From Winnipeg to Port Arthur, which is beautifully situated on the north side of Lake Superior, the route is through a country characterized by a maze of forests, lakes, and rivers; a region more than half wilderness. Few evidences of civilization are found hereabouts; the primeval forest is full of game, the streams abound in fish, and the ponds are covered with wild fowl. Occasionally a group of Indian wigwams is seen, or a lone native Chippeway paddling his birch canoe. Now and again a hunter’s camp is passed, whose occupants come down to the railway to see the passing train, and who eagerly seize upon any current newspaper which thoughtful passengers toss to them from the car windows, a courtesy they gratefully acknowledge cap in hand. Port Arthur, just one thousand miles from Montreal, is admirably situated on Thunder Bay, where the view is striking and beautiful, overlooked by the bold headland known as Thunder Cape, which rises fourteen hundred feet above the surface of the lake. Just upon the edge of the horizon is seen Silver Islet, which has heretofore proven to be one of the richest silver mines known to our times; but the mine is now hopelessly submerged, its tunnels and shafts flooded beyond relief by the waters of Lake Superior. These broad waters are dotted with white sails, and streaked with the long black lines of smoke trailing after huge steamers. From here, for more than one hundred miles, the sharp curves of the great lake on its northern shore are closely followed by the Canadian Pacific Railway, and here the engineer’s skill has been wonderfully displayed in surmounting apparent impossibilities. We were told that it cost more per mile to build this portion of the road than it did to lay the rails through an equal distance in the difficult passes of the Rocky Mountains. The roadway is sometimes cut through solid rock, and sometimes an abrupt cliff is tunneled, from whence we emerge to leap across a deep ravine upon a wooden trestle of frightful curve and great elevation. And so we rush onward through unbroken forests and scenery of wildest aspect among barren rocks, scorched trees, and dense thickets of scrub on our homeward way. Having thus brought the patient reader so nearly back to the starting-point, and among scenes so familiar, we leave him to finish the journey to Boston by way of Ottawa and Montreal.