[S] _Hudson's Bay; or, Snow-Shoe Journeys, Boat and Canoe Travelling
Excursions, and Every-day Life in the Wilds of North America, during
Six Years' Residence in the Territories of the Honourable Hudson's Bay
Company._ With Illustrations. By ROBERT MICHAEL BALLANTYNE. Edinburgh,
1847. Printed for Private Circulation.
How few school-boys, newly emancipated from the manual remonstrances
of their respective Cleishbothams, but would welcome with overflowing
delight the prospect of a distant and adventurous voyage, no matter
whither or on what errand! How few but would prefer a cruise in the
far Pacific, a broil amidst Arabian sands, or a freeze in the
Laplander's icy regions, to the scholastic toga, the gainful paths of
commerce, or even to the gaudy scarlet, so ardently aspired to by many
youthful imaginations! But to how very few, in this iron age of toil,
is it given to roam at the time of life when roaming is most
delightful--when the heart is light and the body strong, when the
spirits are high, and thoughts unclogged by care, and when novelty and
locomotion constitute keen and real enjoyment! A book by one of the
fortunate minority is now before us, and a very pleasant book it is,
but as yet unknown to the public; since, for some unexplained reason,
whose goodness we incline to doubt, it has been printed for the
perusal of friends, instead of being boldly entered to run for the
prize of popular approval. If timidity was the cause, the feeling was
groundless; the colt had more than a fair chance of the stakes. We
would have wagered odds upon him against nags of far greater
pretensions. To drop the equine metaphor, we daily see books less
meritorious, and infinitely less entertaining, than Mr Ballantyne's
"Hudson's Bay," confidently paraded before a public, whose suffrages
do not always justify the authors' presumption. Our readers shall
judge for themselves in this matter. Favoured with a copy of the
privately circulated volume, we propose giving some account of it, and
making a few extracts from its varied pages.
First, as regards the author. It is manifest, from various indications
in his book, that he is still a very young man; and although he does
not explicitly state his age, we conjecture him to have been about
fifteen or sixteen years old when, in the month of May 1841, he was
thrown into a state of ecstatic joy by the receipt of a letter,
appointing him apprentice-clerk in the service of the Honourable
Hudson's Bay Company. At first sight there certainly does not appear
any thing especially exhilarating in such an appointment, which to
most ears is suggestive of a gloomy office in the city of London, of
tall stools, canvass sleeves, and steel pens. A most erroneous notion!
There is not more difference between the duties of an African Spahi
and a member of the city police, than between those of a Hudson's Bay
Company's clerk and of the painstaking individual who accomplishes two
journeys _per diem_ between his lodging at Islington and his
counting-house in Cornhill. Whilst the latter draws an invoice,
effects an insurance, or closes an account-current, the Hudson's Bay
man shoots bears and rapids, barters peltry with painted Indians, and
traverses upon his snow-shoes hundreds of miles of frozen desert. We
might protract the comparison, and show innumerable points of
contrast, but these will appear as we proceed. Before we draw on our
blanket coats, and the various wrappers rendered necessary by the
awful severity of the climate, and plunge with Mr Ballantyne into the
chill and dreary wilds to which he introduces us, we will give, for
the benefit of any of our readers who may chance to have few definite
ideas of the Hudson's Bay Company, beyond stuffed carnivora and cheap
fur-shops, his brief account of the origin of that association.
"In the year 1669, a company was formed in London, under the direction
of Prince Rupert, for the purpose of prosecuting the fur trade in the
regions surrounding Hudson's Bay. This company obtained a charter
from Charles II., granting to them and their successors, under the
name of 'The Governor and Company of Adventurers trading into Hudson's
Bay,' the sole right of trading in all the country watered by rivers
flowing into Hudson's Bay. The charter also authorised them to build
and fit out men-of-war, establish forts, prevent any other company
from carrying on trade with the natives in their territories; and
required that they should do all in their power to promote discovery.
Armed with these powers, then, the Hudson's Bay Company established a
fort near the head of James's Bay. Soon afterwards, several others
were built in different parts of the country; and before long, the
company spread and grew wealthy, and extended their trade far beyond
the chartered limits."
Of what the present limits are, as well as of the state, aspect,
arrangements, and population of the Hudson's Bay territory, a very
clear and distinct notion is given by the following paragraph.
"Imagine an immense extent of country, many hundred miles broad and
many hundred miles long, covered with dense forests, expanded lakes,
broad rivers, and mighty mountains, and all in a state of primeval
simplicity, undefaced by the axe of civilised man, and untenanted save
by a few roving hordes of red Indians, and myriads of wild animals.
Imagine, amid this wilderness, a number of small squares, each
enclosing half-a-dozen wooden houses, and about a dozen men, and
between each of these establishments a space of forest varying from
fifty to three hundred miles in length, and you will have a pretty
correct idea of the Hudson's Bay territories, and of the number of,
and distance between, their forts. The idea, however, may be still
more correctly obtained, by imagining populous Great Britain converted
into a wilderness, and planted in the middle of Rupert's Land; the
company, in that case, would build _three_ forts in it--one, at the
Land's End, one in Wales, and one in the Highlands; so that in Britain
there would be but three hamlets with a population of some thirty men,
half a dozen women, and a few children! The company's posts extend,
with these intervals between, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean,
and from within the Arctic Circle to the northern boundaries of the
United States.
"Throughout this immense country, there are probably not more ladies
than would suffice to form half-a-dozen quadrilles; and these, poor
banished creatures! are chiefly the wives of the principal gentlemen
connected with the fur trade. The rest of the female population
consist chiefly of half-breeds and Indians--the latter entirely devoid
of education, and the former as much enlightened as can be expected
from those whose life is spent in such a country. Even these are not
very numerous; and yet without them the men would be in a sad
condition; for they are the only tailors and washerwomen in the
country, and make all the mittens, moccassins, fur caps, deer-skin
coats, &c., &c., worn in the land."
