Touchwood Hills to Fort Pelly.

November 3Oth - At about one o'clock in the afternoon, we took our departure from Touchwood Hills Fort. We found ourselves obliged to leave Jasper and Mousey behind, both being so utterly exhausted as to be unfit for further work, without a good long interval for repose. In the latter, I took no interest at all, but it distressed me to part with the handsome pony which had carried me so gallantly in the Rocky Mountains. But he was now reduced to a skeleton, by cold, poor feeding, and the unwonted labour of hauling at sled, to which necessity had compelled us to subject him, and I saw that leaving him at once in comfortable quarters was the only chance of saving his life. Unhappily it was not so fated. While staying at Fort Pelly, towards the end of the year, a man, who arrived from the other Fort, brought me the news of Poor Jasper's decease. He died a few days after we left him, from an attack of inflammation, brought on perhaps by a too sudden change from cold and hunger to warmth and plentiful food.

The day of our departure was clear and intensely cold; there was a high wind also, but happily, our old experience was reversed, and the strength of the gale fell merely on our backs, as we continued our journey towards the southeast. I doubt if the Fort we then quit any longer exists for we heard of an intention to move it the following summer to Little Touchwood Hills, - a place about thirty miles distant, in the direction of Qu'Appelle Fort, which was also to be dismantled, and the two posts conjoined.

The country that afternoon was hilly, and diversified with many small lakes: it was apparently thickly wooded, but no trees of any size were to be seen, - a shabby growth of willow and poplar brush for the most part overspreading the ground.

December 1st. - 'Intensely cold night. My gloves had gone astray, I had to wait until after breakfast was ready till they were found, for the steel in the knife and fork handles stuck to my skin, burning like hot iron. The teacup kept freezing to the saucer when any tea ran over, requiring some little force to remove it. Taking up a brass candlestick hastily, I had to drop it more hastily - it felt red-hot.'

The sun fortunately shone brightly all day and lessened the cold, and the wind was still at our back. We made a six-hour march without halting, crossing a bare plain about twelve miles wide, near the edge of which we camped, having altogether marched some eighteen miles. - Re-reading "Troilus and Cressida."'

[As I read this fine, although singular play, certain lines in Agamemnon's speech to the princes so forcibly impressed themselves on me, that for days afterwards, they were cons in my thoughts, as strengtheners and consolers amidst all the hardships of the journey. When the frost bit keenest, and the icy winds congealed one's blood, and the men were cheerless and silent, and the skeleton horses slaved wearily along, - hour following hour in miserable monotony, till life was almost too grievous to endure, - ever and again some angel's voice seemed to breathe into my inner hearing, in calm yet triumphant tones -

It is true that these - words were not entirely appropriate, - for we could not have retreated if we would, - but they were not the less consoling: Shakespeare's utterances are magical, there is occult virtue in them. They speak in plain language to the understanding, but they also have an inexplicable power to strengthen the spirit in mysterious, hidden ways.]

December 2nd. - 'Tried the snowshoes for the first time, and walked in them for an hour, getting on capitally, with the exception of two or three falls at starting. It is a great relief to tread on the firm surface which the snowshoe gives, for wading through deep snow is most fatiguing; but the weight hanging on one's legs soon begins to tell, and even experienced walkers are apt to get their feet badly cut by the frozen straps.

'Some of the horses, especially the two Cendres, have lost the hair from the lower part of their legs, through the sharpness of the hard-crusted snow, and the frost acting on the exposed skin has opened bleeding wounds. This is one great drawback to travelling with horses in winter.

'We marched about eighteen miles and camped at dusk by the Beaver Hill Creek. Just before sunset the wind changed to east, and light snow showers began to fall. It grew extremely cold, and the wood being damp did not burn freely, a great misery under such circumstances.'

