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,*^ 
 
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 ¥l 
 
. ^fm^nmn^"'^^ 
 
'9 
 
 gjbttaitb bn Spttial f trmission, 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS EXCELLENCY, 
 
 THE RT. HON. SIR JOHN DOUGLAS SUTHERLAND CAMPBELL, K.T., G C.M.G., 
 
 MARQUIS OF LORNE, GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF CANADA, 
 
 AND TO 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS LOUISE, 
 
 Oo-worker. with all who leek to foiler Oanodian An and Lit.ratnr., or la any way to 
 develop Canadian Obaracter. 
 
/ 
 
 riL 
 
w 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA; 
 
 THE COUNTRY AS IT WAS AND IS. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 GEORGE MONRO GRANT, D.D. 
 
 OF QUKF.N'S UNlVKkSITY. KINfiSTON, ONT. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF L. R. O'BRIEN, Pkes. R.C.A. 
 
 W/r// OVER FIVE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 rSTOOENTsU. 
 
 TORONTO: 
 BELDEN BROS, 
 
r 
 
 foi 
 
 C.3 
 
 I7105:i 
 
 Copyrighl, 1883. 
 By BELDF.N BROS. 
 
 iife. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Though the Preface comes first, it is usually written last ; and to this custom, for 
 special reasons, Pictukesquk Canada is no exception. Now, that the last pajje of 
 of the work has been written, the time has come to explain and j^ive thanks. I was 
 reluctant to undertake the editorship, hut consented because, being in sympathy with 
 Canadian aspirations and knowing Canada from ocean to ocean, I believed that a 
 work that would represent its characteristic scenery and tlu.- history and life of its 
 people would not only make us better known to ourselves and to strangers, but 
 would also stimulate national sentiment and contribute to the rightful ('evelopment of 
 the nation. The favour with which the work has been received is due not merely to 
 its artistic merit, but to the growing patriotic spirit of the people, and their desire, 
 therefore, to see faithfully reproduced some of the scenes of the land they love. 
 
 Beginning at the rock of Quebec, where oui life began, we traced the early his- 
 tory of Canada, and followed the track of the fur-traders and conrenrs dc dot's up the 
 St. Lawrence to Three Rivers and Montreal; up the Ottawa, across to the Nipissings, 
 and far on to the Lake of the Woods and the thousand miles of alluvial beyond, 
 where the Verendryes first built forts and made alliances with prairie chiefs, and where 
 the foundations of mighty provinces are now being laid. We stopped at the Rocky 
 Mountains, and returned to hear the thunder of Niagara, and to trace the beginnings 
 of the strong political life of Ontario in its centres at Niagara, Toronto and the fertile 
 western peninsula. The newer counties on Lake Huron, and the romantic scenery of 
 Muskoka next received attention; and then the old settlements of the United Empire 
 Loyalists on the Bay of Quinte. From Kingston we followed the course of the St. 
 Lawrence through the Thousand Islands and past the Eastern Townships and Tadousac, 
 down to where the great river meets the sea-like Gulf. Lastly, the Atlantic prov- 
 
I 
 
 f 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 iv 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 inces, with the historic ruins of Aniiiipolis and Louishurtr, were sketched, and our 
 closing pages were given to the Mountain Province, on the I'acitir. 
 
 Concerning tiie difficulties met in s-curing worthy descriptions by pen and pencil 
 of half a continent, J neeu ot speak. Wherever our urit.'rs and artists went, they 
 received every kindness. (Jeorge McDougal and J. {{aptisi I'scjrs., of Three Rivers. 
 J. Mclntyre. Ks(|., of l-„ri William, and the Abbe Casgrain. we must thank for special 
 courtesi.s; and the l.u.. Alpheus Todd, LL.D.. gave valuable information on many 
 points. 'j-he Director of the ( •.(■ological Survey and Dr. Robert Mell put at our dis- 
 posal photographs for illustrating the Hudson Ha)' route -a part of the country inac- 
 cessible to ordinary artists.-and Dr. C. .M. Daw.son gave his striking vi.-w of buffalos 
 among the foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains, The editor of the .Art Department 
 joins me in thanking .ill who assisted in gaining lor I'icthkivs^ui.: Can.ad.a the large 
 measure of success which, according to the generous testimony of our own press and 
 of foreign critics and publishers, it has deservedly obtained. We feel that a tribute 
 is due from us to the Messrs. ik'lden. Whatever the deficiencies may b,;, the pub- 
 lishers cannot be blamed for them. The\ accepted from us every good suggestion, 
 and never hesitateil at any expense. 
 
 To me the work has been a labour of lov(^ and the numerous letters connected 
 with it, of kind recognition, of advice and correction, received from time to time, have 
 been constant reminders that Canada has w.nrm friends in all parts of the world, and 
 that men are more disposed to prai.s.- than to criticize. Apologies are out of date. 
 We did what w could ; and we trust that our work will be accepted as from men 
 who would fain give their best to the country. 
 
 G. M. GRANT. 
 
I 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME 1. 
 
 
 yUEUEC— IIISTOKU Al. KKVIKW 
 
 My I'rliiciiial (Iraiit, l).D. 
 
 ''i 
 
 QUEBEC, PICTURESQUE AND UESCRIKI'IVE 
 
 II) rii<» A. M. Maihar. 
 
 FRENCH CANADIAN Lll'E AND CHAKACIEK 
 
 Hy J. U. A. Crt-inhdih, M. A. 
 
 J3 
 
 6a 
 
 ■ ii 
 
 MONTREAL 
 
 I'HE LOWER UrrAWA 
 
 By Rev. A. J. Hr.iy ami Ji>lm l.t'i|>L'raiice, M. K.S.C. 
 
 By K. Viuiiuii Uogers, B A., ana C. 1'. Mulvany, M.A,, M.l>. 
 
 104 
 
 14a 
 
 OTTAWA 
 
 THE UPPER OTTAWA 
 
 LUMBERING 
 
 By F. A. D:xoii. 
 
 By C. 1'. Mulvany, M.A., Ml). 
 
 I63 
 
 194 
 
 By Principal Grant, D I) , and A. I'leming. 
 
 THE UPPER LAKES 
 
 By Geo. A. Mackenzie, B.A. 
 
 239 
 
 THE NOUTH-WESl; MANITOIi.\ . 
 
 Ry Princip.'il (imnt, D D. 
 
 a77 
 
 THE NORTH-WEST: RED RIVER 1(1 HUDSON'S BAY 
 
 By R()l)t. !VII, C.E.. M.D, FK.S.E. 
 
 J03 
 
 THE NORTH-WEST: THE MENNONITES 
 
 By J. n. McLaren, MA. 
 
 318 
 
 THE NORTH-WEST; WLNNIPEG TO ROCKY MOUN I'AINS 
 
 By Principal Grant, D. D. 
 
 3»! 
 
 THE NIAGARA DISTRICT 
 
 By Miss Louise Murray, 
 
 343 
 
 TORONTO AND VICINITY 
 
 By G -Mercer Adam. 
 
 399 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 FronlisfiiciC 
 
 Title Page 
 
 I 
 
 Quebec 
 
 Parliament Buildings. Ottaw. 
 
 CHAiTER Illustrati n . 
 
 Arrival ok Jacques Cartier at Stadacona 
 
 Triumph of the Snow Plough . 
 
 Champlain 
 
 Notre Dame Des Victoires . 
 Little Champiain Street . 
 
 Mountain Hili 
 
 Ppescott Gate .... 
 
 In the Gardens ok the Ursuline Conven 
 
 St. Roch's Suiiurbs and Old Arsenal 
 
 REMAINS OK Intendant's Palace 
 
 At the Gate of Laval University 
 
 Buade Street .... 
 
 Heighls of Abraham 
 
 Overlooking St. Charles Valley 
 
 Overlooking North Channel, 
 
 From Grant! Battery and Laval University 26 
 
 Wolfe's ^^ONUME\•l 
 Martei.lo Tower, on the Plains ok Abraham 
 House to which Montgomery's Body was Car- 
 ried 
 
 The CiTAnEL, from H. M. S. "Northampton" 
 Quebec— A Glimpse from the Old City Wall 
 
 Facing 
 View from the Old Manor House at Beauport 
 
 Quebec, from Point Levis 
 
 Sous le Cap . 
 
 Looking up . ro.m the Wharves 
 
 Dufferin Terrace .... 
 
 CusTO.M House • . . . 
 
 Gates of the Citahei 
 
 View from the Citadel 
 
 Monument to Wolfe and Montcalm 
 
 Time-Ball, from the Prince's Bastion 
 
 Wolfe's Cove 
 
 Kent Gate 
 
 St. John's Gate ■ . . . 
 
 St. Louis Gate 
 
 3 
 6 
 
 8 
 
 9 
 II 
 II 
 
 1 2 
 
 >4 
 '7 
 '7 
 
 '9 
 
 22 
 
 23 
 25 
 
 27 
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 28 
 
 32 
 
 33 
 ii 
 35 
 38 
 
 39 
 40 
 
 41 
 44 
 45 
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 46 
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 49 
 49 
 SO 
 
 Page 
 
 The Basilica, from Fabrique .Street .51 
 
 Looking Across the Esplanade to Beauport 52 
 Wayside Cross, and Beauport Church . . 55 
 Falls of Mo;tmorencv Facing 57 
 
 Looking Towards Quebec, from Montmorency 57 
 
 Montmorency River above Falls 
 On the Road to Sillery 
 Aux Braves 
 
 Chapter Lllustration . 
 Gathering Marsh Hay 
 Loading a Batteau at Low Tide 
 Cap Tourmente and Petit C\p 
 An Old Habitant .... 
 Habitant and Snow-Shoes . 
 L'Ance Gardien .... 
 French Farms .... 
 
 Chateau Richer .... 
 Wayside Watering Trough 
 
 St. Joachi.m 
 
 On the Road to St. Joachim 
 A Street in Chateau Richer 
 Falls of Ste. Anne 
 An Old Orchard .... 
 
 Falls of St. Fereoi 
 
 Chapel and Grotto at Ste. Anne De 
 Old Houses at Point Levis 
 Falls of Ldrrk.tte 
 
 Cap Rouge 
 
 Cape Diamond, krom St. Romuald 
 
 Light-Ship on the St. Lawrence 
 
 Half-Breed Fisherman 
 
 Lnterior of Parish Church 
 
 Old Chimney and Chatteau 
 
 St. Maurice Forges 
 
 Original Granite Cupola, Erected abou 
 
 Falls of the CHAUDifeR3, near Quebec 
 
 Shawenagan Falls . . . .- 
 
 Head of Shawenagan Falls 
 
 Little Shawenagan Falls . 
 
 A Gli.mpse from the Mountain 
 
 • 58 
 60 
 61 
 
 . 62 
 
 ■ 63 
 
 ■ 63 
 . 64 
 
 • 6s 
 
 • 67 
 . 67 
 . 69 
 
 71 
 74 
 
 • 76 
 
 • 78 
 
 • 79 
 Facing 81 
 
 81 
 
 Beau 
 
 pre 
 
 735 
 
 83 
 86 
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 90 
 
 9' 
 9' 
 93 
 93 
 95 
 96 
 
 97 
 97 
 99 
 
 too 
 
 lot 
 
 102 
 
 104 
 
^m 
 
 \j 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Page 
 
 • SI 
 
 52 
 
 • 5S 
 ^g 57 
 :v 57 
 
 • 58 
 6o 
 6l 
 
 . 62 
 
 ■ 63 
 
 ■ 63 
 . 64 
 
 • 6s 
 
 • 67 
 
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 ■ 7« 
 74 
 
 ■ 76 
 
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 ' 81 
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 83 
 
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 91 
 9' 
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 97 
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 100' 
 
 lOI 
 103 
 
 104 
 
 In Cote De Neiges Cemetery 
 
 l'escalier 
 
 Commissioner's Wharf, and Donsecours Mar 
 
 ket 
 
 Bonsecours Church 
 
 Market Scenes in Jacque;-. CART'f;R Square 
 
 McGh-1. Street 
 
 Mountain Drive 
 
 Montreal, from the Mountain Facing 
 
 The Longueuil Ferry .... 
 Montreal, from St. Helen's Island 
 
 The Island Park 
 
 Old Battery, St. Helen's Island . 
 
 The Champ De Mars 
 
 Old Preshvierian CnuRcni 
 
 From the Towers of Notre Dame 
 
 Entrance to Notre Dame 
 
 Pulpit of Notre Dame 
 
 In the Chapel of Grey Nunnf:ry . 
 
 Gaifway of the Seminary of St. Sulpice 
 
 Crrv Hall, and Nelson's Monument 
 
 Ancient Towers at Montreal College 
 Christ Church Cathedral, from Phiilips 
 Square 
 
 Steamer Passinc; Locks, and Unloading Ship: 
 BY Electric Light .... 
 
 Transferring Freight by Electric Light 
 
 Montreal Harbour .... Facing 
 
 Montreal Winter Scenes . 
 
 Notre Dame, from St. Urbain Street 
 
 In St. Gabriel Street 
 
 Wood Barges 
 
 MailSteamers Passing UnderVictoriaBridge 
 
 Unloading Hay Barges 
 
 Canal Locks at Lachink 
 
 Old Windmill on Lachine Road, and Distant 
 View of Lachine Rapids 
 
 Apple Woman at Locks 
 
 Grand Trunk Br'dge . 
 
 Watch Tower 
 
 Remains of Ancient Castle 
 
 Lack River Bridge, and Shad Fishing 
 
 Lower Ottawa- Scenes 
 
 On the Lower Ottawa 
 
 McGillivray's Chute, River Rouge . 
 
 Glimpses of the Lower Ottawa— The Lumber 
 Trade 
 
 Page 
 
 104 
 105 
 
 107 
 107 
 108 
 109 
 113 
 'IS 
 IIS 
 116 
 116 
 
 117 
 119 
 
 119 
 120 
 122 
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 125 
 
 126 
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 ■35 
 136 
 
 •37 
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 142 
 
 147 
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 iSi 
 153 
 t54 
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 «57 
 
 Running 'he Rapids ... 
 Mountain Farm .... 
 On the Portage— Lake Comandeau 
 Montebello— Home of Papineau 
 A Tow OF Lumber Barges . 
 Trout Fishing on Lake Comandeau 
 Nor'h Shore of the Otiawa . 
 Ottawa— P.' rliament Buildings, from Major's 
 
 HILI Facing 
 
 A First Glimpse of the Capital 
 
 Under Dufferin Bridge 
 
 Post Office, and Dufferin and Sappers' 
 
 Bridge 
 
 The Rideau Rifle Range 
 
 Head of the Locks— Rideau Canal 
 
 Rideau Canal Locks 
 
 Mouth of Rideau Canal, from Parliameni 
 
 Hill 
 
 CHAUDifeRE Falls, \nd Suspension Bridge 
 
 CHAUDiicRE Falls 
 
 Crib of Timber Running the Slide 
 
 Western Block, Departmental Buildings 
 
 From Main Entrance under Central Tower 
 
 Looking up the Oitawa, from Parliament 
 Grounds 
 
 Main Buildings, Houses of Parliament . 
 
 Governmf;nt House, from Skating Pond 
 
 Facing 
 
 Tower of Eastern Block, Departmentai 
 Buildings 
 
 Wellington Street in Winter 
 
 Entrance to Rideau Hall 
 
 The Princess' Vista .... 
 
 Tobogganning at Government House 
 
 View Across the Oitawa . 
 
 Vice-Regal Chair, Senate Chamber 
 
 Chapter Illustration 
 
 Timber Boom, Fitzroy Harbour 
 
 The Chats, from Pontiac 
 
 The Chats Falls 
 
 Quio, from the Ch.\ts 
 
 Falls of the Calumet 
 
 Scenes on the Upper Ottawa 
 
 OlsEAU Rock . . . ■ 
 
 Des Joachims Landing 
 
 Lumberman's Camp 
 
 Chapter Illustration 
 
 Facing 
 
 Page 
 
 158 
 
 159 
 160 
 161 
 161 
 162 
 162 
 
 163 
 163 
 166 
 
 167 
 168 
 169 
 170 
 
 172 
 
 175 
 176 
 
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 185 
 
 18S 
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 192 
 
 193 
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 197 
 198 
 
 '99 
 200 
 sour 
 
 207 
 
 20g 
 309 
 211 
 311 
 
 \ 
 
viii 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Lumbering on the Upper Ottawa 
 
 explorino for new limits 
 
 Men ok the Hi'sh 
 
 Shanty at Eagle's Nest . 
 
 A Jobher's Shantv 
 
 Marking Logs at Skiuway 
 
 Chopping and Sawing . 
 
 Snubbing 
 
 Mass in a Lumber Shanty 
 Rat River Landing 
 
 Bear Trai' 
 
 Arrival oe Supply Train at Lumbei 
 A Settler's Shanty 
 The Rollway .... 
 Timber Slide at the Calu.mei Kall 
 
 The Drive 
 
 Dam on TuyuE Creek 
 
 A Sawmill in the ISackwoods . 
 
 Timber Coves, (Quebec 
 
 On the Upper St. Maurice 
 
 Tail Piece 
 
 Sunrise on Lake Superior 
 Chapter Illustration 
 Lake Nipissing .... 
 On French Rivek 
 
 KiLLARNEY 
 
 A Laurentian Uluee 
 The Saui.t Ste. NL\kia Rapids . 
 Village of Saui.t Ste. Maria 
 At Michipicoten Island 
 
 Red Rock 
 
 A Trout Pool on the Nepigon 
 
 Spi.n Rock 
 
 Lake Helen 
 
 ■Above Split Rock Rapid 
 Camping (Iround at thi. Portage 
 Shooting the Rapids . 
 Thunder Cape .... 
 The Sleeping (".iant 
 Thunder Hay .... 
 
 The Deserted Mine 
 Camp on Victoria Island 
 Kakabrka Falls .... 
 On the Kaministiquia 
 Embarking after the Portage 
 Point De Meuron . . ,- 
 
 Indian Vapour Bath . 
 
 DEPO'I 
 
 (1(7 HI,' 
 
 "'"'.1,' 
 
 PaC* Page 
 
 213 Canadian Pacific Railway — Kaministiquia 
 
 214 River .... 
 
 217 Lake of the Woods .... Jiia/ii; 
 
 218 The Virgin Prairie 
 
 219 Falls of the Winnipeg 
 219 Lake Deception 
 
 221 Cross Lake .... 
 
 222 A Prairie Stri.a.m 
 
 223 Winnipeg, fro.m St. Boniface Ferry Landing 
 
 224 Selkirk 
 
 224 Lower Fort Garry 
 
 226 Stea.mhoat Landing 
 
 227 A Blizzard in Winnipeg 
 
 229 Main Street, Winnipeg 
 
 230 Old Fort CiARRY 
 233 St. John's College 
 233 St. John's Church 
 
 235 A Hai.f-Breed Farm 
 
 236 Kildonan Church 
 
 237 A Prairie Far.msiead 
 
 238 Interior of Settlers Cabin 
 
 239 The Harvesters 
 239 Modern Prair:e Farming 
 241 Rapids at Mouth of Saskatchewan 
 244 Storm on Lake Winnipeg 
 24s Norway House Landing 
 
 246 Nelson River 
 
 247 Indian Trappers of the North-West 
 
 248 Sea River Falls, Nelson River 
 
 249 At the Portage. Hudson's Bay Company's 
 252 Employes on their Annual Expedition 
 
 254 Facing 309 
 
 355 Wa-Sitch-f;-wan Falls ..... 309 
 
 257 Fort Prince of Wales 310 
 
 258 Portaging a Boat 311 
 
 259 .Scenes along ihe Nelson River . . 313 
 
 261 On the Great and Litile Churchill Rivers 315 
 
 262 York Factory— Arrival of Hudson's Bay 
 
 263 Company's Ship 317 
 
 265 A Mennonite Village 319 
 
 266 A Mt;NNONiTE Girl Herding Cattle . 320 
 
 267 Intf.rior and Exterior of Mennonite Church 322 
 
 270 Interior and Exterior of Mennonite Dwell- 
 
 271 ing 323 
 
 271 Near Fort Calgarry— Looking toward t'e 
 
 873 Rocky Mountains . . Faring 325 
 
 374 Near Postage La Prairie .... 335 
 
 275 
 
 
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 283 
 
 
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VH 
 
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 UST OF ILLUSTRATTONS. 
 
 ix 
 
 Page 
 
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 3" 
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 0',D Church near Landing 
 
 Banks of the Rkd River . 
 
 A Pioneer Stork .... 
 
 Emigrant Train, Assineboinf. Vaii.ev 
 
 Factor's Residence, Koki- ICi.i.ice i 
 
 Hale-Buekd Ca.mp .... 
 
 At the Kooi-hii.ls ok the Rocky Mountains 
 
 North-Wesi- Mounted Police . 
 
 Kootanky 
 
 The Keast of the White Dog 
 
 Tail Piece 
 
 Niagara Facitiji 
 
 Rapids Above the Kai.i-s .... 
 
 NivoARA iiY Electric Light 
 
 Old Tori' Erie, and Windmill 
 
 Mouth of ihe Chippewa River 
 
 A Glimpse of thf. Kalis, from Clifton 
 
 The three Sister Islands 
 
 The Horse Shoe Falls, from Under Cliff a 
 
 ("■DAT Island 
 Niagara Winter Scenes 
 Ice Grove .... 
 The Whirlpool 
 The Whirlpool Rapid 
 Ravine near Whirlpool 
 The Whirlpool, from American Side 
 On the Path to Whirlpool 
 The River Above Whirlpool 
 Exit of the River from Whirlpool 
 Niagara River, from Queenston Heights 
 Mouth of the River, from Ramparts of Old 
 
 Fort George 
 
 Approach to Cave of the Winds h'acin. 
 
 St. Catharines 
 
 fOKT Dalhousie 
 
 Thorold, on Old Welland Canal . 
 St. Mark's Church, Niagara 
 
 PaRP 
 325 
 327 
 329 
 331 
 33" 
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 334 
 337 
 338 
 340 
 342 
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 349 
 350 
 35' 
 354 
 
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 37' 
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 3S0 
 381 
 381 
 
 FROM 
 
 Facing 
 
 Entrance to Welland Canal — Port Col 
 
 borne 
 
 Near Lock No. a. Old Canal . 
 
 Off Port Ualhousie 
 
 Lock No. i. New Canal 
 
 The Deep Cut .... 
 
 Lock No. 23, Thorold 
 
 Port Robinson, Enlarged Canal 
 
 A Waste Weir .... 
 
 Old Aqueduct at Welland 
 
 The Fruit- Harvest 
 
 Looking Towards Lake Ontari 
 
 Heights near yuEENsroN 
 Toronto, from Kingston Road 
 Chapier Illustration 
 The Exhibition Grounds 
 Toronto, from the Island 
 Tower and Spire of Sr James's Cathedral 
 A Sculling Match, Toronio Harbour 
 
 Facing 
 Metropolitan (Methodist) Church 
 Toronto Street-, and Post Office 
 Horticultural Gardens 
 College .Vvenue ((jueen Street) 
 Lacrosse Grounds 
 
 Osgoode Mali 
 
 King Street, We.st 
 Lieuifnant-cIovernor's Residence 
 
 St. Andrew's Church 
 
 Review of the " Queen's Own " . . 
 
 Queen's Park . . . 
 
 University of Toronto .... 
 
 .-\fternoon in the Park 
 
 The North Iron HRiDtiE, and Ravine, Rose 
 
 DALE 
 
 Near the Howard Street Bridge, Rosedale 
 Educational In.siitutions 
 
 Page 
 
 382 
 384 
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 38s 
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 388 
 
 389 
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 41 S 
 
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 434 
 
 435 
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 325 
 
-A' 
 
 «ll 
 
Picturesque Canada. 
 
 QUEBEC. 
 
 HISTORICAL RKVIEW. 
 
 /"^UR work hc_trins with Quebec. Rightly so. Canada has not much of a past, but 
 ^ all that it has from Jacques Cartier's day clusters round that cannon-girt promon- 
 tory; not much of a present, but in taking stock of national outfit, Ouebec should 
 count for something;— -indeed, would count with any people. We have a future, and 
 with it that great red rock and the red-cross Hag that lloats over it are inseparably 
 bound up. ; / 
 
 The glowing pages of Parkman reveal how much can be made of our past. A son 
 of the soil like I,e Moin(;, who has an hereditary rigl.t to be animated by the ^oiius 
 loci, whose Hoswell-like conscientiousness in chronicling everything connected with the 
 sacred spot deserves all honourable mention, may exaggerate the importance of the city 
 and the country, its past and its present. But truer far his extreme — if extreme it be — than 
 Voltaire's or La Pompadour's, and their successors' in our own day. The former thought 
 FVance well rid of " fifteen thousand acres of snow," with an appreciation of the subject 
 like unto his estimate of those " Jiiifs miscrahlcs" about whose literature the world was 
 not likely to trouble itself much longer when it could get the writings of the I'Vench 
 Philosophcs instead. The latter heartily agreed with him, for — with Montcalm dead — 
 "at last the King will have a chance of sleeping in peace." To us it seems that the 
 port which for a century and a half was the head-quarters of I'rance in the New World, 
 the door by which she entered and which could be closed against all others, the centre 
 from which she aimed at the conquest of a virgin continent of altogether unknown extent, 
 
4 
 
 ricriRiisoi'E cAx.inA. 
 
 ;iik1 Irom which her ;ul\ciniii"ous chil(lri!ii set Inrih — loiii^-roWcd missiiiii;u'!c;j; leading llie 
 \va\', trappfTs and soldiers follow in'.; -iinlil tlu.'v had L'stal>lislu'd ihcniscUcs at every 
 strategic jioiiii on the St. Lawrence, ihe (ircat Lakes, the ( )hio, and the Mississippi 
 from the I'ails of Si. .\nlhon\ to Xi;\v Orleans, must always have historical an.l |)Octic 
 sij>niticance. The city and the I'rovinci; which for the ni'xt hundred and twenty years 
 have remained L'rench in appearance and l*"rench to the core, yc.'t have fought repeatedly 
 and are ready to light again side by side with the red-coats of dreat Mritain — the best 
 |jroof surely that men can give of loyal allegiance ;— which preserve old Norman and 
 Breton customs and traits, and modes of tiiought and faith that tlu' l'vevohiti<-n has 
 subni'^rged in the I'rance of their fore-fathers, fondly nursing the seventeiMith century in 
 the l.ii) of the nineteenth, must, perhaps beyond an\' other spot in North .Xmcrica, ha\e 
 an interest for tlu- artist and the statesman. 
 
 In the sixteenth century the gallant brands 1, made seven attempts to give France 
 a share' in that wonderful New World which Colmnbus hail disclosed to an unbelieving 
 generation, hut like his attempts in other directions they came to nothing. In 15^5 he 
 put three little vessels under the orders of Jactjues Cartier, a skilful navigator, a pious 
 and brave man, well worthy of the patent of nobility which he afterwards received, instruct- 
 ing him to procee'd u)) the broad water-wa\' he had discovered the year before, until he 
 reacheil the hulies. His duties were to win new realms for Mother Church, as a 
 comiiensation lor those she was losing through Lutheran and Calvinistic heresies, and to 
 bring back his schooners full of yc-llow gold and ros\- pearls. Thus would his labours 
 redound to the glory of (iod and the got)tl of b'rance. Jacques Cartier crossed the 
 ocean and sailed u[) tlu: magnificent water-way, piously giving to it the nanu- of the saint 
 on whose fete-day he had first entered its wide-extended portals. l"or hundieds of miles 
 the river ki^pt its great breadth, morcj like a sea than a river, till the huge blulf of 
 Quebec, seen Irom afar, appeared to close it abruptly against farther advance. By means 
 of this bluff thrust into the stream aiul the oppcjsite point of Levis stretching out to meet 
 it, the view is actually narrowed to three (juarters of a mile. Coasting up between the 
 north shore ami a large beautiful island, he came:, on the 14th of September, to the 
 mouth of a little tributar)-, which he called the .Ste, Croix, from the fete celel)rated on 
 that day. Here he cast anchor, for now the time had come to land anil make inquiries. 
 It needed no prophet to tell that the jjower which held that dark red bluff would hold the 
 key to the country beyond. The natives, with their chief Donnacona, patldled out in 
 their birch-bark canoes to gaze upon the strange visitants who had — in great white-winged 
 castles — surely swooped down upon them from anotluM' world. Cartier treated them kindly. 
 They willingly guided him ihiough the primeval forest to their town on the banks of 
 the little river, and to the siunniit of the rock under the shadow of which they had built 
 their wigwams. What a landscape for an explorer tf) gaze u[)on 1 .Shore and forest bathed 
 in the mellow light of the .Se[)tember sun for forty miles up antl down both sides of 
 
 
 
 
^1^ 
 
 i 
 
 (jUliliHC. 3 
 
 tlie j,r|orioiis stream ! Wealth cnoiii;!! there to satisfy even a kinjj;'s pilot and captain- 
 i,rencral. Between the summit ami the river far below he ma) have seen amid the slate 
 the plitter of the (piartz crystals from wiiich the rock afterwards received its name ol 
 Cajje Diamond. Certainly, on his next voya^jc he leathered specimens from Cap Rouge. 
 But liu! j^^reat attraction must have l)een the river itself, llowinj; past with the tribute of 
 an unknown continent. Its oreen waters swept round the feet of the mi^ht)' Ca])e. lie 
 could cast a stone into the current, for at high tide it rolled rij,dit up to the base of the 
 rock. The narrow strip of land that now extends between rock and river, crowded w ith 
 the houses of Champlain Street, was not there then. The street has been won from the 
 waters and the rock by man, whose greed for land even the boimdless spaces of the New 
 
 .\RKI\ \l, 1,1 .I.\c:()LM;S lARlltK .\l SI.\l).\CON.\. 
 
 World cannot satisfy. The ground that sloped down to the Ste. Croix, at the mouth of 
 which his vessels lay at anchor, was covered with the finest hard-wood trees — walnuts, oaks, 
 elms, ashes, and maples — and among the.se the bark-cabins of Uonnacona's tribe could be 
 seen. They called their town Stadacona. To this day no name is more popular with the 
 people of Quebec. .Any new enterprise that may be projected, from a skating-rink to 
 a bank or steamship company, prefers .Stadacona to any other name. 
 
 All the way down lo Cap Tourmente and round the horizon formed by the fir-clothed 
 summits of the i.aurentides that enclosed the wide-extended-landscape, an unbroken forest 
 ranged. The picture, seen from the Citadel on Cape Diamond to-day, is as fair as the 
 eye can desire to see. The sun shines on the glittering roofs of Quebec, and the 
 continuous village of clean white houses extending miles down to the white riband of 
 

 I 
 
 
 
 4 I'lLTURESQUli C.hV.I/iyl 
 
 Montmorency, ami on ciiltivatwl (lulils ninnin},^ up into still unbroken wilderness, and 
 on the hroad rivi;r hasiii enclosing' tiic island, in the fortst glades of which wild ij^rapes 
 grew so luxuriantly that Cartier enthusiastically called it Isle of iSacchus. Hut then 
 it was in all its virgin glory, and Cartier's soul swelled with the emotions of a discoverer, 
 with exultation ami l)oundless hopi;. Did il not belong to him, diil it not almost owe 
 its ( xistenc(! to him ? And he was giving it all to (iod and to I'Vance. 
 
 Donnacona told the strangers of a far greater town tiian his, many days' journej' 
 up the river. .So Cartier placed his two largt-st \c-ssels witiiin tile mouth of the .Ste. 
 Ooix, or the .St. Charles, as tiie Recoilets called it in liie next century, and pursued his 
 way, overcoming the obstacles of .St. I'eter's Lake, to llochelaga. The natives there 
 received him as if hr were a god, l)ringing fish and corn-cakes, and throwing them into 
 the boats in such profusion that they seemed to fail through tiie air like rain or snow. 
 Cartier could not help falling in love with the country. The jjalisaded town nestling under 
 the shadow of Mount Royal was surrounded by fertile fields. Autumn showered its 
 crimson and gold on the forests, turning the mountain into an immense picture suspended 
 high in air, glowing with a wealtii of colour tiiat no luiropean painter would dare 
 to put on canvas. The rivt'r swept on, two miles witle, with a concjuering force that 
 indicated vast distances beyond, new rt;alms \' liiing to be discovered. All the way back 
 to Ouebec the marvellous tints of the forest, and the sweet air and rich sunsets of a 
 Canadian autumn accomjianied the happ)' brenciiincMi. Mad the)- now turned their prows 
 homeward, what pictures of the new country woidd they have heiil up to wondering 
 listeners ! Nothing could have prevented I*" ranee from precipitating itself at once upon 
 Canada. Hut the natives, accustomed to tiie winters, uttered no note of warning to the 
 strangers, and therefore, although Cartier rejoined his comrades at Quebec on the iith 
 of October, he delayed till the ice-king issued his " >/c cxcai." Then he and they soon 
 learned that the golden shield had another side. 
 
 To Canadians, winter is simply one of the four seasons. The summer and autumn 
 suns ripen all the crops that grow in England or the north of France, and in no tem- 
 perate climate is more than one crop a year expected. The frost and snow of winter are 
 hailed in their turn, not only as useful frientls but as ministers to almost all the amuse- 
 ments of the year — the sleighing, skating, snow-shoeing, ice-boating, tobogganning — that 
 both sexes and all classes tlelight in. Tiie frost does much of our subsoil ploughing. 
 .Snow is not only the best possible mulch, shading and protecting the soil at no cost, but 
 its manurial value gives it tht' name of "the poor man's manure." The ice bridges our 
 lakes and rivers. A good snow-fall means roads without the trouble of road-making, 
 not only to kirk and market, but througii thick woods, over cradle-hills, and away into 
 the lumber regions. An insufficient sii|)ply of snow and ice is a national calamity ; and 
 excess can never be so bad as the pall that covers lingland and Scotland half the year 
 and makes the people " take their pleasures sadly." 
 
 I 
 
 
 ■A 
 
 
 i 
 
 'C^ 
 
QiEliliC. 
 
 Hut, we arc i)rc|)arc(l for \vint(;r. Jaaiiics Carticr was not, ami very heavily its liand 
 fell upon liin\, as it did subsequently on Champlain when he fust wintered at Ouehec. 
 How heavily, we are in a jjosition to estimate from reading; the liarrowini,^ descriptions 
 of the sufferinjrs endnrtnl by the jjcople of London in January iSSi, in consequence of 
 a snow-fall of some twelve inches. One perioilical describes the scene under the title of 
 "Moscow in London," and soberly asserts that "to have lived in London on i'uesday, 
 the iSth January. 1881, and to have survived the experience, is something which any man 
 is justified 'n rememberinjf, and which ouj,dit to justify occasional boastinjj of the fact." 
 Another declares that a few more such snow-storms would " render our life and civilization 
 imuossible;" that in such a case there could be only "an I-Lscpiimaux life, not an I'Jij^dish 
 life;" that "a transformation of the rain into these soft white crystals which at first sij,dit 
 seem so much less ajfgressive than rain is all tii.it is needed to destroy the whole struc- 
 ture of our communications, whether in the wa)- of railway, telegrapii. or literature;" 
 and sadly moralises over the fact that this is sure to come about in time from the pre- 
 cession of the equinoxes. Bathos such as this indicates fairly enouf^di the wonderful 
 ijrnorance of the facts and conditions of Canadian life that reigns supreme in educated 
 English circles. Canadians fancy that their civilization is English. Those of us who are 
 practically acquainted with the conditions of life in luigland are jjretty well agreed that 
 where there are points of difference the advantage is on our side. Not one man in a 
 thousand in Canada wears a fur coat, or an overcoat of any kind heavier than he would 
 have to wear in the mother country. We have ice-houses, but do net live in them. Society 
 shows no signs of apiiroximating to the Esquimaux type. We skim over the snow more 
 rapidly than a four-in-hand can travel in b^ngland when the best highway is at its best. 
 A simple contrivance called a snow-plough clears the railway track for the trains, tossing 
 the snow to the right and left as triumphantly as a ship tosses the spray from its bows. 
 We telegraph and tele|)hone, use cabs and busses, and get our mails — from Halifax to 
 Sarnia — with "proofs" and parcels about as regularly in winter as in summer. Incredible 
 as all this must sound to those who have shivered under the power of one snow-storm 
 and a few degrees of frost, ti.ere is a certain humiliation to a Canadian in describing 
 what is so entirely a matter of course. He is kept from overmuch wonder by remembering 
 that the people of Western Canada, in spite of practical acquaintance with snow-ploughs, 
 opposed for years the construction of the Intercolonial Railway l)ecause they strenuously 
 maintained that it would be !)locked up all the winter with ice and snow. 
 
 We are accustomed to our environment. Cartier's men were not ; and reference has 
 been made to recent experiences in England to help us to understand what horrors those 
 poor fellows from sunny France endured throughout an apparently endless winter, cooped 
 up in the coldest spot in all Canada. " From the middle of November to the i8th of April 
 the ice and snow shut us in," says their captain. Ice increased upon ice. Snow fell 
 upon snow. The great ri\er that no power known' to man coidd fetter, was bound fast. 
 
riC I L RUSQUii LA.\.\n. I. 
 
 lu'erythinj;- frozi-. I'lic lircitli tliat came from tlu.'ir mouths, tin- very l)loo(l in their 
 \cins, scL'incd to freeze. Nij^ht ;m(l day tiicir liinl)s were liciuimhed. Ihick ice formeti 
 on the sides of their ships, on decks, masts, cordaj^e, on everytiiin),' to which moisture 
 attached itself. Snow wreathed and curled in at evi^ry crevice. Mvery tree had its load. 
 .A walk in tla wooils was an impossibility, and there was nowhere else to walk. Confined 
 within their narrow domain, and living' on salted food, scurvy seized upon the helples.s 
 
 '■'■>? 
 
 'W 
 
 I 
 
 TR1U.\U'H Ol Tin; S.NGW-PLOUGM. 
 
 
 prisoners. What was to be done ? Cartier had recourse to heaven, receiving, however, 
 the same minimum of practical answer that was given by Hercules to .jltsop's wajj^goner. 
 A modern writer of scrupulous accuracy describes naively the appeal and its bootlessness : 
 ■' When eight were dead and more than fifty in a helpless state, Cartier ordered a solemn 
 religious act which was, as it were, the first public exercise of the Catholic religion in Can- 
 ada, and the origin of those processions and pilgrimages which have since been made in 
 honour of Mary, to claim her intercession with God in great calamities. .Seeing that the 
 disease had made such frightful ravages he set his crew to prayer, and made them carry 
 an image or statue of the Virgin Mary over the snow and ice, and caused it to be placed 
 against a tree about an arrow's flight awav from the fort. He also commanded that on 
 the following Sunday mass should be sung in that place and before that image, and that 
 all those who were able to walk, whether well or ill, should go in the procession— 
 ' singing the .seven penitential Psalms of David, 'vith the Litany, praying the Virgin to 
 entreat her dear Son to have pity upon us.'" On that day mass was celebrated 
 
 i'i 
 
^w 
 
 QllJiHC. 
 
 Iieforc ihc iinaj^e oi Mary, oven cliantcd, Carticr tells iis ; aijparciuly llu' liist oicasion 
 of a lii;,fli mass in Caiiaila. At ilif saiiic linu: Carticr j^avc anotlu-r special proof of his 
 vivid and tender trust in Mary -proiiiisinj; lo nuikt; a |)iljj[riinaj,'e in her honour to U'\(iie- 
 inailour. should he he spared to return to I-rance. " Nevertheless, th.U \cry ilay, Philip 
 koiijTeinont, a native of Anihoise, twenty years olil, died ; and the disease lecanie so 
 general that of all who were in the three ships there were not three untouched, anil in 
 one of the ships there was not one man who could j,'o into the hold to thaw water for 
 himself or the others." Despair fell upon the poor wretches. The)' j.;a\e up hope of 
 ever ;;eein}.j I'rance aL,Min. Cartitir .alone did not despair, and tlu' dav, n followeil the 
 darkest hour. One of the Indians told him of "the most e.xcpiisite remedy that ever 
 was," a decoction composed of the k'aves and hark of the white spruce. I le ailministercd 
 the medicine without stint, and in eii^ht days the sick were restored lo health. .And now 
 the loni; cruel winter wore away. The ic\' fetters relaxetl their i,n-ip of laiul and river. 
 I'niler warm .\pril suns the sa[) rose, thrillinj,' tlu.' dead trees into life. .\mid the mcltinjj 
 snow, jjreen i^rasses and dainty st;.r-like flowers spranjj; up as freely as in a hot-house. 
 Cartier prepared to depart, first ^akintr possession of Canada, however, hy planting in 
 the fort "a heautiful cross" thirty-live feet high, with the arms of I'rance emhosseil on 
 the cross-piece, and this inscription, " Franc i sens Priiiins, /hi i^/ur/Ar, f'^raiiconim rex, 
 regnat" Then, treacherously luring Donnacona on hoard ship, that hi' might present the 
 King of Stadacona to the King of I'rance, he set sail for .St. Malo. Nothing came of 
 this, the second voyage of Cartier, and little wonder. What advantages did Canada 
 offer to imluce men to leave home I What tales could the travellers tell save of black 
 forests, deep snow, thick ice, starving Indians, and all-ilevouring scurvy! Hut Cartier 
 was not discouraged, and six years afterwards I'Vancis resolved to try again. Roberval 
 was commissioned to founil a permanent .settlement. He sent Cartier .ahead and Caitier 
 tried at Cap Rouge, above Ouebec, the Indians of Stadacona naturally enough not making 
 him welcome. Hut the experiment ilifl not succeed. The time had not come. Nearly a 
 century was to pass away before the true father of New France — the foimder of Quebec- 
 would appear. 
 
 On the },i\ of July, i6oS, Samuel de Champlain planted the white flag of France 
 on the site of Ouebec. The old village of Stadacona had disappeared, and there was no 
 one to dis|)ute possession with the new comers. With characteristic promptitude Cham- 
 plain set his men to work to cut tlown trees ami saw them into lumber for building, to 
 dig drains and ditches, to pull \\\) tin; wild grape-vines which abounded, to pre|)are the 
 ground for garden seeds, or to attend to the commissariat. Every one had his work to 
 do. The winter tried him as it had tried Cartier. The dreaded scurv)' attacked his 
 followers. Out of twenty-eight only eight survived, and these were disfigured with it.s 
 fell marks. The next year he decided to ally himself with the Algonquins and Hurons 
 against the Five Nations. It may have been impossible for him to have remained neu- 
 
8 
 
 /'/i / Ch'/'SQCJ- i. I. \. I/J.I. 
 
 tr.il, tli()ii>,'li llic »-x;ini|ilc ol tlic Diilrli ,u Alhaiiy imliiatt-s lliat it was possililr. Certainly 
 the sti'p plunged tlu' iiilaiu loloin into a mm of troiililcs for a icntury, It luok the 
 swonl and was n^.un ami aj;ain on llif point of pcrisliin^ hy the tomaliawk. 
 
 Tills man Cliainplain, soldier, sailor, in^Mnt'cr, jieoj^raphcr, naturalist, statesman, with 
 the heart and soid of a hero, was llic foundir of New I ranee. lie had j,fained liistinc- 
 tion in the wars of the l.eaj,nie ; in the West Indi<s he first proposeil that ship canal 
 
 across ilu' Isthnnisof Panama which another 
 I'Venchman as iiiuonipu'rahU; as he — is 
 prohahly, destined to construct; and siib- 
 se(|iientl) hi- had spent yiars ex|)lorinj,f anil 
 attem|)tinj,f settlements around liie rnj,fj,fed 
 Atlantic shores of Acadie and New l'jiy,dand. 
 I'roni lite da\' lliat he planted the lilies of 
 Iranct! at the foot of Cape Diamond to 
 the day of his death, on Christmas, 1635, 
 he devoteil himself to the infant colony, 
 lived for it and kept it ali\'e, in s()ite of 
 enemi<'s at home and al)road, and dis- 
 couraj^enuiits enoiijfh to have shaken any 
 resolve but that of courage founded upon 
 faith. Kij^ht under the beetling cliff, be- 
 tween the present Champlain Market ami 
 the (piaint old church of Notre Dame des 
 Victoires, Champlain determined to build 
 his city. His first work was to prepare 
 X the ground for garden seetis, anil wheat 
 and rye. lie saw from the first, what he 
 never could get any om; else in authority 
 to si'e, that the existence of the colony, as 
 , anything more than a temporary fur-trading 
 post, depended on its being able to raise its 
 own fooil. The Comjjany with which he 
 was associated coukl not see this, because they had gone into the enterprise with very 
 different motives from those that animated Champlain. When we have no desire to see, 
 we put tile telescope to our bliml eye and declare that there is nothing to be seen. 
 Every creature acts according to its instincts, and to the rule fur-trading companies are 
 no exception. (iive them a monopol)' and instinct becomes consecrated by laws 
 human and Divine. The welfare of the Company becomes the supreme law. At the 
 beginning of this century the North-West Company thought it right to stamp out in 
 
 CUAMIM.AIN. 
 
 ^si. 
 
ovnnr.r. 
 
 •■<* 
 
 -t 
 
 
 NCJIKI. DAMi: DKS Vl( TOIKI.S. 
 Silf iif (Jri|;iiial Clily. 
 
 blood anil fin- liic |)atrintic efforts to colonize 
 Assinihoia niatli; by a Scottisii nohlcinan, who 
 livetl half a century before his tinic Siibso 
 quently the two hundred and si.\ty-eij;ht share- 
 holders of the iludson's Hay Comjjany felt justified in keepinjr half a continent as a 
 ])reserve for buffalo and beaver. How could better thini^s be expected in the seven- 
 teenth century from the niono])olies of l)e Ciiastes or De Monts, the merchants of St. 
 Malo, Rouen, Dieppe, La Rochelle ; or even from the Cominmy of tin: One Hundred 
 Associates organized by Richelieu ? 'rradinL,^ interests were supreme with one ami all. 
 Those who clamoureil for free trade clamoured only for a share of the monopoly. The 
 empire is perpetually at war, and the soldier <,rets the blame, perhaps the aristocracy, 
 should Mr. Bright be the speaker; but the real culprit is the trader. Our jealousy 
 of Russia and our little wars all the world over have trade interests as their source 
 
m. 
 
 1-1 
 
 lO 
 
 /'/C'/('A-/:SOL 7:' C.lX.UKl. 
 
 aiul inspiration. In tiic scvc-ntccnth century, Canadian trade meant supplies to the 
 Indians in exchanjre for |)eltrics, ami money si)cnt on anytliinL; else seemed to the 
 One Hundred Associates and tlieir servants mone)- thrown away. 
 
 Not so thought Chami)lain. l''ortunately, he was too indispensable a man to 
 be recalled, thoui;h it was legitimate to oppose, to check, to thwart his [)rojects 
 whenever they did not promise direct returns to tiie Company. Chamj)lain aimed 
 at founding an empire, and every great empire must be based on farming. Therefore 
 when, in 1617, he brought the erstwhile apothecary, Louis Hebert, to Quebec, he 
 did more for the colon)- than when lie brought the 'Xecollcts and Jesuits to it. 
 And let this be said with no depreciation of the labours of the gray robes and -black 
 robes. Hebert was the first who gave himself up to the task of cultivating the 
 soil in New I'rance, and the first head of a family resident in the country who lived 
 on what he cultivated. His son-in-law Couillard walked in the same gootl path, the 
 path first trotlden by " the grand old gardener and his wife." No matter how soldiers, 
 sailors, fur-traders and priests migiit come and go, the farmer's children held on to 
 the land, and their ilescendants hold it still. They increased and multiplied so mightily 
 that there are few I'rench families of an)- anticjuit)' in Canada who cannot trace 
 their genealog)- b)- some link back to that of Louis Hebert. Hebert and Couillard 
 Streets, streets (piainter and more expressive of the seventeenth century than any to be 
 seen now in .St. Malo, comniemorate tlieir names. One of their descendants informcxl 
 the writer that those streets run where the first furrows were ploughed in Canada, prob- 
 abl)- in the same wu)- that some of tlu,' streets m Hoston are saiil to meander along the 
 paths mad(.t !))- th(> cows of the first inhabitants. Had others followed Hebert's example 
 the colony woidd not have been so long suspended between life and death, and Cham- 
 plain could have lield out against the Huguenot Kerkts in 1629. Hut the Company, far 
 from doing anything to encourage the few tillers of the ground, ilid everything to dis- 
 courage them. All grain raised had to be sold at a price fi.xed b\- the Company, and 
 the Company alone had the power of buying. Of course the Heberts and Couillards 
 ought to have been grateful that there was a Company to buy, for what could farmers 
 do without a market ? 
 
 Of Champlain's labours it is unnecessar)- to speak at length. Twent)- times he crossed 
 the Atlantic to fight for his colon), though it was a greater undertaking to cross the 
 Atlantic then than to go round the world now. He may be called the founder of Mon- 
 treal as well as of (hiebec. l''irst of l'"uroi)eans he sailed up the Richelieu, giving to the 
 beautiful river the name of the Comjjany's great patron. He discovered Lake Cham- 
 plain. He first ascended the Ottawa, crossed to Lake Nipissing, and came down by the 
 valley of the Trent to what he called "the fresh water sea" of Ontario. He .secured 
 the alliance of all the Indian tribes — the confederacy of the bive Nations e.xcepted — by 
 treaties which lasted as long as the white flag floated over the castle of St. Louis, and 
 
 xl 
 
 
isr^ 
 
 0( -/{/i/iC. 
 
 1 1 
 
 
 Y 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 9t 
 
 wliich laid tli'' foundation of tlu; fritMidsliip that lias existed between every Canadian 
 jrovernment ami the old sons and lords of tlu; soil. D'Arcy McCice, in one of those 
 addresses tiiat made learned and unlearned feel what is the pot<;ncy and omnip./tency 
 of man's word on the souls of men. thus sketched his moral >,ualities and amazin.t,^ 
 versatility: — "lie was l)rave almost 
 to rashness. 1 le would cast iiimseif 
 with a single luu'opean followiir in 
 the riiidst of savai^e enemies, and 
 mort,' than once his life was endan- 
 ijfered by the excess of his cop.fidence 
 and liis couraj^e. lie was eminently 
 social in liis habits witness liis ov- 
 (Xvv of /(• /ion letups, \v which e\er)' 
 man of his associates was fo.- one 
 day host to ail his comrades, lie 
 was sanj^uine, as became an adven- 
 turer; and self-ilenyinjj, as became a 
 
 MOUNTAIN MM.I.. 
 From top of Hit-ak-tUM-k Staira. 
 
 hero. . . Ill' touched the 
 extremes of human experi- 
 ence anionic diverse characters anil nations. 
 At one time he sketch<-d plans of ci\ili/.e(.l 
 agoranilizement for Henry 1\'. and Riclu-lieu : 
 at another, he planned schemes of wild war- 
 fare with I iuron chiefs and Ali^'oncpiin Itraves. 
 Me united in a most rare des^ree the faculties 
 of action anil reflection, ami like all hiirhly- 
 reHective minds, his ihouj^iits, lonj^ cherished 
 n secret, ran often into the mouKt of max- 
 ims, some of which would form the fittest 
 possible inscriptions to be eiitjraven upon 
 his monument. When the merchants of 
 
13 
 
 PICrVRIiSOUE CANADA. 
 
 
 Quebec grumbled at the cost of fortifyinti^ that phice, he said, ' It is best not to obey 
 the passions of men ; they are but for a season ; it is our duty to regard the future.' 
 With all his love of good-fellowship, he was, what seems to some inconsistent with it, sin- 
 cerely and enthusiastically religious. Among his maxims are these two — that ' the salvation 
 of one soul is of more value than the conquest of an empire ; ' and that ' kings ought 
 not to think of extending their authority over idolatrous nations, except for the purpose of 
 subjecting them to Jesus Christ.'" The one mistake made by Champlain has already been 
 referred to. He attacked the Irotpiois, whereas he should have conciliated them at any 
 cost or remained neutral in all Indian wars. His mistake was not so much intellectual 
 as moral. It was a crime and — pace Talleyrand — -worse than a blunder. But it is not 
 pleasant to refer to the errors of such a man. Well may Quebec commemorate his name 
 and virtues. Let us not forget, when we walk along the quaint, narrow, crowded street 
 that still bears his name, or clamber "Break-neck .Stairs" from Little Champlain Street 
 
 to reach Durham Terrace, where he built the 
 Chateau of .St. Louis and doubtless often gazed, 
 with hope and pride in his eyes, on a scene 
 like to which there are few on this earth, how 
 much Canada owes to him ! Well for thos» 
 who follow him where all may follow — in un- 
 selfishness of purpose, in unflinching valour, and 
 in continence of life. No monument points out 
 his last resting-place, for, strange to say, "of all 
 French governors interred within the enceinte, 
 he is the only one of whose place of sepulture 
 we are ignorant."* The registers of Quebec 
 were destroyed in the great conflagration of 
 1640. Thus it happens that we have not the 
 account of his burial. M. Dionne .shows that in 
 all probability the remains were first deposited 
 in the chapel of Notre Dame de la Recouvrance ; then in a vault of masonry in the 
 chapel built by his successor in the Governorship, whence they were removed by the 
 authorities to the Basilica. Champlain needs no monument, least of all in Quebec. 
 The city is his monument. 
 
 Most religious Quebec was from the first under the influence of Champlain ; most 
 religious is it in appearance to this day. There are churches enough for a city with five 
 times the present population. Ecclesiastical establishments of one kind or another occupy 
 the lion's share of the space within the walls. At every corner the soutaned ecclesiastic 
 meets you, moving along quietly, with the confidence of one who knows that his foot is 
 
 * " I-;tu<ies Historiques," |),nr M. UlONNK. 
 
 i'u::scorT gate. 
 
 Now removed, guarded llie .-xpproach to the Upper Town by 
 .Mountain Hill. 
 
 
 * 
 f.. 
 
QUEBEC. 
 
 13 
 
 on his native heath. It was the same with the cities of France in the seventeenth cen- 
 tury : but it is not so now. Things have changed there. The Revohition made the Old 
 World New. In Quebec the New World clings to the garments of the Old. Champlain 
 first induced the Recollet friars to come to his aid. The Jesuits, then at the height of 
 their power in France, followed. The Company disliked missionaries almost as much as 
 it disliked farmers. "They tolerated the poor Recollets," says Ferland, "but they dreaded 
 the coming of the Jesuits, who had powerful protectors at Court and wiio could through 
 them carry their complaints to the foot of the throne." Consequently, when the first 
 detachment of Jesuits arrived they found every door shut against them, and if the Re- 
 collets had not offered them hospitality they would have been obliged to return to 
 France. 
 
 Magnificent missionaries those first Jesuits were ; more devoted men never lived. The 
 names especially of Charles Lallemant and Jean de Brebeuf are still sacred to thousands 
 of French-Canadian Roman Catholics. Two things the Jesuits felt the colony must have 
 — a school for the instruction of girls, and a hospital for the sick. These institutions 
 they desired for the sake of the colonists, most of whom were poor, but still more fcr 
 the sake of the Indians. The Fathers had left France to convert the Indians; on that 
 work their hearts were set, and they gave themselves to it with a wisdom as great as 
 their self-sacrifice. Protestant missionaries, as a class, are only now learning to imitate 
 their methods of procedure, especially with regard to the establishment of hospitals and 
 the acquisition of a perfect knowledge of the language and modes of thought of the 
 people whose conversion they seek. What Livingstone did in South Africa when he cut 
 himself loose from all the other missionaries who kept within reach of the comforts of 
 the colony, and plunged into the thick of the native tribes beyond ; what the Canadian 
 missionary Mackay did eight years ago in Formosa with such brilliant success, the Jesuits 
 always did. Their first task was to master the language. Grammatical knowledge, 
 they knew, was not enough. They lived in the wigwams of the wretched, filthy no- 
 mads, travelled with them, carrying the heaviest loads, and submitted to cold and heat, 
 to privations, and the thousand abominations of savage life, without a murmur. They 
 cared for the sick, and, expecting little aid from the old, sought to educate the young. 
 Charlevoix tells us how they succeeded in establishing in Quebec both the Hotel Dieu and 
 the Ursuline Convent. Madame la Duchesse D'Aiguillon, the niece of Richelieu, undertook 
 to found the first. To carry out her pious project she applied to the hospital nuns of Dieppe. 
 " These holy women accepted with joy the opportunity of sacrificing all that they counted 
 dear in the world for the service of the sick poor of Canada ; ill offered themselves, 
 all asked with tears tto be admitted to share in the work." About the same time Madame 
 de la Peltrie, a widow of a good family, resolved to found the Convent of the Ursu- 
 lines. She devoted all her fortune to give a Christian education to the girls of the 
 colonists and of the Indians, and followed up these sacrifices by devoting herself to the 
 
14 
 
 Pl( TL KliSOC'H C WiVADA, 
 
 IN THE GARDENS OF TIIK URSULINK CONVENT. 
 
 work. YounjT, rich, beauti- 
 ful, siic renounced ail ad- 
 vantages and prospects for 
 wliat tlien must have been 
 a worse tlian Sijjerian e.xiie. 
 At Tours, among the Ursu- 
 iine nun.s, she found Marie 
 de I'l Incarnation, who be- 
 came the first Mother Su- 
 perior of the new convent, 
 and "Marie de .St. Joseph, 
 wiiom New I'Vance regards 
 as one of its tutelary 
 angels." On the fourth of 
 May, 1639, she embarked 
 with three hospital nuns, 
 three Ursulines, and Perc 
 Vimond, and on the first 
 of July they arrived at 
 Quebec. The length of the 
 voyage, not to refer to its 
 discomforts, reminds us of 
 the difference between cross- 
 ing the Atlantic then and 
 now. All Quebec rejoiced 
 on their arrival. Work 
 ceased, the shops were shut, 
 and the town was 01 fitc. 
 " The Governor received 
 the heroines on the river's 
 bank at the head of his 
 troops with a discharge of 
 cannon, and after the first 
 compliments he led them, 
 amid the acclamations of 
 tlie people, to church, where 
 Te Deums were chanted 
 as a thanksgiving." From 
 that day till her death. 
 
^^^r 
 
 QUEBEC. 
 
 '5 
 
 thirty-two years after, Madame de la I'eltrii.- .tjavt; lierself up to the work she had 
 undertaken. Mere Marie de I'lncarnation, whose fervent piety and spiritiiaUty of 
 chai .cter gained her the name o{ tin; Ste. Iheresa of New I""rance, died a year after her. 
 These two women Hved in an atmosphere! so different from ours, that it is extremely 
 difificult for us to judge them. Both have been condemned, the one as an unnatural 
 mother, the other as a disobedient daughter. They believed they were sacrificing the- 
 claims of nature to the superior claim of their .Saviour. Certainly, their works have 
 followed them. The great Ursuline Convent of Ouebec, to which hundreds of girls are 
 sent to be educated from all parts of the continent, is their monument. The buildings 
 have been repeatedly destroyed by fire, but have always been replaced by others more 
 expensive and substantial, the community apparently delighting to testify its sense of the 
 value of the work done by the devoted Sisters. Within their spacious grounds, in the 
 heart of the city, are various buildings, one for boarders, among whdin to this day are 
 daughters of Indian chiefs; another for day scholars; a normal school; a school for the 
 poor; a chapel and choir, and nuns' cjuarters ; with gardens, play and pleasure grounds 
 for the youthful inmates, and summer and winter jjromenades — all eloquent with the 
 memories of the pious founder, who had not disdained to toil in tlie garden with her 
 own hand. To each generation of susceptible minds the lives of Mme de la Peltrie and 
 Mere Marie are held up for imitation, and no honour is grudged to their n ^mories. 
 
 Not only religious, but charitable and moral, was Ouebec under the administration 
 of Champlain and his successors. Ferland cites the registers of Notre Dame of Ouebec 
 to show that out of 664 children baptised between 1621 and 1661, only one was illegiti- 
 mate. Still, the colony did not prosper; again and again it was on the point of extinc- 
 tion at the hands of the Iroquois. The Company sat upon its agricultural and indus- 
 trial development like the old man of the sea. In 1663 the population of New I'" ranee 
 consisted of only two thousand souls, scattered along a thin liroken line frcjm Tadoussac 
 to Montreal. Of this small total Ouebec claimetl 800. At an\- moment a rude breath 
 would have killed the colony, but now favouring gales came from Old I'lance. Louis 
 XIV. determined to suppress the Company, and bring Canada under his own direct 
 authority. He constituted by direct appointment a Sovereign Council to sit in Ouebec, 
 immediately responsible to himself, the principal functionaries to be the Governor-Gene- 
 ral, the Royal Intendant, and the Bishop, each to be a spy on the other two. The 
 Governor-General believed himself to be tlie head of the colony ; he formed the apex 
 of the governmental pyramid. But the Intendant, who was Chief of Justice, Police, 
 Finance, and Marine, understood that the King looked to him, and that the colony was 
 in his hands, to be made or marred. The Bishop, again, knew that both Governor- 
 General and Intendant would have to dance according as he pulled the wires at Court. 
 Talon, the first Intendant who arrived in Ouebec, was the ablest who ever held the 
 position. Talon was a statesman, a pupil of Colbert, and in some respects in advance 
 
 ( 
 
i6 
 
 I'lC 11 'R/:S(JL ■/■ L AAA DA. 
 
 I 
 
 
 11 
 
 i )i 
 
 of his great master. H^; urged immigration as a means of ensuring to France the pos- 
 session of the New World. Coll)ert, witii the wistlom of the seventeenth century, repHed 
 that it would not be |)rudent to depopulate the kingdom. " Secure New York," Talon 
 urged, "and the great game will be gained for l'' ranee." When that step was not taken 
 he projected a road to Acadie, — which it was left to our day, by the construction of the 
 Intercolonial Railway, to carry out, and thus to give to Canada indispensable winter 
 ports. He pushed discovery in every direction, selecting his men with marvellous sagacity. 
 Under his direction, St. Simon and La Couture reached Hudson's Bay by the valley of 
 the Saguenay ; Pere Druilletes, the Atlantic seaboard by the Chaudiere and the Ken- 
 nebec ; Ferrot, the end of Lake Michigan and the entrance of Superior; Joliet and Pere 
 Marquette, the father of waters down to the Arkansas. In Talon's day Quebec rose 
 from being a fur-trading post into commercial importance. He believed in the country 
 he had been sent to govern, and was of opinion that a wise national policy demanded 
 the encouragement in it of every possible variety of industrial development. His mantle 
 fell on none of his successors. Instead of fostering the industries Talon had inauguraied 
 and defending the commercial liberty which he had obtained, they stifled industry and 
 trade under restrictions and monopolies. Not that the Intendants were wholly to 
 blame ; they were sent out on purpose to govern the colony, not with a view to its own 
 benefit, but with a view to the benefit of Old France. Neither the King nor his minister 
 could conceive that Canada would benefit the mother country, only as its material and 
 industrial development increased. Talon had twelve successors. Of all these, the last. 
 Bigot, was the worst. To Bigot more than to any other man P'rance owes the loss of 
 the New World. He impoverished the people, nominally for the King's service, really 
 to enrich himself. That the poor, plundered, cheated habitans were willing to fight as 
 they did for the King, and that Montcalm was able to accomplish anything with the 
 commissariat Bigot provided, are the wonderful facts of the Conquest of 1759. The In- 
 tendant's house was by far the most expensive and most splendidly furnished in Quebec. 
 It was emphatically "The Palace," and the gate nearest it was called the Palace Gate. 
 It stood outside the walls, — its principal entrance opposite the cliff on the present line of 
 St. Valier .Street, "under the Arsenal;" while its spacious grounds, beautifully laid out in 
 walks and gardens, extending over several acres, sloped down to the river .St. Charles.* 
 It is described in 169CS as having a frontage of 480 feet, consisting of the Royal store- 
 house and other buildings, in addition to the Palace itself, so that it appeared a little 
 town. In 1 713 it was destroyed by fire, but immediately rebuilt in accordance with the 
 French domestic style of the period, two storeys and a basement, as shown by sketches 
 made by one of the oft'icers of the fieet that accompanied Wolfe's expedition. Here, no 
 matter what might be the poverty of the people, the Intendant surrounded himself with 
 splendour. In Bigot's time every form of dissipation reigned in the Palace; while the 
 * .Summary of the " History of the Intendants Palace," hy Chari.ics Wai.ke.m, Militia Department. 
 
 m 
 
QUEBEC. 
 
 n 
 
 habitant, who had left his farm to fii^rht for the Kinjr, could hardly pet a ration of 
 black brcatl for hiinsclf, or a sou to s('nd to his starviniL,^ wife and littli' ont-s at 
 home. Our illustration shows all that is left of the mapniticent I'alace. It arose out 
 
 of a brewery started by Talon as a part of 
 
 his national policy, and it has returned 
 
 to be part of a i)rewery, and for all the luxury and bravery there is nothin^r now 
 
 to show, and the cheatinjj; and the ijjamblino- are, let us hope, receivintj their just 
 
 recompense of reward. 
 
 The Governor's Chateau is not. The Intendant's Palace was destroyed more 
 than a century a_a;o, but the Hishop's house, seminary and cathedral still remain, and the 
 bishop, or archliishop as he is now styled, is yet the most potent personaj^e in Quebec. 
 The early bishop, Laval, is one of the historic titriires of New France. Seen by 
 Ultramontane eyes, this first Canadian bishop stands on the highest pinnacle of human 
 e.xcellence and t^reatness ; the only mystery beinsj^ that the Church has not yet canon- 
 ized him. He did everything; " for the t^lory of Ciod." the e.xpression meaning to 
 him, as to ecclesiastical fanatics of every creed, the glory of the Church, and in some 
 measure the glory of himself. He cared nothing for money or any form of vulgar 
 
i8- 
 
 PICTL RI'.SQl li C \ I X.I PA. 
 
 ii 
 
 prcatncss. His aiTil)ition was Iciftifr. I !<■ would rule tlic souls ol mk n, and woi' to 
 the iiiaii in liis widely-i'xtcndt'd diocese, he he ( iovernor-Cit'neral, statesman, merchant, priest 
 or savage, who ventured to rail his soul his own. Trui', none seemed mori' read)' than 
 l.aval to i^ive su|)|)orl to the State. I'he Church was supreme only in thinL;s spiritual. 
 Kings, too, ruled by Divine rij^ht. Hut then the Church was to inslruel the King, or the 
 King's representative, as to what matters were civil and what spiritual. l'"or instance, 
 when the bishop decided that the introduction of brandy into the colony was injurious 
 to religion, the imjjorting or sale of brandy became a spiritual matter. In that 
 case the Governor, on pain of excommunication, must jiunish the- vendor of brandy 
 with the ])illory, and, if neeil be, with death. l^\idently, deneral Xeal Dow follows, 
 /oHi^o iiitcrvallo, our first Canadian bishop. Always fighting, Laval could say as 
 honestly as the King himself, "It seems to me I am the only person who is always 
 right." rile constitution of the Church of \t:w I"rance took its permanent form from 
 him. His clergy were his soldiers. When he said ".March," they marched. He 
 established a le.s.ser seminary where they were educated as boys, and the great 
 seminary where they were trained as priests. He assigned their tields of labour, 
 changed tlu'm as he saw meet, and provided a home whither, when intirm or 
 exhausted with labour or oUI age, they might resort, either to recruit or die in 
 peace. Their directory in life and death was every word that ])rocccded out of 
 the mouth of the bishop. Other directory they desired not. To the seminary a 
 University under Ro\al Charter was attached in Il'^52, and to that l'ni\-ersity Laval's 
 name has been deserveilly given. The Charter, which sets forth that the seminar)^ 
 has existed for two hundred years, constitutes the archbishop visitor, and the superior 
 and directors of the seminary a body corporate, with all the privileges of a L'niver- 
 sity, and full power to make all statutes and appoint all professors. " La\al Cniversity 
 has nothing more to ask from the civil and religious authorities to complete its 
 constitution," is the announcement of its board of government. Its Royal Charter 
 assimilates it to the most favouri'd I'niversity of the United Kingdom, while the 
 sovereign pontitT, Pius the Ninth, magnificently crowned the edifice by according to 
 it in 1876 solemn canonical honours by the Hull "inter varias soticitudincs." 
 
 l-rom the opjiosite shore of Levis, Laval LIniversity, standing in the most 
 commanding position in the upper town, towering to a height of five storeys, is the 
 most cons|)icuous building in Quebec. The American tourist takes it for the chief 
 hotel of the place, and congratulates himself that a child of the monster hotels he 
 loves has found its way north of the line. When he finds that it is only a University, 
 he visits it as a matter of course, looks at the library antl museum, remarking casually 
 on their inferiority to those in any one of the four hundred and odd Universities in 
 the United .States, and comes out in a few minutes, likely enough without having 
 gone to the roof to see one of the most glorious panoramas in the New World. Here 
 
 m 
 
oii:ni-:c. 
 
 Al TIIK GATE OK LAVAL LNIVKRSITV. 
 
 he is, at the j^ate. Blessinjj^s on his serene, kindly sense of superiorit)' to all men or 
 things in heaven . or on earth ! He has seen nothing that can compare for a 
 moment with Slickville. Englishmen, Frenchmen, Sisters, students, Canadian soldiers, 
 civilians, are round about, but he alone is monarch of all he surveys. A strange 
 sight arrests his attention. Young Canada, cap in hand, cap actually off his head, and 
 
30 
 
 PICrURESQUli CAi\AI)A. 
 
 head reverently bowed while a priest speaks a kind word or perhaps gives his blessing! 
 This is something new, ami he is too good an observer not to make a note of it, 
 congratulating himself at the same time that he is willing to make allowances. Is 
 it not his " specialty," as John Riiskin hath it, "his one gift to the race to show men 
 how not to worship?" 
 
 A Canadian may be pardone<l for calling attention to the signilicance of the 
 grant, by the British Government, of a Royal Charter to Laval I'niversity. The 
 trust in an hierarchy that the people trust, illustrates the fundamental principle of its 
 policy in Canada. No matter what the question, so long as it is not inconsistent with 
 the Queen's supremacy, Canada is governed in accordance with liie constitutionally 
 expressed wishes of the people of each Province. The success wiiich has attended the 
 frank acceptance of this principle suggests the only possible solution of that Irish 
 Question which still battles statesmen. What lias worked like a charm here ought to 
 work in another part of the Empire. Here, we have a million of people oppo.sed in 
 race, religion, character and historical associations to the majority of Canadians, a 
 people whose forefathers fougiit England for a century and a half on the soil on 
 which the children are now living ;— a Celtic people, massed together in one Province, 
 a people proud, sensitive, submissive to their jiriests, and not very well educatfed ; — this 
 people half a century ago bailgered every Ciovernor that Britain sent out, stopjied the 
 supplies, embarrassed authority, and at last broke out into open rebellion. Now, they 
 are peaceable, contented, prosjierous. They co-operate for all purposes of good govern- 
 ment with the other Provinces, do no intentional injustice to the Protestant minority of 
 their own Province, and arc so heartily loyal to the central authority that it has 
 become almost an unwritten law to select the Minister of War from their representatives 
 in Parliament. Let him who runs read, and read, too, the answer of D'.Xrcy McGee to 
 those who wondered that the young rebel in Ireland .should Ije the mature ardent 
 admirer of British government in Canada: "If in my day Ireland had been governed 
 as Canada is now governed, I would have been as sound a constitutionalist as is to 
 be found in Ireland." 
 
 The best thing Louis XIV. did for Quebec was the sending to it of the regi- 
 ment of Carignan-Salieres. A few companies of veterans, led by Canadian blue-coats, 
 penetrated by the Richelieu to the lairs of the Iroijuois, and struck such terror 
 into them that the colony was thenceforth allowed to breathe and to grow. Still 
 better, when the regiment was disbanded, most of the soldiers remained, and many 
 of the picturesque towns and villages that iiave grown up along the Richelieu 
 and St. Lawrence owe their names to the officers, to whom large seignorial rights 
 were given by the King on condition of their settling in the colony. From these 
 veterans sprang a race as adventurous and intrepid as ever lived. Their exploits as 
 salt-water and fresh-water sailors, as coureiirs de bois, discoverers; soldiers regular and 
 
QUIilUiC. 
 
 31 
 
 irrejiular, fill many a \ya\<^' of old Canadian history. Whether with the j^allant brothers 
 Le Moync, deftMulin^j (Jiiclu-c a^Minst Sir William I'hipps, or striking; terror into New 
 York and New ICn^dand hy swift forays such as Hertcl cU; Kouville leil ; or with 
 Dii i.luil and Diirantaye, breaking,' loose from tht; strait-jacket In which Royal in- 
 tendants imprisoned the colony, and abandoning,' themselves to the sava^'e freedom of 
 western fort and forest life; or under D'iberville, most celebrated of the seven sons 
 of Charles Le Moyne, sweeping the linj^lish llaj; from Newfoundland and Hudson's 
 Bay or colonizing Louisiana; or with Jumonville and his brother on the Ohio, de- 
 featin^f Washinj^ton and Hraddock ; or vainly conquerinjr at I'ort William Henry and 
 Carillon and Montmorency and Ste. I'oye, — the picture is always full of life and colour. 
 Whatever else may fail, valour and devotion to the Kinjf never fail. We tinil the 
 dare-devil courage joined with the j^aiety of heart and ready accommodation to cir- 
 cumstances that make the Frenchman popular, alike with friendly savaj^jes and civil- 
 ized foemen, in all parts of the world. Canadian e.xperiences developed in the oUl 
 French stock new cjualities, j^ood and bad, the good predominating. Versed in all 
 kinds of woodcraft, handling an a.xe as a modern tourist handles a tooth-pick, managing 
 a canoe like Indians, inured to the climate, supplying themselves on the march with 
 food from forest or river and cooking it in the most approved style, fearing neither 
 frost nor ice, depth of snow nor depth of muskeg, independent of roads, — such men 
 needed only a leader who understood them to go anywhere into the untrodden 
 depths of the New World, and to do anything that man could do. Such a leader 
 they found in Louis de Buade, Compte de Palleau et de Frontenac. Huade Street 
 recalls his name, and there is little else in the old city that does, though Quebec 
 loved him well in his day. Talon had done all that man could do to develop the 
 infant colony by means of a national policy that stimulated industry, and an imnji- 
 gration policy, wise and vigorous enough, as far as his appeals to the King and 
 Colbert went, for the nineteenth century. Another man was needed to enable the 
 thin line of colonists to make head against the formidable Iroquois, backed as they 
 were by the Dutch and English of New York, and against the citizen sailors and 
 soldiers of New England; to direct their energies to the Great Wost ; to make them 
 feel that the power of France was with them, no matter how far they wandered 
 from Quebec ; and to inspire them with the thought that the whole unbounded con- 
 tinent was theirs by right. Such a man was Frontenac. Of his quarrels with intendants 
 and clergy it would be a waste of time to speak. To defend him from the accusations 
 made against his honour is unnecessary. How could quarrels be avoided where three 
 officials lived, each having some reason to believe, in accordance with the profound 
 state-craft of the Old Regime, that he was the supreme ruler ! b'rontenac was titular 
 head, and he would be the real head. Neither bishops nor intendants should rule 
 in his day, and they did not, and could not. They could worry him and even secure 
 
23 
 
 PICrURHSQili LAX. IDA 
 
 his recall, l)iii they coiiKI not jj^overn the colony wlu:n thc-y jroi ilic diaiuf. I'Vontenac 
 
 had to hr sent hack to his 
 post, .111(1 tlic univLTsal joy 
 with which the iH'opU; re- 
 ceived him showed that, as 
 usual, the |)eo|)le overlook 
 irritabilities and shortcom- 
 inj,rs, and discern the man. 
 "He would have been a 
 },freat prince if heaven had 
 pl.iceil him (jn a throne," 
 says Charlevoix. The yood 
 Jesuit forj^ets that I'Von- 
 tenac was the only man 
 who souj,du to ascertain by 
 ancient li').fitimate methods 
 the views of all classes of 
 the people, anil that as 
 Ouehec wys shut out from 
 communication with the 
 throne for half the 
 year, the Governor had 
 to act as a king or to 
 see the country without 
 a head, hronte- 
 nac understood 
 the great game 
 that was being 
 played for the 
 sovereignty of 
 this continent. 
 He had almost 
 boundless influ- 
 ence over the 
 Indians, because 
 he appreciated 
 them, and in his 
 
 BL'ADE STREET. 
 Named after Frontenac, 
 
 heart of hearts was one 
 
 of themselves. No one understood so we 
 
 what Indians were fitted to do in the wild warfare 
 
 that the situation demanded. At the time of his 
 
 death all signs betokened that France was to dominate the New World. The treaties 
 
 Champlain had made with the Indians held good. The tribes farther west had allied 
 
QUKREC. 
 
 n 
 
 
 themselves with the Irciuh. At every strategic point th( 
 
 white llajj with the Jlcurs ilc lis lloatid over a riiilir fort. 
 
 I'll.' St. I.awn-ncr was linkfii li\ lints of military comimini- 
 
 cation with ihcdiilf of Mexico, yuehcc had proiid- 
 
 ly t>iiilt tJK' liiiiriii of Notro Danu- dc la Xictoiri- 
 
 to coiiinifnioiatt- the defeat of New Knjjiand, and tin; 
 
 IKiwer of tiic terrible Iroquois had been so 
 
 broken that they could no lon^'cr threaten 
 
 the e.xistence of the colony. 
 
 In spite of I'rontenac, it was not to 
 be as the signs indicat<'d. In si)ite 
 of Montcalm's victories it was not to 
 be. History was again to prove that 
 in a contest between peace anil war, 
 between steady industry antl dashing 
 forays, between the farmer and the 
 " >. soldier, the former is sure to 
 win in the long run. The 
 
 
 
 S'ni' 
 
 HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 corruptions of the Court of France had to do with 
 the issue remotely. Bigot and his vile entourage had 
 to do with it immediately. Rut by no possibility 
 could si.xty thousand poor, uneducated Canadians continue to Vy-^, 
 resist the ever-increasing weight of twenty or thirty times their \v 
 
 number of thrifty, intelligent neighbours. Wolfe might have 
 been defeated on the Plains of Abraham. When we think of Mont- 
 calm's military genius, the victories gained by him against heavy odds in '^ 
 previous campaigns, and his defeat of Wolfe's grenadiers a few weeks 
 before the final struggle, our wonder .indeed is that the British were 
 not hurled over those steep clifTs they had so painfully clambered up on that memorable 
 
 < 
 
24 
 
 Pit ' rVR ESQ L '/: CA NA DA . 
 
 m 
 
 early September morning. Scotchmen attributed the result to those men " in tlie garb of 
 old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome," whom the British Ciovcrnment had been 
 wise enough to organize into regiments out of the clans who a few years before 
 had marched victoriously from their own northern glens into the heart of Eng- 
 land. And Wolfe, had he lived, would probably have agreed with them. I'or, when 
 he told the grenadiers, after their defeat, that, if they had supposed that they 
 alone could beat the French army, he hoped they had found out their mistake, his 
 tone indicated a boundless confidence in his Highlanders more flattering than any 
 eulogy. I t the most crowning victory for Montcalm would only have delayed the 
 inevitable Other armies were converging towards Quebec. And behind the armies 
 was a population, already counting itself by millions, determined on the destruction 
 of that nest on the northern rock whence hornets were ever issuing to sting and 
 madden. No one understood the actual state of affairs better than Montcalm. He 
 knew that France had practically abandoned Canada, and left him to make the best 
 fight he could for his own honour against hopeless odds. Hence that precipitate attack 
 on Wolfe, for which he has been censured. He knew that every hour's delay would 
 increase Wolfe's relative strength. Hence, too, that abandonment of the whole cause, 
 after the battle, for which he has been censured still more severely. " I will neither 
 give orders nor interfere any further," he exclaimed with emotion, when urged to issue 
 instructions about the defence of the city. He had done all that man could ilo. 
 He had sealed his loyalty with his blood. And now, seeing that the stars in their 
 courses were fighting against the cause he had so gallantly upheld, and thtU the issue 
 was pre-determined, he would take no more responsibility. He knew, too, that his 
 best avengers would be found in the ranks of his enemies ; that Britain in crushing 
 F"rench power in its seat of strength in America, was overreaching herself, and pre- 
 paring a loss out of all proportion to th - esent gain. He appreciated the '• Bostonnais;" 
 predicting that they would never submit to an island thousands of miles away when 
 they controlled the continent, whereas they would have remained loyal if a liostile 
 power held the .St. Lawrence and the Lakes. Was he not rigiit ? And had not I'itt 
 and Wolfe, then, as much to do vith bringing about the separation of the Thirteen 
 States from the mother country, as Franklin and W^ashington .' 
 
 The story of the cam|)aigns of 1 759-60 need not be told here. Every incident 
 is familiar to the traditional school-boy. l'!!ver)' tourist is sure to visit Wolfe's Cove 
 for himself, and to ascend the heights called after the old .Scottish pilot "Abraham" 
 Martin. No sign of war nowi Rafts of timber in the Cove, and ships from all 
 waters to carry it away, instead of boats crowd(!d with rugged Highlanders silent as 
 the grave. No trouble apprehended by any one, e.xcept from stevedores whose right it 
 is to dictate terms to commerce and occasionally to throw the city into a state of siege. 
 No precipice now, the face in which must be scaled on hands ami knees. A pleasant 
 
 Sfe? 
 
OL'HBRC. 
 
 n 
 
 road leads to the Plains, and you and your party can drive leisurely up . There, 
 before you, across the common, is the modest column that tells where Wolfe " died 
 victorious." Between it and the Citadel are Martello towers, digging near one of 
 which some years ago, skeletons were found, and military buttons and buckles, the 
 dreary pledges, held by battle-fields, of human valour and devotion and all the pomp 
 and circumstance of war. You must drive into the city to see the monument that 
 commemorates the joint glory of Montcalm and Wolfe ; and out again, to see the 
 third monument, sacred to the memory of the braves who, under the skilful De 
 Levis, uselessly avenged at Ste. Foye the defeat of Montcrlm. 
 
 The red-cross flag floated over the Chateau of St. Louis, and New England gave 
 
 f 
 
 OVKKI.OOKING ST, CHARLES VALLEY. 
 
 thanks. Fifteen years passed away, 
 and Montcalm's prediction was fulfilled. 
 The "Bostonnais" were in revolt. Wise with the teaching of more tiian a centurj', 
 they at the outset determined to secure the St. Lawrence ; and they would have 
 succeeded, had it not been for the same strong rock of Quebec which had foiled 
 them so often in the old colonial days. Arnold advanced through the roadless wilderness 
 of Maine, defying swamps, forests, and innumerable privations as hardily as ever did 
 the old Canadian noblesse when they raided the villages and forts of Maine. Montgomery 
 swept the British garrisons from the Richelieu and Montreal, and joined yXrnold at 
 the appointed rendezvous. Their success must have astonished themselves. The 
 explanation is that the colony had no garrison; to speak of, and that the French 
 Canadians felt that the quarrel was none of their making. In a month all Canada 
 — Quebec excepted — had been gained for Congress ; and there was no garrison in Quebec 
 capable of resisting the combined forces that Arnold and Montgomery led. But Guy 
 Caricton reached Quebec, and another proof was given to the world that one man may 
 be equal to a garrison. In a few days be had breathed his own spirit into the militia, 
 
26 
 
 PIC rURHSOUE L AN ADA. 
 
 \ 
 
 ovi;ri,ooki.\c; north ciianni.i.. 
 
 Kri)ni Grantl Haltery ami Ijval University. 
 
 native Canadians as well as British born. 
 
 Tiic invaiicrs cstahlishod tiiemselvcs in ""f^^'-i 
 
 tlic Intendant's Palaci' and otlicr iioiises ' "^ 
 
 near the walls, and after a month's siejfe made a 
 resolute attempt to take the city by storm. Whatever 
 may have been tlu; result of a more precipitate attack, 
 the delay unquestionably afforded greater advantages 
 
QUEBEC. 
 
 a; 
 
 to the besieged than to the besiegers. Mont- 
 gomery set out from W'olfe's Cove and crept 
 along the narrow pathway now known as Cham- 
 plain Street. Arnold advanced from the oppo- 
 site direction. His intention was to force his 
 way round by what is now .St. Roch's suburbs, 
 below the ramparts, and under the cliff at 
 present crowned by Laval University and the 
 Grand Battery, and to meet Montgomery at 
 the foot of Mountain Hill, when their united 
 forces would endeavour to gain the upper 
 town. Not the first fraction of the plan, 
 on the one side or the other, succeeded. 
 Arnold's men were surrounded and captured. 
 Montgomery, marching 
 in the gray dawn through 
 a heavy snow-storm, 
 came upon a batterj 
 that blocked up the 
 
 n a r r o w pathway. 
 He rushed forward, 
 hoping to take it by 
 surprise ; but the 
 gunners were on the 
 alert, and the first 
 discharge swept him 
 and the head of his 
 column, maimed or 
 dead, into tiie deep 
 white snow or over 
 the Jjank. The snow 
 continued to fall, 
 quietly effacing ail 
 
 WOLFE'S 
 MONUMKNT. 
 
 MARTKI.LO TOWER. 
 
 On the I'l.iins of Abnihani. 
 
 signs of the conflict. A few hours after, Montgomery's body was found lying 
 in the snow, stark and stiff, and was carried to a small log-house in St. Louis 
 Street. No more gallant soldier fell in the Revolutionary War. Nothing now could 
 be done even by the daring Arnold, though he lingered till spring. One whiff of 
 grape-shot had decided that Congress must needs leave its ancient foit to itself. 
 
28 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 to work out its destinies in connection with tiiat British Empire which it had so 
 long defied. 
 
 That decision has ruled events ever since. From that day to this, constitutional 
 questions have occupied the attention of the Canadian people, instead of military ambition 
 and the game of war. No such questions could emerge under the Old Regime. Consti- 
 tutional development was then impossible. The fundamental principle of the Old Regime 
 was that the spiritual and the civil powers ruled all subjects by Divine right, and therefore 
 
 that the first and last duty of govern- 
 ment was to train the people under a 
 long line of absolute functionaries, re- 
 ligious and civil, to obey the powers 
 that be. A demand for representative 
 institutions could hardly be expected 
 to come in those circumstances from 
 the French Canadians. Their ambition 
 extended no further than the hope that 
 they might be governed economically, 
 on a hard-money basis, and according 
 to their own traditions. Their relation 
 to the land, their disposition, habits 
 and training, .their unquenchable Celtic 
 love for their language, laws and re- 
 ligion, made them eminently conserva- 
 tive. From the day the British flag floated over their heads, they came into the 
 possession of rights and privileges of which their fathers had never dreamed. The 
 contrast between their condition under Great Britain with what it had been under 
 France, could not be described more forcibly than it was by Papineau in the year 
 1820 on the hustings of Montreal: — "Then — under France — trade was monopolised by 
 privileged Companies, public and private property often pillaged, and the inhabitants 
 dragged year after year from their homes and i.milies to shed their blood, from the 
 shores of the Great Lakes, from the banks of the Mississippi and the Ohio, to Nova 
 Scotia, Newfoundland, and Hudson's Bay. Now, religious toleration, trial by jury, the 
 act of Habeas Corpus, afford legal and equal security to all, and we need submit to no 
 other laws but those of our own making. All these advantages have become our 
 birthright, and shall, I hope, be the lasting inheritance of our posterity." But a disturbing 
 element had gradually worked its way among the liahitans, in the form of merchants, 
 officials, and other British residents in the cities, and United Empire Loyalists from 
 the States, and disbanded soldiers, to whom grants of land had been made in various 
 parts of the Province, and especially in the eastern townships. From this minority 
 
 HOUSE ro WHICH MOMGUMKKV'S BODY WAS CAKKitU. 
 
QUEBEC. 
 
 29 
 
 came the first demand for larjrcr liberty. These men of British antecedents felt that 
 they ''ould not and would not tolerate military sway or civil absolutism. They demanded, 
 and they taught the Gallo-Canadians to demand, the rights of free men. At the same 
 time, immigration began to (low into that western part of Canada, now called the Province 
 of Ontario. It could easily be foreseen that this western part would continue to 
 receive a population essentially different from that of Eastern or Lower Canada. A 
 wise statesmanship resolved to allow the Eastern and Western sections to develop 
 according to their own sentiments, and to give to all Canada a constitution modelled, as 
 far as the circumstances of the age and country permitted, on the British Constitution. 
 To secure these objects, Mr. Pitt passed the Act of 1 791— an Act that well deserves the 
 name, subsequently given to it, of the first " Magna Charta of Canadian freedom." The 
 bill divided the ancient " Province of Quebec" into two distinct colonies, under the names 
 of Upper and Lower Canada, each section to have a separate elective Assembly. Fox 
 strenuously opposed the division of Canada. "It would be wi.ser," he .said, "to unite 
 still more closely the two races than separate them." Burke lent the weight of political 
 philosophy to the practical statesmanship of Pitt. " For us to attempt to amalgamate 
 two populations composed of races of men diverse in language, laws and habitudes, is a 
 complete absurdity," he warmly argued. Pitt's policy combined all that was valuable in 
 the arguments of both F^ox and Burke. It was designed to accomplish all that is now 
 accomplished, according to the spirit as well as the forms of the British Constitution, 
 by that federal system under which we are happily living. In order to make the Act 
 of 1 79 1 successful, only fair play was required, or a disposition on the part of the leaders 
 of the people to accept it loyally. All constitutions require that as the condition of 
 success. Under Pitt's Act the bounds of freedom could have been widened gradually 
 and peacefully. But it did not get fair play in Lower Canada, from either the repre- 
 sentatives of the minority or of the majority of the people. The minority had clamoured 
 for representative institutions. They got them, and then made the discovery that the 
 gift implied the government of the country, not according to their wishes, but according 
 to the wishes of the great body of the people. Naturally enough, they then fell back 
 on the Legislative Council, holding that it should be compo.sed of men of British race 
 only or their sympathisers, and that the Executive should be guided not by the 
 representative Chamber, but by the Divinely-appointed Council. On the other hand, 
 the representatives of the majority soon awoke to understand the power of the weapon 
 that had been put into their hands. When they did understand, there was no end to 
 their delight in the use of the weapon. A boy is ready to use his first jack-knife or 
 hatchet on anything and everything. .So they acted, as if their new weapon could not 
 be used too much. As with their countrymen in Old France, their logical powers 
 mterfered with their success in the practical work of government. They were slow to 
 learn that life is broader than logic, and that free institutions are possible only by the 
 
30 
 
 PICTURESQUF. CANADA. 
 
 practice of mutiiai forbearance towards each other of the different bodies among whom 
 the supreme power is distributed. Still, the measure of constitutional freedom that had 
 been generously bestowed had its legitimate effect on the French-Canadians. They 
 learned to appeal to British precedents, and a love of British institutions began to take 
 possession of their minds. Nothing demonstrates this more satisfactorily than the con- 
 trast between their inaction during 1775-6, and their united and hearty action during the 
 war of 1812-15. That war, which may be regarded as an episode in the constitutional 
 history we are sketching, teaches to all who are willing to be taught several important 
 lessons. It showed that French-Canadians had not forgotten how to fight, and that ac- 
 cording as they were trusted so would they fight. No better illustration can be given 
 than Chateauguay, where Colonel de Salaberry with 300 Canadian militiamen and a few 
 Highlanders victoriously drove back an army 7000 strong. The Canadians everywhere 
 flew to arms, in a quarrel, too, with the bringing on of which they had nothing to do. 
 The Governor sent the regular troops to the frontiers, and confided the guardianship of 
 Quebec to the city militia, while men like Bedard who had been accused of " treason,"* 
 because they understood the spirit of the Constitution better than their accusers, were 
 appointed ofificers. Successive campaigns proved, not only that Canada was unconquer- 
 able — even against a people then forty times as numerous — because of the spirit of its 
 people, its glorious winters, and northern fastnesses, but also because an unprovoked 
 war upon Canada will never command the united support of the people of the States. 
 When the war was declared in 181 2, several of the New England States refused their quotas 
 of militia. The Legislature of Maryland declared that they had acted constitutionally in 
 refusing. And all over New England secession was seriously threatened. What happened 
 then would occur again, under other forms, if an effort were made to conquer four 
 or five millions of Canadians, in order to make them citizens of free States. Should 
 either political party propose it, that party would seal its own ruin. A great Christian 
 people will struggle unitedly and religiously to free millions, never to subdue millions. 
 Should momentary madness drive them to attempt the commission of the crime, the 
 consequence would more likely be the disruption of the Republic than the conquest of 
 Canada. 
 
 So much the episode of 1812-15 teaches, read in the light of the present day. 
 When the war was over, the struggles for constitutional development were resumed. 
 Complicated in Lower Canada by misunderstandings of race, they broke out in " the 
 troubles" or sputterings of rebellion of 1837-38. The forcible reunion of the two 
 Canadas in 1840 was a temporary measure, necessitated probably by those troubles. It 
 led to friction, irritations, a necessity for double majorities, and perpetual deadlocks. Did 
 not Pitt in 1791 foresee these as the sure results in the long run of any such union, 
 beautiful in its simplicity though it appears to doctrinaires? The confederation of British- 
 America in 1867 put an end to the paralysis, by the adoption of the federal principle, 
 
QUEBEC. 
 
 31 
 
 and the ordained extension of Canada to its natural boundaries of three oceans on three 
 sides and the watershed of the American continent on the fourth, l-ull self-government 
 having now been attained, our position is no longer colonial. 
 
 What, then, is our destiny to be? Whatever God wills. The only points clear as 
 sunlight to us as a people are, that Canada is free, and that we dare not break up the 
 unity of the grandest Empire the world has ever known. ,\nne.Kation has been advocated, 
 but no one has proved that such a change would be, even commercially, to our advantage. 
 We would get closer to fifty and be removed farther from two hundred millions. 
 Politically, Canada would cease to e.xist. She would serve merely as a make-weight to 
 the Republican or Democratic party. The French-Canadian element, so great a factor 
 actually and potentially in our national life, would become a nullity. We would surrender 
 all hopes of a distinctive future. Strangers would rule over us; for we are too weak 
 to resist the alien forces, and too strong to be readily assimilated. Our neighbours are a 
 great people. So are the French and the Germans. But Helgium does not pray to be 
 absorbed into France, and Holland would not consent to be annexed to Germany. 
 Looking at the question in the light of the past and with foresight of the future, and 
 from the point of view of all the higher considerations that sway men, we say, in the 
 emphatic language of .Scripture, "It is a shame even to speak" of such a thing. We 
 would repent it only once, and that would be forever. Their ways are not our ways ; 
 their thoughts, traditions, history, are not our thouglits, traditions, history. The occa- 
 sional cry for Independence is more honourable; but, to break our national continuity 
 in cold blood, to cut ourselves loose from the capital and centre of our strength ! to 
 gain — what ? A thousand possibilities of danger, and not an atom of added strength. 
 What, then, are we to do ? " Things cannot remain as they are," we are told. Who 
 says that they can ? They have been changing every decade. The future will bring 
 changes with it, and wisdom 1.00, let us hope, such as our fathers had, to enable us to do our 
 duty in the premises. In the meantime, we have enough to do. We have to simplify 
 the machinery of our government, to make it less absurdly expensive, and to disembarrass 
 it of patronage. We have to put an emphatic stop to the increase of the public debt. 
 We have to reclaim half a continent, and throw doors wide open that millions may 
 enter in. We have to grow wiser and better. We have to g.iard our own heads while 
 we seek to do our duty to our day and generation. Is not that work enough for the 
 next half century ? No one is likely to interfere with us, but we are not thereby 
 absolved from the responsibility of keeping up the defences of Halifax and Quebec, and 
 fortifying Montreal by a cincture of detached forts. These cities safe, Canada might 
 be invaded, but could not be held. But what need of defence, when we are assured 
 that "our best defence is no defence." Go to the mayors of our cities and bid them 
 dismiss the police. Tell bankers not to keep revolvers, and householders to poison 
 their watch -dogs. At one stroke we save what we are expending on all the old- 
 
32 
 
 PICTURESQUE CAI^ADA. 
 
 fashioned arrangements of the Dark Ages. It has been discovered that the "best defence 
 is no defence ! " 
 
 It does not become grown men to dream dreams in broad daylight. Wise men 
 regard facts. Here is the Admiral's ship, the shapely " Northampton," in the harbour of 
 
 THK CITADKL. 
 
 Ti-om H. M. S. " Norlhaniplon.* 
 
 Oiiebec. Come on board, 
 and from the quarter-deck 
 ^ take a view of the grand old storied rock. 
 
 Whose money built that vast Citadel that crowns its strength ? Who gave us those 
 mighty batteries on the Levis heights opposite? What enemy on this planet could take 
 Quebec as long as the " Northampton " pledges to us the command of the sea ? And 
 for answer, a charmer says, you would be far stronger, without the forts and without 
 the " Northampton ! " 
 
ff 
 
 gULUKC— A (j LI. Ml 'Si: ikom iiii. ui.u ciiv wall. 
 
Quebec 
 
 ,;M PICTURESQUE AND DESCRll'TIVi:. 
 
 VIEW FROM THK OLD MANOK HOUSli AT UEAUPOKT. 
 
 QUEBEC — the spot where the most refined civilization of the Old World first touched 
 the barbaric wildness of the New — is also the spot where the largest share of the 
 picturesque and romantic element has gathered round the outlines of a grand though 
 rugged nature. It would seem as if those early heroes, the flower of France's chivalry, 
 
34 
 
 PicTUKi'.SQrn c. I.V.I/). I. 
 
 who corKiiiLTc'd a nc!w country from a savajfi- cliinatf aiul a savajjc race, had impressed 
 till' features of their nationality on this rock fortress forever. May yiiebec always 
 retain its French iiliusyncrasy ! The shades of its i)rave founders claim this as their 
 rijfht. I'Vorn Champlain and Laval down to Dc Levis and Montcalm, they deserve this 
 monument to their efforts to huilil up ami preserve a "New I-'rance" in this western 
 world ; and Wolfe for one woukl "'•• have jrrudjfed that the memor> of his jrallant foe 
 should here be closely entwined his own. All who know the value of the 
 
 min^dinjf of diverse elements in emirhinj.^ national life, will rejoici' in the preservation 
 amon^ us of a distinctly l-'reiich element, blending harmoniously in our Canadian 
 nationality. 
 
 "Saxon and Celt and Norniun are we;" 
 
 and we may well be prou<l of iiaving within our borders a " Nt.-vv 1*" ranee " as well as a 
 " Greater Britain." 
 
 Imajjination could hardly have devised a nobler portal to the Dominion than the 
 mile-wide strait, on one side of which rise the green heights of Le'-vis, and on the other 
 the bold, abrupt outlines of Cape I )iamond. To the traveller from the Old World who 
 first drops anchor under those darl, -ocks and frowning ramparts, the tou/> d'wil must pre- 
 sent an impressive frontispiece tc mread volume. The outlines of the rock\- rampart 
 and its crowning fortress, as seen .. a distance, recall both Stirling and Fihrenbreitstein, 
 while its aspect as viewed from the foot of the time-worn, steep-roofed old houses that 
 skirt the height, carries at least a suggestion of Edinburgh Castle from the Grassmarket. 
 To the home-bred Canadian, coming from the flat regions of Central Canaila l)y the 
 train that skirts the southern shore and suddenly finds its way along the abrupt, wooded 
 heights that end in Point Ldvis, with (piaint steep-gabled anil b'dconied French houses 
 climbing the rocky ledges to the right, and affording to curious passengers, through open 
 doors and windows, many a naTve glimpse of the simple domestic life of the habitans, 
 the first sight of (Quebec from the terminus or the ferry station is a revelation. It is 
 the realization of dim, hovering visions conjured up by the literature of other lands more 
 rich in the picturesque element born of antiquity and historical association. On our 
 Republican neighbours, the effect produced is the same. Quebec has no more enthusiastic 
 admirers than its hosts of American visitors ; and no writers have more vividly and 
 appreciatively described its peculiar charm than Parkman ami Howells. 
 
 Looking at Quebec first from the opposite heights of Levis, and then passing 
 slowly across from shore to shore, the striking features of the city and its sur- 
 roundings come gradually into view, in a manner doubly enchanting if it happens 
 to be a soft, misty summer morning. At first, the dim, huge mass of the rock 
 and Citadel, — seemingly one grand fortification, — absorbs the attention. Then the 
 details come out, one after another. The firm lines of rampart and bastion, the 
 
QUF.niiC: IHCTURESQUE AND DESCRfPT/VE. 
 
 35 
 
 shelvinfj outlines of the rock, 
 Diiffcrin Terrace with its lijrht 
 paviMons, the slope of Mountain 
 Hill, the Grand Battery, the con- 
 spicuous pile of Laval University, 
 the dark serried mass of houses 
 clustering- alon<j^ the foot of the 
 rocks and rising gradually up the 
 gentler incline into which these 
 fall away, the busy quays, the 
 large passenger boats steaming in 
 and out from their wharves, all 
 impress the stranger with the 
 most distinctive aspects of Quebec 
 before he lands. 
 
 As soon as he has landed, he is 
 impressed by other features of its 
 ancient and foreign aspect. The 
 narrow, crooked lanes that do duty 
 for streets, the grimy, weather- 
 beaten walls and narrow windows 
 on either side, the steep-roofed antique French houses, the cork-screw ascent towards 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
36 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 the upper town, the rugged pavement over which the wheels of the caliche noisily 
 rattle, recall the peculiarities of an old French town. And before Prescott Gate was 
 sacrificed to modern utilitarian demands, the effect was intensified by the novel sen- 
 sation — in America — of entering a walled town through a real gate, frowning down 
 as from a medizeval story. 
 
 The short, crooked streets of Quebec, diverging at all kinds of angles, make it 
 as difficult to find one's way as in Venice or old Boston. It has grown, like old 
 towns, instead of being laid out like new ones, and its peculiarities of growth have 
 been differenti? ed to a remarkable degree by the exigencies of its site and fortifications. 
 The "lie" of the place can be best e.xplained by saying that the walls embrace a 
 rudely-drawn section of an ellipse, the straight side of which divides the city from 
 the comp?iatively level ground of the country in rear (towards the north-west), while 
 the Citadel occupies the western corner of the curve which follows the edge of the 
 precipice abutting on the St. Lawrence, turning an abrupt corner round the Seminary 
 Gardens, and following the line of the high ground till it descends to the valley 
 of the St. Charlc It was on this side of the natural fortress, to which Quebec 
 owes its antiquity and its pre-eminence as a capital, thr.t the life of the Old World 
 left its first trace on the history of the Canadian wilderness. For here, a little way up 
 the river, Jacques Cartier anchored his ships, which had so astounded the unsophisticated 
 savages as they came, like things of life, sailing up the river. Here, too, he and 
 his men spent the long, bitter winter, waiting wearily for the slowly -coming spring 
 which so many of them never saw. 
 
 But there are pleasanter associations with the side of Quebec which the visitor usually 
 sees first. As we walk or drive up Mountain Hill by the winding ascent which originally 
 e.xisted as a rough gully, the associations are all of Champlain, the Chevalier Bayard 
 of the French rdgimc and the founder of Quebec. One cannot but wonder whether there 
 rose before his inner vision a picture of the city which he may have hoped would grow 
 from the oak and walnut-shaded plateau by the river, and up the sides of the rugged 
 hill that now bears its mass of ancient buildings, climbing to the zig-zagged walls and 
 bastions that crown the highest point of what was then a bare beetling rock. As 
 he watched the stately trees falling under the strokes of his sturdy a.xe-men — where 
 dingy warehouses and high tenements are now densely massed together under the cliff 
 — he may have dreamed of a second Rouen, the queenly capital of a " New France," giving 
 laws to a territory as illimitable as the wilderness of hiil and forest that stretched away 
 on every side beyond the range of eye and imagination. 
 
 But before ascending Mountain Hill, let us turn aside into the little Notre Dame 
 Place, where stands a small quaint church with high-peaked roof and antique belfry, one 
 of the oldest buildings in Quebec, for its walls date back at least before 1690 when the ffete 
 of Notre Dame des Victoires was established to commemorate the defeat of Sir William 
 
 m 
 
■WH.lIIIWMWPyi^^ 
 
 QUEBEC: PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 37 
 
 Phipps. It was close to this spot that Champlain built his first fort and warehouse for 
 stores and peltries. A little farther to the loft— where the Champlain Market, built out 
 of the stones of the old Parliament buildings, presents on market days a busy and 
 picturesque tableau — Ftood the first " Abitation de Ouebecq," perpetuated for us by 
 Champlain's inartistic pencil, with its three tall, narrow wooden houses set close 
 together, its store-house and dove-cote, its loop-holed gallery running round the second 
 storey, its moat and surrounding wall. Just above frowned the dark-brown rock; the 
 blue waters of the St. Lawrence almost washed its outer wall ; while the gardens 
 which Champlain delighted to lay out and plant v iih roses, lay on three sides, to 
 grace the wilderness abode. Now there are no gardens and no roses, — only a busy 
 market-place that blooms out periodically, to be sure, with (lowers and fruit ; masses 
 of buildings, narrow streets and crowded docks, where the tides of the St. Lawrence 
 washed the shingly beach ; huge piles of wharves driving the river still farther 
 to bay ; loaded wains carrying the produce of the Old World from the great ocean 
 vessels or the produce of the New World to them ; light F"rench caldclws dashing by 
 the primitive carts of the market-folk, their drivers exchanging gay badinage as they 
 pass; grave, long-robed priests, or jaunty French clerks or lads in the Seminary uniform 
 hurrying to and fro and replying in French if you ask them a question in English ; — 
 all the busy life of a complex civilization, combined with an air of antiquity which 
 makes it difficult to realize that even three centuries ago the scene was one unbroken 
 wilderness. 
 
 Pursuing Champlain Street a little farther, the lower town presents not a few 
 characteristic studies. A quaint old street — " Sous Le Cap " — lies so close under the 
 precipice surmounted by the Grand Battery and Laval University that no casual passer- 
 by would think of penetrating its obscurity. Its dilapidated old houses, with their backs 
 to the cliff, are braced against their opposite neighbours by cross-beams of timber 
 to keep them upright, and even the narrow French carts can with difficulty pass 
 through what looks more like a Scottish wynd than a Canadian street ; while the old red- 
 capped habitant who sits calmly smoking at his door might have stepped out of a French 
 picture. If we pass down to the docks, we may see ocean vessels preparing for departure, 
 perhaps, out in the stream, a timber ship loading her cargo, — the piles of fragrant wood 
 suggesting the distant forests where, in the clear, sharp winter days the men from the 
 lumber camp were busy hewing down and squaring the giant pines, the growth of cen- 
 turies of summers. 
 
 But it is time for us to retrace our seeps from this region of shipping and docks 
 and piers, of warehouses and offices, stretching along the ledge underneath the Citadel. 
 We may follow back Champlain Street into Little Champlain Street, and pass on 
 to the foot of Break-neck Steps, a shorter and more direct route than the circui- 
 tous one of Mountain Hill, though there is a still easier mode of ascent provided 
 
38 
 
 PIC TURESQ UE CANADA. 
 
 in the new elevator, which transports you to the terrace above without any exertion. 
 On a market day, the steps are alive with the good folks of the upper town 
 going down to market or to business ; and the busy scene below — the crowd of people 
 
 SOL'S LK CAP. 
 
 and conveyances in the market- . _!^t_— — — —— ; — — i^— 
 
 place, with the old houses built — *- 
 
 close against the cliff, the i)ackground of steamboats and shipping, and tiie terrace with 
 its light, graceful pagodas against the sky above — affords one of the many bits of 
 contrast in which Quebec abounds. 
 
 A few minutes bring us to the top of the stairs and out on what was old 
 Durham Terrace, which, e.xtended at the suggestion of Lord Dufferin to the foot of the 
 
QUEnEC: PICTURESQUE AND DESCR/PT/J'E. 
 
