For many years I had read, heard, and dreamed of the Frazer, that
mysterious stream which flows out from among the icy fastnesses of the
Cascades, in the far-off confines of British Columbia. For many years
had I longed to see with my own eyes some of the grand scenery of the
region it drains, and now, at last, that mighty stream flowed at my
feet. How eagerly I drank in the beauty of the scene! How my heart
thrilled at the thought that I stood face to face with this land of my
dreams and was about to explore a portion, at least, of the country in
which this great river rises. The beautiful lines penned by Maria
Brooks, on the occasion of her first visit to the St. Lawrence, came
vividly to my mind:
"The first time I beheld thee, beauteous stream,
How pure, how smooth, how broad thy bosom heaved;
What feelings rushed upon my heart! a gleam
As of another life my kindling soul received."
I left New Westminster at seven o'clock Monday morning on the steamer
Adelaide, for the mouth of Harrison river, sixty miles up the Frazer.
There were over twenty Indians on board, going up to the mouth of the
Chilukweyuk, to attend the funeral of Douglass Bill's deceased relative.
As soon as I learned their destination I inquired if he were among
them, but they said he was not. He had come aboard before we left, but
for some reason had decided to go on another boat that left half an hour
ahead of the Adelaide. The voyage proved intensely interesting. The
Frazer is from a quarter to half a mile wide, and is navigable for large
steamers for a hundred miles above its mouth. There are portions of the
valley that are fertile, thickly settled, and well cultivated. The
valleys of some of its tributaries are also good farming districts, and
grain, fruits, and vegetables of various kinds grow in abundance. At the
mouth of the Chilukweyuk I saw fine peaches that had grown in the
valley, within ten miles of perpetual snow. The river became very
crooked as we neared the mountains, and finally we entered the gorge, or
canyon, where the rocky-faced mountains rise, sheer from the water's
edge, to heights of many hundreds of feet, and just back of them tower
great peaks, clad in eternal snows. The little camera was again brought
into requisition and, as we rounded some of these picturesque bends and
traversed some of the beautiful reaches, I secured many good views,
though the day was cloudy and lowery. The boat being in motion, I was,
of course, compelled to make the shortest possible exposures, and was,
therefore, unable to get fine details in the shadows; yet many of the
prints turned out fairly well.
We saw several seals in the river on the way up, and the captain
informed me that at certain seasons they were quite plentiful in the
Frazer and all the larger streams in the neighborhood. They go up the
Frazer to the head of navigation and he could not say how much farther.
He said that on one occasion a female seal and her young were seen
sporting in the water ahead of the steamer, and that when the vessel
came within about fifty yards they dove. Nothing more was seen of the
puppy, and the captain thought it must have been caught in the wheel and
killed, for the mother followed the vessel several miles, whining,
looking longingly, pitifully, and beseechingly at the passengers and
crew. She would swim around and around the steamer, coming close up,
showing no fear for her own safety, whatever, but seeming to beg them to
give back her baby. She appeared to have lost sight of it entirely,
whatever its fate, and to think it had been captured and taken on board.
Her moaning and begging, her intense grief, were pitiable in the
extreme, and brought tears to the eyes of stout, brawny men. Finally she
seemed completely exhausted with anguish and her exertions and gradually
sank out of sight. My informant said he hoped never to witness another
such sight.
We arrived at the mouth of Harrison river at six o'clock in the evening.
There is a little Indian village there called by the same name as the
river, and Mr. J. Barker keeps a trading post on the reservation, he
being the only white man living there. He made me welcome to the best
accommodations his bachelor quarters afforded, but said the only
sleeping-room he had was full, as two friends from down the river were
stopping with him for the night, and that I would have to lodge with one
of the Indian families. He said there was one _kloochman_ (the Chinook
word for squaw) who was a remarkably neat, cleanly housekeeper, who had
a spare room, and who usually kept any strangers that wished to stop
over night in the village. While we were talking the squaw in question
came in and Mr. Barker said to her:
"Mary, yah-kwa Boston man tik-eh moo-sum me-si-ka house po-lak-le."
(Here is an American who would like to sleep in your house to-night.) To
which she replied:
"Yak-ka hy-ak" (he can come), and the bargain was closed.
I remained at the store and talked with Mr. Barker and his friends until
ten o'clock, when he took a lantern and piloted me over to the Indian
rancherie, where I was to lodge. I took my sleeping-bag with me and
thanked my stars that I did, for notwithstanding the assurances given me
by good Mr. Barker that the Indian woman was as good a housekeeper as
the average white woman, I was afraid of vermin. I have never known an
Indian to be without the hemipterous little insect, _Pediculus_
(_humanus_) _capitis_. Possibly there may be some Indians who do not
wear them; I simply say I have never had the pleasure of knowing one,
and I have known a great many, too. I seriously doubt if one has ever
yet lived many days at a time devoid of the companionship of these
pestiferous little creatures. In fact, an Indian and a louse are natural
allies--boon companions--and are as inseparable as the boarding-house
bed and the bedbug. The red man is so inured to the ravages of his
parasitic companion, so accustomed to have him rustling around on his
person and foraging for grub, that he pays little or no attention to the
insect, and seems hardly to feel its bite.
You will rarely see an Indian scratch his head or, in fact, any portion
of his person, as a white man does when he gets a bite. Lo gives forth
no outward sign that he is thickly settled, and it is only when he sits
or lies down in the hot sun that the inhabitants of his hair and
clothing come to the front; then you may see them crawling about like
roaches in a hotel kitchen. Or, when he has lain down on a board, or
your tent canvas, or any light-colored substance and got up and gone
away, leaving some of his neighbors behind, then you know he is--like
others of his race--the home of a large colony of insects.
When Mary and her husband, George, saw my roll of bedding, which they
supposed to be simply blankets, they protested to Mr. Barker that I
would not need them, that there was "hy-iu mit-lite pa-se-se" (plenty of
covering on the bed). I told them, however, that I could sleep better in
my own blankets and preferred to use them. I took the bundle into my
room, spread the sleeping-bag on the bed and crawled into it. The outer
covering of the bag being of thick, hard canvas, I hoped it would prove
an effectual barrier against the assaults of the vermin, and that they
might not find the portal by which I entered, and so it proved.
George and Mary live in a very well-built, comfortable, one-story frame
cottage, divided into two rooms; the kitchen, dining-room, parlor and
family sleeping-room all in one, and the spare room being the other.
The house has four windows and one door, a shingle roof and a board
floor. They have a cooking-stove, several chairs, a table, cupboard,
etc. The bedstead on which I slept was homemade, but neat and
substantial. It was furnished with a white cotton tick, filled with
straw, feather pillows, several clean-looking blankets, and a pair of
moderately clean cotton sheets. I have slept in much worse-looking beds
in hotels kept by white people.
[Illustration: GEORGE AND MARY.]
This Indian village, Harrison river, or Skowlitz, as the Indians call
both the river and the village, is composed of about twenty families,
living in houses of about the same class and of the same general design
as the one described, although some are slightly larger and better,
while others are not quite so good. All have been built by white
carpenters, or the greater part of the work was done by them, and the
lumber and other materials were manufactured by white men. None of the
dwellings have ever been painted inside or out, but there is a neat
mission church in the village that has been honored with a coat of white
paint. There are a few log shacks standing near, that look very much as
if they had been built by native industry. The frame houses, I am
informed, were erected by the Government and the church by the Catholic
Missionary Society.