" KING GEORGE'S HOTEL." 227 



broken traces, accompanied by volleys of oaths and blas- 

 phemies from our wild conductors. Rolled up in our 

 mantles, and encased in our thick furs, we had abandoned 

 ourselves uncomplainingly to the rotatory movement, stir- 

 ring no more than the sacks of corn which loaded the other 

 sledge. Our Homeric laughter was in impressive contrast 

 to the fiery indignation of the two Canadian Phaethoiis. 



At nightfall we reached a miserable hamlet, situated 

 on the bank of a small lake, about twelve miles from the 

 place where the elands pastured. The timber hut, which 

 rejoiced in the proud title of " King George's Hotel," was 

 a miserable asylum, much better adapted for the reception 

 of carters than of gentlemen. It was divided into two 

 compartments, one called the "bar-room," and the other 

 serving as the sleeping-room of the family of the landlord, 

 an Englishman of good breeding, who, as I afterwards 

 learned, had been formerly in a much better position. 

 His only amusement in his exile was to receive at intervals 

 a number of the " Quebec Journal," in whose pages he 

 read the news of his native land. It is a peculiarity 

 worthy of notice, that this honest innkeeper experienced 

 an indescribable pride in showing us, through the frozen 

 panes of his parlour casement, a few hundred roods of 

 cleared ground, on which were built eleven or twelve rude 

 huts, christened by the name of Hoyal Village. Twelve 

 years ago, said he, my colony did not exist. 



It was dark night when we quitted King George's 

 Hotel, and the darkness added greatly to the difficulties 

 of the road. Fortunately, Maclean and I were of a happy 

 temperament, and, as our journey was a pleasure-expedi- 

 tion, we wisely resolved to laugh at everything, even at 

 the embarrassments which beset our every step. 



