the words of
Dr. Richardson's Journal.

"A young Chipewyan had separated from the rest of his band for the
purpose of trenching beaver, when his wife, who was his sole companion,
and in her first pregnancy, was seized with the pains of labour. She
died on the third day after she had given birth to a boy. The husband
was inconsolable, and vowed in his anguish never to take another woman
to wife, but his grief was soon in some degree absorbed in anxiety for
the fate of his infant son. To preserve its life he descended to the
office of nurse, so degrading in the eyes of a Chipewyan, as partaking
of the duties of a woman. He swaddled it in soft moss, fed it with broth
made from the flesh of the deer, and to still its cries applied it to
his breast, praying earnestly to the great Master of Life, to assist his
endeavours. The force of the powerful passion by which he was actuated
produced the same effect in his case, as it has done in some others
which are recorded: a flow of milk actually took place from his breast.
He succeeded in rearing his child, taught him to be a hunter, and when
he attained the age of manhood, chose him a wife from the tribe. The old
man kept his vow in never taking a second wife himself, but he delighted
in tending his son's children, and when his daughter-in-law used to
interfere, saying, that it was not the occupation of a man, he was wont
to reply, that he had promised to the great Master of Life, if his child
were spared, never to be proud, like the other Indians. He used to
mention, too, as a certain proof of the approbation of Providence, that
although he was always obliged to carry his child on his back while
hunting, yet that it never roused a moose by its cries, being always
particularly still at those times. Our informant[16] added that he had
often seen this Indian in his old age, and that his left breast, even
then, retained the unusual size it had acquired in his occupation of
nurse."

[16] Mr. Wentzel.

We had proof of their sensibility towards their relations, in their
declining to pitch their tents where they had been accustomed for many
years, alleging a fear of being reminded of the happy hours they had
formerly spent there, in the society of the affectionate relatives whom
the sickness had recently carried off. The change of situation, however,
had not the effect of relieving them from sorrowful impressions, and
they occasionally{43} indulged in very loud lamentations, as the