; nor, indeed, does the soil of the
surrounding country, which only thaws to the depth of a few feet, the
subsoil being perpetually frozen.

The climate of York Factory is very bad in the warm months of the year,
but during the winter the intensity of the cold renders it healthy.
Summer is very short; and the whole three seasons of spring, summer, and
autumn are included in the months of June, July, August, and September--
the rest being winter.

During part of summer the heat is extreme, and millions of flies,
mosquitoes, etcetera, render the country unbearable. Fortunately,
however, the cold soon extirpates them. Scarcely anything in the way of
vegetables can be raised in the small spot of ground called by courtesy
a garden. Potatoes one year, for a wonder, attained the size of
walnuts; and sometimes a cabbage and a turnip are prevailed upon to
grow. Yet 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 last 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. They make excellent preserves, and,
together with cranberries, are made into tarts for the mess during
winter.

In the month of September there are generally a couple of weeks or so of
extremely fine weather, which is called the Indian summer; after which
winter, with frost, cold, and snow, sets in with rapidity. For a few
weeks in October there is sometimes a little warm weather (or rather, I
should say, a little _thawy_, weather); but after that, until the
following April, the thermometer seldom rises to the freezing-point. In
the depth of winter it falls from 30 to 40, 45, and even 50 degrees
_below zero_ of Fahrenheit. This intense cold, however, is not so much
felt as one might suppose, as during its continuance the air is
perfectly calm. Were the slightest breath of wind to arise when the
thermometer stands so low, no man could show his face to it for a
moment. Forty degrees below zero, and quite calm, is infinitely
preferable to fifteen degrees below, or thereabouts, with a strong
breeze of wind. Spirit of wine is, of course, the only liquid that can
be used in the thermometers, as mercury, were it exposed to such cold,
would remain frozen nearly half the winter. Spirit never froz