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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul clichd sont filmdes i partir de Tangle sup6rieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, on prenant le nombre d'images n^cessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 S : CIS ='! 0) ■ — ♦ -C CD O SHANTY, FOREST AND EIVER LIFE IN THE BACKWOODS OF CANADA. BY THE Author of " Three Months Among the Moose." MONTREAL: PRINTED BY JOHN LOVELL & SON. 1883. mmmm 039/ ., , Entered according to act of the Parliament of Canada in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-four by Joshua Feiser, in the offica of the Minister of Agriculture. DEDICATED, BY PEKM18SI0N, TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE SIR JOHN A. MACDONALD, K.C.B., With profound respect, BY THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS. Chapters. I. Reminiscences, Reflections 7 II. Manahan's Shanty and Surroundings 16 III. Shanty Government 26 IV. "I'll roast the Devil out of you" 35 V. A Merry Old Cook 43 VI. "My Home! my Home I my Home I" 57 VII. Old Saint-Saint, the Hermit 64 VIII. Forest Fires 75 IX. A Sunday Service inthe Shanty.., 96 X. Gentlemen Settlers 102 XI. A Game of Bluff 112 XII. Keeping House for my Companions 124 XIII. About Deer Shooting... 135 XIV. A Ride on a Deer's Back in the Lake 150 XV. "I'll teach them how to shoot Deer" 164 XVI. A Providential Dream 171 XVII. '' Did you ever know what it is to be blind ? I^^ave" 183 XVIII. A Night on the Lakt a a Snowstorm 191 XIX. About Mines, &c 195 XX. Lost in the Woods 2IO XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. Contents. Among the Wolves 222 " A Pretty Tall Snake Story" 240 About Bruin 249 More about Bruin 268 The Breaking-up of the Ice 271 A Backwoods Schoolmaster of the Olden Time 283 Jams 301 Sandy C— 315 A Carnival in a River-side Shebeen 329 Shooting the Rapids and Slides of the Grand River 339 Settling up in Quebec. 34^ f .: SHANTY, FOEEST AND EIVER LIFE. CHAPTEE I. Reminiscences. Reflections, REMEMBER well the first gun I ever pos- sessed, and that was many, many years ago. I was a youngster of about twelve, and the piece was proportionate in size to my years. It was a little old-fashioned thing, no more than three feet long, stock, barrel and all. I found it in the garret of one of my father's parishioners, to whom I was paying a visit at the time in company with my mother. .Long Peter — for so our host was called, to distin- guish him from several others of the same name and clan in the settlement — was as long-headed as he was long-bodied, and as big in heart as he was in frame. I had always been a great favorite with him, and in my boyish conceit had the idea that I , could wheedle almost anything out of him that was at all in reason. So as soon as my eyes lit on the gun I set my heart on it, and that gun I was : bound to have. My importunities finally prevailed. 8 Shanty, Forest and River Life over Peter's reluctance to entrust me with it, and after making me promise not to tt^ll my mother, and solemnly cautioning me to be careful in using it, he promised me the loan of it for an indefinite period. As it was impossible to take the gun with me that day in the buggy with my mother, I trtimped out the three miles to Petei place early the next morning ; and as I marched home with it on my shoulder I shall never forget the feelings of intense gratification and pride which filled my heart, and how I revelled in the anticipations of coming sport and slaughter among the sqniiTels and pigeons. I have often wondered how I escaped blowing my brains out 'with that gun. It had seen so much duty in its day, and experienced such rough usage^ that it was almost burned through at the breech. Every time I fired a little puff of smoke would come out through a small hole just below the nipple, and why it didn't burst in my hands has been a puzzle to me ever since. However, there M'as a grain of caution in me, even at that early age, and w^hen I noticed this peculiarity about the breech, I resolved to test the piece before I would have anything more to do with it. So I put in a charge of powder four times as large as the ordinary measure, and fastened the gun firmly to a post in the barn-yard; then In the Backwoods of Canada. 9 tying a string about fifty feet long to the trigger, and holding the other end, I ensconced myself in the roothouse, feeling assured that if it stood that charge it would be quite safe for ordinary practice. The report which followed my pull of the string was something tremendous, but I was delighted beyond measure, when I emerged from my covert, to find that the little gun had stood the test nobly, and was quite uninjured, though a larger column of smoke than usual came pouring out of that ominous hole. After this I took great satisfaction out of "Birdie," as I fondly christened my tiny firearm ; and after school-hours, in the long summer evenings, I had many a joyous ramble over the hills, and through the woods; and many a squirrel and pigeon and partridge became a trophy of its prowess. From the possession of that piece I date my love of the woods, and of Nature in all her free, wild, and grand simplicity. And as the years have rolled on, and I have come to man's estate, and entered upon the stern duties of life, this love has never waned — but seems rather upon occasion at least to grow with my years — and I fervently hope that it never will while life lasts. But in justice to myself I must say that I have never allowed it to interfere with or hinder real work and duty ; but when legitimate i^_|j| iO Shanty, Forest and River Life holiday comes, as come it should at least once a year to every professional man, then, instead of dawdling it away by the seaside, or at fashionable watering-places, with their senseless fripperies, and inane round of unmeaning and sensational amuse- ments — a rehash, in fact, of city and artificial life — I love " To fold my tent, like the Arabs, And silently steal away " to the quiet solitudes of nature, where, from lake and river, mountain and forest I draw that pure, healthy, and bracing excitement, both of body and mind, which constitutes the true rest of life, and the only genuine relaxation from over- strained mental and physical work, and at the same time the best invigorator for a fresh entry into the routine activities of life's duties. " A sound mind in a sound body" is one of the wisest maxims ever uttered by either Christian or Pagan philosopher. I care not how great a man's mental capacity may be, he never will fulfil the full complement of his work, if his body is weak and ailing. No doubt, by a tre- mendous exertion of will-power, his mind may rise superior to bodily infirmity, and work on padsively and doggedly, and even produce magnificent results, as is grandly illustrated in the history of Dr. John- In the Backwoods of Canada. 11 ston, Carlyle, Kepler and some others whose names are illustrious in the honor-roll of life's work. But these exceptional cases only falsely beg the ques- tion. For there is not a doubt that, if these same men had enjoyed vigorous health, free, full, and normal ^ *.. .; Ution of the blood, easy and natural res- piratioxi, ■ 1 buoyant, elastic, physical spirits — in a word, a ( nd body, they would have accomplished double thfc work they did. It is fearful to think how the intellectual energies of many of our best educated men in any direction you choose to look at, in science, theology, literature, politics, or business, are crippled, actually shorn of half their practical ability by neglecting or despising the claims of the body. This is very often the result oif a foolish, false pride, or of abject moral cowardice. There are many professional men who deem it ■"infra dignitatem" to take that physical exercise which will insure them vigorous, exuberant health, no matter how innocent or enjoyable these exercises may be. They fancy that it lowers their profes- sional status to take an oar in hand, a rifle on their arm, or a pack ou their shoulders, and tramp off to the wild woods, or other free domains of grand old I>aiue Nature, there to reap the purest, balmiest, 12 Shanty, Forest and River Life most healthful of all life's enjoyments. If they do extend any favor to " that sort of thing" it is with a dilettante kind of air, a species of simpering patron- age, which is as silly as it is uncalled for. I pity these men from the bottom of my heart. They know not how they are robbing themselves of what mainly constitutes true life in its actuality, lon- gevity, and enjoyment. But there is another class of professional men whom I despise with all my heart, and that is those who, through fear of public opinion, or slavish cringing to popular prejudice, are afraid to indulge in those harmless and healthy i^ecreations which nature demands for the proper and adequate performance of life's work and duty. They perversely choose to live on, in a bilious, dyspeptic, abnormal condition of body and mind ; misperforming solcnm duty in a slipshod, treadmill, perfunctorysort of manner — in a w^ord, are practical failures in respect to the potential abilities, the educational attainments, and all the other favorable surroundings with which a kind Providence has blessed them. And all because they have not the courage of their convictions, and are afraid to act up to the honest, sound, natural promptings of their own judgment and conscience. En passant^ it is pitiable to see how many of those it In the Backwoods of Canada. 13 who ought to lead public opinion — to mould, regulate and elevate it — are led by it ; instead of governing, which is their *' divine right," in virtue of their posi- tion and attainments, they are the governed — they are slaves where they ought to be masters. This cringing and fawning after popular favor, this abnegation of what is truly noble and dignified in man's moral, intellectual and physical status, is one of the most odious and contemptible phases in all the multiform evolutions of human nature. In nothing is this more strikingly shewn than in this question of physical recreation and exercise — though within these last few years there are many professional men of all grades who are adopting a more common-sense view of the matter. Instead of spending their two months' holidays in crowded, fashionable haunts, they are pitching their tents on some of the glorious islands of the St. Lawrence, in the more retired solitudes of our inland lakes, or in the depths of our sublime and pathless forests. Here, especially during the hot summer months, they and their families can spend a most delightful time. In fishing, canoeing, swimming, roughing it generally in the open, breezy, bracing air, with the pleasant accompaniments of light reading and family sociability, they quickly recuperate their over- 14 ^^(hanty, Forest and River Life strained energies^ and brace themselves for another campaign on the dusty treadmill of town or city life. I hold that such a life, for a season, above all others, gives genuine tone and power to the whole system, both mental and physical. Instead of demoralizing and unfitting for even the most serious and respon- sible duties, it rather nerves and braces for discharging them with redoubled zeal, energy and success. We would then have truer men, better preachers, sounder Christians, and a happier class generally of profes- sional men, be<;ause a healthier, more clear-sighted and pure-hearted one. Let me not be misunderstood in these reflections. I do not mean them as an apology or defence for my own likings and doings in this direction. By no means. On the contrary, I feel that the church and society in general are greatly obligated to me for bringing this question fairly and squarely before them J and I know that it meets with a hearty response in the minds of all right-discerning and good-sense people, if they only had the courage and honesty to admit it. In one of the vicissitudes of my professional life I found myself, in the Fall of 188 — , thrown upon my oars, and for some months to come practically my own master, as far as active duty was concerned. In the Backwoods of Canada. ] 5 At this juncture my friend C , who always turns up at my right elbow in most opportune style, wrote me most urgently to pay a visit to his shanties on the Madawasca, and bead waters of the Clyde, tell- ing me to " make myself at home there, and stay as long as I pleased, months, years, a century if I chose." He gave me, at the same time, a letter to his general manager, the gist of which was that he was to see that " Mr. F. was treated in every way the same as if it were himself.'* Without hesitation I accepted his kind invitation, and made my arrangements accordingly. My friend Costen, in his usual, efficient manner, fitted me out with all needful hunting and camping accoutrements ; and with an abundant supply of books, clothes and all necessary comforts, I found myself, after a few days, en route, in gxeat glee of heart, for the backwoods, 16 Shanty, Forest and River Life \\\ CHAPTEE II. Manahan''& Shanty and Surroundings, HAD no occasion, on this trip to the backwoods, to drive four days through the piny wilderness, ^^ before reaching my destination. My journey this time was a very simple and prosaic affair. The K. and P. E. would carry me within seven miles of C.'s nearest shanty. So, on the evening of the second day after leaving home, I found myself " rubbing " along on the last stage of the road between Mississippi station and the terminus, which rejoices under the appropriate name of Iron City. It is lu the immediate vicinity of most valuable iron mines, and in fact lies at the base of a mighty hill, which is commonly supposed, especially by the credulous in these matters, to be one solid mass of magnetic ore. In due time next day, I arrived at my destination — Manahan's shanty, — and received a cordial and hearty welcome from my old friend and school-fellow, the foreman. In the Backwoods of Canada, Vi I felt myself at once thoroughly at home, and surrounded by many old friends. Some of these were sons of my father's old parishioners, whom I had known when a boy. Others, and not a few, had been with me as canoemen and hunters in former expeditions to the backwoods. Though it was some years since I had been in this country, yet they all remembered me, and from one and all I received an iron grip of the hand, which said better than words how glad they were to see me. Each one had some stirring incident, or old pleasant remin- iscence to recall. " Do ypu remember the time Mr. F., etc., etc./* was the usual introduction to a long and friendly talk. How pleasant it is in again meeting with former associates to feel that there are no old heart-burnings existing still between you. Many a " tiff " and hot row I had had with some of these fellows over some trifling matter concerning camp or hunt, but all seemed now forgotten, and they were as ready as ever to help and befriend me. As for myself, as I sat that night before the great fire, I felt a thrill of delight at being once more among these sturdy, manly, warm-hearted sons of the forest. Take them all in all I love the shanty- men. There is more of true manliness, of genuine ■n 18 Shanty, Forest and Iliver Life unsophisticated, right-heartedrie^s among them than in any class of men I ever associated with. Manahan's shanty is situated in a wild, rough country of rocky hills, tangled swamp and boggy marshes. In common with the lar^ji- portion of the Ottawa Valley, the district is totally unfit for culti-^ vation. The few settlers who farm the land depend entirely upon the lumber business for their bare subsistrnce. Not only does it afford a ready and high market fo* the scanty produce of their farms — > consisting almost solely of oats and hay (for not one in ten ever has a bushel of wheat to sell in a year^, — . but both men and horses obtain steady employment during the winter in the shanties. V/ith all the available resources which they can possibly com- ma^id, the great majority of them are a poor, hard^ working, hand-to-mouth class of people. I often wonder what induced sensible people, with their eyes open, to settle in this part of the country with the view of making a living by farming. When the lumber business dies out, which it must of necessity do before man^ years, this section must in a large measure become depopulated, for the land cannot and never will be able to support any but ue scantiest population. However we In tlie Backwoods of Canada. 19 have great faith in the development of the mineral resources of the country; and if capital and enter- prise are only fairly evoked in this diieation, there vill always be a fair market for the surplus products of the lajid, and also for the labor of men and horses. In so speaking I do not ignore the fact that there are some farmers who, through superior intelligence, indefatigable industry and rigid economy, have done fairly well — in fact, may be called well-to-do farmers, but, emphatically, they are " few and very far between." The great proportion, no doubt three- fourths of those who profess to till the soil, do not and cannot live by it. If, then, the raining interest will not take the place of lumber business, these people must either starve or leave. \7hat adds to the wild and sterile appearance of this district are the terrible ravages of the fire- fiend, vast tracts of the most valuable timber sec- tions have again and again been devaatated by this scourge. (Of this, however, and also of the mineral resources of the country, I nail treat more fully in subsequent chapters.) Consequently, for miles in every direction, the country is diversified, though certainly not beautified, by dead, burnt iBi ^^ 20 Shanty y Fcn^est and River Life |)iiieiies. The tall black trunks of these mighty giants of the forest, denuded of their branches, tower upwards to a great height, and present a weird, desolate landscape to the view. In back- woods parlance they are called "rampikes," and make you think of the crowbars which the Titans may have used to pry up the rocks, with which they tried to pelt Jupiter out of Heaven. Notwithstanding the ravages of the fire, however, one is astonished at the vast amount of virgin forest which still remains, and the immense number of fine logs and square timber that is being taken out. C has five shanties inactive operation within a radius of four miles. These shanties are distin- guished by the names of their respective foremen, viz., Monahan's, where my headquarters are, Larocque's, Rice's, Craig's, and Stoughton's. In each of these a f H complement of men, between thirty and forty, are busy at work, felling, scoring, hewing, sawing and drawing unto the ice. C expects to take out this season 60,000 logs, and a large raft of square timber. He has also on tliese limits an immense quantity of most valuable oak, birch, basswood, cedar, ash, rock-elm, and, per- haps best of all, bird's eye and curly maple. He is In the Backwoods of Canada. 21 buikling a large steam saw mill in the veiy heart of those invaluable woods, by which hy intends to utilize them to the very last tree. It is a singular sj)ectacle to see this great work going on in the depths of the wilderness, for so it yet practically is, and awakens unbounded astonish- ment in the eyes of the surrounding hahitana. But that great civilizer, the railway, has come, and is breaking down and casting up the highways of backwoods thought and life. In another year or two there will be no backwoods here, and its lovers will have to go further back for a camp or a home. By next July the road is expected to be built within half a mile of the mill, with which it will be connected by a switch. It was of course with this probability in view that C decided to build the mill, otherwise he might as well have thrown his money into the fire, because there was no possibility of getting his lumber out when sawn except by a railway. The building of the mill itself is a great undertaking, and is regar- 1 by many wise and other heads as chimerical in the extreme. At the very outset the blasting of the rock in order to secure a solid foundation on which to rest the gangways is a herculean task, and involves an immense expen- diture of money, dynamite and labor. w^ 212 Shmdy, Forest and River lAfc The noise and dust that these fellows kick np in their work is something terrific. When half a dozen blasts go oft' at once, as frequently ImppenS) yon would fancy two or three volcanoes and Earth- quakes had burst ont simultaneously. But Browne, the foreman, is an expert and pushing fellow, and expects, as he says, to have the whole rock cleared out of that " in less than no time." C 's idea in building this mill is an exceed- ingly far-seeing and long-headed one, and, as far as human prescience and calculation can determine, an exceedingly profitable one. He purposes running the mill all the year round. In the summer he will cut nothing but pine, of which, notwithstanding the fires, he has still sufficient to last for several years. During the winter season he will saw nothing but the hard woods, for the simple reason that these woods cannot be taken out during the summer, as they will not float in the streams, but, as they are in the vicinity of the mill, they can be drawn direct to it on the snow-roads, just when they are cut, and the boards by the railroad shipped direct to market. The enterprise is a thoroughly sound one. Between soft and hai-d woods he has an abundant supply for ten years to come, and by that time the mill will have In the Backivooih of Canada. 23 paid itself many times over, and he can afford to let it go to decay and ruin if it likes, for all he cares.* Monahan's shanty, built under his own super- vision, is a capital specimen, of its kind, of backwoods architecture. It is warm, roomy, lightsome, and " doesn't smoke." Smoke is the pest of the shanty- man's domicile. It requires very considerable mechanical ingenuity, and practical experience, so to construct the camboose and the opening in the roof immediately above it, with its log chimney of few or many feet in height, that the smoke may escape • Since the above was writton O's plans and expectations have been fully realized. The railroad I' been built to the mill, and is in regular running to a point turee miles beyond it. Tlie mill is finished, though at an enormous expense, and after many vexatious accidents and delay?, and is now turning out its 00,000 feet a day. What a year ago was a th'ckety, marshy swamp is now a scene of lively, bustling activity. A village of over thirty houses has sprung up which rejoices in the apt name of Clyde Forks. The whole enter- prise has proved a g and success, and is one of the most strik- ing illustrations we have of what '^eterniination, combined with long-headednees and capital, can accomplish. C has struck the key-note in this direction, his uncle, Mr. B. C, one of the wealthiest lumber merchants of the Ottawa, is building a large steam mill on his limits, about ten miles further south on the line of railw- /, and others, Ihear, are about to follow in the wake. i i 24 Shanty, Forest and River Life freely and fully. Even with the best and most experimented precautions there are few shanties but will smoke sometimes. It depends greatly upon the weather ; when the atmosphere is damp, foggy and depressed it is often impossible to prevent it. Our shanty is one of the best in this respect I have ever been in ; and in it, until I moved to the mill quarters, I spent a most comfortable and happy time. Monahan's " gang " of forty men is a fair sample of the shanty genus homo ; English, Scotch, Irish and French are its constituent elements, and among them are some splendid specimens of physical humanity. Jim himself is a capital type of the shanty fore- man. He is a tall, well proportioned, powerful man; with great push and energy of character. And, though he has all the " brusqueness " of manner which perhaps too much belongs to men of his posi- tion, yet he is greatly liked and respected by his men. He is always ready to grant a reasonable favor, and do a kind and generous action, and at the same time, both by example and rule, he endea- vors to inculcate sobriety and good behavior among the men. He is an intelligent, well-educa- ted man, and a most insatiable reader. He is I most es but upon mt it. pect I to the [lappy ample Irish -mong ysical fore- I'erful And, inner posi- Y his Qable id at odea- avior luca- le is c (J) C a! c « c U) 01 C ^1 In the Backwoods of Canada. 25 always cribbing my books, if they are lyiug loose about, concerning which we have many a friendly tiff. Shanty life would be monotonous in the extreme, were it not for the vigorous exercise in the open, bracing air, and the redundant health, with its natural accompaniment of high animal spirits, which is almost continually enjoyed. Still the men have their amusements : at night when supper is over, it is a cheery sight to see them round the roaring fire, in the full enjoyment of that sweetest of all rest which follows after hard, lengthy, and healthy labor in a bright, keen atmosphere, surcharged with ozone and oxygen, and impreg- nated with the balmy odors of the pine, balsam, spruce and tamarac. Cards, chequers, reading if they have books — and they always have where I am — an occasional dance, . song and story, all accompanied by the merry strains of the fiddle, and, better than all, a camaraderie which pervades the whole — make the long winter evenings pass quickly and pleasantly, until it is time to turn in under the warm blankets, to sleep that sweet, sound and refreshing slumber, which only strong men in the redundance of health and animal life, without care or thought of whe morrow, can obtain and realize. 