

 follow the advancing and retreating armies in their rear, gobbling up 

 many a weak fish, or unlucky little one on the march. A dry 

 summer has emptied the lakes and turned the foaming torrents of 

 the spring into dusty rills. He often gets caught in these lukewarm 

 shallows and dies. Not unfrequently the hunter finds them in 

 bushels in the fords ; quite as often the bear secures a rich feast — 

 dipping his hairy paws into the shallow pools. He may be seen 

 approaching nervously and timidly a rapid, then striking up stream, 

 and returning pass down tail first. Those which are seen in July 

 or passing down in August, we must consider fish that have left the 

 sea late in May, or that are caught by the dry season, and go down 

 during the August freshets. Finally, October seems to be the last 

 date for even the fry to be seen in fresh water." 



The advent of this fish in fresh water just at the time when fly- 

 fishing is at its best, often proves a source of vexation to the angler. 

 It is so disappointing, just as one is commencing to ply the rod over 

 some favourite pool for sea-trout, to see the sharp splash of the 

 gaspereau, and the gleam of their silver sides as they dash round the 

 pool in reckless gambols. The trout are quite cowed, and further 

 fishing is useless ; for, although this fresh-water herring will some- 

 times take the fly, it is a worthless fish when caught — thin, tasteless, 

 and full of bones. Drenched in brine, and eaten as a relish with a 

 mess of potatoes, it forms a common diet throughout the country ; 

 and as there is scarcely a brook too small for the gaspereau to 

 ascend, provided it comes from a lake, the luxury is brought fresh 

 from the sea to the very door of many a settler in the remote 

 backwoods. Great fun to the youngsters is dipping for gaspereau. 

 A noisy crew of juveniles, half-clothed in homespun, stand on oppo- 

 site sides, or striding across a forest brook ; presently there is a 

 shout of " here they come ! " and in go the dip-nets with which they 

 are armed, working with the stream. At every scoop two or three 

 bright silvery fish are brought out, and deposited in a tub or barrel 

 behind. It is a picturesque scene — the brook dashing between the 

 dark-brown rocks, the surrounding bushes tinged with the pale green 

 of their young leaves, and laden with blossoms — the excited boys 

 with their high-braced trousers tucked up over the knee, and 

 tattered straw hats, and the gleam of the fish as they are quickly 

 hoisted out. 



