THE MONTAGNAIS AT TADOUSSAC.

The lodges of the Montagnais were there,

Who reaped the harvest of the woods and rocks —

Skins of the moose and cariboo and bear,

Fur of the beaver, marten, otter, fox.

From where the shivering nomad lurks among

The stunted forests south of Hudson's Bay

They piloted their frail canoes along

By many a tributary's devious way;

Then between mountains stern as Teneriffe

Their confluent flotillas glided down

The Saguenay, and pass'd beneath the cliff

Whose shaggy brows athwart the zenith frown,

And reach'd the Bay of Trinity, dark, lone,

And silent as the tide of Acheron.