To these desolate and inhospitable shores was bound the good ship
Prince Rupert, on board of which Mr Ballantyne took his berth at
Gravesend, converted in his own opinion, and by the simple fact of his
appointment to the H. B. Company's service, from a raw school-boy into
a perfect man of the world, and important member of society. He writes
in a very lively style, and there is some quiet humour in his first
impressions of the new scenes and associates into which he suddenly
found himself thrust. He had not been many hours on board the Prince
Rupert, when he beheld a small steamboat approach, freighted with a
number of elderly gentlemen. He was enlightened as to who these were
by the remark of a sailor, who whispered to a comrade, "I say, Bill,
them's the great guns!" In other words, the committee of the
Honourable Hudson's Bay Company come to visit the three fine vessels
which were to sail the following morning for their distant dominions.
Of course this was too good a pretext for a dinner to be lost sight of
by Englishmen; and before the gentlemen of the committee left the
ship, they duly invited the captain and officers, and also, to the new
apprentice-clerk's astonishment and delight, begged him to honour them
with his company.
"I accepted the invitation with extreme politeness; and, from
inability to express my joy in any other way, winked to my friend
W----, with whom I had become, by this time, pretty familiar. He,
having been also invited, winked in return to me; and having disposed
of this piece of juvenile freemasonry to our satisfaction, we assisted
the crew in giving three hearty cheers as the little steamer darted
from us, and proceeded to the shore." At the dinner "nothing
intelligible was to be heard, except when a sudden lull in the noise
gave a bald-headed old gentleman, near the head of the table, an
opportunity of drinking the health of a red-faced old gentleman near
the foot, upon whom he bestowed an amount of flattery perfectly
bewildering; and, after making the unfortunate red-faced gentleman
writhe for half an hour in a fever of modesty, sat down amid thunders
of applause. Whether the applause, by the way, was intended for the
speaker or the _speakee_, I do not know; but, being quite indifferent,
I clapped my hands with the rest. The red-faced gentleman, now purple
with excitement, then rose, and, during a solemn silence, delivered
himself of a speech, to the effect, that the day then passing was
certainly the happiest in his mortal career, and that he felt quite
faint with the mighty load of honour just thrown upon his delighted
shoulders by his bald-headed friend. The red-faced gentleman then sat
down to the national air of Rat-tat-tat, played in full chorus, with
knives, forks, spoons, nutcrackers, and knuckles, on the polished
surface of the mahogany table."
The whole account of the voyage out is very pleasantly given; but such
voyages have often been described with more or less success; and we
therefore pass to dry land, and to men and manners in Hudson's Bay,
which have been far less frequently written about. In his preface Mr
Ballantyne affirms, and with reason, the novelty of his subject. "It
is true," he says, "that others have slightly sketched it in books
upon Arctic discovery, and in works of general information; but the
very nature of these publications prohibited their entering into a
lengthened or minute description of EVERY-DAY LIFE,--the leading
feature of the present work." To this "every-day life," strikingly
different from life in any other country of the world, we are first
introduced at York Factory, the principal depot of the Company's
northern department, the whole country being divided into four
departments, known by the distinctive names of North, South, Montreal,
and Columbia. At this factory, after a passage in a small craft up the
Hayes River, Mr Ballantyne landed. Any one less willing to rough it,
and less determined to encounter all disagreeables with perfect good
temper, would speedily have been disgusted with Hudson's Bay by a
residence in this establishment. Mr Ballantyne does not conceal its
disagreeables. "Are you, reader," he says, "ambitious 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." Having given it this unfavourable
character, the counsel for the prosecution stands up for the defence,
and begins to prove York Factory better than it looks. But, argue it
as he may, the abominations of the place, and especially of the
climate, force themselves into prominence. Spring, summer, and autumn
are included in four months, from June to September, which leaves
eight months winter--and such winter! It is difficult for stay-at-home
people, who at the first ice-tree upon their windows creep into the
chimney corner and fleecy hosiery, to imagine such in execrable
temperature as that of Hudson's Bay, where, from October to April, the
thermometer seldom _rises_ to the freezing point, and frequently falls
from 30° to 40°, 45°, and even 49° below zero of Fahrenheit. Luckily,
however, this intense cold is less felt than might be supposed; for
the reason that, whilst it lasts, the air continues perfectly calm.
The slightest breath of wind would be destruction to noses, and,
indeed, no man could venture out in it. This dry, still cold is very
healthy, much more so than the heat of summer, which for a short time
is extreme, engendering millions of flies, mosquitoes, and other
nuisances, that render the country unbearable. It seems strange that,
in a region where spirit of wine is the only thing that can be used in
thermometers, because mercury would remain frozen nearly half the
winter, mosquito nets are, for a portion of the year, as necessary as
in the torrid zone. "Nothing could save one from the attacks of the
mosquitoes. Almost all other insects went to rest with the sun:
sandflies, which bit viciously during the day, went to sleep at night;
the large _bulldog_, whose bite is terrible, slumbered in the evening;
but the mosquito, the long-legged, determined, vicious, persevering
mosquito, whose ceaseless hum dwells for ever in the ear, _never_ went
to sleep! Day and night the painful tender little pimples on our
necks, and behind our ears, were being constantly retouched by these
villanous flies." Worse even than midges by a Scottish burn; and
those, heaven knows, are bad enough. The young gentlemen at York
Factory, however, thought it effeminate to combat the bloodsuckers
with the natural defensive weapon of a gauze canopy, and, in spite of
various ingenious expedients, such as rendering their rooms unbearable
by bonfires of damp moss and puffs of gunpowder, they were preyed upon
by the mosquitoes, until frost put a period to their sufferings, and
to the existence of their persecutors.
The account of York Factory, or Fort, (as all establishments in the
Indian country, whether small or great, are called,) gives a general
notion of the style and appearance of the more important of these
trading posts. Within a large square, of about six or seven acres,
enclosed by high stockades, nearly five miles above the mouth of Hayes
River, stand a number of wooden buildings, stores, dwelling-houses,
mess-rooms, and lodgings for labourers and tradesmen, as well as for
visitors and temporary residents. The doors and windows are all
double, and the houses heated by 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_ solid." So
unfavourable is the climate to vegetation, that scarcely any thing can
be raised in the small plot of ground called by courtesy a garden.
