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The Chung Collection

By ocean, prairie and peak : some gleanings from an emigrant chaplain's log, on journeys to British Columbia,… Boddy, Alexander A. 1896

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Array I 11 m *h
The University of British Columbia Library
.■n m
author of
"the laying on of hands: a bible ordinance," etc.
ith; Jftap mtfo JfUn&tntttmt*.
BRIGHTON: 129, north street.
New York: E.  & J. B. YOUNG & CO.
1896. Richard Clay & Sons, Limited,
London & Bungay. CONTENTS
...  13
•••  34
...  52
...  70
...  113
•••  133
... 163
... 184
snow-plough (Frontispiece)
...  38
...  47
■••  57
|  93
... 119
... 123
• 137
•• i43
.. 152
•• 155
From the North Sea to the Atlantic
In a smoke-beaten vicarage, a few hundred
yards back from the grey North Sea, emigrants
have had farewell talks before starting for new
homes in the Far West.
The clatter-clatter of a hundred hammers in the
ship-yards of the Wear are faintly heard, and the
deep thud-thud of a huge steam-hammer mercilessly shakes that home by night and by day.
Yet, when all is still with a Sabbath stillness, the
I call" of the tide can at times be heard, and the
echoing boom of incoming steamers signalling as
they enter the harbour or pass up the Wear.
The incessant strain to body, soul, and spirit of
a populous parish, and the constant facing of sorrow
and sin, would cause a breakdown if there were not
pauses. These pauses—never very long—have from
time to time been filled with diverse experiences. 8
Parishioners have protested that they were not
true holidays. At all events they were a change
of scene and work.
A piled-up vehicle leaves that vicarage by the
North Sea. Here are some of the impedimenta:—
Magic-lantern and sets of slides, oilskins, sea-
boots, sou'-wester, hymn-books, prayer-books, tracts,
robes for Sunday services, pocket Communion
Service, pledge-book, illustrated papers, etc., etc.
Important interviews take place at Liverpool with
Mr. Baker of that great Trans-Continental Route
the C.P.R. (Canadian Pacific Railway), and also
with Mr. Dyke, the representative of the Canadian
Government in its emigration work; and lastly with
the Rev. J. Bridger or some of his clerical assistants, who are to be found in the vestry beneath
that quaint tower of St. Nicholas^ Church which
looks out over the Mersey: these occupy usefully
some of our time, and then we are ready to sail.
I do not relate the latest voyage across, but
one which was more full of interest; weaving into
it incidents and information from earlier and later
It is often wise to be in Liverpool the night
before starting. Trains may be delayed, and it
would be a very serious thing in some cases to miss
the ship. Lime Street Station Hotel (L. & N.W.)
has some fairly cheap bedrooms suitable for saloon
and better-class intermediate passengers. I wished
to find out about the accommodation for steerage
folk also.
On arriving at Liverpool, at ten p.m., I heard a
" Are you the Reverend Mr. Boddy, sir ?"
Then the questioner conducted me away to the
Philadelphia Temperance Hotel, 28, Hunter Street.
He said on the way—
I Perhaps you require a first-class hotel, sir ? "
i No," I replied ; " if your place is only clean I
shall be all right. I want to see what accommodation there is for emigrants in Liverpool."
I had no reason to regret my choice. Mr. Lewis
and his maiden sisters and a brother keep this place
clean and without pretension, and my bill next day,
for supper, bed, and breakfast, only came to 3^. 6d.
About 150 people a week pass through their hands,
going on board the steamers for America and
Busy Liverpool! Smart folk and hurrying folk.
The black negro, the yellow Chinee, the bright-
eyed Hindoo, the flaxen - haired Scandinavian,
and the greasy Polish Jew are all seen in its
Crowds of emigrants, with cumbersome luggage,
arrive by train. They march through the streets
behind great carts on which are piled their boxes.
Some make their way to St. Nicholas Church, and
ask for Mr. Bridger or his clerical assistants. They
give him a letter that their clergyman has written,
and he asks them where they are going. Then he
fills up a card to give to the Church clergyman of
their future parish in the West, and writes a postcard to the latter forthwith, to tell him that Mr.
and Mrs. Johnson and family are coming to settle
in his neighbourhood, and asking him to do all he
can for them spiritually and temporally. 10
Sometimes the passengers go on board at the
Prince's landing-stage, but more often at the Alexandra docks. This latter method means extra
expense for emigrants in cartage, and five shillings
for cab.
On Thursday evening, May 8, the R.M.S. Vancouver was in dire confusion. She had been delayed
on her homeward passage by fog, and had not had
sufficient time to disgorge one cargo and thoroughly
to digest another. The harsh song of the donkey-
engine rose and rattled through the evening air.
The decks were confusedly crowded with passengers and friends. It was little use conjecturing
who were passengers until the friends went ashore.
The chaplain knelt in his little state-room and
asked his MASTER to make use of him on the
voyage; to open many doors ; to point him to
Christian helpers ; and to bless the ship.
We sat down to dinner about nine o'clock, still,
however, in the docks—a strange sensation, accustomed as one was to dining at sea in the same
After midnight (Friday, May 9), the Vancouver
slowly worked her way out, between long lines of
lamps stretching out on all sides along the quays,
and at last we passed through the gates and into
the channel, and so the voyage commenced. We
had Evening Prayer in the intermediate before
turning in, and commended ourselves and all on
the ship to the Father's care.
At breakfast-time we were passing the Chicken
Rocks and the Calf of Man. The Isle of Man was
looking its noblest, as the huge rocks and cliffs FROM  NORTH  SEA TO ATLANTIC OCEAN
lifted their heads from the blue waters tumbling
and tossing about their feet. When we looked out
an hour or two later, the whole western side of the
Isle lay behind us, and soon Snaefell and all the
other hills sank beneath the horizon.
A few hours later we passed between Stranraer (Scotland) and the Irish coast near Larne.
We skirt the Irish shore, and pass between Fair
Head and Rathlin Island. Rathlin Island (or
Raghery) is just five miles from the Antrim coast,
and its bold outlines rise to the north. The hills
seem to be a continuation of the mountains on the
mainland. Every one who was well enough came
out to look up at the rugged heights and organ-pipe
rocks high above us on the mainland. The Giant's
Causeway was just beyond the next headland, and
the structure of rock is similar.
I could, in fancy, see St. Columba in his boat
with his followers sailing over the blue tossing
waves to yonder Scottish islets, while we in
modern days carry his Gospel in a huge Atlantic
steamer of 5,600 tons. How altered are circumstances ! Columba did not then dream of the great
continent to which we are hurrying. Whilst coasting along smoothly and calmly, we held our first
open-air service on the after bulkhead. My text
was St. Luke xv. 13:" He took his journey into afar
We passed in the afternoon up Lough Foyle to
Moville (Moughal), and saw the ruins and castle,
the churches and white houses, all briHiant in the
mellow sunlight. While waiting for the steam-tug
from Londonderry, bringing mails and passengers, 12
various entertaining natives of " ould Irelandr'
boarded the ship and sold blackthorn shillelaghs,
or played the fiddle. At last the steam-tug arrived
and the mail-bags were | rushed' on board—a
tremendous business always.
We steamed out of the Lough, and later on at
midnight, having left Tory Island Light behind, we
passed out into the North Atlantic. Very soon we
experienced disagreeable weather. CHAPTER  II
A Chaplain's Life in Mid-Atlantic
A CHAPLAIN should neither be sea-sick, indolent,
nor devoted to the company of the saloon passengers.
There is plenty to do for an earnest man, and
special opportunities to be seized and used for
time and eternity.
A great pile of Graphics, Good Words, Chttrch
Bells, etc., in my cabin is daily diminishing, as I
go on my rounds giving sick and whole something
to interest them and to pass the monotonous hours.
I go forward first to the men's steerage, then aft
to the families and women's quarters, and listen to
their complaints and endeavour to put things right.
It is certainly better for the emigrants to travel on
a ship where a recognized chaplain is carried, for
he can act at times as a mediator.
This afternoon (being fine) we had a service on
deck. I stood on a bulkhead, while all the able
folk stood around, or sat wherever they could.
" Almighty Father, hear our cry,
As o'er the trackless deep we roam."
A strange scene to look upon.   The eager faces of
country-folk, a scattering of men belonging to the H
ship, some saloon passengers, and the flaxen-haired
Scandinavians. All bowed their heads when I
offered up prayer, all who could sang very heartily,
and the roll of men's voices went skywards. While
I was speaking, the great vessel was speeding on
through the great waves of the blue Atlantic; in
the distance an occasional whale was blowing.
Another hymn, and we closed with the Benediction.
This was at three in the afternoon, cold but bright.
Curiously enough a can of tar fell from the mast
above me while I was speaking, and just grazed my
head. The sharp edge would have been too much
for the chaplain's skull if it had struck that, for it fell
at least 100 feet from where a sailor was tarring the
ropes. Every one but the chaplain realized that
the service was very nearly concluded abruptly,
and the chaplain's services entirely dispensed with.
In the evening I exhibited dissolving views in
the aft steerage to a mixed crowd. My pictures
that night illustrated a voyage across the Atlantic
to New York, thence to Niagara and Montreal.
I issued this notice on Saturday—
The Chaplain will hold the following services
(weather, etc., permitting):—
7 a.m.—The Holy Communion (in Library).
10.30 a.m.—Morning Service (Saloon).
3 p.m.—Evening   Prayer   and   Sermon   (Intermediate). HOW  WE SPENT OUR  FIRST SUNDAY
Heavy rolling seas this day thinned all our
services, for people were nearly all very ill.
I turned out at six and arranged the room for
our Early Celebration. This most helpful of all
services was carried forward under great difficulties
as the huge waves caught the vessel, causing her
to oscillate. Only three young men were able to
join me, owing to general illness. The swishing of
waves, the rattle of chains, the hurrying of sailors
summoned by the boatswain's whistle, the ringing
of ship's bells, mingled with the voice of the
chaplain and the earnest responses of the " two or
three gathered together in His name." Yet we
lifted up our hearts unto the LORD; it was a true
At 10.30 we had morning service in the large
saloon. A reading-desk was rigged up, the
chaplain was in his robes, and was supported by
a young friend as organist, or rather pianist. The
captain read the lessons, and an impromptu choir
of young men sang out with great heartiness. The
offertory was given to the Sailors' Orphanage at
Liverpool. Intermediate and steerage passengers
were permitted to join us, but the heavy weather
prevented every lady from being present.
At three p.m. we had a hearty service in the
intermediate. Well attended ; two lady passengers
able to come ; others in the cabins round opened
their doors and listened, though too ill to join in.
In the steerage at eight p.m., for the benefit of i6
English, French, Swedish, and Finnish passengers,
I exhibited sacred pictures with my magic lantern.
I had an interpreter who could speak French and
German, and there was a Finn who could understand the latter language and the Scandinavian
dialects too.
All my descriptions and addresses were spoken
in English, then in, German, then in Danish and
Finnish, and also in French. At the end everyone joined with me in saying the Lord's Prayer
each one " in the language wherein he was born."
All the while the ship was heaving tremendously,
but the fact of the great cabin being in darkness,
and all eyes fixed upon the illuminated picture,
helped them to forget their troubles for awhile.
Thus ended a very happy Sunday, and the good
folk thanked me warmly through the interpreter.
The Scandinavian country-folk took off their hats,
and shaking my hand, repeated, % Tak, Tak."
Monday, May 12.—Too rough to-day to hold
any services, so I occupied the time in visiting the
passengers in the different parts of the ship. (1)
The children ; a large party from Manchester, from
the Refuge, which does such excellent work for
friendless children. They were under the charge
of Mr. Boyd. They were happy all the time. (2)
The English families in the steerage. (3) The
foreigners; chiefly Scandinavians. I had some
Swedish Bibles and New Testaments for them.
(4) Single   men,   forward;   some   good   fellows ROUND THE SHIP
amongst them. (5) Scandinavian single men,
quite a large number. (6) Friends in the intermediate. (7) In the saloon. (8) Talks with
sailors, stewards, etc.
I was able to give advice as to the journey, etc.,
and often we naturally approached more important
subjects. I had a good supply of papers and
books, owing to the kindness of those who responded to my request for literature for the
emigrants. The weary monotony of the never-
ending pitching and rolling was made very bearable
by the kindness of our English friends who sent
these papers.
I brought my Temperance Pledge - book with
me, and was enable'd to get several signatures,
including one from a poor stowaway, whose wretched
appearance and condition would have softened a
very stony heart.
I am never satisfied with the accommodation for
married people in the steerage. Two or three sets
of married people are put in one section or cabin.
This leads to sin, I am sure. Each family should
be absolutely isolated. There is sad laxity as to
morals and self-respect in these quarters, where
for more than a week together men and women
have no real privacy. The male stewards should
be kept out of those cabins where the women are.
On Monday afternoon, May 12, the officers were
surprised to notice the barometer suddenly go
down in a phenomenal  manner unknown  in the
it ■ i8
month of May. Sail was quickly taken in, and
for a while it was hoped that we had passed to the
north of the anti-cyclonic sphere of action. But it
came down upon us in real earnest.
Through the night it raged, and everything
movable went from side to side—portmanteaux,
etc., in the cabin, pounding backwards and forwards ; parcels stored overhead came thundering
down, and many folk spent a night of misery and
fear. I slept more or less, feeling that I could be
of no use. It was most difficult to dress in the
morning amidst sliding luggage, water splashing
over from the basin, and the porthole first in the
waves and then looking up into the sky. One
heavier roll than usual after the breakfast had been
laid caused all the dishes to jump bodily over the
" fiddles," and to slide with a crash along the floor.
About £20 worth of plates, cups and saucers, etc.,
a steward told me, were smashed.
Some of the casualties during the hurricane of
May 12 and 13—
1. A seaman thrown across the vessel some twenty
feet, and head and face badly crushed and cut.
2. A stewardess' arm broken, she was thrown
down the "companion."
3. Steward flung across deck, leg injured.
4. Another steward stunned, and scalp cut.
5. A passenger (a fine old Roman priest) had a
handsome nose temporarily disfigured.
6. Chaplain crossing spar-deck pitched down to ESCAPE  FROM  AN  ICEBERG
rails.    Deck heeling over to more than 45°.
One ought to be thankful for a bruised back
under the circumstances.
The most accomplished artist would find it
difficult to picture the sublime grandeur of that
terrific scene. I stood for an hour or so on the
flying bridge with the officers on watch. We had
to hold on all the time. Spray swept over everything. The funnels were whitened up to the very
top. Looking down on. the great vessel rolling
her bulwarks under, she looked amidst the great
hills of crystal foam like a small boat.
The decks were deserted ; not a passenger to be
seen; no one but the man at the wheel, almost
hidden behind a weather-cloth. Occasionally an
unfortunate fireman ran aft, holding on to the
safety rope. In my rounds I got a soaking as a
Niagara burst over the bows. Holding on to the
ropes, the water poured up my sleeves.
The amount of concentrated misery out of sight
below those decks was dreadful in quantity and
God's Fatherly hand was ever over us on this
voyage. Three times preserved from danger.
First the hurricane, now the second time delivered
from collision with an icy monster. I had just
come on deck when the sailor in the bows shouted,
I Ice right ahead." Out from the mist seemed to
rush the form of an ugly berg as large as our ship.
The second officer dashed at the engine-room
signal and the propeller was stopped.  The quarter- 20
master obeyed the order, " Hard a-starboard" and
the helm being put hard over, the great vessel
turned slowly and we just shaved past, our waves
swishing up the side of the ice. Then we breathed
freely. We ought to have been deeply thankful
for our escape.
There seemed to be no bears on the great iceberg, which was disappointing to some children
who had seen pictures of icebergs with the invariable Polar bears licking their paws. On seeing
an iceberg the children at once said, " But where are
the bears ? The icebergs in our picture-books always
have bears on them, and sometimes cubs too."
Soon after we " lay to," and lived a few days, it
seemed almost a life, on the ocean wave, our home
on the icy deep. We had a black fog, yet we
made ourselves quite happy. Services, concerts,
magic-lantern lectures went on all the time. We
were in the neighbourhood of many icebergs, and so
it would be unsafe to move in the thick fog. Often
in this neighbourhood they are stranded in the
shallow water on the " banks." Sometimes as they
melt below they become top-heavy, and turn over
with a great splash, to be heard for a considerable
distance over the sea. The icebergs, being six-
sevenths under the water, are affected by currents
unseen on the surface, and so it happens that they
sometimes travel slowly but surely even against
the wind. They meet a track of field ice floating
with the wind and they plough, perhaps, right
through. A sealer or a whaler will get to the lee
side of a berg and get safely through the floes
when such is the case. THE RECORD OF EACH DAY'S RUN
Left Liverpool, May 9, 2.35 a,m.
Arrived at Moville, May 9, at 5.30 p.m.
Sailed from Moville, May 9, at 7.10. p.m.
• f—(
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• 1—1
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Commander of R.M.S. Vancouver. 0/7.
This table of distances, etc. is the copy of the
daily report which was issued at noon, when the
observations had been taken. It has, however, to
be printed sideways, so as to fit into the page.
Bird Island Rocks are in the Gulf of St. Lawrence,
and no more observations are taken after passing
them, though we have 500 or 600 miles further to
travel. CHAPTER  III
The Banks, the Gulf, and the River
One great advantage of the Canadian route to
the American continent is its variety and scenery.
The North Channel, when leaving Liverpool, is
to many minds much more picturesque than the
Queenstown route. There is, for instance, the Isle
of Man to be seen, the distant Scottish coast, and the
romantic scenerv of the Antrim cliffs and Rathlin
Island. Then, after a few days on the Atlantic (in an
ordinary passage), we see the cliffs of Newfoundland,
and losing them we journey for 500 miles up the
St. Lawrence in fairly still water. The calm water
is a boon fcp those passengers who have for a few
days been unhappy on the great rollers of the
In the earlier part of the summer the steamer
track lies to the south of Newfoundland. Later
on, when the ice has melted out of the Belle Isle
Straits, the steamers sail to the north of Newfoundland, saving some 200 miles on the voyage.
When the wearisome fog lifted, and we went
ahead once more, we were indeed thankful. The
monotonous boom of the great whistle is very
wearing, and  there  was  a great deal of danger. 24
These fogs, indeed, are more dangerous than
heavy seas and wind. Talking with an old
salt at Liverpool, I was told that some of the
fast steamers—the " greyhounds of the Atlantic "
they are called—whose full-speed is over eighteen
knots an hour, run through the fog nominally at
half-speed ; but that some of their best days' runs
have been when there has been foggy weather with
a smooth sea. I prefer slower vessels, whose
average time across is ten days, but which sometimes take longer.
We do not mind icebergs when the sun is
shining and the fog has gone. They are coldly
picturesque now. Before we leave the Arctic stream
we have a lovely show. " Ice on the starboard
bow, sir," said the second officer to the captain, as
he and I were talking on the deck. Some small
bergs first, and about noon a glorious cathedrallike island of ice, with huge cliffs of white crystal,
solemn and weird, but glorious in its purity and
grandeur. Nine were seen in four hours, some,
however, far away on the verge of the horizon.
Flocks of ice-birds flew along the sea, wheeling
suddenly all together. Grand it must be to stand
near the Arctic glaciers in Davis Straits, and
see the gigantic mass split off and plunge into
the deep sea,'which then slowly bears it southwards. One of our passengers photographed
a berg with the evening sun glinting on its
pure blue and white crystals.
We are now steaming over the shallow waters
covering the Great Bank of Newfoundland. The
sea is no longer 2,000 fathoms in depth beneath THE  BANKS,  THE  GULF,   AND  THE  RIVER     25
us, but from seventeen to seventy fathoms. We
sight Cape Race on the Avalon peninsula. A
sealer steams past on her way to St. John's. The
passengers line the bulwarks as we pass Cape
Race with its lighthouse, and then we coast along
the rugged shores of Newfoundland. The dark
cliffs rise in irregular heights, and the hills beyond
are covered with brown frost-burnt grass, which
will probably be green in a few days now. Sometimes we see a white house, but only rarely. While
we were out in the Atlantic we rarely saw a
vessel, but now quite a number of fishing schooners
are in sight, and we pass a large steamer of the
Beaver Line.
From Cape Race, at the south-eastern corner of
Newfoundland to Cape Ray at the south-western
cprner, is a little further than from the North Foreland round to Land's End. We lose sight of the
mainland between, and we pass the French islands
of Miquelon and St. Pierre. At St. Paul de
Miquelon stands a French lighthouse, like that at
Ushant, with great bands of black and white.
Poor Newfoundland! Its French difficulties, its
financial collapse, its awful fires, and the unknown
sufferings of its fishermen—aye, and of its clergy
also—all these things seem to be against her.
It is pleasant to have a first-rate atlas with one.
A map of the North Atlantic, with every detail as to
depth, etc., was useful to me and to others, and supplied food for many discussions. We see that we
are passing over the submarine cable from St.
Pierre to France, and the cable from St. Pierre to
the United States. 26
One event at the close of an Atlantic voyage is
the concert, with its collection, for the Seamen's
Liverpool Orphanage. Programmes, are printed
in a copying-press, and sold by auction the evening
before. When the night comes the saloon is
crowded in every part, and all available talent is
made use of. Captain Lindall sung a.V these
concerts, and generally made a speech as well. The
last time I heard him, he sang "Our Jack's come
home to-day." There was a special verse written
by a passenger after the gale we experienced. He
sang it as the encore.
Our Jack's at sea, still far away,
Drowned by the angry tide;
His orphaned children sorely wail
Their father and their pride.
As your eyes grow moist, you will not fail
To give your dole to-day ;
For voir know youHl soon reach port again,
Safe from the waves' wild play."
A few voyages later a sad thing happened. He
had taken part in the concert as usual, and made
one of his kindly speeches. About six the next
morning the weather had become serious, and
the sea had got up. A green sea of terrible
dimensions swept over the upper deck of the
Vancouver, bending great iron bars like wire,
carrying nearly the whole bridge away, bulging in the saloon cabin, and completely clearing
away the chart-house. On the bridge was the
quartermaster (a superior sailor) steering, and
one of the officers. Seeing the wave coming, the
officer ran  to  one  side  and  clung to   the  iron
stanchion. The bridge was swept away, and he
was left where he was. The quartermaster was
never seen again, and Captain Lindall also, who
was sleeping in the chart-house, was swept into
the Atlantic, never more to be found. Next day his
mandolinata was found on deck, the only remnant
of the awful occurrence. He was a general favourite,
and his end produced a profound sensation.
Again we are out of sight of land, and passing
from Newfoundland into the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
In the afternoon the fog lifted a little, and we saw
some desolate islands to the north of the Magdalen
Isles. One called Bird Island bore a lighthouse,
and we fired signals to show that we carried the
mails. The lighthouse-keepers on this rocky
island are more cut off from the world than those
on islands near our coast. The navigation here
during these prevailing fogs is very difficult. The
lead was continually being heaved, and little
specimens of the soil brought up by means of a
glass tube with the lower end open.
At last the fog lifted, the sea became brilliant
blue, and the sun shone out with full power
upon us. So we sped along, and approached the
Gaspe peninsula. High fir-clothed mountains rose
from the water, and the clouds hung white and
fleecy on their summits. French Canadian fishermen live in tiny white houses dotted on the level
ground near the shore, or up some of the valleys
which suddenly open like amphitheatres as we
steam past. t  -.-   §
Red-roofed, white-walled French houses dot the
shore, and behind them the hills, clothed with fir 28
and spruce, and here and there clearings with
farmsteads. Beyond the first range rise the higher
Shickshock Mountains, some 3,000 to 4,000 feet
high, with snow yet clinging to their sides.
Our captain had on board on one occasion a_
large party of English folk going to Rapid City,
beyond Winnipeg. The conductor of the party
had come over from that place, and was returning,
with these people. They were standing looking
for the first sight of land, and at last the Gaspe
peninsula was seen, its high land covered with snow.
In "high falutin'" language the man from Rapid
City cries r I Behold ! the land flowing with milk and
honey lieth before you." An American standing
by, looking at the snow-covered mountains, said,
I* I guess it must be condensed milk, for it seems
to stick there a good deal."
At five in the afternoon, as we approached Farther
Point, some 200 miles up the river, we fired three
detonating signals. A little Canadian bird which
came on board near Newfoundland was terribly
frightened, and hopped about the deck close to us.
A steam-tug could be seen a mile or two away
coming out ,from a jetty, upon which stood a
locomotive and three cars. This was the train for
Quebec and Montreal waiting for our mails, which
it would carry up before us. We are twelve hours
from Quebec, and twice that distance from
Montreal, both by river. The little tug struggled
out to us, battling with great waves which did not RIMOUSKI AT LAST
move us at all. Then there came the throwing
of ropes, and the gangway put across. Our
mail-bags, which were put on board at Moville,
were now.carried on to the Canadian tug, which
was flying up and down wildly, so that the
sailors could scarcely get over the gangway.
Great G. P. O. parcel baskets and some scores of
mail arid newspaper bags were piled up on the
deck. Then three of our passengers went on
board—Captain Ellis, in order to travel to Halifax,
and two Montreal gentlemen, eager to be back
quickly to business. Soon the tug with its oscillating beam was far in the distance, and we sat
down to our last dinner.
After leaving Rimouski the journey is full of
interest. Lumber ships lie off the different ports
and villages, loading timber for Europe. We pass
the watering-places of Canada. The Canadians
are hundreds and sometimes thousands of miles
from the sea-coast, and so they are content to go
down to the " salt water." The tide comes up the
St. Lawrence some 500 miles. The stream of the
St. Lawrence is discoloured at one point by the
brown waters of the great Saguenay entering from
the north. Of this wonderful waterway we shall
have more to write later on.
At last we approach Grosse He, the Canadian
quarantine station, and a steamer comes out to us
with the quarantine doctor who is to see if all are
vaccinated, and with hose for disinfecting the ship
if it should be necessary. On the island are rows
of white buildings for the accommodation of
isolated passengers. ;o
We see a good deal of the system of compulsory
vaccination on these vessels. Every steerage passenger must be vaccinated on board by the ship's
doctor if he has not recent marks on him. Cabin
passengers are not supposed to be liable to smallpox—the law is not applied to them. In special
cases, however, it is; e.g. if a contagious case is
discovered on board during the voyage. Captain
Davis of the Toronto found six of the crew suffering
from what seemed to be small-pox. There were a
number of ladies in the saloon, and he went to
them and suggested that they and their children
should at once be vaccinated. They were horrified,
and asked the captain if he was going to be
vaccinated also. So he bared his arm, and submitted at once to the doctor's knife, and then they
all followed his example.
Another case was that of a druggist crossing
over in the Oregon with his family. Vaccination
day came, and he refused, and said he was an anti-
vaccinationist; so the doctor passed him by, telling
him that he would be returned to England if he
was not done. They were getting up the St.
Lawrence, and Captain Davis, then chief officer,
was sent to tell him to pick out his own baggage,
for he and his wife and children would be landed
at the quarantine station. He was very wroth,
and said that no one should make him land there,
neither should they compel him to be vaccinated.
They came up the river to the quarantine station.
