Lake Superior--The Dalles of the St. Louis--The North Pacific
Railroad--Fond-du-Lac-Duluth--Superior City--The Great Lake--A Plan to
dry up Niagara--Stage Driving--Tom's Shanty again--St. Paul and its
Neighbourhood.
ALMOST in the centre of the Dalles I passed the spot where the Northern
Pacific Railroad had on that day turned its first sod, commencing its
long course across the continent. This North Pacific Railroad is destined
to play a great part in the future history of the United States; it is
the second great link which is to bind together the Atlantic and Pacific
States (before twenty years there will be many others). From Puget Sound
on the Pacific to Duluth on Lake Superior is about 2200 miles, and across
this distance the North Pacific Railroad is to run. The immense plains of
Dakota, the grassy uplands of Montana and Washington, and the centre of
the State of Minnesota will behold ere long this iron road of the North
Pacific Company piercing their lonely wilds. "Red Cloud" and "Black
Eagle" and "Standing Buffalo" may gather their braves beyond the Coteau
to battle against this steam-horse which scares their bison from his
favourite breeding grounds on the scant pastures of the great Missouri
plateau; but all their efforts will be in vain, the dollar will beat them
out. Poor Red Cloud! in spite of thy towering form and mighty strength,
the dollar is mightier still, and the fiat has gone forth before which
thou and thy braves must pass away from the land! Very tired and covered
deep with the dust of railroad cuttings, I reached the collection of
scattered houses which bears the name of Fond-du Lac. Upon inquiring at
the first house which I came to as to the whereabouts of the hotel, I was
informed by a sour-visaged old female, that if I wanted to drink and get
drunk, I must go farther on; but that if I wished to behave in a quiet
and respectable manner, and could live %without liquor, I could stay in
her house, which was at once post office, Temperance Hotel, and very
respectable. Being weary and footsore, I. did not feel disposed to seek
farther, for the place looked clean, the river was close at hand, and the
whole aspect of the scene was suggestive of rest. In the evening hours
myriads of mosquitoes and flying things of minutest size came forth from
the wooded hills and did their best towards making life a misery; so bad
were they that I welcomed a passing navvy who dropped in as a real
godsend.
"You're come up to look after work on this North Pacific Railroad, I
guess?" he commenced-he was a Southern Irish man, but "guessed" all the
same--"well, now, look here, the North Pacific Railroad will never be
like the U.P. (Union Pacific) I worked there, and I know what it was; it
was bully, I can tell you. A chap lay in his bunk all day and got two
dollars and a half for doing it; ay, and bit the boss on the head with
his shovel if the boss gave him any d---- chat. No, sirree, the North
Pacific will never be like that."
I could not help thinking that it was perhaps quite as well for the North
Pacific Railroad Company and the boss if they never were destined to
rival the Union Pacific Company as pictured by my companion; but I did
not attempt to say so, as it might have come under the heading of
"d---- chat," worthy only of being replied to by that convincing argument,
the shovel.
A good night's sleep and a swim in the St. Louis river banished all trace
of toil. I left Fond-du-Lac early in the afternoon, and, descending by a
small steamer the many-winding St. Louis River, soon came in sight of the
town of Duluth. The heat had become excessive; the Bay of St. Louis, shut
in on all sides by lofty hills, lay under a mingled mass of thunder-cloud
and sunshine; far out in Lake Superior vivid lightnings flashed over the
gloomy water and long rolls of thunder shook the hills around. On board
our little steamboat the atmosphere was stifling, and could not have been
short of 100 degrees in the coolest place (it was 93 at six o'clock same
evening in the hotel at Duluth); there was nothing for it but to lie
quietly on a wooden bench and listen to the loud talking of some
fellow-passengers. Three of the hardest of hard cases were engaged in the
mental recreation of "'swapping lies;" their respective exchanges
consisting on this occasion of feats of stealing; the experiences of one
I recollect in particular. He had stolen an axe from a man on the North
Pacific Railroad and a few days later sold him the same article. This
Piece of knavery was received as the acme of cuteness; and I well
recollect the language in which the brute wound up his self-laudations:
"If any chap can steal faster than me, let him."