Potatoes now and then, for a wonder, become the size of walnuts; and
sometimes a cabbage and a turnip are prevailed upon to grow. 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 latter 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. 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. Flowers there are none, and the only
large timber in the vicinity grows on the banks of Hayes and Nelson
rivers, and is chiefly spruce-fir. On account of the swampy nature of
the ground, the houses in the fort are raised several feet upon
blocks, and the squares are intersected by elevated wooden platforms,
forming the inhabitants' sole promenade during the summer, at which
season a walk of fifty yards beyond the gates ensures wet feet. These,
and other details, give so pleasant an idea of York Factory, that one
wonders at and admires the philosophy exhibited by its residents; by
that portion of them, at least, inhabiting the "young gentlemen's
house." Bachelor's Hall, as the young gentlemen themselves call it,
was the scene, during Mr Ballantyne's abode there, of much hilarity
and frolic, and we get a laughable account of the high jinks carried
on there. The building itself, one storey high, comprised a large
hall, whence doors led to the sleeping apartments of the clerks,
apprentices, and other subalterns. The walls of this hall, originally
white, were smoked to a dirty yellow; the carpetless floor had a
similar hue, agreeably diversified by large knots; and in its centre,
upon four crooked legs, stood a large oblong iron box, with a funnel
communicating with the roof. This was the stove, besides which the
only furniture, consisted of two small tables and half-a-dozen chairs,
one of which latter being broken, and moreover light and handy, was
occasionally used as a missile upon occasion of quarrels. The sleeping
apartments contained a curtainless bed, a table, and a chest; they
were carpetless, chairless, and we should have thought supremely
comfortless, but for Mr Ballantyne's assurance that "they derived an
appearance of warmth from the number of great-coats, leather capotes,
fur caps, worsted sashes, guns, rifles, shot-belts, snow-shoes, and
powder-horns, with which the walls were profusely decorated." As we
have already intimated, the amount of wrappers required to resist the
cold out of doors is so great that it is difficult to conceive how the
wearers can have sufficient use of their limbs, when thus swaddled, to
follow field-sports, and go through exertion and exercise of various
kinds.
"The manner of dressing ourselves was curious. I will describe C----
as a type of the rest. After donning a pair of deerskin 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 deerskin, hung round his shoulders by a worsted cord, and his
neck was wrapped in a huge shawl, over the mighty folds of which 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, C---- 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 sea-faring men in general and skippers in particular." The
intention of these preparations was an onslaught upon the ptarmigan,
and upon a kind of grouse called wood-partridges by the Hudson's Bay
people. The game is for the most part very tame in those regions.
After nearly filling their game-bags, the sportsmen "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: C---- 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 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; and, having achieved this
little feat, we once more bent our steps homewards." Upon their way,
they were surprised by a storm; a tempest of hail and a cutting wind
catching up mountains of snow in the air and dashing them into dust
against their faces. Notwithstanding all the paraphernalia of wool and
leather above described, they felt as if clothed in gauze; whilst
their faces seemed to collapse and wrinkle up as they turned their
backs to the wind and covered their agonised countenances with their
mittens. On reaching Bachelor's Hall, like three animated marble
statues, snow from head to foot, "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."
The principal articles in which the Hudson's Bay Company trade, are
furs of all kinds, oil, dry and salt fish, feathers and quills. Of the
furs, the most valuable is that of the black fox, which resembles the
common English fox, but is much larger and jet black, except one or
two white hairs along the back bone, and a white tuft at the end of
the tail. This animal's skin is very valuable, worth twenty-five to
thirty guineas in the English market, but the specimens are very
scarce. Besides the black fox, there are silver foxes, cross foxes,
red, white, and blue foxes, whose hides are variously esteemed. The
black, silver, cross, and red, are often produced in the same litter,
the mother being a red fox. Beaver was formerly the grand article of
commerce, but Paris hats have killed the demand and saved the beavers,
which now build and fatten in comparative security. The marten fur is
the most profitable Hudson's Bay produces. All the animals above
named, and a few others, are caught in steel and wooden traps by the
natives. Deer and buffaloes are run down, shot, and snared. Mr
Ballantyne rather startles us by the statement, that the Indians can
send an arrow through a buffalo. "In the Saskatchewan, the chief food,
both of white men and Indians, is buffalo meat, so that parties are
constantly sent out to hunt the buffalo. They generally chase them on
horseback, the country being mostly prairie land; and, when they get
close enough, shoot them with guns. The Indians, however, shoot them
oftener with the bow and arrow, as they prefer keeping their powder
and shot for warfare. They are very expert with the bow, which is
short and strong, and can easily send an arrow quite through a buffalo
at twenty yards off." We almost suspect Mr Ballantyne of drawing a
longer bow than his Indian friends. We do not understand him, however,
to have himself seen any of these marvellous shots, (although he gives
a spirited little drawing of a buffalo hunt,) and perhaps some of the
wild fellows of the Saskatchewan brigade imposed upon his youthful
credulity. These "brigades" are flotillas of boats, manned by Canadian
and half-breed _voyageurs_, who take goods for barter to the interior,
and bring back furs in exchange. The men of the Saskatchewan "come
from the prairies and the Rocky Mountains, and are consequently
brimful of stories of the buffalo hunt, attacks upon grizzly bears,
and wild Indians; some of them interesting and true enough, but the
most of them either tremendous exaggerations or altogether inventions
of their own wild fancies." To return, however, to the buffaloes. Two
calves were wanted alive, to be sent to England, and a party was
ordered out to procure them.
