always cold at night; you always must have a blanket here. The heat-that is nothing if you have the refreshing cold of the night; people who can not sleep any where else, they can sleep here very well. Every one says that.

"Yes, and I will tell you this," he added, turning to Balfour; "you ought to have stayed some days more in Denver, as all people do, to get accustomed to the thin air, before coming up here. All the doctors say that."

"Thank you," said Balfour, laughing," my lungs are pretty tough. I don't suffer any inconvenience."

"That is very well, then; for they say the air'of these places will kill a consumptive person

dowwe two who were leaving-and tried to fix in our memories some picture of the surroundings of Bell's home; for we knew that many a time in the after-days we should think of her and endeavour to form some notion of what she was engaged in at the moment, and of the scene around her. And can we remember it now? The sunlight seems to fall vertically from that blazing sky, and there is a pale mist of heat far up in the mountains, so that the dark pine-woods appear to have a faint blue fog hanging around them. On the barer slopes, where the rocks project in shoulders, there is a more brilliant light; for there the undergrowth of cottonwood bushes, in its autumn gold, burns clear and sharp, even at this distance. And then the eye comes down to the still valley, and

"Frighten you," said he. "Will you show me the one who is likely to be consumptive? There is not any one of us does look like it. But if we all turn to be consumptive, can not we go down to the plains? and we will give up the mountain sheep for the antelope-"

"I do believe," said his wife, with some vexation, that you had not a thought in coming out here except about shooting!"

"And I do believe," he said, "that you had no thought except about your children. Oh, you ungrateful woman! You wear mourning-yes; but when do you really mourn for your poor uncle? When do you speak of him? You have not been to his grave yet."

"You know wery well it was yourself who insisted on our coming here first," said she, with a blushing face; but it was not a deadly quarrel.

The chillness of the night did not prevent our going out for a walk later on, when all the world seemed asleep. And now the clouds had passed away from the heavens, and the clear stars were shining down over the mystic darkness of the mountains. In the silence around us we only heard the plashing of the stream. It was to be our last night together.

whom we

A last farewell before we go."

No

That was all that companion of this unhonoured Sappho managed to make out as the paper was snatched from her hand. No doubt it invoked blessings on the friends to were bidding good-bye. doubt it spoke of the mother's thinking of her children far away. And there certainly was no doubt that the verses, whether they were good verses or bad verses, served their turn, and are treasured up at this moment as though their like had never been seen.

On that warm, clear, beautiful morning, when the heavy coach came rolling up to the door of the inn, Balfour and Lady Sylvia did not at all seem broken down by emotion; on the contrary, they both appeared to be in high spirits. But our poor Bell was a wretched spectacle, about which nothing more shall be said here. Her last words were about her children; but they were almost inaudible, through the violence of her And we knew well, as we caught sobbing. the last glimpse of that waved handkerchief,

that this token of farewell was not meant for us; it was but a message we were to carry back with us across the seas to a certain home in Surrey.

Heir hat die Mär' ein Ende; and yet the present writer, if he is not overtaxing the patience of the reader, would like to say a word about the fashion in which two people, living pretty much by themselves down in the solitudes of Surrey, used to try to establish some link of interest and association with their friends far away in Colorado, and how at these times pictures of by-gone scenes would rise before their minds, soft, and clear, and beautiful; for the troubles and trials of travelling were now all forgotten, and the pleasant passages of our journeying could be separated and strung like lambent beads on the thread of memory.

Or shall we not rather take, as a last breach of confidence, this night of all the nights in the year-this Christmas-evewhich we more particularly devote to our dear and absent friends? It is now drawing away from us. We have been over to Bell's almost deserted house; and there, as the children were being put to bed, we heard something about Ilaho.

It was as near as it will suffice

the little girl could get to it; message.

for

And now, late as it is, and our own house being wrapped in silence aftar all the festivities of the evening-well, to tell the truth, there was a wild turkey, and there were some canvas-back ducks; and we were not bound to tell too eagerly inquisitive boys that these could not well come from Colorado, though they did come from America-a madness seems to come over our gentle Queen Titania, and she will go out into the darkness, though the night is cold and there is snow on the ground. We go forth into the silent world. The thin snow is crisp and dry underfoot. The stars are shining over our heads. There is no wind to stir the black shadows of the trees.

