Jany. 22nd

This morning the usual round which I now endeavour to spin out until 12 o’clock. I did not take any lunch to day, and do not approve of the plan, it appears to make the day almost endless. They are long enough as it is. This evening after dinner, we had our second Mess Meeting + I requested to continue to act as Secretary. I hurried in after the meeting to have a talk with you. For I feel so very lonely tonight that I scarce know what to do. How strange that one cannot remain satisfied. When I heard of this appointment I thought, here is a big chance. I can save all my money for 3 years + then come home + take my Lizzie at once + start a private practice. 3 years, I thought is not long and will soon pass, I will be lonely at times, but will get over it. And so I will. I know that you too are lonely at times, and my telling you that I also am, will not tend give you much comfort. But you know I am telling you everything that comes in to my head, + if at times I seem to complain, believe me, my darling, it is not to make you feel uneasy, or wretched but only is a sort of safety valve. How often I think of you, think of you in every conceivable act + place. Try and imagine your thoughts at all hours of the day, twice a day at all events, we both speak not to, but of, each other to a Third Person. Does He not know our thoughts and answer our prayers? Does he not Guide us and guard us in all danger + distress? And in his own good time will He not bring us together again? And that meeting solong hoped for, prayed for, will it not at the last make up for all this weary waiting? Then why should I complain or think of complaining.

I am wondering where our next meeting will be. I picture myself in Toronto, your house on Jarvis Street, the long outside veranda, the little ante room, the inside hall and then yourself. Will it be a surprise? No, I think not. Do you recollect surprising me once, on your return from St. Kitts. I was at the hat rack, I noticed a strange look upon your mother’s face + father’s countenance betrayed some secret + then you rushed down the winding stairs. Will it be in the summer or winter? I don’t know, I rather think in the Early Fall. How many things you will have to show me + what number less questions will you have to answer + to ask. Oh dear, I wish I had a cap like some of the old fairy stories something to put on my head and wish to be in a place, + the carpet would rise + bear me swiftly there. Would it not be nice? Just think, I need only be here about 4 hours of the 24! The rest I could pass with you!

“If wishes were horses then Beggars might ride” The days for all their seeming length swiftly merge themselves into weeks + the weeks into months. Who would ever think that I have been here for more than three months.

Jany. 8th.

Last night the thermometer at -36º! Since the first of this month the thermometer has been below zero all the time, with the exception of one day when I was 11º above. The wind has changed to day + is blowing from the West. I hope it will continue so for a time, for then we are likely to have fine moderate weather. This morning, I did not get up until 9.30, no one wakened me and I slept on quite unconscious that the Sick bugle had sounded – Ferland however came over to see me + wakened me. I could not think what made me sleep so soundly, until just a few moments ago, I laid it down to a walk I took yesterday, with Welch + my gun – we went about 8 miles after deer – but were unfortunate, both of us fell into the river. I got my beautiful proboscis frozen + we saw no deer. My nose is not going to drop off, don’t be afraid of that, it was only slightly touched with frost on the left side near the point. I dare say it will peel. At present it looks fat + is as shiny as the traditional Ethiopian’s Hell, + red as a grog [?] blossom. It is an edifying spectacle, I assure you. It feels as tho’ somebody has been unsuccessfully trying to wrench it off. Mother always had a horror of my nose freezing + falling off, she always used to caution me about my nose.

Col. McLeod told us to night that a mail would probably leave for Benton the day after tomorrow. “Probably” means if it is not too cold. When will you get this? It seems an age since I began to write it + yet I can hardly believe that it is only 11 days ago. How impatiently I am waiting for another letter from you. The last I received was from St. Catherine’s – you told me the next would be from Toronto. I do so want to hear again from you. What a horrid man Mr. Beaty must be – to go and turn you away from your little curch hall. I hope that you will like the room under the Temperance Hall. It will be a little longer walk for you on Sundays. You must tell me all about how the thing ended and what Mr. Beaty intends doing. Will any one remain at the old building? What about that little building on Pembroke Street, did you not tell me that that was one of your churches? Does it belong to your uncle too? Do you remember the evening we passed it? Going up to the gardens? I found the programme of that evening in the inside of that black hard hat I used to wear, I had thrown the hat away, an Indian got it + was wearing it, but before the Indian got it I found this programme, this was way down at the Old Wives Creek. How many happy recollections that brought back. Brookhouse Bowler, “Let me like a soldier fall”, Don Cesar de Bezan, Maritana[?].

