The First White Settlers
If you look at the map of North America, you will find that nearly the
whole upper half, with the exception of Alaska, bears the name of the
Dominion of Canada. Its northern shores are bathed by the cold waters of
the Arctic Ocean. On the east is the great Atlantic, and on the west is
the stormy Pacific. The boys and girls who live in this vast country can
travel for hundreds of miles along mighty rivers; they can sail on lakes
so great that they may lose sight of land and grow seasick from the
motion of the boat as it moves through the waves; they can climb high
mountains capped with snow in the hottest summer weather; they can
wander over vast prairies for days and even weeks at a time with no view
of anything as far as the eye can see, save miles and miles of grass;
they can lose themselves in thick forests where only wild animals and
Indian hunters have ever ventured before. All these things are possible
for the Canadian child without moving out of the land which he calls
home.
Once upon a time, less than fifty years after Columbus discovered the
New World, a brave Frenchman named Jacques Cartier left his sunny home
in France, and sailed into the west. The king of France had heard of the
wonderful land which Columbus had discovered, and which the Spaniards
had begun to settle. He wished to have some part of it for himself, so
he directed Cartier to go farther north than the Spaniards had done.
When he reached a good place for a home, he was to land and set up the
flag of France.
Cartier, with two ships, each of which bore sixty-one men, set out. They
crossed the ocean and arrived on the coast of a large island. Its shores
were still blocked with ice, although it was the month of April. To-day
we know this island as Newfoundland or New-found-land. The Frenchmen
were not pleased with the country, for it looked bare and rocky. When
they landed, they were met by savages with red skins and black hair tied
on the top of their heads, "Like a wreath of hay," as Carter said. He
was quite sure that this was not a fit place for a home; so the ships
were turned northward. They soon entered a large gulf which received the
name of the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
On the shores of this gulf the white men were also met by Indians, whose
homes were their upturned canoes. The savages wore little or no
clothing; they lived on fish and flesh that was scarcely cooked; they
seemed poor and very savage. The country, which was the mainland of
Canada, looked pleasant, and Carter set up a tall cross and took
possession of it in the name of France. He induced the Indian chief to
allow his two sons to go back to France with him. Then he set sail for
home, eager to tell his friends of the land he had visited.
The next year Cartier returned to Canada with a goodly company. They
entered the gulf of St. Lawrence, as they had done before, but they
sailed on until they came to the mouth of a wide river.
"It flows from afar off," said the two Indians who had gone to France
with Cartier, and who had returned with him. "No man has ever seen its
beginning," they continued.
"Perhaps," thought Cartier, who had no idea how vast was the new land
that he had discovered, "it is not a river. It is so broad and so deep,
it may be an arm of the ocean, and if I follow it, I may find the short
way to India, about which so many have dreamed."
So he and his men kept on their way up the St. Lawrence River, stopping
from time to time to admire the beautiful country and the wonderful
sights that met them on every hand. Wild grape vines hung from the trees
along the banks, and the delicious fruit was even now ripening.
Water-fowls flew over their heads, and they got glimpses of wild animals
such as they had never seen before. Most interesting of all were the
little Indian villages scattered here and there along the shore.
From one of the settlements Cartier was passing, the people came out in
their canoes to get a better sight of the white men, but they were
afraid to come close to the ships, till Cartier's two young Indian
friends spoke to them and told them not to fear. Then they came on board
and listened to the story of the visit the two Indian youths had made in
France, and of the wonderful things that had happened to them. The
Indians were now quite sure that the strangers meant only good to them,
and that there was nothing to fear.
They hastened to bring presents to the visitors and show friendship in
every way that they knew. Cartier did not stay long in the place,
however. He sailed on till he came to a fine harbor beneath steep, high
cliffs. An Indian village stood here. To-day it is the site of the city
of Quebec.
"Farther on, up the river, is a still larger town of our people, and it
is ruled over by a very powerful chief," the Indians there told him.
"But the way is long and dangerous," added their own chief. "You had
better not go there."
