er into the interior.

During the first part of their journey over the fertile but then
unbroken prairies, the only inhabitants they met were the roving Indians
and Half-breeds, whose rude wigwams and uncouth noisy carts have long
since disappeared, and have been replaced by the comfortable habitations
of energetic settlers, and the swiftly moving trains of the railroads.

From Fort Garry Mrs Young and myself performed the rest of our journey
by water, going down the Red River to its mouth, and then along the
whole length of the stormy Lake Winnipeg, and beyond, to our own far-off
northern home. The trip was made in what is called "the Hudson's Bay
inland boat." These boats are constructed like large skiffs, only each
end is sharp. They have neither deck nor cabin. They are furnished
with a mast and a large square sail, both of which are stowed away when
the wind is not favourable for sailing. They are manned by six or eight
oarsmen, and are supposed to carry about four tons of merchandise. They
can stand a rough sea, and weather very severe gales, as we found out
during our years of adventurous trips in them. When there is no
favourable wind for sailing, the stalwart boatmen push out their heavy
oars, and, bending their sturdy backs to the work, and keeping the most
perfect time, are often able to make their sixty miles a day. But this
toiling at the oar is slavish work, and the favouring gale, even if it
develops into a fierce storm, is always preferable to a dead calm.
These northern Indians make capital sailors, and in the sudden squalls
and fierce gales to which these great lakes are subject, they display
much courage and judgment.

Our place in the boat was in the hinder part near the steersman, a pure
Indian, whose name was Thomas Mamanowatum, familiarly known as "Big
Tom," on account of his almost gigantic size. He was one of Nature's
noblemen, a grand, true man, and of him we shall have more to say
hereafter. Honoured indeed was the missionary who led such a man from
Paganism to Christianity.

We journeyed on pleasantly for twenty miles down the Red River to Lower
Fort Garry, where we found that we should have to wait for several days
ere the outfit for the boats would be ready. We were, however, very
courteously entertained by the Hudson's Bay officials, who showed us no
little kindness.

This Lower Fort Garry, or "the Stone Fort," as it is called in the
country, is an extensive affair, having