t Nantes,
expressed a hope that Isidore might have taken refuge in New France,
and begged M. de Valricour to do what he could to ascertain whether
such was really the fact. This the kind-hearted baron promised
faithfully to do, and then departed for Quebec, where he arrived
shortly before the winter set in.

A lively and picturesque scene enough is that presented by the little
market-place of Sorel. December has come, and with it the usual heavy
and incessant falls of snow. That of last night has added a good foot
at least to the three or four that already covered the country all
around. Yet there are the accustomed little groups of _habitans_, with
their provisions and wares for sale, chattering and gesticulating as
vivaciously as ever over the difficulty they had in getting there at
all through the heavy snow-drifts, and apparently quite regardless of a
temperature several degrees below zero. Look at that motley little
circle there, some clad in yellow leather coats with gay coloured
borders, others in buffalo wraps with leather leggings, but most of
them with red or wampum sashes tied round their waists. One is crowing
over the others because the "Grand Voyer," or Road Inspector, has
already made a short cut from his village over fields and fences alike,
marking out the new track with fir-branches stuck in the snow at
intervals, so that by night or by day there is no fear of missing the
impromptu highway. But it was hard work for all that. The rude
sledge, which is little more than a couple of short wooden runners with
boards nailed across them, and a short pole at each corner, plunges
into the snow and then carries forward a mass of it until the
obstruction becomes too great; the clumsy machine then mounts over it
somehow, and again plunges down till the increasing traffic makes the
road one series of hillocks and deep holes or _cahots_, which jolt and
jerk the traveller enough to dislocate every joint in his body. They
are, however, not quite so bad as that yet, and the hardy little
Canadian pony looks ready for any amount of work as he stands there
with three or four more in a row. The warmth in their shaggy heads has
melted the snow and ice that stuck to them when they came in, and it
has run down their faces, but no sooner has it done so than it
straightway congeals again, and hangs down from their noses in icicles
a foot in length. You may see some nearly as long as those which hang
from the eaves a