swirl of water when the river's
current held high carnival over these level stretches. Then the course
leads up to the higher slope and mounts steadily, until, at the farthest
hole, a considerable height has been reached. As one turns back towards
the river he faces a wonder scene of changing grey and blue and green
and white. The smoke of passing steamers floats lazily in the air; they
take the deep channel by the south shore and are a dozen miles away. It
is usually a silent world that one looks out upon; but when there is a
north-east wind great green waves come rolling in upon the sandy shore
of the bay and fill the air with their undertone.

Even the rainy days have their own pleasures. One is glad of its excuse
to sit before a crackling fire of birch wood and read. When the rain has
ceased and the sun comes out, looking across to Cap a l'Aigle and up
the river valley one sees new beauties. The mist disperses slowly. First
it leaves bare the rounded mountain tops; they stand out dark, massive,
with bases shrouded still in fleecy white. When the sun grows strong,
river and valley are soon clear again, though the outlines are still a
little softened. Up over the sand and boulders of the bay comes the
rising tide changing sombre brown to shining blue. It rushes noisily
across the bar at the bay's mouth a few hundred yards away.

The visitors to this beautiful scene gather year by year from places
widely separated and form in this remote village a society singularly
cosmopolitan. English, French, Americans, Canadians, all mingle here
with leisure to meet and play together. For a time far away seems the
hard world of competition. Rarely do newspapers arrive until at least
the day after publication; the telegraph is used only under urgent
necessity; as far as possible business is excluded. The cottages are
spacious enough but quite simple, with rooms usually divided off only by
boards of pine or spruce. Very little decoration makes them pretty.
Gardening has a good many devotees; the long day of sunshine and in some
seasons the abundant rain of this northern region help to make
vegetation luxurious. If one drives he may take a _planche_--the
convenient serviceable "buck-board,"--still unsurpassed for a country
of hills and rough roads. But to me at least the _caleche_ is the more
enjoyable. It comes here from old France, a two-wheeled vehicle, with
the seat hung on stout leather straps reaching from front to back on
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