26 Shanty, Forest and River Life CHAPTER III. Shanty Governmtnt. jgN a community of men, so isolated and far re- Ip moved from the ordinary restraints of social and ^i? judicial influence, it may be supposed that abso- lute lawlessness, and reckless independence will reign supreme, that each man of these hardy, rough- and-ready sons of the forest will think and act as if he were a law to himself. But such is very far from being the case. There is government and dis- cipline in shanty life, just as pronounced and strictly carried out as in the most exemplary and well-regu- lated village, town, or city corporation of the Dominion. "If you think you can do as you like in this shanty," I once heard a foreman say to a blustering green-hand, " you make a d 1 of a mistake." The remark struck me at the time, as I have no doubt it does you, Eeader, as very expressive, but it is, in fact, the clue to the whole question. It is just on this point that the judicious and successful lumber merchant shews very conspicuously his n 'J In the Backwoods oj Canada, 27 sagacity and knowledge of his business. He knows that one of the prime essentials for carrying on a successful season's work is securing the rigjht stamp of men for foremen. Hence he exercises all his caution and experience in the selection of these men. And they, on the other hand, are given very plainly to understand the obligations and responsi- biUties they assume when they undertake the position. It is not merely that they must be men of experience in the woods — men who know where, and how, to build a shanty on a spot in the midst of the best and largest quantity of timber in the limit, with the shortest " draw " to the nearest river ; and who know experimentally every detail of the busi- ness from " cook's-mate " up to hewer ; but, above all this and chiefly, they must know how to govern men. To hold their own with the most refractory and self- opinionated — to insist upon every man doing as he is told, and fulfilling his full and fair quota of work, and conducting himself in a quiet and orderly way in the shanty ; and at the same time to exercise great caution not to be too arbitrary with, or abuse them. These conditions and mutual obligations are gen- erally very clearly understood between foreman and 28 Shanty, Forest and River Life men, and, as a rule, there is very little disturbance of the peace, or absence of harmony in the g^^ neral working of both inside and out-door shanty life. I know, however, of some notable exceptions, which I cannot do better than narrate, as thoroughly illustrative of some very interesting and charac- teristic phases of the question. They occurred in the shanties of the lumbering concern of my friend C , on the upper waters of the Black Eiver. In this far remote and isolated region of the Upper Ottawa, the discipline of the shanty must be exercised with peculiar tact and judgment by the foreman. If men are discharged, or leave of their own accord, it may be some weeks before they can be replaced, and, consequently, the business of the concern may be seriously damaged. So, in order to get the full amount of work out of the me a, and at the same time keep them at it, the fore- man must have all his wits about him in managing them. Now it happened that in one of my friend's shanties there were some refractory fellows who would not pull in the traces, especially two, who were the chief agents in these seditious movements, and whose evil influence was rapidly inoc ulating the whole shanty with their pernicious sentiments. Without setting J In the Backwoods of Canada. 29 the foreman openly at defiance, they would shirk work, or only half do it, and also in many a tricky way hinder the other well-disposed and industrious men from doing their work. The foreman was com- pletely at his wit's ends how to manage them. He did not want to discharge them, and he was afraid to take the law in his own hands, for they were lusty, powerful fellows, and might turn Turk on him. In these straits ray friend, who is a famous strategist in such affairs, bethought him of a plan by which he might remedy the evil. He had in his employment at the time another foreman who was a man of a very different stamp from the one I have just referred to. Larry, for that was his name, was a notorious character. He was a man of wonderful strength and agility, and a perfect fi^nd in fighting when roused or in liquor, though ordin- aiily he was of a quiet, inoffensive disposition, and a most faithful, expert workman. In many ways C looked upon him as one of the best foremen he ever had in his employment. *• Larry," said he, " you must take in hand these two rascals." " Just send them to me," replied Larry, " and I'll take care of them." 30 bhanty, Fore8t and River Life . So the very next day the two coiifedemtes who were causing all the trouble in the other shanty, were ordered, greatly to their surprise, to go to work in Larry's shanty, and their place was supplied by two of his best and most peaceful men. Everything went off well for a day or two, until Xairy thought he saw symptoms of the two fellows beginning at their old tricks, and, as he had fully arranged in his own mind, he at once resolved to put in operation his plan for checking it, — and, perhaps, this plan was as unique and interpenetrative of human nature as has been adopted from the days of Solomon down. While the men w^ere smoldng their usual post- prandial pipe, in the interval always allowed before proceeding to work, Larry suddenly called out, " Come, boys, let's have a little fun, let iis have a fight before we go to work." And naming the two conspirators in all the shanty difficulties, he told them to go out in front of the shanty, and set to with each other — "just for the sake of fun," said the knowing dog, " to see which is the best man." The two fellows at first demurred, but Larry insisted, and with such a look in his eye, and tone of voice, that they thought it better to obey, and, stripping off, and, in the midst of the whole turned- In the Backwoods of Canada. 31 out shanty, at it they went, apparently in great good- humor. But Larry knew well enough what would follow. From fun they got into earnest, from being in earnest they became infuriated, and gave each other such a fearful mauling that they were disabled for work for the rest of the day. But the evil was cured, and the two men and all other evil-disposed fellows in both shanties did their work, and kept fully up to the mark for the rest of the season. Never was there an expedient for gaining an end more replete with human craft and practical ac- quaintance with the weaknesses of a vanity-stricken heart, in conjunction with the surroundings, than this. If Larry had been educated and gone into politics, and had a consciousness of his own abilities, and assurance in proportion, he might have been prime minister of the nation. But I have another incident to tell about Larry which is illustrative of another phase of shanty discipline, and, though quite in keeping with his well-known character as a " fighter," — for we can- not call him a pugilist — is yet happily almost now an unknown occurrence. Two men, for some cause, whether justifiable or not — nobody knows better than themselves — deserted 32 Shanty, Forest and River Life from Larry's shanty, and started for the settlements. Larry, however, had his own opinion on the subject, and, being in one of his aroused humors, deter- mined to make an example of the fellows. Har- nessing his horse and cutter (there happened to be one belonging to the concern in the stable at the time), he drove rapidly in the direction the men had taken, and overtook them as they were taking their dinner, in a shanty about twenty miles away. Larry was decidedly in a baddish sort of humor that day. After eating his own dinner, and talking quietly all the time to the two men, he told them to go back to their work. Upon their flatly refus- ing to do so, he fell upon them, and gave them a most unmerciful beating, and then, kicking them out into the road, he ordered them to go ahead, and actually drove them like cattle in front of his horse, all the way back to the shanty. Needless to say there was no further attempt at desertion that winter, either on their part, or on that of any of the rest of the men. There is rather a new phase of shanty government being developed within the last few years, and that is the appointment of general managers over the business. Those lumber-merchants who carry on In the BacJcvjoods of Canada. 33 an extensive business, say of three or more shan- ties, and perhaps have other large interests to attend to, are now in the habit of appointing a " manager " who has full oversight and charge of all the fore- men and men, and is directly responsible to the proprietors for the general " running " of t 3 con- cern. Those gentlemen, however, are very chary how they interfere between the foreman and his men ; though if any difficulty does arise they are the referees who arbitrate upon it. The " manager " of C — 's business in this place is a gentleman who is widely known throughout Canada and the North-west, in connection with lumber mat- ters. He is best known in Central Canada by the name of " Big Duncan," and if ever a man merited the epithet it is certainly he. He is a modern Goliath, a veritable Anak. In his stocking feet he towers aloft to the altitude of six feet two, and carries with ease his weight of seventeen stone. Duncan is considerable of a wag in his way, and as inveterate a practical joker as an}^ schoolboy that ever lived. In common with all managers he has his difficulties in the government of the large force of men which are under his command ; but he never fails to have his joke, even when exercising the most severe discipline. One w o> 34 Shaufjjj Forest and River Life morning he came in to wliere I \vas sitting writing and in his deep-measured tones, and witli a counten- ance as grave and solemn as tliat of a county judge, he said, '* Mr. F — I have just effected a dissohition of partnership in tliis concern. There are three fellows in Joe's shanty who hav<^ been so long in this family that they fancy they are members of the firm, and can come and go, and do as they please ; so this morning I told them they could go home if they liked, and stay there if they liked, but never show their faces here again." Of course, the fact that they can discharge men when they please, without detnment to the business — being so near the settlements that they can quick- ly replace them — gives the manager and foreman the whip-hand over the men in maintaining the order and general efficiency of the shanty. Be this as it may, however, I never wish to live in a more orderly, peaceful and harmonious commun- ity than that which I have seen in shanty life. The general tone of it is not only kind and friendly, but brotherly in the highest degree. It is more like a united and well-dispositioned family than an " OTiinium gatherum '' of strong, rough men, of all ages, nationalities and religions. In tJie Backwooth of Canada. 35 CHAPTER IV. lV^f'l»^-«ya " Til roast the Devil out of i/ou.** f^ GREAT mistake is entertained by many people regarding the general character of shantymen : they aie commonly looked upon as a wild harum-scarum class of men who have no right sense of the decencies and proprieties of ordin- ary respectable life, who when they go to the woods leave behind them their gfood mann^ .s and moials, along with their Sunday clothes. That the shanty itself is a city of refuge for the abandoned and profli gcite of the earth, and resounds continually with oaths and profanities of the vilest nature is a common error. Hence it K ^hat many a pious mother and father regard with trembling apprehension the idea of their young son, who perhaps is the main breadwinner of the family, going to spend the long 'vinter months with some lumbering concern in the depths of the forest. And yet he must go. It would never do to remain all winter at home in comparative idleness. The greater part of the farm work is done for the year, and the team and young able-bodied man must not I! M 36 Shanty, Forest and River Life live upon the scanty returns of perhaps a poor har- vest, while good wages and sumptuous living for man and beast are at his command. The old father, and perhaps a younger brother or sister, are quite suffici nt to tend the cattle, chop the firewood, and do all the other little " chores" about the place until springtime comes again. So with many a misgiv- ing they allow him to go, with team and " bob- sleigh " all in " tiptop " order, probably not to return until the season's work is over. Now there is no doubt that this low estimate of character is tolerably correct as applied to the aver- age shantyumn of many years ago. But it does not hold true now in any sense whatsoever. A great change for the better has been wrought in the char- acter and conduct of these men. I don't believe that, take them as a whole, there is a more sober, orderly, and well-behaved class of laboring men in the world than our backwoods and river lumbering men. To compare them with the working men of our towns and cities, such as ship laborers, canal or railroad navvies, or laborers generally on our large public works, would be, I consider, an atrocious libel upon them — a comparison not to be entertained for a moment. This is the unanimous testimony of all the competent authorities I have consulted on the In the Backwoods of Canada. 37 matter, and, as far as my own experience of twenty- years goes, I knoys' it to be the case. Swearing is at a discount among them. Lewd conversation and songs are not tolerated. Liquor is not allowed in, or near the shanty. And, as we shall see further on, they welcome and listen with great attention and respect to the preaching of the Gospel. I account for this great change in the morals and habits of this class on two grounds : First, there is a different class seeking work and being engaged by the employers from what used to be. A few years ago the great bulk of the men were hired at Ottawa and Quebec, and were principally French Canadians, of tl -^ lowest class. Now, since the sawn lumber business has assumed such large proportions, the drive on the river is comparatively short, generally over by the first of Jure, consequently a much larger number oi the farmers' sons in the vici- nity of the works are seeking employment, as they generally can get home in time for sowing the crop ; and as they are a much more steady and reliable class, and just as able-bodied and skilful workmen, they are more readily engaged than any others. The number of men who engage in the fall to go through to Quebec is but a fraction of what it used to bo, and 1 1 ill Hi ill. SS Shanty, Forest and River Life the number of French Canadians who work in the woods is now reduced to a minimum. Hence the 'personnel of the shanty is greatly changed, and that vastly for the better, within the last few years. Another reason, and one that is a mighty factor in this improved state of things, is thjit the foremen, as a rule, are exerting themselves more strongl}'^ in favor of sobriety and morality. The foremen them- selves are a better class of men. The old bullying brute-force principle of governing is now almost entirely done away with. The merchants now endeavor to engage foremen who are men of intel- ligence, fair education, and of tried and proved ability. They find it pays best in every way — more and better work is done. The wheels of the machine — and there is none more complicated and requiring more business engineering than it — run more smooth- ly, and both employers and employees find it to be for their mutual comfort and advantage. A foreman now-a-days never thinks of taking a handspike and knocking a man down if he neglects his duty, or is in any way refractory. If the man will not listen to remonstrance or reproof, he orders the clerk to " give him his time," and then quietly tells him to leave. The dread of this has a far more i\' In the BachiOQods of Canada. 39 powerful effect upon the men in keeping them up to the mark than handspikes or fisticuffs. To be sure, there is not much of what w^e call demonstrative piety among them, either as foremen or employes. As a class they are reticent and reserved as to emotional display in any direction, and no doubt specially so in religious matters. In this respect, they greatly resemble soldiers of tlie regu- lar forces. But, where it is displayed, it is of a very pronounced and decided kind, and no cant or humbug about it. ' ' I have in my mind's-eye at this moment a gentle- man widely known in the lumbering country, Mr. E — , commonly called Bob R — . Bob was highly respected by all who know him for his kindly disposition, sterling integrity, and sound, practical sense. He was a deacon, and an active and liberal supporter of his church. He had had many vicis- situdes of fortune in the lumbering business, but at the time of his death, some three years since, was comparatively wealthy. Bob was a very strict disciplinarian among his men in religious matters. He would allow no swearing nor card-playing in his shanties, at least while he was present to prevent it, though in this latter particular I think he was strict over much. I see no harm ! 40 Shanty^ Forest and River Life \ i in the men, especially those who can't read, whiling away the long winter's evening in a game of euchre or forty-five, which are the favorite, in fact the only games, with shanty-men ; and particularly so when there is no gambling or drinking connected with it. Be this as it may, Bob would tolerate neither the one nor the other, as the following inci- dent very emphatically shows. On a certain occasion, when he was visiting one of his shanties, one of the men, a big rrenchman^ resolved to assert his independence and defiance of Bob on these points. He was one of those bullying blustering fellows that you often meet with among these men, who mistake their bluster for courage and high spirit, but are simply a pest and a nuisance in the shanty. This man, in spite of Bob's frowns and rebukes, would persist in his profane and rebel- lious course, until Bob's righteous soul was stirred within him. The men looked curiously on. A scene was evi- dently impending. Now, our friend was a very large and heavily built man, and though rather awkward in his movements, was possessed of great physical vigor, and when thoroughly roused — which was very seldom the case, as he was a man of great and long-suffering good-nature — was an ugly and In the Backivoods of Canada. 41 formidable customer to deal with. Bob began to see that the man was continuing his profanities just for the purpose of annoying and riling him. When this impression dawned upon, and became a con- viction within him, then a terrible storm of righteous indignation burst upon his soul, and suddenly rising he laid violent hands upon the bully. For a time he seemed endued with the strength of ten men, and soon laid the man hors de combat. But his holy wrath was not appeased with this victory : seizing the man with one hand by the back of the neck and with the other by the seat of his unmentionables he held him bodily over the fire of the camhoose, thundering at the same time in his ears " I'll roast the devil out of you." The fellow roared and begged for mercy, and managing to escape out of his clutches, he bolted out of the door, and would not return to the shanty while Bob remained. Now decisive action of this kind produces a most salutary effect in the direction we indicated upon men of this stamp. It is worth a dozen sermons. In fact, it is the only effectual way of dealing with that class of which this Frenchman was a type. And the general ettect is not only good, but is highly applauded by the great bulk of tne men. They like the pluck of the thing, and the honesty 42 Shanty, Forest and River Life of the " boss " to his creed. It shows them that his religion is not a mere profession, but a conviction, a rule of practice as well as of faith. An incident of this kind, apart altogether from the moral side of it, meets with a great deal of sympathy and commenda- tion from those rough and ready, open-hearted fellows. It is certain to become widely known, and as it is discussed in all its bearings round the camhoose, you will find that the almost unanimous verdict is in favor, not only of the action itself, but also of the principle which underlies it. ' ' ' '■ ■ We believe that the good moral influence of that roasting is felt among shantymen to this day through- out that whole section of the Ottawa Valley. In the Backwoods of Canada. 43 CHAPTER V. A Merry Old Cook. NE of the most important personages about the shanty is the cook. If you wish to enjoy yourself, and have some fair measure of com- fort, you must keep on good terms with him. It will never do to fall out with the cook ; you may as well take up your blankets and walk. In many ways he is a more consequential individual than the foreman himself. In fact he looks after and has a voice in every department of the internal economy of the shanty. He tells you where you must sleep, in what corner you must stow your bag, and on what peg you are to hang your socks, mocca- sins and clothes. He is the oracle of the establishment, and his opinion is consulted by every one connected with it. Not only by the magic power of good cooking, but by his general disposition and temper, he exerts an influence in the shanty which greatly affects its general peace and comfort. Hence the employer selects the cook with great care, and gives him the 44 Shanty, Forest and River Life highest wages, often double what an ordinary working man can command. And you would be amazed at the general excel- lence of the cooking that is done by these fellows. Where will you find such bread as is made in their immense pots, buried in and covered over by tbe hot ashes at the end of the camhoose ? Not a particle of the strength and fine flavor of the flour is lost by evaporation, as in the case of a stove or open oven : it is all condensed 'n the bread. Then it is strong and firm, and yet — and this is the mystery to me — it is light and porous as that of any first-class house- wife's. ' ' And what shall we say about the beans ? Tliey are simply par excellence. They are baked in the same kind of pot as the bread, the lid being hermeti- cally sealed to the rim by dough, and then buried in the hot ashes. The beans are first thoroughly sifted, was?hed and boiled ; and then large slices of fat pork mixed with them. The pot is then placed in its deep bed of hot ashes, and, as in the case of the bread, not a breath of steam or of the essence of the bean allowed to escape. The fat pork becoming dis- solved by the heat, and of course neither fried nor boiled a;3 in other processes, becomes amalgamated with thes beans, and when the whole is considered In the Backwoods of Canada, 45 siiffieiently cooked, a mess is ready, which, for succu- lency of flavor and savory richness of nutrition, will (Completely throw into the shade the famous pottage for which Esau bartered his birthright. It is strong food, of course, the very strongest, I believe, in the world. A person who is accustomed to the ordinarv dishes of domestic cookin*^ must be cautious how he attacks it at first. If he takes too heavy an allowance, as he is strongly tempted to do on account of its savoriness, he will be very likely to throw his stomach into convulsions. But it is the grandest food in the world for shantymen, whose vigorous open-air exercise in the keen oxygenated atmosphere enables them to digest food which would upset and demoralize the stomach of a town or city man. Beans have entirely superseded peas, and are now one of the staple articles of shanty diet. There is a staying power in them which I believe is possessed by no other food, that is, when prepared in the way I describe. I have often taken a large tin plate-full in the morning, and then tramped the whole day through the woods, till after dark, and yet felt no pressing sensation of hunger or fatigue. To my mind it is the best kind of food that could be used in our Arctic expeditions. In proportion to. iif^ 46 Shanty, Forest and River Life • its nutritive power its bulk weight is the most portable in the world. Five quarts of beans will make a good meal for forty men, of course along with tea and bread or hard-tack. No doubt it would be impracticable to prepare beans in the jjroper way on the sleighing parties ; but the same purpose would be served by cooking a large quantity on the ship, and allowing the conglomerated mess to freeze into a solid mass, and then chop off and warm up as occasion required. I believe it w^ould be a better food than pemmican, and, while most palatable to the men, there would not be a taint of scurvy in a barrel of it ; in fact, it would be rather a preventive to the dire scourge of the north. I think the British and American governments should give me a vote of thanks for the suggestions I have thrown out on this bean question, and utilize them in their proposed international expedition to the polar regions. r"*Taere is a great improvement now-a-days, not only in the cuisiney but also in the materiel — the food itself provided for the shantymen. Years ago pork, tea and bread were the sole food of the men, and sometimes not too much of that, nor of the best quality either. In nothing in shanty life is there a greater change noticeable than in this matter. Now, t le ro it la In the Backwoods of Canada. 4.7 not only is the food superabundant, but also of the most varied and best quality. Compared to the other laboring classes, our shantymen fare sumptu- ously every day. What do you think of such a bill of fare as this, which constitutes the daily routine of my friend C — 's menu : Mess pork, fresh beef, bread, tea, dried apples stewed, syrup, beans, potatoes, sugar, often butter, fish ? What laboring men in the world have such living as this, and what more, or, better could the heart of a strong healthy working man possibly desire ? At first sight it might appear that this great chaise for the better in shanty diet would involve a largdy increased expenditure. But when we look into ;he matter closely, we shall find that this is not the ^se. Pork, tea, bread, which constituted the stapl^ articles of diet under the old regime, are the most expensive of all foods, and of course, having nothiig else, much larger quantities were consumed by th< men than at present, when these are supple- mented by potatoes, fish, &c., which in comparison are greatly cheaper. In fact, this varied and superior diet is, cent per cent, cheaper actually than the old unvaried shanty fare. But, not only so, but it is iifinitely healthier for the men, and more and better work can be done on it than formerly. r ,.— 48 Shanty, T^orcsf and River Life But let us get back, as the title of this chai)ter intimates, to the cook liimself, hi^jyersonnel, &c. As can easily be understood, this gentleman, from his functions and surroundings, is often a character^ one indeed well worthy of study and curious interest. I have in my mind's-eye many such with whom I have been well acquainted, and whom I count among my best friends, and of whom T have many pleasant and grateful remembrances — no doubt in- fluenced thereto by a leaning to my own personal comfort and enjoyment, for I honestly confess to a weakness in the cookery direction. / Prominent among these stand out old Ned C . I can never think of him without liaving recalled to my mind our school-boy rhyme of "King Cole,'' a travesty upon which will shape itself in my mind, '• Old cook Ned, was a merry old cook, And a merry old cook was he ; He rattled his pan>*, and swore by the book, Ar ' ^anced right merrily." Ned fiery-e;; ittle wizen-faced, crooked-mouthed, ,j.d Frenchman. His countenance at times would assume a queer, comical, rat-like kind of seriousness, out of which his keen little eyes K^ould leer at you with a droll, malicious devilment. He was the best dancer I ever saw in the back- 3 U >. u u I 11. In the Backwoods of Canada. 