ces, if it had not been that I
knew full well my mother's soul was ready to receive any amount of
out-pourings of which I was capable, I should have almost forgotten how
to use the pen.

It was in circumstances such as I have described that I began my first
book, but it was not a story-book, and I had no idea that it would ever
become a printed book at all. It was merely a free-and-easy record of
personal adventure and every-day life, written, like all else that I
penned, solely for the uncritical eye of that long-suffering and too
indulgent mother!

I had reached the advanced age of twenty-two at the time, and had been
sent to take charge of an outpost, on the uninhabited northern shores of
the gulf of Saint Lawrence, named Seven Islands. It was a dreary,
desolate, little-known spot, at that time. The gulf, just opposite the
establishment, was about fifty miles broad. The ships which passed up
and down it were invisible, not only on account of distance, but because
of seven islands at the mouth of the bay coming between them and the
outpost. My next neighbour, in command of a similar post up the gulf,
was, if I remember rightly, about seventy miles distant. The nearest
house down the gulf was about eighty miles off, and behind us lay the
virgin forests, with swamps, lakes, prairies, and mountains, stretching
away without break right across the continent to the Pacific Ocean.

The outpost--which, in virtue of a ship's carronade and a flagstaff, was
occasionally styled a "fort"--consisted of four wooden buildings. One
of these--the largest, with a verandah--was the Residency. There was an
offshoot in rear which served as a kitchen. The other houses were a
store for goods wherewith to carry on trade with the Indians, a stable,
and a workshop. The whole population of the establishment--indeed of
the surrounding district--consisted of myself and one man--also a horse!
The horse occupied the stable, I dwelt in the Residency, the rest of
the population lived in the kitchen.

There were, indeed, other five men belonging to the establishment, but
these did not affect its desolation, for they were away netting salmon
at a river about twenty miles distant at the time I write of.

My "Friday"--who was a French-Canadian--being cook, as well as
man-of-all-work, found a little occupation in attending to the duties of
his office, but the unfortunate Governor had nothing whatever to do
except await the arrival of Indians