And now, as the time draws near when we are to send that unspoken message to the listening ones across the seas, surely they are waiting like ourselves? And the dark night, even up here on Mickleham Downs, where we go by the dusky yew-trees like ghosts, becomes afire with light, and colour, and moving shapes; for we are thinking once more of the many scenes that connect us by an invisible chain with our friends of the past.

How long ago was it that we sat in the long saloon, and the fog-horn was booming outside, and we heard Lady Sylvia's tender voice singing with the others, "Abide with me; fast falls the eventide," as the good ship plunged onward and through the waste of waters? But the ship goes too slow for us. We can outstrip its speed. We are already half-way over to Bell's retreat, and here we shall rest; for are we not high over the Hudson, in the neighbourhood of the haunted mountains ?—and we have but to give another call to reach the far plains of Colorado!

stars.

"Ho, Vanderdecken-Hendrich Hudsoncan you take our message from us and pass it on? This is a night, of all the nights in the long year, that you are sure to be abroad, you and your sad-faced crew, up there in the lonely valleys, under the light of the Can you go still higher and send a view-halloo across to the Rocky Mountains ? Can you say to our friends that we are lis tening? Can you tell them that something has just been said—they will know by whom--about a certain dear mother at Idaho? Give a call, then, across the waste Atlantic that we may hear! Or is it the clamour of the katydids that drowns the ghostly voice? We cannot hear at all. Perhaps the old men are cowering in their cave, because of the sacred time; and there is no mirth in the hills tonight; and no huge cask of schnapps to be tapped, that the heavy beards may wag. Vanderdecken-Hendrich Hudson-you are of no use to us; we pass on: we leave the dark mountains behind us, under the silent

stars.

*

"Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers-
Oh, grant us cool heavens and favouring airs!
Blow, breezes, blow! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past!'"

"Look at the clear gold ray of the lighthouses, and the pale green of the sunset skies, and the dark islands and trees catching the last red flush. And is not this Bell's voice, singing to us, with such a sweetness as the Lake of a Thousand Islands never heard before

'Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn.

*

"We were startled by this wild roaring in our ears, as if the world were falling, and we are in a mystical cavern ; and the whirling gray cataracts threaten to tear us from the narrow foothold. Our eyes are blinded, our throats are choked, our fingers still clutch at the dripping rocks; and then all at once we see your shining and smiling face-you giant black demon-you magnificent Sambo-you huge child of the nether world of waters! We KENT GO NO FORDER DEN DAWT? Is that what you say? We shout to you through this infernal din that we can-we can-we can! We elude your dusky fingers, We send you a mocking farewell. Let the waters come crashing down; for we have divedand drifted—and come up into the white sunlight again !

"And now there is no sound at all. We cannot even hear Bell's voice; for she is standing silent in front of the Chief's grave; and she is wondering whether his ghost is still lingering here, looking for the ships of the white man going up and down the great river. For our part, we can see none at all. The broad valley is deserted; the Missouri shows no sign of life; on the wide plains around us we find only the red-bird and the grasshopper. Farewell, White Cow; if your last wish is not gratified, at least the silence of the prairie is reserved to you, and no alien plough crosses the solitude of your grave, You are an amiable ghost, we think; we would shake hands with you, and give you a friendly 'How?' but the sunlight is in our eyes, and we cannot see you, just as you can not make out the ships on that long line of river. May you have everlasting tobacco in the world of dreams.

High up in your awful solitudes, you can surely hear us ; and we will tell you what you must call across the plains, for they are all silent now, as silent as the white skulls lying in the sand.

