beautiful views I have ever seen. We are at the entrance of an estuary
that winds about, labyrinth-like, until it leads up to a stream more
than twenty miles distant inland. Outside are large islands, their
lofty heads pine-clad, and the same garment reaching to the very waves
on all sides. These are God's breakwaters. Inside, wherever the channel
widens, there are smaller islands, so disposed as to make it impossible
to say what is island and what continent. These are gems in a setting
that perfectly reflects the grass and pines fringing the sea's glossy
surface, as well as the background of snow-patched mountain.

"Yesterday the stillness was reverential, and quite in keeping with
Sunday rest. Scores of graceful canoes were drawn above the tide. Not a
paddle broke the silence. As Admiral Prevost and I stood in the Mission
garden we heard, in the distance, the howls of a pack of wolves. A
flight of crows or rooks claimed a moment's attention. Besides this,
nothing disturbed the calm sea, or the stillness, but the wing of some
wild fowl splashing the sea as it rose. Before we returned to the house
we were ravished with the splendour of the sunset. The giant that had
run its day's course transformed the scene. He touched everything, till
sea and sky vied with each other in glorious effects. The snowy peaks
to eastward blushed.

"But, after all, the Sun of Righteousness has produced a far more
beautiful transformation in the character of the Indian, and this
change is not fleeting. The church bell rings, and, from both wings of
the village, well-dressed men, their wives and children, pour out from
the cottages, and the two currents meet at the steps of the noble
sanctuary their own hands have made, to the honour of God our Saviour.
On Saturday I had made a sketch of the village. Mr. Duncan remarked, as
the people streamed along, 'Put that stream into your picture.' 'That