Thus ended our visit to the “Pauper Palace.” As we issued from the iron gate into the open road we met a long line of the elder girls, accompanied by a master, returning from a walk which they had taken, after school hours and before supper, for the benefit of their health. The glad smile of recognition, and the cheerful salutation with which they greeted us as we bade them good evening, were a touch of that gentle nature which “makes the whole world kin.” It refreshed us like a parting blessing from well-known friends. HOW WE WENT HUNTING IN CANADA. After his disasters in New Ireland, our friend Blungle could not be prevailed upon to go fishing again.[1] The sport was conducted under circumstances which deprived it of all attraction to him. He could understand fishing in the Thames,—sitting all day in a comfortable arm-chair in a punt, moored off Ditton, with a stock of brandy and water and mild Havannahs. This was true sport; but digging holes in the ice to catch fish was neither sportsman-like nor exciting. Under the circumstances, he was not to be reasoned with; so we only laughed at him,—Perroque advising him, on his return to St. Pancras, to try his luck in a parlour fishbowl. This put him on his mettle,—and to show that he was ready to “rough it” with any man, he challenged us to go hunting with him. Perroque, who was as great an adept on snow-shoes as on skates, gave him no time to retract, and a hunt after Moose was at once determined upon. Footnote 1: See page 243. Our accoutrements consisted of snow-shoes (which, when slung over the shoulders, looked not unlike a pair of large wings), a rifle, an “Arkansas toothpick,” and a flask. We started without delay, and on the afternoon of the second day were once more in the township of Leeds, which we had fixed upon as the scene of our operations.