son nid d’oi- seau; A- ve 
a! Car voi- ci Vheure 
i 
sain-te La cloche 
Vous étes Ja voile 
Du pauvre marino ; 
Vous ¢tes létoile 
Du bon pélerin; 
Ave Maria! 
Car voici V’heure sainte 
La cloche tinte 
Ave Maria! 
Vous étes servante 
Des pauvre bless¢s ; 
Vous ¢tes l’amante 
Des cceurs délaissés. 
Ave Maria! ce. 
ae eS esses be 
=e 7) it a 
A-ve Ma-ri- a! 
Votre nom si tendre 
Sur un front mortel, 
Fait toujours descendre 
La beauté du ciel 
Ave Maria! 
Car voici l'heure sainte 
La cloche tinte 
Ave Maria! 
Aussi les Maries 
En choeur gracieux, 
A vous réunies 
Montent vers les cicux! 
Ave Maria! ce. 
Having journeyed too far north for the robin and bobolink, 
the stillness of the scene, whose monotony was only relieved 
by the dashing currents of a mighty river, the leaps of sal- 
mon and sea-trout, and the stealthy movements of the seal, 
now hiding, and now galloping up a rapid like a race-horse, 
at every leap throwing itself half out of water, gave us a fair 
chance for reflection, and to wonder that people could be found 
willing to settle in that sterile region. But, on inquiry, we 
found that none had yet ventured, not even an Indian, which 
furnished me with another evidence of human sagacity, for 
even bruin’s anxious family know better than to settle there 
in great numbers. We passed a late Hudson-Bay fishing- 
station, where remain standing their log huts and birch-bark 
smoke-houses wherein they cured their salmon; but since 
their charter expired several years since—grace to the sal- 
mon—there is not a human soul settled above the mouth, 
within fifty miles of it. 
On our guides rowed, poled, and “ cordeliered”—stopping 
only to eat a mouthful of bread and raw onion—until sun- 
down, which found us seventeen miles on our journey. Here 