Vanderdecken, for the sake of Heavenif that has power to conjure you-call to our listening friends; and we will pledge you in a glass to-night, and you and your ghastly crew will nod your heads in ominous laughter-"

But what is this that we hear, suddenly shaking the pulses of the night with its tender sound? O friends far away! do you know that our English bells are beginning to ring in the Christmas time? If you cannot hear our faint voice across the wild Atlantic and the silent plains, surely you can hear the sounds you knew so well in the by-gone days! Over the crisp snow, and by the side of the black trees and hedges, we hurry homeward. We sit in a solitary room, and still we hear outside the faint tolling of the bells. The hour is near, and it is no dire spirit that we expect, but the gentle soul of a mother coming with a message to her sleeping children, and stopping for a moment in passing to look on her friends of old.

And she will take our message back, we know, and tell that other young wife out there that we are glad to hear that her heart is at peace at last. But what will the invisible messenger take back for herself? A look at her children who knows?

A second to twelve. Shall we give a wild scream, then, as the ghost enters ? for the silence is awful. Ah, no! whether you are here or not, our good Bell, our hearts go forth towards you, and we welcome you; and we are glad that, even in this silent fashion, we can bring in the Christmas-time together. But is the gentle spirit here-or has it passed? A stone's throw from our house is another house; and in it there is a room dimly lit; and in the room are two sleeping children. If the beautiful mother has been here with us amidst the faint tolling of these Christmas bells, you may be sure she only smiled upon us in passing, and that she is now in that silent room.

I

T is proposed in the present paper to take the reader on a short excursion to a section of Canada of which very few persons outside of the political capital, and not many even there, can have any very accurate knowledge. The district to, which I refer stretches to the north of the Ottawa River and is watered by two of its most picturesque tributaries, the Gatineau and Du Lièvre. Looking at the very excellent map published by the Government of Quebec, or indeed at any large map of Canada conveniently at hand, we find that these rivers take their rise some hundreds of miles from the City of Ottawa, in a rugged region of rocks and hills, where the Indian and trapper are the only inhabitants. The whole country is intersected in a marvellous manner by rivers and lakes, which connect with the two rivers in question, and afford unrivalled facilities to the lumbermen, who, for some forty years, have been robbing the hills and valleys of the magnificent pine forests that have hitherto constituted the chief wealth of that region. At this time especially, a sketch of some of the natural characteristics of the country will be probably interesting to many persons, since very recent discoveries have proved the existence of valuable economic minerals, and the prospect now is that capital will be directed to this comparatively unknown section, and give an unexpected importance to the vast masses of Laurentian rocks that cover so many thousands of square miles of the region watered by the Ottawa and its tributary rivers.

The names of the townships, rivers, and lakes of the Gatineau country illustrate, as elsewhere in Canada, different epochs and events in the history of the Dominion. The Pickanock, and Kazabazoua Rivers, and the Papenegeang and Kakebonga Lakes are Algonquin names that have come down to us from the Indian tribes who have inhabited that section from time immemorial. But French names predominate here just as they do in the Province of Quebec generally, and illustrate the spirit of adventure that has carried away at all times so many French Canadians into the wilderness either to trap furs or level the forest. The names of all the lakes and rivers, like those generally

given by the coureurs de bois and voyageurs, note some natural characteristic or some incident connected with the locality. The Mer Bleu has been so called on account of the peculiar pebbly bottom, which gives a pale opaque blue tint to the waters of this large and picturesque lake. The river of the Castor Blanc, and the lake of the Poisson Blanc bear testimony to the existence of the white beaver and white fish at one time or other. The townships of Hincks, Dorion, Sicotte, and Alleyn recall the old political conflicts of Capada, while Lytton, Wakefield, and Kensington are among the mementoes of prominent men and places in the mothercountry. Bouchette reminds us of one of the earliest surveyors, to whom we owe the ablest topographical description ever published of Lower Canada. The River du Lièvre is named from the hares which were once remarkably common on its banks, and made to stand sponsors at the christening, by the ready-witted and practical voyageurs. The Gatineau is evidently of old French origin, and was first given to a Seigniory of the County of St. Maurice, where a concession was made by Marquis de la Jonquière and Francis Bigot-the former Governor, and the latter, the notorious Intendant of the last days of the French régime-to Marie Josephe Gatineau Duplessis. The Désert— the accent must be placed on the first syllable-is applied, as we shall presently show, to a wilderness region. For the same reason, the French pioneers of Acadia named a picturesque island, off the coast of Maine, now a famous resort of summer tourists. "I have called it," says Champlain, "the Isle of Monts Déserts,' SO impressed was he with the sight of the craggy summits which rise above the waves on the Atlantic coast.

