"On one occasion, he was sent off upon a long journey over the snow where the country was so mountainous, that snow-shoe walking was rendered exceedingly painful by the feet slipping forward against the front bar of the shoe when descending the hills. After he had accomplished a good part of his journey, two large blisters rose under the nails of his great toes; and soon the nails themselves came off. Still he must go on, or die in the woods; so he was obliged to _tie_ the nails on his toes each morning before starting, for the purpose of protecting the tender parts beneath; and every evening he wrapped them up carefully in a piece of rag, and put them into his waistcoat pocket,--_being afraid of losing them if he kept them on all night_." This Mr B---- had had a long and eventful career in North America, and was rich in 'yarns,' more or less credible, with which he regaled Mr Ballantyne during a journey they made together. A deep scar on his nose was the memorial of a narrow escape he had made when dwelling at a solitary fort west of the Rocky Mountains. He had bought a fine horse of an Indian, one of the Blackfeet, a wild and warlike tribe, notorious as horse-stealers. The animal had been but a short time in his possession, when it was stolen. This was a very ordinary event, and was soon forgotten. Spring came, and a party of Indians arrived with a load of furs for barter. They were admitted one by one into the fort, their arms taken from them and locked up--a customary and necessary precaution, as they used to buy spirits, get drunk and quarrel, but without weapons they could do each other little harm. When about a dozen had entered, the gate was shut, and then Mr B---- beheld, to his surprise, the horse he had lost the previous year. He asked to whom it belonged, and the Indian who had sold it him unblushingly stood forward. "Mr B---- (an exceedingly quiet, good-natured man, but like many men of his stamp, very passionate when roused) no sooner witnessed the fellow's audacity than he seized a gun from one of his men, and shot the horse. The Indian instantly sprang upon him; but being a less powerful man than Mr B----, and withal unaccustomed to use his fists, he was soon overcome, and pommelled out of the fort. Not content with this, Mr B---- followed him down to the Indian camp, pommelling him all the way. The instant, however, that the Indian found himself surrounded by his own friends, he faced about, and with a dozen warriors attacked Mr B----, and threw him on the ground, where they kicked and bruised him severely; whilst several boys of the tribe hovered around with bows and arrows, waiting a favourable opportunity to shoot him. Suddenly a savage came forward with a large stone in his hand, and, standing over his fallen enemy, raised it high in the air and dashed it down upon his face. Mr B----, when telling me the story, said that he had just time, upon seeing the stone in the act of falling, to commend his spirit to God, ere he was