Quite the most abundant carpet in the forest here is the uva-ursi or bear-berry. Its beautiful evergreen leaves and bright red berries cover a quarter of the ground in dry woods and are found in great acre beds. It furnishes a staple of food to all wild things, birds and beasts, including Foxes, Martens, and Coyotes; it is one of the most abundant of the forest products, and not one hundred yards from the fort are solid patches as big as farms, and yet when I brought in a spray to sketch it one day several of the Hudson's Bay officers said: "Where in the world did you get that? It must be very rare, for I never yet saw it in this country." A similar remark was made about a phoebe-bird. "It was never before seen in the country"; and yet there is a pair nesting every quarter of a mile from Athabaska Landing to Great Slave Lake. Fort Smith, being the place of my longest stay, was the scene of my largest medical practice. One of my distinguished patients here was Jacob McKay, a half-breed born on Red River in 1840. He left there in 1859 to live 3 years at Rat Portage. Then he went to Norway House, and after 3 years moved to Athabaska in 1865. In 1887 he headed a special government expedition into the Barren Grounds to get some baby Musk-ox skins. He left Fort Rae, April 25, 1887, and, travelling due north with Dogrib Indians some 65 miles, found Musk-ox on May 10, and later saw many hundreds. They killed 16 calves for their pelts, but no old ones. McKay had to use all his influence to keep the Indians from slaughtering wholesale; indeed, it was to restrain them that he was sent. He now lives at Fort Resolution. One morning the chief came and said he wanted me to doctor a sick woman in his lodge. I thought sick women a good place for an amateur to draw the line, but Squirrel did not. "Il faut venir; elle est bien malade." At length I took my pill-kit and followed him. Around his lodge were a score of the huge sled dogs, valuable animals in winter, but useless, sullen, starving, noisy nuisances all summer. If you kick them out of your way, they respect you; if you pity them, they bite you. They respected us. We entered the lodge, and there sitting by the fire were two squaws making moccasins. One was old and ugly as sin; the second, young and pretty as a brown fawn. I looked from one to the other in doubt, and said: "Laquelle est la malade?" Then the pretty one replied in perfect English: "You needn't talk French here; I speak English,' which she certainly did. French is mostly used, but the few that speak English are very proud of it and are careful to let you know. "Are you ill?" I asked. "The chief thinks I am," was the somewhat impatient reply, and she broke down in a coughing fit. "How long have you had that?" I said gravely. "What?" I tapped my chest for reply. "Oh! since last spring." "And you had it the spring before, too, didn't you?" "Why, yes! (a pause). But that isn't what bothers me." "Isn't your husband kind to you?"