Page:Ornithological biography, or an account of the habits of the birds of the United States of America, vol 2.djvu/191

Rh was a pile of deer skins; a bowl, a jug, and an iron pot were placed on a rude shelf; three old and rusty muskets, their locks fastened by thono-s, stood in a corner ; and his buck shot, powder, and flints, were tied up in bags of skin. Eight Esquimaux dogs yelled and leaped about us. The strong smell that emanated from them, together with the smoke and filth of the apartment, rendered my stay in it extremely disagreeable.

Being a native of France, the good man shewed much politeness, and invited me to take some refreshment, when, without waiting for my as- sent, he took up his bowl and went off I knew not whither. No sooner had he and his strange dogs disappeared, than I went out also, to breathe the pure air, and gaze on the wild and majestic scenery around. I was struck with the extraordinary luxuriance of the plants and grasses that had sprung up on th'e scanty soil on the little valley which the Squatter had chosen for his home. Their stalks and broad blades reached my waist. June had come, and the flies, musquitoes, and other insects filled the air, and were as troublesome to me as if I had been in a Florida swamp.

The Squatter returned, but he was chop-fallen ; — nay I thouo-ht his visage had assumed a cadaverous hue. Tears ran down his cheeks and he told me that his barrel of rum. had been stolen by the " eo-gers," or some fishermen ! He said that he had been in the habit of hiding it in the bushes, to prevent its being carried away by those merciless thieves who must have watched him in some of his frequent walks to the spot. " Now," said he, " I can expect none until next spring, and God knows what will become of me in the winter !'"

Pierre Jean Baptiste Michaux had resided in that part of the world for upwards of ten years. He had run away from the fishino- smack that had brought him from his fair native land, and expected to become rich some day by the sale of the furs, seal skins, eider down and other articles which he collected yearly, and sold to the traders who re- gularly visited his dreary abode. He was of moderate stature, firmly framed, and as active as a wild cat. He told me that excepting the loss of his rum, he had never experienced any other cause of sorrow, and that he felt as " happy as a lord."

Before parting with this fortunate mortal, I inquired how his dogs managed to find sufficient food. "Why, Sir, during spring and summer they ramble along the shores, where they meet with abundance of dead fish, and in winter they eat the flesh of the seals which I kill late in