I this morning, at eleven, met my company at the theatre, a very neat one; and, what with those already mustered, together with a windfall just landed from Waterford, in the shape of a pretty woman and her husband, in search of an engagement, I fancy my friend B----y and I may manage to get up one night's fun for Montreal, though, for my own part, I would rather idle than play. Same night acted a couple of interludes to a full house, and an exceedingly merry-humoured one; although the only really good thing was the orchestra, composed of the excellent band of the 32nd regiment, which had been kindly placed by the commanding officer at the disposal of "the Lessee." At a late hour took to the skiff for our quiet retreat, which rose, in this time of moonlight, above the shining waters like some fairy garden resting on a bed of mother-of-pearl. We sung Moore's Boat-song, and not a sound except the appropriate soft plash of the oars came between us and the echo that faintly repeated our chorus. The echo from the island, by the way, is very distinct, and oft repeated; and, on such a night as this, to stand beside the nine-o'clock gun, listening to its bellow as it reverberates amongst the opposite heights, is one of the things of these parts worth doing. _Saturday, 6th._--Again, what sunshine! and how invigorating is the wind, now breathing sweet music through the trees as their thick leaves rustle above the swift river! Two or three large rafts are in sight, their hardy crews straining on the huge oars as they cross the rapids for the city. At measured intervals their wild cry fills the air; whilst the notes of our island bugles, together with the drums of the city, reply merrily and boldly, as though flinging back the challenge of some approaching horde of savage invaders. And verily no beings can look more wild of aspect or attire than the crews working the huge rafts which navigate these waters. Europeans, Indians, and _Bois-brules_, as the half-breed is denominated, are all found in this employ, but so much alike in equipment and complexion, that, only for the round Saxon face, light hair, and blue eyes, here and there distinguishable, it would be difficult to conceive them of different lineage. A pair of loose trousers of coloured serge or flannel, a sash of scarlet worsted or wampum girt about the loins over a shirt of indescribable hue, moccassins on the feet, and a red cap or bonnet of fox-skin, or not unfrequently a shock of hair that despises any covering, and alike defies the force of sun and storm, forms the common costume of these sons of toil, whose lives, commonly of short duration, are wasted in quick alternations of perilous labour and wild debauch.