nel through the massive mountains amid which it has its source. So, one sunny afternoon my canoe was headed thitherward with as keen a relish for discovery as ever Columbus experienced while wearily waiting for royalty to launch him out upon unknown seas. And I had my reward in such a revelation of beauty as seldom comes to mortal vision. When we had pushed our way through some half mile of very swift water, we dropped into a natural basin of solid rock, whose picturesque surroundings constituted a fitting frame-work for the most charming and peaceful picture I ever saw. The water was from twenty to fifty feet deep, yet so transparent that the tiniest pebble was as clearly visible at the greatest depth as if held in the naked hand. What a pool for trout in their season! Now, however, not a fish revealed himself. I made a few casts, but without discovering any sign of life until my fly reached the rim of the basin, sixty feet distant, and then I only "flushed" a large trout, who refused my lure and moved off a few feet, as if disturbed by the unexpected apparition. But the water was so clear that I saw his every movement as he lay in seeming dread of what might befall him. In all my travels I never met with any water so perfectly transparent, or in which a minute object could be seen at so great a depth.

A few rods further brought us to the foot of the falls—a triplet of terraced cascades, combining as many points of beauty as Trenton, with more picturesque surroundings and as much to captivate the artist and excite the admiration of the appreciative lover of nature. They are seldom visited, even by anglers, because they are but little talked of. My Indian guide knew of them, but seemed to have no thought that any one would care to see them; and it was not until I announced my purpose to start out on a tour of observation that he informed me that I would find something that would reward me for my trouble. Hereafter, so long as I shall be permitted to fish in these waters, I will be sure to pay these falls a visit.

Similar bits of scenery are scattered all over this vast wilderness of forest, river and mountain. All the rivers have their sources hundreds of feet above the sea. The descent is not always made by a succession of rapids. At some points in most of them there are falls of no mean altitude, beyond which no salmon can ascend, and at the foot of which, in the season, they gather in fabulous numbers. There is such a gathering place on this river, seventy miles from the sea. We were within twenty miles of it, but such fearful stories were told us of the difficulty of making the ascent — of foaming rapids and jagged rocks, and probable shipwreck

that we consoled ourselves with the reflection that it "wouldn't pay," the more particularly as our own knowledge of the river convinced us that the trip was only practicable during a higher stage of water than prevailed while we were in camp at the Forks. But I hope, before Providence shall shut me off from the Cascapedia, to behold the wonders which may be seen at this famous sort" of the aristocracy of the sea.

66

summer re

In a recent letter I had occasion to mention a mishap which befell Mr. KINNEAR and Capt. GRANT. A similar incident occurred to Gen. ARTHUR Soon after. He had been fishing "Lazy Bogan a famous pool in the vicinity of our camp - with indifferent success, when he deemed it advisable to change his base. To do so it was necessary to cross the stream at right angles with the current. Ordinarily this could have been done with safety, but unfortunately the General, with an eye to comfort, had placed a chair in his canoe, and in crossing, the frail craft careened under the pressure of the swift water, and this caused the chair to tilt and brought the General's two hundred pounds "avoir-du-pois" to such an angle as to cause the canoe to roll over "quicker than you could say Jack Robinson." The General, always submissive to constituted authority, promptly obeyed the law of gravitation, and was instantly

submerged. But being a good swimmer, instead of ignominiously beating a retreat for the shore, he made for the canoe to prevent it, if possible, from passing down the rapids, to be there wrecked upon the rocks. But "Lo, the poor Indian," having either less courage or more discretion, made for terra firma with masterly "neatness and dispatch." And, as the sequel proved, it was well that he did, for as he was stoically watching the canoe and its submerged but self-possessed navigator, he saw the General's pocket-book gracefully floating down stream, and succeeded in clutching it. The fact that it was so light that it floated should be universally received as conclusive of its owner's official integrity. Indeed, but for this incidental evidence of his "honest poverty," it may be questioned whether he would have received the high honor of a unanimous vote on the question of his confirmation, for a second term, as Collector of the Port of New York. No other mischief resulted from this mishap than a thorough ducking, except that the General's watch stopped at the moment of the disaster, which was precisely eight minutes to seven, on one of the loveliest evenings of the year.

Something which might have been more serious occurred to myself while passing down one of the most impetuous rapids on the river. My Indian

guide was in the bow of the canoe. He saw a dangerous rock ahead, and gave proper directions to the man in the stern, but his directions were misapprehended. The result was that while the one was trying to keep the canoe on the shore side of the rock, the other was doing his best to keep the rock on the shore side of the canoe. In this conflict of muscle the frail craft was rushing headon to the rock at a speed of at least twenty miles an hour. The Indian saw the peril, and with a sweep of his paddle into which he seemingly put the strength of ten men, he succeeded in swinging the canoe inward, so that the bow just grazed the bowlder, while its bulging side came against it with a thud which, but for the elastic character of the birch bark of which it was constructed, would have smashed it into a thousand pieces. It was an anxious moment, for the water rushed downward amid a hundred other rocks with such force that only an expert swimmer could have got through in safety. The Indian was evidently in a white heat with rage, and so, from the fact that I never before heard him use an improper word, I hadn't the heart to chide him when he said: "Albert, don't you be damn fool any more!" And he wasn't. We shot through scores of rapids afterward (including the Indian Falls, the worst that I ever saw a canoe pass through and live) without a