66 
them; there is the large church, generally at one end of 
the vilage, of wood or stone, with one steeple or two, ac¬ 
cording ns the parish is poor or rich; adjoining this is the 
house of Monsieur le Cure, cleanly whitewashed, with a 
black or red roof, a small plot of ground around it, and 
poplars in front of, it. Then the houses of the parishioners, 
also white and red or black, clustered round as close to the 
church as they can get. This is the typical French Cana¬ 
dian village, as seen from the river, a good deal of church 
to comparatively little village. At a point called Point 
Origneaux, (Moose Point,) where there is a wharf, we put 
in, anc] I tried foraging, and was more successful, as I 
found an inn at the end of the wharf where I got some bread 
and milk. When we shoved off from the wharf the wind 
blew up from the east, so we set sail, stood off towards the 
north shore, and proceeded to try the experiment of cook¬ 
ing supper on board. The spirit stove I brought with me 
worked well, and we found no difficulty aftewards in boil¬ 
ing water, frying bacon or warming a stew. After two or 
three tacks we were opposite Kamouraska, about, forty 
miles below Lislet. It was now dark, and as the water is 
shoal for a long way out here, we took down the sail and 
rowed in. A small island, marked Crow Island on the 
chaQ, gave us a lee, the Minnie was anchored, and we pro¬ 
ceeded to make all snug for the night. This was accom¬ 
plished by shipping the stanchions fore and aft, fastening 
the sprit between them, and stretching the waterproof 
sheet over it, then we spread our blankets and rugs in the 
stern sheets for a bed, and crept under cover. I slept un¬ 
easily this first night on board; it came on to blow and rain, 
the Minnie jumped about at her moorings in a lively man¬ 
ner, and I was afraid of her dragging her anchor and drift¬ 
ing off Heaven knows where. 
Jane 7.—Things looked far from gay this.morning. It was 
raining and blowing hard from the east as usual. However, 
we determined to go on. So landing on the isliffid we lit afire 
and brewed some coffee, after which we felt better able to 
encounter the elements. The things were stowed on board, 
a reef taken down at seven A. M , and the Minnie stood out 
into the channel. Outside, beyond the lee pf the islands, 
opposite Kamouraska, there was a pretty heavy sea. A 
schooner Running.up before the wind passed close to us, 
and all hands came on deck to gaze in wonder at the little 
boat. At, low water, eleven o’clock, we were near St. An¬ 
dre, and taking down our sail we rowed in under the lee of 
the point and landed. Now” the sun came out and the wind 
moderated, so taking everything out of the boat we spread 
our wraps out on the rocks to dry, and enjoyed a little ease 
after our buffetting. We got under weigh again about 
three, under full sail. The St. Lawrence is about fourteen 
miles wide here. On the north the coast is very moun¬ 
tainous, the hills of Les Eboulemens rising up to a height of 
nearly 3,000 feet. In mid-channel are Can island, and the 
islets called the “Brandy Pots,” close to the south bank 
the rocky islands called the “Pilgrims.” The name of the 
latter is appropriate enough, as they might easily be sup¬ 
posed to be grey pilgrims; but whence the name of “Bran¬ 
dy Pots?” Altogether the scenery as we saw it from the 
channel was magnificent. A squall struck us outside the 
“Pilgrims,” and obliged us to take in a reef. We made 
Riviere da Loup that evening, about twenty-five miles be¬ 
low Kamouraska, and anchored under the lee of the wharf. 
This place is a fashionable, “sea-side resort” in summer, 
hut at this season the “world” had not yet left town, and 
the hotels and houses for visitors were deserted. 
Jane 8.—We got out from cover this morning to find a 
breeze blowing from the same old quarter right ahead, so 
beating to windward was again tlie order of the day. The 
navigation between Green Island and the south Shore at low 
water was found to he difficult; there is a narrow channel 
but we failed to hit it off, got into shoal water, had to get out 
and drag the boat over mud flats, and at last got into deep 
water. Then we took to our oars and rowed steadily against a 
nasty chopping sea, which broke over us and wet us 
through. After a hard pull we reached a small island op¬ 
posite the lower end of. Green Island, and near the vil¬ 
lage of that name, where we stopped and went ashore for 
dinner. In the afternoon the wind fell, and after two or 
three tacks, we took to our oars again, and rowed on to a 
broad and shallow bay close to the village of Trois Pistolles, 
where we anchored for the night. There was a wreck on a 
reef at the entrance of this bay. 
