e plain prettily the "Jardin
des Ours." Other sport than trout fishing there is. In season the
caribou and the moose are abundant--but that is a sportsman's tale by
itself.

Fishing and hunting are not the sole diversions. As long ago as in 1811,
when young Captain Nairne came here fresh from Europe, the boating
attracted him and he spent much time on the bay and the river. No doubt
the young seigneur was soon skilful in the art of paddling a canoe. In
those days there were real Indians and no other canoes than those of
birch bark; now these have well-nigh disappeared and, indeed, few
visitors at Murray Bay, use any kind of a canoe. The pastime is thought
too dangerous for all but the initiated. Amid these mountains, winds
rise quickly and beat up a sea, and it is well to keep near the shore.
The rising tide sweeps like a mill race over the bar at the mouth of the
bay and when one has passed out to the great river it is like being
afloat on the open sea. On perfectly calm days we may go far out to be
swept up with the tide; but it is both safer and pleasanter to glide
along close to shore under the shadow of the cliffs, around sharp
corners, dodging in and out among boulders submerged, or now being
submerged, by the rising tide. The successive sandy beaches are each
backed by high cliffs. The river is a shining, spangled, surface of
light blue and white, reflecting the sky sprinkled with fleecy clouds.
Here a chattering stream, the Petit Ruisseau, falls over white rocks to
lose itself in the sand. Far ahead now one can see the Church of Ste.
Irenee perched on a level table-land, two or three hundred feet above
the river. Soon a dark green line on the high birch-clad shore marks the
gorge by which the Grand Ruisseau flows to the St. Lawrence. At its
mouth is a good place to land and make tea. The canoes are drawn up on a
sandy beach under the shadow of cliffs, a medley of red and grey and
brown. Near by, the Grand Ruisseau, a fair sized brook, babbles in its
bed crowded with great boulders. A wild path, part of it including steps
from rock to rock in the bed of the stream itself, leads to a lovely
little cascade where, in white foam, the water falls into a deep dark
pool. One hurries to visit it and then, with the evening shadows falling
and the narrow gorge becoming sombre, it is wise to hasten back. As one
steps out from the wooded path to the shore of the great river the scene
is enchanting. The river's shining surfac