Jany. 16th.

The weather still continues to be very cold. The wind is now very changeable, so we live in daily hopes of a thaw. This morning began with the usual thing at the Hospital, only I have breakfast now before going to the Hospital. After lunch, Welch and I went up the river with our guns in order to get some venison + for the pleasure of having a good walk – we had the walk, but got no venison – we saw nothing but a couple of hares, + they after being pretty well astonished escaped unharmed. There was a report current that a mail had arrived in Fort Whoop Up. Our hopes were high, but doomed to disappointment. Only one letter came for Col. McLeod. After dinner I had one or two games of cribbage and then the men came in to practice the Sunday Service. We sang the ‘Venite’, ‘O Be Joyful’, ‘Te Deum’ + two or three hymns – ‘Nearer my God to thee’, ‘Thy will be done’ + ‘Our blest Redeemer ‘ere he died’. The singing was not so good as it will be when the men become more accustomed to the singing and to each others voices.

Jany. 15th

My last letter to you has come back to me. The man who was to have taken it has not yet started + so orders were given to have the mail returned. I do not know now when it will go out. To day has been cold but so bright and beautiful that one could scarce feel the cold + another thing, which is good news, the coal has come. So now we need no longer shiver over sputtering fires. An expedition started out to day after some whiskey traders. I do not know yet what success they have had. A larger Indian Camp moved down today into our neighbourhood. There have been quite a number of squaws and young bucks around the square one or two of the Chiefs were also down looking at the Fort. I feel as tho’ I were going to have a fit of the blues. I am trying to work them off by inflicting upon you a lot of writing which I feel to be most disconnected, but I cannot look it over. I don’t feel unwell nor exactly miserable, but I do so long to see you, so yearn for the sound of your voice, I am almost homesick. It is so utterly lonely out here, not a single person that I care two straws about, nor I suppose do they care about me. However ‘It is a long lane that has no turning’ and one of these days I will come back to you, and you will be glad to see me, and we will then spend many happy moments, days, years together, will not we?

Jany. 14th

A South West wind or Chenook [sic: Chinook] began to blow + it is now much warmer, the mercury at 11 this morning was 2º above zero. Last evening we had a number of the musical men of the force in our Mess Room + they practiced some hymns + chants, for our Sunday Service. After going over several hymns, they sang some profane songs, some of which were very good indeed. Then after they had gone, we enlisted one of the violinists + had a dance, which kept us for a time well amused then I went to bed about 11.

Jany. 13th

Still very cold, too cold to write, fire seems to have no effect unless you are close up to the blaze.

Jany. 12th

You bet it was cold last night. Mercury went down + into the bulb and stayed there, so it must have been below -40. It was bitterly cold. I could not sleep warm + as to keeping the Room warm it was quite impossible. So nearly all day, I was in the Mess Room.

Fort Macleod N.W.T. Jany. 11th/75

Darling Lizzie,

It was much milder this morning, until about 10 o’clock when it turned much colder, nothing much was doing all day, we discussed the state of the weather the roads the Mail etc and after dinner, we had a dance. It was so very much colder in the night that we all fancied we were in at last for a real spell of true winter weather.

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.