mself and the passengers
into the river--the captain having adopted the truly Yankee expedient of
sitting down on the safety-valve while racing with another boat!

Afterwards, Jack Robinson became clerk in one of the Ontario
steam-boats, but, growing tired of this life, he went up the Ottawa, and
became overseer of a sawmill. Here, being on the frontier of
civilisation, he saw the roughest of Canadian life. The lumbermen of
that district are a mixed race--French-Canadians, Irishmen, Indians,
half-castes, etcetera,--and whatever good qualities these men might
possess in the way of hewing timber and bush-life, they were sadly
deficient in the matters of morality and temperance. But Jack was a man
of tact and good temper, and played his cards well. He jested with the
jocular, sympathised with the homesick, doctored the ailing in a rough
and ready fashion peculiarly his own, and avoided the quarrelsome. Thus
he became a general favourite.

Of course it was not to be expected that he could escape an occasional
broil, and it was herein that his early education did him good service.
He had been trained in an English school where he became one of the best
boxers. The lumberers on the Ottawa were not practised in this science;
they indulged in that kicking, tearing, pommelling sort of mode which is
so repugnant to the feelings of an Englishman. The consequence was that
Jack had few fights, but these were invariably with the largest bullies
of the district; and he, in each case, inflicted such tremendous facial
punishment on his opponent that he became a noted man, against whom few
cared to pit themselves.

There are none so likely to enjoy peace as those who are prepared for
war. Jack used sometimes to say, with a smile, that his few battles
were the price he had to pay for peace.

Our hero was unlucky. The saw-mill failed--its master being a drunkard.
When that went down he entered the lumber trade, where he made the
acquaintance of a young Scotchman, of congenial mind and temperament,
who suggested the setting up of a store in a promising locality and
proposed entering into partnership. "Murray and Robinson" was forthwith
painted by the latter, (who was a bit of an artist), over the door of a
small log-house, and the store soon became well known and much
frequented by the sparse population as well as by those engaged in the
timber trade.

But "the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." There