Yesterday and to-day I have passed some hours straying or driving about
on the British shore.
I hardly know how to convey to you an idea of the difference between the
two shores; it will appear to you as incredible as it is to me
incomprehensible. Our shore is said to be the most fertile, and has been
the longest settled; but to float between them (as I did to-day in a
little canoe made of a hollow tree, and paddled by a half-breed imp of a
boy)--to behold on one side a city, with its towers and spires and
animated population, with villas and handsome houses stretching along
the shore, and a hundred vessels or more, gigantic steamers, brigs,
schooners, crowding the port, loading and unloading; all the bustle, in
short, of prosperity and commerce;--and, on the other side, a little
straggling hamlet, one schooner, one little wretched steam-boat, some
windmills, a catholic chapel or two, a supine ignorant peasantry, all
the symptoms of apathy, indolence, mistrust, hopelessness!--can I, can
anyone, help wondering at the difference, and asking whence it arises?
There must be a cause for it surely--but what is it? Does it lie in past
or in present--in natural or accidental circumstances?--in the
institutions of the government, or the character of the people? Is it
remediable? is it a necessity? is it a mystery? what and whence is
it?--Can you tell? or can you send some of our colonial officials across
the Atlantic to behold and solve the difficulty?
The little hamlet opposite to Detroit is called Richmond. I, was sitting
there to-day on the grassy bank above the river resting in the shade of
a tree, and speculating on all these things, when an old French Canadian
stopped near me to arrange something about his cart. We entered
forthwith into conversation; and though I had some difficulty in making
out his _patois_, he understood my French, and we got on very well. If
you would see the two extremes of manner brought into near comparison,
you should turn from a Yankee storekeeper to a French Canadian! It was
quite curious to find in this remote region such a perfect specimen of
an old-fashioned Norman peasant--all bows, courtesy, and good-humour. He
was carrying a cart-load of cherries to Sandwich, and when I begged for
a ride, the little old man bowed and smiled, and poured forth a voluble
speech, in which the words _enchante! honneur!_ and _madame!_ were all I
could understand; but these were enough. I mounted the cart, seated
myself in an old chair surrounded with baskets heaped with ripe
cherries, lovely as those of Shenstone--
"Scattering like blooming maid their glances round,
And must be bought, though penury betide!"
No occasion, however, to risk penury here; for after permission asked,
and granted with a pleasant smile and a hundredth removal of the ragged
hat, I failed not to profit by my situation, and dipped my hand pretty
frequently into these tempting baskets. When the French penetrated into
these regions a century ago, they brought with them not only their
national courtesy, but some of their finest national fruits,--plums,
cherries, apples, pears, of the best quality--excellent grapes, too, I
am told--and all these are now grown in such abundance as to be almost
valueless. For his cart-load of cherries my old man expected a sum not
exceeding two shillings.
Sandwich is about two miles below Detroit. It is the chief place in the
Western District, the county town; yet the population does not much
exceed four hundred.
I had to regret much the absence of Mr. Prince, the great proprietor of
the place, and a distinguished member of our house of assembly, both for
ability and eloquence; but I saw sufficient to convince me that Sandwich
makes no progress. The appearance of the place and people, so different
from all I had left on the opposite side of the river, made me
melancholy, or rather thoughtful. What can be the reason that all
flourishes _there_, and all languishes _here_?
Amherstberg, another village about ten miles farther, contains about six
hundred inhabitants, has a good harbour, and all natural capabilities;
but here also no progress is making. There is a wretched little useless
fort, commanding, or rather _not_ commanding, the entrance to the
Detroit river on our side, and memorable in the history of the last
American war as Fort Malden. There are here a few idle soldiers,
detached from the garrison at Toronto; and it is said that even these
will be removed. In case of an attack or sudden outbreak, all this
exposed and important line of shore is absolutely without defence.[21]
I am hardly competent to give an opinion either way, but it seemeth to
me, in my simple wit, that this is a case in which the government of the
Crown, always supposing it to be wisely and paternally administered,
must be preferable to the interposition of the colonial legislature,
seeing that the interests of the colonists and settlers, and those of
the Indians, are brought into perpetual collision, and that the
colonists can scarcely be trusted to decide in their own case. As it is,
the poor Indian seems hardly destined to meet with _justice_ either from
the legislative or executive power.
[Footnote 21: This was written on the spot. Since the troubles in Upper
Canada, it is understood to be the intention of the governor to fortify
this coast.]