York Factory—Winter amusements—Intense cold—The seasons—“Skylarking”—Sporting in the woods and marshes—Trading with Indians—Christmas doings—Breaking-up of the ice in spring.
Are you ambitious, reader, of dwelling in a “pleasant cot in a tranquil spot, with a distant view of the changing sea?” If so, do not go to York Factory. Not that it is such an unpleasant place—for I spent two years very happily there—but simply (to give a poetical reason, and explain its character in one sentence) because it is a monstrous blot on a swampy spot, with a partial view of the frozen sea!
First impressions are generally incorrect; and I have little doubt that your first impression is, that a “monstrous blot on a swampy spot” cannot by any possibility be an agreeable place. To dispel this impression, and at the same time to enlighten you with regard to a variety of facts with which you are probably unacquainted, I shall describe York Factory as graphically as may be. An outline of its general appearance has been already given in a former chapter, so I will now proceed to particularise the buildings. The principal edifice is the “general store,” where the goods, to the amount of two years’ outfit for the whole northern department, are stored. On each side of this is a long, low whitewashed house, with green edgings, in one of which visitors and temporary residents during the summer are quartered. The other is the summer mess-room. Four roomy fur-stores stand at right angles to these houses, thus forming three sides of the front square. Behind these stands a row of smaller buildings for the labourers and tradesmen; and on the right hand is the dwelling-house of the gentleman in charge, and adjoining it the clerks’ house; while on the left are the provision-store and Indian trading-shop. A few insignificant buildings, such as the oil-store and lumber-house, intrude themselves here and there; and on the right a tall ungainly outlook rises in the air, affording the inhabitants an extensive view of their wild domains; and just beside it stands the ice-house. This latter building is filled every spring with blocks of solid ice of about three feet square, which do not melt during the short but intensely hot summer. The inhabitants are thus enabled to lay up a store of fresh meat for summer use, which lasts them till about the commencement of winter. The lower stratum of ice in this house never melts; nor, indeed, does the soil of the surrounding country, which only thaws to the depth of a few feet, the subsoil being perpetually frozen.
The climate of York Factory is very bad in the warm months of the year, but during the winter the intensity of the cold renders it healthy. Summer is very short; and the whole three seasons of spring, summer, and autumn are included in the months of June, July, August, and September—the rest being winter.
During part of summer the heat is extreme, and millions of flies, mosquitoes, etcetera, render the country unbearable. Fortunately, however, the cold soon extirpates them. Scarcely anything in the way of vegetables can be raised in the small spot of ground called by courtesy a garden. Potatoes one year, for a wonder, attained the size of walnuts; and sometimes a cabbage and a turnip are prevailed upon to grow. Yet the woods are filled with a great variety of wild berries, among which the cranberry and swampberry are considered the best. Black and red currants, as well as gooseberries, are plentiful; but the first are bitter, and the last small. The swampberry is in shape something like the raspberry, of a light yellow colour, and grows on a low bush, almost close to the ground. They make excellent preserves, and, together with cranberries, are made into tarts for the mess during winter.
In the month of September there are generally a couple of weeks or so of extremely fine weather, which is called the Indian summer; after which winter, with frost, cold, and snow, sets in with rapidity. For a few weeks in October there is sometimes a little warm weather (or rather, I should say, a little thawy, weather); but after that, until the following April, the thermometer seldom rises to the freezing-point. In the depth of winter it falls from 30 to 40, 45, and even 50 degrees below zero of Fahrenheit. This intense cold, however, is not so much felt as one might suppose, as during its continuance the air is perfectly calm. Were the slightest breath of wind to arise when the thermometer stands so low, no man could show his face to it for a moment. Forty degrees below zero, and quite calm, is infinitely preferable to fifteen degrees below, or thereabouts, with a strong breeze of wind. Spirit of wine is, of course, the only liquid that can be used in the thermometers, as mercury, were it exposed to such cold, would remain frozen nearly half the winter. Spirit never froze in any cold ever experienced at York Factory, unless when very much adulterated with water; and even then the spirit would remain liquid in the centre of the mass (see note 1).