' Jane 9.—^Ve got up early this morning and found the river 
or sea, as it may now fairly be called, being nearly twenty 
miles across and salt, perfectly calm. Seal and porpoise 
were swimming about, showing themselves above the sur¬ 
face of the water and appearing to he thoroughly enjoying 
themselves. We started at a quarter past four, rowed 
alongside the wreck, a ship called the Liverpool, and went 
on board to have a look at her. A schooner along side had 
just finished discharging the cargo. The'hold was full of 
water, the rigging and gear strewed about the dock, and 
the whilom good ship Liverpool appeared destined to end 
her career at “Trois Pistolles.” Leaving the wreck we 
rowed out into the channel $nd laid our course outside the two 
rocky islets called the “Razades.” There were numbers of 
seal and porpoise disporting themselves here, and I fired 
some shot at them without, however, any result. These 
little digressions delayed us somewhat, and the tide turned 
and the sun came out hot and fierce while we were some 
distance from Bic Harbour, wflich was our destination that 
day. The flood current is scarcely felt here, however, and 
in the middle of the river the current is always down, but 
it would have taken us too much out of our course to have 
rowed out into it. Between Trois Pistolles and Bic there 
are no villages. The poast for sixteen miles or so is rugged 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
and iron bound, tlie cliffs, as they descend sheer into the 
water, being called Les Murailles, (the walls.) It was near¬ 
ly two o’clock when we got into Bic harbor, scorched and 
rather tired by our long row which we estimated at about 
twenty-eight miles. Bic harbor is a deep and well shelter¬ 
ed bay, and the scenery about it very pretty, especially at 
high water on a calm day. Two little green islands at the 
entrance shut in the harbor from the river; it is perfectly 
protected from the winds from all quarters, and large ves¬ 
sels can anchor in it in safety. Two little rivers flow into 
it, one at each corner of the bay. Tlie Minnie was beached, 
the cargo taken out, and on the sand under the shade of an 
old stump we made a fire and brewed ourselves some tea, 
which we found very refreshing after our row. Here I 
interviewed an “inhabitant” with whom I had a slight ac¬ 
quaintance, made arrangements for billetting ourselves 
upon him, and after carting our “butin,” (booty, as one’s 
baggage is called in Lower Canada,) up to bis house, we 
went up to the village to get letters, ahd fish the river for 
trout. We stayed at Bic for two days, got three pretty 
good bags of trout, at least C. did, from Bic river,and tried 
“River Southwest,” on the opposite side of the bay, for sal¬ 
mon, but this river being a late one we did not see any. 
June 12.—Made preparations for a start to-day. This was a 
fete “de DieuJ strictly kept as a holiday by the simple and 
kindly French Canadian people. To their credit be it said, 
that drunkeness or rowdyism is seldom seen on these occa¬ 
sions, as is often the case amongst people calling them¬ 
selves more advanced. 
We got under weigh at half past two, rowed out of Bic 
harbour, and then sailed as far as Rimousld, about nine 
miles. This place is quite a town, and can boast of a col¬ 
lege. The wharf close to the entrance of Rimouski river 
excited our wonder. It is nearly half a mile long, and has 
only about six feet of water at its extremity at low tide. 
Whether it was worth while “going through so much to 
gain so .little,” as the charity boy remarked, when he had 
got to the end of the alphabet, must be a matter of opinion. 
