118 LAKE SUPERIOR. 



fall I ever saw, but resembling on a gigantic scale the bell of water so 

 often formed by a projecting stone in small mountain streams. 



This indeed might serve for a description of the whole scene. It 

 is a mountain torrent on a large scale, and without the majesty of Ni. 

 agara, or even of Kakabeka, it has a charm of its own in its exuberant 

 life and freedom. Below, the river turned to the right, leaving at its 

 outer angle a whirlpool, in which were revolving a great quantity of 

 logs, as cleanly stripped of bark, roots, and branches, as if prepared 

 for the saw-mill. 



From what I could observe, the river-bed above the falls is not 

 much below the general level of the country ; as if it flowed there 

 over a rocky plateau, covered with a scanty depth of soil, and 

 abruptly falling away at the falls, forming a barrier against which 

 the sand and gravel from the lake have been heaped. Below, the 

 banks are high, of loose drift deposit. This may be the edge of a 

 step in the descent from the height of land. 



Reaclung the factory again, we found all in readiness for depart- 

 ure, the men anxious to be off, and the lake so smooth that we could 

 take the direct line for Cape Choyye, which we reached a little after 

 sunset, while the air was still full of rosy light, the moon just peep- 

 ing through the fringe of forest on the edge of the cliff above us. 



Here the men proposed to stop for rest and refreshment, and then 

 to keep on by moonlight. 



At the place where our tents had been pitched, I found the ever- 

 green boughs still undistui-bed on the stones ; the balsam twigs still 

 retained most of their leaves, but the spruce were entirely bare. 

 We hastily drank our coffee, and the men their tea, and then reem- 

 barked. About ten o'clock we were awakened by the cessation of 

 motion, and found ourselves in a narrow cove near Cape Gargantua,. 



Aug. loth. — It was warm and rainy this morning, with fog. We 

 started early, and approaching the Riviere aux Crapauds, the men 

 saw a boucane, namely, a smoke (whence, bye the bye, the term buc- 

 caneer'), and said we should find our friends there, though we could 

 not well distinguish it from fog. They were right, however, for 

 there they were, just done breakfast. 



I was struck with the unhesitating accuracy with which our men 

 steered in the fog to-day ; they evidently knew the way now, though 



