A LABRADOR SPRING 
wooden crosses, on which are written or rudely 
carved the names of the dead. 
At Mingan I had the best opportunity to 
observe these Indians as we spent a week 
there from the 14th to the 21st of June, close 
to the Hudson’s Bay Company’s Post at the 
house of the old salmon-fisher of the place. The 
Indians had not all come out of the woods, but 
new families were arriving every day. The 
large kitchen of the salmon-fisher’s house was 
an attractive place and was visited in the 
evening by fur traders, salmon-fishers from the 
mouth of the Mingan River, the clerks from 
the H. B. C. Post and Indians. The old salmon- 
fisher himself was a picturesque figure, tall 
and strong, slim and wiry, but slightly bent 
with age; his beard was long and white, his 
eyes blue and kindly. His wife was a dark, 
black-eyed woman, bright and intelligent, and 
they had a large family of children of all ages, 
speaking French among themselves, Indian 
frequently, and English as occasion demanded. 
The kitchen was a long, low-studded room whose 
centre of attraction was a large iron stove always 
filled with glowing logs. Suspended from the 
middle of the ceiling above the stove were 
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