we were making them, I used to
follow on as long as I knew I was in the right way. When I lost the
trail, I at once stopped and patiently waited until one of my faithful
men, having carried his load safely to the end, would come back for me.
Quickly picking up my load, he would hurry off, and even then,
unencumbered as I was, it was often as much as I could do to keep up
with him.

Oxford Lake is one of the most beautiful and picturesque lakes I ever
saw. It is between twenty and thirty miles long and several miles wide.
It is studded with islands of every imaginable variety. Its waters are
almost as transparent as the clear, fresh air above it. When no breath
ripples its surface, one can look down into its crystal depths and see,
many feet below, the great fish quietly moving about.

To visit the Indians who fish in its waters, and hunt upon its shores, I
once brought one of our Missionary Secretaries, the eloquent Reverend
Lachlin Taylor, DD. The trip down had not been one of the most
pleasant. The rains had drenched him, and the mosquitoes had plagued
him with such persistency, that he loudly bemoaned his lot in being
found in a country that was cursed with such abominable animals.

One night I heard him muttering between his efforts to get them out of
his tent, where he declared they were attacking him in battalions:--

"They throng the air, and darken heaven,
And curse this Western land."

However, when we reached Oxford Lake, the mosquitoes left us for a time.
The sun came out in splendour, and we had some days of rarest beauty.
The good doctor regained his spirits, and laughed when I rallied him on
some of his strong expressions about the country, and told him that I
hoped, as the result of his experience, he, as all Missionary
Secretaries ought, would have a good deal of sympathy for the
Missionaries who live in such regions for years together.

We camped for the night on one of the most picturesque points. We had
two canoes, and to man them four Indians from our Norway House Mission.
As the doctor was an enthusiastic fisherman, he decided that we must
stop there during the forenoon, while he tried his hand. His first haul
was a splendid pike over two feet long. Great was his excitement as his
success was assured. Eloquence poured from him; we were flooded with
it. The Indians looked on in amazement while he talked of the beauties
of the lake and islands, of the water and the sky.

"Wait a