ant American colony.

The influx has limited and restricted but has not destroyed the old
diversion of fishing. There are still many hundreds of lakes in the
neighbourhood on which no fisherman has ever yet cast a fly. But nearly
all the good spots within easy range are now leased or owned by private
persons and clubs; no longer may the transient tourist fish almost where
he pleases. All the better for this restriction is the quality of the
fishing. What magnificent sport there is in some of those tiny lakes on
the mountain side and what glorious views as one drives thither! To
reach Lac a Comporte, for instance, one crosses the brawling Murray,
drives up its left bank for a mile or so and then heads straight up the
mountain side. Turning back one can see the silver gleam of the small
river winding through its narrow valley until lost in the enveloping
mountains. From points still higher one looks northwestward upon the
mountain crests worn round ages ago, some of them probably never yet
trodden by the foot of man. Most are wooded to the top but there are
bare crags, a glowing purple sometimes in the afternoon light; but the
prevailing tone is the deep, deep blue, the richest surely that nature
can show anywhere. Along the road where we are driving stretch the
houses of the habitants and sometimes, to survey the passing strangers,
the whole family stands on the rude door-step. They rarely fail in a
courteous greeting, with a touch still of the manners of France.

Two or three days spent on one of these wild mountain lakes, such as Lac
a Comporte, is as pleasant an experience as any one can have. The walk
is beautiful from the last cottage where the vehicles are left and the
two or three men are secured who shoulder the packs with the necessary
provisions. At first the forest path is hewn broadly in a straight line
but it soon narrows to a trail winding up the mountain side. The way is
rough; one must clamber over occasional boulders and turn aside to avoid
fallen trees. The white stems of birches are conspicuous in the forest
thicket. After a stiff climb we have passed over the shoulder of the
mountain; the path is now trending downward and at length through the
arch of green over the pathway one catches the gleam of the lake. The
pace quickens and in a few minutes we stand upon the shore of a lovely
little sheet of water with a shore line perhaps three miles long, lying
in the mountain hollow. Evening is near and, half