"Upon meeting with a herd, they all set off full gallop in chase; away
went the startled animals at a round trot, which soon increased to a
gallop as the horsemen neared them, and a shot or two told they were
coming within range. Soon the shots became more numerous, and here and
there a black spot on the prairie told where a buffalo had fallen. No
slackening of the pace occurred, however, as each hunter, upon killing
an animal, merely threw down his cap or mitten to mark it as his own,
and continued in pursuit of the herd, loading his gun as he galloped
along. The buffalo-hunters are very expert at loading and firing
quickly while going at full gallop. They carry two or three bullets in
their mouths, which they spit into the muzzles of their guns after
dropping in a little powder; and, instead of ramming it down with a
rod, merely hit the but-end of the gun on the pummel of their saddles,
and, in this way, fire a great many shots in quick succession. This,
however, is a dangerous mode of shooting, as the ball sometimes sticks
half-way down the barrel and bursts the gun, carrying away a finger,
a joint, and occasionally a hand.
"In this way they soon killed as many buffaloes as they could carry in
their carts, and one of the hunters set off in chase of a calf. In a
short time he edged one away from the rest, and then, getting between
it and the herd, ran straight against it with his horse and knocked it
down. The frightened little animal jumped up and set off with
redoubled speed, but another butt from the horse again sent it
sprawling; again it rose and was again knocked down, and, in this way,
was at last fairly tired out; when the hunter, jumping suddenly from
his horse, threw a rope round its neck and drove it before him to the
encampment, and soon after brought it to the fort. It was as wild as
ever when I saw it at Norway House, and seemed to have as much
distaste to its thraldom as the day it was taken."
Buffalo-meat, however, although abundant in the prairies, is scarce
enough in other districts of the Hudson's Bay territory, and so,
indeed, is game of all kinds; so that at certain times and seasons,
both Indians and Company's servants are reduced to very short commons,
and amongst the former starvation is by no means uncommon. The
contrasts of diet are as striking as those of climate; the provender
varying from the juicy buffalo hump and rich marrow-bone, to miserable
dry fish and _tripe-de-roche_--a sort of moss or lichen growing on the
rocks, which looks like dried-up sea-weed, and which only the
extremity of hunger can render edible. From Peel's River, a post
within the Arctic circle, a chief trader writes that all the fresh
provisions he has seen during the winter, consisted of two squirrels
and a crow. He and his companions had lived on dried meat, and were
obliged to lock the gates to keep their scanty store from the Indians,
who were literally eating each other outside the fort; for cannibalism
is common enough amongst the Indians of that region, and Mr Ballantyne
was acquainted with some old ladies who, on more than one occasion,
had dined off their own children; whilst some, if report might be
believed, had made a meal of their husbands. It is justice to the
savages to say, that they do not eat human flesh by preference, but
only when urged by necessity, and by the absence of all other viands.
They will scrape the rocks bare of the _tripe-de-roche_--which,
however, only retards starvation for a time, without preventing it,
unless varied by more nutritious food--before cutting up a cousin. Now
and then an aggravated case occurs, and one of these we find cited. In
the middle of winter, Wisagun, a Cree Indian, removed his encampment
on account of scarcity of game. With him went his wife, a son eight or
nine years of age, two or three other children, and some
relations--ten souls in all. Their change of quarters did not improve
their condition. No game appeared, and they were reduced to eat their
moccasins and skin coats, cooked by singeing them over the fire. This
wretched resource expended, they were on the brink of starvation, when
a herd of buffaloes was descried far away on the prairie. Guns were
instantly loaded, and snow-shoes put on, and away went the men,
leaving women and children in the tent. But the famished Indians soon
grew tired; the weaker dropped behind; Wisagun, and his son Natappe,
gave up the chase and returned to the encampment. Wisagun peeped
through a chink of the tent, and saw his wife cutting up one of her
own children, preparatory to cooking it. In a transport of rage, he
rushed forward and stabbed her and a woman who assisted her in her
horrible cookery; and then, fearing the wrath of the other Indians, he
fled to the woods. When the hunters came in and found their relatives
murdered, they were so much exhausted by their fruitless chase, that
they could only sit down and gaze on the mutilated bodies. During the
night, Wisagun and Natappe returned to the tent, murdered the whole
party, and were met, some time afterwards, by another party of
savages, in _good condition_; although, from scarcity of game, every
body else was starving. They accounted for their well-fed appearance,
by saying they had fallen in with a deer, previously to which,
however, the rest of the family had died of hunger.
This horrible story was told to an Englishman in the Indian hall of a
faraway post in Athabasca, by a party of Chipewyan Indians, come from
their winter hunting-grounds to trade furs. They were the same men who
had met the two Crees wandering in the plains after getting up their
flesh by swallowing their family. The loathsome food had profited
them, however, but a short while; for the Chipewyans had hardly told
the tale, when "the hall door slowly opened, and Wisagun, gaunt and
cadaverous, the very impersonation of famine, slunk into the room with
Natappe, and seated himself in a corner near the fire. Mr C---- soon
learned the truth of the foregoing story from his own lips; but he
excused his horrible deed by saying that _most_ of his relations had
died before he ate them."
