WHAT THE STARGAZERS SAW.
The writer remembers meeting in Boston, a good many years ago, a
scientific explorer, who along with two companies, one of whom is the
greatest astronomer in the United States, as an astronomical party in
1860, made a visit through Red River Settlement, on their way to the
North Saskatchewan to observe an eclipse. The disappointment of the
party was very great, for, after travelling three thousand miles, their
fate was "to sit in a marsh and view the eclipse through the clouds, so
heavy was the rain."
The three astronomers have given their account under assumed names in a
little book, of which there are few copies in Canada. Their view of Red
River Settlement in 1860 is a vivid picture.
What an extraordinary Settlement! Here is a Colony of about ten
thousand souls scattered among plantations for thirty miles along the
Red and half as many along the Assiniboine River, almost wholly
dependent for intelligence from the outer world on one stern-wheeled
steamer. That breaks down; and before word can be sent of their complete
isolation, weeks must pass before the old and painful canoe-route by way
of Lake of the Woods can be opened, or the wagon make its tedious
journey to the headwaters of the Red and back, improvising on the way
its own ferries over the swift and deep streams which feed it.
Finding haste of no avail, and despatching our luggage on carts to the
Upper Fort and centre of the Settlement, twenty miles away, we start
there on foot the next day to view the land and its inhabitants. The
road, "the King's road," is a mere cart-track in the deep loam, taking
its independent course on either side of the houses, all of which front
the river in a single wavering line; for the country is given up
absolutely to farming, for which the rich mould, said to be three or
four feet deep, eminently fits it; and the lots each with a narrow
frontage at the bank of the river, extends back two miles into the
prairie. All is at a dead level. John Omand had asked us to dine at his
house; but accidentally passing it without recognizing it from his
description, we select a fair representative of the common class of
houses, and ask for dinner. It is a log-cabin, like all of this class
(some far better ones have walls of stone) with a thatched roof and a
rough stone and mortar chimney planted against one wall. Inside is but a
single room, well whitewashed, as is indeed the outside and
exceptionally tidy; a bed occupies one corner, a sort of couch another,
a rung ladder leads up to loose boards overhead which form an attic, a
trap door in the middle of the room opens to a small hole in the ground
where milk and butter are kept cool; from the beam is suspended a
hammock, used as a cradle for the baby; shelves singularly hung held a
scanty stock of plates, knives and forks; two windows on either side,
covered with mosquito netting, admit the light, and a modicum of air;
chests and boxes supply the place of seats, with here and there a keg by
way of easy-chair. An open fireplace of whitewashed clay gives sign of
cheer and warmth in the long winter, and a half-dozen books for library
complete the scene.
Our hosts feel so "highly honored to have such gentlemen enter the
house"--these are their very words--that it is with the greatest
difficulty they are forced to take any compensation for the excellent
meal of bread, butter, and rich cream which they set before us, and to
which we do ample justice.
This was not the only interior we saw; we had before called on the
single scientific man of the Settlement, Donald Gunn, and later in the
day are forced by a thunderstorm to seek shelter in the nearest house;
where we are also warmly welcomed, and the rain continuing, are glad to
accept the cordial invitations of its inhabitants to pass the night.
This is a larger house, but only the father of the family and his buxom
daughter, Susie, a lively girl of eighteen or nineteen, are at home, the
others being off at the other end of their small farm, where they have
temporary shelter during the harvest.
We have each a chamber to ourselves in the garret, reached in the same
primitive method as before mentioned--and are shown with a dip of
buffalo-tallow to our rooms. The furniture of these consists of a sort
of couch, with buffalo skins for mattress and wolf skins for sheets and
coverlet, a chest for a seat, a punch-bowl of water on a broken chair
for a washstand, and a torn bit of rag for towel; while a barrel covered
with a white cloth serves as a centre-table, and is besprinkled with
antique books. Among those in his chamber our naturalist discovers one
which appears to be a catechism of human knowledge containing, among
other entertaining and instructive information as an answer to the
question, "What is a shark?" the highly satisfactory reply that it is
"An animal having eighty-eight teeth."
The wants of the Colony were few, the peasantry simple and industrious,
and their lot in life did not seem to them hard. The earth yielded
bountifully, and in time of temporary disaster fishing and hunting stood
them in good stead. When they hunt, they go accompanied by Indians, who
live on the outskirts of the Colony. Further and further they have been
compelled to go, until at our visit no buffalo could be found within a
hundred miles at nearest.
The hunt is just over as we reach the Settlement, and every day carts
come in laden with the buffalo meat, hides, and pemmican. The prairie,
back from the river, by Fort Garry, is dotted with carts, lodges and
tents. Many are living in rude shelters formed of the carts themselves,
placed back to back, and the sides secured by hides.
These carts illustrate well the primitive nature and the isolation of
the Colony. They are the vehicles in universal use, and are built on the
general pattern of our one-horse tip-carts, though they do not tip, and
not a scrap of iron enters into them. They are without springs, of
course, and rawhide and wooden pins serve to keep together the pieces
out of which they are constructed. As they have no tires, and the
section of the wheel part or crowd together, according to the moisture,
a train of these carts bringing in the products of the hunt is a strange
sight. Each cart has its own peculiar creak, hoarse and grating, and
waggles its own individual waggle, graceless and shaky, on the uneven
ground. To add to its oddity, the shafts are heavy, straight beams,
between which is harnessed an ox, the harness of rawhide (shaga-nappi)
without buckles.
Everybody makes for himself what he wishes in this undifferentiated
Settlement. We return in tatters. Not a tailor, nor anything approaching
the description of one, exists here, and a week's search is needed to
discover such a being as a shoemaker. A single store in the Hudson's Bay
post at each of the two forts, twenty miles apart, supplies the goods of
the outside world, and the purchaser must furnish the receptacle for
carriage. For small goods this invariably consists, as far as we can
see, of a red bandanna handkerchief, so that purchases have to be small
and frequent; not all of one sort, however, for the native can readily
tie up his tea in one corner, his sugar and buttons in two others, and
still have one left for normal uses. How many handkerchiefs a day are
put to use may be judged from the fact that the average sale of tea at
Upper Fort Garry is four large boxes daily--all, be it remembered,
brought by ship to Hudson Bay, and thence by batteaux and portage to the
Red River.
The caravan by which we and a number of others were carried back to
civilization was a stylish enough turnout for Red River. It was supplied
by McKinney, the host of the Royal Hotel of the village of Winnipeg.
Three large emigrant wagons, with canvas coverings of the most approved
pattern, but of very different hues, drawn each by a yoke of oxen,
convey the patrons of the party, with the exception of a miner, who
rides his horse. The astronomers take the lead under a brown canvas; a
theological student for Toronto University, a gentleman for St. Paul,
and others follow under a black canvas full of holes; and the third
wagon with a cover of spotless purity, conveys the ladies of the party
and a clergyman. Behind them follow not only half a dozen Red River
carts, with a most promiscuous assortment of baggage, peltry, and
squeak, but also a stray ox and a pony or two; a number of armed
horsemen, and for the first day a cavalcade of friends giving a Scotch
convoy to those who were departing. The astronomers at length reached
St. Paul, when they declare their connection with the world again
complete, after an absence of about three months, during which they had
travelled thirty-five hundred miles.