When he said this, he was thinking of the store of knives,
bright-colored beads, and tiny looking-glasses the white men had shown
him. A few of these strange and beautiful things had been given to him.
He could not bear to think of that other chief also receiving some.
But Cartier was not to be frightened. He set sail once more and for
thirteen days the ships kept on their way up the river. From time to
time they stopped at Indian villages where the red children and their
parents came dancing about them, bringing presents of fruit and fish.
The savages told many stories about the country beyond; gold and
precious stones were to be found there, and there were strange beings
who lived without food. Still Cartier traveled on until he reached a
village of at least fifty huts.
There was a three-fold wall of stakes around it, and fields where leaves
of corn were waving in the autumn wind. Behind this village was a hill
which Cartier called Mount Royal. To-day, in the very spot where the
Indian village once stood, is the large city of Montreal, the most
important one in the country. Cartier and his men stayed in Canada for
several months. They built two forts on the banks of the St. Lawrence;
they made gardens, and marked out a road. They were of good heart until
the long, cold winter was upon them, longer and colder than they had
ever known. Many grew homesick with longing for sunny France; others
fell ill. At last they decided to give up the settlement and to return
home.
After that French ships visited Canada from time to time. They stopped
to get loads of furs which the Indians were glad to sell, but no one
came to settle in the country for many years.
At last the king of France said to himself, "I cannot hold the land on
the other side of the ocean, unless I send people there to settle, and
it is worth while to keep it because of the furs we can get in trade
from the Indian hunters."
He sent over a colony of settlers who came sailing one bright day into
the harbor of Port Royal. They landed on the beautiful shore and were
soon busy building a chapel and a fort, as well as homes for themselves.
A good priest came with them. He was so kind and gentle that even the
savages loved him, and were quite willing to listen to the stories that
he told them of a heavenly Father, and Jesus, the Savior of men.
The Explorer Champlain.
Among the settlers was the brave Champlain, who advised building a fort
above the steep cliffs under which Cartier had anchored his ships years
before. Workmen were soon at work on a fort, a chapel, and homes for the
settlers. It was the beginning of the strong fortress and city of
Quebec.
After these first settlers, came other Frenchmen and their families, and
before many years, the red children and the white were playing merrily
together.
"You must love each other," the gentle French priest had told them.
"Though you are of different races, yet you are the children of the one
Father."
So it was that the sons and daughters of the Frenchmen grew up with no
fear of the little savages. Why, their priests often went to live in the
Indian villages, that they might better show their friendship. Indians
were often invited to feasts held in the white men's homes and joined in
their sports. Moreover, the children's own relatives often chose Indian
maidens for their wives, and were very happy with them. And because of
this last, there came in time to be many people in Canada who were
called halfbreeds, as they were partly French and partly Indian.
The Coming of the English.
Many years passed quietly by. The French people in Canada lived
peacefully with their red neighbors. They built trading stations out in
the country, and here furs were brought in great numbers by the Indian
hunters. Forts were also built along the banks of the St. Lawrence, and
still farther into the wilderness, on the shores of the Five Great
Lakes, which separate Canada from the United States.
The French explorers and priests went even farther, for they made their
way from these lakes down into the United States, never stopping till
they had sailed the whole length of the Mississippi River. Everywhere
they went they planted the French flag and claimed the country in the
name of the king across the ocean. Now, the English, who had settled on
the southern side of the Great Lakes, did not like the idea of the
French becoming so powerful in North America; thus it came about after a
while that there were wars between the two peoples.
The Indians of Canada took the part of their French friends. Terrible
battles were fought; brave soldiers were killed; cruel deeds were done
to women and little children by the savage Indians. Years passed by and
the troubles did not come to an end. It seemed as though there was no
way of settling matters and making peace.
All this time a little boy was growing up in England. His name was James
Wolfe. He was delicate and sickly, yet his bright, clear eyes showed
that he had a strong will. He longed with all his heart to be a soldier.
And soldier he became, though it seemed as if he would never be able to
bear such a hard life.
