countenance as the youth himself. I did not ask him his name, for that were a violation of the Indian form of good breeding, but I learn that he is called the Pouncing Hawk—and a fine creature he is-like a blood horse or the Apollo; West's comparison of the Apollo Belvidere to a young Mohawk warrior has more of likelihood and reasonableness than I ever believed or acknowledged before.

A keg of tobacco and a barrel of flour were given to them, and they dispersed as they came, drumming, and yelling, and leaping, and flourishing their clubs and war-hatchets.

In the evening we paddled in a canoe over to the opposite island, with the intention of landing and looking at the site of an intended missionary settlement for the Indians. But no sooner did the keel of our canoe touch the woody shore than we were enveloped in a cloud of mosquitoes. It was in vain to think of dislodging the enemy, and after one or two attempts, we were fairly beaten back. So leaving the gentlemen to persist, we-that is, the young Irish lady and myself-pushed off the canoe, and sat in it, floating about, and singing Irish melodies and Italian serenades-the first certainly that ever roused the echoes of Woody Island.* Mackinaw, as seen from hence, has exactly the form its name implies,†

* The island of Bois Blanc, or Woody Island, has never been inhabited in the memory of man.

† I believe Mackinaw is merely the abbreviation of Michilimackinac, the great turtle,

that of a large turtle sleeping on the water. It was a mass of purple shadow; and just at one extremity the sun plunged into the lake, leaving its reflection on the water, like the skirts of a robe of fire, floating. This too vanished, and we returned in the soft calm twilight, singing as we went,

Vague mystery hangs on all these desert places,

The fear which hath no name, hath wrought a spell, Strength, courage, wrath, have been, and left no traces; They came--and fled! but whither! who can tell?

We know but that they were; that once (in days
When ocean was a bar 'twixt man and man,)
Stout spirits wander'd o'er these capes and bays,
And perish'd where these river waters ran.

BARRY CORNWALL.

July 29th.

WHERE was I? Where did I leave off four days ago? O at Mackinaw! that fairy island, which I shall never see again! and which I should have dear. ly liked to filch from the Americans, and carry home to you in my dressing-box, or, perdie, in my tooth. pick case-but, good lack! to see the ups and downs of this (new) world! I take up my tale a hundred miles from it but before I tell you where I am now, I must take you over the ground, or rather over the water, in a proper and journal-like style.

I was sitting last Friday, at sultry noon-tide, un. der the shadow of a schooner which had just anchored alongside the little pier-sketching and dreamingwhen up came a messenger, breathless, to say that a boat was going off for the Sault Ste. Marie, in which I could be accommodated with a passage. Now this was precisely what I had been wishing and wait. ing for, and yet I heard the information with an emo.

tion of regret. I had become every day more at. tached to the society of Mrs. Schoolcraft-more in. terested about her; and the idea of parting, and parting suddenly, took me by surprise, and was anything but agreeable. On reaching the house, I found all in movement, and learned, to my inexpressible delight, that my friend would take the opportunity of paying a visit to her mother and family, and, with her child. ren, was to accompany me on my voyage.

We had but one hour to prepare packages, provi. sions, everything—and in one hour all was ready.

This voyage of two days was to be made in a little Canadian bateau, rowed by five voyageurs from the Sault. The boat might have carried fifteen per. sons, hardly more, and was rather clumsy in form. The two ends were appropriated to the rowers, bag. gage, and provisions; in the centre there was a clear врасе, with a locker on each side, on which we sat or reclined, having stowed away in them our smaller and more valuable packages. This was the internal arrangement.

The distance to the Sault, or, as the Americans call it, the Sou, is not more than thirty miles over land, as the bird flies; but the whole region being one mass of tangled forest and swamp, infested with bears and mosquitoes, it is seldom crossed but in winter, and in snow shoes. The usual route by water is ninety-four miles.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, with a favourable breeze, we launched forth on the lake, and having rowed about a mile from the shore, the little

square sail was hoisted, and away we went merrily over the blue waves.

For a detailed account of the voyageurs, or Canadian boatmen, their peculiar condition and mode of life, I refer you to Washington Irving's "Astoria ;" what he describes them to have been, and what Henry represents them in his time, they are even now, in these regions of the upper lakes. But the voy

*

As I shall have much to say hereafter of this peculiar class of people, to save both reader and author time and trouble, the passage is here given.

"The voyageurs form a kind of confraternity in the Canadas, like the arrieros or carriers of Spain. The dress of these people is generally hak civilized, half savage. They wear a capote or surcoat, made of a blanket, a striped cotton shirt, cloth trow. sers or leathern leggings, moccasins of deer skin, and a belt of variegated worsted, from which are suspended the knife, tobacco. pouck, and other articles. Their language is of the same piebald character, being a French patois embroidered with English and Italian words and phrases. They are generally of French descent, and inherit much of the gaiety and lightness of heart of their ancestors; they inherit, too, a fund of civility and complaisance, and instead of that hardness and grossness, which men in laborious life are apt to indulge towards each other, they are mutually obliging and accommodating, interchanging kind offices, yielding each other assistance and comfort in every emergency, and using the familiar appellations of cousin and brother, when there is in fact no relationship. No men are more submissive to their leaders and employers, more capable of enduring hardships, or more good-humoured under privations Never are they so happy as when on long and rough expeditions, towing up rivers or coasting lakes. They are dexterous boatmen, vigorous and adroit with the oar or paddle, and will row from morning till night without a murmur. The steersman often sings an old French song, with some regular burthen, in 18

VOL. II.