LETTER XVIII. 199 



There is one box of provisions, and another (a 

 very modest little fellow) full of bitter beer, and 

 one (just one) bottle of whisky in case of well, 

 let us say cholera. 



In spite of my desire to let my wife see a 

 genuine specimen of camping out, it seems to me 

 that our expedition is going to be as comfortable 

 as an English picnic. A cheer for the lady, a 

 waving of hats, and off we go, a French Canadian 

 driving, and our two Indians tucked in behind. 

 All round ' No-matter- where ' are lumber limits, 

 i.e., tracts of forest taken up and owned or leased 

 by different individuals who, every fall, send 

 gangs of axe-men into their limits to hew down 

 the harvest of oak and pine. For sixteen years 

 Jocko had been a lumberman, vowing every year 

 that the hardships of the life were too great, and 

 that he could earn more money in the towns for 

 lighter work ; but every fall when the gang 

 gathered together and prepared to move off to 

 the great log shanties for the winter, the old 

 fascination drew him after them, and once more 

 in bright tuque of blue or red, axe on shoulder, 

 and pipe between his teeth, he marched off with 

 the merry singing crew of stalwart fellows for the 

 forest. Even now that he had given it up, 

 Jocko hankered after the old life. How many 

 of us professional men in London, if we could be 



