"What do you bait with ?"

"Oh, anything that a marten can smell-a wing or head of a bird, a bit of fish, or meat when I get a bear or fox; sometimes bits of the martens themselves anything will do, if it's only meat; they feed on mice chiefly, when they can get them.”

The wolverine is such a thief that he will rob, as it were, for mere mischief sake. It is recorded of a hunter and his family that they left their lodge unguarded during their absence, and that on their return they found it completely gutted; the walls were there, but nothing else. Blankets, guns, kettles, axes, cans, knives, and all the paraphernalia of a trapper's lodge had vanished, and the tracks left by the animal showed who had been the thief. The family set to work, and by carefully fol lowing up all the paths, recovered, with some trifling exceptions, the whole of the property.

The martens, strange to say, disappear periodically every ten years or so, and it is quite unknown what becomes of them. They are not found dead. The failure extends through the Hudson's Bay territories at the same time; and there are said to be tracts or regions to which they can migrate where the Hudson's Bay Company have not posts. Yet Mr. Hind remarks that Providence appears to have implanted some instinct in them by which the total destruction of the species is prevented. They must, therefore, migrate to parts not frequented by even the Indian hunters. The number of martens killed on the Mackenzie River alone averages from twenty-four to twenty-seven thousand. In Labrador the Indians also get bear-skins, cat or lynx, musk-rats, otter, beaver, and foxes. The lynx is so fierce that it will kill a hunter taken at a disadvantage, as is related in a melancholy story of one who fell and broke his leg, when the lynx sprang upon him. The marten, however, is worth all the rest put together, and, as Pierre remarked, when the martens go the company will go too, and the Indians will starve-they will die off like the marten or the rabbits during the bad years! The Indians who are not converted believe in wendigoes, giant cannibals twenty and thirty feet high, who live on human flesh; and when an Indian has been out hunting, and has never afterwards been heard of, they think that he has been devoured by a wendigo. In a country where bears, wolves, and lynxes exist, and are at times hard pressed by hunger, it does not require to suppose the existence of wendigoes to account for the occasional disappearance of a hunter. The lynx formerly played an important part in Labrador mythology:

They supposed that the world was created by Atahocam, and that a deity named Messou repaired it when it was old. One day Messou was hunting with lynxes instead of dogs; his savage companions swam into a great lake, and were lost. Messou searched for them every where without success, when a bird told him that he would find them in the middle of the lake. He entered the lake to bring back his lynxes, but the lake began to overflow its banks, and finally deluged the world. Messou, astonished, sent a crow to bring him a piece of earth, from which he intended to reconstruct the land, but the crow could not find any. He made an otter dive into the waters, but the otter was as unsuccessful as the crow. At last he sent the musk-rat, who brought him a little bit, from which Messou reconstructed the earth as it now is. He presented an Indian with the gift of immortality, enclosed in a little box, subject to the condition that he should not open it. As long as he kept the box closed, he was to

be immortal; but his curious and incredulous wife was anxious to see what the box contained; she opened it, and ever since the Indians have been subject to death.

The expedition left the Grand Portage with cheerful hearts. They had triumphed over their first difficulty, and they felt the courage within them to meet the others, which they full well knew, from the reports of the Indians, they would have to encounter. As soon as they got into the canoes, the usual light-heartedness of the French Canadian race showed itself, and they took off their caps and bade the Portage a respectful farewell, hoping, as one of them observed, "never to have the misfortune to cross its path again." The scenery was also very imposing, and well calculated to rouse the feelings even of the savage. spot some stupendous sheets of ice hung over the edge of a perpendicular rock, and contrasted in the light of the evening sun with the red rocks and green vegetation in surpassing beauty. "Can you paint that?" asked Mr. Hind of his brother. "You can paint the rocks, the trees, and ice," he replied, "but the radiance and the light are beyond human art."

At one

The river, indeed, grew in beauty as they ascended its current. Its waters became clear and swift, but cold as ice; the hills rose into mountains, and the towering rocks frowned magnificently on the stream. Not a sound of bird, or beast, or fish, broke the stillness; and there was nothing but the murmur of distant waterfalls to remind them that, in this beautiful but desolate wilderness, there was anything capable of producing a sound. The next day, however, they saw a loon, as also fresh traces of bear, reindeer, and beaver. The same day they came to a point where a river joined the main stream from the east, but they decided upon keeping to the latter, in the hopes of meeting with Nasquapees. Nor were they disappointed, for the very next day a canoe issued forth from the gorge above bearing Domenique, the chief of the Montagnais on the Moisie River, with his wife and family, and a young Nasquapee, whom they had the greatest difficulty in prevailing upon the old man to part with, even for a short time, to act as guide. Yet this poor chief and his family were actually almost starving.

