ON THE KOOTENAY 175 



upon the face of the waters. Then, with a " white 

 miller " as lure, we circled the broken water, 

 knowing not where the fly lighted, but certain that 

 it would be seen and craved by some hungry trout. 



But it was in the early morning that the most 

 wonderful phenomena were seen. The writer 

 pledges his word that if he had not been there he 

 would not believe it (the reader is not expected to 

 credit the statement), but the Preacher, on divers 

 and sundry occasions, left his berth before sunrise 

 and went out to fish. The grey is in the eastern 

 sky, and the lake motionless. Nothing breaks the 

 silence but the roar of the creek or the sharp chal- 

 lenge of a chipmunk. Rowing slowly along the 

 shore, the world seems as fresh as if newly born. 

 A tip-up teeters along the beach, a thrush sings 

 his morning hymn of praise among the trees on 

 the mountain side, and now the sun peeps over a 

 notch in the eastern hills. Did you ever see more 

 exquisite colouring than the brown of the moss 

 upon that rock, or the delicate shades of green in 

 that clump of trees? The fish are not early risers, 

 or, if they are up, have not found their appetites; 

 but what matters it? Here are peace and beauty; 

 God's good world at its best. 



Just one little story about the big trout. It was 

 close by a face of rock that rose sheer from the 

 water for fifty feet or more, that we struck him. 

 Up and again up, in mighty leaps clear from the 

 water he flung himself. With great surges he 



