North Western Hotel,
Liverpool.
_August 20th_, '84.
Dear Mother,
I write this before turning in, and, as you will observe, with a
beast of a pen. We arrived here all safe, and with all our traps.
Though I lost the run of my bag at Bristol in the scurry, it turned
up here all right.
There were a lot of people waiting on the Warren to wave to us. I
recognised Miss Linton, and I think some of the Seymours. Miss
Harley met us at Star Cross to say another good-bye, with a
button-hole for me and a note, and a flint-and-steel for Henry.
We were collared when we got here by an agent of some sort, who was
going to free us from all trouble by seeing our luggage safely on
board, but as he kept a low kind of Temperance Hotel, and smelt very
strongly of whisky, I declined his services, chiefly I should say,
on the instigation of a good-natured cabby. Of course, for aught I
know, it may be the proper thing to go in for these sort of chaps,
but it's bent to be on the safe side.
Must shut up now, and go to sleep.
Best love to everybody,
Your loving Son,
J. SETON COCKBURN.
S.S. "Montreal,"
En Route For Canada.
_August 21st_, '84.
My Dearest Mother,
We are not going to touch at any Irish port, so I am hurrying to
write a few lines to send off by the Pilot.
The weather is beautiful, and we have got the cabin to ourselves.
I have already made some very nice acquaintances; altogether it bids
fair to be very jolly.
We got down to the dock in very good time, though of course with a
good deal of bother, but we've not got _rooked_ anywhere.
I am afraid you will not hear from us again till the letters bear a
foreign post mark.
With best love and wishes to everybody,
Your loving Son,
J. SETON COCKBURN.
My Dearest Mother,
I suppose we are both addressing our letters to you, which might at
first appear an unequal distribution of our favours, but as I know
they will be read aloud to the assembled breakfast table, it is a
small matter who opens the envelope. To begin with, I should explain
that I am writing in the saloon of the S.S. "Montreal," Sunday
evening, August 30th (I believe), and it is due to the constructural
defects thereof that my writing is of a somewhat shaky character,
the above saloon being placed almost immediately over the propeller,
whose various eccentricities in the way of jumping and shaking are
more than distinctly felt. However, I do not want to begin by
telling you about the end of our voyage, so I will make a
commencement at the time we lost sight of the heads and hats of
those who saw us off at Dawlish Station. I feel rather ashamed to
say I felt at that time very little depression of spirits, perhaps
the pipe to which I immediately had recourse had a comforting
influence; perhaps my familiarity with all objects on the road, at
least as far as Star Cross, made me feel as though I had not yet
left home; or perhaps, it was the secret consciousness that all the
Seymours, Lintons, and Harleys had promised to be on the Warren to
see us wave our heads out of the window. Whatever the course might
have been during the whole of our railway journey, our stay at the
hotel, and even _some_ hours subsequently, I felt almost jolly, but
what a world of misery lies implied in that underlined "some."
However, I won't anticipate, but relate from the beginning the
history of my ideas and experiences up to the present time. There is
little that you do not already know connected with our departure
from the docks and our journey as far as the last light ship, that
is concerning incidents which would appear to be worth mentioning.
We were rather fortunate in seeing nearly all the most celebrated of
the Atlantic steamers. The "City of Rome" was lying alongside a
wharf within a stone's throw of us, the "Alaska," "Arizona,"
"America," and "Oregon," were all passing in or out, or lying at the
wharves, these being I believe the four fastest ocean steamers
afloat. The Allan boat "Peruvian" left the dock just astern of us,
and as we afterwards discovered, arrived twelve hours before us. We
very soon found, when dinner time came round that we were going to
live like fighting cocks; there was a tremendous spread, soup, fish,
entrées, joints, entrees, sweets, cheese, dessert and bills of fare.
We looked forward to ten days of systematic fattening, an excellent
preparation as we thought for our troubles to come in the way of
struggles for bread, in the country to which we were journeying.
What a mistake! That meal we fattened, also at the ensuing meal, a
kind of high tea at six o'clock we continued the process. At
breakfast next morning all operations were suspended, and by the
time the sun shone in the zenith for the second time, the _modus
operandi_ was completely inverted, and we thinned many inches in as
many minutes. All the preparations for carrying out our original
intentions stared us in the face, but we turned anything but a
hungry eye upon them; to tell the prosaic truth we were both
sea-sick. Not a fair knock down exactly, for while on deck I was all
right. What started the malady was the sleeping cabin--such an
abomination of closeness, stuffiness, and all the odours under the
sun I never smelt--it was literally enough to knock one down. Not
that the cabins themselves are badly ventilated, but they vent into
the gangways outside, which in bad weather are themselves very short
of fresh air. Only on two days were we able to have our port-hole
open, and then not for the whole day. The first day on board was
very pleasant, nice weather, and lots of excitement in watching the
different coasts we passed, and studying our fellow passengers. We
were never out of sight of land until it got too dark to see it.
