former abounding with three different species of grouse—the spotted, ruffed, and prairie, or sharp-tailed, (tetrao Canadensis, cupido? et phasianellus,) which, as I walked a-head, afforded me plentiful sport. In the afternoon we fell upon the trail of a solitary Indian, who had passed the day before, and killed a lynx on our path. We likewise saw an old camp of the natives, and several graves rudely constructed with logs—simple, but affecting memorials of the "Gertrude of Wyoming|stoics of the wood, the men without a tear." The weather was soft and overcast; and, after travelling nine hours without intermission, we only made good about twenty-one miles. We put up on the borders of a narrow piece of water, called Long Lake, and partook of a sumptuous repast—the produce of my day's shooting.
Next day the track became, if possible, worse, and more difficult to trace, in consequence of the fast-falling snow. At noon we found ourselves on the banks of Swan Lake, across which a violent storm was sweeping. Fortunately, the wind was on our backs; and, immediately losing sight of land, we proceeded due west for Fir Bay, a distance of six miles. About the middle of this passage we came suddenly upon a space of weak ice, only an inch thick, and partially covered with water. It was an awkward pre-
