Hi 'iU rv^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I ■^■M |2.5 1.8 us 1.25 1 1.4 III 1.6 < 6" ► V 7 f ^'^V ^ V IC Photographi( Sciences Corporation V 4V 4 •SS <^ V ;\ *iu «;i!ST MAIN STMIT \MIRSr;il,N.Y. US«0 (710) S72-4503 ,y6u ly figure Winter Travel in tl^e Jlretie Cirele. -/- A TRIP MADK (IN TUK IPl'lIB YOl'CON. (By K. A'. L. McDonafTJ^ ^ I O most readers of travel it is well J[^ known that within the Arctic Circle the winter months are very dreary, owing to the want of sunlight, especially as the days draw near to their shortest period ; at which time, for about a month, the sun is not visible; while in summer, when the days are at their longest. Old Sol shines continuously day and night for about the same time. Notwitstanding the short days and extreme cold expe- rienced, a good deal of winter travel is accomplished, and that with dog sleiglis and snow shoes. This is owing to the fact of the aVjseiice of horses in that part of The Manitobxn. 3] -f the country, and in fact the nature of the country is such that it is altogether un- suited for them, so that in winter travellers arc confined solely to the use of dogs, and in summer time to boats — York or inland boats of the style of the McKinnaw build. As some of my readers would perhaps like to hear of a winter trip, I will briefly describe to you one that I tigured in. I received a pressinf? invitation one winter from a tribe of ^^ndians living on the Upper Youcon, to pay them a visit, and I promised to comply with their re- quest. After ui iking the necessary prep- arations, I engaged a man and we set out on snowshoes with one train of dogs to haul our provisions and travelling gear. We travelled through a country partly wooded and partly swamp and muskeg. On the ninth day we were pleased to see in the distance the curling smoke from the camp tires of our friends rising in the still air. As we had run short of provis- ions the evening before, we hurried on with the pleasing prospect of a good meal and a good rest. We wore welcomed by all, from the youngest to the oldest, and were made guests in the chief's lodge. While dropping our travelling clothes it was noticeable that the usual alacrity in preparing a meal for guests was wanting, and we were told to our regret that pro- visions were scarce, the whole tribe at that time depending for a mouthful on the precarious chance of rabbit snaring, as rabbits were anything but plentiful and the weather very severe. However, the best that the poor people had was placed at our disposal according to the usual hos- pitable custom of all Indian tribes from their southern to their northern limits. In the course of the evening it was de- cided that the camp should be broken up and a move made in a direction where moose were said to be plentiful, and where it was hoped the huntars would meet with success. The following morning, camp was struck, the hunters set out in advance to beat a track for the women who brought up the rear with the children and all the " household goods." The men after trav- elling six or seven miles marked the place where the camp for the night was to be pitched, and then breaking up into small parties started in search of game. For five consecutive days we accompanied our friends on the march and as no game other than an occasional rabbit was secured, it was trying to witness the sufferings of the women and children. Donrf, starved to death from hunger and cold, marked our line of travel, as the bleached bones of animals show the route across the deserts of the east. The sixth day happening on Sunday, notwithstanding the emaciated condition of the party, the day was observed by all as one of rest, not one hunter leav- ing the camp in search of food; morning and evening religious services were con- ducted, and all made it a point to attend. It was a long day and it was edifying to note that not a murmur came from one of the party, even though some of the women had to boil parts of their deer-skin lodges to quiet their little ones. During the night a wind arose and long before the day broke, the hunters were scouring the country after the moose, the noblest game of that region. Their efforts were crowned with success and anxiety and want gave place to joy and plenty. Shortly after I set out on my return and was accompanied for some distance by three young men of the tribe. About 100 miles from the fort, the weather became very severe and my dogs after their long enforced fasting were very weak and made but slow pro- gress, eventually giving out altogether. Seeing this, I made camp, tore up one of my blankets as coverings for them and fed them with all the provisions I had, with the hope of getting