"Yes, that is what I mean, though it may seem rather a harsh judgment."
"Some think so, but that is where they are mistaken. It is here we have room and time to think, and let our minds expand. It was my good Bishop of the Mackenzie River who once said that he was willing to devote a whole lifetime in the wilderness among the Indians, and also to the study of the Bible in the original language, which the bustle of life in London sadly interrupted. Now, during the last ten years I have studied the Indian dialect of this country, prepared a grammar, a lexicon, and have translated portions of the Scriptures, and also the entire Prayer Book, besides a number of hymns. These have been printed, and the natives carry them to their hunting grounds, and read them carefully."
"This is all new to me," said Constance. "I never thought of it in that way. But does not the bleakness of the land wear upon you, making you long for the sweet meadows and the fragrant flowers?"
"You must remember, Miss Radhurst, that it is not all winter here. We have beautiful summers, when the song birds return, and the flowers bloom on every hand. Then it is good to live in such a place, and, though I do miss the sweet meadows, yet there is much to compensate me for their loss. The forests are filled with a joyous life, where every creature, small and great, rejoices in being alive. Often those ancient words come to my mind, as I wander through the woods, watch the rushing streams, or gaze upon the lofty mountains, 'All ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord, praise Him, and magnify Him forever.' But," he continued, after a pause, "there is another field in which I have worked, and because I have done so I believe I shall be able to help your father."
"And what is that?" asked Constance eagerly.
"As a medical man, I have studied most carefully the simple remedies used by the Indians in their treatment of diseases. Though at first I found them mingled with superstition, and gross rites, yet I have discovered the beneficial properties contained in the common roots and herbs which surround us. It was Nathaniel Hawthorne, you remember, who said about old Roger Chillingworth that,
"'In his Indian captivity, he had gained much knowledge of the property of native herbs and roots; nor did he conceal from his patients that these simple medicines, Nature's boon to the untutored savage, had quite as large a share of his own confidence as the European Pharmacopoeia, which so many learned doctors had spent centuries in elaborating.'"
"I don't remember the words," Constance responded, "but I have read about that terrible man, Roger Chillingworth. It's in 'The Scarlet Letter,' is it not?"
"Yes, and the words appealed to me so strongly that years ago, when a student at college, I learned them by heart.
"Well, as I was saying, I have made several important additions to my stock of knowledge while among the Indians. But there is one medicine which is a great secret, into which I have never been admitted. Its preparation is known only to a few. There are certain traditions connected with it why the knowledge must not be divulged. It is formed of roots and herbs of some kind, and is used only on the rarest occasions. Twice I have seen the medicine administered, and each time with marvellous results. Now, your father needs some special treatment, for his symptoms are very similar to the man I saw cured. I think I have influence enough to obtain the remedy for him. Will you trust me?"