where the pools are numerous and accessible, where grisle are seldom encountered, and where the scenery is as magnificent as the fishing is superb. A few of these rivers are within easy reach of steamboat, railroad and telegraph communication. Others (and many of the best of them) are so far from these conveniences that business men, who do not care to put themselves wholly beyond the reach of their correspondents, seldom visit them.

Several of both these classes of rivers were available to our party the present season, and it was not until late in May that it was finally determined to revisit the Cascapedia the scene of our last year's exploits, and, taking it all in all, one of the very best rivers on the continent. While it is as true of angling as of every thing else, that "variety's the very spice of life," we were all glad when this conclusion was reached; for we had such pleasant recollections of this river- of its grand pools, its monster salmon and its magnificent scenery that the thought of change was never agreeable.

We proceeded to our destination over the same route as last year - viâ Boston, Portland, Bangor, St. John and Shediac by rail, and thence some three hundred miles by steamboat. The route is a very pleasant one, but neither shorter nor pleasanter than by way of Quebec, from whence a fine

PLEASURES OF ANGLING.

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steamer leaves once a week, for Gaspe, Dalhousie, Pictou, etc. The sail by this latter route through the Gulf and Bays which intervene, is one of the most delightful imaginable if the weather is pleasant and no fogs show themselves. Those who want to know all about it are referred to Harper's recently published "Guide to the Maritime Provinces."

Dalhousie, where we left the steamer, is "beautiful for situation," but only interesting to anglers as being the centre of several of the best salmon rivers on the continent. The Restigouche empties into the bay of Chaleur in its immediate neighborhood, and the Cascapedia lies on the opposite shore only a few miles distant. The former is by far the larger river, and has abundant room for a score of rods; but while the Cascapedia is of less volume, it is generally preferred, not only because the fish are uniformly larger, but because the pools are more distinctly marked and the scenery more attractive.

And this latter consideration never fails to enter into the calculations of the true angler; for it is a great mistake to assume that his fondness for the art has no other or higher inspiration than the anticipated excitement of catching fish. Many excellent trout streams wend their way, for long distances, through flat lands and tangled morasses.

I have been beguiled to such sluggish streams by glowing representations of large fish and plenty of them. But I could never be tempted to repeat my visit. Half the pleasure, and more, of camp-life depends upon where you pitch your tent. Whoever has imbibed the gentle and poetic spirit of the old masters must have pleasant surroundings or he soon wearies of the sport. To enjoy the pastime in full measure there must be rapid and cascade, rock and mountain, forest and flower, songbird and murmuring waters. The rise and strike and play of a mammoth trout or salmon is to the angler what the stir and bustle and push of commerce is to the man of business. They give buoyancy to the spirits, elasticity to the step, activity to the brain and a quicker flow to the life-currents of the whole system. But this season of busy activity finds delightful relief in the quiet repose of a pleasant home. The tug and swirl and lusty play of a twenty-pound salmon thrills the nerves like an electric current, makes every muscle tingle with ecstacy, and sends the blood coursing through the body as if each particular vein was the highway of an aurora borealis. But even in the midst of the fierce struggle, his eye takes in the scenic beauties with which he is encompassed. He sees the deep pool encircled by the white foam of the swift moving waters; the ponderous bowlders

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which rise like water-giants all around him; the foaming rapid whose approach is smooth as glass and which reflects back the sun's rays like a polished mirror; the luxuriant foliage which fringes the stream and which is re-produced in even richer hues by the transparent water into which it casts its refreshing shadows; and the cloud-capped hills which are around him " as the mountains are round about Jerusalem."

Of course, the supreme business of the hour when hooked to a fish is to land him, but even this highest source of the angler's pleasure would soon lose its charm, if, during the progress of the struggle, the eye was not occasionally relieved by these visions of beauty. No, it is not all of fishing to fish. If it were, the angler would not be able to claim fellowship with the long line of poets, philosophers, divines and statesmen whose names, from the time of St. Peter to the present hour, have adorned its annals.

Our party consisted of Gen. ARTHUR, R. G. DUN, Judge FULLERTON and myself — the Judge taking the place of our lamented friend PELL, who was called to his rest soon after his return home last August. While we greatly missed him, no more agreeable companion than Judge FULLERTON ever cast a fly or enlivened a camp-fire. He had just escaped from the Brooklyn court-room, where

for months he had attracted the attention of the whole country by his masterly examination and cross-examination of witnesses in the famous. Beecher trial. The excessive mental labor was most exhausting, and no man anywhere more needed or more deserved the relaxation which nothing so well as angling affords. He had, withal, on the very eve of his departure, met with an accident which compelled the use of a crutch, and which, for a time, threatened to deprive him of the pleasure of the trip and his friends the pleasure of his companionship. But, fortunately, he was able to start, whereat he rejoiced more than when all men praised him for his marvellous professional skill and genius.

Gen. ARTHUR was also an invalid. In spite of his magnificent physique, sustained by a constitution perfected by the accumulated vigor of many generations, he had reached the verge of complete exhaustion by overwork and anxiety in the discharge of his onerous and complicated official duties. His great debility resulted in what very soon proved to be a most malignant carbuncle, causing him great suffering and his friends extreme uneasiness. But while his physicians doubted the propriety of his entering upon his purposed journey, he preferred rather to take the risk than to forego the anticipated pleasure. So, with face poulticed and bandaged as if he had been participating in the