 39 
 
 glacis of the Citadel, has ap- 
 propriately taken its present 
 name and, supplied with 
 light pavilions at the points 
 commanding the most strik- 
 ing views, now bears the 
 name of the popular Gov- 
 ernor who so warml)' ap- 
 preciated the old city. It 
 affords one of the noblest 
 promenades that a city 
 could possess, from the mag- 
 nificent view it commands ; 
 while the old portion which, 
 as Durham Terrace, perpetu- 
 ated the name of one of the 
 ablest British Governors of 
 Canada, is also the centre of 
 the most romantic and heroic 
 memories that cluster round 
 Quebec. For, close b)-, in the 
 time of Champlain, was built 
 the rude stockaded fort, within 
 which he and his men were fain 
 to take refuge from the incur- 
 sions of the fierce Iroquois ; 
 while here, also, rose the old 
 Chateau St. Louis which, for 
 two centuries, under tiie Flcnr 
 dc Lis ox the Union Jack, was 
 tile centre of Canadian govern- 
 ment and the heart and core 
 of Canadian defence against 
 Iroquois, British or American 
 assailants. The Chateau of St. 
 Louis — burned down at last, 
 its stones helping to build 
 this broad terrace — might fur- 
 nish material for half a dozen 
 
 
 LOOKING UH FROM THE WHARVES. 
 
40 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
QUF.BEC: PICTURESQUE AND DESCR/PT/l'E. 
 
 41 
 
 romances. Looking across from the busy mass of swarming life below, and the Hitting 
 steamers and stately ships with whicii the river is stiidck-il, you sec, first, the picturesque 
 heights of Levis, on which rise, tier after tier — from the busy town of South Quebec 
 and the Grand Trunk buildings, a town in themselves, — village after village, glittering 
 church spires, massive conventual buildings gleaming out of embosoming foliage, till 
 the eye follov- the curve of the iieight down again to the ri\er. Tlience it follows 
 
 still the line of the lower hills that bound 
 
 the receding shores of the widening expanse 
 
 — the bold outline, looming perhaps, through 
 
 one of the frequent sea- mists, of the 
 
 ^^ richly-wooded, hamlet-sprinkletl Isle of 
 
 CUSTOM UOUSE 
 
 Orleans, — the old He de Bacchus, 
 
 — then northward, across the soft gray expanse of river, with its 
 
 white sails or dark steam-craft, to the hither shore, with the light 
 
 mist of Montmorency on the distant woods, and the grand outlines 
 
 of the Laurentian Hills that here first meet the river whose name ' ' 
 
 they bear; while nearer still, the Grecian front and dome of the Custom House, the 
 
 mass of Laval University and the towers and steeples of the upper town fill in a varied 
 
 foreground. To the right, the terrace stretclies away in a promenade, till it is cut short 
 
 by the steep slope of the Citadel crowned by rampart and bastion, while behind lie the 
 
 shady walks of the Governor's Garden, surrounding the pillar dedicated to the joint 
 
 memory of Wolfe and Montcalm. It is a view to which no artist's pencil could do 
 
 justice, since no picture could give it in its completeness, and it would take many to 
 
42 
 
 PIC TURESQ UE CA NA DA. 
 
 fully illustrate its ever-varying aspect from sunrise to sunset, or when the moonlight 
 enfolds it in a serener and more solemn beauty. 
 
 One might dream away a summer daj' or a summer night on Dufferin Terrace; 
 but the present claims attention as well as the past. Passing to the rear, you can 
 wander through the shady walks of the Governor's Garden or sit on the iron 
 seats near the " Ring," and call up before the imagination the stirring, martial 
 scenes so often enacted on the liraudc PUxcc before the chateau. There the rem- 
 nant of the unfortunate Hurons pitched their tents after the butchery of thousands 
 of their number by the Iroquois on the Isle of Orleans, and there they were allowed to 
 build a small fort. Thither, too, came a deputation of forty Iroquois, tattooed and 
 naked, vociferating an appeal for peace to the Ononthio or Governor, in the summer of 
 1666, when the gallant regiment of Carignan-Salieres had at last succeeded in instilling 
 fear into their savage breasts. Here, also, many a French Governor, as the represent- 
 ative of His Most Catholic Majesty, surrounded by a bewigged and plumed retinue, 
 received with due circumstance the keys of the Castle of St. Louis. 
 
 But it is time that we ascended to the Citadel, at which we have been so long 
 looking from below. A flight of steps takes us up from the western end of Dufferin 
 Terrace to the glacis. Here we again stop to look down. It is the view 
 from the terrace, expanded in every direction. At our feet lies the busy panorama 
 of river and docks ; the Cirand Trunk ferry-boat, like a tiny baltcaii, is stealing 
 across the river in a wide curve, to avoid the pressure of the tide. On the other side 
 we see trains arriving and departing, steaming along the rocky ledge of the opposite 
 height upward towards Montreal or downward on the way to the sea. Just below the 
 Citadel stretches the long massive dock of the Allan Steamship Company, at which, if it is 
 Saturday morning, the Liverpool steamer is l)ing, getting ready for departure. Vans 
 loaded with freight or luggage are discharging their contents into the hold. Passengers 
 are stepping on board to take possession of their cabins, accompanied by friends reluctant 
 to say the final adieu. One looks with a strange interest, never dulled by repetition, 
 at the black hull about to bear its precious freight across the wide ocean to " the under 
 world," unwitting of the peril it is going to brave. 
 
 I'Vom the terrace we climb by a flight of some two hundred and fifty steps to 
 the top of the glacis. A path round its grassy slope leads to the entrance of the 
 Citadel itself — ascending from St. Louis Street, built up on each side by solid stone 
 walls. Passing through the celebrated chain gates, we find ourselves in the spacious 
 area made by the widened ditch and retiring bastion, the level sward being used 
 for a parade-ground. On the green sides of the earthwork above the ditch 
 goats are peacefully grazing, giving an aspect of rural tranquillity that presents a pic- 
 turesque contrast to the massive portals of Dalhousie Gate, with its guard-rooms built 
 into the thickness of the arch on either side. Entering through it, we are at last 
 
QUEBEC: PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 43 
 
 within the Citadel itself, which, spreadiiijr over forty acres its labyrinth of ditch and 
 earthwork and rampart and bastion, impresses us at once with the appropriateness 
 of its proud title of the Canadian (jibraltar. Ascendinjj to the broad j;ravel walk on 
 the top of the bastion, we retrace our steps toward the river by the parallel line of wall 
 on the inner side of the ditch, pierced with embrasures for the cannon that command 
 every avenue of approach. Passinj; on, we take in glimpses of the ever-glorious 
 view which bursts upon us at last in all its magnificence, as we stand on the King's 
 Bastion beside the (lag-staff, — a view which, take it all in all, it is not too much to 
 say is unsurpassed in North America. Quebec — with its quaint contrasts of old 
 and new — lies at our feet, the fringe of buildings and wharves at tlie foot of Cape 
 Diamond literally so, the remainder of the city clustering about and up the height, like 
 Athens about her Acropolis. Across the river, saidded with craft of all imaginable 
 variety — from the huge primitive raft that hardly seems to move, to the swift, 
 arrowy steam-tug or the stately ocean-ship that spreads her sails to catch the breeze 
 — the eye ascends the heights of Levis, beyond the masses of railway buildings to the 
 undulating curves in which nestle the clusters of tiny French houses, with their great 
 protecting churches ; then it follows the widening river, studded with sails, to the dim 
 blue woods and distant hamlets of Orleans ; on, still, to the bold mountains that 
 form so grand a background to the cultivated slopes which descend to the long village 
 street of the Beauport road, with its church towers guiding the eye to the Mont- 
 morency cleft or cmbonchurc, in which, on a very clear day, you can just discern the 
 faint white spray ascending from the I'all ; and farther on, to Cap Tourmente and 
 the blue mountain of St. Anne. Nearer, the glance returning takes in the winding 
 St. Charles, the outlying suburbs of St. John and St. Roch and St. Sauveur, the 
 crooked line of the city wall, the green turf and poplars of the Esplanade, the 
 shady grounds and Officers' Quarters of the Artillery Barracks, the Hotel Dieu, 
 Laval University with its belfrj', the towers of the Basilica, the Gothic turrets of 
 the English Cathedral ; while, just below, we have a bird's-eye view of Dufferin Terrace 
 and its pavilions ; of the Governor's Garden, with the top of Montcalm's monument rising 
 above the trees ; of the line of Champlain Street and Champlain Market, and the rows 
 of tall I'Vench houses that rise up against the dark, slaty cliff, with its fringe and tufts 
 of scanty vegetation ; of the line of wharves and docks, steamboats and steamships, till 
 the field of view is suddenly curtailed by the abutments of the cliff on which we 
 stand. 
 
 But there are other points of view, so we pass on along the entrance front of the 
 Officers' Quarters, a portion of which is set apart for the summer residence of the 
 Governor-General. It is not a very imposing vice-regal abode , but the simplicity of 
 the accommodation and the restricted space are more than atoned for by the noble 
 vistas of river and height and mountain commanded by the deeply-embrasured windows. 
 
44 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 In a line with the Officers' Quarters are the hospital, the magazines and the Observ- 
 atory, where the falling black ball gives the time daily, at one o'clock, to the shipping 
 below. Outside the tiovernor-General's Quarters, and extending towards the King's 
 Hastion, a platform has been erected which, on summer fete-nights, serves as a prome- 
 nade unicpie and wonderful, from which " fair women and brave men " look tlown 
 five hundred feet into the dark abyss below, sparkling with myriads of lights gleaming 
 
 from city, height 
 
 ., ,-— — • — "^-"-'-^ and river. 
 
 At the Prince's 
 Bastion, on the 
 western angle of the 
 fortress, where the 
 " Prince's Feather," 
 carved in stone, 
 commemorates the 
 
 visit of the Prince of Wales, the 
 view is still more extensive. West- 
 ward, we look up tile river, to the 
 green bluff curving into Wolfe's 
 Cove and Sillery, while across we 
 still have before us the varied line 
 of the opposite heights, with their 
 long street of old P'rench houses 
 
 creeping just under its wooded sides, and a little farther to the right you catch 
 the gleam of the steeples of New Liverpool. 
 
 After the eye has been |)artially satisfied with gazing on this grand panorama, we 
 may stroll leisurely along the wall, taking in the ever -shifting views from the various 
 
QUEBEC: PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 45 
 
 VIEW I'ROM Till'. CITADEL. 
 
 points, and ol)servin^ the massiveness 
 of the l)astions and earthworks, that with many 
 a bewildering zijrzag, encompass the central forti- 
 fication. As we pass hack through the chain gates, ' .- 
 let us stop to look into the casemates, or rooms 
 built in the interior of the massive earthwork. One catches 
 a glimpse, through the intervening darkness, of a lighted in- 
 terior, reminding us of a Dutch picture, throwing a bit of 
 domestic life into strong light and shade. Here are rooms where the 
 soldiers and their families reside, the solid earthwork above and around 
 them, deep windows letting in the light and air. Before leaving the precincts 
 of the Citadel, take a look at the rock on which it is built — an uneven, circular 
 surface of light gray rock bearing the soubriquet of " Hog's Back." No French or 
 ancient associations attach to the Citadel, e.\cept to one magazine near the Prince's 
 Bastion, the inner portion of which seems to belong to the French n'gimc, being 
 built of rubble, the outer casing only being modern. The plans for the present 
 Citadel were supervised by the Iron Duke, though he never saw the jilace. The chain 
 gates let us out into a sort of extension of the ditch, from which we emerge by the 
 
46 
 
 riL • 7 Y A' I -SO I /■: C.I X.I /hi. 
 
 MONUMENT TO WCJI.IK AM) MOM I'M. M. 
 
 sally-port. P'roiii tluMicc, a path leads over tlic hrokrii l(I'<>iii1(1 
 of the • riaiiis" to tin; ball-cartridj,^' ticlil. As \vi' pass we 
 shall not fail to iioti' tlic hrokcn j^rassy curves and iimnnds that 
 preserve the outlines of the old I'rench earthworks — thi' prede- 
 cessors of tile present fortifications,— a prom- 
 inent and interesting object. Approach- 
 inj; the iMartello tower we are oblijjed 
 to jfo out on the .St. Louis road, or the 
 Cliciniit (/(• la (iriVit/c . I lice, as it was calletl 
 in the old I'l'ench ]ieiiod. I''ollowinjr this 
 still westward, a turn to the left, between 
 the turn|)ike and the race-course, takes us 
 down to SOUK! barren antl nej^lected-lookin;/ 
 jjround on which stanils Wolfe's monument, 
 and a little farther on, a road leads down- 
 wards to the Cove where Wolfe landed 
 his troops the niL,dit before the battle, 
 when e\en Montcalm at first refused to 
 attach importance to what he thoutjht was 
 
 "only Mr. Wolfe, with a small party, come to burn a few houses, and n'turn." .\ 
 
 roail now winds tlown the face 
 
 of the cliff amont^' tlu; strag- 
 glini;' pines where, in Wolfe's 
 time, there was only a rougii 
 gull)- up which he and his sol- 
 diers scrambled, dragging with 
 them a six -pounder — their onl\- 
 gun — which |)la\-ed no uK^an 
 part in gaining tiie victory. 
 Now the (juiet, bay, with its 
 rafts and lumber-piles and pass- 
 ing craft, is peaceful enough, 
 and in the soft purple light 
 of a summer evcMiing, seems 
 to harmoni/.e less with martial 
 memories than with the asso- 
 ciation with Gray's J^li'gy be- 
 (jueathed to it by Wolfe, who, 
 on the night before the decisive 
 
 'n.MK-HAi.i., 1R(JM iin; pkincics bastion. 
 
or/ui/;c: I'lc ruRiisouH and ni:sci<irri\'r.. 
 
 47 
 
 WOLFE'S COVE. 
 
48 
 
 PICTURliSQUE CANADA. 
 
 action, repeated nere, with perhaps some sad presentiment of impending fate, the 
 Stan/a — 
 
 " The bo.i!il of heraldry, the pump uf power. 
 
 And all that heauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
 Await alike thf iiicviialili: hour— 
 The paths of nl'"')' l'''"l '»" '" •'"' Kr-'ve 1 " 
 
 Retracing,' our steps to the St. Louis roail, \vc follow it straij^ht back to the city, 
 notinjr the linr ngw pile of hiiiklinj^s erectt^d for il\c iloiiscs of I'arliament, just beyond 
 which we pass throiij^h one of the okl j^ates of Quebec, tin; St. Louis (late, now 
 massively rebuilt with embrasures and Norman towers — one of the three still to be 
 preserved to the city. iUit it is not the old .St. Louis ( iate, with its wi-atiier- 
 
 beaten superstructure and zij(zaj.( approach. When the e.\cessi\i; newness has somewhat 
 worn off, it will doui)tless be much more imposinji; than its predecessor, and more fitted, 
 like its nt.'ijLjhbour, K(!nt Gate, built at her Majesty's (.'xpensc, to hold up its head in 
 a progressive aj.[e, which iloes not appreciate dilapidation, however pictures()ue. 
 
 Passinjf throuj^h St. Louis (late, with its new Norman turrets, we have to our right the 
 winding ascent to the Citadel ami to our left the I'^splanade ; while at the corner of the 
 St. Louis llo'.el we arc again in the l)usiness centre of the upper town, and soon come 
 to the open area of the Place d'.Xrmes, whence we pass into Miiade Street, on wiiich 
 stands the new Post-Office, a handsome building of gray cut-stone, plain but in good taste, 
 with two short Ionic pillars at tiie entrance. The old Post-Office which preceded il had 
 a history, symbolized by a Prench inscriiuion tuidcr the sign of the Chien d'Or, or 
 CJolden Dog, which legenilary animal still ri-talns his post over the entrance of the [jreseiit 
 building. 'I'his inscri|)tion was the expression of the wrongs suffered by the original 
 owner — a merchant named Philibert — at the liands of the Intendant Bigot of unsavoury 
 memory. It ran, in old Prench — 
 
 "jk suis vn cmikn qvi ronck i.'os, ' 
 
 En i.k rongeant je pre.nds mon rkpos, 
 
 VN TI:m« VII vnin s'KSI I'AS VI NV 
 
 QVI p .MAVRA MllkllV." 
 
 The legend may be f , "/ my lime." Poor Philibert was never able 
 
 to put his threat into t ution, i life and his plans for revenge being suddenly brought 
 to an end one day on Mountaii Hill, by a sword-thrust from a French officer, no doubt 
 at the Intendant's instigation. 1 lie story had a se(]' 1, however. Philibert's brother, 
 who came all the way from Bordeaux as his execut aii 1 blood-avenger, tracked the 
 assassin to his refuge in the P^ast Indies, and him there. Champlain's bust, 
 
 and the symbolic dog over tiic entrance, with tht n of "The Golden Dog" on an 
 
 inn close by, connect the new Post-Office with t ineinories of old Quebec, while 
 
Qunnnc: ricri'ur.sQrF. and ni-.scHirrivR. 
 
 49 
 
 the name of one of the streets at the corner of which it stands - Hiiade Street — recalls 
 the palmiest days of the French n'ffiiiu; iwuler Louis Miiade, Count dc Irontcnac. I'Vom 
 here Mountain Hill l)cj;ins its circuitous descent, and on tiu; opposite side is tiie old- 
 fashioned-buildinj;, orij^dnaliy the Archbishop's Palace, which has been used for many 
 years as the Parliament Muildinjjs. 
 
 Going down Mountain Hill from hence, we come to the dilapidated stairway, the 
 antique, gambrel-roofed l)uildin^'s beside 
 it being very characteristic of the old city. 
 But we will not descend to the lower 
 town, but walk back up Buade Street 
 till we come to what, until re- 
 cently, was the market-place of 
 the upper town, now trans- 
 ferred, however, to the open 
 space in front of St. John's 
 Gate. On one side of 
 the wide, open square. 
 
 
 KENT GATE. 
 
 ;~,i,-;v Stands the Rasilicn as the French 
 Catliedral is called, linked with some 
 of the oldest memories of the settlement 
 of Quebec. It hai\ily looks its age, and 
 is not by any means so imposing as Notre 
 Dame, of Montreal. It was begun by Bishop 
 Laval in 1647, and was consecrated in 1666, 
 under the name of the Church of the Im- 
 maculate Conception. Its massive y?r/rrtrt'f, with its tower on one side and its tall sjire 
 on the other, gives an impression of a rare solidity within, and the lofty arches of the 
 nave would have a fine effect, if it were not finished in a cold and dead florid Renais- 
 sance style, which looks quite out of keeping with the homely antitjuity of the " gray 
 lady of the North." But the main charm of the building lies in its long association 
 with the religious life of French-Canada, from the days of Le Jeune and De Jogues, 
 
 ST. JOHN'S GATE. 
 
so 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 
 Madame de la Peltric; and Marie de 1' Incarnation. Within these walls many an ago- 
 nized \o\v and i)ra\er has gone up from the early martyrs and heroes of the Canadian 
 Mission for the conversion of Huron and Irocjuois, and for safety from the murderous 
 attacks of their savage foes. Here, too, have echoed the Te Deums of a grateful colony, 
 in the joy of some signal deliverance or decisive victory. The . . ,, 
 
 somewhat gaudy decoration of the present interior seems to 
 fade away as we go back, in thought, to the days wlien the 
 bare rafters over-arched the self-exiled worsliippers whose 
 needs and enthusiasm mingled in prayers of pathetic earnest- 
 ness to Him in whose cross and sufferiptrs they deemed 
 themselves sharers. 
 
 It is a natural transition from the Basilica to the Semi- 
 nary, and a few steps lead through the massive oi)en iron gates 
 of Laval University, along the narrow passage that brings 
 U'.-. to the door of tiie Seminary chapel. This chapel is only 
 a hundred years old, Mr. Le Moine tells us, and its chief 
 historic association is that of having served as a military 
 
QUHBEC : PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 51 
 
 IHK HASll.lC'A, 
 Kroni I-'abrique Street. 
 
 prison for American fliiccrs 
 taken prisoners of war in 
 the attack by ArnoKI and 
 MontiToniery. lint the 
 Seminary was foiimieil hy 
 Bishop Laval in 1063, about the time that tiie Ikisilica was completed. Laval University 
 is a secular off-shoot of the Seminary proper, which was founded for theolotjical ('dncation 
 only, — this being still the oljject of the Ciaiui Scniiiiairc. The buildin_<i;s of the Semi- 
 nary enclose the site of the first house built by the first I'rcncii settler Hebert, ami its 
 ,i,rarden, with the neighbourinjr streets, occupies the land first cleared for ag^ricultural pur- 
 poses. The University building;, with its spacious new wings, extends to the very edge 
 of the promontory, and from its tower another view can be obtainetl of tiie cit\ and its 
 surroundings. 
 
 There is not much to see in the University itself, so we pass out again and retrace 
 our steps to the Little Market Stjuare in front of the Basilica, where stands the long 
 
52 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 row of caldches whose drivers, French and Irish, have a keen eye for any passer-by 
 who seems to wear the tourist's air of observation. Just opposite th° Cathedral stood 
 until recently the large pile of the Jesuit Barracks — originally the Jesuit College — 
 with its yellow, stuccoed front and grated windows, and a high portal with the time- 
 worn letters "I. H. S." still 
 visible as the mark of its 
 early owners. 
 
 Turning back we pass down 
 St. Famille Street, which ex- 
 tends along the eastern side 
 of the Seminary Gardens 
 and leads to the opening in 
 the wall where but recently 
 stood Hope Gate. From 
 this point there used to be a 
 continuous promenade round 
 the ramparts, which, when 
 the present work of pulling 
 down and rebuilding is com- 
 pleted, will again exist in a 
 greatly improved state, in 
 fulfilment of one of Lord 
 Dufferin's plans for the 
 adornment of Quebec. But 
 now we will retrace our 
 steps to the Cathedral 
 Square, and crossing it at 
 its upper end, pass in front 
 of the English Cathedral, 
 a sombre-looking building, 
 with a substantial turret, 
 standing within an old-fash- 
 ioned, shady enclosure. A little farther on we come to a gray, ecclesiastical-looking 
 cluster of buildings around a small green "close," consisting of the old Scottish church, 
 dating from 1810, with its substantial manse and school-house. The group seems to 
 belong to a .Scottish landscape as naturally as the greater part of Quebec does to a 
 French one. 
 
 Just opposite the church stands what was the old gaol, associated with some grim 
 memories of the days of political imprisonments, now, through the generosity of Dr. 
 
 LOOKI.NG ACROSS THE ESPLANADE TO BEAUFORT. 
 
QUEnEC : PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 53 
 
 Morrin, one of Quebec's old citizens, converted into a Presbyterian College, a part of it 
 being devoted to the rooms of the Literary and Historical Society. 
 
 Passing along St. Ursiile Street, we come back to St. Louis Street, and, turning 
 the corner of the long range of massive gray stone convent buildings, we reach the entrance 
 to the chapel, at the end of Parloir Street. The Ursuline Convent and gardens occupy 
 no small portion of the space within the walls, and they deserve it by a well-earned 
 right. The chapel of the convent has various interesting reminiscences and associations, 
 religious and artistic, and martial as well. One interesting and suggestive object is a 
 votive lamp, lighted a hundred and fifty years ago by two French officers, on their 
 sisters taking the veil, and kept burning ever since, e.xcept for a short time during the 
 siege of 1759. There are paintings sent from France at the Revolution — on ; said to be 
 by Vandyke and one by.Champagna — and wood carvings, the work of the first Canadian 
 School of Art, at St. Ann's, early in the eighteenth century. Montcalm, taken thither 
 to die, was buried within the convent precincts in a grave dug for him by a bursting 
 shell ; and his skull, carefully preserved, is still shown to visitors to the chapel. 
 
 From the LIrsuline Convent a short walk brings us back to the Esplanade, between 
 the St. Louis and Kent Gates. Turning into its quiet area, faced by a row of rather 
 sombre-looking private residences, we ascend the slope to the walk that runs along the 
 line of wall. Looking city-ward, from one point in our promenade we take in the 
 idyllic view of the tranquil Esplanade, with its poplars and disusetl guns, the ancient 
 little Jesuit church and the old National school immediately in front ; while across 
 the ramparts and the abrupt descent beyond, we catch the blue strip of river between 
 us and Beauport, with white sails skimming across, and the white houses scattered 
 along the green slopes opposite, that end again in a grand mountain wall. Proceeding 
 on from the Esplanade, we walk across the top of Kent Gate and then follow the line of 
 the ramparts to the massive arched portal of .St. John's Gate, whence we look down 
 on the busy Montcalm Market immediately below, with its primitive LVench market- 
 carts and good-humoured French market-women, who will sell you a whole handful 
 of bouquets for a few cents. We have to leave the ramparts soon after passing 
 St. John's Gate, the promenade, which will be continuous, not being )et finished. 
 
 Taking our way back, we return to the square, and engage one of the eager calcckc- 
 drivers to take us out to Montmorency Falls, a nine-mile drive. Ascending to the 
 high-perched seat in the little two-wheeled vehicle, we are soon rattling over the not 
 very smooth thoroughfare of the St. John suburbs, among modern and uninteresting 
 streets — for these suburbs have been again and again laid waste by fire. We pass 
 near the ruins of the old intendant's Palace, and are soon on Dorchester Bridge, the 
 gray rock of the city rising behind us, the valley of the St. Charles winding away to 
 the north-west. " There," our driver will say, looking up at the river where the tide 
 is rising amon:, some ship-yards, " is where Jacques Cartier laid up his ships." Near 
 
 " 
 
54 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA, 
 
 that point, also, Montcalm's bncl<re of boats crossed the river, in 1759, and in a large 
 entrenchment, wIumx- once stood the Jesuit Mission Mouse, tiie remnants of his scattered 
 army rallied after the i)attle of tiie " Plains." Even the cali'clie-Ax\\KiX'~, are anticjuarian 
 and historical in Ouehec, and take pride in acting the i)art of cicerone to the venerable 
 associations of the place. 
 
 The memory of Montcalm is associated with many points along the pleasant road 
 that leads through long-stretching I'Vench villages, between the green meadows that 
 slope up to the hills on the one side and down to the St. Lawrence on the other. 
 The burning sun of our Canadian summer, softened h('re ))}• the frequent mists and fogs 
 from the sea, does not parch the verdure, as it too often does in regions farther in- 
 land. The velvety green of the low-lying meadows, dotted ami fringed with graceful 
 elms and beech and maple, would do no discredit to the Emerald Isle ; and if the 
 villas ami fields were surrounded by hedges instead of fences, the landscape might easily 
 be taken for an English one. About three miles below Quebec we pass the Beauport 
 Asylum, a fine, substantial building, with a good deal of ornamental statuary and other 
 decoration in front, in which a large number of lunatics are cared for under Govern- 
 ment supervision. Here and there other residences and grounds attract the eye. The 
 most notable in bye-gone- tinK!s was the manor-house of old Beauport, recently destrojed 
 by fire, ami occupied in 1 759 by Montcalm as his head-quarters. An old leaden plate 
 was lately found in the ruins, bearing an inscription, interesting to anticpiarians. The 
 date of its first erection, as gi\en in the plate, proves the ruined mansion to have 
 been older than an\' existing in Canaila to-day, since; it preceded by three \ears 
 that of the Jesuits' residence at Sillery. Robert (iift'art, physician and founder of the 
 Seigniory, figures in a curious old story told by the Aijl^e l'"erland, of the enforced 
 jienittMici' and submission of a rebellious vassal — Jean (juion, or Dion — a lettered stone- 
 mason, who thought fit to refuse the homage he owed to tJilYart, his feudal lord. The 
 vicinity of the ruined chateau bearing such interesting associations, is called La 
 Caiiardilrc, preserving, in this cognomem, a reminiscence of the time when this (jiffart, a 
 keen sportsman, was wont to l)ag wild duck in large numbers along the marshy bank of 
 tht; stream, the "Rnisscciit dc /'Ours'' on which he erected his rude stockaded mansion. 
 
 One or twt) other cluilcaiix are still inhabited by the representatives of the I'Vench 
 families of the Old Regime. B)' degrees the scattered mansions, in their "settings of 
 green turf and foliage, merge into the long lines of Beauport village, its neat, quaint 
 h/iises, generalK of substantial stone, steep - roofetl and tlormer-windovved, and often 
 completed with tin; little balcony ; some of them old and weatlu;r-worn, others spick and 
 span in gay new paint, and most of them l)right with a profusion of flowers in a little 
 plot before the iloor or in the windows. Behind each little house is its riband-like 
 strip of ground, seemingly narrowed down to the smallest space within which a 
 horse could turn ; and here and there may be seen a man at work with the primitive cart 
 
QUEBEC: PICTURESQUE AND DESCRIPTIVE. 
 
 55 
 
 and single horse — all his little farm will support — which 
 carries to market tin; vegetables that are It's ciiief de- 
 pendence. Altogether, the light-hearted, open-air life of 
 the simple folk carries a pleasant suggestion of that 
 so vividly sketched in "Evangeline" and of "A? belle 
 Normandic" without its Gothic churches 
 
 WAVSIDi; CROSS, AND HKALI'OK I' 
 CllLKClI. 
 
 and its peculiar costume. The 
 massive stone building that lifts 
 its gleaming, proltjcting spires 
 high above the humble dwellings 
 at its feet, is of no old Norman 
 type, but a plain, straightfor- 
 ward substantial structure, of tin; same moiid on wliiili tiie l'"rencli-Canadian churches 
 are generally built. It locjks large enougii to contain the whole population of a 
 village seven or eight mikjs long, and tloubtless on fete-da\s it does so. ——,-- 
 
 Much more (juaint and picturesijue arc; the tiny wayside chai)els and crosses which 
 we occasionally pass — the former sometimes relics of the days when the long village 
 
56 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 was a hamlet, and glad to have a chapel of the smallest, of its very own ; while the 
 wayside cross, close by, with its sacred symbol of suffering casting its pathetic shadow 
 on the life and brightness around, would be quite in place in a landscape of France or 
 of Southern Germany. 
 
 At last the village of Beauport is left behind, and we skirt an open stretch of 
 field and woodland on either side. Towards the St. Lawrence, which lies broad and 
 blue between us and the richly-wooded Isle of Orleans, is seen a white mansion on a 
 commanding point, just above the Montmorency Falls, which was once occupied by 
 the Duke of Kent. Beyond the river and the Isle of Orleans the low blue hills 
 appear, while before us to the left ris the noble outlines of the Laurentians, flecked 
 with passing gleams of soft light and violet shadow. If we choose to alight, 
 and walk a mile or so across the fields to our left, we come to the " Natural 
 Steps," a succession of rocky ledges, e.xactly like steps cut in the rock, between 
 which the narrow river sweeps silently on, fringed by a fragrant wood of low spruce 
 and hemlock, soon to brawl and foam over the brown-gray rocks in tiny cascades, 
 before its final plunge. Returning again to the road, and driving on, we come to 
 the wooden bridge across the river, where it dashes itself over its rocky bed, which 
 the advancing summer leaves half uncovered and dry. Crossing the bridge, we drive 
 some fe.v hundred yards to the little country inn, where carriages put up to await the 
 return of their passengers, who must go the rest of the way on foot. A little 
 farther on is the gate to the pathway leading to the Fall, winding along the top of a 
 high bank, fringed with foliage and wild flowers. Following this path we gradually 
 catch a glimpse of slender, snowy streams of foam descending over the dark, rocky 
 precipice. These are the outlying stragglers of the great Fall, and are as beautiful in 
 themselves as some Swiss cascades, one of them looking like braided threads of molten 
 silver as it falls over the jutting rocks, and another reminding the traveller of the 
 Geissbach. By the time the top of the strong wooden stairs leading down the rapidly- 
 descending bank is reached the upper part of the main Fall is in full view ; though not 
 till we descend two-thirds of really dizzying stair, can it be realized in its entire majesty, 
 as it makes a sheer plunge, a mass of snowy foam in mad, headlong rush, down the 
 precipice of 250 feet. The illustration, excellent as it is, can hardly convey a true 
 idea of its majestic height as seen from one of the resting-places, about one-third of 
 the distance from below, where we can best appreciate the full sweep and volume — 
 partly cut off, in the illustration, by the intervening rocks. Higher than Niagara, yet 
 on account of its comparatively small volume, it has nothing like the stupendous 
 grandeur of that mighty cataract, but much more of picturesque beauty in its setting — 
 while its greater height is emphasized by its narrower limits. 
 
 At the head of the Fall, on either bank, stand massive stone piers, memorials of a 
 tragedy which occurred there many years ago. A suspension bridge, built across the 
 
I 
 

 KALLS OF MONTMORENCY. 
 
QUEHHC: PICTURESQUE AND DESCR/P77VE. 
 
 57 
 
 LOOKING TOWARDS QUEBEC 
 From Montmorency. 
 
 top of the I'all, had been too 
 slifrhtly constructed, and had 
 not stood very long before it 
 
 broke asunder while a habitant and his wife were crossing it in their market-cart. 
 The\' were swept at once over the cataract, never to be seen again. The bridge 
 was not rebuilt, the two piers still standing, mute monuments of the tragedy. The 
 house already seen above the Fall — associated with the father of our gracious Queen 
 — is a conspicuous object from the top of the stair, antl tiie paths laid out in the 
 grounds must command noble views. A part of one of the small cascades is used for 
 turning the machinery of a .saw-mill near by, but the mill itself is kept well out of 
 sight. Rafts and lumber piles, however, are prominent features along the shore of the 
 river as it enters the St. Lawrence. 
 
 At the foot of the Fall the famous " Cone," an irregular mound of ice and snow, js 
 
58 
 
 I'lLTURESQlIh: CANADA. 
 
 jfradually formed, in winter, by the freezing spray. It grows till it attains a height so 
 considerable that it serves as the favourite toliogganning ground of th'i gay people of 
 Quebec, who make regular sleighing expeditions to the locality to enjoy this exhil- 
 arating though somewhat dangerous Canadian sport. When the "Cone" and its 
 vicinity are alive with tobogganners — the ladies dressed in bright, becoming costumes, 
 some (if them making the dizzy descent in a light cloud of snow, others slowly drawing 
 
 MONTMORENCY RIVER ABOVE FALLS. 
 
 their toboggans up the "Cone" — the scene, in its winter attire of pure, sparkling snow, 
 crusting the dark evergreens and contrasting with the rushing Fall, is at once a grand 
 and pleasing one. 
 
 We turn away reluctantly from the beautiful picture, and in a few minutes are rattling 
 
QlJEIiliC: riCTUK USQUE AND DHSCR H'lni-: 
 
 59 
 
 l)a(k iilon^f tin- road to Qnclu'c. llic city, as we draw lU'ar it, in llur tjvoninjj 
 lijrlit. a|)i)<;ars to blaze out in a ^littcrinjr sheen, every tin roof j,nvin>( back the afternoon 
 sunshine till tlic uhoU; rock seems irradiated with a golden },dory, in stron;^ contrast to 
 the dee|) tones of the hills beyond. (jradually the ^dory resolves itself into roofs and 
 houses, antl soon we cross Dorchester IJridjje aj,fain, wiien, turnin^r by a side street to 
 the ritjht, we pass throuj,')! the deserted ni.irket-place outside St. John's date, and are 
 once more within the city, drivinjf alonjf St. John .Street, the chief tli()r'nij;iifare. 
 
 One of the points of interest in the immediate vicinity of (_)uebec, is the site of the 
 old luintinjj;-lod}fe of the Intendant Bigot, beyond the vill;ijj;e of Charlesbourjf, Leavinj^ 
 the main road, we |)enetrate through a tangled thicket and n-ach an open glade beside 
 a stream where some weather-worn walls, the remains of what is popularly calkd tin; 
 Chateau Higot, stand amid lilac and syringa bushes whicii still sliow traces of an old 
 gartlen. There tin; wicked Intendant was wont to hold iiis carousals with his boon com- 
 panions of the himt, after the fashion described in the " C/iioi (fOr." It has its legend 
 of a buried hoard of silver and of a beautiful Huron girl who lovcil Bigot and died a 
 violiMil il(;ath. Hut apart from legend, it has a wild grace of its own, with ils hoary 
 vestiges of a long-past habitation, and th(,- |)ine-crowned mountain rising as a noble back- 
 ground behinil the surrounding trees. 
 
 Siller)- is among the .sacred places of Quebec, and a [jilgrimage thither is one of 
 the pleasantest little excursions one can make from the old city. I'lom the deck of the 
 "James," which plies on the river between Quebec and Sillery, we can look up, first to the 
 old, steep houses massed under the scarped rock that shoots aloft on to Dufferin Terrace, 
 with its watch-towers, and thence to the crowning height of the Citadel. We steam slowly 
 past the brown shelving precipice of Cape Diamond, with its fringe of I'rench houses 
 and shipping ; past lumber vessels lifting huge logs from rafts in the stream, beyond 
 the point where, high up on the red-brown rock we can easily read the inscription, 
 "Here Montgomery fell — 1775." Then we pass the green plains, with their broken 
 ground and old earthworks and Martello towers and observatory, and the grim gaol — a 
 conspicuous mass ; then a stretch of ground, covered with low vegetation, gives place to 
 high-wooded banks and shades, opening, through masses of pine and oak and maple 
 foliage, glimpses of pleasant country-seats. Opposite, from the curving point of Levis, 
 the eye follows height after height, rich, rounded, wooded hills, at the foot of which, 
 just opposite, lies the busy village of New Liverpool, with its massive and finely- 
 frescoed church. 
 
 But we must leave Sillery, with its sacred and stirring memories, and drive uo the 
 foliage-clad height which makes so effective a background. A gradual ascent above 
 the residence, soon brings us to the level ground above, to the pretty, foliage-embowered 
 St. Louis road, where we pass the pine-shaded glades of Mount Hermon Cemetery. 
 Spencer Wood is one of the charming country residences of which we catch a passing 
 
6o 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA, 
 
 > 
 
 ■4 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 X 
 
 \4 
 X 
 H 
 
 X 
 
 o 
 
QUlilinC. PlCTURESQUli AND niuSCh'/rTfV/:. 
 
 6i 
 
 glimpse, aiul its bosky rcci-sscs and hri^dit ^ar(l<'iis arc tiic scenes of man)' a pleasant 
 ffitc for the bean moinic of (Jiielicc, iimler tiie hospitable auspices of tlu' Lieutenant- 
 Governor of llur (lay. As we draw n«;arer the city, cross-roails j^ive us j,dinipses of 
 the jjrand mountain landscap(; to the noitli, and of tlie Sti!. I'oye road, which leads by an 
 extremely pretty drive to tiie Ste. I'Oye nioniiment, on an open plateau on the brow of 
 the cliff overhanjjin^f the valley of tiie St. Charles. Tlu; monument, a slemler I )oric 
 pillar crowned by a bronze st.itue of Mellona, presented by Prince Napoleon on the 
 occasion of his visit to Canada, commemorattjs the battle of Ste. I'oye, between Levis 
 and Murray — the final scene in the strujrjrlo between Lrench and luij^dish for the pos- 
 session of Canada — and also marks the j^rave of those who fell. It bears the inscription, 
 " Aux brans dc 1760, I'rt'i^t' par Ic Socii'ti! St. Jean Jiapiistc de Qiidnc, i,S6o." 
 
 About two and a iialf miles alonjj the Ste. Foye road lies the Belmont Cemetery, 
 the buryinjj-place of the jjreat Roman Catholic churches— the Basilica and St. Jean 
 Baptiste. There, under the solemn pines, sleeps, amonjf many of his compatriots, the 
 noble anil patriotic (iarneau, the historian of I'rench-Canaila. W itii a visit to his tomb 
 we may appropriately close our wamlerings about this historic city. 
 
 AUX uRAVES. 
 
 ■]-- 
 
 I] 
 
 u 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 '' TF you have never visited the Cote de Beaupre, you know neither Canada nor the 
 ^ Canadians," say? the Abbe Ferland. 
 
 The beautiful strip of country that borders the St. Lawrence for a score or so of 
 miles below the Falls of Montmorency does, indeed, afford the best possible illustration 
 of the scenery, the life, and the manner,^ of the Province of Ouel^ec, the people of 
 which, not content with naminij the Dominion, claim Canada and Canadian as designa- 
 tions peculiarly their own. All that is lovely in landscape is to be found there. The 
 broad sweep of " the great river of Canada," betwt;en the ramparts of Cape Diamond 
 and the forest-crowned crest of Cap Tourmente, is fringed with rich meadows rising in 
 terraces of verdure, slope after slope, to the foot of the sombre hills that wall in the 
 vact amphitheatre. In the foreground the north channel, hemmed in by the bold cliffs 
 of the Island of Orleans, sparkles in the sun. Far away a-ross the Travt;rse, as you 
 look between the tonsured head of Petit Cap and the point of Orleans, a cluster of 
 low islands breaks the broad expanse of the main stream, the brilliant blue of which 
 
 62 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 63 
 
 
 t^rfejjyt . -'h ' -' 
 
 . '•-int;r^ •i^W'v^/^iis 
 
 ■ril?S2 
 
 GATHERING MAKSll HAY. 
 
 melts on the distant horizon into the hardly purer azure of the sky. 
 with swellin;^ canvas, make their slow way, or lying 
 high on the flats await their cargo. Statel} ships 
 glide down witli tiie favouring tide, or an- 
 nounce the near itwA of tlie voj'age by sig- 
 nals to the shore; and guns tiiat roll loud 
 thunder through the hills. The marshes, 
 
 Quaint hattcaux. 
 
 LOADING A BATTKAU AT LOW TIDE. 
 
 I'd 
 
64 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 ■ -m 
 
 CAP touumi;m 1. ANu I'Kirr cap. 
 
 covered with rich njrass, arc studcicil with haymakers cratherin_<T the abundant yield, 
 or are dotted with cattle. Inland, stiff poplars and l)osky elms trace out the long 
 brown ribands of tiie roads. Here and there the white cottages group closer together, 
 and the s])ire of the overshadowing ciiurcli to|)ping the trees, marks the centre of 
 a parish. Red roofs and glistening domes flash out in l)riliiant points of colour 
 against the fleecy clouds that Heck the summer sky. Rich pastures, waving grain, 
 orchards and maple groves, lead the eye back among their softly-blending tints to the 
 dark masses of jiurple and green with which the forests clothe the mountains. Huge 
 rifts, in which sunlight and shadow work rare effects, reveal where imprisoned 
 streams burst tiieir way through the l-;iurentian rocks in successions of magnificent 
 cascades. A glimpse of white far up the mountain side shows one of these, while its 
 placid course through the lowland is marked in silver sheen. As the sun gets low, one 
 perchance catches the flash reflected from some of the lo'dy lakes that lie among 
 the hills. 
 
 The C6te de Beau pre is the oldest as well as the fairest part of the Province. It 
 was settled soon after Champi.-, i landed, the rich marsh hay being utilized at once for 
 the wants ef Quebec. In 1633 a fort was built at Petit Cap, the summit of the pro- 
 monotory that juts out into the river under the overshadowing height of Cap Tourmente. 
 The fort was destroyed by Sir David Kirk — Admiral, rhe chroniclers call him — in these 
 days lu; would probably be hanged as a buccaneer — who harried the cattle and then 
 sailed on to summon Quebec to surrender for the first time. In 1670 Laval established 
 here a school 'or training boys as well in farming and mechanics, as in doctrine and 
 discipline. Among other industries, wood-carving for church decoration was taught. 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 65 
 
 ¥ 
 
 so that the C6te de Beaiipre can lay claim to the first Art School and the first 
 model-farm in America. The Quebec Seminary still keeps up this state of things — 
 at least as far as agriculture is concerned. The place is known as " The Priests' Farm," 
 and supplies the Seminary, being thoroughly worked and having much attention given 
 to it. It is also a summer resort for the professors and pupils of the Seminary. 
 
 After the restoration of Canada to France by the Treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye, 
 in 1632, this part of the little colony grew apace, so that by the time the seigniory 
 passed into Laval's hands, from whom it came to its present owners — the Seminary — 
 its population, notwithstanding its exposure to 
 attack by the Iroquois, was greater than that 
 of Quebec itself. From its situation it has 
 be- II less vulnerable than many other districts 
 to outside inHuence.s. The face of the country 
 and the character of the people have yielded 
 less to modern ideas, which, working quietly 
 and imperceptibly, have left intact many of 
 the antiquities, traditions and customs that 
 have disappeared elsewhere within the last 
 generation. Here you may find families liv- 
 ing on the lands their forefathers took in 
 feudal tenure from the first seigneurs of La 
 Nouvelle France. What F'erland says is still 
 to a great e.xtent true: "In the habitant of 
 the 'C6te de Beaupre you have the Norman 
 peasant of the reign of Louis XIV., with his 
 legends, his songs, his superstitions and his customs." He is not so benighted as 
 many people think he is, but here and there you will come across a genuine survival 
 of the Old Rdgime, and may, perhaps, meet some gray-capoted, fur-capped, brown-visaged, 
 shrivelled-up old man, whose language and ideas make you think a veritable Breton 
 or Norman of the century before last has been weather-beaten and smoke-dried into 
 perpetual preservation. 
 
 All the world over your rustic is conservative. The old gods lived long among 
 the Italian villagers, though Rome was the centre of tiie new faith. Among the 
 habitans of the Province of Quebec there yet exist a mode of life and cast of thought 
 strangely in contrast with their surroundings. In the cities a rapid process of assimi- 
 lation is going on. Quaint and foreign though Montreal, and especially Quebec, seem 
 to the stranger at first sight, their interest is mainly historical and political. To under- 
 stand the national life of Lower Canada, you must go among the habitans. 
 
 The word is peculiarly French-Canadian. The paysan, or peasant, never existed in 
 
 
 s-'-K' 
 
 AN 01. 1) UABITANT. 
 
 II 
 
 ^ 
 
66 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Canada, for the feudalism established by Louis XIV. did not imply any personal depend- 
 ence upon the •^eigncur, nor, in fact, any real social inferiority. Each ccnsitairc was, in 
 all but name, virtually as independent a proprietor as is his descendant to-day. He 
 was and he is emphatically the dweller in the land. He " wejU up and saw the-land 
 that it was good," possessed it, and dwells therein. The term is often used as equiva- 
 lent to cultivatcur, or farmer, and as distinguishing the ru;al from the urban population ; 
 but, rightly understood and used as he uses it, nothing more forcibly expresses 
 both the origin and nature of the attachment of the French -Canadian to his 
 country and the tenacity with which he clings to his nationality, his religion and his 
 language. , ■ ; , ' . : /■ 
 
 The persistency of French nationality in Canada is remarkable. The formal guar- 
 antees of the Treaty of Paris and the Quebec Act, that language, religion and laws 
 should be preserved, undoubtedly saved it from extinction by conquest. But to the 
 difference in character between the French and English, which is so radical and has been 
 so sedulously fostered by every possible means, not thf least effective being an able and 
 vigorous literature which preserves and cultivates the French language ; to the political 
 freedom which allowed the realization of the early perception that as individuals they 
 would be without influence, as a body all-powerful ; to the inherent merits of their civil 
 law, the direct descendant of a jurisprudence which was a refined science centuries be- 
 fore Christ ; and to the ideal of becoming the representatives of Roman Catholicism 
 in America, must be mainly ascribed the vitality that the French-Canadians have shown 
 as a distinct people. Their numerical and physical condition will be dealt with later on, 
 but it may be said here that a great deal is also due to their origin. The hardy sailors 
 of Normandy and Bretagne ; the sturdy farmers of Anjou, Poitou, I.e Perche, Aunis, 
 3aintonge and L'lle-de-France ; the soldiers of the Carignan regiment who had fought on 
 every battle-field in Europe, brought with them to Canada tiie spirit of adventure, the 
 endurance, the bravery — in short, all th qualities that go to make successful colonists, 
 and that they inherited from the same source as does the Englishman. In the United 
 States, the second or third generation finds other immigrants completely fused into the 
 common citizenship, but the little French-Canadian colonics in the manufacturing towns 
 of New England and in the wheat regions of the West, keep their language, and, to a 
 great extent, their customs. Canada was a true colony, and has remained the most 
 successful PVench attempt at colonization. Prom various causes, Louisiana has failed to 
 keep her nationality intact. In Lower Canada, the spirit of Champlaiik and La Salle, 
 of the coiireurs dc bois, of the Iroquois-haunted settlers on the narrow fringe of strag- 
 gling farms along the St. Lawrence^the spirit that kept up the fight for the Flairs de 
 Lis long after "the few acres of snow" had been abandoned by their King — has always 
 remained the same, and still animates the colons in the backwoods. The Prench-Cana- 
 dians have always fought for a faith and an idea, hence they have remained French, 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 67 
 
 As one of their most celebrated French orators pointed out at the great national fCte 
 
 of St. Jean Baptiste at Quebec in 1880, that was the secret of it all; while the 
 
 Thirteen Colonies, which fought for material 
 interests, are American, not English. 
 
 Whatever the cause, there is no doubt as 
 to the fact of French nationality. The north 
 shore of the St. Lawrence is more Trench 
 than is the souih, where the proximity of the 
 United States and the influence of the English- 
 settled eastern townships are sensible. In the 
 western part of the Province, the numerical 
 proportion of French is smaller and their char- 
 acteristics are less marked ; but from Montreal 
 downwards — the towns of course excepted — you 
 are to all intents in a land where English is 
 not spoken. Below Quebec, far down to the 
 Labrador coast, is the most purely French por- 
 tion of all. You may find greater simplicity 
 of life, and more of the old customs, in such a 
 primaeval parish as Isle aux Coudres, farther 
 down the river ; the people on the coast where 
 
 the .St. Lawrence becomes the gulf, are sailors and fishermen rather than farmers; those 
 
 along the Ottawa are lumberers and raftsmen ; but the Cote 
 
 de Beaupre is fairly typical of the whole of French-Canada 
 The names of its five parishes, L'Ange 
 
 Gardien, Chateau Richer, Sainte Anne de 
 
 Beaupre, St. Joachim, and St. 
 
 Fereol, tell you at once you 
 
 are in a land with a religion 
 
 and a history. Nothing, per- 
 haps, strikes a stranger more 
 
 than the significant nomencla- 
 ture of the Province. Every 
 
 village speaks the faith of the 
 
 people. He Jesus, Sainte Foye, 
 
 L'Assomption, L'Epiphanie, St. 
 
 Joseph, Ste. Croix, Ste. Anne, 
 
 St. Barthelemi, St. Eustache, 
 
 Notre Dame des Anges, are '• l'ange (iARDinN, 
 
 HABITANT AND SNOW-SHOES. 
 
68 
 
 PK • rURliSQUR CANADA. 
 
 not mere desi^'nations. The pious commemorations and joyful celebrations of the 
 patron saint or jKirticular festival show it. Hills, rivers and lakes tell of military 
 achievements, of missionary voyages, of dan<rers encountered, of rest after peril past, 
 of the hopes that animated the voyagcurs pushing through the maze of forest and 
 stream in search of the golden West, of grand prospects and lovely landscapes, of 
 quaint semljlances and fond reminiscence of home. Take just a few of these names: 
 Calumet, Sault au Recollet, Belange. Carillon, Chaudiere, Pointe aux Trembles, Bout 
 de L'lle, Lachine, Portage du I'ort, Heaupre, Belceil, La Lievre, La Rose, Chute 
 au Blontleau, Riviere Quelle, Riviere au Chien, Montreal, Quebec, Joliette, Beauport. 
 Each suggests a story of its own ; most of them have their associations of history 
 and tradition, and there are thousands like them. The French knew how to name a 
 country. In point of beaut)' and significance, their names are unequalled ; and they not 
 only described the lanil as do tlie Indians — they literally christened it. Even where it 
 comes to perpetuating the memories of men, what a sonorous ring there is about Cham- 
 plain, Richelieu, Sorel, Cliambly, Varennes, Contrecccur, Longueuil and Bcauharnois, 
 unapproachable by English analogues. Point Ldvis is, in truth, not a whit more aesthe- 
 tic than Smith's Falls, nor more useful, but there is no denying its superiority of sound. 
 When you know the grotesque and haughty legend that represents the Virgin Mary in 
 heaven telling a Clievalier de Levis, " Cousin, keep on your hat," you can no longer 
 compare tlie two names, for jou quite understand why the Levis family should have a 
 Point as well as an Ark of its own. 
 
 L'Ange Gardien lies just beyond the famous Falls of Montmorency. Set in trees on 
 the slope of tlie hills, whicii here grow close on the river, and standing higli over the 
 north channel, the village commands an exquisite view, the placid beauty of which makes 
 " The Guardian Angel " a most appropriate name. The spot has not alwajs had such 
 peaceful associations. Wolfe's troops, those "Eraser's Highlanders" who afterwards 
 turned their swords into plouglishares so effectually that their descendants at Murray 
 Bay and Kamouraska are I'rench even to having forgotten their fathers' language, 
 ravaged this parish and Chateau Richer from one end to the other, destroyed all the 
 crops, and burned almost every house. There is little trace of the devastation now, ex- 
 cept in the stories that old hahitans have heard their elders tell. Two quaint little 
 chapels stand one on each side, a few arpcns from the parish church. They were 
 originally intended for mortuary chapels during the winter, when the frost prevents graves 
 being dug, and for use at the celebration of the " Ffite Dieu"or "Corpus Christ! " in 
 June, the procession going to one or tlie other in alternate years. On these occasions, 
 they would be gay with llowers, flags, and evergreens. Beside one of them is the little 
 plot used for the burial of heretics, excommunicated persons, and unbaptized infants. 
 There is always such a corner in every village cemetery, ne\'er a large one, for the 
 people are too good Catholics not to have an intense dread of lying in unconsecrated 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 69 
 
 ground, and too charitable to consiji^n stranj^crs to th<r fate they fear for themselves. 
 The chapel fartliest down the river is now a consecrated shrine of Notre Dame de 
 Lourdes. Before the statue of our Lady burns a perpetual light, and she divides with 
 La Bonne Ste. Anne de Beauprc the devotions of thousands of pilgrims annually. 
 
 The course of settlement along the St. Lawrence is well defined. Close to the river, 
 in a belt from two to ten miles wide, on the north shore, lie the old French farms. 
 Back of these, among the foot-hills, is a second range of settlements, for the most part 
 Irish and Scotch. I'arther in are the colons or pioneers, who, no longer able to live 
 upon the subdivision of their palrinioitic or family inheritance, commence again, as their 
 ancestors did, in the backwoods. Parallel roads, painfully straight for miles, mark out 
 
 !)'ai)"r '^' 
 
 FRENCH FARMS. 
 
 the ranges into which the seigniories and parishes are divided. These ranges or concessions 
 are sometimes numbered, sometimes named, almost universally after a saint. On the 
 south shore, the belt of settlement is much wider. At the westward of the Province it 
 extends to the United States boundary line, but narrows as it approaches Quebec, so 
 that iielow the city the arrangement is much the same as on the north side. In fact, 
 F" ranch-Canada is very truly described as two continuous villages along the St. Lawrence. 
 The succession ol white cottages, each on its own little parallelogram of land, has 
 struck every traveller from La Ilontan to the present day. 
 
 The narrow farms, or tcrrcs, as they are called, catch the eye at once. Originally 
 three arpcns wide by thirty deep (the arpcnl as a lineal measure equals 180 French or 191 
 
70 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 English feet), or about 200 yards by a little over a mile, they have been subdivided 
 according to the system of intrastate succession under the Coutume de Paris, which gives 
 property in equal shares to all the children, until the fences seem to cover more ground 
 than the crops. The division is longitudinal, so that each heir gets an equal strip of 
 beech, marsh, plough iand, pasture, and forest. The houses line the road that runs along 
 the top of the river bank, or marks the front of the concession if it lies back any distance. 
 This arrangement is but a carrying out of the principle upon which the original settle- 
 ment was formed, to gain all the advantages of the river frontage. The entire organi- 
 zation of French-Canada dependtal on it. The system was well adapted for easy com- 
 munication in the early days of the colony ; the river was the highway — in summer, for 
 canoes — in winter, for sleighs ; so that the want of good roads was not a serious disad- 
 vantage. It was also well suited for defence against the Irocjuois, who in their bloody 
 raids had to follow the course of the streams. The settlers could fall back upon each 
 other, gradually gaining strength until the seigneur s block-house was reached and a stand 
 made while the news went on from farm to farm, and the whole colony stood to arms. 
 In the district of Quebec you may often hear a habitant speak of going " au fort," 
 meaning tiiereby " au village," — a curious survival of those fighting days. 
 
 In winter the ice is still the best of all roads. Long lanes of bushes and small 
 spruces, dwindling away in distant perspective, mark out the track, to keep which would 
 otherwise be no easy matter at night or in a snowstorm, and point out the "airholes" 
 caused by the " shoving " or moving en masse of the ice that usually follows any change 
 in the level of the river. 
 
 This universal parallelogramic shape is, however, very disailvantageous to the 
 development of a country, being to no small extent anti-social and particularly unfavour- 
 able to a general school system. The geographical, not the mental condition of the habi- 
 tant has militated most against intellectual anil social improvement. There were no 
 points of concentration for the interchange of ideas, save the gathering at the parish 
 church on Sundays and fete-days when, after High Mass, the crowd lingers to hear the 
 htiissicrs publications of official notices at the church door ; or, once in a while, to listen 
 to electioneering addresses. The villages are, as before noted, for the most part long, 
 straggling lines of houses, with hardly any sign where one begins and the other ends, 
 save the spire of another church, with the neighbouring cottages a little ck ,er together. 
 There are no country gentry. The seigtienr rarely resides upon his estate, and when 
 he does, his prestige is no longer what it was ; he is often merely a habitant himself, 
 one of the people, as are the cnn', the couple of shopkeepers, the village notary, and 
 the doctor, who compose the notables. The judicial terms every month at tHe Chef 
 Lieu, which in a way corresponds to the County Town, by no means compare with the 
 bustle of the Assizes in an English or Ontarian County. For the habitans not close 
 to one of the large cities there is no going to market, as nearly everything they raise 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 n 
 
 is consumed by themselves at home. The isolation of the cnn's, their zeal for their 
 pastoral work and the incessant demands upon their time, used to prevent much study 
 and practice of agriculture as a science, or much attention to the education of their 
 flocks in anything but religious duties. In the old days, when scis;ncur ami curt' both 
 derived their income from imposts on produce, the degree of consideration in which a 
 habitant was held by his superiors, and consequently his respectability, was settled prin- 
 cipally by the amount of wheat he sowed. 
 
 With the energetic development of colonization on the Crown lands, the establish- 
 ment of agricultural societies, the opening of roads, the construction of the Provincial 
 railway, the liberal aid given by the Government to private railway enterprise, and, 
 
 I'll 
 
 w l< 
 
 CHATEAU RICHER. 
 
 above all, the excellent school system, this state of things is fast disappearing. Though 
 it may require another generation or two to overcome the influence of habits centuries 
 old, originally founded in reason, and still rooted in popular affection by custom and 
 tradition, there is every indication that before long Lower Canada and its habitaus may 
 become in effect what by nature they are meant to be, one of the most prosperous of 
 countries and intelligent of peoples. 
 
 Chateau Richer, which, in natural beauty, equals L'Ange Gardien, is the next parish 
 to the eastward. It gets its name from an old Indian trader, whose chateau near the 
 
7a 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 I ! 
 
 river is now but a small heap of ruins almost lost in the iindcrjjrowth. The hill here 
 advances abruptly towards the river, forininjf, wiiere the main roail crosses its projectinjj 
 spur, a commandinjj elevation for the handsome stone church that towers over the cottaj^es 
 which line the jjracefully receding curve beyond. Not many years ago the blackened 
 walls of a convent lay at the foot of this same hill, witnesses of the ruin worked at 
 the time of the Conquest. Knox says in his journal, that the priest, at the head of his 
 parishioners, fortified the building and held it against an Knglisli detachment and two 
 pieces of artillery, but it was reduced to ashes ; the remnant of its brave garrison were 
 scalped by the Iroquois allies of the English. It is far more likely that the brave cur^ 
 stayed with his flock, to comfort them to the last, than that he led them on. However 
 that may be, the convent has been rebuilt, and is now the parish school. 
 
 The seigniories or large tracts in which the land was originally granted, varied 
 much in size, but usually corresponded with the ecclesiastical division into parishes. As 
 territorial divisions, they have been supplanted by the modern municipal system. Many 
 of them are still held by the descendants of the grantees ; others have passed into the 
 hands of strangers. Some are owned by religious corporations, the principal of these 
 being the island of Montreal, St. Sulpice and the Lake of Two Mountains — all of 
 which belong to the Seminary of St. Sulpice at Montreal — and that of the COte de 
 Beaupre, owned by ihe Quebec Seminary. Since the abolition of feudal tenure by the 
 Act of 1854, which placed a large sum in the hanils of the Government, to be paiil to 
 the scijriiciirs in extinction of their rights, their former dignity has sadly dwindled. The 
 title is, in most cases, but a barren honour, though in one instance — that of the Barony 
 of Longueuil — it has recently been recognized as carrying with it a patent of nobility. 
 It had been the intention of Louis XIY., in founding a feudal system in Canada, to 
 create a territorial aristocracy, but in avoiding the danger of sowing the teeth of the 
 dragon it had cost the Bourbons so nuich to kill, he bestowed his favours upon a class 
 unable to support their honours. The consequence was that, in most cases, the seii^iicur 
 made the complaint of the unjust steward, that " to dig he knew not and to beg he was 
 ashamed," and prayed to be allowed to drop his nobility and earn his living the best 
 way he could. 
 
 The titles had, therefore, nearly quite disi;ppeared before the Conquest. The seig- 
 niorial rights were never very extensive. They consisted principally in the Cois ct Rentes, 
 or annial ground-rent paid by the censitaire for his holding, and in the Lods ct Vcntcs, 
 or fine collected on each transfer of a property from one tenant to another. The former 
 were very trifling, something like two sous per acre being the usual amount in hard 
 cash, with a bushel of wheat, a fowl, a pigeon, or a sucking-pig, as payment in kind. 
 On rent-day, in the month of November, the farm-yard of the vianoir would present a 
 lively scene, in droll contrast to the solemn dignity with which the seigneur, seated in 
 his large chair before a table covered with his huge account-books, and in the old days 
 
 m 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAX^ IJFH AND CHARACTER. 
 
 n 
 
 with his swonl laid in front of him, rcicivtid the sahitations and compiinuMits, and weijjhed 
 the excuses of his censitaircs, vviio rivalleil the Irish peasant in chronic impecuniosity 
 and injjenious devices. The Loiis it I'ciitcs were a niore serious imposition, amounting 
 to one-twelfth of tiu; |)ricc of sale. Tiiey were a hinilrance to llic progress of the 
 country, for liiey discouraged improvements l)y the tenant, and prevented the infusion 
 of new blood and the spread of new ideas. They seem, however, not to have been 
 considered so by the censiiaires themselves. In reality, they were an expression of the 
 domesticity of I-'rcnch-Canadians, who dread the breaking up of families, and live for 
 generation after generation upon the same land, with a tenacity and affection equalled 
 only by their industry and endurance, when at length home and kindred have been left. 
 In connection witli the motives for the imposition of liiis fine, one of which, no doubt, 
 was the desire to keep the people bound to the land, and another the wish to profit 
 by the rare chance of a ccnsilairc having ready money — though the origin of the Lods 
 et Venlcs in reality leads back to the earliest feudalism — it is curious to note such 
 conflicting traits in the same peo[)le. The contrast is historical. It was hard to persuade 
 the home-loving peasantry of France to emigrate when, in 1663, the King took up so 
 vigorously his dream of an Mnipire in the West. Once in La Nouvelle France, however, 
 such was the spirit of adventure, that it almost immediately became necessary to issue 
 an edict forbidding their wanderings, and compelling them to make their clearings con- 
 tiguous and their parishes as much as possible in the form of those in Trance. Within 
 a hundred years a penalty had to be imposed upon too close settlement and small farms, 
 in order to bring the seigneurs estates all under cultivation. At the present time a 
 great aim of the Government is to discourage (;migration, and to aid by every means 
 the repatriation of French-Canadians and colonization in the back country. One of the 
 most potent means of effecting this is found to be their strong family affection. 
 
 There was another right incidental to the Loe/s ct refi/cs-z-the Droit dc Ret rait, or 
 privilege of pre-emption at tiie iiighest i)rice bidden for land within forty days after its 
 sale ; this, however, was not much used. The onl\- other right of real consequence was 
 the Droit de Baualitc', by whicii the censitaire was bound to grind his corn at the scig- 
 nciirs mill, paying one bushel out of every fourteen for toll. Tliis arrangement suited 
 the kabilant very well. He is saving enough, and manages to accumulate a little capital 
 sometimes, but it goes into the savings bank, not unfrequently into an old stocking. 
 The risk of an investment is too much for him, and he used to prefer that the seigneur 
 should make the necessary outlays, while all that he was called upon for would be a 
 sacrifice of part of his crop. In this way, however, all industrial enterprise was ham- 
 pered and discouraged by the monopoly of the water power. Under the French n'gime, 
 a civil and criminal jurisdiction over his vassals, varying in extent according to the 
 dignity of the fief, was theoretically vested in the seigneur ; and all the three grades 
 known to feudal law — the basse, moyenne and haute justice — theoretically existed in 
 
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 PIcrURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Canada, but its exercise was rare, owinp" to the expense of keeping up the machinery 
 
 of a court and the petty amount of its cognizance. 
 
 These reUcs of feudalism have a curious interest to the antiquarian and also a very 
 
 practical one as regards the progress of the country, existing as they did in the New 
 
 World and under the protection of the British Constitution, and still living in the 
 
 memories and language of the present generation. 
 
 One of the most interesting aspects of the feudal tenure was the social relation 
 
 between seigneur and censitaire. This was nearly always a paternal one, so much so, 
 
 indeed, that it was quite as much 
 a duty as a right by courtesy of 
 the seigneur to stand godfather 
 for the eldest children of his 
 
 WAYSIDK WATKRINC; TROUGH. 
 
 censitaires. Among his many graphic descriptions of life under the Old Regime, 
 M. de Gaspe gives an amusing account of a friend receiving a New Year's visit 
 from a hundred godsons. The manoir was all that "the Great House" of an English 
 squire is and more, for the intercourse between seigneur and censitaire was freer 
 and more intimate than that between squire and tenant. In spite of the nominal sub- 
 jection, the censitaire was less dependent and subservient than the English peasant. 
 It is impracticable here to go into any detailed description of the seigniorial tenure, 
 its influences and the mode of its abolition ; but without some knowledge of it, 
 the actual as well as the past condition of Lower Canada would be impossible to 
 understand. The whole system of colonization originally rested upon two men, the seig- 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 75 
 
 7ieHr and the cure'. Throii_<rh tlicm the Government worked its military and religious 
 organizations, while their interests in the soil, from which both derived their income, 
 were identical. "The Sword, the Cross, and the Plough" have been said to explain the 
 secret of French-Canadian nationality. These three came together in their hands. Of 
 course, all around the old French settlements the system of freehold upon which the 
 Crown lands are granted has produced great changes in manners, customs, and ideas, 
 but the influence of the old state of things is still strongly marked. In the face of all 
 the improvements effected and progress made since its abolition, it served its purpose 
 well, and, as the Abbe Casgrain remarks, " The democratic and secularizing spirit of 
 our age is opposed to these feudal and ecclesiastical institutions, but we may be per- 
 mitted to doubt whether it could have invented a system better adapted to the genius 
 of our race and to the needs of the situation." 
 
 There are few drives in the Province prettier than that from Quebec to St. Joachim, 
 as it winds along between the hills and the river through Heauport, past L'Ange Gar- 
 dien. Chateau Richer, and Ste. Anne, crossing en the way the Montmorency, Sault a la 
 Puce, Riviere au.\ Chiens, and Ste. Anne, besides a host of smaller streams. Once out- 
 side the toll-gates, the rugged streets of Quebec give place to an e-xcellent macada- 
 mized road kept in capital order. In summer, wizeiieil oUl ioiiipcrcs, .too bent r.nd worn 
 out for any other work, salute you from the tops of the piles of stones they lazily 
 hammer between the complacent puf?s of their pipes and their comments on passers-by. 
 There is a great deal of work in these old fellows, and their cheerfulness lasts to the 
 end. The P>ench-Canadian is a capital labourer, slow perhaps, but sure. He is docile 
 and willing, and his light-heartedness gets over all difficulties. " Your merry heart goes 
 all the day, your sad one tires in a mile-o," is his motto. In winter you have to turn 
 out to let the snow-plough with its great wings and its long team of six or eight horses 
 go past amid cheery shouts from its guides, whose rosy faces and icicled beards topping 
 the clouds of snow that cover their blanket coats make them look like so many Father 
 Christmases. 
 
 There is a great deal to see along the road besides the beautiful scenery that meets 
 the eye everywhere. Springs are abundant in the gravelly soil. They trickle down the 
 bank under the trees, making delicious nooks by the paths where wooden spouts con- 
 centrate their* How. Wells, of course, are not much needed along the hillside. If you 
 stop to drink you will probably have an opportunity to appreciate French-Canadian 
 civility. The odds are greatly in favour of some of the host of brown-skinned, black- 
 eyed, merry-looking children that play about the neighbouring house being sent over to 
 ask if " Monsieur will not by preference have some milk ?" You like the clear ice-cold 
 water. " Bicn, erst bonne I'cau frcttc quaud on a S02'/," but " Monsieur will come in, 
 perhaps, and rest, for sacrd il fait chaiid at aprts-nndi." Monsieur, however, goes on 
 amid all sorts of good wishes and polite farewells. 
 
 IP 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
76 
 
 PIC TURHSQ UE CA NA DA . 
 
 It seems strange to see the women at work in the fields. Their blue skirts and 
 enormous hats, however, are fine bits of detail for a picture, and they havii,_7 been 
 used to such labours all thci.- lives, do not mind it. Young girls of the poorer class 
 hire out for the harvest, together witii their brothers. At times you may meet troops 
 of them on their way to church, their bottcs Fraufaiscs — as store-made boots are still 
 called, in contradistinction to bottcs Indiciincs — slung round their necks. T'lis heavy 
 
 ST. JO.\CHlM. 
 
 labour, however, has told upon the class, if not upon the individual, and, no doubt, 
 accounts for the ill-favouredness and thick, squat figures of the lower order of habitans. 
 Even the children take a good share of hard work, and none of the potential energy of 
 the family is neglected that can possibly be turned to account. One of the most striking 
 sights by the roadside of a night towards the entl of autumn are the fa.nily groups 
 "breaking;" flax. After the stalks have been steeped they are dried over fires built in 
 pits on the hillsides, then stripped of the outer bark by a rude home-made machine 
 constructed entirely of wood, but as effective- as it is simple. The dull gleam of the 
 sunken firei, and the fantastic shadows of the workers make up a strange scene. 
 
 N<,i the least curious features of the drive are the odd vehicles one meets. O.xen 
 do iruch of the heavier hauling, their pace bemg quite fast enough for the easy, 
 patient temperament of the habitant, to whom distance is a mere abstraction — time 
 and tobacco take a man anywhere, seems to be his rule. It is impossible to find out 
 the real length of a journey. Ask the first habitant you meet, " How far is it to Saint 
 Quelquechose?" "Deux ou trois lieues, je pense, Monsieur," will be the answer, given 
 so thoughtfully and politely that you cannot doubt its correctness. But after you have 
 covered the somewhat wide margin thus indicated, you need not be astonished to find 
 
FRENCII-CANADIAX LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 77 
 
 you have to jjo still " iiiic lieiie et encore," or, as the Scotch put it, " three miles and 
 a bittock," nor still, aj^ain, to find the "encore" much the best part of the way. 
 Another characteristic mode; of measurinjr distance is by tlu; number of pipes to be 
 smoked in traversing it. "Deux pipes" is a very variable quantity, and more satisfactory 
 to an indeterminate equation than to a hunjjry traveller. 
 
 The " buckboard ' i's a contrivance originally peculiar to Lower Canada. It has 
 thence found its way, widi the French half-breeds, to the North-west, where its simplicity 
 and adaptability to rough roads are much appreciated. It is certainly unique in con- 
 struction. Put a pair of wheels at each end of a long plank and a movable seat between 
 them ; a large load can be stowed away upon it, and )ou are independent of springs, 
 for when one plank breaks another is easily got. The wayside forgcron, or blacksmith, 
 need not be a very cunning craftsman to do all other repairs. The c/iare/lc, or market- 
 cart, is another curiosity on wheels, a cross between a boat and a gig, apparently. The 
 caldclic is a vehicle of greater dignity, but sorely trying to that of the stranger, as, 
 perched high up in a sort of cabriolet hung by leathern straps between two huge 
 wheels, he flies up and down the most break-neck hills. The driver has a seat in front, 
 almost over the back of the !iorse, who, if it were not for h'', gait, would seem quite 
 an' unimportant part of the affair. 
 
 It is not very long since dog-carts were regularly used in the cities as well as in 
 the country, for all kinds of draught purposes, but this has now been humanely stopped. 
 Along the roads they are a common sight, and notwithstanding the great strength of 
 the dogs used, it is not pleasant to see one of these black, smooth-haired, stoutly- 
 built little fellows panting along, half hidden under a load of wood big enough for a 
 horse, or dragging a milk-cart with a fat old v.oman on top of the cans. They are 
 generally well-used, however, if one i.iay judge 1j)- their good-nature. Out of harness 
 they lie about the doors of the houses very contentedly, and, like their masters, are very 
 civil lo strangers. . 
 
 The signs over the little shops that you meet with at rare intervals in the villages, 
 are touchingly simple in design and execution. An unpainted board, with lettering 
 accommodated to emergencies in the most ludicrous way, sets forth the " hon tnarc/u'" 
 to be had within. The forgcron, who is well-to-do— in fact, quite nn liahilant k son 
 ctise — has, perhaps, a gorgeous representation of the products of his art. A modest 
 placard in the nine-by-four pane of a tiny cottage'window, announces "rafraichissement " 
 for man, and farther on " une bonne cour d'ecurie " provides for beast. At Ste. 
 Anne's, where the little taverns bid against each other for the pilgrim's custom, one 
 Ii6tellier bases his claim to favour upon the fact ^f being " epoux de Mdlle. " some- 
 body. Whether the Mdlle. was a saint or a publican of renown, the writer knows not. 
 But the oddities of these signs would make in article lo themselves, and we n^iist pass 
 on, with the shining domes of convent and church as landmarks of the next village. 
 
 I' 
 
78 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Every now and then a roadside cross is passed, sometimes a jjrand Calvairc, resplendent 
 with stone and gildinj^, covered by a roof, and from its high platform showinjj; afar the 
 symbol of Christian faith. Statues of t' Blessed Vir^jin and St. Joseph sometimes 
 stand at each side of the crucifix, but such elaborate shrines are rare, and as a general 
 rule a simple wooden cross enclosed by a paling reminds the good Catholic of his 
 faith, and is saluted by a reverent lifting of his hat and a pause in his talk as he 
 
 ON THE ROAD TO ST. JOACHIM. 
 
 goes by. Sometimes you meet little chapels like those at Chateau Richt;r. They 
 stand open always, and the country people, as they pass, drop in to say a i)rayer to 
 speed jrood souls' deliverance and their own journey. 
 
 A little off the road you may perhaps find the ruins of an old seigniorial manoir, out- 
 lived by its avenue of magnificent trees. The stout stone walls and iron-barred windows 
 tell of troublous times long ago, while the vestiges of smooth lawns and the sleepy 
 fishponds show that once the luxury of Versailles reigned here. The old house has 
 gone through many a change of hands since its first owner came across the sea, a gay 
 soldier in the Carignan regiment, or a scapegrace courtier who had made Paris too hot for 
 
FRHNCH-CAN.ini.W IJI-'h: AXP ClfAR.lCII-R. 
 
 79 
 
 him. Little is left of it now, sa\i: perhaps 
 the tiny ciiapel, Ixu'ied in a ixi'o^*^' "f solemn 
 oaks. A few, very few, of tiiese old buildings 
 have survived. 
 
 Ordinary Frencli -Canadian houses, though 
 picturesque enougl. in some situations, as when 
 you come round a corner upon a street like 
 that in Chateau Richer, are much alike. A i;rrs habitant, as a wcll-to-ilo farmer is 
 called, will have one larger and better furnished than those of his poorer neighbours, 
 but the type is the same. They are long, low, one-storey cottages, of wood, sometimes 
 of rough stone, but whether of wood or stone, are prim with whitewash often crossed 
 with black lines to simulate, in an amusingly conventional way, courses of regular 
 masonry. By way of variety, they are sometimes painted black or slate colour, 
 
 fi 
 
8o 
 
 PICTURHSQUH CANADA. 
 
 with white lines. Square brick Iniildinjfs with mansard roofs of tin, bare in archi- 
 tecture and surroundings, glaring in newness and hideous with sawed scroll-work, 
 are unfortunately springing up over the country in mistaken testimony of improve- 
 ment. The artist will still prefer the old houses with their unpretentious simplicity 
 and rude but genuine expressions of o'-namn. . Their high, sharp-pitched roofs 
 spring from a graceful curve at the projecting eaves, over which peep out tiny 
 dormer windows. The shingles at the riilge and over th(! wiiulows are pointed by 
 way of decoration. Roof, linteis, and door-posts are gaily painted, for the liahitant 
 loves colour even if the freetloni with which he uses the primaries is at times 
 rather distracting to more cultivated eyes. A huge chimney built outside the 
 house projects from the gable end, and sometimes the stairway also has to find room 
 outside, reminding one of the old French towns whose architecture served to model 
 these quamt buildings. A broad gallery runs along the front, furnishing pleasant 
 shade under its vines, but darkening the interior into which small casement windows 
 admit too little light and air. Sometimes a simple platform, with ricketty wooden 
 steps at each end or a couple of stones leading to the door, takes the place of the 
 gallery and affords room for a few chairs. A resting-place of some kind there must 
 be, for in summer tiie leisure time of the luxbitaiil is spent at tlie door, tiie women 
 knitting, the men smoking the evil-smelling native tobacco, while every passer-by gives 
 a chance for a gossip and a joke. The heavy wooden shutters, a survival of the old 
 Indian-fighting times, are tightly closed at night, giving an appearance of security little 
 needed, for robberies are almost unknown, and in many districts locks are never used. 
 In day-time, the white linen blinds in front are drawn dowr, which gives a rather funereal 
 look, and the closing of the shutters cuts off the light at night, making the roads very 
 cheerless to the traveller. 
 
 In the district of Quebec, the people are \ery fond of Howers. Even very poor 
 cottages have masses of brilliant bloom in the windows and little garden plots in front 
 neatly kept and assiduously cultivated, for the altar of the parish church is decorated 
 with their growth, and the children present their firstfruits as an ofTering at their first 
 communion. An elm or two, with masst;s of beautiful foliage, may afford grateful shade 
 from the intensity of the summer sun. A row of stiff Normandy poplars, brought from 
 old France in Champlain's or Frontenac's time perhaps, is sure to be found bordering 
 the kitchen garden that is fenced off from the road more by the self-grown hedge of rasp- 
 berry and wild rose than by the dilapidated palings or tumble-down stone wall. A great 
 want, however, in the surroundings of most T'rench farms is foliage, for practical as well as 
 sesthet'cai objects. The grand second growth of maples, birches and elms that succeeds 
 the primaeval forest has been ruthlessly cut away, till the landscape in many districts, 
 especially on the north shore, between Quebec and Montreal, is painfully bare in fore- 
 ground, while the houses are exposed to the keen north wind and the cattle have no 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER 
 
 8t 
 
 shelter from the sun and storm. In 
 
 the French time the liouses were 
 
 generally siirroiintlrd by oichards at once ornamental and 
 
 profitable. One may <\\c\\ now occasionally come across 
 
 some descendants of them owinij; their origin to sunny 
 
 France. In the Cote dc Mcauprc you will see them still, 
 
 but they haxc in too many cases disappeared, and it is 
 
 only within a few years past that fruit-growing has lic^n systematically taken up by 
 
 the liahilaiis. Tlu; large orchards regularly cultivated on the Islanil of Montreal, 
 
 show with what succ(;ss the beautiful "St. Lawrence," the well-nam'.'d /''(CW(7/,sc, ami the 
 
 golden Poiiniic (irisc, a genuine little Normandy |)ippin, can be grown. Plums, yellow 
 
 and l)Uie, grow wild in abundance. A small, reddish-purple fruit, of pleasant flavour and 
 
 not unlike a wild cherry in appearance, is plentiful, as ari' also cherries, wild and 
 
 cultivated. 
 
 The number and beauty of the waterfalls on the Lower .St. Lawrence are astonishing. 
 Every stream must find its way to the river o\er the immense bank, and must, cut 
 its channel through the tremendous hills. In the Cote de Beaupre alone, there are 
 dozens of magnificent falls not known to Canadians even by name, though within a 
 few miles of, sometimes close to, the main road. Those on the Riviere au.\ Chiens 
 and those from which the .Sault a la Puce is named, are only two e.xamples. The Falls 
 of Ste. Anne and those of .St. Fereol are sometimes heard of, yet even they, grand 
 as they are and lovely in their surroundings, are rarely visited. Both are on the 
 
8a 
 
 /'/crL^/</:s(j(/-: c.i.v.i/).i. 
 
 Ciraiule Rivii-rc Stc. Aniic, wliicli <livi(l<'s the parishes. Its course is nearly opposite 
 ti) that of tile St. i.awreiii (', and is liirniijjjjiout nothinL; i)iil a succession nl tunuiltuoiis 
 rapids and stupendous cataracts. 
 
 Leaving tiie n>,ui wliere. the stream cross at which point there is a splendid 
 view of Mount Ste. Anne, the iiij,diest of the , munieralile peaks tiial itreais tlie sky- 
 line as you look down the ri\cr from (juebc'c, a ilri\e of three miles tiirouj,;h tieau- 
 tifiil woods leads within sound of falliniL; water. .\nother mile o\er a lovely path 
 through the heart of the forest, antl a sti'ep tkscent into a raxini'. hrinj^s you face to 
 face with an immensi- wall of granite, its base a mass of tilted anj,ailar blocks. The 
 river narrows here, concentratin;..^ all its powers for its tremendous leap into the trorjri; 
 that forms the main channel, but only the swift rush of the water, the cloud of 
 spra\' and the dt'cp re\crberalions that echo from the dill tell ol its l.ite. .\ 
 clamber over inclined and slippery rocks, beautiful with lichens of eviry hue, must 
 be risked before, Kin.!^ at fidl leni^th, you c;\n see the perjiciidicular column of crystal 
 beaten into snow\' foam on \bi: rocks over a hundred feet below, Shofitinj.; down a 
 seconti pitch the torrent breaks and rises in plumedike curves. Myriads of s^ditterinj^ 
 <j(Miis dance in the play of sunli_i;ht upon tlu.' spray. i'ar ab(i\-e, the precipiic rises 
 stark and Ljra\', its face seamed with titanic masonr\-, its crest crowned with hui^e battle- 
 ments, like the wall of a t^i<;antic fortress. The tries that banne; i. above seem no lartjer 
 than the tufls of j^rrass that clin^- in the cn-vices of its perf ctly perpendicular front ; 
 t;;reat buttresses support this mountain wall, ])olisheil and briL,dit with pi'rpetual moisture. 
 Other two channels tear their way down the cliff in falls of less volume anil i^randeur, 
 but of L,n-eat beautv as they leap from shelf to shelf, unitiuLr ;it the fool in a larn'e circular 
 basin worn ileep into thi' l)lack basalt. So still and dark, it is well named " The 
 Devil's Kettle," 
 
 The chasm throujrh which the main body of the stream Hows is narrow enouj^h to 
 juni]) over; but his would be a steady braiii who could face the leap, and a sure fate 
 who should miss his foothold. The island in the centre towers u|) in a succession of 
 f]^iant ste|)s, each a huj^e cube of rock. These one ma\' descend, ami <j;ain a front view 
 of all three l'"alls. Down stream one looks through the narrow cleft till the boiling 
 torrent is suildeni)- shut out from view by a shai'iily-projecting spur. 'I'he rocks seem 
 to jar under the immense weight of the falling water ; eye and ear are overpowered. 
 'Ihe scene is one of unparalleled grandeur. 
 
 I'arther u]) the Ste. Anne, after a beautiful drive along its west bank and round the 
 base of the mountain, the hill-girt village of St, l'"ereol is reached. 'ihrough forest 
 glades, where the moss-festooned spruces mourn over the prostrate trunks of their giant 
 predecessors, and sunlit copses where the golden leaves of the silver birch mingle with 
 the crimson of the dying maples, the delicate emerald of the quivering aspen and the 
 warm russet of the ferns in magic harmonies of autiunn hues, the waj winds on to 
 
 
 VI 
 
 r 
 I 
 c 
 
FRUNCU-CANAI^I \.\ /.//■/•: .I.\7) ClU R.lCTlilL 
 
 83 
 
 lALi.s oi' sr. ri.KioL. 
 
 
 where the Seven I'alls cliase each other down the 
 
 rocky face of a hu<;[e hill in ma;;ses of broken water. 
 
 Down a narrow cleft in the everj^reens which stand in bold relief a<;ainst the sky, 
 
 comes the first and largest l""all. Leaping from step to step, the torrent dashes over 
 
 !ii-; 
 
84 
 
 PIC 7'rA'/:sgc7:' c. i.v. m. i. 
 
 the second shelf in cloiuls of spray, its snowy fraL^nicnts unilins; ai^ain only to i)e 
 parted by a projecting' rock, past which liic twin r;\|)iils rush, ciiatini;- from side 
 to side, as if in searcii of each other, until thi'V join, .uid plini!L;c tojrcther over 
 the fourtii shelf. The liflh I'all i)ours down a steep di;cline and whirls in foaming 
 eddies round the inky dejiths of a rocky basin, upon which looks out throutjh the mist 
 a cave called " Le Trou de St. I'atriee." lurni.it; sharply to the left, the stream rolls on 
 in heavy waves of dark water to the sixth ball, and then sw'eepin,tj throutjh close walls 
 of rock, plunijes into an inaccessible ab\ss. On both sides of the ri\cr ileej) raviiu's 
 and hij^h promontories follow each other in ra|)itl succession, and a thick t;rowth of 
 forest clothes the whole. 
 
 Within the last fifteen years, a_^riculture has made yjreat advancers in some parts of 
 the I'rovince, much of which, however, yet lemains in a primiti\e enoutrh condition, I-onjj 
 isolation, a fertile soil, simplicity of life and of wants, have combined to keej) the 
 French-Canadian farmer pretty much what he was in the middle of the last century. In 
 some respects his ancestors were better than he ; the\ worked on a larger scale and had 
 more eni'rj^ry. Thi; Concjuest, with its consecpicnt wl.olesale emiijration, aiul the unsettled 
 political stale of the country down to i S40. nearly extins^uishetl all the spirit antl in- 
 dustr\' that hail sur\i\cd the exactions of oHicials and tlu' effects of war durinj^' the 
 French period. Ainons^' the liabitaus fanning- is decideilK still in its infancy. Tilling, 
 sowint^, reapiuii^ ami storing are all ilone by hand. In the back parishes the rudest of 
 home-made ploutjhs, dra>.;;^ed alonj;- by a couple of o\tn, ami a horse who seems to 
 move the oxen that they may move the ploutjh, barely scratch uj) the soil. A I'Vench- 
 Canadian harrow is the most prim;eval o'\ implement^;, beino at best a rough wooden 
 rake, an,.l often merely a lot of brushwooil faslt-ned to a bi'am. The scythe ami 
 the sickle are not \et dispiaceil by mowing machines , all the ingenious contrivances 
 foi' harvesting binding and storing, are unknown. Threshing is still done by llails ami 
 strong aims, though once in a while \ou ma\- hear the rattle of a treadmill where the 
 little black pony tramps away as sleepily and contentedly as his master sits on a lence- 
 raii smoking. 
 
 Wheat, barley, oats, maize and buckwhe.ii, peas and beans, are the principal grain 
 crops. The beet-root, however, is attracting attention, in consetpience of the establish- 
 ment of beet-root suj^ar factories, an enterprise cordially furthered by Ciovernment aid but 
 yet in its experimental stage. Should this industry be successful, it will give a great 
 impetus to farming, and the undertaking has the me'-it — no small one, in the people's 
 opinion — of being distinctly bVench. Hay is abundant and very good. Flax and hemu 
 are raised. Tobacco thrives admirably in the short but intensely warm summer. 
 Patches of its tall, graceful, broad-leaved plants waving in the wind alongside the yel- 
 low tassels of the Indian corn, heighten the foreign aspect around some old cottage. 
 Vegetables of every kind grow luxuriantly. Delicious melons are abundant and cheap. 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN iJFJi AND CHARAC IHR. 
 
 85 
 
 All sorts of garden fruit — strawberries, raspberries, "gooseberries ami currants — are 
 plentiful. Strawberries are now j^rown in large quantities for the town markets. Grapes 
 grow wild in abundance. Immense (piantities of maple sugar are yearly produced by 
 the "sugar bushes" on the slopes of the hills, its domestic use is universal among 
 the luibitaiis, and in the towns the s\ rup, sugar ami /'i//ar-ov the sugar in an un- 
 crystallized, pummy state — are in gre.'t demand. Tlie processes of lapping the trees, 
 collecting the sap, " boiling down," and " sugaring off," have been described loo often 
 to repeat here ; but a visit to a sugar cam[) will well repay anjbody who has not 
 seen one, and is a favourite amu.sement for picnickers. The I'rencii-Canailians cling 
 to the most primitive methods in ih:.;, as in everything else, tiu' result, if an economic 
 loss, being at least a picturesque gain. 
 
 Such fertility iis the Province possesses should make it a ricli agricultural country. 
 It is reallj' so. A very erroneous impression e.xists that all the best laml has l)een 
 exhausted ; but this is an idea akin to the one tii.il every brench-Canadian wears 
 moccasins and is called Jean Baptiste. It is cpiile true that a couple of lumdred \ears 
 of periistent tillage ujjv-n an e\il routine, anil want of opporiuniiii's to see anything 
 better, have run down the okl brench farms ; but even as il is, tiie\ \ ii'ld well. Many 
 an English farmer would be glad to get such land, and would work wonders with a 
 little manure and proper rotation of crops. Then there are millions of acre-, yet 
 untouched. The state of affairs in the CoW de Bi'aupre is descnbeil only as being 
 an interesting relic of a ]jeriod almost past. .Agriculture is in a state of transition. 
 Already the advantages of rich soil, magnilicent summer climate, and cheap labour. 
 are being realized. 
 
 At Ste. ;\nne, history antl trailition lileml with tlu' life antl manners of tOKlay in a 
 most striking way. TIk; first settlers in the C('ie de Heaupre built a little church on 
 the bank of the St. Lawrence, and ileilicateil it to La Bonne Ste. .Anne, in nuinor) , 
 no doubt, as berlaml says, of the ci'Iebrated pilgrimage <)f .Sainte Anne d'Aura)' in 
 Hretagne. The bank, however, was carried away l)\' the ice and the floods. So another 
 buikling was commencetl in 1657 upon the site pointed out by .M. de yue\lus, the 
 Vicar-Cieneral, and given by Etienne tie Lessard. It was finished in i6bo. Vhv. (io\- 
 ernor, M. d'Argenson, laid the first stone, and the work was ilone by Ju? jnous labour 
 of the liabitaiis. As one of these, Louis (iuimont by name, racked with rheinnatism, 
 painfully struggled to place three stones in the foundation, he suddenly found his health 
 restored. Thenceforward, La Bonne .Ste. .Anne de Beaupre became famous throughout 
 all Canada. Among the pilgrims that Hocked to celebrate her fete each year, were 
 conspicuous the Christian Hurons and .Algontjuins, in whom their missionaries had 
 inspired a special devotion for the mother of the Blessed Virgin. To this day their 
 descendants are to be found among the thousands of worshippers whom the steamers 
 from Ouebec. The pilirrimayfe is not alwavs such an eas\- excursion. Those who 
 
 carry 
 
86 
 
 PIC TURESO UE CANADA. 
 
 have special favours to implore, often triitlije on foot the lonjj journey to the shrine. 
 A pyramid of crutches, trusses, bandaires, and spectacles stands in ihe church, to attest 
 the miraculous cures worked l)y faith and prayer. 
 
 The site of the old church is marked by a chapel built with the old materials. 
 It is roughly finished within, containinjj only a few stained seats and a bare-looking 
 altar which stands between two quaint images of Ste. Marie Magdelaine and Ste. Anne, 
 
 CHAHKh AND (iKOTTO AT STE. ANNK DK BKAUI'Rft. 
 
 apparently of the time of Louis XIV. By the roadside, close to the chapel, stands a 
 rough grotto surmounted b)- the image of the sainte set in a niche, o\er which again 
 there is a cross. Over the stones pours the ch'ar water of a spring ; this the pilgrims 
 take away in bottles, for the sake of its miraculous healing power. Near-by is the old 
 presbytery, and farther up tlie wooded slope, hidden among the trees, is a convent of 
 Hospital Nuns. Their gentleness and kindness to the sick that resort here should 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 87 
 
 suffice to canonize eacli one of these devoted ladies, whose lives are as beautiful as 
 their surroundings. 
 
 A handsome new church was dedicated in 1876. To it were removed the old 
 altar and pulpit, both of ihe seventeenth century, and the relics and original ornaments 
 of the old church. Among these are an altar-piece by Li, Brun, the gift of the 
 Marquis de Tracy; a silver reliquary, and a painting by \a'. bVan^ois, both the gift 
 of Mons. de Laval ; a chasuble worked by Anne of Austria, and a bone of the finger 
 of Ste. Anne. There are also a great number of ex-voto tablets — some very old ami 
 
 OLD HOUSES AT POINT LEVIS. 
 
 by good masters — to commemorate deliverances from peril at sea, for Ste. .Anne watches 
 specially over sailors and travellers. Numbers of costly vestments have also been 
 presented, and Pius IX., in addition to giving a fac <:iini'c of the miraculous portrait 
 of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, set in a jewelled frame, issued a tlecree declaring the 
 shrine to be of the first magnitude. 
 
 There are many other places in the neighbourhood of Quebec which, if not such 
 exact types of the past nor so varied in natural features as is the Cdte de Beaupre, 
 yet afford beauty of scenery, historic dissociation, and opportunity to study the life of 
 
 V if 
 
 mi 
 
88 
 
 PfL • 11 1< F.SO L U: C.lX.iP.I. 
 
 the people. It is hard to choose, l)ut a few shonlil be ■•''•'ted, and among these Point 
 Le\-is stands first in neojj;raphical oriler ami in interest of all kinds. 
 
 Landini,^ at Indian Cove, where the descendants of those Iroquois, who tjot from 
 the Enghsh Ciovernment so much a-piece for every I'rench scalp, used to build th(;ir 
 wigw.-ms, to await the distribution of the annual boun'y, one tinds a splendid jjravinjj 
 dock beintj built on the very spot where they hauled up their bark canoes. The c'ifT 
 is a worthy mate for Cape Dianiond. From its tree-lined summit rollinLT '^'"^ covered 
 v.'ith houses, fields and woods, so that the country looks like an immense park, stretch 
 back to the sky-line, in pleasant contrast with the abrupt outline of the other shore. 
 The main street lies between the river and the jai^ijed face of the rock. .\l cacl-. end 
 it climbs the clifl in zis^zaj^s, between old houses whosi' fantastic shapes, peakeil roofs 
 and hea\ y balconies make the plac ■ seem like some old Norman town. .\i one point 
 where a sprinj:; trie les down the cliff, i wooilen stairway leads from the lower to the 
 upper town. Close by stand tlu; old and new churches of .St. Joseph, the latter a huge 
 stone building of the usual type, the former a rude little chapel, with an image of the 
 saint in a niche over the iloor. Everywhere there is, as in Quebec, this meeting of 
 the old anil the new. The Intercolonial Railway trains shake the foumlations of the 
 old houses, and interrupt, with their shrill whistle, the chant of the boys at vespers in 
 the College chapel. Tugs puff noisily along with big ships, where Wolfe's tlotilla stole 
 so silently untler the cliffs the night before the battle on the Plains of Abraham, and 
 barges of the same i)attern as tho.se in which his soldiers crossed lie side by side 
 with Allan steamships. Back of the heights from which his batteries pounded Quebec 
 in o ruins, and where Montgomery's men, wasted with their winter march through the 
 wilds, wa'led for strength to carry out their daring attack, three modern forts dominate 
 the .Soutli Channel and the land approaches. Planned with all the skill of the Royal 
 Engineers, their caseniates arc. meant for guns beside which the cannon that last did their 
 work here would look like pop-guns. The \iew from them is superl). On the east a 
 rolling plateau, densely wooded, stretches to the distant mountains of Maine. Opposite 
 stands Quebec, the lower town in dci p shadow beneath the cliff, the ujjper town 
 glistening in the sun. Up and down the river the eye can roam from Cap Rouge 
 to Grosse Isle, and never weary of the colossal e.xtent of mountain, river and 
 forest. 
 
 The forts are in charge of the battery of Canadian artillery stationed at Quebec. 
 Many of the men are I'Vench-Canadians, and e.xcellent soldiers they make. In cheerful 
 submission to discipline, respect for their officers, and inteiligence, the I'rench militia 
 corps are superior to the English in the rural districts. Among the I'ield Artillery, 
 the most technical arm of the ser\ice, — so much so, indeed, that in England the mili- 
 tary authoilties have not yet ventured to form volunteer batteries, — the Quebec Field 
 Battery composed entirely of F'rench-Canadians, is a model of equipment, drill and 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN I ll-li AND CHARACTER. 
 
 89 
 
 discipline, and is, after a few days of annual training-, (initc iindistinguishable from the 
 permanently-embodied corps in the Citadel. 
 
 About five miles to the northwest of Quebec is tlie Indian viila<ri; of Lorette. 
 Every Charter for the settlement of La Nouvelle France repeats in substance the 
 words of that granted by Richelieu to the Company of the One Hundred Associates, 
 the object of which was "to endeavour by Divine assistance to lead the people therein 
 to tile knowledge of the true God, to cause tliem to be disciplined and instructed in 
 the Catholic, Apostolic and Roiuan faith." In fact the earlier settlements were as 
 professedly missions as trading enterprises. The idea of a regular colony on a large 
 scale did not take shape till the time of Louis XI\'., under whom, as his hereditary 
 title of Most Christian Majesty demanded, the interests of religion were by no means 
 a secondary consideration. The Hurons were the first fruits of missionary devotion. 
 In i6;?4 the Jesuits Brebeuf, Daniel, and Dauost, took up the work begun by the 
 Recollet fathers, Viel and Le Caron, and the Jesuit Sagard, twelve years before. 
 By 1630 the whole nation was professedly Christian. Tiie descendants of these 
 Hurons, only a few hundreds all told, are quite civilized, quiet, orderly, and peace- 
 able. Many of them are well educated, comfortably off and cultivating good farms. 
 The love of the forest and of the chase is, however, too deep in their natures to 
 be totally eradicated, and the younger men are fond of getting away to the woods. 
 You never '^wmX an Indian ashamed of Iiis blood ; these still call themselves proudly 
 "The Huron Nation," and on official occasions, sucii as the visit of a Governor or 
 the Indian Commissioner, their chiefs wear full Indian costume. Among them are a 
 few Abenakis and other representatives of the great Algonquin family, to which the 
 Montagnais of the Lower St. Lawrence, the only really "wild Indians" of Lower 
 Canada, also belong. The French term " Saiivcxgc" is much n'Sore expressive than 
 " Indian," but seems ratiier a misnomer when applied to some of the fair-complexioned, 
 well-dressed and polished inhabitants of Lorette, among whom there is a great ad- 
 mixture of white blood. They do a large business in all sorts of embroidery, in 
 silk and porcupine quills upon birch-bark ami di-er-skin, make snow-shoes, bead-work, 
 moccasins, and other curiosities. The old church is siiown with much pride, for tiie 
 Hurons are good Catholics. The school is another of their sights. The children 
 sing with a vigour suggestive of a war-dance rather than a hymn, but their bright, 
 intelligent faces, and the musical name of the performance, reassure one as to 
 his scalp. They get thorough instruction, ant! are apt pupils. After school some 
 of them are always ready to show visitors the Falls, for a branch of the St. Charles 
 runs through the village, and as has been said before, wherever there is a stream in 
 this country there are Falls. A paper-mill intrudes its dam upon the bed of the 
 river at their head, and spoils what was once a grand sheet of water covering with 
 a crystal curtain the now bare rock ; but a sharp turn in the deep gorge soon hides 
 
V: 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 90 
 
 /vc 7'CR/-:sor/- c.i.v.i/).!. 
 
 FALLS OF LOKLITE. 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN /.//■'/■ .iXP CI I .\ R.\C ll- R. 
 
 9> 
 
 this, and tlic view from below has nothing,' Ic detract from its minj^dcd jrrandi.'iir and 
 loveliness, to wiiich words cannot do justice. 
 
 CAI' ROUGE. 
 
 Followinsf the south shore of the St. Lawrence from Point Levis ail the \\ay 
 up to the Chaudiere the same magnificent panorama repeats itself with subtle 
 
 CAPE DIAMOND, KROM ST. ROMUALD. 
 
 gradations as distance softens down the details of the landscape and new features 
 come into sight. At St. Romuald the view down the river is very grand. The 
 
 *< 
 
 I 
 
 ll 
 
 \ M 
 
9a 
 
 riLTURliSQUn CANADA. 
 
 bold outline of Cape Diamond stands clear cut ayainst the sky. Meyond are the 
 purple peaks that close in on tin; St. Charles, and the misty hills thai surrciind the 
 headwaters of the Montmorency peep through the pass up which tiic Charleshourg 
 roatl winds to Lake Meauport. To the right tin- conical mass of Mount Ste. Anne 
 towers over the ridge of Levis. Helow runs tin; river dark under the shadow of hanks 
 seamed wilii leafy coves, but losing itself in tii(; sunshine that makes fairylanil of tiie 
 Beauport shore. Every place in sight has some historic or traditional association to 
 add another charm. 
 
 b'rom .St. Romuald it is not far to the Chaudiere Falls, whose abrupt and tremen- 
 dous plunge fully justifies their name. There are many Chaudieres in Canada, the term 
 being generic, but this " Chaldron " is grand and tumultuous enough to be typical of 
 all, and to name the whole river. It and the Montmorency balls are prol)ably Init 
 miniatures of the unspeakably magnificent cataract that once must have existeil at Cap 
 Rouge, that grand promontory seven miles above Quebec, where the great rock cliffs 
 rlose in and confine tiu; .St. Lawn-nce into river-like dimensions. There are strong 
 indications that the river must once have been dammed up here behind a great barrier, 
 over which, just as its tributaries now fintl their way into it over tiie surrounding 
 plateau, it flowed into the sea in a flood compared with which i\ i agara would be a 
 driblet. In some of tiie mighty convulsions that heaved the Laurentian rocks — the 
 oldest geological formation of all — from their depths, and shaped their towering peaks, 
 this barrier must have given way and the stream have fallen to its present level. 
 
 The rfch red rock which gives it its name and the bold outline of its cliff, make 
 Cap Rouge as conspicuous as Cape Diamond. On this '' protnontoirc luxiitc ct raidc" 
 Jacques C^rtier built a fort, to guard his ships when he returned to Stadacona on his 
 third voy.'.ge, in 1541, and Roberval wintered there the following year, rebuilding Cartier's 
 fort, and naming it " France Roy," in honour of the King. The beauty of the forests 
 that crown the cliffs antl the fertility of the soil are still as remarkable as when Cartier 
 wrote of the "fori hoitiics cl belles Icrres plcines d'aiissi beaux ct piiissanls arbrcs que I'oii 
 ptiisse voir an nioiidc." 
 
 Along the river in the autumn, wild ducks and geese appear in large numbers, while 
 farther back partridges and wild pigeons are abundant, and trout can always be had for 
 the catching. Many of the kabitans are very skilful with rod and gun, rivalling the 
 Indian half-breeds — wiry, long-haired, black -visaged, wild -looking fellows, who make a 
 regular business of shooting and fishing. Down the Gulf fish is, of course, the great 
 stand-by. Eels, which swarm in the mouths of the streams, are speared in immense 
 numbers. They are a favourite dainty, and are salted for winter use, as are also great 
 quantities of wild fowl. 
 
 These peeps at the country about Quebec might be prolonged indefinitely, such is 
 the number of charming spots to be reached by an easy drive. But all this time we 
 
FRliA'L7/-C. INADIAX LIFIi . IXP C II. I A'. I C I'ER. 
 
 93 
 
 LIGUl-SllU' (J.N THE ST. I.A\S Kl M h, 
 
 have been lookintj at the habilaiil in a lonjr-cultivated, thickly-settlctl region, and there 
 
 is another pliase of his hfe which can only he seen in tiic wilds. A journey up 
 
 the .St. Maurice gives good opportunity for 
 
 appreciating it, but to get to the St. Maurice 
 
 one must l^o to Three Ri\ers, and by far 
 
 the best \\.i\' of doing this is to make the 
 
 night voyage up the St. Lawrence by the 
 
 Richelieu Company's steamer. A moonlight 
 
 scene on the St. Lawrence is such as to leave 
 
 a deep impression of the majesty of the great 
 
 river up which Cartier toiled for a fortnight 
 
 to reach Stadacona, far Ijeyond which he heard 
 
 there was "a great sea of fresh water, of 
 
 which there is no mention to have seen the 
 
 end." The way is not less well marked in 
 
 summer than in winter. Light-houses stand at 
 
 every bend, while buoys and light-ships, moored 
 
 in midstream, point out the channel. When 
 
 night has closed in, the twinkle of the far light 
 
 is reflected across the water for miles, broadening out at last into brilliant glare; 
 
 beneath one gets a momentary glimpse of the black hull and square tower of a light- 
 
 ^„. «.'"'"■ 
 
 HALF-BREED FISHERMAN. 
 
94 
 
 j'/L /'L'R/-s(j[ ■/■ c. I a: 1 1). 1. 
 
 ship, with weird shiuious ni(ninj4' across the thccrfiil ^Icain from ihf ( osy calnn. Ilujire 
 l)hick masses loom ii|) sii(l(lciil\ and L,di<l(' |)ast in siiciuc. l.oni,^, snal\C-hki! monsters 
 arc left snortinjij aslrrn. A l,m'oii|i of water demons siiio in wild i iiorus round a tloal- 
 injj blaze. Ail iiiaiiiur of strani^e stars flicker low down on tli<' hori/on, chanj^inj,^ their 
 Hues with sudden llashes. ICverythintj is ilini, shadowy anil weird, till, suddenly, the 
 moon bursts thrf)UL;h th<' heavy clouds, shows the dull outline of tlu' ilistant bank, 
 },deams white on the canvas of a passinnr ship, reveals the Kmi^ slrinj^ of tlee|)-laden 
 barjres follovvinir the sobbinjj; tujj^, and dims the brii^htness of the raftsmen's lir<'. 
 
 Three Rivers dates far back in the history of I'nnch colonization in Canada. 
 On one of the islands at the mouth of the noble tributary which here enters the 
 St. Lawrence. Cartier, in I5_;4,' planti'il a cross in the name of the Kin^ of brance. 
 In 1500 ront-^'rave <rave it the name of Riviere des Trois Rivieres, from the appearance 
 which two of the islands <,nve it of beiiii^ three separate streams; Cartier had christened 
 it Riviere de b'oie, from the Mreton family of that name. Champlain and i'ontt^rave 
 ascended it as far as the tirsl rapiils, and a little later Cham|)lain made the mouth of 
 the stream a rendezvous for the Ihirons who joini'd him in his expedition aj^ainst the 
 lro(piois, the river beini^- the hi_L;luvay of the tribes who came from the interior to 
 barter furs with the iicnch traders, havini; been tlriven awav from the St. Lawrence 
 by the Iroipiois, '{"races of an old .\l_L(on(piln stockade that stood where the upper town 
 is now, and was destroyed before Champlain's time, were found when the boulevard 
 facing the .St. Lawrence was made. 
 
