TORCH-FISHING. / 6 



whose sun-burnt complexion, horny hands, black 

 clothes too large for his body, varnished boots soiled 

 with mud and in disorder, and above all the hat 

 cocked on one side (although we were sitting at 

 table), proved him to be one who was quite ignorant 

 of the usages of the world. A characteristic trait 

 confirmed me in the idea that this man was even a 

 stranger to American civilisation ; for, turning to me, 

 without the slightest introduction or preface, he said 

 to me, with a strong nasal twang, "You ain't an 

 American, sir, I guess ? " 



"No, sir; nor you either, I should suppose." 



" You're right, sir. I'm Canadian, and one of 

 your sort, for I guess you're a Frenchman." 



I confessed that I was, and asked to be informed 

 to whom it was I was speaking, at the same time 

 acquainting him with my name, profession, and 

 age. 



" Simon Bergeron, sir, at your service ; farmer, 

 fur-dealer, and hunter, — and what's more, one of the 

 best shots in Illinois or Canada." 



" Then, good M. Bergeron, we are brothers in 

 St. Hubert, and I am very happy to shake you by 

 the hand." 



" Ah ! so you also are a sportsman ? I should 

 never have guessed that," quoth my new friend, re- 

 garding me with a scrutinising air, as if to ask how 

 it was possible for a man with such a fair complexion, 

 slim figure, and with a pair of spectacles on his nose. 