At sunrise (says Mr. Hind) I went to Domenique's camp. They were just waking; but I was in time to see how they had spent the night. Ranged in a semicircle before the fire, placed at the foot of a large balsam spruce, the whole family lay side by side, the mother and father occupying the outer ends of the curve with the four children, and the young Nasquapee between them. The children were covered with a blanket. The father and mother had each a sheet of birch-bark over them; the Nasquapee a couple of reindeer skins. Two dogs were lying under the birch-bark, close to the fire, at the feet of Domenique. The family bed consisted of spruce boughs laid on the wet moss, with the frozen soil beneath; their roof was the black sky, with twinkling stars coldly glittering between the motionless branches of the spruce, as silent, as lifeless, and as uncharitable as the grave.

The gorge had to be passed partly by one of the men going ahead and throwing out a long line, with a stick attached to it, as far into the river as possible; the stick was then caught, and being made fast to a tree, the canoes were thus hauled up round a difficult point. At other times, it was necessary to shoot across from one side to the other and get into an eddy. They had to mend the canoes after effecting the passage

of this gorge, supping upon some fine trout caught in the pools. Were it not for the difficulty of reaching it, the See-way-sini-kop Falls (as Mr. Hind calls them) and pools would, he says, “be by far the most attractive salmon-fishing ground it has been my good fortune to see in the wilds of Eastern Canada.” Numbers of salmon were indeed seen leaping up the Falls, but not one could they catch with the most gaudy and attractive flies. Even the celebrated fiery-brown failed to decoy them. This pool is, however, one of the favourite Indian resorts for spearing salmon by torchlight.

The scenery on the river continued to be everywhere charming, and sometimes grand above these Falls, and they soon came to a second gorge, perhaps more beautiful than the first, and not so difficult to pass. Rabbits and porcupines formerly existed in great numbers throughout this part of the country, but now none are to be found. The disappearance of the rabbit, Mr. Éind says, must have been largely instrumental in driving Indians from the Moisie. There are now many parts of Eastern Canada which would not sustain even a few families of hunters, if it were not for the rabbits. Large boulders, also, now began to show themselves in the middle of the stream, and it required great care and hard labour to get past them.

Farther on, they came to where Cold-water River joined the Moisie. Trout abounded in it, and they soon caught enough to furnish them with an excellent dinner and supper. There were also remains of old Montagnais lodges, and a well-worn path at this point, showing that it had been once a favourite resting-place. A stupendous land-slide displayed the fact that the rock here was no other than the celebrated Labrador felspar. “A mountain range,” writes Mr. Hind, “ of Labrador felspar, no doubt the fire-rocks of the Nasquapees, small areas of which, under favourable conditions and aspects, charm the eye with changing lustre, and reflect the most lovely greys, the most delicate blues, and the softest golden yellows."

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The ascent of Cold-water River was entered upon by another arduous portage, and while the men were busy transporting the canoes and baggage, the travellers fished, catching some large speckled trout, wandered in the fine forest which filled the narrow valley, and gathered some beautiful and rare species of flowers which grew with singular luxuriance in the moist woods. The evening encampment also lay in a pleasant spot. The next day a flock of merry birds, known as whisky-jacks, followed them up the silent and gloomy river, and did not leave them until they entered the "Lake where the Sand lies," and where they were succeeded by mosquitoes and beach-flies, which now came to torment them.

The quiet lake lay calm and fair as we gently stole upon its waters-smooth as a mirror, and reflecting with perfect fidelity the green and purple mountains on its shores. This is truly a land of contrasts. From a sluggish river coated with slime, with a heavy, damp, dispiriting atmosphere brooding over it, to a bright and limpid lake, full of sunshine and colour, is but a step over which you slip insensibly, but not without insensibly realising the change.

The day is hot, but the shadows of the purple mountains are deep, and the waters of the lake ice-cold. Passing from sunshine into shade, a chill thrills through every limb, and you turn back to the pleasant glow again to enjoy the warm air and brilliant light. Ice lingers on those distant cloud-capped peaks,

but all around, the trees, where trees can grow on the sloping rocks, wear their summer dress. Still, something weighs upon the spirits which you find it impossible to shake off. What is it? All, more or less, are under its influence. The Indians are silent as the grave. The French voyageurs neither laugh, nor talk, nor sing, but move their paddles mechanically, dipping them carefully into the water to make as little noise as possible. What is it that seems to weigh upon the spirits of us all? It is the absence of life, it is the consciousness of being in a desolate wilderness. Rocks and trees and water are as beautiful as they can be imagined, yet there is no bird, or beast, or fish to give animation to this lovely scene.

