od where they left them, and cannot hope to remodel tastes and
habits long nurtured in the backwoods so as to relish the manners and
customs of civilised society.

Such an one was old Frank Kennedy, who, sixty years before the date of
our story, ran away from school in Scotland; got a severe thrashing from
his father for so doing; and having no mother in whose sympathising
bosom he could weep out his sorrow, ran away from home, went to sea, ran
away from his ship while she lay at anchor in the harbour of New York,
and after leading a wandering, unsettled life for several years, during
which he had been alternately a clerk, a day-labourer, a store-keeper,
and a village schoolmaster, he wound up by entering the service of the
Hudson's Bay Company, in which he obtained an insight into savage life,
a comfortable fortune, besides a half-breed wife and a large family.

Being a man of great energy and courage, and moreover possessed of a
large, powerful frame, he was sent to one of the most distant posts on
the Mackenzie River, as being admirably suited for the display of his
powers both mental and physical. Here the smallpox broke out among the
natives, and besides carrying off hundreds of these poor creatures,
robbed Mr Kennedy of all his children save two, Charles and Kate, whom
we have already introduced to the reader.

About the same time the council which is annually held at Red River in
spring for the purpose of arranging the affairs of the country for the
ensuing year thought proper to appoint Mr Kennedy to a still more
outlandish part of the country--as near, in fact, to the North Pole as
it was possible for mortal man to live--and sent him an order to proceed
to his destination without loss of time. On receiving this
communication Mr Kennedy upset his chair, stamped his foot, ground his
teeth, and vowed, in the hearing of his wife and children, that sooner
than obey the mandate he would see the governors and council of Rupert's
Land hanged, quartered, and boiled down into tallow! Ebullitions of
this kind were peculiar to Frank Kennedy, and meant _nothing_. They
were simply the safety-valves to his superabundant ire, and, like
safety-valves in general, made much noise but did no damage. It was
well, however, on such occasions to keep out of the old fur-trader's
way; for he had an irresistible propensity to hit out at whatever stood
before him, especially if the object stood on a level with his own eyes
and wore