We get in Winnipeg another picture, one that will remain with us till we
reach the last Great Divide. At the Winnipeg General Hospital, Dr. D.A.
Stewart says to us, "Come, I want to show you a brave chap, one who has
fallen by the way." We find this man, Alvin Carlton, stretched on a
cot. "Tell him that you are going into the land of fur," whispers the
doctor, "he has been a trapper all his life."

Crossing soft ice on the Lake of the Woods, Carlton broke through, and
his snow-shoes pinned him fast. When dragged out he had suffered so with
the intense cold that he became partially paralysed and was sent here to
the hospital. Hard luck? Yes, but the misfortune was tempered with
mercy. Within these walls Carlton met a doctor full of the mellow juice
of life,--a doctor with a man's brain, the sympathy of a woman, and the
heart of a little child. The trapper, as we are introduced to him, has
one leg and both hands paralysed, with just a perceptible sense of
motion remaining in the other leg. His vocal cords are so affected that
the sounds he makes are to us absolutely unintelligible, more like the
mumblings of an animal than the speech of a man. Between patient and
doctor, a third man entered the drama,--Mr. Grey, a convalescent.
Appointed special nurse to the trapper, Grey studied him as a mother
studies her deficient child, and now was able, to our unceasing marvel,
to translate these sad mouthings of Carlton into human speech.

Who is this patient? A man without friends or influence, not attractive
in appearance, more than distressing to listen to,--just one more worker
thrown off from the gear of the rapidly-turning wheel of life. The
consulting doctors agreed that no skill could perform a cure, could not
even arrest the creeping death. Winnipeg is big and busy, and no corner
of it more crowded than the General Hospital, no corps more overworked.
Dr. Stewart had two men's work to do. He worked all day and was busy