pedition will be
successful, as it is fitted out by a Company intimately acquainted with
the difficulties and dangers of the country through which it will have
to pass, and the best methods of overcoming and avoiding them. Besides,
the doctor himself is well accustomed to the life he will have to lead;
and enters upon it, not with the vague and uncertain notions of Back and
Franklin, but with a pretty correct apprehension of the probable routine
of procedure, and the experience of a great many years spent in the
service of the Hudson Bay Company [see note 1]. After a few minutes'
conversation we parted, and pursued our respective journeys.

Towards sunset we encamped on the margin of a small lake, or expanse of
the river; and soon the silence of the forest was broken by the merry
voices of our men, and by the crashing of the stately trees, as they
fell under the axes of the _voyageurs_. The sun's last rays streamed
across the water in a broad red glare, as if jealous of the huge
campfire, which now rose crackling among the trees, casting a ruddy glow
upon our huts, and lighting up the swarthy faces of our men as they
assembled round it to rest their weary limbs, and to watch the
operations of the cook while he prepared their evening meal.

In less than an hour after we landed, the floor of our tent was covered
with a smoking dish of fried pork, a huge ham, a monstrous teapot, and
various massive slices of bread, with butter to match. To partake of
these delicacies, we seated ourselves in Oriental fashion, and sipped
our tea in contemplative silence, as we listened to the gentle murmur of
a neighbouring brook, and gazed through the opening of our tent at the
_voyageurs_, while they ate their supper round the fire, or, reclining
at length upon the grass, smoked their pipes in silence.

Supper was soon over, and I went out to warm myself, preparatory to
turning in for the night. The men had supped, and their huge forms were
now stretched around the fire, enveloped in clouds of tobacco smoke,
which curled in volumes from their unshaven lips. They were chatting
and laughing over tales of bygone days; and just as I came up they were
begging Pierre the guide to relate a tale of some sort or other. "Come,
Pierre," said a tall, dark-looking fellow, whose pipe, eyes, and hair
were of the same jetty hue, "tell us how that Ingin was killed on the
Labrador coast by a black bear. Baptiste, here, never heard how it
happened,