Before England was hull down, the Isle of Man was hull up, and then
before that faded, the coast of Ireland would have been in sight had
it not been invisible. When daylight went down a breeze sprang up,
blowing steadily from the westward, still it was all very jolly, and
we went to bed very comfortably and slept very soundly till we woke
up. The day had just broken, and it was a fine breezy morning. At
first I was delighted to feel myself dancing about. I sat up and
looked out of my port-hole and watched the sea for a bit; suddenly
she rose to an extra big one; I could feel her "tilting up," and I
had to lean forward a bit to maintain my balance, then the stern
tilted up and I leant back a good long way, then the "other end of
her" rose again, higher still, but I only leant further back, and by
the time it was all over I had resumed an horizontal position, and
resolved, like the man in "Happy Thoughts," not to move again
whatever happened. I soon felt all right again, and was able to
reply in a very swagger voice to Henry's rather meek enquiry
concerning the state of the weather. By-and-bye a short interchange
of experiences occurred between Henry and a boy who had been put
into our third berth at the last moment, the latter in the innocence
of his youth frankly avowed himself "awful squashy inside," and soon
proceeded practically to demonstrate the truth of his assertion.
Henry embraced the opportunity of confession, and soon became
equally demonstrative. I still felt happy, and gave them some
excellent advice, so much in fact, that I began to feel I had been
too liberal, and that I wanted some myself; however I dressed
quickly, and went on deck, and once there I soon began to feel
hungry, though when I went down below to have breakfast I didn't
make a very hearty meal. After that the weather began to get bad,
and continued getting bad for a long time. Then for some days, as
sure as I went down below for a meal I did violence to the sentiment
of the old proverb "wilful waste makes woeful want." However, in a
few days I recovered sufficiently to withstand the noxious
influences of the saloon long enough to satisfy my hunger. We had
bad weather, more or less the whole way across to Belle Isle; not a
gale exactly, except once on Saturday or Sunday night, I forget
which, but it just blew more or less, hard enough to keep the decks
always wet, and to preclude the possibility of a smoke, or even of
walking up and down. Then as we got over to the Canadian side there
was a good deal of fog knocking about--in fact take it all round I
did not enjoy myself very much, it was cold and wet and I couldn't
smoke. However, when it did come to an end it was A1. The day we
sighted Belle Isle was beautiful, and after that we had no more bad
weather, it was all clear and bright, which was very fortunate at
that part of the voyage, as it is in going down the Straits and
through the Gulf that fog is such a source of delay. There was lots
to be seen there in the way of coast scenery, Belle Isle, Labrador,
Newfoundland, Anticosti, and the Banks of the St. Lawrence. At first
all the land was uncultivated and wild looking, but as we got into
narrower waters farther up the river it began to get cultivated--lots
of white houses with red roofs kicking about, and very often not a
hedge or a tree to be seen except just near the river, all cleared
and consequently ugly.
Everybody about this part of the world is French, and such French
too as they talk. I have'nt caught the meaning of one word since I
have been here. I forgot to say that though I began this letter on
board the "Montreal" I am now writing at an Hotel in Sherbrooke. It
was very funny to see the changes that took place in the attire of
some of the passengers when we were nearing Quebec. People (among
whom perhaps I ought to class myself) who had remained unshaved and
disreputable during the voyage, in old clothes, etc., now come out
of their cabins looking Bond Street mashers (bar me); they were all
those who had come out for amusement and whose journies mostly
finished with the voyage; the others who preserved a travel-stained
appearance were all going further on, some long distances, and some
short. Among the long-distance people was a doctor Marsh, who was
going to Brandon, some distance beyond Winnipeg, with his family, or
at least with part of it--the rest are there already. He was a nice
man indeed, and gave us some very useful advice and information,
including his address. He is strongly of opinion that the North West
is the place for both Henry and me, but at the same time he quite
agreed with me that it would be foolish to go out there in the face
of the near approach of winter without the certainty of work, which
would keep us going through it. He has a son on a survey staff
somewhere out there, and he says he thinks I should be able to get
on too. When at last we got up alongside the wharf he was of great
service to us; he has been backwards and forwards several times and
knows the ropes well. He took us to an exchange office where he said
we should get the most value for our money, which turned out to be
$4 86c., about par I believe. He and everyone else that I asked said
that the idea of a premium on English money was a myth, that $4 86c.