When he was only sixteen he fought for his country in Flanders. He soon
showed how brave he was, and became a high officer in the army. He was
sent to America to fight against the French and Indians. If he could
only get to Quebec, he thought. It was the strongest fortress of all the
enemy held. But that seemed impossible, for no one dreamed that an army
could scale the steep crags above which the fortress was built.
Yet Wolfe kept thinking, thinking. By this time he was the commander of
a whole fleet of English ships. At last there came a day when he sailed
boldly up the St. Lawrence, and landed his men on the shore opposite to
Quebec. He set up great cannons which should fire upon the fortress
across the river. The siege began. In the midst of it heavy rain fell;
Wolfe and many of his men became ill. Though he was burning with fever
he still kept planning. One day, as he looked through his telescope, he
saw something that he had never noticed before. It was a narrow path,--O,
so very narrow--that wound in and out, yet ever upward, to the top of the
crags that guarded Quebec.
He said to himself, "My men and I shall climb that path and take the
fortress by surprise."
Soon afterwards, on a dark night, they did climb it. Wolfe himself rose
from his sick bed and led them. As the sun rose the next morning the
English army appeared on the Plains of Abraham, behind the fort, and one
of the great battles of the world was fought. Before night fell, Quebec
was in the hands of the English. Both Wolfe, and Montcalm, the French
commander were killed. Henceforth, not only Quebec, but all Canada would
be ruled over by the English.
Henry Hudson and the Great Lone Land.
It was in the year 1610, that a brave seaman named Henry Hudson, sailed
northward along the shores of North America. He had already discovered
the Hudson River in the United States, and traded with the Indians there
for furs. He had tried to find a short way to India but had failed. Now
he hoped by going still farther he might yet discover it. On and still
on he sailed till he entered a large bay on the northern shore of
Canada, which ever since has been called Hudson Bay. Here, in the midst
of ice and snow, he and his men were obliged to pass the winter. There
was little to eat, and it was bitter cold.
His men blamed him for bringing them to such suffering, and at last rose
against him. They set him adrift in a small boat, with his young son and
a few faithful followers. Then, leaving him to die of cold and hunger,
they sailed for home, to tell of the large bay that had been discovered,
and of the wild country around it. As time went by other Englishmen
visited Hudson Bay, but they had no wish to stay long in its icy waters
or on its lonely shores.
At last, however, a number of English merchants formed themselves into
the Hudson Bay company.
They said, "We will send men to North America who shall build forts
along the shore of Hudson Bay. They shall buy furs of the Indians, and
send them to us here in England. The furs of the wild animals there are
rich and beautiful, and will bring us riches."
In this way it came about that English ships brought to Canada men who
at once set to work building forts and trading stations in the
neighborhood of the bay discovered by Henry Hudson. They had with them
knives and hatchets, beads and bright colored blankets,--everything that
an Indian might wish in exchange for his furs. They treated the red men
kindly, for they wanted to trade peaceably with them, but at the same
time they kept their guns ready in case of an attack by the savages.
Alexander Mackenzie and his long Journey.
Even after the English had won the country for themselves, they did not
know how large it was, for no one had explored the country from north to
south or from east to west. At last a brave Scotchman named Alexander
Mackenzie came to settle in Canada. He was fond of adventure and liked
nothing better than roaming for miles through the wilderness, hunting
the wild animals in the forest, and skimming over the lakes and down the
streams in an Indian canoe. He visited many a settlement where the red
children had never before looked upon a white man; he discovered rivers
and lakes of which the French and English knew nothing before. He
arrived in his wanderings on the shore of the Great Slave Lake in the
very heart of the country. A large river flowed out of it. Where did it
go, and how far? The Indians could not tell him.
At the beginning of the summer, he set out with a small party of white
men and an Indian guide. At first it was very pleasant paddling down the
river in their canoes, but after a few days they came to rapids. Then
they had to take to the land and carry their canoes and their supplies
on their shoulders. As they traveled onward they came to still other
rapids which stopped their course again and again.