Notwithstanding this sanguinary tale, the Crees, who inhabit the woody
country surrounding Hudson's Bay, are the quietest and most
inoffensive of all the Indian tribes trading with the Company. They
never go to war, scalping is obsolete amongst them, and the celebrated
war-dance a mere tradition. But their pacific habits and intercourse
with Europeans seem as yet to have done little towards their
civilisation. Some of their customs are of the most barbarous
description. They have no religion, beyond the absurd incantations of
the medicine tent; and the amount of Christianity English missionaries
have of late years succeeded in introducing amongst them is
exceedingly small. They drink to excess when they can get spirits; and
formerly, when the Hudson's Bay Company, in order to contend
successfully with other associations, thought it necessary to
distribute rum and whisky to the natives, the use of the "fire-water"
was carried to a fearful extent. They smoke tobacco, mingled with some
other leaf; are excessively lazy, and great gamblers. Polygamists,
they ill-treat their wives, compelling them to severe toil, whilst
they themselves indulge in utter indolence, except when roused to the
chase. On the march, when old men or women are unable to proceed, they
are left behind in a small tent made of willows, in which are placed
firewood, provisions, and a vessel of water. Here, when food and wood
are consumed, the unfortunate, wretches perish. The habitual dwellings
of the Crees are tents, of conical shape, made of deerskin, bark, or
branches. The manner of construction is simple and rapid. Three poles
are tied together at the top, their lower extremities spreading out in
the form of a tripod; a number of other poles are piled around these
at half-a-foot distance from each other; and thus a space is inclosed
of fifteen to twenty feet in diameter. Over these poles are spread the
skin-tent, or the rolls of birch-bark. The opening left for a doorway
is covered with an old blanket, a deer-skin, or buffalo-robe; the
floor is covered with a layer of small pine branches, a wood fire
blazes in the middle; and in this slight habitation, which is far
warmer and more comfortable than could be imagined, the Indian spends
a few days or weeks, according as game is scarce or plentiful. His
modes of securing and trapping the beasts of the plain and forest are
curious, often as ingenious and effective as they are simple and
inartificial. Mr Ballantyne initiates us in many of them in the course
of a nocturnal cruise overland with Stemaw the Indian, which gives an
excellent insight into trapper-life at Hudson's Bay. We start with the
Cree from his tent, pitched in the neighbourhood of one of the
Company's forts, at the foot of an immense tree, which stands in a
little hollow where the willows and pines are luxuriant enough to
afford shelter from the north wind. We have no difficulty in realising
the scene, as graphically sketched by our young apprentice-clerk, who
is frequently very happy in his scraps of description:--"A huge chasm,
filled with fallen trees and mounds of snow, yawns on the left of the
tent, and the ruddy sparks of fire which issue from a hole in its top
throw this and the surrounding forest into deeper gloom. Suddenly the
deerskin that covers the aperture of the wigwam is raised, and a
bright stream of warm light gushes out, tipping the dark-green points
of the opposite trees, and mingling strangely with the paler light of
the moon; and Stemaw stands erect in front of his solitary home, to
gaze a few moments at the sky and judge of the weather, as he intends
to take a long walk before laying his head upon his capote for the
night. He is in the usual costume of the Cree Indians: a large
leathern coat, very much overlapped in front, and fastened round the
waist with a scarlet belt, protects his body from the cold. A small
ratskin cap covers his head, and his legs are eased in the ordinary
blue cloth leggins. Large moccasins, with two or three pair of
blanket-socks, clothe his feet, and fingerless mittens, made of
deerskin, complete his costume. After a few minutes passed in
contemplation of the heavens, the Indian prepares himself for the
walk. First, he sticks a small axe in his belt, serving as a
counterpoise to a large hunting-knife and fire-bag which depend from
the other side. He then slips his feet through the lines of his
snow-shoes, and throws the line of a small hand-sledge over his
shoulder. The hand-sledge is a thin flat slip or plank of wood, from
five to six feet long by one foot broad, and is turned up at one end.
It is extremely light, and Indians invariably use it when visiting
their traps, for the purpose of dragging home the animals or game they
may have caught. Having attached this to his back, he stoops to
receive his gun from his faithful squaw, who has been watching his
operations through a hole in the tent, and throwing it on his shoulder
strides off, without uttering a word, across the moonlit space in
front of the tent, turns into a small narrow track that leads down the
dark ravine, and disappears in the shades of the forest."
The snow-shoes above referred to, and which are in general use amongst
both Indians and Europeans at Hudson's Bay, are as unlike shoes as any
thing bearing the name well can be. A snow-shoe is formed of two thin
pieces of light wood, tied at both ends, and spread out in the centre,
thus making an oval frame filled up with network of deerskin threads.
The frame is strengthened by cross-bars, and fastened _loosely_ to the
foot by a line across the toe. The length of the machine is from
_four_ to _six_ feet; the width from thirteen to twenty inches. Being
very light, they are no way cumbersome, and without them pedestrianism
would be impossible for many months, of the year, on account of the
depth of the snow, which falls through the meshes of these shoes, as
the traveller raises his foot. That they are not fatiguing wear, is
manifest from the fact that an Indian will walk twenty, thirty, and
even forty miles a day upon them. Only in damp weather, the moist snow
clogs the meshes, and the lines are apt to gall the foot. Apropos of
this inconvenience, Mr Ballantyne avails himself of the traveller's
privilege, and favours us with a remarkable anecdote, told him by a
Highland friend of his, Mr B----, chief of the Company's post at
Tadousac.
"On one occasion, he was sent off upon a long journey over the snow
where the country was so mountainous, that snow-shoe walking was
rendered exceedingly painful by the feet slipping forward against the
front bar of the shoe when descending the hills. After he had
accomplished a good part of his journey, two large blisters rose under
the nails of his great toes; and soon the nails themselves came off.
Still he must go on, or die in the woods; so he was obliged to _tie_
the nails on his toes each morning before starting, for the purpose of
protecting the tender parts beneath; and every evening he wrapped them
up carefully in a piece of rag, and put them into his waistcoat
pocket,--_being afraid of losing them if he kept them on all night_."
This Mr B---- had had a long and eventful career in North America, and
was rich in 'yarns,' more or less credible, with which he regaled Mr
Ballantyne during a journey they made together. A deep scar on his
nose was the memorial of a narrow escape he had made when dwelling at
a solitary fort west of the Rocky Mountains. He had bought a fine
horse of an Indian, one of the Blackfeet, a wild and warlike tribe,
notorious as horse-stealers. The animal had been but a short time in
his possession, when it was stolen. This was a very ordinary event,
and was soon forgotten. Spring came, and a party of Indians arrived
with a load of furs for barter. They were admitted one by one into the
fort, their arms taken from them and locked up--a customary and
necessary precaution, as they used to buy spirits, get drunk and
quarrel, but without weapons they could do each other little harm.
