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LIFE WITH THE ESQUIMAUX.

length I reached a height beyond which I could mount no farther. Under the friendly shelter of a projecting cliff, I sat myself down amid the most luxurious bed of sorrel that I ever saw. I made a good feast upon it, and in ten minutes I could have gathered a bushel, it was so plentiful.

While here I had a look around. What a magnificent picture was before me! The bold mountains across the bay, with higher snow-capped ones behind them; the waterfall of 500 feet; the George Henry, the Rescue, and Black Eagle, lying at anchor beneath the shadow of those mountains, and the Esquimaux village low at my feet, was an admirable subject for a sketch.

I seized my pencil, but paper I had left behind, Still I was not to be balked. I had a new clay pipe in my mouth. I took this pipe and inspected the bowl. A little fancy line ran down its centre opposite the stem. This line would serve to represent the dashing, foaming waterfall before me; the plain surface on each side would do for the sketch. This

PIPE SKETCH.—CLARK'S HARBOUR.

I made; and such as it then was is here presented to the reader, even as I hoped I might be able to do, under the title of the "Pipe Sketch."