To resist this intense cold the inhabitants dress, not in furs, as is generally supposed, but in coats and trousers made of smoked deer-skins; the only piece of fur in their costume being the cap. The houses are built of wood, with double windows and doors. They are heated by means of large iron stoves, fed with wood; yet so intense is the cold, that I have seen the stove in places red-hot, and a basin of water in the room frozen nearly solid. The average cold, I should think, is about 15 or 16 degrees below zero, or 48 degrees of frost. The country around is a complete swamp, but the extreme shortness of the warm weather, and the consequent length of winter, fortunately prevent the rapid decomposition of vegetable matter. Another cause of the unhealthiness of the climate during summer is the prevalence of dense fogs, which come off the bay and enshroud the country; and also the liability of the weather to sudden and extreme changes.
Summer may be said to commence in July, the preceding month being a fight between summer and winter, which cannot claim the slightest title to the name of spring. As August advances the heat becomes great; but about the commencement of September Nature wears a more pleasing aspect, which lasts till the middle of October. It is then clear and beautiful, just cold enough to kill all the mosquitoes, and render brisk exercise agreeable. About this time, too, the young ducks begin to fly south, affording excellent sport among the marshes. A week or so after this winter commences, with light falls of snow occasionally, and hard frost during the night. Flocks of snow-birds (the harbingers of cold in autumn, and heat in spring) begin to appear, and soon the whirring wings of the white partridge may be heard among the snow-encompassed willows. The first thaw generally takes place in April; and May is characterised by melting snow, disruption of ice, and the arrival of the first flocks of wild-fowl.
The country around the fort is one immense level swamp, thickly covered with willows, and dotted here and there with a few clumps of pine-trees. The only large timber in the vicinity grows on the banks of Hayes and Nelson Rivers, and consists chiefly of spruce fir. The swampy nature of the ground has rendered it necessary to raise the houses in the fort several feet in the air upon blocks of wood; and the squares are intersected by elevated wooden platforms, which form the only promenade the inhabitants have during the summer, as no one can venture fifty yards beyond the gates without wetting his feet. Nothing bearing the most distant resemblance to a hillock exists in the land. Nelson River is a broad stream, which discharges itself into Hudson Bay, near the mouth of Hayes River, between which lies a belt of swamp and willows, known by the name of the Point of Marsh. Here may be found, during the spring and autumn, millions of ducks, geese, and plover, and during the summer billions of mosquitoes. There are a great many strange plants and shrubs in this marsh, which forms a wide field of research and pleasure to the botanist and the sportsman; but the lover of beautiful scenery and the florist will find little to please the eye or imagination, as Nature has here put on her plainest garb, and flowers there are none.
Of the feathered tribes there are the large and small grey Canada goose, the laughing goose (so called from the resemblance of its cry to laughter), and the wavie or white goose. The latter are not very numerous. There are great numbers of wild ducks, pintails, widgeons, divers, sawbills, black ducks, and teal; but the prince of ducks (the canvas-back) is not there. In spring and autumn the whole country becomes musical with the wild cries and shrill whistle of immense hosts of plover of all kinds—long legs, short legs, black legs, and yellow legs—sandpipers and snipe, which are assisted in their noisy concerts by myriads of frogs. The latter are really the best songsters in Hudson Bay (see note 2). Bitterns are also found in the marshes; and sometimes, though rarely, a solitary crane finds its way to the coast. In the woods, and among the dry places around, there are a few grey grouse and wood partridges, a great many hawks, and owls of all sizes—from the gigantic white owl, which measures five feet across the back and wings, to the small grey owl, not much bigger than a man’s hand.
In winter the woods and frozen swamps are filled with ptarmigan—or, as they are called by the trappers, white partridges. They are not very palatable; but, nevertheless, they form a pretty constant dish at the winter mess-table of York Factory, and afford excellent sport to the inhabitants. There are also great varieties of small birds, among which the most interesting are the snow-birds, or snow-flakes, which pay the country a flying visit at the commencement and termination of winter.
Such is York Fort, the great dep?t and gate to the wild regions surrounding Hudson Bay. Having described its appearance and general characteristics, I shall proceed to introduce the reader to my future companions, and describe our amusements and sports among the marshes.
Bachelors’ Hall.
On the — of June, 1843, I landed the second time on the wharf of York Fort, and betook myself to Bachelors’ Hall, where Mr Grave, whom I met by the way, told me to take up my quarters. As I approached the door of the well-remembered house, the most tremendous uproar that ever was heard proceeded from within its dingy walls; so I jumped the paling that stood in front of the windows, and took a peep at the interior before introducing myself.
