In a calm, almost any degree of cold is bearable, but the application of
successive doses of it to the face by wind, becomes, occasionally,
almost unbearable; indeed, I remember seeing the left cheek of nearly
twenty of our soldiers simultaneously frost-bitten in marching about a
hundred yards across a bleak open space, completely exposed to a strong
and bitterly cold north-west wind that was blowing upon us all.
The remedy for this intense cold, to which many Canadians and others
have occasionally recourse, is--at least to my feelings it always
appeared--infinitely worse than the disease. On entering, for instance,
the small parlour of a little inn, a number of strong, able-bodied
fellows are discovered holding their hands a few inches before their
faces, and sitting in silence immediately in front of a stove of such
excruciating power, that it really feels as if it would roast the very
eyes in their sockets; and yet, as one endures this agony, the back part
is as cold as if it belonged to what is called at home "Old Father
Christmas."
As a further instance of the climate, I may add, that several times,
while my mind was very warmly occupied in writing my despatches, I found
my pen full of a lump of stuff that appeared to be honey, but which
proved to be frozen ink; again, after washing in the morning, when I
took up some money that had lain all night on my table, I at first
fancied it had become sticky, until I discovered that the sensation was
caused by its freezing to my fingers, which, in consequence of my
ablutions, were not perfectly dry.
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