The masters of vessels appear to think it wasn’t, as they pre¬ 
fer taking tlieir schooners into the river to laying them 
alongside the wharf. We followed their example, rowed 
up the river to above a bridge and anchored. We then 
went ashore, took a walk up to the dam, about two miles 
above the town, and watched a salmon fisher casting his 
fly for some time. He failed to get even a rise; the river is 
a good one for fish, and he told us that ,lie caught many a 
salmon there, some very big ones. From a hill above the 
draw we had a pretty view of the little river and its wind¬ 
ings, the village and its church, and the St. Lawrence be¬ 
yond, here expanded to thirty miles. We returned to our 
ship, and while waiting to be put on board, an Indian fish¬ 
ing from a canoe made fast to the bridge fell into the 
water, and great was the shouting and excitment that fol¬ 
lowed. They fished him out in a few moments, none the 
worse, ahd probably a good deal cleaner for bis ducking. 
We slept on board, and even at this season the nights were 
so cpld that we required all our wraps and ektra clothing 
to keep ourselves warm. 
[to PE CONTINUED. ] 
For Forest and Stream. 
THE SAGE COCK. 
I N compliance with my promise, I send some notes of 
the sage cock (Tetrao urophasianus,) and its pecularities, 
which I had an opportunity to observe while posted in 
the Rocky Mountains in 1862, ’63, ’64 and ’65. 
Tlie photograph enclosed is from a life size drawing of a 
male bird made by Lt. Caspar W. Collins, 11th Ohio Vol¬ 
unteer Cavalry, which is now in my possession. Amneas 
urement of the picture gives length of bill and head three 
inches, neck seven, body fourteen, and tail ten inches, 
total thirty-four inches. Its actual weight in feather was 
seven pounds, and it was a fair specimen of a full grown 
male bird, the female being about two pounds less. The 
attitude is characterlstsc, half crouching as it steals off 
when alarmed. The color is also true to life, black and 
brown, mottled with white, except the breast where white 
predominates. You will perceive also that the legs are 
slightly feathered. A remarkable feature of the bird is 
that it has no gizzard, and in hundreds examined, no seeds, 
grain or insects were ever found in the craw, or rather 
paunch, which is very large. This lack of a gizzard indi¬ 
cates it to be a browser and not a grain eater. Its food is 
principally tlie artemisia or wild sage, though indications 
of the leaves and buds of the grease wood and various 
grasses were sometimes found. I have never met with it 
where the wild sage did not abound. 
A lady who ismsually at my elbow and who has seen the 
artemisia on its native plains reminds me that it is not of the 
sage family (the salvias) but is one of the wormwoods {Arte¬ 
misia tridentata) and as she quotes Prof. Gray upon me I 
give it up. It is certainly bitter enough to stand at the 
head of the wormwoods, and I think nothing but the sage 
cock will eat it. 
I notice that some of your conrespondents state that it is 
scarcely eatable on account of the bitter taste caused by 
the artemisia. Here is .the remedy. Immediately after 
killing.draw the bird, thoroughly removing the intestines 
and their contents, but all other dressing can be delayed 
till camp is reached. Treated in this manner it has no dis- 
agreable taste. Tills is what we should expect when it is 
recollected that in all animals, the peculiarities of food pass 
off by secretions through the natural channels. The milk 
and butter of a cow feeding upon wild garlic, cabbage, rag¬ 
weed, &c., will be tainted with their peculiar qualities, but 
the flesh is not. So when the bird is dead the operations 
of the body cease, aborption commences and the contents of 
the intestines begin to affect the flesh. The power of life to 
resist absorption and decay are aswonderfnl as mysterious 
A live fish in salt water continues fresh. The rubbino- 0 [ 
salt upon a live liog’s back would hardly cure the meat 
but when slaughtered it takes up the salt through skin and 
flesh alike. But perhaps too-much upon this familiar prin 
ciple, unless it serves to redeem this magnificent bi v d from 
its unlucky reputation. Tlie flesh is quite dark and rather 
dry, hut when the bird is about two thirds grown, with the 
bitter taste prevented in the manner I have described, it ig 
not easy for a. hungry man to find fault with it, especially 
in camp. I notice also that a correspondent says that it 
does not lie well before a dog; I have not found it so under 
favorable circumstances. When there is reasonable cover 
its conduct in that respect is better than that of the pin- 
nated grouse. But the peculiarities of its habitat do not 
give the dog a fair chance to work, or do himself or the 
game justice. The artemisia grows only upon barren 
prairies from four to ten thousand feet above the level of 
the ocean, where the soil is composed of dry sand, alkaline 
clay, granite rocks &c., with little other vegetation but 
stunted shrubs, cactus, and an occasional clump of wild 
grass, where rains rarely occur and there is little moisture 
in the air or upon the ground. It is a tough sprawling 
crooked evergreen, or rather evergray shrub, from six 
inches to six feet high, partly deciduous in appearance 
much like the garden sage, and when thick very difficult 
for man, horse or dog to get through. Still where the plants 
were low and thick and advantage could be taken of the 
wind, I have had capital sport over pointers and setters. 
