18 
FOREST AND STREAM 



Having made a bargain with one of the fishermen to take 
our heavy baggage, in charge of Flanigan, round to the 
lighthouse, and sending the Indians with a few light traps 
in the canoe, we started on foot, accompanied. for a short 
distance by a garrulous old man, who’ informed us that the 
island was the result of successive deposits of the sea, in 
proof of which he assured us there was the carcass of a 
whale far back in the woods. He was evidently rather 
Darwinian in his ideas, and no doubt could have still fur- 
ther enlightened us, had not we, being rather overpowered 
by the warm reception of the cod fish, which seemed to 
infuse itself into all around, bidden him a rather abrupt 
good night and proceeded on our way. From English Bay 
to West Point, two miles distant, we travelled along a good 
beach of stone and gravel, with reefs extending upwards. of 
a mile from the shore, and beyond which the Indians were 
now paddling the canoe. é 
The coast is low, and covered with a small dwarf spruce, 
whose branches, gnarled and twisted by the rude blasts to 
which they are constantly exposed, are so thickly matted 
with the underlying growth, and conform so closely to 
the limestone rocks on which they stand, as ata short 
distance to resemble grass, and it is not too much to say 
that in many places it would be almost possible to walk 
on the tops of the trees, though such a statement may at 
first sight appear absurd. Near the lighthouse we came 
across the ribs of a large barque, which had been wrecked 
some two years ago; her cargo had been planks, which 
now lay stacked in square piles upon the shore, and 
which we had mistaken for huts on first approaching in 
the schooner. We-were thus early greeted by a startling 
evidence of the death and danger which lurked around 
these shores, and, alas! it was not the first by many a 
one that was yet to stand forth as a grim and ghastly 
record, tending to confirm the wild and‘ superstitious tales 
with which the island is invested. On our arrival at the 
lighthouse (a circular stone tower, faced with white fire 
brick, exhibiting a light 109 feet above sea level) we were 
met by M. Maulivin, the keeper, a stout, elderly French 
Canadian, who, however, spoke tolerable English, and 
seemed pleased to see us. He has a capital house attached 
to the lower basement of the tower, and a nice little farm, 
with two cows and a horse, besides pigs and poultry. 
The mist which had been threatening all day now settled 
down into a dense fog, and the stillness of the evening was 
broken only by the report of the gun fired every three- 
quarters of an hour during thick weather. The canoe had 
not yet turned up, but the Indians were well able to take 
care of themselves, so we were not anxious on their account. 
The next morning, as if to make amends for the inhosita- 
ble reception of yesterday, Nature wore her fairest garb. 
The plaintive moaning of the surf is lost in the gentle rip- 
ple of the water as it washes lazily upon the beach, and the 
sudden boom of the midnight gun, that seems to tell only 
of shipwreck and destruction, is succeeded by the musical 
tinkle of the cattle’s bells as they stray through the woods. 
Along the shore flocks of plover and sandpiper are flitting, 
now wheeling far out to sea, now circling inward in rapid 
flight, alternately skimming the surface of the tranquil sea, 
which, mirror-like reflects their every motion, and rising in 
mid-air till the receding tide leaves some muddy patch, they 
slowly settle down, after a few minutes rest to be off again 
in quest of some fresh feeding ground. Outside the reefs a 
few fishing boats are already at anchor, while the dark 
brown sails of others hastening out to swell the number 
may be seen rounding the’ point. In the midst of this 
peaceful picture we are reminded of the far different aspect 
it too often wears, for close at our feet lies an old twenty- 
four pounder, red with the rust of upwards of a century. 
As the water falls more guns and a few round shot become 
exposed to view, and we learn that they once formed part 
of the armament of a large English frigate, lost here some 
time during the capture of Quebec. The crew escaped, and 
spent some months in the little bay we had just left, and 
which still preserves their memory under the French name 
of ‘‘Baie de Anglais.” 
