APPENDIX TO PART II 



When in Labrador and Newfoundland a few years ago, the writer 

 copied the entries of an old half-breed woman trapper's daily journal of her 

 life. It is fragmentary and incoherent, but gives a glimpse of the Indian 

 mind. It is written in English. She was seventy-five years old when 

 the diary opened in December, 1893. Her name was Lydia Campbell 

 and she lived at Hamilton Inlet. Having related how she shot a deer, 

 skinning it herself, made her snow-shoes and set her rabbit snares, she 

 closes her first entry with : 



"Well, as I sed, I can't write much at a time now, for i am getting 

 blind and some mist rises up before me if i sew, read or write a little while." 



Lydia Campbell's mother was captured by Eskimo. She ran away 

 when she had grown up, to quote her own terse diary, "crossed a river on 

 drift sticks, wading in shadows, through woods, meeting bears, sleeping 

 under trees — seventy miles flight — saw a French boat — took off skirt 

 and waved it to them — came — took my mother on board — worked for 

 them — with the sealers — camped on the ice. 



"As there was no other kind of women to marrie hear, the few English 

 men each took a wife of that sort and they never was sorry that they took 

 them, for they was great workers and so it came to pass that I was one of 

 the youngest of them." [Meaning, of course, that she was the daughter 

 of one of these marriages.] 



"Our young man pretended to spark the two dauhgters of Tomas. 

 He was a one-armed man, for he had shot away one arm firing at a large 

 bird. ... He double-loaded his gun in his fright, so the por man lost 

 one of his armes, ... he was so smart with his gun that he could bring 

 down a bird flying past him, or a deer running past he would be the first 

 to bring it down." 



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