The farther north they traveled, the colder it became. The days were
much longer, too, for it was nearing mid-summer. It seemed very strange
to them to have the midnight as bright as daylight. The wild animals
were scarce now.
"Suppose," thought Mackenzie, "we are unable to shoot enough for our
food," but still he kept on. He passed Indian villages on his way, and
at last met with Eskimos who were wandering about on their summer hunt.
The wild animals were different now from what the explorers had met
before; they had reached the home of the polar bear and the arctic fox.
The river was full of broken ice and there were whales in the water.
They were close to the shores of the Arctic Ocean, and had traveled a
thousand miles down the great river, which they named Mackenzie in honor
of their brave leader. The party did not remain long in the bleak,
northern country, but turned about and journeyed homeward as quickly as
possible.
Three years afterwards Mackenzie made up his mind to cross Canada to the
westward. Slowly but surely he made his way, now gliding along a stream
or over a lake in his canoe; now cutting a path through a thick forest;
again finding himself stopped by high cliffs or by a rushing torrent.
But he kept on until he came to the Rocky Mountains, whose snowy tops
reached far up towards the heavens.
"Not far beyond those mountains is the sea," Mackenzie's Indian guide
told him.
He still pushed on, through narrow passes, between walls of rock, up
steep slopes and down through deep valleys. At last he reached the other
side, launching his boats in a stream flowing to the west. In a short
time the Pacific Ocean lay stretched before his eyes.
Among the Eskimos and Indians.
The middle of Canada is a great plain, which ends in the north in frozen
marshes, where the homes of the little Eskimos are to be found. There,
in the midst of the ice and snow they work and play, in much the same
way as their brothers and sisters in Greenland and Alaska.
Farther south, yet still where the summer is short, and the winter is
long and cold, Indian children camp out on the prairies and on the
borders of the forests. Most of these red children live in tents, or
tepees, as they call them. The winter tents are lined with heavy skins,
and a large fire burns in the middle, around which they sleep during the
cold winter nights. They dress in the skins of the wild animals their
fathers have killed, and they wear soft moccasins on their feet. They
run many a mile in these moccasins without getting tired or losing their
breath.
Sometimes the little Indians have great feasts when ducks and geese,
deer and hares are to be found, or when the berries and birds' eggs are
plentiful. But many a time during the long winter game is scarce, and
there is no food to be had. Then the children must not complain, though
they are faint with hunger. If an Indian child hopes to grow up and be a
brave man, he must learn to bear many things and show no one how much he
is suffering.
Fearful storms rage about his home in the winter. The snow falls hour
after hour and the fierce winds drive it in great gusts. Sometimes in
summer the winds blow hard too, but then they are hot and dry and they
scorch the faces of those who are exposed to them.
The red children learn many things not to be found in books. They look
at the grass,--the way the blades turn shows them where to look for the
east and west. The flight of birds warns them of a coming storm and in
what direction to look for it. A broken twig tells them that a wild
animal has passed by.
They have many sports. In winter they bind snow-shoes on their feet and
skim over the snowfields. In summer they ride over the prairies on their
ponies with pads of deer skin beneath them.
[Illustration: Little Canadian Indian Children.]
Sometimes they let their ponies move along at a slow walk; but more
often they gallop wildly along, with black hair waving in the air, and
with bright and eager eyes. Then, too, the red children have canoes, in
which they paddle on the lakes or streams near home.
The canoe of the Canadian Indian is the best possible boat for the kind
of life he follows, just as the Eskimo's kayak suits the icy waters of
the north. Everything he needs for it can be found in the forest. He
cuts down the cedar for its ribs, he gathers birch-bark with which to
cover it, he gets resin from the pine to make it water-tight. When the
ice begins to break up in the springtime and the wild swans and geese
fly overhead, then he takes it from its winter resting place beneath the
snow and launches it on the lake or stream near his home. With his birch
canoe he can travel a long way through the wilderness, for when he has
hunted or fished all day long, he can bring his canoe up on the shore
and turn it bottom upwards. In an instant he has a roof to shelter him
while he takes his night's sleep.