It is worthy of remark that in many parts of the country 
there appears to be something in the pasturage which Has 
an injurious effect upon certain forms of animal life. Rab- 
bits and hares, without which scarcely an island of any size 
in the Gulf is found, are never seen, and though often intro- 
duced have quickly disappeared ; rats which have escaped 
from wrecks speedily become extinct, and it is strange that, 
though the interior of the island abounds in lakes and ponds, 
the sources of numerous streams, the beaver, mink, and 
muskrat (the latter animal being so common elsewhere) are 
wholly unknown. The pleasant chirping of the graceful 
. little chipmunk here never greets the ear, and there are but 
four fur-bearing animals known to the trappers—the black, 
or brown bear, the otter, marten, and fox, of which latter 
there are several varieties. 
About eight o’clock the Indians turned up, having slept 
the previous night upon the beach. We started at three 
o'clock, the Indians taking the baggage in the canoe. We 
had intended to have camped this evening at Ellis Bay, but 
what with shooting at plover and yellow-legs, and not pay- 
ing attention to the tide, now rapidly falling, the canoe had 
eventually to leave us and pursue her way outside the reefs 
nearly a mile off. The coast is low and thickly wooded, 
but it is not without its points of interest. Here a low, 
overhanging cliff of dark earth and limestone forms a head- 
land, on rounding which we find the shore sweeping in gen- 
tle curves to where yon low wooded point marks at once the 
termination of one and the commencement of another bay ; 
there a tiny stream, the outlet of some inland bog, after 
many a struggle to force it way over rocky crag and through 
tangled jungle, at last emerges in a grassy hollow that skirts 
the forest, where forming a deep gully it issues forth in pure 
limpid water upon the gravelly beach. 
When within two miles of Ellis Bay night overtook us, 
and as the evening was closing in with rain and wind we |, 
began to be anxious for the whereabout of the canoe. We 
were just debating a halt when a faint shout broke on our 
ears. We fired twice in response, to indicate our position, 
and in about ten minutes we heard a splashing through the’ 
water, and presently Hamilton emerged like a water-god 
out of the gloom with the cheerful news that they could go 
no further, and that the boat and baggage now lay on the. 
reef more than half a mile off. The rain was jnst com- 
mencing, so we had a pleasant prospect. There was noth- 
ing for it but to carry everything ashore as quickly as possi- 
ble, and so first lighting a fire, there being luckily no lack of. 
drift wood along the shore, we despatched H. back again. 
Tn leas than an hour our traps were landed, the men work-| 
ing right well, it being no easy matter to carry five or six 
hundred weight of baggage half a mile through water and 
over stone and gravel in the dark. We now began to plan 
what shelter could be run up most readily for us to pass the 
night under ; it was too late to cut down timber to construct 
a hut, so carrying the canoe out of reach of the morning 
tide we turned her bottom up, and then supporting one gun- 
wale on the paddles, the other resting on the shingle, we 
formed a tolerably dry covering for our heads and upper 
parts of our bodies. Plenty of boards were at hand, which, 
after drying by the fire, we laid along the length of the 
canoe. To pluck some of the birds we had shot and spit 
them over the burning embers was the work of a few min- 
utes. They were delightfully fat and tender, and were 
hardly cooked before they disappeared before the hungry 
crowd that crouched around. After supper and a stiff glass 
of grog we put on our great coats, and rolling ourselves up 
in our waterproof rugs lay down; and so, with the rain 
beating pitilessly down upon our frail covering, the sea lav- 
ing the beach, and a bright wood fire (in front of which the 
Indians were curled up in their blankets like two round 
balls) at our feet, we spent the first night on the island of 
Anticosti. ° 
The next morning was fine, and as the tide was now high 
we lost no time in making a hasty toilet, and after a cup of 
tea and a mouthful of biscuit reloaded the canoe and set off 
at a brisk walk. A short half hour brought us to the bay, 
where we were favored with as fair as picture as one could 
well desire. Hardly a ripple stirred the bosom of the bay, 
which lay like one vast mirror, reflecting in its crystal depths 
the wooded shores and limestone cliffs which formed the 
setting. Here and there huge dark boulders rear their heads 
above the surface, their summits literally alive with seals 
basking in the sun, till, roused into activity by the sharp 
ping of a bullet that whistles close beside them, they floun- 
der into the water with heavy splash, and the next moment 
are seen twenty or thirty yards off peering cautiously around 
in search of the intruder upon their wonted solitudes. 
