You must know we came through a part of the country that had always been reckoned impassable. In short, instead of going a long way about, we determined to try and get straight through the woods, and see what kind of country it was. I believe I mentioned my party in a letter to Ogilvie (his step-father) before I left St. Anne's or Fredericton: it was an officer of the regiment, Tonny, and two woodsmen. The officer and I used to draw part of our baggage day about, and the other day steer (by compass), which we did so well, that we made the point we intended within ten miles. We were only wrong in computing our distances and making them a little too great, which obliged us to follow a new course, and make a river, which led us round to Quebec, instead of going straight to it. * * * I expect my leave by the first despatches. * * * I shall not be able to leave this part of the world till May, as I cannot get my leave before that. How I do long to see you. Your old love, Lord Dorchester, is very civil to me. I must, though, tell you a little more of the journey. After making the river, we fell in with some savages, and travelled with them to Quebec; they were very kind to us, and said we were "all one brother," "all one indian." They fed us the whole time we were with them. You would have laughed to have seen me carrying an old squaw's pack, which was so heavy I could hardly waddle under it. However, I was well paid whenever we stopped, for she always gave me the best bits and most soup, and took as much care of me as if I had been her own son; in short, I was quite _l'enfant chéri_. We were quite sorry to part: the old lady and gentleman both kissed me very heartily. I gave the old lady one of Sophia's silver spoons, which pleased her very much. When we got here, you may guess what figures we were. We had not shaved nor washed during the journey; our blanket-coats and trousers all worn out and pieced, in short, we went to two or three houses and they would not let us in. There was one old lady, exactly the _hôtesse_ in Gil Blas, _elle me prit la mesure du pied jusqu'à la tête_, and told me there was one room, without a stove or bed, next a billiard room, which I might have if I pleased, and when I her told we were gentlemen, she very quietly said, "I dare say you are," and off she went. However, at last we got lodgings in an ale house, and you may guess ate well and slept well, and went next day well dressed, with one of Lord Dorchester's aide-de-camps to triumph over the old lady; in short, exactly the story in Gil Blas.