The Indian children are sure to have dogs about their home. These are
long-legged, sharp-nosed creatures, and they always look lean and
hungry. Sometimes a puppy is cared for tenderly. Then, perhaps, it grows
up full of love for its young master. But generally the dogs are only
half-fed, and they are ever ready to fight with each other, and rob the
stores of their masters. Yet they are very helpful to the Indian, as
well as to many a white traveler in Canada. They drag the sledges over
the snow in the winter and the little carts in the summer.
Many a time they stop to quarrel among themselves; many a time the
sledge is over-turned and the rider is landed in a bank of snow. Many a
time the dogs refuse to obey the word of the driver. Then the long whip
flies right and left among them, and with angry howls they get back into
order.
Wild Animals of the Forest and Prairie.
Out on the prairies and among the forests are many wild animals which
the Indian boy delights to hunt. He has a bow and arrows of his own, and
when he his older, his father promises him that he will buy him a gun
from the white traders. Perhaps the most clever of all the animals
hunted in Canada is the beaver. It might well be called the
animal-carpenter. Its favorite home is a shallow lake or stream. The
children of the wilderness are ever on the lookout for small earth
mounds along the banks. Whenever they find these, they also notice that
trees have been cut down nearby. It was certainly the work of beavers.
These little mounds, then, are the roofs of store houses where the wise
little creatures have placed piles of tender wood and roots, for their
winter's supply.
From these store-houses, tunnels have been dug out for some distance
under the shallow water of the pond or stream, to the very doors of the
beavers' homes, which have been made very carefully out of twigs and
brush, and plastered with mud. The tops can generally be seen above the
surface of the water. Inside there are beds of boughs covered with soft
grass and bark, and here the beavers sleep most of the hours during the
winter. If the hunters come upon a beaver village in cold weather, there
is no sign that the animals are near, for the beavers are all inside
their homes. This is the time to get them, however, for then the soft
thick fur is at its best.
In the autumn the men and boys generally catch the animals in traps, but
in the winter, when the ice is frozen quite solid, the hunters stop up
the passage from the beaver's home to his store-house on the bank. Then
with their axes, they break into the lodges, and dragging out the fat
sleepy animals, they kill them, one by one. The sledges are soon packed
and the hunters start for home, thinking as they go, of the feast of fat
meat they will soon have. The beautiful furs must be tanned and put away
for the traders, but the flesh of the animals they will enjoy
themselves.
Besides beavers, there are martens, minks and fishers to be hunted and
trapped, as well as muskrats and skunks. As soon as autumn comes the men
and boys begin to put their traps in order, for with the first cold of
November, they will carry them out to the pine forests. The Indian
children would tell you that they cannot imagine why the fisher is so
called. They know its ways and that it never goes near to the water
except when it has to cross over to the other side. It has a long bushy
tail and its fur is even richer than the costly sable.
As for the mink, they have discovered it is quite different from either
the marten or the fisher, and its fur is not as beautiful. It lives near
the streams and feeds upon crabs and fish. Many a time the young Indian
has caught a mink by baiting his trap with fish.
Sometimes, as the children are playing around the camp in the evening,
they hear a sudden screech in the distance. It is the cry of a wild-cat,
or lynx. They would not care to have it take them by surprise, for it is
a fierce creature, and its teeth and claws are very sharp. The men,
however, hunt wild-cats and get many of them every year, because they
are well paid for the skins.
Then there are foxes, silver and black and red. Many thousands of these
sly creatures are shot or trapped every year in Canada. Sometimes a
fox-cub is brought into the camp to amuse the children. It is a gentle,
pretty creature at first, but before long it will show the ugly cunning
of its parents.
The boys sometimes search for muskrats, whose homes are much like those
of the beavers, a number of them always found together.
Off for the Hunt.
There are many half-breed children in Canada, as you already know. They
grow up with a love of hunting like their Indian brothers. They dress in
Indian fashion, wearing moccasins and leggings. Many of them live in
rough log huts and sleep on piles of brush covered with fur robes. When
the cold weather sets in, the Indian, and the half-breed boy as well,
does what he can to help the men of the household get ready for the
busiest work of the year, as the trapping and hunting season is at hand.