The officials came on board. " Any infectious cases, I 1
captain ?" " No." " All vaccinated ?" I There is
one man in the intermediate who refuses to have
his wife or family vaccinated, and won't be done
himself." He was brought aft and interrogated.
"You refuse to be vaccinated?'1 "Yes." "Do
you know that you will be returned by next
steamer?" "No; and J won't go." "Well, will
you be vaccinated ?" " Well, I suppose I must."
So the party descended into the saloon, and all
were properly done, and the quarantine doctor
bade them good-bye. He was getting over the
side, when he remembered his gloves were in the
saloon, and ran down for them. The druggist was
engaged in sucking the lymph out of his wife's
arm ; so the quarantine doctor did them all again,
and they-were not allowed to remove the matter
this time. One cannot but admire the doggedness
of this resistance. The poor emigrants suffer from
their arms the most just when many of them are
arriving at their destination. The secret of saloon
passengers being exempted is that they are
exempted in the United States, and all the saloon
traffic was diverted to New York until they relaxed
the restriction.
When the ocean liner, after eight to ten days'
voyage, comes in the early morning up the side of
the Isle of Orleans, with its exquisite green verdure
and pretty French houses, one feels as if one never
saw anything so lovely. But everything on land
is lovelier after some days at sea. Montmorency
Fall is then seen distinctly, a mile or two away,
with its feathery spray—its clear drop of 250
feet.    La   Vache (the cow) it is  called,  from  its 32
foamy whiteness, like whipped cream tumbling
over the precipice.
But now in front of us is Quebec once more, and
on the left bank Point Levis.
" Which side are we going to-day, captain ?';
" I expect it will be the Point Levis side to-day,
Mr. Boddy," is the answer.
The two main railway lines each have here depdts
at the opposite sides, and the rule is for the vessels
carrying passengers to go to each alternately. The
steam tender of the other line carries its own
passengers to its station across the river.
"Crack—bang" goes an ear-splitting cannon
from the citadel. "Rip—bang" is the resonant
answer from our vessel; and we dip our flag in
We work up alongside the quay, and a babel
commences as the foreign emigrants, with the help
of interpreters, get their belongings out of the hold
on to the wharf for the Grand Trunk Railway, or
on to the tender for the Canadian Pacific Railway.
The view of Quebec and the town opposite, at
Point Levis, from the deck is very fine—the white
houses and churches, the cliffs and citadel. It is
very interesting to look round at the passengers
and see their faces lit up with strange excitement,
now that they have really reached the New World.
One scarcely knows some of them, for they are now
dressed up in their smartest clothes. "Say, Bill,
did ye ever see a church walking about before?"
says one of our humorists, as a Grand Trunk
locomotive comes along to the depot, its great bell
solemnly ringing. A few of the passengers remained VACCINATION
on the steamer, to go on her up to Montreal. We
made fast to the wharf at Point Levis, and a tender
belonging to the great Canadian Pacific Railway
had come alongside. Nearly all our emigrants were
going to travel west by C.P.R., and their luggage
was hauled up out of the hold with much rattling
by the steam winch.
The Scandinavians and English crowded the
tender, and we were soon steaming away waving
our hats to the officers and saloon passengers. All
steerage passengers must land at Quebec. Saloon
passengers go on to Montreal without extra charge.
While we were beside the wharf, the S.P.C.K.
chaplain for the immigrants at Quebec (the Rev.
T. W. Fyles) came on board. Mrs. Heneker, of
Sherbrooke, wanted a domestic servant. I was
glad to recommend one of my charge in the intermediate, and Mr. Fyles saw her off in the train to
the new place. There is a great demand for really
good servants, and they are engaged very quickly
on landing without going any further west. CHAPTER  IV
Historic Quebec
BEFORE we set off on our journey to the Far West
we must pause in the presence of a fragment of the
Old World so full of interest, guarding the gate of
the New. We leave our emigrant friends awhile,
rejoining them in Chapter VI.
Crossing the river from Point Levis, we go over
to the Canadian Pacific Railway Depot, where we
get a caleche.
" Your first time in Quebec, sir ?" says the
| No, my friend 3 nor the second or third either."
I persuaded him to lower his tariff somewhat, and
we engaged him by the hour.
After business in various quarters, we thought it
time to drive to an hotel, and so ordered him to
go to the new hotel called the " Frontenac," up on
the Dufferin Terrace, in a splendid situation. We
passed in through the great gateway into the courtyard, and out rushed boys in buttons and welcomed
us politely. Before I let them remove the baggage,
I went in and saw the hotel clerk. " What is the
lowest price for board and lodging per day ?"
" Four dollars  apiece," he  curtly replied  (about HISTORIC  QUEBEC
17s.). I returned to the caleche, and told the
coachman to take us to a clean French boarding-
house near the wharf. Here we paid one dollar a
day.    It was the house of Madame de la Pierre,
20, Pierre Street, and I can strongly recommend it
to those who can speak any French.
While wre are resting under Madame de la
Pierre's roof, let us remind ourselves of the early
history of this Gibraltar of the West.
I Quel Bee! What a Beak ! What^ a promontory!" cried Jacques Cartier's pilot in 1534, as
they found   themselves  (after sailing  500  miles 36
and more up this great estuary) at last facing the
noble Diamond Cape. Thus was given the name
to the spot crowned now by the citadel of Quebec.
Sent out by France in the days when each great
Power was seeking new lands beyond the oceans,
Jacques Cartier, with his three tiny sixty-ton ships,
entered this great river on the saint's day of the
Martyr of Spain and gave it his name—the St.
An Indian village at the foot of the rock bore the
name, in the Algonquin language, of
in the Huron tongue Teontirili, both meaning
| the narrowing of the stream." It is at Quebec
three-quarters of a mile wide, though 500 miles
from its mouth.
Cartier came over again in 1535 and 1541.
Eight or ten weeks' voyage each time, and terrible
were the sufferings through those first winters spent
in Canada. Hundreds of the French emigres died
of scurvy through living on salt meat through all
the weary months of snow and ice.
" Kanata " was the Indian name for the vicinity
of Quebec. It meant " a gathering of huts." That
name " Canada" has spread and spread until it
now includes all the great Dominion even to Vancouver Island in the Pacific, 3,000 miles to the
When you stand in front of the magnificent
Parliament Buildings, near the Grande Allee, just
beyond the Ramparts (in Quebec's most fashionable STADACONA
quarter), you see statues of great men in the niches
of the front of that building. When you go through
the town or look at the shops you see names which
you feel sure must be those of men with mighty
histories attached to them.
Let me transmit to the reader a few facts in
connection with these names. Cartier, though the
discoverer of Canada, was not successful as the
planter of a colony. It was not until 1608, when
Champlain arrived, that New France began to
live. It was Henry IV. of France that dispatched
Samuel de Champlain. He allied himself with the
Algonquins and Hurons, and was thenceforth the
object of the hatred of the Five Nations, who,
banded together, were known as the Iroquois. He
was the true founder of French Canada.
In later days the French monarch, anxious to
have the colony more under his control, appointed
a Sovereign Council to sit in Quebec, the principal
personages to be the Governor-General, the Royal
Intendant, and the Bishop. Each believed he was
the real head, and each reported the misdoings of the
others. The Intendant was chief of police, justice,
finance, and marine, and had very great power.
The most notorious of the Intendants was Bigot.
He taxed and plundered the poor habitants, chiefly
to enrich himself. When the country people were
starving he lived in luxury and wickedness—a
reflection in Canada of the corrupt Court of his
royal master in France.
His statue is not in a niche in front of Parliament
House, but a golden dog may be seen by passers-
by who look up at the Post Office Buildings. 38
An honest merchant named Philibert was persecuted by the Intendant Bigot, and, unable to
retaliate,  he  placed  aloft  as his trade-mark  the
figure of a golden dog, with a French rhyme beneath, ending with the words, "The time will come,
which has not yet arrived, when I shall bite, who
have been bitten." ANOTHER STORY
The Intendant quartered a number of troops on
M. Philibert to annoy him further, and at last a
boon companion of Bigot's, by name Monsieur de
la Repentigny, provoked M. Philibert to a duel,
and gave him a mortal wound. The brother of the
dead merchant avenged him years after, having
followed him even to Pondicherry in the East
Indies, where he slew Repentigny.
M. Bigot had as his country residence a beautiful
chateau at the foot of the Laurentian Mountains.
He was fond of sport, and in a hunting expedition
lost his way. He met a young Algonquin squaw of
singular beauty. She led him home to the chateau,
and being induced to enter its walls never left them
A Mademoiselle Angelique des Meloises, of
Quebec, who was to marry the Intendant, heard of
this fair Algonquin at the chateau at Beaumanoir,
and the Indian girl's fate was sealed. A piercing
cry was heard echoing through those halls and
corridors, and Caroline was found stabbed. Not
long ago a gravestone with " C' carved on it
could be seen in the churchyard at Beaumanoir.
It was said that the unhappy Caroline was not of
full Indian race, but that her father by marriage
was an officer of high rank in the army of France. 40
Montcalm, a noble-minded man, had great difficulties in his way wrhen defending Quebec in 1759
against the English. With a commissariat presided
over by Bigot, with a corrupt Court in France, who
cared nothing for the "15,000 leagues of snow,"
as they then described Canada in France, his work
was wonderful.
Quebec had been taken by the English in the
days of Champlain, and restored after twenty years,
in 1628, under the Treaty of St. Germain. Twice
since then efforts had been made by England, but
disastrously, to seize Quebec (viz. in 1690 and
1711), and the Church of Notre Dame des Victoires
commemorates those occasions.
In July, 1759, General Wolfe with General
Monckton were landed with troops on what is now
known as the Island of Orleans, a long narrow
island dividing the St. Lawrence for some distance
below Quebec. They represented but one of three
English armies advancing from different points.
Wolfe was defeated with considerable loss in a
battle with Montcalm's troops close by the Montmorency Falls, and Monckton at the same time
was engaged in bombarding the town of Quebec
from Port Louis across the river. Wolfe became
ill through grief and disappointment at his disastrous defeat, and it was not until six weeks later
that anything could be done.
On September 13 a feigned attack was made
on the French on the banks of the St. Lawrence
near Beauport, and the English fleet in the night MONTCALM
sailed up the St. Lawrence past the city some
nine miles to Cap Rouge. Here 1500 picked men
were floated down in the early morning on the ebb
of the tide, and landed north of the town and
scrambled up to the Heights of Abraham (so called
after a boatman, Abraham Martin).
Montcalm, seven miles below Quebec, heard
that the English were massed on the plateau to
the north of the city, and marched to resist them.
Montcalm and Wolfe both passed within a few
hours of one another into the presence of the God
of Battles. The stories of their respective ends
are touching. One scarcely knows whether to
admire most the defeated general or the successful
The Marquis de Montcalm was about forty-seven
years of age, and had had a brilliant career in the
French army. His skill was shown in the position
he took at Beauport, near the Montmorency Falls,
and his defeat of the English Grenadiers with great
loss. He was successful until the ruse of the English led ;to their unexpected appearance on the
Heights of Abraham. In the encounter he was
wounded by a musket-shot, but went on. Then
he was struck by the one six-pounder gun which
the English had dragged up on to the Heights.
As his wounds were being dressed he asked the
surgeon if they were mortal. On being told that
they were he said, " I. am glad of it."    He then 4^
asked how long he should live ? J Ten or twelve
hours—perhaps less." 1 So much the better," he
replied ; "then I shall not live to see the surrender
of Quebec." On being pressed to give commands
to his officers, he replied, 11 will neither give orders
nor interfere any further. I have much business
that must be attended to, of far greater moment."
He addressed himself, says the historian, to his
religious duties, and passed the night with the
Bishop and his own confessor. Before he died he
paid the victorious army the magnanimous compliment : " Since it is my misfortune to be discomfited
and mortally wounded, it is a great consolation to
me to be vanquished by so brave an enemy. If I
could survive this wound, I would engage to beat
three times the number of such forces as I commanded this morning with a third of the , British
He was buried, it was said, in the yard of
the Ursuline Convent, and in a grave already
made by the bursting of a bomb-shell during the
I In death they were not divided." Major-General
James Wolfe would be only thirty-two years old at
the battle of Abraham Heights. With 4,826 men
he defeated 7,520 of the enemy. The night before
the engagement, as he was visiting the ships, he
repeated to an officer on the boat the whole of
Gray's Elegy, which was then scarcely known.
He said, " I would rather have written that poem URSULINE CONVENT, 44
than be the conqueror of Canada."    These words
were soon fulfilled—
" The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that rank e'e^gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour—
The paths of glory lead but to the grave !"
During the battle on that September day he was
wounded in the wrist, but went on, and placing
himself at the head of the Grenadiers, advanced
with them as they charged the French with bayonets. In this conspicuous position he received a
ball in his breast. Other leading officers were
killed or mortally wounded also.
" They run—they run !" exclaimed an officer
who supported him as he lay in mortal agony.
" Who run ?" he eagerly cried. 1 The French," was
the answer. " What," said he, " do they run already ?
Then I die happy."    So he expired.
His remains were conveyed to England in the
Royal William, and were borne with military
honours to Westminster Abbey, where a beautiful
monument commemorates his death. And there
is this inscription—
To the memory of
James Wolfe,
Major-General and Commander-in-Chief
of the British Land Forces,
On an Expedition against Quebec,
Who having surmounted,
By ability and valour,
All obstacles of art and nature,
Was slain at the moment of Victory,
On the 13th of September, 1759.
The King and Parliament of Great Britain
Dedicated this Monument. MONTGOMERY
Richard Montgomery was a commissioned officer
in General Wolfe's army when Quebec was taken.
In later days he left the British army and joined
the American cause of Independence. In the effort
to seize Canada he was invested with the command
of the American forces. With 3,000 men, he and
Arnold invested the citadel of Quebec. It was
defended by 1800 British and Canadian militia.
On the night of December 31, 1775, a determined
attack was made, and at the foot of the citadel
Montgomery was slain, with thirteen others, by
the firing of a battery of nine-pounders. His body
was found next morning under the snow. Some
months later, on the arrival of reinforcements from
England, the American troops retreated.
General Montgomery's body was eventually
interred in St. Paul's Church, New York, and a
magnificent monument erected by Congress is
placed there to his memory.
Our coclier was very anxious to drive us to the
Montmorency Falls, so after we had refreshed we
set out. Bump, jolt, over the strange pavements,
along the narrow French streets, and houses tall
and short, and signs hanging across the foot-walks.
Out into the green country, through toll-gate and
over soft Canadian earthen roads, past pretty
French villas with green blinds and shingled roofs,
or roofs  of brilliant tin.    Through the endless 46
village of Beauport, with the St. Lawrence and
Orleans Isle far below, till at last, after some seven
miles or so, we slowly crossed the wooden bridge
over the river Montmorency, and leaving the
caleche paid our twenty-five cents for permission
to approach the Falls.
By winding paths we sped down through fir
trees, refusing the small boys' aid who wished to
be engaged as guides. Now we are in full view of
one of the most terrific of the world's cataracts. A
clear leap of 250 feet! Higher than the citadel;
higher than Niagara. Every ton of water seems
to float down through the air, and to break into
feathery, creamy spray ere it reaches the bottom.
The clouds of spray hide the lower part from view.
We clambered down more than 300 steep and
rather dangerous wooden steps to see the Falls
from the level of the water at the foot. To our
amazement we found this almost impossible. Down
the first 200 steps we descended all the time in
some danger, because they are so terribly steep
and smooth; but the lower steps descended into
a hurricane of blinding spray, leaping out from the
foot of the Falls a hundred yards distant in constant irresistible gusts. It was, indeed, like standing
on the bridge of an Atlantic steamer in a blinding
gale of rain and spray.
Nothing could be seen, and one had to turn
one's back to this monsoon at last, and clamber up
the slippery steps into a drier atmosphere. Another time I will take mackintosh and overalls. I
was soaked with the wet. Panting, we painfully
reached the top, and with the roar of the gigantic  48
cataract dinning in our ears we looked forth on
the beautiful scene. Away from the Falls, over the
north channel of the St. Lawrence River (into which
the Montmorency River flows), is the long Island
of Bacchus, as the Isle d'Orleans was first called,
from the profusion of wild grapes growing in its
underwood in Cartier's days. Beyond the island
is the broad south channel, and the distant shore
where the houses stretch away to Levis, opposite
Quebec. Down below us is a four-storied mill
turned by this mighty stream. Some say that
after the plunge this river in great parts goes
underground, and comes up at the end of the
Island of Orleans in a sort of whirlpool, which the
fishermen avoid.
Away up the broad St. Lawrence is the great
citadel again; we see it everywhere. It is like
Ehrenbreitstein on the Rhine, or like an Edinburgh
Castle surrounded c&i three sides by miles of water;
or, best of all, like Gibraltar. It is well likened to
that mighty rock-hewn fortress guarding ?the gate
of the Mediterranean. All the while hundreds of
tons of broken, curdled water are swiftly dropping
through the air in a hundred yards gravitation
race. Follow one lump of water with the field-
glasses from where we stand. As it drops it is
disintegrated and becomes spray, circled and glorified, until at last it disappears into the tempest of
mist driven out by the never-ceasing gales caused
by the swiftly-descending water itself. Gales and
gusts smite' the surface of the water below into
mad turbulence, and blow it away in great circling
waves, and crown it with blasts of spray. THE  FALLS  OF THE MONTMORENCY
We found our way now round to the brink of
the precipice beside the Falls. The Montmorency
River, we were told, was very full, and it came
down a steep descent over slabs of rock like
natural steps; then it made the final plunge.
Remains of a suspension bridge remind one of a
tragedy. A French farmer and his wife and
daughter were driving over in their caleche one
Sunday morning when the whole structure collapsed, and they fell into the flood. The next
moment they were over the great fall and perished
swiftly. It is a very dangerous neighbourhood, and
I have no doubt many a one has slipped either on
those terrible stairs or on the verge of the Falls.
In winter-time the falling spray accumulates in
a cone, ever increasing in height, until it forms a
splendid slope for toboggan sleighing. Gay parties
come out from Quebec, and a story is told of an
officer and a lady, who on one of these sleighs
were shooting down the cone, when the sleigh
swerved off the track and disappeared through a
hole in the ice on the river, and in a moment of
merriment and laughter they vanished, and were
never seen more.
We draw homewards, stopping to copy an
inscription in French beneath a wayside pillar
surmounted by a cross.
O Jesus.
d 50
As we approach Quebec the daylight dies away,
and there springs out of the darkness the most
dazzling, clear illumination any city can possess.
The streets on the hill-side before us are picked
out by luminous, planet-like electric lights. Montmorency supplies the power which lights all Quebec
indoors and out with a calm, steady, unflinching
light.    Water turned into flame !
Madame Pierre's daughter kindly supplies us
with some supper, although that meal is over. It
is a lovely night.    Let us go out again.
Pay three cents (half-pennies) and go with me
on board one of the ferry steamers which all night
and all day ply across the St. Lawrence. Quebec
on this side with 63,000 inhabitants, and Point
Levis on the other with 12,000.
We sit on the deck. The sun has just set.
Before we leave, we lean back and crane our necks
to look up at the great new Frontenac Hotel, built
in the style of a French chateau, high up on the
Dufferin Terrace. To the left, still higher up, is
the great Citadel with its guns. Old French
houses all round the wharf. The whistle booms,
the ropes are cast off; Quebec is all dark, the
sunlight being behind. Point Levis is lit up with
the reflection from the western sky, and the windows
of the buildings are blazing as if a furnace roared
As we steam out into the St. Lawrence, we look
over the dark waters to the spot where the sun
descended. Ragged clouds are stretched in shreds
across the sky, and the old-world Laurentian mountains, dark and grim, are silhouetted against the THE FALLS  OF THE MONTMORENCY
amber light behind.    To-morrow we are to journey
far behind those mountains to the north.
We are across the river now, and looking back
over the chopping waves we see them all dark and
yet glistening with glory from the sky. Quebec, a
black outline ; and yet now here, there, and everywhere, wondrous luminous stars spring into being
—the electric lights from the highest point right
down to the water's edge. CHAPTER V
! n
Lake St. John and the Saguenay
For those who can spare even a week in Quebec
Province, there is now opened out a new and
delightful excursion to a district but little known
—200 miles due north from the old city.
,In a few years the Lac St. Jean will be well
known on this western continent, and this railway
journey will often be taken in order to descend the
Canadian Styx in a comfortable steamboat of the
Richelieu Company, whose name is the name of
the river itself—the Saguenay.
Thousands of visitors every year skirt the broad
expanse of Lake Superior and the other freshwater oceans of North America. Comparatively
few have, however, visited Lac St. Jean (Lake St.
John) in the wilder districts, nearly 200 miles north
of the city of Quebec.
with their rules of perpetual silence, and their
Friday chastisements, were expelled from France
in 1880. In 1892 we find them securely established on the Mistassini River, some twenty miles A  COLONY OF TRAPPIST FATHERS
from the great lake. I understand that they
obtained from the (practically) Roman Catholic
Government of Quebec Province an enormous
grant of land in the vicinity of the lake, and now
that the railway is established (also by Government mainly) this land will in their hands increase
steadily in value, and the French Roman Catholic
colonists will flock to live on it, because of the
sanctity of these "silent monks of Oka." The
Trappists never speak to each other except to
utter the warning " Memento mori" p Remember
death"); but they have foremen and managers,
and they obey their orders. The Roman Catholic
Church is stronger in this province than in Italy
itself. The people are most " religious f in their
way. Any one who is not a Roman Catholic
would find it trying to live here, save under
favourable circumstances, though I have heard of
a colony of North Irish Protestants some distance
north of Quebec city.
Great credit is due to these French Canadians
for opening out this new land to the north of
Quebec. It was found that the younger people
were beginning to emigrate to the States, because
the land around them was taken up.
Then a vigorous move was made to open the
country around Lake St. John in the form of
Roman Catholic parishes generally circling round
a rude log chapel, which, as the colony became
able, was replaced by a more substantial structure.
The Church is the rally ing-point, the centre of attraction—a truly beautiful idea. The French Canadian
appreciates religious surroundings and influences. 54
Owing to the heavy train, we went very slowly
up the grades which led us into the Laurentian
Mountains, and we were at least an hour late. It
is a serpentine line, winding around the bases of
fir-covered mountains, and along the sides of
rushing trout streams and endless lakes. It reminded me of the journey across Sweden from
Gothenburg to Stockholm. It might wrell be
called the " Railway of the Thousand Lakes."
We were to have had lunch about one at Lake
Edward, but it was nearer three when we pulled
up at that station (we had left Quebec at eight
a.m.). The " magnificent dining-room, capable of
seating one hundred guests," turned out to be a
sort of plank shanty near the small station. The
lunch, at fifty cents, was fairly good, and we had
some of the fresh fish from the lake. Three
gigantic trout lay on a table under the verandah—
to show us what could be caught. They were
at least six pounds weight each. A paper pinned
above said, " These * infants * were caught in Lake
Edward.    What must the full-grown fish be !"
Some of our fellow-travellers, who hailed from
New York, left the cars here for a week or two's
fishing on these waters, and as we bowled away we
saw them sailing across the lake with a guide.
They were fully determined to catch big trout
I found the country people here unable to read.
I offered both French texts and a French Testament to a habitant ploughing beside the railway
among the stumps. He could make nothing of
This wild neighbourhood is a A PARADISE FOR FISHERMEN
from the States. There are several clubs. At
Lake Edward (also called the Lac des Grandes
ties) is one of these clubs—the | Paradise Fin and
Feather Club." At Lake Kis-kisink we saw the
summer head-quarters of the Metabetchouan Fishing and Game Club, in which are quite a number
of New England millionaires. There must be
more than half-a-dozen of such clubs on this long
line. The members can travel through from their
homes in a little more than three days. The
American likes to live luxuriously, while the
English sportsman is more willing to rough it in
camp. An officer with whom I talked had, within
one twelvemonth, served with the Stewart column in
Upper Egypt in the attempted relief of Khartoum,
and also in the Riel Rebellion business on the Red
River, with the thermometer a score of degrees
below zero. He said, " I always go under canvas
when I fish or shoot here, and my wife often goes
with me. Roughing it is half the sport; but the
New Yorkers want all their luxuries within arm's
length." §|^P|'
These American club-houses are practically
hotels, with every comfort, and on the lake floats
the steam launch, ready to take in tow the fishing
party in their boats some eight or ten miles to
their destination, and come again for them in the
evening to be back in time for dinner.
Lac Bouchette gave us one of the beautiful views
on this long day's ride. It lay extended below us,
stretching far  away to the left, imbedded in fir- 56
clothed hills which raised their verdant domes
on all sides. A saw-mill, surrounded by plank
houses, gave life to the picture.
These French Canadians have generally
Government gives one hundred acres to any one
who has twelve children. As we pass many a log
hut or plank house, we see through the door the
families in regular steps and stages, from the babe
in arms up to the boy or girl of thirteen or fourteen.
These French people in Canada are a most prolific
They are most certainly, and not very slowly,
driving the English out of the province of Quebec,
away to the West. In this province, out of a total
population of 1,400,000, above 1,000,000 are Roman
Catholics, the majority of whom very generally
use the French language. They marry young, and
though in France the people are said to be shrinking in numbers, here they increase mightily, and
live on very little.
They are our fellow-citizens in our British
Empire. The Queen rules over a smaller France.
They are content to remain under her rule so long
as they have their own old laws, and are not
interfered with ; and so long as the Roman Church
is upheld in its prestige, and exempt from all rates
and taxes. Cassocked priests are everywhere.
The village cure is an object in nearly every scene
and on the platform of every roadside station. WE APPROACH THE GREAT LAKE
At last, after many hours in the cars, we arrived
at Lake St. John. Sea-like, its wide-spread plain
of water  reaches  to   the  very horizon.     In  the
distance is Roberval, with its luxurious hotel, and
between us and it the celebrated Ouatchouan Falls
(pronounced "watch-one," or very nearly so).
Eighteen miles across by one of the little steamers
is the Grande Discharge, with another smaller hotel, 58
the resort of those who come to fish. These waters
are famed as being the home of the Ouananiche
(pronounced Wananish), the fresh-water salmon :
a most lively fish when once hooked, jumping
high out of the water four or five feet again and
again, and sometimes by rare chance jumping right
into the angler's birch-bark canoe. Tempestuous
somersaults, tremendous leaps, fiery struggles,
amazing and obstinate strength, such are the expressions of an American writer, finishing with this
sentence : "His vigorous contentions are astounding, while at every leap into the air he turns a
complete somersault, all the while shaking his head
with the fierceness of an enraged tiger."
This neighbourhood is still more truly the
These dark-skinned handsome Indians have their
Reservation at Pointe Bleu—some three miles
beyond the Roberval HoteL They are excellent
guides to the forest and to big game.
The late Bishop Williams of Quebec had reported
to him the statement that there were Church of
England Indians also at Lake St. John, and he
found it true. These Mistassini Indians had been
baptized at Moose Factory, Hudson's Bay. These
Indians at Lake St. John have a church of their
own. A special missionary, the Rev. H. C. Stuart,
of Three Rivers, visits them once a month.