As we emerged from the last bend of the river and stood across the Bay of
St. Louis, Duluth, in all its barrenness, stood before us. The future
capital of the Lakes, the great central port of the continent, the town
whose wharves were to be laden with the teas of China and the silks of
Japan stood out on the rocky north shore of Lake Superior, the sorriest
spectacle of city that eye of man could look upon-wooden houses scattered
at intervals along a steep ridge from which the forest had been only
partially cleared, houses of the smallest possible limits growing out of
a reedy marsh, which lay between lake and ridge, tree-stumps and lumber
standing in street and landing-place, the swamps croaking with bull-frogs
and passable only by crazy looking planks of tilting proclivities--over
all, a sun fit for a Carnatic coolie, and around, a forest vegetation in
whose heart the memory of Arctic winter rigour seemed to live for ever.
Still, in spite of rock and swamp and icy winter, Yankee energy will
triumph here as it has triumphed else where over kindred difficulties.
"There's got to be a Boss City hereaway on this end of the lake," said
the captain of the little boat; and though he spoke with much labour of
imprecation, both needless then and now, taking what might be termed a
cursory view of the situation, he summed up the prospects of Duluth
conclusively and clearly enough.
I cannot say I enjoyed a stay of two days in Duluth. Several new saloons
(name for dram-shops, gaming-houses, and generally questionable places)
were being opened for the first time to the public, and free drinks were
consequently the rule. Now "free drinks" have generally a demoralizing
tendency upon a community, but taken in connexion with a temperature of
98 degrees in the shade, they quickly develop into free revolvers and
freer bowie-knives. Besides, the spirit of speculation was rampant in the
hotel, and so many men had corner lots, dock locations, pine forests, and
pre-empted lands to sell me, that nothing but flight prevented my
becoming a large holder of all manner of Duluth securities upon terms
that, upon the clearest showing, would have been ridiculously favourable
to me. The principal object of my visit to Duluth was to discover if any
settlement existed at the Vermilion Lakes, eighty miles to the north and
not far from the track of the Expedition, a place which had been named to
the military authorities in Canada as likely to form a base of attack for
any filibusters who would be adventurous enough to make a dash at the
communication of the expeditionary force. A report of the discovery of
gold and silver mines around the Vermilion Lakes had induced a rush of
miners there during the previous year; but the mines had all "bust up,"
and the miners had been blown away to other regions, leaving the plant
and fixtures of quartz-crushing machinery standing drearily in the
wilderness. These facts I ascertained from the engineer, who had
constructed a forest track from Duluth to the mines, and into whose
office I penetrated in quest of information. He, too, looked upon me as a
speculator.
"Don't mind them mines," he said, after I had questioned him on all
points of distance and road; "don't touch them mines; they're clean gone
up. The gold in them mines don't amount to a row of pines, and there's
not a man there now."
That evening there came a violent thunder-storm, which cleared and cooled
the atmosphere; between ten o'clock in the morning and three in the
afternoon the thermometer fell 30 degrees. Lake Superior had asserted its
icy influence over the sun. Glad to get away from Duluth, I crossed the
bay to Superior City, situated on the opposite, or Wisconsin shore of the
lake. A curious formation of sand and shingle runs out from the shore of
Duluth, forming a long narrow spit of land projecting far into Lake
Superior. It bears the name of Minnesota Point, and has evidently been
formed by the opposing influence of the east wind over the great expanse
of the lake, and the current of the St. Louis River from the West. It has
a length of seven miles, and is only a few yards in width. Close to the
Wisconsin shore a break occurs in this long narrow spit, and inside this
opening lies the harbour and city of Superior incomparably a better
situation for a city and lake-port, level, sheltered, capacious; but,
nevertheless, Superior City is doomed to delay, while eight miles off its
young rival is rapidly rushing to wealth. This anomaly is easily
explained. Duluth is pushed forward by the capital of the State of
Minnesota, while the legislature of Wisconsin looks with jealous eye upon
the formation of a second lake-port city which might draw off to itself
the trade of Milwaukie.
In course of time, however, Superior City must rise, in spite of all
hostility, to the very prominent position to which its natural advantages
entitle it. I had not been many minutes in the hotel at Superior City
before the trying and unsought character of land speculator was again
thrust upon me.