was the highest, and that only in gold; for a fiver that Dr. Marsh
exchanged he only got $24 instead of $24 30c. Well, we shall see
when we get to Montreal and deliver the circular notes. The landing
and all the Customs business was a great nuisance, though we got
through capitally. I waited quietly till the hoorooche was all over,
and then went and collared the most benevolent-looking old chap to
come and stir up our baggage. I had them all unstrapped and ready,
and he just looked into one or two and then asked me if I had
anything in them that was not my own wearing apparel, or that had
not been worn. I said no (there were lots of things that hadn't been
worn, but then they _were_ my own wearing apparel), so he chalked
them all up without even desiring that Henry's big box might be
opened, which was very lucky, as it would have been a great nuisance
to have to knock those plates off the keyholes. I think it is a
great mistake to put them on; there is no fear of the things getting
wet down in the steerage deck where they are stowed, and they may
possibly cause a lot of delay going through the Customs House. Then
came our first experience of Canadian Railways, _not_ a pleasant
one. We were told the train would start at 2.15, accordingly we
dispensed with dinner and were on the platform at the stated time,
but the train never moved till nearly five o'clock. Then the baggage
chequing business turned out a great nuisance, the men went down to
cheque it while I was away getting the tickets, and when I came back
they had all gone away. In this democratic country they could not be
put to the inconvenience of coming back again, so I had to wait
about till they came to cart it up to the train. I do not mean to
say there would be any of this bother in travelling about from
station to station, it was only during the confusion of landing when
a lot of people all wanted their things done at the same time, and
the baggage all had to be brought up from the wharf, still it was an
item in our first railway experiences which, coupled with the delay
in starting, put me out of temper with Canadian travelling, though
there is not a shadow of doubt but what the chequing system is a
great deal superior to our own. However, when we did get fairly
under weigh it was not so bad. It is certainly very nice to be able
to get up and walk about when one gets tired of sitting still, or go
and stand on the platforms outside. Then, their rules are far less
strict than ours. If a man likes to jump on or off while a train is
going full speed ahead he can, nobody has the least objection to his
coming down on his head if he likes; or if he feels inclined to jump
off and run alongside he is perfectly at liberty to do so, only the
Company will not bind themselves to stop and wait for him if he
can't run fast enough. In fact, a man here is entirely his own
master, and as such is just as good us anybody else. There is one
thing which seems to me a great disadvantage, that is so few of the
railway officials are in any uniform at all. They may have a badge,
or something of that sort, but I did not see any, consequently one
never knows who to ask for information about the trains, etc. When
we got to Richmond last night, where we had to change for
Sherbrooke, a chap told us we should start in about twenty-five
minutes; the next man told us that we should not start till two or
three in the morning; and while we were endeavouring to arrive at
the truth somebody shouted out to know if everybody was "on board"
for Sherbrooke, Portland, etc., and he told us they were going to
start right away, which they did--in about half-an-hour. Next we
took two hours to go the twenty-five miles between Richmond and
Sherbrooke, though I will forgive them for that as we were really in
a goods' train, to which they had attached a passenger car for our
convenience. We eventually got in here about twelve last night. We
did not go to the Magog House as Horton recommended, as it was a
good long way from the station, and, we were told, might not be
open. This place, the Sherbrooke Hotel, is just opposite the
station, so being very tired and not wanting any bother we came in
here. We got into conversation with a man at Richmond who turned out
to be an Agricultural Agent of some sort, he had been Horton's
foreman on his farm many years ago, and knew them all very well. He
turned out a very decent old chap, and a Scotchman, and he was very
useful to us in getting us a feed, etc., when we got here, otherwise
we should have had to go supperless to bed. This morning (Tuesday),
we went first thing to see Allen, he was very cordial and obliging,
and withal very encouraging; he did not give vent to any decided
opinions, but he thought it very possible that Mr. Hill, of whom Mr.
Horton spoke, and to whom we are to be introduced to-morrow, might
be able to get me work on the Canada Pacific Railway, with which he
is in some way connected. I sincerely hope he may, as I should then
get a free pass to the West. _Wednesday._--We saw Hill this morning,
he could do nothing in the way of getting us work, but he gave us a
lot of names and addresses which turned out useful, among others a
letter to a chap called Ibotson, a sort of emigration agent, asking
him to send us round to several farms which he mentioned. We went
round to a heap of people with an old chap called Kemp, who is
something to do with the something Colonization Society. The worst
of it was we had to hire a trap, as the distance to be covered was
considerable; that cost $3, but it was the only thing to be done.