They have often hard lives. They hunt and trap
in winter in the woods lying between this lake
and Hudson's Bay, and the furs they collect are GORGEOUS SUNSET
exchanged by them with the factors of Hudson's
Bay for the ordinary necessaries of life. The
squaws like bright colours, and wear a head-dress
remarkably like that I have seen the Lapps of the
Arctic Circle wear—a square padded " tuque " of
red stripes and black, each stripe piped in blue.
Here on the lake in summer they act as guides, or
with dexterous hands build
which float here and on Saguenay—lovely light-
floating canoes, in which you must kneel on a
cushion, and enter and leave warily. The slightest
awkwardness will cause a hole in the bottom or an
An excellent idea of the size of the lake is
obtained from the railway line skirting one-third
of its circumference.    Such a
as one rarely beholds lit up the lake as we journeyed
along the line. The water of the lake became
blood, and the sky around the setting sun glowed
like a furnace. Clouds were glorified, and far into
the zenith they were tipped with magenta edges at
the side nearest the sun. Down went the crimson
sun slowly behind Hotel Roberval, and strips of
cloud became half-violet and half-ruby, reflecting
this light. All England was in darkness. The
sun sets about eight, and at home it would be about
midnight—four hours different. 6o
At the eastern side of the lake the waters overflow through the Little Discharge and the Grand
Discharge in rushing, whirling, seething eddies, and
down these the Indians will take one in a light
canoe. Nothing but a sheet of bark between you
and eternity. The divided streams unite at the foot
of Alma Island at the Vache Caille.
Seventy miles, mostly of rapids, with excitements
the whole time, including the Gervais Rapids and
the Grand Remous, a most turbulent cascade and
eddy, and then the Saguenay settles down still and
deep and solemn to run the other seventy miles to
the St. Lawrence. These Indians are the " Mountaineers of the Laurentian Hills," as well as the
skilful pilots of the rivers. Here the men mostly
dress in trousers and jacket and soft felt like
Canadians, but the women wear bright colours and
dress their hair oddly.
At Chicoutimi I asked the cocher to take us,
not to the best hotel, but to a clean, respectable
no   reason   to
boarding-house.    We   had
getting to
and soon were ready to rest between the snow-
white sheets. I turned down the lamp and leant
out of the dormer window. It was dark, the moon
had gone, but I think I never saw so many stars.
I didn't know there Were so many, and they were
reflected again in the broad, smooth, swift stream
of  the  river  Saguenay below.    We were   some PENSION  OF  MADAME TREMBLAY
seventy miles from its mouth, and about seventy
from its commencement, where the overflow of the
inland sea (St. John) rushes out by the Grande
Discharge. It is named by the Indians Pitchi-
tanichetz. I leant out, and filled my lungs with
the fresh, sweet, cold air. Across the river, in the
starlight, I could see the dark, fir-clad hills beyond.
Down below me on this side, a few lights in Chicoutimi, and the lamps still lit in railway cars in
which we had travelled. They stood on the line
by the water's edge.
" Jim, get up and look at the Northern Lights,"
I said.
There, across the dark river and above the fir-
clad bank and over some dark clouds, the great
search-lights of the Arctic region were shooting
moving electric bands athwart the sky. They
radiated out from the north, growing bright and
growing dim, always changing and shifting, and the
river below reflected it all.
First thing in the morning I was at the window
again. Now, the daylight made it all real, and lit
up the numberless French houses and the village
of the Bonne Ste. Anne across the water, and its
church, with the gold-tipped spire, ringing sweetly
for matins, its bell echoing over the water.
Everything around thoroughly French-Canadian.
Within a few yards the Roman cathedral and a
convent. The bells ring first for early mass about
five in the morning. The Bishop (R.C.) of Chicoutimi, Mgr. Le Brecque, also lives here, and there
is a seminary for the diocese. A Presbyterian
minister (Mr. Steele) has fifteen Scotch families 62
under his charge. A great timber establishment
here is owned by Senator Price, the King of the
Saguenay ; he employs most of the people. A new
Roman church has been built for the people living
near these saw-mills. It is built on the site of the
little chapel erected in 1670 by the Jesuits, who
came in those early days to convert the Indian.
When the workmen, in 1892, were digging for
foundations for the new building they found an
Indian coffin, and in it, beside the remains, were
many curious relics—an arrowhead, teeth of bears
and of beavers, the point of a sword, etc.
has about 3,000 inhabitants. Several little shops
are supplied by the steamers from Montreal and
Quebec. There is a hotel (Hotel Martin) and
a pension, where we were very comfortable. It is
kept by Dame Veuve (Widow) Oct. Tremblay.
Madame Tremblay is a fluent bi-linguist, though
her mother knows only French. The former did
the cooking, and the latter waited at table. One
dollar a day for a bed and board is very cheap
on this continent. I have no doubt if any one
stayed a little time her price would be still less. Our
food was good and plentiful. About five in the
morning the older Madame went out with her can,
and called affectionately to the cow over in the
field, and soon the " spurt-spurt" on the sounding
bottom of the tin told one through the open
windows that while we were in bed preparations
were going forward for our breakfast. IN  THE WARM GLOAMING
Through the sunny day we climbed the hills and
made the acquaintance of the waterfalls.
we sat beneath the verandah, as do all the Chicou-
timceans, and talked of things great and interesting
until bedtime, and retired to enjoy refreshing sleep,
and the swamp frogs (the Canadian Nightingales)
chirped and babbled in lullaby. Prison and telephone, exchange and cathedral, has this village-
town of Chicoutimi, with its 3,000 inhabitants. In
a few days it was to have a train every day, instead of three times a week.
The Chicoutimi River, running here into the
Saguenay, gives its name to the town. It comes
down steep rapids—a long waterfall in truth for
many miles—its brown waters churned into foam
as it leaps from rock to rock, whilst clouds of spray
and mist make rainbows in the bright sunshine.
My brother-in-law and I clambered up on the
railway track, and after a mile or more struck
into the bush and crossed a respectably high
mountain, and then diagonally over the country
towards the roar of a gigantic cataract. Scrambling,
climbing, slipping, fighting with thick brushwood
and undergrowth, our progression was slow. I got
hot in body and temper though I tried to keep
cool, but the branches scratched my face, and those
nasty flies—Eugh ! On the summit of one height
we had a
We sat on a slab of rock and the ants ran round, 64
and the flies, getting new life with the summer
heat, bit us and walked over us. But in the clear
air.we could see blue mountains in the far distance
bounding our view, and nearer to us and yet a
mile or two away, the farther bank of the smooth
Saguenay with the little white houses scattered
here and there, and Chicoutimi nearer still, with its
cathedral church and wooden residences and sawmills and piles of timber, whilst to the right a peep
of the falls could be seen, and the never-ceasing
rear of its water-floods came across to us.
Up the Chicoutimi River there is a portage called
the | Portage de l'Enfant." This is the Indian
origin. " A mother placed her babe in a birch-bark
canoe to be rocked by the waves, and tied the
canoe to the tree. How it broke loose in her
absence no one knows, but it did, and babe and
canoe were soon speeding swiftly towards a fifty-
feet descent, where the water fell almost perpendicularly. How the little one escaped was miraculous—but both canoe and babe passed over unhurt.
I wonder what sort of a man that red-skin babe
became ! So these falls have ever been thus known,
and as the Indians and voyageurs carry past their
canoes and baggage they recite to one another this
strange story."
The steamer can  only get  up at high water,
which  here, although some 400  miles from  the DOWN THE PITCHITANICHETZ
ocean, makes a great difference. She can come
for an hour or two before high tide, and stay an
hour or two after. Then she may have a good
deal of freight to land and also to take on board.
This may take an hour and a half, or she may be
off in a few minutes and leave you behind. The
best guide is the loud whistle which she blows as
she comes up near the town.
In expectation of my early departure I did not
sleep much, and at 3.45 a.m. I jumped out of bed,
and, looking out of my dormer window on to the
Saguenay, found the river blotted out by the
feathery mist filling ifs valley. Whilst I was dressing, the river mist lifted and drove along \ the
current in white fleecy clouds, and by five o'clock
all was clear. ^ At the quay I found an expectant
array of caleches, whose drivers were, hoping to
get a fare apiece from visitors arriving by the
steamer. They were doomed to disappointment,
as the season had not set in yet. I  fe
A white horse, twenty head of cattle, and a
dozen sheep were some of my fellow-passengers,
but they were on the lower deck, whilst I had a
comfortable cabin, with large window, on the
higher deck. A waving of adieux took place. J.
and I knew not when or where we might meet
again, and the white handkerchiefs became smaller
and tinier till nothing could be distinguished.
Chicoutimi Cathedral and great red monastic buildings, and the many houses scattered over the
verdant hills, also diminished and sank as we
passed away along the Saguenay River on the
steamer Saguenay.
E 66
Professor Roberts says: " The Saguenay can
hardly be called a river. It is rather a stupendous
chasm from one to two miles in width, doubtless of
earthquake origin, cleft for sixty-five miles through
the high Laurentian plateau. Its walls are an
almost unbroken line of naked cliffs of syenite and
gneiss. Its depth is many hundred feet greater
than that of the St. Lawrence ; indeed, if the St.
Lawrence drained dry, all the fleets of the world
might float in
and yet find anchorage only in a few places." It
is strange to find the bar of a river seventy miles
up from the mouth. We found a Government
dredger hard at work deepening the bar a few
miles below Chicoutimi. Here, no doubt, the volcanic chasm begins and the normal bed of the river
ends. There can be no bar on a river so far as it
is 2000 feet deep.
This strange river is the picture of solitude.
Even to-day, with a brilliant June sun, and lovely
sky dappled with cloudlets, we pass for miles and
scores of miles and see no sign of animal or human
life. Not a bird, not even a sea-gull; not a shanty
perched high on the cliffs a thousand feet high.
The water is the colour of thin bog water, and
owing to its depth it seems at first as black as
tar. As it is churned by our paddles or driven
back from the bows it is like diluted porter or like
brandy. It receives its colour from the inland
rivers   which   pass   through   swamps   filled   with CAPE ETERNITY
■moss and other highly-coloured  roots and  vegetable matter.
Billions, trillions, quadrillions of fir trees, close
together, cover every yard of the cliffs, and are
perched far up in the air on the dizzy summits.
Here and there the hard rock juts out uncovered,
and sometimes it is rent from crest to base and a
watercourse is formed. Ha! Ha! Bay is a long
estuary running out on the south side of the
Saguenay, so like the river that the first explorers
sailed along it by mistake, thinking it was the
main channel. When they found themselves mistaken, it is said they had a good laugh, and the
memory of their mirth caused them to name the
inlet (some seven miles lojig) Ha! Ha! Bay. About
nine o'clock we passed close in to Cape Trinity,
and then passed
These two capes are about 2000 feet from the
water's edge, it is said, and the water beneath is
nearly the same depth.
After about six hours' run down this mammoth
ship-canal, the Saguenay, we turned aside past a
little rocky islet into a fiord-like bay where a few
French Canadian folk had their wooden houses, and
carried on fishing and some agriculture. It was
called St. Jean.    It might have been in Norway.
There was a quay, and we landed and walked
about under the great cliffs, but there did not seem
to be a house where one could stay with any
comfort, though it is in the heart of this solemn 68
scenery, an amphitheatre of mountainous rock.
The remainder of the voyage was through wondrous scenes, as wTe passed St. Louis Island,
and rounded Point Crepe into St. Etienne Bay,
where some sailing vessels were lying moored to
iron rings in the cliffs, as no anchor could be let
down IOOO feet, and so on until we approached
the mouth. Two rocky promontories guard the
exit as the dark waters of the Saguenay pass into
the lighter-coloured St. Lawrence, the Pointe aux
Bouleaux on our right, and the Pointe aux Vaches
on the left. The latter (" Cow Cape ") was so called
after the numbers of the sea-cow which in the earlier
days swarmed here and were hunted by the Basques.
Now, as then, large schools of snorting grampus
often disport themselves upon the surface of the
Tadousac, a small watering-place, favoured a
good deal by Lord Dufferin in the days when he
was Viceroy, lies at the mouth of the Saguenay.
We turned sharply out of the river into a little
rocky bay, whose clean cliffs seemed as if ever
washed and scoured by the sea water, and during
the hour that the steamer remained I walked with
two French Canadian fellow-passengers about a
mile to see the old Jesuit church. Here landed
Jacques Cartier in 1535, and here in 1639 came the
Jesuit fathers and began a mission, and erected, it
is said, the first church on the American continent.
What amazement would possess some of these
discoverers of three and four centuries ago if they
could re-appear and see the great palace steamers
and the electric light at Quebec, ground out by the CAPE ETERNITY
rushing waters of Montmorency, and the telephone
and the electric cars, and swift-speeding train with
parlour and sleeping cars!
We went into the Government hatchery—one of
about fifteen, I understand, in the Dominion. In
running fresh water the spawn had been carefully
looked after for six months, and in these long
troughs were six million tiny salmon about half
the size of a steel pen! In cans they are carefully
conveyed to the head waters of the scores of different rivers, and there placed with much care in
those streams. Where a few years ago scarcely a
salmon was to be Tound in some rivers, now
hundreds are caught each season. ?ijg
Before us now stretches the great St. Lawrence,
like another inland sea; on it several watering-
places, which we call at on our journey of more
than a hundred miles up to Quebec. The Canadians
lament their distance from the real sea. They have
to be content with riverside resorts, as the seaside
is often more than 500 miles away. They speak,
as I have said before, of going down to the salt
water—for of course the tide is here, and Tadousac,
Cacouna, Riviere de Loup, and Murray Bay are the
resort of the people of Montreal, Quebec, and the
country round, in the hot weather.
But now we leave behind the wondrous Saguenay,
and through the darkness our steamer speeds up
the great St. Lawrence to Quebec once more. CHAPTER VI
The Manitoba Mail
We continue our journey now with our emigrant
party. The visit to the sights of Quebec and to
Lake St. John can of course only be taken when
the traveller has a few days to spare.
The advantage of travelling in a large vessel
like the Vancouver is, that a special train is made
up within an hour or two of arrival, and all are
forwarded on to the Montreal Junction, where they
are attached that evening to the Trans-Continental
Mail. The scene at the C.P.R. Depot (railway
station) is exciting, and to some very bewildering. The baggage of the emigrants is placed in
the huge baggage-cars, with the exception of the
small' articles, which they take with them. I
advise those who are going long distances to get
out of their boxes all they need for the journey,
and " check" the large things. You pay a small
sum, and in exchange you receive a small brass
check, like this—
Eastern Division.
You say where your luggage is to go to, and:
when you arrive it is there, and delivered to you
on presenting the check. There is at the Quebec
Station (Louise Basin) a refreshment room, where
provisions can be obtained for the long journey—
jars of marmalade, sausages, loaves of bread, potted
and tinned meats of all kinds, milk, etc., while a
notice is put up—
25  CENTS.
It is some hours before we are ready to start.
At last the warning bell of the locomotive is
heard as we move, and, after provoking stoppages,
we pass away from the streets of Lower Quebec
behind the citadel, and are rattling at a very great
rate (forty-five miles an hour occasionally) through
a green country and fir forests. We are a long
train of ten cars in all, and as we speed along, we
leave a lingering track of smoke behind. An
official said to our engine-driver before starting,
I Now, Jack, you've got the road, don't get
mouldy." There is much eagerness as passengers
look at the new land. They see a horse and a
bullock yoked in the plough; milking going on in
another  field.     We  stop  at  a  little  picturesque ft
French village, and chaff goes on between the
emigrants and the French folk.
We travel parallel to the great St. Lawrence
River, but at some distance, obtaining only occasional glimpses. Suddenly the cry went up,
"The Vancouver!" There was the grand vessel
which had mounted the Atlantic rollers, now
making her way up the broad St. Lawrence, and
travelling smoothly, and in a dignified fashion.
She will be in Montreal to-morrow morning.
The conductor of the train gave me these
i engine, 9 large cars, 360 passengers.
U.S.A., vid S. Ste. Marie     ...        	
„       „   Winnipeg
Total U.S.A.
For Winnipeg and N.W.
British Columbia
Port Arthur
Montreal ...
Every few hours the emigrant train comes to a
refreshment station. Such a one is the Three
Rivers, a pretty French town of 10,000 population, half-way between Quebec and Montreal.
The long train pulled up, and nearly every one
turned out.    For ten cents (5^.) we got  a large THE EMIGRANT TRAIN  BY NIGHT 73
cup of tea or coffee, and a plate of bread-and-
butter. Then we had a chat on the platform, and
examined the engine.
As evening twilight deepened, we stayed by a
swamp and heard the voice of the " Canadian
nightingale," viz. the " swamp frog!" This is too
familiar a sound in summer-time, and brings
sleepless nights to those who live at the water's
edge, where the frogs sing in hundreds. The
fireflies here are most beautiful ; they float in the
air in scores together, and are most brilliant; we
watch them from the end of the car, and breathe
the cold, sweet air.
I walked along the lamp-lit cars about ten p.m.
to look for some of my Y.M.C.A. friends, in
order that we might sing a hymn and have prayer
together before turning in. I had to walk through
seven cars of sleeping people; some cars all
English, others with long-legged Scandinavians
lying across the floor ; children curled up on seats
or bundles, and some up in the bunks provided
by the Company, while the train went rattling on.
We had a little gathering before all turned in,
and from a colonists' car went up our hymn and
petition—"Of Thy great mercy defend us from
all perils and dangers of this night, for the sake
of Thine only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ." 74
And so the long train of cars rushed along through
the night, and the same God Who watched over
us on the broad Atlantic was with us still.
About ten every one has turned in, or is getting
ready. Many have mattresses. They lay them
across the seats, which pull out and join one
another; others let down a great hinged shelf,
which forms a bunk. I chose one of these upper
berths, and arranged my rugs and blew up my
air-pillow. It was difficult to get to sleep, and I
lay reading a book for a couple of hours. I slept
more or less from twelve to six a.m., and then got
up. Soon every one was washing and getting into
trim order for the day.
Rocks and lakes and fir trees. The lads of the
party cluster on the platforms at the ends of the
cars to watch the scenes flashing past. People are
forbidden to ride on the platform, but the Company
do not interfere, leaving the risk to passengers.
We came through Canada's political capital,
Ottawa city, during the night. It was too dark to
see the fine view of the Houses of Parliament and
the Chaudiere Falls. Each province has Home
Rule, and the United Parliament meets at Ottawa.
At 1.55 on Tuesday we were five hours behindhand, owing to the great length and weight of the
train.    We stop at North Bay, on Lake Nipissing, MEALS ON  THE  CARS
a great sheet of water. Its further shores, with
fir-covered banks, are ten miles away; it is forty
miles long. Here the train had to be divided, to
enable us to keep up speed.
Most of the emigrants provide themselves with
loaves of bread, tinned meats, bananas, apples, or
oranges. We take our meals in picnic fashion,
penknives and fingers. Drinking-water is always
found at one end of the car, but a private drinking-
can is much needed. Those who wish to make
tea can obtain hot water in the dining-car free.
As to those luxurious hotels on wheels, they are
attached to the train first thing in the morning
and travel during the day. The waiting staff of
the dining-car consists of two cooks, three waiters,
one pantry-man, one conductor. A meal, whether
breakfast, dinner, or lunch, is seventy-five cents
(about 3^.). The cooking goes on while we are
travelling at full speed, and the meal is served hot.
You sit on comfortable broad seats, at firmly-fixed
tables, and the car is beautifully hung on springs,
so that you feel but little motion. The large
plate-glass windows give one a complete view of
the passing scenery, and an hour passes by agreeably when you have pleasant companions.
Our second night on the cars was  marked by
a keen frost, which we all  felt intensely ;  icicles 76
three inches long hung from the windows outside.;
On stopping at White River, we rushed up and
down the wooden platform to produce circulation.
Our car is provided with double windows to resist
the frost, but we did not expect it, and left all
the ventilators open. We all longed for some hot
tea, but it could not be had at five o'clock in the
morning. More than two hours after sunrise the
thermometer stood at thirty-five degrees.
About seven a.m. on our second day we pass a
large encampment of Indians. On both sides of
the line, in a small opening in the fir forest, and on
the banks of a beautiful lake, were ten wigwams.
These tents were made of sheets of birch bark,
like the tents of the Samoyedes, but less graceful.
Some of the Indians were engaged in building
canoes, some out on the lake fishing. The chief,
radiant in a brilliant head-dress, returned our
salute from the platform of the car. The squaws
and boys took a great interest in the train as we
slowly passed them, while a papoose could be seen
strapped up like a chrysalis.
At 8.15 a.m. on Wednesday morning (our second
day), we had our first view of Lake Superior, as
we skirted Peninsula Bay. Vast sheets of water
stretching to the horizon, calm and placid in the
sunshine.    We follow the shore of the lake, more SKIRTING THE GREAT LAKE
or less closely, for sixty miles, with constantly
changing views. Sometimes we travel on the
edge of a rocky precipice, sometimes cross a valley
on a lofty trestle-bridge, occasionally plunge into a
short tunnel, pierced through a promontory.
There is the boundless expanse of lake, whose
further shores are completely out of sight, in every
respect like the sea, except that the water is fresh.
Jack-fish Bay, on Lake Superior's northern shores,
contains one of the most astounding sections of
this wonderful railway. Though the Rocky
Mountains are more bewilderingly grand, the
rugged ferocity of this part of the line to Winnipeg
is quite satisfying in its effect on the nerves.
Winter snow lies on the shores, and the bays are
occasionally frozen over. White osprey wheel
about the fir-clothed islets. Glints of sunshine play
on the lake, and rugged bands of cloud are piled
along the horizon line, and clouds of steam occasionally narrow down the view as we dart along
near the water's edge or climb up to dizzy heights
above and wheel round curling wooden trestle-
bridges. The sun shines in at one window, and
then in at the opposite. We dive into short
tunnels, pant along up grades, crawl over ravines,
race along rocky cuttings, dodge round the backs
of promontories, and re-appear at the edge of the
We can see our line across this arm of the sea
a mile away, but we travel five or six miles round 78
to the head of the water, which intrudes far up into
the rocky interior, and then we journey down
the other side. The wondrous sinuosities as we
wind round these great inlets surprise one into
We have come to the beginning of the West—
the gate of the West, as the inhabitants like to call
it. On the second day from Montreal and the
third day from Quebec, we pull up at the first real
station, the first town after scudding through
forests and past lakes and rivers. It is about
sixteen o'clock.
Port Arthur and Fort William and Fort William
West are three towns, but practically united, being
only a mile or two apart.
Port Arthur is at the north of the great Lake
Superior, and here the grain from the north-west
is stored in great elevators. Here is a mammoth
grain elevator, belonging to the C.P.R. It receives
1,350,000 bushels at one time, and by machinery
inside the grain is always being moved, so that
it can never sprout or ferment. The grain is
brought here from Manitoba, etc., and shipped from
here to the United States and elsewhere.
Mackay Mountain dominates the neighbourhood,
a dark mass of granite, shaped like Table Rock,
perhaps 700 feet high are its cliffs. We put our
watches back to Central time, an hour earlier than
the Montreal time. SIR garnet's boats
SIR garnet's boats.
After supper at Savanne, we rolled away for a
twenty hours' run to Winnipeg. Just beyond the
station we saw the barges used in the expedition
against Riel, now rotting on the banks of a small
river. It was interesting to hear of those times
from men on the cars who had served in the
Mrs. Grant, the manageress of the refreshment
room, offered ten dollars a month and board and
lodging to any member of my party who could
milk a cow and make himself generally useful.
When we had steamed away from the station,
one of the youths thought he would like the place,
so we sent him back from Ignace by a freight
Before he left we had a farewell service on the
train. We gathered together as we had done each
evening for prayer and praise. I spoke a few
farewell words to those who had been my fellow-
travellers for so long a distance, and endeavoured
in my last words to give earnestly a few last words
of advice, for they had had many during our
gatherings and services on the voyage. We sang
our last hymn ; had our last prayer; for on the
next morning we all should separate to meet no
more. Some passengers joined us most reverently
in our service, and shook my hand warmly after. I
was very pleased to have the conductor with us.
He took off his official cap and sang most earnestly.
I asked all to accept the hymn-books we had used
as a memento of that farewell gathering. 8o
In the very early hours of the morning we
crossed the River Winnipeg as it runs out of the
Lake of the Woods. I must ask the reader to
alight with me and to spend a Sunday here, as I
did on another journey.
A curious name—Rat Portage; but we have
many curious names in the West. It is the name
of a town at the extremity of the picturesque Lake
of the Woods, said to have been the resort of an
immense number of musk-rats at some time. I
sent a message from Whitewood Station—
From Rev. A. A.
To Rev. A. L. Fortin,
Rat Portage.
" Will help on Sunday.  Meet train if accepting."
At a quarter to twelve on Saturday night, with
my baggage, I left the trans-continental express
and found myself welcomed to Rat Portage, and
driven off through the darkness to comfortable
quarters. I slept in a genuine bed, and awoke
on Whit-Sunday morning to see the loveliness
of the Lake of the Woods, and its many islands.
Inclement weather, however, slight snowstorms
from time to time, and in the evening we found
ourselves back in mid-winter, everything white
under a garment of snow.
That Whit-Sunday was a most enjoyable day.
As we were about to enter the church for morning PORTAGE LE RAT
service, we paused to appreciate the view. We
were near the summit of the hill above the town,
and far below that lay the waters of the lake, with
its islands. The lake is about one hundred miles
in length, but comparatively little of it is seen at
once owing to the islands.
The service was most reverently conducted and
hearty; the hymns too brisk for congregational
singing; this is sad, but the organist cannot see it.
He is a good fellow in other respects. The wife of
the previous rector was burnt to death in the
church by the fall of a paraffin lamp during service.
A memorial window has been placed in the church
to her memory.
Across the lake to Keewatin in a small steamer
for the afternoon service. We took the choir and
organist with us. We sailed away through the
cold wind round rocky points, and near great
saw-mills and piles of sawdust and chips for
ever burning, the smoke sweeping across the
We held our service in a Presbyterian church,
kindly lent to us. We waited till their Sunday
School was over, and then we began. I was
pleased to see so many young men, and I endeavoured to speak straight to them.
What a walk home from Keewatin ! The steamboat could not sail for two hours, and we walked
along the Canadian Pacific Railroad.
So for miles, through cuttings and tunnel, over
two high bridges with open trestle-work. We
stepped dizzily from beam to beam, and between
we saw the foaming river dashing down a cataract. 82
Their bridges are always left open, like the joists of
an unfinished house.
The view from the rector's house extended over
great stretches of breeze-ruffled lake and rocky
stretches of wooded island, and included one of
the great steel bridges in the distance.
We again set off for church, where there was a
very large congregation, and the rector preached
from Acts i. 8—| Ye shall receive power, after that
the Holy Ghost is come upon you." Mr. Fortin
distinguished between "influence" and "power."
The apostles were not men of influence, but they
were men oi power. Men have influence, and may
use it for or against the cause of Christ, but it
cannot be compared with power. We cannot all
get much influence, but we all receive power, after
that the HOLY GHOST comes upon us. A very
helpful sermon, and listened to with sustained and
rapt attention.