them home. The next morning an early start was made, but we had not proceeded far, when two of them fell down and refused to rise. They were unharnessed and myself and man took their place in drawing the sled along, with the help of the remaing dog, who was still game. But it was so cold we made little progress and we finally decided on leaving our sled and baggage. We accordingly made a good camp, put everything safely away in the sled and hung it on a tree out of the reach of wolves. In the mean- time the two dogs I had left behind, £Ci gered into camp, threw themselves in the warm ashes beside the fire, and there they lay moaning piteously. About mid- night we made a start and as we stepped out of camp the two dogs made an attempt 163713 ^• r>2 The Manitoran. to rise, but failing, aet up a despairinj? howl. I could not help thera and there they remained where they soon froze to death. My feelings, as 1 tiuurd and left them, may be better imagined than des- cribed. Continuing on our way wn reach- ed the fort at 10 p. m., having stopped twice to refresh ourselves with water. We travelled the 70 miles in 20 hours, on snowshoch, with tho thermometer at 65° below zero and without a mouthful to eat. But this old travellers are prepared to do at any time and do not take credit to themselves for having accomplished any- thing extraordinary. Tl^e Stop^ of tJie ngnt EETIIOVKN COMPOSED IT. 'W' lUS 11 i4_-. ^-^J E all know the story of that night when Beethoven, de ■spairing, with the world against him, beggarly poor, wanderer with his friend by the River Rhine, an, expressed how completely hopeless h srown his life. "No on3 understands /or cares for me," he cried — "I have geuj and am treated as an outcast. I hav heart and none to love, I hate mysel hate the world, and I wish it were over, and forever." Then we see him, as they leave the river side and pass down the narrow street, suddenly pause and stand still, listening to the faint notes of a worn piano that strike on the night air from an invisible soui'ce. He recognizes in the music a part from his own symphony in F., played with wonderful feeling and expression, and immediately the man is changed ; himself, his cares and the world are for the time alike forgotten- lost in the soul of the musician and artist. He hurries forward, followed by his friend, until he is opposite the mean dwelling from whence the sounds proceed, then turning he simply says, " Follow me I" and without even knocking, lifts the latch and enters. The room before them is p'aiii to shabbiness. In one cor- ner stands an old harpischord, and seated by it is the slender form of a girl, with long, golden hair falling over her shoulders. Off to one side, near a rough board table on which a candle is dimly burning, is seated a pale young man, L.aking shoes. Both start as the master and his friend enter, not knowing what to make of the intrusion. Beethoven is first to speak. "Pardon me" — he says. "I heard music and was tempted to enter. I am a musician." After some further conversation during which he learns that the girl is b'ind, we see him at the instrument and his bands wandering over the keys in an improvisa- tion that might have thrilled the hearts emperors. On, on he plays, lost in his jeme, until the candle burns low, goes it, and the room is unlit save by the 'loonlight that streams in through the i^indow, and falls in a silver flood over the calm, inspired face of the composer, 'and white keys of the instrument. What a tableau it must have presented, in that chill, dark room, when their souls listen- ed, silent and awed, to the strains of pas- sionate tenderness and gradations of melody that fell from the master's fingers. We can almost see the blind girl with her form bent fojyK^rd, her sightless orbs wide open^l^tJ^pait\and breath abated, drinking^! the musljp whose like the pei'chance, has Jnever since heard, pauses, his head droops on his breast, h s hands rest on his knees and his mind be( omes lost in medi- tation. The young si cemaker goes for- ward, touches him re' erently and asks: "Wonderful man, who ind what are you T' Beethoven does not re jly at first, but on the question being re )eated, smiles, and turning to the piano 3lays the opening bar from his symphonylin F. From the lips of brother and sister — for such they are — breaks the cry " Beet- hoven !" and covering Vhis hands with kisses they beg him to play once more. Turning again to theVpiano he looks out at the sky and stars\ says : "I will improvise moonlight." Then commenV ing bars ct' that weird, beaut tion, known to the world as light Sonata." moment and onata to the the open- il composi- he "Moon- Ees > "wi'mwijiu" T^^wWrt-''