It is almost exclusively inhabited by
British settlers. In the townships, Frenchmen
are as rare as negroes in Siberia. The
first township we came to was that of Leeds;
on entering which we found a great change in
the whole aspect of the country. From being
flat and monotonous it became suddenly varied
and undulating, and appeared to consist of a
succession of rather lofty ridges, with broad
belts of fertile table land at their summit. On
gaining the top of the first, we turned to enjoy
the prospect which lay behind us. It was
really magnificent. The air was so clear and
crisp, that almost every object embraced within
the distant horizon had a distinct form and
outline. The level tract over which we had
passed lay extended beneath our feet, stretching
for about forty miles to the St. Lawrence.
In appearance it was as variegated as a
carpet,—the white patches of every shape
and size with which it was interspersed
indicating the clearances amongst the dark
brown woods. The bold and precipitous banks
of the St. Lawrence could be traced for miles,
whilst here and there the stream itself was
visible. The distant city, on its rocky promontory,
came out in fine relief against the
sky, its tin covered spires glistening in the
sunshine like silver pinacles. A little to the
right, the outline of the chain of hills lying
behind it, although they were fully sixty miles
distant from us, was distinctly visible in the
far-off heavens.

On quitting Leeds, our way led chiefly
through the woods, the clearances being now
the rare exception.

At length we reached the district, or "township,"
of New Ireland, which having been
settled by immigrants from Maine and New
Hampshire, more than forty years ago, is
now reckoned one of the wealthiest and most
prosperous parts of the country. To one of
its well-to-do farmers we had introductions,
and took up our quarters. His large and
spacious house was built upon a high bank,
overlooking one of the smaller lakes, from
which our sport was to be derived, because
it afforded one of the best fishing grounds in
the neighbourhood. Shortly after breakfast
(the buck-wheat cakes and pumpkin pie were
beyond praise), we prepared for a day's sport.
Our tackle would appear rather odd to
English sportsmen: our lines consisted of
strong hempen cords, of which we provided
ourselves with about a dozen. To each were
attached two very large hooks, dressed upon
thin whip-cord. We had likewise three axes,
and as many chisels of the largest size, attached
to handles about six feet long. In addition to
these we had a shovel and a broad hoe. They
were all stowed into a large hand sleigh,
which was dragged to the fishing ground by a
servant.

The lake was about three miles long and
half-a-mile wide. It lay in a beautiful valley,
embossed in the deep and sombre pine woods,
which covered the lower grounds. It was one
of a series, some of which were smaller and
others much larger than itself. For fully five
months in the year the surface of each is frozen
to the depth of several feet. We started
off to skate to the upper end, which was two-and-a-half
miles distant. My friend Blungle,
not an accomplished skater, made so very
false a start, that he was speedily noticed
spinning round rapidly on the ice on a pivot,
of which his heels and his head formed opposite
angles—precisely like a rotatory letter V.
Perroque, our French comforter and guide
is a perfect Perrot in skates, and performed
the most graceful evolutions around our
prostrate friend, in a manner that produced a
pretty and highly diverting tableau. At
last, however, he managed to "feel his feet"
better, and we all soon afterwards reached
the fishing ground.

The spot selected was close to the head of
the lake, where the stream flowing from that
immediately above, fell into it. Here the
fish are generally attracted by the greater
quantity of food there deposited by the
stream. In winter they have additional
inducements, owing to the greater warmth
of the water from the number of springs in
the neighbourhood, and to the greater abundance
of light which they enjoy through the
ice which is here comparatively thin. Indeed,
over some of the springs no ice forms during
the coldest seasons. Our first care was to
make at least half-a-dozen holes in the ice.
This sportsman-like operation we commenced
with our axes, making each hole about three
feet in diameter. When we got down about
a foot or so the axes became useless to us,
and we had to resort to our chisels, with
which we speedily progressed; clearing the
holes of the broken ice with the shovel first
and afterwards with the hoe. We were not
long at work, before we found the utility of
the long handles of both hoe and chisels, the
ice which we had to perforate being fully
three feet thick. There is a legend in the
neighbourhood, of an Irishman, who, having
forgotten his chisel, very wisely got into the
hole which he was cutting, that he might use
his axe with better effect; he, of course, kept
going down as the hole got deeper and deeper,
until, at last, he went down altogether, and,
according to the report, made food for the
fish he intended to capture.

Things being thus prepared, we baited our
hooks with pieces of fat pork, and dropped
them into the water—the lines being set in
each hole—the other end of each line was
attached to the middle of a stick, about six
feet in length, so placed, that it could not
be dragged into the hole. These we left
lying upon the ice, some distance from the
holes, so as to give us warning of a bite, and
the fish an opportunity of running a little
when hooked. The contemplative angler of
the Waltonian School has no chance here,
for he would be inevitably frozen to an
icicle before he obtained so much as a bite.