‘THERE IS SORROW ON THE SEA’
I YORK FACTORY, HUDSON’S BAY. 23rd September, 1747. MY DEAR COUSİN FANNY,—It was a year…
Three Commandments in the Vulgar Tongue
By Gilbert Parker I “READ on, Pierre,” the sick man said, doubling the corner of…
THE TRAIL OF THE SUN DOGS
By Gilbert Parker “Swell, you see,” said Jacques Parfaite, as he gave Whiskey Wine, the…
The Spoil of the Puma
By Gilbert Parker JUST at the point where the Peace River first hugs the vast…
The Red Patrol
By Gilbert Parker ST. AUGUSTINE’S, Canterbury, had given him its licentiate’s hood, the Bishop of…
The Plunderer
By Gilbert Parker IT was no use: men might come and go before her, but…
THE PILOT OF BELLE AMOUR
By Gilbert Parker He lived in a hut on a jutting crag of the Cliff…
The Lake of the Great Slave
By Gilbert Parker WHEN Tybalt the tale-gatherer asked why it was so called, Pierre said:…
The Going of the White Swan
By Gilbert Parker “WHY don’t she come back, father?” The man shook his head, his…
The Finding of Fingall
By Gilbert Parker “FINGALL! Fingall!—Oh, Fingall!” A grey mist was rising from the river, the…