boy contained, “_Priez pour lui_.” This answered as well as Père la Chaise. We knocked at the door of the curé’s house here, when a sleek friar-like personage, in his sacerdotal robe, appeared. To our _Parlez-vous Anglais?_ even he answered, “_Non, Monsieur_”; but at last we made him understand what we wanted. It was to find the ruins of the old _chateau_. “_Ah! oui! oui!_” he exclaimed, and, donning his coat, hastened forth, and conducted us to a small heap of rubbish which we had already examined. He said that fifteen years before, it was _plus considérable_. Seeing at that moment three little red birds fly out of a crevice in the ruins, up into an arbor-vitæ tree, which grew out of them, I asked him their names, in such French as I could muster, but he neither understood me nor ornithology; he only inquired where we had _appris à parler Français_; we told him, _dans les États-Unis_; and so we bowed him into his house again. I was surprised to find a man wearing a black coat, and with apparently no work to do, even in that part of the world. The universal salutation from the inhabitants whom we met was _bon jour_, at the same time touching the hat; with _bon jour_, and touching your hat, you may go smoothly through all Canada East. A little boy, meeting us, would remark, “_Bon jour, Monsieur; le chemin est mauvais_” Good morning, sir; it is bad walking. Sir Francis Head says that the immigrant is forward to “appreciate the happiness of living in a land in which the old country’s servile custom of touching the hat does not exist,” but he was thinking of Canada West, of course. It would, indeed, be a serious bore to be obliged to touch your hat several times a day. A Yankee has not leisure for it. We saw peas, and even beans, collected into heaps in the fields. The former are an important crop here, and, I suppose, are not so much infested by the weevil as with us. There were plenty of apples, very fair and sound, by the roadside, but they were so small as to suggest the origin of the apple in the crab. There was also a small red fruit which they called _snells_, and another, also red and very acid, whose name a little boy wrote for me “_pinbéna_.” It is probably the same with, or similar to, the _pembina_ of the voyageurs, a species of viburnum, which, according to Richardson, has given its name to many of the rivers of Rupert’s Land. The forest trees were spruce, arbor-vitæ, firs, birches, beeches, two or three kinds of maple, bass-wood, wild-cherry, aspens, &c, but no pitch pines (_Pinus rigida_). I saw very few, if any, trees which had been set out for shade or ornament. The water was commonly running streams or springs in the bank by the roadside, and was excellent. The parishes are commonly separated by a stream, and frequently the farms. I noticed that the fields were furrowed or thrown into beds seven or eight feet wide to dry the soil.