Labrador may have its charms, and its air may in summer-time be bracing and healthy, but it is certainly not an inviting country, except, perchance, to some enthusiastic angler for a month, and we suspect that before even that time had expired, he, too, would have conjured up wendigoes in such solitudes. Beyond this lake was another, and then a portage. They met here with traces of beaver and of reindeer, but saw none themselves. The Montagnais, like the beaver they hunted, are gone too. "Both caribou and beaver," says Mr. Hind," will come again and people this desert once more; but there will be no Montagnais or Nasquapees to hunt or disturb them in their secure retreat.”

cup

The Labrador tea-plant is in bloom, and casts a faint but delicious fragrance around. The gneiss, which rises in gigantic terraces, one above the other, is covered with brilliant-coloured lichens in rings, crescents, and ovals of every hue, from the pale cream-coloured "reindeer moss" to the vermilion moss," growing in bunches, groups, and beds all over the grey gneiss. Larches and birches, branching free from the deep cracks in the rocks, are wonderfully symmetrical. A scented breeze drives insect tormentors away, bringing an evening blessing in these desolate wilds.

From the summit of that peaked mountain in the lofty chain to the north, 1500 to 2000 feet above, the Nasquapee says he has seen ships in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and the level country where Ashwanipi flows, the great river of the Labrador table-land. And, lastly, there looms, on the opposite side of the valley, another great land-slide, as recent as, and more gigantic than, the one passed over a few days ago. The slowly sinking sun reddens the mountain-tops, the black shadows move swiftly across the lake; loons, with wild prophetic cries, fly like arrows towards their nests; the long twilight fades softly into night, and the silence of a beautiful but lifeless wilderness depresses the spirits and saddens the heart.

Beyond this portage with its gneiss-terraces they came to a small lake on the summit of a low dividing ridge, whose waters were enlivened by a saw-bill duck, with a brood of nine little ones. Our travellers had the good taste not to shoot the bird, and they saw it again on their return, but it had been robbed of some of its young by predatory animals or birds. There were no fish in this lake, but the larvae of water-beetlesblood-suckers, as the voyageurs call them-abounded. Beyond the "Top of the Ridge Lake" lay another dreaded mountain portage. The mosquitoes and black flies were also terrible, but trout and carp were thick as leaves in the little rapids at the foot of the portage. They caught one hundred and twenty, sufficient for supper and breakfast all round. The voyageurs have a pretty legend regarding the insect pests of the country:

"They believe that a certain saint was banished from heaven for disobedience

to the commands of one of the higher angels, and condemned to dwell alone for a long period in one of the uninhabited parts of the earth. She found the time hang heavy on her hands, until at length she prayed that even a few flies might be sent to amuse her.

The mosquito, the black fly, and the brulôt were forthwith created, and during the remaining period of her punishment they gave her more employment than she wanted in resisting their attacks.

"The saint was restored to heaven, but the flies remained behind to keep us in constant remembrance of the folly of seeking for amusement to distract attention from sorrows which we have brought on ourselves by indiscretion or sin.'

دو

All parties agreed that the "Top of the Ridge Lake" was by far the most beautiful they had yet seen. The still and bright day, coupled with the excellent sport they enjoyed, and the absence of insect tormentors, no doubt heightened their appreciation of it. The mountains, green, purple, and grey, as the eye wandered higher and higher, were most sublime; and the river rippling over its gravelly bed was "like a child at play!" The brilliant crimson spotted trout, leaping wildly at their gaudy flies, flashed in the evening sunlight. The pure and invigorating air sighed past them, perceptibly perfumed with the fragrant Labrador tea-plant; and being all in excellent condition and in the enjoyment of perfect health, they felt glad and thankful that they possessed the rare opportunity of seeing Nature in these silent and distant solitudes. An attempt was made to ascend one of the nearest mountains from the "Top of the Ridge Portage," but the difficulties and distance were found to be far too great. The more experienced Louis said to them, indeed, ou starting:

"You go up top of that mountain?'

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Yes,' I said, we are going to try.'

"Louis held out his hand, saying, "Good-by for a little.'

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Why do you say "good-by," Louis?'

"You go top that mountain, not see you again for two or three days; want to wish you good-by for a little while." "

Hence they proceeded to Trout Lake, whence Cold-water River took its rise. The dividing ridge is 1556 feet above the sea. The Indians call it the "Height of Land Portage ;" but it really is nothing more than a spur of the great table-land of Labrador coming from the northwest, and separating the waters of the east branch of the Moisie from those of the main river. The lichens and mosses were now becoming more beautiful than ever. They commonly grew in circles, assuming the most fantastic forms and brilliant colours. The caribou or reindeer moss was sixteen inches deep. Other species were of more luxuriant growth still, and in some low and moist places the lovely carpet was two feet thick, and soft as a bed of eider-down. These licheniferous regions may be considered as truly sub-arctic, establishing the transition between a land of snow and ice, with a few flowering plants in summer, and the first brushwood and forests of the northern temperate zone.

One

The explorers met their first herd of reindeer at this dividing ridge. Hard by the same place was a bear's skull stuck in a dead branch. of the Indians left a piece of tobacco between the jaws: they are very superstitious about the bones of animals. From Trout Lake to Lake Nipisis they descended through four sheets of water and their connecting