tic. This was a woman
called Catherine Bisson--the daughter of Baptiste Bisson and an
Indian woman called Iskwao--who was born on New Year's Day, 1793, at
Lesser Slave Lake, and had spent all her life there since. She had a
numerous progeny which she bore to Kisiskakapo, "The man who stands
still." She was now blind, and was partly led, partly carried into
our tent--a small, thin, wizened woman, with keen features and a
tongue as keen, which cackled and joked at a great rate with the
crowd around her. It was almost awesome to look at this weird piece
of antiquity, who was born in the Reign of Terror, and was a young
woman before the war of 1812. She was quite lively yet, so far as her
wits went, and seemed likely to go on living. [This very old woman
died, I believe, at Lesser Slave Lake only last spring (1908). The
date of her birth was correct, and we had good reason to believe it,
she must have been far over 100 years old when she died.]

There were many good points in the disposition of the "Lakers"
generally, both young and old. Their kindness and courtesy to
strangers and to each other was marked, and profanity was unknown.
Indeed, if one heard bad language at all it was from the lips of
some Yankee or Canadian teamster, airing his superior knowledge
of the world amongst the natives.

The place, in fact, surprised one--no end of buggies, buckboards and
saddles, and brightly dressed women, after a not altogether antique
fashion; the men, too, orderly, civil, and obliging. Infants were
generally tucked into the comfortable moss-bag, but boys three or
four years old were seen tugging at their mothers' breasts, and all
fat and generally good-looking. The whole community seemed well fed,
and were certainly well clad--some girls extravagantly so, the love
of finery being the ruling trait here as elsewhere. One lost, indeed,
all sense of remoteness, there was such a well-to-do, familiar air
about the scene, and such a bustle of clean-looking people. How all
this could be supported by fur it was difficult to see, but it must
have been so, for there was, as yet, little or no farming amongst the
old "Lakers." It was, of course, a great fur country, and though
the fur-bearing animals were sensibly diminishing, yet the prices
of peltries had risen by competition, whilst supplies had been
correspondingly cheapened. It was a good marten country, and, as this
fur was the fad of fashion, and brought an extravagant price, the
a