cool stream as we skimmed along, listening to the
whistling of the solitary loon as it paddled away from us, or watching
the serrated back of the sturgeon, as he rolled lazily over and showed
above the water. Now and then we stopped, and the silence of the desert
was broken by the report of our fowling-pieces, and a pigeon or two was
added to our larder. At noon a breeze sprung up, and we hoisted our
sail, and the Canadians who had paddled dropped asleep as we glided
quietly along under the guidance of the "timonier."

After you have passed through the river St Clair, and entered the Huron
lake, the fertility of the country gradually disappears. Here and there
indeed, especially on the Canadian side, a spot more rich than the soil
in general is shewn by the large growth of the timber; but the northern
part of the Lake Huron shores is certainly little fit for cultivation.
The spruce fir now begins to be plentiful; for, until you come to the
upper end of the lake, they are scarce, although very abundant in Upper
Canada. The country wears the same appearance all the way up to the
Sault St Marie, shewing maple and black poplar intermingled with fir:
the oak but rarely appearing. The whole lake from Mackinaw to the
Detour is studded with islands. A large one at the entrance of the
river is called St Joseph's. The Hudson Bay Company had a station
there, which is now abandoned, and the island has been purchased, or
granted, to an English officer, who has partly settled it. It is said
to be the best land in this region, but still hardly fit for
cultivation. It was late before our arrival at the Sault, and we were
obliged to have recourse to our paddles, for the wind had died away. As
the sun went down, we observed a very curious effect from the refraction
of tints, the water changing to a bright violet every time that it was
disturbed by the paddles. I have witnessed something like this just
after sunset on the Lake of Geneva.

We landed at dusk, much fatigued; but the Aurora Borealis flashed in the
heavens, spreading out like a vast plume of ostrich feathers across the
sky, every minute changing its beautiful and fanciful forms. Tired as
we were, we watched it for hours before we could make up our minds to go
to bed.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Sault St Marie--Our landlord is a very strange being. It appears that
he has been annoyed by some traveller, who has published a work in which
he has found fault