gave a picturesque appearance to its banks, and a resemblance to the river views in Norway or Sweden. One of the most singular sensations we experienced, was that of sailing many miles perceptibly _down hill_. Soon after passing the third rapid, the St. Lawrence expanded into a wide lake—the Lake of St. Francis. There we lost our wind and stream, and were obliged to have recourse to our oars. The evening was now closing in, and a violent thunder-storm brought on a premature darkness; but the ladies enlivened us by singing the Canadian Boat-Song, ‘Row, brothers, row, &c.’ which transported me to ——, where I have so often heard it. [Illustration: _Village of Cedars, River St. Lawrence._] [Illustration: _Nelson’s Pillar,_ Montreal.] “About ten o’clock, we made towards a light which we saw on the shore, and landed a committee of inquiry, who reported so unfavourably of the miserable cabin from which it issued, that we determined to proceed, tired as the ladies were. Our scouts informed us, that they had found in the cabin four or five Canadians, dancing to a sleeping fiddler, whose music ceased as soon as they awoke him. A mile or two further, we found a better house, where we called the family up, and, with the help of our well-bred and efficient ladies, some gunpowder tea they had with them, some milk that was obtained from a cow that was awakened for the purpose, and the services of my servant, we sat down, a party of twenty, to a tolerably comfortable meal. When the ladies were about to retire, they found there was no door to their chamber, but they supplied the deficiency with a sheet. The gentlemen lay on blankets, in a sort of barrack room; but I found the fleas so annoying, that I got up and sat at the door of the house. I should have enjoyed the clear night after the storm, and the placid lake, if I had been less tired and sleepy; but wearied as I was, I was very glad to see the day break. Our gunpowder tea made its appearance again at five o’clock; after which we embarked, passing the remaining rapids, (the Cedars, the Split Rock, and the Cascades, as they are called,) and the mouth of the Ottawa River; and, being becalmed in the fine lake, St. Louis, we arrived at night at La Chine, about 150 miles from Ogdensburgh, which we had left the preceding morning. As we approached La Chine, the houses and villages on the banks of the river and lake assumed a much more comfortable appearance; but of the Canadians in my next letter.