66

for a long distance, until they were able at last, by means of the lakes, streams, and portages, to reach the St. Maurice, whence they descended to the St. Lawrence, at the point where now sleeps the quiet old city of Three Rivers; and this very circuitous route became generally a necessity when the Indians learned that their hereditary foes, the Iroquois, were lying in ambush for them on the banks of the Lower Ottawa. It does not appear that any attempt was made to colonize the Gatineau Valley until many years after the settlement of Hull, opposite Ottawa, by Philemon Wright, the pioneer of this part of Canada.*· When Mr. McTaggart, one of the Engineers who explored the route for the Rideau Canal, wrote his notes on Canada, he had no idea of the value of this region. It was his opinion--one showing the uses to which Englishmen of those days would put the colonies-that "the vale of the Gatineau would make a most favourable place for convicts." They could be conveyed to the vale," he goes on to say, "at about a quarter of the expense that they are now to New Holland. As the local situation there is excellent, with regard to Upper and Lower Canada, it might become a place of great importance and utility to the mothercountry, and a receptacle for villains." Hap pily Mr. McTaggart's suggestion was not adopted, or we might now have a Gatineau aristocracy akin to the "old families" of New South Wales. It has been left to the lumberman to open up a valuable section of country within a little over a quarter of a century. When Bouchette published his Topographical Description of Canada, in 1832, he showed that he was ignorant of the capabilities of the Gatineau for lumbering and settlement. But since several wealthy and enterprising firms have bought up the most valuable limits throughout a splendid pine country, the Gatineau, despite its swift current and numerous rapids, has been found one of the most desirable rivers of the Ot tawa region for the driving of timber.

The drive up the Gatineau takes you through a country remarkable for its picturesque scenery. The road, for some seventy miles, rarely ever leaves the banks of the river, which now narrows to a gorge through

* The Ottawa Valley: Its history and resources. C. M. January, 1875. The present article may be considered a supplement to that paper.

which the water rushes wildly, or widens into a placid lake encircled by hills. The country is well settled by a thrifty, industrious classof small farmers, who have followed in the wake of the lumberman. The slopes of the hills are for some fifty miles well cultivated, and present a very charming contrast with the rugged pine-clad summits, below which lie the farms. At different places, close by the river side, are rich alluvial tracts where the principal lumbering firms have made fine farms, and built comfortable houses and stores, where they keep supplies for the use of the shanties. The soil of the mountain slopes is naturally rich, and yields bountifully when cleared of its surface stone, while even in the most rocky parts there is abundant herbage and water for cattle, especially for sheep. The whole country for some fifty or sixty miles to the north of the Ottawa is, in fact, admirably adapted for grazing, and any man with a little capital, who could buy out several farms, could probably carry on stockraising and sheep-rearing with profit despite the long winters.

Several villages are situated alongside the river or its small tributary streams. The principal is the Péche, where there are several inns, comfortable in their way, two churches, and some small factories, besides a handsome brick store, owned by a wealthy lumberman. The situation is exceedingly romantic, on the side of a broad stretch of the river, here encircled by an amphitheatre of gently undulating hills. The Pickanock is another village of considerable importance, for it is the headquarters of a large lumber business, and the centre of a fine farming district. But the villages, like all places of sudden growth in mining or lumbering districts, are not in themselves beautiful-none have the neatness of a New England village, but are suggestive of slabs and stumps and general untidiness; but this is not remarkable when we find that the needs of the present must first be considered, and that green blinds, white paint, pretty gardens, and shade trees in front of every home, are the outcome of an older, more settled state of things. The natural beauty of the country soon makes one forget the inevitable slovenliness of the pioneer. As far as the eye can reach, you may follow a seemingly endless range of hills which rise, one beyond the other, in graceful succession, until they are lost in the purple of the distance. You drive through