That cannibalism is occasionally practised to a great extent among the aborigines inhabiting these dreary regions, the many accounts which have reached our ears would lead us to believe; but as these things are generally exaggerated, we know not what degree of credence they deserve. Among the anecdotes of this nature related to us, are the following, which, if true, show to what a degraded state of mind these miserable people are reduced. An Indian _Montagnier_, whose name is Mocontagan, or Crooked Knife, in a drunken fit confessed having in the course of his life killed and eaten several Indians and Metifs, or half-breeds. When sober, he attempted to deny it; but upon being closely pressed he acknowledged the fact, but said starvation drove him to kill and eat the first man, and that he slew and ate the others from a decided preference of that to any other kind of flesh; and finished his statement by declaring that he would kill any Metif, and eat him, that he should meet alone. He is much feared by the other Indians, who are inclined to believe him to be an evil spirit. He is described as a powerful man, six feet high, and strong built, and possessing what is termed “a bad countenance.” Upon one occasion, about six years since, at Wemontashingur, the Algonquins took courage and rose upon him: he fled for protection to Mr. Hyslop, the resident clerk of the Post, who with Mr. Le Blanc, now at Rat River, advised him to leave the place, as they could not be answerable for his life. This man is still living, much dreaded by the Indians frequenting the St. Maurice. Another instance was related to us by Mr. Vassal, belonging to the King’s Post company. One day, during the winter, as he was travelling among the mountains, he saw an Indian stretched on the snow. Vassal approached him, and demanded what was the matter. The Indian replied he was sick, doubtless imagining Vassal would be alarmed by the thoughts of fever, and quit the place without entering the cabin: but Vassal, anxious to collect furs, attempted to go in, the Indian pulled him back by the leg; Vassal made another attempt, and succeeded in entering. A fire was burning, and a large kettle was on it, which, to his horror, he found contained a portion of a very young child. The savage acknowledged that it was his grandson, and that hunger had driven him to eat it. This, Vassal says, could not be possible, as there were remains of musk-rats about the place. With respect to “bad dreams,” there is a Tête-de-Bule belonging to Wemontashingur at present labouring under the delusion. He imagines he shall fail in every undertaking until he has slain some person; and once he actually fired at his brother, but fortunately missed him. He is much feared by the tribe, as they imagine him possessed of an evil spirit, which will not depart until he has spilt blood.