The walk home, the pleasant evening after. Ah, when shall we ever again have such a fun joyous happy peaceful time. Do you recollect asking me which proverb I thought would come true – “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” or the other one, which I will not even write? Well, do you find any trouble – in your case, in telling which one is likely to be true? I do not, I never had any – I never will have any trouble about such a question.

The wind is whistling outside in the most dismal manner, but it is from the right quarter. The wind too finds many a crack + hole in our mud plastered walls, + away from the stove makes it pretty cold. I am going, as soon as the weather permits, to get a window put in my bedroom, and then I intend having the ceiling covered with a heavy awning cloth, + line the walls with factory cotton. This will keep some of the wind out and make the place to much brighter than it does at present. I have not yet taken a sketch of the interior of the fort for you, but must get one to send off by this mail. I must leave you for tonight as I want to finish a letter to Mannie, or rather add something to an already finished letter, so good night.

Jany. 6th.

This morning was cold, but bright and sunny. I went the usual Hospital rounds, after breakfast, which I took about 10 o’clock, I pasted all the Chess problems and columns in a book made of an old newspaper. This occupied me until lunch time. After lunch I had half promised Allen to go with him down to Kanouse’s for a walk, but feeling lazy I backed out + began areading “Nancy”. This kept me employed until about 4 o’clock, when a man named Thomas came in from Fort Kipp, saying that there was a person sick down there who would like very much to see me. I could not very well go just at once, as I had no horse + could not be back to attend my duties in the morning. So I said that I could go in the morning. Just as Thomas came in, Mr. Denny with a small party went out to arrest an Indian who had stolen a wife from another Indian + threatened to shoot the latter. When Denny arrived in the Indian Camp, the accused had flown, but the woman went joyfully back to her first husband. After dinner to night, a fire broke out in the “C” Troop Barracks, the Assembly sounded + all the men promptly answered to the call. The fire proved to be nothing more serious than a chimney + was quickly extinguished.

One of the men Wilson by name, hurt his wrist this evening, + after I examined it, began talking with him. He is from St. Catherine’s, knows of Mr.Taylor + knows of Miss Taylor’s engagement to Robertson. He also went to Upper Canadian College at the same time as Jack, Mannie, Willie Wedd and others that I know. He was acquainted with Morson of Niagra, + used to visit Morson at Trinity College. It sounded very curious to hear my friends spoken of, way out here in the NorthWest where I thought no one knew any one of my friends.

And no I must say good night it is half past eleven + I want to get up early, in order to get through with my business here and start off to Fort Kipp. Good night.

Dec. 22nd.

The last few lines of the last crossed page were written this morning. I got up in the usual time & had a cup of tea went over to the Hospital polished off the sick & came back to have another cup of tea & a smoke, and to talk with Lizzie. I have your letter just at hand and am reading it over and – how would you like a sharp criticism upon it? But don’t get alarmed, I am too glad to get your dear letters. My criticisms will be reserved for yourself, - when I gather from the tenor of your letter that you are overlooking yourself or not taking sufficient care of yourself. On your way to St. Catherines you must have formed a pleasant party. I know Mr. William Mulock very well. I boarded with him at Mrs. Whitney’s for some time, & altho’ he is a University man and an avant Grit & a lawyer – I like him. It must have been quite a meeting at the Hamilton Junction. Mannie also told me of it in his letter. I am glad to hear that Harry Carling is better. My darling tell me truly now are you not well? I do not like to hear of your needing a tonic but if you do of course it is better that you should take it. I hope the need has long ere this passed away.