"Now, stranger," said a long-legged Yankee, who, with his boots on the
stove---the day had got raw and cold--and his knees considerably higher
than his head, was gazing intently at me, "'I guess I've fixed you." I
was taken aback by the sudden identification of my business, when he
continued, "Yes, I've just fixed you. You air a Kanady speculator, ain't
ye?" Not deeming it altogether wise to deny the correct ness of his
fixing, I replied I had lived in Kanady for some time, but that I was not
going to begin speculation until I had knocked round a little. An
invitation to liquor soon followed. The disagreeable consequence
resulting from this admission soon became apparent. I was much pestered
towards evening by offers of investment in things varying from a
sand-hill to a city-square, or what would infallibly in course of time
develop into a city-square. A gentleman rejoicing in the name of Vose
Palmer insisted upon inter viewing me until a protracted hour of the night,
with a view towards my investing in straight drinks for him at the bar and
in an extensive pine forest for myself some where on the north shore of
Lake Superior. I have no doubt the pine forest is still in the market; and
should any enterprising capitalist in this country feel disposed to enter
into partnership on a basis of bearing all expenses himself, giving only
the profits to his partner, he will find "Vose Palmer, Superior City,
Wisconsin, United States," ever ready to attend to him.
Before turning our steps westward from this inland ocean of Superior, it
will be well to pause a moment on its shore and look out over its bosom.
It is worth looking at, for the world possesses not its equal. Four
Hundred English miles in length, 50 miles across it, 600 feet above
Atlantic level, 900 feet in depth-one vast spring of purest crystal
water, so cold, that during summer months its waters are like ice itself,
and so clear, that hundreds of feet below the surface the rocks stand out
as distinctly as though seen through plate-glass. Follow in fancy the
outpourings of this wonderful basin; seek its future course in Huron,
Erie, and Ontario, in that wild leap from the rocky ledge which makes
Niagara famous through the world. Seek it farther still, in the quiet
loveliness of the Thousand Isles; in the whirl and sweep of the Cedar
Rapids; in the silent rush of the great current under the rocks at the
foot of Quebec. Ay, and even farther away still, down where the lone
Laurentian Hills come forth to look again upon that water whose earliest
beginnings they cradled along the shores of Lake Superior. There, close
to the sounding billows of the Atlantic, 2000 miles from Superior, these
hills--the only ones that ever last-guard the great gate by which the St.
Lawrence seeks the sea.
There are rivers whose current, running red with the silt and mud of
their soft alluvial shores, carry far into the ocean the record of their
muddy progress; but this glorious river system, through its many lakes
and various names, is ever the same crystal current, flowing pure from
the fountain-head of Lake Superior. Great cities stud its shores; but
they are powerless to dim the transparency of its waters. Steamships
cover the broad bosom of its lakes and estuaries; but they change not the
beauty of the water-no more than the fleets of the world mark the waves
of the ocean. Any person looking at the map's of the region bounding the
great lakes of North America will be struck by the absence of rivers
flowing into Lakes Superior, Michigan, or Huron from the south; in fact,
the drainage of the states bordering these lakes on the south is
altogether carried off by the valley of the Mississippi-it follows that
this valley of Mississippi is at a much lower level than the surface of
the lakes. These lakes, containing an area of some 73,000 square miles,
are therefore an immense reservoir held high over the level of the great
Mississippi valley, from which they are separated by a barrier of slight
elevation and extent.
It is not many years ago since an enterprising Yankee proposed to
annihilate Canada, dry up Niagara, and "fix British creation" generally,
by diverting the current of Lake Erie, through a deep canal, into the
Ohio River; but should nature, in one of her freaks of earthquake, ever
cause a disruption to this intervening barrier on the southern shores of
the great northern lakes, the drying up of Niagara, the annihilation of
Canada, and the divers disasters to British power, will in all
probability be followed by the submersion of half of the Mississippi
states under the waters of these inland seas.
