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 sutfered 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 
chost, 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, 1t 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 httle steam launch of a scientific 
expedition, and occupied in the geographical determina- 
tion of a group of hitherto unknown islands. The 