" May I ask if you are from Sunderland, sir ? "
said a weather-beaten man, who had been at both
our services. " My name is Herbert C. Ritson,
and I am master of one of the lake steamers
sailing from this town," he added.
We had quite a Bishopwearmouth talk together,
and I received sundry messages for good folk
abiding near the mouth of the Wear. Mr. Ritson
had walked into the hotel and seen lying about
some localized Evangelists, which I had placed on SUNDAY NIGHT IN AN  OBJIBBEWAY'S  HUT     83
the table, hoping they would be taken up by some
Western wanderers and read that Sunday morning.
Seeing " Monkwearmouth " on the front he gave a
start, and turning up the visitors' book he found
my name.
I noticed when in church a number of Indians
in the back seat, and especially one tall old man
who gazed strangely at me when I was reading
the lesson. On inquiry I found that they were a
party of Christian Indians who had settled in the
outskirts of the town, on what is locally known as
I The Dump."       § *J;
After evening service I found my way out to
them, as I was interested to see some who had
been brought out of heathenism into CHRIST'S
kingdom. In the semi-darkness I discovered a
very low hut. It seemed only about four or five
feet high, as far as I can remember. I knocked
and entered. The air outside was cold and keen,
snow falling occasionally. The atmosphere inside
was heated up to eighty or ninety degrees by a
stove, and there was a smell of roast Indian, and
skins. Also I found the insects abounding, and
eager to make the acquaintance of an Englishman.
"Here," thought I to myself, "I realize something
of the minor trials of a missionary to the Indians
•—he must be insect-proof."
A half-breed came in and interpreted for me.
In that tiny hut of one room there were eleven
persons, and such an odour of condensed Indian! 84
Let me forget all that now, and simply remember
that great, simple old redskin repeating, in Objib-
beway, the collect, " Lighten our darkness," and
then the Lord's Prayer. Before I left I said,
through the interpreter, {i I am going to kneel
down here in the middle of the hut, and you will
all kneel too, and I will pray for God's blessing
upon you."
All placed themselves in the attitude of prayer,
and I said, " Shall I pray that you may be successful in fishing and shooting, or shall I ask God to
bless you in your souls?" The aged Indian
: replied, " Pray for a blessing for the soul." I
prayed aloud in English and they all knelt around
me, and the half-breed told them how I asked God
to make them more and more steadfast, and so
with the blessing I left them.
They belonged to the Mission of the Rev.
Baptiste Spence (an Indian pastor), some fifty
miles away, and though they could not understand the service in English, they liked to worship
with their fellow-Christians on the Lord's Day,
and they know when the clergyman kneels down
that it is the time to pray.
All round we shook hands, and with Jacob
Linkater, my guide, we passed out of the heated
atmosphere into the snow-laden air.
*f* 3j* rf\ 3JC <p» »I*
Now we rejoin our emigrant party on the last
stages of the journey to Manitoba. WE  ENTER  MANITOBA
On the fourth day from Quebec, at eight p.m.,
we left the province of Ontario behind. We had
travelled for more than a thousand miles through
its interminable forests and along the shores of
its lakes, and now, at a station called Rennie, we
find ourselves in vast, far-stretching Manitoba ; the
forests tone down and the country becomes flatter.
All our colonists look out eagerly for the first
signs of cultivation. Officials who have come some
distance to meet us board the train, desirous to
give information to the immigrants as to places,
and as to land to be purchased.
Here is a card which is presented by Mr.
Immigration and Intelligence Offices,
Opposite to C.P.R. Depot, Winnipeg.
Reliable Information to intending Settlers.
Alex. Smith, Agent.
On Friday morning our train ran out from the
forests on to the prairies, and soon a sprinkling of
shanties betokened our approach to a large town [
We ran along at a slackened speed, and the
conductor passed through the cars crying,
" Winnipeg!    All change cars." CHAPTER VII
Winnipeg and the Prairies
The growth of Winnipeg from 200 souls in 1870
to 30,000 or more in 1895 must have some
It was formerly " Fort Garry," a station of the
Hudson Bay Company, and to the present day the
Hudson Bay Stores do an enormous business.
They are said to turn over a quarter of a million
sterling every year.
It is only ninety miles or so from the United
States, boundary, with railway communication
tapping North Dakota and Minnesota, and communicating with St. Paul and Minneapolis. It is
connected by water with Lake Winnipeg—into
which the Red River flows. There is communication via Norway House with Hudson Bay, and
by the Saskatchewan with the great North-West.
Lastly, the wonderful railway line of the C.P.R.
has placed Winnipeg as a half-way stopping-place
between the Atlantic and Pacific, and between
England and the Far East.
It is a strange mixture of shanties and magnificent buildings. There are Chinese laundries, where
the busy Celestial  is  seen through  the window IMMIGRANTS IN  MANITOBA
sprinkling a fine spray out of his mouth over the
linen fronts which he is "getting up." Inferior
Indians and half-breeds with Red River carts are
slouching along the wood main street—132 feet
wide—paved with cedar blocks and lighted with
electricity. The town is built on a flat plain where
the Red River and the Assiniboine meet.
Immigrants are permitted to use the Government Immigration Depot until they have some
place to go to. A family of Church folk, from the
S.S. Vajicouver, soon settled down in the rough
quarters provided, and they made themselves fairly
comfortable. A large school-room, with spaces
about eight feet square partitioned off all round, was
supplied, but the accommodation was inferior to
that provided at Quebec.
In the spring-time, about the end of April, there
is generally a demand for country-men, but clerks
and shop hands have not much chance of getting
employment. There is a class of men who are
called "Remitters'3 or "Remittance-men." They
are loafers who go round trying to negotiate loans.
They are always expecting a remittance in a few
posts from the old country. Winnipeg is not the
place to send the black sheep of the family to. It
should not be the terminus, but the starting-place.
For any one who will work there is work to be had
in the spring-time.
The Rev. H. T. Leslie, 219 Donald Street, is the
S.P.C.K.  chaplain here, and  he found places at 88
once for all who were willing to work on the land.
About five dollars a month (say £i i.r.) and board
and lodging is given to green hands, viz. those who
know nothing of country life.
" Hallo! Mr. Firth, wherever did you spring
from ?" I exclaimed, as a well-known face came
beaming along Main Street, under an American
hat and above long boots.
Some six weeks before wre had lost a general
favourite from our church choir who had set off
to seek his fortunes in the West. He had gone to
Boisavain, but having been seized with sudden illness returned to Winnipeg after four days' experience of farm life. He had now obtained a
more congenial post in the city, owing to the kindness of Canon Pentreathe.
We spent the afternoon together, and met with
a kind reception at 115 McWilliam Street, where
some of the pleasantest folk in Winnipeg board
young men at reasonable charges. (Note this
address.) Poor Fred Firth passed away a few
months later, a victim, I believe, to pneumonia.
I am glad we had that time of prayer together in
his little room, with All Saints Almanac on the
With a young friend from Sunderland we walked
out to call on the Archbishop of Rupert's Land,
Archbishop Machray. He lives about a mile to the
north of the railway station. There is quite a
striking cluster of Church buildings—the cathedral, A FEW  HOURS  IN  WINNIPEG
the Archbishop's house, the college (St. John's), the
school, and the deanery. The Archbishop was
most courteous, and took us all over the university
buildings, and inter alia we saw the room used
during the sitting of the House of Bishops of the
province of Rupert's Land. The bishops of his
province are the Bishop of Moosonee, Bishop of
Saskatchewan, the Bishop of the McKenzie River,
the Bishop of Qu'Appelle, the Bishop of Athabasca,
the Bishop of Calgary (at present united with
Winnipeg is rich in mud. The mud is of a
tenacious character, and it had the audacity to
seize and hold fast an Episcopal golosh, or
Canadian overshoe. It is really trying when
crossing a muddy road to have one's overshoe
rudely plucked off, but its owner was very good-
Had a talk with Mr. Copeland, who was to find
places for all the Y.M.C.A. youths on the Monday.
They stayed meanwhile at the New Douglas.
I-walked out to Armstrong Point to call upon
Mr. Eden, brother of the Bishop of Dover, who
lives in a pretty house among the trees in the
pleasantest suburb of Winnipeg, but too well
furnished with mosquitoes.
There is a great demand for first-rate servants
here as in Victoria. £36 per annum is given for
a thoroughly competent woman ; but then often
only one maid is kept, and, with occasional help
from the mistress, she has to do everything.%
11 shall want two afternoons a week for practising my guitar," said a damsel the other week, to 90
a lady here who was on the point of engaging
her as her servant. Neither the mistress nor her
husband, however, could resign themselves to the
constant twanging of the dulcet banjo, and so
negotiations fell through.
Some of the servants dress up so ridiculously
when out for the evening, that one pities them.
They evidently wish to be mistaken for their
Let me give a kindly word of advice to those
who think seriously of going out to engage in
service in Canada. They will simply be invaluable
if they do not allow their heads to be turned, but
behave as modest girls do in England. What a
comfort to some of the English ladies would a
faithful maid be out in the West! Really good
servants are much wanted. It is quite natural for
many of them to wish to marry and settle down
in a home of their own, but they should be very
careful whom they marry.
We left Winnipeg for the Far West in the afternoon, and our long, heavy train, crowded with
immigrants and Ontario farmers who had come to
view the land, rolled out into the prairies.
Flat—flat as Holland—flat as a calm sea, the
great prairies, these steppes of Manitoba, stretch as
far as eye can see. White farm-houses at great
distances on the horizon are seen, miles and miles
from each other. Cattle grazing look up lazily
or trot across the line in front of the threatening ON  THE PRAIRIES
cow-catcher as our train sweeps by. And we do
sweep! Near Winnipeg there are fewer farms than
further on, owing to the " Land Boom." Speculators
bought up the land round Winnipeg some years
ago, in the hope of selling again at high prices, and
they hold the land still in that hope.
At Portage-la-Prairie we saw about fifteen Indian
tents, belonging to the Sioux tribe. We were told
that they came from under the shadow of the Stars
and Stripes to live under the Union Jack. My
friend G. O. had the honour of supplying a Sioux
at the station with enough tobacco to serve a red
man forty-eight hours.
At Portage-la-Prairie we lost some more of our
party going to Rapid City, on the Manitoba and
N.W.T. Railway. This is the railway which endeavoured to cross the Canadian Pacific Line, and
almost caused a veritable railway war.
The platelayers here (or " construction men " as
they are called) have a truck or trolley which works
like a velocipede. They all stand on the truck and
work a double handle up and down like a fire-
engine. It is called the hand-car. Some of the
inspectors have a tricycle which runs on the rails
on a similar principle, and is just intended for one
At the eighty-seventh mile from Winnipeg the
country becomes undulating and wooded, and the
scenery quite English. 92
Speeding over the plains of Manitoba we had to
support nature at the usual hours. One of our
party was an excellent chef, and laid the cloth (a
towel) in correct style on the seat, a tin gill can, a
flowered white cup, and a Devonshire cream jug;
one spoon, one knife, a loaf, some coffee, canned
brawn, and canned beef. The motto of the salmon
canneries of British Columbia is, " We eat all we
can, andzvhat we can't, we Can." At some stations
we bought milk fresh from the prairie cow at five
cents a glass.
At eight p.m., Friday night (fifth day from
Quebec), we arrived at Brandon, the centre of the
wheat-growing district. A great crowd of sunburnt
farmers and labourers filled the platform and
inspected the new arrivals. None of our party
were engaged to come here, as we understood most
of the places were filled up for this year. Seven
or eight of the Y.M.C.A. friends were to leave the
cars at Wolseley at midnight.
At eight o'clock we were at Virden, where my
friend G. Outram was to alight, his long journey
being ended. The country round is undulating
and fairly wooded. He was to go to a farm seven
miles to the southward, to spend a year in getting
experience. A friend met him at the station, and
we all bade him " good-bye " after a companionship QU'APPELLE
of nearly 5000 miles since the afternoon when his
father and sisters waved adieu to him from the
tender on the River Mersey fifteen days ago.    At
1?^   i«g*
ft /-W^-''-'Sr     '
*-t*'KfZC'Z7*W^    >  *
-•^^tyrs'l    ■ ■■
Wolseley other young friends left us, having
obtained engagements through the mayor of that
place. Letters from these friends will be found at
the close of this chapter.
" Who calls ?" That, we are told in local records,
is the meaning of the name of this town, and a
legend gives us the reason why. 94
The Legend.
A young brave was descending the swift-flowing
river in his canoe to seek his dusky bride. Passing
a small wood at night, he heard his name repeated
again and again. He cried out each time, " Who
calls ? " recognizing the voice of her who was soon
to be his bride. At early sunrise, as he approached
the camp where she lived, he heard the death songs
of her people around her tent, and knew she had
gone to the Island of the Blest. They told him
that the previous night she had again and again
repeated his name ere her spirit fled.
Qu'Appelle, at one time called Troy, is a small
prairie town of some 500 inhabitants, with a
substantial church (the pro-cathedral), and Roman
and Methodist places of worship. The Bishop of
the diocese lives about a mile and a half from the
On one occasion I left the cars here and walked
over the prairies to see the Bishop. There were
many impudent specimens of the gopher tribe
peeping out of their holes, and a great hawk
endeavouring to secure one of these wily rodents
for an afternoon meal.
A school is at one side of the Bishop's house, and
an agricultural college at the other. The Bishop
was interested to hear that I had officiated in his
diocese, and told me something of the nature and THE NORTH-WEST MOUNTED POLICE       95
extent of the work here, as he accompanied me
back across the prairie.
In the evening there was choral Evensong at
I 19.30" in the pro-cathedral. The Rev. M.
Krauss, principal of the college (formerly curate at
Houghton-le-Spring, in this county of Durham),
intoned, and two lay-brothers read the lessons. It
was refreshing to see such a good congregation
on a " week-day " afternoon, and such a large proportion of young men.
A good number of children from England, I was
told, are willingly adopted in this district by
respectable people. They grow up to be happy
and useful as a rule.
The N.W.M.P. are a fine set of men physically.
They attract our attention throughout the " Territories " in their brilliant red short jackets, and dark
blue riding breeches with yellow stripes, long boots,
faultlessly polished, burnished spurs, white gauntlets, and forage cap set jauntily " on three hairs."
Many of the men are of fairly good English
Their head-quarters are at Regina, but small
detachments are stationed at all important settlements and reserves in the Territories. At the
Palmer House, where I stayed at Qu'Appelle, three
or four red-coats sat down to dinner, and had a
good deal of military chaff at each other's expense.
They wear a very becoming fur costume in winter,
which gives them an Austrian Hussar appearance. 96
Big, handsome fellows, some of whom dislike the
teetotalism they are compelled to enforce on others.
Life in the N.W.M.P. is made up of a combination of cavalry and police duties—keeping the
Indians in order, and keeping contraband drink
out of the Territories.
They are supposed to spill the liquor wherever
found, and in winter, when spirits have been run
out on the snow, enthusiastic lovers of alcohol
among the Indians have been seen scraping up
the spirit-soaked snow and devouring it. Though
the members of the N.W.M.P. are said by candid
residents to have their frailties, they are the greatest
protection to the Territories. Those amongst our
readers who can obtain a copy of Trooper and
Redskin, by the late Mr. Donkin, published by
Sampson LowT, Marston & Co., will find delightful
descriptions of the scenery of the North-West and
of the life of the troopers.
One thousand nine hundred and ninety-four
miles from Quebec. At six o'clock on Saturday
morning (six days from Quebec) we were in the
centre of the great territory of Assiniboia, and we
stopped at a station in the middle of the prairie,
called by an abbreviation of this Indian name,
which is, in full, " The-creek-where-the- White-Man-
mended-his-cart-with-the-jaw-of-a-Moose." This was
too much for the railway officials to call out, so they
only gave us " Moosejaw."
We had an inferior, expensive, and hurried fifty- MOOSEJAW
cent breakfast, and as the train began to move, we
left the tables and jumped on the cars again. As
speed was getting up we saw two tame deer
tethered by ropes, and further on a herd of antelopes whic"h had come down to a pool to drink
—they bounded away at a great rate.
The country here for miles and miles is uninhabited, waiting for settlers. There is room,
literally, for millions of people. Rolling prairie
land; splendid grazing country. No signs of
human life. Twenty miles between the section-
houses on the line, and no other houses at all.
In the middle of this wild country we came to a
siding where a freight train was waiting for us to
pass ; also a dining car, with cook and waiters,
who had slept all night in the solitude of the vast
Buffaloes (or more properly Bisons) but a few
years ago "overran the prairie here in vast herds.
Millions of them have been destroyed most ruthlessly, and now not one is left in a wild state.
There is a tame herd near Winnipeg. They are
kept at Stony Mountain, some twelve miles north
of the city. They are the property of the governor
of the penitentiary. It is a favourite drive out to
see them.
The prairies are reticulated with buffalo trails,
and constantly we see a circular shallow basin
where they used to wallow in the mud. The
prairies are pitted with these " wallows."
G 98
An immense sheet of water (alkaline) lies to the
south of the line, huge and lonely. It is known as
the Old Wives Lake. I do not know how it acquired the name: perhaps the Indians used to
dispose of their old wives in it. Heavy clouds
hang over the prairie, with a continuous fall of
cold rain. Wild birds rise from the marshes as
we pass.
A twenty-mile run and then we come to a
section-house. Here is a coal dep6t for the locomotives, and one of the gigantic barrel-like water-
tanks. Also a telegraph station and a rude booking office. Here the officials live an out-of-the-
world existence. This endless prairie is just as
wonderful as the thousand miles of rock and forest
in Ontario.
We see a prairie wolf watching the graceful
antelopes as they trot away from the train ; not
one seemed to realize the peril from such a proximity. The alkaline lake reminds me of similar
lakes on the Tunisian Sahel, in North Africa, called
schotts. At Bush Lake the marshes were filled
with wild fowl; we were told that the president
of the line (Sir William C Van Home) comes here
for shooting.
The prairie  marmot  (the  gopher)  everywhere
sits above its little home burrowed out of the earth, TRADING WITH CREE INDIANS
and  stares stupidly  for awhile at  the  cars, and
suddenly disappears below.
These gophers are very destructive. I was told
that a high price was offered by the authorities
for their tails. But they discovered that the
Indians cut off the tails and let them grow again,
in the hope of a second reward ! ! ! Then the
Government insisted upon having the head also.
This must, indeed, be a wonderful country for crops,
when even amputated gophers' tails will sprout
again !
We saw the tepees of an Indian encampment as
we approached Swift Current, and found a dozen
or so at the station who had brought down bison
horns to sell. Though the bison is nearly extinct
in the North-west Territory, these Indians in Assi-
niboia know where to find skeletons and horns.
Clever people say they are only cows' horns.
Some are very pleasant, sensible-looking men
and women, and one of the handsomest wore his
jet-black locks hanging in plaits over a bronzed
face. He bore the name of "The Thief," or
" Rogue." From him I bought a fine set of horns,
at a price considerably below that which he at first
My friend | The Rogue' was dressed in true
Indian fashion—moccasins, blanket, etc. I expect
he would, under different circumstances, have
found much pleasure in scalping me in another way,
I bought another pair from one of the women. IOO
Traveller (looking at horns) : How much ?
Squaw {holding up one finger) : One dollar.
Traveller {crossing two fingers) : No ; fifty cents.
All laughed and shook their heads. I held out
three "bits" (each twenty-five cents). Heads
shaken again. Train moves slowly, engine bell
swinging. Three " bits" still held out. Horns
handed over, and money secured just in time to
jump on board as speed increases.    Artful Indian !
We have now covered 2,000 miles, and constantly
see the tents or tepees of the Indians, and meet
them at every station.
On every train running a long journey on this
continent, you have constant inducements to open
your purse. There is generally a youth licensed
by the Company to sell papers, books, and eatables
to the passengers. He gets twenty cents on each
dollar he turns over. That is, twenty per cent. (A
dollar contains 100 cents.)
From Winnipeg we had a delicious youth, by
name P. Venables. He started round first with
bundles of newspapers. " Full account of burning
of Seattle." Came back whistling, and set out
with basket of oranges. Went down the whole
length of the train with a pleasant bow and a
never-desponding air, and then started with lemonade and ginger ale. Once more with large photographs of scenes on the lines, and descriptive
guides. Always smiling—sometimes naughty; too
ready to meet chaff by chaff of a similar kind. MEDICINE  HAT
Though apparently frivolous, he had his better
side, and we had a serious chat together before we
parted. He is an English youth. He came out
with his two brothers, and worked on the railway
when in construction. But he finds his present
work, as he says, " the best paying thing on the
line." He is good-looking, and very " casual "—as
we say, a regular happy-go-lucky.
Two thousand two hundred and fifty-three miles
from Quebec. We ran down from the prairie into
a valley cut out by the winding Saskatchewan
River, and found ourselves in a basin some miles
across, surrounded by high cliffs. An oasis on this
never-ending prairie.
We have travelled the length of England and
only seen a dozen or two houses ! Here is a bright-
looking little town, below the level of the prairie,
in the mild belt of the " Chinook': wind, as it
is called, which wafts from the Pacific Gulf
Here we were greeted by a brown bear who was
delighted to make our acquaintance. He was
captured by some Indians a few miles to the
north, and was fastened by a chain to a stout
post. He reminded me of a young bruin at
Krasnoe Selo, called Michael. He was a big
fellow,  and   sat  up  waiting eagerly for biscuits 102
from the passengers, who had half-an-hour to wait
here. Then he would rush off excitedly at full
gallop round the post. The C.P.R. officials have
a garden here, planted with flowers in the shape of
letters which spell
Van Home,
and other railway names, local or central.
Here is the great iron railway bridge over the
Saskatchewan which you see in pictures. An unfortunate Icelander was killed here last Sunday
evening. After the train for the West had started,
he thought his luggage was left in the train, so, not
wishing to be parted from it, he ran and jumped
on the Pullman car, which is always at the end.
He struck his head severely and cut it open ;
and bleeding profusely, he staggered down the
cars, passing through the Pullman, the first-class,
and two colonist cars, when he must have fainted
from loss of blood, for he fell between, and both
legs were taken off. The train was by this time
half over the bridge ; it stopped, and the poor man
was taken back. He lived but a short time. No
one could understand his language, but he could
just say, " Poor Icelander, him sick;"' and so the
poor Icelander died. He had come to work on
the railway in a construction gang. The clergyman in charge, the Rev. W. G. Lyon, buried him
on the hillside the same evening. THE PEACEFUL RIVER
The Rev. Walter G. Lyon, the then priest-in-
charge of the mission at Medicine Hat, was glad
to hear that he could have help on Sunday. He
went sixty-seven miles to take a morning service
at an outlying chapel at Maple Creek ; there could
have been no morning service at St. Barnabas had
I not taken it.
So I left my friends in the cars—there were still
six of those who crossed with me—and taking
Francis Dockerill with me, my last special charge
after Calgary, I went up to the clergy-house.
The Saskatchewan flowed beneath the windows
of the wooden bungalow. Inside were shelves of
well-chosen books, a good library of theology, wolfskins, whips, mosquito nets, bath, boxes, wooden
plank walls ornamented with Scriptural pictures.
A general air of comfort and refinement, yet a
glance reminded one of the region we were in.
The tinkling bell of wandering cattle came across
the broad river, borne on the clear resonant air ;
but all was repose and quiet. The lovely scene
in the setting sunlight, the distant cliffs, as lovely
as in Italy or Tripoli, showed one how clear and
pure the air was. 104
"The Hat" is the short name by which the
inhabitants prefer to speak of their town—Medicine
Hat (population 700).
We went into the Round House, where the
locomotives rest after their long journeys, and where
they receive a good rub down. The cleaners told
me they got much dirtier here than in the old
country, because there is so much dust, and no
cinder ballast. We rode on an inspector's tricycle
such as we saw at Fort William, and got up a great
speed on the metals. There is but one passenger
train each way a day, and a few freight trains, so
we ran no risk in flying along the metals.
Near the depot, or railway-station, was a huge
pile of
Buffalo Bones,
gathered on the prairies by the Indians, who receive
about £1 per ton for them. They are sent off
to sugar refiners, and after being ground are used
as filters for the sugar. I picked out two buffalo
skulls with horns attached, and had them packed
to take back to England. (They are now in two
English vicarages.)
We then visited some Indian and half-breed
tents, and saw them stretching hides. I dined
with Mr. Fatt, who acts as lay-reader with the
Rev. W. G. Lyon, and gained much information
on. various subjects. SUNDAY IN A PRAIRIE CITY
On awaking this morning it took me some time
to understand where I was. I saw no sleeping
passengers around, and all was still. "Has the
train stopped at some station, and have all the
passengers got out and left me alone ? " I thought
sleepily. Then it dawned upon me that I was
no longer in the cars, but in a "shack," on the
high banks of the great Saskatchewan, whose
waters flow from the Rocky Mountains into Lake
A lovely church, where everything is ordered
most distinctly on | Church" lines, an attentive
congregation, who joined heartily in the singing,
and especially in the Veni Creator Spiritus—
" Come, Holy Ghost, our hearts inspire,
And lighten with celestial fire."
At our Celebration, out of fourteen communicants,
twelve were men—a good sign in this western
town. I had with me two watches—my own,
which I did not alter, and a borrowed one, which
each day as I travelled west I turned back and
back. It was 7.20 p.m. by the watch which still
kept English time, when our morning service
ended. The difference between English and N.W.
Territory time is seven hours ; Evensong was going
on in All Saints' Church at Monkwearmouth when
I pronounced the Benediction at morning service
on the prairies. We had a children's service at
three p.m.   I had some bright-eyed little Canadian io6
and English children to speak to, and among them
a dark-skinned little half-breed girl.
Before leaving the prairies it may be well to give
the opinions of some of those who travelled with me
from Liverpool. They left me at Winnipeg and
at various points beyond, and in response to my
request wrote to me a month or two afterwards,
stating the results of their experience. The first
letter is from a clergyman's son—
" I like the life out here very much so far, and
shall like it much better when I have a farm of
my own. I am not receiving any pay, but I could
easily get a place on a farm, and make from ten
to fifteen dollars per month. I shall stay here
till next April, I think. I have purchased a
quarter section of land from the C.P.R., about a
mile north from here. You ask me what are the
prospects of the country ? Well, I can hardly tell
you. I think if a fellow is steady he can soon
make a good living; all the free lands are taken
up in this neighbourhood, but further west there
are lots of homesteads to be taken up. The
weather is beginning to get colder now (Sept. 6).
I much prefer it to the hot weather of the last
three months.
flp.       "A. F. H. OUTRAM,
"Deer Farm,
"Virden, Manitoba." LETTER FROM J.  H.  HANNAH
" Coldspring Farm,
"Ellisboro', Canada, N.W.T.
"Dear Sir,
"Though behind in writing you, my
opinion of the country is not one whit behind that
of the others.