 One of the Recollet fathers who came with Champl.iin in lOi^, celebrated the 
 first mass. Colonists came two years later, and a mission was founded. in 1634 
 a regular trailing ilepot was established, as ''ontgrave had jiroposed to do long before, 
 when Tadoussac was preferreil by his superior Cliauvin. bDr a long lime this was the 
 extreme outpost of the I-'renrh, and was held only b\ exceeding vigilance and bravery, 
 which more than once saved Quebec from imminent ilangiT. In 1624 Champlain's 
 diplomacy l)rought together here one of the greatest as.semblages of Indians ever 
 known upon the Continent, and secured a treaty of peace between llurons, Algonquins, 
 Iroquois, and brench. The Mohawks could not long resist the desire to use their 
 nevvl)-ac<piired fire-arms furnished by the Dutch and luiglish, and then followed the 
 bloody scenes which ended only with the arrival of the long i)raycd-for troo|)s from 
 France in 1665. The llurons anil Algonquins were almost e.xterminated, and the 
 French were sore pressed. This was the heroic age of the colony so vigorousl)' 
 described by I'arkman. The; fur-traders of Three Rivers bore their part in it well, 
 and when there was no more fighting to do their venturesome spirits found outlet in 
 the existing work of exploration, for with the establishment of Montreal the im- 
 portance of Three Rivers as a trading-post had begun to decline, and the necessity 
 of being farther afield, to say nothing of the half-wild nature of the courcurs dc 
 
IA'/:.VC //-C. I.V.I />/.!. V /.///■: .I.\7) L H .1 1< .H lli K. 
 
 95 
 
 bois, \va\ tlu'in on. 'I'hc inlssioiiarit.'s whose outpost, in ilu- crMs.uli' a.i,Minst Satan 
 and his Indian alHrs, Ihrci; Kivcrs also was, had set ihcin an rxanipli-. Jean 
 Nicolct hvc'd and (Hid here, and tlic old Chateau of the ( Kucrnors, in wiiich 
 La N'ercndrayc lived, still stainls. 
 
 Not far from the C'hatean is the original parish chuiTh, the oldest in Canatia 
 
 INiKKlOR OK PARISH CHURCH. 
 
 except the one at Tadoussac. It has the oldest records, for those of Ouehec were 
 burned in 1640. They bej^fin on February 6th, 1635, in Pere Le Jeune's handwriting, 
 with the statement that M. de la Violette, sent by Champlain to found a habitation^ 
 landed at Three Rivers on July 4th, 1634, with a party of French, mostly artizans, and 
 
96 
 
 I'll ' Tl KI-SQri'. CAN.Mh I. 
 
 commciucd tli<' work; that tlic Jesuits l.c Jfiinc and Mult-iix came on the Stli of 
 SfptcnilxT, to l)c \vitl> tlicin (or tlir salvation of tlicir souls, and that s«;vt;ral of tluin 
 died of scurvy diirinj; the winter. The chapel of the Jesuit mission st;rved till i()()4, 
 when a woodtin church, with presbytery, cemetery and jjarden, was Imill. lifty >ears 
 
 OLU CHIMNEY AND CHATEAU. 
 
 later the stone church that yet stands on a corner of the old parochial property was 
 erected ; It is an interesting relic of a by-gone time, and its hallowed associations make 
 it for the devout Roman Catholic a place from which the grand new Cathedral cannot 
 draw him. 
 
 The beauty of the rich oak carving which lines the whole interior was sadly 
 
FA'/:\Vc7/-C.I.V.I/)/.l\ /.//■/■ ,IA7) (// lA'.K ll-K. 
 
 97 
 
 destroy'il l>y a spasm of clfaiiliiu-ss on tin- part of ihr aiilhoritics, wlio a few 
 years aj^o painted it wliitc, but fortunately this siylr oi nnovation has not ;,'on(! 
 farther, and the oltl paintinj^s and sculpture, of which ilicrc is a [irofusion, remain 
 intact. Ihe church is dedicated to liu; Immaculate! C Oiueption. 
 
 The ctift' and 
 the iiiargiiii/iirs 
 form the /a- 
 bri(]ue, or ailmin- 
 istrativo body of 
 the corporation 
 whicii every par- 
 ish constitutes. 
 The (uri''s share 
 in temporal mat- 
 
 
 Ml' 
 
 i^m. 
 
 
 
 
 >1. MAI Kit I I (H;(.1 - 
 
 \^ 
 
 tcrs is. however, limiti'd to tlie 
 presidriicy of all meetings, and 
 in this as well as in the keeping 
 of registers of civil status he is 
 a public otificer, constrainable by 
 tiiainiamus to the exercise of his 
 duties. He apjjoints the choristers, keeps tlu' ke\s, and has the right to be buried 
 beneath the choir of the church, even in Quebec and Montreal, where interments 
 within the city limits are prohibited. 
 "^- The parishes are designated in the first place by the bishop, and are then civilly 
 constituted by the Lieutenant-Governor on the report of live commissioners under the 
 Great Seal, after all parties have been heard. Being corporations, their powers are de- 
 fined, and exercise of them regulated by the civil law. The revenues are raised and 
 
98 
 
 PICrURliSQUH CANADA. 
 
 extraordinary oxik'Hsc-s defrayed l)y assessnnint apjjrnved by ireneral iiu'etin^s. The 
 manner in wiiitli tiie cures are j)aid varies a i^ciod deal. They are lej^ally entitK'd to 
 a tithe in l<ind, ol one portion in twenty-six on all strain tjrown in the; parish bv Roman 
 Catholics, exec pt upon lands n<-\vly-eleared, which are exempt for the first live years. The 
 tithe must be thrashed, winnowetl, and ])ut in the priest's barn. In many jjarls of the 
 Province, however, what is known as the ..iipp/ciinii/ -ix money payment- takes the place 
 of. or is combined with, the tithe. 
 
 The Si. .Maurice l-orjjjes, on the rii;ht bank of the St. Maurice River, about se\en 
 miles above Three Rivers, are llu- oldest smeltinij furnaces in Canada, ami elispute 
 with those of I'rincipio. in Maryland, the right to be considered the oldest in America. 
 The ileposits ol boo-dfc- were known very earU' to the J "'suits. In i66S the\- were 
 examined b\ the Sieur la I'otanlien, who re|)orted iinfavoural)ly to the Intemlant I'alon 
 as to their c]uanlii\' and quality. brontiMiac and De Denonxille ^axt' a better account 
 of tlu-m, and it seems that tests were made before the year 1700. It was not till 17^7, 
 howexer, that a com|)any was found to work ther.i. 'I'his company was s^ranled a large 
 tract, including the site wliere the Old I*"orges now stand, and tricted furnaces, but 
 exhausted its capital, and in 1740 had to surrendi-r its charter. The (iovernmint caried 
 on the works very successfulh', as a report of the Colonial Inspector Tranciuijt shows, 
 and nui.it have extended them, as appears by the erection of the old Chateau that stands 
 on a Hat bluft" overlooking the river. On an iron plate in its chimnev are tlu' c>riicial 
 Jlciirs dc lis anil the tlate 1752. Its walls, some two and a half feet thick, withstood the 
 tire that destro\ed its woodwork in 1863. 
 
 A lirook tlows through the ravine immediately below the Chateau. It furnished 
 water-power for the oklest works, remains of which are to be sei-n near its mouth. The 
 attachments of an old shaft show that a trip-hammer was used, and there are other signs 
 of extensive works for making wrought iron. b'rom 250 to 300 www were emplo\ed, 
 under directors who luul gaineil their skill in Sweden. Many of tlu; articles math' then — 
 notably stoves — still attest the tjuality of tlu; iron antl of the work. I'igs anil bars were 
 sent to b" ranee. During the war. shot ami shell were cast. When the luiglish came to 
 tak(! possession, the Ch.iteau was occupieil b\' a Demoist'lle Poulin, who thrt'W the keys 
 into the river rather than yield th(,'m. Legends of mysterious lights and buried treasure 
 cling to the place. .After the Conquest the works were leased to jtrivate persons, and 
 have passed through several hands before coming into those of the present owners, who 
 use most of the provluct in tlie manufacture of car-wheels at Three Rivers. 
 
 The original blast-furnace, or cupola -a huge block of granite masonry, thirty feet 
 
 S(]uare at the base — is still used lor snu'lting 
 
 ■Iti 
 
 the lire has 
 
 rarely 
 
 )ei'n extinguished 
 
 except for repairs, during the past 150 years. In a tleep-arched recess is the "dam" 
 from which the molten metal is drawn into beds of sand, to cool into pigs. During the 
 time between "runs" or "casts," glowing slag is continually being drawn off. The 
 
f 
 
 FA'/:\L7/-i i\.i/>/,i.v i.ii-F. ,\\n Lii.\R.\cri:i<. 
 
 99 
 
 cupola is kt'pt tillctl from the top with ore, broken liiiu'stone, and diarcoal. Tlu' latter 
 is nuule in immense kilns near the foriijc, from wood furnislicii in ai)iuulaiu:e l)\ thf sur- 
 rounding forests. Ajjjainst the volumes of whiti' vapour from thest' kilns the olii iron- 
 works stand out, gloomy and black with the smoke and i^rime of ijeneratioMs. The 
 limestone is obtained a short distance up the river, and the ori' dark-red spongy stuff, 
 yielding fort\' per cent, of iron — is brought in by the /i(t/>i/iins, wiio lind it between two 
 beds of sand on land that yields no crops, so that thi'v arc only too glad to dig it up. 
 The works an- surroundeil by a little hamlei of workmen's cottages. An amphitheatre 
 of wooded hills surrounds the scene. These rise gradually to thi' lift, and ovei them 
 
 FALLS OF rUK CH;\Uniil;RF— NEAK yUKHKC. 
 
 is seen the dark outline of the I-aurentian range against which is set the gleaming spire 
 of St. luienne Churcli. The lesser hills, across tiic .St. Maurice to the right, are topped 
 by Mount Carmel, and far up the stream the Shawenegan Mountains consort with the 
 Piles peaks. 
 
 There is, perhajjs, nothing in Canada that Tuore forcibly strikes the luiglish eye than 
 the wild and silent grandeur of our might) rivers. Though nn\\ rani<ing third among 
 the tributaries of the St. Lawrence, the St. Maurice is a noble stream. During s|)ring 
 and early summer it becomes a raging Hood fed by the melting snow and rains of tiie 
 great northern water-shed, and even when the parching heat of summer has drietl up its 
 sources it remains a navigable stream nearly a quarter of a mile wide far abovi- its mouth. 
 
 m 
 
lOO 
 
 PrCTURESOUE CANADA. 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 Far to the north, 220 miles from the; St. Lawrence, this river rises in a net 
 of lakes and small water-courses, which feed also its elder brothers, the Ottawa z 
 the Saguenay. It pursues its tortuous way in a main direction nearly south, while 
 
 ' 
 
 \ 
 
 
 Hi;.\n 01 sM.\wi;.M.(.AN falls. 
 
 the others diverge so widely to the west and east tliat their several dchoucltattcnts into 
 the St. Lawrence are divided by a space of more than three hundred miles. All the 
 upper part of the St. Maurice's traverses are unbroken wilderness, untrodden b) the foot 
 of man, except the few Indians and trappers who \et represent the aboriginal occupants, 
 the Hudson's Bay voyagcnrs and traders who still use this route as a means of access to 
 their remoter posts, and the lumberers whose camps and shantit^s have been already 
 pushed two hundred miles back into the interior, and the rint,^ of whose axes is heard 
 at the head of every stream doivn which a saw-log can be floated in the freshets of the 
 
I02 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Spring. Nothing can be more lovely than the constantly varied and unexpected beauty 
 of the reaches of river, lake and stream, the water-falls, rapids, wild rocks, densely-wooded 
 hills and forest glades with which this wild region is filled. 
 
 One hundred miles from its mouth the river meets civilization at the foot of the 
 wild Falls of the "Tuque" (so called from the fancied resemblance of a hill in the 
 vicinity to the Trench-Canadian head-gear of that name), in the form of a steamer which 
 
 traverses a stretch of sixty miles to the 
 " Piles," whence a railway to the front gives 
 the go-by to the formidable bit picturesque 
 rapids and falls of the Lower St. Maurice. 
 The fi.rst of these is the Grais, so-called 
 because the old portage led across granite 
 rocks now occupied by a saw-mill and 
 <it? all its unlovely litter of lumber, saw- 
 
 ^hM^^ dust and slabs. Here the river 
 
 dashes itself over and through 
 enormous rocks, which cause twin 
 falls and a boiling rapid. A 
 few evergreens cling to the 
 rocks, and a low bench supports 
 a scant growth of bushes, but 
 above the river the tree-clad 
 heights rise in successive steps. 
 The unlimited water-power 
 has caused the place to be se- 
 lected as the headquarters of 
 one of the vast lumbering estab- 
 lishments whose chiefs are kings 
 in all but name. The proprietor 
 of this establishment is practically 
 king of the St. Maurice. The 
 farmers, who compose the scant 
 population of the neighbourhood, 
 are dependent upon him for a 
 market and for supplies of all 
 they need from the outside world. Their crops are consumed by his horses and men, 
 and their sons and brothers find employment in his .service. The village about the mill 
 is his property and the inhabitants are his servants. Hundreds of men and horses, 
 under the direction of scores of foremen, labour for him through summer and winter, 
 
 LITTLE SHAWENEGAN. 
 
FRENCH-CANADIAN LIFE AND CHARACTER. 
 
 \o\ 
 
 undergoing the severest toil and perilling their lives to carry out his behests. His 
 will is their law, his wages are their subsistence, and promotion in his service is 
 their reward. Every foreman is chosen from the ranks of this great family. Should 
 one of them take service with a rival house, he can never return to his allegiance. 
 Great qualities of leadership are required for success in these vast enterprises, but if the 
 rule of the lumber king is despotic, it is also patriarchal and beneficent. 
 
 For some distance above the Grais settlements continue on both sides of the river, 
 but the stream itself is generally ilanked by forest. High hills rise abruptly from its 
 edge, and the land is a succession of well-defined benches. Good soil is found in the 
 intervales of the tributaries, but some distance from the main river which in its course 
 through the mountains forms many rapids and falls. The grandest of these are the 
 Shawenegan Falls, twenty-four miles from Three Rivers. The river is narrowed between 
 two projecting points, and divided by a rocky island into two channels of equal volume. 
 The twin streams roll placidly for a while. Suddenly a swift rush begins, and their 
 tawny water breaks into tossing foam. The right branch comes down with more direct 
 course, dashed into white masses that rise, like fountains, perpendicularly into the air, 
 and scatter their glittering beads of spray in wild profusion. The kfl branch sweeps 
 round the island, and far up the narrow channel its stream can be seen, now reflectnig 
 the banks like a mirror and now tumbling over steps of shelving rock w iiich stand darkly 
 out of the variously-broken and lighted water. The play of colour from seal-brown to 
 shining white is magnificent, and doubtless suggested the Indian name Shawenegan, or 
 needlework, the "divers colours of needlework finely wrought." The left fall curves till 
 at right angles to the other, when, meeting, they press upon and past a rocky point 
 which stands out full against their united force when the water is low, but is swept by 
 the Spring floods. Recoiling from its impetuous leaps against its adamantine barriers, 
 the torrent sweeps down another long incline between walls of rock into a capacious 
 bay, whose surface heaves as if with the panting of the water resting after its mad rush. 
 
 Into this bay enters the Shawenegan River, easily ascended by canoe, first through 
 elm glades and restful flats, and then by sinuous turns between steep banks covered with 
 spruce and birch, till the Little Shawenegan Falls burst on the view in exquisite loveliness. 
 
 In the quieter stretches of the St. Maurice there are many islands. These and the 
 banks of the stream are beautifully wooded even up difficult steeps, rising far above the 
 water's edge. Every here and there a mountain wall shadows the river, and breaks the 
 forest greens with the purple and golden glories of the shrubs that alone can find hold 
 upon its rugged face. Deep, gloomy gorges, through which come glimpses of a world 
 of hills, mark the entrances of tributary streams. The grandeur and loveliness intensifies 
 the mysterious solitude of the wilderness. Such is the country to which nearly three 
 hundred years ago the habitant first came. 
 
 i 
 
A GLIMI'SK IKOM IHI-; MOUNTAIN. 
 
 MONTREAL. 
 
 'T^HERE is no more beau- 
 -*■ tiful city on the continent 
 of America than the commer- 
 cial metropoHs of the Dominion of Canada. The tjeographical features of the })lace at 
 once '■.'.isi^prest a city. Ocean-tjoing steamers can navigate tin; river St. Lawrence no 
 farther inland, but here, where insu]jerable difficulties stop navigation, nature has made 
 
 it possible for human skill to produce a magnificent harbour. Lying between the 
 104 
 
^^ 
 
 MONTREAL. 
 
 105 
 
 river ami Mount Royal, rarely has it Ih'cii the jj[ood fortune of 
 any city to have so rtne a l)ack}j[roun(l. The llat part, situated 
 at the base by the river siile, makes it i-asy for business ; 
 the sloping sides of the mountain an; intended, perhaps, to 
 
 meet the moth-rii idea that prosperity 
 shall biiilil in the west enil, and 
 abundance in some overlook- 
 ing heights. That which was 
 natural happened ; the 
 city has extended west- 
 ward and along 
 
 the mountain side 
 — that is to say, 
 wealth used its un- 
 doubted right to 
 erect its dwelling- 
 places up the river 
 where the water 
 is clear, and up the moun- 
 tain where the air is pure. 
 Reaching the city by 
 way of the St. Lawrence, 
 the eye rests upon a scene 
 of rare beauty ; three miles 
 of river frontage turned 
 into wharves ; shipping of 
 every kind and description, 
 from the enormous steam- 
 ship to the tiny pleasure 
 yacht ; back of that, long 
 lines of warehouses; then, 
 great public and private buildings, church 
 spires and towers asserting their right 
 to be higher than all other structures, 
 and thus bid the busy world pause at 
 times and look up., But the finest view of the city can be had from the mountain. 
 
 L'ESCALII. 
 
io6 
 
 PIC TURESQ [//■: CA iVA DA. 
 
 The top is reaclicil Iiy a winding path or, if the traveller choose, by steps siigjjestlve 
 of iiinjfs and nerves, ami a swimminj^ iiead and deatli by fallinjj. The view from the 
 summit, however, is well worth the climb, whichever way may be chosen. The city 
 lies at the base; the majestic St. Lawrence may be traced for miles. Just opposite it 
 is spanned by xXw jjreat Victoria Hridjje, one mile and three-quarters long, built by 
 .Stephenson and brunel, and o[)ened by the Prince of Wales in 1861. Beyo.id the 
 river is a vast stretch of land absolutely flat, bounded by ranges of hills among which, 
 conspicuous, rise the twin mountains of .St. llilaire. 
 
 Montreal abounds with striking contrasts. The city is comparatively small — 
 less than one hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants — as what was called "the census" 
 has declared. It has had only one or two hundred years of history; and yet every- 
 thing is iierc — the antique and the modern — while hostile oddities lie cheek-by-jowl 
 on every hand. Here are frame houses, .some of tiiem scarcely better than an 
 Irishman's hovel on his native bog, and igncjrance and squalour and dirt ; close at 
 hand are great streets of great houses, all of fine-ct stone. Here are thousands of 
 I'Vench who cannot speak one word of English, and thousands of English who cannot 
 speak one word of hVench. Unthrift and thrift come along the same thoroughfares. 
 Some are content with a bare existence and some are not content with colossal for- 
 tunes. In social life we have the old French families with their Old World refinement 
 pressed upon and almost pushed out of existence by the loud manners of the nouveanx 
 riches. The older houses have their heirlooms of gold trinkets and silver plate ; the 
 new houses have their art galleries of elaborate picture-frames, the meanest of which 
 would honour Cellini, and gladden the eyes and heart of a solid Manchester man. 
 
 We have the same striking contrasts in the appearance of the people on the streets. 
 Here are unmistakable descendants of the ancient Iroquois Indians; at a turn we come 
 upon a company who, by their dress and talk, take us back to the peasant classes of 
 older France ; while crowding everywhere are ladies and gentlemen of the most approved 
 modern type, according to the fashions of London, Paris, and New York. The 
 business of the place shows the same quaint differences. At one market we are in 
 an exclusively agricultural district ; there is nothing to suggest a ship, a warehouse, or a 
 factory ; buyers and sellers are country people with '-ountry ways, except that now and 
 then a lady from the more aristocratic parts ventures to go a-marketing in the interests 
 of economy. Our illustration represents what may be seen in one of the principal 
 squares of the city on a market day. All the streets round the Bonsecours Market 
 are crowded with carts filled with country produce, and the overflow finds its 
 way into Jacques Cartier Square. The horses feeding peacefully as they would 
 beside a country hostelry, primitive carts and harness, the habitant piously com- 
 mitting his horse or his basket to the care of God while he slips into the old 
 church to say a prayer, are not the pictures one expects to find in a great city 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 107 
 
 COMMISSIONKK'S WllAKr, AND UONSIXOURS 
 
 MAKKi:r. 
 
 in the restless New WOrlil. A 
 v<!r\' little way to tlic west, \ou 
 are in a different lalituclc. Signs of 
 commerce and modern taste and 
 industrial life abound. Here is a 
 corner where we look into X'ictoria 
 Square. The crowded streets, the 
 magnificent cut-stone shops, hotels 
 and warehouses, tiie well-appointed 
 hall and rooms of the Young 
 Men's Christian Association — the 
 oldest Association of the kind in 
 America, — the beautiful Kirk, Sal- 
 isbury Cathedral in miniature, the 
 bronze statue of the Queen by 
 Marshall Wood, all reflect the nine- 
 teenth century. What surprises the 
 visitor is the sharp distinction so 
 long maintained. The new does 
 not shoulder the ancient out of the way-does not even modify it. They move along 
 parallel lines, neither affecting the other. There is no fusion of races in commer- 
 
 BONSF.COURS CHURCH. 
 
loS 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
) ! 
 
 MO NTH HAL. 
 
 loq 
 
 cial, social or political life ; tht: 
 
 differences arc sharply clefiiied, 
 
 and appear to be permanent. 
 
 It must be confessed that this 
 
 adds to the interest of the 
 
 city, and enables the curious 
 
 to study human life and work 
 
 under a variety of aspects. But we must turn now to a closer description of 
 
 people and places and their history. 
 
 The history of Montreal is an eventful one, and full of interest. The site was first 
 visited by Jacques Cartier, the discoverer of Canada, on the 2d October, 1535. The 
 Algonquin village of twelve hundred inhabitants was then named Hochelaga, and the 
 Frenchman was well received, supplies of fish and maize being freely offered in return 
 
I lO 
 
 nicruRF.sQvn cAwin.i. 
 
 for beads, knives, small mirrors and crucifixes. Hochelaga was, even in those days, a 
 centre of linportanLe, iiavinjf eijjht or ten settU'mtMUs siil)jt;ct to it. Nothing more was 
 heard of it, however, till i6ir, when Champlain left niu'i)ec for liochelaj,'a, with the 
 intintion of estaijMshinjj there a tradinjjf-statioii. Ifmporary structures were erected, 
 ground was cleared anil seeds were sown, in order to test tht- fertility of the soil. 
 Before returning to Ouehec, Champlain held conferences with many Indians Hurons tind 
 Algon(|uins — who had coin(! to meet him in llic nei^hlmurhood of liic ijnscnt I.achine 
 Rapids. Two years latt;r, Champlain visitf-d llochela},^ again, and jiushcd forward 
 up tile river Ottawa as far as Lake Nipissing. It was not, hov.cver, till 1640 
 that a permanent establishment was attempted on the islami of Montreal. In that year 
 a society, designated " La Com|)agnic d(! Montreal," was formed in Paris for the 
 promotion of religion in the colony. This Company consisted of about thirty persons 
 of wealth, who proposed to build a regular town and i)rotect it against the Indians by 
 means of fortifications. Maisonneuve, a ilistinguisheil ami pious soldier from Cham- 
 pagne, was chosen to lead the expedition and direct the Company. The sanction of 
 the King ■ of France having been obtained, priests and families were sent out, and on 
 the 17th of May, 1642, Villemarie was solemnly consecrated. The spot chosen for the 
 ceremony was near the foot of the mountain. 
 
 Maisonneuve was a great man, knightly in bearing, brave as a lion and d«'vout as 
 a monk. Among his most efficient colleagues was d'Aillebout, wlio was subsequently 
 twice Governor of New I ranee. During the first few years the colony of Villemarie 
 barely managed to subsist, being constantly exposed to the incursions of Indians. On 
 one occasion, in 1652, a small band of Frenchmen defeated a body of two hundred 
 Iroquois in the immediate neighbourhood of Montreal. The following year Maisonneuve 
 returned from France with three vessels and upwards of a hundred soldiers. In 1663, 
 an important event occurred, the "Company of Montreal" having sold their rights to 
 the Seminary of Montreal, who have ever since been the seigniors of the island and 
 associated with every incident of its history. In 1672 the population of Montreal had 
 reached the figure of 1 500, and a few years later the place began to be laid out into 
 streets within a quadrangular .space surrounded by a wall. About the same time the 
 village of Laprairie, on the opposite side of the river, was founded by a number of 
 converted Iroquois, and later they migrated a little farther up to Caughnawaga, where 
 their descendants survive to this day. 
 
 The Irocjuois were the allies of the English of the New England Colonies and the 
 Dutch on the Hudson, as the Hurons were of the French of Canada; and the wars 
 between these two savage nations naturally involved their white friends. In 1690 an 
 expedition, consisting of two hundred French and Indians, set out from Montreal on 
 snow-shoes, and fell upon a Dutch settlement at Schenectady, putting all therein to 
 fire and sword. In retaliation, a force of thirteen hundred men, under General Winthrop 
 
MO\'rRi:.\r.. 
 
 Ill 
 
 and Major Schuyler, was equipped for a movement n|)on Montreal, by the way of Lake 
 Champlain, while a lleet was dispatched against Quebec under the command of Sir 
 William I'hipps. The former accomplished nothing, owing to the ilifficulties of the 
 march, ami were easily repulsetl ; while the deft.at of the latter by I'rontenac is one of 
 the most brilliant pages of the history of New I'" ranee. In 1700-01 a great peace was 
 concluded at Montreal between the Iroquois on the one hand, and the Hurons, Ottawas, 
 Abnakis, and Algonepiins on the other. This did not prevent works of defence being 
 carried on, and in 1722 a low stone wall was erected, with bastions and outlets, extending 
 all around the town. The population of Montreal at that time was three thousand. 
 The fortifications, however, were available only against the Indians, and were not calcu- 
 lated to withstand artillery, as the events of fifty years later clearly proved. In 1760, 
 after the fall of Quebec and the unsuccessful attempt of Levis to recover that strong- 
 hold, Montreal became the last station of French power in America, and it is therefore 
 indissolubly connected with the closing events of the Conquest. The British [)lan of 
 campaign was to hem Montreal in from every side. \\ ' that view. General Murray 
 moved up from Quebec, while Colonel Haviland advanr -il nis army, composed of three 
 thousand regulars and provincials, with a small body ol aians, from Crown Point on 
 Lake Champlain, and up the Richelieu. On his side .Sir Jeffrey Amherst, the Com- 
 mander-in-Chief, set out from Albany and passed through the Iroquois country, now the 
 State of New York, as far as Oswego, where he took boats to transport his men across 
 the lower part of Lake Ontario and down the St. Lawrence. When he reached Lachine, 
 Haviland had already occupied the south shore of the river opposite the city, and Murray 
 was master of the territory extending to the foot of the island. Levis had fired his 
 last musket, Vaudreuil had exhausted all his diplomacy, and there only remained to be 
 enacted the final scene of Capitulation whereby the fairest colony of France was trans- 
 ferred to Great Britain. It has never been definitely ascertained at what particular spot 
 this impressive historical event took place. Most historians locate it at the Chateau de 
 Ramezay, on Notre Dame .Street, the ofificial residence of Marquis de Vaudreuil, 
 Governor and Lieutenant-General. There is a local tradition, however, that the Articles 
 of Surrender were signed in a small frame house, on the Cote des Neiges road, behind 
 the mountain, which was unfortunately destroyed by fire only a few years ago. It is not 
 necessary to trace the general history of the city from this point of the Conquest down 
 to our day. It will suffice to say that from 1760 to 1810, Montreal was little better 
 than a frontier outpost, and an emporium of the trade of peltries with the Indians. 
 In the succeeding decade, the North-West was explored by a number of hardy adven- 
 turers — the Selkirks, MacTavishes and others penetrated into the wilderness ; the North- 
 West Company multiplied its stations throughout the Red River valley, and Montreal 
 became the headquarters of all these mighty traders. There are episodes in this period 
 of the history of Montreal, up to 1830, which have the charm of romance, reminding one 
 
113 
 
 PlC'l UR HSQ UH CA NA DA. 
 
 of its ancienf days. Fht: famous voyaocurs and coKrciirs t/r /x'/s are indissolubly asso- 
 ciated with the city. All the canoes that went up the Ottawa, thence to l'>ench River 
 and Georj!;ian Hay, to Lake Superior and on through innumerable portages, to Lake 
 of the Woods and the Winnipeg River and Lake; to Fort Garry, set out from the village 
 of Lachine, it is true, but th.ey were all laden with Montreal freight and propelled by 
 the stalwart arms of Montreal oarsmen. Then came the great devclo])ment of the 
 lumber trade, which gave .additional importance to Montreal and increased its wealth. 
 This trade brought the whole back country of the Upper Ottawa into commercial union 
 with the city, and the profit le connection has continued down to the present time. 
 Toward 1840, steamboat nav ^.aion was introduced, first from Montreal to Quebec, and 
 afterwards from Montreal to the principal towns of Upper Canada. This was the dawn 
 of the era which was gradually to enlarge into the system of railways and steamships 
 whereby the standard position of Montreal as one of the chief cities of the continent 
 was permanently assured. 
 
 * It is easy to trace the two main divisions of the population of Montreal. Taking 
 St. Lawrence Main Street as a dividing line, all that is east of it is French, and all 
 that is west of it is Fnglisli-speaking. The two nationalities scarcely overlap this con- 
 ventional barrier, except in a few isolated cases. And other external characteristics of 
 the French population are as distinct as their language. The houses are less pre- 
 tentious, though quite comfortable, and there is a general absence of ornament or of 
 surrounding plantations. The extreme eastern portion is designated the Quebec 
 suburbs, and there the native people can be studied as easily as in the rural villages, 
 from which the majority hail. They are an honest, hard-workmg race, ver)- gay and 
 courteous, and of primitive simplicity of life. Their thrift is remarkable, ami they 
 manage to subsist on one half of what would hardly satisfy tlu; needs of people of 
 other nationalities. The old folks speak little or no Em sh, but it is different with 
 the rising generation. These use the two languages indifferently, and herein possess 
 a marked advantage over the English, Scotch and Irish. Within late years also, they 
 have learned to husband their resources. They have in their midst a flourishing branch 
 of the City and District Savings Bank, a number of 'niilding societies and two or three 
 benevolent guilds. Their poor are cared for by the St. Vincent de Paul Association, 
 which has several ramifications, and the Union St. Josejih is devoted to the relief of 
 artisans during life, and of their families after death. 
 
 Tiiere is a great deal of hoarded wealth among the I'rench inhabitants, but 
 as a rule they do not invest it freel\-. They have among them some of the richest 
 men in the city who, however, are modest in their wants, and make no display either 
 in the way of sumptuous mansions or gaudy ecpiipages. Although extremely hospita- 
 ble and fond of society, they are not in the habit of giving balls or fancy entertain- 
 ments, their evenings being spent mostly in mutual visits, where a (juiet game of cards 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 113 
 
 fe'^-^ 
 
 
 j ■ . ■■'■ ■ :s 
 
 3'-**'i ■ ■■■■ 
 
 ^k 
 
 ...*;..":*^''^^^^' 
 
 
 ;^-t''' ^'/.i«5-' 
 
 ^M: 
 
 
 MOUNTAIN DKlVi:. 
 
 Sa^^ . -It-::. 
 
 *ft>L-^^ 
 
 ^^ ■.. 
 
 \^ ■» ^ 
 
 
 
 predominates. As in Paris so in 
 Montreal, it is not easy to obtain 
 access into the inner I-'rench cinlcs ; 
 but once initiatcil, the strani^er is ai^reeably sur- 
 prised at the amount of t^race and culture which 
 he meets. It is a current mistake that hij^dier 
 education is uncommon amonij these people. Tiie 
 gift of conversation is almost universal ; the best 
 topics of art and literature are freely disciu^red, 
 and ladies are familiar with political questions. 
 
 The western part of the city is Knglish. By 
 this term is meant all those whose vernacular is our mothcr-toniruo. Numerically, the 
 English portion is not so great as the Scotch, who, unquestionably take the lead in 
 commerce, finance and public enterprise generally. In perhaps no section of the Colo- 
 nies have luiglishmen and Scotchmen made more of their opportunities than in 
 Montreal. Tiiere is an air of prosperity about all their surroundings which at once 
 impresses the visitor. Taken all in all, there is perha|)s no wealthier city area in the 
 
 .'^0^/ 
 
 ^jiPiW'"!, " 
 
114 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 world than that comprised between Beaver Hall Hill and the foot of Mount Royal, 
 and between the parallel lines of Dorchester and Sherbrooke Streets in the West End. 
 Sherbrooke Street is scarcely surpassed by '.he Fifth Avenue of New York in the 
 magnificence of its buildings. The grounds include demesne and park, the charms 
 of the country amid the rush and roar of a great commercial centre. In winter 
 the equipages present a most attractive spectacle. It has been said that in this 
 respect only St. Petersburg can claim precedence over Montreal. A favourite drive 
 on a Saturday afternoon in winter is from Victoria Square to Nelson's Column and 
 back, the sumptuous sleighs of every description, drawn by high-steppers, and bear- 
 ing lovely women ensconced in the richest furs of the Canadian forest, following 
 each other in endless succession. There is also a winter driving club, which peri- 
 odically starts from the iron gates of McGill College and glides like the wind along 
 the country roads to a hospitable rendezvous at Sault aux Recollet, Lachine or Longue 
 Pointe, where a bounteous repast and a " hop " are provided. The return home under 
 the moon and stars is the most enjoyable feature of the entertainment, and many a 
 journey through life has been initiated by these exhilarating drives. 
 
 The extreme south-western portion of the city is occupied almost e-\clusively by the 
 Irish population. It is called Grififintown, from a man of that name who first settled 
 there and leased a large tract of ground from the Grey Nuns for ninety-nine years. Over 
 sixty years of this lease have already expired, so that in about twenty-five or thirty years 
 the ground rent of this immense section will revert to the nuns. Griffintown comprises a 
 little world within itself — shops, factories, schools, academies, churches and asylums. The 
 Irish population of Montreal take a high stand in business, politics and society. They 
 number in their ranks many successful merchants and large capitalists, and have leading 
 representatives in all the learned professions. 
 
 The island of Montreal is the most fertile area in the Province of Quebec, and is 
 specially renowned for its fruit, the Pomtuc Grisc, queen of russets, and the incom- 
 parable Famcusc, growing with a perfection obtainable nowhere else. It is thickly 
 settled, being studded with thriving villages and rich farms. It is about thirty miles 
 long and ten broad, and is formed by the confluence of the Ottawa with the St. Law- 
 rence at Ste. Anne's, in the western extremity, and by the meeting of the same rivers 
 at Bout de I'lsle, on the eastern verge. The Ottawa behind the island is called Riviere 
 des Prairies by the French, while the English have adopted the more prosaic title of 
 Back River. About the middle of its course is a rapid known as Sault aux Recollet, so 
 called from a Recollet missionary who perished there in the days of the Iroquois. 
 
 The city is bountifully provided with summer resorts and retreats within easy 
 distance by rail and river. Lachine and Ste. Anne's have long been favourites among 
 these, being admirably fitted by nature for boating and fishing purposes. They contain 
 many charming villas and country houses. St. Lambert, immediately opposite the city, 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 "5 
 
 is growing in estimation from year to year. An old stopping-place is Longueuil, 
 a little below St. Lambert, which has long had a considerable English colony, and is 
 still a favourite resort in summer. No institution pays so well as the Longueuil Ferry, 
 for a great deal of the traffic from the fertile counties of Chambly and Laprairie comes 
 by it to the city. The quiet bay in front of the village is the roadstead for the craft 
 of the Longueuil Yacht Club, whose record stands high in aquatic annal.s. Within an 
 hour's ride is Chambly, situate on a basin of the same name, which forms part of 
 the beautiful Richelieu River. Directly opposite tower the basaltic pillars of Beloeil 
 Mountain, one of the most picturesque spots in Canada, on whose summit a lovely 
 
 THE LONGUEUIL FERRY. 
 
 lake mirrors the sky — a spot resorted to !)y scores of families whose heads are able to 
 come and go, to and from the city, without detriment to their business. 
 
 In the way of parks and pleasure-grounds Montreal is singularly fortunate. There 
 is a Mountain Park and an Island Park, both of which may fairly claim to be unri- 
 valled. The former cost the city nearly half a million of dollars, but is well worth 
 the money. The drive round it is a favourite afternoon recreation for citizens and 
 visitors. It ascends from the south-eastern base of Mount Royal, by curves that are 
 sometimes like corkscrews, to the highest altitude, whence a magnificent panoraiyia is 
 outspread, including the whole island of Montreal, the fair Richelieu peninsula, the 
 blue waters of Lake Champlain, and the undulating line of the Green Mountams of 
 Vermont. Our illustration on page 113 shows the Nuns' Island above the Victoria 
 bridge, a beautiful islet that owes its name to its ownership. This Mountain Park is 
 
Ii6 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Q 
 < 
 
 U 
 X 
 
 H 
 
 Imperial 
 
 still in its native ruggedness, and it 
 will take years before it is completed, 
 according to a scientific plan embracing 
 tracts of landscape-gardening, relieved 
 by spaces of woodland, glade and pri- 
 m eval forest. It is intended also to 
 have preserves for game and wil-d ani- 
 mals. The Island Park is St. Helen's 
 Island, in the middle of the river, and 
 in it, within reach of sling or arquebuse, 
 Montreal possesses a pleasure resort 
 nowhere excelled. St. Helen's Island 
 has a romantic history. Champlain's 
 wife, Helen Boiiille, took a fancy to it, 
 bought it with the contents of her own 
 purse, and in return Champlain gave it 
 her name. Later, it fell into the hands 
 of the Le Moyne family, and became 
 incorporated in their seigniory of Lon- 
 gueuil. Finally, it was purchased by the 
 Government for military purposes, and barracks were erected thereon. After 
 
MONTRKAL. 
 
 117 
 
 the departure of the British troops from the country, the property was passed over to 
 the Federal Government, who leased it, on certain conditions, to the city for park pur- 
 poses. Looking at it from the city one has no idea of its hei^dit in the centre. It slopes 
 upward from the water's edge, and thus affords a capital military position, as may be seen 
 at a glance in our illustration of the Old Hattery. Tiic same feature makes it one of the 
 best possible points from which to get a view of the cit\', especially of tiie harbour and 
 long-extended line of wharves and docks, with the mmmtain towering up in the l)ack- 
 
 OLD BATTERY, ST. HELEN'S ISLAND. 
 
 ground. In the fall of 1760, the island was the scene of a dramatic incident. The 
 Chevalier de Levis, who defeated Murray at the battle of .Ste. Foye in the summer 
 of that year, and would have recaptured Quebec and retrieved the disaster of the 
 Plains of Abraham, had not a British fleet suddenly arrived under the shadow of 
 Cape Diamond, was obliged to retreat towards Montreal, whither he was soon followed 
 by Murray and Amherst. The French had t': bow to the inevitable, and Vaudreuil 
 signed the articles of capitulation. Meantime Levis, who had retired to St. Helen's 
 Island, sent a flag of truce to Murray, to request the surrender of his troops with the 
 honours of war. For some inexplicable reason this demand was not granted, and 
 
 «-?'iAU*»/'^ 1 
 
ii8 
 
 PICrURESQirF. CANADA. 
 
 the hiffh-mindftl Frenchman construed the denial into an insult. When the shadows 
 of night had fallen, and the foliage of the great trees intensified the darkness, he 
 gathered his men in the centre of the island around a i)yre of blazing wood. At the 
 word of command the colours were trooped, the staffs i)roken, and the whole thrown 
 into the tire, while the drums beat to arms, and the veterans cried "Vive la France!" 
 with the anguish of despair. The ne.\t morning the remnant of the French army 
 tiled before their conquerors and piled their arms, but never a shred of the white 
 Hag was there, to deepen their humiliation. 
 
 Chief among the public squares and gardens of Montreal, in size and in historic 
 interest, is the Champ de Mars. In 1812, the citadel or mound on the present site of Dal- 
 housie Scjuare was demolished, and the earth of which it was composed was carried over 
 and strewn upon the Champ de Mars. This fact, within the memory of the oldest 
 inhabitants, has led some people to suppose that the l""ield of Mars dates only from that 
 comparatively late period. Such, however, is not the fact. No doubt the dumping of 
 so mucli new earth, with proper levelling and rolling, was a great improvement ; but 
 the site and general outlines of the ground itself belong to a higher anticpiity. The 
 Champ was a scene of promenade in the old French days, and many is the golden 
 sunset that tired the leafy cylinders of its Lombardy poplars, as beaux, with peaked 
 hats and purple doublets, sauntered under their graceful ranks in the company of 
 short-skirted damsels. The chief glory of the Champ de Mars is its military history. 
 With the single e.xception of the Plains of Abraham, there is no other piece of 
 ground in America which has been successively trodden by the armies of so many dif- 
 ferent nations in martial array. F'irst, it witnessed the evolutions of the blue-coated 
 Frenchmen — probably such historical regiments as those of Carignan and Rousillon — and 
 its sands were crunched by the hoofs of chargers that bore Montcalm and Levis. 
 Then the serried ranks of red-coats paraded from the days of Murray and Carleton. 
 It were worth while to know how many regiments of the Mritisli army have, at one 
 time or another, turned out on the Champ de Mars. Ne.xt, for about six months, the 
 ground was used by 
 
 "The cocked-h.it Contiiient.ils, 
 In their ragged regimentals;" 
 
 many of whom went forth therefrom to defeat and death under the clifYs at. Quebec, 
 with the heroic Montgomery. And now it is the parade-ground of our Canadian Volun- 
 teers. The illustration gives us a specimen of the Victoria Rifles, one of Montreal's 
 crack regiments. The buildings shown are the rear of the H6tel de Ville and of the 
 Court House ; then the twin towers of the parish church, which are seen from almost 
 every point of view; and ne.xt to them the side of the modest little Presbyterian Church 
 called St. Gabriel's, which is given below in its full dimensions. This is the oldest 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 IIQ 
 
 ProtestaiU Clitirch standing 
 in Montreal ami lont; may 
 it stand, for u iirescrve;:- tlie 
 memory of Cliristian cour- 
 tesies between three Icad- 
 inj^ Cliristian communions. 
 While the church was beino; 
 built, the good old Recollet Fathers offered the congregation the use of their chapel 
 to worship in. The sturdy Scotchmen accepted the offer, and when they moved into 
 their own kirk presented the I'athers with a hogshead of Canary wine and two boxes 
 of candles. Subsetpiently, when the Anglican church was burnt, the Presbyterians — 
 doubtless remembering how they had been indebted to others — came forward promptly 
 and put St. Gabriel's at the entire disposal of the Anglicans for the half of every 
 
t20 
 
 PICTVRHSQUli CANADA, 
 
 tl 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 131 
 
 Suntlt'iy, until their church could be rebuilt. This offer was nccept(!cl as praciously 
 as it was made, and thus St. nabriel's is, in itself, a monument (-([ual in interest to 
 anythinjj in Montreal. 
 
 Historically, the Place d' Amies is even more intercstinjj;. As it stands at i)resent, 
 there are few more charminjj spots in Canada, framed in as it is by the Corinthian 
 portico of the Montreal Hank, the Ionic colonnade of ti\c City Hank -now tiie building's 
 of the Canada Pacific Railway Company — and the towers of Notre Dame. Our view is 
 taken from Notre Dame, so that we jjjet only a i>ortion of the IMace d'Armes ; but while 
 we lose part of the Place, we pain a jrlimpse of the city as a whole, extending away to 
 the foot of the mountains. N<;xt to the Hank of Montreal, with its beautiful portico, 
 stands the Post Office. Hetween it and the mountains the most prominent buildings are 
 St. Mary's College and the Church of the Gcsii, which attracts Protestants to its services 
 liy good music. I'"arther west the unshapely pile of St. Patrick's Cathedral bulks largely 
 on the slojjc of Heaver Hall. The garden of the Place d'Armes is very beautiful in 
 summer, with its young trees and central pyramidal fountain ; but in winter it is invested 
 with a particular glory —for the place is the coldest spot in Montreal at all seasons of tin; 
 year — the north-west winds streaming from the mountain in that tlirection as through a 
 Colorado carton. Its history goes back to the early history of the city. In 1643 and 
 1644, the Colony of Villemarie — the beautiful ancient name of Montreal — was practically in 
 a state of siege, owing to the incursions of Indians. The noble Maisonneuve kept on the 
 defensive for a time, until he was remonstrated with, and several of his more influential 
 followers openly charged him with cowardice. This stirred his marti.1l spirit; he deter- 
 mined on changing his tactics. With a train of dogs accustomed to scent the trail of 
 the Iroquois, and at the head of thirty armed men, he marched out in the direction of 
 the mountain, where he was met by upwards of two hundred savages, who fell u|)on 
 him and compelled his forces to retreat. Maisonneuve formed the rear-guard. With a 
 pistol in each hand, he walked slowly back, and never halted until he reached the present 
 site of the Place d'Armes. There, when the French had repulsed the foe and gathered 
 their dead and wounded, they understood both the valour of their commandant and the 
 wisdom of remaining behind the shelter of their fortifications. 
 
 There is no city in America which has a greater number of public institutions of 
 an ecclesiastical, educational, or charitable character. Chief among these is the Church 
 of Notre Dame, the largest edifice of the kind in America, except the Cathedral of 
 Mexico. At the founding of Villemarie, a temporary chapel of bark was built on 
 " Pointe a Calliere," which was used until the following year, when a wooden structure 
 was raised on the same spot. In 1654, this chapel becoming too small, M. de Maison- 
 neuve .suggested the construction of a more commodious church adjoining the hospital 
 in St. Paul Street, on the spot where stands to-day the block of stores belonging to 
 the H6tel Dieu. Service was held there for upwards of twenty years. In 1672, the 
 
laa 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 foiiiulations of a more spacious edifice; were laid in tlic Place d'Armes, and the church 
 was completed in 1678. This lasted till iXjj, wIkmi the present temple was devised, 
 which, on the 15th June, 1829, was opened for public worship under tiie auspices of 
 Mj(r. Larti^ue, first K. C Mishop of Montreal. The pile was intended to he 
 a representative of its namesake, Notre Dame, of Paris. Its towers are 227 feet 
 
 in height, and contain a peal of 
 eleven bells, unrivalled on this 
 continent. The " Gros Bourdon " 
 of the western tower is numbered 
 among the five heaviest bells in 
 the world. It was cast in Lon- 
 don, weighs 24,780 pounds, is six feet high, and at its mouth measures eight feet 
 seven inches in diameter. The nave of the church, including the sanctuary, is 220 
 feet in length, nearly 80 feet in height, 69 in width, exclusive of the side aisles, 
 which measure 25^ feet each, and the walls are five feet thick. The church is 
 capable of holding I2,ckx), and on extraordinary occasions, when chairs are used, 
 15,000 persons. The twin towers of Notre Dame stand out to every traveller as one 
 of the notable landmarks of Montreal. 
 
MONTRHAL. 
 
 "3 
 
 Other churches are so numerous that Mi)ntrcal, like lirooklyn, has been dcnomi- 
 natcfJ the City of Churches. Christ Churdi Cathedral, on St. Catherine .Strt^et, stands 
 deservedly first. It is a gem of Gothic architecture, not surpassed b\ (Jrace Church, of 
 
 New York. It is built of 
 
 'ft'""'"" /"!'!?"" ' ■ Jy*. 
 
 limestone, dressed with 
 cream-coloured sandstone, 
 and its interior fittings 
 are in remarkably good 
 taste. In iIk." grounds is 
 a monument to the mem- 
 ory of Bishop Fulford, 
 one of the most dis- 
 tinguished prelates that 
 ever ruled the Church 
 of England in Canada. 
 The Presbyterians have 
 noble edifices in St. 
 Paul's and St. Andrew's. 
 
 PULPIT OF NOTRE DAME. 
 
 The Methodists, Unitarians, Congregationalists and others are well represented, while 
 the Israelites have two synagogues. The Jesuits boast of a church which is an 
 exact counterpart of the celebrated Gesu, of Rome. The spirit of ambition is strong 
 in the Catholics. The late Bishop, Mgr. Bourget, commenced the tas'.. of erecting a 
 facsimile in miniature of St. Peter's. The architect was instructed to proceed to Rome 
 
 i 
 f 
 
 1 
 J 
 
124 
 
 PIC TURHSOUE CANADA. 
 
 and simply reduce St. IV-ter's to exactly one-third of its actual dimensions and reproduce 
 it in that fashion in Montreal. Slowly it has been <;rowing before the puzzled eyes of 
 the citizens, and strangers ask with wonderment what it is, or is lik;:ly to be. 
 
 Not only are the charitable institutions of Montreal more numerous in respect 
 to population than those of any other city on this continent, but several of them 
 belong to a high antiquity, and are intimately connected with salient events in the 
 history of New F"rance. The foundation, for instance, of the Hotel Dieu, reads like 
 a romance. When Maisonneuve offered his services to the " Compagnie de Montreal." 
 and was named Governor o*" the future colony, he was sagacious enough to understand 
 that his scheme stood in need of a virtuous v»'oman who would take care of the sick, 
 and superintend the distribution of supplies. Such a person siiould be of heroic 
 mould, to face the dangeis and privations of the wilderness. What gold could not 
 purchase. Providence supplied in the person of a young woman — Jeanne Mance, daughter 
 of a proainiir dii roi, near Lamoges, in Champagne — who was impelled by an irre- 
 sistible I'octitioii to the missions of New France. Queen Anne, of Austria, ami several 
 distinguished hulies of the Couri^. apprised of her merit and extraordinary resolution, 
 encouraged her in her design ; and Madame Bouillon, a distinguished lady of that 
 period, placeil means at her disposal for the establishment of an hospital. In the 
 summer of 1641, two vessels sailed from I. a Rochelle, one bearing MaisonneuNC, a 
 priest and twenty-five men — the other carrying Mademoiselle Mance, a missionary and 
 twelve men. The winter was spent at .Sillery. near Quebec. On the opening of 
 navigat'on in 1642, a small llotilla, consisting of two barges, a pinnace and another 
 boat, moved up the solitary highway of the St. Lawrence, and on the iSth May 
 possession was taken of Montreal l)\ the celebration of a solemn mass. The two 
 principal persons who figured at the ceremony were Maisonneuve and Mademoiselle 
 Mance; and thus it happened that a woman assisted in the founding of this great city. 
 
 Another community has long been identified with the history of Montreal. The 
 mission of the (irey N'uns is to assist the poor, visit the sick, educate the orjjhan, and 
 enfold with maternal arms the nameless and homeless foundling. There is no charity 
 more beautiful than theirs, and hence their popularity with Protestants as well as 
 Catholics. The Order was founded by Madame de Zanille, a Canadian lady, belonging 
 to the distinguished families of Varennes and Boucher de Boucherville. The old con- 
 vent stood for many years on Foundling Street — named thus in its honour — opposite 
 Ste. Anne's Market, — but had to make way for the encroachments of trade, and has 
 since been transferred to magnificent buildings on Guy Street. The Grey Nuns have 
 spread over the Province, and have numerous representatives in the north-west, as far 
 even as the Upper Saskatchewan. 
 
 In ihe noble work of charit)', the Protestant population, although numerically far 
 inferior, has more than held its own. Notwithstanding the amplitude of its accom- 
 
«p 
 
 MONTREAL. 
 
 "5 
 
 modation, the (ioiicral Hospital was not found sufficiently lar<;e, and a yood citizen, 
 Major Mills, established another in the extreme vest t^wX, whence it derives its name 
 of the Western Hospital. It has been said that charity differs from trade in this, 
 that whereas the latter is always in direct ratio of supply to demand, the former 
 
 reverses the rule ; and the more it expands 
 its resources, the more it finds objects of 
 % misery to relieve. The principle has held 
 
 ■ ' ■ "" good in the case of the Western Hospital, 
 
 which lias been crowded from its opening day. 
 In 1S6:; a number of leading citizens. 
 realizin<r the 
 
 ^ a peculiar asylum of 
 
 help for the Protestant 
 poor and unfortunate 
 — especially the agcil 
 anil feci)le, who iiad 
 no means of livelihood 
 — raised upwards of 
 $80,000, with which 
 they laid the founda- 
 tions of the institution called the I'rotestant House of Refuge and Industry. The 
 dual character of the population, elsewhere referred to, has made necessarj' a double 
 set of asylums for Protestants and Catholics, which accounts for the extraordinary 
 number of these institutions, as compared with the total number of inhabitants. 
 
 IN Tin; CIIAPF.I. OK r.RF.V NUNNERY. 
 
126 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Chief among the educational establishments of Montreal is McGill University, whose 
 history embraces several features that deserve consideration. Hon. James McGill, who 
 was born at Glasgow in 1744, and died at Montreal in 1813, by his last will and testa- 
 ment devised the estate of Burnside, containing forty-seven acres of land, and bequeathed 
 a large sum of money for the purposes of this foundation. The University was erected 
 by Royal Charter in 1821, and reorganized by an amended Charter in 1852. Its 
 
 CITY HALL, AND NELSON'S MONUMENT. 
 
 endowments, exhibitions and scholar- 
 ships are already respectable. The 
 Molson Chair of English Language and 
 Literature, the Peter Redpath Chair 
 of Natural History, the Logan Chair 
 of Geology, the John F"rothingham 
 Chair of ivlcntal and Moral Philosophy, 
 have each an endowment of $20,o(X). Students attend McGill not only from every 
 Province of the Dominion, but from the United States. It counts among its professors 
 some distinguished scholars, notably Dr. Dawson, the Principal, whose scientific reputation 
 is world-wide. Among the affiliated institutions are Morrin College, Quebec ; St. Francis 
 College, Richmond; the Congregational College of British North America; the Presby- 
 terian College of Montreal ; the Diocesan College of Montreal, and the W^esleyan College 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 127 
 
 of Montreal. Under the regulations for the establishment of Normal Schools in the 
 Province of Quebec, the Superintendent of Education is empowered to associate with 
 himself, for the direction of one of these schools, the corporation of McGill University. 
 In accordance with this arrangement, the Pro- 
 vincial Protestant Normal School is afifiiliated 
 with McGill, and for the past quarter of a 
 century has trained teachers, especially for 
 the Protestant population of the Province. 
 The Model Schools attached to the institu- 
 tion are three in number — one for boys, one 
 
 % \ 
 
 ANCIENT TOWERS AT MONTREAL COLLEGE. 
 
 for girls, and a primary. These schools are capable of accommodating about three 
 hundred pupils ; are supplied with the best furniture and apparatus ; and are conducted 
 on the most approved methods of teaching. They receVe pupils from the age of six 
 and upwards, and give a thorough English education. There are two high schools — 
 one for boys and another for girls — largely attended. 
 
 Montreal College and St. Mary's College are Roman Catholic institutions. The 
 former occupies a magnificent site on Sherbrooke Street, at the foot of the mountain, 
 and the building is probabi" the largest single and continuous pile in America. This 
 institution has been intimately associated with the history of Montreal for over a 
 
128 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 i 
 
 hundred years. It is under the control of the Seminary of St. Sulpice, who were 
 made seigniors of the Island of Montreal and its environs hy Royal Letters Patent, 
 in 1640. The Theological Department is specially remarkable, and has been the 
 nursery of priests and missionaries for more than a century. Its students are from 
 all parts. Chief among the objects of interest connected with the college are the 
 two rountl towers near the gates, which trad m traces back to the early days of 
 the colony, when they were built as. outposts ui defence against the red men. These 
 towers are kept in a perfect state of preservation, as memorials of those ancient days 
 of peril. 
 
 St. Mary's College, on Bleury Street, is under the direction of the Jesuit Fathers, 
 and their boast is that it is second to none of their establishments on this continent, 
 which is saying a great deal when one is acquainted with such old and successful colleges 
 as those of Fordham, N. Y., Georgetown, D. C, and .St. Louis, Mo. Their celebrated 
 Ratio Studiorum is carried out to the letter, and the results deserve attention, because 
 the methods are so different from those in vogue in our day. There is tone and style 
 in everything connected with St. Mary's College. .Strangers are received with the utmost 
 courtesy, whether they vi,sit the institution itself or the adjoining Church of the Gcsn, 
 to see its relics of saints and its frescoes. 
 
 A second Normal School for the French and Catholics, under the patronymic of 
 Jacques Cartier, was located from its foundation in tiie old Government House at 
 Chateau Ramezay, opposite the City Hall, but has since been transferred to palatial 
 quarters on an eminence at the East End. The management is almost wholly 
 ecclesiastical, the Principal being Abbe \'erreau, distinguished as an historian and 
 antiquarian. The Catholic Commercial Academy, off St. Catherine Street, is the only 
 institution of tiie kind in the Province which is altogether under the control of laymen, 
 and from all accounts it has met with complete success. 
 
 The Art Association of Montreal was incorporated in 1858, but for many years it 
 had but a languid existence. The late Bishop Fulford did much to encourage its mem- 
 bers, but the credit of having placed the society on a permanent footing is due to 
 Benaiah Gibb, who left property, money, and a number of paintings from his own col- 
 lection, to form a gallery. A suitable Iniilding has been erected in Phillips' .Square, 
 and the art gallery was recently opened by His Excellency the Marquis of Lome and 
 H. R. H. the Princess Louise. 
 
 While little has been done for art, less has been done for libraries. The Me- 
 chanics' Institute has a collection of books, but not at all adequate to the wants of 
 so large a population. A movement is at present on foot, tending to tlie establishment 
 of a public library commensurate with the size, wealth and culture of the city. In truth, 
 money was left by the late Mr. Eraser, to build and furnish a public library, but for 
 some mysterious reason, the library is still in posse. The Institut Canadien flourished 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 139 
 
 "^^K? 
 ^^l.-^^ 
 
 
 CHRIST tm'KCH CATHEDRAL. FROM I'HII.I.IPS' SOl'ARK, 
 
 for many years with a good library and readinir-room, but it lias of late fallen into 
 disuse, and its books have been advertised for sale. 
 
 But Montreal is more interested in outdoor sports and in orjranizine^ amusement 
 clubs than in art. The Victoria skating club, whose famous rink on Urummond Street 
 was one of the first erected on this continent, has been the scene of many brilliant fancy- 
 dress entertainments, which Royalty and nobility have graced. Those "carnivals" on the 
 ice were first instituted here, and have since become popular elsewhere. There are three 
 
i;>o 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 curling clubs — the Caledonia, Montreal and Thistle — with a Canadian branch of the 
 Royal Caledonian curling club of Scotland. Ihe Montreal curling club was 
 founded in iSo", and ranks high in the annals of the " roarin' game." Snow-shoeing 
 has been reduced to an art. The parent club, the " Montreal," is perhaps the most 
 prosperous corporate body of the kind in the city. The costume is singularly pic- 
 turescpie — white llannel coat and leggings, blue ca|) with tassel — from which is derived 
 the popular name of Tucpie Bleue — red sash and moccasins. There is no prettier sight 
 than that of the club meeting at the McGill College gates, moving up the flank of the 
 mountain to the " Pines," and then gliding to the rendezvous at the Club House, at 
 Outremont. The memoraljle torchlight procession over this route to the hospitable 
 villa of Thornbury, made in honour of Lord Dufferin, in 1873, was a fairy spectacle 
 which will never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. Every winter there is a sweep- 
 stakes over the mountain, a day devoted to games and races, and several tramps across 
 country to a distance of twenty-five or thirty miles. Lacrosse is the "national game" 
 of Canada, and in that character it had its birth in Montreal. Four or five years ago, 
 a select team made the tour of England, and had the honour of playing before Her 
 Majesty at Windsor. The Indian clubs of Caughnawaga and St. Regis always take 
 part in the games, but they have long lost the supremacy which they enjoyed for cen- 
 turies. There is also a golf club, established in 1873, under the auspices of the Earl 
 of Dufferin ; a bicycle club, foot-ball club, and a chess club, which numbers among its 
 members some of the strongest and most brilliant players in the country ; an active and 
 energetic club for the jirotection of fish and game, as well as a society for the pre- 
 vention of cruelty to animals ; two gymnasia, and a McGill College athletic club, 
 whose annual games recall many feats of skill and strength. Boating is also a favourite 
 pastime, and there are three large yacht clubs — the Montreal, Longueuil and Lachine. 
 A regatta in Hochelaga Basin, with the prow of the graceful little vessels steering straight 
 as a needle for the twin spires of V'arennes Church, is as pretty a sight as one could 
 wish to see. 
 
 The turning-point in the business history of Montreal was in 1850 or thereabouts, 
 when it suddenly manifested a tendency to expand. That change was mainly due to 
 two causes — the Allan Line of .Steamships and tiie Grand Trunk Railway. This leads us 
 to speak of the shii)ping and the carrying-trade from the interior to the seaboard, and 
 vice versa. The geographical position of the city is of course exceptional ; but in order 
 to make the most of it, it was necessary to obviate the difficulty presented by the Lachine 
 Rapids to up-stream navigation. The only way to do that was to turn the rapids by a 
 canal. The .Sulpicians understood this as far back as 1700, when they opened a sluice, 
 zYz feet deep, by the River St. Pierre to Montreal, and used boats therein.- In 1821 
 public-spirited citizens, led by Hon. John Richardson, re.solved to enlarge this primitive 
 boat canal into a barge canal. Richardson wanted it to extend from Lachine to 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 •31 
 
 SriiAMER I'ASSLNG LUCKS, ANU LWLUAUING bllll'S UY LLLC'l RIC LIGlll. 
 
 Hochelaga, so as to avoid the current opposite the fort of St. Helen's Island and 
 Isle Ronde, and thus make Hochelaga the real port, as Nature intended it to be, seeing 
 that in its majestic basin the fleets of the world might moor in safety. But the oppo- 
 sition of interested parties thwarted this vast design, and the canal was dug only to 
 Windmill Point, its present terminus, a distance of 8^ miles. The work was commenced 
 
133 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 in 182 1 and completed in 1825. Hut there was more to come, because more was needed. 
 The barye canal was not sufficient, and must ^nve way to a ship canal. The widening 
 began in 1843 and continued till its completion in 1849, at an outlay of over $2,cxx),ooo. 
 With the opening of these works the commercial supremacy of Montreal was secured, 
 because it fixed the union of ocean and inland navigation. The trade, indeed, grew to such 
 a volume that the canal was once more found inadequate, and in 1875 another enlargement 
 was begun, at 'an estimated cost of $6,500,000. This is part of a gigantic scheme for 
 the widening of the whole St. Lawrence canal system, a work whose magnitude will 
 ■ be understood when we remember that from the Atlantic entrance of the straits of Belie 
 IsS, via the St. Lawrence and inland lakes to the head of Lake Superior, the distance 
 is ^384 miles, and that on that route there are the Lachine, Beauharnois, Cornwall, 
 Farran's Point. Rapide Plat, Galops and Welland Canals, the aggregate length of which 
 is "lOYi miles ; and the total lockage 536.)^ feet, through fifty-four locks up to Lake Erie ; 
 also, the Sault Ste. Marie Canal, built by the United States, one and one-seventeenth 
 miles in length, with eighteen feet of lockage. These canals make Montreal the rival of 
 New York for the grain and provision trade of the Great West and North-west. Her 
 facilities are great, and there is every prospect of farther and speedy development. 
 Alread)-. we can get on board the " Bohemian," or some other large and well-appointed 
 steamer, at the lowest dock of the Lachine Canal, and take as pleasant a summer 
 journey up the .St. Lawrence as mortal tired of the dust and heat of the city can 
 desire ; and still on by water without a break, up lake after lake, to " the city of 
 the unsalted seas," in the heart of tiie Continent. Or, we can go east as safely as 
 west. Nearly thirty years ago the first steamers of the Allan Company were 
 sent forth, but a series of disasters well-nigh brought the enterprise to the ground. 
 The Company persevered, however, until now they possess one of the finest and largest 
 fleets alloat, comprising twenty-five iron and steel steamers, to say nothing of swift 
 and powerful clippers. These vessels ply between Montreal and Liverpool, Montreal 
 and Glasgow, lioston and Liverpool, and Boston and Glasgow. There are beside 
 eight or ten steamship lines employed regularly in the Montreal trade — the Dominion, 
 Beaver, Temperley, Ross, Thompson, Donaldson, Great Western, White Cross and Gulf 
 Ports. A French line is also in near contemplation, for next season, as well as a service 
 with Brazil. The inland navigation is perfectly supplied. We have a daily mail steamer 
 to and from Quebec, connecting with steamers to all the watering places of the Lower 
 St. Lawrence and the Saguenay ; also a daily line to the ports of Ontario as far as 
 Hamilton ; another daily line up the Ottawa, and a number of way-boats to all the 
 villages and towns of the St. Lawrence and Richelieu Rivers. The port is admirably 
 provided with wharves and basins, and farther accommodation is being prepared. 
 Indeed, the enlargement of the harbour is one of the main questions of the future, and 
 some remarkable plans have already been submitted to the public. All the modern 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 1133 
 
 appliances for loadinjj and unloading arc employed, and the facilities for almost immediate 
 transhipment from freij^ht-cars to the hold of vessels are unsurpassed. Montreal was the 
 first port in the world lighted by electricity. The result is continuous labour. The 
 electric lights are placed at intervals of about two hundred yards, from the mouth of 
 the Lachine Canal to Hochelaga, so that the whole harbour is lit up. The question of 
 harbour dues has been engaging attention, and steps have been taken to make Montreal 
 a free port. The port is governed by a Board of Commissioners, a portion of whom 
 represent the Federal Government, another the shipping interest, and a third part the 
 city corporation. It is impossible to conceive of a more striking contrast than that pre- 
 sented by the harbour in summer and in winti^r. Our illustration shows that part of 
 it near the Custom House called Island Wharf. The dock here is always crowded with 
 ocean steamers, elevators drawing grain from barges anc" loading them, ayd vessels and 
 skiffs of all sizes — while a forest of masts and funnels extends far down the river. The 
 scene is one of busy labour night and day. The great river sweeps past in calm 
 majesty, with a force that no power could arrest. But the frost king comes, and everything 
 that looks like commerce takes flight. The river is sealed fast, till another power 
 comes witli kindly influences. The spring rains and suns rot the ice, and it begins to 
 break. Montreal is on the qui vivc to see it start down the river. It starts, but is 
 usually blocked at Isle Ronde, and grounds. Then it shoves, and piles up, and the 
 lower parts of the city are flooded. To cross with a boat at such a time is not 
 only an exciting but often a perilous undertaking, as the cakes of ice may move or 
 turn under the men, when of course the danger is extreme even to the most skilful 
 ice-navigators. 
 
 The Grand Trunk Railway has been for years the main artery of the commerce 
 of the country, and Montreal is its chief terminus. Five other lines of railway centre 
 here — the Champlain and St. Lawrence, Central Vermont, Boston and Delaware, 
 South-Eastern, and North Shore. The North Shore (ofificially named the Quebec, Mon- 
 treal. Ottawa and Occidental Railway) has its central station in the eastern part of the 
 city, on the site of the old Quebec Gate Barracks, which had to be torn down in con- 
 sequence, thus depriving the city of one of its most interesting historical landmarks. 
 This railway is the property of the local government, which is said to have expended 
 about thirteen millions in its construction, thereby creating a debt that weighs like an 
 incubus upon the Province. 
 
 The Montreal Board of Trade was incorporated by Act of Parliament in 1842, and 
 consists of an Executive and a Board of Arbitrators. There is also a Corn Exchange 
 Association, incorporated in 1863, with a Committee of Management and a Board of 
 Review. A third corporation, the Dominion Board of Trade, received its initiation 
 mainly in Montreal, though its annual meetings have generally been held in Ottawa. 
 Another important body is the Montreal Stock Exchange, which holds two daily ses- 
 
 \\i 
 
134 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA, 
 
 sions, forenoon and afternoon. The scene of its operations is St. Franijois Xavier Street, 
 which is the Wall Street of Montreal. There all the brokers have their offices, and 
 about noon, on certain days, the sidewalks are crowded with dealers and speculators, 
 discussing the ebb and flow of stocks, and conducting their mysterious ojjerations. St. 
 Francois Xavier is one of the oldest and narrowest streets of the city, but it affords 
 
 TRANSFERRING FRKIGHT BY ELECTRIC LIGHT. 
 
 a curious ground of observation for the visitor who wishes to form an idea of the 
 financial importance of the Canadian metropolis. When the heterogeneousness of the 
 population is taken into account, the city government may be said to be fairly well 
 administered. The standing trouble is the rivalry between the East and West Ends — 
 that is, the French and English-speaking portions. 
 
 St. Urbain is another street that may be said to be on the border-land between 
 the English and the French-speaking population of Montreal. We see it in wintet 
 
j I 
 
MONTR HAL. 
 
 >35 
 
 
 MONTREAL WINTER SCENES. 
 
136 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 dress, the snow cleared from the sidewalks and forming parallel lines, between which 
 traffic makes its way much more smoothly than in summer. The snow ij less of 
 an impediment to ordinary business than is dust or rain during the other seasons 
 
 NOTRE DAME, FROM ST. URBAIN STREET. 
 
 of the year. It is a decided impe'diment, indeed, to the progress of conflagrations, 
 with which Montreal used to be scourged. The department, however, is now so 
 thoroughly organized that it is almost impossible for a fire to make any headway 
 before it is checked. The alarn system is so perfect and the brigade so diaci- 
 
cb 
 of 
 ns 
 
 MONTREAL. 
 
 137 
 
 plined, that no conflagrations on an extensive scale have taken place within the past 
 twenty-five years. Eve ..ling is also clone to protect property in case of fire. The 
 illustration is a spirited sketch of a salvage wagon that has just come out of the 
 
 ;-i 
 
 IN ST. GABRIEL STREET. 
 
 fire station on St. Gabriel Street, and is plunging along between the lines of piled-up 
 snow, to the spot indicated by the alarm. The duty of the men is to cover up all 
 endangered property with tarpaulins, and to be its custodians till questions of ownership 
 and insurance are settled. 
 
 In a first visit to Montreal, by all means let the traveller approach from the water — 
 
138 
 
 riCTLRESQUE CANADA. 
 
 from up stream, down stream, or the south shore. From all three directions the view will 
 repay him. The river itself is so fascinating in its strength of crystal purity, so over- 
 powering in vastness and might, that it would dwarf an ordinary city. It does dwarf every 
 other place along its banks — Quebec alone excepted. It bears, lightly as a garland, the 
 chain of the great bridge that binds its opposite shores with multiplied links of massive 
 granite. The green slopes of St. Helen's Island resting like a leaf on the water, the 
 
 forest of masts and 
 red and white fun- 
 nels, the old-fashioned hay and wood barges, the long line of solidly-built revetment 
 wall, the majestic dome of the Bonsecours Market, the twin towers of Notre Dame, 
 palatial warehouses, graceful spires sown thick as a field, and the broad shoulders of 
 Mount Rcyal uplifted in the background, make up a picture that artist, merchant, or 
 patriot — each for his own reasons — may well delight to look upon. To persons coming 
 frv "broad, believing Canada to be a wilderness of ice and snow, the home of 
 Indians and buffaloe.s, the first view is a revelation. When they drive through any 
 of the numemus magnificent business thoroughfares, and then round the mountain, they 
 sometimes consider what sort of a back country that must be which supplies such a 
 river and builds up such a city, and wonder why — in the face of such grand enter- 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 139 
 
 prises and unrivalled progress on the part of Canadians — they have never heard of 
 such a thing as Canadian patriotism. 
 
 Of the three water views there is none equal to that obtained on a summer after- 
 noon or evening from the deck of a steamer coming down stream. From the time 
 the Indian pilot is taken on board above the Lachine Rapids, all is eager expect- 
 ancy on the part of passengers who have made the journey again ami again, as well 
 as in the case of tourists who are running the rapids for the first time. As we near 
 Victoria Bridge it seems impossible that the " Corsican " can pass under, and the 
 question is sometimes asked whether there is any arrangement for lowering the funnels. 
 The steamer glides along ; we look up and see our mistake, and then look down upon 
 the innocent questioner. Now the crowded harbour, the city in its fresh beauty, 
 and the mountain in all the glory of its summer vesture, are revealed. The steamer 
 rounds up to the Commissioners' Wharf, to discharge its Quebec passengers into the 
 huge palace floating alongside. Land here and stroll down stream before taking 
 a cab. \'ou soon find yourself in the heart of French-Montreal. Here are antique 
 barges with hay, from tiie surrounding country, whicii is being unloaded into carts 
 primitive enough for the days and the land of Evangeline. Instead of the rush of 
 an American city, there is an air of repose and human enjoyment. The very coasters 
 and carters pause in their work, to exchange gossip and cheery jokes. Here, again, 
 are wood-barges that have evidently come from a greater distance. Each barge 
 discharges part of its load at once and places it on the wharf on racks that indicate 
 its measurement by the cord. The purchaser can thus point out exactly how much 
 he wants, and the barge remains calmly beside the wharf till the whole cargo is sold. 
 A few years ago, wood and hay barges were to be found in the centre of the harbour ; 
 but the increasing traffic is pushing them farther and farther down, all the way to 
 Hochelaga. Return to the Bonsecours. The market is a great three-storey parallelo- 
 gram of cut-stone, occupying a square on the river-front, and with a stately dome and 
 cupola. It is crowded on the forenoons of market-days, when the manners of the 
 habiliint can be studied to liest advantage. He has come to the cit)- with the produce 
 of iiis farm or garden. Quiet, patient, courteous, he waits for customers. Sometimes, 
 these may be his own neighbours who happen to need what he has to sell, and then he 
 puts down his price a little. Sometimes they are from the East End — French therefore — 
 and to them he is more than amiable, and sells fairly. But the grand lady from the 
 West End, while receiving ample politeness, must pay full price. Still, there is good feeling 
 between the different races and, for the most part, honest dealing. Are they not citizens 
 of a common country, even though the Ultramontane studiously characterizes those of 
 English speech as "foreigners"? From the market, go up the lane leading to the 
 old-fashioned church. The lane is encroached upon by little dingy eating-houses, thrown 
 out, like buttresses, from the walls of the church. Dingy as they are, they give a 
 
 k 
 
 n 
 
 ! 
 
 Hi 
 
I40 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA, 
 
 ati^a^j'h.;. 
 
 MAIL bl LAMER I'ASSLNC. U.NULK \ IC I OKIA IIKIUUL. 
 
 better cup of coffee than either steamer or more invitimj-IookinQ^ restaurants. You soon 
 reach St. Paul's Street, the street that constituted the City of Montreal at first, and 
 now, by all means, enter the favourite city church of the habilaiit. The loud colours, 
 the tawdry gilt and general bad taste of modern Catholicism, and the elaborate upholstery 
 of she ' iy Protestantism, are alike conspicuous f)y their absence. The i;clicvos on the 
 walls, the altar, the antique pulpit, remind one of a se\ent(;enth century n.u'ish church 
 in Brittany. We are taken back to the days of Marguerite Pourgeois, who laid the 
 foundation-s..one more than two centuries ago. Haron de Fancanip gave her a small 
 image of the Virgin, endowed with miraculous virtue, on condition that a chapel should 
 be built for its reception. Marguerite and the people of Montreal enthusiastically complied 
 with the condition. From that day, many a wonderful deliverance, especially of sailors, 
 has been attributed to Our Lady of Gracious Help. The image still stands on the 
 
MONTREAL. 
 
 141 
 
 gabie nearest the river, and within, votive offerings and memorials of deliverances almost 
 hide the altar. An agnostic might envy the simple faith of the people, and the states- 
 man could desire no better race to till the soil. Every true Lower Canadian loves the 
 Bonsecours Chapel. It symbolizes, to a race that clings to the past, faith, country and 
 fatherland. And it is the only symbol of the kind that "modern improvements" have 
 left in Montreal. Tiie old Recollet has been swept away. The spoilers have spoiled 
 Quebec. And all over the Province, quaint churches beloved by the people are being 
 replaced by huge, costly, modern structures. In the name of everything distinctively 
 Lower Canadian, spare symbols like Varennes and the Bonsecours! 
 
 Here, beside his church and market, in the stately commercial metropolis of Canada, 
 the white city of -America, we leave the habitant, with cordial recognition of what he 
 has been and is, and with all "ood wishes for his future. 
 
 ;} 
 
 UNLOADING HAY BARGES. 
 
THE LOWER OTTAWA. 
 
 npHE dark-brown waters 
 ■*■ of the Ottawa at 
 
 tlieir dcbouckcment below 
 the Lake of Two Moun- 
 tains divide into three 
 channels, the two smaller 
 of which flow north re- 
 spectively of Laval and of Montreal Island, while the" third and most considerable in 
 size expands into Lake St. Louis, one of the largest lakes on the St. Lawrence. 
 We are about to trace the course of the "Grand River" from the commercial to the 
 political metropolis of Canada, through a region no less rich in historic associations 
 than in its inexhaustible beauty of scenery, unchanged in the picturesque wildness of 
 river, hill and wood, since Champlain, first of white men, adventured to explore its 
 sombre waters ; and yet. embellished with all the tokens of modern civilization and 
 progress, its waters controlled by machinery that can lock or loose its forces, and 
 spanned by huge viaducts through which the locomotive thunders ; and farther on, as we 
 ascend its current, directed by the skill and toil of civilized man into an open, navi- 
 gable stream from city to city, its shores enriched with all that betokens agricultural 
 142 
 
THE LOWER OTTAWA. 
 
 '43 
 
 plenty, while quaint church-towers and tastefully-decorated villas jjive the charm of human 
 interest to scenes of such varied natural beauty. 
 
 From the wharf at Montreal we take the steamer which is > carry us up the 
 Ottawa to our destination at the Capital. We proceed for the first eij;ht and a half 
 miles along the Lachine Canal amid scenery tranquil and uneventful as that of a Dutch 
 village. Along the level banks are occasional trees and houses, whose general appearance 
 is scarcely such as to indicate the neighbourhood of Canada's wealthiest city. Before 
 us fhe canal extends mathematically straight, for tlic most part on a higher level than 
 the surrounding fields, so that sometimes we can peep into the top-storey windows of 
 the houses as we pass. Every now and then we are delayed i^y a lock, of which we 
 encounter five on our way to Lachine. I''irst the lock-gates are closed upon our steamer; 
 then machinery is set at work which admits the water from tiie higher level ; seething 
 and tossing, the flood bears us up ; the gates are once more ojjened, and after a delay 
 of some twenty minutes we pass on. We meet endless fieets of barges, some towed 
 by horses, some by propellors, all kinds and varieties of steamers, passenger-boats, 
 barges, and tugs '• of low degree ;" all manner of nondescript craft — shapeless, heavy- 
 laden, broad-bowed — whose native element seems to l)e tlie canal, and whose build is 
 such that they look ill-adapted for na\ igation in more boisterous waters. Vet these 
 ponderous boats have made voyages from the Far North and the Western lakes ; they 
 will float through Lake Champlain to Albany; still on, down the Hudson to New 
 York, or on the broad St. Lawrence to Quebec. The tratific on the canal is such 
 as in itself to give some idea of the commercial importance of Montreal. Here 
 and there the monotony of trading-vessels is broken by the snow-white sails of a 
 pleasure-yacht from the city ; or some enthusiastic angler, absorbed in the nirvana of 
 bait-fishing, sits in a skiff that never rocks but with the ripple of the passing steamer. 
 There is something soothing in the intense calm of this canal navigation with which th' 
 scenery both on the canal banks and among the shipping is thoroughly in harmony. 
 It is, as Shelley says, "a metaphor of peace." As the steamer passes between the 
 locks, it is pleasant to go ashore and watch the canal from a little distance. The 
 houses we pass are built with the usual high-pitched roofs of French-Canada, the 
 slanting eaves projecting in front. All round us are the level fields e.xtending to the 
 foot of the canal embankment. The canal itself is invisible, and we see steamers and 
 barges moving along, as it were, on dry ground ! 
 
 At Lachine it will be well to land and stroll awhile amid the scenery of this quiet 
 suburb of the great city, with its reminiscences of Robert Cavalier, Sieur de la 
 Salle, and its association with so many vicissitudes in the history of the heroic and 
 saintly founders of New France. In the words "La Chine" we have a record of the 
 belief common to so many American explorers, from Columbus downwards, that through 
 America lay the highway to the Orient, a belief which the increasing facilities of 
 
144 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 communication with the Pacific Coast will yet redeem from the list of delusions. 
 Lachine is a quaint and picturesque old town, of some 4CXX3 inhabitants ; the houses 
 with tall, steep gables, dormer windows and square stone chimneys ; the streets gay with 
 visitors from Montreal, a considerable number of whom reside during the summer 
 months at Lachine, whence they come and go to their places of business in the city by 
 the railway. Nestling among trees of immemorial growth are the parish church, and 
 the convent, amid its high-walled gardens. The former is a handsome edifice, whose 
 twin spires, gracefully decorated, rise high above the surrounding streets. The style is 
 that modification of Renaissance-Gothic which the French brought from Europe, and on 
 which French Jesuitism — the Jesuitism of the Martyrs, not of the political intriguers — 
 has impressed the character of its glorious traditions. 
 
 Before the canal was built, Lachine was a place of greater commercial importance 
 than at present ; it was then the trading emporium for Montreal, to which was conveyed 
 all the merchandise from the W^estern centres, and even the cargoes of skins and furs 
 which the trappers of the Hudson's Bay Company had collected during the winter. 
 Hither came, week by week, the hattcaux, or large, flat-bottomed vessels, shaped some- 
 what like " bonnes," or lumbermen's boats ; these arrived regularly with goods and 
 passengers from Kingston and the head of the Bay of Quintd, and from the lake ports 
 farther west. 
 
 The Sulpician Fathers, who were tiie feudal lords of the island of Montreal, 
 were anxious .to protect their new settlement of Villemarie by an outpost held 
 from them by military tenure. Hence they gladly granted a tract of land near the 
 rapids above Montreal to the gallant but ill-fated La Salle. He remained in possession 
 only long enough to found a village fortified rudely with palisades, and to name it 
 " Lachine," in accordance with the dominant idea of his adventurous life — a passage 
 across the Continent to the Indies. After La Salle's departure, the village of Lachine, 
 conveniently situated for the carrying-trade of Montreal, continued to flourish until, in 
 1689, the terrible blow of its destruction by the Iroquois had' the effect of overthrowing 
 the French schemes of American conquest for a time, and reducing their tenure of 
 Canadian soil to the space within the ramparts of Quebec, Three Rivers, and Montreal. 
 The first aggressive march by Champlain on the Iroquois had proved not only a crime, 
 but a mistake. This policy was that of the Jesuits and the successive Governors of 
 New France. It consisted in converting and arming, as allies and proselytes, one Indian 
 tribe against the other. Whatever may be thought of the morality of this policy, it 
 might, no doubt, have proved successful, had the French only been so fortunate as to 
 choose for their allies the more warlike Indian tribes. Unhappily, ever since Cham- 
 plain's expedition up the Ottawa, he and his successors selected as their friends the 
 feebler and less military races — the Ottawas, Hurons and Algonquins ; by which step, as 
 well as by their own repeated acts of violence, they drew on themselves the relentless hatred 
 
THE LOIVI-R OrrAlVA. 
 
 145 
 
 of the powerful confederacy known as the Iroquois, later called the Six-Nation Indians, 
 Up to the time of the American R(!Vf)lution, these savaj^es maintained, in greater efficiency 
 than has been known elsewhere among their wandering and disunited race, that military 
 organization which seems the only approach to civilization of which the Indian in his 
 native condition is capable. The Iroquois were to the Algonquins and Hurons what the 
 Zulus are to the other negro races of East Africa. Those virtues and physi al gifts 
 which belong to savage life, and are apt to sicken or become t.'xtinct by contact with 
 civilization, the Irocjuois possessed. Their fidelity to friends is unstained by any record 
 of such treachery as was shown by the Huron allies of Daulac des Ormeau.x ; their 
 savage practices of purposed ciuelty proved how much the possession of reason enabled 
 the human brutes, who tore the scalps from their still living prisoners, to degrade 
 themselves below the level of the wolf and bear, the emblems of their tribe. With 
 the recklessness of a lofty ambition, the I'rench leaders had resolved to extend the 
 dominions of the Catholic Church and the brench King far in the rear and to the 
 southward of the English settlements on the Atlantic seaboard. In the prosecution of 
 this grand scheme they drt^w on themselves the hatred not only of the Iroquois whose 
 lands they invaded, but of the enemies of their own race and religion by whom these 
 wolves of the wilderness were armed and hounded on. The year 1689 saw New 
 France, under the rule of the reckless Marquis de Denonville, engaged in an Indian 
 war along her whole line of settlements. The Iroquois had received great provo- 
 cation. The Governor, by means of the Jesuit missionaries, whom he made his uncon- 
 scious accomplices, had induced a number of Iro(juois chiefs to meet him in peaceful 
 conference. The^e he had seized and ser>t to b'rance, that their toil as galley-slaves 
 might amuse the Royal vanity. The Iroquois had scorned to revenge this perfidy on 
 the missionaries, who were sent in safety from their camp. But a terrible retribution 
 was at hand. Nearly two centuries ago, on the night of August 5th, 1689, as the 
 inhabitants of Lachine lay sleeping, amid a storm of hail upon the lake which effectually 
 disguised the noise of their landing, a force of many hundred warriors, armed, and 
 besmeared with war-paint, made a descent ui^on Lachine. Through the night they noise- 
 lessly surrounded every building in the village. With dawn tiie fearful war-whoop awoke 
 men, women and children, to their doom of torture and death. The village was fired ; 
 by its light in the early morn, the horror-stricken inhabitants of Montreal could see from 
 their fortifications the nameless cruelties which preceded the massacre. It is said the 
 Iroquois indulged so freely in the fire-water of the Lachine merchants, that had the de- 
 fenders of Villcmarie been prompt to seize the favourable mon\ent, the drunken wretches 
 might have been slaughtered like swine. Paralyzed by the horrors they had witnessed, 
 the French let the occasion slip ; at nightfall the savages withdrew to the mainland, not, 
 however, without signifying by yells, repeated to the number of ninety, how many prisoners 
 they carried away. From the ramparts of Villemarie, and amid the blackened ruins of 
 
146 
 
 /'/( / rA'/:\i>(7: c. IX. in. I. 
 
 Lachiiit', the jjarrison watched llic tires on the (ipj^jsiii; shore, kindleit for wliiit purposes 
 of nameless crueUy they knew too well. The '-.'W of l.aehiiK; marks the lowest point 
 in the fortunes of New France ; hy what deeds of heroism they were retrieved, is not 
 the least jjlorious |)a_i;(' in Canadian history. 
 
 Leavinjf the villa^'e of Lachine, it will be well to walk some distance alonj( the 
 lower road which skirts the river. Here, amid sylvan shades of pleasant retirement, we 
 may enjoy the Lucretian satisfaction of viewinjf the distant rapiils. Meyond the pt)int 
 of a lonjf, low-lyinjj ritlye of rocky islet, the river is white with wrathful foam, and the 
 spray clouds rise when a steamer is j^'allantly breasting the torrent. Meanwhile, the 
 robins are singing from tlu; maple trees, and the cows — those optimists of tlie animal 
 creation — are looking placidly fortij on the rapitls as if they knew that all was for the 
 best! We pass a huge lumbering but not unpicturesque farmer's wagon, laden with 
 grain for the mill to whicli the farmer's wife — a comely Canadienne, in the usual loose 
 jacket and inevitable white hat — is driving a horse tliat will certainly not run away. 
 The mill is a feature in tlu; landscape worth observing — a quadrangular stone tower 
 broad at the base, its lines converging at the top to sup|)ort the old-fashioned, cruciform 
 wind-sails, whose great arms move through the air like those of the giants Don Quixote 
 assailed. Surrounded by spreading trees, anil close to this beautiful river scenery, 
 the old windmill, weather-beaten and mellowed by its seventy years' service, has an 
 air of rustic grace not to be found in more recent and more pretentious structures. 
 It seems that tiiere was at one time a disp'ite between the owner of this mill and 
 the I-'athers of St. .Sulpice, who claimed the sole right of milling on the island, 
 and that the cause was decided in favour of the miller, who was, however, forbidden 
 to rebuild his mill should it chance to be destroyed. Hence it was that he re- 
 paired the wooden structure by surrounding it with the stone wall which gives it its 
 present fortress-like appearance. 
 
 I'roni Lachine may be seen in the far distance the Indian village of Caughnawaga, 
 where, civilized and Christianized, some five hundred descendants of the Irofjuois de- 
 stroyers of Lachine dream away their harmless and useless lives. This, and such as 
 this, on other Indian reserves, is the result of all the heroism chronicled in the 
 volumes of the Relations dcs Jcsuilcs ! By martyrdom, I)y endurance of privations and 
 cruelties compared with which martyrdom might seem a merciful relief, they gained 
 their ol)ject. They converted at last tiie terrible Iroquois enemy ! And with what 
 result ? .So much and such noble effort, only to be wasted on a race fast becoming 
 extinct ; a race which, a century hence, will have left no memorial to the Canada of 
 the future, save where here and there our cities and rivers recall the strange music 
 of the Indian names ! 
 
 We steam along the northern shore of Lake .St. Louis past the Isle Derval, a portion 
 of the lake where the colour of the purplish-brown water of the Ottawa may be distin- 
 
THE lo\\i:r or/'.iir.i. 
 
 147 
 
 OLll WINUMILL ON LACHINK ROAD, AND PISIANl' Vll-AV Ol' I.ACIIINI; UAI'IDS. 
 
 guished from the green tinge of the St. Lawrence. Of course, this is not observable under 
 all conditions of the atmosphere, but on bright, sunshiny dajs, there can be no doubt 
 whatever that this difference in colour can be distinctly traced. The dark, purple tinge 
 characterizes the imperial river, which, from as yet almost une.xplored sources, stretching 
 to the water-s!;ed of Hudson's Bay, from tributary rivers extending east and west and 
 south, through many a wide-spreading lake, and over cataracts lifting their columns of 
 

 I4B 
 
 PIC 77 'A' r.SOl /-: CA X.IDA. 
 
 spray to the clouds of heavL-n. past the im'tro[)olitan city of Canada, and throu^'h valleys 
 and amid hills and islands rirh in every imaj,nnal)lc typ<' of nature's loveliness— here meets 
 at last its equal — here blends its waters, thoiij^h as yet distinct in loloiir. with its own 
 
 lejfitimatc sister, the jjrcat 
 lake stream of the St. Law- 
 rence. Swiftly we steam 
 on, crossinj^ Lake St. Louis, 
 where steamers are passinjj 
 and re-passinjj;, and the gay 
 yachts of Montreal spread 
 tlieir while win^s to the 
 breeze. The waters of 
 Lake St. Louis are shallow, 
 and the shores flat, and 
 
 CANAL L>iCK, AM) kAUAV.W UKUHiK Al STIC. ANNE'S. 
 
 fringed with dusky woods, presenting no marked characteristics, except the huge guide 
 piers erected on the way to Ste. Anne's, to mark and preserve the channel. Looming 
 before us in the mist, we can see, as it stretches from the mainland of Ontario to 
 the Isle of Montreal, the great bridge of the Grand Trunk Railway. In order to avoid 
 the rapids at the debouchement of the Ottawa, we enter a canal close to Ste. Anne's 
 and the abutment of the Grand Trunk bridge. This canal is about the eighth of a 
 
////;• /.oif'/th' nrr.nr.i. 
 
 149 
 
 milt' lony, and has a single lock lu-ar tin; railway bridjkfe. It was constructed in place 
 of one built as early as 1S16, and rebuilt 
 in 1833 by the (Jttawa lorwardinj,' Com- 
 pany, who made somt; ditliculty in admit- 
 ting the passajje of vessels not connected 
 with their own business. lliis caused so 
 much inconvenience, that tlie I.ej^nslature 
 of Upper Canada look the matter in hand 
 and built the present canal at Ste. Anne's. 
 Those sentimentalists who l.ist century 
 refused to see beauty in industrial build- 
 injjs and works, who wept 
 over steamships profaninjj i£/^hi^ 
 
 the solitudes of Cumber- 
 land lakes, and could see 
 
 WATCU TOWER. 
 
 nothinjr picturesque 
 in a buildinjf that 
 was not a castle or at 
 least a ruin, would de- 
 termine on principle, and 
 beforehand, that there could 
 be nothing attractive about 
 a mere railway bridge. Yet 
 let those who do not refuse 
 to see Nature, as faithfidly 
 interpreted by Art, consider 
 how even this magnificent 
 lake scenery is enhanced by 
 this work, no less magni- 
 ficent, of human enterprise 
 _5 and skill. On six- 
 
 teen scjuare tow- 
 ers of stone-work, 
 each massive as 
 the keep of a fort- 
 ress, is supported 
 the viaduct which gives passage to Canada's most important railway. As the steamer 
 passes under witli lowered funnel, we look back on the lake and the mainland beyond it, 
 where, far over the St. Lawrence, the summits, indistinct and dim, of the Adirondack 
 
 REMAINS OF ANCIENT CASTLE. 
 
r 
 
 'bo 
 
 riCTLRESQL'E L'AXADA. 
 
 Mountains, mingle with the cloiuis. At our left are the rapids — not deep, but neces- 
 sar)' t') be avoided on account of their shallowness. Here, on rude rafts, stand the 
 shad-tishers, ready to sjjcar or net the tish which, visitintj these rapids in shoals, come to 
 watch for fv)od. I'oised on the precarious footint; of a couple of planks fastened 
 totj^ethcr and tossing- on the waves, the\- i)hinge and replunge the net, not scKlom 
 bringing to light the spaikling and leaping tish, whose capture is to these poor liabilans 
 a source of no little gain. We jiass under the bridge and through the lock, where a 
 number of the country-folk are lounging, to greet the steamer and her cargo of pleasure- 
 seekers. '\\\v. mak- hahilant's dress, if not (^\actl\• picturescjue, is peculiar, and in har- 
 mony with the hot weatiu!r of .\ugust. As a rule no coat is worn ; waistcoat and 
 shirt-sleeves and loose, liiggN' trousers, form the whole costume, ami 't is dc rii^iiir that 
 both hands be kept in tiu! trour.ers' pockets. The head-dress is a hat with narrow rim 
 and high, conical top, similar to those popularly believed to be worn b)' magicians 
 antl witches! With '.hem is a group of apple-women, healthy-looking ilames, with short 
 kirtles, 'kerchiefed r.eck, ant' broad, white hats. Here we find for sale green apples of lasi 
 season, yet fresh and in good condition, and paper bags full of delicious grapes. Once 
 more we disembark to stroll through the village, consisting of a group of those 
 pretty Lower Canadian houses no poverty can make unpicturesque. In the midst 
 of these is the church, a structure where the substratum of Gothic is varied with 
 the features so strangely adopted from classical arcii;t<'cture by the art of the Re- 
 naissance. At the shrinc! of good Ste. Anne, the pious vovai'cu)\ about to encounter 
 the perils of lumliering or ri\ii-drlving, comes to pay his vows and leave his modest 
 offering to her of whom the mediaeval poet sang : 
 
 ".•\N\.\ I'AUir nus Marias, 
 
 Ul I'K.l'lUXl r KSAIAS." 
 
 We enter the church. Jean or Baptiste is kneeling reverently. Keenly alive to the misery 
 of parting with a cent of liis hard-earned wages on all other occasions, here lie is liberal. 
 It is a scene that reminds one of the Middle Ages, nay, of more primitive faiths, before 
 the ages called Christian. 
 
 Having passc'd through the xiliage, we reach the ruins of a castle built to tlefend 
 the island at this point, ami evidently once a fortalice of corsiderable importance. 
 On the ijrow of .i hill cor.imanding an extensive view of the lake, is a circular 
 watch-tower, loo])-hol('d for musketry, whose broken embrasures once held cannon 
 controlling the landing and approaches to the castle l)eneath. Lower down ami 
 close to the landing-place are two castles, built after the model of fortresses of 
 the Middle Ages — in each a lofty keep or central tower, (piadrangular, without 
 windows, save the narrow aperture through which th<' arquebu'se of the defenders 
 
THE LOWER OTTAWA. 
 
 •51 
 
 might aim securely at the hirking Ircxiuois without. Tlu; rest of the castle consists 
 
 of high walls enclosing space sufficient to 
 shelter tiie women and children of 
 the settlement in case of invasion, 
 and this again protected hy tlanklng 
 turrets. liotii buildings are without 
 ornament, save tiial witli which 'lime 
 has in\t:steil the crumbling ruins; 
 gaunt and gray, tiiey stand, am' ' tlie 
 most peaceful scenes that our world 
 can show, the memorials of a Past 
 
 
 
 wliich, though not two 
 ceiUiM'ics gone by, al- 
 rcaily schmus to belong 
 to the Middle Ages! 
 Such a fortress as this 
 would have been i)roof ag-ainst any artillery which raiders from the New iMigland colonies 
 could have brought against New 1"" ranee ; against the Iroquois it was impregnable. 
 
 BACK KIVLK BRIDGE, AND SHAD 1 ISIUNG.. 
 
 
 
 1 \n. 
 
 fl 
 
 H 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 
 s 
 
 1 \m 
 
 
152 
 
 PIC T UK ESQ UE CA NA DA . 
 
 "tii 
 
 ii 
 
 Before us, as the steamer leaves Ste. Anne's, lies the first of those expansions of the 
 River Ottawa which so frequently occur throughout its entire course, the Lake of 
 Two Mountains. The larger Mountain was named "Calvary" by the piety of the first 
 settlers. In the continual presence of the terrible clangers which threatened those who, 
 as one of them said of the Montreal settlement, had thrust their hand into the wolf's 
 den, the founders of New France sought everywhere to impress on the land of their 
 adoption the traces of that religion which was their chief comfort. At its summit were 
 seven chapels — the memorials of the mystic seven of St. John's vision — the scene of 
 many a pilgrimage, where gallant cavalier and high-born lady from their fastness at 
 Villemarie toiled, side by side, up the same weary height. 
 
 Near this we visit the pretty village of Oka, whence the Indian occupants have 
 been wisely removed by the Dominion Government to Muskoka. Their cottages still 
 line the shore beneath the shade of ancient elm trees ; a large cross close to the landing 
 invites the contemplation of the pious, while summer-houses and other garniture for 
 pleasure-making are ready for the holiday folk who crowd to this popular summer resort 
 in skiff and steamer. To this class belong the youthful pair whom a venerable gray 
 horse conveys — neither he nor they being at all in a hurry — along the Oka road in one of 
 those ancient covered caldchcs used in this part of Canada. The young lady is driving ; 
 the "hood" of the vehicle covers both of them from a passing shower or from the gaze 
 of too curious eyes. 
 
 We steam across the Lake of Two Mountains. It is an irregularly-shaped expanse 
 of water, in length twenty-four miles, and from three to four miles wide. Calm as are 
 these summer lakes, an experience of a sudden scjuall shows how the usually placid 
 waters can be lashed into furious waves. Suddenly the sky is overclouded, the moun- 
 tains on the shore seem to have witiulraun into the liini distance, the woods are swathed 
 in mist, antl tpiick ami sharp descends upon our deck and on the waxes around us the 
 white electric rain. We meet one of those huge barges similar to those we saw in the 
 Lachine Canal. How its heavy hulk rolls and labours while the surf breaks over it! 
 But the strong boat is seaworthy, and the steam-tug in charge towi- '•: heavily on. 
 
 the country on our left consists of the counties of \'aiidreuil and Soulanges which, 
 though on the Ontario side of the Ottawa, are part of the Province of Quebec, In 
 the.-ie, as on the opposite side of the ii .er, the French language and institutions prevail. 
 In the seigniory of Rigaud, near the upper portion of the Lake of Two Mountains, 
 is a remarkable mound, the " Montagne Ste. Magdelaine," at whose top is a quad- 
 rangular area of some acres, cov(!red with stone boulders arranged by a strange 
 caprice of nature to resemble a freshly-ploughed field — whence the place is called 
 " P/uic dc gncrds." From underground, the murmur as of llowing water can be 
 distinctly heard ; but a'l attempts to discover the cause are said to have failed, though 
 the earth has been dug to the depth of many feet. At the foot of this rnoun- 
 
w 
 
 f 
 
 THE LOWER OTTAWA. 
 
 153 
 
 m 
 
 IXiUl.U ullAWA SCLNLS. 
 
'54 
 
 PICTURESQUE CADADA. 
 
 J I 
 
 ■iWll 
 
 tain on the lake 
 shore, b(;sicle the 
 mouth of tlie Ri- 
 viere a hi (iraisse, 
 is the pleasant lit- 
 tle I'rencii \'illage 
 of Rijraiul. 
 
 At no threat 
 distance from the 
 north-eastern side 
 of the Lake of 
 Two Mountains 
 are the villages 
 of St. Eustache, 
 Ste. Scholastique 
 and St. Benoit — 
 scenes of conllict 
 between " Patriots" 
 and " Loyalists " 
 in the troublous 
 times of '37, when 
 passions were e.\- 
 cited and gallant 
 citizens were in 
 arms at^ainst each 
 other in feuds, 
 which, thanks to 
 subsequent wise 
 government and 
 a better state of 
 feeling, are now 
 happily as extinct 
 as the wars with 
 the Iroquois. 
 
 Near the upper 
 expansion of the 
 lake is the vil- 
 lage and headland 
 called " Pointe aux 
 
THE LOWER OTTAWA. 
 
 155 
 
 Aiijriais," whence we look 
 
 forth over the broad expanse 
 
 of desolate moor, shallows " *• " \ 
 
 anil Inish - covered islets in 
 
 the foresxroiind, and stre'tchin^ far anil wide over the horizon from the nortii shore, 
 
 tile iliisky shatles of the Laiirentian hills, desolate and forbiddint^, as it were a 
 
 wall between us and the fertile lands hi \ond them. 
 
 At Carillon the steamer's course is once more l)arreil by rapiils, to avoid which a 
 canal has been constructed ; but passengers l)y the mail-lioat land at Carillon and 
 take train to (irenville, a distance of twelve mile-s, wiuricc another steamer proceeds 
 without farther interruption to Ottawa. v)pposite Carillon, at Point I'ortuni;. tiie river 
 becomes the boundary line between the two Provinces. At the Chute au Hlondeau is 
 another canal an eisrhth of a mile in len^jth, and a dam has here been thrown across the 
 river, which so jjens back the waters that only a passai^^e of three-quarters of a mile in 
 lentrth is now needed to reach the hij^her level above the chute. Beside the I-ong Sault 
 Rapid is the Grenville Canal, excavated for the most part throuijh solid rock, and leading 
 to the village of Grenville, a distance of six miles. These three canals were constructed, 
 like that of the Rideau, by the Imperial Ciovernment for military purposes. Happily, 
 there is no |)rospect of their being needed for such ; and even should necessity arise, 
 their usefulness is a thing of the past, superseded, as they now are, by the opening of 
 the St. Lawrence Canals and the Grand Trunk Railway 011 the front, as well as by the 
 
156 
 
 PICTL RESQUE LAX A DA. 
 
 new lines of railway to tiit; north, which make our intcrconuniinication secure from any 
 foe. Down these three rapids — the Carillon. I.onjj Sault, and Chute au IMondeau — the 
 lumbermen descend on their cribs of timber. I'ormidable as tiiis feat looks, it is 
 frequently accomplished by travellers who adventure in company with thi; raftsmen, 
 and seliloni suffer worse consecjuences than a wettiiiij. 
 
 In these rapids .Samuel de Champlain nearly lost his life at the commencement of 
 his first expedition up the Ottawa from Montreal to Allumette. The forest along the 
 river bank was so impenetrably tan_i;led, that he and his party w(;re fain to force their 
 way through the rapids, pushing and drawing their canoes from one |)oint to another. 
 While thus engaged Champlain fell, ami would have perished in the eddy of the rapids, 
 as has many a gallant lumberman since, had he not been saved by the friendly help of 
 a boulder against which lie was carried. 
 
 The Pass of the Long .Sault, on the western shore of these rai)ids, is memcjra- 
 ble as the scene of i)atriotic self-de'-otion not unworth\- to be compareil with the 
 achievements of a Decius or a Leoniilas. In tlie )ear 1660 the I'rench colonists of 
 V'illemarie and Ouebec learned, witii tiismay, that a unitetl effort for their destruction 
 was about to be made by the wiiole force of the Iro(|uois Confederacy. Then Daulac 
 des Ormeau.x, a youthful nobleman, with sixteen companions, resolved to strike a blow 
 which, at the sacrifice of their own lives, might l)reak the power and arrest the 
 progress of the savage foe. Like the Roman general of old, they devoted themselves 
 to their doom in a religious spirit, and with the full riti;s of the Church in whose 
 defence the\- were about to die. \\'h(;re then, as now, tin; roar of the Long Sault 
 Rapids blended with the sigh of the wind througli tlu; forest, they entrenched them- 
 selves, with some two-score Huroii allies who, howcscr. deserted them in the hour of 
 danger. They hail but an old fortilication of i)alisades, whicli tiiey endeavoured to 
 strengthen. Wiiile so engaged, the Iroijuois fell u|)on tiiem. Through successive 
 attacks they held at bay the five hundred painted savages who swarmed, tomahawk in 
 hand, up to the very loopholes of the fort, only to be tlriven back by th(' resolute lire 
 of its defenders, lea^'ing among th(; heaps of slain their chief. Repulsed again and 
 again, the Iroquois deferred the main attack till the arrival of reinforcements, who were 
 marching on Montreal. For three; days Daidac iles Ormeaux and his handfid of 
 gallant followers held their post against the swarming hordes. At length, overwhelmed 
 l)y numbers and exhausted by hunger, thirst and sleejilessness, they fell, fighting to the 
 last, leaving but four survivors, three of whom, already mortally wound<'d, were burned 
 at once, while the fourth was reserveil for torture. But the Irocpiois had paid dearh 
 for their success. They thought no more — for a time, at least — of attacking the more 
 formidable armaments ami fortifications of .Montreal. New b'rance was saved b)- this 
 deed of patriotic self-devotion. Sacred to all time should be the spot which such 
 heroism has ennobled ! 
 
THE LOWER OTTAWA. 
 
 ^^1 
 
 
 GLlMl'StS Ol- niK LOWLK OilAWA— niE LL'MULk TtiAUL;. 
 
158 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA, 
 
 At Grenville we aj^ain take the steamer, anxious to penetrate behind tlic wall of moun- 
 tain ricljj^e which, undulating along the eastern hank of the river, seems to forbid access 
 to the country beyond. This is the I.aurentian range, composed of that gneiss wh.ich 
 contains the earliest fossil ren"iins of animal life as yet recognized by geologists. We 
 procure a canoe and a guide at Grenville, with the farther necessary equipment of a 
 wagon, wherewith we make our way along the main road to I'ointe au Chcne, on the 
 River Rouge, above the rapiils called " iMcCiillivray's Chute." in its passage through the 
 barriers of Laurentian hills, the Rouge courses over a continuous series of rapids to its 
 
 I 
 
 RUNNING THIi RAPIDS. 
 
 junction, twelve miles distant, with the Ottawa. But the beauty of the scenery in this 
 region of mountain and lake well repays the trouble of travel or portage. As we make 
 our way among these hills, so sternly repellant from a distance, we meet fertile valleys, 
 rapidly being cleared and made into cultivated farms. We have camped in the woods, 
 glad of shelter, for tiiere is a touch of frost in the early autumn air. Below, whc. , we 
 stand ready to launch our canoe, are the rapids of McGillivray's Chute, plunging and 
 eddying over the wave-worn boulders ; above and beyond, the calm expanse of tiie River 
 Rouge, mirroring tiie mountain, brigiit with the forest foliage kindled, into rich red 
 gold colour by last night's frost, with here and there the more vivid scarlet of the 
 soft maples. For some miles we ascend the river in our canoe, which, on our return, 
 we have to guide through rapids, the surges foaming around us as we pass swiftly 
 through the fretful waters in the shadow of the silent hills. 
 
