C Ihe Ladies c cu. V'VVAN - History and Classics, Department of

Harbour of Wrecked Men 67neighbours' boots and moccasins. Such is the history of "Moccasin Bill" who,like so many others in this country, has a permit for liquor. As for "MoccasinBill's" silent wife, she has had no history of her own, nor is she likely to have one.She is a forlorn shadow of a woman.It takes a strong man to keep his integrity and mental powers alive in thesenorthern solitudes. Once we asked the judge: "Can't these isolated people getbooks and don't they read in the long winter nights?" He told us that a newcomerwould read, perhaps, during the first year, but after that he would find littleinterest in reading the same old books and then also the life was so hard forlonely men that they would lose all power of concentration after a while. Thetoughness needed in the mere struggle for survival would absorb all their energy.It is true that the northern posts receive an occasional winter mail brought inby dog-sleigh along the frozen rivers, but when the last steamer goes south, in theearly part of the fall, the people of the North do not expect to see any new face orto hear of any new event for nine long months. No wonder the first steamer ofthe summer receives such a welcome at every northern settlement. Long beforethe hooting signal is heard beyond the bend of the river, news of the steamer'simminent arrival will always be brought in, having been carried north by thatmysterious Indian method of sending signals that can flash news over leagues ofcountry. Quickly the children of the mission are dressed in their Sunday clothes,they come streaming down the bank of mud or stones and then line up like achorus in a comic opera. Grey Nuns in their long robes come fluttering downlike doves; reverend fathers or brothers in cassocks or alpaca jackets come pacingslowly forward; half-breeds and Indians cluster on the bank like bees and everyIndian child, decked out with ill-assorted scraps of finery, is like a macaw withfeathers blown awry. For the coming of the steamer means the coming ofsupplies, of newspapers and letters and strange faces from the outside world, ofthings desperately needed and things desperately desired. As for communicationsby wireless and airplane, both of them were, at the time of our journey, intheir early stages of development in northern Canada. It was not possible toforesee, nor even to imagine, how much those things would change the lives ofthe lonely people in coming years.There is, however, one magnificent type of manhood that stands out in theNorth. You will find such a type most often among the North-West MountedPolice whose work lies often in the lonely outposts beyond the white man's settlements.There they guard, among ice-floes and the Eskimos, the white man's