"I  arrived at  Wolseley on  June   8, and   was
engaged to a farmer the same afternoon.    I am
-*->.,. **«■*.   •
very comfortably situated on a farm of 640 acres
in the Qu'Appelle Valley, eight miles north of
11 like the country and the work very much. I
have been able to do all the work I have had
given me to do, and so far I don't think I have
had to work any harder than in England (I was
in a shop in London), and I would not go back
to England to earn my living if I had the opportunity. I think I have had much the same
work as other young fellows—helping make roads,
putting up fences, ploughing (which I learned in io8
half a day), harvesting, haymaking, etc. I am also
glad to be able to say that my employer is very
well satisfied with me.
fl Taking it on the whole, my opinion is that it
is a grand country, and has good prospects for a
young fellow willing and able to work, and when
he arrives not be surprised because he has to work.
" Hoping you are quite well,
" I remain, dear Sir, yours truly,
"John H. Hannah."
" Post Office, Lorlie,
"Assiniboia, Canada.
"Dear Mr. Boddy,
" It is with great pleasure I write you a
few lines in accordance with your wish. I am in a
fairly good situation, with a Christian family, living
about thirty miles north of Indian Head, on the
C.P.R.—our nearest market town comprising about
200 inhabitants. My hours for work are rather long,
and last from five a.m. till eight p.m., but I generally get one hour's rest after dinner. I enjoy my
work very much, though some of it is very hard,
especially the building part. The country has a
very wild and bare appearance, it being nothing
but a wide rolling prairie; but there are a few
pretty French towns to be seen along the C.P.R.
" To every young man who has any thought of
coming to this country, I would utter a word of
warning against deciding too rashly. Many have
done this, and come out here with wrong impressions of what the country and farm life are like ;
the consequence of which has been constant dis- LETTER FROM  H.  W.  HILLMAN
appointment, and a desire to return to the 'old
country/ Only lately, I heard of a clergyman's
son who came out here with a few hundred pounds,
thinking that he would be able to live a tolerably
easy life ; but finding out his mistake, and that
there were hardships to endure, he became disappointed, and at last went out of his mind.
J On coming out here, every young man ought to
be prepared for three things, namely—hard work,
a humble life in a log cabin, and to forego all
public amusements. If I had not prepared myself
for these things before I left England, I should
have broken down a long time ago. As it is, I am
very happy. There is plenty of work to be had
out here, but the spring is the best time to come
out, because by so doing one stands a better chance
of securing a home for the winter. The wages
paid to beginners is generally five dollars per
month, except during the winter, when they receive
merely their board and lodging. The younger a
man is when he comes out here, the better are his
prospects for the future. The weather varies a
great deal here; one week it is very cold, and we
get sixteen degrees of frost in one day; another
week it is very hot, and the thermometer registers
ninety degrees. We have just finished harvesting,
and are looking forward to a winter of forty degrees
below zero.
"Again thanking you for your kindness on board
the ship, I remain,
" Yours truly,
" H. W. HILLMAN." no
"Wattsview, P.O., Manitoba, Canada,
" September8, 1889.
"Dear Mr. Boddy,
" I have sent on the Reply Post Cards
giving you the addresses of some of our party, and
hope you will get them all right. I have been
here a month now, and am getting on first-rate.
It is a very pretty district, our house standing on
one side of a valley, through which flows a small
river. If you have ever been at Jesmond Dene,
Newcastle, you will have a fair idea of what this
place is like, the only difference being the trees,
which are not near as large. These people are
English, and have been here nine years, and they
own 800 acres of land, and are pretty well-to-do.
We work early and late, rising about 5.30 a.m., and
finishing about eleven p.m. I think I had better
giye you an account of a day's work as near as
"A day's work.
I Rise at 5.30, milk cows (five in number), feed
calves and horses (eleven in number), then have
breakfast at about seven o'clock, after which we have
a chapter and prayer, then turn out the cows, then
down to the river with the horses and water them,
then we cut some wood for household purposes,
and if water is needed we go back to the river
with the team and barrels, and then go out to
harvest, or hay, whichever we may be working at.
We come back at about 12.30 for dinner, and then LETTER  FROM  W. J.  REED
out to the fields again until about eight p.m., and
have supper, then seek cows and milk, feed calves
and horses again, and see that everything is safe
for the night. Then comes the time for another
chapter and prayer, and so ends a rather long day.
I Food consists of bread-and-butter, or rather
butter-and-bread (plenty of butter), fried potatoes,
boiled eggs and tea for breakfast. Dinner—boiled
potatoes (hot), butter-and-bread, fried eggs, and
rice or tapioca-pudding, and tea. Supper—butter-
and-bread, jam, cold potatoes, raw onions (not
many ladies about to smell your breath), cakes,
and tea ; so you see we don't do so far amiss.
Wages according to ability, from five to thirty
dollars per month. Greenhorns get five to eight
dollars. I had five dollars at my old place, but
have fourteen here, and expect to get twenty before
long. You see, I am a joiner, and have an extensive knowledge of horses and cattle. Any one
with a trade can get on well here, but you have
to work, and no mistake. My friend, Miller, says
he would rather drive a team of oxen than drive a
pen. He was a clerk in London. I have broken
in two horses since I came here, and one at the
old place. Some young fellows do nothing else
but herd cattle on horseback.
"Now about what to bring and not to bring.
Plenty of woollen underclothing and corduroy, of 112
moleskin suits, but don't bring heavy boots ; top
boots are needed on account of long grass in wet
weather. You cannot wear heavy boots at all,
either summer or winter, I'm told. You want a
skin cap which will come down over the ears for
winter. Be sure and bring your tools, as tools are
expensive here. Don't bring a gun or pistol, as
there is no need for them ; you can easily get the
loan of the farmer's. You have no time for shooting in the summer. When you come, come to
Manitoba, and have no less than ^10 in your
pocket when you arrive at Quebec, unless you
know where you are going to. Don't send your
luggage on beforehand; have it with you and watch
it as much as possible. Strong clothes and watertight boots as thin as possible are what you want.
Plenty of good land open to homesteading about
here, but be twelve months on a farm before taking
up land. Don't gossip or you will come to grief.
Take all in and say nothing to any one, as you
don't know who you are talking to.
" And now, Mr. Boddy, I think farming in Manitoba is the most independent life a fellow can lead
when he. has a place of his own. It only needs
work and patience and you will succeed. I will,
if you wish, write you again, giving more particulars.
11 am, |      ^m^M
.  In the Land of the Redskin
The prairie has lost its flatness. Rolling undulations now meet the eye. In the distance the
snowy peaks of the Rockies can be seen, and
nearer to us the Foot Hills. Let us alight together
at Calgary, where the train stops in the middle of
the night.
I had promised to help the worthy rector, Rev.
A. W. F. Cooper, and, having arrived late on
Saturday night, I took part in the morning service
in the pro-cathedral. Beautiful prairie flowers filled
the vases, and a squad of wild Blackfeet Indians
trotted by as we went into the wooden church, all
gay in blankets and feathers, and the squaws
dragging the tents behind their ponies.
The service was most enjoyable, and a good
number of communicants, among them the wife
and daughter of Bishop Pinkham, the Bishop of
Saskatchewan and Calgary, the Bishop himself
being on a long journey in the northern part of
his diocese.
In  the afternoon   Mr.  Cooper buried  on   the
prairie a poor young fellow, only a fortnight out
H 114
from England. He had, it was conjectured, fallen
from his horse after sunstroke ; and when found,
his poor body had for hours been dragged about
on the prairie by the "lariat," which he had
fastened to his wrist. Sad end to all his hopes
and plans.
We had a good evening service at nineteen o'clock
(seven p.m.) in the pro-cathedral, where I preached,
and had in the congregation a friend from Sunderland who had not found suitable work and was
somewhat disheartened. The pretty church was
well filled with a hearty gathering from the town
and the country round.
Another emigrant friend, Mr. F. Bernard, drove
me in his smart rig-out to his father's house,
beautifully situated in district " Sixteen," near the
Bow and Elbow Rivers. It was most interesting
to see an ocean friend settled down now in his
Western home ; to find that every one turned to
and worked—brothers and sisters alike ready for
anything. We wandered over the farm land and
saw the wooden buildings, and then as darkness
came on we gathered in the house and had supper
together. I walked back three miles along the
railway line to the town alone in the deep twilight,
and solemn thoughts came in during those long
dark miles over the vast and solitary prairie that
Sunday night.
Calgary is largely a town of single men. It is
the metropolis of the ranching district, and yet has
a very unfinished look. Mr. Caine said—" It is
exactly like a great international Exhibition a
week or two before the opening day." A LETTER FROM CALGARY
The bell which had called us to worship to-day
was given by the Mounted Police. This is the
inscription on a tablet in the church—
The Bell of this Church
was presented by the
Officers and men of the E Division, N.W.M.P.,
in memory of
Corp. W. N. T. Lowry,
Who died, May 3rd, 1885, aged 27 years,
from wounds received in battle
at Cut Knife Creek.
Mr. Cooper has since written me this interesting
letter, which will give an insight into affairs at
Immigration—Immigrants' Train always arrives in
Middle of Night—Letters of Commendation from
Home Clergy—Church-work in Calgary—The
unexpected Snow in September—Church Offertories—Need of more Clergy.
I Calgary, Alberta, Canada,
" September 16.
" My dear Boddy,
" I feel at a difficulty as to your request.
Some way or another it seems to me I have done
very little indeed for the Immigrants that come
out here, and beyond an occasional visit to the
Immigration Shed, and of course giving advice and
kindly reception to those who have come to me
with letters, I have done nothing. My friend, the
Rector of Brandon, is, I know, always on the
platform of the depot to meet the west-bound train,
and probably if our trains arrived in the daytime u6
here I would do the same; but you know the
unearthly hours we keep here, and so it often
happens that families arrive without my knowing
of it, and go out on farms or ranches without
having reported themselves.
11 would press very much upon intending emigrants the duty of making themselves known to
the clergy, and at once presenting their introductions, or, should these have been mislaid, making
themselves known without them. In our ever-
shifting, varying populations, it is impossible otherwise to keep track of the new parishioners, and
this fact is not always realized by those who come
out fresh from some well-worked old country
parish where the population is steady and the
parson knows every one.
"Very many thanks for the Evangelists duly
received, and I am looking forward to the account
of the few days here. We are (D.G.) getting along
happily in the little church. Congregation so large
last night that some went away despairing of a
seat. The Bishop returns this week, when I hope
to get away for a week or fortnight's camping up
north, to shoot prairie chickens and wild-fowl, but
it is possible we may be so short-handed in the
diocese that I cannot leave. Our Ladies' Guild
has resumed its working parties, and they are
arranging for a series of concerts, and hope by
Christmas to have a sale of work to clear the debt
on the school-house. I wish I could get some
kind lady to do for us what Lady Selkirk is doing
for my friend Pentreath, in Winnipeg, and to give
us a stone cathedral.    It seems to me a pity to A LETTER FROM  CALGARY
spend more money on wooden buildings, when we
have this beautiful stone on the spot, and yet
something must be done soon, for the church is too
" Our choir has improved a bit since your visit,
and I hope ere long to have boys and surplices.
 is still hanging around and says he can't get
work. He has found me inexorable on the subject
of loans, and never tries it now, and I fear has got
to be so well-known in town that people do not
care to employ him.      thinks that some one
has tampered with his letters, as he says he wrote
to his wife, and he also has failed to receive letters
he feels sure were on their way. Our beautiful
climate disgraced itself by a heavy snow-fall last
week, when numbers of strangers were in town for
the fall races; the cold was considerable, and we
had five nasty days, but all is bright, and dry, and
beautiful again. I have an idea that owing to the
smoke that hung around all the summer, the sun
did not warm the ground as it does other years,
and we may have an earlier winter than usual.
Stocken has had his church at Fish Creek, which
you did not see, renovated, and it is to be re-opened
about the first Sunday in October. I have paid
two visits to the Reserve since you were with me.
Big Plume is well, and getting on with his schooling.
" Our people in this country are after all liberal
in their offertory—ours for yesterday was $21, or
about £4. 7s., apart from the envelopes on the plate,
which are counted separately, and you remember
the church will not seat 200. The free and unappropriated   seats  work  well   here.     I   have  just n8
officiated at my twenty-sixth wedding in the church
in less than two years of my incumbency. I came
into the parish on October I, 1887, and feel that as
far as weddings go I have done my duty. Shortly
after you left us I had the pleasure of a Sunday
without a sermon, my friend Rev. A. F. G. Eichbaum,
of West Malvern, and Rev. D. Sweeny, of St.
Philip's, Toronto, taking the preaching for me;
otherwise I have had no help, although daily
studying the hotel register to catch members of
the stray parson genus.
I Write to me any time you feel disposed, and
do not forget the sad wants of our widely-scattered
Church-folk in these dioceses when you are asking
for your own flock. We have two or three posts
of great usefulness opening up in this diocese now,
if we had men to take them. With best wishes,
and happy remembrance of your visit, which cheered
me much,
"Yours most truly,
" A. W. F. Cooper."
A drive of some eight or ten miles in a spider-
wheeled buggy brought us across the rolling
prairie-land to a stream called Fish Creek. As
we drove we could see the Rockies some seventy
miles away—they only seemed ten miles. A fresh
arrival from our land of fogs and dim atmospheres
said one afternoon: " I'll just have a walk as far
as those hills and back." He would scarcely
believe they were more than eight or nine miles THE SARCEE  INDIANS
away. Lovely blue flowers, and red lilies, small
sunflowers, etc., speckled the grassy expanse. We
sometimes passed a herd of active, swift-footed
cattle, driven, checked, and guarded by booted and
spurred "cow-punchers," who charged hither and
I-*-. ■;..;-     i..V>:^.-.?—-"^ -     -; .     .-ft      ■'    ^tft fl%$
thither in the dust, cracking their whips. Calgary's
streets are alive with cow-boys, with broad flapping
hats and leggings. (Some of the " boys " are forty
years of age, but still " boys.")
We descended into the valley, where the Indian
Reservation encampment stands, together with
the agent's house, a corral, a school-church, and a 120
missionary parsonage, where resided Mr. Stocken
(S.P.G.) and his kind wife, with her smiling, chuckling babe. The Indian school "loosed" itself, and
the youths came round us with faces hideous in bars
of red and yellow paints, and feet and legs gaudy
in beads and coloured work, and hair plaited in
tails or standing up stiffly.
In summer the Sarcees live in the conical white
tents which we call tepees, and in winter they
occupy little wooden houses on the hill, heated by
stoves. Roche Main, one of the chiefs, met us as
we were riding round and had some talk. An
immovable brown face, and a somewhat cruel eye,
which lightened up at a joke.
" How many men have you killed ?" I asked.
" Three," he said, " and one I shot on his horse, but
it galloped off with him."
He laughed when I put my hand to my hair and
said that I wanted to take my scalp back with me
to the " Land of the Great Mother."
When the rebellion was going on, an interpreter
was told to explain to the Indians that their fault
was that they were "treating the crown with
contempt." The interpreter puzzled them when
he told his fellow Indians that they were to be
punished " for kicking the Great Mother's bonnet
over the prairies."
I found one of the young "Bucks"—Jim Big
Plume—could write his name in my pocket-book
in  a good  roundhand.     One of the scholars  is IN   THE  INDIAN  TEPEES
quite a linguist, and can speak in five different
After looking in at the interesting wooden
school-church where Mr. Stocken teaches these
wild-looking young Indians, we went down to the
encampment. The dogs (nearly fifty strong) rushed
out howling and showed their teeth ; but they
noticed that we carried stones in our hands for
their benefit, and then they pensively retired.
We visited a sick Indian named | The Rider."
We entered his tent and squatted on the floor.
The smoke curled up through the hole at the top
of the tent, and an Indian maiden, belonging to
the Cree nation, was engaged in cooking a "damper."
" The Rider " reclined on some skins, leaning against
a willow bed-rest. His forehead was painted
yellow, and his black hair in plaits hanging down.
His squaw and his mother also sat round, the
latter smoking a short pipe. The missionary spoke
to him in the Blackfeet language, which they
generally understand. Mr. Stocken had only been
here a short time, and was still learning the Sarcee
When I took out my note-book they became
uneasy, and on asking for the names of the mother
and wife, they slipped out at once and did not
re-appear for some time. Then I took out my
watch and held it to the ear of a small boy who
was nervously watching us. Hearing it tick, he
thought it alive, and bolted out of the tent for fear
it should sting or bite.
Up and down among the tents are oval frames
of bent willows, as if intended for small tepees. 122
These are " sweat lodges," and are used as Turkish
baths. • They heat a number of big stones and
place them inside, and after covering the frame
with blankets, the Indian sits inside and throws
water on the heated stones. The steam fills this
tiny lodge until he is parboiled.
We visited the camp of Big Wolf, and shook
hands with him and Big Knife, and lying on the
grass had some talk. Big Knife was an elderly
man who had dabbled in magic. Taking hold of
my hand he shook it up and down, giving a little
jump and exclaiming with strong aspiration, "Hi-
Hi-mr ' ; 'Ii
Big Wolf was one of the chiefs of the Sarcees,
and handsome but cruel, and pitted with smallpox marks. His gestures were most picturesque
when conversing with us. Arms and hands continually in use. The Indians are beginning to
cultivate their land, and we saw them even weeding
their fields.
During the afternoon we heard a fearful commotion through the camp. Every dog howled its
best, and was supported by all the children and
squaws. Some cow-boys were driving cattle down
from the Government farm, to be killed and divided
among the tribe, who receive nearly one pound of
meat all round.
The cattle were driven into, a strong corral which
opened into the slaughter-house. All the youths,
the women, the children, and every dog gathered THE  RATIONS,  OR  BEEF  ISSUE
round, waiting for the sound of the gun as the
beeves were shot down. It was soon over, and the
dogs were fighting over the offal, and the more
fortunate had already secured some toothsome
fragment, though the meat was not to be given out
till next day, when each one was to present their
ration ticket.
As the Indians have given up their lands, the
r>*55-^&2&^^&-4&' .•>
&s.  «
_   "_ftWj
Government takes these people under its protection and-feeds them three times a week, forbids
them to drink intoxicants, and does not allow them
to go out of their reserves without a licence
obtained from the Government agent who lives on
the " Reserve." Once a year treaty money is given
—one dollar per head, man, woman, and child ;
minor chiefs, five dollars ; major chiefs, ten dollars
or more. 124
Among the Indian children gambolling round
was one with a fair skin and pretty face. I tried
to get hold of him, but he fled like a deer. He is
about five years old, and had lived with the
Sarcees since he was a year old.
I was told that in the Rebellion of 1885 his
father, an English settler, went out as a soldier to
fight the half-breeds and Indians and was killed,
and while he was away his mother also died, and
he was carried off by the Indians and brought up.
He cannot speak a word of English, and does not
like any one to think that he is not an Indian.
Mr. Stocken tells me " the little white boy is the
adopted son of ■ One Spot,' and is known by the
name of the ' Little Soldier.' In the Cree language
it is * Sh'moggun.'
» V
Mounted on some Indian " Shaganappies," we
galloped off across the rolling hills to see a strange
sight. Down into the creek, then splashing through
the ford and up the other side, and so away
through brushwood and over open prairie till we
left the camp far behind and below. The wealth
of the Indians now-a-days is represented by the
number of horses possessed, which they pasture on
the rolling grass lands of their reservation. I
witnessed some exciting races on bare-backed
steeds by young Indians almost as bare as the
horses they rode.   The nervous little horses started a dead Indian's tent
off together, and in a moment or two were only
discernible in the distance.
Our Indian ponies kept up a long ambling
"wolf-loup," until we had approached a wood,
outside of which we fastened up our "shaga-
We found a trail which took us into the densest
part of the bush, and looking up into the cotton-
wood trees, we soon began to see the bodies of
dead Indians up in the boughs. Here was a
rough corded box containing probably the body
of an infant. Further on, an adult wrapped up in
the willow bed-rest on which he had died. Below
were the bones of a horse which had been sacrificed ; we could see the bullet-hole through the
skull. I picked up three of its teeth as mementoes,
and tore off a small strip of the Indian's blanket
to take home. Many other bodies were lying in
the trees just about eight feet from the ground.
We came across some recent ones whom Mr.
Stocken had visited in their last illness, such as
the mother and sister of Shootclose.
The most weird sight of all was a tepee in the
densest part of the wood, wherein lay a minor
chief called Akuskonukkutai, or " Many-times-
We searched for some time among the trees
before we saw the gleaming white sides of the tent
in which lay the chief with his wife and child.
The Indians are terribly afraid of going near the 126
resting-places of the dead, and none would have
accompanied us at any price.
I unfastened with my pocket-knife a seam which
• - - Si«fes*«K
might have been the tent door, and taking a long
breath, put my head in. Enough light shone in
to show that the floor was covered with bright A GREAT CHIEF'S GRAVE
blankets, and one would have said that three
people were sleeping there. But the coyote—the
prairie dog—had been at work, or more probably
the white ant, for close to my hand lay a fairly
clean white skull. I was advised to carry it home
to England, as the authorities at the British
Museum had never yet obtained an Indian skull
from this region. I decided to put it back in the
tent again.
Leaving the shadow of these trees-of-strange-
fruit we galloped over the prairies to the edge of
the Indian Reservation to visit the grave of Akautas
(" Many-Horses "), a great chief of by-gone days,
whose memory is still revered. He was the chief
of the Sarcees when the white man first appeared
in the neighbourhood.
This grave differed from the others in being a
wooden erection on the top of a hill, with a kind of
flagstaff with a white rag or two flying in the
breeze. We could see through the chinks the body
within, wrapped in red blankets, and that of
another chief in a wooden "annexe." This was
"Weasel-Head."   -«|     ^H      1
The Indians believe that the next life will be
a continuation of this, everything to be spiritual
instead of corporeal. So they put in the grave all
the little things that the deceased valued, and
sometimes kill his favourite horse, thinking that he
will enjoy the spirit, the " astral body," of these
things.     Offerings of  food,  pipe,   tobacco,   etc., 128
although they see they are not removed, are still,
they think, being enjoyed in the spirit by the dead
Big Wolf is the missionary's Indian name, given
to him by Bull's Head, the principal chief. Big
Wolf told me how some time back an old Indian
had brought up the body of his wife, and with
many regrets was placing it in its last resting-place.
He heard children's voices singing together. They
were out of sight, but within earshot. In his own
language they sang:—
" There is a happy land,
Far, far away."
To us the words sound strange. They are sung
often at the commencement of their morning school
to the familiar tune.
" Eks-ka okhsiu kshok-kum,
Kin-un o-ko-ai-(ai)
The old chief came to the Mission House and
asked for the missionary.
" Holy man," he said, " did you send those
children up there to the woods to sing those words
when I was laying my old wife away ?"
" No, chief, I know nothing about it, and I hope
that they did nothing that was wrong."
" They sang words which warmed my old heart
when it was cold and sad. Let them often sing
such words.    I like them." A DEVOTED  MISSIONARY
These Sarcees often mutilate themselves when
their relatives die, or else fast to starvation. Mrs.
Stocken told me of a squaw, whose son had died,
and she announced her intention of cutting off a
finger. Mrs. Stocken pleaded with her, and at
last she consented in substitution to fast for ten
days and to gash herself with knives. She was
reduced to the veriest skeleton, and was on the verge
of starvation before she had afflicted herself
The name for a missionary is | The Holy Man,"
or "The White Medicine Man." Sometimes we
hear of his being called " The Man with the Book."
The Rev. Harry W. Gibbon Stocken, S.P.G.
missionary to the Sarcee Indians, is a fine example
of a devoted servant of Christ, living for the
welfare of these simple children of the prairies.
He was formerly among the Blackfeet, and had
only been a year among these Sarcees as S.P.G.
missionary. He has work to do among the white
people, and so cannot devote his whole time to
learning the language. He talks to the Sarcees in
Blackfoot still, which they partially understand.
When his vocabulary of Sarcee is enlarged, his
work will bear more fruit.
Mr. Stocken was helped by a devoted wife, who
made life among the Indians very bearable, and
the little wooden house was tastefully furnished
and well managed. While she was cooking in the
kitchen, a row of painted savages sat on a seat
near the door, taking a taciturn interest in every- i3o
thing, and occasionally nursing the little white
baby, who preferred an Indian, and was afraid of
being handled by a white lady visitor. I give
some of the Indians' names as I find them in
the Canadian Government Blue Book:—Bowlegs,
Stone Bear, Standing Buffalo, Lame Fox, Short
Legs, Spotted Stone, White Man Sleeps, Owl
Child, Bad-Named Jack, Never-Goes-Out, Crazy
Bull, Buried-in-Water, Old Moon, Bear-down-the-
River, Coming-Singing, Many-Mules, Little Running Rabbit, Hairy Face, Legs and Hips, Owns-a-
Knife, Old-Man-in-a-Dirty-House, Takes-Three-
Guns, Sacks-of-Meat-on-Back, White Pup, Greasy
Forehead, Medicine Shoe, Old-Woman-at-War,
Standing-up-Smoking-alone, Bad-dried Meat,Brass-
Plate-Man, Afraid-of-a-Grasshopper, Jimmy John,
James Big Woman, Mrs. Day Star, Kus-ka-tar-
nak-pay-oh, Nah-tow-wee-kew, and Kee-nee-qua-
I should like, ere we leave the Sarcees, to print a
letter from my friend Mr. Stocken.
"Sarcee Reserve, Calgary, N.W.T.
^3 "December 13, 1894.
"My dear Boddy,
" I thank you from my heart for your
affectionate message and those little books of yours
which you were kind enough to send me some time
ago. Because I never acknowledged them at the
time, I hope you did not think I did not appreciate
them. More than once have I thanked our
Heavenly Father for them. They are so evidently
the outcome of a heart that knows our holy, loving A DEVOTED  MISSIONARY
Master. May He bless them to many souls.
Thanks also for the Church Evangelists, which
were very interesting. I am sending you one of
the reports of our Indian work which you asked
me for.
"There have been many developments in our
Indian work in this diocese since you were out
here. There are boarding-schools on every
Reserve; and, as the report will show, a large
number of children under training in them.
Hospitals too are being put up on the Reserves.
I hope to begin mine next year. But what gives us
most encouragement is the evident interest being
taken in spiritual teaching. There is a decided
spirit of inquiry manifesting itself. On this
Reserve it has all taken place within the last two
weeks. I must confess to having felt discouraged.
Many things seemed to make me feel so—though I
knew that the Lord knew best when to give the
desired fruit. However, I had been asked to preach
the sermon in connection with the Day of Intercession for Foreign Missions, in Calgary, and was
engaged upon it one morning when a knock came
at my study door (not the first that morning by ten
or a dozen), and I hesitated to open it, as I had only,
so far, written three pages. I had the wisdom, however, to see who it was, and found one of our young
married men (Jim One-Spot) anxious to talk with
me. He had come specially to ask me if I would
baptize him! I had never had any talks with him
privately ; but he has often been present at my
informal services in the Indian lodges, and has
evidently been no mere careless listener.   I am sure 132
the young fellow is sincere. On the following
Sunday Jim Big Plume joined him, and I have now
a catechumens' class of two. The former speaks
Cree well, and I am teaching him the Cree syllables,
and hope soon to hear him reading fluently in the
Cree Bible ! What a blessing to be able to put the
whole word of God into his hands at once. He
comes five miles or more to the evening services
here every Sunday, and rides home again afterwards.