By the first of November the lakes and streams are frozen, and the
winter coats of the wild animals are at their best. On a bright, frosty
morning, often with the thermometer below zero, the trapper dresses
himself in his thickest socks and moccasins, warm leggings and cloak. He
fastens a fur cap down over his head and draws on his long fur mittens
which reach up to his elbows. A hatchet, hunting knife, and fire-bag
hang from his belt.
While he is dressing, his wife is busy preparing his pack, for he may be
gone several days. The pack consists of a blanket, a kettle and cup,
sugar and salt, tea, of which the Indians are very fond, and enough
pemmican to last several days. Pemmican is dried meat ground fine and
mixed with fat. If the trapper is not very poor he has steel traps and a
gun to add to his pack. When it is ready, it is bound to a hand sledge
which is simply a thin board curled up at one end. It is easily drawn
over the snow, and at the end of the hunt is loaded with furs and game
to carry home.
Now for the snow shoes! When these have been bound on his feet, the
trapper can skim over the snow fields with the greatest ease, drawing
his sledge behind him. He must not sing nor make any noise as he moves
along; nor if he has any company can there be any loud talking.
Otherwise the animals whom he seeks, might take fright and flee from
danger, and this must not happen on any account.
Ah, how cold it is! the breath freezes as it leaves the mouth and
nostrils, the eye-lashes become stiff with frost, but the hunter is too
busy watching for signs of the prey he seeks, to think of these things.
His hands and feet become numb with the biting cold, but this is only
what he expected, and he trusts to his quick movements to keep them from
freezing. At last the forest is reached and he turns his eyes in every
direction for signs that animals have been near. A white man would see
nothing, where an Indian or a half-breed reads whole pages in Mother
Nature's wonderful book.
Yes, a marten was here only an hour or two since and is still not very
far away. A trap must be set up in this very spot and baited with dried
meat, or with a tender piece of squirrel. Then the hunter creeps away,
to seek places where there are other signs of life and to set up new
traps while he waits. If he is after foxes or minks, he visits the
shores of the lakes and swamps. He looks carefully about him now for the
foot-marks of the fox, or the sharp, clear track of the mink.
When the evening comes the trapper looks about him for some place that
is sheltered from the wind. There he makes a roaring fire, over which he
brews a pot of tea. When this is ready, he enjoys his hot drink,
together with a share of the pemmican brought from home. Next he gathers
soft pine boughs for a bed, covers them with a blanket, and with his
feet towards the fire, lies down for his night's rest. Toward morning
the fire burns low, and the cold grows so bitter that the man cannot
sleep. He gets up, piles on more wood, and warms himself by the bright
flames. Once more he stretches himself on his bed of boughs, hoping to
sleep until the morning sunshine shall awaken him.
Winter Sports.
A great many of the white children of Canada live in Quebec and Ontario.
Although these provinces lie in the southern part, yet the winter is
very cold even there. The children enjoy it, however, because the air is
clear and dry, and there is plenty of snow on the ground. Even the
little folks learn how to use snow-shoes, and with these on their feet,
they skim over the crusted snowfields like the wind.
They have many toboggan rides, too. Nothing could be pleasanter for a
party of merry children, than to spend the morning coasting down the
steep hillside on wooden sleds called toboggans, which are shaped much
like the Indian hand-sledges. They move so fast over the snow, that the
riders must hold on tightly lest they tumble out. Sometimes there is a
sudden upset as the toboggan strikes a rough spot on the hillside. Then
there is much laughing and shouting as the children pick themselves up,
and make ready for a fresh start.
Perhaps the greatest sport of all is a ride on an ice-boat which is
raised on large iron skates, and in a good wind will sail very swiftly.
When the St. Lawrence River is frozen over, one can see numbers of
ice-boats skimming along with their loads of happy passengers.