When about a dozen had entered, the gate was shut, and then Mr B----
beheld, to his surprise, the horse he had lost the previous year. He
asked to whom it belonged, and the Indian who had sold it him
unblushingly stood forward. "Mr B---- (an exceedingly quiet,
good-natured man, but like many men of his stamp, very passionate when
roused) no sooner witnessed the fellow's audacity than he seized a gun
from one of his men, and shot the horse. The Indian instantly sprang
upon him; but being a less powerful man than Mr B----, and withal
unaccustomed to use his fists, he was soon overcome, and pommelled out
of the fort. Not content with this, Mr B---- followed him down to the
Indian camp, pommelling him all the way. The instant, however, that
the Indian found himself surrounded by his own friends, he faced
about, and with a dozen warriors attacked Mr B----, and threw him on
the ground, where they kicked and bruised him severely; whilst several
boys of the tribe hovered around with bows and arrows, waiting a
favourable opportunity to shoot him. Suddenly a savage came forward
with a large stone in his hand, and, standing over his fallen enemy,
raised it high in the air and dashed it down upon his face. Mr B----,
when telling me the story, said that he had just time, upon seeing the
stone in the act of falling, to commend his spirit to God, ere he was
rendered insensible. The merciful God, to whom he thus looked for help
at the eleventh hour, did not desert him. Several men belonging to the
fort, seeing the turn things took, hastily armed themselves, and,
hurrying out to the rescue, arrived just at the critical moment when
the stone was dashed in his face. Though too late to prevent this,
they were in time to prevent a repetition of the blow; and, after a
short scuffle with the Indians, without any bloodshed, they succeeded
in carrying their master up to the fort, where he soon recovered. The
deep cut made by the stone on the bridge of his nose, left an
indelible scar."
To return to Stemaw the trapper, whom we left striding along with
confident step, as though the high road lay before him, although no
track or trail, discernible by European eye, is there to guide his
footsteps. After a walk of two miles, a faint sound a-head brings him
to a dead halt. He listens, and a noise like the rattling of a chain
is heard from a dark, wild hollow in his front. "Another moment, and
the rattle is again distinctly heard; a slight smile of satisfaction
crosses Stemaw's dark visage; for one of his traps was set in that
place, and he knows that something is caught. Quickly descending the
slope, he enters the bushes whence the sound proceeds, and pauses when
within a yard or two of his trap to peer through the gloom. A cloud
passes off the moon, and a faint ray reveals, it may be, a beautiful
black fox caught in the snare. A slight blow on the snout from
Stemaw's axe-handle kills the unfortunate animal; in ten minutes more
it is tied to his sledge, the trap is reset and again covered over
with snow, so that it is almost impossible to tell that any thing is
there; and the Indian pursues his way." And here we have a drawing of
Reynard the Fox, a fine specimen of his kind, black as coal, with a
white tuft to his tail, looking anxiously about him, his fore-paw fast
in the jaws of a trap, with which a heavy log, fastened by a chain,
prevents his making off. In the distance, the Indian, gun on shoulder,
his snow-shoes, which look like small boats, upon his feet--strides
forward, eager to secure his valuable prize. We give Mr Ballantyne all
credit for the unpretending but useful wood-cuts scattered through his
book, which serve to explain things whose form or nature would
otherwise be but imperfectly understood. They are an honest and
legitimate style of illustration, exactly corresponding to the
requirements of a work of this kind.
The steel trap in which the fox is caught resembles a common English
rat-trap, less the teeth, and is so set, that the jaws, when spread
out flat, are exactly on a level with the snow. The chain and weight
are hidden, a little snow is swept over the trap, and nothing is
visible but the bait--usually chips of frozen partridge, rabbit, or
fish, which are scattered all around the snare. Foxes, beavers,
wolves, lynx, and other animals, are thus taken, sometimes by a
fore-leg, sometimes by a hind one, or by two at once, and
occasionally by the nose. By two legs is the preferable way--for the
trapper, that is to say--for then escape is impossible. "When foxes
are caught by one leg, they often _eat it off_ close to the trap, and
escape on the other three. I have frequently seen this happen; and I
once saw a fox caught which had evidently escaped in this way, as one
of its legs was gone, and the stump healed up and covered again with
hair. When caught by the nose, they are almost sure to escape, unless
taken out of the trap very soon after capture, as their snouts are so
sharp and wedgelike, that they can pull them from between the jaws of
the trap with the greatest ease." We are tempted to doubt the ease, or
at any rate the pleasure, of such an operation, and to compassionate
the unfortunate quadrupeds, whose only chance of escape from being
knocked on the head lies in biting off their own feet, or scraping the
skin off their jaws between those of a trap. The poor brutes have no
chance of a fair fight, or even of a few yards' law and a run for
their lives. Their hungry stomachs and keen olfactories touchingly
appealed to by the scraps of frozen game, they eat their way to the
trap, and finally put their foot in it. The trapper's trade is a
sneaking sort of business; and one cannot but understand the feeling
of self-humiliation of Cooper's Natty Bumpo, upon finding himself
reduced from the rifle to the snare--from the stand-up fight in the
forest to the stealthy prowl and treacherous trap. And hence,
doubtless, do we find the occupation far more frequently followed by
Indians and half-breeds than by white men--at least at Hudson's Bay.
Nevertheless Mr Ballantyne, whilst enjoying dignified solitude in the
remote station of Seven Islands, his French-Canadian servant and his
Newfoundland dog Humbug for sole companions, received the visit of a
trapper, who was not only white, but a gentleman to boot. This
individual, who was dressed in aboriginal style, had been in the
employ of a fur company, had married an Indian girl, and taken to
trapping. He was a good-natured man, we are told, and had been well
educated--talked philosophy, and put his new acquaintance up to the
fact, that what he for some time had taken for a bank of sea-weed, was
a shoal of kipling, close inshore. He stopped a week at the station,
living on salt pork and flour-and-water pancakes, and telling his
adventures to his gratified host, to whom, in his lonely condition,
far worse society would have been highly acceptable.
The trapper's occupation is not always unattended with danger. So long
as he has only foxes and such small gear to deal with, whom a tap on
the snout finishes, it is mere child's play, barring the fatigue of
long walks and heavy loads; but now and then he finds an ugly customer
in one of his traps, and encounters some risk before securing him.