" We have commenced magic-lantern lectures on
the Gospel history, and they are wonderfully well
attended and appreciated. A son of Preb. Webb-
Peploe and his wife are fellow-workers in this
diocese now, and dear friends they are. I knew
him in England. Time forbids my saying more
to-night, but please ask me any questions you like,
and I shall take quite an interest in answering
them—even if it takes pages to do so.
" With warmest affection,
" Your fellow-labourer in the Gospel,
" JTarry W. G. Stocken." CHAPTER  IX
The Rockies and the Selkirks
" What is the scenery of the Rocky Mountains
like ? I I have often been asked ; " is it as beautiful
or as grand as the scenery of Italy or Switzerland?" This must be my answer—Switzerland
and the Italian lakes have their own special beauty
It is difficult to compare this Western scenery with
them. To me it seems like a combination of scenes
in Northern Norway with more sunny pictures from
the Ticino Valley. Through this scenery we now
continue our journey towards the Pacific.
It is night, and I am writing with a copying-ink
pencil at the baggage clerk's desk in the baggage
car of the trans-continental train travelling westwards; all around are piled the huge boxes of
emigrants and colonists. The C.P.R. are very
generous to the emigrants and allow them almost
unlimited luggage, but I fancy that they do not
allow pianos or mangles. The baggage clerk
gives me much interesting information. 134
A little time ago the mounted police heard that
two Blackfoot Indians had escaped from their
Reservation, and were near Medicine Hat A
couple of men captured them and they were sent
back by train to Gleichen. The sergeant brought
them into the baggage car to be out of the way of
the passengers.
They were seated on the floor. A conversation
took place like the following :—
Indian : I not like go back with soldiers. All
Indians in camp point at me.
Baggage Clerk: You shouldn't have run away
when Government feeds you.
Indian: But I preacher-Indian. Should not
touch me.
Baggage Clerk: No, no; there are no preacher-
Indians at Gleichen. How are you preacher-
Indian ?
Indian: Yes, I am preacher-Indian, / buck
zvood for preacher! (He cut firewood for the
This very car (113) was the centre of some excitement a year before. It was loaded with raw silk
from China of the value of 200,000 dollars ; the
car was sealed up by the Custom House officers,
for the contents were in bond going through from
Vancouver to New York, U.S.A. Near Gleichen,
my friend in an adjoining baggage car smelt smoke
and gave an alarm. The silk car was in flames.
Some careless man had left a pile of oily waste on IN  THE ROCKY  MOUNTAINS
the platform, at the end nearest the engine, and
the sparks had kindled it. The door was all burnt,
but the fire was extinguished in time to save the
The baggage clerk, so busy pulling luggage
about and writing up the pieces, is my friend Mr.
Fatt. Only a few hours it seems since he was
reading the lessons for us in St. Barnabas, and
reading them in a very devout and edifying
manner. Would that we had more of such
devoted Churchmen as Francis F. Fatt, the Lay
Reader, and young Jackson, the Sunday-school
Superintendent at Medicine Hat.
" O ye mountains and all hills, bless ye the Lord : praise
Him, and magnify Him for ever"
Just before four o'clock (June 10) I awoke, got
down from my berth, and looked out of the window.
I received a shock which completely awakened me.
We were running along a broad valley, a crystal
green river coursing past us, young fir-trees green
and fresh springing around. But looking tip, and
twisting your neck you could see the sunrise already
painting the great bluff heights of the seamed and
scarred Rocky Mountains, which now were all
around us as we quickly found our way into their
very heart. The sublime and the ridiculous are
ofttimes not far apart. At Canmore (4.40) I see
a notice on the station—
" Mike, the Barber, will be here every Sunday" 136
Also a notice that the Rev. J. Williams, of Banff,
would hold Divine Service, and all were invited, as
it would be his last time.
As we sped along, the sun gained more power,
and soon shone out brilliantly on the streaks of
snow and the strata-marked rocks of the Three
Sisters, till the mountains blazed out in glory. Fir
trees clung to the rocky steps and up the dizzy
heights, and in the early morning sun all looked
pure and majestic.
We (the inhabitants of Greater Britain) have a
park here twenty-six miles long and ten miles
wide, about 100,000 acres in all. It is in the heart
of the noblest scenery the world can produce. The
Government have laid out roads for driving and
riding, and the Sulphur Springs have been turned
into warm baths. At one of the baths a crutch
used to hang, with the words, " The owner gone
home." Its meaning seems dubious. At the little
village are several small inns, and a great hotel
run by the C.P.R. Mr. Stewart, the Natural
Park Ranger, is expending more than ^16,000
upon this great domain.
A few miles further and the valley is filled with
a soft, white smoke, hanging like a pall or clinging
to the mountain side. The forest is on fire, and
soon we run through crackling flames spreading on
—but not dangerous, as there is no wind. CASTLE MOUNTAIN AND SILVER CITY     137
Above the firs and spruce on our right rises the
5,000 feet precipice of the sides of the Giant's
Castle, with battlements, bastion, and keep. The
railway line is here at an altitude of 4,475 feet.
Our   conductor,  J.   B.   Barreau,  travelling   from
•; *'#«-*:
ill i'i
Medicine Hat to Donald, was a most communicative and pleasant official. He told me that a
silver mine was started here the other year, and
2,000 people squatted in the valley. Hotels were
run up, but the mine was a fraud, and all the people
went home again ; some took down their houses
and others left them empty.
We are labouring up the pass, and the heavy
snorts of the locomotive echo loudly among the
giant firs which shut in the track.     Now we go 13
only at a quick walk, and some young fellows
crowding the platforms look as if they would like
to jump off. We wind along the sides of the noble
mountain all glittering in the brilliant sunlight, and
I enjoy the views from the open doors of the baggage car. A bull-dog, chained up among the
boxes, occasionally stands on his hind legs and
looks out of a window, but he has no enthusiasm
for scenery and doesn't enjoy it one bit.
At last we reach the summit, and are more than
one mile above the level of the sea. Summit Lake,
a marshy, shallow sheet of water, sends out a stream
eastwards 1,000 miles to Hudson Bay, and another
westwards 1,000 miles or so to the Pacific Ocean.
Here is a station where the ordinary engine is
detached and a tremendous engine, a double-condenser, sometimes affectionately called " Jumbo,"
is put on. Eight driving-wheels, all connected ;
weight,  122 tons.
Owing to the kindly offices of my good friend
and a permit from head-quarters, I mounted the
foot-plate of the giant engine, No. 313, which was
to let us down the 1,000 feet to Field Station, five
feet in every hundred. Mr. W. S. Caine says—" It
was a great comfort to know as we came down this
terrible descent, that we were travelling on rails
made from good honest Cumberland haematite. I
have noted with interest, but without surprise, that
the word 'Barrow' always appeared on the rails
which the  C.P.R. have laid  down in dangerous ANOTHER SAD ACCIDENT
.places." The driver's name was J. Ormiston, better
known as "Scottie." On each car was a special
brakesman who kept his brakes hard down, and
the engine had water-brakes. The Atmospheric
Westinghouse Brake was kept in reserve in case of"
We started, and with all brakes down we crept
down the pass. Grand, stupendously grand, and
yet beautiful. The Wapta, or Kicking Horse
River, foamed and roared green and crystal down
below the line. Up above us Mount Hector,
Cathedral Mount, and Mount Stephen cut into
the sky.
Now and again we whistled loudly and a man
ahead signalled to us to come on, and held open a
switch to let us pass. If this was not done the
whole train would be sent up a safety track into
the mountain. This is to catch runaway trains or
cars which get detached. A thousand feet or more
above us were the wooden galleries of a silver mine
.on the precipitous sides of Mount Stephen.
In the most grand part of the pass, as we carefully crept down with brakes all set, some signals
were made to stop the train. It was some time
before this could be done. I saw from my seat on
the engine that men were running back up the
pass. We were then told that a man had been
run over; but the conductor gave the word to go
on. We thought the man had been placed in the
train to carry to the doctor, but at the next station 140
we heard he had been taken to a switch-man's log-
hut, but to die. He was a French Canadian silver-
miner named Le Chance, and had thought he could
get on the cars as they were going slowly, but he
was " full" (that is, drunk), and missing his footing
went under, and both legs were cut off. Many of
the passengers seemed soon to forget it, but not
all.    May God have mercy on him !
Mr. Urwin, formerly at Donald and afterwards
at New Westminster, told me a little of his work
among the men in the railway camp at the time
of the construction of the C.P.R.
Men of all nationalities, rough but good-hearted,
heedless of death, hardened by the sight of accidents. Sometimes bravadoes would come amongst
them, using their shooters freely. Yet our friend
bravely preached the Gospel of Christ to them all.
One man whom we will call " Shooting Jack,"
used to get behind a tree in the pass and " hold
up" any solitary passers-by. That is, he would
"cover" them with his six-shooter, and call to
them to throw up their hands or he would shoot
them dead. Then he would come down and ransack their pockets, keeping his loaded revolver
handy all the time,
*' Why didn't you hold up the parson, Jack ? 1
said one of his chums.
" Wal, I just guess I didn't 'cause I thought if I
held him up I'd get more Prayer-books nor cents." LOST ON  THE MOUNTAINS
Standing on the platform of a car as we were
coming along, I listened as a rough woodsman
who had just got on at a little station told this
story:— |H
" Talking of bears puts me in mind of a little
business we had up here on yonder mountains.
We were surveying and had taken a meridian,
when we worked out from it four to six miles each
way, or as far as we could in the day. The boss
said that in case any of us got lost we must look
out for a creek and follow it right down.
"Well, one night, when we got to camp, there
was a man missing. We waited three days for
him to come in, and then the boss said, * Boys, we
must get that man.' We set out in a line, just so
far that we could holler to one another. We could
fire a gun now and again, but if we fired twice it
meant we'd found him. Wal, I guess it was
eighteen days after he was lost, and we hadn't
found him. Every man we met we put on the
line, Indians and all, till we had sixty-two men,
and I tell you we were bound to find him. Wal,
one day I see'd a big cinnamon bear, and he just
got up and looked at me and I fired at him. It
were a good thing, thought I, that one shot killed
him, because I should have brought up the sixty-
two if I had fired again.
" But I got a skeer, I can tell you, when I see'd
the man we were looking for lying there right near
the bear which had been watching him. 142
" He was about done, and when I see'd him
turn up his eyes they were all yellow, and there
were just a few berries near him. He said he'd
been watching the bear, and the bear had been
waiting for him to die, till he was getting kinder
"He'd struck a creek and followed it till he
found an old rotten Indian canoe and he could get
no farther ; he was clean done.
" We used to visit him in the hospital, and he
were kind of solemn like by times and always
came back to the same thing — ' Boys, did you
notice that bear?' He couldn't get it off his
mind ; they'd been so long in company.
" He had the note-book safe enough in his
pocket with all the distances, and he owed his life
to that, I guess, for I calculate that they wouldn't
have had all those men out just to find a man that
was lost."
" Yes, he got better; but he were always kind of
The postal abbreviation for British Columbia is
B.C. Since we have surmounted the pass we have
descended into British Columbia, but the mountain
journey is by no means over—it has only begun.
The loveliest scenery of all bursts upon one here.
After breakfast at the Hotel at Field, we fly
for some thirty miles down the canon of the
Wapta. Racing with the tearing torrent fresh
from the glaciers ; following the winding course of BRITISH  COLUMBIA
the river ; round such sharp curves that we had
to go slower and  slower, until at last the  loco-
motive is going almost  the opposite way to  the
Pullman car at the end. 144
A great forest fire is going on above us, and
thick clouds of smoke hide the mountains from
us; but far, far above them all, we see the snowcapped summits as if belonging to another sphere.
" Just look out for the fire at Moberley, and wire if
it is damaging the telegraph." This was shouted
into the baggage car at the next station.
A few weeks later and the fire had reached
terrific proportions. Such a fire I never expect to
see until that which St. Peter foretells (2 Pet. iii.
10). Crackling flames licked up the noble forest
on all sides, and thick palls of smoke hung on the
mountain sides, and made the deep valleys gloomy.
For 120 miles or more we were never distant
from raging fires, sometimes running right through
the scorching red flames, and for a moment all was
suspense, and we who stood out on the balcony
were singed with the fiery blast.
On one occasion, a whole train, with the exception of the rear Pullman car, was destroyed.
The engine-driver was running through as usual,
when he ran quietly off the rails into the middle
of the track. The heat of the fire had expanded
the rails and warped them. The passengers
A man got on board at Moberley who had just
escaped with his life on the hills above us, and all
his valuables were destroyed. He was lumbering—
cutting timber—some distance from his camp,
when he found the forest all blazing and raging in A  BRIDGE  ON  FIRE
flame behind him, and return to the camp impossible. Escaping from the flames and suffocating
smoke, he wandered for days without food or
shelter, all his blankets, too, destroyed. By almost
a miracle he found his way over the hot cinders
and amidst charred and falling trees back to the
line, and escaped a miserable fate. He had been
much impressed by coming across a grave in the
burning forest with white painted railings around
it. It seemed strange and mysterious to him that
the flames had swept all round and left the grave
untouched, and the white railings, he said, were not
even discoloured.
One of the wooden trestle-bridges we had to
cross caught fire, and we ran forward to extinguish
it. This was done before it was burnt through,
and the train safely got over the semi-charred
beams ; and we, who had run on, had to cross the
wide river on the open trestle-work, which was
a giddy task, for below was the rushing river, and
behind the train, with its great bell swinging out
deep warning notes.
We steamed away again through smoke and
fire, and then a burning tree fell across the line,
destroying all the telegraph wires, and cutting off
Victoria and the West from communication with
England. With all brakes down we stopped in
time, and getting axes, we cut it through and lifted
it on one side. As the train stood another great
tree began to fall, and the cars were in danger;
K 146
but slowly it turned and considerately fell alongside the train. When it grew dark the scene was
bewilderingly grand. We rushed on through smoke
and heat, the red hungry flames leaping from tree
to tree up the mountain side, and far above us, as
well as around us, the forest blazing in a thousand
Mount Stephen was lurid, and flames leapt up
and died away all over. The railway men were
working bravely to preserve the track, and we
carried a special gang with buckets and axes. j| As
far as Banff, and further east, the fires raged; but
we passed through all in safety. The smoke of
this mighty conflagration extended in a few days
nearly 1000 miles across the prairies, and we were
told that it would not be entirely extinguished
until the snow of winter.
The grey pall hung over the Alberta district
through the summer, and prevented the sun from
using its full power on the land, and early in September a fall of snow astonished every one, but
though it soon vanished, it was looked upon as the
precursor of a severe winter, owing to the land
being so cold through the summer, shaded from
the beneficent rays of the warm sun. For a fire to
cause cold weather is as marvellous as that the
waters of Montmorency should light up Quebec
with brilliant incandescent lights.
Mr. Fatt showed me the grave of a negro who,
in the days when the rail was making, was a great
bully in the construction camp; at last he was
shot down by one of the men and buried here.
Forty  miles   from   the   summit   we   passed   out GOLDEN  CITY
through the gates of the canon and shot out into
daylight and into open country.
Quite a change from the N.W.T. Just as if we
were in a southern climate, such timber, such pro-
fuse vegetation—-a land of plenty. " Golden ' is on
the banks of the Columbia River, and with a lovely
background of the Selkirks, a still nobler and higher
range than the Rockies—more like the Alps. From
here a little steamer journeys for 100 miles to
Kootenay Lake. This picturesque excursion is
attractively described in Track and Trail, p. 343,
and a good deal is said about the Kootenay district
in B. C. in 1887; or Three of Us in British
Columbia. Golden City is a thoroughly Western
village, and is the centre of a gold and silver
mining district.
Arriving at Donald at ten o'clock (six days' rail
from Quebec) we have to put our watches back for
still another hour, so that we are now seven hours
behind the old country.
We climb steadily up the valley of the Columbia
until, in Rogers' Pass, we reach the summit, and
then pass through many miles of snow-sheds.
At last we are in the heart of the Selkirks, and
stay at Glacier Station (here pronounced "glay-
shur "), almost as grand as the Rhone glacier at the 148
Fiircka Pass. Down below my bedroom window
at the hotel a frisky, good-natured, chained bear
amused all comers by his friendliness. All around
exasperating mosquitoes attacked one viciously.
" O ye ice and snow, bless ye the Lord,
Praise Him and magnify Him for ever."
I Call me at 4.15 to-morrow morning," were my
last words ere I retired. I was awake, however, at
3.30, and out at four. After some breakfast I set
off for a seven hours' hard climb.
James Neves, a sturdy, experienced guide, had
undertaken to take me up to the very top of the
" Wild Goat" Glacier—lying to the south-west of
the mighty ice-giant which dominates this valley
where the Glacier Hotel is built.
A Canadian, from Ottawa, wished to join in the
" big climb," and we had, as he said, " a pretty considerable tough time"; but we were not " whipped."
In the early morning (but not before the mosquitoes
were awake) we travelled some miles through dense
green forest, pushing through a jungle of thick
undergrowth and bushes, blueberry and rhododendrons, by the edge of the tearing glacier stream
known as the Illecillewaet (an Indian word, pronounced " Illy-silly-wart," meaning " Rushing Torrent"), plunging over big stones, crossing the icy
torrent on a single tree all wet with spray, on,
on, up and up, until muscles were aching and lungs TO  THE SUMMIT OF  THE ALUSKAN GLACIER  149
panting. We did not come across a grizzly bear,
or see any of those strange-shaped mountain goats,
the Big-Horns, but we killed a chipmunk, or rather
our guide's dog did.
At last we reached the foot of the huge ice-
mountain, the Wild Goat Glacier, and commenced
our real climb, and when we fairly got on the snow
we left our enemies, the mosquitoes, behind. The
comare of Arctic Russia (the culex diabolus of Rae)
showed itself to be a true Anglophil when I
wandered through its native forests, but the mosquito of British Columbia said to me constantly, in
its own musical language, " Fe-fi-fo-fum, I smell the
blood of an Englishman." Its friendship was too
close and assiduous, and I was glad to find that it
would not venture into unknown regions of ice and
Up and up, over deep snow and round dangerous
crevasses, until the glacier was 1000 feet thick
beneath our feet, and we were 7,794 feet (about a
mile and a half) above the level of the sea. It is
some years since I did some very amateur climbing
in Switzerland, and the rarefied air and deep snow
made me gasp painfully, and breathe with the
mouth wide open, falling now and again utterly
exhausted, to lie on the snow for a few minutes'
rest, filling my burning mouth with snow, contrary
to all conventional rules of mountaineering. About
ten o'clock we were gazing from the summit into a
mystic land beyond, whose mountains were greater,
and its glaciers and ice-fields more wide-spreading,
than anything that is visited from the railway.
As we lay on the snow eating our sandwiches, !5o
and watching the drifting smoke of the distant
forest fires, our guide told us of his work of exploration in the neighbourhood, and gave us the names
of the mountains and glaciers now lying before
and below us.
The Royal Geographical Society published a
most valuable map of this immediate region, in
the March number 1888, of the magazine, which
map has been of greater use to me in identifying
the peaks and glaciers than even our worthy
guide's knowledge. The Rev. W. Spots wood
Green, M.A., stayed at Glacier House for some
time, and surveyed the mountains and glaciers
around. From this map and the exhaustive paper
read before the R.G.S., I see that we were looking
down on to the Geikie Glacier and across to Mounts
Fox, Dawson, and Donkin, surrounding the great
Dawson Glacier, which is not unlike the Mer de
Glace, in the Chamounix Valley, in Switzerland, as
seen from the Flegere, where the Aiguilles dominate
that glacier, rising above the Mauvais Pas. Mr.
Green writes, " The valley we had looked into was
unknown." James Neves, the guide, has since
crossed it to Mount Fox. Our view was impressive, the silence awful. What a tiny atom one
feels in the midst of these mighty mountains ! It
helps one to realize the Omnipotence which made
them all, and which careth for the sparrows, and
much more for us.
What a descent! Glissading, plunging through
the snow, and fighting and struggling downwards,
and descending gradually, like the rnat^ with the
parachute, to the level of the ordinary world.  Here TO  THE SUMMIT OF THE ALUSKAN GLACIER    151
and there across our track yawned the awful
crevasses, great open-mouthed fissures, into which
we could cast a lump of ice and listen to it rattling
downwards till we could hear no longer. Across
the crevasses the deep snow formed natural bridges,
across which we stepped delicately, like Agag, in
danger of an awful and. sudden end. I silently
returned a thanksgiving when the last acre of slippery ice had been crossed, and we were standing
on mother earth again.
We found our companions the mosquitoes
patiently waiting for us at the foot of the glacier
(unless, indeed, they were another set) ; and then
came the scramble for an hour or two through the
hot forest, as we trotted behind our faithful guide,
Neves, till the welcome sight of the Glacier Hotel
presented itself, and the cinnamon bear gambolled
in ecstasy at the end of his chain to see us safe
back. Wet and weary, and scorched by sun and
snow, we were soon dry, refreshed, and happy.
These picturesque mountain hotels at Field, at
Glacier, and at North Bend are all designed in
Swiss chalet style by Mr. Thos. C. Sorby, an
English architect living at Victoria. They are built
chiefly of wood, and the dining-rooms made bright
with contrasting timber and panelling. The
gradients on the mountains are too heavy to
permit of dining-cars, and these supply their place.
On leaving this lovely spot we descend rapidly,
and the railway zigzags down by the Great Bend,
clinging to the mountain side, and crossing occasionally on trestle-bridges over the rushing river
below.   The scenery in Columbia is far nobler than 152
anything we have seen to the east. Hundreds of
miles of deep canon and swirling rivers. In the
evening we skirt the great Shuswap Lake and see
the Indian in his frail canoe fishing; the tranquil
surface reflecting the purple clouds so clear in this
marvellous atmosphere.
I could not wish to live to the end of my days
in a more noble spot than at this point in the gorge YALE, ON  THE FRASER  RIVER
of the Fraser River. Here, formerly, was the head
of navigation, .103 miles from Vancouver and 3000
miles from Quebec. Now it is little more than a
shrunken village of wooden shanties.
Through the night we had passed along the
canons of the Thompson and the Fraser, and in
the early morning had been continually astounded
and almost stupefied with the heights and depths
above and below us. Many felt very fearful in
passing at tremendous heights over the canons on
creaking trestle-bridges.
At 9.20 we shot through a tunnel and emerged
near Yale. Here I left my last charge—Francis
Dockerell—to go on to New Westminster, having
given him a letter to the good Bishop Sillitoe.
The train sped away and friends waved from the
Pullman car platform as it disappeared. I left my
luggage in the waiting-room and found my way
over to the Railroad Hotel, a thoroughly Western
establishment—a wooden, one-storied building, with
a primitive shanty up the " street" for a bedroom
for the male visitors.
Hundreds of Chinese live in this neighbourhood.
Many work as miners or wash the soil of the
Fraser River to get gold. They also go out as
cooks, and all the laundries are kept by them.
Here is a sign at Yale—
The " city " contains about 300 inhabitants.
Having a stock of soiled linen, I went over and
found two Chinamen in their dark blue clothes and
long hanging pig-tails. Yung Woo gave me his
card in Chinese characters. I couldn't read it.
They charged ten cents a piece (that is, fivepence per
article), which is a good deal more, I believe, than
we pay in England. They wash well, and can cook
One of them next morning was stupefied with
opium. Up in the mountains they are a lower set
than down on the coast. I visited their burial-
ground, and saw the queer enclosure and a sort of
flag-staff with rags of white material. Occasionally
their relatives have the bodies dug up and for-
warded to China. The Parthia took a freight of
coffins some time ago, and the wily Chinee put five
sets of bones in each coffin.
Lion went with me. He was a very big dog,
with a leather muzzle on to keep him from biting
the Siwashes. {Siwash is a corruption of Sauvage,
and is the general name by which the various
tribes of Indians to the west of the Rockies are
known.) We went down the village, and the
Chinese took more interest in Lion than in me—he
had evidently established his character in Yale.
We passed out by the Rancherie of the Siwashes
and the Chinese burial-ground, and out on the
mountain side. Lovely butterflies, tropically
gorgeous and of enormous size, flew past under the A STROLL THROUGH A WESTERN 'CITY'     155
burning sun. We
saw some of the old
wagons which were
dragged by teams
of mules before the
C.P.R. engines
whistled in this
canon, and the
bones ot a mule
which died on the
road. Then we
turned back to the
Rancherie, and interviewed some of
the Indians, but
Lion left me, disgusted that I made
friends with Redskins.
The Siwashes are ^p)£|
more civilized than jj|||
their   brethren   on  g|j|i
our    side    of   the  iSm
Rocky Mountains.  Warn
* nnm
They live in huts,
and fish, or work
even on the railroad. Some are
Roman Catholics.
David, an Indian
with whom I talked, was himself a
Roman     Catholic,
but said the priest had not been at Yale yet that
year. There is a Roman chapel, and a tiny Indian
burial-ground, with curious carved devices on some
of the graves. Four rude canoes were stuck on the
posts at each corner of the grave.
The mountains round Yale are very noble, very
precipitous and bold. With an Indian youth as
my guide, the ascent became chiefly a matter of
muscle and wind.
As we went up and up through the bull-pine, fir
trees, balsams, and larches, we left the village away
far below us ; the little houses grew smaller, the
mighty Fraser River became a stream; fresh
ranges of mountains came in sight which had not
been seen from below, and behind all were the
snow-capped Hope Mountains, piercing the blue
summer sky.
Readers of A Sportsman s Eden will remember
these same Hope Mountains, and the Grizzly
Bears and Big-Horns roaming about and coming
across Mr. Phi lips-Wolley's line of fire. I had
nothing but a walking-stick for the bears, but they
most considerately kept out of the way.
We rested in a dell, and Isaac, my guide, gave
me the names of surrounding objects in Fraser
River Indian. Fir tree—kockla; poplar—hietza ;
grass—sparka ; stone—sbarl. Isaac is a yellow-
skinned Fraser River Indian about sixteen. He
can speak a few words in English, but was taciturn enough for one of Fenimore Cooper's noble IN  A GOLD AND SILVER  MINE
savages. We tried to kill a snake between us, but
the reptile escaped.
Isaac's father is called Captain Tom ; but Isaac
lives with his half-brother, George, who is the
Mission interpreter. He did not like being cross-
examined even in a friendly way. He told me
that he did nothing, and did not know what he
was going to be or do when a man. He knew that
there were bears around us. He had not travelled
far, but had canoed down the Fraser River to New
Westminster. He had been baptized, and knew
that Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross for him.
He went to church sometimes. Isaac was not a
favourable specimen of the native Christian, yet he
was quite as good as most English boys.
I made the acquaintance of the Mission doctor,
Dr. A. Pearse, who works among the Indians, and
we went a walk together up the canon, and looked
in at the joss-house, where a smiling Chinee
seemed pleased to see us.
Away up the high fir-clad mountains I climbed,
following a trail for some miles, while the hot sun
poured down and the streams rushed past from
melting snows above, until at last I found signs of
miners' work.