51 woods, and that is saying a good deal of a class noted for their agility and activity. When the day's work was over, the pans and dresser all scoured as bright as a shilling, and the lively strains of the fiddle were cheering up every heart, old Ned would sometimes be seized with a dancing humor, and then his antics round the camhoose were simply prodigious. He had the floor all to himself, for no one presumed to rival or keep step with him in bis complicated toeings and heelings, and agile bowings and scrapings. And there was a perfect contjigion in the spirit of his dancing : it stimulated you for the time being into a feeling of emulation. You could not keep your legs and feet still. You felt as if you could leap over the camhoose, and back again without any difficulty, though you might as well attempt to leap over the moon. And yet there was no nonsense about old Ned. Hv> was a perfect despot among his pots and pans. The puny little fellow would order about those great hulks of fellows as if they were children. " Go and wash your hands," you would hear him yell to some forgetful wight who had presumed to approach the steaming savory pot of pork and beans without having first performed this usual ablution. These fellows, as a rule, are very cleanly in their ii 52 Shanty J Forest and River Life 1 I habits. Every man washes at the small hand- trough at tlie door as soon as he gets up, and every time he comes in for his meals. And if he neglects to do this, he is very quickly reminded of it by some authoritative individual like the cook. Ned was very fond of me, and he showed his i)re- dilection in a highly satisfactory manner. When the men came in for their meals — and if you want to see good lusty, practical common-sense eating, now is the time for it — Ned would give me a queer knowing side-look, which said as plainly as words, "just wait a little, I've g t something good for you." So, while the men were wondering at my patience and apparent indifference, I would be whetting my appetite with a little expectation of the coming "something good," and I was never disappointed. Many a royal " snack " the old fellow would thus prepare for me, which immensely comforted me in my shanty life. Merry, genial, kind-hearted old Ned — I'll never forget him while appetite and digestion remain, and I hope he will be long spared to give me many a toothsome "snack" yet. In marked contrast to old Ned stood out young Alf, the " boy cook." Though only eighteen he is already a Goliath in stature, and will be, if he takes care of himself, a veritable Samson in strength. I In the Backwoods of Canada. 53 have seen him stand on the shanty floor and without changing his position kick the roof with his foot — a test of physical power and suppleness of great authority with shantymen. He is as pretty a youth as ever entered a shanty door. Notwithstanding the smoke and ashes and cinders of the camhoose, in which he constantly moves, the bloom on his cheek is as fresh and peach- like as that of a girl of sixteen. His face is a con- tinual sparkle of rosy, juvenile freshness, and does your soul good to look at it. If it were that of a girl you would be in love with it before your heart could throb twice. Young as he is, Alf has already attained high eminence in his profession, and is accounted by the men, with whom he is a general favorite, a " boss " cook. There is many a hot dispute as to his proficiency in this line, compared to that of his brother George, who is the cook in our shanty. Of course I swear by George, though in truth there is little to choose between them, though George is several years older, and has the advantage of many years* experience ; but both have an excellent repute, and command high wages. George is a manly, good-looking, rather under- sized fellow, and though a famous fiddler, and a r r 54 Shanty ^ Forest and River Life merry joker upon occasion, is yet in general of a staid, sedate, and self-repressed demeanor. He is even cross-grained and snappishly inclined at times, particularly when his liver gets out of gear, for cooking does not agree with his health, and he dis- likes it, and nothing but the high wages keeps him at it, as he is a saving and money-loving dog. But he is married, and that I suppose accounts for all these latter peculiarities. He is always dosing himself with patent nos- trums, and is a fair sample of the gullibility of credulous humanity in this direction. I was greatly amused one night at a scene which took place in the shanty, which was about as striking an illus- tration of imitative credulity in human nature as I ever witnessed. George was greatly troubled with "a sore throat, and was, in consequence, in one of his perverse humors. I felt sony for him, for he was really suffering great distress, and offered him a dose of Thomas' Eclectric Oil, which is a capital specific for an acute attack of inflammation of the tonsils or bronchial tubes. George most eagerly seized the teaspoon, and with great gravity prepared himself to take the medicine in prescribed form. The directions are to open the mouth as wide as possible, and, throwing the head with licine the Ihead In titer Backwoods of Canada. 56 well back, to retain the oil as long as yon can in the throat, so that it may get well absorbed in the membranes before swallowing. With great deliberation George seated himself on the carahoose, and opening his mouth to its widest capacity, and throwing his head back almost to a right angle with his spine, he slowly imbibed the full quantity of the oil, intently and admiringly gazed at meanwhile by the whole shanty. In my eager interest in watching the operation I found myself unconsciously : \itating my patient's attitudes ; checking myself with an inward chuckle at my goosiness, I looked round at the other fellows to see if they had noticed me, and to my astonished amusement there was every man-jack of them exhibiting the same phenomenon. Forty mouths were wide agape, forty heads were thrown b.ick- wards as far as they .could go, and forty pairs of eyes weie staring down the upturned noses, breath- lessly and absorbingly fixed ujion George. The thing struck me with such a sense of the ridiculous that my gravity was completely upset, and with a burst of outrageous laugliter I broke the charm, and nearly choked j^oor George with the sudden gulp which he was compelled to take of the nauseous compound. r 66 Shanty J Forest and River Life If my friend Notman could only have taken a photographic view of that circle of upturned, open- mouthed countenances, it would be one of the most striking and characteristic pictures in his gallery. George, like many of his young compatriots, is smitten with the Manitoban fever, and is off to the land of the setting sun ; where I have not the least doubt that his honesty, and general practical ability will quickly gain for him a comfortable and pros- perous career^ In the Backwoods of Canada. 57 CHAPTEK VI. " My Home I My Home I My Home ! " JI^^NE night as I was tramping weariedly shanty- ^iSR wards I found to my surprise, and no little un- ^a^m: easiness, that it was considerably later than I had thought. In fact, night had overtaken me, and its dark shadows were coming down upon me before I realized it. I had had a long and heavy tramp that day over an exceedingly rough country, and felt almost fagged out, and for the last > ?e or so had been going quite leisurely, under the impression that I could easily reach the shanty before night. We read about the thief in the night, but on this occa- sion it was the night that was the culprit, and had stolen upon me most suddenly indeed. Though I was not more than a mile from my destination still my course lay over burnt piny hills and dark thickety gullies, which were intersected in every direction by timber roads utterly indistin- guishable in the dark from the true direction, except to one thoroughly familiar with them. This I cer- tainly was not, as it was only the second time I had been over this route. 58 Sha7dy, Forest and River Life These timber roads are often exceedingly bewil- dering even to old experienced bush-rangers : they cross and recross each ether at every conceivable angle and direction. They are a mazy labyrinth of road network, each one of which is a blind alley whose terminus is some " roll way " where a collection of logs or square timber has bton made, ready to be drawn away by the teamsters. When the footsore traveller discovers his mistake he has nothing for it but sim- ply to retrace his steps, and try another road, with perhaps the same disheartening result. And thus he may zander the whole night, and all the while keep within an area of a mile or less. Tlie notorious " Will o' the Wisp " is not more tantalising and posi- tively dangerous — that is on a cold night — than these timber roads ; — all this 1 knew from bitter experience. However, relief was just at hand : as the darkness fairly closed upon me 1 came to a cabin, .which I know was just a mile from the shanty. I entered it, with the fervent prayer that the occupants would so press me to stay with them that I would be com- pelled to accept, as it w^ould never do to confess that I could not find my way alone to the shanty, when I was so near to it. To my inexpressible relief,, however, who should I find comfortably chatting and smoking with the master of the house but my good , so ;om- ihat 'hen ief^ and :ood In the Backivoods of Canada, 59 old friend, John Mc , one of the teamsters in the very shanty to which I was going. I knew I was all ^ight now. John, after an experience of thirty years shan tying in this country, could go blindfold through its most intricate windings. My anxieties and fears vanished at once. What contemptible hypocrites we can become upon occasion. With an air of complete assurance and self-confidence, I saluted them, and said " I had just come in for a smoke and chat before going home." As John and [ tramped along through the deep crloamiuf]:, the hour and surrounding's made us feel reflective and serious, and our conversation soon assumed the same character. It is astonishing too, how confidential and communicative you grow with a person w^hen sitting or walking with him in the darkness. * John is a religious man in the true sense of the term. He is an honest. God-fearing, and simple- minded believer, and withal, a most tender and wann-hearted man. He is the worth}-- son of a most worthy sire, and of a mother whose name is a house- hold word in all this community. There is no woman who has ever lived in Dalhousie who was more widely known, and highly esteemed and loved, and who is more missed, than kind, genial, motherly old Mrs. r V. .M 60 Shanty J Forest and Biver Life Mc . She was a favorite with every one, and every one seemed to be a favorite with lier. She was as impartial as she was lavish in her kindly minis- trations to every one who visited her place. No teamster need ever leave her house without a change of dry socks for his feet, and the loan of a warm muffler for his throat if the nii;ht was cold and damp. And yet she was so judicious in her attentions that each one thouglit he was the special object of her kindness. I labored under this delusion for many a year, until, when boasting about it to some of my friends, I found that each one of them entertained the same opinion about himself. And yet when we came to compare notes on the subject we found that the old lady had a good word for every one of us to the others. So we very logi- cally came to the conclusion that there was no " blarney " about her, but her unvarying kindness to us was the outcome, pure and simple, of a warniy loving, and affectionate heart, — and such I honestly believe hers was. As we tramped along John commenced to talk about his mother, a subject of which I, in common with many others, never tired of hearing. He gave me an account of her deathbed. j^ After a long and trying sickness, wliich she bore ,S 110 ariiiy. :stly talk liraoii Q;ave bore In the Backwoods of Canada, 61 with great patience and Christian cheerfulness, her end was visibly come. As John sat by her bedside holding her hand he asked her : " Mother, do you know me ? " " Ah, John," she replied, " I ken you weel, I ken you all. But it is all darkness about me, and T am entering on that long, dark journey from which I can never come to you again." " These were her last words," said John. And, as he spoke, I knew by his voice that the tears were rolling down his bronzed cheeks. Never was a mother held in more reverent and affectionate remembrance by her children, than she. After a pause John resumed the conversation by somewhat abruptly saying: "The happiest and calmest deathbed I ever saw was that of my brother in-law, Jas. W— — ." W was a man who was held in great esteem by his neighbors for his honest, straightforward, and consistent demeanor. He was a faithful hus- band and father, a kindly neighbor, and a warm, zealous member of the church. For two years he had been battling with the fell scourge, consumption, but the disease had become too deeply seated in his system, and though only a little over the prime of 62 Shanty, Forest and River Life life, it was too evident that his days, nay, his hours, vere numbered. On the morning of the day of his death, John, who had been unremitting in his attendance upon him, pai4 him his customary daily visit. He found him much worse, in truth in great suffering, and evidently near his end. In answer to John's question whether he had settled all his affairs, he replied he had not, and requested that they might at once be attended to. After this business was fully and satisfactorily at- tended to in the presence of all his family, who stood weeping round his bed, he said, " John, I must now compose my mind for death and eternity." " Are you suffering much pain, James ? " John asked him. '' Yes," was the reply, " but nothing to what my Saviour suffered for me.'' Then, turning his face to the wall, he lay for a long time, apparently in deep meditation. All at once, in a clear, sweet tone he exclaimed : " Do you see yon bright star, John ? " " No, James, I cannot see it." " Ah John, that's my home, my home, ray home f and with the words he breathed his last. In the Backwoods of Canada. 63 When John gently turned him over, his spirit indeed had flown to its bright starry home above. " Tliose were his last words," said John, « and they have been sounding in my ears ever since." And so they have in m.ne, too, as uttered in the darkling night, in the deep, homely, reverent tone of John's Scottish accent. Reader, when you and I come to die may we, with as much simple faith and assurance, and with our eye fixed on some bright star above, be enabled to say, « that's my home, my home, my home." y* 64 Shanty, Forest and River Life CHAPTEE VII. Old Saint-Saint, the Hermit. ^ NE of the peculiarities of a shanty establish- ment is the old supernumerary that is often attached to it. Almost every long-established concern has some old faithful servant, incapacitated from active work and grown grey in the service, who still remains connected with it as a kind of pensioner upon its bounty. He has been so long in the harness, his habits have so moulded and ironed him, that he must die where he has lived. At the solicitation of friends or relatives he goes to the settlements, and thinks he will end his days amid its comfortable environments, but he finds it an impossibility. Its restraints and proprieties are irksome to him ; he " doesn't understand," and ^' doesn't like the ways of the town's-folk.'' His heart is in the woods. His speech, manners, thoughts, associations, habits^ and enjoyments are all there. He would rather have cold pork and beans, than roast beef and turkey. His hard bunk in shanty or hut is sweeter to him, In the Backwoods of Canada. 65 ome vork aiiis n its , his he 11 of and able Its he -ays ods. bits, ther lim, than the down and feathers of the sweetest and cosiest bedroom. He seems to be dead to all ties of family and kinship, but keenly alive to those of nature and the wild woods. And here a noticeable feature of the shantyman's character is observable : no matter how gruff and unsociable, and even morose, the old man may be — and he is sometimes extremely so — he is always treated with kindness and consideration and, some- times, as in the ease of my old friend Date, with great respect, and his opinion often requested, and deferred to. It must not be supposed, however, that these old gentlemen are useless appendages to the establish- ment. By no means ; in some instances the old super- numerary is the most useful man about the place. He generally makes his habitat about the farm or depot of the concern ; and though he receives no pay, nor indeed wants any, yet he r^^mys his board and clothing many times over by looking after tlie cattle and poultry, and attending to the thousand odds and ends of little work, which necessarily belong to such an establishment, — and this, too, with a judgment and economy which a younger and less experienced man could not practise. In these departments, also, he is often very despotic and touchy as to his authority. r " -^Kkv I f I • i !! ) ■' 66 Shanty, Forest and River Life I remember wjell how old Date would brook no interference, or meddling in the ferm-yaixl at the Black River depot. The calves and poultry were the special objects of his care, and if Jim and I wanted some variety in our menu we had always to ask Date's permission before we could lay murderous hands upon calf or chicken. It was most amusing to hear him abusing and swearing at John, the foreman of the farm, and ordering him off about his business if he happened to come about when he was busy with his chai^ges, which, to John's credit b& it said, he always took with good-humor and playful repartee. One of the best sf)eendent home and position. Though h'^, has been engaged during the active part of his Ufe in shanty business, yet he preferred, when the infirmities of old age came upon him, to retire altogether from its active scenes^ and live apart ami alone, in a hut of his own construction, in an isolated and retired locality. His hut, about ten feet square, and snug and comfortable enough, stands in rather a romantic position two miles below Joe's lake, about the middle of what ia calM the Long Stretch, which is an )k no xt the were iTid I I ways i lay I most John, about en he (lit be [ay fill 5aint- etired ^ition. 3 part when retire t ami nlatetl ^ and nantic liddle is an t 1 w tJiL._ auLuiHOP h ao.moTo.LirH. iumtmm.. Old Saint Saint, the Hermit. In the Backwoods of Canada. 69 expansion of the Glide between two rapids some three miles apart. The accompanying picture, taken from life, gives an admirable likeness of the Hermit's face, and when you add to this a lithe, active, medium-sized frame, without any apparent symptoms of imbecility either of mind or body, you have old Saint-Saint. And yet he is over eighty years of age, and for twenty years has led the life of a recluse in this localitv. His history is one of the most singularly unro- mantic you ever heard in your life. He has a wife and large family living on a comfortable farm near Montreal. The former he lias not seen for twenty- five years, and the reason he left her was not because she was unfaithful, or extravagant, or unkind, or any other of the common-place frailties of womankind, but because she was too saving of his hard-earned wages. When he would give her money on his return from the slianty, or send it to her, she was in the hai)it of putting it out at interest, on good security, without telling him anj^thing about it. Wliatever was her motive in this, it was, as far as I could learn, the only ground of disturbance between them, — otherwise she was, even according to Saint- Saint's account, an exemplary wife and mother in I I. i- 70 Shanty y For^t arid River Life all respects. He is, however, very reticent about this, and all other personal matters. Be the cause what it mav, the old fellow left wife, and children, and home, and, burying liini- self in this isolated retreat, refused to have nny further intercourse with them. His wife has made repeated overtures for reconciliation, but in vain ; and though one of his sons came to see him a few vears ago, and brought clothes and money, yet he told him never to come back, and not to " bother " him any more. He lays no claim to his property, but allows his wife and children to do as they please with it. Altogether his mode of existence is a strange freak of human nature, and quite unaccountable on any of the grounds from which people generally take enjoyment and satisfaction out of life ; but that is his business, and, if he likes it better than any other, let him by all means enjoy it. There is nothing morose, or melancholy, or even unsocial about the old fellow, and whatever feel- ing of pity you may have for him in the abstract is quickly dispelled when you visit him. He is a lively, merry, cricketyold fellow, full of hospitality, chatty and glad to see you. He is, withal, a vanity- stricken old man, as was plainly shewn by the readiness with which he acceded to the ai'st's In Backwoods of Canada, 7 1 proposal to draw his portrait, and the patience and grave complacency with which he sat for hours while the picture was being executed. The artist very kindly promised to send him a copy afterwards, and this gave him unbounded satisfaction. He supports himself by hunting, trapping and fishing, bet mainly the latter, as his eyesigh jiud nerve are failing him, so that he has great difficulty in handling the rifle or gun. I always ke him some tea and pork when I go to see him, wliich he most gratefully receives, as also the oontril^u- tions which his kindly French neighbours give liim. On the occasion of my last visit to him, I was, and had been for weeks, suff<^ring from a severe cold and cough. With the respect which we instinctively pay to an octogenarian, and a hermit, I asked him for a remedy, which he at once gave, with a sim- plicity and gravity which commanded esteem and confidence. It was this : — " Take five drinks of cold water every morning before breakfast for nine consecutive days." I did so — at least I drank as much cold water as I could comfortably contain — and as sure as anything under the sun I got entirely rid of my cold before the nine days were up, and I havn't had a b&rk, or a symptom of it, since. T intend to get some more remedies from the old 72 Shanty, Forest and River Life Hermit before I leave, and if they only prove as efiftciicious as tliis one, I may safely fcake Asclepiades, wager against Fortune, that ** I will never be ill as long as I live." With all the bodily comfort they can possibly secure, and all the contentment and ease of life which they can reasonably expect, still the condition of these old recluses of the forest is one of peculiarly melancholy and lonesome interest. 1 have stood by their graves — the graves of some whom I have known long and loved well — and among the saddest thoughts I ever had I felt, as I stood there. In the still solemn depths of the forest, far removed from human ken and life, in sight of the crumbling ruins of the old hut in which they lived and died — by the lonely side of some rock-bound lake over which they had fished and shot — on some jutting head- lands of the Madawaska and Matawan, from which you can look for leagues over a mighty landscape of forest, water and mountain, and detect no sign of man's presence or work, those graves are found — uncared-for, unknown, forgotten, fitting memorials of the lonesome, forsaken life the old man lived and loved. It's all very well as long as these old men enjoy a fair measure of health and substantial vigor — then In the BacJauoods q/ Canada. 78 of we can understand how, to a person of a certain constitution, there would be some satisfaction, and even positive enjoyment, in the life ; but when sickness comes, as come it does upon occasion, even to the most healthy and robust, — when failing senses and abatement of strength set in, — then they must have many wearisome seasons of despondency and apprehensive reflection, and an intense longing for the company, sympathy, and help of their kindred and fellow-creatures. Their daily life, too, is one of continual danger to life or hmb : the fall of a tree or branch, a sudden squall on the lake, the burst- ing of a gun, a tumble off a high log, and a dozen other casualties incident to backwoods life, may kill in a moment or so maim them that they may be laid up for weeks or months, and during tliis time not a living soul may come near them or know anything about their condition, — in such straights as these they must feel lonely and wretched to the last degree. Take it all in all, their life is more to be pitied than envied, and more to be reprehended than respected. But who knows the deep worlvings, the self-impelling motives, the sensitive shrinkings, and, maybe, the unhealed scars of the human heart ! These old recluses have a reason for their w ' 74 Shanty, Forest and River Life lives that is, at all events, satisfactory to themselves, and, if we can't understand or commend it, let us at least keep one's own counsel, and extend to them all tender sympathy, all kindly cheer, and all the prac- tical help that their age and loneliness demand ; and the good Lord who knows all secrets, and tenderly loves all His creatures, will lOt overlook nor forget. In the Backwoods of Canadn. 75 CHAriER VIII. Forest Fires. ^'T would be a very easy matter to go into rhapsodies ^ over the sublime spectacle of a fire in the forest. WLj This, however, has been done so often and in so much better style than I can possibly emulate, and withal it can be so readily taken in by an ordinary imagination that comprehends the terrible nature and effects of fire when it has illiniitable inflammable material to feed upon, that it is needless for me to attempt to depict it. Anyway, I am so greatly impressed with the terribly stern, practical nature of this question, and of its urgent claims upon the attention of all thinking Canadians, that I feel I have no time in dealing with it for mere figures of speech and pretty descriptions. I have seen a mighty forest bathed in a sea of angry fire, and, with all its grand, unutterable sublimity, I never wisli to see it again. Fore;:t fires have been, and aie still, a crying disgrace to the government and people of Canada. It is almost incredible to think that people's eyes and minds iiave never been fairly opened to the extent i ); 1 (:i ' i W I 76 Shanty, Forest and River Life and magnitude of this terrible evil, which has (' as- tated such a vast extent of our most valuable terri- tory, and robbed us of untold millions of hard cash. In order to present this subject in its clearest light we shall look at in a three-fold point of view, viz. : first, the origin of forest fires ; second, the destructive extent of them ; and, third, the approx- imate preventive of them. First, as to the origin of forest fires, many, and some very plausible, theories are expressed, such as ignition of the trees during a thunder-storm by the lightning, camp and mid-day fires by hunters, bush- rangers and Indians, and neglected fires of any kind by stray tramps or others through the forest. Now there is no doubt that any one of these causes may, upon occasion, have been sufficient of itself to have started a fire, and a most destructive one too, but, take them one and all, I regard those primal agents of the evil as mere casualties, as accidental things, which are beyond the scope of legislation and human prevention, and which have occurred, and, do what we may, always will occur while the forest stands ; but I am very far from attaching the importance to them which some do, as being the main factors in causing these fearful conflagrations which have ravaged our most valuable pineries and other woods. W V In the BdclcwooOs of Canada. 