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had rosy dreams ? " to some blooming damsel from the 



far West and so on, so on. 



Finally, he disappears down the companion steps, 

 leading a fair New Yorker, anxious to deposit below 

 her wrap and parasol ; the Commodore in the mean- 

 time enlivens the pleasant hour with a snatch of an old 

 sea ditty : 



" A life on the ocean-wave, 

 A home on the rolling deep." 



Cheers respond from the main cabin to the forecastle, 

 and a broad smile pervades the manly and placid coun- 

 tenance of Lieut. J. H. W. Threed, one of our guests, 

 a naval officer of the big ironclad Bellerophon, at rest 

 on her anchor's a few cables length to the south of the 

 Queen's wharf. There was zest, hope, contentment all 

 round, and no mistake, 



Never was the most exciting Arctic voyage, recorded 

 in naval annals, undertaken under more favorable 

 auspices. 



One hundred ventursome pilgrims were seeking to 

 reach by sea the remote, hallowed shore of La Bonne 

 Sainte-Anne. Few, 'tis true, had any great ailment, 

 for which relief would be asked. No crutches ! — not 

 one brought along ! 



No, not even the illustrious navigators, Cook and 

 Bougainville, one hundred and forty-one years ago, 

 felt more eager to breast the dangers of the deep when 

 they sought one another, on the broad St. Lawrence, 

 than our light-hearted Forestry-folks, bent on exploring 

 the mysteries of the cote cle Beaupre' and the sacred 

 shrine. Glory was the inspiring idea in the breast 

 of the two great sea captains ; a prize held out worthy 

 of them, the conquest or loss of Canada, our dear 

 country. For the Foresters, goodfellowship, pleasure 

 and instruction, the only prize held forth, but that, in 

 glowing colors ! 



What is after all glory ! The furrow left on Lau- 

 rentian waves, in 1759, by the old Centurion or the 



