“In that dish, with a piece broken from the edge, gentlemen, you have a mixture of _moose tongue_, _moose lip_, and _moose brains_. I spent nearly a month moose-hunting, last winter, in company with a couple of Indians, and though the snow was deep, the crust hard, our snowshoes in good order, our dogs brave and strong, and moose were numerous, we only killed about sixteen. I only brought home the heads (while the Indians were satisfied with the skins and haunches), but I was more than paid for all my trouble, in the way of hard traveling and cold sleeping, for in one of the moose-yards that we visited _I found a specimen of pine which I had never seen before_. It was very soft and beautiful, and I think the book-men of England would give a good deal of money if they could have it in their great gardens. “As to that meat in the white dish, which you all seem to eat with such a relish, I think you will be surprised to learn that it is nothing but _beaver’s tail_. To my taste it is the sweetest meat in the world, and I am only sorry that this valuable animal is becoming so very scarce in this section of country. My present stock of beaver’s tail came from the shore of Hudson’s Bay, and, though I bought it of an Indian, I had to pay him as much for the tails as the fur company paid him for the skins of his animals. I never trapped for beaver myself, but I have for otter, and often have great sport in killing seals, which are very abundant in the St. Lawrence, and afford to the Indians pretty good food during the hard winters. The only thing that I have against the beaver is, that he has a fashion, I am told, _of cutting down for his house such beautiful trees as the birch, mulberry, willow, and poplar before they are half grown_.