f an epicure
greeted the nostrils of the captain and his two mates when they entered
the hall, dressed in blue surtouts with bright brass buttons, white duck
trousers, and richly flowered vests [waistcoats]. There was a splendid
salmon, of twenty pounds weight, at one end of the board; and beside it,
on the same dish, a lake-trout of equal size and beauty. At the other
end smoked a haunch of venison, covered with at least an inch of fat;
and beside it a bowl of excellent cranberry jam, the handiwork of the
hostess. A boiled goose and pease-pudding completed the catalogue.
Afterwards, these gave place to the pudding which had caused Bryan so
much perplexity, and several dishes of raisins and figs. Last, but not
least, there was a bottle of brandy and two of port wine; which, along
with the raisins and figs, formed part of the limited supply of luxuries
furnished by the Hudson's Bay Company to Stanley, in common with all the
gentlemen in the service, in order to enable them, now and then, on
great occasions, to recall, through the medium of a feast, the
remembrance of civilised life.

The display in the men's house was precisely similar to that in the
hall. But the table was larger and the viands more abundant. The
raisins and figs, too, were wanting; and instead of wine or brandy,
there was a small supply of rum. It was necessarily small, being the
gift of Stanley out of his own diminutive store, which could not, even
if desired, be replenished until the return of the ship next autumn.

On the arrival of the guests a strange contrast was presented. The
sailors, in white ducks, blue jackets with brass buttons, striped
shirts, pumps, and straw hats, landed at the appointed hour, and in
hearty good-humour swaggered towards the men's house, where they were
politely received by the quiet, manly-looking voyageurs, who, in honour
of the occasion, had put on their best capotes, their brightest belts,
their gayest garters, and most highly-ornamented moccasins. The French
Canadians and half-breeds bowed, shook hands, and addressed the tars as
_messieurs_. The sailors laughed, slapped their entertainers on the
shoulders, and called them messmates. The Indians stood, grave and
silent, but with looks of good-humour, in the background; while the
Esquimaux raised their fat cheeks, totally shut up their eyes, and
grinned perpetually, not to say horribly, from ear to ear. But the
babel that followed is beyond the powers of d