Thomas Ratelin, with his cousin, recently from
Cornwall, was driving a drift, in the daily expectation of coming on a 1 find." " Hello !" I shouted
down the dark drift; and back from the mountain's
heart came a responsive telephonic shout," Hello!'; 158
One of the lights moved out to me, and its bearer
seemed astonished to find an Englishman so far
up the trail. I followed him up the tunnel, and
stood by whilst he swung his great hammer, with
a " Ugh!" forced from his lungs at each blow.
At last we were ready to fire several shots, and
retreated hurriedly into the open air, and sitting
on a log, waited for the thundering bangs which
soon went echoing through the mountains.
This was one of three tunnels, and they gave me
specimens of the minerals obtained. A miner has
to take out a licence from Government, and then
he may settle down on any unclaimed spot and
stake it off, and on making an application it
becomes his own. Miners make from one dollar a
day up to one hundred dollars, but more often near
the former amount. My friends the Columbian
miners shared their lunch with me, and then I
started off up the mountains and attempted to get
to the summit of one great mass, but only lost my
My chief object in stopping at Yale was to see
some of the work among the Fraser River Indians.
I found that Bishop Sillitoe had the previous day
gone up to Lytton, to be present at the great
annual gathering of the Indians at Britannia (or
Treatannia), some sixteen miles from the station
at Lytton. If I had known in time, I should
have made a great effort to have joined thern.
All   the  Church  Indians  meet  together once a THE INDIAN- MISSION
year, and the Bishop with his clergy prepare them
for Confirmation or Baptism, as the case may be.
At the end of the week the rite is celebrated,
and afterwards there is the Holy Communion.
The Bishop had a tent for a church. I shall
always be glad that I stayed at Yale, and saw a
little of the good work going on among the Indian
and half-breed children.
I Where is the Mission school ?" I inquired at
the station. " Do you see that white house with
the verandah, there among the trees near the
railway ? That is where the Sisters have their
school." I had dinner at the chief wooden
erection in the village, kept by a kind-hearted
woman, Mrs. Reavespeach, and called the Railroad Hotel. Here I came in contact with Western
miners, railroad-men, and the Hudson Bay agent.
After dinner I set out for the Mission. Down the
line and along the road, until at last I was at the
gate under the trees, and walked up to the verandah, where stood a little table with some books and
a chair. From the woods round the house came
merry laughter as I stood, having rung the bell.
Masses of creeping plants hung and grew in
profusion, forming a curtain to the verandah, but
leaving an opening, a great frame to the glorious
mountains and swift river, and a wooden bridge
within a stone's throw carrying the rails of the
C.P.R. across a ravine. Sister Alice, the sister-in-
charge, soon came into the room into which I had
been shown, and welcomed me to the Mission.
The Mother Superior had not been well, and was
resting at New Westminster. i6o
It was very delightful and inspiring to see these
perfect ladies living here out of the world amongst
miners, and Chinamen, and Siwashes, and to find
how the people loved them. The sister-in-charge
showed me through the buildings and told me of
their plans for the future. They had Indians and
half-breeds, but intended to receive white children
also, placing them in a separate wing, and with the
fees for the white children to help the funds
required for supporting the Siwash children.
We saw the dormitories, all neat and sweet—the
fresh air blowing through the open windows—and
the school-room where the lessons are gone through.
The Indian children are very quick at figures.
Whit-Monday and Whit-Tuesday are observed
as holidays, and on Monday the girls went down
the Fraser River in canoes, experienced Indians at
the paddles. To-day the girls were all in the
garden. One set had rigged up a wigwam with
their shawls and cloaks, and a bright-eyed little
Siwash peeped knowingly through the window of
the wigwam, and all seemed full of fun. Another
party were fishing in the stream, and found it
pleasant in the heat to dabble with bare feet in the
cold rushing water.
The oldest, a half-breed—Mary Schwartz (her
father is of German extraction, her mother an
Indian)—is now advanced to the post of cook.
One has gone into service, and one wishes to go
back to her tribe to teach them.   Sometimes they OUR  EARLY SERVICE
go home for a holiday, but they like to come back
to the Sisters. The Sisters have found them very
tractable, and the half-breed children have turned
out better than they expected. Half-breeds are
generally credited with unreliability of character.
To raise sufficient funds the Sisters have gone
out each year collecting, and have journeyed as far
as California, always receiving courtesy, and often
something more solid and helpful.
There had been no clergyman at Yale on Whit-
Sunday, so I suggested that we should have a
Celebration of the Holy Communion at seven
o'clock in the morning, before I left.
In the little, pretty wooden church, whose
chancel and altar fittings so plainly spoke of taste
and devotion, we gathered in the early morning—
five Indian maidens and three English ladies. The
church was decorated the previous evening by two
of the ladies, assisted by willing Indian hands. I
shall not forget that service. Near the door
crouched an Indian named George, who rang the
bell; outside on the steps an old Indian had
warmly shaken me by the hand as I entered. We
had our service in the " Englishman's Church."
There is also another called the Indian's Church,
whose services are held in Fraser River Indian
The girls at the Mission, however, understand
English, and those present had been confirmed.
Their devout and prayerful manner would teach
L 162
us all by example. So " He was made known to
us in the Breaking of Bread " in that little wooden
church by the rushing Fraser River. As I pronounced the Benediction, the west door being open,
I could see the waving foliage, and across the railroad the white houses of the village.
Nearly 6000 miles from their homes do
these brave women work in that beautiful vale.
" God bless them! " is the benediction of many a
rough man there, and I venture to add it as mine
As I went aboard the cars a kind note was
placed in my hand.    It runs as follows—
"Rev. and Dear Sir,
" I was not able to see you after the
service this morning, but I am anxious to express
to you our grateful thanks for your kindness in
giving us a Celebration. We are much obliged
also for the periodicals, they will give much
pleasure to the children.
"Wishing you a pleasant and safe journey,
" I remain, dear and Rev. Sir,
"Yours faithfully in CHRIST,
"Sister Alice Louisa,
:    I    "C. A. H.|
Sister-in- Charge P CHAPTER  X
On the Pacific Coast
From Yale the run down to the coast, about 130
miles, is beautiful, though not grand as is the
scenery above. At last we see the masts of large
vessels lying at anchor or moored alongside wooden
erections, and we know as we look out over a
lovely sheet of water that we have come to the
Pacific Ocean, or at all events to an arm of the
sea—Burrard Inlet. The Fraser River has its
mouth a few miles further south of this spot, after
it has passed New Westminster with its salmon
The terminus of this railway line of 3000 miles
is in the new "city" called "Vancouver." In 1881
it was forest, in 1891 it had a population of about
14,000, and has been rapidly increasing since. In
1887 it was burnt to the ground, but in a few
weeks it rose again. In fact while it was burning
they commenced re-building. J
The wonderful timber which grows here was a
great help. The Douglas Fir grows to the height
of nearly 300 feet, and is from twelve to fifteen feet BY OCEAN, PRAIRIE, AND PEAK
in diameter at its base. Planks, etc., can be sawn
and used without seasoning. Lovely scenes met
one on land or on the water. Burrard Inlet is
a noble mountain-girt expanse of sea-water. A
sheet of greenish-blue crystal stretched unruffled
under an azure sky, and some few miles away at
the other side of this broad Sound, the lofty
Cascade Mountains cut into the sky in sharp
serrated outlines; but though miles away, every
detail clear in this most transparent atmosphere.
Far out on the broad waters an Indian sat in
one of those sharp-prowed sea-canoes of the
Songhish, or more Northern Pacific coast Indians.
He was fishing.
I visited the church of which the Rev. H. G. F.
Clinton is rector. He is doing a great work, and
is a favourite with the young men. The font is
made out of a huge boulder, carved and hewn, and
standing on other great slabs. One could almost
immerse an adult in it. It lay here as a great
stone among the trees for centuries before this was
chosen as a site for the church. The clergy were
all in synod to-day at New Westminster, under
the presidency of good Bishop Sillitoe, who has
passed to his rest, after a most self-denying
Adjoining the church, which is a tasteful wooden
structure  of Elizabethan  design,  is  an   hospital, STEAMER  FROM JAPAN
managed by Sister Francis. This is a great boon
to the town. The Sister also looks after servant
girls coming from England, and provides them
with homes, and keeps up a friendship with them.
Mr. Clinton, among many other duties, undertakes
those of chaplain of the hospital.
The S.S. Parthia arrived this morning from
Yokohama, having previously touched at Hong
Kong and other ports. She had on board 150
Chinese. They have to pay fifty dollars each (about
£10) for permission to land. They had not been
passed, and were crowded 'tween decks, where
I visited them, and found a strongly-pervading
Celestial odour. On the Parthia also had come
two parishioners from Roker, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor,
who had been taking a trip right round the world.
The rector of St. James' very kindly answered
some queries in the following letter, which is most
important for those who are thinking of emigration.
"Vancouver, B.C.,
"September 9.
" My dear Brother,
" I had found out the Robson family soon
after they landed, and when I had your message,
I told him to write at once, which he promised to
do. He has not been very successful in obtaining
employment here at present, though he has some
kind of desultory work to do. Andrews is in the
choir, and a very useful voice.    He is doing well 166
enough now, though he had a little difficulty at
first in obtaining work; now he is employed by a
wholesale liquor firm as, I believe, warehouseman.
" Andrews is a man with plenty of push, and a
fund of hope always in reserve, and that is the kind
of immigrant who is pretty certain to do well out
here. There are three kinds of men whose arrival
brings me anxiety—
" i.—Those who are absolutely destitute of money—
'dead broke* as we say. Every one should have
enough spare cash to carry him over the first two
months at least, and that means not less than ;£io,
but double or treble that if possible. For the best
workman cannot make sure of getting work at
once, and in a general way a man has to get known
by other men in the place in order to get work.
Of course there are very many cases where a man
does get work almost immediately, but these are
rather the exceptions.
" 2.—Those who have got no push in them, and if
they are ?iot fortunate in obtaining employment at
once, give up trying, and lose heart. There are many
who are out here for months without getting anything to do, while others with no more ability, but
more of what is called (luck,' step into places which
they might have got. Of course one must not be
too sweeping in making such a statement, for after
all there are some whose failure to get on is not to
be explained thus, and can only be put down to
want of luck. But still, a man without plenty of
push has, I fear, not much chance out here.
" 3.—Tliose who will not take the first thing that
offers, or having taken a job will not stick to it till LETTER  FROM  H.  G.  F.  CLINTON
they can get a better. It is no use coming out here
with the determination only to take one particular
kind of work. The men who get on best are those
who are not above taking anything. I have met
with too many who will pick and choose instead of
taking the first thing that came ; and I have known
too many who are continually throwing up a job
because they are not satisfied. Such men soon get
the character of I. loafers,' and are like the dog with
the bad name. This a bad place for idle men ;
there is such abundance of temptations in the
whisky shops or saloons, as they are called, and
there are practically no other places for many to
pass their time, and so it comes to pass that idleness, and that, perhaps, of no fault of theirs, as far
as one can see, is often the highway to ruin of
body and soul.
I Every one that comes out should have some
trade if he means to work, for even if he cannot
get work at that particular trade, he is used to
work, and knows what work means; and, indeed,
there are few \ soft,' i. e. easy places, for any one
here. The young gentleman who has never done
anything had better stop with his friends at home
until he has learnt to work, and work hard. We
have too many of these young gentlemen who
know nothing useful in the colonies.
" Of course, those I like to see come out are the
opposite in character and condition to them I have
spoken of, and besides, they are true and staunch
Churchmen. I think, too, that they ought to have
reached a sober age—say twenty-four at least—if
they are coming out independently. 168
" I would like to press upon the clergy at home,
that they give them who go from their churches
letters to the clergy into whose parishes they are
going, which they may present upon their arrival.
To write to the clergy direct, and omit to give
letters to the immigrants, is frequently a disappointment on all sides, as it is sometimes, or generally, almost an impossibility to find the person
about whom the letter is written, in a place which
is every week crowded with new arrivals. I would
also recommend that the clergy take the trouble to
write to those who have gone from among them, impressing upon them their duty of finding out the
church and the parish priest. So many become
careless, and get into bad ways, who might be
brought into touch with the Church here by a
friendly reminder from the clergymen at home.
" There are at present openings for good domestic
servant girls. But they should be selected with
great care. The temptations to servant girls are
very great here, so that on the moral side of the
question the greatest care in selection should be
made, and those in whose morals the fullest confidence cannot be placed should not be allowed to
come here. The work is hard, in many cases very
hard, and, therefore, no girls who are lazy, or
unused to hard work, or who are not ready to do I
far more than as a rule is demanded of servant
girls at home, are likely to be of use. With many
instances of failure from both these points of view,
in my mind, I feel most strongly that greater care
should  be exercised  than  has  been  hitherto.    I
cannot altogether acquit the Society of want
of care in these respects.
I All Church girls should also be communicants,
and should be sent direct to the clergy. St. Luke's
Home in this town has for one of its objects the
caring for servant girls, and all sent to Vancouver
should be sent to this institution. There is nothing
new, I know, in these observations, but I think they
are none the worse for that. I have only to add
this piece of advice, that in many cases it would
be far better to communicate with the clergy of the
different places, and wait for their answer before
deciding as to emigration. There are many who
would now be much better off remaining in old
England had this advice been acted upon. It is
better to wait six weeks, for that is all it means in
these days of rapid travel, than to find too late that
the step was a mistake.
" Yours very sincerely,
" H. G. F. Clinton."
Though my ticket is to Vancouver, yet it does
not take me to Vancouver Island. I have to
purchase a steamer-ticket still. We sail out
among the tree-covered islets, and over the blue
waters  of this Pacific  fiord,   and coasting  along BY OCEAN, PRAIRIE, AND PEAK
Vancouver Island we at last come round a promontory, and Victoria lies on the hillside, the wooden
square tower of the cathedral high up above all.
The habitation of the Mossbacks. Mossback
is not a kind of Indian. It is the Yankee
Canadian description of the easy-going Englishman, who prefers to work on steadily to killing
himself by the frenzy of business excitement, by
which his brethren on the mainland wear themselves out prematurely. The Victorian moves so
leisurely, says the cute Yankee (or the Canadian
from the east, still cuter), that the moss has time
to grow on his back.
Much more English is it than any town on the
American continent. One sees hansom cabs, and
British Jack Tars, and red-coated marines, and yet
quaintly mixed with them hosts of Chinese, and
groups of Songhish Indians.
On the crest of the town is the cathedral, where
the Bishop of Columbia officiates. The Rector of
the cathedral (answering in a modified way to the
Dean in our land) is the Rev. Arthur J. Beanlands,
a graduate of Durham University, and well known
in that city. His grandfather and a grandfather of
the writer were cousins. He resides in the pleasant
rectory adjoining the cathedral, where I am now
writing. From my window I can see the Sound,
and at night the full moon shines on the still
waters. Canon Beanlands does a good work here,
and is spoken highly of by all.    The cathedral is ESQUIMAULT
furnished  in  good  taste, and   though  a  wooden
building, is handsome.
From the battlemented roof of the high square
wooden tower we had an extensive view. Down
below, like a model, lay the houses and harbour,
and the smooth sea beyond. My friend and guide,
the clerk of the church, was delightfully talkative,
and pointed out the Chinese burial-ground, assured
me that he had seen Mount Baker, on the mainland, vomit flame, recounted his hair-breadth
escapes in the harbour, and told me of the poor
lad who was drowned and was to be buried on
Sunday; and as we climbed down the ladder, and
the pigeons flew from their nests, he inveighed
against choir-boys who came up here on Sunday
and caught these doves, etc., etc.
My host and I walked out some three or four
miles one hot June afternoon to see over the
arsenal and dockyard for our North Pacific
Squadron. We passed through the streets of
Victoria with their wooden side walks, and tall
telephone poles and taller electric light posts, past
the post-office, and English shops, over the bridge,
across an arm of the Sound, through the Indian
Reservation, for some distance down the Island
Railway (Esquimault and Nanaimo Railway), and
for some miles along the edge of the woods, emerging at last near the pretty church at Esquimault,
which is attended by the men-o'-wars men and
marines. 172
We saw the great stone dry-dock, and looked
out at the Amphio?i, the Szviftsure, and the Icarus,
floating in the bay, and had a talk with a sensible
salt. i).i
11 won't believe the fleet goes to the Behrine
Sea about these sealers till it really leaves. We
expect H.M.S. Champion every moment, she is
overdue now, and then the ships go round to
Burrard Inlet and Dominion Bay.
"Yes, there is a good number of deserters to
the States. They think they've got to an El
Dorado, but many of 'em would come back tomorrow if they thought they would escape punishment."
I met the chaplain of the flagship up at Mr.
Innis's house in the dockyard grounds. Mr. Innis,
the naval agent here, is a strong Churchman, has
done much to improve Esquimault Church.
A few days after my return, a courageous young
lady set out from our next parish (Whitburn) and
journeyed across North America to be married in
this same Esquimault Church. J was able to give
her some practical advice about her journey ; and
being brave, kind-hearted, and capable, she travelled
the 6000 miles without losing either her temper or
her luggage, and " cabled " the news of her wedding
home, so that it was in the English papers next
On the Island of Vancouver and on the North
Pacific   fiords   are   a  great   number   of   Indians THE CHINOOK DIALECT
different to any in the prairies, and slightly
different from the Thompson and Fraser River
Indians. They have long wooden canoes with
raised bows, from which they catch fish, and-in
which they journey great distances down the coast
with their families and tents. They bring in
curiosities and weapons to sell. There are dealers
in one street in the town, and you will see the
Indians sitting on the floor with bows and arrows,
or carvings out of deer's horn or stone, and useful
bark mats. Then having got a little money, they
are to be seen with open eyes at the shops, and
they purchase something bright and gay. The
women seem fond of red shawls.
A means of communication with all the Indians
is the Chinook jargon, a language invented by the
Hudson Bay Co., a lingua Franca of the West, to
be learned in a fortnight. It has grown out of
Canadian-French words and Indian words used by
rough English traders, and some English words
clipped and debased by being used by Indians. It
is amusingly expressive. H
I purchased at Mr. Hibben's store in Government Street, a Chinook Dictionary of the Indian
trade language of the North Pacific Coast. Let
me extract a few euphonious examples :—
Food (or to eat)
To drink (viz. to eat water)
Muckamuck chuck.
Kloochman. The heart or will
A brave heart    ...
Sailing-vessel    ...
Steamer ...
OGci • • • • a •
Worn-out horse ...
Skookum tumtum.
Stick ship.
Salt chuck.
Oleman kiutau.
The Indian greeting in Chinook is " Kla-how-ya"
It originated thus, we are told {Track and Trail,
p. 205). The Indians heard Sir James Douglas
address his second in command when they met,
with p Clark, how are you ?" This they imitated
as best they could, and produced " Kla-how-ya?
We visited an encampment on the Indian
Reservation, and found a number of Coast Indians
with their great canoes made fast to the shore.
In one was a young Indian playing a concertina
he had just purchased. Others in tents on the
grass, or playing cards with much earnestness,
probably gambling. We saw a white man among
them, who had probably married a kloochman (an
Indian squaw), and thrown in his lot with the
Indians, to become more degraded than they.
Good missionaries are working among these
North Pacific Indians, and notably among the
Queen Charlotte Islanders and Kitkatlas, who are
in the diocese of New Caledonia. Dr. Vernon
Ardagh, who was the house-surgeon at our Monk-
wearmouth Hospital, is now a medical missionary
(C. M. S.) on this North Pacific Mission. I purchased to-day one of the ghastly wooden mask-
faces which these   Indians  use   in their potlach A CHINESE TEMPLE
dances,  its   high  cheek-bones  and  Mongol  eyes
fairly representing the Songhish type.
The town swarms with mild-faced Chinamen.
In one part (China-town) the streets are entirely
Chinese—you might be in Hong Kong. You see
all the signs in Chinese characters, and bows of
ribbon and gold-paper ornaments of a religious
nature over the doors. I looked in at a barber's
shop, and smiled internally as I saw the Chinese
solemnly having their heads shaved and their pigtails dressed. There are about 3000 Chinese and
9000 white people in the town. The Chinese all
dress alike, in blue cloth, in the street, with a felt
hat, whose crown is large enough to contain the
pigtail when neatly curled up on the head. The
women toddle across the streets of China-town
with queer little feet in queer boots.
We went into the joss-house, and I was much
impressed with the gorgeousness of the interior, or
rather its gaudiness. A representation of some
deity—a Chinese figure with a beard—sat in a
shrine, cross-legged. Before him were offerings of
cold tea and fish. I put my finger into the cold
tea, and found it rather weak. The idol was
easily pleased. Round the room, which was a
long up-stairs chamber, were Chinese standards,
sacred  gongs, a sacred umbrella, a painted bell, BY OCEAN, PRAIRIE, AND  PEAK
and pigeon-holes, with lucky texts inside to choose
from. These wise men of the East were worshipping
the personification of something—perhaps the god
of merchandise, or the god of travels. I have
only a slight knowledge of Chinese mythology.
Yet one realizes a little of the difficulties in the
way of evangelizing China's millions.
There were no worshippers while we were in
the temple, and the Chinese who passed through
did not show any signs of being impressed. I do
not know whether the Chinese really fall down
and worship the graven image which they have
set up. I fancy they are too worldly here to be
very religious even in an idolatrous fashion. They
reverence their ancestors and are very kind, I am
told, to their parents even in life.
There are Chinamen servants in every good
house. They get about £40 a year, and cook
perfectly, and do household work, and keep everything clean and orderly. Ah Lee is the young
Chinaman at the rectory. He wears a clean,
white linen dress; his pigtail is coiled on the top
of his head. He is absorbed and intent in his
work, rarely speaks, and only smiles when trying
to please little Miss Dorothy, the golden-haired
mistress of three summers. We wanted to see the
Chinese theatre, where the play lasts for days
and days, and Chinese life is depicted with strict
I Ah Lee, is theatre now in China-town ?" CHINESE SERVANTS
" No, Misr Beanlands; no more again. Gone
Portland ; not 'nough Chinee this place."
The question of Christianizing the Chinese is
a very difficult one. A native Christian from
Southern China would, it is thought, do the best.
They pretend not to understand, and perhaps they
do not understand much, when any clergyman
talks to them. Ladies have a great power over
them. Worldliness, and the indifferent life of
Christians, are great barriers to missionary work.
I was told that the Methodists had succeeded in
converting some few Chinese. I am thankful to
know that our Church is now making efforts to
reach these Chinese in Canada. At Vancouver
there is a Chinese catechist, and a class is regularly
held. If only some of these Chinese could go
home full of Christ, what a blessing they might
be in China. Too often they take back an indifferent testimony to the effects of our religion.
Chinese have to pay fifty dollars now to Government before they are permitted to land from China.
Everywhere one is told of the failure of English
servants. Many a mistress here would willingly
advance the expense of the journey to get a good
servant out, but so often they get spoilt, even on
the journey, by acquiring too great notions of
their importance. They very soon get married,
and often to men of considerable position. I
hope that they always refund their passage-money
in this case.
M i;8
Away in the west of the United States, near
the Pacific, and on an arm of the sea called Puget
Sound, are two sister cities, or rather, rival cities—
Seattle (pronounced " See-attle") and Tacoma.
They are worthy of a trip from Victoria.
Marvellous examples of sudden growth! A few
years ago forest and prairie, now electric tramcars,
steam-trams, cable-trams, telephones, huge hotels,
stone churches, etc. Yet, great stumps of enormous trees rise here and there to remind us of
their modern origin.
On my railroad journey across the Continent
the whole train full of people surged and clamoured
in excitement one day as an official came in with
news that Seattle, with a population of 30,000, had
been burnt to the ground. Many of our emigrants
were bound for this bustling, growing city, and
they were stunned by the news. Yet they decided
to go on, for they soon heard that labour would
be wanted, and that it was only the business part
of the city that was destroyed.
I sailed to Seattle from Victoria and found the
ruins still smoking, and the hose of the firemen
still at work. Martial law prevailed in the city,
and a United States soldier, with loaded rifle, kept
us from wandering too far through the acres of
burnt buildings.    Solid brick and iron  buildings TACOMA, WASHINGTON TERRITORY       179
were already rising from the smoking ground, and,
like Chicago, Seattle will probably be all the better
for being burnt, and a Phoenix should appear on
its city arms.
It was a hot June afternoon, after some nine
hours' steaming, when we arrived, and our attention
was at once drawn to the white tents pitched
everywhere to accommodate the houseless and the
labourers.   About twenty Chinese landed from the
Mil BK ,
S.S. North Pacific, and with their bundles suspended
at opposite ends of a long bamboo, they ascended
the steep streets in single file, provoking sallies of
wit from the settlers, who dubbed them the Chinese
Some three hours up the Sound and we were
at the city which takes its name from Mount
Tacoma (or Mount Rainier), whose snowy summit
astonished us as it thrust its noble head through i8o
the clouds, or blushed in the setting sun all glowing
and rosy some 14,000 feet above us (or rather, to
be correct, 14,444 feet above the level of the sea).
Captain George Vancouver (he who gave the
name to Vancouver Island) discovered Puget
Sound in May 1792, and named this mountain
after Rear-Admiral Rainier, of our English Navy.
The original Indian name," Tacoma," means | Near
to Heaven."
At Bishop's House, I and my friend received a
warm welcome, and found Bishop Paddock indeed
" given to hospitality." The last time I had seen
the good Bishop was on the grassy lawn at
Auckland Castle, on that ever-memorable August
afternoon, when Bishops from ali the world over
met in the chapel re-built by Bishop Cozen and
restored by Bishop Lightfoot.
There are two or three churches already in the
town, and another is being built. The city is the
terminus of one of the three great railway lines
which lead to the Pacific, viz. "Northern Pacific
Railway."    There are about 30,000 inhabitants.
The church of the Good Shepherd was crowded
in the morning, when an excellent sermon was
preached by an English friend on | GOD is love."
The service was at eleven a.m., and was simply the
Holy Communion Office. From 12.30 to two was
the Sunday-school. A curious time, but chosen
because convenient   to  teachers, who live some IT WAS  LAID'
distance  from   the   church   and   are   present   at
morning service.
I spoke to them at a kind of children's service
with which they close, and found them very intelligent. Such bright children. "Is everything
true that is in the Bible ?" asked a sharp boy whom
I was teaching. He was much interested to find
that it was, and commenced by showing to his
friend the description of heaven in the Apocalypse,
telling him it was all true.
So ran the newspaper heading in the account of
a foundation-stone laying. The stone of a new
church at Tacoma was laid on Trinity Sunday at
five p.m. The Bishop and clergy in their robes took
part in the service. We stood among the green
young trees on a hill which overlooked the blue
waters of the Sound, and could see the snowy
mountains beyond. No house near, but the neighbourhood staked out in future streets. It was
confidently expected that the church would be surrounded by houses before it was finished. They
built indeed in hope.
The Bishop spoke very ably, and the Rev. J.