[The intensity of the cold produced an effect I do not remember observing before or since, - it seemed to crush out the vitality of the fire. As soon as the feeble flame arose, it lost its colour and died out gradually from the point downwards. It must have been a good half-hour before the fire was fairly kindled, and till then it threw out scarcely a ray of heat. Our camp was in a low-lying dampish hollow, closely surrounded by young poplar brush.]

December 3rd. - 'Milder day, but snowing a little. Started late, and camped early at the Smoke Tent "Wood - a distance of about twelve miles. This is called Halfway to Fort Pelly. We have been passing through more wood than of late, but the country keeps a prairie character and bears no appearance of fertility. McKay had tea with me tonight.' [I always took my meals alone, unless now and then when McKay joined me on special invitation. Breakfast, dinner, tea, or supper - whatever the name of the repast - it consisted much of the same materials, - tea, flour cakes, and such meat as happened to be available. At this particular time, my own dish was generally supplied with shoes of beef, cut from huge frozen joints brought from one or other of the Forts. Sometimes I chose dried meat for a variety, but pemmican - the chief food of the rest of the party - I seldom cared to taste. When currants or raisins were among our stores, Toma would boil them with flour or rice, and serve up very tolerable puddings. Near the Elbow, he made me delicious jelly with Saskatoon berries, much to my astonishment.]

Sunday, December 4th. - 'Traversed a prairie some eight miles wide, through which the White Mud River flows, expanded into a lake where we crossed it; afterwards passed through a partially wooded country, and camped after five or six hours march, during which we probably made upwards of sixteen miles.

'Three hours of the time I walked on snowshoes, getting on well at first, but latterly suffering much from blistered feet, and great fatigue in the thigh muscles, though my ankles felt no strain.'

People at home commonly imagine snowshoes to be like velocipedes, implements which enable the wearer to outstrip the wind and outstay the stoutest pedestrian; but this is far from the truth, for though these network platforms enable the wearer to traverse deep snow with comparative ease, and even to overtake swift animals under favourable circumstances, they are nothing but encumbrances in themselves, adding to the fatigue and diminishing the pace.'

The Lapland 'skidor' are totally different things, more like enormous skates (to judge by description), and capable of helping the wearer to great swiftness; but nothing of SNOWSHOE AND SKIDOR The kind used in this country, - why, I cannot explain. Perhaps the snow is more hard and icy in the north of Europe, and thus better suited for long narrow sliders.*

'This was about the coldest day we have had. Though well covered, I got slightly frost-bitten on the neck and left ear, for the bitter north wind pierced through everything. No exercise gave warmth, and towards evening I began to feel unwell, but an immense campfire soon revived my powers.

'The horses are looking wretched; a week of this travelling reduces them more than months of hard work in summer. The poor things have no food but the dry grass they find after scraping away the snow. This forms the principal food of the buffaloes in winter, but their broad snouts are better fitted than a horse's thinly covered legs for removing masses of deep snow.'

December 5th. - ' Started late, at 10 o'clock, and camped at 2 P.M. Maclean, alias The Night gave out and was left on the road. My dear old Cendre was with difficulty brought into camp; indeed our early halt was chiefly on his account.

The road was kept among small poplar woods all day. The country appears more fertile than on the other side of the White Mud River.

'Wind north-west, and not much of it, weather foggy, cold very great. Between 8 and 9 p.m. there was a perfect circle of light round the nearly full moon, its radius about twenty diameters of the moon, - no prismatic colours apparent.'

December 6th. - 'A most beautiful day. There was very little wind, and that from the south, and the sun shone brightly.

'Marched about thirteen miles through a wooded country, full of small swampy lakes. Some of the horses could hardly get on, the intense cold of the nights had so weakened them, while the frost had seized on their legs, all torn and cut by the hard crusted snow.

