The divisions struck the St. Lawrence ninety miles below Quebec, and the spontaneous kindness of the French Canadians could not have been exceeded. The carrioles, sleighs, and sledges of the whole district were assembled, and no man was suffered to march. They also fed the whole regiment during the route. On their arrival at Point Levi, opposite Quebec, where the river is over a mile wide, it was found that the ice had broken up and was floating down in great masses with a current of about six miles an hour. A number of large wooden canoes were collected, carrying about twenty men each, in the management of which the Canadians are very expert. After the men were seated the canoe was launched into open water, and the crew paddled away with all their might. When they encountered a large piece of ice they jumped out, and hauled up the canoe upon it, dragged it across, and launched it on the opposite side. This was rather a nervous operation, as the inclines, both in launching and hauling up, were very steep, and required holding on hard. This had to be repeated several times during the passage. Early in the following spring the regiment embarked in steam-boats for Montreal. Shortly afterwards, a remarkable and most interesting ceremony took place there, at which I was present. The chiefs of about forty Indian nations, or tribes—some from the shores of the Pacific Ocean, distant about 4,000 miles—assembled at Government House for the purpose of holding a “talk” or council with the Governor-General, Sir George Prevost, and concluding a treaty with him—offensive and defensive. Each chief had been presented with a scarlet robe, and the scene was very imposing. The chiefs, generally, were remarkably fine-looking men, their features Grecian, their carriage easy and graceful. Each chief, while addressing the Governor-General, held a “wampum” belt, handsomely embroidered with porcupine quills, and beads of various colours, which is their record of the treaty. When the recognised superior chief had concluded his speech he should have handed the “wampum” belt to the chief next in dignity of the Sioux tribe. It so happened, however, that he was passed over, and it was offered to him as the third speaker. He declined the honour in a most dignified and courteous manner, and would not deliver his address until after all the others had finished. Their language was very poetical, figurative, and quite in the Ossian style, somewhat in the following manner:— “Father, listen to your Red Children. “We have come from the setting to the rising sun to help our Father in his time of need, and to live or die with him.” “Listen, Father. “In days long past our Father and his Red Children fought with the Big Knives (the Americans) and they laid our Father on his back; and he held out his hand to the Big Knives (made peace) but forgot his Red Children. We hope he will not do so again.” “Listen, Father.