A LEGEND OF GENERAL WOLFE 253

evenings and erect and destroy the Liberal and Con- servative policies, the “furriners” and the local news. A most delightful custom. We passed by slowly.

“And now, let’s go fishing,” Jean suggested. She had been suggesting fishing at least three times a day for the last four days. My resistance was worn down —-and, besides, I wanted to go fishing, too. Un- doubtedly, Pierre Jacques was the spot. It was, as Jean remarked shortly afterwards, the spot especially for mosquitoes. Our motions were singularly alike; namely, bait, cast, swat. At times it became swat, bait, swat, cast, swat, swat. And at rarer intervals, swat, swat, bait, cast, pull, land. Then, we had lunch, or what seemed more like it—a jolly swatting party.

“Had enough?” Jean queried.

“ Bites? ” I inquired, looking for a spot that was free from mosquitoes.

“Let’s go. ”

“Right!”

And we swatted up the road to the village of O’Leary.

O'Leary is a typical inland Village containing as it does the customary buildings—church, bank, station, stores, and houses. Its sidewalk is its real treasure. Any one who can walk from one end to the other without assuming a horizontal position at least once is a perfect marvel. The sidewalk goes up in places, and then down, then flat, then up again and down. Then it gives up the ghost and breaks to pieces in hilly fashion. It is a unique sidewalk and one which confirms a real distinction on the person able to negotiate it safely. Something should be done.