HOW I CAUGHT MY FIKST SALMON. 181 



tempting-looking entrance to the Saguenay name 

 dear to the lovers of the picturesque as well as to 

 the votaries of Izaak "Walton ; down the river still, 

 through wooded hills, through low-lying "banks 

 there is a monotony about the scenery holloa ! I 

 am getting sleepy. I .... 



"Sorry to lose you, Mr N., but here we are at 

 Father Point," says a voice in my ear; and I am 

 aroused from a most delightful doze by Captain 

 Brown's hearty voice and shake of the shoulder. 

 Good heavens! where am I? The night is pitch- 

 dark, the hour 1 A.M. Water, water everywhere. I 

 don't believe it is Father Point. Brown can't tell in 

 the dark. Dash it ! I'll go on to England sooner than 

 budge. If I don't actually say all this, at all events 

 these ideas pass rapidly through my brain. However, 

 " needs must " is the rule on board ship. My traps 

 are slung over the side into a little boat that I begin 

 to descry alongside, and, with an adieu to Captain B. 

 not half so cordial as it would have been had he 

 let me sleep on I scramble down the side of the 

 Polynesian, and in a few minutes find myself on 

 shore. My traps are hastily stowed away into a 

 "buckboard" a species of light cart used by the 

 inhabitants of Lower Canada and a drive of twenty 

 minutes brings me to Mr S.'s hospitable mansion ; by 

 which high-sounding term, gentle readers, you must 

 understand a small frame-house, originally a farm, but 

 which had been done up and slightly enlarged by my 