77 I l)(3lieve that not only aro they of rare occurrence, but that the destructive extent of the fires caused by these agents can be narrowed down to a compara- tively, small, perhaps insignificant, area. The rea' origin of our a[)palling forest fires is traceable, directly or indirectly^ to the settlers of the country, either in their spring or summer fallows in clearing the laud, or, occasionally, in making potash. Oue presi)mi)tive proof of the correctness of this theory is the undeniable fact that in those sections of Canada where the settler has not yet penetra'ted and located, there have been no great general conflagra- tions. The forest, in these sections, at least as com- pared with those in the settled districts, are in their virgin condition of greenness, and in this condition, they remain until we hear of settlers moving in, and then we too often hear, at no very distant date sub- sequently, the wretched tale of fire and devastation. And when we look at this matter of the settler from another point of view, viz., their rank, inex- cusable, criminal carelessness in starting and attend- ing to their fires, the wonder is that the destruction caused by them is not infinitely greater than what it actually is, I have been amazed beyond measure at the wanton, thoughtless, perverse folly — you may call it stupid madness, no term is too strong for it — i !l , r i\ F 78 Shanty^ Forest and River Life of sorno of our backwoods settlers in handling and " putting out " fire in the woods around them. There is a terrible selfishness in it, too, which makes it thoroughly criminal. The only precaution that these people adopt is to see that their own buildings and belongings are safe ; as long as the fire keeps away fi'om them they don't seem to care where it goes, how far it spreads, who it damages, or what destruction it causes. A settler cuts dov^''n and makes ready for burning a block, we will say, C ten acres or more of his land ; at the first favora,ble opportunity or wind, that is, fur his own convenience and safety, he " puts out," as they say, though it is a frightful misnomer, the fire, quite regardless of' its close proximity to, sometimes touching in fact, the most extensive, inflammable and valuable forests. Tliey will even assist at times the natural tendency of the fire to go in this direction ; for, instead of cutting the trees so as to fall within the circle of their clearing, they will ofteri allow them to fall with their top branches into the woods beyond, and even throw out upon them the loose, dry, dead limbs that m"y be in their way. I have seen a deep, high, brush wall of the most ignitable material all round the borders of such a clearance, and only want- ing the smallest spark to set it ablaze, and spreac! In the Backwoods of Canada. 79 far and wide a terrible conflagration. A very little attention and additional labor on the part of the settler would at times prevent a destruction of timber property which may be reckoned by tens of thousands of dollars, yes, and sometimes infinitely more. This leads us to my second point of observation on this question, viz. : the destructive extent of ©ur forest fires. It is simply appalling to take a bird's-eye view of a tract of country that has been devastated by the fire fiend. From an {esthetic standpoint it is dreary, desolate, uninviting, even repelling in the highest degree ; but to look at it in a matter of fact, econom- ical, and sound business manner, it is dislieart- ening, nay, maddening in the extreme. You take your stand on the peak of some lofty hill from which you can take in the country in every direction for miles around : nothing is to be seen but dead, burnt, black pineries and other precious woods. Some are still standing, alto;7ether or partially de- nudea of their limbs - "rampikes" we call them — and the country before us is a *' brule ; *' others, and vast quantities, are lying on the ground, where we see in pitiful advantage their huge, gigantic proportions. The ground is so thickly covered tl^at we can walk along them in a '^ig-zag directioi for a mile at a ! i i! Si «1 '' 80 Shanty^ Forest and River Life stretch without touching the earth. Between the standing and lying timber we see at one glance a sum in loss and loss which our utmost calculating ability cannot solve. Let ine try to give some approximate estimate of tlie loss that has been incurred. Remember, we are taking a fair average pine country, and one, also, from which so little timber has been utilized that the amount is only a fraction compared to what has been burnt. It is generally estiir:ated that each acre of such a country will yield six sound trees of white or red pine, that is, 600 trees for a lot of 100 acres. Now, when one lumber merchant sues another for tres- pass on his limits — which is quite a common transaction — and obtains judgment against him, he is allowed by law $4 a stump for the damage done. At this figure a pine lot of 100 acres would be worth $2,400, and a square mile, that is 640 acres, $15,360. Now how many square miles do you take in from your point of view on the eminence we spoke of — say it is only ten, — ^.lere then you take at one glance a destruction caused by fire of upwards of $150,000. Extending our range of mental observation and calculation, how many square miles of burnt pine lands are there in the Ottawa Valley ? Put it at In Hie Bdchwoods of Canada, 81 the moderate figure of 4000, and we find that tlie bulk total of the damage done by this foul scourge swells up to the enormous sum of over $60,000,000, This, however, is not a fair way of getting at the true estimate of the money loss to the country tlirough fire. Take sixty -five feet as the average per stick of all the timber that has been taken out of tlie Ottawa Valley for the last twenty -five years, and 15 cts. per foot as the average price got in Quebec, and calculating sjiwn lumber at very much the same aggregate value, this gives $10 as the value of a sound pine tree, instead of $4. This calculation at once swells the aggregate loss by fire to over $150,000,000, or six times as much as the Government's cash grant to build the Canada Pacific Railway. And yet these gigantic figures, representing a national and commercial value which the mind can- not gTasp, especially in a young and struggling country like Canada, are referable only to the Ottawa Valle^'-, and take no cognizance of Ihe losses by fii'e in many parts of Quebec, and the north- western part of Ontario. I do not wish to stun and weary the reader with ponderous numerical magnitudes, and enough has been said to show the incalculable and hoartsickening lo3s and destructiow caused by our foi'est fires. Let I if I is I i 4r 82 Shanty, Forest and River Life us come then to the third, and most important, point, viz. : the approximate 'preventive of these fires. I use the word approximate advisedly, for no matter what ])recautions we adopt we never will be able to prevent the periodical recurrence of fires in the woods of a greater or less magnitude. As I ascribe the main cause of these fires to the settler, so it is with him that we mainly have to deal in any precautionary and preventive measures that should be adopted. If the settler could only be in- duced to give some care and labor to the preparing of his clearance for fires, after the trees are cut down and piled up, the risk of fire spreading from it would be very largely, if not altogether, diminished. I have already hinted at this, but it cannot be too rej)eatedly and strongly urged upon him. To have his fallow complete, and safe for burning, he should have every tree on its margin so cut as to fall inwards and not outwards, and all the under- brush and loose branches thrown well into the heap. This being done, he should dig and turn up the moist earth in a complete circle round the clearing, — this opei'ation, wliich would not cost more than two days' work for two men, would kee]) the fire within certain bounds, and almost ensure-, in favorable weather, against the risk of spreading. ■i In the Backivoods of Canada, 83 But as selfishnuss and cupidity are the atrongest incentives to action where the interests of the whole are concerned — and nowhere does this princi])le operate more strongly than among our backwoods settlers — we would advocate the giving of all the ducH collected by the Government on the timber cut on the settler's land to the settler himself, or placed to his credit for the payment of his land. This naturally would have the effect of causing the settler to entertain a good feeling towards both tlie Government and the lumber merchant, and making him exceedingly careful in protecting the timber on his land, and, conseciuently, that on every side of him. Again when we look at this proposition in a kindly, economic point of view, what a mighty boon would this grant (say if only forty dollars a year) be to tlie poor struggling settler? Why.it would keep his family in flour and tea for the whole year, or buy him a yoke of steers to do his " logging " for him ; and, on the other hand, taking the aggregate of all the dues collected from all the settlers in the Ottawa Valley by the Government for one year, what a comparatively insignificant sum would it be out of the Treasury chest. In 1881 the sum thus collected amounted to less than $10,000, what a paltry amount is this, in view of even i\\Q jprohahlc prevention of fires ill m W' t ! \\ ■I 1' I ! II • 84 Shanty^ Forest and River Life in the forest, any one of which n?ight cause, the lumber merchant, and through him the country at large,, the loss of double that amount ; and what a relief and practical assistance to the settlers woidd this sum be when parceled out to each in the probable proportion we mentioned. We are aware that some pei'soos argue that giving tliese dues to the settlers would have the very opposite effect from that which we are predicating. That it would induce many of them purposely to *^ put out " lire in order to burn the pine, so that the lumber merchants would be compelled, in their own interests, to send in a large force of men the first season after, in order to cut it down and secure it before it would be destroyed by the worm, which it generally is, if left standing for two seasons after the fire has taken place, and thus the settler would at once pocket (if the dues went to him) a handsome sum. But though isolated cases of this kind may have occurred, still we have a better opinion of the average settler than to believe this dastardly, unprincipled thing of him. And anyway he has sense enough to see what a short-sighted, penny-wise- pound-foolish policy this would be. In all proba- bility he would lose some valuable portion of his pine and other woods, even with the utmost gMM 'mn In the Backivoods of Canal a. 85 exertions of the merchant to ntilise them ; and, besides, he could calculate with no certainty upon the merchant cutting a single tree of his burnt woods — the latter's arrangements for the season, and a hundred other causes, might prevent him doing this ; in this case tiie damage, both directly and indirectly, would fall back upon himself. But, after all that can be said and done, I hold that the surest iir event ive of forest fires of any great extent is, Wiq judicious and oAequate appointment of fire inspectors. In this matter the Government have been exceedingly blameworthy, or have acted with a terribly ignorant, blind-fold sort of policy. Tlie laws they have . nacted on the question are a farce and a failure, for ' ' .»ple reason that they never have, nor never cun, ^^e enforced under the present system. No settler will ever inform on his neighbor, no matter what reward is offered, and even the lumber merchant, whose limits have been ravaged from end to end, will take no active measures to bring the culprit to justice, even though he knows who he is. And those who understand the nature of tlie question, and all its bearings and surroundings in the back wood;.?, can- not blame these parties either for their inaction in the matter. I believe that not a single fire has ever been prevented^ or a single dollwi's worth of 1 ■ IT 86 Shanty, Forest and River Life timber saved to the country by all the laws the Gov- ernment have ever passed, or by all the irispedion they have ever appointed » If the Government are really in earnest in this matter, what they ought to do is to appoint a con- siderable number of inspectors, and allocate to each one a special section of country over wliich he is to exercise supervision and jurisdiction. These sec- tions should not be of too pxi mded an area, but of such an extent as, in the judgment of competent persons, could easily \jd supervised by one inspector. Take, for instance, the country lying between the Mississippi and the Madawaska, which has been, and is to a large extent still, the most valuable timber region of all Canada, and which also has been and is still, almost yearly, the arena of fearful conflagra- tions : how many inspectors would it require to keep a watcliful eye over this section during the dangerous fire seasons of the year, viz., about six weeks in early spring, and two months in mid-summer; for these two periods cover the ground during which almost every fire brealcs out. I would say that ten men who thoroughly understood their business would be amply sufficient. Suppose you pay these men $200 each for his three or four months' service, that is $2,000 yearly ; what a mere bagatelle is this com- In the Badnuoods of Cajiada. 87 pared with the security and incalculable money profit that would accrue to the country. Adopting the same principle of action for the whole Ottawa valley — suppose this general inspection would cost $20,000 (which we think would cover the amount), how easily this could be balanced in the treasury accounts by the smallest additional fraction upon the timber dues. The Government spare no expense in sending out cullers and other officials in order to secure their revenue from the lumljer merchants, and yet, with regard to the great essential point, yea the very vitality of the revenue, they exhibit the most negli- gent and inexcusable remissness. We talk about the penny-wise-and-pound-foolish conduct of the settlers, why, it is reduced to the minimum, com- I)ared to the maximum of folly, which the Govern- ment are guilty of in this question. As to the personnel of these inspectors, the Gov- ernment should exercise the utmost discretion and im})artial discrimination. It won't do to send out men fi'om Toronto, or, in fact, from any towns or cities, or mere lackies or Government hangers-on. We don't want men who will come out with gun, fishing-tackle, tent and servant, merely to have a good time in the woods. Nu, these inspectors should be appointed from the hackiuoods, men who are i: '•5: J '■ ii'i 88. Shanty, Forest and River Life experienced bush-rangers of practical knowledge and judgment, who understand all about the *' putting out" of fire, as well as tlie checking and extinguish- ing of it, whether large or small. Men who, with their axe on tlieir shoulder and pack on their back, will range continually through their allotted section, ^and sleep out, if need be, every night of the fire season. There are plenty of such men to be found in the lumbering country, especially at these seasons, when the winter's work is over. I would have no difficulty in laying my hands upon twenty such men at a week's notice, who would gladly undertake the work and responsibility for the remuneration I spoke of. As I intimated, the duties of these men should include jurisdiction, that is, they should have the authority of arresting and prosecuting any settler or others whom they should find infringing the fire laws. They should be held responsible for any fire that breaks out, as far as discovering the originator is concerned, and, if there is any culpability in the matter, of biinging him to justice. One or two stringent examples, say of penitentiary for two years, would have a mighty influence in bringing careless and criminal parties to their proper senses as to the way in which they should handle fire in the woods. And if it were thoroughly understood that these iu- \f: I % In the Backwoods of Cauwla. 89 spcctors had this power, and were obligated by oath of office to exercise it, then no oft'ence coukl be taken, no odium incurred, but, on the contrary, tliey would gain the esteem and approval of all right-thinking persons in the community. The moment an inspec- tor discovers a fire in his section — which he can easily do in this country of hills and mountains, by the smoke — he should hasten to the spot, and, if it is an ordinary settler's fire for clearing, see that all lawful precautions are being adopted, and if it is likely to extend, and he finds it is impossible for him to manage it single-handed, then he should have the authority of engaging men at a fixed rate to assist him. Half- a-dozen men, rightly directed, can check almost any fire if taken in reasonable time. Another duty of these inspectors should be to prevent settlers from securing patents for lots which are pure and simple timber lands. I hold strong views on this point of the question. If, twenty-five years ago, the Government had enacted that the greater portion of the Ottawa Valley should be held as a timber rercrve, and nothing else — in other words, allowed no settlers in it, it would have been one of the wisest, most far-seeing, and beneficent enactments ever passed by any Government — the wisest and the best for the settlers themselves, the Government, [ !. « Ai %, ■.w. ^%> ^. ^# S^^.A^% IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // ^/ ^. ^W .^' % M y fe 5r «:a 1.0 I.I 11.25 1^ 150 iil IIIIIM 2.2 t 1^ 12.0 1= JA 11 1.6 V] <^ /i 'V ^;: ^> A -qb V V << ^N-^ #> "^^^'^i^ ^■^ <> % ^^ <^ >> r^^ iP Q- '£ I i * i 90 Shanty J Forest and River Life and the country generally. The Ottawa Valley was never intended to be, and all the industry and capital in the world never will make it be, an agricultural country ; but if it had been reserved for the utilizing of its natural capabilities and resources, viz., lumber of every description, what an incalculable mine of wealth would it have been to-day for the Dominion. This is at once obvious, even to the most superficial reflector and calculator. But it is not too late to enact some such proviso still. There are hundreds of Government lots yet in the market that are utterly worthless, except for the lumber that is on them, but are immensely valuable in this respect. Now no settlement in the way of clearing land for agricultural purposes should be allowed on these lots. Such a proviso would not only minimise the risk from lire, but it would also prevent the settlers from selfishly and criminally speculating on the timber, merely for the sake of the Government dues, which on such lots would amount to a very large sum. I could point out on the map certain lots of a hundred acres where the lumber merchant has taken off timber which has yielded dues to the amount of over $2,000, and these are not rare or exceptional cases. Now the Government would have a perfect right to protect itself, and the country, ■MMk; svv lie on nit 317 in nt he or luld In the Backwoods of Canada. 91 from unprincipled specnlations on the part of the settlers in this point of view, and it conld easily do this by ordering the inspectors to prevent settle- ment on these lots. This would be no injustice to any intending settler ; if he wishes a homestead for a farm, then the Government will give him every facility for gratifying his desire in the most rich and eligible location. And if he is an honest man, and wishes to make money out of the lumber business proper, then let him go to the merchant on whose limits such a lot as we speak of may be, and make an oi)en bargain with him, either for a job, or to buy a " cut," or purchase out and out the whole lot for a stated sum ; but don't let him attempt to cheat both the Government and the merchant by pre- tending to take out the lot for farming purposes, while all the time he is looking after only the dues on the timber, and thus, in every probability, in- flicting an immense loss upon both parties, merely for the sake of pocketing himself a few hundred dollars. Now, it would be an easy matter, as we have said, for the fire inspector to have his eye on these lots, and see that no settlement takes place on them, either by squatter or Government patentee, but that they are reserved and utilized according to their natural and legitimate purpose. 'li'^ /rr I : i •Vn t ;-■:■ 92 . Shanty, Forest mid River Life I conclude my views on this subject by em- phasizing in the strongest possible manner tJie great necessity that exists at this present time for the enactment of the most stringent and imperative laws and precautions with respect to forest fires. Never since the lumbering business commenced in the Ottawa Valley, has the coimtry, particularly to the south of the river, been more ripe and ready for terrible conflagrations than at the present moment. Fearful as these have been in the past, they are nothing compared to wliat may break out at any hour, and at innumerable places, in the immediate future. These great fires have piled up on the land immense masses of the most inflammable material, which need only a spark to set them into a blaze. The fire has only half done its work ; it has singed, but not cindered, vast pineries and swamps ; it has charred, but not reduced to a lies, vAst tracts of forest ; it has left in its wake a region that is so dry, and dead, and inflammable that I liave often wondered why, in the hot scorching weeks of mid- summer, it did not burst into flames by spontaneous ignition. Under certain conditions of accident, of weather, of settlement, of carelessness, we may yet witness, and that before long, the most appalling and wide-spread conflagration that has ever yet de- Ide- In the Backvjoods of Canada. 93 vastated the Ottawa Valley. All these contingencies are intensified by the fact of the Kingston and Pem- broke Railway now running through the very heart of this highly inflammable region. Hence I maintain that, if ever the Government were called' upon to adopt and enforce the most stringent precautionary measures with rospect to fires in' the woods, it is at this present time. Again, how mu^.h is this obligation heightened b}' the consideration — not generally understood or known — of the immense quantities of most' valuable timber that still remains in this country ?. From the account I have given of the destructive extent of forest fires, the reader may be disposed^! tb think that there cannot be much timber left in; the country to be burnt; but, notwithstanding all. the fearful con- flagrations th&t have swept over the land, and the incalculable damage done, still it is amazing the vast quantities of pine and other woods that yet remain. Every one who is acquainted with the lumbering country knows well how often the cry is raised, "the timber supply of this country is exhausted, w^e must go further and far back to get enough of pine to make the business pay." I have heard this old story repeated regularly, season after season, for the last twenty years ; and yet the fact Q m Ul" m fr-^Z^- If? i HI !;;■! 94 Shcmty, Forest and River Life is tliiit many limits which have been " culled " over and over again, and abandoned as worthless, or sold at small iigures, are being to-day most profitably worked, and yielding every year large rafts of square timber and hundreds of thousands of logs. Ko doubt the average of size and tinenesss of quality are greatly deteriorated, but neither the producer nor the buyer are so particular now as thay used to be. If they cannot get exactly what they would like, they just have to like what tliey can get ; and the truth is that, after all the burning, and culling, and supposed exhaustion, what they do get is not such a bad article after all, and, as I have said, is in good paying quantities, too. There is, besides, another element of supply which now, and only very lately, is entering largely i)ito the calculations of the lumber merchant, and that is the utilizing of the lying timber, for saw- logs especially. It is now ascertained that vast quan- titii s of fallen pine, which had been abandoned years ago as utterly worthless, contain some of the best and soundest lumber. I have seen, during tliis season, on the Caldwell limits, immense trunks of tress tliat were cut or blown down forty years ago, being sawn into logs, and found to be among the b st 'hit cau be cut. This is particularly the case In the Backiuoods of Canada. 95 with trees that are lying in low moist ground. An inch or two on the surface are indeed rotten, hut the sap seems to have collected and hardened there, and formed a kind of cement, which has preserved the heart and great bulk of the tree sound, and free from worms. From this point of view, there is no calculation where and when the lumber supply may cease, for the quantity of fallen trees, good, bad, and inferior, is absolutely incalculable. No^v, if such a conflagration as we speak of and dread should break out, this fallen timber would have to bear its full share of destruction; and, between standing and lying timber, the absolute money loss to the country would be fearful beyond all calculation. ■■! A i 111 i« K II 96 Shanty, Forest and River Life CHAPTEK IX. A Sunday Service in the Shanty. ^S may be very readily understood, it is a very difficult thing, and, in certain seasons of the year, quite impossible, to maintain regular stated services in these backwoods. And, as for the shanties, services are never held, except on casual occasions by individuals, and only at great intervals, or by the instrumentality of the Lumber- man's Mission, which is an attempt by the Presby- terian Church to overtake this wide and scattered field. Whenever, and wherever, I found it expedient and agreeable to the men, I have held services, esteeming it both a privilege and a duty to do so. You require to exercise a good deal of judgment, both as to the time and manner of conducting these services. They must be short, interesting and to the point, and at such an hour as will not interfere with the men's ordinary Sunday avocations, at least such as are necessary and, under the circumstances, inno- cent, such as washing their clothes, going to the post office, writing their letters and visiting friends and relations in the surrounding shanties, or among the p In the Bachivoods of Canada, 97 settlers in the neighborhood. I found that ten o'clock in the morning was always the best hour to suit all parties. It allowed the men time for a prolonged and comfortable sleep, and left the afternoon free for their accustomed avocations, and socialities. Some of the most enjoyable services I ever held have been on these occasions. One in particular I shall never forget. It was on the first Sunday after my arrival at Manahan's shanty. Full notice had been given, and over one hundred men assembled from the different shanties, and railroad works in the vicinity. A more respectful, attentive, and apparently devout audience I never preached to. There was not the least levity, nor anything approaching the unbecom- ing from beginning to end. Tom, the blacksmith from the mill works, acted as precentor, and with a voice and a style that would have done credit to any city professional. As the strong, bass voices joined in with his deep mellow tones in Old Hundred, the grand old melody rolled forth into the surrounding forest with sublime and touching effect. My subject was the longevity of the antediluvian forefathers, and the contrast between it and our present comparatively short-li 1 existence. The subject is naturally full of many interesting phases i i\ I V. i. i{ 1. I f ■ i I ■ii*aitMM t t ' 98 Shanty^ Forest and River Life of huinan life, and replete with wholesome lessons on its shortness and uncertainty, and tlius, in many points, was specially applicable to the dangerous and adventurous lives of most of my hearers. If close and earnest attention is any gratification to a preacher — and what preacher living is not gratified with it — I certainly had it ; and also the comments, which I casually overheard after • service, and which were as genuine as they were characteristic, were not un- gratifying if they were 'peculiar : " faith he's a roarer at the preachin','' " didn't he pave it down lively ? " " he kno ,vs how to put the fright on a fellow," &c., &c. As I have said, the direct, conversational and familiar style of preaching is the best adapted to secure the attention and interest of these men. Iii this they greatly resemble the soldiers, and I found that my nine years' experience of preaching to the latter was greatly to my advantage in addressing them. There is such a thing, however, as carrying this style of preaching to an extreme that is neither edifying nor in good taste, as I one day had the opportunity of hearing. Some years ago, when I was on one of my fall backwoods' excursions, I happened to be camped over Sunday on Calihoggie Lake. Hearing that there was to be " preachin' " at a school-house about a in In the Bachivoods of Canada. 