The scene that met my eye was ludicrous in the extreme. Mounted on a chair, behind a bedroom door, stood my friend Crusty, with a large pail of water in his arms, which he raised cautiously to the top of the door, for the purpose of tilting it over upon two fellow-clerks who stood below, engaged in a wrestling match, little dreaming of the cataract that was soon to fall on their devoted heads; at the door of a room opposite stood the doctor, grinning from ear to ear at the thought of sending a thick stream of water in Crusty’s face from a large syringe which he held in his hands; while near the stove sat the jolly skipper, looking as grave as possible under the circumstances.
The practical joke was just approaching to a climax when I looked in. The combatants neared the door behind which Crusty was ensconced. The pail was raised, and the syringe pointed, when the hall door opened, and Mr Grave walked in! The sudden change that ensued could not have been more rapidly effected had Mr Grave been a magician. The doctor thrust the syringe into his pocket, into which a great deal of the water escaped and dripped from the skirts of his coat as he walked slowly across the room and began to examine, with a wonderful degree of earnestness, the edge of an amputating knife that lay upon his dressing-table. The two wrestlers sprang with one accord into their own room, where they hid their flushed faces behind the door. Certain smothered sounds near the stove proclaimed the skipper to be revelling in an excruciating fit of suppressed laughter; while poor Crusty, who slipped his foot in rapidly descending from his chair, lay sprawling in an ocean of water, which he had upset upon himself in his fall.
Mr Grave merely went to Mr Wilson’s room to ask a few questions, and then departed as if he had seen nothing; but a peculiar twist in the corners of his mouth, and a comical twinkle in his eye, showed that, although he said nothing, he had a pretty good guess that his “young men” had been engaged in mischief!
Such were the companions to whom I introduced myself shortly after; and, while they went off to the office, I amused myself in looking round the rooms in which I was to spend the approaching winter.
The house was only one story high, and the greater part of the interior formed a large hall, from which several doors led into the sleeping apartments of the clerks. The whole was built of wood; and few houses could be found wherein so little attention was paid to ornament or luxury. The walls were originally painted white, but this, from long exposure to the influence of a large stove, had changed to a dirty yellow. No carpet covered the floor; nevertheless, its yellow planks had a cheerful appearance; and gazing at the numerous knots with which it was covered often afforded me a dreamy kind of amusement when I had nothing better to do. A large oblong iron box, on four crooked legs, with a funnel running from it through the roof, stood exactly in the middle of the room; this was a stove, but the empty wood-box in the corner showed that its services were not required at that time. And truly they were not; for it was the height of summer, and the whole room was filled with mosquitoes and bull-dog flies, which kept up a perpetual hum night and day. The only furniture that graced the room consisted of two small unpainted deal tables without tablecloths, five whole wooden chairs, and a broken one—which latter, being light and handy, was occasionally used as a missile by the young men when they happened to quarrel. Several guns and fishing-rods stood in the corners of the hall, but their dirty appearance proclaimed that sporting, at that time, was not the order of the day. The tables were covered with a miscellaneous collection of articles; and from a number of pipes reposing on little odoriferous heaps of cut tobacco, I inferred that my future companions were great smokers. Two or three books, a pair of broken foils, a battered mask, and several surgical instruments, over which a huge mortar and pestle presided, completed the catalogue.
The different sleeping apartments around were not only interesting to contemplate, but also extremely characteristic of the pursuits of their different tenants. The first I entered was very small—just large enough to contain a bed, a table, and a chest, leaving little room for the occupant to move about in; and yet, from the appearance of things, he did move about in it to some purpose, as the table was strewn with a number of saws, files, bits of ivory and wood, and in a corner a small vice held the head of a cane in its iron jaws. These were mixed with a number of Indian account-books and an inkstand, so that I concluded I had stumbled on the bedroom of my friend Mr Wilson, the postmaster.
The quadrant-case and sea-chest in the next room proved it to be the skipper’s, without the additional testimony of the oiled-cloth coat and sou’-wester hanging from a peg in the wall.
The doctor’s room was filled with dreadful-looking instruments, suggestive of operations, amputations, bleeding wounds, and human agony; while the accountant’s was equally characterised by methodical neatness, and the junior clerks’ by utter and chaotic confusion. None of these bedrooms were carpeted; none of them boasted of a chair—the trunks and boxes of the persons to whom they belonged answering instead; and none of the beds were graced with curtains. Notwithstanding this emptiness, however, they had a somewhat furnished appearance, from the number of greatcoats, leather capotes, fur caps, worsted sashes, guns, rifles, shot-belts, snow-shoes, and powder-horns with which the walls were profusely decorated. The ceilings of the rooms, moreover, were very low—so much that by standing on tiptoe I could touch them with my hand; and the window in each was only about three feet high by two and a half broad, so that, upon the whole, the house was rather snug than otherwise.