Fort MacLeod, Dec. 18th 1874

Now for one of those grand Diary Letters! Do you not feel very much frightened at being the repository of secrets which weigh down to the ground the mighty medicine man of the Palefaces? If you do not – then all I can say is that you do not show a proper respect for the aforesaid man of Power – (& Pills). I feel very happy my darling – happier and more contented than I have for many a long long weary day. Your dear letters have infused new life into me. the fond assurance that you are well in spite of little slips of a sore lip of a cold & a feeling of weakness & tiredness on the slightest exertion fills me with Joy. How have I not imagined you – in all possible ills that human flesh is heir to – having in the wild delirium of fever or knowing in dire pain – and calling on me to help you and I far away & ignorant of it all and even if I knew of it utterly powerless to aid you and unable to come to you. Many a night I have lain awake torturing myself with these painful reflections. But now they give place to a happier train of thought I know my little girl is taking care of herself if not for my sake then for her own and is enjoying herself too. I am so thankful dear, that you have so many kind friends who are able to comfort my darling & distract her thoughts from one gloomy subject like myself – knowing as I do that the distraction is only from the gloomy side of the picture & that pleasant scenes & pleasant friends tried to engender pleasant thoughts, even in one of a melancholy somber turn of mind – how much more then in my own little girl. Last evening I read over all your letters – the first time I only glanced over them looking for the latest news of yourself – last night however I only labeled the envelopes with dates & read them in chronological order. I forgot to tell you that yesterday noon I received another batch of letters – from you written in November from St. Kitts – and one from Ted Covernton. I can only give you nothing for your Tinytype. I am so wholly yours I have nothing left to give you – but my and that will never fail, it is like the old fairy tale of the jug of milk the more they used the more there was to use or little the Widow’s cruse of oil – never failing. Your tobacco pouch needs no apologies & what care I for severe judges on the prairie or elsewhere? did they make the pouch? Could money purchase [ ] one? No--- what then do you mean by making excuses for it, it needs none. At the same time I have no strong objections to supervise the manufacture of the next. I had to stop here for dinner was just being put on the ‘table’ (which is a large packing case raised from the ground on a 10 gallon alcohol case) and consequently I had to decamp after dinner I went down to see my sick man being offered a seat in the sumptuous conveyance I gladly accepted the offer & drove down on a hay rack – four in hand team trotting across the frozen country – no springs. I digested my dinner well. I found my patient ever so much better & a good sign was that he was asking for something to eat. He will I think recover from this attack but I cannot say so much of the next. I had borrowed a rifle from Denny one of the officers - & walked towards camp through the bush on the opposite side of the river – thinking to see some prairie chicken or hares – but I was not fortunate and came in feeling nicely tired & hungry as a wolf. It was now too dark to do anything inside the room so I went over to the hospital and found some putty & began puttying the panes of glass in my window. I continued to do this until it was too dark even for that & then the bugle sounded – for the guard to fall in – and I watched the adjutant inspect it – and the officer of the day march it off & relieve the old guard. It was now tea time – and I fell to with a will. Then taking off my boots & putting on my slippers – do you recollect making them for me? the black ones with the bunch of flowers & my smoking cap – do you remember that? The philosopher. Did you object so much to being caught in a philopoena as you do to losing a bit? Then filling my pipe I lit it of course & began reading the ‘mails’ Jack sent me. then tossing these aside I talk to my own little dear & first of all let me crave your pardon for not having before given you a real diary letter. My reason was the absurd scarcity of paper. You could not get any there was none in the country – but now I have received my stationery (a or e?) I will be very culpable indeed if I do not fulfil my promise. I want to speak about some little things in your letters. I am very much obliged to Miss Louisa Chisholm for making you take so much outdoor exercise – it is good for you. If she would only make you go to bed earlier it would be better still. The idea of trotting about all day and then sitting up to such unconscionable hours – half past one! Why did you not sit up all night? Don’t do it anymore Liz – even to write to me. Poor Frank – I had heard nothing about his illness. His brains were afflicted than his spine. Then he had some reason in what he said about his head going to sleep. Poor fellow. How they used to teaze him about that speech at the Cameron’s. I am so glad he is getting better. Tell him that I wrote to him - & if I had known of his weak state Especially the brain – I would have written a very simple letter – with no word of more than one syllable. I am really very sorry for him – but I feel so happy in hearing from you & also in the knowledge that he is now out of danger that I may be excused from Joking at him.

I am very glad old woman that you have come to like Ned Armour – he is a really good kind hearted Christian thoroughly earnest & as warm hearted as he is undemonstrative. Ned and I were always good friends – especially when by his laziness & being led away by Ned Burke he lost the scholarship at Trinity – since then each year has only cemented our friendship more closely. I am glad now that I am not at Edmonton. Very glad, indeed. Then the only chance of a mail would have been the H.B.Co.’s Wireless Packet & they would not have been able to bring all the mail matter for us. My old horse is picking rapidly & getting quite strong – when I left him to go to Benton I scarce expected to see him again – but since he has been here he has had no work to do but an occasional ride down to Kanonsis where my sick men were – Now old ‘Satan’ has gone to Sun River to pass the Winter. I wonder if he will forget me when he is away.

