188 TRAVEL, ADVENTUEE, AND SPOET. 



slept the sleep of the just. Towards midnight, how- 

 ever, I awoke to replenish the fire ; and seldom have 

 I so deeply regretted my inability to transfer to canvas 

 the scene that presented itself to my eyes. Not a 

 breath of wind stirred amongst the maple and cedar 

 boughs. On three sides of us the forest stretched 

 dark and ghost-like in its stillness, save where the 

 flicker of our camp-fire fitfully illuminated its recesses. 

 At our feet flowed the Causapscal, with a soothing 

 ripple very provocative of slumber. About twenty 

 paces from us our four Indians were grouped around 

 their fire. From time to time one of them would lean 

 back against the tree beneath which he sat and doze 

 off for a few minutes, after which he would resume 

 his pipe and his conversation with his comrades 

 apparently quite refreshed. A modern Indian's only 

 chance of looking picturesque nowadays is by firelight ; 

 but seen under this aspect in a Canadian forest at 

 midnight they have still a vestige of Fenimore Cooper- 

 ism clinging to their shabby habiliments. I lay for 

 half an hour watching the scene, but sleep ultimately 

 prevailed ; and the next thing I remember is feebly 

 protesting against the unnatural doctrine propounded 

 by S., that 5 A.M. was the proper hour to rise. 



A hasty dip in the river qualified me for a breakfast 

 corresponding in quantity and quality to the preceding 

 night's supper; and an hour's canoeing brought us 

 to one of S.'s favourite pools, where he confidently 

 reckoned on securing a fish or two. Our lines were 