99 mile away I started off to attend it. I found about a dozen people assembled, and after a few minutes the minister arrived. He was quite a young man,just fresh from college, if indeed he had ever been in such an institution, and was a capital type of that pioneer class of preachers that you sometimes meet with in the far backwoods, and there only. He was lean, iiery-eyed, and full of zeal. He had preached already that day, had ridden over tw^euty miles, and had an app-oint- ment again for the evening. His whole appearance impressed you with the idea that he was a man whose whole soul was in his work, that he was untiring in the performance of it, and that he would even love to be a martyr in its hardships. I shall never forget his sermon. It was a strange compound of illogical, disconnected, incongruous odds and ends ; and yet it was brimful of a kind of rough eloquence, of fanciful conceits, of impassioned fervor, and direct jiersonal- ities. In illustrating the love of God he said, looking at the same time directly at a rather well-proportioned, good-looking young man, who was evidently wra]»]'ed up in the sermon, " God, instead of making you vhat you are, tall, stately and luuidsome, might have done the very reverse, he might have formed you cri]'])led and hideous, in i'act as ugly as Old NicL" II j! \ 111 I \ ■p^ 100 Shanty, Forest and River Lije Suddenly turning from this subject, he launched olt' into another, which had no possible connection with it, viz. : the illuminating power of the Holy Spirit. From the look in his eye, and general tone, I suspected he was about to favor us with another personality, and so he did with a vim and a direct- ness that struck home with a vengeance. About the middle of the build %, which was not more than fourteen feet by twelve, a tall shantyman was seated on one of the benches, with his back against the writing-desk, and his long legs stretched out halfway across the floor. The man was paying little attention to the sermon, but was most indus- triously chewing tobacco, and squirting the juice with great force and precision at some imaginary object between his outspread toes. I saw that the minister's wrath was kindling against him, and that he was revolving in his mind how he could fii^e a shot at him. At this juncture the sermon took the turn I have indicated, and our zealous exhorter delivered his fire in certainly a most striking and prac- tical manner. " There was a certani godly minister," he said, " who was so illuminated by the Holy Spirit that he knew for certain that a particular individual in the congregation was chewing tobacco and spitting the vile stutf all over the floor," looking as he spoke !! w I In the Backwoods of Canada. 101 directly in the face of the offending party. The effect upon the latter was electrical. With a muttered oath he drew up his long legs with a sudden jerk, and reddened with confusion and anger. And the minister, apparently re-invigorated by the startling effect of his rebuke, proceeded on in his erratic* impassioned course. It jarred, however, upon my ears, and, I have no doubt, upon those of the rest of the audience, and spoiled the effect of what, in some respects, was otherwise a useful and practical sermon. Tt would ill become me, however, to speak in the slightest disparaging terms of the general labors and . effects of these backwoods preachers. They do a work amid discouragement, and toil, and absolute privation, which many of their brethren have neither the courage to attempt, nor the hardihood and patienc j to endure. They are the " fags " of the Church, ill-paid, often ill-received, poorly-lodged, weather-beaten and travel * worn ; yet they toil on unremittingly and uncom- plainingly, and do really a glorious work. They keep alive the knowledge of the Gospel and the light of salvation, in the dreary wastes of those outskirts of the land, and cheer and instruct many a lonely and darkened soul. il . f 1 102 Shanty^ Forest and River Life CHAPTER X. Gentlemen Settlers. g^^ NE of the peculiar features of the backwoods mS^ country in the Ottawa Valley, is the number ^^p of old deserted clearings that you stumole upon in your wanderings through the bush. You light upon them often in the most unexpected and cliance manner. Travelling leisurely and aimlessly through the deep, dense forest you emerge suddenly upon an open cleared space, far removed from any house or public highway. You wonder wliere you have come to now ; you look about for signs of life and human presence, but all is still and silent as a churchyard. A strange eerie feeling of loneliness comes over you. What does it all mean ? The clearing may be a very large one, embracing perhaps a hundred acres, or it may contain only twenty or thirty, but, large or small, you soon dis- cern unmistakable evidences of j)ast human settle- ment and activity. The gigantic pine and hemlock have all been cut down and cleared away. The margin of the native ♦ In ihe Bachivoods of Canada. 103 forest is as sharply and clearly defined as if it had been mown down by the scythe of some mighty Titan. A dense scrubby undergrowth of pine, bal- sam, spruce, in fact of every tree of the surrounding- bush, has grown up over the place. But here and there some grassy spots, the last relics of human culture, are st^*^^ ':outly holding their own again«it this encroac; xi^^' ' ivasion of the sturdy saplings. About the cer ; of the clearing stand the old crumbling ruint. of a former human habitation. Kothing may be left but the chimney, which liad been built of stronger and more firmly cemented material, and a heap of moss-covered stones and old rotten timbers. It wanted but this to complete tlie utter loneliness of the spot. It was indeed a scene of dreary, lifeless, forsaken desolation, over which the silence of the grave reigned. This, gentle reader, was once the home, I dare not say happy home, of a gentleman settler. This spot, along with many others I could picture, all tell the same old sad story of blighted hopes, of laborious but ill-directed exertions, of crushing and starving poverty. A number of years ago, the then Minister of Agriculture, actuated no doubt by the best motives, and by what he thought was accurate information 11 m m H I i ill 104 Shanty, Forest and River Life on the subject, resolved to colonize the neglected wastes of the Ottawa valley, and, if possible, by a superior class of emigrants from the Old Country. Accordingly, he published pamphlets and statistics on the country of the most glowing nature. Statis- tics can be so cooked as to mean anything, and, with ordinarily credulous people, can be so twisted as powerfully to promote any hobby which a prominent and influential man may adopt and determine to prosecute. The Ottawa valley was depicted as the new Land of Promise; and the cry was sent across the waters, " come over and take possession, and you will gain all that the heart of man can desire in the way of comfort, prosperity and affluence." No expense was spared. Agents were sent to every part of the United Kingdom, charged with the most promising inducements to every class, but especially the middle and richer, to embark their fortunes in this terra optissima. In consequence, great numbers came over, and, without even going to the expense and trouble of investigating the country beforehand, took out patents for the locations they selected from government maps and plans, and at once moved in with their families and possessions. In the Backwoods of Canada. 105 The lots on which they located were, for the most part, densely wooded with pine and hemlock, often most difficult of access, and frequently at quite a distance from even the most primitive human settle- ments. The cutting down and ^' logging " — the general clearing off — of these mighty patriarchs of the forest was, in itself, a herculean task ; but the expense that it involved to this special class of settlers was, perhaps, quadruple what it would have been to any other. Their inexperience, their former style of living, their repugnance to put up with the inconveniences and privations necessarily incident to such a position, and, absurd though it may sound, their desire to keep up appearances and show that they had money, and were superior to the miserably poor class that surrounded them, all led them, at the outset particularly, into lavish outlays and perfectly unnecessary expenses, which made serious inroads upon their capital. Personally, with many of them, it was all spend and no work, injudicious and worth- less overseeing, and careless, half-performed service. No doubt they were often most unfairly and dishonestly treated by their neighbors, and those with whom they had to deal. They were accounted fair game to pluck by many of these people, and, in I'M •I: il! (i i: >ii 106 ,^hanty, Forest and River Life fact, a kind of God-send, in a money point of view, to a hard- working, poor and struggling conmiunity. All this, however, .they bore with true British pluck and even cheerfulness, buoyed up with the hope that, when the land was finally cleared, they would be in possession of a '"'fine estate" of two or tliree hundred acres, on which they would live in comfort and affluence, and hand down as a noble heritage to their children. But, as year after year rolled away, the conviction gradually dawned upon them that those hopes were never to be realized. The land was, doubtless, cleared, but it Avas land, not soil, only a crur.t with no substratum of richness and fertility. There are some of the saddest histories in connec- tion with experiences of this kind that have ever been written. Histories of long years of patient waiting, of hard toiling, of menial drudging, of priva- tion, sickness and absolute want ; and, after all was done and endured, to find that they might as well have thrown their money and labor into the Ottawa, as far as any substantial fruit or return was realized. I have no hesitation in saying, because I am borne out by personal acquaintance, and by the authority of those who know this country intimately for the last forty years, that not one-fourth of even the cleared land of the Ottawa valley is Jit for cultiva- In the Backwoods of Canada. 107 tion^ and many put it at a much lower proportion. No doubt, for two or three yaars after it is cleared it may yield fairly good crops, but it is of too light a nature, and too shallow in depth, to guarantee con- tinuance and permanency of production. Some townships there are, doubtless, of very rich soil, and wdiere the farmers are well off and are among the most intelligent and influential agricul- tural communities of the Dominion, as Bathurst, most of Earn say, part of Beck with and Horton, Westmeath, &c., but these are oases in the vast sterile wilderness both north and south of the Ottawa. It is pitiful to think of the incalculable amount of capital of every kind, inteUigence, labor and money, both public and private, that have been absolutely wasted in this region. No greater mistake was ever made in political economy than the attempt to open up and colonize this country with the view of developing its agricultural resources; and, not only so, but these attempts, practically abortive as they have proved, have been the direct cause of entailing the loss of millions of treasure to the country, as we shall presently see. The Ottawa Valley is essentially a lumbering region, the most valuable, both as to extent and quality, which is in the world — that is, it was so. !! iti •111 j'ilt I I . !l r 108 Shanty J Forest and River Life but, alas, it is so no longer. The fire fiend has devastated it from end to end, from centre to circum- ference. There has been more timber destroyed by this terrible scourge than has ever been cut by the axe of the lumberer. Now, if these colonization efforts for the purpose of developing the agricultural resources had been directed to the proper localicies of our country, such as western Ontario, and many sections of Quebec, where the true land for settle- ment at that time, and even yet in many parts is to be found, it would have been infinitely better for the settlers themselves and the country at large. Not only were vast quantities of the most valuable timber wantonly destroyed in the direct process of clearing the land, but, both directly and indirectly, as we have already shown in a previous chapter, the settlers have been the means of starting those terrible conflagrations which have swept over vast tracts, and made bare and worthless thousa^'ds of square miles-. It is absolutely impossible to estimate the actual money loss to the country which has been incurred through these fires, and which, I believe, would, in a large measure, have been averted had not the Govern- ment so persistently, and expensively even, attempted to make it a farming country — something that it was never adapted by nature to be, and which all the tmm ■■■I HI I- In the Backwoods of Canada. 109 enterprise and capital of the world will never make it to be. But let ns retnrn to the special class referred to in this chapter, viz., gentlemen settlers, who are not to be confounded in the peculiarities of their character, hardships, and, too often, failures, with the great mass of other settlers in this country, many of whom, as I have intimated, have, by unremitting personal toil, frugality and practical intelligence, succeeded fairly well, though they are far from con- stituting the majority even of their own class — what has been the too common result of all their labors, hopes and ambitions ? From what I have said, it can be readily understood. In innumerable cases it has simply been carving out a home to starve in. After waiting and toiling and spending for years, they have been compelled, by absolute necessity, to desert their clearings and seek other modes of live- lihood. Happy were they if they resolved to do so before their last dollar was spent. In some cases they have clung to the place to the very last, until, actually, they had not the means to carry them away, and, had it not been for that kind Providence which often comes to man's assistance, when all human help has failed, they would have perished from absolute H r^: J! 110 Shanty^ Forest and River JAfe starvation in their homes. A most striking instance of this nature came under my own observation : One day I entered a dwelling for the purpose of getting something to eat ; I had been walking for several hours, and was yet many miles from my destination, and felt quite ready for a good dinner. On stating who I was and preferring :ny request, I saw at once that the lady of the house was consider- ably embarrassed, and saw at the same time that I. had met with one of the very class whom I am describing. Everything about betokened extreme poverty ; but unmistakable evidence of former pros- perity and gentility were still there. An old mahogany arm-chair of the most costly workman- ship was standing in the corner, and a few more relics of past affluence could be seen. The tone of voice, and manner too, of her I was addressing were those of a perfect lady, and were strikingly reflected in the general deportment of the ragged, hungi»y- looking children about her; the husband was absent on some business. I felt sorry I had intruded, but I had to make the best of it now. As I was begging of her not to put herself about and give me anything that was convenient, I observed her going to an old clock, which had once been a handsome and costly ornament, and taking from some receptacle a gold Irt the Baehroods of Canada. Ill of for my ler. 3t, I der- it i. am :eme pros- old man- more e of were ected bsent but I thing n old ostly gold coin, and calling her sor, a boy of about twelve, she slipped it into his hand and gave him a message, in which I could distinguish something about going to the neighbors. I divined at once what it wu3 • she hpd nothing decent to offer me to eat, and was send- ing him to the nearest neighbor to buy something to put before me. When the boy had left the liouse she could no longer restrain her feelings, and bursting into tears she exclaimed : " Oh, Mr. F , that is the last guinea of two thousand with which we came to this wretched country, and wlien it is gone there is nothing that I can see before us but starvation." With the ice thus broken, she told me their whole history. It is needless to recount it here ; it was an illustration of wha.t I have been trying to depict, and, alas ! not an uncommon nor unf'requent one either. Some years afterward, being in that locality, I inquired after them, but all I could learn was that the family had been broken up, and deserted the place, but where they had gone or what had become of them only the good Father^ who does all things well, knows and cares. 11 1 11 if' 5 « 11 I 112 Slmnty^ Forest and River Life CHAPTER XL A Game of Bluff. !!• MSIHERE is no honester class of men living than mm ^^^ shantymen, and the dwellers in the back- woods generally. Trunks and boxes lie about for the most part unlocked, and socks, moccasins, boots, and underclothing are scattered about, or hanging from nails and pegs in every nook and corner of the shanty ; and yet every man can always find his own, and seldom or never appropriates the property of another. There is one article, how- ever, which is a notable exception to this honest rule of conduct, and that is liquor of an;- kind. The shanty^an has no conscience in the matter of whiskey. It is considered fair plunder, wherever he can lay his hands on it. If, therefore, you go to the backwoods with a supply of liquor for your private use, you must keep it constantly under lock and key, otherwise it is certain to be pilfered from you before you are a day in the shanty. In the matter of scenting out and appropriating whiskey, the thirsty shantyman is as keen as a weasel, as cunning as a fox, and as unscrupulous as a wolf. In the Backwoods of Canada. 113 With tliia exception, however, the general character of the sliantymen is one of the strictest probity. A thief is the unknown quantity among them. When, therefore, a robbery does take place in the backwoods, it causes a great flare, and keeps the country in a fer- ment of excitement for months afterwards. An occur- rence of this kind, of the most daring and flagrant character, took place in one of C 's shanties on the Black River, while I was in that country. This shanty was situated on what was called C 's upper limit, and during the past and present season has been closed, C not deeming it advisable, in the existing state of the lumber market, to carry on active operations there. There was, how^ever, a large quantity of provisions and general shanty goods stored at the place, to be ready for the next winter's work. These were in charge of one man, whose orders were " never to leave the place, except in case of absolute necessity, especially over-night ; " and if he required to go to the farm, twenty-five miles distant, on any business, to be sure and obtain a substitute during his absence. And a lonely, weary time he had of it — as we shall presently see ; I had had an experience, on a small scale, of this kind of thing myself, and if I found three days of it almost unendurable, what must he have felt it when fi B 'V 1 'W 'C '-iB ik li 114 Shanty, Forest and River Life lie liad a year and a half of it up lo tliat time, and wan bound by contract to iGniain for anotlior year. No doubt Lis only labor was to do his own cooking, and look after the provisions; that is, he had to turn the sacks of flour over from one side to another every now and then, in order to prevent souring, and, during the hot weather, change the brine in the barrels of pork to keep it from rusting ; and he could trap and shoot in the vicinity of the shanty as much as he pleased. But, after all he could possibly do, he led a lonely, inactive, dreary life ; and as he could not read, and had no internal resources of any kind, and little to occupy his hands, he gradually sank into a kind of mental comatose state. I was told that for days at a time, when he was not sleeping, he would sit gazing at the fire, without sense, or thought, or motion, even the little that he had to do being irksome to him. When I saw him he looked more like a wild beast than a human being. He had a startled, scared expression on his countenance. When he spoke, which he never did except when addressed, it was in a hurried, abrupt, suspicious tone. My opinion was that by the time he had fulfilled his engagement, he would be quite ready for the lunatic asylum. And no wonder : we talk about the In the Backwoods of Canada. 1 1 5 horrors of solitary confinement — here was one of the most trying phases of it that can be conceived of. There would be months at a time when he would never see a human being ; his daily and continual life was confined witliin a comparatively sh )rt radius of the shanty. If he could have gone as he plt.tsed, aud stayed as he pleased in the woods, it would have been different, but he was practically a prisoner in the deep dungeon of the forest. He was, withal, as the event I am about to relate sliows, a man of rare pluck aud most active p'hysical energy. Some imperative business rendered it neaissary for him to go to the farm, requiring x. absence from the slianty for two days and a niglit. When be returned, on the evening of the second day, ho found the place broken into, and the " van " burst open and plundered. This " van " is a very peculiar institution of shanty life. It is an immense chest, made of the strongest wood, ribbed with iror bands, and secured by a mighty padlock, of which the foreman and clerk only possess each a key. The van holds all the merchantable goods required for the use of a shanty's gang for a winte^'^ work, viz., pants, socks, flannels, tobacco, medicines, &c., &c. These are given to the men when they want them, ...id charged to their lir I m y, IIG Shanty, Forest and River Life account. Bouchier, to his terrible consternation, found tlie " van " in his charcfe rifled of most of its contents, including some valuable fur of his own trapping ; altogether about three hundred dollars' worth had been taken. The poor fellow v/as, for a little, terribly cast down, and well he might, after all his long^ faithful watch- ing, to be duped at last, and not only so, but, accord- ing to his contract, to have the amount lost deducted from his hard-earned wages ; two and a lialf years* servitude would hardly cover the amount. liut, as wa;^ now shown, he was not a man to give up in despair ; the latent energy of his character was roused, and quickly finding out the course the robber had tjiken he determined to follow him and recover the goods. Though it was after dark and he felt greatly fagged with his twenty-five miles tramp from the farm, still he resolved to lose no time, but start on the pursuit at once. Hastily eating a substantial supper, and putting a junk of cold pork in his pocket, he prepared to set out. But at the very outset he was met by a serious damper. On examining his gun, v«^hich he had not fired for several weeks, he found that it would not go off, and, after trying every expedient he could think of, he was totally unable to extract 'ill } In the Backwoods of Canada. 117 the damp, rusty charge. Though greatly annoyed he was not deterred from his perilous undertaking, and saying to himself that, " as long as the thief didn't know it wouldn't go off it would serve the purpose just as well," he set out on the track, broad and easily discernible in the loose, soft snow. He had a pretty good idea of the identity of the man whom he was .after, having received information at the farm which gave him a clue ; and, if he was right ^n his conjecture, the fact was not at all reassuring. It was a man of the name of Gandron — a most notoriously bad character. He was a kind of half- trader, half-trapper and whole savage. He was commonly called the bear in that country. He was known to sleep at the foot of a tree during the coldest nights with a single blanket round him, and could su])sist on food which the poorest Indian refused to eat. He was a far larger and stronger man than Bouchier, and a desperado of the purest type. How- ever, Bouchier took up and followed on the track with the fearlessness and pertinacity of a sleuth- hound. I believe that any little latent madness which may have been engendered by his long solitude was now thoroughly awakened in him, and made him completely reckless. During the whole night he kept steadily on, never n !^ii I- ■n 1 l^i B!' i [i'lf-- I ii 118 Shanty, Forest and River Life halting for rest or food. Just as day broke he came to an old, deserted shanty, from the chimney of which a thin column of smoke rose up through the air. Without hesitation he threw open the half-decayed dour and stood on the threshold, and, sure enough, there was his man bending over a scanty fire, cooking some food. As he turned round, at the noise of the Opening door, Bouchier thundered in his ear : " give me my goods, or I'll blow your brains out," aiming, as he spoke, his cocked gun direct at his head. Gandron turned ghastly pale, but as he faced him he suddenly drew a revolver from his belt and half raised it. At the action Bouchier again roared out, " If your raise your hand an inch higher I'll shoot." It must have been a strange, wild spectacle, — those two fierce, desperate men, facing each other like savage, untamed beasts, in that smsiU shanty, in the lonely solitude of the forest ; and none the less so from the absolutely burlesque character of it, for, as it presently turned out, Gandron's revol- ver was unloaded, nor had he a single cartrilge in his pouch. Of course, Bouchier was as ignorant of this fact as Gandron was that the gun was perfectly harmless. It was indeed as pretty a game of bluff as was ever played in human life. But blood will ctacle, other lanty, me the cter of revol- e in his of this H'fectly f bluff lod will n .ii \l 1 3! i\ In the Backwoods of Canada. 