This we shall see exemplified, if we follow Stemaw to two traps, which
he set in the morning close to each other, for the purpose of catching
one of the formidable coast-wolves. "These animals are so sagacious,
that they will scrape all round a trap, let it be ever so well set,
and, after eating all the bait, walk away unhurt. Indians consequently
endeavour in every possible way to catch them, and, amongst others, by
setting _two_ traps close together, so that, whilst the wolf scrapes
at one, he may perhaps put his foot in the other. It is in this way
Stemaw's traps are set; and he now advances cautiously towards them,
his gun in the hollow of his left arm. Slowly he advances, peering
through the bushes; but nothing is visible. Suddenly a branch crashes
under his snow-shoe, and, with a savage growl, a large wolf bounds
towards him, landing almost at his feet. A single glance, however,
shows the Indian that both traps are on his legs, and that the chains
prevent his further advance. He places his gun against a tree, draws
his axe, and advances to kill the animal. It is an undertaking,
however, of some difficulty. The fierce brute, which is larger than a
Newfoundland dog, strains every nerve and sinew to break its chains;
whilst its eyes glisten in the uncertain light, and foam curls from
its blood-red mouth. Now it retreats as the Indian advances, grinning
horribly as it goes; and anon, as the chains check its further
retreat, it springs with fearful growl towards Stemaw, who slightly
wounds it with his axe, as he jumps backward just in time to save
himself from the infuriated animal, which catches in its fangs the
flap of his leggin, and tears it from his limb. Again Stemaw advances
and the wolf retreats, and again springs upon him, but without
success. At last, as the wolf glances for a moment to one
side--apparently to see if there is no way of escape--quick as
lightning the axe flashes in the air, and descends with stunning
violence on its head; another blow follows, and in five minutes more
the animal is fastened to the sledge."
Weary with this skirmish, and with the previous walk, Stemaw calls a
halt under a big tree, and prepares to bivouac. Having started with
him, we shall accompany him to the end of his expedition, the more
willingly that his proceedings are very interesting, and capitally
described by Mr Ballantyne, in whose words we continue to give them.
"Selecting a large pine, whose spreading branches covered a patch of
ground free from underwood, he scrapes away the snow with his
snow-shoe. Silently but busily he labours for a quarter of an hour;
and then, having cleared a space seven or eight feet in diameter, and
nearly four feet deep, he cuts down a number of small branches, which
he strews at the bottom of the hollow till all the snow is covered.
This done, he fells two or three of the nearest trees, cuts them up
into lengths of about five feet long, and piles them at the root of
the tree. A light is applied to the pile, and up glances the ruddy
flame, crackling among the branches overhead, and sending thousands of
bright sparks into the air. No one who has not seen it can have the
least idea of the change that takes place in the appearance of the
woods at night, when a large fire is suddenly lighted. Before, all was
cold, silent, chilling, gloomy, and desolate, and the pale snow looked
unearthly in the dark. Now, a bright ruddy glow falls upon the thick
stems of the trees, and penetrates through the branches overhead,
tipping those nearest the fire with a ruby tinge, the mere sight of
which warms one. The white snow changes to a beautiful pink; whilst
the stems of the trees, bright and clearly visible near at hand,
become more and more indistinct in the distance, till they are lost in
the black background. The darkness, however, need not be seen from the
encampment, for, when the Indian lies down, he will be surrounded by
the snowy walls, which sparkle in the firelight as if set with
diamonds. These do not melt, as might be expected: the frost is much
too intense for that; and nothing melts except the snow quite close to
the fire. Stemaw has now concluded his arrangements: a small piece of
dried deer's meat warms before the blaze, and meanwhile he spreads his
green blanket on the ground, and fills a stone calumet (a pipe with a
wooden stem) with tobacco, mixed with a kind of weed prepared by
himself."
His pipe smoked, his venison devoured, the trapper wraps him in his
blanket, and sleeps. We are then transported to a beaver-lodge at the
extremity of a frozen and snow-covered lake. Yonder, where the points
of a few bulrushes appear above the monotonous surface of dazzling
white, are a number of small earthy mounds, the trees and bushes in
whose vicinity are cut and barked in many places. It is a lively place
enough in the warm season, when the beavers are busy nibbling down
trees and bushes, to mend their dams and stock their storehouses with
food. Now it is very different: in winter the beaver stays at home,
and sleeps. His awakening is sometimes an unpleasant one.
"Do you observe that small black speck moving over the white surface
of the lake, far away in the horizon? It looks like a crow, but the
forward motion is much too steady and constant for that. As it
approaches, it assumes the form of a man; and at last the figure of
Stemaw, dragging his empty sleigh behind him, (for he has left his
wolf and foxes in the last night's encampment, to be taken up when
returning home,) becomes clearly distinguishable through the dreamy
haze of the cold wintry morning. He arrives at the beaver-lodges, and,
I warrant, will soon play havoc among the inmates.
"His first proceeding is to cut down several stakes, which he points
at the ends. These are driven, after he has cut away a good deal of
ice from around the beaver-lodge, into the ground between it and the
shore. This is to prevent the beaver from running along the passage
they always have from their lodge to the shore, where their storehouse
is kept, which would make it necessary to excavate the whole passage.
The beaver, if there are any, being thus imprisoned in the lodge, the
hunter next stakes up the opening into the storehouse on shore, and so
imprisons those that may have fled there for shelter on hearing the
noise of his axe at the other house. Things being thus arranged to his
entire satisfaction, he takes an instrument called an ice-chisel--which
is a bit of steel about a foot long by one inch broad, fastened to the
end of a stout pole, wherewith he proceeds to dig through the lodge.