On the 26th June I quitted the shores of Lake Superior and made my way
back to Moose Lake. Without any exception, the road thither was the very
worst I had ever travelled over--four horses essayed to drag a stage-waggon
over, or rather, I should say, through, a track of mud and ruts
impossible to picture. The stage fare amounted to $6, or 4s. for 34
miles. An extra dollar reserved the box-seat and gave me the double
advantage of knowing what was coming in the rut line and taking another
lesson in the idiom of the American stage-driver. This idiom consists of
the smallest possible amount of dictionary words, a few Scriptural names
rather irreverently used, a very large intermixture of "git-ups" and
ejaculatory "his," and a general tendency to blasphemy all round. We
reached Tom's shanty at dusk. As before, it was crowded to excess, and
the memory of the express man's warning was still sufficiently strong to
make me prefer the forest to "bunking in" with the motley assemblage; a
couple of Eastern Americans shared with me the little camp. We made a
fire, laid some boards on the ground, spread a blanket upon them, pulled
the "mosquito bars" over our heads, and lay down to attempt to sleep. It
was a vain effort; mosquitoes came out in myriads, little atoms of gnats
penetrated through the netting of the "bars," and rendered rest or sleep
impossible. At last, when the gnats seemed disposed to retire, two
Germans came along, and, seeing our fire, commenced stumbling about our
boards. To be roused at two o'clock a.m., when one is just sinking into
obliviousness after four hours of useless struggle with unseen enemies,
is provoking enough, but to be roused under such circumstances by Germans
is simply unbearable.
At last daylight came. A bathe in the creek, despite the clouds of
mosquitoes, freshened one up a little and made Tom's terrible table see
less repulsive. Then came a long hot day in the dusty cars, until at
length St. Paul was reached.
I remained at St. Paul some twelve days, detained there from day to day
awaiting the arrival of letters from Canada relative to the future supply
of the Expedition. This delay was at the time most irksome, as I too
frequently pictured the troops pushing on towards Fort Garry while I was
detained inactive in Minnesota; but one morning the American papers came
out with news that the expeditionary forces had met with much delay in
their first move from Thunder Bay; the road over which it was necessary
for them to transport their boats, munitions, and supplies for a distance
of forty-four miles from Superior to Lake Shebandowan was utterly
impracticable, portions of it, indeed, had still to be made, bridges to
be built, swamps to be corduroyed, and thus at the very outset of the
Expedition a long delay became necessary. Of course, the American press
held high jubilee over this check, which was represented as only the
beginning of the end of a series of disasters. The British Expedition was
never destined to reach Red River--swamps would entrap it, rapids would
engulf it; and if, in spite of these obstacles, some few men did succeed
in piercing the rugged wilderness, the trusty rifle of the Metis would
soon annihilate the presumptive intruders. Such was the news and such
were the comments I had to read day after day, as I anxiously scanned the
columns of the newspapers for intelligence. Nor were these comments on
the Expedition confined to prophecy of its failure from the swamps and
rapids of the route: Fenian aid was largely spoken of by one portion of
the press. Arms and ammunition, and hands to use them, were being pushed
towards St. Cloud and the Red River to aid the free sons of the
North-west to follow out their manifest destiny, which, of course, was
annexation to the United States. But although these items made reading a
matter of no pleasant description, there were other things to be done in
the good city of St. Paul not without their special interest. The Falls
of the Mississippi at St. Anthony, and the lovely little Fall of
Minnehaha, lay only some seven miles distant. Minnehaha is a perfect
little beauty; its bright sparkling waters, forming innumerable fleecy
threads! of silk-like wavelets, seem to laugh over the rocky edge; so
light and so lace-like is the curtain, that the sunlight streaming
through looks like a lovely bride through some rich bridal veil. The
Falls of St. Anthony are neither grand nor beautiful, and are utterly
disfigured by the various sawmills that surround them.
The hotel in which I lodged at St. Paul was a very favourable specimen
of the American hostelry; its proprietor was, of course, a colonel, so it
may be presumed that he kept his company in excellent order. I had but
few acquaintances in St. Paul, and had little to do besides study
American character as displayed in dining-room, lounging-hall, and
verandah, during the hot fine days; but when the hour of sunset came it
was my wont to ascend to the roof of the building to look at the glorious
panorama spread out before me-for sunset in America is of itself a sight
of rare beauty, and the valley of the Mississippi never appeared to
better advantage than when the rich hues of the western sun were gilding
the steep ridges that over hang it.