Of course the children of Canada skate and play hockey. The lakes and
ponds are frozen over for many months, so that parties are continually
made up for skating and games on the ice.
One must certainly not forget to mention sleigh-rides. There is no place
in the world where the people enjoy sleigh-riding more. They wrap
themselves up in warm furs, and spring into the pretty sleighs to which
gaily decked horses are harnessed. Jingle, jingle, sound the bells, and
when the word is given, away move the sleighs filled with their merry
loads.
The Big Cities.
Although Canada has been under English rule for a long time, yet many
French people have continued to live there. In fact, in the province of
Quebec there are more French than English. The old part of the city of
Quebec looks much to-day as it did in the long ago, when Wolfe climbed
the cliff and took the French army by surprise. Along the narrow streets
there are many quaint old houses with peaked roofs, in whose gardens
French-Canadian children play the games and sing the songs of France.
Here and there you will see an altar on which flowers have been placed,
and people bowing before the image of the Virgin Mary.
If you visit Quebec, you will certainly go to the citadel. Far above the
water it stands, on the summit of the cliff, while just below it lies
the old city, with its high, pointed roofs, and queer gates opening into
old-fashioned gardens. Far, far below lies the beautiful St. Lawrence,
where ships of many countries lie at anchor. Immense rafts of lumber
come floating down the river, to be sent on the waiting ships to other
lands. On some of these rafts are tiny houses for the men who have rowed
them from the forests, hundreds of miles up the river.
Before you leave the city you will walk out on the Plains of Abraham
which stretch into the country back of the citadel. There the great
battle was fought that gave Canada to the English; and there in the
summer of 1908 a great celebration was held. Three hundred years ago the
city of Quebec was founded, and in memory of this, many thousands of
people gathered to see the pageants, representing the great things that
have happened there. The city was gay with flags and bright-colored
banners. There were concerts, balls and grand dinners. The Prince of
Wales himself was there to take part in the good time. The pageants were
the best part of the celebration, of course. They were given on the
Plains of Abraham, and hundreds of men, women and children took part.
Thousands of people gathered in the open-air theatre to look on.
Montreal is another beautiful city. It is built on an island in the St.
Lawrence River. Most of the children there are of French blood, but
there are also many boys and girls of Irish, Scotch and English
families. They are all proud of the wonderful bridge, nearly two miles
long, that crosses the river at Montreal, and of the beautiful cathedral
that will hold ten thousand people. They, as well as the children of
Quebec, see ships of many countries anchored near their homes. Many of
these ships have crossed the ocean to receive the lumber and furs that
Canada wishes to send to other lands.
The capital of Canada is Ottawa, in the province of Ontario. It is also
on the St. Lawrence. High up above the water, on the river banks, stand
many beautiful buildings, where all the business of the government of
Canada is carried on. Ottawa is a beautiful place for a home and the
children who live there should be very happy. They have the winter
sports of Quebec, while on the hot summer days they can sail in and out
among the islands of the river, or picnic under the trees of the forests
only a short distance away.
On the Farms.
In your grandfather's time, few people except the Indians and
halfbreeds, were living on the prairies over which Mackenzie made his
way on his journey westward. There were no roads there in those days; no
tracks over which trains filled with passengers went flying by. Great
herds of buffaloes wandered about, feeding on the tall prairie grass,
while here and there little red children ran in and out of their
wigwams, and danced about the camp-fires.
To-day scarcely a buffalo is left in the land, the shriek of the steam
engine is often heard, while many comfortable farm houses can be seen.
In the summer time there is much to do, even for the little folks. The
boys help weed the vegetable gardens, and care for the cows and the
horses, while their fathers are busy in the fields of wheat and oats
that stretch over many acres. The girls learn to darn and sew, as well
as wash dishes and help their mothers make bread and pies for the hungry
workmen.
Sometimes the farmer raises only hay, but the big crops must be cared
for very carefully and the boys do their share of the work. Ranches
where cattle and horses are raised are also found on the prairies.
Certainly no place could be better for this work, since the broad acres
of tall grass make the best feeding-grounds possible.