This is by no means an easy operation; and although he covers the snow
around him with great quantities of mud and sticks, yet his work is
not half finished. At last, however, the interior of the hut is laid
bare, and the Indian, stooping down, gives a great pull, when out
comes a large, fat, sleepy beaver, which he flings sprawling on the
snow. Being thus unceremoniously awakened from its winter nap, the
shivering animal looks languidly around, and even goes the length of
making a face at Stemaw, by way of showing its teeth, for which it is
rewarded with a blow on the head from the pole of the ice-chisel,
which puts an end to it. In this way several more are killed, and
packed on the sleigh. Stemaw then turns his face towards his
encampment, where he collects the game left there, and away he goes at
a tremendous pace, dashing the snow in clouds from his snow-shoes, as
he hurries over the trackless wilderness to his forest home"--where,
upon arrival, he is welcomed with immense glee by his greedy Squaw,
whose lips water at the prospect of a good gorge upon fat beaver. We
are not informed what sort of eating this is; but we read of soup made
of beaver skins, which are oily, and stew well, resorted to by
Europeans when short of provender in the dreary wilds of Hudson's Bay.
Indeed all manner of queer things obtain favour as edibles in the
territory of the Honourable Hudson's Bay Company. A party of Canadian
_voyageurs_ or boatmen find a basket made of bark and filled with
bear's grease, which had been hidden away by Indians, who doubtless
entertained the laudable design of forwarding it, per next ship, to
the address of a London hairdresser. The boatmen preferred its
internal application to the external one usually made of the famous
capillary regenerator, and in less than two days devoured the whole of
the precious ointment, spread upon the flour-cakes which, with
_pemican_, form their usual provisions. Pemican is buffalo flesh,
dried in flakes and then pounded between two stones. "These are put
into a bag made of the animal's hide, with the hair on the outside,
and well mixed with melted grease; the top of the bag is then sewed
up, and the pemican allowed to cool. In this state it may be eaten
uncooked; but the voyageurs mix it with a little flour and water, and
then boil it; in which state it is known throughout the country by the
elegant name of _robbiboo_. Pemican is good wholesome food, will keep
fresh for a great length of time, and, were it not for its
unprepossessing appearance, and a good many buffalo hairs mixed with
it, through the carelessness of the hunters, would be very palatable."
The Indians, it has already been shown, are by no means particular in
their diet, and devour, with equal relish, a beaver and a kinsman.
Another unusual article of food in favour amongst them is a species of
white owl, which looks, we are told, when skinned, comically like very
young babies. They are large and beautiful birds, sometimes nearly as
big as swans. Mr Ballantyne shot one measuring five feet three inches
across the wings. "They are in the habit of alighting upon the tops of
blighted trees, and on poles of any kind, which happen to stand
conspicuously apart from the forest trees; for the purpose, probably,
of watching for birds and mice, on which they prey. Taking advantage
of this habit, the Indian plants his trap (a fox trap) on the top of a
bare tree, so that, when the owl alights, it is generally caught by
the legs." Owls of all sizes abound in Hudson's Bay, from, the
gigantic species just described, down to the small gray owl, not much
bigger than a man's hand.
Hudson's Bay not being a colony, but a great waste country, sprinkled
with a few European dwellings, dealings are carried on by barter
rather than by cash payments, and of money there is little or none.
But, to facilitate trade with the Indians, there is a certain standard
of value known as a castor, and represented by pieces of wood. We may
conjecture the term to have originated in the French word _castor_,
signifying a beaver--of which animal these wooden tokens were probably
intended to represent the value. It stands to reason that such a
coinage is too easily counterfeited for its general circulation to be
permitted, and it consequently is current only in the Company's
barter-rooms. "Thus an Indian arrives at a fort with a bundle of furs,
with which he proceeds to the Indian trading-room. There the trader
separates the furs into different lots, and valuing each at the
standard valuation, adds the amounts together, and tells the Indian,
who has looked on the while with great interest and anxiety, that he
has got fifty or sixty castors; at the same time handing him fifty or
sixty little bits of wood in lieu of cash, so that he may, by
returning these in payment of the goods for which he really exchanges
his skins, know how fast his funds decrease. The Indian then looks
around upon the bales of cloth, powder-horns, guns, blankets, knives,
&c., with which the shop is filled, and after a good while makes up
his mind to have a small blanket. This being given him, the trader
tells him that the price is six castors; the purchaser hands him six
of his little bits of wood, and selects something else. In this way he
goes on till the wooden cash is expended. The value of a castor is
from one to two shillings. The natives generally visit the
establishments of the Company twice a-year; once in October, when they
bring in the produce of their autumn hunts, and again in March, when
they come in with that of the great winter hunt. The number of castors
that an Indian makes in a winter hunt varies from fifty to two
hundred, according to his perseverance and activity, and the part of
the country in which he hunts. The largest amount I ever heard of was
made by a man named Piaquata-Kiscum, who brought in furs, on one
occasion, to the value of two hundred and sixty castors. The poor
fellow was soon afterwards poisoned by his relatives, who were jealous
of his superior abilities as a hunter, and envious of the favour shown
him by the white men."
Mr Ballantyne visits and describes Red River settlement, the only
colony in the extensive district traded over by the Hudson's Bay
Company. It contained in 1843 about five thousand souls--French
Canadians, Scotchmen, and Indians--and since then the population has
rapidly increased. In the time of the North-West Company, since
amalgamated, with that of Hudson's Bay, it was the scene of a smart
skirmish or two between the rival fur-traders, in one of which Mr
Semple, governor of the Hudson's Bay Company, lost his life, and a
number of his men were killed and wounded. We find some curious
particulars of the stratagems and manœuvres employed by the two
associations to outwit each other, and get the earliest deal with the
Indian hunters. But to this we can only thus cursorily refer; whilst
to many other chapters of equal novelty and interest we cannot even do
that. We are obliged to refuse ourselves the pleasure of a
piscatorical page, in which we would have shown the brethren of the
angle, roaming by loch and stream on trout and salmon intent, how in
the land of Hendrik Hudson silver fish are caught whose eyes are
living gold. All we can do, before laying down the pen, is to commend
Mr Ballantyne's book, which does him great credit. It is unaffected
and to the purpose, written in an honest, straightforward style, and
is full of real interest and amusement, without the unnecessary
wordiness and impertinent gossip with which books of this description
are too often swollen. We are glad to learn, whilst concluding this
paper, that the public will soon be enabled, by a second edition of
the volume, to form a better idea of its merits than it has been
possible for us to give by these few brief extracts.