121 tell. Pluck was to decide the mock duel, and in this Bouchier shewed himself the better man. Again he thundered out, "If you don't tell me in one second where the goods are, I'll blow your brains out." His resolute tone and fierce, glaring eye gleaming along the cocked gun-barrel struck terror into his antagonist. Gandron thought hi? last hour was come, and, dropping his hand, he whined out, " I did take the goods, put down your gun, and I'll tell you all about it." " No, no," said Bouchier, *• you don't fool me ; throw down your revolver, and come and show me where the goods are." " Oh, you needn't be frightened," replied the ruffian, " the revolver is not loaded," shewing, as he spoke, the empty chambers. As Bouchier told me, a great load was at once taken off his heart, and he felt tha e could now do as he liked with the fellow. Cautiously step- ping aside, and keeping the gun always bearing on his body, he told the man to come out of the shanty and go ahead of him. As Bouchier fully expected, they had not proceeded far on their singular march until the man stopped, and, pointii^g to a large log a few feet from the track, said sullenly : " Your goods are there, go and get them, and be d — d to you." r; ■ 'i 1 1 ' f.l I ! :ut the cunning villain had calculated *oo much on Boucliier's simplicity. " N"o, no," said the latter, " bring tliem out yourself, and be quick about it, or I'll put a ball into you." With a muttered oath, but knowing he couldn't help himself, the fellow c mplied, and, going to the spot, brought out parcel after parcel of the stolen goods. But l>ouchier was not done with him vet. Having satisfied himself that nearly all the missing articles were there, he ordered him to make them up into a pack, and, shouldering it, to march on before him to the shanty. With many an imprecation the ruffian was forced to obey, and about mid-day they arrived at the shanty where Bouchier told him to throw down the pack and " be off"," pointing out at the same time the course he was to pursue. The shanty was situated on the edge of a large lake, and on every side of it the trees had all been cut down. Bouchier ordered him to go direct across the lake, and not to stop till he got to the other side, or he would send a ball after him. The man begged hard for s( me food, saying he was starving, but Bouchier sternly refused, and again threatened him with instant death unless he started that moment. As there was no help for it, the man had to go, and i In the Backwoods oj Canada. 123 ■wlien Bouchier saw liim fairly out of sight over the lake he carried the goods inside the shanty, and effectually barring the door, he sank down on the floor in a state of complete and utter exhaustion. Luckily, in the course of the evening, a trapper with whom he was well acquainted came along, and Bouchier prevailed on him to stay at the shanty while he went the next morning and reported the occurrence at the Farm. It caused, of course, a great noise in the country, but, lieyond sending a messen- ger to the nearest settlements, in order to intercept and arrest the man, if he should make his way in that direction, nothing further was done in the matter. Some weeks after, however, Gandron was seen at a lumbering depot some distance off, and the party who saw him said that, " with a fearful oath, he declared that if he had only known that Bouchier's gun wouldn't have gone off, he would soon have made mince-meat of him," Bouchier, as he deserved, received great praise for his plucky and determined conduct, and was for the nonce the hero of the country. He went back to his post, and resumed his lonely vigil, as if nothing very unusual had occurred. ",i ^^1 I 11 (/ f~ I i ! 124 Shanty, Forest and River Life CHArTER XII. Keeping House for My Companions. W^ S I hinted in my last chapter, I once had the ^•^^^^ opportunity of enjoying the pieasures of complete solitude in the depths of the forest, and though only for the limited period of three days still it quite satisfied any romantic hankering I might have entertained in that direction, in fact so much so, that I certainly never wish to enjoy it again. I merely lug in the reminiscence here, achronistic as it is, for the benefit of any of my young readers who may be afflicted wdth a mania of this kind ; and, if the reading of it will only do them one-tenth part of the good that the actual experience of it did me in the way of cure, I am sure they will never wish to try it for themselves. It happened in tliis wise: On one of my excur- sions to the Black River country north of the Ottawa I had been staying for some time with two French Canadians, Steve and Xavier, hunting moose and trapping the otter and beaver. Noble fellows they In the Backwoods of Canada. 125 were, too, particularly Steve, who had been my faithful friend and companion in many a glorious tramp, and trapping excursion through the untr(jd- den forests of those vast northern wilds. Some Weeks before that, Steve had shot a^ very large moose at a considerable distance from the camp, and, as they were getting short of provisions, I could see that they were desirous of going and bringing in the meat, so I offered to stay and keep house for them while they were absent. The alacrity with which they accepted of my olTer showed how much they appreciated and valued it. This may sound somewhat singular after what I have said about the generally honest character of backwoods people, and particularly when their hut stood in such a thoroughly isolated, secluded posi- tion. But so it was, nevertheless. Koguery is not a product of civilization, nor confined to the towns and settlements. It is indigenous to the soil of human nature, and crops out everywhere and in every grade of human life. In fact, man by nature is a thief, how- ever much he may disguise his thievish propensities' under the specious metaphysical name of acquisitive- ness, and though its actual outcome may not be so marked and common among the backwoodsmen as elsewhere, stiU it has to be watched and guarded i r ! : 126 Shanty, Forest and River Life against even here, and perhaps among no class of these more si)ecially so than the trappers. We have said that shantymen have no conscience about steahng whis- key or liquor in any shape when it is in their reach, so trappers seem to have very little conscience about fur — they intrude on each other's grounds and rob the tra[)S and re-set them again most carefully, in most deliberate and wanton style, and when oppor- tunity offers will even pilfer the dressed hides, apparently without a scruple. And so the trapper has always to be on his guard as to his fur property, both about his camp and in the traps — hence the " chum " business. They always trap in couples — not 9nly for the sake of companionship and mutual assistance, but with the view of having one always at home taking care of things there, while the other is away, perhaps for days^ at a time, looking after the traps. My offer, then, to my friends was most opportune and acceptable. It was one of those occasions in which it was necessary they should both go, as it takes two men to skin and dress a moose properly, especially when it is in a frozen state ; and, on ac- count of the distance they had to go, they would require to be absent three days — and when we remember that they had about four hundred dollars In the Backwoods of Canada. 127 worth of furs iu and about the place, their whole worldly wealth, in fact, we can easily understand how gladly they embraced my offer of mounting guard and holding the fort during their absence. So next morning they started, each man drag- ging behind him a large toboggan on which th' neat was to be loaded. I would have much preferred going in the place of one of them, but this was a work which would tax to the uttermost their endurance and strength, and carrying a pack or drawing a load is not my forte in the backwoods — it may be very good for developing muscle, but there is not much sport in it — so I was left alone to put in the time the best way I could, until their return. Though the hut was warm and cosy in itself, yet its surroundings were dreary in the extreme. It was in the heart of the densest forest I had yet seen, over which the silence of the tomb reigned, and in which not a living thing could be seen or heard. There was no game, large or small, in its immediate vicinity, and I did not care, nor indeed was it safe, to go any great distance off in pursuit of it. It was too dark to read in the hut with any degree of comfort, except by the light of the fire, I r t J I r- «■' T'P i 128 SJtanty, Forest and River Life and this at the best is unsatisfactory work, espe- cially with very small print, as was the case with my two inseparable companions, my Bil)le and Shakespeare. However, the tirst day passed off easily enough. I had been having some very heavy exertion the few days previous, and felt considerably fagged, and so managed to do an immense amount of sleeping, and lazy dozing. The cooking was what bothered me the most. This part of my education has been sadly neglected in my youth. I make a good enough dish of tea, but a fearful mess of every other department of the fine art. But when the darkness of night closed around me it was awfully lonely. Though you know there is not the slightest danger from man or beast, or any other bsing, still a strange, lonesome, unde finable kind of dread will creep into your heart, and chill the blood. The spirit of loneliness seems to embody itself into shape and sit beside you. Memory, which is not always a pleasant companion, will conjure up black and ugly reminiscences. All that is eerie and awe- some in silence and darkness seems fioating around you. You sit spell-bound and motionless, almost afraid to breathe or stir, least you should arouse and auger some invisible, unearthly and unknown evil. Unconsciously you find yourself looking fearfully In the Backwoods of Canada. 129 around into the dark corners, and at the unbarred door behind you. The thought that some liideous monster will silently o])en it, and noiselessly walk in, will possess you, and th.)Ughyou will not yield to place a log against it, still you think there is no harm in taking your double-barrel down from the pegs above it, and placing it in a more ccnvenient position, and, unwittingly also, you casta side glanc3 at the big axe to see if it is handy. And then you suddenly laugh aloud at your fears and precaution, and even get up and dance about, anr^ shout hila- riously as if it were all i«, capital joke, and too comi- cal for anything. But it's no go ! This counterfeit rr»ernment and steamed-up courage soon evaporate, and the dark shades will again insidiously creep into, and overshadow the soul. I don't profess to be either a braver or more timid man than the ordinary run of mortals, but there is a something peculiar in these surroundings which weighs down and oppresses the spirits, and makes a coward of you after all. One thing I do know, that I would rather a thousand times, when I am alone in the depths of the forest, spend the night in the open air, where I can see the stars and the trees on every side, than in the snuggest and strongest hut that was ever built. f I 130 Shanty, Forest and River Life However, the night passed slowly away, and with the bright, glad morning came that lightness of heart, and boldness of spirit which are always en- gendered by robust, vigorous health, and high- strung, overflowing animal life. After breakfast, also, I had work to do. I must chop fire-wood. So, shouldering the big axe, I sallied forth in quest of a proper tree to fell. The uninitiated in these matters will, no doubt, wonder why there should be any searching at all for fuel when the dense forest is at the very door, and all around you. But the fact is that it is often a very difficult matter to come across just the right kind of wood for burning. The forest is composed not oily of green, but also, for the most part, of soft wood, which, in winter especially, is quite unfit for fuel. The great object is to get a dead, dry tama- rac, this, combined with green birch, makes a capital fire for every purpose. 1 soon came across the tree I wanted, and went aii it most lustily. I am no great hand at the axe, but I am better at it than the saucepan anyway. So the tree soon began to totter, and its lofty top to bend over ; almost mechanically, I stepped a little to the side. If 1 had not taken that step, this hook would never have been written. In falling, the top In the Backwoods of Canada. 131 of the tree struck against a smaller one, causing tlie severed trunk to fly back from the stump ; it whizzed past me, within an inch of my side, with the velocity of a cannon ball, and buried itself deep in the snow beyond. It was a narrow escape. If it had struck me it would have crushed in my chest like an egg-shell. For a little while I stood per- fectly paralyzed. I think in all my life I was never so near death as at that moment. My first thought, when I could think, was deep, profound gratitude to the Almighty for His interposing hand ; the most fervent Thank God ! fell from my lips that I had ever uttered ; and good cause had I for it. If I had not been killed outright I would have been so maimed that I could not have stirred from tlie spot, and would have lain there until my compan- ions found me, if I could have survived the cold and exposure so long. There are perhaps more men killed in the woods in this way than in any other. The butt of the tree is almost certain to fly from the stump, and the course it may take is often uncertain, though it can generally be known by watching the top. It was some time before I could muster suffi- cient resolution to proceed with my work, and wlien I did, it was with such fear and trepidation that I :, pi a ■■ 1: I i M 132 Shanty^ Forest and River Life was heartily glad when it was over, and I found myself safely back within the walls of tlie hut. Such was the shock my nerves received at the time that it was many months before I fully recovered from it. Often I would awaken in the middle of the night, in a cold perspiration, and with a great shudder as the remembrance of my narrow escape flashed upon me in my sleep. I have never attempt- ed to fell a tree since. The rest of the day, and that night, passed away drearily enough. I never was so heartily sick of a business as I was of that housekeeping. The next morning, while casting about in my mind for something to divert myself with, it oc- curred to me to try my hand at cooking a beaver tail for my dinner. I had heard it said that " a man never knows what he can accomplish until he is cast upon his own resources," so I thought this was a famous opportunity to test the virtue of the old maxim. There were three tails stuck into a chink in the wall opposite to me ; selecting one of these I pon- dered how I was to proceed. The tail was hard and dry as a shingle, so I thought the best thing to do was to parboil it first in hot water, and then fry it in the gridiron in pork grease, which is the univer- Ill the Backivoods of Canada, 133 sal substitute for butter in the backwoods. So this I did, taking ray leisure, and " doing it up brown " as I thought. Then, with all the concomitants of pota- toes, " scones " and tea, I sat down in great expecta- tion of a right royal dinner. But the first mouthful I took of that beaver tail was something never to be forgotton. It was simply horrible. Of all the nauseating, abominable, dis- gusting morsels I ever tasted that was the worst. I can compare it with nothing uneatable under the sun. Putrid carrion fried in rancid lard couldn't be worse. Though I instantly spat it out in disgust, yet the sickening flavor of it seemed to penetrate my whole system like prussic acid, and I haven't got the taste of it out of my mouth to this day. In a rage I kicked the dish into the fire, and bolted for the open air. I had had enough of dinner for that day, and resolved I would cook no more till my companions came back, though I should fast for a week. Towards eveninoj thev returned, drasfgriiig enor- mous loads of meat after them. They could not have had less tlian four hundred pounds weight, besides the hide, which would weigh fully fifty more. •if' m n-\ ' :V| "it, ' II i, ■I ' !l ! - 134 Shanty y Forest and River Life They were greatly concerned when they heard of my narrow escape with the tree, the peril of which they fully understood and appreciated. However, all's well that ends well, and we spent our last night together in the most enjoyable and hilarious manner, and often awoke the sleeping echoes, and made the solemn old forest about us ring again with our shouts and songs of uproarious merriment. ! In the Backwoods oj Canada. 135 CHAPTEE XIII. About Deer Shooting. r^HERE is no more enjoyable excursion in the U world than for •a party of kindred spirits to start off on a deer-shooting expedition to our far backwoods. The very preparation for it is in itself a delight. You love to ponder over and calculate every d>3tail and arrangement. You rack your invention to find out new and approved articles and expedients for promoting your pleasure, comfort and success in the hunt. If you are flush of money your extravagance in purchasing supplies of aU necessary and unnecessary articles will be beyond all bounds. Your grocer and gunsmith are quite ready to gratify every whim, and are prolific of suggestions of the most useless, cumbersome, and absurd comforts and contrivances. Perhaps a word here from me as to my experience, and what I think makes up the best outfit for such an excursion, may not be out of place. Some of the most pleasant reminiscences of my life are connected with deer shooting, and its accom- \ : f ft' w' '■I i I i^ ft •1 i!'^ i. l!' 136 Shanty, Forest and River Life panying sports, far back amid the glorious scenery of our backwoods lakes. Without doubt I have had most delightful excursions, and for an amateur have generally been fairly successful in my sport. And I ascribe my pleasure and success in a very large degree to the personnel of the party who accompanied me on these excursions. And this I would lay down as the very first element to be considered in arranging for a deer-shooting expedition. If your companions are not congenial, or not of the right stamp in every sense, far better not to go at all, or at least with no companion but your dog, and your servant. Now, there are three classes of fellows that I utterly detest to be with in the woods ; first those who go on a trip of this kind merely for the sake of having a " grand spree." They must have a cart- load of w^ine and beer and liquors with them, and from morning until night, and from the time they leave till they get back, it is just one everlasting *' swipe." These men are not only a nuisance and an encumbrance, but also a source of continual danger to themselves and all around them. There is a certain amount of peril attendant upon all these trips. In crossing some of our broad lakes in a small bark canoe, particularly if the wind is at In the Backwoods of Canada. 137 all liigh, you require to be cool, collected, and steady- as a rock. And if you are following deer you re- quire especially to have all your wits about you. If a man is in liquor he runs a great risk of upsetting and losing his rifle, perhaps his life too, or of shooting his companion, or at least of missing the deer to a certainty^ and spoiling the morning's hunt. In every way, both in the camp and on the hunt, these fellows are not only useless, but positive spoilers of sport for all about them. Another class that I can't abide are those dilettante, pernickety sort of fellows who must have all their little comforts and luxuries, and toilet apparatus, and other nicknacks about them. They must cany their combs and brushes, their sponges and night- shirts, and all the thousand and one appurtenances of their home life with them. They are awfully nice about the cooking and washing of the dishes, arranging of the beds, &c., and in fact in many ways are simply a pest about the camp. They make everybody thoroughly uncomfortable and nervous, and impress you with a sense of inferiority in the scale of social life and respectability. They are a kind of living rebuke to your own negligence in these matters, and say to you, as plainly as if they put it in so many words, " you are one of the great \- , i" I ilii i 138 Shanty, Forest and River Life unwashed." Oh, how I abominate these fellows ! T feel as if kicking was too good for them. I would rather have a dirty Hottentot with me than one of these nice gentlemen. It is one everlasting grum- ble with them about trivial inconveniences and discomforts. Equally with the last class, they are perfect kill-joys about the camp, and to be avoided as you would the plague. I have had my experience of these chaps, and I hope a kind Providence will save me from ever having it again. There is a third class of men to whom I also object as companions in the hunt, though they are not nearly so objectionable as the two former, viz., those who make a toil and a burden out of the excur- sion, instead of u pleasure and relaxation. Tliey are the men who go in for hard work and take a pride in the mere " roughing it." They are just the very antithesis of the last class, and, though you have a kind of respect for them, still in many ways they are a nuisance and a detriment to your comfort and enjoyment. They will have you off to bed at dark and up in the morning long before day-light, and keep you shivering round the fire hours before it is necessary. They are great at chopping, cooking, and carrying, and are everlastingly busy at something. As you lie at your ease, placidly smoking your cutty In the Bachwoods of Canada, 139 before the fire, your ears are dinned with the most opprobrious epithets — lazy-bones, 3leej)y-heads, slug- gards, &c. — until you almost feel ashamed of your very existence. Now I don't believe in this sort of thing at all. When I go on a trip of this kind, I want to enjoy myself, and have as little toil and drudgery as I can possibly help. If you can't afford to have servants with you, then of course you have to work, do all the work in fact, — and toilsome and dirty work it often is. But I don't believe in work- ing merely for work's sake, and as a kind of bravado and show-off of your knowledge and experience in these matters. Let each man attend to his own business in the camp, let the servants do the work for which they are engaged and paid, and let us eat, drink, smoke, hunt and be merry. No fear but we shall get plenty of muscular exercise to keep us in " good twist," without doing any works of supererogation. But with the personnel of the camp made up of. right good fellows, who thoroughly understand one another, and who are determined, come what may, not to grumble or complain, or quarrel with one another — in a word, to act on the M. T. principle of being jolly in all circumstances — you have, at the very outset, the prime essential of solid comfort and enjoyment throughout your whole trip. ['I 1 I i fn I ill 1^1 i!!i 140 Shanty, Forest and River Life Now, as to tlie material outfit, a great deal could be said and written, and I might content myself and the reader by simply saying, take with you nothing but what is absolutely necessary; but still a few hints in this direction may not be amiss. AVith regard to clothes, one suit of heavy rough tweed, with one cliange of under-clothes and three or four pairs of socks, is quite sufficient. A soft felt hat is the best of all headgear, far better than any kind of cap — a Scotch cap particularly, which so many affect, is a piece of jaunty discomfort and inconvenience. Top boots of light leather reaching to the knee are the best for every season of the year, and, take them all in all, are the most suitable foot garb for the bush, also a pair of strong leather slippers for the camp ; the latter ansNver capitally, too, for wearing in the canoe when you are after deer, and, in case of upsetting, are less encumbrance in swimming. Many a man has been drowned in attempting to drav^ off his heavy top-boots in the water, for it is impossible to swim any length of time with them on. A long roomy oilskin coat reaching below the top of the boots, is indispensable, it will keep you dry and comfortable in the heaviest rain, and is besides a famous thing at niglit to spread over you m Ihe »ii is Ion III the Backivoodsof Canada. 141 if the weather is either damp or cold. Special attention should be i)aid to the coat, one of the right kind adds greatly to the liunter's com- fort and convenience. I had one which I wore for many years, and I can't tell you tlie satisfaction I got out, of that coat. It was of a greyish-green color, of coarse, strong tweed, and had no less than sixteen pockets in it. I could easily carry a dozen partridges in it without being the least ini2)eded in walking through the bush, thus obviating the need of a game-bag, that pest and encumbrance to the hunter in thick woods and swamps. The best model of a hunting coat that I have yet seen is made by J. D. Anderson, St. James street, Mont- treal. It is a most becoming thing, and, at the same time, contains within it every carrying convenience for game, ammunition, and " snack," which a hunter requires for a day's tramp through the bush. As to the provisions that should be taken, every one must consult his own taste and means. If you are going to camp permanently on one spot during the whole time of your holidays, then take every- thing and anything your stomach may desire, from potted goose's liver up to Westphalian sugar- cured hams. But my experience in this prog and grog business is that, after a few days in the keen. J 111 ilP ■ ]k 1: 1 ';■ 1 ^ i fr' I . :;i 142 Shanty, Forest and River Life bracing, oxygenated atmosphere of the backwoods, I get to have a perfect distaste for these delicacies and luxuries which a petted, pampered appetite rejoices in amid the artificialties and refinements of so- called cultured and high-toned life. My stomach comes to care for nothing but strong meat; anything less seems to be an imposition and an insult to it, and is repudiated with contempt. Fat pork, bacon, fresh beef, venison, game of all kinds, strong tea, bread, potatoes and onions served up on tin-plates, and in bountiful abundance, are what the appetite craves for and revels in. As for liquors, I consider Jamaica rum the best for the woods ; it is sufficiently exhilarating for all convivial purposes, and has besides a staying power in it that no other spirit possesses. If you wish to know my opinion on this liquor question just skip over to the end of this chapter, and you will find there in full what I have already written in " Three Months am '^q; the Moose" on this point. If, h'"-'' .n your excursion you expect to have a gre x of moving about from place to place, and, consequently, very considerable portaging and carry- ing, then, I beseech you, for mercy's sake, to remem- ber the poor canoesmen and cook, and cut down your impedimenta to the narrowest compass and the lightest weight. Nothing these men detest more In the Backwoods of Canada. 143 than to carry loads of useless superfluous l)aggage. If you have much of this sort of work to do, you will find that what is just necessary for your com- fort and pleasure is amply sufficient for them and you to transport. Of course one of the most important items in the outfit is the gun business. I am often asked what is the best shooting-piece to take to the backwoods. Of rifles the Ballard is my favorite. After an experience of nearly twenty years, and during that time having handled almost every new and approved patent that has come out, I still retain my prefer- ence for this piece. It is of simple, yet strong mechanism, and of long range ; and if you can adapt the sights, either by filing or altering, to suit your own eye,then you have the most accurate j)reci8ion of aim of any piece I know. I am speaking now of the genuine first-class Ballard, not of those pot- metal things v/hich go by that name, and which you can buy from $5 up to $17. However, there are so many new and excellent styles of rifles coming out continually, that it is difficult to dogmatise on this point. Every one has his favorite, and what suits one eye may not another. A double-barrelled breach-loader, a revolver, a hunting-knife and a drinking-cup, and your sporting 41 l!i .4 :' Hi £l lit- ■« if ill %\ \ l.:S M^ 1 i ' 1 ' l ■ 1 '"' , !