For this work, however, the setter is preferable, as he 
suffers less from the cold and from sore feet and scratched 
skin. 
The rage cock is a good skulker and runner, and not 
easily flushed if it can hide. It gets up heavily like the 
wild turkey, laboring hard with the wings until a proper 
height is reached and speed is obtained, when it sails 
rapidly away, and if alarmed often goes from half a mile 
to a mile before dropping. 
The packs are smaller than any other variety of grouse, 
rarely exceeding ten. They never light upon trees 
and indeed I have never seen them among the timber. 
They are rarely found east of Fort Laramie or of the range 
of Black Hills which constitutes the first step or shelf of the 
Rocky Mountains going west. The mountain deserts con¬ 
stitute their home. I have met them in the Laramie Plains, 
on the upper waters of the North Platte, on Sweet-water 
River, on the head waters of Green River, (the Colorado of 
the West) on Lewis Fork of the Columbia, and on Wind 
River, but no where so numerous as on the latter stream 
and its tributaries, where scores would be often seen in a 
mile’s ride. 
The sage cock is also said to be common north nearly or 
quite to the British line, and west to California, but in these 
observations I have confined myself to the sections I have 
personally visited. It would he safe to presume that they 
would be found wherever there was a barren prairie stocked 
with artemisia. 
Details of the localities and limits of birds and animals 
arid tlie change in dress, habits and character arising from 
the infiunces of climate, food, &e., are very interesting and 
I am pleased to see the encouragement given by the Forest 
and Stream to tlie publication of the facts upon these 
subjects. 
I have heard it said that the sage cock migrates, but this 
is not so, as I have seen them at all seasons of the year on 
the same ground. In this respect their habits are the same 
as other varieties of grouse, never moving far from the 
spot where hatched unless compelled to do so. The idea 
no doubt arises from tlie fact that they are rarely seen 
moving in tlie severe weather and terrible storms of this 
region; their habit being to lie close in ravines and hollows 
and dense thickets of artemesia where they can have food 
and shelter. Veteran. 
REMINISCENCES OF NORTH WOODS. 
by a Sportsman’s wife. 
A FTER we liad been in tlie wood-* some two months we 
ri were very pleasantly surprised one Sunday afternoon, 
’he Mac—s who had moved into the woods some three 
liles from us, for the purpose of making shingles, had 
ome to make us a neighborly call. They were sensible, 
ind-hearted people, and I still look back to our visits 
with pleasantest of memories. A woman’s fac« did look 
o good, and a real good gossip was so enjoyable after 
aving seen none but masculine faces for such a length of 
ime! The gentlemen were all very nice in their way, to 
, certain extent I could share their enthusiasm in shooting 
nd fishing, could make their flies, repair the “accidents 
iy flood and field,” in short be generally useful, and they 
ppreciated it (especially after a night at some rough back¬ 
woods shanty, where corn, coffee, and salt pork were the 
ule) and would do anything for me, pick strawberries for 
ay short-cakes (would that we could have some now), if 
iad a head ache would scrape out the frying-pan a 
eady to use again,” or any other kindly deed, but they 
ould’nt sit down with sewing in hand and join in the & 
ightful chit-chat that women can. Poor things, they di n 
mow how! So Mrs. Mac—s coming was a blessing to me, 
,nd many were the delightful visits we had. Her woman 
y appreciation, sympathies and neighborly kindness, wet 
ery sweet to me and are still tenderly remembered. 
