Mine came to me in the autumn of 1894, on the banks of the
Unpronounceable River, in the Province of Quebec.  It was the last
day, of the open season for ouananiche, and we had set our hearts on
catching some good fish to take home with us.  We walked up from the
mouth of the river, four preposterously long and rough miles, to the
famous fishing-pool, "LA PLACE DE PECHE A BOIVIN."  It was a noble
day for walking; the air was clear and crisp, and all the hills
around us were glowing with the crimson foliage of those little
bushes which God created to make burned lands look beautiful.  The
trail ended in a precipitous gully, down which we scrambled with
high hopes, and fishing-rods unbroken, only to find that the river
was in a condition which made angling absurd if not impossible.

There must have been a cloud-burst among the mountains, for the
water was coming down in flood.  The stream was bank-full, gurgling
and eddying out among the bushes, and rushing over the shoal where
the fish used to lie, in a brown torrent ten feet deep.  Our last
day with the land-locked salmon seemed destined to be a failure, and
we must wait eight months before we could have another.  There were
three of us in the disappointment, and we shared it according to our
temperaments.

Paul virtuously resolved not to give up while there was a chance
left, and wandered down-stream to look for an eddy where he might
pick up a small fish.  Ferdinand, our guide, resigned himself
without a sigh to the consolation of eating blueberries, which he
always did with great cheerfulness.  But I, being more cast down
than either of my comrades, sought out a convenient seat among the
rocks, and, adapting my anatomy as well as possible to the
irregularities of nature's upholstery, pulled from my pocket AN
AMATEUR ANGLER'S DAYS IN DOVE DALE, and settled down to read myself
into a Christian frame of mind.

Before beginning, my eyes roved sadly over the pool once more.  It
was but a casual glance.  It lasted only for an instant.  But in
that fortunate fragment of time I distinctly saw the broad tail of a
big ouananiche rise and disappear in the swift water at the very
head of the pool.

Immediately the whole aspect of affairs was changed.  Despondency
vanished, and the river glittered with the beams of rising hope.

Such is the absurd disposition of some anglers.  They never see a
fish without believing that they can catch him; but if they see no
fish, they are inclined to think that the river is empty and the
world hollow.

I said nothing to my companions.  It would have been unkind to
disturb them with expectations which might never be realized.  My
immediate duty was to get within casting distance of that salmon as
soon as possible.

The way along the shore of the pool was difficult.  The bank was
very steep, and the rocks by the river's edge were broken and
glibbery.  Presently I came to a sheer wall of stone, perhaps thirty
feet high, rising directly from the deep water.