the question of the passage
from the Atlantic to the Pacific, or else we should have had a certain
convocation of politic wolves or bears, busy in rendering us and our
horses invisible; for, after all, they have the true receipt of fern
seed, and you can walk about, after having suffered transmigration into
their substance, without its ever being suspected that you were either
an officer of engineers or a Franco-Canadian guide.

An old and respected officer, once travelling this bridle road with
Francois and myself, and mounted on a better horse than either of ours,
which was lent to him by the Assistant Commissary-General stationed at
Penetanguishene, got ahead of us considerably, and, by some accident,
wandered into the gloomy pine forest. Missing him for a quarter of an
hour, I rode as fast as my horse, which was not encumbered with baggage,
would go ahead, and, observing fresh tracks of a horse's shoes in the
mud, followed them until I heard in the depths of the endless and solemn
woods faint shouts, which, as I came nearer to them, resolved themselves
into the syllables of my name. I found my chief, and begged him never
again, as he had never been there before, to think of leaving us. Had he
gone out of sound, his fate would have been sealed, unless the horse,
used as it was to the path, had wandered into it again; but horses and
cattle are frequently lost in these solitudes, and, perhaps being
frightened by the smell of the wild beasts, or, as man always does when
lost, they wander in a circle, and thus frequently come near the place
from which they started, but not sufficiently so to hit the almost
invisible path.

But although the road, excepting in the middle of summer, is still
indifferent, it is perfectly safe, and a lady may now go to
Penetanguishene comparatively comfortably.

Bruce's tavern is a respectable log-house, twelve miles from Barrie; and
here you can get the usual fare of ham, eggs, and chickens, with
occasionally fresh meat from Barrie, and perhaps as good a bed as can be
had in Canada. We started from Barrie at half-past two, and arrived at
half-past five.

Whiskey, be it known, with very atrocious brandy, is the only beverage,
excepting water, along the country roads of Canada.

From Bruce's we drove to Dawson's, also kept by the widow of an old
soldier, where every thing is equally clean, respectable, and
comfortable. It is seven miles distant.

Beyond this is Nicoll's, near a corduro