At each of these northern posts there were interesting experiences in store for me, as one who had read all the books of northern travel and dreamed for half a lifetime of the north; and that was – almost daily meeting with famous men.

Thar is two things that every national crisis is bound to show up: first, a lot o’ dum fools in command; second, lot o great commanders in the ranks. An’ fortunately before the crisis is over the hull thing is sure set right, and the men is where they oughter be.

A lion shorn of his strength, an eagle robbed of his freedom, or a dove bereft of his mate, all die, it is said, of a broken heart; and who will aver that this grim bandit could bear the threefold brunt, heart-whole? This only I know, that when the morning dawned, he was lying there still in his position of calm repose, but his spirit was gone-the old king-wolf was dead.

I have only one prejudice in horseflesh – I do not like a white one.

The culture and civilization of the White man are essentially material; his measure of success is, “How much property have I acquired for myself?” The culture of the Red man is fundamentally spiritual; his measure of success is, “How much service have I rendered to my people?

The white spruce forest along the banks is most inspiring, magnificent here. Down the terraced slopes and right to the water’s edge on the alluvial soil it stands in ranks.

The Hudson’s Bay Company has always been the guardian angel of the north.

How much service have I rendered to my people?

For a man who is lost, the three greatest dangers in order of importance, are Fear, Cold, and Hunger. He may endure extreme hunger for a week, and extreme cold for a day, but extreme fear may undo him an hour. There is no way of guarding against this greatest danger except by assuring him that he is fortified against the other two.

We and the beasts are kin.