^ 
 
 TIIF. LOWER OTTAWA. 
 
 '59 
 
 From the hanks of tlic Rouge our canoe is carried to the shores of Lake Coman- 
 deau, or " I'apineaii," as it has iiecMi named aft(!r lh<j famous leader, near whose home 
 at Montehello its outlet, tlie Kinoni^e, (lows into the Ottawa. We (h'ivc !))■ a very 
 tolerable road, throuj^jh tiic hill-countr\', past a mount.iin farm at tiie licad of Lake 
 Comandeau. ihe liomestead and farm l)uil(linjrs are lop-houses ; tlic land is roui^hly 
 cultivated. Meyond it lies the lake, dark-blue in tlie shadow of the many-coloured 
 hills which stretch far away into the dimness of tlie autumn morning. We prepare to 
 launch upon the lake ; upon the thicklj'-wooded shore our canoe lies turneil up in the 
 
 
 MOL'.MAIN lAK.M. 
 
 sun to dry, to have the seams gummeil before startinc^. Near by is another canoe 
 about to leave the shore, while farther off on the lake is a third midway between us and 
 the opposite side. Beyond, the mountains, dusky j^^reen with shadowy woods, melt away 
 into the mornin<j mists. We launch our canoe ; we speed aloni,'- over the stirless water 
 mirroring the hills and woods, amid islands aglow witli the gay livery of the forest. We 
 reach, far off, an open expanse of lake, wiiere, amid the shallower waters, the speckled 
 trout are wont to bask. The hills in the distance are dusky purple. Near us is an 
 islet — the trout-fisher's favourite haunt ; overhead, a huge, dome-like rod:, stained with 
 all manner of shades — blue, lusset and yellow — under the encrusting lichen; at its side, 
 
i<i^a«iLiwM|Wlp.'Jn 
 
 1 60 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 hiph above thr yollow larches, the tall pinrs throw thoir shadows over the lake. This 
 l)i>aiitifiil sluH't of water is alioiit t<'n miles lonj,' ; its surface is diversified by numerous 
 small islands, ami the mountain scenery amid which it lies jjives a hoklness and sub- 
 limity unknown to Southern lakes, with their low-lyinj^ shores. 
 
 Again pursuing our journey uj) the Ottawa, we |)ass i.'Orignal — the county seat of 
 Prescott and Russell Counties — at which village three; of our passcingers leave us for 
 the medicinal Caledonia Springs, a distance of some nine miles inland. These springs 
 arc said to have been first indicated by tiie multitudes of wild jjigeons that gathered 
 
 ON THK I'OKTACa;— I.AKK COMANDEAL'. 
 
 near the spot. Farther on, upon the Quebec side, ileep in the shadow of tiie elm-wood, 
 rise the tow rs of what seems one of tiie anticjue clialcaux of Old b" ranee. This is the 
 home of Papineau, the leader, through stormy times, of b'rench-Canadian Liberalism ; 
 one whose eloquence was as remarkable as his personal character was worthy of admi- 
 ration. The feuds of those days are extinct ; we can afford to remember, with pride, 
 the virtues of one of Canada's ablest sons. The beauty of this chateau of Montebello 
 has been worthily celebrated by I'Vechette in the noble tribute which his muse has 
 addressed to the memory of Papineau. 
 
77//f LOWER OTTAWA 
 
 i6i 
 
 rr-;f 
 
 
 Wc sail oil, upon the soinhrc l)osoin of tlu: stream, our course varied by the 
 alternatinjf narrowness or expan- 
 sion of tlu! OUawa ; sonietinics 
 amonjf islands slumberous with 
 dark \iTdurc ; anon meetinj^ a 
 fleet of iiroad ri\er-barj;es laden 
 with tile piled-up lumber, and 
 towed down stream by tiie 
 steam-tu}j;s which impart their 
 own (|uick motion to th<! inert 
 mass ; or aj^ain steaming' throu<,di 
 wide, shallow reaches, where liie 
 fisher plies his solitary canoe, 
 anil the Canadian boat-soni; re- 
 calls its familiar Init beauti- 
 ful end)oiliment by Moore. On 
 our x\<^\\. is the ihboHchcmcnl 
 of the Riviere du Lievre — a 
 stream of j^reat imi)ortance to 
 
 tile lunilxT trade -wiiicii, thr()U<,di a course of 350 miles, drains an area j^^reater in 
 extent than some luiropean kin^rdoms. 
 
 About a mile from the Capital we pass tlu? mouth of tiie (iatineau, the inii^iitiest 
 
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 MONTKHKI.l.O— lIU.Mi; Ol I'AriNKAL'. 
 
 
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 23 WES. MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 

 
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 PICTURESQUE CANADA, 
 
 
 TROUT lISlliNG OH LAKE COMANDEAU. 
 
 of tlie many tributaries of the Ottawa, which, for seven miles from its outlet, is 
 rendered uniiax ijrable by rapids. But we are already within the precincts of the city, 
 and ilise'r.hark, aftiT a tri|) whicli lias opened new phases cf picturescpie l)eauty in 
 a count;\- iiitherto — however well known to commerce — -but too little known to art. 
 
 
 
 NORTH SHORE OK THE OITAWA. 
 

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 ■^■<^'^-f '■'■t 
 
 ■»j5iM<^*^,''|§'i' 
 
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 UllAWA - rAKLlAMl.M ULll.Ul.Nl.S, 1 RoM MAJUk'S IIU.L. 
 

 A IIRST (il.lMPSi Ol- THE CAl'll AL. 
 
 OTTAWA. 
 
 /CANADA, youno; as slu: is, cnuld furnish material for a very lively chaiiter on the 
 ^^ vicissitiules of capitals. .StrateL,ncally posted at Xiai^ara, tossi'd backwards and for- 
 wards, shuttlecock fashion, between jealous Toronto, Kinoston, and (_)uebec, pelted with 
 pavinor-stones and burned out of their Chamber by an t'xasperated mob at Montreal, her 
 leo^islators, ihanks to the direct selection ol ihc ( hiecn herself, found refu_i,re in a certain 
 modest villatje-town, perch(!d meekly on hiL,di bluffs and intervening; valleys, between the 
 spray and roar of two headlont^- river-falls. The town of " Hy " became the city of Ottawa, 
 the peripatetic carpet-batj existence of ij[o\ernment officials ceased, and the nomad tribes 
 of the various departments settled down |)ermanently imder their own vine and tiy-tree 
 
 by the broad stream which gives its name to the spot. 
 163 
 
 i 
 
164 
 
 PIC Tl -RESOUh CANADA. 
 
 But the Ottawa has a pa't, and to the hereditary enmity sxistinjj between two 
 of the three great families of Indians in North America east of the Mississippi — the 
 Iroquois and the Algoncjuins — an enmity carefully fostered by the greater rival powers of 
 England and France, added to the allurements o. commerce in furs, is due the important 
 position held by this river in the life cJid history of Canada. 
 
 For over 160 years prior to the memorable Sth of September, 1760, when with the 
 keys of Montreal the Marquis De Vaudreuil surrendered all Canada to General 
 Amherst, the blood of WoKe and Montcalm having just one year before signed the 
 deeds which gave Quebec to England, the " Kit-chi-sip[)i," the " great river," as it was 
 called by its dusky voyagairs, was the main route by whicli the store of furs, gathered 
 through tile long winter from beaver-d;Mi\ and haunt of moose and otter, martin, and 
 silver *'ox, found their toilful way to the big ships of tlie traders at Tadoussac, Quebec, 
 and Montreal. How ciu-jI the history of this long line of mighty waters, these ever- 
 boiling rapids, tremendous falls, and wide-spreading lakes, is told in colours of blood 
 in the writings of those who lived through the terrible period when civilization was 
 making its slow, sure way into this virgin worUl. 
 
 To secure the valuable peltry trade, the best e.Torts of New England and New 
 York, south of the lakes, and of the " company of merchant adventurers of England, 
 trading in Hudson's Bay," were directed. New b" ranee was not behindhand, and her 
 daring courcitrs dc bois penetrated far and wide through the vast tract between Hud- 
 son's Bay and the lakes. This, tiie cold North, was the great fur-bearing land, and 
 through nearly its whole extent ran tiie might)- stream of the " Outaouais," as their 
 French allies called the natives. By this noble stream, difficult ami dangerous as was 
 its course, did the Algonquins — of whom they, with the Hurons, formed part — from 
 their distant territory south of Lake Superior, hold communication with the French 
 settlement at Montreal. Relentlessly driven from the Lower Ottawa by the systematic 
 incursions of the terrible Iroquois, the Ottawas traversed their native woods and waters 
 in fear and trembling. The better portion of their journey down the " Grand River," 
 from the falls of the Chaudiere (where the city of Ottawa now stands), was one of 
 incessant danger from their traditionary foes. Up the river they were comparatively 
 safe, for the natural difficulties of the turbulent stream made access so hard and retreat 
 so perdous, that the Iroquois preferred to await them at the falls, or to attack them 
 still farther below, when the most desperate fighting would not ensure safety for their 
 hard-earned car^^oes of pelts or secure themselves from the cruelest of tortures and death 
 at the hands of their dr(;acl foes. In 1693 a three years' accumulation of beaver-skins 
 lay at Michillimackinac, their main quarters at the head of Lake Huron, and the Ottawa 
 was so closely barred by the Iroquois that no effort could be made to take them down. 
 The loss of its one source of revenue was nearly ruinous tc the young colony. At last 
 Count Frontenac, the Governor, caused a strong escort to be got together, and the 
 
 N 
 
 vM:. 
 
OTTAWA. 
 
 165 
 
 arrival at Quebec of two hundred canoes, all laden with furs, told that the long blockade 
 was broken. 
 
 Up this river, in 161;,, Chainpiaii. passed, in the vain hope of finding an open north- 
 west passage to the spice lands of Cathay, till, at an Indian settlement 125 miles above 
 the falls, he learned that his reporteil salt sea was a myth. Three jears later he 
 returned, passing into Lake Huron ant! so to Lake Simcoc, where he joined the 
 Algonquins in a campaign against the Iroqiiiis, the return journey from Lake Simcoe 
 to Montreal taking forty days. 
 
 But years went by and great changes came. In 1800, Philemon Wright, farmer, 
 of VVoburn, Massachusetts, " having a large family to provide for," came;, after several 
 visits of exploration, the first of which was made four years previous!)', back to the 
 foot of the Chaudiere, the " big kettle," bringing twenty-five men with mill-irons. 
 axes, scythes, hoes, fourteen horses, eight oxen, seven sleighs, and five families ol 
 women and children, together with a number of barrels of " clear pork, destitute of 
 bone," of his own raising. For the magnificent sum of twenty dollars, the Indians 
 withdrew their objections to his settlement, and finding that their claims to the land 
 would not be entertained, a certain insinuating appeal for an additional thirty dollars 
 being refused, the poor wretches quietly bowed to tiie strong will of the (ireat Father 
 across tlie sea, created the invader a chief, kissed him, dined with him, and made a 
 compact, kept thenceforward with the honesty of the uncontaminated. 
 
 Then followed a long line of busy, useful years, all tending to the improvement of 
 his new domain. .Surveys, road-making, clearings, plantings, reapings and building went 
 steadily on, till in twenty-four years he iiad cleared 3000 acres and had 756 acres in grain 
 and roots, and in 1839 died at the ripe old age of seventy-nine, the father of the town 
 of Hull, on the north side of the river. 
 
 But the south side, whose rough, rocky cliffs had offered no attractions to 
 the adventurous pioneer, was destined to far outshine his settlement. One of his 
 employes, named Nicholas Sparkr, was lucky enough to purchase, for a trifiing sum, 
 a large quantity of tlie unprized land ; and when, as a strategic issue of the 
 American troubles of 1812-15, ^^ '^^''^'^ determined by tiie Imperial Government to con- 
 struct a line of canals to connect the St. Lawrence with the lakes via the River 
 Ottawa, in order to afford means of communication with tide-water free from inimical 
 interruption, Mr. Sparks sold lot on lot to the Government and to enterprising settlers, 
 and cleared about half a million sterling. So " Bytown " arose, taking its name from the 
 colonel of the Royal Engineers, to whom the construction of this great work had been 
 entrusted. For some years it grew and prospered with the pecuniar)' aid of the mili- 
 tary, the canal labourers, and the lumber trade — the starting of the latter having been 
 due to the indefatigable Wright. Tradesmen, mechanics, doctors, lawyers, and all the 
 constituents of a thriving community gatheied rapidly, and in 1851 the town boasted 
 
 wmm 
 
1 66 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 UNDKR DUFFERIN BRIDGE. 
 
 eight thousand inhabitants, and the place still continued to grow, till in 1865 the seat 
 of Government was transferred to it, and Bytown, thenceforward Ottawa, became the 
 capital. 
 
 The city of to-day is a city of varied elements. There is the life of the Govern- 
 ment and the life of the river ; the race, languajje, religion,' manners of the ancien 
 rdgiiiie and those of that which succeeded it, two streams of dissimilar character in source, 
 which are content to flow in one channel amicably, but unmixed. The city may prac- 
 tically be said to consist of one long line of business houses, backed by ganglia of 
 residences which extend some three miles westward to the Chaudiere Falls and the 
 
If 
 
 OTTAWA. 
 
 167 
 
 city of Hull, and eastward towards tlic falls of tlif Kidcaii and tlic villajrc of New 
 Edinbur},;h, on tlu; ri^du hank of that livcr. In its centre it is known as Sparks Street, 
 the name heinj; taken from that of the actual founder of the settlement, where are situ- 
 ated the leadinjj business and mercaiuile (;stahlishments 
 
 The key to the main place of the city is a point where two converginj^j bridges 
 span th(! Ridi-au Canal. Standins,^ hiM'e and lookin^^ west, one sees to th(; left the old 
 "Sappers' Hridge," a solid stone structure built b\' the military as part of the canal 
 works. To tile right is the " Dufferin Bridgt;." a new, well-designed viaduct of iron, 
 which gives access to Wellington .Street, a thoroughfare of nobh^ width, containing the 
 handsome stone buildings of various banks, and insurance and railway offices. Fronting 
 this strec. is the long, low stretch of graceful stone and iron railing with its massive 
 gates of Imt' iron-work which encloses Parliament Square ami the magnificent piles of 
 the Government buiklings. Immediately in front of the two bridges is the new I'ost 
 Office and Custom House — ,- large and elegant stone edifice in the style of the Re- 
 naissance—which is one of the architt'ctural fcuatures of the city. 
 
 . Turning his back upon the I'ost Office and looking (;ast, the visitor sees a broad 
 roadway — Riileau .Street — extending, on ;i gi-ntle acclivity, a couple of miles. This street 
 is lined with stores and private houses, and on either side cluster systems of streets 
 containing residences — those en the left, sloping tlown toward the river, being known as 
 
 bf 
 e 
 
 ' 
 
 HOST OKIICE, AND DUKI-ERIN A.Nl) SAl'l'EKS' HKIDGE. 
 
1 68 
 
 PICTUR USQUE CANADA, 
 
rl 
 
 o'f/'.nr.i. 
 
 169 
 
 nvv 
 
 HEAD Ol' THE LOCKS— RIDEAU CANAL. 
 
 Lower Town, while on the hii^her srround to the right lies the fashionable district, by no 
 misnomer called Sandy Hill. Here are comfortable and often hand.some and extensive 
 villas, the more distant of which command charming views of the adjacent country and 
 the valle^ of the Ridean River. 
 
 Here, also, occupying a considerable extent of grounil, is the rille range, a site of 
 some importance, owing to the fact that it is the scene of the annual meetings of the 
 Dominion Rifle Association, and that before its twenty targets the fjcst shots of the 
 country compete, selecting from their nuniijer the team which is yearly sent to contest at 
 Wimbledon with the crack shots of (ireat Britain. During the week of tlu; shooting, the 
 city is in a state of martial furore ; coats of red, dark-grecp and gray, are seen every- 
 where ; the white tents of the association and of the different competitors picturesquely 
 
I/O 
 
 /'/( ■ vi/A'/:s(jr/-: c .ia:i/).i. 
 
 (lot the jjroiind ; and tin: iru-cssant crack of llic rillc, tlic strains of military hands, the 
 brijrht dresses of ladies, and the ^^eneral cli.irni of the unusual, jjlve all the proceeding's 
 an animation for which the social world is the association's debtor. It is a widely 
 ramified institution, |)ractically representinyj all the I'rovinc-s, and is the centre (jf every- 
 thing' apjicrtaiiiin},' to military rille practice in tin- lountrj It is also an admirable ex- 
 ample of j,'ood orj,fani/ation, every detail of its work lieio'; thouj^ditfu'.ly brouj4ht to the 
 hij^hest point of pc'rfcction. 
 
 KIOKAU CANAI. U)CKS. 
 
 Coming back again to the bridge, a hundred yards off on the left, with a sharp 
 turn, runs Suffolk Street. Here we enter a section of the city almost exclusively 
 French, with I'Vench proprietors and French characteristics ; the baker becomes a Soti- 
 /auger, the lawyer is avocaf. and inarcJiandises-seckes obligingly translates itself into 
 " dry-goods," for the benefit of the un-F"rench world. On this street is a big three-storey 
 cut-stone building recently purchased by Government for the purposes of a Geological 
 Museum, the materials for which were all ready to hand in Montreal. This promises to 
 constitute a very durable adjunct to the means of information possessed by the city. Suf- 
 folk Street contains also the French Cathedral, a large and imposing building, of the local 
 
 
OrTAU'/L 
 
 171 
 
 
 gray-blue limcstono, whose capacious interior is res|)lenileiu witli Ki''''"U '">'^' wood-carv- 
 iny, the result of recent extensive improvements. This is the main centre of the I-'rench 
 and Roman Cathohc element. The nei),jhl)ourinj; streets are filled with rows of small, 
 clean and tidy cottages, whose jjood-natured inhaliitants use the old ti)n<;uc of i,a Melle 
 France, and are descendants of those early vovai,v/trs and clhxnticrs whose traditionary 
 pursuits on tiu; ever-beneticcnt bosom of the Ottawa they still larj,'ely follow. 
 
 Beyond the I'ninch Cathedral, thi; road approaches the river, and runs parallel with 
 it till th(; Rideau is rii.ached at a point just above the spot where it phinj,res in two 
 graceful "curtains" of wate' to supplement the great stream of the Oit.iwa, forty feet 
 below. Here is the suburban village of New Kdinburgh, and lu^re, too, is the entrance 
 to " Rideau Hall," the local name for Government House, of which more hereafter. 
 
 Reverting to our stand at the junction of the briilges, and still turning our backs 
 to the Post Ofitice, there lies, on the immediate left, the entrance to the I'ublic Gardens — 
 a long stretch of prettily-planned walks, grass and (lower-beds, with frecpient rustic 
 seats — which, though still in incomplete form, is one of the favourite summer evening 
 lounges of the citizens, Melow, runs the deep gorge through which the waters of the 
 canal, by a magnificcMit series of locks, have been led to join the Ottawa, ami beyond 
 the locks rises the precipitous wooded slope of Parliament Mill; ami the \ast pile 
 of the " Buildings," whose graceful outline, sharply marked out against the bright 
 sky of tl.e on-coming evening and the western sun, is a never-ceasing charm to 
 the eyes of the strollers on the garden cliffs. 
 
 Crossing the Sappers' Bridge and passing the Post Office on our right, we cone 
 upon Elgin Street — whose name, as befits the capital, is a memorial of an ex-Governor — 
 and the new City Hall, a large building of blue limestone, containing the various city 
 offices and the machinery for carrying out the civic system. 
 
 Following P21gin Street a few hundred paces, a fine piece of open gro\inil is nut with 
 — Cartier Square — named in honour of tiie illustrious Canadian statesman under whose 
 leadership the Conservative Government for many years held steady sway. Here is the 
 great public meeting-place. Reviews of troops, popular gatherings, the rejoicings of 
 festival days, foot-ball and lacrosse matches, find ample accommodation. At the far 
 end stands an enormous red-brick building — the drill shed — under whose noble span a 
 regiment may perform its evolutions in comfort, while commodious sections are fitted 
 up as repositories for the several arms of the militia and volunteer force centred in 
 Ottawa. On one side of the square stands a very extensive pile of buildings in stone, 
 of graceful design — the Normal School — one of the apices of the Government educa- 
 tional system of the Province of Ontario ; and close by is the Collegiate Institute. In 
 this neighbourhood is found the rising " West End " of the community. Villa residences 
 of fine proportions and design, surrounded by well-kept gardens, have sprung up in all 
 directions. Streets which but five or six years ago were bare fields, are now lined 
 
172 
 
 PICTUR/-SQ UE CA NA DA. 
 
OrTAlVA. 
 
 173 
 
 with haiulsoint- l)ii!l(llin,rs of lirick and slone, and the hitherto scattered wealthy home-life 
 of the city seems to l)e ad()|)tin,!;- at last the principle of segreifaticn, which is the feature 
 of the greater hives in all countries. 
 
 Retracinjr our steps along Elgin, hack to Sparks Street, we follow the course of 
 the street railway towards the Chaudiere Falls, till Upper Town is h'ft, with its busy 
 shop-life, and passing the water-works at Por.ley's Hridge, enter upon another phase of 
 the city — the all-important element of lumber. 'Ihe air becomes laden with a |)!easant, 
 healthy smell of ])ine-wood, and the stores we pass are tilled with materials of a very 
 matter-of-fact character — stout woollen jerseys and shantyman's boots, notable rather for 
 great capacity for honest work than for any extreme elegance of i)uiK! : huge .saws, 
 circular monsters of brobdingagian proportions, with teeth of liie most appalling dimen- 
 sions, and perpendicular giants of unequalled gootl temper, wiiose ungentle mission it will 
 be to eat their placid anil indifferent way through many a stout-hearted monarch of the 
 woods ; axes of the brightest ; chains, " cant tlogs," peculiarly-shaped instruments for 
 canting over logs into pl.ice, and the spike-pole, the lumberman's " best coin|)anion." 
 These, and )arrels of rough-'ooking but most palatable pork, his staple food, form the 
 main contents of the stores of this quarter. Life's lu.xuries have vanished, its realities 
 have full possession. 
 
 As we near the saw-mills the harsh, strident buzz of countless saws is heard. This, 
 day anil night, in the "running .season," is the cry of the ruthlessly-sundered logs, or 
 the querulous gamut, up and down, wiiich runs never-endingly, the voice of the labouring 
 but ever-victorious saw. Upon every |)oint of rock near the Chauiliere I'alls, and upon 
 acres of massive, wooden, stone-filled embankments connecting them, to which the upper 
 waters coulil be led, there have been reared the huge mill structures of the lumber 
 kings. F'lour, cement and wool have also claimed a sh.'.re of tiie illimitable water-power. 
 Here, overlianging a precii)itous fall — there built out on migiity [)iles — everywhere mills. 
 In all directions the waters have been boldly seized, cunningly coaxed, audaciously 
 dammed up ; sluices, bulkheads, slides, everywhere, everything is chaotically watery. Yet 
 all is the very essence of order anil of nice adjustment of means to t:nils, a very triumph 
 of triumphant water slavery. The result is, that the greater i)arl of the tremendous 
 stream — hen; a mile broail at least — is compelled to traverse the main fall ."bout forty 
 feet high, and to escape through the principal channel, about 240 feet wide, across which 
 a light but strong suspension bridge has been cleverly thrown, connecting Ottawa wkh 
 Hull — the Province of Ontario with that of Ouebec. 
 
 In the construction of a bridge at this difficult point the persistency of Rruce's spider 
 has been emulated. Fifty years ago there was no bridge, and the boiling, tumbling waters 
 of the falls a hundred yards above rushed headlong through charming tree-covered islands, 
 in all the picturesque freedom of undisturbed nature. In 1827, when the first steps 
 were being taken for the building of the Rideau Canal locks, and little Bytown began to 
 
J 74 
 
 PIC T UK ESQ UE CANADA. 
 
 look up in the world, tlic sliot of a cannon carried from rock to rock across the whirling 
 stream a small rope ; this rope was the |)arent of much endeavour, of repeated failure, 
 but of ultimate success. Finally, in 1S43, the; |)resent stout structure was reared, and 
 from its tremulous [ilatform, in all the wild, ceaseless din of falling waters, rush of 
 yellow, foam-covered waves and veil of misty spray, one looks at ease into the once 
 mystic .xnA awful, but now merely picturesque tumble and toss of living water, the 
 famous Chaudiere. Half a mile above, the long, graceful lines of a new and substantial 
 iron railway bridge of eleven huge spans, give farther evidence of the mastery of man 
 over this once wild spot. 
 
 On the right, beyond a broad area of brownish, gray-coloured rock, bare in the dry 
 summer time, but covered v/ith down-rushing water in the river-swollen days of spring, 
 are mills and still more mills, and an immense factory for the production of matches and 
 pails — one of the " sights " of the locality. On the left, percheil high on a labyrinth of 
 monster piles, by which the giant force of the river has been dammed up and curbed, runs 
 a long line of big saw-mills, and entering these, the unearthly din, made up of whirr, buzz 
 and shriek, becomes absolutely deafening. Here is the home of the saw, and anything 
 more curiously fascinating than the aspect of the place, with its crowd of ever-busy 
 workers, the rapid up-and-down dance of the tremendous saws, can scarcel)' be imagined. 
 Set, thirty or more, framed in a row — those terril)le instruments form what is called a 
 "gate" — and towards this uncompromising combination the logs, having tlrst been drawn 
 from the water up an inclined plane, deftly handled and coa.xed into position, are irre- 
 sistibly impelled, one succeeding the other, day and night. I'^or a moment the glittering 
 steel dances before the forest innocent, a veritable "dance of death;" then, with a 
 crash and a hiss, the ugly-looking teeth make the first bite, and, for five or si,\ minutes, 
 eat their way steadily through the tough fibre, till that which entered the jaws of the 
 machine a mere log, emerges in the form of sawn planks, which a few more rapid and 
 simple operations convert into well trimmed and salaljle lumber, ready for the piling 
 ground and the markets of America and Europe. 
 
 The scene at night — for work continues both by night and day — is extremely novel 
 and picturesque. Some of the lumbering firms .low use the electric light, and the effect 
 in that pure, clear glare, is of the most Rembrandt-like character. The contrast between 
 the darkness outside, and the weird unearthly figures of the busy crowd of workers ; 
 the dark, rough backs of the dripping logs, as they are hauled up from the water, 
 catching the reflection, and the sharp llash of the steel as it dances up and down — all 
 contribute to make a picture of the horrible which would captivate the pencil of Dore 
 and gi\e I )ante a new idea for a modern Inferno. 
 
 Amongst the novel experiences which the city offers to its visitors is the descent 
 of the " slides," whereby the hardships of the lumberman's life become, for a few exciting 
 moments, the attractive sport of venturesome seekers of strange thrills. The timber for 
 
 '■\ \ 
 
atmrnsm 
 
 OTTAWA. 
 
 175 
 
 CHAUDlkRU lAlXS, AND SUSPENSION BRIDGE. 
 
176 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 ClIAUDIKRK FALLS. 
 
 wliich the special provision of slides is made 
 is no niere rough log, but has been carefully 
 hewn stjuare in the woods, forming great beams, tlestined 
 for solid piles or massive building work. I''or the 
 a^•oidance of the unmercifid grinding and battering on j^igged rocks which ]jassage 
 over the falls woidd entail, long, smooth-bottomed channels of massixe wood and 
 stone-work have been built, leading from the high level above to the watt.Ts below, 
 the inclination being sufificient to bring the timber safely down, carefully made up into 
 lots called "cribs," containing some twentj' "sticks" of \arious lengths, but of an uniform 
 widtl' of tw('nt\-four feet, to fit tile slide. The descent is made at a pace which, with 
 the ever-present possibility of a break-up, gi\es a very respectable sense of e.xcitement 
 to a no\ic(;. There is but little attempt at fastening, the buoyancy of the timber and 
 the weigl t of three or four of the heaviest beams obtainable being sufficient, as a rule, 
 to iioKl the mass together. ^ 
 
 Just at the h(!ad the adventurous voyas;euys hurriedly embark, the crib being courte- 
 ously held back for a monuMit for their convenience. Under ilirection, they perch them- 
 selves upon the highest timber in the rear, out of the way as far as possible of u[)rushing 
 waters, and the huge mass is cleverly steered by the immense oars which r,re used for 
 
OTT.nr.L 
 
 177 
 
 the purpose, towards the entrance of tlie chute. .Aheai! for a (piarter of a mile appears 
 a narrow channel, clown whicli a sliaUow stream of water is constantly rushinj^, with here 
 and there a drop of some live or ei<,du feel ; the ladies i^aither up their tjarments, as the 
 crib, now l)e}j^ip.:;ini,r to feel the current, takes matters into its own hanils ; with ra|)idly- 
 quickeninjj speed, the unwieldy craft passes under a hridi^c, and with a i^roan anil a 
 mighty crackin<j[ and splashing, i)lunge's nose foremost, and tail high in llu; air. o\'t:r the 
 first dr()]j. Now she is in the sliile [)roper, antl the pace is exhilarating ; on, over the 
 smooth timbers she glides swiftly ; at a bridge ahead passers-by stop, and wavings of friendly 
 handkerchiefs are interchanged. Now comes a bigger drop than the last, and the water, 
 as we go over, surges up through our timbers, anil a shower of sjiray falls about us. 
 
 CRIB OF T1MBL14 RUNNING THE SLIDE. 
 
 A deHcate "Oh!" from the ladies compliments this effort. Never mind; a little wetting 
 was all in this day's march. Another interval of smooth rush, and again a drop, and 
 yet another. Ahead, there is a gleam of tossed and tumbled water, which shows the 
 end of the descent ; down still we rush, and with one last wild dip, which sends the 
 water spurting up about our feet, we have reached the bottom, cleverly caught on a 
 floating platform of wood, called the "apron," which 'revents our plunging into 
 
178 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 "full fathoms five." We have "run the slides." Now, out oars, and soon, striking 
 into the powerful current which has swept over the falls behind us, we are lying 
 moored by the side of some huge raft containing, perhaps, a hundred of such cribs 
 as ours, and worth over $100,000, where the process of "re-making up" is going 
 on, preparatory to the long, slow tow down the broad waters of the Ottawa to Ste. 
 Anne, where the whole work of separation has to be gone over again. Again, too, at 
 Lachine, the whole raft is dismembered, and the dangers of those terrible rapids must 
 be run with no assistance from slides, before the calm bosom of the St. Lawrence 
 can bear our timbers to the tall ships of frowning Quebec and the chances of Atlantic 
 storms. 
 
 For us now, not unwilling to accept the hospitality freely extended to all visitors, 
 there is the pleasant red fire of the raft to stand by, and the tin pannikins (carefully 
 cleansed in our honour) filled from a huge and ever-simmering cauldron of blackest tea 
 brew ; there is bread, new and white enough, and vigour-giving pork and nourishing 
 beans, all of which Jules, chcf-dc-cuisinc of the craft, offers us with hospitable thought 
 and a pleasant smile, showing his white teeth the while. Jules' dubiously agreeable 
 mission is to fill the ever-empty forty or fifty hearty and healthy giants who com- 
 pose the crew, and as they begin work and breakfasting at daybreak, the generous 
 pots must always be read\- to supply food till far on in the night. Such pon- 
 derous and much-worked machinery requires big furnaces, and the fuel must be at 
 hand at all hours. We drink our tea and praise the bread — bringing thereby a glow 
 of satisfaction to the brown cheek of our kind cook — and, if allowed, present a small 
 doncctcr ; then, with a hand-shake and a hoii voyage, we step ashore and leave our craft 
 to its fate. 
 
 This descent of the slides is a feature so peculiar to the city that all her illustrious 
 visitors are introduced to its charms as a matter of course. The Prince of Wales, Prince 
 Arthur, the Grand Duke Alexis, Lord and Lady Dufferin, and Lord Lome with the 
 Princess Louise, have all undergone the ordeal with much success and amusement, and 
 have thereby entered the ranks of the initiated into the craft of the raftsmen, b'arther 
 than this slight playful flirtation with a difficult and dangerous life, they would not 
 probably care to venture. 
 
 A simple, kindly-hearted, easily-amused race of men are these same stalwart sons of 
 the forest, the rapid, and the stream. Given plenty of work and plenty of food, and 
 having unlimited fresh air and consciences the most unburdened, the labours of the day 
 find sutticient relief in nightly gatherings round the huge fires of the raft or shanty. 
 Some will certainly be found who can tell a good story, dance a cunning if noisy jig, 
 or sing one of the many quaint, childish, but often touching airs which, floating down 
 intact from the primitive days of the early F"rench rule, still delight the voyageurs of 
 to-day. Perhaps it is the story of the trois beaux canards, who, swimming in the pond, 
 
 
OTTAWA. 
 
 J 79 
 
 are shot at by the fils du roi, so un'cliant with its likely but inconsonant chorus of the 
 "rolling bail"; how the white duck fell, and 
 
 " Par CCS yciix liii sorfnt dcs diamants 
 Jill roiiliiiit )iia boulc. 
 El /'(ir cc hcc. For ct /'nr^rii/. 
 Roulc, rou/aiit, iiia boulc roulaiil : 
 En roulatit ma boulc roulaut. 
 En roulaut uia boulc" 
 
 is a tale known wherever the shanty man has set foot. Or perhaps the praises of their 
 snug halting place, " Rytown," are sung. Thus- - 
 
 " A Bytown ccsl uuc jolic place 
 Oil il srauiass ben dla crasse ; 
 Ok ya dcs jolies fillcs 
 Et anssi dcs jolis garcons. 
 Dans Ics cha niters nous hivernerons.'' 
 
 
 Popular amongst their songs is that of the famous Marlborough, hero of la belle 
 nation, by virtue of his five years' service with Turenne ; and the air " Alalbrough s 
 en va-l-cu gucr-rc," ijueerly surviving with us as wedded to tiie words, " We won't go 
 home till morning," has startled the drinking deer of many a river bend on many a 
 misty morning. But chief of all stands the tender "A la clairc foutaiuc !" with its 
 sad lover of the weeping heart and lost mistress, which, it is said, all the Canadian 
 world, from the child of seven to the white-haired man, knows and sings. These 
 are the songs which can still be heard from the brow of Parliament Hill,, on the 
 warm summer evenings, floating up from the monster rafts which, ever-gathering, lie 
 moored at its wood-fringed base ; links are these songs, binding the river of the Past 
 to the river of To-day. 
 
 Beyond Major's Hill, or rather at its extreme end, is Nepean Point, a rival to the 
 big rocky promontory to the westward, upon which the Parliament Buildings stand. 
 Here is the saluting battery, from which, on certain high " white stone " days, the curl 
 of smoke and boom of big guns tells of a fresh birthday for the Queen, or for the 
 young Dominion, or of the state visits of England's representatives to the Senate, or of 
 the opening or closing of Parliament. From this, of all the many points from which 
 the " Buildings " can be viewed, they present, perhaps, the most picturesque aspect. Suffi- 
 ciently near to be taken in as a whole, and yet far enough off to be merged in the 
 grace-giving veil of the atmosphere, their effect in the warm glow of the sun as it sets 
 in the west is simply delightful to the painter's eye. Bit by bit their dainty towers and 
 pinnacles and buttresses fade out in the subdued tones of evening, changing from the 
 
i8o 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 " symphony in red " to a 
 " harmony in };niy," till moon- 
 hj^ht mak(.'s tli<in all j^lorious 
 as a " noctiirnt! in silver and 
 black," 
 
 But the centre the heart 
 -of Ottawa li(.'s, of course, 
 in its Parliament and De- 
 )artmental Huijclin^s. Com- 
 menced in i^!59, the first 
 stone was laid hy the I'rince 
 of Wales in iS6o, and 
 they were occupied in 
 1865, thou!L;h much re- 
 maini'd to he done after 
 that date , the library 
 and an extension of 
 one of the 1 locks, the 
 grounds, and 
 the surround- 
 ini( walls and 
 railinj^s, hav- 
 > , I ing been subse- 
 
 quently added. 
 In their present 
 form they cost 
 fully live mill- 
 ion dollars, and 
 cover an area 
 of about four 
 acres. They 
 
 form three 
 sides of a huge 
 square, which 
 is laid down 
 in grass, beau- 
 tifully kept, 
 whose fresh, 
 green surface, 
 

 OTTAWA. 
 
 i8i 
 
 IKOM MAIN KNTRANCK UNDER CKNTKAL TOWKR. 
 
 crossed with broad paths, stands above the level of Wellintrton Street, from which it is 
 separated by a low stone wall with handsome railinsr and gates. Rising above this 
 square, on a stone terrace with sloping carriage approaches on either side, the great 
 central block, with a massive tower 220 feet high in the centre, faces the square. This 
 building, three storeys in height, has a frontage of forty-seven feet and, like the sister 
 buildings on either side, is built in a style of architecture based on the Gothic 
 of the twelfth century, combining the elements of grace and simpiic.'cy which the 
 climate of the country seems to require. A cream-coloured sandstone from the 
 neighbouring district, to which age is fast adding fresh beauty of colour, with 
 arches over the doors and windows of a warm, red sandstone from Potsdam and 
 dressings of Ohio freestone, has been happily employed — the effect of colour, apart 
 from form, being most grateful to the eye. This building contains the two Cham- 
 bers — for the Commons and the Senate — and all the accommodation necessary for 
 the officers of both Houses. The Chamber of the Commons is an oblong hall, fitted 
 
t8a 
 
 /•/( • ri IH'.SQUE LAX ADA. 
 
 
OTT.lir.l. 
 
 IXS 
 
 with 'I'paratt; seats ami desks f(ir the nicinhcrs, ilic Spijakci's cliair licinj^ placi-il in 
 tlu: midilU; of (int- sidr, Ifuvinj; a soiiu'wiial narrow |)assaj{c-way from wliicli on citlicr 
 luinil the desiks of tin; members rise in tiers. 1 lie ceilinj( is supporteil by jfracefiil cliis- 
 
 M.MN HLII.DINliS, HOUSES OK I'AKLIAMKN r. 
 
 ters of marble pillars — four in each -^aiul a broatl trailer)' runs round tlic Chanilxir whicii, 
 on important nit;ius, is crowded with pcjlilicians, ladies, mcinl)ers of dciiulalions and 
 others interestetl, from all parts of the Dominion. Tiie dei)ales woukl be more appre- 
 ciated by th(,' public if the speakers c(JuUl Ije better iuard, though perhaps such a 
 statement implies a compliment that should be limited to a select few of the members; 
 but, as with so many other buildinj^s intended for public speakin_L,^ the Chamber was 
 constructed without reference to any principles of acoustics. I'^cw of the speeches de- 
 livered in the House can be called inspiring. In fact, when not personal, they are pro- 
 saic. This can hardly be hel])ed, for a Canadian Parliament, like Conjjress in the 
 United States, deals, as a rule, with matters from which only <;enins could draw inspi- 
 ration. The French-Canadian members, in consequence, probably, of the classical trainintj 
 that is the basis of their education, are far superior to their English-speaking confreres 
 
 i 
 
1 84 
 
 PIC rURIiSQUE i ANA /)A. 
 
 in accuracy of expression Jincl jjraco of styU;. I'lvcn when they speak in En^'lish these 
 cpialities are noticeable. Ilie Senate Ciiamber, wliich, with its offices, occupies the other 
 half of the huji[e building, is of precisely the same architectural character, the colourinj^ 
 of carpets and upholstery being, however, of crimson, and the seats beinj,' differently 
 arranj^ed ; the throne, occupied by the representative of Her Majesty, is at the far end, 
 on a dais of crimson cloth ; and in front of it is the Speaker's chair. Here the cere- 
 monies connected with the openinjj and closiiij^ of Parliament take place — the former 
 l)einjf an event of much importance— imieed, one of th«; leading' incidents of the life of 
 the capital. It is a pretty si^ht, with the jjay uniforms of the military, the rich dress 
 of the ministers, the scarlet j,'owns of the .Supreme Court judjjes, and the varied 
 toilets of the ladies. It is usually followed in the evening oy the holding of a " draw- 
 ing-room," at which the strict rules of eticpiette which govern ICuropean assemblages 
 of the kind are dispensed with, and any one who desires can, by complying with 
 the ordinary recpilrements of every-day domestic life as to evening dress, be present, 
 and make acquaintance with the representative of the Crown in most simple and re- 
 publican fashion. 
 
 Behind the two Chambers is situated the Parliamentary Library, a building of ex- 
 ceptional architectural grace externally. Flying buttresses of great strength and beauty 
 give a distinctive charjicter to the structure, while its lofty dome is a landmark far and 
 near. Insiile it is fitted with all possible regard to convenience, the workmanship being 
 of elaborately-carved wood, and comprising cunningly-devised recesses for reading purposes, 
 with rooms for th(! librarian and his staff. In the centre is a noble marble statue of 
 the Queen. e>ecuted by Marshall Wood. Marbh; busts of the Prince ami Princess of 
 Wales are |)rominent treasures of the room. In its chief librarian. Dr. Alpheus Todd, 
 it possesses a head whose standing as a writer ujion constitutional law is recognized in 
 all parts of the world. The remaining buildings, on the east and west sides of the 
 scpiare, are occupied by the several departments of the Government, and are well 
 adapted to meet the present requirements. The east block, which contains the ofifice of 
 the Governor-General and the Chambers of the Privy Council, possesses at its entrance 
 a tower of graceful tlesign, which very favourably impresses the spectator from Elgin 
 Street, to whose eye it gives the first intimation of the vicinity of the buildings. 
 
 Running entirely round the three blocks of the Parliament and Departmental 
 buildings is a broad drive, and at th sides and in rear of the library, the grounds, 
 like those in the front, are laid out in ha.:dsome and well-planned flower-beds, with 
 great stretches of green lawn, overlooking the cliff. Here, from a pretty summer- 
 house erected close to the edge of the precipitous slope, a widely commanding 
 view is afforded of the broad stream of the Ottawa to the east and west. Immense 
 rafts are being made up in all directions ; steamers and tugs ply up and down, tak- 
 ing big barges, laden with lumber, to the markets of the world, or toilfully working 
 
cse 
 
 Iff 
 
 tly 
 
 re- 
 
 icr 
 
 ess 
 led 
 
 iw- 
 
 fcs 
 ith 
 
 nt, 
 
 re- 
 
 ty 
 
 ncl 
 
 ;s, 
 
 in 
 
 le 
 
 :e 
 
 il 
 
 r- 
 
 I 
 
■A 
 > 
 
 o 
 o 
 
OTTAIVA. 
 
 185 
 
 tlicir way up the rapid current with the Lurden of a lon^ "tow" of empty 
 
 tiirninij; to the yartls to 
 
 Iju reloaded. r~ 
 
 On thi' other side is 
 the cit\- of Hull, and 
 farther down the river 
 is the nioiiih of the 
 Gatineaii, itself a i,'reat 
 river, whose banks are 
 
 ones re- 
 
 TOWER 01'" EASTERN BLOCK, DEPARTMENTAL UUILDLNUS. 
 
 Studded here and there with ([iieer clustc-rs of wcjoilen c(nta<;t:s, \\iiich tiie sprinj^ freshets 
 annually transform into lacustrine dwellinys of most i^rotestpie discomfort. Over, far away, 
 
 "Wliere the sucv.y end ul evt'iiinj; smiles — 
 Miles and miles," 
 
 is the range of hills, the outcrop of the old Laurentians, known as the King's 
 
1 86 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Mountain, where are all manner of delightful haunts for the artist — tiny lakes and 
 seared and moss-jrrown cliffs and huj^e boulders — places when; man is yet a stranger and 
 the whistle of the locomotive a far-distant horror of the future. The valley of the 
 Gatineau is marvellously rich in mineral wealth — phosphates, iron ore of the purest 
 plumbago, mica, and almost all known varieties of minerals are found, though discovery 
 in this direction is yet in its infancy. The first three are, however, somewhat extensively 
 mined, and only await the advent of capital to become a source of great wealth to 
 the neighbourhood. This is a country rich, too, in prizes for the botanist and ento- 
 mologist, while the river boasts of rapids and falls which would delight the eye of the 
 painter, so gracefully picturesque are their manifold surgings and leapings. 
 
 Besides the Ciatineau and the hilly range in front, the summer-house gives a view 
 to the west far up the (Ottawa till, nine miles off, the shimmer of light shows a broad 
 surface of smooth water. Lac du Chene is one of the many expansions of the noble river, 
 beside whicii, snugly nestled, lies the village of Aylmer, a great centre for summer 
 excursions, being only twenty minutes' run from the city by train. Below, at our feet, 
 there runs all the way round the steep slope of Parliament Hill, a delightful winding 
 path — the " Lover's Walk " — cut out of the hillside. A more charming stroll for man 
 or maid, lover or misanthrope, could not be wished for. Shut off from the city life 
 and embowered in trees, whose cool shade makes the hottest day bearable, the fortimate 
 Ottawaite can here "laze" himself ,nto a state of dreamy contentment. Through breaks 
 in the foliage the silver ri\er gl(;;ims, Inisy and beautiful, a hundred feet below ; the 
 white stems of the birch gracefully relieve the sombre gleam of hemlock and the fresher 
 tints of the mapl<% all for him. Birds talk to him, sing to him. The oriole, with its 
 uniform of black and orange, pauses a moment to wish him well, and a bright gleam 
 of greenish-blue shows him the kingfisher, far too busily engaged for talk. Perhaps 
 the momentary hovering of a tiny ball of emerald and sapphire and opai, and a sound 
 as of an overgrown bumble-bee, shows the presence of a humming-bird; while from 
 some near bough the " Canada bird " repeats its tenderly sympathetic note—" Poor 
 Canada, Canada, Canada ! " with most evident irrelevancy and possible rhaff. From the 
 mills of the Chaudiere come the faint buzz of the saw, and the noise of the " Big 
 Kettle," which is well seen from the " Walk." All this in the golden haze of a sum- 
 mer's afternoon ! Who shall say that Ottawa is not beautiful ? 
 
 But when the summer has worn away, and the frost in the chilly autumn nights 
 has "bitten the heel of the going year," and the sensitive leaves of the maples, stricken 
 Lo death by the first breath of winter, &nA their brief lives in an exquisite fever 
 flush, making wood and hillside a very [jainter's feast of rich colour, Ottawa begins 
 to prepare for the second phase of her existence, her merry winter season. Then comes 
 the first snow fall, and soon the cheery ting-tang of sleigh-bells makes gay music for a 
 gay white world, and the rumble and dust of her summer streets have gone for a five 
 
OTTAWA. 
 
 187 
 
 months' spell. Steamers and tuirs and barges are laid up in her once-busy stream, and 
 the sluggish waters thicken with the increasing cold till, bit by bit, the tiny ice crystals 
 knit themselves into a solid coat two feet in thickness, and the Ottawa is bridged from 
 shore to shore. 
 
 Tiiat the winter in Ottawa is emphatically lointcr, and no half-hearted compro- 
 mise, there is not a shadow of doubt, and therein lies its charm. No vacillating slush 
 and half-melted snow in the streets, no rain and fog in the air — all is hard and white 
 and clear underfoot, while overhead there is the purest of blue skies, which night trans- 
 forms into tile most glorious of diamond-studded canopies. 
 
 Here now flock from the shores of the Atlantic, a thousand miles away ; from 
 Manitoba, the hopeful centre of the Dominion ; from beyond the towering barriers of 
 the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific Coast, three thousand miles distant ; and from many 
 a city, town, village and homestead between — the legislators of the land. The ordinarily 
 quiet streets are busy with life, the hotels are all crowded, and the lobbies of the Par- 
 liament Buildings are haunted by those peculiar gentry who gather together round 
 dispensers of patronage. Dances, dinners, balls and theatricals follow in quick succes- 
 sion. Visitors on business and visitors on pleasure come and go, and the work and 
 play of a whole year is compressed into three stirring months ; the noble piles of the 
 public buildings are brilliant with light, while far into the night the many-coloured win- 
 dows of the "Chambers" throw gay retlections on the snow outside. - 
 
 The chief centre, as is fitting, of all winter hospitality, is Government House ; and 
 in the occupants of the "Hall" Canada has long had representatives of her dignity, 
 who have worthily maintained her character as a generous and hospitable country, and 
 the care which grudges no pains or cost to give pleasure has its own reward in the 
 kindly feeling which invariably follows acquaintance with the simple-mannered, self-for- 
 getting lady and gentleman who stand at the head of Canadian society. 
 
 Government House is about two miles from the city. Past the Rideau Falls, the 
 road leads on througii the village of New Edinburgh to the lodge gates. Down tliis 
 road, in the winter of iSSo, the horses attached to the sleigh which was conveying 
 H. R. H. the Princess Louise, to hold a drawing-room in the Senate Chamber, bolted, over- 
 turning the sleigh, dragging it a considerable distance along the frozen ground. This 
 ."'.ccident n;sulted, unhappily, in severe injury to tlu; illustrious lady. Once through the 
 gates, a drive of a few iumdred yartls through a pretty bit of native woodland leads 
 to the house. Half way up this drive the Princess has caused an opening to be cut 
 in the woods, known as the " Princess' Vista," through which a lovely view is afforded 
 of the broad stream of the Ottawa and the shore and distant hills beyond. 
 
 Utterly devoid of any attempt at arciiitectural style — a piecemeal agglomeration of 
 incongruous brick, plaster, and stone. "Rideau Hall" or Government House is at once 
 one of the most unpretentious and disappointing yet comfortable of residences. Set in 
 
 
1 88 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 
OTTAWA. 
 
 189 
 
 THE FKINCliSS' VISTA. 
 
 a delisrhtfull)' varied area of grass, garcli'n, and forest, comprising nearly ninety acres of 
 land, the Iniilding presents an aspect the most commonplace to the visitor, who sees 
 only tile hare wooden porch of the doorway, llanked on the right by the tennis court 
 (which by a ciiarming transformation does tliit\' as a sii|)i)er-rooni), and on the left by 
 the ball-room. Hut the pleasantness of the place lies in the yet unseen. Away back from 
 that unprepossessing central doorway stretclu's a long, gray-stoni', two-storied i)uilding, 
 whose rooms look out u|)on llower-garclens and conserwitories. and which has all those 
 delightful surprises in the way of cosy, oddK-shapcd apartments, such as buildings 
 which hav(! grown, iiit i)y bit, from small beginnings so often posscs.s. 
 
 Besiiles the never-ending round of balls, dinners and general entertaining, for which 
 Government House is famous, there is the range of out-of-door fun ; and here come in 
 
 I 
 
I go 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 skatin<T, ciirlinji;, and above all, x\\v tohojfj^an. Out of Canaila or Russia, the dclij^hts 
 of the tol)()i;L,fan slide are hut matters of iniaj^ination. Nowhere else can the swift down- 
 ward rusii into liu; stroiitj, healthy emi)race of tiie frost)- air, over the glossy, white surface 
 of the hardened snow he enjoyed ; and tin- very best of Canadian slides — barring the 
 somewhat dangerful Montmorency, and |)(rha]is the glacis of I-'ort Henry at Kingston — 
 is at (io\crnm<'nt House. Here, in tiie grounds, reared on a high niouml, there rises 
 far al)o\e the tree-tops all through tiie summer a huge bare structure of stout timbers, 
 from the summit of which descends, at a steep angle, a boarded trougii, ending with 
 the foot of the hill, which winter sees snow-covered anil the centre of laughter and 
 most liearty, healthful fun. This, and two line, smooth are; of well-kept ice, and a long, 
 covereil rink for tlu' i)enetit of curlers, are aiuong the attractions to hundreds of guests 
 of the House through tin; winter season. It is a merry, joH)' scene, wlien tin; rinks are 
 crowdetl with skaters performing all mann(;r of intricate figures anil dances, wiiile the 
 sharp hiss and clink of the steel forms a cheery accompaniment to the roar and rush 
 of the toboggan as it sweeps down with its laughing load and vanishes far awa)- under 
 the distant trees. 
 
 To the Canadian the toboggan is as familiar as a household word : but for the benefit 
 of the uninitiated, it should lie e.xplained that it is a thin strip of wood about two feet 
 wide and six or eight feet long, curled up in front to throw off the snow, the "form" being 
 maintained i)y thongs of deer's sinew. I'pon this a well-jKidded cushion or buffalo-skin 
 is fastened, and tin; ri'sult is a tol)oggan of lu.xury. To be comfortable, one should 
 be prepared — the object being to keep out the fuie snow from a too intimate relationship 
 with the body. A pair of thick woollen stockings and moose-skin moccasins over the 
 feet, a i)lanket-coat of white or blue, anil a tuque (or liabitaitfs long caj)) on the head, 
 or one of fur well jammed down over the ears, with long, fur gauntlets, makes a 
 capital costume. Tin; ladies are charming in gay blanket coats of red or white or blue, 
 or warm fur mantles, with snug white "clouds" wound coquettishly over their fur caps. 
 Most bewitching is this Canadian tobogganning dress, bringing such picpiant effect to 
 a pretty face touched with the ripe, rich glow of health, as makes mere ball-room 
 beauty commonplace. The toboggan is a most accommodating vehicle. Charming 
 as a carrier of two, it is ilelighlful with three, and four can go down on it with comfort. 
 Having climlxxl to the top (jf the slide by a series of steps, the party prepares to ile- 
 scend. The garments of the gentle freight are carefully tucked in and, seated one 
 behind the otlier, the steerer last, ready either with hand or with foot outstretched 
 behind to guide the erratic craft. Letting go their hold, with the swoop of an eagle 
 anil a harsii, grating, crash and crackle, down they rush at the rate of twenty miles an 
 hour, cutting the sharp, keen air which, in return, almost takes their breath away ; 
 bounding headlong over any irregularities in the road, past the foot of the hill in a 
 twinkling, where a crowd of spectators stands ready to applaud success or laugh at 
 
o'j'/.iir.i. 
 
 191 
 
 misliap, ;iiul llashinj:^ alonj; 
 tluj smooth wliIlc track 
 ht-yonil for a (|uarU'r oi .1 
 mile or more till tin: speed 
 slackens, aiul tlie)- s|)rinji^ 
 u]) luirriedly, to lea\c: tlie 
 patli clear for tin- next 
 jolh' party which is close 
 on their heels. Sometimes 
 
 and, indeed, frequent- 
 ly enouoh, there is a 
 spill ; the tobot^jran is 
 ill-balanced, some one 
 moves to rij^ht or 
 left, or the preceding 
 tobojrjran has scored 
 too ileep a ciir\e in 
 the snow, and in a 
 moment the whole 
 party is sent Hying at 
 all manner of cpieer 
 tangents, bnt no harm 
 is done. There is a 
 good deal of laugh- 
 ing, much brushing 
 off of the snow-dust, 
 
19^ 
 
 /'/c 7rA-/:soi7: CI. v. I/). I. 
 
 ■ty.^^ 
 
 and — "better luck next time.'" It is half the 
 fun beini,' occasionally upset, and, indeed, it 
 takes some skill and much gootl fortune to 
 ensure a successful run. Lord Lome, besides 
 buildint;^ a second and loftier slide, has introduced a new charm tol)o<,'jranning by 
 torchli_(;;ht — and a more quaintly fairy picture could not be desired than this affords. 
 Hundreils of Chinese lanterns dot the trees or hani^ in festoons, while the lonjj course 
 is outlined with (lamintif torches, and a monster bonfire throws a ruildy glow over 
 everything. Hot mulled wine and coffee ami the music of a military band make the 
 charm complete, and supper puts the |)erfecting touch to Canada's great winter pastime. 
 Into this merry sport, as into all others which the bright Canailian winter offers, 
 the Princess enters with the hearty zest of her simjjle, unaffected, womanly nature, 
 laughingly beguiling her more timid guests into essaying the descent witii her, anil suc- 
 cessfully "taking them down." Both the present Governor-Cieneral anil his predecessor, 
 throwing the same energy into their play as into their work, have been the life and soul 
 of rink and slide ; and the natural, home-like life of the " Hall," which so many hun- 
 dreds have shared, is at its brightest in these constantly-repeated gatherings. 
 
 Such, then, is Ottawa in its several aspects of social, political, and business life — the 
 
 Fair city with its crown of towers," 
 
 as Lord Dufferin happily styled her. Picturesque she cannot fail to be, for nature has 
 made her so ; a power she must be for good or bad, throughout the land, for her 
 
irrrAiVA. 
 
 193 
 
 fortunes have so willed it. Holiliiijr in her midst the centred force of a whole people, 
 and being, by virtue of her stranjfe wilil past and noble prt'sent, the link tliat binds the 
 old to the new — the experience-tauj,'ht, sober Old World across the sea to the fresh 
 energy and restless vitality of this great young continent— may she pnne worthy of her 
 iionoursl May the bells of the capital of the Dominion ever — 
 
 " Rinjj oiil ,1 slnuly-ilyiiif; ciiisc, • 
 
 Anil iiiicii-nt Ibims iil party strife; 
 Riii({ ill the noiiler modes of lile 
 Willi sweeter nianneis, purer laws. ' 
 
 VICK-REGAL CHAIK, SENATE CHAMBER. 
 
THK UPPER OTTAWA. 
 
 
 ^r^HI-; attractions of the city to which the Ottawa River has jriven a name, its 
 political, social, and commercial importance, lead many to limit their interest to 
 that |)art of the river which lies below the Chaudiere. Yet the I'pper Ottawa 
 presents an unbroken panorama of scenery scarce to be rivalled in Canada, if on 
 the American continent; scenery that chanijes from the ])astora! calm of unriirtled 
 river and lake, fit mirror and ])ath for the yet unscared Dryad of tlie woods, which 
 alternate with wheat-field, farm, and villajre — to the torrent, whirlini,'- trees like play- 
 thini^s ; tiie cascade leapinjj in silver shaft from the precipice ; the archipelago of five 
 hundred islets ; the still, dark depth of current under Oiseau Rock ; the broad, navigable 
 stream between mountains clad with primeval forest, — to where the locomotive of the 
 new-built railway outscTeams the eagle amid the lonely hills of Mattawa. The scenery 
 of the Upper Ottawa is, perhaps, the least known in Canada. It is still in very many 
 places as wild, as unmarked by the presence of man, as when Champlain discovered it. 
 Yet it is full of promise for the wealth and civilization of the future ; unlimited wood- 
 supply and water-power; land that bears the finest of cereals; marble that already 
 decks the Chambers of our National Parliament ; with hills and cliffs in whose womb 
 lie, awaiting birth, the most useful of the economic metals. Such are but a few of the 
 natural advantages of this part of our country. 
 
 Nor is the scenery without historic associations of interest. From the earlier times 
 it was the great water highway of the Indian race, who knew no better road for their 
 hunting expeditions. Its true Indian name was the " Kit-chi-sippe," of which the French 
 >94 
 
 w\ 
 
77//: I '/'/'/:/< or /'.III. I. 
 
 '95 
 
 "Grande Riviere" is a iiKirc literal translation; "sippi," nr "sippc," meaning water, as in 
 " Mississippi," and many other Indian names. 
 
 The name "Ottawa" was, according,' to the i)est Indian aiitiiDrilics, tin: api>eilall'>n 
 of a tribe of Alj^onciuins whom the I""rench voyagiiirs niet on the river, alihonj^h their 
 real home was on Lake Michi),Mn— ihe word si^nifyinjr " ijio iuiman ear," a tribal 
 title. A portion of this tribe occupied the territory near Calumet and Allumette. 
 
 The modern history of the Upper Ottawa begins with >''e illustrious discoverer 
 who first led tlut way on its waters to the great lakes of the West — Samuel ile 
 Champlain — of whom mention has elsewhere been made in this work as the I'ather of 
 New I'Vance and the Founder of Quebec and Montreal. An embassy from the Algon- 
 quins of the Ottawa had asked his aid in their war with the Iror|uois, who, inhabit- 
 ing what is now New York State, were a kiml of pre-historic Anne.xationists in 
 their desire to add to their own country what is now Canada. It was, all through, 
 Champlain's policy to make the Algonciuins subjects, converts and soldiers, against the 
 Iro(|uois heathen. And when a Frenchman of his party, named Vignan, who had passed 
 up the river in the Algoncpiin canoes, returned, after a year in the Upper Ottawa region, 
 with a wonderful story of a great lake at the source of the Ottawa, and of a river beyond 
 it that led to the ocean, Cham|)lain was captivateil by the tale. All the gold of India 
 and the spice islands of the Orient seemed brought within the reach of France. On 
 Monday, the 27th day of May, 161 5, he left his fort at Montreal with a party of 
 five brenchmen — including Vignan — and a singk' Inilian guide, in two small canoes. 
 Carrying their canoes by land past the rapids, they glided in the tiny egg-shell ships 
 that were freighted with the future of Canada's civilization, over the trancjuil depth of 
 Lac du Chene, till the cataracts of the Chats, foaming over the limestone barrier 
 stretched across the lake, confronted them as with a wall of waters. Undaunted by a 
 scene still, as then, terrible in its wild sublimity, they pressed on, toiling with their 
 canoes over the portage to where Arnprior now stands ; thence over the Lake of the 
 Chats to what is now Portage du I'ort. Here the Indians said that the rapids — those 
 of the Calumet — were impassable. They entered the broken hill country through a 
 pine forest where a late tornado had strewn huge trees in every direction. In the 
 painful toil of crossing this debris, they lost part of their baggage. Long years after- 
 ward a rapier and an astrolabe, or astronomical instrument for observing the stars, were 
 found in this region ; the date on the astrolabe, corresponding to that of this expedition, 
 showing it to be a veritable relic of Champlain. Past the perilous impediments of this 
 portage, they crossed Lake Coulange to the island of the Allumette. There a friendly 
 chief named Tessonet received them. While at his camp, Chamjjlain discovered that 
 Vignan had deceived him, and had never been farther up the river than the camp of 
 Tessonet. Champlain pardoned the impostor, whom his Indian allies wished to kill with 
 torture. He then returned to the fort at Quebec, and in his frail vessel once more 
 
196 
 
 p/CTLU</:s<j('/': c:i.\.i/).L 
 
 crosscil th<; ocean to I'rance. Iltii' Ik; met witli some t-ncoiirajjcment, and retiirnin^j 
 with supplies ami missionary prirsts, Ciiainplaiii set out a sccomi tinv! on the r|)pcr 
 Ottawa with a sin^'lf IVcnchmaii and ten Indi.ms, till \n- rt-acluid the Indian camp at 
 Alhimi-'ttL'. Thenctr, twenty miles of navi^MbU; river stretched before him, straij^lit as 
 the bird (lies, between the sombre hills. I'assinjj; the rapids — the Joachim and the Cari- 
 bou, the Kocher Ca|)itaini! and the Deux Kivieres they reached the term of their 
 voyajre on the Ottawa at its junction with the Mattawa. Thence they maile their 
 way to Lake Nipissiu)^ ami the ^reat Western Lakes. .\ score of years afterwards, 
 successfid in all the j.jreat exploits he had undertaken, this slranjje compoimd of adven- 
 turer, statesman, soldier, saint and scholar, dieil at (Juebec, on Christmas Day. i6;,5. 
 
 To Champlain. discoverer of ilu; I'pper Ottawa route, traders and mission priests 
 succeeded as civilizinj,^ aj^^ents. A fur-tradinjf company was formed by merchants in 
 France, whose voyai;;ciir.s and loiirriirs dc Im/.t penetrated far up the ri\er amon^' thi; 
 friendly Al),'on<|uins. Important mission stations were formed in the Huron and Simcoe 
 rejjions, the road to which was by the I'pper Ottawa. It is impossible to read of the 
 marvellous labours and sufferini^s of those missionaries without feeling the admiration due 
 to brave men. One missionary ilied at a slow fire, his neck circled with hot a.xes, his 
 head in mock(!ry baptised with boiling wali'r. jirayin;.; fur his torturers to the end. 
 Father Jogues, having survived torture and mutilation, returned to France, where he 
 was greeted as a martyr for the I'aith. All luirope rang with his praise. In the Royal 
 Palace the yueen^Anne of Austria -kissed his dismembered hand. But he wcnild not 
 be stayed from returning to his work in the wilderness. Another was found ileatl in 
 the wooils. lie was kneeling; h.is hands clasped fro/en while he prayed! .\postolic 
 devotion met with Apostolic success. The blood of the Jesuit martyrs has been the seed 
 of the Roman Church on the Upper Ottawa. In every town and village, even to far-off 
 Mattawa, the Roman Catholic church is one of the largest ; the Indians continue firm 
 in its fold. Regular visits are paid each winter by mission priests to the shanties ; few 
 Christian congregations are more denoted to their clergy or more attentive to religious 
 worshif), than th(.'se rough, I'rench-speaking lumbermen, many of whom are of half-Indian 
 descent. 
 
 To the fur-trade of the I'rench merchants succeeded, after the English Conquest, the 
 rule of tin: Hudson's Bay Company, whose forts and outposts have been receding, as a 
 higher form of industry supplants the tratific of the hunters. Now the trade, far cxccl- 
 ieinc, of the l'pp(;r Ottawa, is that of lumber, for which the river is the main artery 
 in Canada. In fact, this industry has assumed a first place in our commerce; the vast 
 forests along the river margin are jjeopled every season by armies of lumbermen ; and 
 the Ottawa floats the wealth thus secured on to the sea-ships that bear it to every 
 haven in tlu; worlil. 
 
 I'or nine miles above the Chaudiere the Ottawa is so broken by rapids as to be 
 
77//; urri'iH or /.in: I. 
 
 •y" 
 
 
 
 rlMHI-.K BOOM, llrZKOY MAKHOLK. 
 
 unnavigable. A stcimcr plies hctwrcn Aylm(!r and I-'itzroy Harbour, on the Ottawa 
 sick; of llie Chats rapids. Tlio passa^^c ah)n;4' tlic expansion of the river, calli'il Lac 
 du Cliciie, afforils a \\vw of the pleasant \illa_tre of A\lmcr. On either shore the 
 country siile iietokens advanced civilization — i^ardens and farm-lands stretchiiiLj far and 
 wide. On the Ottawa side a (|uaint old wooden church marks, in the township of South 
 March, tin; settlement of descendants of military officers of the Anglo-American War of 
 181 2-1 5. On the Ouebec side is the villatre of Ouio, at the mouth of the river of the 
 same name, where the steamer calls. In the backi^round are the da'k outlines of the Lau- 
 rentian Mountains, their nearer slopes covered with dense woods. The scenery now is 
 as wild as when Champlain first adventured on these waters. Landinij at Pontiac, from 
 a group of log-houses whose primitive roughness is not ill-matchetl with tiie scenery, we 
 
1 98 
 
 /'/r7YAV:\V(;r/;" C.I. V.I/). I. 
 
 see in the distance the pjigantic limestone barrier wliicii here crosses the river, anil the far- 
 off column of cataract-spray from the larijest of the Cliats rapiils. The steamer touches, 
 at Fitzroy Harbour, a point in the scene well worthy of stud)', anil where we get one 
 of the best views of the Chats. Thi' little villai,re is out of sight — insignificant and 
 ])overty-stricken — but from the hill whicli hides it we see the walls of prt:cipice, island 
 and cataract, which stretch across the entire Ottawa, like the bridle of sloni: with 
 which the genii in I^asiern fable were bidcU^n to curb some might)' river! At the 
 left side, on the I'itzroy shore, is the mouth of the Ri\er Carp, which wiiuls its tortu- 
 ous way from the pleasant pastures if Ha/elilean, near Ottawa; and a semi-circular 
 strand, strewn with logs, ends in a ■ it covered with dense, low verdure. 
 
 TH1-; CHA'I'S, FROM I'ONTIAC. >^'^<. '^'^^^ 
 
 "S-: 
 
 ■ ^«*.a<»*y\*x 
 
 I \ 
 
 V\l 
 
 Near us, two fishcrnien are sho\ ing off a boat ; it is of the kind called a 
 Iwinic. or "good girl." These boats are much used b\' lumbermen. I'lat-bottomed, 
 invariai)l\' painted red, and shaped something like a "scow." it is wi'll to hire one 
 of them aiul pusii into the lake so as to get a thorough view of the waterfalls. 
 These are generally counted as sixteen ; in realit)-, we oi)serve many more, and as 
 we get nearer, realize' the fact that the entire strength and stress of the Ottawa is 
 bent on forcing its wa\' over this barrier of limestone precipice. Sometimes it takes 
 the opposing rampart !>)■ storm, surging o\er it in a siulden charge, foamless and 
 sprayless, an unbroken dome of wati-r ; then, as its lirst force is spent, and it has 
 lost its spring, it begins to plunge, surging and si'elhing round the rocks th;i! inter- 
 pose to i)reak its course, and hurling ilownwards the logs it has carried in its current, 
 like missiles against a fo(,'. Or, as we glitle beneath the o\'erhanging cliiTs, we see 
 how, from some narrow opening at th*' summit, a rocket-like, lance-shapetl shaft of 
 clear white wat<'r leaps alone into tht^ abvss below! Between the cascades, the rocks 
 appear like separate islands, where the thirsty cedars and willows cling with serpent-like 
 
THE rrPER OTTAWA. 
 
 iqf) 
 
 of all. iKnvcvcr, is tli(^ lari^cst of tin: 
 
 "cluitos " - or watt'i-falls ; it is tliat whose white spray, risinj;' 
 
 high over the oiitHnc of the wooil. wc saw from Poiitiac — a pillar of mist, which hut 
 
 for its purer whiteness, mi);ht he mistaken for one; of the columns of hush-hre smoke 
 
 in the country aroiuul. 
 
 On a closer view we tliscern, on ei'Jier side, the shelving or sharpened masses of 
 bare hrown rock, to whose siiles and summits the cedars clinq; as for dear life, clutchinj;- 
 with their spreading roots all available! vantage-ground. l'"ar \i)()ve, where the wind 
 wafts r.side th' curtain of dim-blue vapour, we can see iIk- torrent sw<( p, at lirst 
 
 _. without impediment or brt^ak. Hut in the centre, black against tht- snow-coloured 
 
 cataract, rises a mass of rock a miniature fortress — secure in the midst ol the tur- 
 moil. Hrcaking upon this, like cavalry against an army it cannot shake or shatter. 
 
 II 
 
20O 
 
 PICTURESQUR CANADA. 
 
 the pride of the cascade is humbled. It diviiles into two torrents, in whose career 
 all shape and outline is lost in a fury of foam, in waves that hurry they know not 
 whither, turning to and fro the los^s that Heck :heir course, and fully realizintr the 
 grace and bounding ease of the tami-less wiUl beast from which these waterfalls 
 were not inaptly named. 
 
 As a means of direct communication between the portions of the river above 
 and below the Chats, a slide has been constructed at considerable expense by the 
 
 giiu, 1 KoM nil'; cUAis. 
 
 Canadian Government. Beside tliis tlu; slide-master's house is built, a good view of 
 which ma)- be seen from Pitzro)' Harbour. After examining the; waterfalls, and 
 especially the largest chute, the Niagara of the Chats, it is pleasant, while close 
 to its reek and rout, to look towards the Quebec side from the strip of w'aters to 
 the " Flverhi -.ting Hills" in the far distance; the charm of the perspective is enhanced 
 by jutting point and island, beyond which arc the church-towers and house roofs of 
 the French 'illage of Quio. 
 
 The origin of the name "Chats" is doubtful. Some say it is a translation of the 
 Indian app'.-'ll;.tion, it being a habit of the early I-rench voytit^ciirs to adopt the Indian 
 designations, ; others, that it was so called from the number of wild-cats fouml in the 
 neighbouring v^oods ; while a resemblance that niigiit well have suggested the name is 
 seen in the ca' aracts with e.Ntendcd claws, in rifted rocks like tiie fangs of the fclincc, 
 in the hissing, spluttering and fur\- of tiie -descending ciscades. Ikit above that region 
 of noise and terror, the " Lakt; of tlie Wild-Cats" is tame, with talons sheathed and 
 tempestuous [jassions husheil. Through the clear, e.xhilarating air, the sun is strewing 
 
 ' 
 
 U 
 
THE UPPER OTTAWA. 
 
 20I 
 
 gold upon the stirless water, except where the steamer ghdes with a track of swaying 
 jewels. The sky is imaged in the ultramarine of the lake, or rather, of the river, 
 which here expands so broadly that a faint blue mist veils the woods on the Quebec 
 shore. This expansion extends nearly to Portage ilu Fort. .\rnprior, on the south 
 shore, is a place of some importance, from its lumbering establishments and its (|uar- 
 ries of beautiful marble, of which the shafts of the columns in the Houses of Par- 
 liament Pt Ottawa are formed. Beyond and above us, wind, with slope ever-changing, 
 never monotonous, the dark-purple undulations of the Laurentian Hills. 
 
 Near the end of the lake we notice an enormous boom stretching across the 
 river. On the Quebec shore is the dwelling of the boom-master, whose duty it is 
 to see to all things pertaining to the effective working of that important key to the 
 lumberer's treasury. The boom seems closed against us ; but as our steamer, the 
 " Jeannette," approaches, the boom-master's assistant, who has been on llie look-out for 
 us, walks airily along the lloating boom, narrow as it is, and opens a kind of gate. 
 We pass througii, and steam onward under the shadow of a ste(;p Iiili covered with 
 forest, the haunt of bears and lynxes. Here the river parts into several narrow 
 channels, which run between small islands of white stoiie. Tlie current is very rapid ; 
 at the high water of spring no steamer can breast it, but now our little craft makes 
 way gallantly. As we pass close beneath the miniature cliffs, we remark iiow their 
 rocky sides are scooped and tunnelled, sometinu.'s in the most curious shapes and 
 mimicries of human art. As a rule, the markings are longitudinal, and resemble those 
 which a coml) would make if drawn along the surface of a fresh-plastered wall. The 
 farthest of these islets is called Snow Island. To the river-drivers descending the 
 stream in the spring, the mass of white rock looks like a huge drift of snow. 
 
 The steamer lands us at the little village of Portage du Port, at tiie foot of the 
 series of rapids down which, from over the falls of the Calumet, the Ottawa thunders. 
 The road, up hill and down gully, which replaces the portage path of ancient days, even 
 now suggests the difficulties which caused this carry ing-jjlace to be called " Portage du 
 Fort." Before the construction of the railway, this bit of stage-road was an important 
 link in the chain of Upper Ottawa communication ; but now it is little used except 
 by the river-drivers and the few inhabitants of the villages at either end. We 
 pass a pretty little Gothic church perched on the hill which overlooks the Por- 
 tage du Fort rapids. It belongs to the Episcopalians, and is Ituilt in rigidly-correct 
 early English style ; there are some good memorial windows, gifts of the Usburne 
 family who owned the mills, which have since been transferred to Rraeside, near Arn- 
 prior. The river between Portage du Fort and the Calumet is only navigable by the 
 lumbermen's boats descending the current in the high waters of spring-time. Even to 
 these, this part of the Ottawa is dangerous, and is the scene of many fatal accidents. 
 Where the river winds under the Portage du Fort church, its course takes a sudden 
 
 i Ji 
 
202 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 tutu, at the northern angle of which there is a projecting arm of sharp-pointed rock, 
 partially submerj,red by the spring,' llood-tides. Woe to the birch canoe or even the 
 stoutcr-ribijed bonne carried, by incautious steerinjj, too near the " Devil's Elbow." Over 
 nine miles of uninteresting hilly road we dri\ . to B.'yson, a thriving village close to the 
 Calumet b'alls, where we hire a canoe with an Indian — or rather, half-breed — to propel 
 it. He is most painstaking in his endeavou. to carry us to every point of interest. 
 Strangely insecure as these most capsizeable of craft appear on first accjuaintance, one 
 soon gets to like them. The motion is gentle, and they glide over the water like a 
 duck. The canoe brings us to a [)oint where, by ascending a portage track up the 
 hill, we get close to the Grand Chute. This track is much worn. As we reach the 
 summit of the hill, the guide bids us pause beside a mound coveretl with stones and 
 fenced by a rude railing. The railing and a rough attempt at a memorial cross have 
 nearly all been cut away by the knives of visitors — not in desecrating curiosity, but 
 in veneration for the sanctity of liim who sleeps beneath ! It is the grave of Cadieux. 
 
 In the days of the early French explorations of the Upper Ottawa, there came to 
 this region of tin; AUumette and Calumet, where Champlain himself hail been so kindly 
 received by the chiefs of the Ottawa Indians, a I'rench voyagcnr named Cadieux. No 
 one knew why he had (piitted Old I'Vance ; but though he could tight and hunt as 
 deftly as the oldest coiircur dc fiois, Catlieux also knew many things that were strange to 
 these rough children of the forest. lie was higliK- educated. I{specially could he com- 
 pose both music and poetry, and could sing so that it was good to hear him ; and he 
 wooed and won a lovely Indian maiden (/f the Algoncpiin Ottawas. Their wigwam, 
 with those of a few of iu;r trilte, stood near this very spot, close to the (jreat I'all of 
 the Calunul. Once upon a time, they were |)reparing their canoes to go clown 
 with their store of winter fiu's to .Montreal. All was peace; in their camj) when, on a 
 sudden, the alarm was given that a large war-|)arty of the dreaded Inxjuois were stealing 
 througii the woods. There was but one hope left. Cadieux, with a single Indian to 
 support him, would hok! the foe at bay, while his wife ami her friends should launch 
 tluMr canoe down the rapids. It was (piickly done. The canoi; was committed to the 
 boiling waters of the cataract, the skilful Indians paddled for their lives, ,,.id the wife of 
 Cadieux, who was a devout Catholic, prayed Ste. Anne to helj) them. From eddy to 
 eddy the canoe was swept, and still, as she bounded on, the Indians .saw that a figure 
 seemed to move before them to direct their course — a form as of a lady in mist-like, 
 white robes. It was Ste. Anne, protecting her votaress! And so they all made their 
 way safe to Montreal, thanks to the good Saint. 
 
 But poor Cadieux did not fare quite .so well. Instead of invoking a .saint, he was 
 carefully taking up his position behind one tree after another, every now and then 
 shooting an Iroquois. These subtle warriors, not liking to fight what they supposed to 
 be a considerable force, withdrew. But the comrade of Cadieux was slain, his hon\e 
 
THE UPPER OTTAWA. 
 
 203 
 
 destroyed, and after some days Cadieiix himself died of exiiaustion in the woods. Beside 
 him was found, traced by his ilyinij hand, " Lc Lai)iciit dc Caiiicti.\\' Ills ileatli-sontj, wiiich 
 the voyagcurs have set to a pleasini,^ Init melancholy air. It is much in the styU; of similar 
 "Laments," once common in Norman-I'"rench, and is still a favourite at the shanties 
 and on the river. Our guide, who did not look (jn the above-given legend from the 
 point of view of "the higher criticism," and who had a pleasing voice, sang the song 
 as we stood beside the grave. The I'Vench lumbermen and Intlians still come here to 
 pray — to do this brings good luck on forest and river — and the treses all around are 
 carved with votive crosses, cut by the pen-knives of the devout among the hunbermen. 
 
 We descend through the wood, observing, as we pass, another enormous timber 
 slide. Again we take our way through the woods and down to the iicach, where we 
 hear the roar, before indistinct, of the rapids. A little farther on we reach tlu. spray- 
 drenched, slippery rocks, and the greatest of the Upper Ottawa waterfalls, the Grand 
 Chute of the Calumet, is before us. 
 
 Those who have most fully analyzed the impression made bj- such c^.scade scenery 
 as the Chats, will feel that it is made up of .many distinct impressions of the various 
 forms of falling water. In observing this, the largest of the seven chutes of the 
 Calumet, one is struck with the unity and breadth, as well as the sublime beauty, of 
 this cataract. To those who have eyes to see and hearts to feel, it is true with regard 
 to the beauty of form in falling water, as in all other aspects of scenery, that Nature 
 never repeats herself. Her resources are inexhaustible. It is only the incurabk; cockney 
 who can say, " Sir, one green held is like all green fields !" 
 
 In the background is a semi-circle of dark cliffs, gloomy with impending pines. It 
 is cleft in the centre, where, from a height of si.Kty feet, through foam and spray, anil 
 echo of conquered rocks, the main body of the river rushes down. At its base a pro- 
 montory of black and jagged granite throws into relief the seething mass of whiteness. 
 At some distance to the left of this, and nearer to where we stand, a second torrent of 
 volume equally vast, dashes, white as a snow-drift, through veils of mist. To the 
 right, where the wall of cliff approaches us, a single thread of silver cascade, as furious 
 in its fall, circles anil pulsates. In the centre is a vast basin — the meeting of the waters — 
 which rush and drive hither and thither, as if they had lost their way and did not 
 know what to do with themselves. It is a spectacle not to be j^aralleled in any other 
 waterfall we know of, not excepting Niagara: this vast sea of cataract, this lake of foam, 
 with its setting of cliff, brown in the shadows, purple in the light, and parted in the fore- 
 ground by the immense masses of ribbed and stratified rock over which the mad pas- 
 sages of water triumph with a supreme sweep and a roar that scares the solitude, as, 
 free at last, they madly career along the lesser rapids to the deep below. Wild and 
 desolate, indeed, are these black and foam-sheeted rocks amid which we stand ; no li\ing 
 presence near, but the fish-hawk hovering, with hoarse scream, over the torrent. 
 
 1 
 
304 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 li 
 
THE UPPHR OTTAWA. 
 
 305 
 
 Above the Calumet Rapids, as the ste;:mer is no longer running and there is no 
 marked feature in the river scenery to repay canoeing, it is best to drive back to Portage 
 du Fort and procectl by stagt! to Ilaley StatioM, on the Canada Pacific. The country is 
 exceedingly broken and hilly — the same geological formation that we see at the Calumet 
 Falls. Over this country Champlain toiled in what he has described as the most trying part 
 of his Upper Ottawa expedition. 'I"he natural difficulties of the rugged hillside track 
 were then enhanced by pine forest, impenetrable on either side of the narrow portage 
 path, which was in many places blocked up by fallen trees, the debris of a late tornado. 
 But like the Prince who made his way through the enchanted forest to the "Belle 
 an bois dormanle" .Samuel dc Champlain pressed on through all obstacles to where the 
 Future of Canada called him. His journals record the loss of some portion of his 
 baggage at this part of his route. As we have mentioned, an astrolabe has been found 
 in the neighbourhood, no doubt a relic of this memorable adventure. A journey 
 of thirty miles brings us to Pembroke, the count)' seat of Renfrew. This thriving 
 town is not yet half a century old. Its founder, "Father" White, came to the place 
 in November, 1825. Its prosperity was secured by the growing lumber trade. It 
 is now a progressive but by no means picturesque semi-circular array of buildings in 
 the rear of the railway bridge, and at the confluence of the river Muskrat with the 
 Ottawa. On all sides are piles of lumber, and Pembroke is scented afar off by the odour 
 of fir, pine and cedar, as surely as Ceylon by "spicy breezes." Tliere are no buildings 
 worthy of remark e.xcept the Court House and the Catholic church — a large but 
 unornamented structure of cold-gray stone, which stands on the highest ground in the 
 centre of the town. Presently we start in a small steamer, similar to that in which we 
 travelled on the Lake of the Chats, noticing the vast quantities of timber afloat in a 
 boom at the mouth of the Muskrat, and a larn;e wooded island near the town, used only 
 as a pleasure resort. With woods and villages indistinct in the distance, AUumette Island 
 lies on the opposite side of this expansion of the Ottawa, which takes the name of the 
 Upper AUumette Lake. We pass on the Ontario side the mouth of Petawawa River, 
 one of the largest lumbering tributaries of the Ottawa, by which some of the best timber 
 is floated down. Its length is one hundred and forty miles, and it drains an area of two 
 thousand two hundred square miles. Tht: Upper AUumette presents much the same 
 features which have been described in the Lake of the Chats, an equally beautiful expanse 
 of water, fvinged with dense woods of oak, poplar, birch and maple, while the tall pines 
 everywhere lift their rugged tops above the sea of verdure. The land on either side is 
 said to be excellent and fairly settled, producing quantities of grain and cattle for the 
 use of the lumber shanties. Formerly pork was the staple food of the shantymen, but 
 fresh beef is now found to be healthier for the men, and the cattle are easily driven over 
 the portage, where to carry barrels of pork was endless labour. The AUumette Lake ter- 
 minates at the Narrows- so called not because the river is narrow, but because there is but 
 
206 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 .1 .i 
 
 a small channel naviijjahlc. In this, as we pass, soundings are taken with a pole, the 
 steamer sloppini^ while it is heini; done. 1 1 ere we enter an archipelago of seemingly 
 numherlcss islands eovered with ln'cch, liirih, |)()plar and cedar; and, in the fall season, the 
 plcasantest time ol year to make this expedition, lit with lustre of the regalia which the 
 woods assume, to wavi: farewell to de|)arting summer. It is pleasant to sit on the steamer's 
 deck and watch her glide, with her Imat iluly in tow astern through these bright waters, 
 "from island unto island," each rising around us in turn, the fresh green of its cedars 
 nestling on the water and contrasting with the scarlet of the soft maple, the \ellow of the 
 birch, the young oak's garn<'l and tlu' larch's gold. Ihough but little known in compari- 
 son with the 'I'housand Islands, tin- Narrows of the I'pper Ottawa are, in the opinion of 
 most who ha\<' \isiied lioth, far the more beautiful. And the Narrows has the advantage 
 of being as yet unprofaneil by tile noise and iiiipcdiiiwiilii of \idgar tourists 
 
 At the end of the Narrows is bOrt William, iill lately a Hudson's Hay Company 
 post ; the; steauK-r stojjping here, we land. The building formerly occu|)ied by the 
 Company is now a store;, supplying a large extent of farm country. As we stood watch- 
 ing the entrance of a \ery primitixc road ihrough the bush, and mentally wondering 
 what m.mner of horses or \t!hicles coidd adxcnture therein, the question was solved 
 by the appearance of a farmer's w.igon on its way to the I'ort William store, which is 
 also I'ost Otiice ami comiiK.'rcial centre to the region. The horses were as fine, large- 
 built and strong as oni; could wish to see ; the tlriver fpiite at his case in managing 
 them, and with ample leisure to pay attention to the rosy-cheeked, laughing-eyeil lasses 
 who sat with him. ( )ne of tliese lasses will probabh, at no long time hence, keep house 
 through the winter months, while that young man and that team are awaj- in the shan- 
 ties, earning good |>ay for the dear ones at home. 
 
 brom this point, that |)art of the ( )ttawa called Deep Ri\er begins, where, pressing 
 against the base of the mounlains on its northern silh,', the stream stretches on for twenty 
 miles — deej), dark anil navigabh'. 'I'he bluff of this mountain range; which we first 
 encounter is called the Oiseau Rock. The front is precipitous; a i)lumb-line could 
 be almost swung from the summit to the base, wlu;re, as the; steamer passes quite close, 
 we see liie dark openings of caves, said to have been used by the Indians as places 
 of sepulture, which have ne\er been explored. The name "()is(;au Rock " is taken from 
 a legend, common to the folkdore of every nation, of an eagle having carried off a 
 papoose from an encampment to its eyrie on the summit, whence it was rescued by 
 the mother. These cliffs should be seen by moonlight, which may easily be done by 
 any one inclined to take boat on a fishing excursion from I)es Joachims. Then it is 
 that, gliiling beneath the cliff which rises sheer above us with its gray lights and sable 
 shadows, we learn to know the giant precipice, where nothing that has not wings has 
 climbed. 
 
 The mountains, after leaving Oiseau Rock, are of a more convex shape, and are 
 
THJi irri-R OTTAWA. 
 
 307 
 
 * i 
 
 SCENES OiN THE UPPER OTTAWA, 
 
308 
 
 PIC TURHSQ IE C.I A'.-/ /Kl. 
 
 covered with woods. The pines and firs become more frequent. Dark patches of umber- 
 coloured verdure formeti l>y iluin allcniatc mi tli<' lulisities willi tlic j^ayer array witli 
 which th»' forest-nymphs iiavc vested the trees as a farewell trilnitt- to summer. At 
 no time in the year can this scenery look so lovely, and nowhere can the matchless 
 beauty of Canadian autumn forests he seen so perfectly as whetc these hills .are mirrored 
 in the rivcT. 
 
 At the heatl of tiie Deej) Kiver, ami iindt'r tin- shadow of these wooil-covered 
 mountains, is a wharf with a cluster of outbuildings, and on the slope of a neat 
 
 111 
 
 OlSEAU ROCK. 
 
 green-swarded ascent, a house, something like a Swiss chalet, with a double veranda 
 running all around it. This is our destination — the Hotel Des Joachims. Here it 
 is well to rest awhile, to be lulled to sleep by the roar of the rapids close by ; 
 
77//; I'I'I'ER Ori.lWA. 
 
 ao9 
 
 Vk'-^-i:f^'m^v 
 
 UKS JOACHIMS LANDING. 
 
 to be wakeil hy the sunshine lighting up the green, gold and scarlet of the Joachim 
 forest-hills. 
 
 As the Joachim rapids are impassable, we drive by stage over the portage to the 
 river-bank above the; rapids, where a canoe may be hired to Mackay, a station < ii the 
 Pacific Railway. Though inferior in beauty to the Deep River scenery, the stream 
 here is ovt;r 300 ftiet wide. The a pect of river and banks is of the same ciiaracter, 
 and th<! swift, silent canoe voyage has its charms. At Mackay's the hank has a lower 
 level, and is covered with boulders great and small, of water-rounded gneiss. The name 
 Mackay is taken from a farm-house near by, the only habitation until the Pacific Railway 
 station was i)uilt. Here, we find the place positively crowiled with lumbermen and 
 railway labourers. All day they swarm to and fro, gang after gang arriving by the 
 incoming trains. All night they sing, shout and dance. 
 
 The best way to see the Upper Ottawa scenery from this point is from the cars 
 of the Pacific Railway, which for some distance here run along the summit of a steep 
 hill sloping directly down to the river. The scenery is much the sam^ as at Deep 
 River. We pass the Rocher Capitaine and the outlet of the Deux Rivieres, and early 
 in the afternoon are landed at the Pacific Railway station at Mattawa. Nothing could 
 be more wildly desolate than the aspect of this village. In the shadow of silent hills 
 the Ottawa widens beside it, to receive the waters of liie river which gives the place 
 its name. This was the goal of Champlain's e.xplorations of the Upper Ottawa; by 
 yonder dark stream he turned his dauntless course to the westward lakes. The 
 village of Mattawa is the most primitive, perhaps, to be seen in Canada. The 
 
w 
 
 3IO 
 
 P/C rilR/zSQ II li LA S'A DA. 
 
 pfopU; havL' no taxes, no politics, no schools ; all tiicsc hlussinjjs, no doubt, will be 
 tluMrs in time. 
 
 It is easy to j^(;t a tarj^i; canoe and j^o up tlie river to oin' of llie heauliful lakes 
 that form part of it. These an; of small width ilnd ^rreat diipth of water. The banks 
 are of steep and dun-coloured },franit»'. licrt; in these dense shades of impenetrable 
 verdure hen;, where even the lumberman never comes all is desolate as when Cham- 
 plain found it ; desolate as it w.is, before civilization c iced with the first sava^'o 
 who inventeil a stone-hatchet ; as it has continued sine .le mysterious era when life 
 bejjan, when the first fish shot through these dark waters, when the first wolf howled 
 for food within these forest solitudes. 
 
 Mattawa will always be a dept"it for tiic lumber trade, and probably, as ilie shanties 
 move farther on, may to some e.xtent take tii(,' place of Pembroke, and a more distant 
 Ultima Thule, that of Mattawa. The streets are irn'j,'ular, blockeil with hujre jrranite 
 or j.(neiss boulders, causes of stumblins^ and offence to man ami beast. Ihit there 
 are several merchants with jrood supply of wares, who certainly have no reason to 
 complain of hard times. 
 
 Mattawa is the nearest to civilization of the Hudson's Bay Company forts. We were 
 shown their stores, where are treasured a i,'oodly stock of valuable furs ami skins, from 
 that of tlu; silver fo.x, most rare and valuable of " o those of the mink, lyn.x. 
 and muskrat. 'he supply of furs, we were informec' he Company's aj^^ent. is at 
 
 present very j^reat. This is because of the thriftlessness of the present race of the 
 young Indians, who kill the animals retjuireil for breeiling. lie thought tlu; fur-trade 
 was not likel)' to last above a centur\' as a iraltic on any considerable scale. The 
 Indians too. he thought, were not likely to last much longer. In former times the 
 Hudson's Hay Company would not traffic with tlu:m for lifpior ; but now all sorts of im- 
 principled traders bring tht' fire-water for which tin; Intlian hunters are sure to keep 
 up the demand — till death enforces prohibition. 
 
 I'fom its far-away sources in the chain of lakes and swam|)s which feed also the 
 Saguenay. the St. Maurice and the Gatineau. the Ottawa conies, bringing through the 
 deep waters of Lake Temiscamingue the spoils of great forests of pine, which for years 
 to come will keep up the supply of those vast rafts of spars, logs and timber, which 
 have been meeting us all the way from Quebec. The Pacific Railway from Mattawa 
 will continue its construction westward by the old Trapper's route, past Lake Nipissing 
 and north of the inland seas of Huron and Superior. 
 
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 LUMBKRING. 
 
 1VTO jiliasc of life in Canada is niort' characteristically picturesqiir than that of the 
 linni)erni;>n, idcntiticd as it is with all that is most peculiar to Canadian scenery, 
 cliniat(! and conditions of livim,;. Woodcraft, indeed, has the ch,irin of ha\ in^;- i)een 
 associated with the youth of excry race ;uid civili/ation. The I'salniist coni|iares the 
 dispersion of scattered Israel to that of chips that tl) "when one cutleth and hewctii 
 III 
 
Til! iJ 
 
 ! f 
 
 I 
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 212 
 
 />/crcA'/-:\oc/-: c.i.v.i/ii. 
 
 wood upon till' earth;" ami \ irL;il, ilcscriliiiiL; the sudden (ncrthrow of (jik; of the 
 lowers of I'roy, lias a heaiitifiii siiiiiK; li-oiii the culling; down of a forest tree. 
 
 I)ut sijefial and most interesiini^' features distinLji.ish the himhernian's erall in 
 Canada; and these call for s(jnic detailed noliee in a WOrk like llie incsent. .\ 
 praitically boundless wi'allh of wooilhuid strelelu:s from our frontier to the I'ole. and 
 almost from the Atlantic to the i'acilic seahoard. 'I'he regions of an all liiil Arctie 
 winter are made; enduralile, if not a source ol actual pleasure, liecaiise the \outli <>! our 
 country are enabled to enuaj^c in an iiidusl.y manly, healthful ami r(;munerali\('. llie 
 acconiuanx iuL! features of that indusli'v the sleiijh, the snow-shoe, the rille the tisli 
 drawn in ])i-ofusion irom lieiieath the ihick-rihhed ice - the trapped bear, llu,' hu^e caribou 
 shot down near the settler's iloor all have attractions for the artist, the sportsman, 
 e\er\' OIK' with an ad\'enturedo\ int;' spirit, .\ lilt: like this L;i\es our Nouth the excite- 
 ment, till' manly self-reliance, the spirit of mutual L'ood-fellowsliip, which arc the b(;st 
 lessons of a military liie, without its risks or evil |)assions. 
 
 Not less pictures(|ue is the "shantx" itself that peai'etui Coiiiiiiuiic of the hmiber- 
 man's liie, with its routine; of tluty, healthful tood and sleep, varied b\- the cluuisoii lic 
 hois or tali; of woodcraft adventure, told amid the fantastic sliatiows and llickerino 
 iilaze of tin.' shantv tire. ( )r when the tirst birds of s])rini^ have broken the charm of 
 silence in tli<' winlei' woods. th<' hardy exploriuL;' p.irtv peiieti'atini^'' in their birch-bark 
 canoes by tlevious streams, to climb the t.dlest tree ar.d det(.'rniine, with a skill that 
 seems prelerlumian. the nature and value of the foi'esl-L;rowth far and wide around 
 them; or the |)ei-iious river-rapids, where the heaped lo;.;s in a "jam" need the precision 
 oi an e.\pei"t to tlisenija.^e the tangled pile, and often the graceful looting' ol a ballet- 
 dancer to stanil on the ra|>idly-rev)lv Iul; surface of the lo!.;' as it tloats down the swollen 
 stream ; or the nav ies of huL;(.' rails tovveil or lloatini.; seawards on wide lake or expanse 
 of river; all have a ilistinctive artistic interest. I'nlike the national industries of iiianv 
 other lamls, they blend with, instead of destroying', what is piicturescjue in Nature. Hut 
 thev have a deeper interest for tlu- student of our national life. I'"or the "Choice of 
 Hercules" is presented to nations in their youth, as well as to individual men; and 
 some liavi,' chosen pursuits that enervate instead of stren^tlienin<,r, or industries that 
 separate into two cam|)s of mutual hatred the lords of cajjital from its serfs. To 
 Canaila's lot has fallen, as her two sta|>le iiulustries, pursuits which most of all others 
 teml to form in her voun^ men a simple, manU', honest naturt; : ayricidtiire in the fu'st 
 place, lumberiiiLj in the next, I he physiial benetits of hniibering can be estimated 
 best by a L,danc(! at the stalwart yet graceful ti>rures of om- river-drivers in the streets 
 of ( )tt,iwa, sash and top-boots ^jay with scarlet, and sun-browned faces set off by the 
 co<|uettisli while kerchief! There is a moral bent'th, too, in the total abstinence from 
 intoxicatiniL;' li<|uors foi- Ioii.l; [leriods, whiili I-, one of the conditions of shanty lif<'. Nor 
 is relii^ion lorj^otten. .\ovvliert: are the occasional visits of a cleri^yman more welcome, 
 
 l-l 
 
1. 1 MBERfNG. 
 
 213 
 
 111 
 A 
 
 J.L .Ml;l:.Kl.Nej U.N 1 111, Lrl'l.K UllAWA, 
 
 M i 
 
 i 
 \\\\ 
 
 !# 
 
214 
 
 PIC rURESQ UE CANADA. 
 
 \\\ ' 
 
 EXPLORING FOK NEW LIMITS. 
 
 n 
 
 The Roman Catholic shantymcn in particular sot an examjile worthy to be followed, in 
 their regard for ministers and reverent |)articipation in Divine service. 
 
 The lumber trade has an orLjanic place in the tlevclopment of Canada's resources, 
 in the jj^rowth of towns ami cities, in the jreneral increase of wealth, and in the evolu- 
 tion of literature and art which, as Mr. Buckle has pointed out, always occurs at periods 
 
LUMBERlXa. 
 
 2«5 
 
 of commercial prospLTity. In tlu; ('ijoch of Canadian history, between the French 
 rds^imc and the Union of 1840, the increase of our population was slow. Diirinj^ that 
 long period the lumber, too often cut and burned to clear the land, was at best 
 consumed for the most part by the home market. True, mention is made of ship- 
 ment of Canadian timber to Enj^land as early as 1808. In 1819 New Brunswick betjan 
 to export the products of her pine woods. But it is between 1840 ii.id 1S58 that we 
 find the lumber exports from Canada grown to vast proportions. Everywhere north- 
 ward and westward from the frontier, the lumber mill, the lumber depot, and hamlets 
 connected with them pierced the unbroken forest, and led the steady advance of civ- 
 ilization. Lumber operations were everywhere the nuclei of improvement. X'illages 
 arose, and became towns and cities, while the continual recession of the trade north- 
 ward developed in its wake the growing resources of the country. 
 
 The Dominion Government retains control of the public domain in the North- 
 west Territories, including Manitoba ; but in all other Provinces the land is held by 
 the several local Governments who own and dispose of the uncleared and unsold tracts 
 which form the great lumber areas. In these what are called "timber limits" or 
 "berths" are opened to lumbermen by jearly licenses, or leases for a longer period. 
 In theory these limits are ten miles square, but owing to the peculiar conformation 
 of the ground in some places, they range from ten to a hundred square miles. 
 Besides the payment for his annual license, a fixed duty, varying in amount in the 
 different Provinces, is paid by the lumberman on all logs cut. 
 
 A berth secured, the next step is to send an exploring party to " prospect," 
 that is, to ascertain the value and variety of the timber, and also to find suitable 
 sites for camps for the next season's operations. The exploring is generally done in 
 the spring or fall, as in summer the thick growth of leaves makes it hard to take 
 extensive observations. An exploring party usually consists of five or six. They 
 carry with them food, blankets and cooking utensils — a leather strap supporting the 
 impedimenta at the back — ^the band, or " tump-line," passed across the chest or forehead. 
 In traversing the forest it is difficult to get at a "point of vantage" whence to gain a 
 wide-extended view. Whenever practicable, therefore, one of the party will climb a 
 tall pine, generally on a hill-top. P'rom thence, looking forth among the still leaHess 
 trees, such is the effect of long experience that an okl observer of forest life will 
 be able to tell from the general aspect of the country, what the trees are, and of 
 what value, over an e .tensive area. This is comparatively easy in the case of pine if 
 it grows mixed with hard wood. It is not so easy where pine and spruce grow together. 
 The explorers also ascertain the general to|)ography of the limits — particularly, how 
 far the lakes or rivers can be utilized for lumbering. They seek out sites for lumber 
 camps, and for "landings" where the cut logs may be stored till spring; and mark a 
 road thence to the scene of operations. They also mark or "blaze" the trees with their 
 
2l6 
 
 riC 71 'RIuSOl'J- C AXA/ll. 
 
 i 
 
 axes at various jjoints for the guidance! of the workmen. An experienccnl explorer, 
 capable of determining the worth of the limits, ami of mappinjf out the plan of the 
 approachinij season's campaign, is well worth the best wages. The explorers are 
 equippeil as lightly as possible. They are armed with rilles, and enjoy several weeks 
 of rough pie-nic life on "the cruise." 
 
 During the fall months the himbermen are sent into the woods with horses, 
 sleighs, lumber-boats, and everything necessary for the season's operations. All is 
 bustle on the lines of railway and on tlu- roads leading to the lumber district. Swart 
 and sunburnt gangs of young I'Venchmen, not a few of them with a slight tinge of 
 Indian blood, derived from days when a grandfather or great-grandfatlier married an 
 Algonquin or Huron bride, congregate at every well-known rendezvous. The noisy 
 fun and universal chafiting would exorcise tlu; melancholy of a Cirimalili. These fine 
 fellows have the strength and graceful bearing of the Indian, and the garrulous good- 
 humour of the I'renchman ; their rough dress is appropriate and (|uaint, anil is gen- 
 erally lit up coquettishly with some bit of bright colour in necktie, \est or scarf. 
 In the English-speaking settlements within reach of the lumber limits, ecjually gay 
 is the exodus. Most of the young farmers in these regions take their teams to the 
 shanties. Summer is the working time for farmers in Canada, and the)' are glad to 
 earn money in winter with teams tiuit would otherwise l)e idle. They go forth, 
 gaily shouting to one another, though none will see the face of wife, child, or 
 sweetheart, till the sjjring brings them home rejoicing, with their earnings to add to 
 the family purse. 
 
 Each gang is under the direction of a foreman, who follows the plan laid out by 
 the explorers. The first duty is to build a shant\' for the men, and stables for the 
 horses. Logs are cut, notched at the ends and dove-tailed together, so as to form a 
 quadrangular enclosure. On the top of this, from end to end, two large timbers are 
 laid, each several feet from the centre. On these ami on the walls tlic roof rests. It 
 has a slight pitch, and is formed of halves of trees hollowed out, and reaching from the 
 roof-top downwards on each side, so as to project a little beyond the walls. These 
 "scoops,' as they are called, are placed concave and convex alternately, so as to over- 
 lap each other. Fitted logs are then placed between the gable walls and the apex of 
 the roof ; all chinks and openings are filled up with moss or hay, and the rude 
 building is made quite warm and weather-tight. In the end wall is a large doorway 
 with a door of roughly-hewn lumber ; the floor consists of logs hewn tlat ; and 
 the huge girders of the roof are each supported midway by tv.'O large posts, some 
 four or five yards apart. The space between these four posts, in the genuine old- 
 fashioned shanty, is occupied l)y the "caboose," or fireplace, substantially built up 
 with stones and earth. Within the shanty there is no chimney, but an opening in 
 the roof has a wooden frame-work round it which does duty for chimney ; .so wide 
 
LUMBERING. 
 
 %l^ 
 
 Sketches from life, by Frank H. ScheU. 
 
 MEN OF THE HUSH. 
 
 "^SS9S 
 
 »wssi'iaar*:«stti 
 
^ 
 
 2l8 
 
 PIC rURF.SO I 'E CA NA PA. 
 
 SlIAMY Al l-.Alil.KS NKSi. 
 
 is tlie opt'pint,' that the inmates, as 
 tlit'v lie in tlifir ininks at night, 
 can look up at the sky and stars. This primitive mode of construction secures i)erfcct 
 ventilation, Init makes a larj^e tire necessary for comiort. 
 
 At two corners of the hearth are fixed stronj,^ wooiien cranes wiiich the cook can 
 adjust to any position for tiie \arious pots and tea-boilers. On three sitles of the shant)' 
 are rows of Inuiks, or platforms, one aliove the other, alon^- the entire length. On 
 these the lumbermen sleep, side by side, in tiieir clothing and blankets, their heads 
 to the wall and their feet to the central lire, which is kept well su|)pli('d with fuel 
 all night, A better class of shanty is now built, of oblong shape, with bunks along 
 one length onl\-, and a table at the opposite; side ; with such luxuries as windows, 
 and even lamps at night ; with box-stoves instead of the central caboose ; ami at the 
 rear end a fortMiian's room. 
 
 A pictures(]ue sight on a winter's moonlight night are the bright windows and 
 smoking chimnc\- of a lumber shanty ; over the ice-road of the lake a bt^lated team- 
 ster drives his weary horse ; beyond, in black shadows, are the pines ; above;, in 
 chequered light and shade, is the brow of a mountain explored as yet only by the 
 eagle ; below, and full in the moonlight, is the shanty, bright with warmth and rude 
 good-cheer, the snow bankt-d high against its walls, the noise of its song and merry 
 voices echoing from within through the sombre wilderness. 
 
 The primitive "jobbers' shanty" is of a smaller and rougher class. The jobbers 
 are a new race wl.o have arisen in the forest, subsequent to the epoch of the 
 
 ■■>;■ 
 
 li. 
 
LUMlil-RlXC. 
 
 at9 
 
 SI'*. 
 
 the season 
 
 old liimher Kinys who reijLjned in all the 
 t;ran(lciir of iiiKlisputcd ownership. Settlers 
 follouT'il in till' wake ol liinihcrinj;. /\t 
 first, they wort- content to minister lo tht; 
 necessities of tiic Kin^s and their siihjects. 
 i hey charged their own prices for excry- 
 tiiin!^- theii- farms Nicldcd, an<l no one 
 oi)jected. Hut as new settlers came in, 
 nian\- of the vouiil; farmers weri' amhitioiis 
 to take a hand in a business that lomhined 
 the attractions of forest life with tlu' hope 
 of laroc Ljains and the excitement ol specu- 
 lation. Perhaps there was ^ood timber on 
 their own farms, or two or three woidd 
 combine and commence work on strips of 
 larul bi'tween or be\{jnd the j^reat areas 
 occupied by the rei^iilar j.;any.s. Sometimes, 
 they made a contract with a large operator 
 to deli\er so man\ los^s, or to work during 
 for him. .At other times, they cut, and — with the help of a yoke of oxen — 
 
 rolled their logs on "skids," and 
 i .. ' .V • - when the snow fell, the horses 
 
 A JOHBKKS Sli.wrS. 
 
 MARKING LOGS AT SKlt)WAY. 
 
T 
 
 3 20 
 
 PIC TURHSQUH CANA D. I. 
 
 haiili'cl tlu-m to tin; "roll-way," whtirc the jobber j,'ot his i)ricc accordini,' to the 
 (|iiaMty of the loi(s. iJackwoods farmers could inil up a rude slianty in a day or two, 
 ami tiiey were coiitciU to live roughly, knowinjj that tlic winter's work would probably 
 bring in more money than the summer's farming. Hesidcs, (;very man had his rifle ; 
 anil an ordinary iiriton or Canadian thinks it worth while to endure all hardshi|)s for 
 the sake of getting a shot .it a bear, or bringing down ;i reil deer or the stately moose. 
 Jobbers, though a new race, are Ix-coming more .ind more important in hnubering 
 operations. I'"or thi; principle of division of labour triumpiis even in the backwoods. 
 
