to; one in the immediate vicinity of the post, the other about three days’ journey distant.  Late in autumn I was gratified by a visit from the superintendent of the district, who expressed himself perfectly satisfied with my arrangements.  As soon as the river set fast with ice, I resolved on paying a visit to my more remote customer, and assumed the snow-shoes for the first time.  I set out with my only man, leaving the old interpreter sole occupier of the post.  My man had visited the Indian on several occasions during the previous winter, and told me that he usually halted at a Chantier,[1] on the way to his lodge.  We arrived late in the evening at the locality in question, and finding a quantity of timber collected on the ice, concluded that the shanty must be close at hand.  We accordingly followed the lumber-track until we reached the hut which had formerly afforded such comfortable accommodation to my companion.  Great was our disappointment, however, to find it now tenantless, and almost buried in snow.  I had made an extraordinary effort to reach the spot in the hope of procuring good quarters for the night, and was now so completely exhausted by fatigue that I could proceed no further.  The night was dark, and to make our situation as cheerless as possible, it was discovered that my companion had left his “fire-works” behind—­a proof of his inexperience.  Under these circumstances our preparations were necessarily few.  Having laid a few boughs of pine upon the snow, we wrapped ourselves up in our blankets, and lay down together.  I passed the night without much rest; but my attendant—­a hardy Canadian—­kept the wild beasts at bay by his deep snoring, until dawn.  I found myself completely benumbed with cold; a smart walk, however, soon put the blood in circulation, and ere long we entered a shanty where we experienced the usual hospitality of these generous folks.  Here we borrowed a “smoking-bag,” containing a steel, flint, and tinder.  With the aid of these desiderata in the appointments of a voyageur, we had a comfortable encampment on the following night.

    [1] The hut used by the lumbermen, and the root of the
    well-known “shanty.”

The mode of constructing a winter encampment is simply this:—­you measure with your eye the extent of ground you require for your purpose, then taking off your snow-shoes, use them as shovels to clear away the snow.  This operation over, the finer branches of the balsam tree are laid upon the ground to a certain depth; then logs of dry wood are placed at right angles to the feet at a proper distance, and ignited by means of the “fire-works” alluded to.  In such an encampment as this, after a plentiful supper of half-cooked peas and Indian corn—­the inland travelling fare of the Montreal department—­and a day’s hard walking, one enjoys a repose to which the voluptuary reclining on his bed of down is a perfect stranger.