intelligence from an Indian
that he had seen fresh tracks of a moose, and being an eager sportsman,
he sallied forth, accompanied by the Indian, in chase of it. A long
fatiguing walk on the Chipewyan snow-shoes, which are six feet long,
brought them within sight of the deer. The young man fired, wounded the
animal, and then dashed forward in pursuit. For a long way the deer
kept well ahead of them. At length they began to overtake it; but when
they were about to fire again, it stumbled and disappeared, sending up a
cloud of snow in its fall. Supposing that it had sunk exhausted into
one of the many hollows which were formed by the undulations of the
ground, the young man rushed headlong towards it, followed at a slower
pace by the Indian. Suddenly he stopped and cast a wild glance around
him as he observed that he stood on the very brink of a precipice, at
the foot of which the mangled carcass of the deer lay. Thick masses of
snow had drifted over its edge until a solid wreath was formed,
projecting several feet beyond it. On this wreath the young man stood
with the points of his long snow-shoes overhanging the yawning abyss; to
turn round was impossible, as the exertion requisite to wield such huge
snow-shoes would, in all probability, have broken off the mass. To step
gently backwards was equally impossible, in consequence of the heels of
the shoes being sunk into the snow. In this awful position he stood
until the Indian came up, and taking off his long sash, threw the end of
it towards him; catching hold of this, he collected all his energies,
and giving a desperate bound threw himself backwards at full length.
The Indian pulled with all his force on the belt, and succeeded in
drawing him out of danger, just as the mass on which he had stood a
moment before gave way, and thundered down the cliff, where it was
dashed into clouds against the projecting crags long before it reached
the foot.

About a week after his arrival the trapper departed, and left me again
in solitude.

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_The last voyage_.--There is something very sad and melancholy in these
words--the last! The last look, the last word, the last smile, even the
last shilling, have all a peculiarly melancholy import; but the last
_voltage_, to one who has lived, as it were, on travelling--who has
slept for weeks and months under the shadow of the forest trees, and
dwelt among t