Kasba (White Partridge): A Story of Hudson Bay

I have always regarded the writing of prefaces to be, for the most part, work thrown away; nevertheless, I am tempted to prefix a few words to this novel, in the form of a note, in order to defend myself against charges which may possibly be made against me by the critics, and to which I may be unable to revert after they shall have been preferred. It may be said, in the first place, that all the characters in this story speak ordinary English, which I admit. The natural language of the natives is, of course, the tongue of their race, Chipewyan or Eskimo, as the case may be, but in order that the reader might understand it, a translation was necessary. Since this was the case, why not have the translation in good English, instead of in pigeon-English, which no one properly understands and which is misleading and equally untrue to life? Then, again, my description of Chesterfield Inlet may be found fault with, and with good reason, for I have written of trees where no trees exist. Chesterfield Inlet is in the barren lands, as most people know. But a wooded district was necessary to my plot, and in describing the country I have changed the topography to suit the requirements of my story. And now, as a last word, I would assure my readers that the incidents in this novel, though they may appear untrue to life and far-fetched, are nevertheless mostly made up of my own personal experiences and properly authenticated stories of curious happenings to other people in these northern regions.

—G. R. R.

“Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons’ difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter’s wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.” —“_As You Like It,” Act II., Sc. I._