Such was the habitation in which I dwelt; such were the companions with whom I associated at York Factory.
As the season advanced the days became shorter, the nights more frosty, and soon a few flakes of snow fell, indicating the approach of winter. About the beginning of October the cold, damp, snowy weather that usually precedes winter set in; and shortly afterwards Hayes River was full of drifting ice, and the whole country covered with snow. A week or so after this the river was completely frozen over; and Hudson Bay itself, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with a coat of ice. We now settled down into our winter habits. Double windows were fitted in, and double doors also. Extra blankets were put upon the beds; the iron stove kept constantly alight; and, in fact, every preparation was made to mitigate the severity of the winter.
The water froze every night in our basins, although the stove was kept at nearly a red heat all day, and pretty warm all night; and our out-of-door costume was changed from jackets and shooting-coats to thick leather capotes, fur caps, duffle socks, and moccasins.
Soon after this, white partridges showed themselves; and one fine clear, frosty morning, after breakfast, I made my first essay to kill some, in company with my fellow-clerk and room-mate Crusty, and the worthy skipper.
The manner of dressing ourselves to resist the cold was curious. I will describe Crusty, as a type of the rest. After donning a pair of deer-skin trousers, he proceeded to put on three pair of blanket socks, and over these a pair of moose-skin moccasins. Then a pair of blue cloth leggins were hauled over his trousers, partly to keep the snow from sticking to them, and partly for warmth. After this he put on a leather capote edged with fur. This coat was very warm, being lined with flannel, and overlapped very much in front. It was fastened with a scarlet worsted belt round the waist, and with a loop at the throat. A pair of thick mittens made of deer-skin hung round his shoulders by a worsted cord; and his neck was wrapped in a huge shawl, above whose mighty folds his good-humoured visage beamed like the sun on the edge of a fog-bank. A fur cap with ear-pieces completed his costume. Having finished his toilet, and tucked a pair of snow-shoes, five feet long, under one arm, and a double-barrelled fowling-piece under the other, Crusty waxed extremely impatient, and proceeded systematically to aggravate the unfortunate skipper (who was always very slow, poor man, except on board ship), addressing sundry remarks to the stove upon the slowness of seafaring men in general, and skippers in particular. In a few minutes the skipper appeared in a similar costume, with a monstrously long gun over his shoulder, and under his arm a pair of snow-shoes gaudily painted by himself; which snow-shoes he used to admire amazingly, and often gave it as his opinion that they were “slap-up, tossed-off-to-the-nines” snow-shoes!
In this guise, then, we departed on our ramble. The sun shone brightly in the cold blue sky, giving a warm appearance to the scene, although no sensible warmth proceeded from it, so cold was the air. Countless millions of icy particles covered every bush and tree, glittering tremulously in its rays like diamonds—psha! that hackneyed simile: diamonds of the purest water never shone like these evanescent little gems of nature. The air was biting cold, obliging us to walk briskly along to keep our blood in circulation; and the breath flew thick and white from our mouths and nostrils, like clouds of steam, and, condensing on our hair and the breasts of our coats, gave us the appearance of being powdered with fine snow. Crusty’s red countenance assumed a redder hue by contrast, and he cut a very comical figure when his bushy whiskers changed from their natural auburn hue to a pure white, under the influence of this icy covering. The skipper, who all this while had been floundering slowly among the deep snow, through which his short legs were but ill calculated to carry him, suddenly wheeled round, and presented to our view the phenomenon of a very red, warm face, and an extremely livid cold nose thereunto affixed. We instantly apprised him of the fact that his nose was frozen, which he would scarcely believe for some time; however, he was soon convinced, and after a few minutes’ hard rubbing it was restored to its usual temperature.