 When shanty and stables have been built, the niixt work is to construct the 
 "landing," or roll-way, on tiie shore of river or lake. Tin; roll-way is usually on 
 the slope of a hill, and must lie carefully cleared of all obstructions, so that tiic 
 gathered piles of logs may roll down easily in the spring. Imoiii tin; roll-way, the 
 "head-swamper," or road-maker, e.vtends the road into liic forest as the hMubcrmen 
 advance. The members of a gang average over *\vent\', Imt sonielinK.-s amount to 
 eigiuy or more. The several shanties in the limits are \ isitcd b\ tiu' " bush superin- 
 tendent," who (Irises in all weathers from one gang to another, super\ising their work. 
 At the heail of each gang is tiie foreman, who calls tin; men every morning, tlincls, 
 and records on a rude slate or shingle the work done. The cook, and his assistant 
 are important functionaries; so are the carpenter, who repairs the sleighs; the leading 
 teamster, who directs tiie hauling of the logs; and the " sled-tender," who sees to tlieir 
 loading. I'here are, too, tiie "head-chopper," with his three assistants, who ft'll llu^ 
 trees; the two sawyers, who cut them into logs; the "scorers," wiio remove "slabs" 
 and iirancht:s from trees meant for square timber; and the "hewer," who with his 
 broad-axe sipiares tiie " stick," as the huge lengtli of timber is called. A gang such 
 as this, with ten or twcdve horses, will bring to their landing 4,000 to 5,000 .saw-logs 
 in a season. 
 
 When the axemen go into the woods, the head-chopper chooses the tree. The 
 axes begin to notcii from opjiosite directions, sometimes two striking alternate blows 
 at each side; the nimbly-plied steel (juickly bites through the solid wood and the chips 
 fly fast till the trunk is nearly severed. The tree-top bends and rocks, slowly at first, 
 and then, with a crash, the patriarch of the forest falls prostrate. Next come the saw- 
 yers, whose "cross-cut," drawn swiftly through the trunk, severs it into logs, which 
 are then hauled to the " skidways " and receive the " bush-mark." Each log is gener- 
 ally a fair load for a .sled ; but sometimes two or three are bound on by a strong 
 chain. Long pieces of timber are drawn by a double sled — two short "bobs," or 
 pairs on runners, united by an adjustable bar ; or a single " boli " is used, on which 
 one end of the stick is raised — the other dragging in the snow. To haul a very 
 heavy piece of timber eight or ten horses may be required, and rollers, or " skids," 
 are placed under it, at intervals, to lessen the friction. 
 
r. uMnnRixc. 
 
 331 
 
 CHOPPING ANU SAWING, 
 
n 
 
 i: ^ 
 
 ii 
 
 332 
 
 /'/C I URESQUli LAW I IK I. 
 
 Till' road to the laiuliiij^ is often far from Icvrl ; wlicti tin- dcsmit is daii^jcr- 
 ously stt;c|), wliat is called a "j^'allcry road," is constructed l>y ilrivin^j piles into ilie 
 hillside and cxcavatinj^ earth, which is thrown on tlit- artificial terrace thus carried roiini! 
 
 When the descent is still steeper 
 than that of the gallery road. " snub- 
 bing" is practised. This consists in 
 securinL,^ a rope at one ent' to the 
 
 sleijrh and at the other to a tree at the top of the hill, whence 
 slowly as the sleij^di descends. The logs unloaded at the landini; 
 end with the trade-mark of the owner; also with another mark indicai 
 The gang works from dawn till dark, with an interval for dinner 
 
 is paid out 
 .larked on the 
 their value, 
 rhis is often 
 
 >L 
 
/- [ 'Mni-Rrxc. 
 
 833 
 
 brought to them, ready cooked, into tlie woods. Tlie iiK-n sit round a fire, over which 
 boils the fra>,'rant tea. 'Ww.y desjiisc milk ;iiid sui,Mr. luit the tea must he stronjf. 
 After dinner and a few minutes smokin),^, work is resumed ; tiie axe swintjs. the 
 saw is plied, teams A\\\v tiieir loads to the landinj,^ till after sunset, when they 
 an- driven hark, and the weary horses stabled and fed. i'hen, after a hasty 
 wasli, the men enter the sh.mty, wher<-, dose to tlie central tire, is a boiler nearlv 
 
 MASS IN A LUMBER SIIA.V TV. 
 
 full of Strong tea, fresh made, flanked by a huge pan full of fat pork, fried and 
 floating in gravy. There is also a dish, (icpially large', of cold pork. ( )n a corner 
 shelf is a mammoth loaf of bread, than which all Canada can provide no better ; 
 with a large knife, and a pile of basins stacked together. With admirable unanimity 
 of purpose the men, ov\v. after another, select a pint basin and a huge slice of the 
 la,t fresh bread. Passing to the caboose, they fill their basins with hot tea. and 
 secure as much of hot or cold pork as they desire. Then, seated on benches beside 
 the fire, each with the help of his case-knife discusses the pork and bread, washing 
 the solids down with copious draughts of tea. The only light is that of the caboose 
 fire, gleaming on swart faces and stalwart forms, and reflected from the tin vessels 
 
 if 
 
m^^^-mmmmmmfn^m 
 
 \ f ■ 
 
 224 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 ill 
 
 ■.JS?St£' 
 
 
 '^^iiS& 
 
 
 Int^ 
 
 ■^.Vii.^ 
 
 in their hands. 
 Cattle are some- 
 times driven to the shanties tliat tlie 
 men may have fresh beef for a change. 
 
 After supjjer the hnnherers loim_u^e about in various directions ; some hang up 
 socks, mittens, or moccasins to dry by caboose or stove — some sharpen their chopping- 
 axes — others engage in conversation, or. chaffing, wliicli, if .sometimes broad, is always 
 good-humoured. Singing and spinning yarns of past advent re are as popular as with 
 sailors. Often a fiddle is produced, and dancing of the kind ich Efifie Dean's father 
 
 v.oultl not have disapproved is kept up with 
 spirit. Hut soon all are ready for sleep ; 
 rolled in blankets, each in his bunk, they 
 settle down for the night. Shantymen are 
 healthy, and they should be millionaires and 
 philosophers, for they are certainly " early to 
 lied and early to rise." Called by the fore- 
 man before daylight, after a hasty breakfast 
 they hitch their horses to the sleigh in the 
 cold light of the winter's dawn, and begin 
 again the routine of work. Game of all 
 kinds — even the larger species of deer — is 
 often sighted by the men when at work, and 
 the ritlc is kept in readiness. Bears are 
 also trapped now and then. The trap is a 
 strong enclosure of stakes firmly driven into 
 BEAK TKAi'. tHc gfound ; a heavy log is suspended above, 
 
 i 
 
LUMBERING. 
 
 propped up hy a stick, to which the bait is attached. The hear enters to get at 
 the bait. Seizing it, the log f.'" upon his l)ack and lie is unable to release himself. 
 
 A considerable number of the lumbermen are French ; many with Indian blood, 
 the descendants of the converts of the Jesuit Missionaries. These are visited by a 
 priest of the Church at least once during the season. He drives from shant)' to 
 shanty, over narrow and almost impassable forest lumber-roads ; on arriving, he is 
 received with reverence by his co-religionists and with respect by all. After supper 
 the small portable altar which he brings is .set up, the crucifix in the centre, the 
 mystical lights burning on each side. Short vespers are said. Then the priest hea.s 
 confessions, often far into the night. Next morning Mass is celebrated, and after the 
 final benediction the men resume work ; while the priest, having taken a brief rejiose, 
 departs on his round of laborious duty. In the Ottawa district, the lumbermen who 
 are not brench are largely Scottish Highlantiers. 1-ong ago in the Old World, the 
 two nationalities were allies. They fought then against men. They fight now side by 
 side against the giants of the forest. 
 
 As the shanties are generally remote from settled districts, their supplies of pro- 
 visions have to be transported long distances from the nearest point attainal^le by rail or 
 steamboat. Such a point becomes, therefore, an important "depot" of supplies. I-'rom 
 it there is a constant dispatch of sleighs loaded with provender for the liorses, 
 and pork, molasses, potatoes, peas and beans for the men. These sleighs tra\el in 
 trains, and as far as possible on the ice. Lest the track sho'-kl be lost under snow- 
 drifts, it is marked by a line of small evergreens. When the teamsters turn aside to 
 the land, it is generally to reach another river or lake. .Should an upset or other 
 accident happen, they rush through the snow to help their unlucky comrade with never- 
 failing good humour. A jollier crowd does not exist. Thi-y turn out into the deep 
 snow to make way for a train of sleighs coming from the o|)posite direction as chceril)' 
 as they drive off tin; river roatl to one of the numeroi's stopping-i)laces pro\ided 
 to supply passing trains with food or shelter. These stopping places are welcome 
 breaks in tlu; long journey to the depot. The average depot is a primitive building, 
 much like a shant\-, l)ut larger, furnished wi'.h windows, and divideil into rooms. It 
 is tile lumberman's headquarters for news as well as supplies, (^ur illustration shows 
 the arrival of a traui of sleighs. The horses drag their way, with drooping heads, to 
 the large range of stables. It is a wild snow-storm; the dark clouds are driven 
 before fierce gusts of wind ; thick snowdrifts shiver around the side of the tlepot, 
 but within ail is warmth and good-cheer for the weary teamsters. Notwithstanding the 
 wild weather, one of the deprtt hands is driving a sleigh, with water-barrel, to the 
 river, and the proprietor or superintendei.i, wrapped in fur coat and cap, has come 
 over to take stock of the newly-arrived supplies. 
 
 The great expense of transporting for long distances large quantities of provisions 
 
' 
 
 336 
 
 PIC 1 URESQ UE CA NA DA . 
 
 AKUW.W. nv Sl'I'l'l.V TRAIN AT 
 
 i.fxn*! K i)i;i'or. 
 
 has led some ()|)crat()rs to cstalj- 
 lisli farms on aral)l(' lands close 
 to thc;ir limits. 'i'liiis they 
 
 ha\(; a supply of farm produce ready at liand in the fall, when, as the snow-roads 
 are not yet formed, trans])ort is most expensixc. 'I'he farm hands anil horses are 
 em])Ioyeil durinLj the winter in the woods, so that men ma\' pass years in tlu'se regions 
 without \isitim^ a city, iilacksmith and carpc-nter shops for repairing sleighs, ami other 
 ti'adesmcn's shanties, g;ither round tlu-si; centres, and a \illag(; grows up. As other 
 farms are culti\ ali'il near it, or a saw-mill is establisheil to manufacturi: Imnber lor 
 local uses, the \illage often becomes the nui leus of a town or citw It often happens, 
 too. that the goo<l |)rices and ready m;u"ket of a lumber dejxjt induce the hardy settler 
 to buikl his log-house and clear his patch of ground in llu; woods near it, and hrsv 
 he li\cs his i((ugh lif( — jobber, farmer, and pioneer. Tlius our Canadian civilization 
 has advanced in the wake of the lumbering trade. 
 
 W •" the sunshine; at the end of March melts the snow, or just before the 
 roads break uj), the teamsters return in long trains, with em|)ty sU'ighs, to their far-off 
 homes. .Soon after, .about the middle of .\pril, when the warm rains have ruineil the 
 snow-roatls. when ihe ice has gone down from the swollen streams and the lakes an; 
 clear with blu< spring water, ,i new phase; of tin; lumbermen's life begins the exciting, 
 but dangerous work of getting the logs down the roll-ways into the river, and guiding 
 
LUMRERfXC. 
 
 1*11 
 
 thcin l)y stream or lake to mills or market. To- facilitate this, tin; landings or roll- 
 ways, when not on the river ice, have been constructed on a steep declivit}'. Con- 
 se(|iiently wh<;n the lower loijl's .arc; loosened antl thrown into the river, those al)o\c 
 them follow from their own weiLjht. Should an)- obstacle hav(> been allowed to n'main 
 on the roll-way huinlreds of loi^s may be arrested ami so hntldled tot;ctlu'r as to 
 make their (extrication most dant;erous. In one instance, a hardy river-driver, who went 
 beneath such a hanginjf mass of timber or "jam," and cut away \\w. stump which 
 h(_'ld it suspended, sa\ed his Iif(! from the avalanche of lo<^rs only by jumping; into the 
 river and diviner tjeep towards mid-stream. .Such an exploit is mer('ly one of many 
 instances of cool couras^e displayied constantU' by the river-dri\'ers, as these lumbirmen 
 are called. The loi^s that remain on the landinsjf must be remoxcd with picks, bars 
 and hooks, with nion; or less risk to thc' woikmen, till all are atloat. Once alloat, 
 hev are carried on by the current, while the river-dri\ers, armed with lont^' poles, follow 
 them al(jn^' tlut short.', to j)revent any from strantlini,;'. When thi; stream is naxii^able 
 for the li.irht, tlat-b(}ttomed boats used i)y lumbermen, they follow the "drive" in these, 
 
 A SKITI.KR'S SHANTY. 
 
 runninij the rapids, and often exposed to n^reat risk, as the swollen stream carries 
 them ajrainst projectintj; rocks. Often, too, the lot,rs will hv. caught by some point 
 of land, whence they have to be rolled with " cant-hooks" -a work of much labour. 
 

 i;i i 
 
 ..i. 
 
 238 
 
 I'lCrURHSiJL ■/:■ CAXADA. 
 
 The rixcr-drivcr'^ arc usually acc<)in|)anic(l as far as possible hy a scow with a covcrial 
 structure, like a Canadian " Noah's .Ark." The scow serves all the jjurposes of a shanty. 
 The ijjreatest ilan<^er is wiien lotjs are cautjht niid-strcaiii, especially above a ra|)id. 
 Then it is necessar\ to ilisenj^a^e the " key-jjiece " — the loij which, caught by rock 
 or other obstacle, causes the jam. The precision with which experienced river-drivers 
 will ascertain the key-piece of a jam, is no less remarkabk: tha i the ilarinji; and skill 
 with which they escape the rush of the suddenly-liberatetl logs tlown the rapids. They 
 leap from loo to lot^, and inaiiUaiTi their balance with the de.xteiity of a rope-dancer. 
 Still, scarce a season passes without loss of life from this cause (iurin_<f the ilrive. 
 The UK.'n. thcr<'forc', do all in their power to prevent the occurreace of a jam. 
 Pike-poles in hand, the\- shove onwards the loi^s that seem likely to cans ; obstruction. 
 
 W'lu'n the force of the current is insufficient as in small streams or at the 
 outlets of lakes, dams are used in order by accumulatini;' the water to lloat the loj^s 
 thither, and carr\' them forward with a rush when tiie t^ates are openetl. The ilams are 
 built of timber ileep-tixetl in tlu' bed of the stre.im, so as to resist the or^at pressure 
 to which they are often subjected. They are furnisheil with j^^ates by which the 
 amount of water to pass throui^h can be; reijulated, and sluice-ways one broad ami in 
 the centre. To this the lo<^s an: directed from the water above by a boom. Sonu;- 
 times there are as many as a dozen ilams in the course of a stream, ami frijcpiently 
 lour L,^ates to a dam. The l()i;s are thus carrieil by each of tlu-se operations, not 
 merelv ]jast one jxiint t)f obstruction, but over a considerable portion of a stre.un 
 otherwise too shallow. I"!ven with all these appliances, after ;i winter ot little snow, 
 and when the ice has <;-one out of the lakes, there; is often not enoui,di force of water 
 to carr)' down the loi^s. In that case, they are left till tlu! lollowini;^ sjjriui^. 
 
 On ri\t;rs tlown which scpiare timber is brou<j;ht, ami where, as in parts of the 
 Upper Ottawa, cataracts occur of such ma,L,Miitude as to injure tlu: piecc:s by dashintj 
 them with i^reat violence aj^ainst rocks, ri'sort is had to contrivances called "slides." 
 These consist of artificial channels, the side-walls and bottoms lined with smooth, 
 strong timb(;r-w(jrk. ,\t the upper end of this channel are gates, through which the 
 pent-up water can i)e admitted or shut off. In the large slides this is attended to, 
 and the d"ty on tlown-bound timber collected by a ("loverninent official — the "slide- 
 master" — w I resides on the spot. Through these slides, built by (iovernment on the 
 most important rivers, pass the "cribs." These are construcleil of a regulation width, 
 so as to tit the passage-way of the slide. The crib is about twenty-four feet wide ; 
 its length varies with that of the scpiare timber. 'The lower i)art generally consists of 
 al)out twenty i)ieces, bound firmly together, and secured l)y siiorter pieces, called "trav- 
 erses," strongly pinned ilovvn. On the traverses are laid 
 
 squ 
 raft 
 
 are timber, tirmlv tixed 
 
 i.tit 
 
 1> 
 
 smen, vvi 
 
 th 
 
 lOUL 
 
 oars as 
 
 he crib is often furnished with a frame house for the 
 sweeps," and witii a mast and sail. Frequently tlu; 
 
LUMHliRIiXG. 
 
 229 
 
 THE KOLLWAY. 
 
 (Utawa river-drivers take tourists or others as passem^ers, to L,n\e thorn the sensation 
 of " shootini; a shile." \\'(.' embark on board a crii) ai)()\ e tlu; slide-gates at the falls 
 of the Calumet. The raftsmen bill us take Inin hold of one of the strong jjoh's 
 which are driven between the lower timbers of the crib. Above the slide the waters of 
 
 1 
 
 
 f 
 
230 
 
 rrCTl 'RESOUR CAN A PA. 
 
 the Ottawa arc still and il(!e]j ; at tin.' left side, through the intervening woods, we can 
 hear the roar of the cataract. I'iie slide-gates are thrown open ; the water surges over 
 the smooth, inclined channel ; our crib, carefully steered through the gateway, slowly 
 moves its forward end over the entrance ; it advances, sways for a moment, then, with 
 a sudden plunge and splash of water, rushes faster and faster between the narrow 
 walls. The rellow of the torrent streams over the crib from the front ; jets of water 
 spurt up everywhere between the timbers under our feet ; then dipping heavily as it 
 
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 TIMBP.R SI.IDK AT THK CALUMKT FALLS. 
 
 I 
 
 leaves the slide, our crib is in the calm water beneath, the glorious scent^rj- of the 
 cataract full in view. Without knowing It, we have got wet through — a trifle not to 
 be thought of, amid the rapture of that rapid motion which Dr. Johnson considered 
 one of the greatest of life's enjoyments. He spoke of "a fast drive in a post-chaise." 
 What would he have said to a plunge down the slides of the Ottawa ! 
 
 When there is a formidable rapid on which there is no slide, the crib has to be 
 taken asunder and the s(;parate pieces sent down, to be gathered by a boom below, 
 and put together as before. Over a lake or broad river, the crib advances by means 
 of an anchor carried out some distance, the rope from which is wound up by a capstan 
 on board. When |)ossii)le, a sail is hoisted ; at other times, the crib is propelled by 
 long oars, or sweeps, in the hands of the raftsmen, a tedious and laborious process. 
 
IJ'AfJiliR/NG. 
 
 2X\ 
 
 The imiiK'iliatc! destination of the square timlier conviiycd hy water or railwaj is 
 the " baniHntr jrround," wliere it is formed into x\\v. immense rafts tiial are such a dis- 
 tinctive feature of our lake and river scenery. A raft is composed of from ninety to a 
 hundred cribs, "handed" toj^ether by " wythes," or twisted saplinj;;s, of hard, tou_L;li 
 wood, and joined at the (mkIs liy " htshing-poles," which are ("ixed to tiie entl traverses 
 by ciiain wythes. In plaix' of th<!se, "cat-pieces" an; sometimes used — that is, ienj.jths 
 of stronij^ scanthn^, stout enou!:jh to b(!ar a considerable strain, anil loiii^ enouijh to 
 reach easily from crib to crib. 'lluis the cribs are kept close toj^ether, yet an; allowed 
 sufificicMit independence of motion up and down to lessen the strain on the huj^e raft. 
 The raft can \m\ readily taken apart and put tot^ether a^^ain ; as each part is p.issed 
 down a rapid, the men return overland to the part not yet sent down, carryinjr their 
 gear in wagons. 
 
 Like the separate cribs of which we have spoken, the raft is propelled ordinarily by 
 sweeps or, weather permitting, b)- sails. Often a steam-tug is employeil, a curious 
 variety being the "fiddle-boat" — that is, two long boats, or sections of boats, with the 
 paddle-wheel between them. The crew consists of from forty to fifty well-built and 
 skilful men, who li\e — sometimes with their wives and childr(;n — in little wooden 
 houses on the raft. The strange craft presents the appearance of a village, progressive 
 enough certainly, and in America that is the ideal of perfection. 'ihe chief danger to 
 be avoided is falling through the openings between the ends of cribs of uneipial 
 length. These water spaces become filled with floating foam and chips, so as to be 
 almost indistinguishable from the solid surface of the log. On the rivers the gr(;atest 
 danger to rafts and raftsmen is from the rapids ; on the lakes, from storms ; yet 
 owing to the skill of the pilots and the efficiency of the crews, accidents are rare ; and 
 these timber islands, after a journey from the remotest parts of Canada, lloat down the 
 broad St. Lawrence, sound as when first banded together, to their destination in the 
 coves of Ouebec. 
 
 At these coves the rafts are finally broken up, and from the acres of timber 
 thus accumulated, the large, ocean-going ships are loaded. Near the vessel men run 
 actively over the lloating timbers, and with the help of pike-poles .select the cargo. 
 Each stick or spar is lifted by means of a chain slung from a spar on deck, and brought 
 to a level with the large receiving-port near the vessel's bow. It then rests on a 
 roller, and is easily shoved in, and stowed away. " Deal " planks are brought alongside 
 the timber-ship in large barges moored fore and aft of the shi|), and the deals thrown 
 in through the ports. When the steadily-increasing load within the hold sinks the 
 vessel to its lower ports these are closed, and the loading is resumed at those 
 immediately above. The scene is a striking one. In the foreground the dark ship, 
 contrasting with the gay motley of the lumbermen's costume ; farther off, the coves, 
 with the miles and miles of booms, and millions of feet of timber ; in the distance, 
 
232 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 the ancient city and its historic hill. Hero the wealth floated to-day from the 
 virjrin forest, }j;reets the walls and s[)ires of the Middle Ages. 
 
 Saw-logs are not usually lloatfjd as far as square timber, because saw-mills are 
 built on the streams. lUit on some rivers several hundred men are occupied in 
 "driving" for over two hundred miles. Some of the Laurentian rivers, again, have a 
 course so difficult and dangerous that driving is not attempted on them. The logs 
 are committed to the river, and those that come down the falls and over the rapids 
 uninjured arc gathered at the mouth. Many logs are so battered as to be useless; 
 many are stranded, or caught by rocks or eddies, and must remain till the next spring 
 freshet dislodges them. We have seen how settlement in the new country, north and 
 west, is following in the wake of the lumber traffic. The same process is being 
 rejieated before our eyes which, two generations ago, gave the first impetus to the \ast 
 agricultural settlements of Ontario. The mill-villages and lumber dep6ts are the flour- 
 ishing towns and cities of to-day. The second stage is the construction of railways. 
 When the country is sufficiently settled, it pays operators to convey their square 
 timl)er by rail, so as to be earlier in the market. Saw-mills are built farther 
 up the stream, to obtain the raw material near its source and transmit by rail the 
 manufactured product. Still, for a long time to come, there will be a continuance of 
 river-driving, to supply existing mills nearer the frontier. Most of these are so 
 complete in their arrangements, so furnished with expensive machinery, as to make 
 removal impossible without heavy loss ; besides, the expense of river-driving from a 
 distance is balanced by greater proximity to the centres of trade, and by direct access 
 to the markets for manufactured lumber. And yet there are few districts, even of the 
 newest and least-settled country, into which lumber operations have been pushed, where 
 the saw-mill, of a much ruder and simpler type than those in more settled districts, 
 may not be hailed as the pioneer of advancing civilization. Somewhat unpicturesque, 
 indeed, is the tall tower of open framework, yet it is a welcome neighbour to the 
 farm-house sheltered by the snow-covered hill. Through the deep ravine among the 
 dark pines, flows a stream that now, for the first time, does its part in concert with 
 human industry. 
 
 Along the river, above any large mill in the more settled country, \'/ill be seen a 
 mile or more of booms enclosing logs that have been floated down for the seasons 
 supply of the saws. In such mills is found every appliance of labour-saving machinery, 
 and generally the works are arranged to utilize much that in the more primitive saw- 
 mill of the backwoods went to waste. Nothing is lost except the sawdust, and even 
 that is sometimes used to feed the engine furnace. There are often forges, and carpen- 
 ters' and machine shops, that machinery out of gear may be repaired on the premises. 
 The logs are drawn into the mill by a car which is lowered by the steam-power along 
 an inclined tramway to the water, where it sinks sufficiently to allow a couple of logs, 
 
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 ^iiitlcd liy pikc-polcs, to he placed upon it. Ilu'si! an,' licltl fast on tlie car liy sliarp 
 spikes, on wliicli th(;y rest, as it is drawn from tiie water up the inclined plane to tin; 
 mill. Arrived at the top, the car is unloaded, and lowered attain. I'he lot^'s which are 
 brouifht up are rolled off upon a movable truck, 1)\' which tlu-y are carried to the 
 "gangs." These consist of rows of keen-toothed saws, set siile by side in a powerful 
 frame. Held fast by the remorseless grasp of the machinery that carries them on, the 
 saws crunch, with apparent ease, through the logs from end to end. If the mill be 
 driven by steam, the sawtlust and other refuse is carried to the engine-room to feed 
 the furnace, or in the case of a water-mill it is thrown in the stream to kill the lish, 
 or spoil the river! Ingeniously-contrived machinery takes the lumber from \\u\ saws to 
 the yard, where it is jjiled, or dropped into a sluiceway, and floated to a piling ground. 
 Multitudinous piles of symmetrically-arra.iged lumber form a peculiar featun; in 
 the outskirts of many Canadian cities. The forest jjrodiicts e.xporteil from Canada 
 during the last ten years, have amounted to over twent\' millions of dollars annually. 
 These have consisted almost entirely of square timber, and the more marketable sizes 
 of sawn lumber, called deals. Nearly one half goes to Great Britain. No other 
 country, by itself, receives so much. Ne.xt to (ireat Britain come the United States, 
 which take the greatest part of the Ontario export. British Columbia sends to South 
 America, China, Japan, and the Pacitic Islands. The Atlantic Maritime Provinces send 
 to Europe, Africa and the South Atlantic .States. Almost :;(iual to this vast export is 
 the amount consumed for domestic use. The traveller in Canada cannot fail to be 
 
 II 
 
Il 
 
 J34 
 
 ricTURiisQL ■/■: i ,1 X. I /}.!. 
 
 struck by tlic way in wliirh luinlxT is used, for tlir l)riclj;cs on our rivers, the fences 
 that cliviilc our fields, tlic si(lc-wali<s in our viliaj,'<'s aiul cities, ami for almost every 
 conceivaijlo purpose. in liic country, and in many towns, the liuildiiij^'s are of wood; 
 the country roads have their foundation of wood, and the new(!st nicthoil of pavin^j our 
 city streets is with wooden blocks. And in nearly every part of Canada, outside the 
 towns, wood is the only material uscil for fuel. 
 
 in view of the prodij^ious lonsurnption for the iiomc and forcii^n market, the all- 
 important (|uestion comers to l)e : How loni^^ can w<' J40 on at this rate.'' is our forest 
 wealth exhauslless, then? bjithusiasts talk in an airy way of the woods of No\;i 
 Scotia and New ikiuiswick, of lioundiess wildernesses to the nortli of the Ottawa, of 
 vuUouciicd districts between I'eterborou^di ami Lake Nipissin^^. and aloni,^ the north 
 shores of the (icor^nan i^ay and l.ak<' Superior, of the passes of the Kocky Mountain 
 and Cascade ran',res, choked with llie 1 )ou,i,das i)ine and other monarchs of the forest. 
 And iloubtless a supply almost beyond computation remains to fcetl this j,freati:st indus- 
 try of Canada for many a year. Mut, in every Province, practical lumbermen hokl very 
 different lan}ruaj,fe from that of the enthusiasts. Go to the great centres, to the mills 
 on the Miramichi, liie lower .St. Lawrenc<;, the Ottawa, the Trent; to tlie Muskoka 
 and Parry Sound district, or farther west -and talk witii the- men wiio have ran<,fed the 
 woods for iiaif a lifetime, and one and all may be heard soundint,^ tiie note of alarm. 
 They ])oint out that many of tiie areas, i)oasted of as yet untouched, contain no pine 
 of commercial value ; that lumbermen are oblij.jed to be less particular al)out the cpiality 
 every year ; tiiat the farther they are forced back, the ijreater is the ditticulty of getting 
 the logs and sticks forward to shipping [)orts ; and that already they are very near the 
 line on the other side of which profits cease anil work must stop. Many of the 
 first authorities declare that, imder the i)resent system, the lumber business of Canada 
 will be a thing of the past in twenty years. 
 
 To turn a deaf ear to such warnings wouUl bi; foil)-. It is abundant!)' clear that 
 if more wood is annually destroyed than the amount benignant Nature adds to our 
 national store, we are killing the goose that lays the golden eggs, or acting like the 
 spendthrift who draws upon a capital that he cannot replace. We must consider what 
 are the chief causes of waste, and how we can best guard against the destruction or 
 reduction of our splendid capital. We need not take into account what is lost by the 
 advance of settlement. Farmers are of more value to a country than any other class. 
 Hut, within our Laurentian ranges, there is little encouragement for farming. There 
 are, it is true, river bottoms, and large patches where the limestone has been triturated 
 and washed down into a sharp and generous soil. Hut, by far the greater part of 
 those regions must be abandoned to the miner and the lumberman, especially to the 
 latter ; and if he is driven away, much of our national domain will be useless 
 as Sahara. 
 
" 
 
 LUMBER IXC. 
 
 935 
 
 % 
 
 I 
 
 Forest fires arc tlie chief 
 cause of waste, ami tliese are 
 generally proiluccd bj- want of 
 thought. Tourists and pic- nit- 
 parties seldom extinguish their camp-fires or cover the embers with earth. Backwoods 
 farmers are accustomed lo clear their land l)y setting out fires ; ami though tliis is 
 usually done when there is a prospect of rain, they sometimes mistake the signs of 
 the sky. In a warm and rainless season the fires find material to feeil upon every- 
 where ; they spread along the ground to the forest ; and should a gale arise, they 
 
\h ' 
 
 236 
 
 * 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA, 
 
 sweep on with a 
 _i,%ithered strength 
 ;ind roar lliat is 
 ajjpalling. I'ences, 
 barns and iiouses 
 that lie in their 
 course are wiped 
 out coni|)leteIy ; 
 and tile st'ttlers 
 are .dad to escape 
 willi liicir lives. 
 Tiu' loss to the 
 countr)' is enor- 
 mous. I'or in- 
 stance, from ten 
 to fifteen millions 
 of dollars' worth 
 of timber were 
 destroyed in the 
 
/. UMBERING. 
 
 m 
 
 
 o:i Till-; vpi'i.R sr. mai'kick. 
 
 Province of Ontario by autumn i'lrcs in i.S.Si ; that is, a sum equal to half of our 
 revenue, was burnt as so much ok! pajier, and the public seemed to care little, borest 
 fires, too, are not like those that sweep over the prairie and adil to the \c14ctable 
 mould. They often burn into the t^round, eat up the little e.u'th there is, and lea\e 
 the stones mossless and huns^r)-. When the tall ])ines are h-ft standiuL;, scorched, 
 blackened, and discrowned, an insii^niificant insect, rijjjhtly calle.l (ireal one of the 
 Capricorn beetles — completes iIk- work of (U;struclion. It bores throu<;h the outer bark, 
 and deposits its larva betwi-en the bark and the wood. I'he lar\a feeds on the wood\ 
 fibre, and gradually bor(!s its wa\' to the heart of the pine. These "borers" are almost 
 as much dreaded by the lumbermen as <^rassh()|ipers by a prairie faruu-r. In traxtllins.;;^ 
 through a burnt district, their prt;sence is sufliciently attested uhene\cr theic is ,1 high 
 wind. The air is filled with innumerable particles of wood)- ilust, ami the sci:nc 
 resembles a snow storm more than anything <'lse. 
 
 Replanting has been suggested to counterbalance thi; loss caused by fires and 
 reckless cutting. .Such a reineds' is pr.icticallv impossible. It woulil be loo costly, and 
 there would be great difficult} in preserving the young trees from fires. Hesides, a 
 pine takes one hundred and fifty years to reach maturity. 
 
 One or two measures may bt; suggested. The Government should, by a commis- 
 sion of e.xperts and scientific men, take stock of our forest wealth. ihis done, the 
 annual increment presented to us by Nature could l)e estimateil. And then, on no 
 
238 
 
 PIC TIIRESO UR CANA DA. 
 
 account, should more than this increment be cut in any year. This is the law in Norway 
 and Sweden, and it is a good law. The demand for lumlx-r will increase. Already, 
 instead of selecting only the Ijest trees, as was tiic custom a quarter of a ccntuiy ago, 
 the forest is being cut down as a wheat field is mowed. Let us not forget that 
 they who waste shall want. Our form of government makes it difficult to pass or 
 to enforce laws to curb greed. But the call for immediate action is loud. One or two 
 wise laws, and the employment of the best men obtainable as "bush-rangers" to take 
 care of Government timber limits, would preserve to Canada an income from her 
 wildernesses for centuries. 
 
 We owe much of our wealth and development to the lumber trade. It has been 
 one of the great instruments of our self-expansion during the past forty years. But 
 the an.xieties for a nation's future increase with increasing wealth and population. 
 Civilized men cannot live in the fool's Paradise of the present. 
 
"^.. 
 
 •]-\ 
 
 THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 t' i 
 
 I *HE route to tlic upper lakes l)\' the Ottawa, :!ie Mattawan, Lake Nipissinc:, 
 and I'Vench River, has historic, as well as picturesque, interest. I'or more than 
 two hundred years before whistli- of locomotive awoke the echoes of the northern woods, 
 commerce used these beautiful water-stretches as a hitjhway to Lake Huron, The 
 Hurons came down by this way to trade with the French at Montreal, avoidinj,^ the 
 more direct route from their villajres, through dread of their hereditary foes, the Iroquois. 
 239 
 
240 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANDIDA. 
 
 
 12 • 
 
 By this way, as loiii; a^jo as 1615, wtMit Saimicl cU; Champlain to the Huron country, 
 llis immediate object was to lead a small force, whose arquebuses mij^ht turn the scale 
 in a proposed foray of tiie llurons upon the Iroquois ; but we may be sure that the 
 norlh-west passa;4e to the Indies was not absent from iiis thouifhts. Champlain was 
 not the first while man to navij^ate I'Vench River am! j^aze upon the i)icr i/oiicc, or 
 ^reat fresh-water sea of the llurons. One Joseph le Caron. a friar of the Recollet 
 order, had made tlu' journey in the previous summer, his mission bein<^ to plant the 
 cross in Huron soil. Le Caron was one of four priests who had come from tlie town 
 of Brouage, in Trance, to Christianize the savages. They were the forerunners of those 
 Jesuit Fathers who have peopled the woods and fields of parts of Canada with memo- 
 ries of a heroism as disinterested and devoted as any that histor)' has to iecord. In 
 a letter to a friend, l,e Caron tells how lie was tired out by paddling all day with all 
 his strength, wading the ri\t!rs a humlreil times and more, through mud, and over sharp 
 rocks which cut his feet, carrying tile canoe and luggage through the woods to avoid 
 rapids and frightful cataracts, a little pounded maize antl water his only food. Not an 
 imposing figure this Recollet fri.ir, as he wields a canoe-paddle, or stumbles over the 
 portages, in coarse gray gown, peaked hood, and bare, sandalletl feet ; and )et, in the 
 judgment of the " eyes that regard us in eternity's stillness," his journey does not com- 
 pare ill with tiic triumphal progress of an .Alexander or a Napoleon, 
 
 We may easily to-daj' follow the course by which Le Caron passed to Lake Huron. 
 W'e ma)' even yet tread jjortages beaten by the moccasined feet of his rude com- 
 panions. After the bluff from which the towers of the Capital now spring is passed, 
 the two lakes of the AUumette are gained; "and now for twenty miles the Ottav.a 
 stretches before hmi, straight as the bee can 11)', deep, narrow and black, between its 
 mountain shores. He passed the rapids of the Joachim and the Caribou — the Rocher 
 Capitaine, where the angry current whirls in its rocky prison — the Deu.x Rivieres, where 
 it bursts its mountain liarrier-and reached at length the tributary waters of the Mat- 
 tawan. He turned to the left, ascended this little stream forty miles or more, and 
 crossing a portage track, well trodden, stood on the margin of Lake Nipissing. The 
 canoes were launched again. All day they glided by leafy shores, and verdant islands 
 floating on the depth of blue. And now appeared unwonted signs of human life, 
 clusters of iiark loilg(;s, half-hidden in tiie vastness of the woods. It was the village of 
 an Algonquin tribe, called by courtesy a nation — the Nipissings— a race so beset with 
 spirits, so infested by ilemons and abounding in magicians, that the Jesuits in after 
 years stigmatiz(;d them as 'the sorcerers.'" Out of Lake Nipissing the current of 
 French River, broken by numerous falls and rapids, bears the traveller to the vast bay 
 to which the loyalty of Governor Simcoe gave the name of the third George. 
 
 By the route thus first explored soldiers and priests, trappers and traders of the 
 French race, found their way to the upper lakes for a hundred and fifty years. There 
 
TIIR VPPF.R LAK/tS. 
 
 MI 
 
 !■ 
 
 is (jvidciitly :i i'(iiiiu;ctii)n )u:- 
 tvveen tin- naim' of l'"i( ncli 
 Rivt'r and tlicsc early \()ya!:,fes. When 
 tlic cdiintry passed from tli(; sway of 
 I'"ranc(', the eamies of l'jii;lisli traders, 
 keenly aii\c to tiie enoi-nioiis profits to 
 he made .-it of the fur trafhc, were soon 
 found on I'rench River and tiie northern 
 lal<(!s. 'i"h(' Nortl.-wesi Comjiany, for 
 years the; rival of the Hudson's l?ay Ad- 
 venturers, hut now merited with tiieni into 
 
 one c^reat corjioration, for a lon^; time us( d the iM-ench River rout<' as the shortest 
 practicable line of communication between i'ort William, their head(jiiartcrs in the 
 
a4a 
 
 PICn RliSQi '!•: CAWIDA. 
 
 interior, and Montn-al. I'or many years the forests echocil to tlu' sons,^ of tlu- voyageur 
 ami the splasli of his |)aclille, as the fleet of eancx's inaile ihi; annual voyage to or 
 from the east. 
 
 Uerrii'i' die/ nous, v.i I iin ("tang, 
 
 V.n roiilaiil m.i Imulc. {Chorus), 
 Trois Ix-aiix canards s'cn vont l)aif,'nant, 
 
 Kouli, roiilant, ma boiile roiilant. ■ ' ' 
 
 En ronl.mt nia hoiile roiilant {Chorus), 
 
 En roiilant ma lioule. 
 
 Trois beaux canards s'en vont haignant, 
 
 En roulant ma boule. 
 Le fils du roi s'en va rhassant, 
 
 Ronli, roulant, ma houlc rnulant, 
 En ruulant nia liouk' roiil.int, 
 En roulant ma houle. 
 
 Le Ills (Ui roi s'en \a cliassant 
 
 I'.ii roulant ma boule. 
 Aver son grand fusil d'argent, 
 Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant, 
 \'.\\ roulant iii.i boule roular,t. 
 
 En roulant nia boule. 
 
 : i 
 
 Sir (jeori^^e Simpson, tht; (lovernor of the" Hudson's I5ay Company, under whose 
 rule the amalgamation of the two corporations was effectctl, describes the trip hj' 
 the Ottawa and the I'rench River in his " Joiirne\ Roiintl Tlu! W'orlil." I'ollowing 
 the tracks of these early navigators, we are in the lu;art of that remarkable region of 
 broken, rocky Latirentian country, so calleil from the Laurentides, or Latirentian Hills. 
 Rising on the i.al)rad()r coast and forming the northerly wall of the St. Lawrence 
 valley ; withdrawing from the ri\er some miles below Ouebcc, ami passing north of 
 Ottawa; sending down a spur to cross the .St. Lawrence near Kingston into the State 
 of New \'ork, where it towers into the Adirondack range ; continuing their progress in 
 Canada to the (ieorgian Hay ; thenct; aroinul its shores antl the north shore of Lake 
 Superior ; leaving Lake Superior to take a majestic sweep northward and westward 
 and sink into tlie icy sea — the Latirentians form a mysterious mountain chain whose 
 age and origin are wrapped in obscurity. And in tliis Laurentian country is found 
 what is distinctive in the scenery of the eastern half of tin; Dominion. The crag, iiewn 
 and planed into every romantic shape ; the fir rooted in the crag ; the stream pursuing 
 its way between walls of living green, now foaming tlown a boulder-strewn bed, now 
 widening into a tranquil lake ; the island-rock clothed with verdure, and surrounded by 
 
Tim il'J'HR LAKHS. 
 
 a43 
 
 countless companions — these characteristics of Canadian scenery heloni^^ to the I.aiircn- 
 tians. IJrokcn up into astonishinjj; ilivcrsity, the l.aurcntian tract alioumls in the 
 pictures(pie, ami atfortis tin; people of (hiel)ec and Ontario opportunities for pleasant 
 and healthful suninierinj,' which few countries enjoy. Hence, also, come the vast sup- 
 plies of timher which create tin; <rreatest of Canadian industries. .Stores of minerals of 
 incalculable value lie in the bosom of the hills, and extensive tracts of j;ood land in 
 the river valleys and other depressions. True, the tiller of the soil has a hard fi^dit 
 with nature before she yields a fair return, i)ut such stru,L(}^les protluce men of stronjr 
 wills and earnest natures. "What do you raise here?" askeil a stranj^er, with some- 
 thini.r of a sneiT, as he sur\e)ed a ston\' liekl in New llampshire. "We raise men, 
 sir." was the proud repl\-. 
 
 Lake Nipissinj^ is in the ct^ntre of one of the most promisinj^ tracts in the Laur- 
 entian district. L'ntil lately, but little has binn known of the character or capabilities 
 of this unoccupied ret,non, l)ut the active e.Nplorations of the tjovernment of Ontario 
 have brouijht to lij^ht much important information. The total area of unsettled Crown 
 lands between the Ottawa and (ieorjTiian Bay, south of Lake Nipissini;, is little short 
 of tw^elve million acres, or more than half the .;ea o Irelaml. ,\t least half of this is 
 well suitcjd for settlement, a coui\try capable of sustainint^, at a moderate estimate, a 
 hardy population of li\e lunulrt:tl thousand souls. Of the three sections into which this 
 region is dixitled the Red Pine, the White Pine, and the Hardwood country — 
 the latrer is much the best adapted for a_i:;riculture. This tract, commencint^ at the 
 headwaters of the Mattawan, and e.xtendinj:^ sixty miles to the west, contains some seven 
 thousand superlicial miles. It is a sinjrularly isolated retjion. Hetween it and Lake 
 Huron, ami bortleriris^' PVench River on both sides, lies an expanse of barren country, 
 terminatiiij^ in bare rock towards the shore of the lake. On the south, also, alons^ or 
 near the division of the waters of the Ottawa and St. Lawrence, it is girded by a belt 
 of rugged, stony land, about twenty iniles in breadth, utterly luiht for settlement. To 
 the east it is separated from the inhabited country on the Ottawa by the timber dis- 
 trict. Within these boundaries, for the most part in primeval solitude, is an extensive 
 tract of excellent farming country. Here are found, also, numerous water-powers of 
 value, and timber of the finest description. The forest is full of game — moose, cariboo, 
 red-deer and bears, of the larger sort ; and of smaller game — hares, swans, geese, ducks, 
 wild turkeys, partridges and (piail. Of fur-bearing animals, there are the silver-gray, red, 
 and black fo.x, the otter, marten, mink, and beaver. The lakes and rivers swarm with 
 fish. The climate is clear, bracing, and healthy. 
 
 There is no testimony to the character of this region more interesting than that of 
 the German-Swiss delegates, who visited it and have already promoted thereto a Swiss 
 immigration. One describes the soil on the slopes of the South River of Lake Nipis- 
 sing, as much re.sembling that of the vine-growing hills encircling the lakes in the 
 
 
!' ■■ 
 
 ii.l . ■ 
 
 I 
 
 
 244 
 
 PicruHF.sQUh: CI. v. I/), I. 
 
 UN I'RKNCll klVl K. 
 
 I'l'dicli cantons of Suil/crlaml. It is his comiciion lliat in tin; course of linu' \ine 
 culture will 1)(; successfully carrltxl on in this part of the Nipissint,' district. "The 
 strikinL,^ resemblance wiiich tiiat district hears to thi' north-west cantons of Switzerland, 
 with its nunK.'rous line lakes, the mildness and L;reat whoh omeness of its climate, and 
 the extraordinary fertility of its soil, would make it a splendid lU'w honu- for Swiss 
 imni'iirants to Ontirio, in whose; hands would soon llourish a 'New Helvetia' in 
 Canada." 
 
 A visitor from Wurtiinliur^- to the " I'Vee (iranl" territory, pleasantly relates his 
 experience of "tin; Bush." lie; travels on the colonization road from Rosseau to 
 Xipissinjf. To the rii^ht and left of the road there are thousanils of acres of the best 
 land. The soil improves as the lake is approached. Now and then a loj,'--house is 
 passed, erected a few months ago, but even now surroimded by a "clearing" of ten or 
 
THE Urri'.R I.AKI-.S. 
 
 245 
 
 twelve acres, uitli splcndiil potatoes, \vlie,it and oats, corn and \c;4elai>les. \\'Ii<rc\rr a 
 st()p|)a]L(i! is made the settlers are ai)le to olTer a tjood nu'al. llie (,ittle are in excclh'nt 
 condition, pasturing; pailly in the woods, .uid partl_\' in the fenced lots in the midst 
 of the forest a cart is met, the farmer walkiii),; heliind it. lie si.mds still, with the 
 words, " \ Ou are surelv also .1 .Swahian i"" " N Cs, and whence ,ire xou'"' "liall a mile 
 
 tift^Cuto 
 
 from ( )ppelsl)oiiin is m\- home; ami 
 the \ isitor listens to an encoiira^- 
 inj4' tale ol contented industry. 
 
 North and west, also, of Lake 
 Nipissin<.j the land is i^ood. TIk; 
 agents of the iinilson's i)a\- Com- 
 pany, the only white residents, have seen an unwonted slight, the surveyor, with his 
 theodolite, makinir townships in the wilderness. There is reported to he more fertile, 
 arable land on the west hank of the Ottawa, above the Mattawan, than on the i*anks 
 below it. A line drawn from Lake Nipissing to the lower end of Lake ^emiscaminL,^ 
 with the Ottawa to the north and wt:st, and the Mattawan to the south, forms a 
 rough triangle, within which is a large area of hardwcxnl laiul. It is in e\-ery way 
 well adapteil for settlement. On one; side it touches a great navigable reach of the 
 Ottawa, and on the other a large lake', which, at a small cost, could 1k! rendered 
 easily accessible from Lake Huron, ami on the v('ry route which must be used for 
 the timber trade, now extending to Lake Temiscaming. North of this tract to Lake 
 
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 Photographic 
 
 Sdences 
 Corporation 
 
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 <s 
 
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 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
:<^ c^'. 
 
24f> 
 
 PICTURHSOUE CANADA. 
 
 A I.AURENTIAN BI.UIK. 
 
 Abbitihee, a distance of t!i;'lity miles, soil for the most part favorable to cultivation 
 is foiuui to exist, beini^ a level alluvial o\er a limestone formation. The timber is a 
 heavv j^rowtii of beech, ma|)le, c:lm, ami pine. \V"here tlu;se woods <4;ro\v, wheat will also 
 grow well. The climate will not be an obstacle to settlement. It is certainl)' not as 
 rigorous as that of the North-West. 
 
 Already the shores of the i,ake of "the Sorcerers " are awakinjj; to the sounds of 
 a new life. The lumberman, pioneer of settlement in the bush, has invaded the forest, 
 and set up his saw-mills ami shanties. The farmer has followed his steps, opening up 
 tracts for cultivation ; and for the produce the lumberman pays well. Government roads 
 
THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 247 
 
 make access easy for the settler. Steam-jjower lias ilisturlii'd the waters wiiich lloatcd 
 Cliam])lain's cano(!. The Canadian Pacific RaiKvay comini:nces its c mirsc \v<'st\\ar(l from 
 Callenilar, on the north-east shore of the lake. The work of consinuiion has hci^un, 
 and ujocs actively on, hrinfjinjj settlement and civilization aloni; with it. It will not be 
 lonij luforc thri\iin^ communities sprins^ np throiiiL^hont this tjjrea: " Irec (inint" 
 district, which will he the nurseries of men such as New I'^ni^land has fiirnislicd to the 
 United States. 
 
 Though the raiKva\' has reached the ISIattawan and is skirtin;^ the shores of Xipis- 
 
 THK SAULT STK. MARII. KAI'IDS. 
 
 ivation 
 ■r is a 
 ill also 
 lot a.s 
 
 nds of 
 
 fcjrest, 
 
 ng up 
 
 roads 
 
 sing, commerce does not yet make its way to the upper lakes hy th(; route which 
 Champlain followed. hor the present, communication is liy rail to Sarnia, Cioderich, 
 Owen SoiMuI, Collingwood, antl Midland, from which ports the steamboat commences 
 till' circuit of the inland seas. 
 
 y\t Killarney, a fishing village on the northern shore of the (i(;oi-gian Hay, modern 
 travel first comes in contact with the old voyagair track. An expedition of two, in 
 search of the picturesque, approached this place by steamer one August afternoon. On 
 the west rose the woodeil bluffs of the Grand Manitoiilin Island, and on the east 
 and north the Laurentian Hills, which are to be our companions for the greater part of 
 our journey. The neat houses of the hamlet were- clustttred on the edge of a plain 
 which extended to the base of the mountains, and through which forbidding patches of 
 granite, planed into curious shapes by glacial action, protruded. In the narrow chan- 
 
248 
 
 PIC TURHSOUK CANADA. 
 
 iicl, formed by parallel lines of picturesque rocks, and apparently closed altoj^ether at 
 the upper entl l)y a blue wail, lisliin_<;-boats witli brijjjiit-red sails, scutlik-d b;!fore the wind. 
 
 The upper lakes teem with tisii. Salmon-trout ami white-lish arr the most 
 important varieties. These are cauj,dit in larsjje cpiantities and shipped to Toronto 
 and the United States. I'he okl iiK-thoil of saltinL,^ lias Ijeen to a )^Xi-,\\. extent super- 
 seded, now that speedier transit is obtained, by packing' in ice. Tlu- lar!.,re boxes, or 
 "fish cars," running; on wheels, which are seen at Killarney and other tishin^j;^ stations, 
 carry each from ten to twenty-five humlred weij.,dit of fisii to the markc't. 
 
 White-fish, salmon-trout, and cranberries are the staple products of i\illarney — In- 
 dians and half-breeds the staple [)opulation. Not feeling moved to linger, we jiroceeded 
 westward on the cpiiet waters of the Northern Ciiannel, witii the soft outlines of the 
 Grand Manitoulin on one hand and tiie grim Laurentians on the odier. Manitoulin 
 Island is not, geologically, akin to the north shore of the mainland ; it is ratlier an 
 extension of the peninsula of Ontario. It is laitl out into townships, aiui, like St. 
 Joseph's island farther west, is a nourishing agricultural settlement. 
 
 There is nothing particularly striking in the Northern Channel above Killarney. 
 In places the Laurentians are broken up into islands, as they are where they cross the 
 
 'NH,5 
 
 VILI.AOK OF SAULT STK. MAKIK. 
 
 St. Lawrence. Below Killarney, the rocky fragments are scattered along the coast in 
 picturesque profusion. 
 
 At Little Current, on the Manitoulin side, we encounter a strong current, due 
 
THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 249 
 
 4i>iiifcf' 
 
 
 due 
 
 AT MlCllU'ICOTKN ISLAND 
 
 entirely to, and varyinjr in di- 
 rection with, the wind. At 
 Bruce Mines, on tlic; mainland, 
 is a pathetic monument of ex- 
 travagance and fadure in the 
 shape of great ranges of skele- 
 ton machinery, rusting and decaying around tht: shafts of an aljaiulont'd lojipcr mine. 
 Our next restijig-place is Sault Ste. Marie. 
 
 Originally a Nor'west Company's post, " the Soo," as the jjjace is calietl, lias ex- 
 panded into a village of five hundred inhabitants. Its importance will shortly he 
 enhanced ijy the construction of a branch of the Canadian I'acitic Railway, to cross 
 the strait at this point. We walked to the old trading-post, which has long lost all 
 signs of commercial activity, and thence made our way to the Imlian village. Here we 
 met the hereditary chief of the Chippewas, a hard-featured, spectacled ohl gentleman, 
 engaged in building a boat. Two of his retainers undertook to take us down the 
 rapids. I'oling their canoe to the head of the current by a comparati\eiy cpiiet course, 
 we descended swiftly, but without danger. The river falls eighteen feet, in some places 
 with much fierceness, but the descent is made by a course which can be run without 
 excitement. Intlians were catching white-fish at the foot of the rajiids. One man hokls 
 the canoe with wonderful skill in the swift current, and another stands in the bow with 
 a large scoop-net some three and a half feet in iliameter. This he drops over the 
 noses of the fish as they swim \.\\^ stream. Drawing the scoop n<-t towards him, the 
 fisherman, by a dexterous twist, closes the mouth of the net and hauls his prize aboard. 
 In the spring and fall large quantities of tish are captured in this way. To the peculiar 
 excellency of the rapids white-fish we bear cordial testimony. 
 
aso 
 
 PlCTURliSQ UE CANADA. 
 
 It is nearly two centuries and a half since the Sault Stc. Marie was first visited 
 by while men. In 1641 two Jesuit missionaries — Fathers Raymbault and Jo^ues — 
 pushed their explonuions as far as this place. They found an Indian village of two 
 thousand souls whe.e the small city opposite the Canadian town now stands. On 
 the 14th of June, 1671, a grand council assembled here, in which fourteen Indian tribes 
 were represented, four ecclesiastics represented the Church, and one Dauniont de St. 
 Lusson, with fifteen of his followers, represented the Government of Louis the Four- 
 teenth. A large cross was blessed by one of the I'athers and erected on a hill, while 
 the Frenchmen, with bare heads, sang the V'exilla Regis. After certain other cere- 
 monies, M. de St. Lusson stood forth, with upraised sword in one hand and a clod of 
 earth in the other, and in somewhat bombastic language claimed the Sault, as also 
 Lakes Huron and Superior, the island of Manitoulin, and all countries, rivers, lakes, and 
 streams contiguous thereto, as the sole property of that most high, mighty and renowned 
 monarch, His Most Christian Majesty the King of I"" ranee and Navarre. 
 
 In a few hours after leaving the Sault we are on the bosom of Lake Superior. 
 When the surface of the water is stirred by a light breeze, just enough to give it life 
 and energy, when lleecy Jiasses of cloud float over the sky and draw lines of purple 
 across the deep, it is delightful to sail upon the mighty lake, in its broad, mysterious 
 e.xpanse worshipped by the aborigines as a god. Much of such delightful sailing the 
 traveller in Jul\- and .August may enjoy. But in any season on the upper lakes, light 
 breezes have a tendency to swell into what landsmen consider gales. .Stiff nor'westeis 
 frequently make the progress of the steamboat slow and laboured. At such times the 
 invitation of tlu; dinner-bell meets with no response from two-thirds of the passengers ; 
 social intercourse languishes, and one is thrown upon his own rellections for entertain- 
 ment. And food for reflection the prospect of sea and sk)- affords. What beauty there 
 is in it all ! tiiougii by sea-sick or half sea-sick passengers for the most part unregai-ded. 
 The rainbow springing from the prow ; the dark-green waves overlaid w'ith glances 
 and flashes of blue ; the fantastic shapes, the mysterious shadings and colourings of 
 the clouds — as restless as the waters below — proclaim that even in the midst of an 
 uncomfortable gale, we are surrounded by infinite forms of divinest beauty. The limit 
 of our knowledge limits our appreciation of these things. If we could trace the cause 
 of each change in the ever-changing heavens, marking the invisible ministers of God's 
 power as they " post o'er earth and ocean without rest," what a book of inexhaustible 
 interest would lie always open before us ! 
 
 Michipicoten House, a post of the Hudson's Bay Company, is almost the only bit 
 of life o'l the desolate northern shore of Lake .Superior between the Sault Ste. Marie 
 and Nepigon River. y\t Michipicoten Island, opposite the mouth of the river of the 
 
 : T same name, the steamer makes a short stoppage. Nine miles from the land-locked 
 
 harbour are mines of native copper, worked by a wealthy partnership of English 
 
w\ 
 
 THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 251 
 
 capitalists. A lar^^o and profitaljle yield, comparinj^ favonral)!)- with lliat of tlie 
 famous Hccla and Calunu;t mints on the south shore, is lool<e(l for. 
 
 The existence of minerals on Michipicoten Island was known to the savaj.fes who 
 lived about Lake .Superior, as appears from the records of the Jesuit b'athers, the 
 first European e.\[)lorers. The workini^ of the mineral deposits, however, was not 
 begun till two centuries after the Jesi:its announceil tlunr existence. Stranger than 
 this, there is evidence that a race far older than the savages with whom the l-"athers 
 conversed — a race of which little more is now known tliaii that it e.Nisted must 
 have been extracting copper from the mines of Lake .Superior long before Columbus 
 set forth to discover a new world. Thesi; people are supposed to be tin; Mound 
 Builders. In the mjunds, which are their onl)- memorials, copper ornaments ha\(' been 
 found. The Indians of the days of Jesuit exploration had no knowledge of mining 
 nor skill in working metals. 
 
 We are beginning to realize that we have a respectable sea-voyage on hand. The 
 steamer has already made some 460 miles ; Duluth, at the end of the; lake, is 350 miles 
 farther, so that those who take the round trip — CollingwooU to Duhith, and n turn — 
 travel in all about 1600 miles by water. There is plainly a demantl upon the cordiality 
 of fellow-passengers. "We hadn't a nice crowd on board, outsitle ourselves," remarked 
 a tourist, " but we amused ourselves by satirizing them all the way down." A method 
 not to be recommended, if the voyage is to be a pleasant one. 
 
 Every one who has heard of Lake .Superior has heard of the Nepigon. "It is the 
 finest trout-stream in America," as an enthusiastic New-Yorker, who met us on the i)ier 
 at Red Rock, declared. A strait, bay, river, and lake, on the north shore of Superior, 
 about midway between the .Sault and Duluth, all bear the name of Nepigon. In the 
 strait the tourist makes the acquaintance of the trap, the characteristic rock of this 
 northern region. Thrust up from the interior of the earth in a molten condition, and 
 cooled in perpendicular lines or columns, it forms a massive sea-wall on the north edge 
 of Lake Superior — lofty, abrupt, and indented. A huge mass of trap fifteen miles 
 long, and in places more than a thousand feet high, cuts off, with some smaller islands, 
 Nepigon Hay from the lake, and boars tlie name of .St. Ignace. 
 
 Entering Nepigon strait to the west of St. Ignace, we passed between frowning 
 walls of columnar trap, recalling the familiar pictures of Fingal's Ca\e. l-'or two or 
 three hundred feet at the top the rock presents a precipitous face ; below this, the 
 dSris of broken trap, torn down by the action of frost and time, a confused pile of 
 titanic blocks, slopes into the pale-green waters. Under the cliffs, ranged like battle- 
 ments on either side, we passed into Nepigon Bay. The bay, some thirty miles long 
 and twelve miles wide, is one of three estuaries in this irregular coast lying in close 
 proximity to one another. Black Bay and Thunder Bay, both of which run inland for 
 some forty miles, are the other two. Out of the north-west corner of the bay we 
 
252 
 
 PICTURESQUE C Ah' A DA. 
 
 sandstone 
 
 steam into a winding river, 
 antl in a short time see the 
 red roofs and white houses 
 of the Hudson's Hay post at 
 Red Rock. Why the place 
 should be so called is not at 
 first apparent. Immediately 
 about tile post there is no 
 rock of any kind, though 
 n(;ar by there are fine ex- 
 posures of columnar trap. 
 Also in the neighbourhood 
 ~~ there is found a soft, red 
 
 of which the Indians make their pipes, and this gives its name to the station. 
 
THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 m 
 
 IIi.Tc \vc 1)1(1 !!,rn()(l-hy to steamboat navij^ation, and prcpart; to take to the caiioi; 
 aiul tL'iU. It is no more i)ossil)le to see the north shore of Lake Su|)erior from a 
 steamboat than it wouKl be to sec; tiie Alps from a railway train. John Riiskin says 
 thai travellin},' b\- rail is not travelling; at ail — it is simply !j;oin<; from on(; place to 
 another. y\s compared with canoeinjj, we are comix'llcd to pass a similar x'erdict upon 
 travelling by steamer. Many people who have licanl beforehand of th(! pictiiresciue 
 shores of th<' iipjx'r lakes make the round tri|), and come back with the conviction 
 that tile scenery is overrated. An endless sky-line of iniiospitable cliffs, viewed over 
 seas uncomfortably rough, varied once and aj^ain by a closer jjjlimpse of some com- 
 manclin)j[ headland, does not afford an e.xcitlnj,^ panorama. Hut these same coasts, 
 visited at leisure in a small boat — the bays and islands explored, the rivers followed 
 iip — reveal scenes of surpassinj; loveline.ss. If there is disapjjointment when the north 
 shore is visitetl in this way, the fault lies with the traveller, not with tin: country. 
 
 Tile Nepijron has become of late years a resort for sportsmen. The trout are 
 magnificent, and in the early part of the season — June and July — are caugiit in astonishing 
 numbers ; six and seven pounds are ordinary sizes. There is, too, ," peculiar delicacy 
 in a trout cauL,dit by jour own rotl, and cooked before the hre on sticks — spatch-cock 
 fashion — within ten minutes after it has left the water. The fish bite best wiien the 
 flies do, and neither (lies nor fish at this late season were lively ; though tiie latter 
 would have been considered so in anv less famous stream. 
 
 Though our \isit to Nepigon was not for fish, we hail the satisfaction of landing 
 some five-pounders, and our tal)le was always sufficiently supplied. The trout are cauglit 
 at the foot of any swift ni )id, but there are certain large "pools" where rare sjjort 
 may always be relied upon. The pool is a good-sized basin, below a strong rapid 
 or fall. The water rushes over the fall and across the basin with great violence ; it 
 then turns back and swirls around the edge of the pool to the foot of the fall in a 
 strong eddy. In the eddy, under logs half hid in creamy foam, or in holes over which 
 the current runs swiftly, lie the big trout, ready to dart like lightning at the gaudy 
 fly, or later in the season at the shining spoon or minnow. Tiie latter method is of 
 course voted unsportsmanlike; but sportsmen have to adopt it in August anil Septem- 
 ber. In the decline of the fur-trade in these parts tiie Hudson's Bay Company do a 
 large business in supplying fishermen with stores and tackle. 
 
 :H 
 
 'A. B. & C. D.: 
 
 "In account with 
 
 "THE COMPANY OF ADVENTURERS OF ENGLAND 
 TRADLNG INTO IIULXSONS BAY. 
 
 "To One Can of Peachks, 
 
 $0.40." 
 
 m 
 w 
 
254 
 
 PICTURF.SQUF. CANADA, 
 
rill-: (■/'/'/■: R /..ik'/:s. 
 
 ^'^■"^m 
 
 255 
 
 SPLIT ROCK, 
 
 It struck lis that this would ha\c looked iiiiprc'-sivc : luil in rciuiciMnL; tiicir aicouiUs 
 thi; surcc'ssors of I'rincc RiipLTt and his gcnilcniaii as.-«)ciali's tlo niU use their full cor- 
 porate title. 
 
 HaviiiiT secured a canoe, a suHicieiU stort' of prosisions and caiiipinL;' utensils, and 
 two half-breeds the |>ure aboriijinal seems still to avoid the borders of ci\ilization — 
 
 llit 
 
256 
 
 PIC rURIiSQL T. C.IX.UKl. 
 
 we commcncpd our pro^fress up the river. Alonj; tlic lakes and streams wliich from 
 tiim; iiniiieinorial lia\c hecii liis lii^^luvays, il\e rvx\ inai) of the woods lias wandered from 
 early spriiij^ to late autumn, huntini^f, fishing,'. U)it( rinj,', fij^luin^f, liearin^r with iiim his 
 family and household >,'o(ls, -inl settinj; up his wij,'\vam wherever for the time it suitt^d 
 him to dwell, rpon these iterways his conveyance has invariably Ikcii the hirch-hark 
 canoe, and nothing has (;vi'r heen constructed liy man more perfec'ly ada|)ted to the 
 purposes rccpiired. A skiri of the toiij^h outer hark of the white hinh, sewed toi^ctiier 
 with die fibrous roots of tiie spruce, tij^iitly stretched over a thin linins^^ ami ribs of 
 cedar, the seams daubed with the resinous j,nini of the pine or tamarack— such is tiu: 
 Indian canoe, lii,du, stroiij^, ami buo\aiit, simply constructed and easil)- rei>aired. 
 Modelled somewhat after tiie fashion of a duck's breast, it Moats like a bubble on the 
 water, and, if not too deeply hulen, will ride safely over seas sutYicient to swamp an 
 ordinary boat. Astonishinjfly easy to i)e upset by a novice, it is, in e.sperienced hands, 
 the safest and most stable of crafts, and it is, of all, the most picturescpie. I-'xcjuisitely 
 jrractiful in form and curvature, the varied oraniLfe and brown of its exterior contrasts 
 brightly witii the transparent reflections of the river. Stealing noiselessly alonjf by the 
 banks, iinder the overhanginjr branches, or aijpearinjr unexpectedly round a point, it 
 forms just the spot of colour, ami touch of life and human interest, which make the 
 wild and lonely sci-ne a picture. 
 
 Between the great Lake Nepigon — .liiiiiiiiiln'ovii, "lake- that you cannot see tlu- end 
 of" — anii tiie jjost at Red Rock, there are four lesser lakes bearing the commonplace 
 names of Helen, Ji'ssy, Maria, and luiima. Till we reached the head of Lake; Jessy 
 the scenery was not what our imagination had conceived. I'roni this point there is no 
 room for disappointment. Passing through the narrow gate by whicii the river Hows 
 into Lake Jessy, we enter an enchanted land. 
 
 We are amongst the trap again, having for some time been in the region of the 
 tamer granite. The stream is deep and swift, flowing in a narrow channel of rock, un- 
 tainted and clear. The lofty walls on either hand undulate, and, jutting out into head- 
 lands, overlap each other, so that we seem to be travelling, link by link, a chain jf 
 beautiful lakelets. The colours of the rocks are most vivid. At a short diste.;ice they 
 are suffused with a iiaze of rose-pink ; on approach we distinguish the different iichens 
 which deck their hanl features in gay colours — orange and yellow, green and gray, in 
 every shade. The exquisitely pure water, the splintered crags lichen-painted, the silver- 
 stemmed birches, aspen-poplars, and balsams crowning the banks conspire to make ideal 
 scenes. 
 
 At Split Rock a mountain of trap rises from the centre of the ri /er-bed, splitting 
 the stream into two branches, for a distance of about a tpiarter of a mile. The water, 
 crowded into two narrow channels, ]jours down on each side of this huge wedge in 
 impassable torrents. As we approach the foot of the rapid the way seems barred to 
 
 iL 
 
rill: CI'I'Kh' I Ih'l-S. 
 
 357 
 
 farther |)rnifrcss. wliilc foam encircles the 
 
 (lixidinij islaml, and llic sheer sloptjs to 
 
 tile ris^ht ami left show little |)r<)S|)ect 
 
 of a practicable pathway. Still our hulians paiUlle 
 
 on. A (lark cliff projects from the left. prolon<,^ecl 
 
 by a little island. Round this an nnexpecti'd eddy sweeps 
 
 our canoe into a tin\- hay, witli a cpiiet lanilinL^r.place, 
 
 The portaLjt' path winds close- to the iirink of the rapid, 
 around trees, ami o\er rocks. Alon^; it, with cautious tread, our ^uitles move lij;htly, 
 under loads which, to an unaccustomed eye, woidd seem incredible. W'e linj^er, for 
 this rippliuL;' pool, partK' shadeil by thick foliaL^i; and just llecked with smili,L^ht, must 
 be the lurkins^-place of trout. !"rom a stone of vanta_ne a tl\- is cast, well o'lt on 
 the stream. .A quick Hash, a littu; whirl on the watiT, and the reel Hies round. .\ 
 bi,s^' trout, in search of a dinner, ilashc's off in short-lived triumph. b'indiuL; himself a 
 capli\e, he tlarts to and fro in terror. Turninij; on his side he ben<ls double, and 
 strives a_i^ain and a^ain to leap from the merciless liru'. A cruel sport, after all, we 
 cannot ludp f(;elin!4', 'i^ with a passinsj; siMise of pity, we hoKl the bendin<,r rod lirm, and 
 wait till the ileath-struiL^Ljlc; of the beautiful crtiature is over. 
 
 Meanwhile a coupK' of canot;s of Lake Nepi5j;on Indians, on their way home from 
 Red Rock, tlu! metropolitan centre of this reyion, ha\e landeil. Most carefully the 
 canoes are beached, ami their contents lifted out. A strappinj; yount; f<llow, with 
 copper-coloured face and long black hair, takes the first load. A large box is th'st 
 
■ i ■ 
 
 258 
 
 PlL TURESQ UE CAi\ ADA. 
 
THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 2^0 
 
 0. 
 
 < 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 a: 
 
 > 
 
 o 
 
 I AMi'iMi i.KDi'.M) .\'i nil; roKiAdi:. 
 
 swuiij;' al liis li.u'k, 1)\- a liroad leather strap wliicii crDsses his forelieail. I'liis scr\-('s 
 for a louiulation. I'lioii it his coinrailes hiy a \\;v^ of llour. one hiimlreil \veii;lil al 
 least. Next comes a roll of hlaiikets, and a iniscel'aneoiis bundle on to|) of all. .\n a.xc 
 is i)iit in his belt, he piiks up his i^un, and off he qoes contentedly, trax'ersiiit;' wit' nit 
 a stinnhle the rocky path which we lind it hard eiiouL^h to pass unincumbered. .\11 the 
 party, nicn and women, are also kulen ; the canoe, turned bottom up and poised upon 
 his shoulders, formiii!.; the last man's load. 
 
 As a matter of convenience the |)i)rtai,a's are iisnalK selected as rampintx-.s^rounds. 
 At the upper eml of this one we pitch our tent in a rarely beautiful spot. The 
 rocks rise hitjh iibout us like the walls of a mountain cafion. Throutfh our lent-iloor 
 we gaze upon a placid pool, in strong contrast with the cataract hard by, whose voice, 
 
I 
 
 |:! 
 
 
 360 
 
 /'/C • ri R USQUE CANADA. 
 
 subilued to a murmur, iiitcnsit'ies tli(' sense of utter stillness sii<rgesteci hy the pool. 
 Tlu' busy riser s(;ems to h;ue turned asiiU? liere for a fcnv moments' meditation, as a 
 Londoner miL,dit turn into .St. Paul's Cathedral. If this l)e a church, those little 
 emerald islands art^ two kneelinsr maidens, and tlu; gaunt pine which just looks in at 
 the entrance is a storm-heaten prodigal, in whose heart the resolve is ilindy forming to 
 arise and go to his father. 
 
 Up str('am wi- make but slow way against the strong currcMit of tin; Xepigon, now 
 helped by the eddies which sweep us up 1k;1ow the bends, now shooting into the cur- 
 rent anil ]il\ing tlu; paddles with ipiick muscular stroke's till wc; pass the jutting point, 
 antl regain our breath in the (piieter pool aboxc. I )(>wn stream we ha\(; less woik aiul 
 n-ore fun. Out in mitl-channel, courting instead of tloilging the current, we glide 
 sMioothly tlown the ripjiling waters, now swiftU', now slowly, pausing to ihiow a ll}' to 
 a big trout in an (^ildy, or lazily watching the pan(;rama of rock and foliage, moss anil 
 lichen, fern and flower, endless in variet\ of colour and enilk'ssly \aried in the mirror 
 below. Lulled b\- a low i-oar, like the sounil of the listant sea, which, growing louder, 
 warns us of a cataract not to be too chjsely approached, we scan the shore for the 
 familiar signs of the portage landing, 
 
 ()\cr a mile and a half of bare, burnt granite kxlges, in the blazing noonday sun, 
 the heavy packs and canoes ha\e been carriinl ; a mile and a half farther across a high 
 hill the portage; still stretches its weary length. W'e reach a small stream which leads 
 into the ri\er pro|)er at a jjoint where, after tossing ad tumbling for a mik; or more 
 in foaming thunder, it is comparatively quiet. Below are two smaller rapids, over 
 which we are tempted to run the canoe and save the rest of thi; portage. Thi; In- 
 dians, who are cautiousness itself, consent to go down light; the packs must be after- 
 wards carried by tlu; j)ath. The canoe is launched again. The lirst rapid is intricate, 
 and dangerous from the sunken rocks and startling passages through which the caiu)e 
 is guided, with unerring skill. Then a widi; still pool, a sharp turn, and a long dark 
 slope, with a while fringe, as to the uu'aning of which there can be no mistaki', at the 
 bottom. The bowman, who has not been here before, looks at it with .sonu' dismay, 
 but it is too late to draw back. He whips off his jacket, (piickly unwinds and regirds 
 his sash, aiul is read)' for a swim. "Sit down low I" is his warning shout. With 
 bateil breath we are glaiK:ing down tlu; swift incline ; with pois<;d ])addles we reach 
 the gr(>at curls which lift their crests where tlu; dark i)urple water breaks into white. 
 In mid-stream they are highest, llashing up in gre'at masses of s|iray, but with a f(;w 
 de.xterous siil(;-strokes of the |)addles, they are avoided, and ahnost l){;fore we; know it, 
 we are tossed safely into the cMx far below the fall. "Very big water" is the pithy 
 remark of the Indian as he looks back at the great white waves, already small in the 
 distance, and points the; bow to the beach at the lower eiul of the; jjortage. 
 
 C'dadlv would we have linoered in summer idienejss upon the lucid stream of beau- 
 
THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 IKil 
 
 tifiil Nepicjon, l)iit other scenes called lis westward slill. Sleaniinj^ out ai^aiii hctween 
 the walls of trap, we jiassed oxer the roiij^h l)ilIows of Superior to Thunder ISa)'. 
 
 Thunder Bay is the most westerly of the i^rt'at inlets whicii have been nientioneil. 
 At its entrance Tlinnder Cape, the extremity of a loiii;, rocky jxninsula, risini^ 
 abruptly if) a height of thirteen huiulred and lift}' feet, is the (;astern janitor of what 
 the Marquis of Lome has named the " SiKer (iate of Lake Superior." iO tiii' west, 
 eighteen or twenty miles across the water, the ilark mass of Mcl\a\'s Mountain 
 looms up. Pie Island lies in the mouth of the bay, like a huge: monitor at anchor. 
 These three gigantic upheavals dominate the scene. They sit in niassi\e dignity, 
 superior to all surrounding objects, like the three emperors, each with a cloudy crown 
 about his brow. .As we entered the bay on a glofimy and tem|)(stuous moining, 
 Thunder Cape stood out against a fierce red sky. Ragged chnids out of tlie north- 
 west trailed across his forehead. .\ tit abode it setMninl for the storm-spirit, this cloud- 
 canopied bay, with its three grim sentinels half wrapped in creeping mists. 
 
 Thundei Cape from the south-west has the outlines of a couchant lion, the highest 
 elevation forming the head and 
 breast, while a spur of lesser 
 height forms the llank. But 
 \iewed in profile from the 
 nortii or south, tiie ridgi; has 
 the appearance of a sleeping 
 giant. .About this colossal form 
 float many vague legends, of 
 
 SHOOlliNHi TUK K.MVDS. 
 
 1 
 
262 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 
THE UPPER f.Ak'ES. 
 
 36| 
 
 iTp... 
 
 ^is*,rfS?ie?fifi^sa:.;aii4iaiis^ 
 
 TllK SLKKl'lNG GIAM. 
 
 U 
 a. 
 < 
 O 
 
 a 
 
 which it is almost impossible to obtain from the Indians a connected acconnt. It is 
 agreed that the giant who lies there with his face to tlie sky, like a niarl)le knight 
 upon his tomb, is one Ninnabijoii — the Xanabush or Manabozho referred to in the 
 introduction to the "Jesuits in Nortii America" — an ()jibwa\' Hercules who performed, 
 before his lamented demise, many remarkable feats of prowess. As to iiow he came 
 to make Thunder Cape his last resting-place, the authorities differ. However that 
 may be, the giant who there sleeps the sleep which the sun rising over him each morn- 
 ing will never disturb, will remain to the citizens of the town which is growing up on 
 the shore of Thunder Bay, a memorial of the race who unce iiekl undisputed sway 
 over forest and stream. 
 
 McKay's Mountain, though not so lofty as the Cape, is ([uite as prominent a fea- 
 ture in the landscape. It lifts its huge bulk into the sky, from the right bank of the 
 Kaministicjuia River, like Behemoth coming out of the wat"r to sun himself. We 
 fO'ved .some distance up the bay from Prince Arthur's Landing, to the mouth of Cur- 
 rent River, and took a good look at McKay, ten miles off. How solidK he stands, 
 immovable as one of the pillars of the earth ; and yet McKay and all this iron-ribbed 
 coast were once a mist as impalpable as the level plain of clouds above. F-\-en now 
 the mountain slowly but certainly moves to dissolution. The very cloud which he him- 
 self begets feeds upon him ; every rain-drop helps to eat away some particle ; the 
 winter-frost delights in the sport of gnawing big fragments from iiis sides. The les- 
 son of these mighty rock-masses is, after all, not one of permanence, but of decay. 
 
Il 
 
 
 .^64 
 
 PIC I URIiSQLIi CLWI/Kl. 
 
 'I'lu'V all proclaim llial the true suhstancc is not that whicli meets the eye and han< 
 HiL'se liiinj^s ire shadows, all in their time to melt into ■thin air," nntil at length, 
 
 Tlir < liniil-cipprd lowers, the ;,'cirj;iMiiis iLiUici-s, 
 'I'lie solemn leni|iles, the jjieat ^lolie itsell, 
 Ve.i. all uliiel) il inliciil, sli.ill ilissolvi'. 
 Anil, liki' .111 insnh^l:lnll,ll |i:i^i'.nil laileii, 
 Leave nol a laik lieliinil. 
 
 Prince .Xrthiir's l.andinj^-, so named hy tl)e ol'l'icers of Colonel \\'olsele\'s expedition 
 to the l-ied l-vix'er settlement in iSjo, is a town of twelve hundi'ed |)eopl<' and larj^c 
 li()|)cs, lietween the l.andinL; and the town i)lot of I'Ort W'il'iam, nnce intended for 
 the Lake Stipeiioi- terminus of the Canadian Pacific Railwa\', there exists a deailly 
 ri\alr\, 1 he formei- stands on llu' nortii shor(; of I'hundi'r Ini\', nn j^round that rises 
 t^radiialU, and otters an exci-llent sitt- for a cit\'. W iiat ihere is of th<: ])lace is Ijiisi- 
 ncss-liki'. The si.x niiit's of railway which conntHt it with tlu; Canadian Pacific road at 
 the Kaministiquia, were orij^inallx' huilt hy the jjcopk: of the town. llii- Landinjr 
 will prohahly iiecome one of the chief summer walt:riin;-places of the people of Mani- 
 toba and the West — a spot when; they may meet, amid beautiful sc(;nery and Ijracing 
 air, their fellow-countr\nien of the l^ast. 
 
 One fori^cts that the l.aiuliiiL;' is within the limits of Ontario, over 700 miles from 
 tlu! cajiital of the I'roxince. as it is, IIk; ideas of th(! people are not tiiose of 
 ()ntario, Minint;' is the chief topic of conversation, and the expix'ted sinirce of wealth. 
 |nst outsitle of 1 hunder Cai)e the traveller sei's a few wooclen structures stanilin^ on a 
 pier or crib about a mile from the shore. This is the famous Silver Islet, originally a 
 few fe(;t of rock abo\ (^ the surface of the lake;, oderiiiL;' the oid)' a\'enu'; ol approach 
 to vast stores of hiilden wealth. Ten years ajj^o an e.xca\ation was made in the little 
 ])rotrusi()n of rock, which disclosed a rich pocket of sil\-er The lumps of ipiartz first 
 taken out. seamed with siUxM" ore, stM-vt:d, for the time, in the construction of criijs, 
 to protect tlu; mouth of the shaft from the inroatls of the wa\es, l'"arth(.'r mininjf 
 revealeil the fact that, under tlu' water, there was a siher mine of unknown extent and 
 value. Thrift; million dollars in siKcr came out of it in the first ten years, thouifh 
 the expenses of workiiiL;' and protecting' the; mine are said to have about e(|ualled that 
 sum. To-day the roof of th(; mine contains a fortune in silver, which — oh, bitterness 
 to the cupidity of man 1 cannot be touched without adinittint,^ the waters of Lake 
 -Superior, to the conclusion of all farther op(;rations. Mining; locations ami prospect- 
 ini^s. (juartz and blende, am\,t;ilaloid ;ind mica, occupy a lar^c space in tiii; thonj^hts 
 of most of the Landin;^ ijcoijIc. We found three siKcr mines in active operation, 
 with any numijer of aljandoiu'd shafts. What the extent of the sil\-er deposit on the 
 
THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 365 
 
 THUNUKR BAY. 
 
 north shore may be it is impossiljle to jriicss. The world may be dazzled some day 
 by the discoveries of sani^iiine "prospectors" whom one is sure to meet in the 
 country. I'p tf) this, howt;ver, the universal experience has been that there is nothintj 
 truer than the Siianish proverb, " It takes a mine to work a mine." 
 
 I'rom Prince Arthur's Landin;^ west to Pii.,reon River — the boundary between our 
 own country anil the United States — the coast is particularly bold and irregular. One 
 
 01 
 
266 
 
 riC Tl RESQl E CANADA. 
 
 afternoon we steamed away westward in one of tlic tiii^s wliicli afford the speediest 
 means of local transit in this rejjion. Our way led ns lirst to I'ic Island, a chain of 
 unshapely traj) upheavals, increasing,' in heiijht till, in the V'w. proper, 900 or i,cxx) 
 feet are attained. To those- who connect the idea of "pie" with the llat and some- 
 what deleterious construction held in esteem hy our American kinsfolk, or the "dee|i" 
 apple pie whose recesses the l'',ni,dishman explores with zest, there is ;it tirst ;i diffi- 
 culty in tracin^f any identity i)etW(H'n a pie ;ind the cistern-shaped mass of rock 
 in Thunder Bay. Hut in time it dawns upon us that the mutton or pork-pie is that 
 variety of the species which led the French to name the Island " I.e pate," and the 
 Enjjlish to adopt the ])resiMit title. At a distance the hase of I'itr Isl.ind scmiis to be 
 thickly clothed with hrushwood. On approach we t'md this to he a dense forest of 
 birch and pojilar. The ^•ertical cohunns of rock rise sheer for a height of four 
 hundred feet, out of the usual confused mass of (h'hris. A j;ray cloud suddenly 
 
 I 
 
 THK DliSKRTKl) MINE. 
 
////: ri'I'liR LAKHS. 
 
 267 
 
 wreaths itself alxmt llic sninniit, and almost as suddenly vanishes a\\a\-. The trap up 
 to the lop is of a dark ^^ray colour, wilii nddish stains like spots of iron rust. These 
 are really the colouring,' of tht; tiny orange liihm which «kes out a hunilile existence 
 on tile rocks on ail sides. We know that the Ljreat spots of red which I)rij,diten the 
 sombre face of the- Pie nine hundred feet from its base, are lonsiiiuted of myriad tiny 
 
 CAMP ON VICTOKIA ISLAND. 
 
 plants, sha]jed like coral, each one tlisplayin;^ inimitable workmanship. Mow wonderful 
 is this exquisite particularit)' and tinish in every detail of nature's work, thouj.^h eye of 
 man may never rest upon it ; and how vain to imagine that man's deliirlit alone is 
 consulted in the glory of creation ! This tin\ plant that clino;s to the tlark rock so 
 far beyond our reach, teaches us that the reilm of nature ministers not only pleasure 
 to created beings, but to the Creator that joy which the artist feels in his work when 
 he sees that it is gootl — that joy which would never have been in the mind of Raphael 
 and Turner had it not first been in the mind of God. 
 
 Steaming away from the Pie, and looking back, we see it turbaned again w ith 
 gray cloud, though the sky is quite clear above. In a few moments there is \ shift in 
 the sun's rays, and an immediate change passes over the mountain. The gray cloud 
 becomes pure white ; the rock from green and gray becomes a sotnbre black. Another 
 shift, and in an instant the green and gray again appear ; the effect is just that which 
 
!bS 
 
 ricri'KESQiih: CAiwm \. 
 
 is proiliiccil l)y placin;^' ^lass slides of different colours between an object and the elec- 
 tric lij^lit. It is a fascinatini,' occuMation to watcli tlie play of the siinli,t,du on any one 
 of the three imperial guardians of Tluindcr K.iy. We have si.'cn McKay sUuuling a 
 uniform mass of deep purple aijainst thi- sky ; through a sudden rent in tin- clouds a 
 stream of sunlight is poureil upon iiis forehead ; here and lluri' Mts of gra\' rock, with 
 the vertical lines distinctly traced, siiim- out, and gray and black lake llic |)lacc of ihc 
 purple; the sun at length draws near his setting, and dyeing the niounlain in rose 
 pink, causes him to mingle with the golden curtains which minister to his poup as he 
 retires to rest. 
 
 Leaving the solemn Pie to enter with sn( h serious decency as it may into the 
 sportive intentions of the sun, we proceed under precipitous forest-clad shores and by 
 numerous beautiful bays to Victoria Island, a few miles from the boundary. Here, at 
 nine o'clock at night, transferreil from tug to canoe, we gro|)e our way into a cpiiet 
 inlet, at the end of which the wash of the water has depijsitc.'il a sandy beat h. The 
 canoe is drawn ashore. Jean I'ierre, our guide, anil his faithful assistant, an Indian 
 lad of phenomenal ugliness whom we have named Orson, search for some lirch-bark 
 and soon kindle a lire. It crackles and blazi.'s merriU', deepening the suiTounding 
 darkness and thereby intensifying the comfort of its own cheerful glare. The shivering 
 alders seem to gather in closer to warm themselves at the pleasant blaze. A level 
 space is selected for our t(;nt ; the hatchets ring, as tlu; tent-pole and p( gs are cut. 
 When the tent is spread how bright the- interior, wiih the firelight glancing through 
 the canvas walls! and what a bed for a king the twigs of the aromatic balsam make! 
 We are truly scarry for the man who has not the opportunity of speiu'ing a fortnight 
 in "camping out," thai lu. may get a taste of that life "under the green-wooil tree" 
 which the good duke in. the forest of Artlen conunemls so feelingly. 
 
 At the mouth of the bay where we are encamped, there is an ishuul more beau- 
 tiful than anytiiing we have seen on the north shore, and yet there are iloubtless 
 many like it in this emlless panorama of beauty, ilef\ing descriptive capacity of pen 
 or pencil; awakening thoughts that lie loo deep for tears; lilling llie mind with thank- 
 fulness, humility and awe, as they suggest infinite design, and power, and goodness. 
 This island is a ruin. The deep gashes in ils sides; the huge boulders strewn in the 
 water at ils feet, or clinging loosely about its summit, threatening to tiunble at a 
 breath; the uprooted trees entangled one with another, and hanging headlong down 
 the cliff, all speak of ruin. Hut it is ruin softened ami silvered b)' the hand of age. 
 Gray mosses droop from the boughs of the dead cedars, and lichens silver-graj' and 
 pale gold, deck the rock in mild splendour. Mosses cushion every jutting point and 
 promontory. And out of the decay, like the new life from hopes that are dead, a 
 bright young vegetation springs. The mountain ash and spruce lift a glory of tender 
 green above their fallen companions; the alder thrives in the fissures, and a modest 
 
THH Uri'HH LAKES. 
 
 3(.<(; 
 
 l>liu' (lowLTct h(!r<' and llicrc finds a liomc, wIktc it lilonms i-ontiMitcilly. on llif li: \\ 
 siirfaci" of till' rock itself. 
 
 On oMf side, lh(! island, so tilofincnt in its silent beauty, meets tlu' mil sweep of 
 Lake Superior. I lie winds have swe|)t tlie liiLjh rliffs almost clean of muss and 
 folia^^e, and ^reat s(|uari' houlders h.ire of lichen show how \\'vj}\ liie v aves reach. 
 
 Sli.iUeriii^ (III lil.ick liliicks tlitlr liii.iillli ol llitiiiiliT. 
 
 A vein of (|nart/, promising; sil\-er, has in somi' past da)- ind iced mining operations 
 on Victoria Islaml, which, how(JVtr. have not led lo anNthini; Iml an excav.ition re- 
 semhlin^;' a natural cave. ()ut of this, with minds |irol)al)ly in a l)ai)|)ier frame than 
 those whose unprolitable lahour le.i\-es its record here, we j^a/eil, as from a window, 
 upon our own peaceful encampment and the shelieretl hay. I hen liiddini,^ adieu to 
 this wonder-land we folded our tents and turned our canoe eastwanl to the mouth of 
 th(! Kaniinistif|iiia. 
 
 \'ast as Laki; Superior is, coverini^ with water an area of some ,^2,000 scpiarc 
 miles, it drains a comparativcl)- small extent of lerriior\-, antl is fed i)y n(j j^reat 
 river. The Nepi^ron is the larj^cst of its streams; the Kaministicpiia next in im- 
 portance ; and both (jf these are navii^ablc by lari.,^; vessels for only a few miles. 
 The Kaministiciiiia enters Thunder Hay a short distance south of I'rince .Nrthur's 
 l.andin"^ by three mouths, its princip.il attraction to tom-ists consists in the beauti- 
 ful falls, which, jjy a stranijc- perversion of the true title, have come to bear the 
 name- of the Kakaljeka l'"alls, , 
 
 To visit these falls and make the acnuaintance of the Kaministiquia, we took 
 jiassaj^e on a consti'uction train of the Canadian Pacific Railway at the Lanilinjr. 
 A mile or two from the \ illat,^! a powder-car. containinij ten tons of pure oil of 
 nitro-ij^lycerine, was coupled to our train, caiisini^ a perce|)tible sensation anionj^st the 
 passeni^ers. Nitro-<j;lycerine is not a pleasant tra\ellin<j^ companion under the most 
 favourable circumstances, still less on a partially constructed railway on which the 
 cars, in the expressive dialect of the rail, induli^e in the sport of " playinj^r on their 
 bearin^fs." From the Landinjj; for several miles the I'acific Railway runs through the 
 low flat valley of th<; Kaministicpiia. The scenery is uninterestintj, but the soil ijives 
 promise of <rood agricultural returns. At the Town Plot of I'ort William, we come 
 upon the dark river washing the base of McKay's Mountain. Some miles farther on 
 we touch the river again, and look down upon it flowing swifll)- between high wooded 
 banks. Where the railway bridge crosses the stream, near its junction with a tribu- 
 tary named the .Mattawan, we take leave of the train antl the- nitro-glycerine, and 
 embark upon the water. 
 
 We are now one hundred and flftv feet or more above the level of the lake. 
 
 
J70 
 
 PIC TUKHSQ Uli L A AA DA. 
 
/•///; rrriiR i.anhs. 
 
 a;! 
 
 i 
 3 
 
 ON THI". KAMIMSTIOL'IA. 
 
 TlifTf is notliintx strikinj^ in the first 
 
 seven or cij^lit miles below the bridge, 
 
 althouijli th(' riv(;r winds prettily. 
 
 We descend numerous rapids, some 
 
 merely strong currents, otiu-rs having 
 
 a considerable fall. The water is 
 
 low, and the canoe requires skilful management. Though th(! descent is slower it is 
 
 more exciting, as there is constant danger of a smash-up u|)on llu; boulders whicli 
 
 protrude on all sides. Haptiste, a grizzled half-breed, is in command, and excites our 
 
 
272 
 
 y'/crrA'/:soi7: c.i\.i/).i. 
 
 admiration 1)\ liis iiiana)fcmt!nt. He knows tlic nicanini; of cxcry swirl a"il ri|)])l(' 
 in tin- stream. C'lianncls wliich in\itc tlic iinwarx' l)\' tiirir smooth hut trcaclicroiis 
 
 ic a 
 
 \()i(ls for otlurs wliicii oftc 
 
 il 
 
 ircatrnmi 
 
 anil impassaliU 
 
 Imiocrnt- 
 
 lookin<'' circli's on liic water turn out to lie houKlers, whose ions are hareh' wet 
 
 l^aptisle, witii a stroni. 
 
 !• 
 
 )k 
 
 P 
 stands ni)ri''ht in liie liow, and coolh- aiul skilftdiv 
 
 i^uides us in a diivioiis I'ourse between thi' roeks. Sometimes he cheeks tlie spi-ed of 
 the cano(! ; sometimes holds her still in the swift eurrenl, whili' he deliln'rately looks 
 aheatl for a praclieahle eourse. iiy a slight motion of the hand or head he siqiiifies 
 
 )mmanils to Pi'^rre, who uses a paddle in the stern 
 
 U' e.\|)e(lition sits ipiiet. 
 
 There is work here which we know nolhintj about, and for the time our veil brothers 
 
 are our supi-riors. 
 
 W 
 
 e are eaijcr a 
 
 n.l 
 
 itchful. A 
 
 false stroke, a 
 
 n I'rror o 
 
 judjrment, means a wrecked canoe, ba^j^ai^e s( 
 
 )akeii and 
 
 rh; 
 
 ost, a plim^<' into 
 
 the hoilun. 
 
 fall. 
 
 an( 
 
 1 possibK' sonu'lhiu!^ more serious. W i' trust 15a|)tiste implicitlj'. 
 
 A I 
 
 )me ol the rapi 
 
 (Is we 
 
 ire compelled to list- 
 
 tl 
 
 u; nortai'c, am 
 
 I at 
 
 a place where 
 
 the river is straitened in a re. ky cleft throui^h which it suri^cs impettioiisK-, \\v. haul 
 our canoe ashori^ and pass the nis;hl. The ne.\t day we reach the falls. 
 
 \V 
 
 liavc! sail 
 
 I that " Kakaix'ka " is a 
 
 fr( 
 
 per\('rsion ; tlu' true n.ime. as iinpiiry 
 om our intelli_t;cnt t;uides taught us, is " Kakapikank," the a's haviiiL; the soiiiul of 
 nc, as in Chippewa. The name sis^nities " hioh fall"; it is e\identl\- the same word 
 
 ierrc! assures us that there is no such word as " Kakabeka " in 
 
 as C< 
 the I 
 
 ink. Jean I 
 
 ndian tonijiie 
 
 white man can i sa\- it rnjut 
 
 th.it is the ori>'in of tl 
 
 itak 
 
 The f;i 
 
 itself 
 
 IS as 
 
 beautiiul as aiulhiii'' on tln' continent. 
 
 'I'll 
 
 e ri\cr meets a 
 
 vast barrier of slat( 
 
 (ucr which It tumbles into a chasm lut out ol tlu> roc 
 
 f th 
 
 L-k 1)\' th 
 
 unceasiiiir llow of a<'<'s. .\l the ton of the cliff th,' water, ilhnv.ined i)\' the sun. 
 
 comes to the vd'j^v in a band ol purple and 
 
 r 
 
 lence It (tescciul.s a hemht ol 
 
 III or 
 
 c than a hundred feet, a mass of cream\', IKhcn' fo-.m, not to be ilescri 
 
 ibed I: 
 
 y 1' 
 
 or brush, 
 
 AloTiy llic rlill ID l.ill, niul p.uif.i- ..iiul l.ill, ilnl scfin. 
 
 :i I 
 
 
 One may sit by the hour siiell-boimd and study the motion ami colour of this 
 wondrous creation. 1 he loam is softer in a|i|)ear,uice than the linesl wool, more trans- 
 lucent than alabaster, and behind it iIk more solid mass of lallinj.; water is seen. b\- 
 i;'>ams aiul llashos, in colour and transparency like the purest amber. The spra)' from 
 the fool of the fall does not rise, as at Niagara, in a slumberous cloud. It shoots 
 into the air at a sharj) antjie with immense \-elocity and repeatetl shocks ol ihiMuler, 
 jriviiiL; tlu; imiiression of a series of tremendous explosions. This peciiliarit)' is due 
 to the fact tiiat tlu; wat(;r falls ii|)on a hard stratum of rock, from which it is dashed 
 iipwartls in smoke, as from a floor of marble, ;\s our linL;erin_!^ jj^a/e rests n])oii the 
 
/•///:■ ('/>/'/■: K i..iki-:s. 
 
 273 
 
 leisure down tht- stream. 
 
 fall at som(! distance, the soft, wliilo 
 tliiiii; looUs a (lillciciu older ol 
 l)ein!4 from the surly rot ks lo whieh 
 it is thaiiu'd. Doomed to dwell in 
 a roik\' |)rison, whiih it deiUs in 
 verdant beauty \\i'!'. pu riad eool 
 tillers, it is sister lo the raini)0\v 
 wliicli, e\cr aiul anon, comes out 
 of tlie luiscen world to \isit it. 
 
 Cainpinj;'. tisliiiii;, sketchiii};, and 
 ametliystdiiintini^, we proceed at our 
 At one cami)injj-jjr()und we tind tlie frame ot an Indian 
 
74 
 
 ]'IC TURF.SOVF. CANADA. 
 
 
 i:i ii 
 
 vapour-bath. A blanket, thrown ov(m- the frame so as to 
 exckitle the air, a vess(-l of water, some stones heated in the 
 tire, and a piece of brush to sjjrinkle the water on the hot 
 stones, are the adjuncts necessary to complete this pr-mitive 
 sanitary apparatus. JM-om this point a portatje of four or 
 five miles brouj^ht us to a charming scene. Kmerj^inir sud- 
 denly from the woods, a prospect quite different in character 
 from anythinif which the ru!i;i,fed country affords else- 
 where, broke upon us at a moment's notice. We stood 
 on the edffe of a bluff some eitjhty feet 
 iii>j;h. At our fei-t the wayward ri\i;r took 
 the shape; of a perfect letter S. In one circle, 
 it embraced a lovely park-like promontory, 
 beautifully wooded witli tlroopinjr elms. In 
 the other circle lay I'ointe de Meuron, some 
 farm-buildiui^s antl ;i field of ripeniui^ wheat 
 on its well-sunn(-'d slope. This brijj^ht home- 
 like spot was framed l)y the bristiins^ forest 
 antl the purple hills, McKa)' on the Hank 
 overtopping all. 
 
 Pointe de Meuron commemorates in its 
 name the stirring events of by-gone days. 
 It is so called from some soldiers of the " de 
 Meuron" regiment in the ser\iceof tin; Ivirl 
 
 of Selkirk, stationed iiere by that nobleman in the year 1816. to farm and trade. 
 The de Meuron regiment was formed principally of Germans and Piedmontese who 
 iiad been forced to act as conscripts in the army of lionaparte. They subsequently 
 served in the Hritisii army, under Col. de Meuron, and being disbanded at the close 
 of the Peninsular war, a number of them joined the Karl of Selkirk as settlers for his 
 new settlement in the Red Ri\er country. Kow came the de Meuron soldiers to found 
 a station on this remote river.'' The (juestion can be answered by a reference to the 
 history of the mouldering Hudson's Hay post, a few miles down the river, known as 
 Fort William. This place was once the busy headquarters of the Nor'west Company. 
 The struggles between tli<' adventurers of Hudson's Bay and the Nor'west Company, 
 more jiarticularly in reference to the settlement of the Red River country by Lord 
 Selkirk, representing th(; older corporation, are facts of history. In 1816, the mild and 
 just Governor Semple, of the Hudson's May Company, was killed at the Red River, 
 with a number of his associates, and the settlement, for the second time, laid waste. 
 Lord Selkirk heard of these events at Sault Ste. Marie while on his way to his new 
 
 
 INDIAN VAl'UfR HATH. 
 
THE UPPER LAKES. 
 
 275 
 
 land of promise. He also heard that some of his Red River people had been 
 brought down to j-ort William, and were held as prisoners, and that the leading spirits 
 of the Nor'west Company were likewise there. To Fort William he therefore directed 
 his course. In iiis capacity of a magistrate he issued warrants against his enemies, 
 arrested them, and by tiie help of his de Meuron soldiers took possession of the 
 fort. The captive Nor'westers were sent to York, and from thence to Ouebec to be 
 tried for implication in the Red River massacre. 
 
 The weeds tlourish peacefully in the court of the deserted fort. Lillle here to 
 remind us of the days when tlu: great traders met to lay liieir plans aiul cast up their 
 profits, and made the rafters of the big dining-hall ring with their jovial fellowship. 
 " To behold the Nor'west Company 
 in all its state and grandeur," sajs 
 
 Washington Irving, in his . .^ ■j-. .. ^ ^SHMf '^■ 
 
 pleasant style, " it was 
 necessarv to witness an 
 annual gathering at the 
 great interior place of 
 
 
 CANADA PACIFIC KAU-WAV— KAMINISTIQUIA KIVER. 
 
 conference established at Fort William, near what is called the Grand Portage, on 
 Lake Superior. Here, two or three of the leading partners from Montreal pro- 
 ceeded onc^ a year to meet the partners from the various trading-posts of the 
 wilderness, to discuss the affairs of the Company during the pn'ceding year, and to 
 

 276 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 arrange plans for the future. On these occasions might be seen the change since 
 the unceremonious times of the old French traders ; now the aristocratical character of 
 the Briton shone forth magnificently, or rather the feudal spirit of the Highlander. 
 Every partner who had charge of an interior post, and a score of retainers at his com- 
 mand, felt like the chieftain of a Highland clan, and was almost as important in the 
 eyes of his retainers as of himself. To him a visit to the grand conference at Fort 
 William was a most important event, and he repaired there as to a meeting of Par- 
 liament. Such was the Nor'west Company in its powerful and prosperous days, when 
 it held a kind of feudal sway over a vast domain oi lake and forest. * * * * 
 When as yet a stripling youth, we have sat at the hospitable boards of the mighty 
 North-westers, the lords of the ascendant at Montreal, enga,i;;ed with wondering and in- 
 experienced eye at the baronial wassailing, anil listened with astonished ear to their 
 tales of hardship and adventures. * * * '"' The feudal state of Fort William is at 
 an end ; its council chamber is silent and deserted ; its banquet hall no longer echoes 
 to the burst of loyalty or to the ' auld world ditty'; the lords of the lakes and foiests 
 have passed away, and the hospitable magnates of Montreal — where are they ? " 
 
 The glory of the great fur-traders has departed. Their vast nionopol)- is broken 
 up ; the husbandman, true lord of the soil, is entering upon their ancient hunting- 
 grounds. Those parallel bo'-ds of iron stretching away to the west proclaim that a 
 mighty revolution is in progress. The gray hunter, full of memories of wild days gone 
 by, shall soon hear the trains of the Canadian Pacific rumble past Fort William, and 
 see a vision of golden harvests and smiling homesteads on the once desolate plains 
 where he followed the buffalo. 
 
' W^I*i*ff.,l!S*->SiW»J»!!*IJ*WW<fW^ 
 
 1l»*!»HWi)»<|PW" '^ 
 
 Q 
 
 o 
 o 
 > 
 
 i nr 
 
The North-west: 
 
 MANITOBA. 
 
 I 
 
 Q 
 O 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 1 
 
 tN^y- 
 
 ^M 
 
 ;r^f' 
 
 pi^' 
 
 •^a*. ,^? 
 
 r^iS»r»«a(,*.^::-».< 
 
 h'*SK 
 
 
 ^'ic, 
 
 
 lllE MktilN I'KAlKlli. 
 
 ■;/]' 
 
 ^1 
 
 .♦'t I,'-.-. 
 
 i*-'A 
 
 -♦VV:I 
 
 ,^!' 
 
 277 
 
 'Iw^ C!^ '^'^'" ^^^' li.'x\'(' been dealin"' with a 
 
 ' \ ^-"^ Canada known to nion from the days of 
 
 Champlain. We now come to New Canada. 
 
 Regions, long supposed to he imder the; lock 
 
 and key of eternal frost anil snow, or at best 
 
 fit home only for buffalo and beaxer, mink antl marten, 
 
 are being revealed as boundless prairies and plains, of 
 
 e.xhaustless fertility, ready for tlie plough. In 1S12, 
 
 _ . Lord Selkirk, a pairiot who lived half a century too 
 
 soon, declared that the valley of thi; Reil Ri\er of the 
 
 North would yet maintain a population of thirty millions. 
 
 And beyond that valley stretches awaj' to the nortli-west a 
 
 breadth of fertile land, in the shape of an immense trapezoid, 
 
I' I 
 
 2-8 
 
 PIC TURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 whosL- apex is ItmiiKicI l)y the ilistant Mackenzie, that possesses all the conditions 
 necessary to n-ar a ii< althy ami liardy race. Now, at lent^th, the eyes of millions in 
 old and new lands arc Xwmv^ tnrntHJ to this Circater Canada.. A movement or swarm- 
 inj,r of men is scltini; in, similar to those migrations of nations that in former times 
 determined the hisior\' of the worlil. Already, 
 
 i ir- 
 
 'We lii'.ir llu' 1 r.iil ol pidiiccrs of iialiims yet to lie, 
 Tlu' lirsl liiw wash of waves wIrtc soon shall roll a liiimaii se.i." 
 
 1 
 
 ^i! 
 
 Before lon!^^ Winnipeg; will he more popnions than Ottawa, or, its citizens 
 would sa\. than roroiiio ; liie Saskatchewan, a mori' important factor in Cana- 
 dian developmi'iit than the St. Lawrence; anil the route from Hudson's Bay 
 to Liverpool perl.aps as well istablisheil as the beate'U path from Montreal and 
 Ouehec. 
 
 Let us pa)' a triljute to the tirsl whitt; man who tra\flled and traded along the 
 Winnipei^'. R(nl, Assinehoine and .Saskatchewan Rixcrs. Here again, a Irenchman leads 
 the roll of iliose whose portraits Canadians should hang up in their National (ialler)-, and 
 honour from age to age. Pierre C.iuhier ile X'artMine, .Sieur de la X'erendrye, tU^serves 
 as pi-omiiuiu a |)lace in connection with the North-west as Champlain occupies in the 
 annals of Lower Canaila. Cadet of a noble hrench family, the enchantments of an 
 uiuxplored continent allured him to the Ni-w World. In 1 72S, while in command of a 
 trading-post at Lake Nepigon, he heard from Imlians of a ri\er that lloweil to the 
 West. The same \ision that had dazzk'd and inspired the sixtt'enth and sevi'nteenth 
 ceniurv e.\|ilori'rs lay and clerical — of a passage by the inti'rior to die Crami Ocean, 
 ami thence to the wonders of Cathay, entered into the stuily of his imagination. ^L 
 de Lxauharnois, who, from tin- castle of St. Louis ruled over New I'rance, ga\e him 
 \crbal encouragement and exclusive rights to the fur trade of whatsoever regions 
 he should discover. Hut neither tlu; (ioxernor nor the King of i'rance had any money 
 tf) spare for the enter|>rise of o|)ening up the coimtry west t)f Lake .Superior. The 
 labour and the expense fell on the man who had conceiveil the project, and who was 
 tl(;termined to carry it out. because it would nnlound to the glory of I'rance. Only 
 they who know by (experience something of what is involved in disco\ering new coun- 
 tries can estimate aright his dangi-r and success. The men who made their waj' to 
 " the great lone land " (|uart(M- of a century ago can form some idea of what he ac- 
 complished. Starting either from Nepigon or Thunder Bay, we soon come to the 
 height of land that divides the Lake .Superior tributaries from the streams running 
 north and west, i leic. a wilderness of interlaced lakes or rather huge tarns, in granite 
 basins, fringed with forest, divides the country with primitive rock and almost bottom- 
 less muskegs. Over this vast region silence and desolation reign supreme. A semi-arctic 
 
77//f .VOA' rii-wi-.sT: .)/. \\i ion. I. 
 
