ng most of the day and pull against the
current at night. The moon and the bright auroral lights made this task
an agreeable one. Then, too, we had Coggia's comet speeding through the
northern heavens, awakening many an odd conjecture in the mind of my old
salt.

In this high latitude day dawned before three o'clock, and the twilight
lingered so long that we could read the fine print of a newspaper
without effort at a quarter to nine o'clock P. M. The lofty shores that
surrounded us at Quebec gradually decreased in elevation, and the tides
affected the river less and less as we approached Three Rivers, where
they seemed to cease altogether. We reached the great lumber station of
Three Rivers, which is located on the left bank of the St. Lawrence, on
Friday evening, and moved our canoe into quiet waters near the entrance
of Lake of St. Peter. Rain squalls kept us close under our hatch-cloth
till eleven o'clock A. M. on Saturday, when, the wind being fair, we
determined to make an attempt to reach Sorel, which would afford us a
pleasant camping-ground for Sunday.

Lake of St. Peter is a shoal sheet of water twenty-two miles long and
nearly eight miles wide, a bad place to cross in a small boat in windy
weather. We set our sail and sped merrily on, but the tempest pressed us
sorely, compelling us to take in our sail and scud under bare poles
until one o'clock, when we double-reefed and set the sail. We now flew
over the short and swashy seas as blast after blast struck our little
craft. At three o'clock the wind slackened, permitting us to shake out
our reefs and crowd on all sail. A labyrinth of islands closed the lake
at its western end, and we looked with anxiety to find among them an
opening through which we might pass into the river St. Lawrence again.
At five o'clock the wind veered to the north, with squalls increasing in
intensity. We steered for a low, grassy island, which seemed to separate
us from the river. The wind was not free enough to permit us to weather
it, so we decided to beach the boat and escape the furious tempest. But
when we struck the marshy island we kept moving on through the rushes
that covered it, and fairly sailed over its submerged soil into the
broad water on the other side. Bodfish earnestly advised the propriety
of anchoring here for the night, saying, "It is too rough to go on;" but
the temptation held out by the proximity to Sorel determined me to take
the risk and drive on. Again we b