cheerless indeed, if it overhung chaotic blackness below. But as a bright carpet of snow reflects the faint light which streams down from the sky, the dismal scene is in a measure relieved by this dim radiance. But why, it may be asked, is the sterile mountain covered with deep and perpetual snow? Its rocky sides are bald of all vegetation, such as needs the protection of a dense mass of snow.But the snows of the mountains are by no means useless. In many torrid regions, the winds that blow down the sides of the whitened steeps carry coolness and health with them. In Mexico they temper the burning air with that cool play, which makes the summer of northern latitudes so grateful. Besides this, the perpetual snows of the mountains perform other offices of good. It is from them that rivers take their source. Their inexhaustible moisture gushes out at the touch of the sun, finds a thousand paths through the mountain gorges and finally forms gigantic streams, which thunder down the mountains and then subside to placid but powerful streams in the valley below, fertilizing millions of acres. They pour down, perhaps, into torrid regions, refreshing the air as well as the soil and supplying with moisture lands rarely visited by the rains. The water that comes from melted snow, is said to contain an unusual quantity of oxygen, which gives the greatest spring to the vitality of herbage. In the opening part of our article, we hinted that an discussion concerned rather the economy than the beauty of snow. Per haps we should have said that, in respect to snow, as in count less millions of natural objects in the world, beauty is a part of its economy. External graces are manifestly designed to serve some useful moral purpose. Otherwise beauty would not so far prevail around us. Waste and profusion, too, are a part of the economy of nature-because they subserve some higher end than mere material use. Perhaps the purpose is to enlarge the desires and ambition of mankind above a narrow utilitarian scope; to show us that good does not consist of those things only that go into the mouth or clothe the person or appease the appetites; to show man, that after all his toils for his slender possessions, the world is full, even to waste, of treasures of beauty, which he can neither create nor appropriate. Certainly, there is something morally cheering about what is externally beautiful. Perhaps, without it we should all live in suicidal despair. If we did not have something to distract us from the dull round, imposed upon us by the necessities of our nature, we might abhor so senseless a life. But the smile of beauty,—the evidences of benevolent design, the signs of inexhaustible riches and power, are all around us and we take courage at the thought that we must be in the hands of Infinite Goodness, which has not formed us in vain. In the polar regions, the beauty of snow seems almost necessary, not only because it furnishes light during the long nights of the year, as we have already mentioned-but because it relieves in manifold ways, the gloom of those cheerless regions. No sweet prospect of gray hill and green valley, no phantasmagoria of infinitely various colors, no streams reposing in the laps of rich meadows, enliven there the dull sensibilities of man. But the inhabitant of the arctic regions has all around him the color least tiresome to the eye; and when the aurora shoots its magnetic rays into the sky, heightened to dazzling effulgence by the reflections of illumitable fields of snow, he lives in a glow of beauty, unsurpassed in any clime. Sometimes, too, the fields around him are of the deepest crimson, overgrown with minute vegetable particles, tenacious enough of life to flourish on beds of snow. And sometimes, this mimic vegetation has a green hue, making a cold bank of frozen crystals rival the meadow-sward of the temperate zones.* Even among us, the wintry prospect is cheered by the presence of snow. Clothing dead nature like a shroud, it hides the marks of decay and even binds robes of beauty around the withered and desolate scene. And very often, when mixed with rain, it offers rich material to the cunning fingers of the frost, for turning the whole face of nature into a miracle of splendor. We have seen the trunks of the grove polished like marble shafts and overhung with a mass of crystals, surpassing the stalactites and stalagmites of mammoth grottoes. Every branch has been fringed with pendent jewels. Flashing in the silver lustre of the moon or burning in the beams of the sun, the scene has reminded us of the fabled arcades of fairy-land, where trees bear fruits of preThis explanation of the phenomena of red and green snow secms now to be generally believed. cious stones and silver pillars line the walks. Such wonders of beauty as the winter of the North often presents, are