228 LOCUSTS AND WILD HONEY 



From Riviere du Loup, where we passed the night 

 and ate our first "Tommy-cods," our thread of travel 

 makes a big loop around New Brunswick to St. 

 John, thence out and down through Maine to Bos- 

 ton, — a thread upon which many delightful excur- 

 sions and reminiscences might be strung. We trav- 

 ersed the whole of the valley of the Metapedia, and 

 passed the doors of mauy famous salmon streams and 

 rivers, and heard everywhere the talk they inspire; 

 one could not take a nap in the car for the excite- 

 ment of the big fish stories he was obliged to over- 

 hear. 



The Metapedia is a most enticing-looking stream; 

 its waters are as colorless as melted snow; I could 

 easily have seen the salmon in it as we shot along, 

 if they had come out from their hiding-places. It 

 was the first white- water stream we had seen since 

 leaving the Catskills; for all the Canadian streams 

 are black or brown, either from the iron in the soil 

 or from the leechings of the spruce swamps. But 

 in New Brunswick we saw only these clear, silver- 

 shod streams; I imagined they had a different ring 

 or tone also. The Metapedia is deficient in good 

 pools in its lower portions ; its limpid waters flowing 

 with a tranquil murmur over its wide, evenly paved 

 bed for miles at a stretch. The salmon pass over 

 these shallows by night and rest in the pools by day. 

 The Eestigouche, which it joins, and which is a 

 famous salmon stream and the father of famous 

 salmon streams, is of the same complexion and a 

 delight to look upon. There is a noted pool where 



