After service at the Reverend Mr. Scott’s neat little church, we returned to Mr. Lawrence’s, and enjoyed an excellent dinner, including home-cured ham, fresh eggs, butter and cream.  That was a notable Sunday for us in the wilds, and seldom to be repeated.

Strange to say, we found the true locust here, our old Red River pest, which had quartered itself on the settlement more than once.  I examined numbers of them, and found the scarlet egg of the ichneumon fly under many of the shards.  No one seemed to know exactly how they came, whether in flight or otherwise; but there they were, devouring some barley, but living mainly upon grass, which they seemed to prefer to grain.  They had appeared nine years before our coming, and disappeared, and then, three years before, had come again.

We found quarters in a large building at the fort, which was in charge of Mr. Wilson, whose wife was a daughter of my old friend, Chief-factor Clarke, of Prince Albert, her brother having charge of the trading store.  The post is a substantial one, and the store large, well stocked, and evidently the headquarters of an extensive trade.  At such posts, which have generally a fringe of settlement, the Company’s officers and their families, though, of course, cut off from the outer world, lead, if somewhat monotonous, by no means irksome lives.  Books, music, cards and dances serve to while away spare time, and an occasional wedding, lasting, as it generally does, for several days, stirs the little community to its core.  But sport, in a region abounding with game of all kinds, is the great time-killer, giving the longed-for excitement, and contributing as well to the daily bill of fare the very choicest of human food.  Such a life is indeed to be envied rather than commiserated, and we met with few, if any, who cared to leave it.  But such posts are the “plums” of the service, and are few and far between.  At many of the solitary outposts life has a very different colour. ["At an outpost,” says Mr. Bleasdell Cameron, “where a clerk is alone with his Indian servant, the life is wearisome to a degree, and privation not infrequently adds to the hardship of it.  Supplies may run short, and in any case he is expected to stock himself with fish, taken in nets from the lake, near which his post is situated, for his table and his dogs, as well as to augment his larder by the expert and diligent use of his gun.  Rare instances have occurred where, through accident, supplies had not reached the far-out posts for which they were intended, and the men had literally died of starvation.  Out of a York boat’s crew, which was taking up the annual supplies for a post far up among the Rocky Mountains, on a branch of the Mackenzie River, two or three men were drowned, and the ice beginning to take, the boat was obliged to put back to the district headquarters.  The three men at the outpost were left for some weeks without the supplies, and when, after winter had set in, and it became possible to