 '■79 
 
 ■;J.!'*" 
 
 vviiUur clings to it for si;vcii luoiuhs of tlic year. C'aiiocini^ westward for hiiiulrcds of miles 
 
 1)\' me U1S ol one ol ilic sirinos ol lakdils jiiul lacus- 
 trine ri\crs, tlial eMend vast distances to tlie west, 
 carryinL; their siipplies across innuineraMe iiUer- 
 vt-niiij; portaj^es, N'ereiuirye ami his sons ri'aciied 
 
 M 
 
 '^U 
 
 .■ixi. 
 
 r;.^ 
 
 FALLS OP THK WINNII'KG. 
 
 Rainy River and the Lake of the Woods. 
 This beautiful lake which has been the 
 startin_[r-point for a houndary line in e\ery 
 treaty that has ever been made between 
 Great Britain and the United States - has on one side a thousand 
 
 "■^W'^ 
 
 mi 
 
 les of dark forest, 
 
 
28o 
 
 riCTURhlSOLE C.W.lD.l. 
 
 forbitUliii^j miiskejf and I.aiircntian rocks, and on iIk; other sidt; a thousand miles of 
 fertile alluvial. X'erendrye built forts on its shores and islets, and made these the base for 
 his journeys to the i)oundless plains that lie between the I'pper Missouri and the North 
 Saskatchewan. Mis four sons and nepiuw went at his bitldinj; in every direction, estab- 
 lishinjf a ^'reat fur-tradins,^ orj^^anization over the whole of the North-west, in order thereby 
 to tjain the means of prosecutinjf discovery still farther. " lie marched and maih; us 
 march," they said, "in such a way thai \\v should have reached our i^oal, wherever it 
 mij^ht be found, had we bieii bctlcr aided." They penetrated in (me din'dion to tiie 
 Saskatchewan and the Athabasca, and in another to the Missouri and tlie N'ellowstone, 
 beinjj the first to discover the country that Lewis and Clark, in tlic bej,rinnin^ of the 
 nineteenth centur)', with a nuiu<r()us troop in tlie pa)' of tlic Inileil .States (iovern- 
 ment, became celebrated for re-discoverini;-. .So far west diii they force their way that 
 they saw at last, in the far distance, the lonj,^ sil\(r-tip|)ed raii^e of the Rocky Moun- 
 t.iin:., from the lops of which they were sure that the western sea could be beheld. 
 Hut, just as they couj^rratulated themselves that success was within their j^rasp, their 
 tickle Indian allies, dreadini^r an attack from other tribes, forced them to turn back. 
 Troubles accumulated on tlu- heail of the yallant I'Venchman. One son, a Jesuit priest 
 his companion, and a party of twenty-one men, were massacred by the Siou.x on an 
 island of the Lake of the Woods. At the same time, he heard of the death of his 
 nephew, who had been his rigiit luuul from the bej^nnning of the enterprise. Why 
 recount his ilisappointments ? V'erendrye died eleven years before New Lrance was 
 ceded to Great Britain. When kings, intendants or ministers neglect heroes, their own 
 end is not far off. 
 
 The Lake of the Woods has been long famed for its beauty. E.\cept towards the 
 soutii-west, where a wide "traverse" of open water makes the Lulian scan the sky 
 before he ventures out in his canoe, it is so filled with islands that to the tourist it 
 appears a wondrously beautiful river rather than a lake. Land and forest are near and 
 round him all the time. In some places fires, thoughtlessly left burning at camps, have 
 swept over the islets, revealing the gneissoid rocks — unpromising to the husbandman — 
 of wiiicli they are composed. But enough are left in all their varied beauty of form and 
 colour to make a sail from Rainy River down to Rat Portage as charming as a sail among 
 "the Thousand Islands" of the .St. Lawrence. Gliding over the unruffled waters, the eye 
 gets fairly cloyed with picture after picture of a somewhat monotonous type of sylvan 
 beauty. At Rat Portage, the River Winnipeg issues from the lake in two divisions. 
 The railway from Lake Superior to Manitoba crosses the river here, bridging each 
 division just above the Falls. The traveller who has taken the train at Thunder Bay 
 now gets a glimpse of the beautiful, after hundreds of miles of unutterable dreariness. 
 He is near the dividing-line of the Laurentian and the alluvial regions ; and before 
 he bids farewell to the Laurentides they burst into scenes of rare picturesqueness. 
 
'/ ///: .\ V Vv' Til- J! '/:S '/ • .• . I/. / . \ / 70/LI. 
 
 381 
 
 At the i-astcrn fall, the river, comprcssod between heautifiilly-staiiK-d }j;ranit<! rocks_ 
 rushes iiu|)etn()iisly into a hoiliiij,' caldron, at tlic side of wliicli is a (|uiet eddy 
 where an Indian is j,'cncrally found with a liaiid net, scoopinj^^ up magnificent 
 wiiite-lish almost as easily as a housewife takes ihcin out of a l)arrel. The w(;stern 
 fall is a lonjr lnoad rapid with a drop of four or live feet at one point. These 
 falls are only the lirst of an almost interminahle s<;ries of rapids and cataracts 
 down which the river leaps over p imeval rocks, on its way to the ^reat Lake 
 WinnipcL;. runninj; between these rapiiis, in lonj; stretches ami windin},'s, amonj( 
 j^reen islets of inconceivable loveliness. A canoe trip with Indians from Rat Portage 
 down to Lake W'innipejf, or a steamboat excursion in the opposite direction up the 
 lake to l-'ort I'rancis on Rainy River, ouj^lit to content j^nnnnblers otherwise incurable. 
 Rat Portage, in spite of its unpromising name, has a future more certain than most 
 of the ambitious |)laces in the North-west styled cities, on the strength of a railway 
 station or a blacksmith's shop. It is the nearest summer resort for the W'innipeggers, 
 and, as tlu' water powi;r is practically inexhaustible, it may also become a great 
 lumber and milling centre. Men of faith /eak of it as the Canadian Minneapolis, 
 just as half a dozen villages in Ontario arc; styleil Canadian Birminghams. Large 
 handsome saw-mills and grist-mills are already built at the best points of vantage 
 between Rat Portage and LaKe Deception. This lake seems at tirst sight only one of 
 the innumerable small lakes of the rather savage region in which they are set ; but 
 when the engineers who navigated its waters in search of a line for the railway 
 thought that the end was reached, again and again new vistas opened out, and 
 they called it Deception. Cross Lake has also a history in railway annals. The con- 
 tractors who had to take the crack across it found that they had undertaken a task 
 like that of the Danaides. The earth and rock laboriously dumped in perpetually slid 
 away from the bottom and spread out farther and farther until acres of solid ground 
 were formed on each side of the bank. It was heart-breaking work, and contractor- 
 breaking too, but the people who now glide smoothly over the road think little of all 
 that, and the words "section fifteen" once in every newspaper, and the terror of en- 
 gineers and governments, have already fallen completely out of men's minds. The 
 whole of this region should be seen by moonlight. It is too rude and desolate for the 
 full light of the sun ; but the play of the moon on multitudinous lakes, twisted rock 
 and low primeval hills, results in pictures and panoramic views of singular weirdness. 
 
 Between Cross Lake and Whitemouth River, the railway leaves the Laurentides, 
 and strikes through swamp till it reaches the high open prairie. Now we are on the 
 verge of the great sea of green that rolls its grassy billows all the way to the Rocky 
 Mountains. Nowhere in the world is there such a breadth of fertile land untenanted. 
 At some seasons of the year it does not look particularly inviting, but no matter 
 what the month, the first sight of the prairie makes an impression as profound as the 
 
383 
 
 P/CTCh'/iSQC/': ( .IX.l/KI 
 
 1: t- 
 
 first sijflit of the ocean, liach season lias its distinctive livery. When the warm suns 
 of March and early .April have licked \\y the snow, the Ai',\A i^rasses of ilie old \car 
 look hieacheil and llatlentd out hy the storms of winter and tin- rain. If tiri:s had 
 swept over the jrround in the autumn, an uniform rusty lirown is seen in the sprinj,', 
 far as thi- eye can reach. The prairie then looks to a farmer like a vast liild. The 
 only idea su^),;;est(!il is that of immensity. At this season, where the soil is hij;h and 
 liyht, or whert! sandy ridges occur, the ainiuoiic palciis, the first llower of the prairies, 
 shows to the i)ri},dit sun its pale l)lue, inciining sometimes to delicate white and some- 
 times to rich puri)le. The joy with which this harbin,t;er of s|)rinj,r is welcomed by 
 those who ha\e seiMi no sij,Mis of life in j^ardtii or lield for six loiij.; months can hardly 
 be exa^f^^erated. l-ike the Mayllower of the .Maritime Provinces, it " blooms amid the 
 snows," It llowers before its own leav(;s appear to li\c. The old dead leaves surroimd 
 the new llower. and so the most beautiful life is seen to rise out of death. It is at 
 once the lirstfruits and the lit emblem of sprinj^. .\nd now, a temler grei'U begins to 
 (lush the boumlless open. .As spring advances, the grasst's ami [)lants gather strength. 
 'Ihe [)rairie becoiiies a sea of green, decked with parti-coloureil grasses, and an infinite 
 variety of llowering plants. The billowy motion of the taller species as tlu'y bend 
 antl nod before tlu' i)ree/e is the poetry of motion on a scale so vast that the mind is 
 filled with a sense of the sublime as well as satisfied with the perfect beauty and 
 harmony that extends on all sides to the horizon. The atmosphere, balmy anil llower- 
 scented, is also so charged with electricity that the blood courses through the veins 
 under the jjerpetual inllueiice of a stimulant that brings no lassitude in its train. 
 Summer comes crowded — or rather cov(;red — with roses. The traveller across the 
 prairies walks on roses and sleeps on roses, Hy the end of June the air is loaded 
 with their i)erfum(.'. These are followed by an innumerable variety of asters, soli- 
 dagos, and the goklen coriopsis. Hut the ripe glories of the year are reserved 
 for the season when summer merges into autumn. The tints of the woods in the 
 older provinces are left far behind l)y the wealth of the prairie's colours. The red- 
 dish hue of tlu; poas ami other wild grasses, the salmon colour of the sedges, the 
 yellow of the bunch, buffalo, and blue-joint grass, the deep green of the vetches, 
 the saffron-coloured reeds, the red, white, blue and yellow of the rich autumn llowers, 
 blend their beauties in a marvellous picture. As autumn advances, the grasses take a 
 lighter hue. They are d)ing. One i)y one the tlowt^rs disappear. Instead of the 
 variety of colour so splendidly lavished a few weeks ago, there is only an unbroken 
 field of yellow, fast merging into white. It is now well on in October. The days are 
 cool ; the nights cold. Winter is at haml. Keen frosts kill all remaining traces of 
 vegetation. Hut winter is not yet. The- sun seems to sweep higher. The atmosphere 
 takes on a hazy and smoky look. The sun is red during the day and at his setting. 
 The frosts cease, and the Indian summer of the North-west sets in. Day in and day 
 
 
7///:' A'o/rr//-ir/:.sr.- mam ton a. 
 
 ••i 
 
 
 CKUSS LAKK. 
 
 away. Th(! frost jjiits an end to fanniiiin' ()|irraii()iis, and the wintfr fairly commences — 
 a winter terrible to llie inexperienced for its lenntli and se\-erit\'. hut perhaps tlu! most 
 enjoyable season of the year to Canadians, I'^ast and West. 
 
 Professor llind, after speakinjr of tlie i)rairie as it appeared to him quarter of 
 a centur\- ai^o. on the Assinehoine and hetwi^en Winnipeij; and the boundary line, " in 
 its ordinary aspect of sameness, immensity, and unclaimetl endowments," describes "its- 
 extraordinary aspects" in the following gra[)hic languajfe : 
 
i i 
 
 384 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 " It must be soon at siinri:-;(", wlicii tin; vast plain suddenly flashes with rose-coloured 
 liijht, as tile rays of the sun sparkle in the dew on the Vm\\ rich j^rass, j^entl)' stirred 
 hv tlu' unlailini; morning breeze. It must be seen at noon-day, when refraction swells 
 into the forms of distant hill rant^es, tlu- ancient beaches anil riilt^es of Lake Winni- 
 pc<T, which mark its foi-mcr extension ; wiien each willow bush is magnified into a 
 grove, each far distant clump of aspers, not seen before, into wide forests, and the 
 outline of woodeil river banks, far beyond unassisted \ ision, rise into \ iew. It must be 
 s(>en at sunset, when just as the ball of \\xv. is ilipi)ing Ijelow tlu- hori:'.on, he throws a 
 
 Hood of 
 
 light, indescribablx maL-nilicent, upon the illimitable wa\ing sireen, the 
 
 colours blci. ,.,ng .uid separ.uing with tlu! gentk,' roll of the long gr.iss, seeminglv mag- 
 nilied tow.ird tlu' horizon into liut disiant heaxing swell ol a |)arti-coloured se;i. It must 
 be seen too b\' moonlight, when the ■summits of tlu: low green grass waxes are ti])ped 
 with silver, and liie stars in the west sudck'niv disappear as the\- touch the earth. 
 I'inalK, it must be seen at night, when tlu: distant prairies are in a blaze, thii't\-, lifty 
 or seventy miles away ; when the lire reaches clumps of aspen, and the forked tips of 
 the ll.mu's, magnilied by refraction, Ikish aiul (piiver in the hoii/on, and the rellected 
 light from rolling clouds of smoke above tell of the havoc which is raging below." 
 
 .'^11 those piclm-es belong to the glowing sumnu'r. Hut the prairie, like the shield, 
 has two sides. It should also be seen in a bli/zard, if vou can see and live, when the 
 snow, driven before the wind. Hies level through the ai . culling like ;i knife, aiul carry- 
 ing with it an intense cold thai lU'ilher man luir beast can f.uc ; when, ;is the storm 
 gathers strength, sky aiul prairii' are blended in one undistinguishabh' m.iss of blinding 
 while, and iu)ughl is heard but the mad hiirrving and howling; of the wind arounil aiul 
 overhead, and the hissing at your feet with which it ilrives through the long grasses 
 that the snow has not covt:rt:d completely. 
 
 The Xorth-vvesi is not all piMir ■ .\iul the pi'.iirie is iu)l evcrvwhrre a monolt)- 
 nous, treeless expanse. l'"ven in the l\ed River X'alley, bills of wood usually skirt 
 the rivers aiul the smaller streams or "creeks." Much of this v\ood has Ik en cm do\,n, 
 so that there are long stretches oi the river unshaded bv trees, but ''herever a bi'lt 
 of wood is seen it may be assun ed that there a stream is draining llu' prairie. .At 
 Selkirk, where the Canada Pacilic Railroad tirsl strikes the river, the intervale is cov- 
 ered with graceful elms; and the country round about has a beautiful park-like .ipijear- 
 ance. Besides tlu; elm, the tri:es of the \\vi\ River \ allev are oak, ash-liaved maple 
 antl poplar. Of these, tlu; |)0|)lar ur trembling asi)en, is llu' characteristic tree of tlu: 
 North-west. .As the traveller goes west, In; sees hardly ;inv other for huiulieds of 
 miles. The ash-leaveil maple is likely to prove the favourite shade-tree for the cities of 
 Manitoba. 
 
 The railway crosses the Red River at Winnipeg, but Selkirk was the point origi- 
 nally selectetl by the Government for "the crossing" ami lor the site of a cit) that 
 
THE XORTir-irF.ST: XfANlTOnA. 
 
 285 
 
 would li;i\(' soon liccoint' tlic cipilal ot Manilol)ii. 
 
 tliis sclcrtion, oiiK one ol 
 
 wllicli iiccil l)c rrlci-rcil to 
 
 here. Helweeii Selkirk am 
 
 the old Stone I'Ort of the 
 
 Hudson's \\a\ Com )au\'. 
 
 I'here were \arious r(\'isons for 
 
 I r; 
 
 four miles farther up. the 
 ri\'er is coiirmed to a 
 ii.irrow bed 1>\' limestone 
 banks, iind eonse(jU( ntl\ bein 
 dammed b.uk in times of llooi 
 it may o\-erllo\v tiie countr\ all 
 thi- \va\- to W'innipeji^. As ih 
 quickness with whieli a bottle can 
 
 
 ^; ''^"^ 
 
I 
 
 in 
 
 i 
 
 386 
 
 PICTURF.SOUE CANADA. 
 
rm-: xor rii- ii hst: m. ix/ ran a. 
 
 287 
 
 
 >• 
 
 a: 
 
 U 
 < 
 
 z 
 o 
 
 
 be emptied depends principally 
 on the size of its neck, it would 
 seem that Hoods similar to those 
 wiiich have occurred tlirce or four 
 times in the century are unavoid 
 able in the future. It is scarcely 
 necessary to say that the man 
 who whispers such a contintfency 
 in Winnipeg is looked upon as a 
 very disagreeable person. Doubt- 
 less Noah was so regarded in his 
 
 day. People who have paid tiieir tens of thousands for corner lots dislike references 
 to lloods, past or future. When Mr. Sandford Fleming advised the Government 
 to select .Selkirk, Winnipeg was only "the miserable-looking village" that Captain 
 Butler called it in 1S70, and it might have been transterred bodily on a few Red 
 River boats. It is othe'^wise now, and an old-fashioned llood -should it come — would 
 destroy millions' worth of property. Time has vindicated the correctness of Mr, 
 
 LOWER FORT (JAKRV. 
 
288 
 
 PICrURliSQ L li CANADA. 
 
 Fleming's judgment on other points. In this matter he may have been over cautious, 
 but time will tell. 
 
 The growth of Winnipeg since 1877 has been phenomenal. Statistics need not 
 be given, for tiicy are paraded in .'-vtTy newsjiaper, ami so far, the growth of one 
 month — no matter how marvellous that may be — is sure to be eclipsed by the ne.xt. 
 The going and coming at the railway station combines the rusii of a great city with 
 all the characteristics of emigrant and pioneer life. But instead of entering Winnipeg 
 by railway, it is better to stop on the east side of the river and see the (piaint b'rench 
 suburb of St. Honiface, and Archbishop Tachc's Cathedral and Colh-ge. We can then 
 cross by the St. Boniface steam-ferry and take a look at the city in a more leisurely 
 way. Even at the landing, the first tiling that strikes us is that incongruous blending 
 of the new and the old, of barbarism jostling against civilization, that distinguishes 
 every corner of W'innipeg and every phase of its life. Specimens of almost extinct 
 savage and semi-savage nationalities gaze at steam-boats and steam-mills and all the 
 appliances of modern life with eyes that dream of far different scenes that were yes- 
 terday but have vanished forever. In this bran-new cit)- a historical society, a first-rate 
 club, colleges and cathedrals have sprung up, but you find at the landing that water is 
 drawn from the river by the time-honoured " hauley system " ami sold h\ the gallon. 
 Here is old Fort Garry, but its glories have departed. Once it was the centre of the 
 Hudson Bay Company's life and that meant the life of the North-west. Its walls and 
 bastions were a veritable "Quadrilateral" in the eyes of the Indian and half-breed. 
 They ought to have been saved as a memorial of the olilen time, but progress is 
 relentless. Progress abolished the walls and gates of Quebec. How could Fort Garry 
 expect to be preserved, except in a picture ? 
 
 Winnipeg is London or New York on a small scale. You meet people from 
 almost every part of the world. Ask a man on the street for direction, and the 
 chances are ten to one that he answers, " I have just arrived, sir." Friends meet who 
 parted last on the other side of the globe, and with a hasty, "What! you here, too?" 
 each passes on his way, probabl)- to a real-estate office or auction room. The writer 
 saw Winnipeg first in 1H72. It consisteil of few rickety-looking shanties that looked 
 as if they had been tlropj^ed promiscuously on the verge of a boundless prairie. The 
 poorest inhabitant seemed willing to give any one a lot or an acre. And now, land on 
 Main Street and the streets adjoining, is held at higher figures than in the centre of 
 Toronto ; and Winnipeggers, in referring to the future, never make comparisons with 
 any city smaller than Chicago. 
 
 Winnipeg presents odd contrasts in summer and winter. In no city of its size are 
 there so many University graduates. These rub shoulders, as if to the manner born, 
 with Mennonites, Icelanders, half-breeds and Indians. Teams of sj)lendid-looking 
 horses and elegant equipages drive side by side with primitive carts drawn by oxen, 
 
THE NORrH-WEST: MAMTOBA 
 
 289 
 
 lianicsscd witli l)iicl<skiii or sha_t;;in;i|)|)i. No city is t;a\t!r on a tine wintiir's day. Tlic 
 l)ri<;lu sunshine and (:xliiiaratin_t,r air make one utterly re<i;ardless of tlicrniomeler resjjis- 
 terings. Hut it slioultl be seen, too, wlien a blizzard is ra<;ini; throuL;h tin; stri.'ets. 
 
 riie contrast between sho\v\' shops and houses full of comfort 
 j' ". and <;')od cheer, and tiie wild re\el of frost and snow outside 
 
 )rinns ill' storm into full relief. Ihere ma\' 
 he ilri\ ini; snow-storms w ilhoul a very low tem- 
 perature, but these are not ilanj^erous. It is 
 on a day in the earl\ months tjf the year, when 
 the ihermonuler is low, iIkj sky stormy and 
 unsettled, and the wind tierce and 
 steaih, that the ical blizzard comes; 
 
 STrCAMBOAT LANDING 
 
 usually from the west, as the ])rairie 
 
 grasses show, which always lie llattened 
 
 out toward the east by tin; westerly winds. 
 
 During the height of the storm, settlers hardly - — 
 
 dare venture to their out-houses to Ic'cil and water 
 
 their cattle. The poor belated farmer, caught |)erhai)s with his 
 
 team at some distance from a house, makes for the near(!st 
 
 bluff of woods. The trees bend double before tlie gale. .All 
 
 around he hears the snap and crash of breaking branches and falling trees, but these 
 
 are not thought of in comparison with the greater danger that he has escaped. .\ 
 
 huge fire can be built ; and tluTc is little risk of the tirewood giving out. Should 
 
 there be no friendly shelter of house or bluff near, he may come out from the blizzard 
 
 alive. Ikit the line dry snow is so blinding and penetrating, and the frost so merci- 
 
 
 I. 
 
290 
 
 PIC TURESQ UE CANA PA . 
 
 less, that the otlJs are very greatly in favour of the blizzard. In towns, the Iniiklings 
 block the fury of the storm ; but streets in the line of the wind and open to its force 
 present a more wild anil stricken appearance than tiie prairie. There, one sheet of 
 
 A KLIZZAUl) IN WLNNn'I:;G. 
 
 rushing white fills tiie whole horizon. In the city, the blizzard is broken up and is 
 forced to show itself in detail. .\s you look through the windows, men or teams are 
 now and then visible, fighting with the storm-fiend, while shingles, boards and light 
 objects are hurled in all directions. With such force is the snow driven that, after the 
 storm, the banks are as solid as ice. Heavy loads are driven over them without leav- 
 ing a mark ; and this, not as the' result of any thaw or damp snow afterwards frozen, 
 but simply from the impetus of the wind having comjiacted the fine dry particles into 
 a solid mass. Happily, the blizzards of our North-west do not last very long, twelve 
 hours usually se(!ing their force spent. A few years ago, one in Minnesota raged for 
 three days and three nights. Every living thing outside perished. Cattle froze or 
 starved to death in their stables. In many cases, firewood gave out, and though the 
 furniture, floors and beams of the house were burned, the older and weaker ones of 
 
THE NORTH-WEST: MANITOBA. 
 
 291 
 
 tlic family dic;il from the In- 
 tense colcl. 
 
 T(i see the surroundings of 
 Winnipeg, and at tlie same 
 time the i)art of tlie country 
 that iias IjecMi longest under 
 cultivation, we should dri\t' 
 down the river to Kiklonan 
 Church, A mile or two 
 from the City Hall, St. John's 
 College and Ladles' CoUesre, 
 
 and the modest Cathedra! stand between the road-side and a beautiful curve in 
 the river. Here is the seat of ihe Bishop of Rupert's Land, whose bishopric 
 originally extended from the Coast of Laijrador to the Rocky Mountains, and 
 from the boundary line to the North Pole. The first missionary of the Church of 
 England arrived in 1820, but the bishopric was not founded till 1849. The white 
 people of the settlement were Presbyterians, brought out frt)m the Highlands of Scot^ 
 land in 181 2 by the Karl of Selkirk. The great majority of these, with the loyalty 
 
393 
 
 /'/( 7 U/<JiSQC J: CANADA. 
 
 characteristic of tlunr race, refused to desert tiie cluirch of their fathers, and become 
 Aiijrhcans, althoui^h for forty years no minister of tiuir own cluirch came near thi-m. 
 In 1S51, tile Rt'V. Joiin Mlack, a man of .ipostoiic spirit, was sent to tiu-m ]>)• the 
 Canada Presbyterian Church. Arri'inj^, after an cij^dit weeks' journey from Toronto, 
 lie was warmly welcomed b\- the lliffhlaiuk-rs, even thouLjh he could not s|)(ak their 
 beloved (iaelic. They at once organized ihrmsclvcs into a coiii^ret^ation, and built 
 
 
 ni.l) KORT CAKUV. 
 
 manse, school-house, and the stone kirk of Kildonan, the stee])le of which was for 
 many years after the great outstanding mark on the level prairie. The land between 
 Winnipeg and Kildonan was divided into riband-shaped farms, according to the plan 
 adopted by the I'"rench two centuries previously on the St. Lawrence ; the object in 
 botii cases being to give each householder a frontage on the river. These ribands Jire 
 
Tin-: \'OR I'll- II A'.V /'.• M.I.VI 7V V.'. /. 
 
 393 
 
 now hciii^ l)()ui_;lu ii|) by speculators at wliat would liavc liccn coiisidcncl fabulous 
 prices three or lour years at^o. They exteiuled two miles back into the prairie, and two 
 miles farther i)ack were allowed bj the Hudson's Hay (."onipany for hay-cnliin^. "Hay 
 swamps" are almost as necessary as dry prairie to the Manitoba farmer. On each side 
 of the road to Kiklonan are fields that have borne wheat for sixty vears without rota- 
 tion of crops or manure-as convincint;- a jjroof of the exbaustless fertility of ihe soil 
 as could \n: desired. In the wheat-fields, the women work at harvesting as iieartily as 
 the men. Where the prairie is not cultivated, the rude bark or skin tent of some 
 wretched-lookiu}!^ Indians, or a stack of hay, is the only object between tin- xoad and 
 the western sky line. 
 
 Interestin_t,r, and after a fashion phenomenal as VVinnipejtj; is, it must not be sup- 
 posed that we can find the true; North-west in its towns and cities. There, s|H'culators 
 conjjre^ate to j^et up "booms" and similar transactions, boL,nis or siioJuly otherwise. 
 But tlie brood of barnacles and vultures are unbeautiful and uninterestini; to the artist 
 and to healthy human beini^s. If we would see the tjreat North-west, aiul those who, 
 instead of discounting^, are makinLj its futun!, the poor but stront^ ones who support the 
 barnacles and are |)rey(Hl ujjon ijy the vultures, we must sj^o out to tin- cjuarlir-sections 
 that the toilers of the |)rairie are home-steadinj^ and pre-emijtini^-. Tiure, is enouirh to 
 stir t'^e imajrination and warm the heart. From the commencement the elinients of 
 poetr) are in the work and the men. The successive staijjes can be easily traced and 
 the progress is rapid. Here is a picture of what is rejjeatim; itself every day. A 
 group of families start from the older provinces in early spring, liecause thounii they 
 may have to suffer peculiar hardships at that season, they an; anxious to put uj) their 
 buildings and gather a partial crop from ihc uptiu-ned sod before the first winter comes. 
 The farms consist, at the outset, of the vast stretch of untilled land that has waited 
 long for the jilough ; the farm-house is the emigrant's wagon or " ])rairie schooner"; 
 the stables the sky, and their l)ed a water-proof on the prairie. In a week, less or 
 more, the first house is up. Neighbour heljjs neighbour, .\ tem|)orary house maj' be 
 made of sods. At some points in Manitoba stone houses art; seen. Hut, poplar logs, 
 round or hewed, are the usual material, with perhaps a tier of oak or tamarack next to 
 the gr ninil, as poplar does not last long if in contact with moisture. I'"ailing oak or 
 tamarick, the building is set clear of iIk; ground on stones or even a stone wall, and 
 if poisible banketl with sand which is always clean and dry. Tiie corners of the logs 
 are dove-tailed or s(!t on each other in the notch and saddle st\le. The s|)aces 
 between the logs are chunked up with billets of wood .ind mortar. .Sometimes, there is 
 superadded a coating of the very tenacious whitish sandy clay, which is found every- 
 where in the Province, and which bakes harder than adobe. The roof is shingleil or 
 thatched, the thatch grass being put on with withes or laiil in white mud. Wealthy 
 settlers build more pretentious frame houses ; but lumber is expensive, and the pf)plar 
 
394 
 
 /'/c vrA'/:.\()r/{ c\i.v.i/).i. 
 
 loojs if propi'i'ly ]ilustL'red 
 make a sul.staiuial and warm ST. joh.v. chlkc 
 
 biiildiiij^, wliifli is likely to 
 
 last until the family is tired of it. The settler now has shelter. Comiilacently he looks 
 on his own neat, white-washed castle, and his own four walls. The walls are about all 
 that he has; for the ^roinul lloor does not include even the Scotch "hut and hen." It 
 usually consists of one lart^e room, with a rickety kulder in the middle that leads to 
 the loft or upper story where rude quarters for the niijht are found. .\ dark strip on 
 the green prairie that bespeaks the |)resence of the plouLjh is the ne.xt step in 
 advance ; then ;i pieci; of fencing, or one or two stables or other out-houses. Cattle 
 gather rouml the steading. Similar farm-hou.ses spring up in all directions, dotting 
 the hitherto lonely e.xpanse with centres oi" life and interest, June comes, and the 
 plough is in full swing. "Gee," and "Haw," are heard for miles round. Black strips 
 of ploughed land, becoming larger every day, are pleasantly noticeable. I'ences are run 
 up Whe-e the prairie has been broken beside the house, the chances are that the 
 dark-green of the potato \ine is seen coming through the sod ; and farther off, a piece 
 of oats or barley, looking strong and hearty. Perhaps a row of trees is planted along 
 
THE XOR 77/- II7:S T .)/. / ,\7 1 OH. I. 
 
 »9S 
 
 KILDONAN CHUkCll. 
 
 the road in front of the house. 
 
 And now, \isii the scitlcnicni in 
 
 Au_nusl or Sc'ptcnihcr, tiic most 
 
 delijjjhtful time of the year for 
 
 prairie travelling;-, and ask the 
 
 settlers how the\- like the new 
 
 country. The answer will he, 
 
 in ninel\-nine cases out of an 
 
 hundred, either " First-class," or 
 
 " You couldn't pay mv. to return 
 
 to Ontario," or " I have (jot the best farm in the North-west." With pri(l(\ they point 
 
 out the proj^ress that has iieen made in a few months, and contrast it with what 
 
 would have been accomplished in the same tiiiu; on a inish farm in an\ ot the 
 
 older provinces. Ne.xt year, a fine field of wheat is pretty sure to stretch away from 
 
 the front door; the milk-house is furnished with rows of brii^du i)ans filled with 
 
 creamy milk; i)ut neither first year, second year, nor at any time is the passing 
 
 stranger allowed to go on his journey without being offered the hos])itality of the farm. 
 
 He need not hesitate to accept a seat at the table ; for, as a rule, the Canadian farmer's 
 
 wife or daughters spread a clean table and cook their simple food as nicely as the 
 
 dyspeptic Chelsea sage could have desired. 
 
 Listen to the advice that an old settler gives to a new-comer, with from $1,000 to 
 
196 
 
 / Vt / Y RJuSQ UE CA NA DA. 
 
 INTKklOK Ol' A SETTLl-.Kb CABIN. 
 
////: NORT/f-U/iSI. MAN iron A. 
 
 897 
 
 
 
 r- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 nil' li AR\'I'STIKS. 
 
 labour. Invest the rest of your money in milcli cows with th(;ir calves. Me ready to 
 commence " breakini^" eari\- in |une, and look for wliatever promises (jiiick returns. i'he 
 cows shouitl keej) the house supplied with butter and milk, and there may be a surplus to 
 sell. The sooner you }j;et the pl()Ui,di to work the better. Make the breakiiii^r of twenty 
 or thirty acres your objective point, and keep at it as steadily as you and your oxen 
 can. The best time to break is from peep of dawn till about 9 a. m., and from 
 4 p. M., till dark. The oxen should rest in the interval, and their owner may take a 
 sleep and then fix up tliinjjs j^enerally. Potatoes can be planted under the newly- 
 turned sod, and, if the season be not too dry, will ijive a jrood return. Oats and 
 barley may be sowed on the prairie and ploujjhed in. If you get fall ploughing done, 
 
 il 
 
 M 
 
2()S 
 
 J'/C/'CKJ':SOL/: C.IX.Uhl. 
 
 
 'H 1^' 
 
 commence seeilins^ next sjirin;^ as soon as llu- frost is surfu-iciul)- Ix'Iow the surface to 
 allow the harrows to coxcr tlic seed. 1 be moisture from tlic frozen i;ronncl liencatli 
 continues to ascend and keeps the seed-l>ed in i^ood corulition. 1 1 money i,Mves out, 
 ijood wages can lit: hail at any time on the rail\va\s, or the lumher mills, or almost 
 anywhere, for a few wt:eks or months. \\"e know of men who commenced a few years 
 aj;o with $200 or l(!ss, and who, 1)\' dinl of ha'\l work and self-denial, ha\(' already 
 earneil comfort and ;i competency. IWil the settler must live according to his means. 
 If he i^ets into debt and pajs ten anil twelve per cent fur money, Ii.. i.; in a perilous 
 state. 
 
 I'Lvery one has he;~rd of the mammoth farms of the Re-l Ri\er \ alley. These are 
 to be found chielly in Minnesota and I Dakota, though ca|)italists are bi-ginniii!^ to tiiul 
 thei; wa\ to many |)arts of the North-west and are projcclim; similar undertakings 
 as invi'stments. Money can certainly bi' made in tiiis way, for no part of tin- world is 
 better adapted for the ai)|ilicatii)n of steam to agriculture and for all the expensive 
 apparatus that modern farming on a l.irge scale recjuires. 'ihe mammoth wheat farms 
 are di\idei' into sections, with an oviM'setir and the reiiuisiie number of "hands" to 
 each. In harvesting, scores of ri'aping and binding machines are used. The grain 
 is threshed on the prairie, and immediateU' sent off to ti\e market. The straw is 
 burned, the hands are paid off, and the dividends for the yi'ar declared. Worshippers 
 of " the big " talk witJi enthusiasm of these farms. They are no tloubt useful, as far 
 as th.e best interests of a country ari' concerned, Imt, after all, poor affairs in 
 comparison with the log-house of the ordinary farmi.'r ; just as the deer-forest or 
 grouse preserve in the Scottish Highlands is a miserable exchange for the wrecked 
 shielings of the true-'iearted clansmen, whose fathers died at Culloden for Prince 
 Charles, and at Ticonderoga and Waterloo for us. 
 
 The Xorth-west bids fair to hi; the future granary of the world. It is scarcely 
 posr.Iuie to estimate its "illimitable possibilities." People talk of one, two. or three 
 hundred million acres of good land. These round figures indicate both their ignorance 
 and the greatness of the realit)-. W'e have only to remi'mber that the average produce 
 per acre is twenty I)ushels of wheat to calculate the possibilities of such a country, taking 
 the lowest of the above estimates, when peopled with tillers of the soil. This vast 
 region is the true habitat of the wheat |)lant. Mere it attains perfection. The berry 
 is amber- coloured, full, round, rich in gluten, and with that llinly texture which is lack- 
 ing in the wheat of more southern regions. TIk; yield is astonishing, not only i)ecause 
 of the richness of the soil, but bijcause here the plant attains its full development. 
 " Look," said a practical miller from Minnesota, who had visited Winnipeg, " I never 
 before saw more than two well-formed grains in each grou|) or cluster, forming a 
 row, but here the rule is three grains in each cluster. That is the difference between 
 twenty and thirty bushels per acre." Prof. Macoun, the Botanist of the Canadian Gov- 
 
THE NORTH-WEST: MANITOBA. 
 
 399 
 
 .\I<)|>I;KN I'RAIKII-. IAKM1N(;. 
 
1^: 
 
 f 
 
 300 
 
 PICTURESQUE C AX AD A. 
 
 ernment Survey, reports that at Prince Alliert, five hundred miles north-west from 
 Winnipeg, and at Fort VermiUon on I'cace River, six or seven hundred miles still 
 farther away to the North-west, five well-formed j^rains are sometimes found in each 
 group or cluster. Wheat from Peace River, seven hundred miles due north of the 
 boundary line, " took the bronze medal at tiie Centennial in Philadelphia in 1876." 
 
 While the Hudson's Hay Company held sway over the North-west, it was the 
 fashion to represent the country as utterly and hopelessly hyperborean. Echoes of 
 the stories told i'l those da)s, of the ground remaining frozen all summer, of mercury 
 freezing and axes splintering against frozen trees, still float in the air ami make men 
 unable to believe, in spite of all that has been recently written, that it can be 
 anything better than an arctic region. Calumnies die hard. Tlie emigrant will find 
 difficulties in every country to which he goes, but there are none in the North- 
 west that cannot be overcome by united effort and forethought. Tin; climate; is not 
 very different from that of Eastern Canada, and is even more healthy. Ihe winter is 
 colder, but on account of the dryness of the air the cold is not so much felt. The 
 summer is warmer, but the nights are always remarkably cool. April and May are 
 usually dry, and all that the farmer can desire. June is the rainy season. July and 
 August are the hot months, and iluring these the growth of all plants is marvellously 
 vigorous and ([uick. The autumn is cool, tlry, anil invigorating, the very weather for 
 harvesting. The rivers freeze in November and open for navigation in April. Decem- 
 ber is clear and cold, with but little snow. Januar\- and l'"ebruar\- are the coldest 
 months, and storms may be looked for occasi(jnall)'. March is sunny, ami broken by 
 thaws. During the greater part of the winter the air is remarkably still. The ther- 
 mometer ma\' sink to 50 degrees below zero, but people properly clail experience no 
 inconvenience ; and teaming, logging, rock-cutting, go on to as great an extent as in 
 the Eastern Provinces in winter. 
 
 Some seasons are too wet. aiul then there is trouble in the Red River X'alley, 
 where the land is low. .An extensive system of drainage has been organized by the 
 Government and the municipalities, which will do much to meet this difficulty. Else- 
 where, plough furrows are sufficient to drain the land. If the grain gets a fair start in 
 the spring, no matter how dry the sunnuer, a drought has no effect save on the 
 length of the straw. The reason would seem to be that the frost never entirely 
 leaves the ground and that the moisture aiising from its thawing is supplied to the 
 roots of the grain. It is certain that the roots penetrate into the soil to an aston- 
 ishing depth. 
 
 Other difficulties may be mentioned ; such as local hail-storms in August and Sep- 
 tember ; terrific thunder and lightning; mosquitoes, especially in the neighbourhood of 
 a swamp. Grasshoppers or locusts from the great American desert, occasional summer 
 frosts, and alkali or an impure sulphate of sodium in the soil over large tracts of 
 
77//f NORTH-WEST: MANITOBA. 
 
 301 
 
 country, particularly in the heavier clay lands, must also be taken account of, but these 
 have been magnified. As to the last, farmers now consider a little alkali in the soil 
 beneficial. It brings cereals to maturity earlier and tends to stiffen and shorten the 
 straw, thus enabling it to withstand the high winds. The chief difficulty is to ke(!i) it 
 out of the wells. This is done by lining the well witii stone or brick, and using water- 
 lime or cement to make it impervious to soakage. TIk; springs are entirely free from 
 alkali, and all that is neeiled is to keep out tlie surfact: water. In a word, emigrants 
 with small means must not expect to become wealthy suddenly. They can, with fru- 
 gality and industry, attain to independence in Manitoba in a shorltr time than in 
 Eastern Canada ; and that is saying not a little. 
 
 The Indians of Manitoba are gradually disappearing before the stronger races. 
 Bred and reared in poverty and dirt, and having generally the taint of hereditary 
 disease, they are as a rule short-lived. The (iovernment has ap>pointed instructors, 
 well supplied with imi)lements, seed and cattle, to teach them farming l)y precept and 
 example ; but the poor creatures do not take kituUy to steatly work. They are seen at 
 their best when they assemble at the appointed rendezxous to receix'e their treaty money, 
 faces daubed with bright paint, and I'nion Jack carried in front of the crowd. After 
 the paynuMUs are made, they luntt a dance, ami then a liog feast, washed down with 
 as inuch lire-water as imscrui)uIous whiskey dealers can smuggle to them. 
 
 The half-breed population is much more important. There are English and -Scotch 
 half-breeds, but the majorit\- are of brench extraction. WIumi Manitol)a w.is erected 
 into a Province, 240 acres of land were secured to each ami all of these, ik)wn to the 
 youngest born. The majority have st)lil tlunr claims l(} specidators ; but as tlie courts 
 have recently interposed obstacles to tlu; salt? of minors' patents, all tlu; rcserxes will 
 not come into the market till 18S9. The brench half-breed frateini/es with the 
 Indians, and leads a roving life. .As a farnier he is not a success; i^ul in iam|), as a 
 voyas[cur and trapper, or as a bulTalo hunter, he combines the excellencies of both 
 the nationalities he represents. The English and .Scotch have more at'tinity with the 
 ways of white men. Al)le representatives of i)oth the b'rench and the British Iwis-brulcs, 
 however, are found in political and professional life. But only a minoril\ of those who 
 are called half-breeds are entitled to the name. An)' man w woman witli Indian blood 
 in his veins is usually classed as a half-breed. A few years ago, the\ constitutetl the 
 bulk of the population of .Manitoba; but they are becoming less in number and in 
 importance every year. The more adventurous are moving west to seek fresh fields 
 and pastures new, rather than remain crowded in their old sites The others will 
 become absorbed in the general population ; ami the tinge of Indian blood may give 
 to future North-westers a richer colour in cheek and eye, and impose some check on 
 the keen acquisitiveness of Celt and Sa.\on. 
 
The Nc .th-west: 
 
 RED RIVER TO HUDSON'S BAY. 
 
 T is dilTiciilt to ck'scribc, under the 
 condition of i)U"vity imj)oscd on us 
 by the nature of this work, the bound- 
 less rctrions and "illimitable possibilities" — as Lord Heaconsfield happily phrased it — 
 of the North-west. Salient features may be tjivcMi Ijy pen and j)encil, but unless these 
 are multiplied mentally, an utterly inadequate idea is conveyed. Everything; is on a 
 scale so vast that anythini,^ like a defmite conception is out of the question. Even 
 its history, though now blotted out from the minds of men, has a largeness of outline 
 that awakens interest and suggests a great destiny. We find ourselves in a new 
 world, in the very heart of the American Continent, far away from its old Provinces 
 and historic States, and yet we are told of a short road to Europe for which old 
 France and b^igland fought, which trade has used less or more from the days of 
 302 
 
THE NORTH-WEST: RED RIVER TO HUDSON'S BAY 
 
 Priiici; Rupert, and by which Scottish immijjraiits entered the country ihrce-tiuartcrs of 
 a century atjo. At this point, then, it may i)e not unfittinfj that we should pausi; in 
 our description of the country ; and in order to form a correct iilea of the lakes, 
 rivers and straits, as well as of the lamls between the Reil River of the North and 
 the Atlantic, by what many believe to be the futiu'e hii,diway from Manitoba to luirope, 
 let us accompany a traveller who, a year or two ago, went from Winnipeg to Lomlon by 
 this route. 
 
 limbarking at Lower Fort Garry on board the steamer " Colvik;," lielonging to 
 the Hudson's Hay Company, in the morning of a beautiful day in the early autumn, 
 we steam down the Red River to its mouth, thirt\-thre(! miles distant, and into Lake 
 Winnipeg. The waters of the lake are as mudily as iliose of ihc! X^vX River itself. 
 Hence its Cree name — Dirty Water. (ietting awa\- from the marshes ami out into 
 the lake, Elk Island looms up, off the mouth of the- Winnipeg River. This stream 
 is as large as the Ottawa, and drains nearly thc' whole; country from Lake Su|)erior. 
 All forenoon our course is down the midille of the lake. Ihe land on our left, ten 
 or twelve mik;s distant, is uniformly low and level. That on the right, not cpn'te so 
 far away, is also low, but it presents a slightly imdulating outline. About the middle 
 of the day we pass between Black Island on the right and Big Islaml on tiie left. 
 We are near enough the shore to observe the liltU; shanties of the scattered Icelandic 
 settlement which e.xtenils on the west side of the lake all the way from tlie mouth 
 of the Red Ri\er to Big Islantl. A few miles farther on, Clrindstone Point, with 
 its cliff of horizontal beds of limestone and samlstone, is close on our left. (3ur 
 course now changes to the north-west, and in two hours we^ enter a part of the lake 
 only two or three miles wide, with the Bull's Heai! on the left, and a rocky but rather 
 low shore, covered with evergreen trees, along our right. The Bull's Heail is a promi- 
 nent point in a limestone cliff which continues to the Dog's Head, twelve miles distant. 
 Here we come to the narrow<;st part of the lake, where it is only one mile in breadth. 
 
 Passing this, the great l)ody of Lake Winnijjeg now li(;s before us, expanding 
 regularl)' till it rcuiches its maximum breadth of sixl\-six miles opposite to the mouth 
 of the Great Saskatchewan River, beyond which it terminates in a roumled sweep like 
 the end of a tennis-bat. The extreme length of the lake is 272 miles, its depth nine 
 fathoms, and its elevation above the sea, 710 feet. Geologically, it occupies a shallow 
 basin of erosion, corresponding with that of the Georgian Bay, having Laurentian rocks 
 along Its eastern, and .Silurian strata along its western side. The country to the east- 
 ward is everywhere of the ordinary Laurentian character of the north, not mountainous, 
 but broken by rocky hills and ridges, with lakes, swamps and timbered valleys 
 between. It is the great collecting basin of the waters for hundreds of miles from 
 the west, the east and the south, and it discharges them all, by the Nelson River, 
 into the sea. 
 
 iiil 
 
304 
 
 PlC'll Rl-SOini CAX. //>./. 
 
 i;, 
 
 1 1. 
 
 STOKM ON 1.AKI-. WINNIPKG. 
 
 From the narrows at the 
 Doer's Head, our course lies 
 near the eastern side of the 
 lake as far as George's Isianii, 
 seventy or eighty miles farther 
 on. After a I)rief call at this 
 small island, which has been 
 named in honour of the late 
 Sir George Simpson, we start 
 to cross diagonally ihe broad- 
 est part of the lake in making for the 
 Saskatchewan. Early the next morning 
 we enter the line harbour formed by 
 the mouth of this rivt'r. We proceed 
 only a short distance when the Grand 
 Rapids, with a fall of about forty-five 
 f(;et, bar the way ; the only effectual 
 impediment to the navigation of the 
 
 Saskatchewan all the way to the foot of the Rocky Mountains, The goods are trans- 
 ported by a well-constructed horse railway, three or four miles in length, to the head 
 of the rapids. While the unloading of the steamer was going on, we strolled along 
 the north bank of the river to admire the grand rush of the surging water. Suddenly, 
 a speck appeared upon its surface, advancing rapidly towards us. This proved to be a 
 couple of Indians in a small bark canoe, "running" the rapid. As they shot quickly 
 past, we could see how intently they were occupied with the work in hand. Much 
 
riir. xoRrn-u'EsT: rf.d RniiR ro iirnsows n.w 
 
 305 
 
 need there was of all tlieir skill and care, tn prevent swanipinsf at any moment. Their 
 little craft soon tlisappeareil, as if it hail lieen en^iil|)hecl in the foaming water below, 
 but no doubt they reached the foot of the rapid saf(dy, as they had many times before. 
 
 At the deprtt of tin: Hudson's Hay Company at the head of the rapid, \vc! founil 
 an officer of the Company about to start on a " voyaj^'e " to some |)()st in the interior. 
 His birch-bark canoe was of the kind known as half-si/e, beint; some four fathoms in 
 length, with six feet beam, and capable of carryini,^ about two tons, besides the crew : 
 the full-si/e<l " north canoe," or caitoc dc iiiaitrc, lieini^ about ilouble this capacity. The 
 "pieces," or packs of >4(>oils, each made to weit^h 100 pounds, were beintj "portaged" 
 i)y tin- vovai^ciirs to the water's edLje by means of ijieir |)ack-straps, tump-lines, or 
 slin<,fs of stout leather passetl over the forehead. The guide or steersman, who is 
 giving (-ach man a "hand up" with his bundle, is an important personage on these 
 voyages. On this occasion he is accompanied by his s(|uaw, who is |)atiently waiting 
 with her pajjoose shing on her back in its Indian cradle — a contrivance admirably 
 adapted to the reipiirements of her roving life. 
 
 On our return to the " CoKile " we. found the ca])tain nearl\- ready to start for 
 the outlet of Lake Winnipeg, which lies on the opposite or north-east side. Soon 
 after leaving tin; mouth of the Saskatchewan, we encountered a strong breeze from the 
 north-east or directly aheatl. In an incredibK' short s|)ace of time, tin; hitherto placid 
 surface of the water was thrown into great swells and tlie spra\' was ll)ing over the 
 steamer's deck. The staunch " Colvile " heav(;d and plunged in a manner w(! little 
 expected to e.xperience. We wt-re, in fact, realizing what we had often heard of — a 
 storm on Lake; Winnipeg. I'ortuiiately the breeze subsideil as rapidly as it had 
 sprung up, and at daylight next morning we found ourseK'es moored, witli bows up 
 stream, at the wooding stage of Warren's Landing, on the western side of the outlet. 
 Here the goods for Norway House, one of the principal posts of the Hudson's Hay 
 Company, about twenty miles down the Nelson Ri\er, are discharged and placeil in a 
 store-house near the beach. Meantime, canoes anil " \'ork boats" are constantly arriv- 
 ing from the j)ost, the steamer having been expected. One of the latter, bearing 
 a great white flag with the arms and motto {pro pcllc ciitcvi) of the Hud.son's Hay 
 Company, brings the factor in charge of the district. About forty fine-looking 
 Indians are now on hand, and as soon as the last bale of gootls has been rolled 
 into the store-house, they set to work with a will to carry cordwood for the return 
 trip, on board the " Colvile," from a long pile standing a short distance from 
 high water mark. The utmost good nature prevails, and every man vies with the 
 others in running to the pile and hurrying back to the steamer with as many sticks 
 on his shoulder as he can get his arm to support. The steamer is wooded in an 
 astonishingly short time ; the lines are thrown off, and we wave a farewell to the cap- 
 tain as the "Colvile" steams out into the lake with her head towards the south. 
 
 (39) 
 
 I 
 i I 
 
.^o6 
 
 PICrURI'.SQrP. CAXADA. 
 
 1 '» 
 
I'liF. hoi<rn-ui:sr. ri:i) kiihr to nrnsoN's bay 
 
 \o-, 
 
 Warnjii's Lamlinjj is named after a former cliief factor of tlie Companx-, who li(!s 
 buried u short ilistaiice heiiiiul tlie store-house. 
 
 The factor, heinj^- al)out to return home, kinilly j,^a\c us a passas^c to Norway 
 House. His crew rowed for a short ilistance, witii tiieir ^reat sw('eps, when a 
 soutlierly wind sprun^r up, and tliey hoisted the pictures(|ue s(iuare-sail of the hoat 
 high al)()ve our li('ads, like a i)anner, on the sinn;i(,' rous^h mast, and wt; were soon 
 making good time through (ireat IMaygreen Lake and down one of tlu' narrow chan- 
 nels of the river. Just ht-fon- this channel opens into Little l'la)'green i.,ike, \V(-' came 
 ill sight of the white housi's anil palisades of Norwa\- House. .\ number of Indian 
 boys, running ant! shouting on the- bank, soon communicated the news of our approach, 
 and in a few minutes we saw a ma.i hurrxing to the (lagstaff to hoist the reil ensign 
 in honour of our arrival. We hail not been long on shore before the six o'clock bell 
 rang, and we were summoned to tea in the mess-room with the clerks and the ohficer 
 in charge. The long summer evening of a northern latitude proved very enjoyai)le, 
 and after tea we walked through the gro\e of Hanksian pines on the north side of the 
 post, and sketched the accompanying \iew across Little IMaj'green Lake. 
 
 Let us now glance at the leading features of the water-way which we have 
 commenced to descend. The Nelson is one of the great rivers of the world. With a 
 drainage area more e.xtensive than that of the .St. Lawrence, it has a solinne of water 
 etjual to at least four times that of the Ottawa. Taking a very general view of this 
 vast stream, its course is a little east of north for 180 miles from the outlet of I^ake 
 Winnipeg to Split Lake, or the first half of its entiri' length. .\nother stretch of 180 
 miles, bearing a little north of east, brings us to the open sea at the extremity of 
 Beacon Point ; the whole liMigth of the ri\er, measured in this wa\-, being only 360 
 miles. In the upper part of its course, the Nelson does not Mow in a well-ilefined 
 valley. Lor the first huntlred miles, it straggles in a net-work of channels over a con- 
 siderable breadth of the general slope towards Hudson's Hay, of which the whole 
 country partakes. .At the start, it leaves CJreat Playgreeii Lake by two streams of 
 almost equal size, which enclose Ross' Island, ami by numerous smaller channels. 
 Ross' Island is fifty mik's long by twenty wide. On the west sitle of this island, 
 fifty miles below Lake Winnipeg, the first rapiil occurs. On the east siile, thirty- 
 seven miles down, are the Sea River I'alls. The next sixty miles of the diviiletl river 
 is broken by rapids, chutes and falls, occurring at ilifTerent distances tlown the \arious 
 channels. At the end of these sixty miles of broken water, we come to a part of the 
 river which, for 163 miles, might be navigated from t^ntl to eml by steamers, were it 
 not for a chiite with a fall of about fifteen feet, which occurs al)out midw^ay down. 
 Sipi-wesk, Split, and Gull Lakes form part of this stretch. The first of these lakes 
 is famous for its sturgeon fisheries. Fragments of the characteristic • pottery of pre- 
 historic Indians are found at the old camping grounds of this retreat, which is almost 
 
 I 
 
3o8 
 
 I'U ■ It RI-SQUH C. I X.I/). I. 
 
 SKA UIVKK lAI.I.S, NKI.SON KINI.K. 
 
 undisturbed even hy tlic red man of tin- present day. As we ])ass tlironijli tlie 
 " I'^lowiuir Lake," on a l)alniy afternoon in tlie auliinin, the dari< l)aiki,rr(uin(l of tlie 
 spruce forest is enlivened lu;re and tliere 1)\' tlie white wis^wanis of tlic nioilern lords 
 of the coiunry, and occasionally we catcii a j^limpse of a canoe i^lidint^ amontj the 
 numerous islands, and dimly seen throui^h the hlue hazi; of the Indian summer. On 
 passinjr a point, thirteen miles below Sipi-wesk Lake, our attention is sudilenly arrested 
 by the beautiful Wa-sitch-e-wan or White L'alls, which is formed by a brook spoutin<; 
 over the hijrh, rocky l)ank of the river, on the right-hand side. 
 
 At the foot of (lull Lake we enter upon a second interval of liroken waters, 
 which, like the first, is also sixty miles in length, terminating with the Limestone 
 Rapids, where the river pours over some ledges of fossiliferous Silurian rocks, the first 
 met with in approaching Huilson's Bay. Leaving the foot of these rapids, the river 
 Hows on to the sea at the rate of al)()Ut three miles an hcnir, between steep banks of 
 clay, often one liuntlred fet.-t and upwards in height. Except for a mile or two below the 
 rapids, the ciiannel has about twenty feet of water all the way to the head of tide, 
 sixty miles farther down. We now enter the estuary, which runs straight north-east, 
 
I 
 
 \ , !'■ 
 
 ^«^ 
 
 AT TIIK I'liKi 
 lliulxMi* U.iy Ciiiup.iii) - l.ini)li')t!-s oil I 
 
 ill I'.xpt'dition. 
 
////;■ AV'A'///-// V.S /■■ KliD l<l\l-l< /(> //I /KS(>X'S //. /)' 
 
 309 
 
 WA-SITCH-K-WAS lAI.I.S. 
 
 and have a clear view of the sea liefore us. PassinL,^ down tlie frilli, the land he- 
 comes lower and lower on lioih sides, till it merges with tlut IiIil^Ii water level, the 
 shore-line on the left at the same time trendintr to the northwanl, and that on 
 
.^'O 
 
 /'/(■■/ cuz-soc/-: ( .I.V.I /K I. 
 
 I 
 
 ■i.'ii > - '- - 
 
 the 
 
 luii_>^', narrow loiimu-, di-- 
 
 twi'fii tin- Nelson anil tlu 
 
 Mayes ki\irs. LooUinu; lomul tliis point, we see NOik laetor\' on the nortli-west 
 
 l)ank ol the hillei- liver, six mill's up. 
 
 The trip w<' ha\e just eonipleied i'. the lirst joiirne) wlTuh has \>vrn made tiown 
 the whole length ol the Nelson Kiver ir many years, lor this stream, allhoUL;h appar- 
 cnll\' the natural route, has hei-n Ioul; ahamlonetl liy : v '!•(?;,'( 7/ /'.v, on account ol the 
 ditihciilties in tin- two hroken sirelihes ol si.\t\ miles each, whicii have just heen relerred 
 to. .Anotlier and hetter I'oule, Kin^- to the soulhuai'd, is now adopted. liefori' 
 i^lanciuL;' at it, let us retui'n to .Split Lake aiul take a i-i;n thenc(' to old I'drt Prince 
 of Wales, at the mouth of tlie Churchill l<i\-er, about one hnndn-d miles to ihe north- 
 ward ol \'ork I'actor\. Leaving Split Lake, wc travel northward hy a chain ol i)onils 
 with i»ortaL;es between, and at the vnA of twenlx miles wc reach a consideiMbh' sheet 
 of wati-r at llu' head of liie Little Churchill Kivi'r. T'oliowinL; this ^ircini lor ninety 
 miles, in a north-easteiiy course, wc fall into the Great Chuichill, a s|)lendid river, 
 larger than the Rhine, and with water as clear as that of the St. Lawrence. It rises 
 ni'ar the Rocky Mountains, between the .Xthabaska and Saskatcliewan Rivers. l''or 
 the irrcater |)art ol its course it consists of a Ioul;' chain of lakes, connected by ver\' 
 short links of river, Li'enerallv full of rapids, f.ills raid t:hules. iietwcen the Nelson 
 Riv('r and the Churchill, above the point at which the latti'r is joined by the Little 
 Churchi!!, the country is \iM-y thii klv intersiK'rsed with lakes; iniieed, the area ol water 
 appears to be at least e(jual to that of land. 
 
 On arrivins'- at the (ireat Churchill, we turn down stream, aiul at the eml of 105 
 
rin-. xoRrn.wi:sT. riu^ rhi-.r to iirnsovs ray. 311 
 
 miles, in a n()rth-<',i'^t('rl\ coiirsc, rr.uh liic sea. i.ikr tiic lnwir Nelson, tile Cluircliill 
 Hows lictwccn sleep alliuial lianks, Imt liori/ontal lieds ol liinesloiie sonietinies eroj) out 
 and form Ioiil; pei-pendiciilar dills jieneath tlie clax'. Xoiwitlisiandini; its iarj^c \i)lnnic, 
 tile Cluircliill, o\vins4 '" '''' i"a|)iii cli.iraner, is not naxii^aMe ,ilio\c the iie,-iil of tide 
 water, wliiili is onl\' eiujlit miles up li-om the sea. 
 
 |nst inside of the month ol the C hnrchill is ,i splendid harlionr, the oiiK' (vood 
 one known on the western side ol llndsi;n's !?a\. Ii is well sheltered l)\- a rock\' 
 ridj.i('. \\\\^\ Is entered dii'ertlv Irom the open sea 1)\' a short, deep channel, less than 
 half a mile in width. W illiin, liie largest ships max lie alloal at low tide, I'lie western 
 
 point, at the nioiith 
 ol the ri\'er. |)rojects 
 hex'ond the I'astcrn ; 
 
 and here, on a position 
 which appears as il designed 
 hy nature to command the 
 entrance to the h.irliour, 
 stands old I'Oit I'rinre of 
 Wales, one of ihe largest 
 militar\- ruins on the continent. More tli.in one liundi'ed \-e.irs asjo. this fort. 
 
 mounting; 
 
i 
 
 H ! 
 
 j 
 
 
 
 11 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 312 
 
 /'/c'/'r/\'/-:s()f7-: c.i.v.i/ii. 
 
 forty hiryt; i^iiiis, was a i^n-cat (l('|)<'it of tlu- lludson's Hay C"()iii|)aiiy. lO-ilay it is the 
 picture of loiU'lincss aiul desolation ; Iml C iuircliill, owIiil; to its line harljour, may 
 become tile princiiial sciixnM of tlic Xorlii-wesl iCrritoiies, slioiiici tlie projected rail- 
 \va\' l)e hiiilt from tlie interior. I'lie wails of i'ort I'rinee of Wales ha\-e a heii^lit of 
 alioiit t\\i'nt\' fi;et, and are faced witli massive Mocks of cut stone, obtained close at 
 hand. The jilace was destroyed 1)\' the Iremh .Xdiniral, l.ai'eroiise, in 1 jSj, hut at 
 tlu' close of the war the Hrilish ('io\trnmeni compelled the hrench to indtinnif)- the 
 Hudson's ]Va\ Compau)- for the loss which tlu'y had suffered. 
 
 It is a^ain necessary to |)oint out that, althoui^h for L;(>od reasons, we traxclh'd 
 from Norway llouse to \ Ork i'aclory hy the .Nelson Ri\cr, the boats of the lludson's 
 Ha\' Com|)an\' ha\c used, h)r main \'ears. what may be termed the ( )xford Mouse 
 route. " \ Oxa^inL;;^ " to \ Orb b\ ( )\ford llouse, the Nelson is left a few miles below 
 S(\i Ri\er balls. We turn, then, into a small slu^j^ish stream on the ri^ht, known as 
 the I'^chimamish, or W ali'r-shed Ih'ook, After .1,^)111!^ some miles up, we come to a 
 rude dam about a foot liij^li, matle by boidders laid upon spruce tops. This has been 
 thrown across the stream lor tlu,' |)ur])ose of deepeiiiuL^ the water at a slii^ht rajjiil. 
 ( )iu- men soon make a breach in the dam, and before the water abo\-e has had time 
 to be i)i-rceplil)l\- lowereil, they haul our \'ork boat thr(uiL;h. Ihis process is repeated 
 at a second of these i)rimiti\f locks a short distance on. rwent\-eiL;ht miles i;ast 
 of the point at which we left the Nelson, oiu" dead-waler brook, which has assunn^d 
 the charaiti'r of a Ioul; luurow [lond, comes to a sudden termination. We haul the 
 boat across a low led^;!' of rock, twenty-eii^lu \ards wide, which is the liei<,dit of land 
 here, and launch her into the li<'ad of a narrow clear-watei- channel on tlu; other sid';. 
 This is tile commencement ol the rivers which we shall now desceiul to \'ork l'"ai'tory, 
 and our L^uide informs us that we shall lia\c to haul our boats across dr\ laiul onl\' 
 twice more. The low narrow led^e we lia\e just crossed is called the Painted Sl(Uie. 
 Dr. Hell names the stream we have entered upon, JManklin's River, after the late Sir 
 John branklin, who, when on his boat vo\a;.;e of iSu), had a n.uiow escape from 
 tlrowniiii^' in its waters near 'his \er\' spot. I'ranklin's River is about tlitv' miles in 
 length, and falls into ().\ford Lake. In descendiiiL; it we riui many hue rajiids, and 
 s.ail tlirouL;li several lakes into which it e\|)ands. .\i one-thiril oi the tlistance to 
 O.xford Lake we encounter the Robinson I'orta^c, the most b)rmidable obstacle on the 
 route. It is. liowev<'r, a i^ood wide roail, 1 j; 1 5 vards in lentjth, which has been so lonir 
 in use that it is entirely free from stimips. Tlu- size and weight ot our boat appear 
 to be alto,<retlier beyond the strenL;th of our crew of ten men, \et they dray; her on 
 rollers across the portage at an aslonisliini^ rate. 
 
 On reacliiiii^ ( )Nford Lake, tweniv-tive miles in leiii^th, wv were f.ivoured by a tine 
 wind, and in a few hours come in slight of ( ).\ford llouse, ( unspicuously built on a 
 hill at the eastern e.xtremity and conimaiuIin_s4 a line v ii:vv up the lake. The slopes of 
 
THI- XORTH-WI-ST: RED Rlll-.R TO limsOVS ILIY 
 
 sci;ni;s aldni; iiii': m-.lsiin rivi:k. 
 
 (40) 
 
314 
 
 riCTL IR ESQ I r. C\-IA\I/)J. 
 
 ^TV 
 
 the hill, and also the Hat ^rroiind hctwrcn it and the lake, were dotted with the tents 
 and wij^wanis of the Indians wlio had come to trade, and who were now enjoxin;;- tlieir 
 siiinmer h)atin<^ season, .Scores of small hark canoes, most of tiiem turned iii)side 
 down, were Kinj,; alon>^ the hcacii, and e\erytliin<; i)etokL'nccl |)i'ace and idhness. 
 
 We were hos|)ital)ly entc^rtaiiunl I))- the <,fentk!maii in charj;e of the post, and next 
 morninjj rc^sumed our joiirne\-. In descendii;_i; Trout Ri\fr, wiiicli dischari^es Oxford 
 into Knee Lake, |)ro;;ress is interrupted hy Tro.it Tails, a perpendicular chiitt;. It re- 
 (piires hut a shoit tiir.e, howeviM', to dvn^ our l>oal o\i'r the portaj^e, as it is only 
 twenty-f(iur yards loni^. Here, we met a parly of men cominiL; up tiu' ri\('r with tiic 
 small N'ork ho.it eUcwhere re|)resenled in our sketch. 
 
 Knee Lake, so called from a bend alxiut the middle ol its course of fort\' miles, 
 is stiidiled with ;i qreat number of islands. It discharges by the Jack River, another 
 rapid stream, into .Swampy Lake, thi' last on our routt'. LeaxinL; this lake, we enter 
 Hill Ri\'er. which for twentv miles spreads out wideh' between low banks and llows 
 with a strong current ihroui^h a curious labyrinth of hundr(;ds of small islands, all of 
 them well wooded. As w c are carried rapidly aloni.^, windini:^ in ami out amons;' the 
 lanes of eddying water, new anil beautiful vistas open out to the rii^ht and left at 
 ever)' turn. Lookin^^ down one of tin: numerous avenues amoni;' tin; varying; l)anks of 
 foliage, as we approach tlu- lower end of the archipelago, a new feature in the' land- 
 scape comes all at once into \iew, in the shape of a single conical hill, rising 
 apparenth' out ot a great de|)ression ahead ol us. Its distance is just sut^cient to 
 invest it with a pleasing tint of blue. The novelty of tin- sight in this too level 
 country is positixcK' refreshing, and our ukmi, as if |irom|)lid iiy a lommon impidse ot 
 delight, spring to their feet anil give a hearty cheer. The river, wnich takes its name 
 from this hill, now descends r;ipidl\-, and thei-e is great excitement in running tlu; 
 numerous and formidable-looking chutes ; but our crew know e\cry turn, and wc. 
 pass them all in safetx. We soon come oj)|)i)site the high cone, and, landing, walk 
 to the summit, which pro\es, bx' the aneroiil barometer, to be ,u»- h'ct above the 
 water, I-'roin the top of this singular pile of earth, known as Hrassy Hill, an unbroken 
 view of the level-wooded countrx', spreading out like the ocean, on all sides, is obtained, 
 .About twenty shining lakes of various sizes break the monolonv dI the dark spruce 
 forest ; while our ri\(i-, hidden here- ami there by its own banks, winds, like a sil\er\- 
 thread, away off to the horizon. 
 
 We pass the last chute at a plac(! called The Rock, a short distance farther on, 
 but still about 140 miles from ^'ork T'actorx . I lenceforw.ird. we are bf)rne along by a 
 swift unbroken current, Ix^tween banks of clav, all the way to the head of tide-water. 
 Eighty miles befon reaching Wnk. the Hill Ri\er is joined on the left by the Fox 
 River, and tlie united stream becomes the Steel River, Thirty miles on, the Shaw- 
 mattawa falls in on the right, and we have now the Hayes' River for the remainder of 
 
rm-: sor rii-\\i-:si : r/:/) Rii/iR to ///7)S().vs /.•./)■ 
 
 .5 '5 
 
 of 
 
 ON THli GKKAI AND I.ITTLi; CHUKlllll I. kl\l.ks. 
 
 ■I 
 
3i6 
 
 PKTHRJiSQrii CANADA. 
 
 and as \vc walk up from tlu.- lan(linL,^ all th(^ Iiulians, s(|ua\vs and chikiren about the 
 place congregate on the hank to have a look at us. This old establishment is of 
 rectanjrular form, surrouiuled by high palisades, with a large store-house or factory in 
 the centre, and streets of wooden buiklings on thnc sides. The mission church 
 stands outside, a short distance to tin- north. 
 
 Before the enormous region between Hutlson's Hay and the Rocky Mountains was 
 approached from the south b\- steamboats and railwajs, \'ork I'actory was the depot 
 for recei\'ing the furs from tin- interior ami sending inlantl the goods which arrived 
 by tlu! ships from luigland. Tlu! tine furs annuallx' collected here from all (]uarters 
 often re]3resenled millions <>f dollars in value. It is |)opularly supposed that the fur- 
 bearing animals of these regions are easily trappeil. There could scarcely be a greater 
 mistake. The life of the Indian fur hunter is really a most arduous one. Our picture 
 represents a group of these hanly fellows tramping on their snowsiioes to a hunting 
 ground where they e.xpect better luck than tlie\- hail at their last camp. The packs 
 they carry contain their clothing and blankets, ammunition, some meat and perhaps 
 a little tea and toiiacoo. The toboggan, hauletl in turn l>y each, has stowetl upon it 
 their kettles, traps and the peltries so far secured. Ihey ha\e left their last camping 
 place early in the bitterly cold morning ami after a heav\' march of about twent)' 
 miles, through the ilreary woods, the tlu!rmomett:r far liclow zero ami the snow often 
 drifting in their faces, they will scoop out a hole with their snowshoc's and camp for the 
 night. Having arrived at the proposed hunting-ground, they build a wigwam and ne.xt 
 day begin to mark out l)y "blazing" (or clipping the trees here and there) long trails 
 or " martinlines," near which they s(!t their "dead-falls" and steel traps. These lines 
 make great sweeps, often two or three days' travel in length, starting out in one tlirec- 
 tion and coming back to camp by another. The trapper walks round his line ever\- 
 few days to secure the martens, minks, fishers, etc., which have been caught, and to 
 see that the dead-falls are all i)roperly set and baited. This work is \aried now and 
 then by a run after ileer, or digging out a hibernating bear or a famil\' of beavers — 
 the last mentioned biiing a difficult untlertaking ami none too well rcwarchicl b\' the 
 value of the animals captured. 
 
 At the time of our arrival at York Factory the annual ship from Kngland was 
 anxiously e.\pected, and a few days afterwards she was sighted in the otrtng. .A pilot 
 was sent out, who Ijrought her into the river at the next tide and anchored her 
 opposite the Factory. This was the event of the year. The very sight of the ship, 
 as she ploughed her way i^roudly up the river with her white sails swelling before a 
 light breez<! from the north, brought to the minds of the Kngiish and .Scotch exiles of 
 York Factory many thoughts of iiome and country. A salute is fireil from the battery 
 on the bank and answered from the ship, just before she drops her anchor. In a 
 short time the whole available population sets to work to unload the vessel. This 
 
77//; xoR /-//ir/isf. Ri:n riihr to hi'Dsons />v/)' 
 
 3'- 
 
 done, at the top of liij^li water of tlie next tiik; sin- wcml^Iis anclior, and iiioncs out to 
 sea. hoiiicward liound. As slic sails away, licr diininishiiii^- form is watclu'd \>\ many 
 eyes, and wlirn she vanishes out of si^ht, all the people of \'ork resij^n themselves to 
 the lon;^ winter soon to close in upon them. On an a\crai,fe Noya^f, the ship crosses 
 the lja\ anil clears Huilson's Straits in al)out a week. In a fortnii^dit more she is off 
 the Land's luul, and insitle of another week she reports lu'rsi'lf in Loinlon. The 
 voyajjes of tin; Iludson's Bay Compan\'s ships haxc been made with rt^t^ularil)' for 
 more than one huntln'il )ears, anil the day may not be far distant when a s^reat |)art 
 of the tratle of the Xorth-wi^st shall tind its outh-t hy this route. York I'actory and 
 the tine harbour of Churchill, althou,<,;h in the very centre of the continent, an; as near 
 Liverpool as is Montreal ; w hile tlu:y are at the same time within a moderate tlistance 
 of the confines of the almost boundless ai^ricultural rej^iuns ol the ' j;reat Canadian 
 N orth-west. 
 
 YORK I'ACTOKV ARRIVAL Ol' HUIJSUN'S HAY CU.MPANV'S SHIP. 
 
The North-west: 
 
 THE MENNONITES, 
 
 jour- 
 ney to 
 the Rftl River 
 of the North 
 by the olil 7nmoriir route from 
 Ottawa by tlie Nipissinjr, the Sault Ste. 
 Marie and l'"f)rt Wilhani slio\v(!(i us how- 
 to reach the North-west, across Canadian lands and waters; ami our expedition from 
 Winnipeg by ^'ork I'"actory to I'.nt^land showtnl us how to leave it, without putting 
 foot on foreign soil. Tht- first of these two routes is historically Canadian ; the 
 second, historically English. The first will soon be all-rail ; the second can never be 
 good for more than four or five months of the year. 
 
 From Winnipeg as a starting-point, the artist should make several short excur- 
 sions, before taking the long road west to the Rocky Mountains. In August or Sep- 
 tember, when mosquitoes cease from troubling, one can most pleasantly get acquainted 
 with the picturesque features of the country, and the characteristics of its conglomerate 
 of nationalitie.s. He can drive down the river to the .Stone Fort and Selkirk, and 
 318 
 
THE NOR 11 [-WEST: THE AfENXONlTES. 
 
 3>9 
 
 thence to the thrivinjr Indian settlement of St. Peter's, throuj^h some of the most 
 beautiful scenery in the Korth-west, Without ^foini; much farther from iiis base, he 
 can visit the Icelamlic ami the Mennonite settlement, two ancient communities which, 
 startintj from the opposite ends of Munipe, have sou^d)i .ind found homes for them- 
 selves in the lieart of Canada. The prairie- is seen at its best, and enjo\(d most, on 
 the l)ack of a horst; or from a buckboard. It is more diversified and broken than 
 appears from a tj^eneral view. The first imi)ression of monoloiu' soon wears away. 
 And if the tourist has a ^^in, and knows how to use it, lie may ha\e sport to ids 
 heart's content. Mallanl, teal, spoonbill and other sj)ecies of duck, three or four 
 kinds of jree.se, and a dozen varieties of waders - snipe and curlew predominating— are 
 found in and about every creek, pond and lake. Prairie; chickens are omnipre>sent in 
 the opt'U ; and the wooded districts have the partridi;*; antl rabbit. .Sand-iiill cranes, 
 as large as turkeys, and almost as gooil eating, are plentiful, but the sportsman must 
 now go farther afield for elk, deer, bear and buffalo. 
 
 The prairie stream has special characteristics. Mudily at iiigh water, it is always 
 clear in summer, though uidikc; the l)rawling mountain torrent or tiie brook that 
 ripples (ncr a pebbly bed : in spots hauntetl by wild fowl : and where the wood has 
 been allowed to grow, ami shade the water from Ijank to bank, it has beauties all its 
 own. 'iiie loam of the prairie cuts out easil\ wIumi called on by running watiM-. A 
 few plough-furrows may before a year become a stream lifleen or tweiilv yards wide. 
 This, joined by other " runs," and fed from the low(M-d_\ing lands, becomes in the rainy 
 season a wide and deep creek. .Should succeeding years be dr\-, vegetation may grow 
 on the banks and form a sod so tough that the process of erosion is stopped. 
 Otherw'.se, it may go on to an e.xtraordinary degree. Hence the rivers are generally 
 very wide from bank to bank, and every year the smaller streams encroach on the 
 |)rairie. OKI settlers say that seventy years ago, tlur Kud River could be bridged at 
 any point by felling a tree on its banks. Now, the tallest Douglas pine from the 
 Pacific Slope would fall short. .\11 along the b.mks of crt'eks near Winnipe.'g, buiklings 
 may be seen undermined by erosion, and fences suspeiuk'd In mid-air. .Sometimes, 
 a .stream that (lows through forest within well-defined banks spreads when it reaches 
 the open and becomes a dismal swamp. Ivvery stream makes its way through the 
 prairie in the most tortuous way imaginable. Peninsulas of various sizes and shapes 
 are formed, and occasionally a complete circle is describcil. 
 
 Belts and "bluffs" of wood break the monotony of the prairie almost everywhere 
 in Manitoba except o.n the Mennonite Reserve. This great treeless expanse was 
 shunned by the first immigrants into the province, but the Mennonites have proved to 
 them their mistake. Starting from l-imerson, the " Gateway City," the traveller does 
 not proceed far on his way to the setting sun before a broad level prairie, extending 
 twenty-four miles to the north and thirty to the west, opens out before him. This is 
 
iiO 
 
 ricrrREsour. cix.in.i. 
 
run A'ORTiiuiisr. iiih Mh:xNo\rn:s. 
 
 391 
 
 tlu- Reserve, a beautiful stretch of fanniiij^' land, iiiilirnkin |)\ ;\ single .icre tliat is not 
 ("irst-class. ()il(l-l()f)kino, old-fasliioneil villa^^jes now dot the plain in ever\ direction. 
 Om; stri-et of steep-rooled, low-wailed houses, with an old-couiitry air of |ier\ailiii;f 
 (|uiet and an uniform old-countr\ look ahout tlir architeclure, descrihes them all. 
 There ar(; about eii^htv ol thes<' \illa!.(<'s in the l<eser\e. The farms are innoct;nt 
 alike of ftMices and of huikliiij^s. I'.ach xilla.ni' ''•'"' ''"^ herdsman, who j^oes out ilaily 
 with the cattle. I he hiisliamlmen live in the \illa,m's, siil' litiiniL^ to the incoin enience 
 of distance from their woik, in order the lieiier to |)reser\c their laiii^iiai^c. relij^ion and 
 customs, and enjoy the |)leasures of social intercourse. To a sti.in^er these pleasures 
 would app<'ar not to he \cry tjri at. " Ihey never havi; no tea-meetiii's nor dances," 
 said an okl setthtr, of a rather diffc^rent nationality, "and when the\' drink, ever\' man 
 walks u|) to the i)ar and pays for his own liipior. They ,iin't no ^ood to the coun- 
 try." .Notwithstanding!,^ this patriarch's veiy decided opinion, thr Mennonites are a 
 great good to the country. Thriftv and industrious farmers, they have alreailv brought 
 a larg(; acreage: under cultivation; peaceable and law-abiding citi/ens, they cost the 
 counlrv nothing for administration of justice, ,\iiv dispute's th.it arise are settled 
 amongst themselves, either by the intervention of friends, or. failing that, bv the adju- 
 dication ol the church. I his adjudication takes place on Sunday, altei' public' worship. 
 The women and children go home, the parties and their witnesses are thc'ii heard, 
 the bishop |jresiding, and the congregation sa\- wliai is tln' "vcrv right and justice of 
 the case." The bishop has jurisdictifUi over the whole couimunitv, is elected for life, 
 and " ])reaches round." Mvcrv village has a |)reacher of its own. who is electe<l for life 
 by the villagers, chosen on ai'couiil of his jtious life and gift for exhorting. lie receives 
 no .salary. I'he sermons, as might be expected, ,ire generally |ira<'tical, and as the 
 whole duty of man is ciuicKly exhausted by the preacher, there is freipient exchanging 
 of pulpits with neighlK)urly pastors, .All the people .attend chunh. The nu'ii sit on 
 on(; side and the women on the other. X'isiting i)reachers are placed in an elevated 
 pew to the left of the pulpit ; anci the choir, consisting of three or lour elderlv 
 men, sit in a similar pew to the right. The bisho|> is elided from among the 
 preachers ; but though held in high honour, he. too, must sup|)ort himself. Xo 
 emoluments are connected with the otfice, h^ach village has also a schoolmaster. 
 This functionary is appointed without regard to an\" particular gift or aptitude. It is 
 enough if he will undtTtake the duty for a trifling remuneration. Reading, writing 
 and arithmetic are the only subjects he is allowed to teach. Like their forefathers, 
 the Mennonites regard learning as a dangerous thing, and not lightly will they saw- 
 its seeds among the yoimg. 'I'heir religion has shaped their history. Thev adhere 
 tenaciously to the same doctrines and forms of worship aiul government that their 
 German forefathers gathered in the sixteenth centiu-y from the Scriptures and good 
 
 pious Menno .Simonis, They reject infant bajjtism ami refuse to take an oath or 
 (41) 
 
J" 
 
 r/i / (/</■: s<j(/-: c.lwuki. 
 
 'WAijF ,v;*^#' ft^tft^-;-; .-/;>>' 
 
 INTERIOR AND KX rKRIOK OK MKNNONITK CHURCH. 
 
 bear arms. C'oinpcUc'cl to leave Germany on account of tlieir refusal to do militar)' 
 serxice, they fouiui an asylum in Russia. No better illustration of the helplessness 
 and immobility of the |ioliti(al system of the j^reat Kuropean Colossus nei'd be 
 desired than the f,1ct that the Mennonites helonijed to ii for three c>-nturies without 
 being assimilated. L luler the administration of the late Czar, the national faith that 
 had been so lono- pledjred to them was i)roUen ami tJuir iinmunil\ from militar\- ser- 
 vice withdrawn. Obeying conscience, the\ ])arte(l with houses ami latuis for what the\' 
 could q;et, and sought new homes once more. Their rule against fighting soon brought 
 them into contemjjt with the early settlers in Manitoba, who not apjjreciating so tame 
 a principle, woulil ever and anon test its reality by dealing out kicks and thumps to 
 the long-sui'fering Mennonites. Under great provocation, some of them have been 
 
////:■ .\oh' / //-in-:sr rm-: m i:\.\o.\i ihs 
 
 .v.? 
 
 • ^•RT''"i'"\ ' ^j 
 
 known to disphn the s|)int 
 
 till' ()naUii-, who, when striirk on 
 
 one check liu'ncil the othci', .iml 
 
 th.ii having;- liccn -^iniltcn, rciiiarkcil that 
 
 "now he had Inhillcd the Scri|)tni'<'s," and 
 
 forihwilh iiroLccdcd to pay hai k tin- ajfj;ressoi- in kind, and with nsiiry. .As 
 
 INTKKIOR AN[) KXI'KKIOR OF MFNNONITR nWFI.I.ING. 
 
:,24 
 
 I'ICri RHSOL /■: C.L\\I/).L 
 
 i 
 
 a rule tlu' Memionit(!s arc lioncst, upriijlit and moral, and were it not for the 
 filthinoss of their domestic' habits they would he more respected hy the "white men" 
 of the eoiicitr\ than th<;y are. Most of their dwellin<,rs consist of a timber frame, 
 built in with lari^e sun-dried bricks of earth and straw, and covered with a straw- 
 thatched roof. Tlu' LiToiind is their lloor. h'owls and other domestic animals have 
 the freedom of the house. .At meals all the members of the family eat out of one 
 laryc tlish placed in the centre of th<' tablt — a custom borrowed perhaps frcn. Scrip- 
 ture, or it may hv a trace of comnumisiii. The men i;enerall\- are slow workers and 
 mo\-e about with i^reat deliberation. A lartje share of the out-door work falls to the 
 lot of the women, who ma\ be seen harrowiuLj or t-xi-n plout;hin<,f in the lields. 
 
 The Mennonites came to Manitoba in 1.S70, aiul tlun- have jjrospered exceedingly. 
 Thev at once accommodated themscKes to th<' climate and all the niaterial conditions 
 that they found in the new world. Thei'' relii.;ious faith, social cohesion and simple 
 piet\' make theiu I'.xcellent piont'ers. .\ i)eiter substratum for character could not be 
 desired, and thouj^di at present sieriih- intolerant of all chauLjc r.ew ideas will gradu- 
 ally dawn upon tlu:ir hori/on and they will become good Canadians. '! he\- have long 
 been accustomed to self-go\crnment, and that is alwavs the right training for free 
 men. Each village elects two masters ; a herd sduillz who \:- patlimaster and oxer- 
 seer of tile herders ; and -i i)rontschult/,, who looks aftei' propert}' and insurance. 
 Every xillager's j)roperty is ap[;:aised, and in case of fu'e, the sufferer gets two- 
 thirils ot his loss made up to him by a ratable assessment. A Kaiser or general 
 business manager ol the communit\- is ekxtcxl annually. He and tlu; \illage masters 
 constitute a kind of muniripal council. They meet ever\- Saturday afternoon in Reinland 
 CIV Windmill \illage, .is it is tlu; "Capital" of the colonx and lias the largest church. 
 
 Already, a i)r()gr(;ssive class is arising among the M(;nnoniies -.\merican and Ca- 
 nadian solvcii's are evidently more potent than Ru.ssian. Some of th'.- younger men 
 wish that English should lie taught in the schools, and hold other heterodox views 
 e(iuall\ abominable to the seniors. .Some of the young women have seen lunerson. 
 and sigh for the dainty bonnets and siiajxly dresses their "white" sisters wear. 
 Hut the merch.ints of l^nuison .ind West E\nn ha\c few good words to sa)' far the 
 Mennonites, .\ni\ trav(;llers who i,.ive i)e(;n n th(;ir villages r(;p<)rt them i huriish and 
 unfriendly, as well as dirt)' in tlu;ir houses and habits. But let them have reason to 
 think th(;ir \isitor friendly, and their real n.-ttun- comc^ out. Oats are brought for his 
 horse, and a cup of the b(;st coflee to be had in tlu: province, lor himself. The 
 coffee is gro'^.nd as it is needed, in a little mill, with which, and with a brass or 
 copper kettle, every house is supplii;d. I'ipes are also brought out. for all — boys and 
 men — smoke. A lad in his u-unn may be seen filially supplying his aged father 
 with a light. Is it at all wonderful that wv. bid them ,1 friendly farewell, quite con- 
 '.inced that there are worse ])eoph in the world th;in the Mennonites? 
 
if! m 
 
 1 
 
 
The North-west: 
 
 WINNIPEG TO ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 
 
 
 STAR PORTAIll" l.\ IM;,\IRU' 
 
 ' I '"() ^imiinari/c tlic i^rcat \oiih- 
 west is contcsscdlv ditfuiilt, 
 althoiii^li l.onl I )ut'l<Tiii's ilcclaralion 
 that its •■ iiliinitalili- dinnnsions alil<e 
 cdiitmiiKi liic ariihiiiclic of tlic sur- 
 \c\()r aivl the vcriliiatidn i^{ the 
 (.'xplorcr " is a sliyluK |i()st-|n"aiulial 
 
 wav of statiiv^- tlic fact. I'rrlia])s the ticst way In .uivf i-orrcct iMi|)rcssions to an 
 ordinarx- reader is to lake him on an e\|>edil!oii from W'innipt.'^' to tUv RocU)- Moun- 
 tains. Having ridden across seas of L;reen for fifty or an himdred inih-s at a stretch, 
 swam inii,rhtv rivers, sliot grizzly lu-ars nnder the siiadows of llie nionntains ol the 
 
 Ol.l) ClIfRCH NK.AK :..\.MiIN(;. 
 
 i(!||];il 
 
 VM 
 
 
'4m 
 
 iili 
 
 \. 
 
 m 
 
 i ^ 
 
 ■■■■^m I 
 
 m 
 
 3-^A 
 
 /'/cvcA'/usor/-: ca\.u>.l 
 
 scttintj sun, Iiiintod biiffalu witli the I^larkfcct or the Mounted I'olirf. prospected for 
 coal or tiiiihcr limits, lost his \\;\\ on an alkaline or cactus llat, or sonic semi-desert 
 trt'eless expanse where no si;^n of animal life iireaks the terrible solitariness from 
 horizon to Ikum/ou, he is likelv to return home a wiser man as rei^ards the extent, 
 cliaracti'r and probable destiny oi li:e North-west. lie can ( hoose one ol three routes 
 b)r his expedition : either b\- steamer down MrA Ki\cr ami Lake W'iniiiix'L;' to the 
 rapids of the Saskalihewan, and up this i;reat i'i\-er Irom lii.it |)oint to I ort b!dmon- 
 ton ; or b\' the L anadi.m i'acilic Uailwav diR' wt'st as lar as it \vill take him : or b\' 
 the old-KiNhioned methmU ol prairie locomotion, hor>eback, a KcA l\i\cr cart, or a 
 buckboard, aloiii^ the trail nortli-v\csterl\ tile L;eneral course lor a L;reat part of tiie 
 wa\' beiiv,;- between the two UKU'e modern routes, iielore slartiuij^, a brief description 
 of the leading; leature~ ol the ccunirx' may not be out ol place, 
 
 rile thousand miles ol alliai.d that stretiiii's Irom om' Kock\' Mmnitains to Lake 
 W'innipee and liudson's jiax slo]ies downwaids to the east and the north, I'he rivers 
 consequently run to ih<' east and north. I'he Red l\i\er rises in .Minnesota, and cuts 
 out f<'r itsell a tortuous, e\er widenini; trench or canal tlirouL;h the jirairie, northerK' 
 to Lake WinnipcL;, io men atcu^tcmed to see ri\ers running; to the south, the Red 
 River alwa\'s seems to be i^ninL; up-hill. The lountai n-heads ol the two Saskatcliewans 
 are in the glaciers of the Rocky Mountains, and the accumulated tribute of a thousaiKJ 
 streams is poured b\- tiieii' united channel into the same L;reat reser\'oir ol Lake Win- 
 ni|)ee;, which then discharges itsi ll b\ the NeUoii into liudson\ Haw .\t the base of 
 tile moimtain cii.nn the elexation is i)eiween three and lour thousand teet, while in the 
 Red Ri\(M' \all(\' it is onl\ about seven iMindred leet .ibo\e sea le\el. The traveller 
 from \\ innipe^ westward is thus always j^oiiiL; updiill. thouL^ii he is cpiite unconscious 
 of the fact, so ^ladual is the slope, .\ rise of nearly three thousand feet is s))read 
 oxer a thousand iiili's. Ciptain I'allise;- pointed out that this i^-reat slopin;^- plain is 
 divided into three distinct ■ 'ppes. i'he hrst s|)rin^s Irom the Lake ol the Woods, 
 and trending;' to the south-west, crosses tiic' Red l^ivc'r wt.'ll south ol tlv boundar\- line, 
 1 henci' it extends in a north-westerlv ilirecti<in under the names ol I'enibina .Mountain, 
 the sand dunes ol the .Xssinehoiiv. the i\idin_;'. Duck, Porcupine, and i'as Mountains, 
 to near Cumberland House, on the Saskatciiewaii. i he averaee altitude ol this east- 
 erly step|ie is Irem eii^dit to niii.' hundred leet. It includes the v.illev or plain of the 
 Ri'd i'viver, which, thou;_;b low ,nid marsiiv in main places, especiallv in the neiehbour- 
 hood ol Lakes Manitoba ,ind \\ innepei^oosis, lias evervwhere a soil ot inexh.iustible 
 fertility. i'o the old half-breed farmer the marshes were indispensable as " h;iy-swainps ;" 
 atid his more scientilic successors do not despise them, especially in drv seasons, .\fter 
 crossing this ste])|)e, and .isceiidiiv^ the eastern face of an\- of the iiilis or "mountains' 
 that bound it on liie west, the traveller tinds. to his .astonishment, that "the mount.ain" 
 lias dis,i|i])e;ired, and that lie stands on a pi. tin almost as level as the one left ix-hind, 
 
rur. \ORrii\\i-:s I : n7.\\//>/:(, lo rocio' mocxiwixs. ;,-; 
 
 HA.NKb Ol- lllb Kl'.lJ Kl\ 1,1 
 
 but much l)ctt('i' adapted t(i laniiiiin 
 purposes, as " tlic soil is wanner, the 
 
 suiiai'e more rolling;, and tlu'i-elOre di'iei', and the water of a lietter (|uahty and more 
 plentiful in the lorm of l)|-ooks." Ihis second stejipe extends west to !he loltan ol the 
 Missouri, theiici' northwards to the I'dliow of the .South Saskatelu-wan. on to the lia<;l(.' 
 Hills near Hattleforil. and nortli-wesiwardK to l.ac l.a liiche. Its mean ..ititude is about 
 sixteen hundred leel. The -outhern h.ilf was formerK' considered to be semi-ilesert, on 
 account of insutticient rainfall, while the northern iiall, sweepiuL; ii|> to and round the 
 North Saskatchewan, was called in contradistinction "The hertile Helt "; but it is now 
 known -chief!)' from the e.\;)lorations of Professor Macoun, the Nominion Botanist — 
 that ninety per cent, of the whole of this wist middle plain is iarminu; land of the xcry 
 best quality, and that llu? avera^t raiiifall is (|uite suflicienl for the growth of cereals. 
 Indeed, durintr the last few vears the tide of immiL'ration has rolled over the southern 
 
338 
 
 /'/cyfA'/-:.sv('/-: c.ix.i/hi. 
 
 in preference to tlie nortlicrn lialf, ami l)y tlic unaniindiis consent of actual settlers, 
 the coiintrx' is pronounced to he "the i^^arden .of the Lord." This lact has had }j;reat 
 influence in deterniininL; the location of the Canadian Pacific i<ail\va\. When it was 
 inii\ I'rsally l)t;li(!\ed that the i^ood land oi the North-west was pretty much conlined to 
 the North Saskatche-w an. tlie enj^dneer-in-chii'l \er\ natural!) ran the line in that 
 direction as far as lulnionton ; all the niore liecause it was known that the \'ellow 
 Mead— the best pass throuj^di the kock\ MoiuUains -was in the same latitude, and 
 that the far-reachiniL; prairies that iioiiler the I'eace Ri\cr exteniled awa\' to the 
 north. liut when, in consecpience ol exijlorations made at Mr. I'leminijj's urgent 
 recpiest, the real character ol the southern coiuitrx alout; the (_)u'.\ppelle became 
 known, it was exident that a more direct and shoiier railwax, rinininn ilue west, would 
 ha\e man\ aiKanta^cs, and that it was worth while to tr\ to force a wa\' throuirh the 
 Rockies by the Kickini; Morse or some other Pass. The thlid piairie stt|)pe e.xtend.'^ 
 to the Rocky Mountains. " This section is more broken than the others, and large 
 tracts are better suited lor pastui-agc than lor the plough. .Salt lakes and ponds, 
 rolling hills, alkaline tlats, dee|i lavines, called cm/rrs. and rivers {lowing in deep 
 channels, are its leading le.iiures. " i-ianches ha\'c been taken up here b\' enterprising 
 cattle-breeders from the older provinces. Merds ol the best breeds ar<' alre.idv roaming 
 bv thousands along the scores of streams that issue from the tlanks of the moim- 
 lains, and subse(|uentl\ unite lo Unm the St. Marx's, the i^ow, iU'lly, and Red Deer 
 Rivers. l^.xposures of coal beds, sinipK immense in thickness and extent, form another 
 marked characteristic ol this third stepp<'. 1 he coal cro|)s out along the river hanks 
 fi'om near the bound. u'v line to the .Mackenzie River, and. though cretaceous, is used 
 lor all |)urposes like ordinarv co.d. 
 
 The old-lashioned wax of crossing this broken billowv sea of grec'ii and gold that 
 slopes upwards Irom \\ innipeg to the Rockies is the best of all w.ixs for a holiday 
 juirtx". The outfit need not be extensive. .\ \il.'^\ River cart is desirable, a j^rimitive 
 looking affair, not an ounce of iron in it, and tough as hickory. Its great broad 
 wheels bear up the little box with its hall ton of stores and tent, when crossing 
 sxvam])s xvhere ,in ordinarx' cart would sink to the hubs oi- perhaps altogether out of 
 sight. .An Indian or half-breed mav b<- utilized as driv<'r, cook and guide. \'ou jog 
 along on horsfjback. drixing before xdu two or three ponies as relaxs. No need to 
 carrx" oats. I'he nutritious grasses will keep yoiu- horses in good condition for weeks 
 of trax<:l. There is no road but the trail llanl, black and glittering in drx' weatlier, 
 only let the least .slu)vver fall, and th<- black loam stic;ks in a wontleiful xvax to the 
 wheels and the liorses' hoofs. The best course then is to turn aside to the grass on 
 either hand, and make a new trail for vours(rlf, and pray for dry weather. .A fmious 
 storm of rain or perh.ips hail xvill come with little notice, accompanied with thunder 
 and lightning aDsolutely terrific to those who hav(- e.xperienced only the mild electric 
 
 !3 
 
THE NORTH-WEST: WINNIPEG TO ROCK V MOCNIIINS. 329 
 
 A liti.NlitR STOlii:. 
 
 disturbances of the eastern provinces. Always start before sunrise and c.imp before 
 sunset, and look out for a site near <jootl water, wood and a pleasant prospect. Many 
 a pleasant cainpinir ground you can promise yourself ! Many a tleligiitful ride, the 
 
 (4a) 
 
330 
 
 picri 'REsoL '/•: c. l\\ i/ii. 
 
 summer and autumn air always sweet, llower-scenteil, cliarged wiili pulse-stimulating 
 electricity ! Good shootinfj and good appetites go without saying. 
 
 Leaving Winnipeg and its wondrous bustle and "i)o(jms" behind, the first objective 
 point ' . I'ortage la Prairie. The old trail keeps near the Assineboine. Var away 
 stretches the level prairie, dotted sometimes with islets of aspens, sometimes with 
 huge hay stacks and the houses of settlers. Not one-hundredl!i part of the land is 
 under the plough, and yet it might all be bearing the best of wheat. What a won- 
 derful air to breathe ! I'ure as in mid-winter, soft and sweet as from a bank of 
 llowers, exhilarating as tin; breath of the North always is. Higher than ever you have' 
 seen it before and vaster is the great over-arching dome of deepest blue, flecked with 
 masses of clouil, white as driven snow. Slowly the sun goes down, the last rim of 
 the orb seen as from a ship's deck on the shoreless ocean. The dew falls heavily. 
 The cooler air makes blankets welcome overnight even in mid-summer, and a cup of 
 hot tea — nowhere so fragrant as on the prairies — equally welcome before starting again 
 in the early morning. Portage la Prairie is one of the places that it would be a waste 
 of time to describe. It is growing like Jonah's gourd, and the description of the vil- 
 lage of to-day would be unsuited to the town of to-morrow and the city of next 
 week. When the municipal assessment increases fifteen hundred per cent, in a single 
 year. Dominie Sampson's "Prodigious!" is the only language that does justice to the 
 occasion. Should the proposed ship canal between Lake Manitoba and the Assine- 
 boine be constructed, this rate of progress will probably be continued for a time ; 
 and as there are only twenty-six miles of low-lying i)rairie between the lake and the 
 river, such a canal could be completed without difficulty. The " Portage," as the 
 town is usually called, is beautifully situated on the banks of the Assineboine. Near 
 by, a long, narrow, shallow, reed-fringeil lake or slough indicates an old channel of 
 the river. This slough — or, to use the vernacular of the place, '• slew "—is a favourite 
 haunt of wild duck, and the rich grass on the plains for miles round swarms with 
 prairie chicken. It is a veritable sportsman's paradise. 
 
 From Portage la Prairie the railway keeps due west up the Assineboine. At 
 Brandon, where the river turns to the north, the railway crosses it and holds on its 
 westerly course. At the Portage, the trail strikes somewhat northerly in the direction of 
 Fort Ellice, formerly an important centre of the Hudson's bay Company. In a more 
 direct northerly line, valuable forest extends from the south end of Lake Manitoba by 
 the Riding, Duck and Porcupine Mountains, and thence north-westwards to the junc- 
 tion of the North and .South Saskatchewan. Between the Portage and Fort t>llice, 
 the land has been homesteaded and pre-empted by immigrants. Towns and villages 
 are springing up in every direction, and vast breadths of fertile land which had lain 
 unoccupied for centuries are being broken in upon by the plough. The Pioneer 
 Store is the oest point of vantage from which to study the new life that is flow- 
 
THE NORTH-WEST: WINMlPEa TO ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 331 
 
 ing over the great lone land of a 
 decade ago. This invaluable depdt, 
 with its varied assortment of hard- 
 ware, utensils and implements, dry- 
 goods, groceries, gunpowder, fish-hooks 
 and bibles, is always on the fringe 
 of settlement. It cheers the advance 
 of civilization, and is the base of all 
 farther operations. 
 
 A magnificent view of the country 
 in every direction opens out on the 
 edge of the plateau, overlooking the Assineboine, over against Fort Ellice. Miles away 
 from us, on the opposite bank, the wooden buildings of the Fort gleam white and 
 shining under the light of the declining sun. A long train of freighters' wagons are 
 on their way down the broad valley. Far to the south and north runs the river, to 
 all appearance still as broad and deep as at Winnipeg. It is joined here from the 
 
 -TOKt EUICC. 
 
332 
 
 ru • ri Ri-sQi ■/-: c axa/).i. 
 
 west by tin- Ou'Appt-lU', wliicli is sul-ii bniakiiij,' tlir<)ii},'h tlu; plateau l)clun(l which 
 the Sim is settinjr. The united liver meaiulers tiirouj^fh tiu' intervale at our feet, cut- 
 tinj; out necks, islanils and peninsulas of land of all shapes and sizes, some yreeii and 
 grassy, others covertid with willows or heavic:r liniljer. Not far from "tiie Crossing" is 
 a camp of Indians; and near liy, a half-hreed patriarch, who mii;iu he mistaken for 
 an Indian, has also pitched camp. The family have sold out their Reii River 
 farm to a speculator, and arc! travellinif to si;ek a new hou'-; farther west. The 
 patched and blackened tent, tiie listless altitude of the inmates, antl the ^^cneral 
 poverty-stricken look of thin^rs are all unpromisiiiy ; but notwithstanding, the half- 
 breeds make good pionetM's. 
 
 Between the mouth of liie (Ju'-Appelle and any point on the Saskatchewan every 
 day's riile reveals ni^w scenes of a country, bleak enough in winter, but in summer 
 fair and promising as the heart of man can ilesire ; rolling and le\<l prairie ; gently 
 swelling uplands ; wootled knolls ; broken hills, with gleaming lakes interspersed. 
 One trail leads to the Ivlbow of the South. Saskatchewan, and thence to Mattleford ; 
 another to I'Ort Carlton ; another to I'Orl Pelly. The most beautiful section of this 
 region is the Touchwooil llills — a succession of elevated prairie upl.uuls extensive 
 enough to constitute a province;. At a distance they appear as a line of hills stretch- 
 ing away in a north-westerl)- direction, but the rise from the le\el prairie is so gentle 
 and undulating that the traveller never tintls out where the hills actually commence. 
 There are no sharply defmed summits from which other hills and the distant jjlain on 
 either sicle can be seen. Cjrassy or woodeil knolls enclose fielils that look as if they 
 hail been cultivated to i)roduce hay crops ; or sparkling lakelets, the homes of snipe, 
 plover and thick. l-ong reaches of fertile lowlands alternalt: with hillsides as fertile, 
 Avenues of whispering tree promise loilge or gale, inil lead oidy to Cluitcaiix en 
 Espagitc. 
 
 .Soon after leaving the Touchwood I fills, we come to the watershed of the South 
 Saskatchewan ; another region that may be easily converted into a gartlen ; now boldly 
 irregular and again a str(.;tch of level prairie ; at intervals swelling into softly-rounded 
 knolls, or opening out into .^lir expanses ; well-wootled, and abounding in pools and 
 lakelets, most of them alkaline. We pass a long line of freighters' wagons, and 
 almost ever)' day immigrants pressing west in their prairie "schooners;" caravans or 
 "brigades" of half-breeds also, their carts laden with Buffalo skins and drietl meat, 
 returning east after a buffalo hunt, of which they have probably seen the entl. At the 
 last ridge, we can see where — ^tifteen miles farther west — the South Dranch of the Saskatch- 
 ewan rolls along to the north-east. The horizon is bounded l)y hills far on the other 
 side of the great stream. Those of our party who are bound for I'Ort Carlton make 
 for the nearest ford and then reach the North Branch of the river by crossing the 
 intervening plateau, at this point only eighteen miles wide. If we cross the river at 
 
Till- xoR ni-wi-sT: wixxirrc ro rocky mountains. 333 
 
 tlic I'lliiow, we 
 liavi; a much 
 loiijjfT rick' l)cf<.)rc' rcach- 
 Hattli'foril. lonncrly, I'ort 
 Carlton was an important post; but 
 now, the Prince AUxTt settlement, 
 fifty miles down stream, and — in 
 the other direction — Hattleford, till 
 1S82 the Capital of the Xorth-west 
 Territories, is of j^reater conse- 
 quence politically and commercially. 
 Battleford is situated on the south bank of the Battle River, near its confluence 
 with the Saskatchewan. On the opposite bank of the river are the cpiarters of a 
 detachment of the North-west Mounted Police. Here, we first meet representatives of 
 this force, whose soldierly cpialities are the praise of everyone entitled to speak of soldiers. 
 Only three hundred in number, until increased to live hundred in 1S82, they have been 
 intrusted with the preservation 
 
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rUF. NORTH-WEST: WINNIPEG TO ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 
 
 335 
 
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 the work to the satisfaction of the (iovernmenc and tlic country. '\\\v. Indians have 
 been made to feel the majesty ;uul tlie blessintj of law, without an outbreak or a shot 
 fired on either side. Two or three of the force; havi; been known to ride into a camp 
 of hundreds of armed savajjes and arrest on the spot and carry off for trial an armed 
 swaggerer accused of murder — a signal proof of th(! supremacy of law, as Indians 
 regard a member of their band as a brother, whoso case they are bound, b)- ties of blood 
 and sentiment, to make their own. Whiskey-traders, who formerly built furts and li\ed 
 at license where they listed, have had their stores confiscatet' and themselves driven 
 across the boundary line, in a state of inten.se disgust at the force and British institu- 
 tions generally. No exercise of authority has been more appreciated by the Indians, 
 for they hate whiskey-traders as much as they love whiskey. Though the fot-ce is scat- 
 tered over the country at Carlton, Hattlefyrd, Edmonton, Forts Felly, INIcLeod, Walsh, 
 and other points hundreds of miles distant from each other, and unconnected by tele- 
 graph, the smallest detachment has always proved large enough for any duty with 
 which it has been intrusted — an evidence of moral power that could have been acquired 
 only by a long course of just and considerate dealing. TIk; Indian policy of the 
 Canadian Government is sometimes declared to be a failure, and at other times is 
 mildly censured as expensive. Though by no means perfect, it may challenge compari- 
 son with that of the United States, or of any other civilized nation to>vards a weaker 
 rice. Judged by its fruits — the maintenance of order without shedding blood, and the 
 ster^jy growth of a conviction among the Indians that the (iovernment means fairly by 
 them — it may even be pronounced a success. 
 
