A poem, too, composed by Mr.
Cote, a gentleman of literary gifts and taste, also written on bark, was read and presented at the same time.

[The poem, the text of which was secured from the author too late for insertion here, will be found in the Appendix, p.

490.] Pere Lacombe made a touching impromptu reply, which was greatly appreciated.

Many of us were not of the worthy Father's communion, yet there was but one feeling, that of deep respect for the labours of this celebrated missionary, whose life had been a continuous effort to help the unbefriended Indian into the new but inevitable paths of self-support, and to shield him from the rapacity of the cold incoming world now surging around him.

After the presentation, over a good cigar, the Father told some inimitable stories of Indian life on the plains in the old days, which to my great regret are too lengthy for inclusion here.