We had hitherto been walking through the thick woods near the river’s bank; but finding no white partridges there, we stretched out into the frozen swamps, which now presented large fields and plains of compact snow, studded here and there with clumps and thickets of willows. Among these we soon discovered fresh tracks of birds in the snow, whereat the skipper became excited (the sport being quite new to him), and expressed his belief, in a hoarse whisper, that they were not far off. He even went the length of endeavouring to walk on tiptoe, but being unable, from the weight of his snow-shoes, to accomplish this, he only tripped himself, and falling with a stunning crash through a large dried-up bush, buried his head, shoulders, and gun in the snow. Whir-r-r! went the alarmed birds—crack! bang! went Crusty’s gun, and down came two partridges; while the unfortunate skipper, scarce taking time to clear his eyes from snow, in his anxiety to get a shot, started up, aimed at the birds, and blew the top of a willow, which stood a couple of feet before him, into a thousand atoms. The partridges were very tame, and only flew to a neighbouring clump of bushes, where they alighted. Meanwhile Crusty picked up his birds, and while reloading his gun complimented the skipper upon the beautiful manner in which he pointed. To this he answered not, but raising his gun, let drive at a solitary bird which, either from fear or astonishment, had remained behind the rest, and escaped detection until now, owing to its resemblance to the surrounding snow. He fortunately succeeded in hitting this time, and bagged it with great exultation. Our next essay was even more successful. The skipper fired at one which he saw sitting near him, killed it,—and also two more which he had not seen, but which had happened to be in a line with the shot; and Crusty and I killed a brace each when they took wing.
During the whole day we wandered about the woods, sometimes killing a few ptarmigan, and occasionally a kind of grouse, which are called by the people of the country wood-partridges. Whilst sauntering slowly along in the afternoon, a rabbit darted across our path; the skipper fired at it without even putting the gun to his shoulder, and to his utter astonishment killed it. After this we turned to retrace our steps, thinking that, as our game bags were pretty nearly full, we had done enough for one day. Our sport was not done, however; we came suddenly upon a large flock of ptarmigan, so tame that they would not fly, but merely ran from us a little way at the noise of each shot. The firing that now commenced was quite terrific. Crusty fired till both barrels of his gun were stopped up; the skipper fired till his powder and shot were done; and I fired till—I skinned my tongue! Lest any one should feel surprised at the last statement, I may as well explain how this happened. The cold had become so intense, and my hands so benumbed with loading, that the thumb at last obstinately refused to open the spring of my powder-flask. A partridge was sitting impudently before me, so that, in the fear of losing the shot, I thought of trying to open it with my teeth. In the execution of this plan, I put the brass handle to my mouth, and my tongue happening to come in contact with it, stuck fast thereto—or, in other words, was frozen to it. Upon discovering this, I instantly pulled the flask away, and with it a piece of skin about the size of a sixpence. Having achieved this little feat, we once more bent our steps homeward.
During our walk the day had darkened, and the sky insensibly become overcast. Solitary flakes of snow fell here and there around us, and a low moaning sound, as of distant wind, came mournfully down through the sombre trees, and, eddying round their trunks in little gusts, gently moved the branches, and died away in the distance. With an uneasy glance at these undoubted signs of an approaching storm, we hastened towards the fort as fast as our loads permitted us, but had little hope of reaching it before the first burst of the gale. Nature had laid aside her sparkling jewels, and was now dressed in her simple robe of white. Dark leaden clouds rose on the northern horizon, and the distant howling of the cold, cold wind struck mournfully on our ears, as it rushed fresh and bitterly piercing from the Arctic seas, tearing madly over the frozen plains, and driving clouds of hail and snow before it. Whew! how it dashed along—scouring wildly over the ground, as if maddened by the slight resistance offered to it by the swaying bushes, and hurrying impetuously forward to seek a more worthy object on which to spend its bitter fury! Whew! how it curled around our limbs, catching up mountains of snow into the air, and dashing them into impalpable dust against our wretched faces. Oh! it was bitterly, bitterly cold. Notwithstanding our thick wrappings, we felt as if clothed in gauze; while our faces seemed to collapse and wrinkle up as we turned them from the wind and hid them in our mittens. One or two flocks of ptarmigan, scared by the storm, flew swiftly past us, and sought shelter in the neighbouring forest. We quickly followed their example, and availing ourselves of the partial shelter of the trees, made the best of our way back to the fort, where we arrived just as it was getting dark, and entered the warm precincts of Bachelors’ Hall like three animated marble statues, so completely were we covered from head to foot with snow.
It was curious to observe the change that took place in the appearance of our guns after we entered the warm room. The barrels, and every bit of metal upon them, instantly became white, like ground glass! This phenomenon was caused by the condensation and freezing of the moist atmosphere of the room upon the cold iron. Any piece of metal, when brought suddenly out of such intense cold into a warm room, will in this way become covered with a pure white coating of hoar-frost. It does not remain long in this state, however, as the warmth of the room soon heats the metal and melts the ice. Thus, in about ten minutes our guns assumed three different appearances: when we entered the house, they were clear, polished, and dry; in five minutes they were white as snow; and in five more, dripping wet!
