New Year’s Day came at last, and on the morning of that day Jasper Derry and Marie Laroche were made man and wife.  They were married by the Reverend Mr Wilson, a Wesleyan missionary, who had come to Fort Erie, a few days before, on a visit to the tribes of Indians in that neighbourhood.

The North American Indian has no religion worthy of the name; but he has a conscience, like other men, which tells him that it is wrong to murder and to steal.  Yet, although he knows this, he seldom hesitates to do both when he is tempted thereto.  Mr Wilson was one of those earnest missionaries who go to that wilderness and face its dangers, as well as its hardships and sufferings, for the sake of teaching the savage that the mere knowledge of right and wrong is not enough - that the love of God, wrought in the heart of man by the Holy Spirit, alone can enable him to resist evil and do good - that belief in the Lord Jesus Christ alone can save the soul.

There are several missionaries of this stamp - men who love the name of Jesus - in that region, and there are a number of stations where the good seed of God’s Word is being planted in the wilderness.  But I have not space, and this is not the place, to enlarge on the great and interesting subject of missionary work in Rupert’s Land.  I must return to my narrative.

It was, as I have said, New Year’s day when Jasper and Marie were married.  And a remarkably bright, beautiful morning it was.  The snow appeared whiter than usual, and the countless gems of hoar-frost that hung on shrub and tree seemed to sparkle more than usual; even the sun appeared to shine more brightly than ever it did before - at least it seemed so in the eyes of Jasper and Marie.

“Everything seems to smile on us to-day, Marie,” said Jasper, as they stood with some of their friends at the gate of the fort, just after the ceremony was concluded.

“I trust that God may smile on you, and bless your union, my friends,” said Mr Wilson, coming forward with a small Bible in his hand.  “Here is a copy of God’s Word, Jasper, which I wish you to accept of and keep as a remembrance of me and of this day.”

“I’ll keep it, sir, and I thank you heartily,” said Jasper, taking the book and returning the grasp of the missionary’s hand.

“And my chief object in giving it to you, Jasper, is, that you and Marie may read it often, and find joy and peace to your souls.”

As the missionary said this a faint sound, like the tinkling of distant bells, was heard in the frosty air.

Looks of surprise and excitement showed that this was an unwonted sound.  And so it was; for only once or twice during the long winter did a visitor gladden Fort Erie with his presence.  These sweet sounds were the tinkling of sleigh-bells, and they told that a stranger was approaching - that letters, perhaps, and news from far-distant homes, might be near at band.

Only twice in the year did the Europeans at that lonely outpost receive letters from home.  Little wonder that they longed for them, and that they went almost wild with joy when they came.

Soon the sleigh appeared in sight, coming up the river at full speed, and a loud “hurrah!” from the men at the gate, told the visitor that he was a welcome guest.  It was a dog-sleigh - a sort of conveyance much used by the fur-traders in winter travelling.  In form, it was as like as possible to a tin slipper bath.  It might also be compared to a shoe.  If the reader will try to conceive of a shoe large enough to hold a man, sitting with his legs out before him, that will give him a good idea of the shape of a dog cariole.  There is sometimes an ornamental curve in front.  It is made of two thin hardwood planks curled up in front, with a light frame-work of wood, covered over with deer or buffalo skin, and painted in a very gay manner.  Four dogs are usually harnessed to it, and these are quite sufficient to drag a man on a journey of many days, over every sort of country, where there is no road whatever.  Dogs are much used for hauling little sledges in that country in winter.  The traveller sits wrapped up so completely in furs, that nothing but his head is visible.  He is attended by a driver on snow-shoes, who is armed with a large whip.  No reins are used.  If the snow is hard, as is usually the case on the surface of a lake or river, the driver walks behind and holds on to a tail-line, to prevent the dogs from running away.  If the traveller’s way lies through the woods, the snow is so soft and deep that the poor dogs are neither willing nor able to run away.  It is as much as they can do to walk; so the driver goes before them, in this case, and beats down the snow with his snow-shoes - “beats the track,” as it is called.  The harness of the dogs is usually very gay, and covered with little bells which give forth a cheerful tinkling sound.

“It’s young Cameron,” cried Mr Pemberton, hastening forward to welcome the newcomer.

Cameron was the gentleman in charge of the nearest outpost - two hundred and fifty miles down the river.

“Welcome, Cameron, my boy, welcome to Fort Erie.  You are the pleasantest sight we have seen here for many a day,” said Pemberton, shaking the young man heartily by the hand as soon as he had jumped out of his sleigh.

“Come, Pemberton, you forget Miss Marie Laroche when you talk of my being the pleasantest sight,” said Cameron, laughing.

