abuse. On the contrary, he loved him very much. But it was the old
man's nature to give way to little bursts of passion on almost every
occasion in which his feelings were at all excited. These bursts,
however, were like the little puffs that ripple the surface of the
sea on a calm summer's day. They were over in a second, and left his
good-humoured, rough, candid countenance in unruffled serenity.
Charley knew this well, and loved his father tenderly, so that his
conscience frequently smote him for raising his anger so often; and
he over and over again promised his sister Kate to do his best to
refrain from doing anything that was likely to annoy the old man in
future. But, alas! Charley's resolves, like those of many other boys,
were soon forgotten, and his father's equanimity was upset generally
two or three times a day; but after the gust was over, the fur-trader
would kiss his son, call him a "rascal," and send him off to fill and
fetch his pipe.

Mr. Grant, who was in charge of Fort Garry, led the way to his
smoking apartment, where the two were soon seated in front of a
roaring log-fire, emulating each other in the manufacture of smoke.

"Well, Kennedy," said Mr. Grant, throwing himself back in his chair,
elevating his chin, and emitting a long thin stream of white vapour
from his lips, through which he gazed at his friend complacently--
"well, Kennedy, to what fortunate chance am I indebted for this
visit? It is not often that we have the pleasure of seeing you here."

Mr. Kennedy created two large volumes of smoke, which, by means of a
vigorous puff, he sent rolling over towards his friend, and said,
"Charley."