Ducks, plover, and sea pigeons hover and circle over the 
outer portion of the bay, while from its inmost recesses 
flocks of ducks come soaring out in long succession, and 
yonder, flying in regular order like the letter V, a flock of 
wild geese sail majestically over the pine woods. From a 
little cove thin columns of blue smoke are curling upwards 
from the cottages of the few settlers who live here, sur- 
rounded by many a comfort denied to their brethren on the 
main land. The mouth of the bay is marked by two low 
wooded points, Cape Henry and Cape Eagle, or Pointe aux 
Pins, as it is locally named, the eastern headland being a dis- 
tance of one anda half miles. A good channel three and 
a half fathoms deep, extending one and a half miles inland 
and three quarters of a mile in width, with good holding 
ground of clay, affords a safe anchorage for small vessels in 
any weather ; the reefs which trend, one from Cape Henry 
in a southerly direction, a distance of one mile, and another 
from Pointe aux Pins, three-quarters of a mile westerly, 
forming a natural: breakwater, which completely shelters 
the channel from the heavy surf which breaks on these 
bars with the slightest swell. The shores gradually rise in 
height from the entrance, and, doubtless from being more 
sheltered, the timber now first assumes respectable propor- 
tions ; the jungle too disappears, and vast plains, or ‘‘bar- 
rens,’’ as they they are technically termed, take its place. 
Far back into the couniry lie two elevated ridges or spurs, 
| trending to the north and east, forming the watershed, 
whence spring the babbling streams and purling brooks | 
which are met with at frequent intervals. Gentle coves| ~ 
others the meal, par excellence, of the sportsman. De 
Courcey and Flanigan had meanwhile walked some way 
ahead, and now returned laden with plovers and beach 
birds, which proved a welcome addition to our larder. 
They had selected a better camping ground near the head 
of the bay, and accordingly about twelve o’clock we shifted 
our quarters to where the Indians had built us a very cozy 
looking bough ‘‘wigwam,” prettily situated between the 
trees on the edge of the wood. On our way to the second 
camp we passed one of the limestone cliffs, of which men- 
tion has been made above, whose general effect was such 
as, at a short distance, to give one the idea of some moated 
wall, broken and crumbled by the hand of time. Almost 
opposite stood a larger cliff, but without any of the pecu- 
liar beauty of the one described. In the afternoon De 
Courcey went out shooting in the canoe, while Flanigan 
and myself followed the shore and struck into the woods 
near the head of the bay. After more than an hour’s 
scramble through thickets of alder and dense woods of 
spruce and juniper, without seeing a sign of animal life, 
we came upon a small rivulet, which flowed in a dark inky 
stream from the ‘‘barrens” at the back of the bay, and, fol- 
lowing its course, at last emerged upon the shore. The 
black flies swarmed.in the woods, and though we wore 
green gauze veils our faces were literally streaming with 
blood. 
De Courcey had met with poor success, shooting only 
three ducks and a few plover. The birds, he said, were 
very wild, and it was quite evident that they are much shot 
at by the settlers at Gamache Bay. It was a lovely night, 
and as we lay on our rugs after dinner, the moon shining 
softly down through the over-arching boughs, and the cry 
of the duck and shrill cackle of the wild geese feeding on 
the barrens was borne faintly on the ‘still evening air, we 
began to realize the full enjoyment of a forest life. Tired 
with the long day of ceaseless activity we composed our- 
selves for rest at an early hour, little dreaming of the mis- 
ery in store for us. About eleven o’clock it began to rain, 
and continued to pour incessantly all night. At first our 
covering of boughs and birch bark withstood the pelting 
onslaught, but presently drip, drip came the heavy drops. 
Turn how we would we could not escape them, and fitfully 
dozed and as fitfully woke up with a start. 