Everybody assured us that nothing but a personal interview would be
any use, so we cruised about the country in a very nice little buggy
for five hours under the escort of old Kemp, and I must say we
should have been nowhere without him. I should never have known how
to conduct the business with some of the specimens we came across,
not to mention that we should have been sure to have lost ourselves
half-a-dozen times over, and so should not have seen half the number
of people. Well, the upshot of the day's campaign was that I think
Henry stands a good chance of a place. Everyone assures me that he
could not do better than go to the farm in question. It belongs to
an old man called Crabtree, or something like that, I don't know
exactly how he spells himself. He is a very rough-and-tumble old
fellow, but, it seems, a capital farmer, and a good honest dealing
man. He has one of the best farms in the county, and is very well
off, having made all his money on his farm. Henry would get his
board and lodging, and most probably somewhere about $10 a month
besides. Of course nothing is fixed yet; the old chap's wife was
away, and he could do nothing without consulting her, but he said he
would want help during the winter, and he would not engage anyone
without letting us know. He cannot, however, do anything for the
next fortnight, which is a nuisance. None of the others that, we
called on came to very much, so we are going up to Montreal to-night
to deliver introductions and stir up the mud generally. Both Ibotson
and Kemp are going to make enquiries for us here, and write to us if
anything turns up. It's very good of them, they have both taken a
lot of trouble, and it's all done for love. In fact everybody is
most good-natured, and willing to do everything in their power to
help us. They all say they have no doubt we shall be able to get
work very soon, but it cannot be done in a day; so it seems to me,
having got these two old fellows to look out for us here, we had
better go and present ourselves in Montreal, and so be as it were in
two places at once. Moreover, I should like to see Roland Stanley if
possible before I clinch any bargain. We are perfectly certain of
getting disinterested advice from him, though I see no reason
whatever to doubt the policy of what I have done or the intentions
of our backers. I don't know if I have made all our doings and plans
sufficiently clear. I am writing in a very rambling sort of way, but
that is a fault inseparable from having to write at odd times. We
are living here for about a dollar a day each, not at all bad, with
three good big meals included, still it's spending money instead of
making it, so I hope it won't last long. It's not such a bad
beginning, though, when you come to think of it, we've only had two
clear days in the country, and Henry is in a very fair way to be
settled at a really good farm. Apart from business, the drive this
afternoon was delightful, the country in places quite equal to any
in Devonshire, though always with something wild looking about it.
In some parts of the road it looked just exactly like England, so
long as we did not look too far away. Upon the hills, etc., there is
always a lot of pine-wood and stuff which does not look English, but
it's all pretty; I believe you would like it immensely. Sherbrooke
itself is a jolly little town, though I believe here it is
considered a good big one, and a place of some importance. I think I
shall have to bring this to an end now; I don't know exactly when
the mail leaves Montreal, and I don't want to miss it through not
being ready, so if I have time to add anything more it will take the
form of a postcript. I don't know the least what address to give,
our movements are so uncertain. Couldn't father write to Roland
Stanley and ask him to forward the letters to us? I think, if he
seems the right sort of chap, I will ask him about this when I see
him, at any rate I can let him know when we leave, where we are
going to, and then if any of you should have sent a letter to him he
will know where to forward it to. Give my love to the Father, and
Old Daddy and Muriel, and everybody else,
And believe me,
Your loving Son.
J. SETON COCKBURN.
P.S. Friday.--Must post this this morning, so must look sharp.
Roland Stanley was away on a fishing expedition. We saw his
daughter. She said her father would probably be home on Friday or
Saturday, so we decided to lie in wait for him in diggings, and to
call again on Monday. I had no idea his place was so far away from
Montreal--six-and-a-quarter miles by rail including the Victoria
Bridge, which puts a lot on to the fare, and a good two miles by
road. His name was not in the Directory, so we had to find this
place by asking for it when we got to St. Lamberts. Charles Holloway
also was out when we called--at his office I believe--so we are
going down to the city to look for him this morning. We also called
on Mrs. Fenton, but she was out, so we gave in and jacked it up for
the day, as by that time it was nearly six o'clock. We had a fearful
bother in finding them, as there were no numbers on the
introductions, and there are about 1000 houses in Sherbrooke Street.
The diggings we have got into will do very well for the time. We
have taken them for a week at $5 each, board and lodging, which I
think is about as cheap as we can get them anywhere in Montreal. Our
address is 60, Aylmer Street, but it's not a bit of use writing to
us here, as we should be gone long before the letter reached us. I
don't suppose we shall be here much more than a week. I will write
more fully what we are doing by next mail.