“Ah! true.  Pardon me, Marie -

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” interrupted Jasper, with much gravity, “I know of no such person as Miss Marie Laroche!”

“How? what do you mean?” said Cameron, with a puzzled look.

“Jasper is right,” explained Pemberton, “Marie was Miss Laroche yesterday; she is Mrs Derry to-day.”

“Then I salute you, Mrs Derry, and congratulate you both,” cried the young man, kissing the bride’s fair cheek, “and I rejoice to find that I am still in time to dance at your wedding.”

“Ay,” said Pemberton, as they moved up to the hall, “that reminds me to ask you why you are so late.  I expected you before Christmas Day.”

“I had intended to be here by that day,” replied Cameron, “but one of my men cut his foot badly with an axe, and I could not leave him; then my dogs broke down on the journey, and that detained me still longer.  But you will forgive my being so late, I think, when I tell you that I have got a packet of letters with me.”

“Letters!” shouted every one.

“Ay, letters and newspapers from England.”

A loud cheer greeted this announcement.  The packet was hauled out of the sleigh, hurried up to the fort, torn open with eager haste, and the fur-traders of Fort Erie were soon devouring the contents like hungry men.

And they were hungry men - they were starving!  Those who see their kindred and friends daily, or hear from them weekly, cannot understand the feelings of men who hear from them only twice in the year.  Great improvements have taken place in this matter of late years; still, many of the Hudson Bay Company’s outposts are so distant from the civilised world, that they cannot get news from “home” oftener than twice a year.

It was a sight to study and moralise over - the countenances of these banished men.  The trembling anxiety lest there should be “bad news.”  The gleam of joy, and the deep “thank God,” on reading “all well.”  Then the smiles, the sighs, the laughs, the exclamations of surprise, perhaps the tears that would spring to their eyes as they read the brief but, to them, thrilling private history of the past half year.

There was no bad news in that packet, and a feeling of deep joy was poured into the hearts of the people of the fort by these “Good news from a far country.”  Even the half-breeds and Indians, who could not share the feeling, felt the sweet influence of the general happiness that was diffused among the fur-traders on that bright New Year’s Day in the wilderness.

What a dinner they had that day to be sure!  What juicy roasts of buffalo beef; what enormous steaks of the same; what a magnificent venison pasty; and what glorious marrow-bones - not to mention tongues, and hearts, and grouse, and other things!  But the great feature of the feast was the plum-pudding.  It was like a huge cannon-ball with the measles!  There was wine, too, on this occasion.  Not much, it is true, but more than enough, for it had been saved up all the year expressly for the Christmas and New Year’s festivities.  Thus they were enabled to drink to absent friends, and bring up all the old toasts and songs that used to be so familiar long ago in the “old country.”  But these sturdy traders needed no stimulants.  There were one or two who even scorned the wine, and stuck to water, and to their credit be it said, that they toasted and sang with the best of them.

At night there was a ball, and the ball beat the dinner out of sight.  Few indeed were the women, but numerous were the men.  Indian women are not famous for grace or cleanliness, poor things.  But they enjoyed the ball, and they did their best to dance.  Such dancing!  They seemed to have no joints.  They stood up stiff as lamp-posts, and went with an up-and-down motion from side to side.  But the men did the thing bravely, especially the Indians.  The only dances attempted were Scotch reels, and the Indians tried to copy the fur-traders; but on finding this somewhat difficult, they introduced some surprising steps of their own, which threw the others entirely into the shade!  There was unfortunately no fiddler, but there was a fiddle - one made of pine wood by an Indian, with strings of deer-skin sinew.  Some of the boldest of the party scraped time without regard to tune, and our friend Heywood beat the kettle-drum.  The tones of the fiddle at last became so horrible that it was banished altogether, and they danced that night to the kettle-drum!

Of course the fair bride was the queen of that ball.  Her countenance was the light of it, and her modest, womanly manner had a softening influence on the rough men who surrounded her.

When the ball was over, a curious thing occurred in the hall in which it had taken place.  The room was heated by a stove, and as a stove dries the air of a room too much, it was customary to keep a pan of water on the stove to moisten it a little.  This moisture was increased that night by the steam of the supper and by the wild dancing, so that, when all was over, the walls and ceiling were covered with drops of water.  During the night this all froze in the form of small beautifully-shaped crystals, and in the morning they found themselves in a crystal palace of nature’s own formation, which beat all the crystal palaces that ever were heard of - at least in originality, if not in splendour.

Thus happily ended the marriage-day of honest Jasper Derry and sweet Marie Laroche, and thus pleasantly began the new year of 18 .  But as surely as darkness follows light, and night follows day, so surely does sorrow tread on the heels of joy in the history of man.  God has so ordained it, and he is wise who counts upon experiencing both.