his is the township of Nottawasaga, once inhabited by the Tobacco
tribe of the Hurons, who had many villages, and grew tobacco and corn,
besides making beads, pipes, and other articles, for sale or barter.
They made their pipes out of the Trenton sandstone. A great many village
sites and ossuaries have been found in the township, the latter
containing thousands of skeletons. They have all been opened up by the
settlers for the sake of the copper kettles and other objects buried in
them. These long, narrow hillocks are earthworks, the foundation of a
rude fortification or palisade round a village. The Archaeological
Reports of the Canadian Institute contain very full and interesting
accounts of the explorations made in this very region. We are on
historic ground, Corry."

"Poor old Lo!" ejaculated the lawyer, "whatever is that dog after? Hi,
Muggins, Muggins!"

But Muggins would not leave the earthwork into which he was digging with
rapidly moving forepaws. As Coristine remarked, it was a regular
Forepaugh's circus. When the pedestrians came up to him, he had a large
hole made in apparently fresh dug earth, and had uncovered a tin box,
japanned above. This the pair disinterred with their walking-sticks,
amid great demonstrations from the terrier. The lawyer opened it
judicially, and found it to contain a lot of fragments of hard
limestone, individually labelled. Looking over these, his eye rested on
one marked P.B. Miss Du Plessis, lot 3, concession 2, township of
Flanders. Others were labelled T. Mulcahy, S. Storch, R. McIver, O.
Fish, with their lots, concessions and townships, and the initials F.M.
and P.

"What is the import of this?" asked the schoolmaster.

"Import or export, it's the Grinstun man, the owner of this sagacious
dog, that buried this box till he had time to bring a waggon for it.
These are samples of grindstone rock, and, if I am not a Dutchman, F
means fair, M, middling, P, poor, and P.B., prime boss, and that is Miss
Du Plessis. Gad! we've got her now, Jewplesshy, Do Please, Do Please-us,
are just Du Plessis. It's a pleasant sort of name, Wilks, my boy?"

"What are you going to do with this treasure trove, might I ask?"
inquired the dominie.

"Bury it," replied the lawyer.

"I trust you will make no unfair use of the information it contains,
part of which was confided to me privately, and under seal of secrecy,
by Mr. Rawdon?"

"Now, Wilks, howld your tongue about that. I ask you no questi