388 
fish and game as any other State, and the 
amount of money left in the State annually 
by tourists with rod and gun will more than 
pay us for the outlay. I sincerely hope that 
RECREATION and its many readers will labor 
with one accord to this end. TC, AOBTUs. 
Clarksburg, W. Va. 


Trout in Northern Quebec 
On my desk, penned in the quaint characters 
of a French Canadian voyageur, is a letter 
which was received at a time when it was 
possible to accept it most gratefully, and all 
its allurements and promises were fulfilled. 
Leaving Place Viger Station, Montreal, on 
June 11, at 4:30 P.M., we arrived at La Belle 
at 9:20 P. M., at the end of the most delightful 
trip I have ever taken by rail. At 10 o’clock 
that night we sat down to supper, of which 
trout composed the larger part. It was a 
supper, indeed. My uncle, W. H. Allison, of 
Toronto, being with me, Napoleon did not 
care to look after the pair of us in the woods, 
so arrangements were made that he drive us 
to his brother’s place at Lac Minerre, 14 miles 
distant. Supper over, pipes were lit and stories 
told for a little while. How they can tell 
stories of the lake and trail, those voyageurs/ 
Bed at last and a sleep much too short, 
it seemed, when we were up for the drive. 
A drive it was, indeed, of scenery constantly 
changing: lakes, streams and hills in succession 
and repeating itself every mile of the way. 
Deer tracks without number on the road; 
here a bear was killed a few weeks ago. In 
that shanty a man had to take refuge from a 
pack of wolves, and the deer that had been 
killed along the road were without number. 
At last the drive was ended and there was 
Peter’s house, but a stone’s throw from the bank 
of Lac Dessert. We unloaded from the buck- 
board, changed our clothes and waited for 
Peter, who had gone up the lake to set bear 
traps. At last he arrived and soon our desire 
was to be granted. The disciples of Walton, 
who had never caught big trout, were at last 
to know the pleasures thereof. 
= 
RECREATION 
Peter’s dinner was soon finished and we were 
off for the trout. Lake Dessert was so rough 
and the day so cold and raw, we contented our- 
selves by trolling for three hours. When we 
finished we had four of the biggest trout I 
have ever seen anywhere. Peter was disgusted 
and promised to take us to another lake, 
about six miles away, the following day. 
Another supper of trout, and at g o’clock 
to bed. It’s needless to say we were up bright 
and early the next morning, and we were off 
for Lac Chaurette. A row of four miles 
across Dessert, a portage of two miles and 
we stood on the banks of Chaurette. Beauti- 
ful beyond description. Clear, cold water, 
and fish jumping everywhere. We started 
in fishing and soon had enough, stopping 
with thirty-three fish at three in the afternoon. 
They were fine and every ounce was a fight 
to the death. 
The next morning as we hit the trail from 
Dessert an old hen partridge with chicks 
showed fight, but as we did not stop, she 
jumped upon a log to watch us out of sight. 
Passing along by numerous signs of bear 
(rooting and wallows), we were once more 
at Chaurette. 
Talk of fish! They are without number 
there, and had we had more time we could 
have fished a lake where no man has ever 
“‘wet a line.” We fished that afternoon 
and stopped with fifty trout, which was none 
too many, as Peter had six in his family to 
feed, besides us two. Our outing was over 
all too soon and we dressed for the drive back 
to civilization. 
We were sights! Black flies had taken 
chunks out of us, mosquitoes had left their, 
trade-marks, and the sun had b)listered 
necks and noses and left us the color of boiled 
lobsters. We were back in Montreal on 
Friday in the care of Frank Murray, of 
Grand Union Hotel, who can advise any one 
on any branch of sport he may ask for. 
It’s a long time between now and May, but 
Lac Chaurette is to have my company then, 
if I have to go alone. But unless all signs 
fail, Murray will be with me. As we were 
leaving Peter’s he said, ‘‘By Gar, de nex tam 
you come, you make it May and you get de 
ol Red bull trouts in Lac de Saule.”” There 
no one has ever fished, but it is my intention 
to try it early in May of 1907. 
j. A. E. Pee 
White Plains, N. Y. 