 Crossing the North Saskatchewan, either at Carlton or Battleford, we continue our 
 westerly course up the great mountain stream, which, like the Assineboine, seems 
 scarcely to decrease in size ihe nearer we g(;t to its source. The trail leads across a 
 hilly country, intersected by scores of rivulets (lowing from the iiortii, a sight glad- 
 dening to eyes long accustometl only to slreamless prairie. Tiie windings of those 
 numerous tributaries of the North Saskatchewan relieve the scenery from monotony. 
 Every hour's ride presents us with a new view. We cross valleys singularly dispropor- 
 tioned in the magnitude of mery filature to the size of the streams flowing through 
 them ; and lose ourselves in vast depressions, surrounded on all sid(;s Ijy hills, like the 
 "punch-bowls" of the south of .Scotland. From elevated points, far and wide, stretches 
 can be seen of a country rich in loamy soil, grasses, wood, and water. Groves of tall 
 white spruce in the gullies and along lake sides, branching poplars, with occasional 
 clumps of white birch or tamarac, mingle with the still-prevailing aspen. The sombre 
 spruces give new colour, and their tall pointed heads a new outline, to the landscape. 
 Sometimes the trail leads across a wide open plateau, or up and down a long bare 
 slope ; sometimes through forest where no underbrush interposes obstacles to pleasant 
 riding, while immediately ahead the wood always seems impenetrably close ; sometimes 
 

 I 
 
 '4L i 
 i 
 
 !' 
 
 M^ 
 
 /'/C V/'A'/iSOC/: c.i.\:i/>.i. 
 
 \)V ;ii)i)arcnll\ ciiltixalt'd fields, licinmcd in at \aryin<4' distances !))■ i:;ract:ful trees, 
 tlirou^h whose hraneiics tlie waters of a lake L,deani, or the rou'^h hack of a hill rises, 
 with hii^her uplands heyond, ,L;i\inL;- a more distant hori/on. Occasionally we \^vt .t 
 irlinipsc of the Saskatchewan, running' like a mass of molten lead, free from ra|)i(l or 
 sand-bar, bctwi;en far-extendinL;' hills coverenl with yoinii^ aspens. The frecpient lircs, 
 kinilled and left smoulderinq- by careless traxcllers and Indians, keej) down the growth 
 of wood all over the North-west - a carelessness that setth rs in future \-ears arc; snrt; to 
 riu: 'jitterlw I'or one ol the <;ra\cst of the unsoKcd jirohlems connt.'cted with the col- 
 onization of the country is tlu; conseipieiit scarcit)' of timher. Tree |)lantins4', on an 
 e.\tensi\(' scale;, should he encourai^ccl 1)\- both I'roxinc' d and l)ominion ( iovernments. 
 
 ()n tne wa\' to i'^dmonton \vc arc; sure to iall in witli occasional cam|)s ol Crees. 
 Thev are all friendly ; and evc^r reach' for a talk and a smoke;, if you supply the 
 tobacco. The scjuaws will barter frec;ly their berries, lish, wild ducks or dric;d bullalo 
 meat, for a little llour. tea. tobacco or any trinkets or luxuries you may offer. Tre.it 
 them kindly and courteously, for they arc; the children of the; old lords ol the soil. 
 Their cam]) is sure to be picturc;scjiiely situated beside a lake stock(;d with lish, near 
 wood and bushes laden with the Indian pear or rich sasketoon bcrric;s. 
 
 .A peculiar rite- of the Indi.ms inhabitinj^ portions of the \orth-west Territories is 
 the " 1)014- I'e-i^t." This feast is celebrated once; a \ ear at the princii)al points at which 
 the Indians conq-res^rate in summer, either for the jjurpose of I'lshinL; or icceixini:; their 
 annuities or treaty-money. In the midst of the procec;clinL;s, which are conducted with 
 the; utmost 54ra\ily by the principal mc dicine-man of the; band, a doq- is slain, cut up, 
 cooked and eaten, Althouirh callc;d the least of the White I >o,l,^ and this colour is 
 pre;ferred, a cloq' of ;iny other shade; will .answc'r 'die purpose;. The ceremonx' ap])ears to 
 ha\e' some; analoi^y to the I lel)rc;w I'assoxcr, but its orij^m and meanini^ are lost in ob- 
 scurity, as is the; case; with most of the relii^ious obser\ancc;s of these Indians. If you 
 lia\e time, it will |)a\' to strike northwards to I.ac la Hiche, the Lji'anary of the' Roman 
 Catholic Mission ; e.r to Wliitefish Lake where the Indians, under the care of the 
 Methodist Church, arc; beiiiL;' weaned from nomadic habits and becoming;" agriculturists. 
 
 lint 01. • objecti\'e point is b'oi-t Mdmonlon. This tliri\inj; settleme;nt, beautifully 
 situated on the north bank of the Saskatchewan, is destiiu;cl to become one of the 
 most important centr(;s in the Xorth-west No matter throuqli what pass of the 
 Rocky .Mountains the railway may sec;k the conlines of Hritish Columbia, the position 
 of Julmonton, betwc-cMi the boundless plains that extenel .iIoul; both sides of the 
 Peace River, as it sweeps in majestic ciirv(;s to the north, and the country to the 
 south walc;red by the- mullitudinoi.s streams that con\ers.^e to form the South Sas- 
 katchc;wan, de;te-rminc;s its future as a i,n-e;at elistributim^ point. It is immediately sur- 
 rounded also I)y stretches of splendid farming land ; is rich with exhaustless forests, 
 coal, and lakes and streams full of white lish and sturgeon ; and the expenditure of a 
 
/"///:■ XOA' /7/-ll7:\/- //7.\V\//V:7; 70 h'OC k' )■.]/(>( X /\ 1/ \S. 
 
 ,,sa**f?s?an!3^5 
 
 ars to 
 in ob- 
 you 
 
 Ionian 
 )f tlie 
 
 lurists. 
 iiifully 
 of llio 
 the 
 
 losilion 
 )f the 
 to the 
 1 Sas- 
 
 ;!)• sur- 
 
 forcsts, 
 of a 
 
 I 
 
 NoK rii-\\i>r Morsi'-'n roi ick. 
 
m. 
 
 338 
 
 P/C TURKSOUE CAN A PA. 
 
 I 
 
THR NORTH-WEST: WIXMrTAi TO ROCKY M01U\TA INS. 
 
 339 
 
 moderate sum would enalile a ste-amcr to make an unbroken voyaj^e between Kdnion- 
 ton and Lake Manitoba. The Peace River country is so far to the north that it is 
 difficult to think of it as suited to the L^rowth of cereals ; but it is still niori; diffi- 
 cult to reject the testimonies to its fitness, and to liie vastness of its undeveloped weakh. 
 "A canoe voyaj^e from 1 hul.;on's Hay to the I'acilic," i)y tlie late Sir (leor<;e Simpson, 
 edited with notes by Malcolm Mcl-eod, is crammed full of facts taken from tiie jour- 
 nals of responsible officials, all show inn ^'^''^ " behind the North wind," or beyond 
 the North-west of which we have been speakinj,^, extends a new retjion ecpially vast 
 and promising; wheat and pasture lanils, well-limi)ered, well-watered, .ind abounding in 
 coal, bitumen anil r;ilt. I'rof. Macoun declares that this is the? richest region of Canada. 
 The mean temperature of the seven months from April to October at Dunvegan is 
 higher than at Halifax, Nova Scotia, almost a thousand miles nearer the equator. 
 Already, the advance guard of an invading host, armetl with ploughshares, and accom- 
 panied by wives and children and domestic cattle, have reached Edmonton. Very soon 
 their horses and herds will cross the Athabasca, and crop the rich herbage that covers 
 the banks of the .Smoky and the Peace Rivers. 
 
 In 1882, an order in council ilivided the North-west, outside of the enlarged 
 Province of Manitoba, into the four districts of .Assiniboia, Alberta, Saskatchewan and 
 Athabasca. The beautiful and rich agricultural valley of the Qu'Appelle must always 
 be the heart of Assiniboia, and the ranches of the How River the glory of Alberta. 
 The lands of the North .Saskatchewan, along tin; western section of which we have 
 been travelling, constitute the third province /;/ f>ossc. The Peace River country, to be 
 known hereafter as Athabasca, is the only one of the four where a white population 
 has not yet gathered about one or mort; centres ; but this last is likely to excel all 
 the others, and, probably, to be in the end the Hanncr Province of Canada. Steamboats 
 can navigate the Peace for quite as many months in the year as they now navigate 
 the St, Lawrence. It offers fewer imp^idiments to navigation than either tiie St. Law- 
 rence or the .Saskatchewan. The soil is as rich and the prairies are vaster than in 
 Manitoba or Assiniboia. And the immunity of the whole region, from the "infamous 
 and unspeakable 'hopper,'" tI:rows a heavy weight into the scale in its favour. How 
 does it happen that practically boundless jirairies should be found in this far northern 
 and forest area? Dr. G. M. Dawson says that "there can be no doubt that they are 
 produced and maintained hy fires. The country is naturally a wooded one, and where 
 fires have not run for a few years, young trees begin rapidly to spring up. The fires 
 are, of course, idtimately attributable to human agency, and it is probable that before 
 th'j country was inhabited l>y the Indians it was everywhere densely forest-clad. That 
 the date of origin of the chief prairie tracts now foimd is remote, is clearly evidenced 
 by their present appearance, and more particularly by the fact that they are every- 
 where scored and rutted with old buffalo tracks, while every suitable locality is pitted 
 
' 
 
 34° 
 
 PICrrRESQUE CAS\\nA. 
 
 
 with tlic saiutT-sliapcd "hiirfalo wallows.'" To the same cause —the action of constantly 
 n'ciirrini; fire-, -is to lie attriliutcil ilic absolute treeiessness ol' the prairies lor hundreds 
 of miles between the two Saskatchewans and farther south, in the third ste[)i)e, where 
 
 •nil-; I'KAsr or riii; wini:; dul 
 
 alone the prairie is s('en in its pure and nakeil perfection. Here, for da\' after day, 
 the tra\elier nioxcs like a sjM'ck on the; surface of an unbroken and ap|)arentK' inter- 
 minable level expanse. Nothinjjj intervenes between him and the horizon, and let him 
 gallop as fast as he will the horizon appears ever the same and at the same distance 
 fnmi him. All the while, too, he sees no living thing on the earth or in the air. 
 Silence as of the L;rave reigns supreme from morning to night. TIk' spirits of the 
 most buoyant lravellc;r sink as he rides ileeper and deeper into this terrii)le silence, 
 unless he has learned to commune with the Eternal. Knowing the cause of this tree- 
 iessness, we now know the remedy. Direct human agency can replace what indirect 
 human agt'iicy has displaced, (iovernments. Dominion and local, should at once encourage 
 tree planting on an extensive scale, ami the success that has attended systematic efforts 
 in this direction in the Western .States is the best encouragement to us to go and do 
 likewise. Such efforts are not needed in Saskatchewan and Athabasca, where there 
 
TlfR NORTII-Wr.sr. WlNNiri'Ai lO KOCKY MOUNT IIKS. 
 
 :u' 
 
 is ubiiiulaiicc of wooil, coiisisiinn cliicll)' of aspiin, cottoinvood, hiicli anil tonifcroiis 
 trees. 
 
 Many as arc llu; attractions of Atlial)asca, wc do not [iroposi' to visit it on tliis 
 occasion. At luinionton we call a halt. ()nr joiirnc\- to the west aiul north is cniicd. 
 WY- turn now to the south, lirsl to the ( )ld Kock)' Mountain 1 louse; thence to lort 
 Caij^arry in hopes of si.-ein^- the iron horse or some siujns of his a|)proach. Cai- 
 garry has ht-en tii' j^reat ohjectivt; point of the Canadian I'acilic Railway, after the 
 route by lirandon, Oii'Appijlh; and Moose Jaw Creek was decitled u|)on. It is in 
 the heart of the old Mlackfe'et country, that fairest section of the North-west which is 
 the western curve of the old " I'ertile Belt" or "Rainbow" Here, on account of tiie 
 Chinook winds streamini^^ throuj^h the passes of tlu; Rocky Mountains and up their 
 tfanks, th(! avera_i;c temperature, durinjf the winter months, is fifteen degrees higher 
 than in Western Ontario. 
 
 When the mountains come into view, we find that the North-west has kept its 
 best wine to the last. The majestic range of tiie .Alps, sweei>ing round Northern Italy, 
 seen from the roof of .Milan Cathedral, multitiidinou.s peaks glorying in historic names, 
 guarding from \.\\v. barbarians of tlie north the rich jtlain at their fei't, is not a grander 
 spectacle than the \ iew from Calgarr\-. l.illlc; wonder that the red man placed his 
 paradise Ix.-yond that endless succession of white-crested sierras, which, in long unbroken 
 line, barred his wa\ to the happy hunting grounds farther west. On the other side of 
 those moimtaiiis of the setting sim, peak over peak towering up to the skies, was 
 surely a fairer land than even those ocean-like e.xpanses of green and gold from which 
 they rose so grandly. Little wonder that he called them " The Bridge of the World," 
 for they seemed a fit boundary between the plains over which he had hunted all his 
 life, anil a mysterious world beyond. The sportsman has as much reason to rejoice 
 in this section of the coimtry as the lover of the picturesipie. The countless herds 
 of buffalo that once blackened its foot-hills and jjlains anil valleys are being re- 
 placed by Herefords, polled Angus, and other breeds of domestic cattle, but the 
 mountains still afford good s|)ort for the rifie, and the lakes and streams swarm with 
 trout. One specimen, a kind of mountain salmon, ranges from fivi- to thirty pounds 
 weigi.';. The general character of the rivers and their sheltering valleys is aptly 
 illustrated by the Marquis of Lornc in a pen picture, which we extract from his 
 Winnipeg speech : 
 
 " The river beds are like great moats in a modern fortress — you do not see them till 
 close upon them. As in the glacis and rampart of a fortress, the shot can search across 
 the smooth surfaces above the ditch, so any winds that may arise sweep across the twin 
 levels above the river fos.ies. The streams run coursing along the sunken le\els in 
 these vast ditches, which are sometimes miles in width. Sheltered by the undulating 
 banks, knolls or cliffs which form the margin of their excavated bounds, are woods, 
 
342 
 
 PICTURHSOUE CANADA. 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 generally of poplar, except in tlu; nortlicin and westcni fir frin^u:. On approachinj" the 
 mountains their snow-caps look like luij,re tents encamped alonj^ the rollinjj prairie. 
 L'p to tills ^- 't eainp, of wiiieh a lenjfth of one hundred and fifty miles i;. sometimes 
 visible, tin ri\i . valle\s wind in trciulics, lookinj^ like the covtTed wajs l>y wiiich 
 siege works zig-zat,' up to a liesiej^fed city. On a nearer view the camp line changes 
 to ruine'l marble palaces, and tiirough their tremendous walls and giant woods you 
 will soop be dashing on the train for a wint(;r basking on the warm Pacific Coast." 
 
 We penetrate the various pass(.'s by following the rivtirs up the valleys tiiat sep.i- 
 rate the transverse liilges, an interminable succession of which constitute the apparently 
 unbroken chain of the Rocky Mountains. These passes increase in altitude as we go 
 south. Thus, the I'eace River Pass is only 2000 feet above sea level. The TOte 
 Jaune or Yellow Head, which the Canadian Ciovernment adopted at Sandford P'lem- 
 ing's suggestion, is 3700 feet. The Kootaney Pass, in latitude 49*^" 30', is nearly 6000 
 feet high, and tiie Kicking I iorse not much less. 
 
 But, our expedition is not charged with the task of exploring the Passes that lead 
 to the mountain frontier of British Columljia. Wt; have to return from Calgarry to 
 Winnipeg, by tlu- route niark<!tl f)iit across the ])lains for tlie Canadian Pacific Railway. 
 Deeper and deeper is tliis great national highway penetrating into the hitherto lone 
 land, opening the way for myriads of all nations Lo enter in ami take possession. We 
 come upon thousands of men engaged on the work of construction. The scene is one 
 to inspire the patriot and the lover of his kind. The wealth, the skill, the forethought 
 and disciplined energy, once devoted to fire-eyed war, are now pledged to the Army of 
 Industry and Peace. With congratulations and hojje, we welcome the steel rails — har- 
 binger of a new civilization and material pledge of the unity of our Dominion. 
 
 ! I 
 
ij^ the 
 irairie. 
 •liiiujs 
 which 
 laiij^es 
 i you 
 t." 
 
 sepa- 
 rently 
 ve go 
 
 T6te 
 Flem- 
 
 6000 
 
 t lead 
 rry to 
 lilway. 
 1 lone 
 We 
 s one 
 ought 
 my of 
 — har- 
 
Thf, Niagara Disirict. 
 
 RAI'IUS AllOVK Tin; KAI.I.S. 
 
 
 X^7"l'" li;i\(' already IkiicIkhI the i^rcat Province of ()ntarl(i at two or three points; 
 lull irom tile City of Ottawa we followetl tile oi(i I'oyin^iiir route to tiie Nortli- 
 wcst, anci i)ress(,'(.l on tiii, iil<c tiie \'erenclr\es, we lanie in sii^lil ol tiie Rocky 
 Momuaiiis, It is lime now t(j tri-at in lietail \\\v ricliest ami most populous part of 
 the Dominion. Perhaps, we should lic^in witli the capital ; hut Niagara claims pre- 
 cedence, not only because of its world-wide fame, l)ut Ix'cause in its district was the 
 first capital of U|Ji)er Canada, and under its trees the first Parliament of the Province 
 assembled. 
 
 riiit peninsula juttim^ out betwet;n hikes I'!rie and Ontario, and divided from 
 
 the State of New \(>rk by the Niagara River, constilutt:s what is known as the 
 
 Niagara District. It is unrivalled in all North .\merica for its genial climate and the 
 
 cultivated beauty of its fertile and richh-wouded soil, and is clusel\- knit to the hearts 
 
 J4J 
 
344 
 
 /'/crch'/-:soc/': c.ix. //>. /. 
 
 of its |)('()|)li' l)y i'.s ii()l)Ic, liisloric iiicinorics mi'inorics iinlissoltililx' l>Ii'iul(.'(l with tl'.c 
 beautiful river wliicii j^lorilics liic rci^ioii tliroui^ii wliicii it llows ami to wIulIi it lias 
 iri\('n its iiatiu'. ilii'sc nicmorics and associations of the i)ra\c ila\s of old ou<;lu not 
 to l)u loss sacred and guarded possessions hecause the foes ■.vlio once dyeil the 
 Niagara's crssial waters with Mood are now friends, and hold its joint owni'rshi|) in 
 peaceful rivalr\'. 1 hrouidi the heroic \alour, sullc'rinL;s and sacrifices of the men 
 who defended ( hieenslon i leii^hls a nation was horn, ilestined. we ma\' well helieve, 
 to Vwv as lonj; as the famous ri\(r on whose hanks the first tonih of national life 
 was felt. 
 
 When the city of (_)uel)ec, that ";4reat anti(|uity" of .America, was only a palisadeil 
 fort, with a few rude dwellings of tlu- white men gathered imder its shelter, the cata- 
 ract of Niagara had heen heartl of in luiro|)e as the su|)reme wonder of the New 
 World, and now, after all the changes liiue has wrought, and all the other new regions 
 explored since then, ii remains incomparalile in heauty and grandeur. Volumes of 
 vc:rl)iagt! ha\(' heen written ahout it ; artists hasc de|iicted it under e\-er\' as|)ect and 
 from e\-ery point of iew ; holitla\-idlers, \acation tourists, and tr,i\cllers in search of 
 excitement ami the picturesipie, llock to it from all points of the ci\ ilized worKl ; thi' 
 
 I'l'eei 
 
 1 of 
 
 mone\-makmL 
 
 has encompassed it with mean and incongruo 
 
 us surrouiulmos ; 
 
 Init custom cannot stale its infinite \ariety, nor all the .iccom])animents of vulgar 
 
 traffic tlegraile its suhl 
 
 ime and awful maj<'st\ 
 
 It 
 
 remains the ideal wa 
 
 ter-fall of th( 
 
 )rld. 
 
 lie name 
 
 \'i 
 
 lapara. has heen a suh-^c 
 
 -t of 
 
 much discussion among philologists. 
 
 Souu- siippos( it to 1)1' sini] 
 
 1\- a contraction of the Indian word, ()///ii //>'<' //><>//. nu-a 
 
 nine 
 
 thunder of waters." Others find its orii 
 
 in 1 
 
 11 (h;\'( ///ii//. signifxing a neik, am 
 
 if land hetweeii the two lak( 
 
 applied to the iieiiinsiila or nee 
 
 it to he d.eriv(d from the name of a trihe dwelling on tlu; northern han 
 
 Otlu-rs a<'ain helieve 
 
 .f tf 
 
 le river 
 
 ii'ii the first e\]>lorers and missionaries \isil<'tl the \\\'st. Ihe missionaries calleil 
 
 them the .\' ////<■ Xii/Zci/, h 
 
 (•cause they maintained pea(-e with both tlu' lro(piois an 
 
 d 
 
 liuron trihes, who were alwa\s at war with each other, hut the\- seem to lia\e calleil 
 
 1) 
 
 rake, in nis 
 
 thcnisehes (hn'/iid/iid/is 
 
 r/'ai^tis, and supjioses them to ha\<' 1 
 1)\- the Murons. The name of tli 
 
 Hook of the Indians," called tlu'iu the 
 
 .\ 
 
 /(It- 
 
 leeii par 
 
 rtl\ destro\-ed hy tin; Iro(|ti(/is, partly absorbed 
 
 has 1 
 
 name ot tin- river lias heen six-lled m many 
 
 diff 
 
 ereiit wavs. 
 
 Ii 
 
 Coronelli's map of Canada, published in Paris in lOSS, it is spelled as we spell it no 
 
 but it was 
 
 probably j 
 
 ])ronouiiceil 
 
 th 
 
 en as in tlu^ wi 
 
 11-1. 
 
 nown line 
 
 " Ami .Ni.i^r.ira slims uilli tliuiulfiii);; soiiiul." 
 
 This pronunciation is more in accordance with Indian phonology, but, a,-parently, the 
 accent is now fixed on the second syllable. Some speakers pronounce the word 
 
lifo 
 
 77//:" .\7. /C/./A'. / niSIRIcr, ,^5 
 
 N.'iioara; hut it is to Ih" Ik,).,.,! that this |,ice-,. ,,f |,;ul taste will .lisappi-ar before 
 ion;^'. 
 
 L'Escarbot, tlu; first historian of .Vo/i,;-//,- /-"raiuw says that Carticr, \\\\vw in 1535 
 lu- visited Canada for the sccoml time, !uMrd from tiif Indians at liochi;la>^a that the 
 waters of the lro(|uois rountry were ca-ricd hy a .L;rcal waterfall into the lake from 
 whence lloweil the l-lciivc ,/,• Cuiaiia, or river St. l.awrenee. !n Chainplain's narrative 
 of his voya.Lies, pul.iished in lOi.?, this saiilt ,/\;tii is marked on aeeompanv ini^' maj), 
 and is said to lie so hi^h that fish were killed in altemptin.; to ileseend it. In 1 64.S 
 Father Raj^ueneau, a Jesuit priest, in a letter to his su|)erior at Paris, descrihes it as a 
 cataract of fris^duful hei-lit. I!ut the first description we have l.y an eye-witness is 
 that of I'alher Hennepin, a I'lemish friar of the Recoll.t i)ranch of the Order of 
 St. l-fancis, who visited it in 107S. I'ather Hennepin came to Canada with La 
 Salle, who was then full of his sciieun^ of sailini; to China 1)\- way of the western 
 lakes and the Mississippi River. ilavini; ileciiled on l)uildin,L^- a lar-e vessel on 
 Lake !' ric for the xoyan'e. La Salh' reniair.iHl at I'ori l-'ronten.'c to pro\ iile men 
 aiul all that was needeil, and despatclu'd his companion. La .Motle. with L'ather 
 Hennepin, forward on the route, in a hri^antine of ten tons, with a crew of sixteen 
 men. The morning- of the oth of Decemher, i()7S, the liri,L;antine rounded liie point 
 on which {•"ort Nia.ij-ara was affrwards i)uilt, and where a few Indian w iL^wams then 
 stooil, anti entered the mouth of the beautiful river, while a joyful Te I )eum, from all 
 on board, rose over forest r.ud stream, and ran^ in the e.u-s of the lislenin;; Indians, 
 rroceedino- up the river till their course was stopped at the base of the Niatjara 
 escarpment, the royin^riirs landed on the eastern bank, and erected a palisaded nxhanc ; 
 a tano-ibli' si^ii that the dondnion of the l.uid was about t;) pass from the red 
 man to the white invaders, whom the Imlians soon learned to di'si^iiate rV/w/-- "men 
 of a contriving mind." C.uid.d b\ the Indians, La .Motte anil bather Hennepin beheld 
 the mi.uhtx- cataract of which they hati so often heartl, and a desiriplion of the scene, 
 accompanied b\- a sketch, is L;i\<'n in the friar's journal of La Salle's expedition, after- 
 wards published at .\msterdam. In this description he assumes the cataract to be 
 si.x hundred b'et in hei^iu. and mentions, besides the two oreat falls, a cross-fall, which 
 he depicts in his sketch pouring over I'able Rock ; and there is other e\ idence that 
 this small cascade once existed. Haron La llontan, wlio saw the cataract in 1081, 
 but whose visit was made brief and hurried by fear of an attack bv the irocpiois. adds 
 two hundred feet of altituile to the six hundred .ijiven by b'ather Hennepin. ihese 
 e.irly travellers have been accused of purposely adding- to the heioht and number of 
 the falls in ortler to ,L;i\e >;ri'aler eliect to their narratives; but it is more likely that 
 their e.\agjreralions were owiiii; to their want of scientitic knowledi^c to correct the 
 tij^urative lan},nia<'-e of the Indians, and the impressions maile on their own excited im- 
 a_>,nnations by the si>;ht of so sublime ami amaxinj; a scene. bather Hennepin lays no 
 
 m 
 
II 
 
 346 
 
 picTin<i:souF. can a da. 
 
 on 
 
 the 
 
 claim to accuracy of 
 measurement, Init de- 
 scribes what he saw, 
 " as near," he says, 
 " as one can guess 
 by the eye." His 
 sketcli shows that he 
 did not understand 
 perspective, Ijut, when 
 allowance for this is 
 made, it is supposed 
 to give a faithful 
 outline of the scene 
 as he beheld it. Two 
 cavaliers are standing 
 bank, doubtless intended to represent La .Salle and La Motte ; and a man 
 
TIfh: .V/AGAR.l niSTRfCT. 
 
 347 
 
 X 
 
 o 
 
 0!. 
 
 H 
 
 u 
 
 < 
 
 a: 
 < 
 
 C 
 
 in a loose robe; and liroad Iiat — of course l-'atlu;r Hennepin iiiniseif — is seaU:cl on the 
 ground, and pointintj, witii outstretched hand, to "the i^reat cadence of waters" which 
 he has described. 
 
 Since that first memorable visit to Niagara I'"alis, more than two hundreil jcars 
 have elapsed, and i^reat tliansres have taken place in the cliff over which the cataract 
 l>ours. The piles of ikbris at the foot of the American h'all may be accepted as 
 evidence that the larjje space behind the sheet of watiT, where bather llennepin says 
 four coaches mis^dit have driven abreast, then actually existed. The cross-fall depicted 
 in Father Hennepin's sketch as pourini; obliciuely over a projectini,^ era*; from Table 
 Rock, is mentioned by IM. Kalm, a Swedish botanist, who visited the b'alls in 1750, 
 and heard then that it had disappearetl some years before. brom that tiuK; the 
 breakatje of several hu^t; masses of the cliff have been recorded ; but the oreatest 
 of all was that which took place June 251!!, 1S50, when nearly the whole of Table 
 Rock, a projection of the cliff hanj^int^- o\er the river, two hundred feet lontj^, sixt\' feet 
 wide, and a hundred f(!et thick, was suddeni)' precipitated into the <;ulf with a crash 
 that was heard miles away. FortimateK', it fell at noon, when few jx'ople were out- 
 of-doors, and at the moment no one was on the rock but the ilriver of an omnibus, 
 who had lakcm out his horses to feed tlu'm, and was washini^- his \chicle on the edge 
 of the cliff, lie heard the warniui^ crash, and fell tlu' moti)n of the falling rock just 
 in time to escape, but the vehicle he had been washing went down itito the ab)'ss, and 
 so did innumerable autographs which tourists from many lands hail, with much ])ains 
 and ingenuity, inscribeil on the face of the cliff, but which were then forever consigned 
 to oblivion in the gulf beneath. Now .ill th.it is left of the i" ir-famed Table Rock is 
 a narrow ledge bordering the bank where it juts out close to the Horse-sh<ie ball, but 
 from it the grandest and most com[)rehensi\e view of the wide swc'ep of the cataract, 
 and of the rapids above, is still to be; obtained. 
 
 Other largt; masses of rock Ivnc been known to break aw.iy Irom the midst 
 of tlu- cat.iract, to plunge into llii^ chasm with ;i thundeious noise, making, in one or 
 two instances, ,t perceptible ch.inge in the form of the llorse-shoe; ami always the 
 ceaseless, insidious attacks of the powers of water, frost, ice and snow are <it work 
 grinding, crushing, breaking \\\\ and wearing away tlu> rocky barriers that hem in the 
 torrents. Slowly but effectually these strenuous forces of nature are making an easier 
 passage for the river's course and changing the aspect of the scene just as they have 
 been doing for ages past, and will continui; to do for ages inore, till the last obstruc- 
 tion to the water's even (low shall ha\e v.inished. 
 
 In 1757 M. Kalm's descrii)tion of the b'alls of Niagara was publishetl in the 
 London (rcntlcmois Mai^aziuc. Fvery \icar they becami- more famous, and many noted 
 travellers visited them. X'olney, the I-'rench savant, saw them and wrote an elal)orat(; 
 description of their wonders. Chateaubriand, escaping from the agony of the Revolu- 
 
.H'"^ 
 
 /'/( ■ Tl 'RF.SOl ■/:" C AhWDA. 
 
 !f 
 
 iii'ii 
 
 tion to the iKj;ici'ful " fniH;st priincxal" of the west, spent days and ni<jlits beside them 
 in an Indian wii^wam ; ami in liis romance of ••.\tala" lie lias painted them in glow- 
 ino- colours. Lord lulward l'"itzt;crald, whose love of the Irish people and trajric fate 
 has made him one of the most beloved of Irish heroes, visited them in 1 7S9. lie saw 
 them at the loveliest period of the Canadian year, when Ma\- and June- meet toj^tHher, 
 when s|)rirt,^ llowers are yet in all their beaiit)', and sprini^ foliai^c is expandinjf into 
 the richness of leafy June; when the sprini^^s and water founts that f('ed the <rreat 
 Hood of waters are all full and o\-ertlowin,<;. N'oun^;. enthusiastic, and a o-eiuiine lo\-er 
 of nature, he was enraptured with the scene. W'ritin^u; to his mother he tells her how 
 much impressed he was by the immense height antl noist; of the I-"alls ; the spray 
 risiny to the cloutls, the -greenness and tranipiillit}' of the immense forests around ; and 
 adds: "To descrllx; them would be im|)ossible; Ilomer could not in [joeiry, nor 
 Claude Lorraine m paintini^." lie staged thri'e thus, ami sa)s he was absolutely 
 oblii^ed to teai' himself awa\ at lasi. 
 
 It is, perhaps, hardl\- possible for us now to conct!i\e the awful and mysterious 
 splendour of xir^in beaulv which must then have envelo|)ed the L^rtjat cataract. In 
 those early da\'s \ature reis^ned there suprc-me, ami no pun\- woi'k of m,in had dared to 
 invade her sacred precincts. Then the oNcrwiielmiiiL; grandeur ot the sit^ht came sud- 
 denly on the traveller, as he emep^ed from the narrow Indian path which led to it 
 throuLjh the forest, his imai^ination i^radually rising iu eNcit(!ment as the; mulHed, 
 swellini;, vibratinj.; harmony which seenunl drawint; him towards it L;rew nearer ami 
 nearer. Then it was beheld in ilu' fittint;- environment of the solemn woods, the 
 stateh pines ar.d cedars standing' on its banks like faithful sentinels, and the 
 rhythmic cadence of its \-oice tilling- the silence that setMiuxl huslu'd to listen. No 
 wonder that it was an objt:ct of superstitious fear and awe to the Indians who made 
 pilgrimages thither at stated times to propitiate its angrs' waters with wild and cruel 
 rites. To appease its wi'alh, an otleriug was made e\(M"\' \ear ot a beautiful voung 
 girl, who was hrst liound in a canoe and then si-t adrift in the rapids, the singers 
 chanting her death-song till her fi'ail bark was swe|)t oxer the cataract ami swallowed 
 up in the whirling foam and s|)ray. Those horrid rites have \anished, but supersti- 
 tioiis fancies still ch'ig to the scene, and olil inhabitants say that the s])irit (jf the 
 cataract still claims its tribute, and that no \-ear t;\'er passes without some hapless 
 v'ctim falling a prey to its fatal power of attraction. 
 
 The river Niagara, from its rise in Lake Krie till it enters Lake Ontario at the 
 beautiful old town to which it has given its nami;, is thirty-six miles in length, following 
 the course of its many bends and windings, but when measured in a straight course the 
 distance it traverses is only tw -ntv-eight miles. It is a mere pigmy compared to 
 the gigantic rivers of this continent, but through it flow the mighty currents of 
 those western inland seas which are said to hold half the fresh water on the globe. 
 
THE NIAGARA DISTRICT 
 
 349 
 
 
 OI.I> lOkr KKli;, AND WINDMILL. 
 
 NO i)i(:cr of water 
 of so small an l-x- 
 tcnt lias so nian\' 
 attractions for tin; 
 lovers of pictiir- 
 C!S(|iR' scenery and 
 the scientific students of nature; and from heo^i.ininQ' to {.i\\<\ it is closely intertwined 
 with historic events, traofic incidents, and the deepest interests and emotions of human life. 
 As it (;merojes, a mik; in width, from the lake, it |Dass(!s the ruined ramparts of 
 I'ort Erie, round which there was much hard ll'^htini;, with \aryins.^ fortunes to the 
 combatants, in the war of 1812-15. The villajLjc! of I'.rie, near the old fort, carries on 
 an active tr.ule by its ferry with th(! city of Muffalo on the American shore. In this. 
 
^ 
 
 350 
 
 I'lC I UKHSQLUi i ,LV.I/).l. 
 
 MOUril Ol- rilK CIIII'IMIWA K1\KK 
 
 I m \ 
 
 however, it lins been outstripped of late by the ntnv town of X'ictoria, between which 
 aiul Hlaci< Kock, a sul)iirb of l^uffalo, tlie International Railway Hridijc, a hand- 
 some iron structure, crosses tlu! ri\cr. At this spot the Xiatjara is only half a 
 mile wide, and somewhat hurried in its course, as if I'ai^^er to hasten on its mis- 
 sion of the liearer of so manv mit^ht)- fountains to the ocean, but it (|uickl\- calms 
 down aL;ain, expanding' to its former breadth ; and as it \vinds in and out of every 
 tiny bay and little inlet, and ripples round the islands that iL^em its bosom, one mis^ht 
 fancy it was jjurposeK' lini^erint;- on its wa\- amon^- the fertile fields and rich orchards 
 that bortler its shores, conscious of thi; tlarU antl rock-bound abyss into which it is 
 so soon to fall. 1 )urin!j: its brief course; it makes a descent of three hundred and thirty- 
 
 four feet, the ditfen.'iice of le\el between its outflow from 
 
 Lake !■: 
 
 and its inllow 
 
 m 
 
 to Lake ( intario, but the jjreatest part of this is accomplisheil 
 
 th 
 
 ra]) 
 
 abov( 
 
 the 
 
 1-all- 
 
 d 
 
 ui th(; jjluni^e ( 
 
 vcr the cataract. For several miles it continues to How 
 
 gently anionic its many islands, its current only swift enouj^h to jj^ivt; life and bri_u[ht- 
 ness to the stream, its low banks almost on a level with the water, and its course 
 
 ymg 
 
 th 
 
 rouLTli some 
 
 )f ll 
 
 ie richest ijrain and 
 
 fruit-: 
 
 'rowing 
 
 ancis in 
 
 the 
 
 wo 
 
 rid. Si> 
 
 m 
 
 iles below I'Ort lu'ie it opens wiile 
 
 arms 
 
 to embrace (irand Island, which lies within 
 
rill- .\i.n..\i<j nisiRicr. 
 
 iLjht- 
 
 th(! United States territory, and divides liie ri\-er into two ^^real channc'ls. Iliese 
 I'iuinnels unite aj^^ain at Na\y Island, tlie onl\' one ol tlie islands above the l'"alls 
 \vhii:h iielon^^s to Canada. It was nanieil Isle dc la Marine \\\ the I'rencli who used it 
 ;>.s a naval station till their power on tin: river was lost ii\ the surrender ol I'Ori 
 Niaj^ara to Sir William Johnson in 1751). In thi; hav" lornied liy I)Uckhoi-ii and (irand 
 Isiantls niav still be; S(;en some remains of the two ships which had been sent with 
 reinforcements to the fort, but on its surrcinder had been burnt bv the I'reiuh to 
 keep tlu!m from fallinuf into tin; hands of the iJritisli. In the rebellion of William 
 Lv'on Mackenzie an<l his partv in iS^^j, \av\' Island played a conspicuous part. The 
 insuri^'ents, and their American sjmpathi/.ers, led b\' .Mackenzie, formeil a lanip there, 
 and whih' the steamer "Caroline" was cmijloved in 
 
 brintjini^ <^uns and stores to their aiil fiom the _ 
 
 American siile she was seized b\' a few daring' 
 Canadian \olunt(,'ers, cut out fiom her nii^ht (|uar- 
 ters at Schlosser Lantlinj.;', set on lire and sent over 
 the I'alls. '! his i.;allant e.xijloit nearlv brought on 
 a war l)t'tvvt-en .\nu-rica and luiirlanil ; but the 
 leaders were afterwards rewanli-d for it b\' tiie 
 Canadian Parliament. 
 
 
 A tiUMPiJi; Ol" THE FALLS, t'KOM CLnTON. 
 
352 
 
 /'/( • 11 'RI-.SQl '/•: CAA'^in. I. 
 
 'riirct; miles above the I''alls is the village of Chippewa (an Iiulian wonl, si},niify- 
 fyiiijr "people without iiiorcasiiis "), wluTc Moore landed from a small tradinij; schooner 
 in 1S03, proct-edinj^' I))' the portaj^e road round the halls to Niaj^ara. Chii)pe\va was 
 then a place of some consctiuence as the souliiern entreprtt for all goods shipped 
 to and from Lake Erie, and had a fort and i^arrison to protect its large store- 
 houses, The opening of the Welland Canal closetl the carr\ing-trade \>)- the portage 
 road, and destroyed the conimercial prospi'rity of Chi|)pewa as well as that of 
 Queenston antl Niagara. Ihe village is built on lioth sides of liie Chippewa River, 
 a full, det'p, placiil stream, wiiich has its rise fifty mih's away in tlie west, and here 
 falls into the Niagara. (juantities of logs are annuall\ tloated down its stream from 
 the rich timber lanils through which it Mows, and steam-tugs asccntl its course nciarly 
 all the way. At its moutii its waters ari' on .1 le\(l with those of the Niagara, and 
 its turbid stream, tliscoloured b\' the lime it holds in solution, can be clearK' ilistin- 
 guished from the cr\stal wati^rs of the Niagara for some tlistame after tlu'ir junction. 
 
 Chippewa is memorable in our annals for the battle fought on its plains in 1814, 
 when less than three thousand British troops and Canadian militia attackeil an .\meri- 
 can force double their number, and attcnnpteil to drive them fiMm the lield. The 
 assailants w(!re, in the vm], obliged to retreat to their entrenchments at Chip])ewa village ; 
 but the courage and st<,'adiness with which they hail maint.iined tlu- light against 
 such sup(.;rior numbers, and especiallx the heroic xalour (jf the Lincoln militia, under 
 Maior I)a\id Secord, matle this lost bailie as woi-th\' ol honourable remembrance as if 
 it h d been a \ictory. 
 
 r-'low Chipp'n.i liie Niagara is nearly three miles in width, but it suddenly con- 
 tracts to '(-'ss than .1 mik;, ripples appear on its surface, and no boat can venture within 
 the current, hich runs at the rate of from four to live miles an hour. Ilalf-a-mile 
 above the catara^i i'.i>. Cirand RajMils begin, and tlu: sudden descent of the bed of the 
 ri\er causes its bank to rise into view, especially on the western side:, which increases 
 in height till. abo\t.' the Horse-shoe Fall, it attains an elevation of a hundred feet 
 over the water. IJelow it, the river rushes tlown in those; wontlerful rapids which 
 add so much to tlu; beauty of the I'alls. I'aster anil faster the\- rush on in e.xcjuisite 
 curves of green crystalliiu; water with crescents of gliltei-ing white foam, keeping, in 
 spite of their wild speed and whirling comnujtion, an ordered and symmetrical 
 procession of indescribable beauty and fasciruition, till all blend together in the last 
 desperate leap, and are swallowed up in the abyss below. 
 
 The cataract of Niagara is divided into two great falls by Goat Island, which 
 lies in the very midst of their thunders, and interposes its wooded and rocky banks 
 between them for a distance of three hundred yarcls. This island and its small sister 
 islands. Lunar Island and the Moss Islands, are in the United States, but are private 
 property ; and e.xcept that the>' are connected with each other, and with the 
 
/'///:' A7.I(,.IA'.I /V.S/AVr/', 
 
 35>^ 
 
 mainland In pictnivs.iu.- hrul^vs skilfully spanning ilic rapids, tii.-y iiavc \>vrn kept as 
 much as possil.lr in their wild primeval I.eaiuy, K''|"s of sylvan l-.vlincss strun^^ ,.n 
 the brow of the precipice over which the torrent s\ve(;ps. In the .i^reat Horse-shoe I'all 
 however, Canada possesses much the finest half of the cataract, an<l the mysterious 
 Whirlpool which is, in some respects, even more wonderful than the cataract itself, lies 
 embedded in the Canadian shore. And it is only from the Canada side that th.' soft 
 ethereal veils of vapour, which ,i,rivc such mystic beauty to the I'alls, and the flitting, 
 chanceful rainbows, which duow over them such a halo of j^lory, can be se.^n in per- 
 fection. Table Rock, too, or rather the small piece that remains of it, i,rives at on(c a 
 nearer, a wider, and a more comprehensive view of the scene than can be had ain- 
 where else— takinj,r in, at the same moment, the ma^miUcent rac- of the rapids above, 
 the sweep of the whole cataract, and the seethiuL^r ,|epths ..f the t,rn.ai caldron 
 below. To stand on this spot, on some- lovely sunnncr's day, and watch the rapids 
 madly rushin.i,^ down; to see the ^n.nd oc(,>an-like wav<' risin.Lj twenty feet in thickness 
 over the Horse-shoe I-'all, so massivt- that it retains its smoothness unbroken lor some 
 distance after its fall, and so close to wliere you stand that your outstretched hand 
 mifrht almost touch it ; to look down into th(' caldron where the water lies 
 stranfjled and smothered by its own weijj^ht, only showin.; the fierce convulsions 
 l)eneath by the faintest stirrinj,rs, its crystalline clearness changed into a mass of 
 slowly .seethinjr, curdled white foam, which wraps it like a windin<,r sheet ; to sec the 
 vast volumes of vapour continually risin.Lj and falling, now hiding, now revealin.i,^ the 
 cataract, while in its deepest curve and centre volcanic-like jets of water, br(;akin.Lj into 
 clouds of spray and soarinq- hii,rh uito the air, forever hide its face; to listen to "that 
 vast and prodioious cadence," t' t meloily of many waters, which stirred the soul of 
 l\ather Hennej)in to awe and admiration, and still excites th(! same; emotions in all 
 who are capable of feelint; them— will i^dve the truest conception one view can i,nve of 
 the various elements of beauty and ,t,rraiuleur combined in Xiai^ar.i balls. Here those 
 incongruous and disturbinij; concomitants, which elsewhere are perpetually inlrudin,i,r, are 
 put aside and hidden, or, at any rate, absorbed and dissipated in the mai^mitude 
 and sublimit) of the scene. .And th(; oftener we behold this magnificent sight 
 the more wonderful and beautiful we discover it to Ik.-. The true lovers and 
 constant companions of Nature know how infinite in variety she is, and that 
 every day, every hour, her fairest scenes assume fresh phases of beauty; how, 
 then, can all that makes this cataract the wonder of the world be grasped and 
 comprehended in one hurried visit? It is with it as with all masterpieces. The - 
 mind of the spectator must be gradually uplifted to feel and understand its 
 greatness ; and it is only to those who come to it again and again, in sunshine 
 and cloud, by day and by night, in summer and in winter, that its wonders are fully 
 revealed. 
 
 (45) 
 
I 
 
 ly '■■'■ 
 
 I!; -J 
 
 liii 
 
 994 
 
 y/c/'i j^JuSQi;/': caa^U). i. 
 
////; \/.l<,.U<A DISlRlCr. 
 
 355 
 
 
 
 'I'lic Anu'ricaii I'all is ciolu feet lii^licr than thf I Inrsc-slioc, hut less lliaii half 
 its widlh, ami with a iiuicii smaMcr voIuhk; of watiT. li ha^, h()wc\cr, a tUstiiict iiuii- 
 vithiahty and i)ictiircs(|iit! charm of its own, more sparkhnj^ and liniit, thniiLjh less 
 ^rantl and niaji;stic, thai, the Horse-shoe. Its thinner sheet i>f water is shattered 
 the moment it strikes the preciijicc!, and falls in ^racefnl lin( s of white, enrlini;- fo.'im, 
 lijifhted u|i. in sunshine, with all the prismatic iiues, e\er\' drop ol water siiininL; with 
 ^em-lik(^ radiante throus^ii its misty veils. 
 
 Beyond the clouds of mist and spr.iy, wliich wrap the h.ise of the i^re.ii Palis, and 
 tli(? deep c.ddron out of whi( ii they ris<-, the ri\i'r enu.'rj^es, llowinj^ on to meet ics 
 (li\ided stream at the Ameriiau lall. And here aiiollxM- chani^n- takes |)laee in :his 
 river, so rich in its \;irietl forms of iieauly. .Ahove the l'"alls it runs nearK soulh-w<.'st, 
 hut after its ])lun<,r(! over the cataract, ii turns a sli.u-p an,i;le, and runs almost north- 
 east. Leavinj^ hehiud all the foam autl fuiy of the rapiils, all th(; j^r.iiitl turmoil of 
 plunji;in,Lf water and lireakini,^ spra\- of iIk' i'all-;, it llows on in a smooth, steady 
 stream, its (larkl\-,L;reen. slowly-heaving surface '.idini^- the tierce ciirri'iits that lam toil- 
 Kw^ and struj^'n'linj^ helow. I ieri', and all round the li.isin of the cataract, nundiers 
 of pictures(|ue j^uUs art; continualK' llitlini^f, ilarting to and fro, and in ;uid out of the 
 spray with swift j^ryrations, ;md low, mournful murmurs. I iere, too, a little feri-y-boat 
 plies between the Canadian and .American shores. .A trip in this boat takes the 
 passengers in front of the cataract, anil as near its ^ri-'at <^ulf as is consistent with 
 safety, f^dvin^ them one of the grandest \ lews of the balls that can lie had. I.ookinjr 
 up at them from liie bed of llu; ri\-er, which is here almost two hundred feet deep, 
 th(' heiL;lu and force o{ \\\v. falling' llood, always lessened in (Heel by its immense 
 breadth to those who look down on it, can be fully reco,!^niz(,'d ; hile the pulsing;- anil 
 throbbiuL; of the mitjhly current imprisoned and slruL;eli>i.W for an outh'l beneath, ;muI 
 over which the frail skiff glides, ei\cs a thrillin;^^ sense of |)ossibt(; dan^aM", and adds 
 another e.xcitt'ment to the wonder of tlu; sccMie. 
 
 A few years ayo the " .Nbud of tlu; Mist," the smallest of all tiny steand)oat.s, 
 built at the railway l)riily;e below the I'alls, ran to ami fi'o o\-er this edd\-, \enturiiitj 
 to the \er\- eilge of the ab\ss, and .uivinij;' her passengers a sensational baptism 
 of spray. Hut after a while she failed to pay expenses, and her owner solil her, the 
 purchaser makinjj^ the condition that she should be safely delivt^retl at the mouth 
 of the river. I"or this she had to be taken throui^h the dansrers of the whirlpool 
 rapids, of tlu; whirlpool itself, ;ind of tlu; narrow i^orsj^e, from thence to Oneenston ; 
 altogether, six miles of wild, whirling water, bristling with formidable rocks. Anxiously 
 watched along her course by excited spectators, the tiny vessel and her daring crew of 
 three men made the perilous \'oyag<; in safety, but with a series of almost miraculous 
 escapes the whole way ; and it is said that her pilot, a man of extraordinary skill and 
 courage, was so much shaken in mind and body by the strain that had been put upon 
 
in ■ 
 
 11 
 
 356 
 
 /'/r/rA7f.SYV/:' CIXI/KI. 
 
 him, tli.u lie '>r«iiuil iwcnty years older ulini lie left tlu- boat. Since tlieii no allempt 
 has l)eeti maile lo navigate the Niaj,fara rapiils. 
 
 /\ller ,1 leu iia\s of hanl fros; in winlir, the I'alls become mi>re iii%e a \isi(.ii nf 
 some enchaiili-(l land than a real scune in llie world we are living; in. No marvels 
 \vr(Hr,^lil liy ;^enii and maj^ician-^ in I'lasii-rn lal<-s could surpass the wonderful creations 
 thai ri^i' alonj^ the surioundiui; hanks, and han;,^ o\er the walls of the catarai t. tdit- 
 tcrinj; wreaths ot icicles, like jewelled diadems, L;leam on the brow ol every projectii)),^ 
 rock and iuttiii),^ cra^. Arches, pillars, and porticos, of shininj; splendour, are i^rouped 
 beiU'ath the o\erhan<;iii;; cliffs, .i^ivin;; fanciful su^j^estions of fairy-palaces ln;)'oiHl. 
 I'^very fallen Irai^nunt ol rock under its icy co\er!ai; bec(»mes a marbk' column, 
 pyramid, or obelisk, ,uid masses of frozen spra\' stand out here and there in j^racc- 
 ful and statues(|ne forius, <'asily shaped b\ imaj^ination into the half-linished work of 
 a sculptor. I'lvery rift and openiui; iu the cliff is transformi.'d into an alabaster i^rotto, 
 with frie/es and mouldin<,js "all fretted and fio/e," with lilai^'ree wreaths, and fes- 
 toons, and liliny veils and canopies of lace-like pattern and t^^ossamer texture ; ,uul on 
 everv curve and an^le, round every tissurc- and crevice, some fantastic and lovely tleco- 
 ration is wovin bv winter's master-artist, Kinj; l-'rost. Over the 1 lorse-shoe, towards 
 (">oat Island .uul the l?ridal-veil i'all, the water pours in thin, silvery sheets, which 
 dissolve into white, curlini; misls .is lhe\' siiile slowly down. Pinnacles of ice, slrelch- 
 iui;' liiL^li above them, break these fallinui; streams. The .\merican ball, through its 
 hovering; veil of spray, si:ems iransfoi-med into wreaths of fro/en foam. Thi; face of 
 (loal Island is res|)lendent with hu^e, many-tinlcnl i icles, showins; all the colours of 
 tile rocks on which they ari' formed ; and on either shore the underclilfs are hunt;- with 
 lovclv draperies of fro/en s|iray. I'-very house, and fence and railin.LT, evt-ry tree and 
 shrub, and tiny twij; and bhuK; of t^rass, on which this woiuler-workini,,^ spray falls ami 
 freezes, becomes wrapped in a i^leamiui^- white crust, and L;listens in the sun as if maile 
 of crystal anti mother-c.'^ [xarl. brom the tips of tlu' evi'ri^reen branches hann clusters 
 of ice-balls ])opularly called ice-apples, which Hash and ulitler when the rays of sun- 
 light fall on them, likt' tlu' jewels t;rowini; on the tries ol the majL;ic j^arden in the 
 Arabian Nij^hts. Still mort: f;iirv-like are the evanescent charms produced by a nij,;ht's 
 hoar frost, frin^dnL,^ the jjearly covering; in which everythinij is wra|)ped with a delicate, 
 frajrih; efflorescence, and giving a soft, shadowy, visionary aspect to the whole scene, as 
 if it were the creation of some wonderful dream. Then, as the sun before which its 
 unearthly beauty melts away shines out, all changes for a few brief minutes into a 
 sparkling, dazzling glory, as if a shower of diamond dust had suddenly fallen. 
 
 In the midst of these sights of weird and wondrous beauty, the mighty volume 
 of water which pours over the great Horse-shoe sweeps grandly down through the 
 masses of frozen spray, ice, and snow piled up round its channels ; and in clear, sunny 
 weather the most magnificent colour-effects are shown in the vivid green of the great 
 
/•///: .V/.K.IA'.I /V.S7A7( /: 
 
 35; 
 
 IHK il()kM.->IH)l; lAl.l., I KUM IMlKK (.Mil A I l.oAl lr.l..\Ml. 
 
 unbroken wave that rolls over the iireciplce, contrasting with the i^littcrinL; wliitc of 
 the spray-covered rocks and snowy banks beyoml. Then the sniootli, rounded, i,rreen 
 roMer breaks into a wild chaos of whirling and tossing foam, while torrents of spray 
 
I 
 
 35« 
 
 /'/i / rA'/:\s(>(7-: cax.uk I. 
 
 anil cloiuls (if mist rise v'oliiinii mi coliiinii into llic clear, l>Uic fr<)st\ aif, every Irans- 
 pareiil lold ami liiiiL;e ol xajiour illimiiiied wilii the liiii^lu lints of the cainliows 
 hii\ei-ini^ round, lorniini^' and lire.ikin^', and forininj^' as;ain in \va\crinL;, sliininu'riiiiL;', 
 e\('r-ihanL;inL; lieautx'. 
 
 It must, h()\\e\i'r, he understood that there are impropitions liours and davs wlien 
 no raini)o\v is \isiMe, and times and seasons when thai Iranslurent puritx ol water and 
 enieraKl-,L;i<'en colour, which those who l)est know Niaj;ara I'alls a!wa\s associate with 
 them, are not to he seen. Alter hea\ \' rains and lloods. the ci'vsi.d \iaL;ara, like other 
 rivers, iieconies more or less turbid, sometimes lookin;^' L;i'e\' and wan under clouded 
 skies, or showing;' ,i d.irk. olive-^reen tini, or L;l<'aniinL;' when the sun breaks out with 
 the golden hue of an onxx. And pei'haps, in descriliim; these wondeiful balls, the onU' 
 thiuL; that can be positively alVirmed about their aspect is that whatexcr |H'culiar 
 charm we Imd in them to-daj' will be replaced by some other aiiii wholK' dillereiit 
 charm io-mori"ow. 
 
 .Sonie winters the heavy masses of ii-e constantiv comins^' over lite cataract Iiecome 
 hrniK ja.nmed toi^i'ther outside the basin, lonnini^ a bridi^c from shore to shore, some- 
 times esteiidint; lar dowi. th<' river. ()\er this bridge tourists, slj^hl-seers, and idlers 
 of i'\-ery description pass backwanls and forwards, the roui^hnes;. of the road, olten 
 iiroken and ime\cn in jilaces, and thickly encrusted with Iro/en spray, Liivini; a little 
 difticiilt) and excitement to tln' i)assaL;(', though the immense thickness of tin.' ice- 
 blocks so (u-ml\' wed^i'd toL;cther make it for the time as sale as to'ia jiriuii. The 
 view of the i'alls from the ice is maj^nilii-ent, but the ice-hills are a still ^^realer at- 
 traction. These ,ire loniied amoUL; the rocks at the fool ol the Anu'ncan i'all b\- 
 accumulations of li'o/en sprav, rising' laxcr ab<>\i' laver, till immense cones ol ice, jortx', 
 sixt\, e\'en ei>^lu\' leet hij^h. are made. All dav lon^;. bo\s in their small hand-sleds 
 slide down these huj.;e slopes, and sometimes, on mooniiL;ht nights, lobo^ean parties 
 as'-emble and enjoy the exciiin^- amnsenu: ill, amidst romantic and piciures(pie surround- 
 ings now lure else to be lound. 
 
 I>\ a palhw,.\ formed below the cliff, \isitors ma\ i^o under the projedint; ledi,;e 
 o\-ei- which the lloi'se-shoe ball makes its oreat plunge. I'.ntei'iui^ through an arch 
 forty feet wide and a hundred ,ind lifly feel lii,L;h, formed on one sitle by the oxcr- 
 haiii^in^ cliff and on the other by the mighty wave of water, the\ are in the very 
 centre of the cataract wra|)ped in clouds of spray, and with the awlul xoice of the 
 yreat llood thunderiui^' ovfrhead as it plunges into the j^ulf below. 1 his i^l called by 
 the i^uidcs the "Cave of i'hunders." On the American sidt' \isitors may |)ass throuL;h 
 the "("a\f of the Winds" under I, una ball, the name oi\cn to a part of the .\m<iacan 
 ball ili\ide<l from the main sheet of water b\- a narrow strip of rock. Here the 
 water, more broken and scattered than at the llorse-shoe, is seen falling in shining, 
 Iraiislnceiit streams, shooting; up a^ain in showers of _L;litt<'rint( spray, and sparkling 
 
Till'. i\'i. I a. I A'. I nisiKit ' /; 
 
 359 
 
 11 
 
 Nl.\t;.\l;.\ WIN IKK HCKNKS. 
 
jOO 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 I; I I 
 
 ICE GROVE. 
 
 rt 
 
 drops of watrr oicamiiisj^ with all the tolours of the rainbows tliat conic llasliini; In 
 will) cNcry ray of sunh'i^hl. In these caves tli(j most sul)nin(! and magnificent, the 
 most lieaiililul and cnchantinj;, aspects of water are preseiiliui, I)ut they cannot be 
 safely entered witliout L;iii<les. 
 
 Chirk's Islands, siimetimes more poetically < alletl Cynthia's Islands, lie close to 
 the Canada shore, and are .st'i in the midst of the rapids above the Horse-shoe I'^all. 
 where the current rims with its L;reatest velocity. They an; |)rettily wooded, and their 
 pictiires(pie situation, ainonj,^ the leapinjj rajiids, gives them peculiar attractions, which, 
 however, are somewhat marred by a hideous structure, built to overlook the l-'alls. 
 
 When Lord Dufferin was (iovernor-General of Canaila he formed the project of 
 
rilE MA(.:.\RA niSTRICT. 361 
 
 an International Park to extend round the Ivills and their environs on l)()th sicks of 
 the river. All l)iiildin<js were to he removed v.itiiin a proixr (listancc. trees were to 
 he planteil and walks madt;, hut everjthing was to he done witii the sui^le purpose 
 of giving such a free, nol)le, and natural environment to tlie great cataract as would 
 harmonize with and keep sacred its supreme grandeur ami l()V(!liness. This project 
 was l)rf)ugiu hcforc! tiie Canadian Government antl the Ni'w NOrk Ley;islatun', and 
 at lu-st tiieri! seemed souk; hope that the two peoj)les on wiiom lliis ^^iorious L;i(t 
 of Natiu'C' has been l)estowed, antl who hoki it in trust for all oliii-r nations, wouiil 
 unite in tiuis showing their desire to act as faithful guardians of so great a trust, and 
 l)reserv(! it sacred and unsulHed for their children, ami tiii' children of other lands. 
 Nothing, howtner, has yet bec:n done, the great ditliculty IxMiig, it seems, to tind the 
 mone)' retjuired to carry out such a plan; as it would bring in no return which those 
 who measure the worth of all ihin^^s 1)\' dollars and cents couKI conipi-chcnd. 
 
 A cpiarler of a mile below the cataract the SusptMision Hrid^;!' lor loot and car- 
 riagt.' passengers crossi-s \\\v ri\'er. It is twelve luuulred antl sixtx-tiiL^ht feet long, 
 and one hundred and ninety-two feet above the water. The Railwa)- Suspension 
 
 ;i I! 
 
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 V !l 
 
 Tilt: VVMIKI.HOOL. 
 
 M 
 
 (46) 
 

 h 
 
 i : 
 
 
 
 f 
 
 362 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Bridge is a mile and a iialf below the Falls, and is eight hundred feet in length, 
 and two hundred and thirty feet above the river. It is built in two tiers; a carriage- 
 way level witli the edge of the chasm, and the railway-track on a level with the 
 top of the secondary bank eighteen feet higher. Both bridges are triumphs of 
 engineering skill, and structures of immense strength and stability ; yet .so light and 
 elegant is their design, so graceful and i)icturesque their effect, as they hang above 
 the stream, apparently poised in air, that they are worthy of the beautiful river they 
 embrace. 
 
 Adjoining the railway bridge is the town of Niagara Falls (formerly Clifton), an 
 important railway depot, picturesquely built on tiic bank of the river; its pretty I'ttle 
 Episcopal church standing almost on the edge of the cliff. Many pretty suburban 
 villas, and handsome houses with beautiful pleasure grounds, ornamcr.c its environs. 
 
 Below tile foaming basin of tlie cataract, the river, now running at right angles 
 with its fornu;r course, Hows down the deep gorge it has made for its passage through 
 a wall of perpendicular rock, whicii towers above the stream from two to three hun- 
 dred feet in height. Between the two suspension bridges the water averages a hundred 
 feet deep, and beneath it lies a mass of fallen rock and cUbris of equal depth. Here 
 tiie chasm is from twelve hundred to eight hundred feet wide, but it narrows to half 
 that width iielow liie railway i)ridge. For nearly a mile and a half — the distance be- 
 tween tlu' two l)ridges — it runs in smooth and even ilow, its dark-green surface 
 rcdecting its i);uiks, wooded on tiie Canatla sitle, as in a mirror, and scarcely a ripple 
 indicating the tierce current l)clow. .\ little above tiie railway bridge the channel con- 
 tracts, forming a narrow cur\{; witli a rapid tlescent, and tlu; river, wiiich just before 
 seems languidly gliding on, as if exhausted with tiie shock and concussion of its great 
 fall, suddenly leaps into jKissionate life again, and da.shes on in the wikl tumult of 
 the whirlpool ra])ids. The depth of the river at the spot where these rapids begin has 
 been computed at two hundred and ten feet. 
 
 A ([uartcr of a mile lower down is tlie whirlpool, a scene of e.xtraordinary 
 beauty and attraction. As the river approaches this place, its rapid descent, and the 
 narrowness of its curved and rocky bed, force the stream, which here runs at the rate 
 of twenty-seven miles an hour, into a piled-up ridge of water, from which liquid jets 
 and cones. oft<'n rising to the height of twenty feet, are thrown into the air. Here 
 the river's course is again changt^d, and it makes an abrupt turn to the right, while the 
 strength and violence of its current, as it sweeps round the cliff on the American side, 
 produces so strong a reaction as to press part of the stream into a recess or basin on 
 tiie Canadian shore, the struggling and counter-working currents thus forming the 
 great vortex of the whirljjool. iUit it is a hidden vortex ; and the contrast between 
 this lovely little lakelet, calm and smooth as a mirror, except for a few swirls of foam 
 at its outer edges, as it lies clasped in the embrace of its encircling and richly-wooded 
 
THE NIAGARA DISTRICT. 
 
 363 
 
 cliffs, and the furious wliite-tossinjr rapids from which it seems so miraculously to have 
 escaped, adds the charms of surprise and mystery to its exquisite beauty. Nor is its 
 vvitchinjj spell marred by any incongruous surroundings. It lies in a lonely and quiet 
 spot, girdleil by rocky walls and shadowing trees ; and is almost ecpialiy lovely at 
 every season of the )ear. It is beautiful when its banks are dresst:d in the fresh, 
 transparent green of spring leaves ; when they wear the rich foliage of summer, or 
 are robed in the brilliant tints of autumn ; and perhaps even more beautiful when 
 only the sombre hues of the dark pines and cedars are rcllected on its gleaming sur- 
 face in winter, or when their branches are laden with snow-wreaths, or glittering with 
 fringes of silvery frost. As we first look at it, it seems an emblem of peace after 
 tumult, calm after strife, but as we continue to gaze, the still, dark-green water takes 
 another aspect ; strangely gyrating circles rise, and spread and vanish, and reappear 
 again, signs of tlu; mysterious currents beneath. Everything whicli comes within reach 
 of these resistless currents is caught anil dragged into the vortex below, held there 
 for a while, and then thrown to the surface, where it is whirled slowly and ceaselessly 
 round and rountl. Trees blown into tiie river, logs from broken rafts carried over the 
 cataract, a ileatl bird, or an ear of Indian corn, are all drawn out of their course 
 down the stream, and perform their strange rotatory penance for days and e\ > 11 
 weeks before they are released from the pool. Here, if ever, emerge the bodies of 
 those unfortunate ones who have gone over the balls, and here they are found, 
 extricated from their weird dance of death, and, if not claimed by friends, given 
 charitable burial. 
 
 Between the whirlpool and Oueenston lies the wildest, most solitary, and most 
 picturesque part of the river, though a part (piile unknown to fame, and never visited 
 by tourists. Here the solid wall of rock which hems the river in on the American 
 side, and which rises three hundred feet, is extremely grand and striking, though the 
 Canadian siiore is much more beautiful from its more varied forms and richer 
 masses of foliage. Its gracefully-rounded heights, now stretching their spurs into 
 the river's bed, now retreating from some lovel)' little cove, inlet, or inXiXx, and thickly 
 wooded all th" way, makes the fmest possible contrast to the bold, perpendicular 
 American cliff, almost bare, but for the scanty fringes of pines and cedars which here 
 and there cling to the water-worn rifts that break its red and green and blue-black 
 precipice, and stretch down to meet the white foam of the rapiils that curtUes round 
 its base. On the Canadian bank, space for a military roail has been reserved and kept 
 free from all buildings, and those who follow its windings, some day in leaf)' June or 
 golden October, till the path turns out at the foot of Brock's Monument, above' CJueens- 
 ton, will be rewarded by a succession of lovely pictures, changing with ever)- bend of 
 the winding river. Especially from the rocks, which project over tl.e bank, where the 
 underlying shale and sandstone have crumbled away, and which eventually must be 
 
364 
 
 . PIC I URESQ UE CA NA DA. 
 
 ! 
 
 i^! 
 
 li i; 
 
THE NIAli.lRA D I STRICT.. 
 
 365 
 
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 K 
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 precipitated into the chasm as Table Roci< has hocn, the most magnificent views up 
 and down the river an; presented. 
 
 Geologists tell us that it must iiavt; takeii tlie river more than seNcnty tlioiisand 
 years to excavate the chasm, sevcm miles in length, through which it runs from the 
 Falls to Oueenston ; and the rock formations give evidence that not onl}' at Oueens- 
 ton, but at places fartiier up, the cataract was lu.-ld for ages before it wore away 
 its barriers, one after the otiier, till it reached its present site. Just below th(; whirl- 
 pool, a great promontory or spur of rock stretches far across the bed of tlie river, 
 which sweeps round it in a confined and crooked channel. Mere, we are told, the 
 hard, compact rock kept the cataract for centuric ,. Lower again, opposite the cavern 
 on the American side, called the Devil's Hole, the Canadian cliff again juts promi- 
 nently out, and tiic river makes another bend, so closely hemmeil in on either sitle that, 
 looked at from the bank, its course is completely hidden.. Between these two head- 
 lands lies a beautiful little glen, a hundred acres in extent, marked on the boundary 
 survey of 1815 as " I'^oster's Glen." No doubt it was excavated and overflowed by 
 the river when its waters were pent in by the lower promontory ages ago, and left 
 dry as the stream subsided into its present ciiannel. I-)ing under the cliffs which 
 project picturesquely above it, richly wooded, interspersed with rock\' luounds, leafy 
 dells, and moss-grown hollows, shut in by great lichen-covered rocks, this tiny glen is 
 a perfect epitome of wild natural beauty. Only accessible by a winding, precipitous path 
 from the cliffs ai)ove, sheltered by its lofty banks and embowering t''ees, and kept fresh 
 and green In the heats of summer by the moisture from the river, verdure lingers here 
 nearly all th.e year round, and its temperature in winter is almost as milii as if it 
 looked up at a southern sky. Beautiful even in winter, this favoured spot, in spring, 
 is a perfect paradise of wild flowers and blossoming shrubs. Its rocks, worn into 
 caves and grottoes by the water which once covered them, arc hung witii graceful 
 tapestry of ferns, mosses, and plants ; even tall trees grow on their tops, and s(.-nd down a 
 maze of tangled roots to reach the earth below. Rare and lovely siirubs aiui trees 
 flourish here uncared for and unheeded, and ferns of every variety grow in the most 
 lavish profusion. At one extremity of the glen the river has formed a charming little 
 eddy, smooth and clear as glass, where fish are caught with hook and line ; at the 
 other, a miniature bay lies within the rocky cape that encloses it with a beach of 
 rounded pebbles, on which the river, torn and tortured by the rocks that obstruct its 
 way, dashes and breaks like the waves of the sea. Fish abound in this part of the 
 river, and are speared as they swim over the stones in bits of quiet water outside the 
 never-ceasing tumult of the rapids. Sturgeon, sometimes weighing nearly a hundred 
 pounds, pass down the Falls without injury, and meet their fate here or at Queenston. 
 Birds of every si)ecies haunt the glen, and many small wild creatures inhabit it, but 
 nothing more mischievous than a skunk or a raccoon — the enemies of the farmer's 
 
366 
 
 • PR "n 7i' /-SO ( '/-: ( ■// A v/ /).-/ . 
 
 poultry and Indian corn is, with one iioticcalilc exception, to be found. Rattle- 
 snakes, which I'athcr Henne- 
 pin sa\s iiad tlieir dens about 
 th(! cataract wiien he visited 
 it, l)ut wiiich arc never seen 
 there now, still siu'vive amonjr 
 the cavernous rocks alonp 
 the river, and an- occasionally 
 met with. A full-grown yel- 
 low and black rattlesnake, 
 four or five feet long, and 
 as thick as a man's wrist, with 
 bright-yellow horny armour 
 underneath, and ornamented 
 on the back with a variegated 
 pattern of black and gold, 
 erecting its tlat, yellow head, 
 its eyes gleaming like sparks 
 of fire, darting out its slen- 
 der black tongue, its rattles, 
 ten, twenty, or even more, in 
 number, vibrating violently 
 with a loutl, wiiizzing, strange- 
 Ij'-stinging and piercing sound, 
 as it rises to strike, is a sight 
 at once horrible and beautiful. 
 I'ortunately, these snakes are 
 extrem(;ly sluggish in their 
 habits, never bite except when 
 made angry or stepped upon, 
 and even when attacked will 
 always at first attempt to 
 • escape. If seen, they are in- 
 variably pursued and killed, 
 and will probably soon die 
 out of this district, as they 
 have out of other parts of 
 Canada. Other wild creatures, with a beauty not horrid and baleful like that of the 
 rattlesnake, but ideally graceful and majestic, the eagle and the swan, once inhabited 
 
 RAVINK NEAR WHIKM'OOL. 
 
THE NIAGARA DISTRICT. 
 
 367 
 
 the river and its vicinity. licfort; the War of 1S12 swans niadi' their ni^sts aiiov 
 rapids, and eayles built their eyries close to the cataract ; but during the war 
 all disappeared, and have 
 never since returned to 
 dwell in their old haunts. 
 Three miles below the 
 Falls, on the .Xiiu'rican 
 side, is the Devil's Hole, 
 a cavern in tiie cliff up- 
 wards of a hundred feet 
 in depth, above which a 
 stream called the Bloody 
 Run falls down into the 
 river. The stream owes 
 its unlovely name to the 
 surprise and slaujrhter, 
 by Indians, in 1 763, of a 
 party of Enj^lish soldiers, 
 escorting some provision 
 trains sent from Fort 
 Niaji^ara to Fort 
 .Schlosser. Many 
 Indian legends 
 
 e the 
 they 
 
 THK WHIRLPOOL, 
 From Aniericnii side. 
 
 are connected with this place, 
 and when La Salle was building his brig- 
 antine, the Griffin, at Cayuga Creek, he 
 was taken to consult its oracles by the 
 famous Iroquois chief, Gironkouthie. On 
 entering the cave he heard a voice issuing 
 from its depths, predicting for him an early death by treacherous hands, if he did 
 
 
368 
 
 J'lL I'L J<J-S(JL 7: CA\. ID. 1. 
 
 not L;i\f lip liis intiiidcd voyage. I!iit llioiij^li it is saiil that l.a Salic llocl from tin- 
 cave on licarinn this mjstcrioiis voice, he was not to l>c ileterretl from his sclicnics of 
 exploration, ami in the end met the doom the spirit of the cave had foretold. A 
 few years aj^o this cavern was occupied li\ a desperate gang of coiners, who calculated 
 on its t'\ il reputation to protect thcni from distnrhance ; hut after repeateilly haflling 
 tile ditri:ti\i!s, the li'adi:rs were (apliind and the i;ang broken up. I'rom l.ewiston to 
 the side chasm at the Dexii's llole, a railroad track has been cut on llu; fact' of 
 the cliff, and il is rather a sensational sight, looking from the opposite bank, to 
 see the cars slowK' giiiliiig on an almost imperceptible line along the bare; siili; of the 
 precipii'c two hundred ieei aiio\c the gorge iIu'oul;!! wliiih the river rolls, ami then 
 vanishing, as if by magic, where the track turns off .it the chasm. 
 
 Dashing through tiie ileep caflon il has made for its couisc, the river rushes 
 on in wild wa\es am! t(jrrt'nls of foam over and round the rocks which sti'm its 
 way. and here .and there show ih<-ir heads above tlie tierce current, till it nears tin- 
 village of <Jueension. Mere ihc're is a great escar])ment in the rocky ridgt- through 
 which the river has cut, the cliffs fall back, and Niagara, so long straitened and 
 obstructtnl in its passage, spreails into the broail e\|)anse of (hu.'esnton Hay, half a 
 mile ill width. Rising again, the ridge on the left bank ascends to a lofty and 
 Ijeautifully-wooded height. Heiu'ath lies tint \illage of (hu-ension, nameil after (Jiieeii 
 Charlotte, the grandmother of ller Majesty (jueeii \'ictoria. ilerc;, in tlu! early morn- 
 ing of October i J, i,Si2, a strong force of .American troops crossetl the rixer in 
 bt)als to take possession ol Caiiaila. C'linibing the heights above (JiU'enston, the\' 
 found tliemselvcis gallantly confronted by a few British soldiers and Canadian volun- 
 teers, and here the heroic Itrock. conspicuous by his tall stature and daring, was 
 shot down as he led his handful against the invaders. In this, their lirst Ijattle, 
 the .Niagara men showeil tin; courage and determinatitJii with which, to the eiul of the 
 war, they defended the hind they had won from the forest, aiul covered with happj' 
 iKJiiiesteads, fruitful farms, and prosjierous villages ; ami the success of that da\-, 
 though ilearl)' purchased bv the loss of their gallant xoung general, gave ihem a 
 proud consciousness of their power to ijreservc and protect their country which never 
 afterwards deserted them. On tli(; summit of tht^ heights, made glorious l)y the 
 battle, Canada has erecliul a monument to the hero so much beloved and so 
 decpK lamenteil. A graceful column supports a statue of Hrock in uniform, ouf: 
 hand resting on his sword, the other (extended as if encouraging his soldiers. Column 
 and statue measure 216 feet from the ground, and, with the height of the cliff 
 on which they stand, make an elevation of 750 feet above the riv(!r. The monument 
 is surrounded by forty acres of ornamental groumls ; the entrance gates are of 
 v.-r>uelit iron, with cut stone jiiers, surmounted b\ Hrock's famih' arms, and there is 
 a pretty stone lodge for the care-laker of tlu; place. Visitors from Queenston ascend 
 
Till-: M. I a. I A'. I / v.v /A' A /: 
 
 Mi9 
 
 ON THE I'ATH TO WHIKLFOOL. 
 
 4 i I 
 
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 /'/cri'R/'Socr c.ix.i/ki. 
 
 to llii: ^iitus by ;i slucp winding mail, thickly shiuli-d at carli side l)y red cedars, whose 
 
 unfading' verdure and .in»- 
 niatii fraj,'raiu-e are in Uicp- 
 \n^ witii all the siiij^ularly 
 |ii( iiires(|iii' and ;i|)|)r()|)riatc 
 siirroiiiuliii),'s ol the luTo's 
 tiiiiil). 
 
 I'he i^allery at the top of 
 the inoiiuineiit is naelud 
 liy ,111 innir stone staircase 
 of 235 steps, lijrhted on the 
 way lip liy loopholes in 
 the lliitinjf of the column, 
 and above by small circular 
 windows, from wiiich .i 
 niajrnificcnt panoramic view 
 is to be had. Close bc- 
 neatii, its houses clustering 
 round the river, lies the 
 villaiL,fe of Ouecnston, its 
 iL,M-oups of ancient weeping 
 willows still seeming to 
 mourn the dead hero whose 
 statue looks down on tluMii, 
 and t(3 whose memory the 
 Qucenston people have 
 erected a jiretty church, 
 with a handsome stained- 
 glass window, presented b)- 
 the York Volunteers — a 
 gallant corps made famous 
 by Brock's last words : 
 " Push on, brave York 
 \'olunteei:; ! " The AnK-rican village of Lewiston stands on the opposite shore, 
 and, from the gorge above, the river comes foaming down, to find its tumultuous 
 struggles ended in the calm expanse of the beautiful bay into which it spreads 
 itself smooth as a mirror, sweeping on in serene grandeur to blend its waters with 
 the waves of Lake Ontario. At the mouth of the river, seven miles off, is the 
 famous old town of Niagara, with t'ort Mississauga, and the grass-grown ramparts of 
 
 1111. KIVI-.K AHO\i; W Hlkl.I'DOI. 
 
/■///: X/.K/.IA'.I /yST/aCT. 
 
 .■>/ 
 
 I'Ort ( K ■()!•;;(•, rising (ni the l.ikr slioif. At the (■Micinily of llic |i(iiiu, slrclcltiii^ 
 out from tlu: Aincricaii side, tlic wliiti: walls of I'drt Nia^'ara an- i-onspiciunis. Far 
 away to the I'lluu of the hoii/on fleams ihi; lake; ami on ilear d.ivs tlu; iit) of 
 Coroiiio, lhirl)-i'i^iu miles distaiu, and its shipiiiii;;, (an he (lisicrned. I Cii miles 
 west of Oiieeiiston ihir spifes of St. Catharines rise into the air; and the "siKer 
 streak" of the W'elland t'anal may I"' traced to Port I )a!honsie, where ships enter it 
 from Lake ( )iUario. V\'ilhin th(;se points of view lies a richh-cultixatt'd (Duniry lovely 
 in sprinj^ with the pink and white blossoms of i)each and apple onhards, tlu' delicate 
 ^reen of yoiiiij,' leaves, and the deeper verdure of tields of wheat shooliiii,^ into luxuri- 
 ant j^rowth after their wintrj' slet;p ; and j^lorions in autinnn with lields of red and 
 yoklen mai/e, and yellow piinipkiiis, with apph; orchards laden with ripe fruit, and with 
 all the brillianl hues of dyin^r forest leaves, e\ery leaf biuiiinn in the llanies of slow 
 
 KXrr OK Tllli KlVLk IKUM WIU Kl.l'UOl.. 
 
 decay whh its own tint and shade of beauteous blight, and all blended together in a 
 rainbow-like radiance of colour. 
 
 Geology shows that at a remote epoch the ridge at Queenston was the margin of 
 
 
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 1 
 
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 PIC TURESQ UR CAN A DA. 
 
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 Of 
 
Tin-: XIAUARA I) I STRICT. 
 
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 an ocean, that at a lalt;r pcj-iod it formod th(! i)ounclary of Lakr- Ontario, now seven 
 miles away ; and that then; the threat cataract of Niajrara took its first leap from the 
 heitjhts. Comin},^ down from these far distant a<;es to our own century anil the early 
 history of Upper Canada, we find Queenston a trading; and military depot of some 
 note ; but the opening of the Welland Canal destroyed its i"iportance in this respect, 
 and checked its prosperity. It is now a pr:^ternaturally cjuiet little village, lying asleep, 
 as it seems, in the lap of one of the loveliest landscapes in the worlil. The first 
 suspension bridge over the Niagan: River was erected at Queenston in 1S56, for foot 
 and carriage passengers, but a great ice-jam, which occurred ten years after, broke its 
 wire cables, and before they were i)roperly replaced a wind-storm of unusual violence 
 completed its destruction. 
 
 From Queenston to Niagara town the broatl river llows gently on between banks 
 of red argillaceous strata striped with green. '\'h<: banks rise from forty to fifty feet 
 in height, shatled on the Canadian side ijy magnihcfiiit trees, and the graceful bends 
 and wide reaches of the stream give a serit^s of charming pictures all the wa\' to 
 the lake. Ivspecially attractive is the scene in approaching Queenston from Niagara, 
 the lofty heights coming gratlually into view, now standing out as if to close all 
 farther passage, now slowly receding as the river winds about, and then again 
 advancing till the lovely e.xpanse of Queenston Bay, guarded i)y the cliff on which 
 Brock's graceful monument stands, opens fully out, and satisfi(;s the beholder's e.xpec- 
 tations in a perfect clima.x of l)eaut)'. The dri\'e along the river's bank 'between 
 Queenston and Niagara is charming. On one side of the road the bank sweeps down 
 to the water, clothed with all that splentlid vari<!t\- of woodland foliage which is 
 specially chaiactcristic of the woods of Western Canada, and the '-iver tlows on in gentle 
 majesty, reflecting in the distance tin: rc'd hue of ilu' .\mcrican bank and the houses and 
 trees on the k'vel al)o\c ; on tin; other side of tin; roatl are comfortable farm ilwellings 
 with orchards and \ ineries, succeedeil, as we near Niagara, by handsome houses with 
 bordering lawns and gardens wh(;re, in spring aiul early summer, biossoming trees and 
 shrubs overhang the railings and fences, and all the (lowers of the season show their 
 loveliness in a blaze of brilliant colours. A little way from the town, the tiecayed 
 trunk of an old tree was for many years showi. as the remains of the " hollow beech 
 tree" on which .Moore wrote his ballail of "The Woodpecker"; but partly from natu- 
 ral decay, and partly because bits were carried away by relic-lovers, every vestige of 
 the old tree has disappeareil. 
 
 The tiiwn of Niagara is built on a roundeil point stretching into Lake Ontario, 
 where the Niagara River llows into it. Entering the town by the river road we pass 
 through a grove of old oak trees, succeeded by a natural plain, or "opening," three- 
 quarters of a mile in e.xtent, its grassy surface kept closely cropped l)\' grazing cattle, 
 and only broken here and there by groups of magniticent old thorn trees. This plain. 
 
374 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 always called the 
 common, was re- 
 served for military 
 purposes. On one 
 side it is bounded 
 by the road lead- 
 ing into the town, 
 bordered by villas, 
 lawns, and shrub- 
 beries ; on the other 
 by the blue waters 
 of Lake Ontario. 
 For many years it 
 was annually the 
 scene of a great 
 Indian encampment, 
 when the Six Na- 
 tions came to re- 
 ceive their yearly 
 gifts and allow- 
 ances. Coming over 
 the lake in their 
 birch - bark canoes, 
 they set up their 
 lodges on the com- 
 mon, forming a wild 
 and picturesque 
 spectacle, such as 
 can be seen now 
 only in the far 
 North-WL-,st. 
 
 Near the mouth 
 of the river and 
 opposite old Fort 
 Niagara, on the 
 American shore, 
 rise some grassy 
 mounds, the remains 
 of the embankments of Fort George, and in the enclosed space below a small 
 
THE NIAGARA DISTRICT. 
 
 375 
 
 remnant of the old fort, built of massive brick work, is still in existence. To the left 
 of Fort George, and near the centre of the point, is I-'ort Mississauga, erected after 
 the retreat of the Americans, the brick stones of the burned town having been used 
 in its construction. The tower still stands, though dismantled, with its surrounding 
 block houses, but its iron-studded gates lie open, and the i)alisades which defended its 
 trenches are nearly all gone. Cattle and horses graze peacefully round these old 
 memorials of war, and the lake bears friendly ships from shore to shore ; but the 
 inhabitants of Niagara have not yet forgotten what their fathers suffered when, in 
 the frost and snow of December, 1813, helpless women and little children were turned 
 into the street and their houses burned to the ground. 
 
 On the American point, stretching across the mouth of the river, is the old Fort 
 of Niagara, built where La Saile erected a palisaded store-house in 1678, when he 
 was building the (iriffin, the first vessel, except an Indian birch-bark canoe, ever 
 launched on Lake Erie. La Salle's stockade was afterwards destroyed by the Indians, 
 rebuilt and strengthened by the French in 168;, again destroyed by the Indians, and 
 again rebuilt by the French. Finally, a stone fort was erected on the old site by the 
 Marquis de la Jonquiere in 1749, which was taken by the British under Sir William 
 Johnson in 1759 It remained in the possession of the British till the end of the : 
 American War of Independence, when it was ceded to America. It was taken by 
 the British and Canadian troops in the War of 181 2, and held by them till peace was 
 concluded. The town and peninsula of Niagara were settled chiefly by U. K. (United 
 Empire) Loyalists, so called from their loyalty to the British Empire at the time of 
 the American Revolution. The regiment known as Butler's Rangers, famous for its 
 fierce and reckless daring and devotion to the Royal cause, was disbanded at b'ort 
 Niagara after the war, and nearly all crossed over to Canada and settled in the Ni- 
 agara District, receiving grants of land there. Five thousand acres were allotted to 
 Colonel Butler, with a pension of two hundred pounds a year ; he was made agent 
 for Indian affairs in the West, and held other important ofifices in Niagara. He was ., 
 buried in a clump of oaks and pines on part of his property, known as tiie Butler 
 farm, about a mile from the town, and in the I'lpiscopal church a tablet lias been put 
 up to his memory. Many other U. E. Loyalists refused to take the oath of allegi- 
 ance to the American government, and fled to Canada, receiving grants of land in 
 the Niagara District, they and their descendants, almost without exception, taking a 
 high and honourable position in the Province. 
 
 In a few years the village of Niagara became a place of considerable import- 
 ance. It was the principal depot for the North-west Fur Company, for Indian sup- 
 plies, and for all goods conveyed by the Portage road round the Falls, the chief 
 place of trade for Western Canada, and an important military station ; and when, in 
 1792, Governor Simcoe chose it for the capital of Upper Canada, it was expected 
 
57^ 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 11:] 
 
 to become before long a great and prosperous city. General Simcoe held his first 
 Parliament there, and a I""rench traveller, the Duke de la Rochefoucault di Liancourt, 
 witnessed and has described the opening ceremonies, conducted amidst curiously 
 primitive surroundings. The Governor, his council and the representatives of the 
 Province, met in a building adjoining Butler's Barracks, generally used for church 
 services, but finding it somewhat hot and close in sunny September weather, they 
 adjourned to a green slope near by, and there, imder the shade of some survivors of 
 the forest primeval, with a flat rock for a table, made the laws and arranged the 
 'affairs of the Province. This first Parliament of Upper Canada carried through 
 many measures of great practical utility ; and it must always be remembered to its 
 honour that it gave the death-blow to slavery as a legal institution in the Province. 
 
 The Ujjper Canada Cmzcttc, the first newspaper issued in tiie Upper Province, 
 was published in Niagara during General Simcoe's administration. Fort George was 
 built, various government buildings erected, and a great im]Detus given to the town. 
 But Simcoe had fought in the War of the Revolution, and never could forgive the 
 success of the Americans ; and when he found that Fort Niagara was actually to 
 be given up to them, and that, if he made Niagara town the seat of government, 
 he would be comijeiled day after day to see the stars and stripes floating where 
 the British llag then waved, he became disgusted with the place, and removing to 
 York, now Toronto, decided on fixing the capital there. This was a terrible blow 
 to Niagara, but it brought with it one compensation which to many will seem far 
 from trivial. General Simcoe, ignoring all the claims of historic and poetic feeling, 
 and we may add of euphony, had changed the name of the town from Niagara to 
 Newark, in allusion to its having been an .\rk of Safety for the persecuted U. E. 
 Loyalists ; and it was so called in Acts and other official documents for a short time, 
 but the old name never lost its holil on the people, and in 1 798 it was formally 
 reinstated l)y law. In tiiis respect Niagara is more fortunate than some other 
 places in the Dominion, which have lost their beautiful old Indian names, and have 
 had otiiers, both commonplace and inappropriate, conferred on tiv 1. 
 
 Though the honour of being the capital of the Province was taken away from 
 it, Niagara still retained its importance as a military station, as the principal depdt 
 for goods going up or coming down Lake Erie, and the chief centre of trade for 
 the surrounding district ; but a IjIow far more crushing than General Simcoe's 
 was destined to fall upon it. December 12th, 181 3, it was set 'i fire by 
 order of the American commanding officer. General McClure, when he abandoned 
 the town, of which he had for some time held possession, and retreated across the 
 river before the advance of the British. The inhabitants, among whom were hundreds 
 of women and children, were only allowed half an hour to escape from their houses, 
 and many of them lingered in the streets to watch, with such feelings as may be 
 

 
 Al'l'KOACH TO CAVI-: Ol'' Till-; WINDS. 
 
THF. NfAGARA PISTRfCT. 
 
 i77 
 
 imajriiied, the destruction of their ruined homes. The little town recovered from 
 this terrible calamity with extraordinary rapitlity, hut another stroke of ili-fortunt; was 
 in store for it. Tiie Wellaiid ship-canal, which has _!j[i\en such commercial advan- 
 tajjes to Canada, diverted the trade of the Niaj^ara peninsula into new channels. The 
 town of St. Catharines, near the entrance of the canal from Lake; Ontario, suddenly 
 sprang into being, and became the Inisincss centre of the district, throwing 
 Niagara town into a cold shade, from which it has not jet been able to emerge. 
 Lately, however, it has shown signs of renewed activity ; it has a ship-yard, an iron 
 foundry, and two or three large hotels, always full in summer. .Steamboats run between 
 it and Toronto twice a day; ami its healthful and beautiful situation, the picturesque 
 scenery in its neighbourhood, anil its attractions for the lovers of boating, fishing, and 
 wild-fowl shooting, make it a popular holiday resort, and a delightful summer residence. 
 A canal from it. to connect with the Wellantl Canal, has been projected, ;uul if carried 
 out, we may hope tiiat the sunshine of prosperity maj- beam once more on the famous 
 old town. The Episcopal church, St. Mark's, first built in 1802, has many interesting 
 associations. It was occupied by the American troops wiien they held the jilace in 
 18 13, and was set on tire with the rest of the town. The body of the ciiurch was 
 burned down, but rebuilt after the close of the war, and the venerable old tower, which 
 escaped the Hames, still stands, strongly buttressed, a sacred memorial of the sufferings 
 of days gone by. A large and beautiful burying-gi-ound surrounds the church, shaded 
 by magnificent old trees. It is crowdetl witli stately monuments and humbler head- 
 stones, and the graves near the old tower lie tiiick and close together, many of the 
 tombstones bearing the names of ofificers and militiamen. When the American soldiers 
 were quartered in the church, they cut \\\^ their rations of meat on some of the 
 great flag-stones which covered the graves, and the scars and chippings made ])y the 
 cleavers can still be plainly seen. But, happih', the \crtlure of man)- springs, the 
 fading lea\es of man\' autumns, the snows of many winters, have co\eretl these scars, 
 and healed the bitter feelings they once awakened ; leaving only a generous pride in 
 the valour and fortitude of the men who saved the independence of their countrv. 
 
 Where the road known as Lundj's Lane approaches the village of Dnimmondville 
 (lying between Queenston and Chippewa), one of the fiercest battles of the war was 
 fought. A piece of rising ground, close to the village, and about a mile from 
 Niagara Falls, was the central part of the combat, and a tower or "observatory," 
 which visitors are expected to ascend for the view, marks the place. The b.ittle 
 began at six o'clock on the evening of July 25th, 1S14, wlien General Sir Ciordon 
 Drummond, with a force of sixteen hundred British and Canadians, encountered five 
 thousand Americans, under Ceneral Brown, and, as the sun sank in the western horizon, 
 the cannon's ileadU' roar mingleil with the subliiiK! voice of the cataract. The flcrht 
 
 raged with unabated vigour and tletermination on both sitles till midnight, when the 
 
 (48) 
 
378 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 !' i 
 
Tin-: N/.ii;.ih',i dis/r/c/'. 
 
 379 
 
 y. 
 
 American general, finding that, in spite of some temporary successes, all his efforts to 
 dislodge the British from their position on the brow of the hill were fruitless, gave up 
 the contest. "He retreated," says General Drummond in iiis despatch, "with great 
 precipitation to his camp beyond Chippewa, inirning, as lie passed, the tlour mills at 
 Bridgewater. The following day he abandoned his camp, threw the greater part of his 
 baggage, ecpiipage, and provisions into the rapids above the Falls, and, destroying the 
 bridge over tiie Chippewa River, continued his retreat to Fort Erie in great disorder." 
 Lundy's Lane, extending for a mile to the west of Drummondville, is now lined on 
 each side with peach orchards, vineyards, market-gardens,, and the neat ami tasteful 
 dwellings of tiieir owners. The village lies east of tiie hill where tiie brunt of the 
 battle was borne ; the balls and the rapids bordering it on one hand, and orchards, 
 fields and ijeautiful woodlands, on the other. 
 
 Another battle-field, neither so important nor so famous as Lundy's Lane, ought 
 never to be forgotten by Canadians. This is Beaver Dams, near the place where the 
 town of Thorold now stands. After the Americans got possession of I'ort George and 
 the town of Niagara, the British troops fell back on Burlington — now Hamilton — and 
 General Vincent, then in command, advised the Canadian militia and volunteers to 
 return to their homes, as he was uncertain whether lie might not have to abandon the 
 peninsula for a time, and .tire to Kingston. At this disheartening crisis the Cana- 
 dians remained true to their country, and continued to carry on a guerilla warfare 
 against the invaders, Merritt's militia regiment of Light llorsc, with some other mili- 
 tiamen and volunteers, established themselves at a building known as "I)e Cew's stone 
 house," converting it into a little fortress, from whence they harassed the Americans, 
 driving off their foraging parties, and intercepting their supplies, with such success and 
 impunity as only an intimate knowledge of the country could have given them. Colonel 
 Boerstler was sent from Niagara with two field-pieces and si.\ hundred men to break 
 up this little stronghold, and one or two other outposts of the British, wlio. since the 
 decisive battle of Stony Creek, were moving back towards b'ort George, and he might 
 have succeeded but for the patriotic spirit and bravery of a woman. Laura .Secord, 
 the young wife of James Secord, a militiaman, lying wounded at Oueenston, saw the 
 American troops moving from Niagara, and, learning their destination, set out at 
 night, and walked twenty miles through the woods to warn the little band at the 
 stone house of Boerstler's approach. At any time it would have been a difficult 
 journey, but in war time, with the risk of meeting some savage Indian or other 
 lawless marauder in the lonely woods, only a woman of sing.ular energy anil courage 
 would have undertaken it. Mrs. Secord, however, accomplished it in safety, and 
 when Colonel Boerstler arrived at Beaver Uams at six o'clock in the morning, he 
 found his march impeded by a small number of militiamen, hastily collected, and a 
 party of Indians led by their chief, young Brant. This number, altogether about two 
 
38o 
 
 J'JCTL KliSDi li LAX. 1 1). I. 
 
 Iiiimliid, srcmt'd tiililcd uIk'II seen ihroii^Ii llic thick f(iliai,'<' of tlic trees, from amoiii; 
 wli'cli they poured voiles- after solley from tlieir muskets on the surprised and Ix'wiidered 
 Americans, excry voile) accompanied liy the lierce yells of the Indians. While lioersl- 
 ler was still uncertain whether to .uKaruc or retreat, i'.nsij^n I''it/L;ilil>oii, with forty 
 soldiers, the onl\ lirilish troops in the nei<jhl)ourhoo<l, arrived at the spot, and took in 
 
 HOKT DAl.nOl'SlI , r 
 
 the situation at once. 
 
 With admirahlc courai^e 
 
 antl coolness, he tied a 
 
 white handkerchief on 
 
 a musket ami, holdins^- , 
 
 it up, advanced alone, callinLj on tin; enemv to lav down their arms and surrender, 
 
 u|ion which (.'olonel lioerstler, helievino- that the whole British army were in front, 
 
 surrendered his force of six hundred infantrv. tUtv cavalry, two field-nuns, and a stand 
 
 of colours, to the y()uni,r ensiirn antl his two hundred and forty men. 
 
 When excavations were heini,"- maile for the Welland Canal, some human hones 
 were found at Meaver Dams with militia buttons and scraps of military accoutrements, 
 which showed that they were the remains of Canadian soldic-rs killed in the tii^ht which 
 had taken place there. These remains were; collected, enclosed in a walnut casket, and 
 i)uried where they had l)(>en found, more than two thousand pec^ple assemblinLj to wit- 
 ness the ceremony. Over iIk- spot a small t^ranite monument was placed, with the 
 simple inscription, " I{i:.vvi;k Dams, [une 24th, iSi;,." =-— .- :--_-.--_---'- -^^.i;-„-. 
 
 In these [peaceful and pr()S|)erous days the \'ia_<,rara district is covered with jjleasant 
 homesteads, ihrivinL,^ villajres, and busy market towns, but it can boast of only one city. 
 This is .St, Catharines, built on the line of the Welland Canal, three miles from its 
 port of entry on Lake Ontario, and the chief shipping, tnanufacturing, and trading 
 
Till: M.\ C.IRA PISTh'HT. 
 
 381 
 
 TiinRoi.n, ON 01,11 WK.r.LANn canal. 
 
 .emporium of thf peninsula. Rather oddly, the wives of thn-e prominent landowners in 
 the ])lace — Colonel John Hutler, the honourable? Roherl I ianiilton, and iJic honouralile 
 William Hamilton Merritt -horc; llu; namt; of Catliarine, and 
 for each of them the honour of iia\ in^' St. Catharines nameil 
 after her has hvv.n claimed. The laml on which liie city 
 was built was at different limes owni'd ])\ tiie men menlioned, 
 and all iiad a share in building; up St. Catharines; but un- 
 doubt('dly the founder of its com- 
 mercial prosperity was William 
 Hamilton Merritt. who first con- 
 ceived the project of a canal across 
 the peninsula, ami throu<;ii dit'ti- 
 culties and discoiirajjjements, which 
 only the most indomitable (Mn;r<j[\- 
 could have con(juered, maiie it an 
 accomplished fact. It is to this 
 great work that St. Catharines 
 owes its rise from an insiijnificant 
 vilJaire to a busy commercial town. 
 In the W'elland Canal it commands 
 unlimited and unfailiiijj^ water-power, 
 <i[ivin<f rise to numerous mills, fac- 
 tories, and machine works. It has 
 extensive ship-yards, and from its st. .mark's church, magara. 
 
i^ ! 
 
 M 
 
 ' 'i 
 
 ^i■ 
 
 ! i 
 
 : i 
 
 IP 'I 
 
 li 
 
 
 ui 
 
 I 
 
 38a 
 
 PICrURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 i' i 
 
7V//f NtAC,.\R.\ niSTRlCT. 
 
 38j 
 
 at 
 
 t 
 
 'A 
 
 < 
 
 u 
 < 
 
 H 
 
 docks vessels that liavc made siirccssfiil vnyn^^cs to Muropc I)avc liccn laimcliid. Its 
 railwa\ stations and sliip-canals j^ivc it facilities for carryinj^ on trade- wiiii ail pir.s 
 of tlu: world. It lias an (Hi(i<ni |iiiiicc force and lire company; j^as-works which 
 not only li^ht its streets and pnliiic liuildings, hut the adjoininj.; hanks of the canal ; 
 and a system of water-works supplied from a reservoir f(;d by tiic pure water of " l)e 
 Cew's I'alls," four miles from tiie city. It has man\ hanilsome huildinjfs; a court-house 
 and jail, hanks, hospitals, a Masonic Hall, and several first-class hotels, a puhlic school 
 in every ward, a spacious central school, a \vell-e(piipped colleji[iat(! institute of the 
 hijjjhest rank in tlu: Province, and churches of every relij^ious denomination. Besides 
 the hotels, there is .i sanitarium, huilt expressly for invalids cominj; to try the 
 curative effects of the St. Catharines mineral springs. Scientilic analysis shows that 
 these sprinjjs are equal in medicinal properties to any of the German Spas ; ami their 
 fame brings numbers in search of health to St. Catharines every year, especially 
 from the southern and south-western States, where it i.s ivUown as tlu; Saratoga of 
 Canada. 
 
 I'ort Dalhousie, on Lake Ontario, three miles from .St. Catharines and eleven miles 
 west of the nu^uth of the Niagara River, is the iu)rtlu'rn port of eiUr)' for the Wel- 
 land Canal and the northern terminus of the W'elland Railway. It has a safe harbour, 
 where vessels may find refuge in all weather, aiul in simuner steanu^rs run daily 
 between it and Toronto. I'ort Colborne, on Lake lirie, twenty miles from the head of 
 the Niagara, is the southern entrance port of the canal. It has a good harbour, is the 
 southern terminus of the Welland, and one of the principal stations of tlu; Cirand 
 Trunk Railway. Betwe(;n these ports of entry several enterprising and prosjjerous 
 villages have sprung up along the canal. Merritton, Thoroid, Allanlnirg, I'ort Robin- 
 son, aiul Stonebridge, art; all places of busv life and e.'ergy. W'ellarul, the chief town 
 of Welland County, is built on both sides of the canal, and connecteil by a handsome 
 swing bridge. It has several mills and factories, handsonu- churches, a high school, a 
 court-house, excellent hotels, and stores of every varietj' ; and it publishes two news- 
 papers. Close to the town is the large fair-ground of the counlv agricultural society, 
 where annual shows arc held. 
 
 All this activity, energy, and prosperotis industry, have had their source in the 
 Welland Canal, a work of which ;i brief description has yet to be given. Crossing 
 the peninsula which' lies between Lake Erie and Lake Ontario, it shades the mighty 
 cataract which had so long been an insurmountable obstacle to navigation, and forms 
 the missing link in the chain of navigable waters from Lake Superior to the great 
 river St. Lawrence, in whose mighty flood of mingled streams they pass on to the 
 ocean. -~,-.i — ^,— 
 
 The idea of this great work was first conceived by Mr. Merritt, during the; War of 
 1812, wdien a militia ofificer, distinguished for courage and enterprise, though little more 
 
;,84 
 
 /'/cruR/-:sQU/': c.ix.in. i. 
 
 than a 1)0\, lir led liis patrdls uj) ami down tlic frontier, and spt'nilatcd on the ad- 
 vantages such a means of transportinL,^ troops and ammunition tlirougli the district 
 
 NKAK LOCK Nil. j. Ol.D CANAL. 
 
 would ha\c i^ixcn its ilefiMulers. Alter the peace, he became engaged in larger busi- 
 ness transactions, and the conuiurcial \alue of an unbroken water-\va\' between the 
 two lakes was loi-cibl\- brouohi Ijcfore him. ihe project of a ship-canal gradually as- 
 sumed a practicabh- shape in his mind, and through Ids li.xity of purjxise and indomi- 
 table eners^A a compain was foruu'd. aid from (.iovernment obtained, and the scheme 
 
 oil' rour DAi.uousiK 
 
 successfullx' carried out. (Jn the ;,oth of No\-eml)er, i.S:!4, the first sod of the Welland 
 Canal was tui-ned. and under Mr. Merrill's suixma ision Si)eedil\' became a scene of 
 
y •///;■ A/.IGARA /)/S/'A'/C/\ 
 
 3«5 
 
 lie ;ul- 
 listrict 
 
 Till; DKi'.p cur. 
 ftv. 
 
 /in- 
 active industry. "Tlic sliarp rattle of tlic axes licwino and carving their way throiiirh 
 
 the old woods, tin; imceasiiitj hamnieriii;^ of picks on the lianks, the crash of fallint^' trees, 
 
 minified occasionally with the loud explosion of j^nnpowder, hroke the ancient silence 
 
 of the forest." * So the work went on, anil in Xovemher, iSjt), ti\e years later, almost 
 
 to a day, two vessels with llasjjs llyinij passed thnuiLjh the canal, ciieered by admiring 
 
 m 
 
 * I, iff of Mr. MruRnr. 
 
 (49) 
 
386 
 
 PICTURF.SOUE CANADA 
 
 spectators. Since then a succession of enlargements antl improvemtMits iiave been 
 made in the canal, and in 1875 the works were commenced which an; now nearly 
 completed, and which, when x\\v. aqueduct over the Chippewa River is finished, will 
 make it one of the best constructed and most efficient achievements even this ;.<ro of 
 engineering skill has produced. At Port Dalhousie, its port of entry on Lake Ontario, 
 and Port Colborne, its port of entry on Lake l"lrie, safe and commodious harbours 
 have been made, protected by strong'.y-built piers stretching between two and three 
 thousand feet into the lake beyond the lines of the harbours, having elevated bea- 
 cons erected at their terminations. The difference of level between Lake Ontario and 
 Lake Erie at those two ports is i. ordinary weather about 327 feet, and this is 
 surmounted by twenty-five lift-locks built of solid stone, and faced with cut-stone, by 
 which the water is carried over that iiigh ridge of land locally known as "the 
 mountain." Each lock is 270 feet long between the gates, ami forty-five feet in 
 width, admitting a depth of fourteen feet of water on the sills. The gates are con- 
 structed of the strongest oak and pine timber. The prism of the canal, through 
 its long straight reaches, has a width of a hundred feet at eighteen inches over the 
 bottom line, with provision for a depth of water sufficient to allow the passage of 
 the largest vessels that navigate the lakes. Wiien the canal was first made it w'as 
 found that at times the Chippewa River proved inadecpiate as a feeder, and a 
 channel to serve this purpose was cut from Dunnville, on the Grand River, to Port 
 Robinson, a distance of twenty-seven miles. This channel is navigable all the way, 
 and a branch canal connects it. with Port Maitland, at the mouth of the Grand River, 
 where a harbour has been formetl. It will thus always remain useful as a branch of 
 the main canal, but since the new improvements have been made the water supply 
 can at all times i)e drawn from Lake Erie. Besides the lift-locks over the mountain, 
 there are guard locks and double gates at all .he ports. A large and costly aqueduct 
 has been made over the Chip|)e\\a River at Welland, and at Lyon's Creek a culvert of 
 heavy masonry has been constructeil. Metween Port Dalhousie and Port Colborne 
 twenty-four bridges cross the canal, five being railway bridges, with piers and abut- 
 ments of stone masonry ; and for the swing bridges the latest and most effective 
 improvements in machinery have i)een employed. The stone used in the canal was 
 taken from the mountain at Oueenston and Thorold, where there are extensive 
 quarries of an excellent grey limestone ecjual to .Aberdeen granite. All the countless 
 works and operations necc^ssary for tlu; safety and perfect efficiency of the canal 
 have been conducted in the most solid and permanent manner, and it is calculated 
 that the cost will not be less than sixteen millions of dollars. The length of the canal 
 is twenty-seven miles, and its present enlargement allows of the passage of vessels of 
 one thousand five hundred tons. 
 
 Thus the enterprise which had its inception, as we have said, in 1824, in the 
 
THE NIAGARA DISTRICT. 
 
