t up with the flood tide, and when the tide fails cast
anchor, and wait with the best grace we can till it is time to weigh
anchor again. I amuse myself with examining the villages and settlements
through the captain's glass, or watching for the appearance of the white
porpoises tumbling among the waves. These creatures are of a milky
whiteness, and have nothing of the disgusting look of the black ones.
Sometimes a seal pops its droll head up close beside our vessel, looking
very much like Sinbad's little old man of the sea.

It is fortunate for me that my love of natural history enables me to
draw amusement from objects that are deemed by many unworthy of
attention. To me they present an inexhaustible fund of interest. The
simplest weed that grows in my path, or the fly that flutters about me,
are subjects for reflection, admiration and delight.

We are now within sight of Green Island. It is the largest, and I
believe one of the most populous we have passed. Every minute now seems
to increase the beauty of the passage. Far as the eye can reach you see
the shore thronged with villages and farms in one continuous line. On
the southern side all are gay and glittering with the tin roofs on the
most important buildings; the rest are shingles, whitewashed. This I do
not like so well as the plain shingled roofs; the whiteness of the roofs
of the cottages and homesteads have a glaring effect, and we look in
vain for that relief to the eye that is produced by the thatched or
slated roofs. The shingles in their natural state soon acquire the
appearance of slates, and can hardly be distinguished from them. What
would you say to a rose-coloured house, with a roof of the same gaudy
hue, the front of the gay edifice being garnished with grass green
shutters, doors, and verandah. No doubt the interior is furnished with
corresponding taste. There is generally one or more of these _smart_
buildings in a Canadian village, standing forth with ostentatious
splendour above its more modest brethren.

August 11.--Just below Green Island we took on board a real pilot, who,
by the way, I do not like half so well as Monsieur Paul. He is a little
bit pragmatical, and seems evidently proud of his superior knowledge of
the river. The good-natured fisherman relinquished his post with a very
good grace, and seems already excellent friends with his more able
rival. For my part I was very sorry when the new pilot came on board;
the first thing he d