70 LAKE SUPERIOR. 



of the wood, without much change of the outside, is converted into 

 mere punk, so that if you step on it you are precipitated among the 

 charred logs, and in your passage made feelingly aware that many 

 of the small branches and ends have been merely sharpened and 

 hardened by it into spikes. So slow and laborious was our progress 

 that, having with great difficulty made my way to the edge of the 

 pond, I waded along, with the water up to my middle, in several 

 inches of mud, as far as the fallen trees would allow, rather than take 

 to the bank. We were about twenty minutes in making less than a 

 quarter of a mile, and my companion assured me that once on the south 

 shore of the lake it took him a whole day of hard work to get over 

 seven miles of this ground. 



The shore now became very varied and broken ; not very abrupt, but 

 rounded hills and points of considerable size coming successively in 

 sight, and on the water-side numerous picturesque wooded islets of 

 granite, with abrupt faces towards the south, and polished and round- 

 ed slopes northward. Wide trap-dykes in the reddish sienite rock 

 all ground down to an even surface. The wind blew in puffs from 

 the N. W., alternating with dead calms. The fluctuation of temper- 

 ature was astonishing. So long as it was calm, the unclouded sun 

 beat down upon us with all the fervor of our own July, but the mo- 

 ment the wind sprung up it was October. 



Evening coming on, the bateau and the " Dancing Feather" en- 

 camped, but we in the other two canoes decided to keep on to the Pic 

 (Peek), which was only ten miles off. Not that we were particularly 

 anxious to get on, but having hitherto taken the journey rather leisurely 

 we thought the men seemed inclined to take advantage of our good 

 nature. So after tea we started again, the moon shining brightly 

 and the sunset just fading away. 



The Northern Lights, visible to some extent almost nightly, were 

 unusually beautiful this evening, forming three concentric bows in 

 the north, the upper one about thirty degrees from the horizon. From 

 this bow as a base sprang up long flickering streamers quite to 

 the zenith, where there was aflecky appearance, as if of light clouds, 

 which, however, were stationary. Hence radiated tremulous flashes 

 of light toward every point of the compass. 



We reached the Pic about one o'clock, the moon down, and no 