On the following morning a small party of Indians arrived with furs, and Mr Wilson went with them to the trading-room, whither I accompanied him.
The trading-room—or, as it is frequently called, the Indian-shop—was much like what is called a store in the United States. It contained every imaginable commodity likely to be needed by Indians. On various shelves were piled bales of cloth of all colours, capotes, blankets, caps, etcetera; and in smaller divisions were placed files, scalping-knives, gun-screws, flints, balls of twine, fire-steels, canoe-awls, and glass beads of all colours, sizes, and descriptions. Drawers in the counter contained needles, pins, scissors, thimbles, fish-hooks, and vermilion for painting canoes and faces. The floor was strewn with a variety of copper and tin kettles, from half a pint to a gallon; and on a stand in the furthest corner of the room stood about a dozen trading guns, and beside them a keg of powder and a box of shot.
Upon our entrance into this room trade began. First of all, an old Indian laid a pack of furs upon the counter, which Mr Wilson counted and valued. Having done this, he marked the amount opposite the old man’s name in his “Indian book,” and then handed him a number of small pieces of wood. The use of these pieces of wood is explained in the third chapter. The Indian then began to look about him, opening his eyes gradually, as he endeavoured to find out which of the many things before him he would like to have. Sympathising with his eyes, his mouth slowly opened also; and having remained in this state for some time, the former looked at Mr Wilson, and the latter pronounced ahcoup (blanket). Having received the blanket, he paid the requisite number of bits of wood for it, and became abstracted again. In this way he bought a gun, several yards of cloth, a few beads, etcetera, till all his sticks were gone, and he made way for another. The Indians were uncommonly slow, however, and Mr Wilson and I returned to the house in a couple of hours, with very cold toes and fingers, and exceedingly blue noses.
During winter we breakfasted usually at nine o’clock; then sat down to the desk till one, when we dined. After dinner we resumed our pens till six, when we had tea; and then wrote again till eight; after which we either amused ourselves with books (of which we had a few), kicked up a row, or, putting on our snow-shoes, went off to pay a moonlight visit to our traps. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, however, we did no work, and generally spent these days in shooting.
It is only at the few principal establishments of the Company, where the accounts of the country are collected annually, to be forwarded to the Hudson Bay House in London, that so much writing is necessary.
As the Christmas holidays approached, we prepared for the amusements of that joyous season. On the morning before Christmas, a gentleman, who had spent the first part of the winter all alone at his outpost, arrived to pass the holidays at York Factory. We were greatly delighted to have a new face to look at, having seen no one but ourselves since the ship left for England, nearly four months before.
Our visitor had travelled in a dog cariole. This machine is very narrow, just broad enough to admit one person. It is a wooden frame covered with deer-skin parchment, painted gaudily, and is generally drawn by four Esquimaux dogs (see note 3). Dogs are invaluable in the Arctic regions, where horses are utterly useless, owing to the depth of snow which covers the earth for so large a portion of the year. The comparatively light weight of the dogs enables them to walk without sinking much; and even when the snow is so soft as to be incapable of supporting them, they are still able to sprawl along more easily than any other species of quadruped could do. Four are usually attached to a sledge, which they haul with great vigour; being followed by a driver on snow-shoes, whose severe lash is brought to bear so powerfully on the backs of the poor animals, should any of them be observed to slacken their pace, that they are continually regarding him with deprecatory glances as they run along. Should the lash give a flourish, there is generally a short yelp from the pack; and should it descend amongst them with a vigorous crack, the vociferous yelling that results is perfectly terrific. These drivers are sometimes very cruel; and when a pack of dogs have had a fight, and got their traces hopelessly ravelled (as is often the case), they have been known to fall on their knees in their passion, seize one of the poor dogs by the nose with their teeth, and almost bite it off. Dogs are also used for dragging carioles, which vehicles are used by gentlemen in the Company’s service who are either too old or too lazy to walk on snow-shoes. The cariole is in form not unlike a slipper bath, both in shape and size. It is lined with buffalo robes, in the midst of a bundle of which the occupant reclines luxuriously, while the dogs drag him slowly through the soft snow, and among the trees and bushes of the forest, or scamper with him over the hard-beaten surface of a lake or river; while th............