d shrubs there were rose and wild raspberry; there were
apple and plum trees, and whole thickets of the "Pembina" (_Viburnum
oxycoccos_). There is, in fact, no part of the world where a greater
variety of wild fruit has been found indigenous than upon the banks of
the Red River of the North, and this variety extended to the little
island where our voyageurs had encamped.

The camp had been placed under a beautiful tree--the tacamahac, or
balsam poplar (_Populus balsamifera_). This is one of the finest trees
of America, and one of those that extend farthest north into the cold
countries. In favourable situations it attains a height of one hundred
and fifty feet, with a proportionate thickness of trunk; but it is
oftener only fifty or eighty feet high. Its leaves are oval, and, when
young, of a rich yellowish colour, which changes to a bright green. The
buds are very large, yellow, and covered with a varnish, which exhales a
delightful fragrance, and gives to the tree its specific name.

It was near sunset on the afternoon of Saturday; the travellers had just
finished their repast, and were reclining around a fire of red cedar,
whose delicate smoke curled up among the pale-green leaves of the
poplars. The fragrant smell of the burning wood, mixed with the
aromatic odour of the balsam-tree, filled the air with a sweet perfume,
and, almost without knowing why, our voyageurs felt a sense of pleasure
stealing over them. The woods of the little island were not without
their voices. The scream of the jay was heard, and his bright azure
wing appeared now and then among the foliage. The scarlet plumage of
the cardinal grosbeak flashed under the beams of the setting sun; and
the trumpet-note of the ivory-billed woodpecker was heard near the
centre of the island. An osprey was circling in the air, with his eye
bent on the water below, watching for his finny prey; and a pair of bald
eagles (_Haliaetus leucocephalus_) were winging their way towards the
adjacent mainland. Half-a-dozen turkey vultures (_Cathartes atratus_)
were wheeling above the beach, where some object, fish or carrion, had
been thrown up by the waves.

For some time the party remained silent, each contemplating the scene
with feelings of pleasure. Francois, as usual, first broke the silence.

"I say, cook, what's for dinner to-morrow?"

It was to Lucien this speech was addressed. He was regarded as the
_maitre de cuisine_.

"Roast or boiled--which