■ i ■1 • t I 1 t ; I !i IB t> '■ ill- 1 1 1 1 II m r. i II II I! !.il I U f iiiiii I I r it^iin I I I 146 Shanty, Forest and River Life will bound in every direction, and circle round and round in the busli, in the vain attempt to tire out and escape from his merciless pursuers, until finally, in despair, hearing the loud baying coming nearer and nearer, aiid the hounds rapidly closing upon him, he will head straight for the lake, and, after pausing for a moment on its brink to assure himself that the enemy is still on his track, will plunge headlong into its cool waters. But, alas, poor brute, his instinct has failed to warn him that he has only escaped from one enemy to fall into tl 3 power of more deadly and unsparing ones, who, if their skill and coolness are only equal to their opportunity, will soon put an end to his gallant career. Our chapter has lengthened itself out to an unreasonable extent, and, as we shall see some of the details and exciting pleasures of this spoit in those which immediat(ily follow, we will bring it to a close, with this remark, that, notwithstanding all that has been said and written about the cruelty and butchery of this sport, and a great deal more nonsense to tlie same effect, we hold that it is the most enjoyable and exciting, as it it also the fiiirest and most sports- manlike, mode of hunting deer of any that is adopt- ed in the backwoods. In this respect it stands far ahead of still-hunting, that is, tracking the deer in In the Backwoods of Canada^ 147 the snow till you overtake and shoot him; or, lying in wait for him on the runaway as he is chased by the dogs — for the deer has special paths in the woods in which they always run when pursued, and which are well known to the hunter— when he sometimes comes so close to you as you crouch behind tree or rock, that you can touch him with the muzzle of your gun ; or, lastly, of shooting him by the jack-light after night by the marshy side of river or lake where he comes to drink, or escape from tlie torments of flies and mosquitoes. In these three last modes, there is hardly any escape for the deer, if only ordi- nary coolness and patience are exercised. But in watering the deer with hounds there are far more " let out " of the lake, and escape with their lives than are shot and killed in it ; and it is a sport that is attended with much more danger to the hunter than any of the others, and is not this the very essence and soul of true sjx)rt all the wo: Id over ? ^^ I have often been asked the question whether, in such circumstances (cam[)ing out in winter), it is a good thing to use freely^ or even moderately, alcoholic spirits. My answer is, emphatically, no. I believe that a draught of good whiskey, that is high wines diluted with water (for high winea is )i".i : I'^i Mj_l A i II ^;| 11 1 ■ B i IB 1 '■' -til • and plant and tree has its own distinctive and peculiar coloring, and each seems to rival the other in its showy finery. All Nature seems to be out for a gala-day in hoHday attire. In the Backivoods of Cancula. 151 As we glided swiftly over the bright waters of the lake, just lit up with the golden glory of the rising sun, our hearts beat in unison with the bright and gorgeous surroundings. The lake itself was beauti- fully embosomed in a magnificent framework of yellow and purple and gold, studded every here and there with bold jutting cliffs of whitey-gray limestone. From our point of observation we could take in the whole lake, which was about a mile and a half long and a mile wide. In the clear, bracing translucent atmosphere every object stoor out in bright sunny relief, and presented one Ox those scenes of loveliness which are photographed for ever upon the memory. ■ Suddenly, the deep baying of the hounds broke upon our ears, faintly echoing through the interven- ing forest, and after continuing for a while, gradually died away as the chase took another direction. There is a strange wild charm in this sweetest of all music, at least to the hunter's ears. Now it swells out in clear tiiumphant tone, as if the hounds felt quite sure of their prey, and were just upon him. Then a quick angry yelp will tell as plainly as human speech that they are at fault in the scent and the deer is escaping them. But again it will ring out clearer and fuller, and unmistakably nearer ! \ ' ^H:| It : I' I / ■ \m !■' 1 ■ „i.r. . i ; .US: f '] 8 ' ; t ■ 1 li ' 111 1 li B ^ M fm 1 i L-^ \! 1 r ■ '* \ii ■ 1 5-' i f \ \^ \ -■ [ fi ';"* 1 - ■ 1 : !'! i i ' ' ii^' ■J i' 'J/" h n ■ li 152 Shanty^ Forest and Biver Life and nearer. There is no doubt of it the deer has given up his winding and circhng in the bush and is *' heading" straight for the lake, with the hounds " full tongue" after him. Hastily taking our places in the canoe, for up to this time we had been sitting at our ease on the bank, we shoved off a few yards and watched intently the shore line of the lake in the direction of the approaching chase. Jim, who is a first-class canoeman, seated himself in the stern, and I tot.k the bow, with a rifle and the double- barreled gun charged with heavy buckshot. It is always the rule in this sport that the man in the bow does the shooting, and the one in the stern the steering and main part of the paddling. This is an excellent rule, and should always be ad- hered to, and this for two reasons : first, in following the deer the steersman cannot shoot without great danger to the bowman, with whom he is generally in a line with the deer ; and, secondly, he has quite enough to do in directing the course of the canoe, and keeping it steady at the moment the other fires. . The deer in taking the water is often very capri- cious in the spot he chooses for his plunge. So it proved in this case. Instead of entering v/here the loud baying led us to expect, he seems to have run In the Backwoods of C^inada. 153 along the shore for a distance, and plunged in far up the lake, more than a mile away. Though we couldn't hear the plunge yet Jim'.s hawk eye detected the splaslii ng of the water in the dazzling glittering of the sun's rays, and, hastily exclaiming, "there he is," headed the canoe in that direction, and away we dashed down the lake. Now is the time for coolness and lake craft. It would never do to paddle too close to the animal, else he will see us too soon, and, re-entering the woods, give the dogs another chase to some other lake, and our sport would be spoiled for the day. We must give him time to swim fairly out into the lake, and then dash upon him and head him off from the shore. The deer as soon as he plunges into the water will lie perfectly motionless for a little, and with ears lying back on his neck will listen for the approaching dogs. If he judges that they are still on his track and pressing him closely he will start out for the opposite shore, — so it turned out in this case. But Jim and I, like some righteous people we read of, had been cautious overmuch. Miscalculat- ing the distance the deer had to swim to the further shore, we had waited l;oo long, and allowed him to get too good a start of us, and, though we ** laid into " our paddles with all our might, and made our light % \ I" 154 Shanty, Forest and River Life canoe fairly bound over the water, still we were more than a hundred yards behind him when he reached the shore. Quickly dropping my paddle I seized the rifle and fired just as he rose from the water. But my violent paddling and the dancing of the canoe made my aim unsteady, and after folio wing his track some distance through the woods, and seeing no marks of blood we came to the humili- ating conclusion that we had ignominiously missed and lost him. Vastly annoyed, and mightily out of conceit with ourselves and thinking the game was all up for that day, we returned to the canoe ; but just as we were stepping into it Jim's keen eye sighted another chap just leaving the shore opposite the point from which we had come, more than a mile away. Without waiting to reload the rifle, as my trusty double-barrel was ready at my hand, again we dashed away at high-pressure speed up the lake. That was a paddle, indeed, with a vengeance. If it had been for sweet life we couldn't have paddled harder. With every muscle strained to its utmost tension we went at it, resolved not to be too late this time. And the deer gave us all we could do. The moment he saw us he redoubled his efforts, and made for the shore at a tremendous speed. And - ,r H) In the Backwoods of Canada. 155 these fellows can swim when they are put to it. Under the first impulse of their fright they almost leap out of the water; they raise swells behind them like a steamboat, and dash ahead at an amazing rate. But they cannot keep it up, they soon tire ; it is impossi- ble for them to maintain this pace, and after the iirst dash the light canoe, under the quick powerful sweeps of the paddle, rapidly gains upon them. When M^e came within a dozen yards of him I raised the gun, and, while Jim steadied the canoe, I fired straight for the back of his head, but a miss is as good as a mile, and, though I riddled his ear witht he shot, yet, instead of crippling, it only maddened him into more strenuous exertions for escape. But I felt we had him safe enough yet. I had another barrel left, and he was yet a considerable distance from the shore; so, dropping the gun, I again seized the paddle, and again we bore rapidly down upon him. I knew there must be no miss this time, so reserv- ing my fire until we were full broadside of him, and not twenty feet off, I raised the gun and fired right into his heaving flank. Fired, forsooth ! Perdition seize all muzzle-loaders, and this one in particular 1 The cap only snapped, and, as far as the charge was concerned, the deer might laugh in our beards. Another yard or two and he would reach a long dead ^ \ ,t m a I ! % 'Xi I il) li I \p 15G Shanty, Forest and River Life pine that had fallen out into the lake, and once over it he was safe, and, like his brother at the other end of the lake, would soon show us a clean i)air of heels into the woods, for, of course, the log was au effectual harrier to our canoe. I took all this in in a moment, and also the humiliation and disgrace of the thing : within the space of a quarter of an hour to miss and let two deer out of the lake. What a tale to go back to camp with ! Presto ! It shall not be. I suddenly seemed to be possessed with the rage and fury of ten devils, and, without a thought of the consequences, I sprang from the canoe, with the agility of a gorilla, right on to the back of the deer, and clasped him round the shoulders with my arms. It was the act of a madman, as I quickly discov- ered. The deer, for a moment or two, continued on in his plunging career, confounded by the strange rider on his back, but only for a moment. The savage instinct of the animal asserted itself. It was a spike-horn buck, the most dangerous of all the deer family, when cornered up and at bay. He evidently felt himself in this position now, and suddenly giving his shoulders a violent heave, he threw me backwards into the water, and, before I could recover myself, he wheeled round, quick as lightning, and struck me with his forehoof with all i 1 In the Backwoods of Canada. 157 his terriblo strength, fair on the breast, and sent me down like a piece of lead to the bottom of the lake. The moment my head reappeared at the surface, he went into me with his hornr I saw at once that he had uo intention of escaping, but was bound to make mince-meat of me on the spot. And, some- how or other, the demon of battle got possession of me, too, so at it we went, full tilt ; it was a do-or-die understanding that was instantaneously arrived at between us. Just as his sharp un-antlered horn was about to immolate me, my right hand, with that quickness and precision which come in such straits, we know not how, grasped it with the clutch of des- peration, and my left, at the same time, uncon- sciously I believe, seized his right leg, just at the fetlock. If I had studied the manoeuvre for an hour I couldn't have got a more advantageous hold of him. I felt this instinctively, and held on and grappled with him with the fury, and the strength of despair. From early experience and long training I always feel perfectly at home in the water, and it served me well now. With a sudden exertion of strength, and, I suppose, what wrestlers would call a " contrip sleight," I threw his buckship fairly on his back, at the same time falling myself between his legs. . m I . ill' T i mi 158 Shanty, Forest and River Life Then it was that the brute in turn shewed his skill, and gave me what the pugilists style a tremendous " left-hander." Suddenly drawing up his hind legs, he dug his sharp hoofs into my chest, and ripped and tore down with mad fury. I felt my watch-guard, pants, drawers, everything give way before them. Tlie pain was excruciating. I tliought my last hour was come, and yelled most lustily for Jim to help me, though I never thought for a moment of giving up or letting go my hold. Jim, by this time, had got out of the canoe and run up the log, and leaning out as far as he could towards the scene of combat, made a lunge with his long hunting knife at the deer's throat; the glittering blade whizzed past within a hair's-breadth of my own jugular, as we plunged about on every side, and, telling him to let me alone, at it we went, pell-mell again. Sometimes I would be under him, and again I would get him l^elow me, and then his rip[)ing and tearing would be repeated. I suppose we had been at it for ten minutes or more, when, with a violent twist, I threw myself across his neck, and held his head under the water with his open gasping mouth upwards ; the water poured down his throat in torrents, and, after a terrible gurgling and spasm, he lay perfectly still, dead, drowned, In the Biichwoods of Canada. 159 beneath me. It was over at last, and I was the conqueror of the spike-horn. ^ But, all joking aside, it was a narrow escape for me. It was a touch-and-go sort of business all through. If I hadn't drowned him he would have drowned or killed me to a certainty, for he was fairly crazed with the fury of despair, and when maddened there is not a more dangerous and deter- mined brute than the spike-horn buck. He is called spike-horned because he has no antlers. His horns are like those of a bull, straight and sharp-pointed. When we dragged him up on the log, the outer rind of his liorn where I had seized him, came r'^ like a husk of corn, showing how firm was the grip I had of him. But our adventure for the day was not over yet. On coming alongside the deer, when my gun snapped, we had been going at such a speed that after I leaped from the canoe Jim was unable to stop it, and the impetus drove it upon the log with such a force as to stove a hole through the bottom, In the excitement of the time we never noticed this until we were out in the lake on our way to the camp. Then the water began to pour in, and though we paddled with all our might to the shore, it filled so rapidly that we weie a considerable dis- \\ ! Hi . ! i 160 Shanty, Forest und River Life tance from it when the canoe suddenly sank under us, and we found ourselves struggling in the water. There was nothing for it but to swim for the shore, which was quite a pull in our heavy clothes. I had had enough of adventure for the day, so Jim took his share, and divesting himself of his clothes, he swam out and brought canoe, guns and deer all safe to the land. The canoe had not upset, for as soon as relieved of our weight it had risen to the surface. We soon caulked up the hole, and arrived without further mishap at the camp, where we were feasted and lionized by our companions for the rest of the day. The obstinate bull-dog ferocity of the deer, when thoroughly at bay, is a well-known characteristic of the animal all the world over, but nowhere I believe is it more strongly brought out than in these back- woods of )urs. In other circumstances, the invariably timorous nature of the deer is apt to deceive the unwary hunter, and lead him into too close quarters with him, when he ought rather to have kept a respectful distance. To approach, and especiiilly lay "hold on a deer when he is in a tight place, is a most foolish and dangerous experiment. It can be done only with great risk to life or limb. I could illustrate this by a dozen stirring encounters with the animal, which I have heard and ! In the Backwoods of Canada. 161 known to be authentic, but one will suffice for the present. In this case, however, the gentleman did not escape so well as I did, but, in consequence of the injuries he received, has become a helpless cripple, and partially paralyzed for life. He was a gentleman settler belonging to one of the most respectable families in Canada, and had obtained a patent for a block of land on one of the Trout Lakes, which, at that time, more than twenty years ago, was in the heart of the dense virgin forest. He was a keen sportsman, of a powerful athletic frame, and at the time we refer to was not more than twenty-one years of age. One night, late in the Fall, he was returning home to his lonely location from the market town of Perth, where he had been with a load of grain. As he was driving merrily along, through tlie dense pinery, he heard his dog barking furiously at some animal «t a distance ahead of him on the road. Arming himself with a big stick, he hurried to the spot, and found the dog fiercely engaged with a large buck which had turned at bay, and was fighting bravely with his assailant. Without hesitation he joined in the m^l^, and assaulted the enraged animal with his club. But he soon found out, to his Borrow, that he had miscalculated the issues of the ' I 11 • M ill I I M I 162 Shanty, Forest and River Life contest. The deer, doubly enraged at the attack of this fresh enemy, became perfectly frantic, and dis- regarding the dog sprang at him, and with one blow of his powerful fore-foot struck him to the ground, and would soon have gored him to death with his sharp antlers had not the dog fastened his teeth into his haunches and compelled him to desist, and, after a short struggle, to take to flight into the bush. With great difficulty the gentleman was able to crawl to his sleigh, and proceed homewards. When he arrived at his house he contrived, in a semi- conscious state, to stable the team, and then to creep into his own bed. The farming season being over all his hired men had gone to their several homes, and he was entirely alone on the place. Four days afterwards one of his men happened to come to the place, and, struck with the strange desolate quietness of everything around, went first to the stables, where he found the horses and cattle nearly perished for want of food and water, and, continuing his search, he found the master of the establishment in his bed, unconscious in the delirium of a raging fever. He immediately went for assist- ance, and the nearest doctor, more than fifteen miles distant, was sent for. But it was too late. The terrible injuries he had received from the deer, In the Backwoods of Canada. 163 ! I combined with the exposure to cold, and want of attendance in his lonely, fireless house, at that incle- ment season of the year, had brought on brain fever, and paralysis. Everything that money, kind nursing, and medical skill could give were bestowed upon him, but in vain. For months he lay almost unconscious, and when he partially recovered it was only to find himself a helpless cripple, and his powerful constitution utterly shattered. And though for the past few years he has been able to go about and superintend the af^irs of his exten- sive and valuable farm, still it is only as the wreck, l)hysically, of what he once was. li ii: 164 Shanty, Forest and River Life CHAPTER XV. ril Teach them how to Shoot Deer." HERE is a great difference between shooting at a target at the rifle ranges, and shooting r at deer or any other game in the backwoods. A man may be a crack shot at the former and not worth " chucks " at the latter. Target practice is mainly mechanical, and according to formula, and though peculiarity of eye and steadiness of nerve are conditions of proficiency in it, yet all these are required, and much more too, before a man can be a successful sportsman in the woods or on the water. There is a kind of mental discipline in this sport which tends to improve and sharpen a man's intellectual capacities, quite apart from its muscle and sinew developing effect. A man must have all his wits about bim when he goes a-hunting. In fact a genuine live hunt is as good for man's brain as a keenly-contested game of chess. A cool, patient, calculating, well-balanced head, combined with quick- ness and precision of aim, and supported by a strong, hardy, enduring frame, are the component essentials of the successful hunter. In the Backwoods of Canada. 165 I If a man gets into a " fluster " on the lake, " runaway," or trail, he is done for ; he might as well shoot at the deer with his eyes shut, as far as any skill of his is concerned. And if he becomes weak, tired, and out of patience, then it is no longer sport for him, and he had far better return to camp and smoke his pip* in ease and comfort before the fire. And yet there are many people who are goosey enough to suppose that because a man can hit the bull's-eye every time at five hundred yards, he is quite able to knock over a deer. at almost any range in the bush. And when you tell them that nine out of every ten deer are shot within a range of eighty or a hundred yards, they laugh to scorn the idea of ever missing one at all. And none are more prone to fall into this error than those target heroes themselves. We had a most amusing illustration of this at our camp on Park's lake on one occasion. A person, whom we shall call Taylor, had gained a great reputation among the volunteers as a first- class shot, and had carried off several valuable prizes. Taylor was a capital fellow in many ways, but egregiously vain and boastful about his shooting. When he heard that we were going up for a hunt to the woods, he was very anxious to come ' II I !i 1] I ^m '( :" 166 Sfianty, Forest and River Life along with us. Now, we were always very particu- lar as to the parties we invited to go with us on those trips, for if the personnel of the party is not to your liking the whole pleasure of the thing may be marred. Yet, lest it might be supposed that we were jealously airaid of Taylor^s boasted skill as a fihot, we gave him permission to come along. I had «, dim suspicion, also, that we might take the conceit out of the fellow before we were done with him. And, in truth, I was very desirous that we should, for it had been told me that he had said, "if I go with them, I'll teach them how to shoot deer." So after we had got fairly settled in our snug camp, and everything in good working order, Taylor made his :appearance, and was received by us with all the respect and deference that his target cele- brity was entitled to. Determined that he should make his debut on the lake with all possible Mat, we placed him in our best canoe, and gave him, as steersman, Joe M , as skilful and experienced a canoesman as -ever paddled after deer. Our camp was situated just on the edge of the lake which they were to watch. I had given up my place to Taylor, and remained at the camp for this run, so that I could have a full view of the anticipated sport. In the Backwoods of Canada, 167 Sure enough, in about an hour a large buck with magnificent antlers, came plunging into the lake, and Joe, with his usual adroitness, headed it off from the shore, and drove it fair for the middle of the lake. A better chance to shoot a deer was never given to mortal man, and never did mortal man make a more ignominious failure. He kept cool, and stuck to his paddle well enough until he came within nice easy range, about t\venty yards or so, and then with his own ride, that had scored so many bull's-eyes, he fired, and missed. That shot, or its miss, let us charitably suppose, seemed completely to demoralize him. He was suddenly seized witli " buck fever " in its most malignant type. Instead of dropping his rifle and plying his paddle in order to regain the lost ground, he popped in another cartridge and fired again, and kept on firing as fast as he could reload. And such wild, wide-of-the- mark firing, I never witnessed before or since ; if he had been trying to avoid the animal, he could not have done better. If the prizes had been for misses instead of bull's-eyes, he could have loaded a cart with them. The lake was scored with misses for half a mile on every side of that amazed buck. In the meantime the animal was rapidly increas- ing the distance between himself and the boat, and 1 1 I I I !• 168 Shanti/y Forest and River Life ! » I i! 11 diminishing it in the direction of the shore, for in spite of Joe's moat strenuous exertions, it was impossible, unaided, to keep up with him. Ev^ry shot that was fired retarded the canoe's speed and was in favor of the deer, and he would certainly have soon escaped, if he had continued straight ahead; but, through some unaccou -".table freak or other, which these animals will f 'mes take in the water, he suddenly turned off au right angles to the course he was pursuing and headed straight up the lake towards the spot where I was standing with old: Tauton, the cook, watching with malicious interest and delight the whole performance. " Now surely he will take him," we both exclaimed, as the deer in turning presented a full broad-side to our redoubt- able champion of the target. But, mirahile dictiCy he again missed him, and widely as ever, and on the heels of the report came booming over the waters Joe's loud, angry, " sacre, sacre." Taylor, at this juncture, bethought him of the double-barreled breech-loader, charged with buck- shot cartridge, which we had given him on leaving camp, enjoining him to be sure and use it if the rifler missed. But he had pooh-poohed our suggestions, saying that *Mie would rather depend on his old rifle than all the buckshot loaders that were ever ~\ I In the Backwoods of Canada, 169 made," and so he well might, for all the good that either of them did him. His first shot was as futile as any of the others, and liis second, which immediately followed, was very near being fatal to us instead of the deer. Though we were standing more than twenty feet above the level of the deer, yet the heavy thot came whizzing past our ears where we stood on the bank, and pat- tered down on the leaves and underbrush on every side of us. " Mon Dieu," yelled Tauton, " what's dat ? The crazy fellah will kill us," and turning on his heel he bounded off through the woods as if a legion of devils were after him. My loud shouts and gestures now drew the atten- tion of the deer, as he rapidly neared the shore, and again turned him, as I intended, back into the lake, though towards a jutting point not far ahead of him. And now came the crowning act of silly conceit and dense stupidity. Instead of laying down his gun, as we heard Joe imploring him to do, and using the paddle, in order to force the deer into the middle of the lake, h must needs reload his gun and try his shooting again, but his hand was so shaky that he couldn't get the cartridge into place until it was too late, and though he got another shot, it was a miss like the rest, and the gallant 170 Shanty J Forest and River Life buck, who had so nobly swam for his life, ^ 3d the shore, and was- out of sight in a twinkling in the deptlis of the forest. It was without doubt, the most blundering and disgraceful " let out" that I ever knew. When Taylor made his appearance at the camp, old Tauton assailed him witli the fiercest and most cutting maledictions. " Be gar, what you come up here for ? Teach us how to shoot de deer. Be gar, me kill more deer with my old saucepan than you with de big rifle." The poor man looked so humiliated, woe-begone, and utterly crest-fallen that I couldn't find it in my heart to say a word to him. But Tauton's wrath and tongue would not be appeased until, finally, Taylor seized his rifle, and swearing he would not return till he shot the deer and brought it back with him to the camp, started off into the woods. And as we saw neither him nor the deer again, I suppose he had been as unsuccessful on the land as he had been ou the water. In the Backwoods of Canada. 