Hylands, formerly a pioneer missionary clergyman,
told us of his work in the Sound before a house of
the present town was built. I was called upon as
a representative of the old Church and the old
country, and as I stood there in the centre of such
an assemblage of earnest American Church folk, I
reminded  them  how that we   in  England were 182
united to them by a stronger bond than language
or race—fellowship through the Church of that
Master in whose arms we all had been laid, and
also by the bonds of sympathy and prayer.
At Old Tacoma, the original settlement, some
little distance from the great modern town, is the
first church—a quaint, wooden structure, with one
of the big trees of the Pacific coast, some twenty
feet in diameter at the base, raising its stump
about fifty feet from the ground. On the top is
erected a neat bell turret, and the bell is swung by
a long rope going down into the chapel. The tree
is about 175 years old, and so is said to be "the
oldest belfry in the (Western ?) States."
I read the prayers at evening service, and being
no longer in Her Britannic Majesty's dominions, I
had to be careful to follow the American edition of
our Prayer-book. "None of your Johnny Bull
arrangements, remember," said a good-natured
Tacomite to me, smilingly, just before service. So
we prayed for the President instead of the Queen,
and observed the verbal differences. The vigorous
Western twang given to the familiar responses was
a little upsetting to my gravity.
Since my first visit to this continent Bishop
Paddock has passed away; also Bishop Hills,
Bishop of British Columbia, and Bishop Sillitoe of
New Westminster, and Bishop Williams of Quebec.
Ten p.m., Trinity Sunday. | Across the Pacific
westwards and across Russia in Asia and in Europe, THE OLDEST  BELL  TOWER IN  U.S.A.     18
and across the Baltic and North Sea to the shores
of England, it is broad daylight as it is here, but
across the American continent, and over the waves
of the Atlantic, hangs now the dark pall of night.
There is a night between us and England to the
east, and a long day between us and England to
the west."
But now let us journey homewards and leap over
some 2000 miles. CHAPTER XI
A Ride on a Cow-catcher
The limits of this book will not permit me to
describe the homeward journey, or to write of the
alternate route by the Great Lakes. Others have
effectively described Niagara, Hamilton, Toronto,
Montreal, and I must content myself with relating
an experience of some years ago in the Eastern
townships, when staying with the Principal of
Lennoxville University. I had made the acquaintance of an official on the great C.P.R., who wrote
this order for me—
Permit the bearer, Mr. Boddy,
to ride on your engine.
Frank Dale, M.M.
Accompany me then as I take my seat in the
cabin of Engine 205, C.P.R. (It was one of my
earliest Transatlantic experiences, and I was more
boyish then than now.) The engineer sends the
locomotive forward, panting out black balloons of
thick sooty smoke from the " smoke stack"; the
fireman pulls the long line which swings the great A RIDE ON  A COW-CATCHER
brass bell, hanging near the whistle, as we pass the
level crossing at Lennoxville, where buckboards
and slat-carts are kept in hand, and the horses
nervously gaze on the fiery monster.
Pant-pant, whiff-whoff, ding-dong, creak, wheeze,
and we roar through the covered bridge over
Massawippi's brown flood and rush out into the
forest, charging along a winding avenue of Canadian
firs. Birds fly out of the way as we make 144
revolutions per minute of our driving-wheel, 5 ft.
8 in. in diameter.
Panting as we climb up-grades and smoothly
dashing on down-grades, we ere long see the
houses of a village in the open country before us,
and the gilt spire of its church, and then pass a
yoke of patient oxen ploughing or stone drawing.
" Johnville, Johnville." " All aboard, all aboard."
We rattle along, and at Bulwer we have the excitement of getting a freight car on to the track. It
had run off at the "switch" (points). In this
district the whole of the ends of two lines are
moved instead of the tongues which we call
" points " at home.
"Three cars," sings the fireman—"Two cars"—
I Half-a-car"—"Just a little mite." These are instructions to the engineer as to the distance he is
to send on the engine. " Draw pin " (we should
say "uncouple"). Then the engine is detached
from the train, and with a good pull reinstates the
long freight wagon on the track. These freight
cars are from fifty to sixty feet long.
Away we hurry in the brilliant sunshine. Leaving CoQkshine, we dash through the long wooden 186
bridge over the river. Through the bridge, because
the bridges over the rivers in this district have
roofs and sides to keep out the winter snow. They
are like long barns, but with no planks on the floor
joists, so that you look down from the engine
through the ties (sleepers) to the rushing river
beneath. W7here the line is exposed in the open
country high hoardings are erected to catch the
drifting snow ; they look like advertising hoardings
without placards upon them.
For hours we journey along, stopping at little
country stations, where fresh-looking Canadians
crowd the low platforms, and curious vehicles drive
through the surrounding clearing. The sun gets
lower, and as we travel east the long shadow cast
by the engine travels swiftly before us along the
track, or ripples through the fir trees as we circle
round a curve.
Nearly seven in the morning is it when Lake
Megantic bursts upon us from the valley behind
the woods on our right. Ice-floes and floating
timber fill some of the bays. Violet cloudlets
float high above the snow-streaked mountains.
Fir trees on the crest of the western hills stand
out in dark relief silhouetted against the sunset
sky. The river rushing swiftly from the lake has
burst its bonds and tears round the railway bridge.
Red-hot water seems to flow amidst the ice and
logs, for the sky reflected gleams through them as
through a network. WHAT IS  A COW-CATCHER?
It is a sort of grid-like plough fastened to the
front of the engine and nearly scraping the rails, so
that if the train meets with any movable obstruction it shall be pushed on one side. A fallen tree,
a flock of sheep, an exploring pig, a cariboo, or even
a " grizzly " would be probably sent to the rightabout by this contrivance. It does not strictly
catch cows, it rather " does " for them and flings
them suddenly into the ditch. When the train was
well under way in the early morning (after a night
in a wooden French hostelry) I opened one of the
front windows of the engine cabin. The crisp
mountain air dashed in as we toiled up the side of
the lovely lake Megantic. Squeezing through the
narrow opening I was outside now, holding on to
the long brass rod fastened to the boiler. The
engine rolled and jumped as we banged along, but,
holding on tightly, I passed forward and stepped
down on to the iron shelf above the cow-grid. Here
was a huge, thick rope, with iron hooks, coiled like
a great boa-constrictor, and ready to be us>ed in
parallel shunting. On these coils I sat me down,
holding on tightly to one of the lamp-holders, and
resting my right heel in the link of a stout iron
To enable the engines to shunt trucks and carriages there is an enormously strong bar fastened
in front, as thick as a muscular man's arm. It
is fastened to the centre of the buffer plank by
a correspondingly stout link, and when not  in i88
action this stout rod lies down in front of the
I was told that the day previously the train had
run into a span of oxen crossing the line, and that
this rod had speared and transfixed one ox and
carried it for half-a-mile, and it was so firmly
fastened to the locomotive that they had to stop
the train and cut it away.
The unclouded sun beats down, but we cannot
feel it, for, as we fly along through space we
cut our way through the still air at so great a
speed that it becomes a gale. Cold and dry is
this wind, for the forest glades on either side of the
line are still deep with the winter's snow.
Though we see the heat glimmer dancing above
the track before us, when we come to the spot we
only feel a passing lukewarm breath, and all is cold
again until we pull up, and then the fierce sun
blazes and scorches and frizzles with all his might.
But now we are rattling along at full speed. I feel
that the whole train is behind me, and that I am
leading the way.
The long line of rails stretches ahead through the
forest, and every moment the scene is changing and
new beauties ahead are evolving themselves out of
the mountains. Like a huge monster devouring
miles of iron tape, so it is with us; the long rails
come flying towards one and then disappear beneath
the engine.
Great birds fly screaming athwart our track as
we charge along, thundering out in agony, our
engine gasping blasts of spark and soot.
My steed seems to have life and to be filled with A TRESTLE-BRIDGE
yearning to outstrip anything which nature can
produce; sometimes we fly in comparative silence
as we shoot along down-grades, and then we puff
and toil as we pant and struggle along steep upgrades ; we creak and jar as we whizz around
sharp curves; with a bound we leap over chasms
as we are held up by skeletons of wood. Oh, those
trestle-bridges! Well for the occupants of the
comfortable cars reading their papers that they see
not the view from the cow-catcher.
. Here is a trestle-bridge coming ! Lean forward,
my friend, while you hold on tightly to the iron
frame. Look right through those open sleepers.
Down, down far away below see the rushing brown
river tearing at the rocks, and hear the roar of the
rapids above the roar of the train. We are swiftly
gliding across the fearful, scaffold-like bridge.
What is to save us if any one of the wooden
creaking beams, under our weight, snaps or is
crushed out of position ?
Ah 1 we breathe freely again, for we are over now,
and dash again into the forest; but we do not
forget the trestle-bridges. We shall b>e able to
picture the scene next time we read in our papers
of the plunging cars toppling over one another, and
the drowning and the burning, and the crushing
out of fair human lives. Those terrible trestle-
bridges !
When you are comfortably seated in a drawing-
room car you cannot realize the dangers, for you
see none of them, though you seem to be in mid-air
for a moment or two and then again amidst the
trees which surround the line. k 190
An old lady, very talkative, was telling the
conductor that she was taking her first ride on the
cars—never been in a train in her life before. She
was very simple, and had some strange notions, which
had been imposed upon her by some village wag.
| They tell me that these cars are lifted over some
of the gullies by balloons. Now, conductor, tell me
if that is correct ? " Just then the train shot out of
the forest over a high trestle-bridge, without any rails
and just a single track. On such a bridge you can
see nothing from the car windows—you seem to
be in mid-air. She held on tight to the sides of
her seat and drew a long breath. In a moment
the train was over, and as the trees re-appeared at
each side of the car she gasped, " Thank goodness,
conductor, we've come safe down again !"
But in fancy we are still on the front of Engine
No. 205. We are slackening speed, and the great
whistle gives a hoarse cry echoed back by the woods.
White new wooden sheds are seen in an opening
of the fir forest. Backwoodsmen and women and
children come down to see the train, and some of
them smile when they see an individual with a notebook seated above the cow-catcher. As the train
stops I slide off and watch the passengers alight,
and see their baggage set down on the edge of the
wild forest.
As some shunting is to be done I walk along to
examine the boundary between the British Dominions and the United States of America. It is
marked by a square cast-iron post about a yard
above the ground. Upon two sides appear in relief
the words "Boundary, August 9, 1842." THE  END OF THE IRON
On the States side are the words "Albert Smith,
United States Commissioner," and on the other
side, " Lieut.-Col. B. B. Estcourt, H.B.M. Commissioner." A very tattered " Stars and Stripes " hung
sadly from a rude pole which some one had lashed
fo the boundary post.
In 1842 the Commissioners cut a track through
the forests forty feet wide all along the boundary
from peak to peak, and across the intervening
valleys. Every quarter mile one of these posts was
placed, and between a square granite stone.
The engine-bell rings, and as the engine begins its
first pant I step on to the " catcher " and swing into
my place again. || Now the whole train dashes down
into the United States of America. Two minutes
ago we were amenable to British law, now we must
do as the President tells us. It is all down-grade
now to the end of the iron. About mid-day we come
to the engineers' camp, and are soon enjoying a
homely meal in a log hut among the " navvies."
Thousands of men of many nationalities are
spending their days in the forest battling with fierce
mosquitoes and other troubles, but pushing on
bravely the work of completing a last link in the
chain to connect the west with the open eastern
ocean in winter-time. (It was soon after completed.) That same morning I return to my
friends. As we approach Lennoxville we trumpet
out hoarsely from the booming whistle the news of
our return. We swing once more the brazen bell,
and our huge lamp blazes and glares as we light
up the interior of the covered bridge and roll again
over Massawippi's swollen flood. ~odt
Homewards with Cattle
Again we are in mid-ocean, more than a thousand miles from either shore, our bows bearing
Britainwards and homewards. All around is the
wide-stretching, lonely, tossing ocean. Then the
wind veers round to the west, and there floats
with us
The lowing of oxen is in our ears. Well-fed,
sleek bulls and bullocks and heifers munching their
liberal rations all day long. On the promenade
deck shuffle-board goes forward. In the smoking-
room cribbage perhaps. In the saloon the piano
is tinkling. 3, Generous meals are being served with
regularity and attractiveness, as on all other liners
on the Atlantic. I might show you some of the
other sides of life on this floating town—might
take you to the hospital and let you hear the story
of the stoker's risks from one recovering from
scalds, or walk the deck with the officers and talk
of ice and fog, or chat with the sailors, painting the
boats, about their hard life—but we will confine
our attention to the cattle and the cattle-men. HOMEWARDS WITH CATTLE
Five hundred and thirty head of cattle on board,
representing more than ;£ 10,000 in value. Splendid
beasts they seem to the unprofessional eye. They
weigh, on an average, one thousand eight hundred
pounds, and one huge bull is said to be two thousand seven hundred and odd pounds. They
come by rail from farms in Ontario, where they
have been stall-fed since December last. Their
voyage expenses, first and. last, are about £$ each.
Durhams and Herefords crossed, and a strain of
Ontario blended in, enormous flat backs and
massive haunches. There they stand, fastened side
hy side, with a stout rope around their horns, some
on the deck (the upper deck, but covered in), and
also on the main deck below. On the lowest
•deck, from end to end, extends also a vast
cow-byre or bull-pen.  A narrow alley-way between
whose heads are towards each other. One little
prod, even in a playful way, would settle one
altogether in passing between. A long trough
beneath each head receives the feed of 1 mooly"
(ground peas, meal, and flour). Then, when that is
consumed, there is unlimited hay to eat, and a
good drink from time to time of soft condensed
water. The hay is sent on board in bales of about
two hundred and forty pounds, enough to last for
twelve days if necessary, and the allowance of
"" mooly" is a sack of seventy-five pounds a head.
The water  is  sea-water condensed,  and  cooled
afterwards   in   great    barrels    standing   on   the
n 194
decks,  handy for   the   cattle-men   to   dip  their
buckets in.
The cattle are insured at the rate of two dollars
a head (about Ss. 2d.). This covers loss by wreck,
disease, bad weather, etc. The men in charge
generally have the selection of those who shall
work under them on the voyage. On this voyage
there are two "bosses," representing different
consignors, each tending their own cattle, and
eighteen men. The steamship company carries
free and feeds, and gives a return passage also to
four men for each hundred head of cattle. The
cattle " boss " gets $s. gd. a head, one of them told
me, and pays about is, per head to the men whom
he employs. A cattle boss can make some £20 to
^30 a trip ; but a month is covered altogether in
going and returning. The cattle are carefully
examined by officials sent over from England before
they may be put on board ship at Montreal. Every
beast on board this vessel has
on its hide. They have also the consignor's marks.
On arriving at Birkenhead, where all cattle are
landed for the Liverpool port, they are not allowed
to leave the lairs, but are slaughtered within tea
days. The expense of the slaughtering falls on the
purchaser if the sale takes place first, but if they
are sold as meat the expense falls on the consignor.
The salesman gets 5.?. a head for every one sold.
The average value of fat cattle, such as we are
carrying, is ^"15 a head in Canada, the expense of HOMEWARDS WITH CATTLE
transit £5, so that they must at least sell for ^20 to
cover expenses.
On this voyage they have, so far, very good
weather. It is always best for them to have good
weather first, until they get somewhat used to the
motion of the vessel, then they can bear more
motion. In fine weather all the hatches are off, and
there is good ventilation down to the lower deck.
But if heavy weather comes the hatches are battened
down, and the heat then becomes trying. The
lowest deck is then the best, for the cold water
round the vessel's sides helps to keep down the
temperature, and the bad air all rises to the main
deck, and the cattle there suffer the most.
In bad weather the cattle will not lie, but stand,
and sometimes they die of exhaustion. The cattle
on the upper deck (the spar deck) are often in the
way of the green seas sweeping over the bows, and
they suffer and get inflammation of the lungs.
Sometimes a vessel goes ashore in a fog, and
through the surf. A sister boat to this ran ashore
near Cape Pine, on the south coast of Newfoundland. We had passed her a few hours before, but
strong currents and thick weather had caused her
to get close in to the shore and to strike the land.
Then, I am told, they erected a staging from the
ship to the cliffs. All the sheep (480) were saved,
but the cattle on the deck were drowned. All were
insured in the British and Foreign, the Western
Life Stock, and North American Insurance Com- 196
panies. The beasts are all fastened round the
horns by a short rope. The cattle-men go round
at night to see that they are not entangled. Sometimes one lies down, and the next one steps over it.
Then if the recumbent one gets up there is trouble
and some danger. They unloose the ropes then,
and interchange them to suit their altered positions.
. As we move along among the fat cattle in the
semi-darkness of the lower main deck we can
scarcely realize that we are more than a thousand
miles from land. Suddenly we hear distinctly
sounds of music. It is a passenger in the saloon,
just above our heads, beguiling the time with
Chopin. . Half the world knows not how the other
half lives.
are a difficult lot to manage. They seem a good
deal mixed. Some have been in superior positions
in life. Many are working their way homewards
after bitter experiences. I have been told of one
who was said to bear a title, which he dropped for
the time. Some who have come out " saloon " have
been thankful to work their way back as cattlemen. The L. & N.W. Railway at Alexandra Docks,
Liverpool, and perhaps elsewhere also, will send a
telegram gratis from any one who arrives home by
steamer without money to pay for a ticket. If the
friends are willing to pay for the railway journey,
they do so at their own station, and when a satisfactory reply is received, a ticket is handed to the
returning wanderer which " passes " him home. HOMEWARDS  WITH  CATTLE?
One cattle-ship running to Bristol was met by- a
carriage which took off a young cattle-tender and
drove first to a tailor's shop to rig out the young
man in complete new clothes before he was driven
to his father's house in Clifton. As a rule, however,
there is no one to meet the cattle-men, and they
often become wanderers on the face of the earth.
They have to wait, at least a week, for a return
vessel, and have to feed themselves in the meantime. One on board this ship is a yoUng mechanic
who tramped through Ontario seeking work,
another a young countryman equally unfortunate,
another has been a section-man (plate-layer) on the
G.T.R., another has been a soldier, and since then
a wholesale consumer of whisky, and more lately,
he says, on the "staff" of a Liverpool paper. He
also thinks that he is an artist. One, I believe, is
a student going over to see England. Others are
of the loafer class. They get about £1 each if
effective. One " boss " complained that they were
not always " on hand " when wanted, and difficult
to manage. The other " boss," by a quick upward
movement of his foot and a downward movement
of his fist, explained to me his style of argument
with his men when slow. One has crossed the
Atlantic more than a hundred times, and he adds,
" I don't know the road yet!"
said  a wit, as  they were having their rough, if
plentiful, evening meal of bread-and-butter.    They mm
were seated on the bales of hay on the lower deck,
as I and a passenger were having a look at the
cattle. Of course there was no marmalade, and
this was just a mild joke brought out for our
benefit. This same gentleman painted all the glass
lamp-shades in the saloon, and festooned them
with lovely flowers, not botanically accurate, but
still they delighted the stewards and sailors. " Ye
might paint me something on the inside of me
bucket," said an Irish fireman in passing. " Yes,
indeed, Pat; I'll paint a fat pig for you with a potato
in its mouth." This provoked shouts of laughter
from the bystanders.
"Don't you find it difficult to paint with such a
crowd round you giving their opinions ?' I said.
" No, I don't; for I spend most of my time in
saloons (public-houses) decorating whisky-bottles,
and there's plenty of noise there." One day I
asked him how much he could live on. He said,
" Well, I made ten dollars a day in Chicago during
the World's Fair, but I didn't find that enough."
(This is at about the rate of £700 per annum!)
He had been at the siege of Alexandria, etc.; had
relations well to do, but deliberately walked on the
downward path, scoffed at religion—said he didn't
believe in the " lost sheep business," and cavilled
at every movement for helping men—Salvation
Army, Dr. Barnardo—all alike came under his
disapproval as he held forth to an interested circle.
Poor fellow, he had some good in him, I'm sure,
but it was hard to get at. His one aim was to
get whisky. He complained that his sister—a
well-to-do lady in England—would have nothing A STRANGE EPISODE
to say to him, and that she was leaving her money
to hospitals, and the like.
" I expect that fellow will jump overboard
before we get to Liverpool," said one of the
officers to me.
" God has wondrous love for us all, and even
that man may yet come round, though it seems
so hopeless."
I must tell you of one Sunday evening service
and its sequel. It was our first Sunday, when we
were still in the St. Lawrence. We held the service
on deck, it was so warm and pleasant. The cattle
lay around munching their hay, and cattle-men
and sailors joined in the service, and sang the
hymns heartily. As the LORD JESUS once came
among cattle in the stable at Bethlehem, so I
believe He was with us that lovely Sunday evening,
as I pleaded with those whom He had come to
seek and to save. The service ended, and we all
went to rest as the darkness deepened and the
daylight died.
Two evenings later a youth stepped out of the
shadow of the alley-way, and asked permission to
speak to me.
He said, " You'll despise me, I fear, for what I
have to tell you, but after what you said on
Sunday night I cannot help it." He said: " Some
time ago, before I left home, I was serving my
time as a mechanic in a fitting-shop. I went
to Sunday-school, and the lads around me in the 20O
works chaffed me a good deal, and made out I
was religious, and made game of me. To prove
that I wasn't religious I joined them in a f slanging '
match, in which we all tried to swear the hardest.
" Some cursed the Name of GOD, some cursed
the Lord JESUS Christ, and I said these words,
\ Oh, Holy Ghost, if there is a Holy Ghost,
strike me dead now.' They all stopped at that
and said, ' He has won the belt/ meaning that I
was the champion. Some of the men in the shop
heard of it, and while some cracked me up for it,
others spoke to me about it solemnly—they were
religious men. I felt as if I had done for myself,
and, when I spoke to one religious man, he said
that I had committed the unpardonable sin of
blasphemy against the Holy Ghost.
"Well, I left home and came over to Ontario.
I crossed in a cheap foreign ship, and had a bad'
time of it, I travelled the country, but found
work hard to get. I got down very low. I had
given up praying, but one day when I had had
nothing to eat and was tramping the country, I
prayed to God to have mercy on me and help me.
" It was a Sunday afternoon. I went up to a
farmhouse and begged a drink, as I was parched.
A rough farmer asked me if I did not want
something to eat. I had a bit of pride, and
foolishly said I could manage; I only wanted a
drink. He took up a stick, and ordered me to
come in at once, and told me to sit down with him
at tea, and to eat a good square meal, or he would
thrash me.
" He gave me a bed that night, and next day HOMEWARDS WITH CATTLE
gave me fifty cents to pay my fare down to
Toronto, and gave me food to carry with me to
Toronto, and told me to go to Mr. Thompson, who
was sending cattle to England, and he would give
me a passage. I began to think to myself that
God could not have forsaken me if He could so
wonderfully answer my prayers.
"When I got to Toronto, He answered my
prayers again. You see I got the promise of a
passage home in the ship to look after cattle, but
it was a week yet to the day of sailing, and I had
no money to buy food with now. So I prayed
again to God to help me. He answered my
prayer again, for the gentleman offered to keep
me until I left, at a boarding-house.
" Now, don't you think, sir, that God cannot
have forsaken me if He answers my prayers like
that ?" I
" My dear fellow," I said, " are you truly sorry
for the awful blasphemy ?"
" Yes, indeed, I am," he replied.
" Who is it that puts that sorrow into your
heart ? The devil would not do it, only GOD Himself. God has not left you. The very fact of
your penitence proves that you have not grieved
the Holy Spirit beyond forgiveness. He has
brought you here on the Toronto to tell you
through me, His ambassador, that He freely
forgives. In His name, as His messenger, I
promise you forgiveness through the blood of
Jesus Christ, which cleanseth from all sin."
He was deeply thankful, and was comforted
indeed.    I could scarcely sleep in my bunk that 202
night for joy that the Lord had sought and saved
that which was lost.
It was a clear, brilliant summer evening, as June
was drawing to a close, that we
The night before, at nine o'clock, on the Atlantic,
we had sighted the light on Tory Island, off the
wild Irish coast. Our organist had rushed down
into the saloon and played " The Queen ' frantically, as a token that the voyage was over, and
the passengers were in some danger of temporary
aberration of intellect. They were enthusiastically
Early in the morning I saw Rathlin Island
abeam. About eleven we slowed off Donaghadee,
and two old men in a boat came out from that
quaint, clean, north Irish watering-place. They
took off letters and telegrams back to the town
with the high square church tower.
As the afternoon wore away we again circled
round the Calf of Man and the Chickens. Evening
drew on, and the Crosby lightship came in sight,
and the line of buoys marking the channel into
Liverpool, with a little jet of gas burning in each.
We picked up a pilot, and got a Liverpool Courier
and read the latest news.
We passed the marvellous dredger sucking up
sand and water and sending the latter overboard.
We named her
Away ahead of us the noble Majestic was crossing
the bar seven days out from New York. It was
nearly low tide, but owing to this wonderful new
dredger (which cost .£60,000, I believe) we passed
over without scraping. We passed the Majestic
discharging her saloon passengers into the White
Star tender (the Magnetic).
The sky was still lit up by the dying daylight,
but all the lights on the shore and on the shipping
were lit. The electric lights gleamed from every
porthole of the noble ship as we passed by. Three
booms from our whistle and out from the region of
Alexandra Docks comes our tug with shore-hands
to land the cattle. Up to Birkenhead, and then,
turning slowly, we got to our berth at the Wallasey
Lairs, very nearly crushing a barge which got
between us and another big steamer. All ended
well, however.
Now our passengers were to be landed. The
four-footed ones I mean.    What a lowing 1    What
Doors were opened in the ship's side, gangways
run up to the upper decks, and soon the landing-
stage was alive with stiff-kneed, fat cattle, trying
to trot, and uplifting their tails on high. From the
upper deck down the gangway leaders could not
be prevailed to descend. Some of the men pulled
at the ropes on their horns, some pushed behind,
and then came a rush of heavy cattle, and the first
one was almost lifted off his legs and obliged to
descend. 204
It was getting dark, and the scene was weird as
we watched the black forms of our fellow-passengers
as in the lamp-light they trotted off up to the lairs.
In a few days they would be on the dinner-plates
of Lancashire and Yorkshire—poor beasts!
On the other side of the ship the tender had
made fast which was to take the passengers across
to Liverpool. Farewells were exchanged. Captain,
officers, stewards, cattle-men, sailors, boys, etc., all
whose acquaintance one had made on the double
voyage had now to be left behind. God bless the
Atlantic steamers and those who sail in them !
The tender put off now, and we waved " Goodbye" as we crossed to the Prince's landing-stage.
The Custom House officers having examined my
luggage, I went ashore.
I find I have spent eighty days altogether on the
Atlantic, and though sometimes monotonous for a
short season, in the main these days have been very
full. In addition to the religious work one has been
permitted to do, there has been a good deal of
literary work done also. This book ought not to
be dry, for it has mostly been written whilst speeding
over the green hills of the North Atlantic Ocean in
fair weather and foul. I hope, indeed, that it may
take a humble place with other larger works, in
giving some insight into life beyond and on the
Atlantic. From the smoke-beaten Vicarage near
the North Sea I bid my reader " Farewell."
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