only a few decrepit old men and women. The scene was now completely
changed; a death-like stillness prevailed where but a few days before
all was activity, bustle and animation. Two of my brother scribes were
ordered to the interior; one[1] to the distant Lake Nipissingue, the
other to the Chats. Mr. Fisher set off to enjoy himself in Montreal,
Mr. Francher, the accountant, being appointed _locum-tenens_ during
his absence. Another young Scot and myself, together with two or three
non-descripts, formed the winter establishment. Having just quitted
the scenes of civilized life, I found my present solitude sufficiently
irksome; the natural buoyancy of youthful spirits, however, with the
amusements we got up amongst us, conspired to banish all gloomy
thoughts from my mind in a very short time. We--my friend Mac and
myself--soon became very intimate with two or three French families
who resided in the village, who were, though in an humble station,
kind and courteous, and who, moreover, danced, fiddled and played
whist.

[1] This gentleman's name was Cockburn;--he met his end a few
years afterwards in a very melancholy manner, while on his way
to Montreal (having retired from the service). He rolled over
the canoe on a dark night, and disappeared for ever!

There was another family of a different status from the others, that
of Capt. Ducharme, the king's interpreter, a kind-hearted, hospitable
man, who frequently invited us to his house, where we enjoyed the
charms of polished society and good cheer. The captain's residence was
in the Iroquois division of the village; this circumstance led us to
form another acquaintance that for some time afforded us some
amusement, _en passant_. We discovered that a very ugly old widow, who
resided in that quarter, had two very pretty young daughters, to whom