171 CHAPTER XVI. A Providential Dream. WTfrO me there has always appeared an iiiexplic- (dfcU able mystery enveloping the whole question JJi'l^ of dreams. I believe it is yet a terra incognita to the psychologist and metiiphysician, a vast, unex- plored land — like the Antartic world with its lofty precipitous barriers of ice, which no man has yet been able to scale — baffling the most persevering and ingenious mental investigators. The only insight we have gained into this mysterious unknown region has been as misty, undefined, and tanta- lizing as that revealed by the smoke and fire vomited forth from the distant peaks of volcanoes, seen over the icy walls which encircle, and insur- mountably hem in this Southern Polar world. To my mind, dreamland borders very closely upon the supernatural, and is one of the strongest collateral evidences against positivism in any shape or form. However, without going any further in this direction at present, let me tell my story of a remarkable dream that I once had, whereby I firmly believe I il I I! I 172 Shanty J Forest and River Life my life was saved. I will narrate the dream with all its postcedent occurrences, in a plain, simple, unexaggerated way, without qualifying or distorting a single fact or detail ; and in the same connection I will describe another dream., narrated to me, I believe, in the same tone and spirit of matter-of-fact circumstantiality, by the party himself, viz. : Duncan, the manager. And then, reader, you can draw your own conclusions and theories on the question, and if you and I are of the same mind at the end of the chapter, then I shar be glad — if not, we m.ust agree to differ. One morning I agreed to watch a certain headland 01 T^ng Lake, where we were hunting deer at the time. I had never been at the spot before, and was directed to it by Joe Le — , who was the " master of our hounds " and general director of our sports on that hunt. As I approached the point, I became conscious of a strange kind of acquaintanceship witli the place. I knew positively that T had never been in that locality in my life, and y^t the nearer I approached, and the closer I looked, a more posi- tive remembrance of it arose, which 1 could not define, or locate in my mind. Having beached my canoe, I looked about for a comfortable seat from which I could have a good In the Backwoods of Canada. 173 out-look over the lake and adjoining shore. Tliis I soon found in a snug niche in a mossy rock, which had been formed by the frost cracking out a trian- gular piece of the stone, making a seat as easy as aa arm-chair. Even this peculiar feature of the place seemed singularly familiar to me. However, I was soon seated, and on the qui-vive for any sounds of deer and dogs. As I reclined luxuriously in my mossy nook I began tc wonder why the place seemed so familiar to me, and looked around to see if I could find any further points of remembrance. My eye at once lit upon a tall, scraggy pine growing a short distance behind me, and lodged among its upper limbs was a larger branch, or rather trunk, of the top portion of another tree with its smaller dead branches attached, which had been blown there by some violent gust of wind, and not, as it seemed to me, very securely lodged either. The moment my eye fell on the tree a quick flash of vivid remem- brance of having seen it before came into my mind, though (vhen or how I could not tell. As I curious- ly gazed at the tree the idea arose, and gi-adually gTew upon me, suppose that large branch were to become dislodged, it would in all probability fkll right on the spot where I ; i sitting. Do as I liked I couldn't get this idea out of my mind, and it so 1 !M I ;;y ii LJl^ k 174 Shanty, Forest and River Life impressed and awed me that, almost involuntarily, I arose and left the place. Altogether I felt so uneasy, rot exactly alarmed, that I re-entered my canoe, and paddled some three or four acres higher up the lake to another point of observation. After a lapse of two or three hours I heard the signal from a distant part of the lake that the chase was over. As I repassed the spot where I first intended to watch, I saw, to my utter amazement, and with no small degree of awe and thanksgiving, that the ominous-looking branch had fallen from the top of the pine directly upon the seat which I had vacated two hours before. Hastily landing, I closely examined the place ; and the more I looked at it, the morel was convinced that if I had remained there, I would certainly have been crushed to death. The branch, or trunk, was more than a foot in diameter, and had attached to it a perfect network of dry, jagged limbs, and had so fallen that even though I had been watching it, I could hardly have had time to escape ; and what mad ^ it still more remarkable was the fact that scarcely a breath of wind was stirring at the time. In tJte Backwoods of Canada. 175 As I stood rooted to the spot, and reflecting with profound gratitude and awe upon my narrow escape from a terrible death, the whole mystery of my strange acquaintance with the place suddenly clear- ed up. / had dreamed it all the night before ! As clear as sunshine, I remembered now how in the unconscious mood of deep overpowering sleep, in the earlier hours of the night, I had pre-enacted the whole scenes and occurrences of the morning. Every detail of the dream recurred to me novr, mirrored in the shore, the triangular seat, the tall pine with its scraggy top appendage, and its falling upon the seat I was occupying, though with the return of bright sunny day-light, and in the overflowing careless exuberance of health and high animal spirits, it had passed entirely from my mind for the time. It had proved to me, however, as providential a dream as ever came to man in the balmy hours of slumber. For I felt convinced at the time, and am to this day, that, judging from the ordinary probabi- lities of the position, and the usual feelings and habits which regulate a person's actions in such circum- stances, I should never have thought of leaving the point of observation, or even changing my seat, un- less I had been influenced and impelled by that strange feeling of familiarity and remembrance. I f 176 Shanty, Forest and River Life ■which kept working and fermenting within me, and, unconsciously to myself, warned and admonished me. Wise, thoughtful, metaphysical, clear-thinking, mystery-solving, dream-learned reader, what do think of this, my dream ? Let me now tell you Duncan's dream, or rather the one in which he was the principal actor, which in many points of view is still more inexplicable, at least in the ordinarily accepted, and would-be thought learned, interpretation of dreams. In a subsequent chapter I will speak about ''jams," their existing perils, their hair-breadth escapes, and all their adventurous and hazardous interest. One of these of more than ordinary mag- nitude and difficulty occurred in the rapids at Carlton Place, on a " drive " in which Duncan was one of the foremen. The rapids at that time were very different from what they are now. There were none of the side- dams, and other improvements which now mikes their passage comparatively easy. At that time they were in their natural state, and were exceed- ingly difficult and dangerous to " drive." On the occasion wo speak of three or four con- cerns had got all mixed up together on the river, In the Backivoods of Canada. 177 forming one conjunct drive of about fourteen thou- sand pieces of timber, and manned by over five hundred hands. It was of course a busy time with them all, and many a tough and exciting piece of work they had together, at the various points of difficulty on the river. But this " jam " was a " terror " of a jam. It occurred at the most dangerous spot in the rapids, where the water was divided into two channels by an island, and descended on both sides with race- horse speed in a succession of small, tumbling, foam- ing cataracts. The timber here got jammed together for half a mile up the river, and lay many tiers deep. Thousands of sticks were inextricably mixed up together, and much of it stood on end, out of the foaming waters. It was an awful scene of piled-up confusion. If you were to take an armful of straw and throw it into a boiling cauldron it would, ten minutes after, give you some idea of the spectacle that jam preeented. For three days the combined crews had been prying, and pinching, and tugging at the key sticks, and other knotty joints of the mass, but in vain. The " jam " defied their utmost efforts and ingenuity, and remained as firmly locked as ever. \ tl m !' ' 178 Shanty, Forest and River Life On the evening of the third day a council of all the foremen was called, and it was decided that the next day one man should assume full control, and direct the whole combined movement, and Duncan, on account of his experience and ability, was unani- mously chosen. The next morning as he was proceeding to the scene of operations, his companion, who was a par- ticular friend o!" his, told him that he had had a remarkable dream the night before, which so im- pressed him that he felt he must tell it to him, even at the risk of being laughed at, which Duncan said he might have done if it had been any one else than Fred K — ; but Fred was a grave, steady-going, no-nonsense sort of a man, and an old experienced and fearless river driver — the last man in the world, in fact, who would be needlessly or sentimentally affected by a dream or anything else. The dream was this — Duncan and he had worked together, shoulder by shoulder, the whole day, and towards evening, after every man had been sent safely ashore, and they were about to give the last pry to the "jam," it suddenly burst, and in a moment the whole mass was in a whirl and jumble of violent commotion, and their retreat to the shore was cut oil". At this crisis of life or death Fred saw a In the Backwoods of Canada. 179 large black charred log suddenly shoot out from the boiling, seething mass, and float clear ahead into the rapids below, and before he knew how, both he and Duncan found themselves safely standing upon it, and riding clear and securely in advance of the whirling, tossing timbers through the foaming swells into the calm waters below. He narrated the dream with such circumstan- tiality of detail, and in such a serious manner, that Duncan was greatly impressed, and especially when Fred told him that he had dreamed it twice over, and each time with precisely the same particulars. " Fred," said he, " if it comes to the worst, we will lo'^k out for the old black stick." S'lrp enough this most remarkable dream came i - in every and the minutest particulars. When the critical moment came, and, as is cus- tomary in such cases, every man was sent ashore, and he and Fred were about to give the last heave, the jam did burst before they were fully prepared, and in a moment they were both in the very jaws of death. Duncan, in his grave, solemn manner, told me that he never in his life witnessed such a scene of awful and wild confusion. The heaviest timbers were broken and twisted like withes, some of them were heaved bodily into the air, and as the pent- 180 Shanty, Forest and River Life up mass, and dammed-iip waters broke away they tore up the banks on either side, uprooted the tallest trees and the heaviest rocks, and carried them bodily with them into the boiling, seething, thundering current. He thought it was all over with them, when suddenly the black charred log of Fred's dream shot past them, and almost involuntarily, and unknow- ingly, they leaped upon it and rode out from the rest of the timber, an.' passed witli the speed of light- ning through the foaming rapids into the calm waters below. This is the dream, with all its accompaniments, exactly as Duncan told it to me, and, so far from having any reason to doubt its veracity, or even any exaggeration or distortion in its account, 1 give it my fullest and most implicit credence. Certainly, equally with my own, it was a providential dream for Duncan and Fred. I am no hand at moralizing, nor of probing deeply into the causes and secret springs of things. I like to deal with facts, actions and effects — there are quite enough of these cropping up in the ordin- ary walks of life to enable a man to shape his own course, and to formulate opinion both as to himself and otliers, and their common environments. Now as to the foregoing dreams and all of a like charac- In the Backwoods of Canada. 181 ter — and who is there that has not had them I hold that they not only demonstrate the actuality of the supernatural, but also teach plainly that it comes nearer to us in this present life, yea, touches us more closely than we at all realize. Who can tell but that it is with us in every onward step of the journey — is interwoven with the variegated web of our mortal life, enters into and permeates as a subtle essence the great actions, events and move- ments of our lives. God is nearer to us — near in the sense of a great actual, tangible, positive fact — than we suppose. And it is this grand, sublime fact that men of shallow thought, of superficial reflection, of negative faith, whose mental and moral horizon is bounded by their earthly vision, and whose desires, aspirations, and ambitions are all centred in this present state of things, cannot re- cognize, understand, or realize. "For God speaketh once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not. " In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; " Then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction, t 182 Shanty, Forest and River Life " That he may withdmw man from his purpose, and hide pride from man. " He keepeth back his soul from the pit, and his life from perishing by the sword." Job xxxiii. 14-18. ■=.1 In the Backwoods of Canada. 183 CHAPTER XVII. " jyid you ever know what it is to be blind ? I have ! " li: li I have a great dread of fire-arms, I mean of their careless handling in the woods, or, in fact, any- where. No man can be too careful how he handles his gun or revolver. Nine-tenths of the casualties that occur are the result, not of mere accident, or unforeseen, unaccountable, and, humanly speaking, unpreventable causes, but of gross, rank, inexcusable mismanagement. And, considering how frequently people misbehave in this direction, the wonder is that there are not a great many more accidents than there are. If I were an autocrat I would put in the pillory every man who was con- victed of a careless, trifling handling of any fire-arm. A summary and severe punishing of these offenders would soon teach them common-sense and ordinary propriety in this most flagrant and unpardonable foolery. But it is not mere carelessness that oftentimes causes these appalling accidents to life and limb, f :l • if i l\ s.ai .v*< A/. ^^>> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A o^ WiS'.. 6j' M^ "* /A 1.0 I.I 1.25 15 '""^^ 3.2 M 2.2 ? ■- IIIM U ill 1.6 iV Ll>' c\ \ ■^ >> % n? '"'b^ Fl7 i!ll IN)} ' ::l • 184 Shanty J Forest and River Life of which we constantly read and hear, but de- liberate fooling, and " larking " with fire-arms, such as pointing the muzzle at a person, snapping the caj), and silly jokes of this kind. Every person who thus uses even an empty gun should be public- ly whipped. I have been dreadfully provoked with fools of this stamp, and have neither patience nor leniency in speaking and dealing with them. Any sorrow or remorse that they may feel in conse- quence of accidents they may cause, I would regard with as little consideration as I would the maud- liness of an old toper who waters his whiskey with his tears. I remember once on Paul's lake when, after sup- per, we were all standing around the camp fire, a silly, scatter-brain fellow who prided himself upon playing practical jokes, in order to give us a start, threw a ritie cartridge into the fire ; it caused of course a great explosion and scattering of the fire and ashes but was within a hair's-breadth of causing the death of Mr. B. C , an influential and wealthy lumber merchant, who was our guest at the time. The ball whizzed past his ear, almost grazing it, a half inch nearer and it would have killed him on the spot. Mr. C was so annoyed and disgusted that he left us the next morning. If we had served In the Backwoods of Canada. 185 that fellow right we should have ducked him in the lake, and sent him home to his mother. I have seen so many narrow escapes and some few accidents that I made it a rule to myself never, under any circumstances whatsoever, to have the muzzle of my gun pointed at a person or even in liis direction. If I am v/alking in the woods behind a companion I carry my gun on my shoulder, Avith the muzzle pointing hack wards ; if before him, in the hollow of my arm, pointing ahead. This rule, from strict observance, has become a habit with me, so that, even unconsciously, I observe it. On one occasion this habit was the means of saving my old and faithful friend Tauton from a terrible, pei'haps fatal, accident. As we were tramping through the bush we were threatened with a shower of rain, and I thought it advisable to put my fowling-piece into the heavy leathern case which Tauton was carrying ; so^ seating himself on a log, he held the lower end of the case while I inserted the gun into the other end. While doing tliis I noticed that the muzzle pointed towards his thigh, almost mechani- cally I turned it a little aside. I had hardly done so when, in some unaccountable way which I could never understand, the gun went off, tearing the case to slivers. " Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, I'm shot, i,{\ /.' f' 186 Shanty, Forest and River Life I'm shot," yelled the old man, in most heart-rending accents, clasping, as he spoke, his thigh, with both hands. If ever there was a terror-stricken individual in this world I was that person. From Tauton's ghastly looks and agonizing howls I felt sure the whole charge had gone into him. Such, however, by this providential movement of mine, was not the case ; but one of the slivers of the thick leather case, by the force of the explosion, came down upon his immense fat thigh with such a thwack as to cause him as much pain for the time as if he had been shot. Never did school-boy get a more stinging " lick " from an irate dominie than did Tauton from that thick jagged strap. No wonder he howled with pain ; and felt " sure " he was done for, and never were men more devoutly thankful than we when we discovered the real extent ' ^ his injury. But his thigh was black and blue for a week after- wards, and he carried the mark of that " lick " for many a month. It was, however, a close escape ; if the gun had gone off a second or two sooner his thigh would have been shattered, and in the position we were at the time he would in all probability have perished before I could have brought him assistance. The introduction of breech-loaders has tended greatly to lessen the number of gun accidents j but In the Backwoods of Canada. 187 even yet they are frequent enough in their occurrence, and this even with the safest and most approved mechanical construction. I met with an accident at one time with my Ballard rifle, one of the safest, most convenient, and accurate shooting- pieces that a man can take to the backwoods. It was a serious enough affair at the time, and would have been much more so if it had not been for the prompt kindness of my companion, Aleck Y and the skillful surgery of my old friend, Dr. F . It is the occasion of the peculiar query and answer which form the title of this chapter. My month's leave of absence was just out; I had spent it mainly in Aleck's shanty, and spun it out, as I always|did, to the uttermost limit. As Aleck and I were on our way to the settlements we stop- ped on a bridge over the Glide to shoot at an object lying about a hundred yards up the river on the ice. It was a capital target at which to test the merits of our respective rifles, concerning which we were always at variance. As I reloaded in a great hurry, I did not thrust the cartridge sufficiently home into the breech — the barrel was somewhat dirty, and the cart- ridge slightly rusty and difficult to shove in tight and close ; not noticing this in my hurry, I drew the block up with the usual jerk, raising the rifle at \ :! 1 :i i. li |-rV ■ 111 liM'r i 188 Shanty, Forest and River Life the same time to take aim. The consequence was that the upper part of the block struck the lower portion of the slightly protruding cartridge and exploded it before the block had reached its proper place behind the cartridge. The result was the whole charge of powder, with the bottom fragments of the cartridge, went right into my face at not more than a foot's distance from it. I was thrown several feet and knocked insensible. When I recovered my senses, I found myself on my knees, rubbing the snow with both hands into my burning eyes. The pain was excruciating, and I believe it was the instantaneous, unwitting application of the cold snow which tended to neutralize the dangerous effect of the fiery sheet of flame which flashed into my eyes, and saved me from an immediate and permanent blindness. In this opinion I am confirmed by several physicians with whom I have conversed on the matter since. However, for the time being, everything was dark and horrible about me, and I felt, rather than thought, that I wiis blind — blinded for life. Oh, the horror of that thought which grew upon me as I became more and more conscious. In the meantime Aleck had hoisted me on to his broad shoulders, and was carrying me with what speed he could to the nearest house, which was about a mile f I i' In the Backwoods of Canada. 189 distant. It was well for him and me that he was one of the Goliaths of the forest, a man of hercu- lean strength. As he told me afterwards, he hardly knew what he was doing. He was almost as much stunned as I was, for he thought at first I was killed and when the blood streamed from my face, when I became sensible, he felt sure I was badly injured. It took him about an hour to get me to the house, and such an hour of unutterable misery I never passed in my life. The pain in my eyes and face was utterly forgotten in the terrible, absorbing thought that I had lost my eyesight. Everything was black as midnight around me. My eyes seemed hermetically sealed, and I felt paralysed with an awful sense of helpless- ness and hopelessness. But my inner perceptions were keenly and sensitively alive. Visions of men who had had their eyes blown out by blasts, of dis- torted, blue-stained, sightless faces, of groping, weary- looking, staff-leaning men, and of long months and years of coming davkness and loneliness came floating through my mind, with a horribly realistic distinct- ness. Reader, I hope you may never know what it is to be blind, either in reality or imagination. On our arrival at the house, the proprietor of which, Adam C ,was a lifelong and staunch friend of mine, I received every attention which unbound- I II ■^ B 190 Shardy, Forest and River Life ed kindness and hospitality could bestow. His wife bathed my face and head copiously with cool, sooth- ing lotions, and gradually I became able to open my eyelids and bear the light, and after a while was able to see dimly about me. Oh, the unexpressible relief and delight at finding that I had still a certiain use of my eyes, and how quickly, in the revulsion of feeling, I became sanguine and comparatively cheerful. In a short time they had rigged up a kind of jumper, and Aleck and I were once more en route for the nearest doctor's place, which was at Lanark, twelve miles distant. That night Dr. F cut out more than a hundred grains of powder that had been buried deep in my face by the force of the explosion, and a piece of cartridge a half-inch in length out of my right eye. I was laid up for a week in a darkened room, and then pronounced convalescent, and fit to travel. I cannot too strongly caution every sportsman who uses cartridges with a circular fire to be certain that the cartridge is pushed closely home, and plumb with the inner rim of the breech, before he pulls up the block to its proper position. Otherwise he will run the risk of having his eyes blown out as I did, or, at least of having his face badly disfigured, which I also happily escaped through the immediate and skilful surgery of Dr. F . Verhum aapientis sat. 1' In the Backiuoods of Canwla- 191 I d CHAPTER XVIII. A Night on the Lake in a Snow-storm. ^^NE of the most perilous and terrible expe- riences a man can pass through is to be caught in a snow-storm on one of our broad back- woods lakes. These storms then assume the form of what are called in our North-west prairies " blizzards," and can be braved with impunity by neither man nor beast. One can have no conception of their wild, furious nature until he has witnessed them. It is a blind- ing chaos of whirling snow. Owing to the peculiar surroundings of some of these lakes — generally high precipitous banks fissured by wide, deep gullies — the wind comes sweeping down in howling, isolated tornadoes. These meet and intersect each other with terrific violence, and produce a most appalling effect. The stoutest heart will soon quail, and the sturdiest frame succumb before their power. In such circumstances it is most dangerous to go more than a few yards from the shore, for the moment • you lose sight of it your course is all L hazard, and, becoming bewildered, you flounder about at the mercy of the tempest. N. isl >!. 1 !i' i 1 i I t, li -^ '1' i r r 1 i 192 Shanty, Forest and River Life A most dreadful casualty occurred during the prevalence of one of these storms, while I was in the backwoods. Two men, on their way to one of the shanties, attempted to cross a lake some miles in width. It was an act of madness. Better far to have gone round the lake and risked the dangers of falling trees and flying limbs than attempted this. The poor fellows soon became bewildi^red by the whirling drift and piercing blasts, which seemed to come from all points of the compass at once. Fin- ally one of them, overcome by tlie cold and fatigue, lay down in the snow, and, notwithstanding the entreaties and exertions of his companion, refused to make any further effort, and was left to perish miserably and alone in the storm. The other man, after some hours of incredible exertion, arrived at the shanty, but in such an exhausted and fro: