192 ACROSS THE SUB-ARCTICS OF CANADA. 



my bag a sail needle and some twine, and then having 

 lowered the tent to the ground while my brother held 

 it, I stitched up the rent. When the tent was again 

 raised our bedding was buried in snow, but the blankets 

 being our only comfort, the drifts were shaken off, and 

 in a half-perished condition we again crept beneath 

 them. 



Besides the discomforts occasioned by the storm at 

 this camp, I suffered a serious experience of poisoning. 

 Our cook, thinking to give my brother and me a treat, 

 provided for our dinner a dish of fried liver. Perhaps 

 because of its rank flavor, my brother partook sparingly 

 and so partially escaped, but I ate of it freely and at once 

 became fearfully ill. For a whole day I lay in the tent, 

 retching and straining, though throwing off nothing but 

 froth, until I thought I should have died. My brother 

 urged me to take some brandy, a little of which still 

 remained in a flask we had brought with us, but for 

 some time I declined. Towards evening, however, find- 

 ing that I would have to take something or give up the 

 ghost, I yielded to his advice, and soon began to recover. 

 I have since learned that polar bear's liver is considered 

 to be poisonous, both by the Eskimos and by the north- 

 sea whalers. 



While on the subject of bears, it may be of interest to 

 relate here a rather exciting personal experience I once 

 had, which took place several years before on the barren 

 ice-bound shores of Hudson Straits. 



We were a small detachment of explorers, travelling 

 at the time in the little steam launch of a scientific 

 expedition, and occupied in the geographical determina- 

 tion of a group of hitherto unknown islands. The 