I too am glad my precious darling that you wrote that letter. You have no idea of the sense of overwhelming comfort it gave to me on the wild prairie. It seemed to make one feel at once that I was not lost that I was in my Father’s keeping – and that the spirit of your prayers hovered over me and that I was not even alone. And since then I have as before talked to your dear handwriting on the envelope – but now I could open it and hear you answer me. You would often have laughed to hear me asking the senseless bit of paper with some ink scratches on it the gravest questions and keeping up a conversation with it. Many a time too Old ‘Satan’ has no doubt cogitated on my sanity. For while we were on the march, he walking along beside me – I would talk to him about you by the hour & when I saw his bright eye of which alas! grew very dim before we got to our journey’s end I glance at me – I would throw my arms around his neck lay my head against his and tell him I wished it was you. The poor old fellow would stop & look at me so sorrowfully – as much as to say – “Now don’t take on so – all will come right in time”. Then perhaps we would see a little piece of the prairie which looked not quite so parched as the rest & we would make towards it and he would try to get a mouthful to appears that dreadful “Tiger” inside of him. Did you ever read “Blades of Grass” by Farjean? You will then know what I mean by the Tiger.

– Good night –

Fort MacLeod, December 16th 1874

My Dear Liz

This is a day that must ever be marked with a white store – for today we, I speak collectively for the force, received a portion of mail matter. I got a letter from Jack dated Oct. 11 Yours of Oct. 5th, 9th, 12th, 19th, 26th – one from Mannie of the same month – some from Aunt Ellie & Mannie of Oct. 16th also some copies of the Mail – for which I am deeply thankful. You will receive at the same time as this a letter from me – complaining very much of the letters not coming. I had almost begun to fancy something was wrong – but the fact that no one received letters made me feel that the wrong lay in the transportation. Thank God my darling that you are well. How many many times the dragging thought has haunted me that you might be ill and I not at hand to help you take care of you. All day long I have been so busy getting a list of drugs & medicines required that had to go by Major Walsh who left at 12 to day - & he had not been gone an hour when the letters came I spent the afternoon reading your letters but can hardly answer any questions. I was only cognizant of the fact that I was reading your own dear letter and I knew you to be well. I have not read any of the other letters but Jack’s. I find I have an opportunity of sending this letter after Major Walsh & can only hurriedly say that I have received yours. I am well that is all I can say. Well – everything has an end and so have long periods of time – perhaps I will one day receive your other letters – which are now wandering somewhere between Toronto & Fort MacLeod and the North Pole & the Equator.

I will just look over your last letter again. So you are in St. Kitt? Remember me most kindly to Miss Taylor and so my promotion & increase of salary is good news is it? Don’t you think that the natural consequences of that will be to lengthen my stay here? Perhaps you ought to look at it in this light viz that I am here for the purpose of making a sum of money that the larger my salary is the more rapidly will that sum be accumulated and consequently the sooner will I return. I must say that I can hardly give credence to the report. How did Dr. Thorburn know anything about it? However if you mean what you say – Old Woman, beware! I may stay out here for a longer time than at present I expect to. But if you do not want me there will be no object in my going back too soon. Your letter did not reach me in time for my Birthday nor late enough for Christmas. I hope that you will get this about New Year’s day. Thank you ever so kindly for your beautiful Tobacco pouch. It is quite acceptable I hope sincerely that I will superintend the making of the next one – perhaps too I will ‘catch’ you at it. I was going to reread your letters & answer any questions I might find in them but find that if I read I can’t write so I will only write. While I was still reading your letters this afternoon, I had to go down to Kanouse’s to see one of my sick men. He is poor fellow very ill I do not think that he will ever recover he may get over this sharp attack, but is liable at any moment to suddenly drop dead. Poor fellow – he is his grandmother’s only grandchild & had lived with her all his life – never having been away from her until he came on this expedition. He must have been longing to see the wrinkled old face & to hear the tremulous accents of his old second mother – to hear from her or of her – and here I was in the bloom of health blessed with news from my loved ones, while he poor chap lay suffering in mind & body without one scrap of comfort. It seems so hard. I talked with him a long time and it was quite dark when I got back & found tea waiting and your letters still unfinished & Jack’s & Mannie’s & the Home letter & Ned’s all to be read. I first went to the Colonel & told him I wanted some one to go down & sit up with the sick man – went & got the likeliest man for that purpose and made up some medicine for him – gave directions how it was to be taken – came in had tea – lit my pipe and then finished your letters & Jack’s & the Home one. I think you must be mistaken when you say that mother has suffered so much with her ear and eye. Aunt Ellie says it is Aunt Lou & if it were Mother what would she be doing way up in Philadelphia. I must close now with fervent heartful thanks to the glorious giver of all good things & with my best love to my own Lizzie.

Barrie