'Little Ned grew quite lame, and my poor Cendre gave out. Duncan and I did all we could to bring him on, but in vain; we were just able to drive him into a sheltered place, and then he stopped. I was grieved to the heart, for of all the horses I have owned I liked this one best; I felt a real friendship with him. For four months he had been with me in my journeys, - always gentle, affectionate, and spirited, and full of amusing ways - and now he was to be a prey to the wolves and the ravens. He seemed lively and strong when we left Touchwood Hills, and I hoped to have taken him many a stage farther and left him in some harbour of refuge, but his falling off was too sudden to have been expected by human foresight - so farewell, poor Cendre!

'Very melancholy I rejoined my people, and soon afterwards we halted for dinner. Just as we were starting, after two hours' rest, someone thought he heard a distant neigh. Presently it was repeated, and we recognize old Cendre's voice. The noble horse had struggled on, determined to overtake his friends, - it was the only instance of such courage among the many cases of given-out horses during my journey. We resolved to make a great effort to save him. Matheson accordingly stayed back and devoted himself to bringing on Cendre to our night encampment. I am thankful to say he has succeeded, and as we cannot be more than twenty miles from Fort Pelly I trust the gallant beast will yet be saved, and restored to his former health and beauty by careful keeping.

'Our guide, Josey, got frost-bitten in one foot but was able to go on.

'Much struck by a paper in an old number of Chambers' Journal on the subject of Gratitude. In most cases of alleged ingratitude, so says the writer, the fault is as much with the giver of favours as the receiver; for either the favour has been unsought, is little valued, and is not a fair tender for the article gratitude; or else, a real benefit having been conferred, the benefiter expects too much in return and seeks to reduce the obliged man to moral slavery - as if the proverb " one good turn deserves another," should be changed to - "deserves a lifetime of others."

'Those seem to me equally wrong who profess surprise at gratitude or ingratitude. People so often mean better than they act or act better than they mean, that all living in other men's hearts, either for prophecy or condemnation, are vain and delusive. The best maxim is this - "Hope ever. Expect never." . . . . . .

'But, indeed, prayer should always be a wish rather than a demand, - certain as we may feel that our desire is for that which is good. How can we tell? We might be praying for the immediate reform of some wicked person when God knew that such a sudden change would be only superficial, and that sin's frost must go deeper into the soil of the man's heart, cracking it and pulverizing it, before the thaw of repentance could reach to its uttermost depths.

'We might be praying for humility when self-reliant strength was our need, or for purity when morbid sensitiveness to even was our bane, for rigid truth when we required lenient charity, for fortitude when we lacked the gift of sympathy, for resignation when action was demanded of us.

'Nay, we might even, in more general terms, pray to be spiritually minded, when something more of earthly minded- ness than we possessed was wanted for the service of our neighbours'

December 1st. - 'After a wearisome march of four hours we were obliged to camp by the Assiniboine River, some twelve miles, it is supposed, from the Fort. The horses are in a sad state, hardly able to drag themselves along. Poor Cendre stopped again, halfway; whether he can now be saved is doubtful - alas!

'Black spruces mingle with the poplars till within five miles from the river, and the soil appears to assume more of the prairie character - but where everything is buried under two or three feet of snow, it is difficult to judge with certainty. Some of the spruces were beautiful specimens, though not remarkable in size.

'Walked nearly all yesterday and today, - my left ankle much strained from labouring through the deep snow. Had a narrow escape this morning - a tall tree, against which my fire was built, got undermined and suddenly fell, crashing down within two feet of my head as I stood at the tent door.'

December 8th. - 'A little snow during the night, and the wind rose high, but being southerly it made the weather much milder. McKay and Josey started early, on snowshoes, for the Fort; I afterwards followed them on horseback and found the distance greater than had been supposed, being sixteen miles at least.

'At the Mission-house Mr. Murray's cariole was waiting arrival. Glad to dismount, I placed myself in it, and the team of dogs took me over the remaining mile of the journey at a pace that seemed absolutely flying, after our last week's two-mile-and-a-half an-hour crawl.'