Trout-fishing is obligatory. A visitor is at liberty to play golf, canoe, walk, or not, as he pleases; but unless he is willing to pass for a misanthrope, or, what is worse, a misichthus (or whatever word will serve to designate some wretch of Doctor Johnson’s way of thinking), he must go trout-fishing. Let me hasten to say that what we in our slipshod American fashion call trout are not the true British-born trout, but char or I know not what else. This, very properly, is the A B C of a Canadian’s education. The way to go trout-fishing is to camp on the shore of one of the little lakes in the back country. There a club or a host provides a tent, and the guest brings his rod, blankets, and food. The _gardien_ of the lake, and one or two of his friends, cook, make the fires, and paddle the boats. Some people--parsons, Englishmen, young ladies--are totally absorbed in weights and numbers and interminable fish-stories. Others, of soberer disposition or piscatorial incapacity, enjoy the woods, the birds, the shy hare, the amiable chipmunk, and all the denizens of the forest. But the great pleasure of it all is to sit about the fire after supper, with the stars overhead and a faint breeze just audible over the lake and in the trees, and listen to the men sing their Canadian songs. There are no better-mannered people than the _habitants_ who live on the borders of the woods. In earlier times all the natives used to have charming manners, but the coming of strangers who set no special store by manners--Americans who have more important things to think about, others from different places who hold themselves superior to the natives--has tended to bring in different standards and values. But even now the habitants on the borders of the woods have always good manners--a refinement, a self-effacement, a wealth of consideration for their guests--that must rank as one of the fine arts. Their manners are their chief possession; they are poor and not quick-witted. One gardien, to whom a letter had been sent bidding him be ready to expect a party of fishermen on Monday, was discovered sitting on his door-step. _Gardien_: “Bonjour, messieurs.” _We_: “Bonjour, mon ami, est-ce que tout est prêt?” _Gardien_: “Que voulez-vous dire, messieurs?” _We_: “N’avez-vous pas reçu notre lettre?” _Gardien_: “Ah, oui, j’ai reçu votre lettre.” _We_: “Eh bien, nous avons dit que nous arriverions aujourd’hui, lundi” (“We said that we should come to-day, Monday”). _Gardien_ (after a pause): “J’ai lu _lundi_, mais j’ai compris _jeudi_” (“I read Monday, but I understood Thursday”).