found herself with her
dying child on the banks of Red River, all alone among her sorrowing
Indian boatmen, "a stranger in a strange land;" no home to which to go;
no friends to sympathise with her. Fortunately for her, the Hudson's
Bay officials at Lower Fort Garry were made aware of her sorrows, and
received her into one of their homes ere the child died. The Reverend
Mr Cowley also came and prayed for her, and sympathised with her on the
loss of her beautiful child.

As I was far away when Nellie died, Mrs Young knew not what to do with
our precious dead. A temporary grave was made, and in it the body was
laid until I could be communicated with, and arrangements could be made
for its permanent interment. I wrote at once by an Indian to the
Venerable Archdeacon Cowley, asking permission to bury our dead in his
graveyard; and there came promptly back, by the canoe, a very brotherly,
sympathetic letter, ending up with, "Our graveyards are open before you;
`in the choicest of our sepulchres bury thy dead.'" A few weeks after,
when I had handed over my Mission to Brother Ruttan, I hurried on to the
settlement, and with a few sympathising friends, mostly Indians, we took
up the little body from its temporary resting-place, and buried it in
the St. Peter's Church graveyard, the dear archdeacon himself being
present, and reading the beautiful Burial Service of his Church. That
land to us has been doubly precious since it has become the repository
of our darling child.

As we floated down the current, or were propelled along by the oars of
our Indian boatmen, on that first journey, little did we imagine that
this sad episode in our lives would happen in that very spot a few years
after. When we were near the end of the Indian Settlement, as it is
called, we saw several Indians on the bank, holding on to a couple of
oxen. Our boats were immediately turned in to the shore near them, and,
to our great astonishment, we found out that each boat was to have an
addition to its passenger list in the shape of one of these big fellows.
The getting of these animals shipped was no easy matter, as there was
no wharf or gangway; but after a good deal of pulling and pushing, and
lifting up of one leg, and then another, the patient brutes were
embarked on the frail crafts, to be our companions during the voyage to
Norway House. The position assigned to the one in our boat was just in
front of us, "broadside on," as the sailors woul