there was much foreign
gossip to exchange between items, and the world's doings to be
discussed. The Doctor was interested in the remotest subjects. The
pestilences of the Orient and the possibility of their spreading to our
shores, and eventually to the North Country, gave him much concern; the
court life at St. James's and the politics of Persia absorbed
him;--local matters interested him not at all.

"Ten pounds of flour?"... The Doctor would pause, scoop in hand; then,
abruptly reminded of a bit of unfinished business at the warehouse, he
would leave the flour trembling in the balance and shuffle off, while I
perched on the counter and swung my heels, and discussed packs with Ted
Wakeland, another pioneer, who, spitting vigorously, averred that
packing grub through the brush was all right for an Indian, but no fit
task for a white man. Through the open door I could see the gentle
swells of the Big Water washing along the crescent of the beach and
heaping the sand in curious little crescent ridges. The sun beat hotly
on the board walk. There were faint sounds in the distance, from the
Indian village up the shore and the fishing community across the bay.
Life in this parish of the Northland drifted by like the fleece of
summer's sky.

"And three pounds of rice?"

The Doctor was back at the scales, and the weighing proceeded in
leisurely and dignified fashion. Haste, truly, were unseemly. But at
last the supplies were stowed in the brown pack, there were handshakings
all round, and a word of advice from old heads, and I marched away with
a singing heart.

Outfitting in the Doctor's shop was an event, a ceremonial, a thing to
be housed in memory along with camps and trails.

II.--THE RIVER.

He who has known many rivers knows that every watercourse has an
individuality, which is no more to be analyzed than the personality of
one's dearest friend. Two rivers may flow almost side by side for a
hundred miles, separated only by a range of hills, and resemble each
other no more than two women. You may admire the one, and grant it
beauty and charm; but you will love the other, and dream of it, and
desire infinite acquaintance of it.

These differences are too subtle for definition. Superficially, two
rivers in the North Country are unlike only in this respect, that one
has cut a deep valley through the hills and flows swiftly and shallowly
to its sea, and the other has kept to the plateaus and drops leisurely
by a