But brighter days dawned at last. Entrusting the station to Mr. Nevitt’s care, the bishop started on a long visitation tour, from which he did not return till late in the autumn.
CHAPTER XVI
CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR’S DAY AT ALBANY
The bishop was very busy during the early part of the winter of 1885, fulfilling the duties of the doctor (who was absent at Albany) in addition to his own. But he felt well and strong, and happy in the progress of all his work. He was revising and correcting his translation, with a view to a new edition being printed, of the Book of Common Prayer, and the hymn-book, which he had compiled many years before. The first editions of both he had himself printed at Moose, and bound too. In earlier days the Indians had carried their few pages of neatly written-out texts, and hymns, and Gospel portions between strips of bark fastened together with thongs of deer-skin. The first bound books were a strange novelty to them.
December found him once more setting out for Albany. The archdeacon having gone to England to see his Pilgrim’s Progress through the press, the bishop had arranged to spend Christmas at that station. On December 18 he walked down to the starting-point. The sledge was already on the ice, and presently the dogs, each held by its own trace, were brought down and fastened to it—it being strongly moored the while, lest they should run off with it, so eager were they to go.
A DOG SLEDGE
‘All being ready, I got into my sledge and looked at my team. It was composed of twelve splendid creatures, perfectly clean, and in the best of order, with ears erect and their fine tails gracefully turned up over their backs; they were jumping and howling, endeavouring to move the sledge. I said good-bye to the numerous friends around me; I waved adieu to many others standing on the river’s bank; the binding rope was cast off, and then not a sound was heard, save the soft movement of the sledge over the snow, and the tinkling of the musical bells attached to the dogs’ necks. We sped down the river at a great rate; the houses were soon left behind, and we were in the wilderness. At the river’s mouth the ice became quite smooth, with the smallest sprinkling of snow on its surface—its best possible condition. There was no cold in the air, I needed no wrapping up; it was the perfection of travelling. At about fourteen miles from Moose we saw the ill-fated Princess Royal, standing with her masts erect; a few miles further on, at the North Bluff Beacon, we remained for half an hour to give the dogs a rest, and to take a little refreshment. Then on and on; the dogs, requiring no whip to urge them, either galloped or went at a fast trot the whole way to Piskwamisk, “The place of the stone heaps,” where we encamped. We had gone nearly forty miles in six hours. We soon made ourselves comfortable; a fire was lit in the tent, the robes spread, and in a little while a good cup of coffee was ready, which, with a biscuit, was enough until the evening’s substantial meal.