“In addition to the first guide, your grandfather now engaged one of the Indians with whom they had passed the night, to accompany him. The three cheerfully proceeded on their route, and for the first few days enjoyed very brilliant weather, and made so much progress upon the hard snow, that I believe they had nearly traversed a third of their destined route across to St. George’s Bay.

“But now they began to suffer severely from the state of their eyes which became exceedingly painful, and no wonder; for by day they were exposed to the full glare of the sun upon the wide expanse of snow, and all night to the red glare of the fire, together with the pungent wood-smoke, which proved a constant trial to the sight. At length they became almost blind, and to add to their distress, provisions began to fail them. They had counted on securing plenty of game as they went along, and no one ever thinks of carrying provisions for more than a day or two into the interior with them. Now, unhappily, this resource was at an end; for not one of the three could see well enough to use a gun, or, indeed, bear to look upwards.

“What follows is very sad; it is touchingly told in the journal, and I will read the account as it is there given:—‘The atmosphere now became so thick, that, had we not been troubled with snow-blindness, we could not have seen more than a few yards, and could not possibly have made our way in an unknown country.

“‘These Newfoundland fogs are fearful things; they surpass, indeed, the imagination of Europeans. You seem to be actually in cloud-land; for nothing but cloud is visible above, around, and beneath. This state of things lasts often for days; now it is a bright white, as though the day were struggling through; now it becomes shaded, and now almost night. Sometimes there are little openings, and you catch a clean vista between two walls of vapour, but it is presently shut out by the rolling masses of fog. I could compare it to nothing but ghost-land; nothing is real except the danger!”

“Were you ever in such a fog as that, grandmamma?” asked George.

“Yes, George; once at sea we were overtaken by a most fearful and prolonged fog; never in my life did I experience such feelings of awe and alarm as during that weary week.

“But I must tell you of that another time. Your grandfather often used to recall his emotions when travelling in that thick cloud. One day they rested in the icy chamber they had dug for the night’s resting-place, and he said, ‘That was indeed an oratory;’ and fervently did we pray, ‘Give us our daily bread,’ and ‘Lighten our darkness we beseech Thee, O Lord.’

“The tears dropped fast when he thought of my anxiety on his account, and of the probability that his usefulness was at an end, and that we should meet no more on earth.

“At length he came to the resolution to retrace his steps, hoping to make the scanty supply of biscuit which still remained hold out until they could regain the spot where the Indians had encamped, and where they had buried some venison. Of the three travellers, he suffered least from snow-blindness, which he thought was owing to the fact that he had kept a black gauze veil over his face at mid-day, and had resolutely adhered to his purpose of not rubbing his eyes. He was, therefore, best able to guide his companions. He thus describes the plan on which he proceeded:—‘Maurice, the Indian, would open his eyes now and then to look at my compass;—we could not see for fog more than one hundred yards; he would fix on some object as far as the eye could reach, and then shut his eyes again, when I would lead him up to it. On reaching it he would take another look, and we then started for the next point. It was literally a case of the blind leading the blind.

“In this manner, by forced marches, we were enabled to reach, by seven or eight in the evening, the same spots at which we had halted on our outward march at four each day. Thus we were spared the labour of digging and clearing away the snow, to which, in our enfeebled condition, we were quite unequal. The stint of food was now so small that I advised my companions not to eat any quantity at a time, but to take a piece the size of a nutmeg when hunger was most craving. We gathered also each day, on our return, about as many partridge berries as would fill a wine glass apiece, and these we found both refreshing and nutritive. They had ripened in the autumn, and had been buried under the snow all the winter, so that they resembled preserved fruit in flavour, and reminded me of a rich, clarety grape.

“One great privation in this winter travelling is the want of water. We were obliged to content ourselves with the supply gotten from the snow, melted by the smoky fire. This water, together with the wind, had the effect of parching and cracking my swollen lips to such a degree, that when, after an interval of eight days, I had an opportunity of surveying my face in a piece of broken glass, I was at a loss to recognise my own features. The most scorching heat of summer is not so injurious to the skin as the effect of travelling in the snow at this season.’

“After this tedious fashion, stage by stage, the wanderers slowly proceeded, until at length, by God’s mercy, they reached the place where the Indian wigwams had been left. During the latter part of their route they heard continually the noise of the woodpeckers upon the bark of the trees, which is considered a certain sign of approaching rain, a downfall of which they much feared. The weather was beginning to soften, and consequently the ice lost its firmness, and it became both difficult and dangerous to get so far as this place, but by great effort they accomplished it. Nor was your grandfather satisfied to trust to the imperfect shelter the tents afforded, but persevered in journeying on to the hut built for the winter crew, and which he knew was at no great distance from thence.

“Scarcely had he reached this spot when the rain fell in torrents, and truly thankful did he feel that he had a roof to protect him, instead of being in one of those miserable un-roofed snow-caves, which had for so many nights been his only retreat during all weathers. For a time he suffered greatly both in his eyes and from the smarting of his cold-blistered face, which, together with the fatigue he had endured, rendered it necessary that he should repose for some days before venturing on his journeyings again. I shall not trace his onward progress, which continued to be attended with much difficulty and danger. His nerves became at length so shattered by his great exertions, that, when travelling along the coast, where he had to pass over very lofty cliffs, the sight of these dizzy precipices would so affect him that he burst into tears, and experienced all the symptoms of fainting. Once when clinging by his hands and knees upon the edge of a steep cliff, he felt as though he must inevitably loose his hold, in which case the fall would have been certain death. Closing his eyes, he breathed an earnest ejaculatory prayer, and supported by an invisible arm, and strengthened with new vigour, he felt empowered to maintain his hold, and, gradually advancing, reached the bottom in safety.”

“Oh, how glad you must have felt when you saw him home again, safe and sound, dear granny.”

“I did, indeed, my love, and with thankful heart acknowledged the goodness of our heavenly Father. Nothing but the strong sense of duty can sustain the heart under such anxiety as falls to the lot of the faithful missionary and his family. Love divine is the constraining and blessed principle that bears the fainting spirit up. ‘We love Him because He first loved us.’ Let that, my own dear boy, be your motto; and then if you lose your life in the service of your Lord, you will find it again in eternal joy.”