When August comes, the men and boys get out their guns and watch for the
coming of the prairie chickens. Later on, the wild ducks and geese
appear in large flocks. This is the time for the boys to take their
canoes and a few supplies, and camp out on the shores of the lakes and
ponds, for they know that the birds love the water and are sure to seek
it. There will be feasting in the big farmhouses now, because there will
be plenty of tender wild ducks to roast, and the cellars are full of the
vegetables raised in the gardens.
Besides the autumn shooting and the feasts that follow, there are many
other good times for the young folks on the big farms. They meet
together for singing and dancing, they play tennis, they have games of
hockey, both on land and ice, they have jolly sleigh rides in the frosty
air, they skate and they curl, and, of course, the small boys and girls
make snow-forts and houses that will last without melting for a month at
a time. If you who live in warmer lands should pity them for having such
long, cold winters and so much snow, the children would laugh at the
idea. They would tell you that they love the winter and hate to have it
come to an end. They can have such jolly times out of doors, and then,
when they are tired of their rough sports, they can gather around
roaring fires in the big living-rooms of the houses, and listen to the
stories the older folks tell them of the days of long ago.
In a Lumber Camp.
For many years the white settlers in Canada have been busy cutting down
trees in the big pine forests, yet they still stretch for many miles
through the country. When the autumn comes the children of the
lumber-men hear their fathers tell of the winter's work before them.
They are going out into the forests to live, and will not be home again
for many months. A party of these lumber-men start out together. They
carry everything they will need for their rough housekeeping,--a few
kettles and dishes for cooking, some heavy blankets, a supply of flour
for bread, salt-pork, tea and molasses.
The last good-bye is said and they start out on their long journey to
the forests. As soon as they reach the place for the winter camp they
set to work to build a house of logs. In the middle of the roof a place
is left open, to let out the smoke when a fire is burning inside. Around
the side of the big room, the men build bunks in which to sleep at
night, and in the middle they make a fireplace, where the blazing logs
on winter evenings will send out such warmth and cheer, that Jack Frost
will not dare to venture through the cracks in the walls.
The lumber-men are happy in their work. All day long the sound of their
axes rings through the forest, while they vie with each other in cutting
down the big trees. Then when night comes and their supper of bread, tea
and fried pork is finished, they gather around the fire to smoke and
tell stories. The weeks pass quickly, and with the coming of spring,
immense piles of logs are ready to go to the saw-mills.
When the ice begins to break up, it is a sign to the men to bind the
logs into cribs. Thirty or forty logs are enough for one crib. The cribs
are fastened together to form rafts, which are set floating down the
rivers. Some of the men ride on the rafts and guide them by means of
long poles tipped with steel, to prevent them from running aground.
Others of the party go at once to the saw-mills, to be ready to receive
the logs when they arrive. Buzz-z-z sounds through the air, as the big
wheels turn and the trees of the forest are rapidly changed into strong
lumber.
Beyond the Mountains.
Let us now cross the Rocky Mountains, and make a short visit in British
Columbia. It is the most beautiful province in Canada, with its
mountains covered with forests and its rivers stocked with fish. The
children who live near the Fraser River, can tell wonderful fish
stories, for at a certain time of the year, millions of salmon leave the
ocean and make their way up this river. Then big folks and little are
busy with nets, hauling in the fish and carrying them to the canneries.
Gold is also found on the Fraser River, while the mountains nearby are
rich in other minerals.
The Klondike Mines.
Far up in the northwest of Canada, near the borders of Alaska, are the
famous Klondike mines. You have probably heard of them, and of the long,
hard journey a person must take to get there. Such wonderful stories
have been told of the riches one can bring away from these mountains,
that many a young man has left home and friends to seek his fortune
there. Now-a-days it is easier to reach the Klondike mines than it was a
few years ago, but the country is cold and dreary and most of the food
must be brought from a distance, so that few white children have found
their way there. Yet as they sit in their cosy homes, they are glad to
listen to the stories of that wild country, told to them by the brave
men who have been to the Klondike gold regions.