 3»7 
 
 modest project of Mr. Merritt to construct a canal between the two lakes " four feet 
 (Jeep, seven feet wide at bottom, ninc-teen feet wide at the water surface, and to 
 accommodate vessels not exceeding forty tons burthen," has been brought, in its exten- 
 sively developed form, to satisfactory completion. The importance to commerce of this 
 grc.'at undertaking can iiardiy be over-estimated, as it now opens a water higliway to 
 tile west not onl)- fur all tlie trading craft of Ontario, Quebec, and the Maritime 
 Provinces, but even for the sea-going vessels of the Old World. The impetus the 
 canal will now give; to the de\(;lopment of our own lake trade, antl the atlvantages it 
 affords, over the facilities it hitherto offered to shippers of grain from the great 
 markets of Chicago and Duluth, in effecting a continuous and speedy transit to 
 the sea, will be obvious to every one who gives the matter a thought. Increased depth 
 of water in the canal means, of course, increased carrying capacity and increased 
 tonnage in the vessels engaged in tlie traffic. This is important, not only in the 
 matter of exporting grain, but in the moving of such iieav\- merchandise as coal, iron 
 ore, etc., which, from the nature of this trade, wants a cheap, through transport to 
 tide-water, with the minimum of oi)struction, inconvenience, or delay. Canaling as a 
 means of general transportation may not, with the facilities which the railways now 
 offer, be able to maintain the supreme position it has occupied in the past. The 
 history of the lirie Canal would seem to emphasize this view. lUit in the case of 
 Canada, with her enormous water-system, an exception must be made ; and no means 
 of communication is likely seriously to compete with the mode of transit which is the 
 distinctive feature of the trade of tlie Dominion. This the successive governments of 
 Canada have always recognized ; ami henc<.', among the public works necessary to the 
 expansion of its commerce, as a statistical writer has told us, "none occupy a higher 
 or more important place than the canals, wiiich have been constructed for the improve- 
 ment of our lake navigation. " No country in tiie world," th(.' same authority goes on 
 to say, "can show a more (^laliorate system of inlanti navigation than Canada, young 
 as siie is, can exhibit. It is itself a forcible illustration of the public s|iirit which has 
 animated our statesmen during tlie jiast forty years. These works were commenced at 
 a very early period in the history of the commercial progress of Canada, and were 
 completed, on their present extensive scale, at a time when the expenditures required 
 to accomplish the object seemed altogether excessive when compared with the actual 
 revenues." .Speaking of the topographical features of our canal system, the writer con- 
 tinues : "It is where nature has been most capricious, where falls and rapids awe the 
 spectator by their tumultuous rush, that we now see the evidences of modern enter- 
 prise ; where the Indian in old time [lortaged his canoe, we now find splendid structures 
 of masonry, illustrating the progress of engineering skill, and the demands of commer- 
 cial enterprit-e in a country whose total population in tiie beginning of the century was 
 hardly above a hundred thousand souls." 
 
 n 
 
il 
 
 38ft 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 !' 
 
 Few, we may add, can predict the volume of commerce of which the St. Lawrence 
 system will ultimately become the channel. The great lakes, which contain fully half 
 the fresh water on the j(lobe, drain a basin of 400,000 square miles, the trade of which, 
 in addition to that of the vast territory in the North-west, must, to a i^reat extent, be 
 borne, and continue to be borne, on its water With this fact in mind, the part the 
 Welland Canal has to play in this magnificent trade, is in need of no further 
 illustration. 
 
 Properly speaking, the Niagara district is confined to the counties of Lincoln 
 and Welland. Tliis famous old district is bounded on three sides by the waters of 
 Lake Ontario, Lake I">ie, and the Niagara River; it is traversed by the Chippewa 
 River, and by many smaller streams or "creeks," and by the V Hand Canal; 
 everywh(!re it is intersected by railway lines, witii stations at or near each town or 
 village, so that every farmer has cpiick and eas\- communication I)oth by water and 
 land with all parts of the Dominion and the l-nited States. Its fertile soil is 
 equally well adapted for grain and root culture, for raising stock, or for dairy purposes. 
 
 LUCK Nil. 2j, lUOROLD. 
 
 Every species of timber grows in perfection. Oaks and pines ha\e been cut si.\ feet in 
 diameter ; the oaks measuring from seventy to eighty feet in length ; the pines from one 
 
THE NIAGARA DISTRICT. 
 
 389 
 
 ■iR/ffmfHf^ir^:. 
 
 I'OKT KOlilNSUN, KM,AR(;i;l) LANAI., 
 
 luindrcd to OIK- hiiiidrcd and seventy-five, and as strais^ht as the mast of a ship. A few 
 niaj^niriccnt hlack wahnits still remain, but these most beautiful and valuable trees of 
 the Canadian forest ha\-e been ruthlesslv cut down I'verywhere, with that reckless dis- 
 regard of the timber wealth of the countr\- so common in Canada. In .Stamford I'ark, 
 once the faxourite suminc'r rcisitlenci: of .Sir IVu'esjrine Maitland, a former <>-overnor of 
 Upper Canada, one ^rand old w.iinut measures fourteen feet in circumference four feet 
 above the i^jround, its branches spreading out in a wide umbrageous canopy ; and in 
 other places huge stumps show what majestic domes must once have towenxl above 
 those foundations. The tulip-tree, sometimes called the tulii)-poplar, a species of 
 magnolia, is a comiran forest tree in this district, raising its graceful pillar-like stem, 
 smooth and straight as a dart, sometimes to the height of a hundred feet, bearing a 
 crown of pale-green, nearly s(iuari'-cut leaves ; and in their season sulphur-coloured 
 blossoms, showing rich red spots at the base of their tulip-shaped cup.s. The red- 
 mull)(!rry, too, grows freely in the wooils, attaining a height 0/ sixty feet, and its fruit 
 only requires proper cultivation to be e([ual in size and flavour to the mulberry of 
 Europe. In this favoured region Natun; is lavish of her most delicious fruits. Not only 
 
 .:■! 
 
Jl 
 il 
 
 1 n 
 
 390 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 A VVASTK WKIK. 
 
 apples, pears, plums, cherries, ami small fruits of ever\' kind j^row in rich abund- 
 ance, hut (luinces, ji^rapes, melons, ami above all, peaches attain a sizt- and per- 
 fection of flavour not to be sur])assed in all America. In Nia<^rara town, \vlu:re in the 
 se\erest winters the thermometer has ne\er i)een known to fall more than three 
 degrees below zero, fijj-trees j^row in the open air anil bear two crojjs in the 
 season, one in (ul\' and one early in autumn. The tree;s are kept short by cutting 
 back to ai)out si.\ frt;t in height, and ])reser\ed from frost of winter i)\' being laid dov.n 
 close to the ground in autumn and covered with a few inches of earth. Under similar 
 treatment the most delicate grapes. Black Hamburg, Chasselas and Muscat do 
 well, and produce splendid bunches every year. These tender fruits, which wither at 
 
THE NIAGARA DISTRICT, 
 
 39« 
 
 the; slijjjlucst touch of frost, iiochI ('xceptional care ami culture, hut less delicate 
 varieties of jjrapes, anrl the finest peaches only reijuirc to Ik; ke|)t free from weeds 
 by frequent plouf^iiinjj between the rows to j;row as readily and luxuriantly as 
 apples and currants in less favoured localiti(;s. The situation of the Nia<;ara pen- 
 insula j^ives it i)eculiar advantages for [leach culture ; the large bodies of water by 
 which it is surrouiuU'd |)rotecting it from that extreme cold, which is fatal to the 
 peach, and from the injurious effects of early frosts in autumn and late frosts in 
 spring. A " cold s[)ell " is scarcely ever felt till after Christmas, and when it comes 
 seldom lasts more than a couple of days at a time. ICxtrtmK-ly mild winters — {|uite 
 as mild as in New York art; the general rule, and in th(; severest weather known 
 the temperature has ne\er been lower in any part of the peninsula than six degrees 
 below zero. 
 
 U has been roughly calculated that one thousand ti\{' huntlred acres are under cul- 
 tivation as peach-orchards in the Niagara district, the number of the trees being three 
 hundred and seventy-five thousand, and their i>roiluce a million baskets of fruit annually, 
 Niagara, Stamford and Grimsby are the chief peach-growing townships. Every farm 
 
 OI.U ACQUi:i>L'cr at wf.llanu. 
 
392 
 
 PIC 11 'RI-SOUI-: c.wAn.i. 
 
 has a peach-orchanl ; nrclianls of two tliousanci trees arc coiiimon. aiul cNcry year lu-w 
 orchards arc planteil and tlic yield increases. In Stamford ihert! is a peach-orcliard of 
 eleven thousand trees, and three years after heint; transplanted tluj\' lH)re twenty 
 thousand baskets of peaches. I'he Crawford peaclies tjrow here to an enormous si/e, 
 measurini^ from nine to nearly tweKe inches in circumference ; they have an ex- 
 quisite tlavour and fra<;rance, at once sweet, picpiant, and aromatic, with a rich mellow 
 pulp, overllowiny with juice; and the trees hear so .abundantly that, with ev( ry 
 precaution, the branches often break down under their heavy load of fruit. rea( h- 
 ees generally tjrow about fifteen feet hii^h in the orchards, and are planted in rows 
 eij^hteen feet apart ; their wiile-siireadinjj^ branches, and slender, shinint^ leaves touchinj^ 
 each other across the di\idin<^ s|>aces. The beauty of those peach-orchards, when the 
 trees are bendinj:^ down beneath the weight of their Iovel_\- j^lobes of pink and white 
 and golden-tinted fruit, recalls the fabled gardens of the Ilesperides; but there is no 
 dangerous dragon to watch them, aiul seldom or ne\er any need for a guardian. 
 Peaches are so ])lentiful in this favt)ured sjiot of earth that there is little tem|italion to 
 steal them, and if the schoolboys who pass where the trees grow close to the road, 
 and the fruit hangs within their reach, climb the wooilen fence and snatch a few now 
 and then, it is looked upon as a matter of course, and such depreilations an: 
 never notic(;d. Ami truly, t(j sih; these; sun-painteil i)eaches ripe and glowing through 
 their glistening foliage, within tlie grasp of an outstretcheil hanti, is enough to make 
 the most venerable of stoics act upon Dean .Swift's injunction — 
 
 " Ahvnys pull a |)c.k'Ii 
 
 WliL'ii it is williiii voiir iLMcli. ■ 
 
 Its 1] 
 
 The peach harvest l)eglns towards the end of July aiul continues to the middle of 
 October. I\len and women gather the ripe fruit into baskets carried on the arm ; chil- 
 dren are not empl<)\'eil, as the peaches recjuirc,' careful handling. The baskets, when 
 filled, are taken to sheds prepareil for the [)ur[)ose, where women pick out all damaged 
 truit an<l cover the baskets with coarse pink gauze. They are then sent in wagons 
 to the nearest railway station, where a "peach car" is ahvays provitled, in which they 
 are despatched to their destination. Every day the platforms at the stations are 
 crowded with piles of pink-co\ered peach baskets, in waiting for the trains which are 
 to carry them to all the large towns in the Dominion — Malifa.K and .St. John's included. 
 The demand for this delicious fruit far exceeds the supply, and early in the season 
 baskets of twelve quarts bring two dollars each, the price gradually falling to sevent)-- 
 five, or even sixty cents a basket, till later in the season, when peaches begin to get 
 scarce, and the price rises again. The baskets in which they are packed furnish a 
 
'/■///:• .\7.i(;.iA'.i n/.s'VA'/cv: 
 
 393 
 
 Tin: i-iun hakvkst. 
 
 (SO) 
 
394 
 
 PIC 7 UliF.SQ UE CA NA DA. 
 
/■///;• A7.I(,.IA'.I DISIRICT. 
 
 395 
 
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 2 
 
 ning factories havt; Ijcimi (!stal)lishi'il in llic ilistrict ami at ToroiUo, wliiili arc iloliig a 
 considcraMf tratlc, iloniestic and foreign. 
 
 Grapi's arc cultivateil in this region to a large extent, and clusters a foot long, 
 each grape measuring from a (juarter of an inch to an iiuh in diameter, are frecpiently 
 produced. The crop never fails, and four, five, and <;ven six tons to the acre are 
 raised. They bring from ten to five cents a pouml, ami are sent i)y rail to St. Catha- 
 rines, Toronto, and other towns, packed in baskets like those used in shi|)|)ing peaches, 
 only covered with bliK; instead of pink gauze. Many of the farmers make excellent 
 wine, and one near Niagara sometimes manufactures from six to eigiit hundred gallons 
 from the Clinton grape. There is also an estai)lishment ;it St. Catharines, provided 
 with proper cellars, vats, and all necessary apparatus, and with ;i vineyard of fifty 
 acres to supply the grapes. 
 
 Niagara district has always been famous for its apple-orchards, but now that 
 peaches and grapes grow in such profusion, ami every farmer's wife lays in a 
 supply of canned fruit for winter use, apples are rather thrown into the background. 
 Yet nothing can really take their place, and in spring, when other fruits are not to be 
 had, well-kept winter apples become valuable. Large quantities are barrelled and 
 shipped to Liverpool, where Niagara apples command the highest prices. The pomme 
 grise, a small russet, celebrated for its aromatic llavour and mellow pulp, grows nowhere 
 to such perfection as on the Niagara River. Cider, of course, is made by every farmer, 
 and the fruit of the ungrali':d native trees, judiciously mi.X(Hl with the richer cultivated 
 varieties, has a piquant flavour and brilliant sparkle, not often surpassed. I'ear-trees 
 produce enormous crops, sometimes having from ten to twenty bushels on a single 
 tree. English cherries grow to a great size, and the trees are often literally bent 
 down under their heavy loads of fruit. All small fruits are exceptionally fine and 
 rich in flavour; strawberries, especially, yield abundantly, and are largely and 
 profitably cultivated for market. Hickory-nuts, butternuts, and sweet chestnuts are 
 plentiful, and, in some places, walnuts are still to be had for the gathering, the trees 
 being great bearers. 
 
 Seen from some little hill or rising ground, the lovely land seems everywhere 
 to smile under rich orchards and fruit gardens, intermi.ved with fifclds of luxuriant 
 wheat, Indian corn, and blossoming clover, relieved by the darker green foliage of the 
 remnant? of the grand old woods here and there bordering the farms. Above this 
 bright landscape rise well-built and often neat and tasteful farm-houses with spacious 
 barns and other farm-buildings. Thickly interspersed are \illages, forming sources 
 of communication with the outside world to their surrounding areas. 
 
 Some of these villages are charmingly picturesque and rich in historical asso- 
 ciations. Queenston, lying on \\\v. Niagara River under the heights, has been already 
 described. St. David's, two miles west of Queenston, had its full share in the 
 
39^ 
 
 I'lC I I'KHSQUli L.lX.l/).!. 
 
 War of iSij, and was Imrncil down 1>\ tin- liuadcrs, It lies in a ravine of the 
 mountain i)csiilc a nc;v(T-faiiin>,f striiam, wliirii supplies water-power to a lircwcry and 
 two llour mills. ilie soil in tlie ra\ine is of the ricliest hiack mould, and it can 
 l)oast of sonu' beautiful walnut trees lordlv trees, now, alas, hecomini; r.ire in the 
 laiul where lhe\ oud' j^rew in maiL^nilicent hattalions, St. David's iliil not receive 
 its name in honoin- of Welsh, or Scottish, or any other canoni/ed saint, hut sinii)Iy in 
 compliment to one of its most enterprisiiij; citi/i'iis who, while he lived, was locally 
 known as Kinj^ | )a\ id. 
 
 A mile or two farther west is .Stamford, next to Niaj.;ar.i the oldest stailement 
 in the district. It is one of the picttiest \illajj;es in Canaila, with .i (piaint ( )ld-World 
 charm .ihiuil it not often met with in this New World. It has a N'ill.i^e (ireen in old 
 Iinjjlish style, with a lofty lla<,f-staff in the centre, on whiih tlu' liriiish and Canailian 
 llajfs are hoisted on i^reat occasions, sui h as the (hieen's Hirlhda\ .uul l)nminion Day, 
 The village is shaded by locust-trees and ma|)les, and surrouiKliny^ the Circen are 
 pretty hou.ses with llower-tjardens, and lawns planted with trei;s and shruhs. Almost 
 ever)- cottaj^je has a llow(;r-};;',rden in front, with climbing roses atid blo.ssoming creejiers 
 twining roiuul the verandas. 'V\\r little Ivpiscopal Church has a beautiful and 
 venerabli: aspect of anticpie simi)licit), rising from its sheltering pines. Its surround- 
 ing grave-yaril is enclosetl, i)artly Ijv a heilgi- of clippeil privet, and partly b) a wooilen 
 fence overhung by droo|)ing tr(-es. Plain as the building otherwise is, all its windows 
 are of htained glass, erected by members of the congre'_;ati()n in memor\ of their 
 beloved deail. The churclnard is kept with loxing care, ,uul round the tombstones, 
 and beside the graves, roses twine their blossoms, and tr.iiling evergreens co\ct the 
 narrow mountls with unfading verdure. 
 
 Sir Peregrine Maitland, who was Governor of I'pjjer Canada froin 1818 to 1828, 
 was so delighted with tlu; .Stamford neighbourhood that he bought land near the vil- 
 lage, laid out a park and pleasure-groimd, and built a iiictures(pie hou -t , speuiling 
 every summer there while he remained in C he K'ft the coimtry the 
 
 house was accidentally burneil down, ' i sr low reinains of the lawns, 
 
 flower-gardens, and highl\ -cultivated 1 e retains its name of Stam- 
 
 ford Park, and .Sir Peregrine is well n inbereti _> the oliler inhabitants of the district 
 for his enthusiastic admiration of the surrouni' ig scenery, his genial and benevolent 
 character, and the interest he took in the progress of the Wellan ' Canal. To his 
 military instincts we owe the circumstance th.it the Canal was noi ellected into the 
 estuary of the \iagara instead of entering Lake Ontario at P<^- ihousie. In our 
 
 early history, military rather than commercial considerations gov 
 
 the direction ot 
 
 highways and canals, and the •• manifest destiny " of ambitious to ^ was thus some- 
 times cruelly frijstrated. When, under Jay's Treaty, in 1794, Fort Niagara was actually 
 surrendered to the United Stales, its zu's-d-vis, Newark, was, bv a stroke of the diplo- 
 
Tin: MA(.,.\RA niSlKK l\ 
 
 397 
 
 matist's pen, ln'oii^lit under tlic In-c of forcijrn f^^ims, Governor Sinnoc, ;is we liave 
 already intniioncd, fortluvith trans|)()rti;d his |)r()vincial capital across tinr lake to 
 N'ork (Toronto), liven tli<'re. Siniciu; tlionj^dit the capital loo accessible to a hostile; 
 s(jiiadron ; and as soon as liis j^rcat military liijfluvay- Diindas Street — should have 
 been opimed, he proposeil to make London —or, as In; called it, (ieor^jina — the per- 
 mancHit ca|)ital of Upper Canaila. Old Newark had felt deepK hurl at being deposed 
 from its priile of place; but when the W'eilaiul Canal was projected there came a 
 jjleam of hope. .\s the j,'ateway to the new Canal, it mii^hl become the j,'reat entrepot 
 of lake commisrce! liut once more a major-general ooverned th<' i'mvince, and 
 military maxims warped civil government and civil enj^ineirini;. .Sir I'eregrine had 
 spent tile Mower of his lifi; amid the clasii of sabres and tiie roar of cannon. 11<; 
 had been continuously on active service for more th.in a score of years, rounilinj^ 
 off .1 l)riiliant carecir by leailin;,^ at Waterloo two battalions of j^uards into the very 
 eye of tin; ri(;ry t(;mpest. The I'orty Years' Peace had i)egun, and Sir I'ere^(rine 
 had put off the sword, but lu; could not |)ut off the man. To him a canal was 
 the patrol or paracU;-ground for gunboats, rather tnan a (piiet channel for merchantinen. 
 
 Grimsby village is picturesquely situated between th<; lake and "the mountain." 
 The first settlers were LI. H. Loyalists, who preferred to encounter the labours 
 of clearing new homes out of the unbroken forest to giving up their cherished tradi- 
 tions of Iryalty to the lunpire. Slowly and painfully, with their wives and children, 
 on foot or on horseback, th(;y made their way through the woods, guided in their 
 course by the Indi.in trails; and many iiU(;resting records of the p(;rils and hardships 
 they encountereil in these toilsome journeys, and the sufferings and privations they 
 endured in the first years of the settlement are preserved by th(;ir descendants. One 
 of these brave pioneers brought his two little children from New Jersey to Grimsby in 
 baskets slung across a horse's back, the mother riding between. The same family 
 sent a member to the lirst l'arlianu;nt of Upper Canada, and from it some of 
 the foremost agriculturists and stock-raisers in the district are descended. There are 
 many '•creeks," or small streams, in the township, the largest of which, called the 
 Jordan by the pioneers, was known by the Indians as the Kcnochdaw, or lead river, 
 from the lead ore found on its banks, and often used by the hunters, both Indian and 
 white men, to make bullets for their rifles, 
 
 Grimsby is an active place of business, with saw mills, grist mills, a foundry and 
 machine works. The land round the village is literally covered with peach orchards, 
 their masses of pink blossoms flushing all the landscape with a roseate hue in spring, 
 and their shining stems and bunches glowing ruby red in the sunset of a clear winter 
 day. Its large Methodist camp-meeting ground, in a grove of oaks and pines near the 
 lake shore, is celebrated over the Province. An auditorium has been erected, and 
 part of the ground laid out with shady walks and flower-gardens; and temperance 
 
PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 pic-nics, and Sunday-school feasts, witli lectures and concerts for religious purposes, 
 are given through the summer. Besides these popular attractions, the delightful 
 situation of the village and its nearness to Lake Ontario, bring many tourists in the 
 hot months, and a large hotel and some neat cottages have been built for their 
 accommodation. 
 
 The village of l'"onthill is built on the highest land between Lakes Ontario and 
 Erie, and from it on clear days the waters of both lakes and the vessels passing over 
 them can be seen, with all the rich and lovely country, intersected with rivers, rail- 
 roads and the WcUand Canal, lying between. It is ''amous in the district for its ex- 
 tensive fruit nurseries, and for the romantic scenery which surrounds it. 
 
 Everywhere in this fortunate region the evidences of energy, industry and pros- 
 perity are to be seen ; every year new orchards and vineyards are planted, new 
 buildings erected, new industrial works established. Here all the conditions of a happy 
 existence are widely diffused and easily attained. The bountiful soil supplies not only 
 the necessaries but the luxuries of life ; and no violent extremes of cold or heat, no 
 desolating floods or tornados, come to destroy the labours of its inhabitants or mar 
 its beauty — 
 
 " Rent by no ravage, but the gentle plough." 
 
 And the owners of this beautiful land are not unworthy to possess it ; they are a 
 manly, industrious, independent, and highly moral people ; respecting the laws, and 
 taking an intelligent interest in all that concerns the nation, as well as in their own 
 municipal affairs ; and all firmly holding by the faith and traditions of their brave 
 and patriotic forefath'irs, who first founded a new Province for the British Empire. 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 " I ''HE reign of solitude on the great lakes of the Western Chain lias nowhere been 
 •*• more pleasantly brokiMi 1)\' the lif(! and ni()\(Mnent which indicate the approaches 
 to a great city than in the; case of Toronto. Approached from the lake, what seems 
 at first but a i)ari', lowdxing stretch of land, rising gently on the right to a cliffy 
 eminence, gradually l)reaks into a panorama of great beauty, the scene gaining in 
 attractiveness from a fringe of trees and other objects, now clearly distinguish(;d, on a 
 spit of land which forms a sort of fender in front of the far-spreading city. 
 
 To the traveller whose brain has been stunnetl b)- the sights and soumls of Ni- 
 agara, and to whom the restful passage of the lake has brought relief, the view of the 
 "Queen City of tin; West," witii its array of donu' and turret, arch and spire, and tlie 
 \aried movement of its water-frontage, is one that cannot fail to evoke pleasure and 
 create surprise. The length of the passage, ami the fact that the; steamer in crossing 
 the lake is steered Ijy compass, remind iiim that he is on his way over one of those 
 inland seas that separate the great Republic from the New Dominion; and as he nears 
 
 "that true North" that Tennyson speaks of, he looks out with a curious mterest for 
 399 
 
400 
 
 I'ICTURESQUF. CANADA. 
 
 tlic hoir.cs and liivcs of tlic |)0()])lc wliosc liistory and linoat^c, if he be an American, 
 strangely recall his own. 
 
 Here, on these very waters, now given up to international commerce and the 
 tourist, for \cars lloated the varied craft of belligerent America and the commissioned 
 war-fleet of tiie Old Land from whicii the young nation sprang. i'ere. on vexed seas, 
 expeditions set out to play the game of war, and the wooded shores of either side 
 echoed the cannon's thunder. Hut how changed is the scene ! Im-oui yonder mound 
 of eartii, which the steamer iu:ars to make tiie entrance to the harbour, a column of 
 invaders was, in iSi^^, literally blown into the air. To-tlay, it may be said, there is not 
 a Canadian who has the incithMit fresh in mind, nor scarce a Torontonian, with the 
 historic memory, who honours the long-dismantled fort with a visit ! Yet. about this spot 
 all the earlier history of Toronto, as a trading and military post, centres. Here, or a 
 littk- to the west of the |)resent stone barracks — vacant, alas! since H. M. 13th Hussars 
 in 1S67 closed the staljle-doors anil witlulrew to England — stood the old I^'rench fort of 
 Toronto, or, as it was called officially, I'Ort Rouille. 
 
 The fort, we learn from a despatch of M. de Longueuil, dated 1752, received its 
 name from the brench Colonial Minister of the period. Antoine Louis Rouille, Count 
 de jouy. The design in establishing it was to erect a rival trading-post to that 
 which the linglish of the seaboartl had obtained permission from the Iroipiois to build 
 at Choueguen, or Oswego, at the mouth of the latter river. This English post on the 
 Oswego was Ion;; an object of jealous hatred to the Erench, as it attracted thilher a 
 considerable portion of the fur trade? of the northern shores of che lake, and was at 
 the same time "an assumption of right and title to the Iroipiois territory which lay, 
 it was believed, within the limits of New brance." 
 
 Erom Choueguen and the south-east end of the lake many a demonstration was 
 made in these early days against Eort Toronto, both by the English and l)y war-parties 
 of the Iroquois Confederacy, as, at a later period, from .Sackett's Harbour, close by 
 Oswego, came the successive fleets of the r(!Volted colonies, l-'ort I'rontenac ( Kingston ) 
 was also, from time to time, the object of similar attiMitions, the results of which, in 
 the char-"s of war. were very variable, -Montcalm having, three years before the fall 
 of Ouebc captured .and di'siroxcd the stronghold of Choueguen, while b'ort brontenac, 
 in 175S, surrendered to the bjiglish. With the fall of the latter fort came almost the 
 last hour of ''i-ench hold upon Caniida. and the enil of those \ears of glorious explora- 
 tion antl lu:roic missionar\- effort wnich hav(; immortalized the period of brench rule 
 in Canada. In 1759 the Cross of .St. (ieorg;: displaced the Lilies of Erance from the 
 ramparts of Ouebec, and four years later the Treaty of Paris ratified the transfer of 
 all Canada to the British Crown. 
 
 Eor the next lifty years we hear nothing of b'ort kouille or Toronto in military 
 annals. Even a.-i a trading-post it would seem to have fallen into disuse, the Missis- 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 401 
 
 saguas who found their way to the hike, by the river siibseciuently i^nown as the 
 H umber, no doubt preferrin.t,r to cross to Fort Niagara for the exchange of commodi- 
 ties. But with the closing years of the last century tliere appeared upon the scene the 
 man who was to become the founder of Toronto, Lieut.-General John Graves Simcoe. 
 In 1 79 1 he had arrived at Newark (Niagara), the then capital of the Province, and 
 finding that the old French fort at tlie mouth of tht; river was to be given up to the 
 Americans, and that the seat of Provincial government was therefore to be "under an 
 enemy's guns," he determined to look elsewhere on the shores of the lake for a site 
 for the capital. From the still-e.xisting ronicles of the period we learn that, on his 
 cruise in search of an eligible location for the Provincial metropolis, he entered To- 
 ronto Bay in the month of May, 1793. and at once selected the place of landing— a 
 spot near the mouth of the Don— as the scene of his future administrative operations, 
 and made his canvas-tent, pitched on the river-bank, the germ of what he hastened 
 to call the Town of York. ,, . 
 
 A contemporary record happily preserves to us a word-picture of what met the eye 
 from the governor's barge, as it was rowed to the site of the future city— the lineaments 
 of which might well form the subject of a national painting. Colonel Bouchette, Sur- 
 veyor-General of Lower Canada, and at the time engaged in the naval and hydro- 
 graphical service of the western lakes, says : " Here General Simcoe had resolved on 
 laying the foundations of a Provincial capital. 1 still distinctly recollect the untamed 
 aspect which the country exhibited when f^rst I entered the beautiful basin. Dense and 
 trackless forests lined the margin of the lake, and reflected their inverted images in 
 its glassy surface. The wandering savage had constructed his ephemeral habitation 
 beneath their luxuriant foliage— the group then consisted of two families of Missis- 
 saguas— and the bay and neighbouring marshes were the hitherto uninvaded haunts of 
 immense coveys of wild-fowl." • 
 
 In this sanctuary of Nature, Governor Simcoe proceeded to build his civic and 
 legislative altar, and to rear, under the name of Castle Frank, a domestic shrine among 
 the sombre pines of the Don. With the erection of primitive buildings for the meet- 
 ing of the Provincial Legislature, a beginning was made to clear a site for the town. 
 Under the governors eye the building of the new capital had its t^rst start, and what 
 at a later date was to be marked as the path of the sword, was meantime being wearily 
 won for the axe and the plough. Outside of the little clearing the spirit of the woods 
 rested upon the whole scene, for the forests covered the Province as with a garment. 
 But the soldier-administrator had a practical eye for his work, and speedily set the 
 troops— the King's Rangers -to the necessary task of road-making, and the opening of 
 lines of communication with the interior. Yonge Street, an arterial line some thirty 
 miles in length, connecting the infant capital with the Holland River and the water- 
 way to the west, was the first and great achievement of the troops. Dundas Street, a 
 
 (SO 
 
402 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 
 If! I 
 
 
 1 1 
 
 i| 
 
 main post-road traversing tlic Province, and giving access to tiie large and fruitful 
 region of settlement in the Peninsula, was another sagacious undertaking. 
 
 These activities, however, were not of long continuance, for in 1 796 Lieut. -General 
 Simcoe was recalled to Kngland, and tin; building of the town and the opening up of 
 the Province was for a time stayed. For the next few years York, as it was still called, 
 came under the administration of Mr. Peter Russell, the senior member of Governor 
 Simcoe's executive council, and who had previously acted in the capacity of Inspector- 
 General. During President Russell's period of office Parliament was first convened in 
 the new capital, and it assembled annually throughout his n'oimc, and through the suc- 
 cessive administrations of Governors Hunter a. id Gore, having little in the way of 
 legislation to grapple with, until the 3rd of February, 18 12. 
 
 At this date Major-General Isaac Brock, the Provisional Administrator of the Pro- 
 vince, in view of impending trouble with the United States, called upon Parliament 
 to enact two measures of grave significance, viz. : tiie suspension of Habeas Corpus, 
 and the passing of an effective militia bill, with the requisite grant to defray training 
 expenses. The necessity for these steps was shown four months afterwards, when the 
 United .States Congress declared war against Great Britain, and directed that hostili- 
 ties be immediately commenced by an invasion of Canada. 
 
 There is no need here to recount the history of the War of 1812-15, save as it 
 connects itself with the fortunes of the Provincial capital, and with the fate of its 
 heroic military governor. The war itself was a mistake, both in the motive for invading 
 Canada and in the results expected from the invasion. The biting words in Congress 
 of Randolph of Virginia — "The people of Canada are first to be seduced from their 
 allegiance, and converted into traitors, as a preparation for making them good Ameri- 
 can citizens " — are an impressive acknowledgment of the former ; the issues of the 
 conflict emphasize the latter. From three separate quarters was Canada invaded, yet 
 the year 1S12 closed with disaster to the American arms. The loss to Canada was 
 principally in the interruption to trade, in the amount of the war-levy, and in the 
 withdrawal for service in the militia regiments of the labour that was wanted to open 
 up the country. The loss to Britain was the death on Queenston Heights of the 
 gallant Brock. 
 
 Toronto had special reason to mourn the death of Brock, not only in his having 
 fallen while leading her citizen-soldiery against the invader, but more particularly in 
 view of the events of the following year. The frosts of the winter of 18 12- 13 were 
 scarcely out of the ground ere the Americans were ready once more to hurl their 
 hosts against Canadian valour. Young Republicanism had not got over the acrimony 
 of separation, and its soldiery were plunged in a wild eddy of war-ferment, not yet 
 seeing that the broad and beneficent stream of progress in the arts of peace was the 
 true direction for the young life of the nation to take. It has become wiser since ; 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 403 
 
 •^ but the blood-heatinpfs and the 
 
 pageantry of war were no\'el ex- 
 - ■"• citements for a people that had 
 
 scarcely risen out of the colonial 
 stage ; and there were defeats in 
 the previous year's operations which had to be effaced 
 in the presence of victory. 
 
 THE I-XHIBITION GROUNDS. 
 
404 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 Unfortunately for tho Provincial capital, its slender defences and the handful of 
 troops in tlie j^arrison — now commandeil hy Major-General Sheaffe — could not avert 
 the fate that menaced it. On the 25th of April, Commodore Chauncey set out from 
 Sackett's Harbour with a lleet of fourteen armed vessels and some 16,000 troops, with 
 the object of capturin<r l<"ort Toronto. The attackinj^ force was und(!r the command of 
 Brijifadier I'ike, directed by (ienerai DearlMirn, who remained on board the tlaj^j-ship. 
 On the evenini,r of tlu- 2bth tiie lleet appeared outside tiie harbour, and on the follow- 
 ing day the troops detailed to attack the fort were landed in the neighbourhood of 
 the Humber River, and, under fire from the ships, proceeded to take the outworks, and 
 to scale the inner defences, which interpo.sed but slight obstacles to the enemy. Con- 
 scious of the weakness of his position, General Sheaffe had concluded to evacuate the 
 fort, and hail already fallen back upon the town. Passing through it with his few 
 "regulars," he proceeded eastward, leaving the militia to make what farther defence 
 they could, or to treat with the enemy. The latter, finding that the fire from the 
 fort had suddenK' ceased, and anticipating a surrender, |)ushed on in column to take 
 possession. The ne.xt moment there was a terrific e.xplosion, and General Pike, with 
 over two hundred of his commanil. were shot into the air. The powder magazine, it 
 seems, had been fired l)y an artillery sergeant of the retreating force to prevent it 
 falling into tiie hands of the Americans, and tiie fuse was lit, from all accounts un-. 
 designedly, at a horribly inopportune moment. 
 
 With the evacuation of tiie fort came the surrender of the town, and its subse- 
 quent pillage — a grim pastime wiiicii seems to have been carried out in the spirit of 
 the Revolutionary formula: "In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental 
 Congress!" From this disaster, and a farther one which occurred three months later — 
 the result of another pillaging e.xpedition from Chauncey's fleet — the town was slow to 
 recover. The barracks iiail l)een burned, the storehouses plundered, and the public 
 buildings and iioines of the people had l)een laid waste. But time obliterates old scars, 
 and the Toronto of to-day siiows no signs of that early confiict. Even the animosities 
 born of the period iiave long since ilisappeared. What the century has done for our 
 neighl)ours in no ina])|3reciabie tlegree it has done for us ; and bodi peoples have 
 reason to be thankful for the blessings of the new civilization it has been theirs 
 so auspiciousl\- to found and ad\ance. 
 
 But we have allowed the associations connected with the site of Fort Toronto to 
 delay our entrance to the harbour, and, while plying the reader with incidents concerning 
 the city's past, have detained him perhaps unduly on the threshold of the present. 
 Before leaving the historic site, however, let the eye be caught by the domes, cupolas, 
 and pinnacles that break the line of sky to the immediate westward. Their presence in 
 this neighbourhood illustrates the saying that " peace hath her victories no less 
 renowned than war," for here are to be seen annually all the features of a grand 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 405 
 
 spectacle— tlu! competitive! display of the natural products and li\e manufactures of the 
 Province, with the tens of thousands who thron;,^ th(; enclosures of the Exhibition 
 grounds to see "Canada's Great I'air." I-rom our point of view, train and steamer 
 may be seen rushinj; past with their loads of living freight, to discharge them at the 
 entrance gates of the park, when; for a fortnight each autumn the Industrial Exhibition 
 Association of Toronto lays every activity under triijute, to foster the agricultural aud 
 manufacturing industries of the country, to afford evidence of their marvellous growth, 
 and especially to display the aciiievements of the yiMir. The Association is now a 
 mammoth organization, with a representation of horse and catth- breeilers, farmers, 
 millers, dairymen, horticulturists, inventors, artists, manufacturers, and others whose 
 exhibits are scattered through the spacious and well-adapted buildings which grace the 
 sixty-acre park owned by the Society. Though the Exhibition is now held under 
 the auspices of a strong local organization, with large resources at its command, it is 
 but fair to say that the credit of inaugurating and maintaining these annual shows is 
 due to the Agricultural and Arts Association of Ontario, which for nearly forty years 
 has been holding annual gatherings in alternate cities of the Province, to the great 
 benefit of the farming community and the practical advancement of the industrial 
 arts. The present Exhibition Association was incorporated in 1879, and its acquire- 
 ment of the grounds in which the exhibitions arc now held, and the spirit and 
 enterprise shown in erecting the tasteful buildings on the site, and in adding to the 
 annual attractions of the Fair, are greatly to be commended, and well deserve the 
 appreciation so heartily accorded by the public. 
 
 As the visitor passes out from the grounds by the south exit, his eye will be 
 arrested by a commemorative cairn or mound, in an angle of the park opening out 
 upon the lake. As outdoor historical records are rare in the New World, and 
 especially so in the modern environment of a Fair grr.und, he will be likely to stop 
 and decipher the chiselled lines on the massive granite boulder before him. That the 
 old and the new may together meet on our page, we give the inscription before pass- 
 ing on to make the entry of the harbour: . 
 
 " This (Mini ninrks llic px.irt siip nf Fnrt ^ ' . ' . , 
 
 Kouillt', cDiiimoiily kmnvii as Tort ; . ' ' 
 
 Toronto, an Indian trading post and 
 
 stockade, estaldislu-d \. O. 1749 by 01^- . . . 
 
 dt-r of the r.nvenimi'nt of I.oiiis XV.. 
 in accordance with the reconimendations 
 of the Count de la Galissoni^re, .Admin- 
 istrator of New France. 1747 1749 
 Erected by the Corporation of the City of Toronto, 
 A. D. 1878." 
 
 We now steam slowly through the channel and sweep into the beautiful Bay of 
 
4o6 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
TORONTO AND I'ICINITY. 
 
 407 
 
 a 
 
 < 
 
 .J 
 
 H 
 
 O 
 
 Of 
 
 Z 
 
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 a. 
 O 
 H 
 
 Toronto, whosi; features have j^niatly rhani,'(tl since I'Ori Rouillu, in wlial may be 
 called the medieval period of Canadian history, stood warder over its entrance. The 
 wash of the lake has years apo narrowed the channel, and made sad inroads iij)on that 
 spur of land which lon^^ kept its intoprity as a peninsula, l)ut lias now been frayed into 
 islands — still strnjfjrlinj^r, however, to keep wind and wave from exercising their rude 
 violence in the harbour. What "the mountain" is to the Montrealer, "the island" is 
 to the peo|)le of Toronto. Until recently it was rej^arded simply as a tine n;.,ural 
 breakwater, and the occasional resort of a few sportsmim. Now, it lias become — to 
 borrow a phrase from the sea-coast waterinj^-places — "a j^reat marine resort" of the 
 townspeople, thousands of whom, all summer lonj^, thronj,^ the ferries to its shores, to 
 enjoy the cool breezes of the lake. The once flat and featureless marsh is to-day a 
 waterside suburb of rapidly increasing interest. From Hanlan Point — the island-iiome 
 of Toronto's noted oarsman — a beautiful view of the city may be had. The features 
 of the island itself, moreover, — the stretches of water-meadow, the hotels, promenades, 
 and quaint summer residences on its shores — present a picture of varied and |)i(asing 
 outline. Lakeward, stretching out beyond Gibraltar Point, — the site of an old brench 
 block-house — is the great basin from which the city derives its water supply. The 
 water is pumped up, through sunken mains laid across the bay and island, by powerful 
 engines situated on the Esplanade. To the east is the line, airy building of the? Royal 
 Canadian Yacht Club, a flourishing organization designed to encourage amateur yacht- 
 ing and to supply the means of luxuriating in the adjacent lake. Still farther east, 
 on a modest section of the peninsula, now encircled by the lapping waves of the lake, 
 the Wiman Haths may be seen, their outline sharply mirrored in the sunny expanse 
 of gleaming water in the bay. 
 
 But the purposes to which the island and water-surroundings of Toronto may be 
 put, in affording the means of rest and enjoyment to its jaded citizens, are yet almost 
 undreamt of. The whole of the lake-front of the island, and much of the Esplanade, 
 might be converted into a continuous promenade or drive, with floating pontoons 
 and occasional jetties thrown out lakeward, and the necessary adjunct of commodious 
 hotels, at modest charges, for individual and family resort. The preservation of the 
 island, meantime, is a pressing duty, and the Municipal authorities of the city will be 
 criminally responsible if they continue to neglect it. The existence of the bay and 
 harbour is imperilled by indifference. No time should be lost in protecting the island 
 from the enroachments of the lake. Amazing, of course, have been the improvements 
 which even recent residents have witnessed in the development and beautifying of the 
 water-front of the city. The contrast, not only with the rough foreshore of the Simcoe 
 period, and the squalid one of 1834, when Toronto became a city, but with that of 
 even ten years ago, is sharp in the extreme. To-day thf- view from sny elevation over- 
 looking the bay, or the view of the city from the water, is a picture that, had it the 
 
!lii 
 
 nr^' 
 
 408 
 
 rH Tl -A'/uSyi 7- CAX.lD.l. 
 
 accompanying; smoko ami fo); of an Old Worlii landsiapc, a Stantickl or a Turner 
 niij;ht ruvcl in. And what a sctiic for the pencil is a rowinj; match in tin- harbonr, 
 every species of craft ^Midinj; hither and thither, or swept asiile to form a clear 
 water-lane for competing oarsmen! I'.iiiially tine is the view in wintir, when tlu' ice- 
 boats win^; their arrowy course oxer four thousand acr<;s of },deaminj; crystal — their 
 frosted sails alire in the January sun. 
 
 But our steamer has meantime hi-en steered to the lamlinj^-place, and she glides 
 alonjfside the wharf to her moorinjfs. .At the foot of Vonj^e Sire(;t, and on the adjoin- 
 ing wharves, the commerce of our inland watirrs empties itself. Coal from Pennsylvania, 
 stone from Ohio, fruits of all kinds, from the Niagara District and elsewhere, are piled 
 upon the wharves, or are being carted off to the yards and warehouses. Here the 
 ferries ply tlu.'ir local trade, and the tourist sets out to "do" Niagara, or, liy way of 
 the Thousand Isl.mds, to run the rapids of the St. Lawrence, "take a look" at Montreal 
 and ( hiehec, and, it may l)e, find his way to llie sea. Crossing the lisplanade, monopo- 
 lized hy the railways, the traveller at once I'mils himself in the heart of^the city. To 
 the westward is the Union .Station, the cntitpM of railway travel, and thither, or to 
 the steamers at the wharf, a stream of traffic sets almost continuously. Coaches and 
 cabs an; llying to and frf)m the hotels. TIk- street cars gliile past, diverging, a short 
 way on, towards various points. Pic-nicing parties or e.xcursionists, bound for the 
 ferries or for neighbouring towns, tile by ; and wagons with their burden of freight 
 lumber along, adding to the noise and confusion. Massive warehouses and |)iles of 
 buildings block in the trattic, th(nigh the vista of crowded streets opens everywhere to 
 view. The city, which covers an area of t:iglu or ten square miles, is built on a low- 
 lying plain, with a rising inclination to the upper or northern ii\\<\, where a ridge 
 bounds it, which was probal)Iy the ancient margin of the lake. Within this area there 
 are close upon one hundred and twenty mili^s of streets, laid out after a rigid, chess-board 
 pattern, though monotony is avoided by the prevalence of boulevards and ornamental 
 shade trees in the streets and avenues not given uj) to commerce. What tlie city 
 lacks in picturesqueness of situation is atoned for in its beautiful harbour, and in the 
 development of an a'sllu'tic taste among the people, which finds expression in linely- 
 embellished private grounds, and the increasing interest taken in public parks and 
 gardens. Nor is this taste less apjjarent in the public buildings, which, in recent years, 
 have been largely brought within the sphere of art. W(! have now less flimsy sheet- 
 iron ornament, and more of decorative work in stone. Individuality is asserting itself 
 in the designs of many of the street-fronts, which, though they afford little room for 
 the more ambitious combinations of the architect, present sufficient scope for the 
 display of taste and the avoidance of weary repetition. Colour, especially in stone, is 
 being noticeably introduced, and adds much, to the grace and cheerfulness of the new 
 e.xteriors. In some instances, the ornamentation, particularly in intaglio and relievo 
 
TOROS'TO AND VICIXITY. 
 
 409 
 
 work, as yet tdd rioscly copies 
 
 tile anhilccts' |);il l<rns, aiid is a 
 l.ir rciiKixc liom Naiiirc. ()ii ilic 
 wliiilr, liowcxcr, lliiic is a crcdi- 
 l.ililc <li>|)la\ ol WW liii<'i-|iir:il 
 lastc and skill, and. ndt.dily in 
 tlic case of sonic of the recently 
 erected ( luirchis, oriL;in.dit \ .md 
 larniorn of dcsi),ni. The Custom 
 I louse, with its adjoininL; lv.\- 
 aiiiiniuL; W'.irehouse, is |)erha|is 
 one ol the most striking; in- 
 stances of the new architectural 
 it-^iiiic. I'he scul|itin-ed heads 
 and fact's re\cai e\ce|>tional art 
 taste. The husiness done witliiil 
 this hiiildin;^ r.iies the cit\- the 
 second port ol ( iUr\ in t!ie Ilo- 
 niinion. and constitutes it the 
 
 rOWEK ANU Sl'lKK OK Sr. JAMKSS CArHKUKAL, 
 
 (52) 
 
410 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 gr-at emporium of the I'rovince. Tho value of the present annual importations is 
 nearly twenty millions of dollars, upon which a duty of four millions is levied. 
 The amount entered for exports for the year can oe safely estimated at between five 
 anil six millions. 
 
 Crossing Front Street, which runs parallel with the bay, and, from its proximity 
 to the railways and the wharves, is now an important business thoroughfare, we pass 
 the substantial stone edifice of the Toronto agency of the Hank of Montreal. The 
 building has a (|uiet Threadneedle Street air about it, and like the conservatism which 
 one meets with in the busiest haunts of the Mother Country, is old-fashioned enough 
 to preserve, within its railed southern enclosure, some half-ciozen umbrageous trees, 
 from which the ubiquitous sparrow pours forth his incessant chatter. On the opposite 
 side is the American Hotel, and a block and a half westward, on Front Street, is 
 " The Queen's." At the intersection of Wellington Street, we come upon the Hank of 
 Hritish North America, and to the east and vvest of it, are the headquarters of other 
 financial corporations— the Ontario, Imperial, Toronto, Standard, and Federal Banks, 
 the local agencies of the Quebec and Merchants, together with the central offices, 
 surrounded by congeries of wires, of the Great North-Western Telegraph Co., and the 
 mammoth warehouses of many trading and manufacturing firms. Pursuing our way up 
 Yonge Street, and passing the head office of the Bank of Commerce, we reach the 
 city's most central point, the intersection of Yonge and King, at the south-west corner 
 of which stands the Dominion Hank. 
 
 Here the stranger, after accustoming his eye to the movement of the streets, will 
 endeavour to take in the scene before him. A continuous double stream of pedes- 
 trians mo. "-s east and west, and, in like manner, up and down Yonge. Canadians are 
 frequently twitted by their cousins across the line for the rigidity with which Hritish 
 infiuence and social habits -.re preserved in the Dominion. The expression, " How 
 English is Toronto!" may often be heard; still, our English customs have not kept 
 Canadian sentiment wholly monarchical. Nor has our English speech proved a better 
 bond. It has already- failed, in an earlier era in the history ot this continent, to 
 knit together those of one race and blood, though the links of connection may be 
 longer in snapping with us. Hut whatever fortune betides the Dominion, it will be 
 long ere Britain and Hritish ways cease to l)e cherished in the hearts and on the soil 
 <jf tile Canatiian people. 
 
 It is not easy, even for the visitor, wilh the sights and scenes before him, to 
 dismiss from his mind the origin and national characteristics of a city, whose past is so 
 intimately related to a people from whose loins its citi^L^ns have sprung, and from a 
 nation whose colony it still is. The nomenclature of the streets, the traditions of the 
 people, the men a. id women who have lived in it, and tin physique and beauty of face 
 and form of the present population— all speak of the motherland across the sea, and of 
 
1 ! 
 
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TORONTO AND VICINITY 
 
 411 
 
 a! 
 
 D 
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 X 
 
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 Z 
 
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 3 
 
 customs, habits, and institutions here faithfully reproduced. Nor are the streets them- 
 selves, and the public buildinjjs that adorn them, less eloquent of the old land whence 
 came its sturdy life. True, there is no portcullised gateway nor embrasured walls which 
 the military sjiirit of the OKI World lias elsewhere reared as a stronghold and defence 
 for the New. Toronto has neither the history that attaches to Quebec, nor the position 
 that has given to that city its fame. Hut her past, nevertheless, is not lacking in 
 incident, though her annals, since the stirring era of 1812-15, are mainly those of 
 peace. .Siie has seen little of martial life, save the displays of her citizen-soldiery in 
 times of ci\il einbroilm('nt, or in connection with the \olunteer corps of recent days. 
 During the time when the Imperial troops were quartered in the town. King Street 
 saw many a -^ageant which would have cjuickened the beat of the British heart; but 
 tlie sights its walls have mainly looked upon have Ijeen the column-march of industry 
 and social progress, occasionally varied by the fevered outbreaks of a chafing but re- 
 strained democracy. To scan the thoroughfare to-day, with its stream of life, its 
 almost congested traffic, and the stores and magazines of commerce that line its 
 either side, is to recall an earlier epoch, and, with a smile of amusement, to contrast 
 it with the rude aspect of its first beginnings. Who that now looks upon its metro- 
 politan characteristics — its civic dignity upborne by ulstered and helmeted constables 
 making nocturnal notes b)- the glare of an electric-light ; its great newspaper offices 
 ablaze with the (lame of fevered journalism ; its theatres turning a stream of fashion 
 into the streets ; the cabs and street-cars ; — can fail to cast a thought liackwards to the 
 hugger-mugger life of an earlier social era, and to the forlorn condition, with its 
 abounding pitfalls, of the same thoroughfare in the primitive days of " Muddy Little 
 York." 
 
 But we must leave these memories of the ])ast to note in brief detail the sights of 
 the modern city, and, turning one's vision from the glittering length of King Street by 
 night, to |jresent some aspects of this and other thoroughfares by day. I'or conven- 
 ience, we will find it handier, in our notes by the waj', to describe the features of the 
 town in two sections ; first, those to be met with in a tour, starting from the corner of 
 King and Vonge, roimd the (.'astern and north-eastern portions of the cit\- ; and second- 
 ly, from the same point of departure, to take within our observation the places of in- 
 terest lying to the west and north-west. Setting out from our central point, and 
 passing the retail stores, some of them with fine brown-stone fronts, th.it extend east- 
 ward on our right from tlu; corner of Vonge, we come to Toronto Street, the upper 
 end of wliich is terminated by the Post Office, an imposing building in the Italian style 
 of architecture, lincly situated on the north side of Adelaide Street. The central 
 position of Toronto Strec^t, and tiie proximity of the Post Office, have attracted to the 
 neighbourhooil a number of Building and Loan Societies, Land and Insurance Com- 
 panies, and other monetary and business corporations, whose offices draw crowds to 
 
 iiii 
 
 ■•■' I 
 
 ■^; '■■..- 
 
41 a 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 ^ll^i 
 
 Mi-n uoi'Oi.r.AN (MiiiidiMsr) church. 
 
 this and adjoining ilioroiij^lifarcs. The busi- 
 ness done at the Toroiito Post Office now 
 exceeds that of any city in the Dominion. Its t:i.ancial transactions amount annually 
 to close u|)on two millions of iloUars. There is a ho.x and a street delivery, antl a 
 most et'ticicMit system for tlu; colh-ction of letters mrdled in pillar lioxes o\-er e\<M-y sec- 
 tion of thi; tfiwn. The huildino- is constructed of Ohio siont; with a linely carved 
 (afac/c. surmoun.ted 1))' a tlome aiul clock, and o\(r the entranie tlu: Ko\al Arms. 
 The edilice on Toront'i Str(;et, which was formerly liu! Post Office a tine specimen 
 of Ort^cian architc'-ure is now used as a branch office of the Recei\er-CJenerai's 
 Departnieiit for tile Dominion. Adjoining it are the Masonic Puililin,y;s — in the style 
 of motlern Munich art — th.;- upper po-tion beinij; devoted to the |n'r])oses of the Masonic 
 fraternit\'. Opposite, on Court Street, and .abuttini^ on the C"ount\' Court buildinjjs, 
 are the head(iuart(;rs of the Police Departnuiii and the I'ire Hriijade. The I'olice 
 I'Orce is com])oseil of a line body of men. one hundred and iwintx stro.io, well-drilled, 
 accoutred and uniformeil, and ably officered, lujually well-eipiippt'd is the I^ire Brigade, 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 415 
 
 an organization of (-xceptional importance to tin; city. There are ten fire stations in 
 various parts of the town, and a complete system of fire-ahirm signal boxes. Attached 
 to the brigade are a large n.umbei of hose-reels, salvage wagons, horses, and the 
 necessary apparatus for lire escape. Water is supplied from hydrants connected with 
 the Water Works system, which tap the mains at all convenient and necessary 
 points. The water is obtained from the lake at a ])oint regarded as beyond 
 the contaminating intluence of the city sewage. Recently the suggestion has 
 been made to draw the city's water supply from Lake Simcoe, about fifty miles 
 northward. The; water would Ije exceptionally pure, and the supjjly as large as 
 desired ; while tiie fall from Lake Simcoe to the level of Lake Ontario, about 
 four hundred antl forty feet, would give sufficient pre.ssure for the extinguishing 
 of fire in the loftiest building. Surplus water could be stored in reservoirs in 
 the neighbourhood of \'orkville, and the waste turned to aesthetic purposes in the 
 Valley of the Don. The Gas service is general, and is provided by a private com- 
 
 TOKONIO STREET, AND I'OS r OlTaCE. 
 
I 
 
 m 
 
 414 
 
 /'/C /'CR/-:SOl H C\I/V.I/KI. 
 
 pany. All l\ui cliicf strt'ots, avenm's, parks and piihlic places arc well lit;htfil at the 
 city's cx[)ciisL'. 
 
 Rei^aiiiini^' Kint;- Street and tiiriiiii^ eastward, we are again reminded of Toronto 
 in tiu; olden lime— a lithographed drawing, familiar to iIk; pioneers of the towns, having 
 preservetl to us a glimpse of the portion of the city through which wi' are now passing. 
 The site was long known as Court House Scpiare, and the picture ri'presenls the scene 
 as it was lifty years ago: — in the left foregrountl, a pretentious jail and Court House, 
 with the "parish stocks" and a primitive ox-wagon in front; a few promi'nailers ami a 
 line of modest huililings extemling eastward on the right ; and in the central hack- 
 grountl the church and wooden spire of St. James. In this [)lace of puh'.ic resort, the 
 youth and fashion of the town, the brawling politician, anil many of llu' mort; staid of 
 the populace lounged. Here the political orator was wont to hoUl forth, antl the 
 ecclesiastico-political discussions of the time were freely \entilatetl. Had we a ])re-his- 
 toric (//■//>. how rich a portrait-gallery would have com(> down to us ! l'l\-er\- ligure in the 
 " l-'amily Compact" administration would ha\e been limned.- each successi\<' goxi'rnor, 
 the local |)lacemen, exhorters, and wirepullers, and most characteristic of all — the 
 rampant reformers and agitators of the stormy |)eriod ! What a volume would this 
 have been to place alongside Kay's "Edinburgh Portraits" or Cruickshank's "Carica- 
 tures," to jostle our "Hogarth," or to get mixed u]) with one's early volumes of 
 Pitinli ! Hut the I'"amil\' Compact, like the figures of the Dundas despotism in the 
 Tory (lovcrnment of Scotland at the beginning of the century, ha\e not lacked annal- 
 ists to prt'serve some record of their tloings, nor an anlicpiarian, so imbui'd with tin; 
 past, as to faithfulh' re])roduce for u-; the men and their age.* 
 
 Hut the rumbles of street cars arouml us, and the graceful spire which shoots its 
 gilt summit into the sky in our \iew, recall us to modern times, and to the evidences 
 on every side of material jjrosperity and almost unrealizable ci\ic growth. At the 
 intersection of King and Church Streets stands St. James's (Episcopal) Cathedral. In 
 the earl\- days of the city, when Toronto was known as " Litth; York," there stood a 
 plain structure: of wood, a few \ards back from th(; road, and almost surroumleil by 
 the prinu'V.il forest. This was the first church of St. James. It was ck.'scribei! by a 
 writer previous to the w.ir of 181 2 as "a meeting-h(nise for I'^piscopalians." Here, 
 uniler th(,' rectorshi]) of Dr. Stuart, and subsequent to the year 1813, of I )r. Strachan, 
 whose name for over liftv \ears was a household word throughout the l'ro\inre, did 
 the mod(!st little building do tluty as the Parish Church. In 1S32, a mort' imposing 
 structure was reared, but this was destroyed by tin,' in 1839, shortl\- after it had been 
 
 ♦ III tlie pages of Dr. Scadding's " Toronto of Old," the citiien of tlu- Provincial McUopolis has for all time a 
 niiiu- of historic and biographic lore connected with its early days, which few cities of the New World have been 
 forliin.ite enough in such measure to possess. To this work and its ai\thor the present writer gratelully acknowledges 
 his indebtedness 'or some of the iiaterial made use of in this sketch of the city. 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 4'5 
 
 HURTlrUI.TUKAI. GAKDI.NS. 
 
 designated a Catliedral by tlic api>oiiUm"nt of its rector as First Bishop of tapper 
 Canaiia. Tlie f()llf)\vini.r year, the date of t!ic union ol the two older l'rovinc(;s, 
 a noijle l)inl(Hng was erected, surnioimted Ijy a wooden spire. '\ii\\ years later, 
 
! ill 
 
 f 's!, 
 
 lit 
 
 
 *?l ? 
 
 416 
 
 /VC TURESQUE CAN. I PA. 
 
 when tin; scoiirj^a'd tlic cit)', sonic; s[)arks ij^nitcil tlic towor, .md tlu; grand hiiililing 
 once inorc succnnibed to the llatnes. Tlie statel)' piK' wliich now meets the eye was 
 begun soon afterwards h\ tlie ruuh-tried congregation ; hut it was not ready for occu- 
 pation till iiS53. Tlu; huikUng is in th(; Ciothic styh-. of the early luiglish period, and 
 is huill of white brick, dressed with < )hio stone. Its lin^ih is .iliout two hundred feet, 
 the width of transept ninety-five feet, and the height to the ridge cr(;stings eighty-four 
 feet. The building is diviiled, after ecclesiastical fashion, into nave .ind .lisjcs. with 
 apsidal chancel and xcstries at tlu; nortii, ;ind x'estibulcs and tlii' great lower at the 
 south (\w<\. There are galleries on tiiree sides, th.il on tlu; south l)cing a|)propriated 
 to the organ and choir. The chancel is fitted up with a bishop's throne, stalls for the 
 canons, and an elaborately carved pulpit and reading desk. Underneath the chancel lie 
 the mortal remains of the first Bishop of Toronto, and of the long-time Rector of the 
 Cathedral, the greatly beU)ved Dean Gras(;tt. I'Ik; towi;r and spire are the most dis- 
 tinguishing features of tiie edifice, their coml)in(;il height, including the vane, being 
 over three hundred feet. In the tower is a costly p(;al of bells, and an illuminated 
 clock, whose dial, when nigiit llings iier mantle over tlu; cit\', can be read far out on 
 the lake. The cost of the whole edifict; was not far from a (piarter of a million 
 of dollars. 
 
 To the north of the Cathedral, and within its enclosure, is St. James's School 
 House, and immediately beyond it, on llu; conu;r of Church and Adelaide Streets, 
 stands tlu; .Mi;chanic's Institute. The Institute has a well-supplied reailing-room 
 aiul a fair collection of books, tiiough tin city stands much in need of a well-endowed 
 Public Library, especially rich in the department of w)rks of reference. Hut literary 
 institutions, it must be saitl, have so far failed to interest tlu; m<)n(;yed class in Toronto. 
 
 Still following King Street to the eastward, we come upon the St. Lawrence Hall 
 and Mark(;t, and to the south of the scpiare, the headquarters of the Municipal (iov- 
 ernmcnt and City Offices. Here the stranger will be less struck with tlu; appearance of 
 the neighbourhood than with the scenes and incidents of tlu; market-place. To this, 
 tlu; largest market in tlu; city, are brought the farm stock ami garden products of the 
 many ricii homesteads throughout the adjacent country ; and, looking at the class that 
 come to (jo busiiu;ss at its gates, it is easy to jutlge of tlu; character fif tlu; ( )ntr. o 
 yeoman. Lroin his si)ccch ami accent, you surmise either he or his anc(;stry came 
 from the motlu;rlaiul. lie is almost in\arialjly comfortably clad; his horses are sleek 
 an>l clean ; his wagons bright aiul in g(3od order ; aiul their contents denoting the 
 frugal, well-to-do husbandman. llis wife has also a comfortable and contented look, 
 with the occasional accompaniment of the tone ami air of in(lei)enuence. .\ glance at 
 the displays of the market would surprise the bans vivaitts of the Old World. 
 
 Colborne Street, which here runs into the market-place, is rich in the historic 
 social life of early Toronto. The first theatre of York, tradition says, was extempo- 
 
TORONTO AND VrCINITY. 
 
 41; 
 
 COLLl'.r.K AVENUr. (QfhEN STREKT). 
 
 rized in the ball-room of an hotel which 
 stood on the north-east corner of the 
 street. Here the fashion of the time 
 used to holtl its assemblies, and the 
 potent, grave, and reverend signors of the town, alony; with their sons and daughters, 
 were wont "to indulge in a little insanity." Tiic market-place itself is not what it 
 was in other days. Then it was the May Fair of the city, the nucleus about which 
 all tlic rest clustered. Hut Toronto, like most other citic;s, has tlirown her gates 
 open to the west, and is now making the greater part of her progress in tiiat dire^ction. 
 (53^ 
 
4i8 
 
 PfC'l I RESQUE CANADA. 
 
TOR<h\'T<'i ./.\7> /Vr/AV/}'. 
 
 419 
 
 z 
 o 
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 0« 
 
 Tlie l)uil(linj,'s ahoiil tlic in;irk<'t wear an old, and son,' of them a dilapidated, 
 appearance'. lliis is iIk- charactfr fspecially of imuli ol ilic town to tlic last of tlu; 
 prc'st'iU spot. I'-vcn the City llall, near 1))', l)ar{'l)' (^scapes this classification. It is a 
 blot npon till! cit)'s puldic i)iiiUlinjfs, l)LMiijf no U-ss iinsij;htly ami dinL;\ than ill- 
 ventilated and unwholesome. It stands npon L;iound said to lie permeated with 
 poisonous matter, and some of its rooms and offices are a menace to life. The value 
 of the rataiile property within the city limits in 1SS2 was over sixty millions. The 
 population is 87,000; or, includin^^ the suburbs, over ickxooo. In 1S12, the pojiulation 
 was under 1000; in 1834, when the city was incorporated, it was qooo ; in 1S50 it had 
 reached 25,000; and in wSjo it was more than double the latter numl)er. 
 
 In rear of the City I lall are the Drill Shed and .Armories of the local volun- 
 teer regiments, includinj^f the "Queen's Own Killes." and the loth "Roxal (irenadiers." 
 These two crack corps hold a first rank in the militia of liie Dominion. Both regi- 
 ments have seen .service, tiie former beini; present at Ridoeway, in June, 1S66, when 
 the I'roN'ince was invailed l)y I'Cnians. Tiie (juei'u's Own has liie largest muster-roll, 
 and is jjenerally admitted to be the best drilled and most comjiletely e(iuip|)ed re^'iment 
 in the Canadian militia. The ( ity has a well-appointed troop of Cavalry, the Ciov- 
 ernor-General's Body Guard ; and a I'ield Mattery of artillery. The iieathpiarters of 
 both troop and battery are at the old I'"ort, on the Ciarrison Common. 
 
 To the eastward of our present haltinijj-place, there is not much to interest the 
 sight-seer, unless he has the tastes of an anticjuary. The rej^ion that lies between the 
 St. Lawrence Hall and the Don River is the orij,nnal site of the town ; and some of 
 the decrepit buililin<,rs of the district were once the homes of its wealth and fashion. 
 In the names of the strc-ets of the neit^hbourhood — Caroline, Duke, Duchess, George, 
 Princes, and brederick — the loyalty of the "first settlers" to the Hanoverian Dynasty, 
 and other members of tin- roy.il house, finds expression. What inspired the compli- 
 ments, th(; Historiographer of Toronto reminds us, was the fact that "when the 
 Canadian town of \'ork was first projected, the marriage of the Duke of N'ork with 
 the daughter of the King of Prussia, b'rederica Charlotta, had onlv recently lieen cele- 
 brated." In the designation of Farli.uueiU Street h^cal associations connecteil with the 
 First Parliament of the Provinct; are jierpetuated. The site of the primitive West- 
 minster is near by, though now denuded of the fine grove of forest trees which once 
 overshailowed it. For a period of nearly thirty years, interruptcnl for ;i time by the 
 burning, in 1813, of the buildings by the Americans, the laws of the young Province 
 were enacted within its walls. .Again, in 1824. the Parliament Buildings fell a victim to 
 fire, after which the Legislature moved westward, and what is now known as the Old 
 Jail occupied the site. Still eastward, on b'ront, or as it was then styU'd, Palace 
 Street, stood Russell Abbey, the residence of one of the Governors of the Province ; 
 and from this neighbourhood, now in the grip of the railways, the City Gas Works, 
 
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 and a mammoth Distillery, a bridle 
 path through the forest led to 
 Castle I<"rank, Governer Simcoe's Chateau 
 on the Don. 
 
 Turning up Berkeley, we come again . ^ 
 
 upon King Street, the continuation of which to the east, sixty years ago, was locally 
 known as "the road to Quebec." In 1817 communication by stage was established 
 between York and Kingston, and from the latter point on to Montreal and rhe ancient 
 capital. The stage service between the two former points was a weekly one ; and with 
 an allowance of twenty pounds of luggage one could secure a scat on the lumbering 
 vehicle for the sum of eighteen dollars. The incoming of a mail from Lower Canada 
 used then to be advertised in the Gazette, and the annual arrival of postal matter from 
 England was an «;vent in the life of the infant settlement. Pursuing our way east- 
 ward, we come to the bridge over the Don, whose slow-footed stream trails its sinuous 
 length at the foot of the picturescjue heights to the north of the road, clad with sparse 
 but grand old trees. Melow the bridge, the river tn^nds off to the westward, and 
 mixes its dull waters with the reeds which, with the detritus of the island, shoal the 
 eastern end of the harbour. 
 
 A short drive beyond the Don, through Leslieville, the pleasant site of extensive 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 421 
 
 market gardens, hrin^rs us to Norway, Men Lamond, and the commandin<^ elevation of 
 Scarboro' I [eights. On the road hither, on .iome bright summer afternoon, may be 
 seen the Toronto Hunt Chd), coursing over liill and dale ; or, it may be a line of 
 racing horses and trotting vehicles hastening to the driving-course at Woodbine Park. 
 Close by is Victoria Park, a resort in summer of the townspeople, and which is gener- 
 ally reached by way of the lake. At Norway an extensive tract of sunlit verdure and 
 gleaming water is spread before the eye. On the one hand is seen Lake Ortario, 
 stretching beyond the range of '.ision into the blue ; on the other, one of the fairest 
 agricultural districts in the I'rovince, dotted here and there with comfortable farm-houses 
 and magnilken'L farms, .\long the rim of the lake lies the Queen City, whose distant 
 features the artist has cleverly caught and turned to pictorial account. In the foreground, 
 nestles here and there the residence of some wealthy citizen, who believes that " God 
 
 KING SlKKliT, WEST. 
 
422 
 
 J'ICTURESQUE CAXADA. 
 
 made the country and man made the town," and has moved out to where he can hear 
 the wild birds sinjf in the trroves, and be tanned by the untainted breezes of the lake. 
 
 Regainini;; the Don, we direct our steps northward, and passing by Riverside, 
 another outllow of the city, and by the tine buildings and adjoining farm of the New 
 Jail, we continue our ramble through the woods in 'he direction of Yorkville. Here 
 it is designed to utilize the great natural beauti<;s of the place by laying out a 
 segment of a cordon of parks, which it is hoped will one day surround the city. In 
 the neighbourhood of the jail, a bridge crosses the Don and connects with the eastern 
 end of Gerrard Street. Situated on the latter is the large builiiing of the General 
 Hospital, and, what must be to the poor patient in its wards in unpleasantly sugges- 
 tive pro.ximity, the Medical Schools, with their dissecting rooms. 
 
 On the heights which, we pass to the left, lie two of the city cemeteries. Here 
 s'eep many of "the rude forefathers of the hamlet" — the old time "Little York;" and 
 the sombre pines sing the reejuiem of peace. In scarce a lovelier spot could sorrow 
 come to drop a tear, or love's footsteps hasten to strew the tlowc of regret. 
 
 Hut we move on round the liill towards the picturesque environs of Rosedale. 
 Here the twin valleys of the Don have been spanned by graceful bridges, and the 
 finely-wooded plateau has been opened up for suburban settlement. To the west is 
 the incorporated village of Yorkville, the most important of the city's ojtlying districts. 
 To the north is Deer Park, another pretty olT-shoot of the town, the beautiful cemetery 
 of Mount Pleasant, ami the excended line of Yonge Street, the great highway through 
 the County of York. In this neighbourhood stood the famous "Montgomery's 
 Tavern, " the rendezvous of Lyon MacKenzie's insurgent force, and near by is the 
 scene of the brief action at Gallows Hill. 
 
 Returning within tlie limits of the city, the stranger will note the fine avenue of 
 Hloor Street, aiul tiie elegant residences on many of tlie streets that branch southward 
 from it. Of these Siierbourne and Jar\is Streets are the most attractive ; Jarvis, with 
 its hantlsome villas and fine boulevards, presenting a stately appearance. At the corner 
 of Wellesley and Jarvis are the grounds of the Toronto Lacrosse Club, a favourite 
 resort of th<e athletic youth of the town, ami, on gala .'ays, of their fair admirers. 
 The tielJ is kept in fine order. Upon it many an exciting contest has taken place 
 between the local and outside clubs, the home team generally' succeeding in carrying 
 off the laurels. 
 
 Decending Jarvis Street, several handsome churches, I)uilt for the most part of a 
 delicate pink stone, with white dressings, add greatly to the grace ami beauty of this 
 thoroughfare. A little way down are the commodious buildings of the Collegiate Insti- 
 tute, the historic Grammar School of Toronto, and one of the best and most efficient 
 of the Secondary Schools of the Province. 
 
 Occupying a square in the immediate vicinity are the Horticultural Gardens, 
 
TOROXTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 4*3 
 
 LIKUT.nOVKRNORS RESIPKNCE. 
 
 the shrine of Mora, and in 
 some respects tiie most at- 
 tractive resort i.. the city. 
 The Gardens cover an area 
 of ten acres, and are laid 
 out with taste, and with a 
 fine eye for floral adornment. 
 They are open to the public from 6 a.m. until dusk. Within the enclosure is the 
 Pavilion, a tastefully desijrned concert room, with jironienade balconies and an arbore- 
 tum. Tile Gardens were opened in i860 by H. R. \\. the Prince of Wales, on the 
 occasion of his visit to Canada. The young maple which he planted to commemorate 
 the event has since grown to a goodly tree. 
 
 ST. ANHKEW'S CHURCH. 
 
424 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 In the centre of St. James Square, a short distance westw.rd, is the pile of build- 
 ings, of white brick, with stone dressings, devoted to the purposes of tiie I3epartment 
 of Education )r Ontario, including the Normal and Model School Buildings. On the 
 Gould Street front are tastefully laid out grounds, parterres bright with flowering 
 plants, relieved by trees, shrubs, and statuary, with convenient approaches from the 
 south, cast, and west. I'hc main building has a frontage of one hundred and eighty- 
 four feet, with a depth at the flanks of eighty-five feet, and is two storeys in height. 
 The fafiide is in the Roman Doric order, of Palladium character, having for its centre 
 four stone pilasters the full height of the building, with pediment, surmounted by an 
 open Doric cupola. The corner-stone of the edifice was laid in July, 1851, by His 
 Excellency, the Earl of Elgin, the then Governor-General. Passing in at the main 
 entrance the visitor finds himself in a large hall, intersected by a corridor, tlie entire 
 length of the building. Opposite the entrance is a semi-circular theatre or lecture- 
 room, with busts of notable personages on brackets round the walls. Tin: lower floor 
 is used as offices by the Minister of Education, by the officials of the Department, and 
 by the members of the Educational Council. Here, also, are the lecture-rooms and 
 ateliers of th(; Ontario -Sciiool of ."Xrt, an institution that is very appreciably aiding the 
 dissemination of art-taste in the community. On the upper floor is a large and miscel- 
 laneous collection of pictures and statuary, copies of .Assyrian and Egyptian sculptuie, 
 a museum chiefly devoted to Canadian ornithology, with a department containing 
 school api)aratus and furniture. The buildings which adjoin the Education Office and 
 Museum are used as a City Model School for the youth of both se.xes, and a Normal 
 School for the training of teachers. For thirty years these buildings in Normal School 
 Square have been the nursery of the educational system of Ontario, a system origi- 
 nated, and for nearly the whole [)eriod administered, by the late Rev. Dr. Ryerson. 
 Toronto, as a city, has largely felt the influence of Dr. Ryerson's labours ; and the 
 many efficient Public .Schools of the town are memorials of his life's work, as well as 
 marks of the public spirit of the comnunity, aided by the liberality of the Provincial 
 Legislature. However much the State has done for education, Voluntaryism, at the 
 same time, has not withheld its purse. The amount of scholastic work undertaken by 
 the Denominations, and the support given to the charities and philanthropic institutions 
 of the city, may be pointed to as iriefragable evidence of true Christian zeal. 
 
 Leaving the Education Department, and going south by Bond Street, we pass ai 
 the corner of Wilton Avenue, the Congregational Church, a fine edifice in the style of 
 Early English Gothic, with a handsome tower and spire at the south-west angle of the 
 building. A little farther down is the Loretto Convent, with the Archiepiscopal See- 
 House to the rear, on the Church Street front ; and at the intersection of Shuter, is 
 St. Michael's Roman Catholic Cathedral. When the late Bishop Power, forty years 
 ago, purchased the site for the Cathedral, he was deemed foolish, we are told, for pro- 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 425 
 
 posing to erect a church in what was then "the l)iish." Now the edifice is ahnost in 
 the heart of Toronto, the city encompassing, and reacliing far beyond it, in every 
 direction. The building, which extends from Bond to Church Street, with an entrance 
 also from Shuter, is massive and lofty. It has a fine tower and spire, beautiful stained- 
 glass windows, with organ am! instrumental orchestra. There are several valuable 
 paintings, two finely-carved pulpits, and five elaborate altars in various parts of the 
 interior. In connection with the church ami its parish work are the several religious 
 orders, the Christian Brothers, the Sisters of Mercy and the Cloistered Nuns, — the 
 Brothers taking part in the educational work of the Separate Schools throughout 
 the city, and the nuns teaching in the Convents. 
 
 The Metropolitan (Methodist) Church, in McCiill Square, is among the largest 
 ecclesiastical edifices on this side of the .Atlantic. It is one of the sights of the city; 
 and surrounded by its fine grounds, with neat iron fence, its fringe of trees and 
 shrubs, with parterres of flowers, is a great ornament to Toronto, and the just pride 
 of the religious body. The building is of fine white brick, with rut-stone dressing.s, 
 and is in the Franco-Gothic style of architecture of the Fourteenth Century. Its ex- 
 treme dimensions are two hundred and fourteen by one hundred and four feet. At 
 the south-east angle is a tower, sixteen feet sejuare and one hundred and ninety feet 
 in height. There are other towers a hundred and twenty-two feet in height, one on 
 either side, at the junction of the main building with the lecture-room. The internal 
 arrangement of the building, the general design, and the harmony of the parts, excite 
 the admiration of all visitors. The seating capacity of the church is about two 
 thousand four hundred ; and its total cost, including the site, and a magnificent organ, 
 approached a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 Immediately south of McGill Square, and reached from our present halting-place 
 by way of Clare Street, is the Canadian Institute, on Richmond Street. This insti- 
 tution, which is mainly supported by the savants of the city, and those interested in 
 scientific research, has a fine library and lecture-hall ; its members publish a journal 
 of transactions. West of the Institute, Yonge bisects Richmond Street a block and a 
 half off. Making one's way thither, the visitor will find himself again in the centres of 
 trade, and drawing to the point from which he set out on the eastern tour of the city. 
 In Yonge Street, if it be summer time, he will miss the abundant shade which the 
 trees in most of the streets afford. As we pass southward to regain King, the (irand 
 Opera House, on Adelaide Street, West, will not be unlikely to arrest the eye. Hither 
 or to the Royal Opera House, on King Street, come the operatic and dramatic 
 companies, American and foreign, that star it over the Continent. Occasionally, local 
 histrionic talent appears creditably on the boards ; and from the Toronto Philharmonic 
 Society the citizens have entertainments of high character. 
 
 Regaining our point of departure, and pushing our way through the crowds that 
 
 (54i 
 
436 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 REVIEW UK THE "QUEEN'S OWN.' 
 
 throng this central thoroughfare, we set 
 out to see tlic points of interest embraced 
 in the western half of tlie city. And here 
 one cannot hut regret tliat the streets that play so important a part in Torontc/s com- 
 merce, and whose intersection forms so central a point in the city, should not have 
 had some great square or plate as a point d'avantagc. Could tin; l)lock be razed that 
 is bounded, say, on the north and south, by King and Adelaide Streets, and on the 
 east and west by Yonge and Bay, or its site ha\'e been kept in its virgin state, we 
 should have had a grand square and promenade with converging streets and branching 
 traffic ; its four-sided face adorned with stately buildings, and its centre set off by 
 fountains and public monuments! But we have to deal with the city as it is, and 
 not with what it might be; still less with what it is not. In the Toronto of to-day 
 there is little occasion, however, to bemoan the " might have been," for the realization 
 of what is would be no easy matter, not only to the founders of the city, could they 
 revisit the scene of their early toil, but to those who sleep of a later generation. 
 Even to the contemporary who revisits the city after a few years absence, the 
 progress and improvement everywhere apparent occasion remark and susprisc. Nor 
 are the lofty buildings that break up the sky lines about one, and render the 
 streets picturesque, alone the subjects of comment. The contents of the stores, on 
 all sides, and the character of the native manufactures, or of the importations from 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 487 
 
 abroad, arc also strikinjr evidences of local wealth and progress, and of the advance 
 of art and skill. 
 
 The activities of the journalistic profession in the Provincial Metropolis are 
 also matters of pride to its citizens. The growth of the newspaper press of Toronto, 
 particularly in the last ten years, has been very marked. The building erected by the 
 proprietors of the iMail, the chief conservative organ of the Western Province, is at 
 once an instance of enterprise and of the public favour which enterprise wins. The 
 Alail was establisheil in 1870, and is a vigorously conducted journal, with writers of 
 trained and disciplined talent on its 
 staff. The Globe, which dates back 
 to 1844, lonjr led the van of journal- 
 ism in Canada ; it is recognized as 
 the chief organ of the Reformers, 
 or. as they are now frequently desig- 
 nated, the " Liberal Party." The 
 Telegram ami the ll'orl^ are journals 
 that pay some tribute to independ- 
 ence ; and with the growing class now 
 throwing off the ties of partyism, 
 they are increasingly popular. The 
 Evening News and the Evening Cana- 
 dian are recent ac Jitions to after- 
 
 noon journalism. The " weeklies " 
 chiefly represent the denominations. The 
 Christian Guardian, founded in 1829, is the 
 organ of the Methodist, and the Evangelical 
 Churchman of the Episcopal body. The Irish Canadian speaks for Roman Catholic- 
 ism. The titles of the Canada Presbyterian and the Canadian Baptist at once 
 
4a8 
 
 PICTURESQUli CANADA. 
 
 disclose their connections, drip is the representative of humor and tl>e cartoonist's art ; 
 and Commerce has a special organ in the Monetary Times. I'eriotiical literature, as 
 yet, has to strugj,'ie to maintain itself, though u periods when there is a vjuickening 
 of the national life, it sensibly extends the area of its inlluence, if not of its support. 
 The marketable literature in the country is jtill mainly foreign; and enterprises like 
 the recently deceased Canadian Monthly lind it as yet difihcult, if not impossible, in 
 the latency of national spirit, to secure adeejuate support. The professional periodi- 
 cals fare better. Law, medicine, and education have each their representative organs, 
 and maintain themselves with ability and credit. 
 
 Toronto literary and journalistic life has not as yet developed its club ; though the 
 growing professional status, and the increasing emoluments of writers for the press, 
 will no doubt see it rise at an early day to that dignity. Special interests of a social, 
 professional, or commercial character, combine, however, to support one or two city 
 clubs. The Royal Canadian Yacht Club we have already mentioned, has its habitat 
 on the Island. The National Club, situated on Bay Street, has a large membership 
 drawn from the professions, and from the captains of industry and commerce. The 
 Toronto Club, on York Street, draws its membership from much the same source, 
 with a sprinkling of the more leisured class, and some few sticklers for caste. The 
 United Empire Club, which, as the headtjuarters of Liberal Conservatism in the city, 
 styled itself the Canadian Carleton, has recently disappeareil. Its building, centrally 
 situated on King Strt^et, West, might be secured for a nuich-needed Merchant's 
 E.xchange, or, better still, a Free Public Library. The various S( cieties, national and 
 benevolent, have their respective lodge-rooms and halls in almost every section of the 
 city. There are also a nimiber of rowing and swimming clubs, curling and skating-rink 
 organizations, with several gymnasia, and that latest craze of athleticism, a Bicycle 
 Association. 
 
 Next to the clubs, in the record of social progress, come the hotels. Toronto has 
 left behind her the era of the primitive York hotels, a storey and a half high, in 
 which the travelling public of the day used to think itself luxuriously lodged, if the 
 sign-post in front of the inn didn't inform the passer-by that the " General Brock," or 
 other named patron, possessed "accommodation for man and beast." The "Queen's," 
 on l-'ront Street, and the " Rossin House," which we pass on King Sti et, at the 
 corner of York, may claim to rank with the large and well-managed hotels of the 
 American cities. Others, including the "Walker," the "Revere," and the 'American," 
 deserve favourable notice. 
 
 Pursuing our way westward, we come, at the corner of King and Simcoe Streets 
 to a fane of truly metropolitan character — St. Andrew's Church — whose noble fafade, 
 Norman towers, and elaborately-carved triple doorway recall some grand Minster of the 
 Old World. Its massive solidity, with its great hundred and twenty-feet tower, thirtj- 
 
rORONTO AND ilClMTY. 
 
 429 
 
 two feet square at the base, in the style of the; Norman architecture of the 'iwclfth 
 Century, gives an aspect of stately niajfniticenc(! to tlu; l)uil(ling, which, with its fine 
 site, has scarce a paraihtl amonjr the 'ecclesiastical editices of Canaila. The church is 
 built of Georjretown rubble, with Ohio stone facings, variticl, in the relieving arches and 
 bands, by the red-brown blocks of Qu(!enston. Tlu: windows are arched, as are the 
 entrances, the latter having finely-polished nil granite pillars supporting them. In the 
 southern end of the building — a shapely semi-circle — are the school-rooms and lecture- 
 halls, which are "so contrived as to add to tlu; general effect which the contour of the 
 buildiag is intended to produce." liie church was erected in 1875, and opened in 
 February of tlie following year. 
 
 In grounds of much attractiveness, tantalizingly shut in from view on three streets, 
 stands the residence of the Lieutenant-Governor of Ontario. In some respects it is a 
 a pity that the area occupied by Government House and grounds, and the squares to 
 the north and south should have the Province as their owner, as this monopoly stands 
 somewhat in the way of the dcivelopment of the city to the westward. Still, so 
 far as the Governor's residence is concerned, were the fences reduced in size and lat- 
 ticed, the purposes to which Government has put the square would not be so objec- 
 tionable, while the site might continue to form an agreeable break in the monotony of 
 the streets. The residence is in the modern style of French architecture, and has an 
 elegant appearance from within its fenced enclosure. The interior is handscinc, with 
 grand hall ami staircase, spacious reception rooms, and a fine ball-room and con- 
 servatory. The grounds are e.xtensive, and are beautifully laid out with (lower-beds and 
 shrubbery, terraced walk:; ...id velvety lawn. 
 
 Art has contrasts no less discordant than Nature ; ?nd in the square to the 
 souih the stranger will be as much disappointed with the pove- ly of the Parliament 
 Buiklings of the Province as he will have been delighted with the residence of its 
 Governor. The buildings require as little description as do the railway freight sheds 
 to the south of them. However, for what they are worth, there they are. In the 
 meantime they do duty as the Halls of the Legislature ; and we must not forget that 
 the Provinc(' had once a humbler St. Stephen'- The buildings still shelter some of 
 the Government departments and the Provincial Library, together with the Legislative 
 Chamber, the throne, and the mace ! 
 
 The House consists of eighty-eight members, six of whom form the Executive 
 Council, and direct the public business of the Province. Politics in Ontario, as else- 
 where in the Dominion, is the great game of the people. It is pursued with often 
 feverish intensity, and partyism not unfrequently degrades it to personal ends. In the 
 heat which faction and its trumpery concerns occasion, we sometimes recall Dr. Gold- 
 win Smith's words, in alluding to the interruption to legislative business in England by 
 the annual furore of the Derby Day. " Give us," says the professor, " a Parliament 
 
43° 
 
 PlCrURESQL 7;- i 'AX. I PL 
 
 Ell; 
 
 !]■ - 
 
 \M 
 
 I 111'," 
 
 capalilc of l)L'in^ tlur or^aii of national tispiration and effort ; let j;rcat qiiL-stions bo once 
 mon; hamlkid in earnest by j,freat men; let ( ir political chiefs once more ilis|)lay the 
 ([iialitit.'s whicii touch a nation's heart ; ami the soul of linjfland will soon cease to be 
 absorbed by a horse i '." In these remarks there is a l»!sson for those in Canada 
 who are engrossed i)y tlie party j^ame. and are ilisposed to substitute for statesmanship 
 the small issues and the wirepullinj,' of the Machine. 
 
 On the i^splanade, to the east of Parliament Square, is the Union Station, the 
 passenjjer depot of the Grand Trunk Railway, and the terminus of a number of the 
 smaller lines. Here we again meet the gleaming waters of the bay. Close by was 
 the scene of tlic landing, in i860, 01 H. R. H. th(! Prince of Wales, — a spectacle of 
 memorable beauty. On but one other, and a sad occasion, has the water-front of the 
 city seen such a gathering. It was six years later, when every household, in a frenzy 
 of horror, drew to the waterside to receive the dead from the field of honour at 
 Limeridge. 
 
 Regaining King Street, and turning to the west, we come upon Upper Canada 
 College, and the fine grouads that surround that historic institution. The building 
 itself has no architectural attractions. The charm of the place is its foreground, with 
 its bright, green sward, and the foliage of the trees that overhang the sidewalk. The 
 College, which was founded by .Sir John Colborne in 1829, has the good fortune to be 
 well endowed, and is under tin; direction of a committee of the University Senate. 
 Attached is a boarding-house ; and the institution has a well-equipped staff. Many of 
 the leading public men of the country have acquired their early education at the 
 College : it consequently has some traditions. Some educational reformers now regard 
 it, however, as out of line with the Secondary .School System of the Province ; and 
 its right to exist has recently become a matter of fierce debate. 
 
 A few strides to the westward of the College bring us to John Street, and to the 
 site of what was once the General Hospital, and for some years, subsequently to the burn- 
 ing of the Parliament House, in 1824, the home of the Legislature. In (847, wher, the 
 city was scourged by an epidemic of typhus, the fever wards of the iiospi.-i! were liter- 
 ally choked with the smitten immigrants. Turning northward on Jo'in, we skirt on our 
 right the fenced enclosure of the College cricket-ground. Here, if anywhere, with its 
 front on King, is the proper site for the new Parliament Buildirgs. Proceeding north- 
 ward we pass Beverley House on the right, the Clock Tower of the Queen Street Fire 
 Station on the left ; and beyond are the spire and finial cross of St. George's — the vista 
 being closed by the foliage of the Grange. Within the beautiful grounds of the 
 latter, tradition says that, sixty years ago, bears attacked the carriage horses of its 
 owner. One of the finest elms in the city still looks down upon the scene. 
 
 At the intersection of Queen Street, we turn eastward towards Osgoode Hall, the 
 high court of Themis. Here, within a stately iron fence, inclosing some six acres of 
 
rO/iOXTO AND 17C/X/TV. 
 
 43' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 <■• •• 
 I 
 
 T •■■'ilit^j:n-^^ 
 
 »KW vavN.w 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO. 
 
432 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 ornamental grounds, arc the jj^rcat Law Courts of the I'rovince, and the Library and 
 Convocation Hall of the Law Society of Upper Canada. In his work on "North 
 America," the late Anthony T.ollope remarks that Osgoode Hall is to Upper Canada 
 what the Four Courts of Dublin are to Ireland ; and he i,nves the palm, in the 
 matter of interior decoration, to our Colonial Halls of Justice. He praises, in no stinted 
 language, the beauty of the library, vestibule and staircases, and has glowing words 
 for the Courts themselves. The place is the Mecca of Toronto sight-seers. Under 
 its roof they feel alike the influence of art and the majesty of law. The portraits 
 of the judges that look down from the walls impress the visitor with a sense of 
 the power that inheres in learning and dignity. 'I he Hall takes its name from the 
 Hon. Wm. Osgoode, the first Chief Justice of Upper Canada, who was appointed in 
 1792. The Law Society dates its incorporation thirty years later; it has a well- 
 endowed library, and maintains lectureships in Common Law, Equity, and Real Property. 
 
 Glancing eastward from the Hall, the tourist will observe, near the corner of Yonge, 
 the fine spire and edifice of Kno.x Church. Though erected in 1847, the church is far 
 from being eclipsed, architecturally, by recent structures. At the corner of James Street 
 stands Shaftesbury Hall, the commodious building of the Young Men's Christian Asso- 
 ciation ; and on Trinity Square, at the top of James, is the representative home of 
 High-Churchism, the Church of the Holy Trinity. 
 
 Adjoining the grounds of Osgoode Hall, and facing the College Avenue, is 
 University Street, or, as it was formerly called. Park Lane. The latter designation was 
 no doubt given it in imitation of the Helgravian thoroughfare wiiich forms the eastern 
 end of Hyde Park, in the British metropolis ; but the fitness of the appellation, in 
 Torontf), is due to the fact that the street skirts one of the finest natural avenues on 
 the Continent, and not to any architectural beauty. The street, however, ought to 
 be one of the favourite portions of the town for residence. Turning into the 
 avenue on a summer day one gets a glimpse of sylvan beauty such as rarely 
 nieets the eye. A mile of chestnuts and maples flanks a carriage-drive and pathway 
 which, in the vista, open out upon the Queen's Park. Vox the tourist the city has 
 no sight so charming, unless it be a view of the bay on a still afternoon when the 
 setting sun paves it with flame. Half way up the avenue, on the left, the fine tower 
 of Erskine Church, and the spire of St. Patrick's, may be seen through the trees ; 
 adjoining the former is the chapel of the Reformed Episcopal body. On the right 
 the spire of Elm Street Methodist Church breaks through the foliage, and close by is 
 the fine front of Grace Church. 
 
 Presently, the intersection of the Yonge Street Avenue is reached, and we pass 
 from the grateful shade of the long line of chestnuts into the verdurous sunlight of 
 the open park. Within a terraced enclosure "'■ the entrance a fountain is playing ; and 
 a maze of flowers and shrubbery distracts attention from the angry look of a couple of 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 433 
 
 Russian guns. Beyond is a tine stretch of vigorous turf, studded with stately oaks, occa- 
 sionally interspersed with cedar and maple. In a half circle, on the cast, are elegant 
 villas, and, on a line with the flag-staff, are the arrested buildings erected for a Provin- 
 cial University during the administration of Sir Charles Hagot. The buildings were 
 never put to the purpose, however, for which they were designed, and for a time they 
 were used as a female branch of the Lunatic Asylum. 
 
 Queen's Park forms part of the endowment of the University of Toronto; but in 
 1859 fifty acres of it, together with the two avenues that lead from the city, were given 
 to the corporation on a long lease for the purposes of a public park. How thoroughly 
 the citizens take advantage of the park as a place of resort the strolling crowds 
 testify. On Sunday afternoons in summer, indeed, a too free use is taken of it by 
 the motley crowd tiiat gathers under the trees, whose religious excitements would vex 
 the soul of Matthew Arnold. Here the uneducated liberalism of the age delights to 
 harangue knots of the populace, and to overhaul the world's religious ideas back to the 
 Hood. On week-days it is delightful to escape to the park from the hubbub and glare 
 of the city. Skirting the ravine the pathway winds among scen,;s of great picturesque- 
 ness and of quiet, rural beauty. On a jutting of the inink, ovorlorking the dell, the 
 stranger pauses before a monument encircled by an appropriately-designed iron railing. 
 This, he learns, was erected in memory of the Canadian Volunteers who fell at 
 Ridgeway in defending the frontier against Fenian raiders. Turning from the spot the 
 associations which the monument calls to mind are quickened by the sight of a regiment 
 marching by in column of companies, and about to execute some military evolutions 
 in the open plateau of the park. It is the corps— the "Queen's Own Rifles"— that bore 
 the brunt of the fray at Ridgeway, and from whose ranks fell out the young life 
 commemorated by the monument. 
 
 Passing northward, we continue our stroll towards Bloor Street, the upper limits of 
 the park. On the right are the buildings of St. Michael's College and St. Joseph's 
 Convent. Opposite the park exit stands the Church of the Redeemer, and to the 
 immediate westward, within the University grounds, is McMaster Hall, the college of 
 the Baptist denomination. The building hps a massive and unique appearance. It is 
 built of a rich, dark-brown stone, with dressings of black and red brick— a reversal 
 of the usual methods of the architects and builders. The College is the gift of the 
 donor whose name it bears ; it possesses all appliances for the theological training 
 of the ministry of the denomination. 
 
 From Bloor Street, or what used to be known as the Sydenham Road, the 
 
 adjoining suburb of Yorkville extends north and east over the area that lies between 
 
 our present halting-place and the ridge that bounds Toronto on the north. To the 
 
 west lies Seaton Village, and all about are the suburban residences of wealthy merchants. 
 
 Again within the gates of the Park, we retrace our steps until we are on an 
 (SS)- 
 
434 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 alignivent with the University. Fol- 
 lowing the carriago drive to the right, 
 wc cross tlie ra\ine and stand in 
 front of the flower and climax of 
 Toronto's architecture. The Univer- 
 sity buildings are the glory of the city. An English writer remarks that " the 
 University of Toronto is perhaps the only piece of collegiate architecture on the 
 American Continent worthy of standing-room in the streets of Oxford." Admittedly, 
 in its architectural features it belongs to the Old World, and it deservedly ranks 
 next to the Parliament Buildings at Ottawa. It is a Norman pile of noble proportions 
 and of cxciuisite harmony. There is a massive tower and a richly-sculptured doorway. 
 The hall and corridors are in keeping with the academic character of the buildings, 
 and great joists and rafters are freely exposed to view. On the ground floor are 
 th(! lecturc-roonis and lal)oratory, and on the upper tloor, the museum and library. 
 To tlic rear, on the east, is the Convocation Hall ; and on the west are residences for 
 students. The buildings were erected in i(S57-S, at a cost of over half a million of 
 dollars. They have a frontage of three hundred feet and a depth of two hundred 
 and lifty. The tower is one hundred and twenty feet in height. 
 
 In its early history the University was known as King's College, a Royal Charter 
 having been secured for it in 1827 by .Sir Peregrine Maitland, with an endowment from 
 the Crown Reserves set apart for educational |>urposes. The University established 
 under this charter was essentially a Chu'-ch of England mstitution, and remained so 
 until icS4q, having for the previous six years been under the presidency of that sturdy- 
 
TORONTO AND VICINITY. 
 
 435 
 
 brained Scot, the first Hishop of Toronto. The lVo\inci;il Legislature, however, 
 aboUshed the Theoloj^ical I'aculty, and liishop Strachan in 1S50 obtained an act of 
 incorporation for, and proceeded to found, the University of Trinity Collejje. In 1849 
 University Collej^e was established as a teaching; body, distinct from the Uni\('rsity 
 of Toronto, the latter bein<j continetl to its dejjree-conferrinj^ powers. Tiie corporation 
 of the University consists of a Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor, together with the mem- 
 bers of the Senate and of the Convocation. The government of University College is 
 directed by a Council, composed of the President, the Vice-President, and the Profes- 
 sorial staff. The former president was a distinguished classicist and epigraphist ; the 
 present head has earned distinction in the departments of Ethnology, Archaeology, and 
 General Literature. There are eight professors attached to the College, besides three 
 or four lecturers and a Classical ami a Mathematical tutor. 
 
 Pacing the Universitj-, across a spacious lawn, is the School of Practical Science. 
 Here, also, is the chief seat of Astronomical Observation for the Province. Language 
 is inadequate to characterize the taste which sanctioned the erection of this glaring red 
 building on such a site. It unspeakably outrages all the harmonies of the place. In 
 
 THE NORTH IRON BRIDGE, AND RAVINE, ROSEUALE. 
 
436 
 
 I'icri R/isoi ■/■: ij.\:i/>.i. 
 
 rear of the School of Practical Science, and facint,^ the Colletjc Avenue and McCaul 
 Street, is Wyclifie ColU'<ie, the Divinity School of tiie Evangelical Section <jf the 
 Anglican Church. 'I"he Colhjge is affiliated with Inronto I'niversity. 
 
 Rei^aining College Street and turning lo the right, we reach the great western 
 arter\' of Spadina A\'enue, and see tlie setting sun Wring into glowing relief the 
 belfry of St. Stephen's in the ImcUI and the tower of the I'ire Station adjoining. 
 Away to the west anil north the city is fast hringing within its embrace an area 
 of large extent, and creating thousands of coniforiai)le homes for its ever-increasing 
 population. College Street has now communication across the beautiful ra\ine in 
 rear of Trinity Uni\ersit\- with Brockton, aiul supplies the "missing link " between 
 the heart of the city and Dundas .Street, the great iidand highway of the Western 
 Province. 
 
 I'^iiiely situated, at the head of Spadina Avenue, is th<' new home of Kno.x College, 
 a handsome building devotetl to the training of students for the Presb\ti"rian Church. 
 The College- was founiled in 1S46, and long had its habitation in I-'Imsley X'illa, to 
 the northward of the Central Presbyterian Church on (iros\enor Street, ami what was 
 once the \ice-regal resilience of Lonl I'^lgin. It has a partial endowment, and an able 
 lacully, whose zealous work will always secure for it hearty support. The new build- 
 ings were erecteil at a cost of $120,000. 
 
 Descending Sp.idina Avenue, we catch a glimi>se of Toronto siipir nnirc, and of 
 the summer traffic of tiie lake; bexond. I'lu; lower portion of the avenue is known 
 as Brock .Street, from which Clari-nce Sipiare branches off to the left, anil Wellington 
 Place to the right. On the latter are situated the Conventual i)uildings of Loretto 
 .^bbey ; and jus' in rear stood the onci' nisidenci' of \'ict:-Chancellor Jameson, in whose 
 wainscotted parlour gossipping whist-parties used to meet, in the cradle time of the 
 city's life, the talented authoress of ihi' " Legends of the Madonna" aiul "Characteristics 
 of Women." In this Colonial home were no doubt written Mrs. Jameson's Canadian 
 reminiscences, " Winter Studies anil Summer Rambles." 
 
 I'urning westward on (juecMi .Street, and passing .St. .Xndrew's Market anil the 
 Deiiison .Avenue Presbyterian Church, we come upon the beautiful groumls anil eccli^si- 
 astical-looking edilice of Trinit)- Collegi'. The I'nixcrsity was founik;d in 1852 by 
 Bishop Sirachan ; and 1)\- Royal Charter it is emiiowered to confer degrees in Divinity, 
 Arts, Law. .md .Meilicine. Coinocation consists of the Chancellor, the Provost and Pro- 
 fessors of Trinity College, together with those admitted to the degree of Master of 
 Arts, and all graduates in the other faculties. The building is of white brick with 
 stone dressings, and has a frontage of two hundred and fifty feet, with ileep, pro- 
 jecting wings. It has numerous class-rooms, a Convocation Hall, Chapel and Library, 
 and stands in a park of twenty acres, with a background of romantic beauty. 
 
 A little westward, on the opposite side of the street, is the great enclosure o"" the 
 
7'OROXTO .IXD nCJX/J)' 
 
 437 
 
 NKAK 'rHI': IKJWAKD STKl-.l-.l 
 BKIIIGK, ROSI.UAI.I,. 
 
 Lunatic Asylum. '1 lie main 
 buildiiiy; was erected in 1S45, 
 on fifty acres of wliat was tlien a 
 part of the Garrison Common, a jjrant 
 of whicli was made to tlie Municipality 
 by the Onhiance Department. It un- 
 fortunately lias had to receive many 
 additions since the period referred to, 
 and to-da}- it is more crowded than 
 ever. To the south of the Asylum 
 are the Central Prison, the Mercer Reformatory, and the spacious grounds of the 
 
438 
 
 riC TL liESQ I HI CA X.l/Kl. 
 
 Industrial Exhibition Association. Near liy arc lluj lionu; for Incuraijlcs, and one or 
 two of the refuges for tlie sick and suffering of the city's poor. 
 
 West and north of the Asylum a new Toronto is rapidly rising in the suburban 
 villages of Brockton and Parkdale ; and when tiie afternoons tiiink of passing into 
 the evenings a stroll througii tiiese pleasant annexes of the cit)', a saunter in the 
 groves of High Park, or an indolent " pull " up the dull-bo.somed windings of the 
 Humber, will he not the least of the enjoyable experiences of the rambler. Here, to 
 the west of the city, one gets the fresh i)reezes of the lake ; and stretching out from 
 the Garrison Reserve, or from the pretty land-locked bay at the mouth of the Humber, 
 the gleaming expanse of Ontario's waters may be seen for many a mile. The neigh- 
 bourhood is now being made attractive by the opening up of High Park, a beautifully 
 wooded area, with picturescjue drives and inviting bridle-paths, which has recently been 
 donated to the city. P'rom thcr Humber the lake shore road gives communication, by 
 way of tile Credit Ri\er and Oak\ille, — a region which, of recent years, has become 
 famous for its strawberry culture, — to the heail of Hurlington Hay and the city of 
 Hamilton. Near the terminus of Queen Street, antl before reaching Parkdale, Uundas 
 Street trends away to the north-west, and forms tli(; gn-at highway, projected by 
 Governor .Simcoe, to the l.ontlon District, ami onward to the Detroit Ri\er at the 
 western end of the Ontario Peninsula. 
 
 At this outlet of the city, where was once an unbroken forest of oak and yellow 
 pine, a network of streets and avenues, with handsome \illas and rows of contiguous 
 houses, covers the area and, as we have saiil, creates a nt^w antl populous 'Poronto. 
 Though the northern ami eastern sections of the town liad long the start in the race, 
 Brockton ami Parkdale are fast overtaking them, and liid fair, at no distant day, to 
 extend the bonlers of the cajiital to the winding vale of the Humber. There, it maj- 
 be, the coming years will see some western "Castle Frank" shoot ts pinnacles through 
 the foliage of the river that ijounds the city on the west, and may recall to a younger 
 generation the summer clidtcait of Toronto's founder, which reared its walls a century 
 before on the stream that bounds the cit\- on tin- east. 
 
 But the features of the cit\'s ])rogress ha\'e not been material alone, nor is the 
 natural beauty of its surroumlings the onl\- source of ])leasure. Recent years have 
 made Toronto a centre for the intellectual interests of the Province. Time, wealth, 
 and leisure are necessary conditions of this tle-velopnuMit. What is to be the dis- 
 tinguishing type of the national character a centre like Toronto must hav(' it largely in 
 its power to determine. In its commercial growth and development the coming time 
 will give it a position among the first cities of the Continent. We would fain hope 
 that its intellectual eminence will be correspondingly great. The as])iration reminds 
 us of some words of Lord Dufferin, at tiie Toronto Club bancjuet in 1877: "After 
 all," said His Excellency, " it is in the towns of a country that ideas are generated 
 
>■ r- •'^•Tr,-,' 
 
 yvA'oxvo ,i\f) r/r/AV7)' 
 
 439 
 
 EDUCATIONAL INSTITUTIONS. 
 
440 
 
 PICTURESQUE CANADA. 
 
 and progress initiated ; and Toronto, with licr universities, with her law courts, with 
 her various relijrious comnuinities, her learned professions, possesses in an exceptional 
 degree those conditions which are most favourable to the raising up amongst us of 
 great and able men, as well as robust and fruitful systems of religious, political, and 
 scientific thought." Possessed of these conditions, her citizens should not fail to make 
 the fullest and worthiest use of them, but give free play to those formative influences 
 that make for the highest weal of the community, and that will most effectively 
 contribute to her civic fame. 
 
 The past history of Toronto is the best augury of what her future will be. It is 
 only three-quarters of a century since the tract of land now embraced in the city was 
 covered by the forest, and the whole region, as the records of the Indian Department 
 of the Government declare, passed at a cost of ten shillings from the red man to the 
 white. The successive transforming steps from a wilderness to a capital city now read 
 like a fable. But to the pioneers of the town, .slow and toilsome, we may be sure, 
 were the initial stages; and only stout arms and heroic endurance set the city upon 
 its feet. Then, when Nature was subdued, what contests had to be entered upon, and 
 how fierce were the struggles, which ga' '■ to the country its liberties and shaped for 
 it its constitution ! Think, too, from what, in the way of kingcraft and Old World 
 diplomacy, it had to emancipate itself! "Mind what you are about in Canada!" were 
 
 the irate words addressed by King William IV. to one of his ministers. "By , 
 
 I will never consent to alienate the Crown Lands, nor to make the Council elective!" 
 But a happier star is now in the ascendant. The days of colonial pupilage are over; 
 the strifes of the cradle time of the Province are gone by ; and it is now the era of 
 progress and consolidation, of national growth and the formation of national character. 
 We have no troublesome questions to vex us and to waste time over : we have a high 
 mission to fulfill, and a distinctive life to develop. Education is spreading, and its 
 refining influence is everywhere operative. Party and sectarian animosities are on the 
 wane ; and the influence of reason in journalism and politics is asserting itself. Let 
 there be but more patriotic feeling, a fuller national sentiment, with a more expressive 
 public spirit, and a better determined civic life, and the metropolis of the Province will 
 take its proper position among the varied communities of the Dominion. 
 
 46 
 
 (3'2937 4