its milky froth around for a brief second or 
     
     two, and then becomes lost to the sight in 
     
     the general silvery calm that prevails. The 
     
     sky overhead is clear, while near the 
     
     horizon beautiful clouds of grey and 
     
     sun—lit white lend enehantment to the , 
     
     distant mountain range on the north, 
     
     now drawing nearer and nearer and 
     
     gradually becoming distinguishable. 
     
     To the west a barge is crossing south, and its long trail of black smoke 
     
     reaches down to the Hare Islands where it mingles with the white 
     
     fleece of the cloud horizon and reflects a glint of sunshine over the 
     
     island slopes. ' 
     
    

    
     To the far west the Allan liner that passed by an hour 
     
     before is mingling its smoke and vapor with that of the barge. 
     
     and building strange and fantastic castles in the air. To the east 
     
     Red Island looks like a long pontoon craft calmly sailing over 
     
     the waters. Before us the mountain range that erstwhile was dark, 
     
     and dimly Visible, is now clearing and coming within view, and 
     
     shows light and shade of green fields and darker woodland. 
     
    

    
     As if by magic, the water has suddenly taken on a deep blue, 
     
     and the effect is to make the distant hills further off than they seemed 
     
     before. Now we pass through a river of molten silver, the wake 
     
     of a vessel that. went by long ago. Gliding through, we reach a lake- 
     
     like expanse, cerulean in hue, and St. Catharines comes into view 
     
     over the bow of our vessel, with Tadousac beyond on the right. 
     
    

    
     We are now nearing the famous Saguenay, where the mariners 
     
     of ten centuries ago tarried after their long voyage to the ‘Ultima 
     
     Thule' of those remote days. 
     
    

    
     That which appeared to be a huge cloud bank over the rent 
     
     in the mountain range. where. pours out the river in a mighty flood, 
     
     is now assuming form as a second and greater range beyond, dwarfing 
     
     more. and more the high riparian hills into comparative insig- 
     
     nificance. 
     
    

    
     But Tadousac is near, its grand prospect is spread out for our 
     
     gaze on every side, and we are making fast to a wharf in a romantic, 
     
     rocky cove—fiboth wharf and cove presenting the appearance of having 
     
     dropped out of some picture-book in the clouds, so charming and 
     
     striking is the whole scene. 
     
    

    
     Tadousac was named by the native Montagnais Indians, the 
     
     word meaning mounds, or, as in this case, mountains. It has been 
     
    
   
   
    
       
     
          
     
    
   
   
    
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