The following morning after breakfast De Courcy and 
self started for a ‘‘barren” which lay close to the camp. A 
slight ascent brought us to the plain, which stretched inland 
some miles, surrounded (save on the side nearest the bay) 
by woods, which form picturesque capes and headlands in 
this vast sea. Pools and creeks of dark water, encircled 
by irregular sized patches of peaty .bog, intersect the bar- 
ren, which is covered with a thick green moss and lichen, 
and a species of plant in outward appearance closely resem- 
bling heather, while squash, pigeon, and other berries attain 
a large growth. At every step the foot sinks deep in the 
crisp, dry moss, and renders walking most laborious. From 
the feathers and numerous ‘‘droppings” these barrens are 
"evidently the favorite resort of wild geese, which, with the 
rise of the tide come sweeping in from the reefs. Unfor- 
tunately it was now nearly low water, and they were singu- 
larly devoid of life, a solitary yellow-leg alone flitting over 
the pools. I mistook it fora jacksnipe and fired. The 
bird fell in the centre of a pool, and could only be 
approached by passing over some very treacherous looking © 
ground, From a slight experience, however, of the bogs 
of the ‘‘ould counthry,” I flattered myself I could get it, 
and springing’ lightly from patch to patch of grass hauled 
the bird forth and held it upin triumph. My troubles 
were not at an end, for on turning to retrace my steps my 
slight support gave way, and the next moment I went souse 
up to the waist. Sie transit gloria mundi. The situation 
was by no means pleasant, as I found myself settling down 
in the most disagreeable manner. Luckily De Courcey was 
at hand, and with his assistance and a deal of ‘“‘tugging” I 
was extricated minus one boot, and with a coating of rich 
mud and clay deep enough to have grown potatoes in. I 
didn’t bless that yellow-leg, but it was fortunate it was no 
worse, as our Indians told us afterwards that men have 
been lost in these bogs, so deep and tenacious are they in 
many places. In the afternoon we went out shooting in 
the canoe and bagged four ducks and one plover. The for- 
mer are very wild, and it was with the greatest difficulty 
we got within range. This evening we turned in early, as 
we purposed crossing the bay at high tide at four o’clock 
A. M. 
[ Zo be Continued. | 


with sandy beaches, backed by picturesque limestone cliffs, | | Jere ig an account of a very ludicrous fishing match on 
diversify the scenery, and the bay imperceptibly contracts, | the Nidd: 
{ 
like the purse of a seine, till where, some two miles from: « Axa@rmye MatcH In THE Nipp.—The third Walshford 
the mouth, it receives a small sluggish stream, flowing {| Bridge and Kuaresborough angling match took place on 
through grassy bottoms, indented by projecting copses of | Monday last. 
spruce and pine. At the head of aneighboring inlet, known 
as Gamache’s bay, from a worthy of that name, who 
was one of the first settlers, and of whom some ugly stories 
The left bank of the river from Hard- 
castle’s mill at Hunsingore and two miles beyond was staked 
out as the portion to fish, about twenty yards was allotted 
to each angler, and 173 competed. The day was excessively 
hot, but a slight wind caused a nice ripple on the water, 
are told, stands the provision post, for the relief of ship-| which was slightly colored, but the fish captured were 
wrecked mariners, and the comfortable looking cottage of | meagre in the extreme, many of the rodsters not even getting 
Captain Setter, whose fine’ breed of cattle may be seen;® nibble. 5 
‘At | many experienced anglers engaged, is surely a memorable 
grazing on the marshy land we have just alluded to. 
the entrance of the bay I got into the canoe and endeavored. 
to “bag” a seal; they proved, however, too quick, diving ! 
simultaneously with the flash, and after several ineffectual 
“dodges” to try to get to windward, and so obtain a shot at 
the side of the head (where they could not see the flash), 
I gave it up, and, paddling ashore, lit a fire, and was soon 
deep in the mysteries of baking ‘‘chupatties” (an Indian 

This poor result from this river, and the 
event in the history of trial fishing. The trees adorning the - 
bank of the river gave shelter to many of the rodsters, but the 
luckless who were cast forthe open had to avail themselves 
of the slight protection afforded by umbrellas, &c., the 
heat being overpowering. The competitors were some 
dozen in number. All the skill of the anglers did not get 
a stone of fish amongst them. Just before the gun signal- 
led “‘cease fishing,” the fish were only beginning to bite, 
the power of the sun having decreased, one angler get- 
cake made of flour and water, with a little butter to fry it} ting a prize with three fish caught, about twenty minutes 
im) and other culinary preparations for breakfast ; of al |lbefore time was called.” First prize £6, caught i Ib 64 oz 

