limity. In some places the immense river, like a lake confined between ranges of mountains, seemed to roll under our feet; and the largest merchantmen, as we looked down from the steep banks, appeared no bigger than fishing boats. We took refreshment at a town called Trois Rivières, from its situation on the shore of the St. Lawrence, close to the mouth of the river St. Maurice, the largest of thirty rivers that fall into the St. Lawrence, on the north-west side alone, between Quebec and Montreal. This river is divided into three streams, by two large islands, just before it is lost in the mighty St. Lawrence. The town is not large; the streets are narrow, and many of the houses are built only of wood: but we were so well amused at the convent of St. Ursule, that we disregarded the meanness of the town. We first entered the chapel, the doors of which open to the street, under a porch. It is very lofty, but not extensive. Opposite to the entrance is the altar, which is richly ornamented; on each side of it is a lattice, the one leading to an apartment allotted for sick nuns, the other connected with the choeur of the chapel. Here we were desired to ring a bell. Upon this the curtain within the lattice was drawn back, and we discovered an apartment surrounded with nuns, and furnished with an altar, near which kneeled several nuns, dressed in black stuff gowns, with white handkerchiefs spread over their shoulders, and drawn close up to the throat; to these

were

were joined a kind of hood of white linen, that covers half the forehead, the temples, and ears. Each of them had, besides, a flowing veil of black gauze; and a silver cross hung from the breast. The works of these sisters, in birch bark, embroidered with elk hair, dyed of the most brilliant colours, are very ingenious: of these materials they make pocket-books, work-bags, dressing-boxes, models of Indian canoes, and a variety of the warlike weapons used by the Indians. Strangers are expected to purchase some of them, which I did willingly, and shall send them by the first opportunity to Catherine and Louisa, as specimens of the art. Besides works of fancy, these good sisters employ themselves in attending on the sick in the hospital, which is close to the

convent.

Here I will close this long epistle, and for the present bid you adieu.

ARTHUR MIDDLETON.

LETTER

LETTER XXXV.

Arthur Middleton to his Brother Edwin.

MY DEAR BOY,

Kingston.

IT is said, "the eye is not satisfied with seeing," which may be truly applied to us; for after the vast extent we have traversed, and the variety that has occurred in the course of our peregrinations, I could not behold a party of Montreal dealers in furs, set off for an expedition to the distant lakes that lie towards the Pacific Ocean, without an ardent desire to share their adventures, whatever difficulties they might encounter. Mr. Franklin was not long in yielding to my importunities; but choosing to visit the celebrated Falls of Niagara, we took a different course, and agreed to meet them at Machillimackinack. We accordingly embarked at Chine, a small, pleasant village about nine miles higher up on the island, to avoid the strong rapids just above Montreal. Here are very extensive store-houses, belonging to the king of England, where the presents for the Indians are deposited. On the opposite side of the river stands the village of the Cockenonaga Indians, chiefly consisting of a few log-houses,

log-houses, and a Roman Catholic church, gaily adorned with pictures, lamps, and other finery, to attract the attention of these people. When the wind was favourable, we used our sails; when otherwise, the boatmen were obliged to take to their oars; a labour that they always cheer with a song, in which every man of them joins, whether his voice be melodious or not. A strong current, at times, obliged them to keep as close a possible to the shore, and push the ba eau along with light poles, headed with iron They are often ob ged to rest from this exertion, when they seldom fail to fill their pipes, which they keep constantly in their months; for a French Canadian without it, is a rare sight. On one part of the river, called the Lake of St. Louis, our vessels were covered with swarms of little white insects, ra her larger than a gnat, but of such a delicate texture, that they crumble to powder with a touch. We passed the first night on a small island named Perot, at the mouth of the Utawas river. Here I enjoyed a novel scene. After our boatmen had secured the little fleet of bateaux, they divided themselves into small parties, and kindled fires along the shore, that they might cook their victuals for the next day, and keep themselves warm during the night. These men are so hardy, that in fine weather they sleep on the bare grass, with no other covering than a short blanket; and when it is stormy they shelter themselves with a sail, or a blanket spread against

the

the wind, over a few poles stuck into the ground. I envied their independence, and tried, one night, to imitate it, but I got a trimming cold. The next day we crossed the Utawas, in order to gain the mouth of the south-west branch of the St. Lawrence. The riv at th's place rushes down into the lake over immense rocks, with such impetuosity, and the breakers run so high, that I fully expected our bateaux would be overset, or filled with water. The dexterity of our boatmen, however, got us safe through these rapids, as they are properly named, for boats are carried down the stream at the rate of fifteen miles an hour. Ascending the stream was, on the contrary, so tedious, that our party were put on shore, determining to proceed on foot, till the bateaux had passed this difficult navigation. We got a comfortable dinner in the English sty e, al a neat tavern, kept by an English woman, in the pretty village of the Hill of Cedars. This evening the bateaux were drawn up for the night, at the foot of the hill of the lake, and we pitched our tent on the edge of a wood, at a little distance from the river. I was fatigued, and slept as soundly as if I had been on a bed of down. The next morning we entered the Lake St. Francis, about twenty-five miles long;

and landed on the

Isle aux Raisins, named so from the abundance of wild vines that grow upon it. The Indians, who possess it, were very friendly, and sold us some wild ducks and fresh-caught fish, for a trifle.