THE "POND." 



whose gallant spirit dictates a rush for the turbid 

 centre waters ! no rod or line on earth could possibly 

 hold, and the shores are too rough for the angler to 

 follow downwards. 



It will be well to have a gun with you in taking the 

 tramp across this portage. The first time we traversed 

 it we saw a young bear, and the last time one of our 

 party came in such close contact with an old lady bruin 

 as to be frightened almost to death, if it is admissible 

 to judge from his appearance rather than from his 

 description. 



Having progressed a little over half the distance, 

 a pretty fishing- shanty, the property of a Bostonian, 

 most opportunely offers itself as a resting-place, while 

 the panorama from its porch fairly earns the eulogy of 

 sublimit} r . Above, below, and in front seethes the pre- 

 cipitous river, white with foam, while in the distance 

 the placid surface of a miniature lake, unpoetically 

 dubbed "the Pond," recalls to memory the stories of 

 our childhood, in which naiads and nymphs, with the 

 enchanting Lurline for their sovereign, prominently 

 figure. 



The Pond, at some seasons, affords splendid sport, 

 especially at the entrance and exit of the river, which 

 flows through it, but it cannot be fished except from a 

 boat, which can be brought down, if desired, from the 

 dam above, no easy task to be performed, but fre- 

 quently accomplished by the expert lumbermen, who 

 appear equally at home in handling the axe or shooting 

 rapids in their flat-bottomed punts. 



Having rested sufficiently to recruit, and probably 

 imbibed a small glass of something stimulating, diluted 

 with water that trickles from a neighbouring spring - 