calculated to stir even the vulgarest mind with cheering thoughts. The hear is elevated, if not made thankful, and we wonder at the Power which makes all seasons beautiful; which decks even rugged winter in robes of lustrous white, and hangs myriads of jewels upon its bare and withered members. NOVEMBER. They call thee saddest month of all the year, H. A. R THE JESUIT MISSION AT HUDSON'S BAY, IN 1694. (Continued from page 208.) On the 28th, at 8 o'clock in the evening, a light trade wind which came from the South enabled us to advance well on our way during the two or three days that it lasted. On the 31st, the wind changed a little, but nevertheless without ceasing to be favorable for us. It brought with it however a heavy fog, which prevented us from seeing the land, which we supposed to be not far distant, and to which we were in fact very near. In the middle of the day the weather cleared, and we saw without difficulty the coast bordered with a great quantity of rocks, which they named "Sugar-loaves"-(pains de sucre), because they were of that shape. They were entirely covered with snow. In the evening we entered the strait through which we had to pass in going to Hudson's Bay. This strait, which is called the canal or strait of the North, is very difficult of navigation on account of the islands of ice which are continually forming in this cold climate, and through this passage discharge themselves into the open sea. The shores of the strait run generally WNW and ESE. At both ends of it there are some islands situated on the southern shore. Those which are found at the entrance of the strait-at the Eastern end towards Europe-are called the Bouton Islands. They are in Lat 60° and some minutes. Those which are situated at the other extremity of the same strait, are called the Digues Islands. They are in about 63. Besides these there are many others scattered through the strait, which is 135 leagues in length. Its least breadth is seven or eight leagues, but it is generally much wider. We saw from time to time large bays, especially near the Bouton Islands. There is one in particular much larger than the rest, by which they say it is possible to go to the southern extremity of the Bay of Hudson; but this is very doubtful. It often takes a long time to go through this strait, but we made the passage very happily in four days. We entered it at 4 o'clock in the morning of the 1st of September, and left it on the 5th, also in the morning, with a wind very favorable, but which increased very much on the 6th. On the 7th, the weather was calm, which gave more than fifty persons an opportunity of receiving the sacrament on the next day, which was the Festival of the Nativity of the Holy Virgin. The calm continued on the 8th, the 9th, and the 10th, which caused much sadness and disquietude among all the crew. I therefore expected our Canadians to implore the protection of St. Anne, whom they regard as the patron saint of the country, and all honor with much piety. My proposition was received with joy, and we engaged to make during all that day, both morning and evening, our public prayers in honor of that saint. During the following night the wind became favorable. On the 12th we discovered the North land, (la terre du Nord,) but below the point we wished to make. The wind having again become contrary, we beat about during several days without making any headway, and were at length obliged to cast anchor. We now began to suffer much-the cold increased—and our water was almost exhausted. In this extremity our Canadians came to me with a proposal, that they should make a vow to St. Anne, to consecrate to her honor the first gain they made in this country. I approved of their design after communicating it to M. d'Iberville. At the same time I exhorted them to strive after their own sanctification, since it was the purity of their lives which rendered their vows agreeable to God. The greater part profited by my advice, and came to confession and received the sacrament. The following day the sailors wished to follow the example of the Canadians, and make the same vow which they had done; while M. d'Iberville and the other officers took the lead in the movement. The following night, which was that of the 21st of September, God gave us a favorable wind. On the 24th, at 6 o'clock in the evening, we entered the river Bourbon. The joy was great through the whole crew. It was on Friday, and we chanted the hymn, Vexilla Regis, and above all, that of O Crux ave, which we repeated many times in honor of the adorable Cross of our Savior, in a country where it was unknown to the Indians, and where it had been so often profaned by the heretics, who had thrown down with contempt all the crosses which we the French had in other times erected there. This river, to which the French have given the name of Bour |