At Chatham, in the Western District, and on board the
steam-boat, between Chatham and Detroit. July 12, 13.
I can hardly imagine a more beautiful or more fortunate position for a
new city than this of Chatham (you will find it on the map just upon
that neck of land between Lake St. Clair and Lake Erie). It is
sufficiently inland to be safe, or easily secured against the sudden
attacks of a foreign enemy; the river Thames is navigable from the mouth
up to the town, a distance of sixteen miles, for all kinds of lake
craft, including steamers and schooners of the largest class. Lake St.
Clair, into which the Thames discharges itself, is between Lake Erie and
Lake Huron; the banks are formed of extensive prairies of exhaustless
fertility, where thousands of cattle might roam and feed at will. As a
port and depot for commerce, its position and capabilities can hardly be
surpassed, while as an agricultural country it may be said literally to
flow with milk and honey. A rich soil, abundant pasture, no rent, no
taxes--what is wanting here but more intelligence and a better
employment of capital to prevent the people from sinking into brutified
laziness, and stimulate to something like mental activity and
improvement? The profuse gifts of nature are here running to waste,
while hundreds and thousands in the old country are trampling over each
other in the eager, hungry conflict for daily food.
This land of Upper Canada is in truth the very paradise of hope. In
spite of all I see and hear, which might well move to censure, to
regret, to pity,--how much there is in which the trustful spirit may
reasonably rejoice! It would be possible, looking at things under one
aspect, to draw such a picture of the mistakes of the government, the
corruption of its petty agents, the social backwardness and moral
destitution of the people, as would shock you, and tempt you to regard
Canada as a place of exile for convicts. On the other hand, I could,
without deviating from the sober and literal truth, give you such vivid
pictures of the beauty and fertility of this land of the west, of its
glorious capabilities for agriculture and commerce, of the goodness and
kindliness and resources of poor, much-abused human nature, as
developed amid all the crushing influences of oppression, ignorance, and
prejudice; and of the gratitude and self-complacency of those who have
exchanged want, servitude, and hopeless toil at home, for plenty and
independence and liberty here,--as would transport you in fancy into an
earthly elysium. Thus, as I travel on, I am disgusted, or I am
enchanted; I despair or I exult by turns; and these inconsistent and
apparently contradictory emotions and impressions I set down as they
arise, leaving you to reconcile them as well as you can, and make out
the result for yourself.