A DAY WITH MUSKALOXGK IX CANADA. 



DR. GEO. M ALEER. 



Morning came. Dog days had not run 

 their course. The sun cast up red like a 

 ball of fire. Not a breath of air stirred to 

 temper the torrid heat. Swallows flitted 

 lazily about, and the sibilant song of lo- 

 custs fell drowsily on the ear. Tiny. 

 tleecy clouds on the horizon gave promise 

 of showers during the day. 



During the early hours of the forenoon I 

 repaired to tne home of old Brissette, on 

 the bank of Pike river, which flows into 

 that portion of Lake Champlain known as 

 Missisquoi bay, near the village of Bed- 

 ford, Quebec. I was provided with a ham- 

 per of solids and liquids for the inner man, 

 and a sufficient supply of paraphernalia to 

 start a fishing tackle store. Brissette was 

 awaiting me. 



"Bon jour, bon jour, nion cher ami; we 

 mek start rat off for quick." 



Dipping his fingers into the benitier, 

 which always has a conspicuous place in 

 the home of the habitant, Brissette de- 

 voutedly made the sign of the cross ; and 

 with a wish from his wife for our success 

 and safe return we took our departure for 

 the fiat water of the river, some distance 

 below his house. 



On our way to the landing, near the 

 deep pool where the rapids end, we passed 

 through nooks and vistas in glade and 

 mead that gladdened the eye; where na- 

 ture in her seeming indifference and drowsy 

 neglect furnishes many artistic sights. 

 The timid brown thrush is start' ed by our 

 intrusion and flits into the denser growth 

 beyond, and the bobolink sings his joyous, 

 rollicking notes in the meadow. All this 

 seems lost on the matter-of-fact Brissette, 

 the patient basket maker and successful 

 angler ; perhaps because it is a part of his 

 everyday life. 



At the landing trn trolling rod of split 

 bamboo is assembled, the mu'tiplying reel 

 is well secured in its place, the threadlike, 

 silk waterproof enameled line is extended 

 through the guides, and a latest pattern of 

 trolling spoon is attached. Brissette 

 scrutinized everything closely without say- 

 ing a word, but it required o^y an indif- 

 ferent mind-reader to see that he was not 

 favorably impressed. As we took our 

 places in the boat he said. 



"Ver' nice, dat tings, ver' nice. He don't 

 fool 'longe, plobly, don't he, hem?" 



Feeling entirely confident of giving him 

 a surprise I was conte. t to make answer. 



"Well, we'll see. Brissette, we'll see." 



The oars were in the hands of a master. 

 The boat moved as smoothly as a swan 



on the surface of the water. The speed 

 was neither too fast nor too slow. Sev- 

 enty-five yards of line were slowly paid 

 out. Every nerve was tense, and anxiety 

 waited on expectation. Slowly the mile 

 was covered, but no pirate of the waters 

 seized the tempting lure. My faith in the 

 burnished gold and silver spoon weakened 

 after going a few miles, and I asked Bris- 

 sette to desist from rowing until I mounted 

 a phantom minnow. 



"Looks lak he no wants de jewelry mek 

 on de State, hein ?" 



"Well, Brissette, your 'longe may not be 

 so highly educated as ours, but all the 

 same I think I shall yet tempt one." 



"Plobly," answered Brissette, with deep 

 skepticism. 



I raised and lowered the tip of the rod. 

 describing the tangents of a circle, but all 

 to no purpose. We covered 5 miles with- 

 out a rise or a sign. I discarded my phan- 

 tom minnow for a St. Lawrence gang, and 

 we covered more miles without encourage- 

 ment or reward. At the turning point we 

 neared a few spreading elms and I sug- 

 gested to Brissette that we go ashore to 

 eat our lunch. 



Climbing the precipitous bank of the 

 river we saw murky clouds rolling to- 

 ward the zenith from the Western horizon.. 

 They were frequently intersected and illu- 

 minated by zigzag chains of lightning. It 

 was evident that a heavy shower was not 

 far off and we deemed it wise to seek the 

 shelter of an outlying barn some distance 

 away. We had just begun to dispose of 

 our refreshments, seated on mounds of 

 sweet scented, newly gathered hay, when 

 great rain drops beat a restful tattoo on 

 the roof. The wind grew in intensity and 

 volume and soon we were in the midst 

 o: a blinding summer shower, punctuated 

 bv the flash and roar of the artillery of the 

 clouds. The face of nature was thor- 

 oughly washed, and after the passing of 

 the shower, vegetation appeared an intenser 

 green. 



Luncheon was leisurely disDOsed of, to- 

 gether with something ot a liquid nature, 

 which had a happy effect, when Brissette 

 broke in with, 



"Bah gosh! ah'll tole ho" hwomans we 

 go for get big 'longe ; io: big tarn. We'll 

 fin' big tarn for sure !" 



"Yes, but we haven't got our big- 'longe 

 yet." 



"Certainemerit! Ccrtaincmcnt! Des longe 

 he no lak for to heat de iewelry tings. He 

 lak it de chub bettaire." 



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