industry to redeem them from their unproductiveness; nor do their
unfrequented retreats discover to the beholder even a solitary wigwam.
They are the abode of silence, and the resting-place of solitude. The
contemplative observer cannot view them without some feelings of regret:
while his eye roves with delight over spots of earth disposed into all
imaginary shapes, in which matchless beauty and proofs of skilful design
are apparent in every direction, his judgment detects the fallacy of his
sight; and he laments to find these picturesque creations yielding
nothing for supplying the wants of man but such products as serve to
gratify his curious vision. Scarcely can he restrain the wish,
presumptuous though it be, that Providence in its wisdom had
distinguished this portion of the universe by something of greater
utility and of more substantial excellence.
Immediately opposite Prescott, on the shore of the United States, is the
town of Ogdensburg; and twelve miles higher up, on the Canada shore,
stands the delightful village of Brockville, so called in honour of the
late lamented Sir Isaac Brock. This enchanting little spot unites in its
situation every beauty of nature. In front of it flows the river St.
Lawrence, interspersed with numerous islands, variously formed, and
thickly wooded. Behind it is an assemblage of small hills, rising one
above another in “gay theatric pride;” and on each side are well-cleared
farms, in an advanced state of cultivation. Every thing combines to
render it preeminently beautiful. The dwellings are of wood, and
tastefully painted; and the court-house, on an elevated situation at the
back of the village, seems, from its superior size, to be the guardian
of the villagers—an idea of my fancy, which I did not venture to
confirm by entering within its doors.
Sixty-seven miles from Prescott, and seventy-nine from Brockville, is
the town of Kingston, built in 1784, and a place of great importance to
the British interests in Canada. It is the naval depôt of the Upper
Province, and is strongly protected by a fort, called Fort Frederick. In
Kingston harbour, which is deep and well-sheltered, there were at this
time several large ships, and one, the St. Lawrence, of 102 guns, which
is said to have cost the enormous sum of 300,000l. Some of these vessels
were constructed in England, and sent to Quebec in frame, whence they
were transported to Kingston, at immense cost, on board of such boats as
have been already described. The carriage of the Psyche frigate alone,
from Quebec to Kingston, is said to have cost 12,000_l._ What could
induce government to build ships in England, where timber is so dear,
for the service of Canada? The policy of this “sending of coals to
Newcastle” is a mystery which could not be solved by the best informed
men in the Canadas. A sufficient number of mechanics to construct every
ship necessary for the lake-service, might have been sent out for
one-fourth of the expense incurred by the bare transportation of a
single frigate from Quebec to Kingston.
Lake Ontario, to which Kingston serves as a kind of entrance, is in
length 171 miles, in breadth 59, and in circumference 467. The depth of
the water varies very much, but is seldom less than three, or more than
50 fathoms, although, in the centre of the lake, soundings have been
made with a line of 350 fathoms without finding a bottom. It is often
visited with violent storms, which render its navigation peculiarly
dangerous; and though none except experienced seamen ought to be
entrusted with the management of the craft which sail upon its wide and
deceitful bosom, yet many have obtained the command of vessels who were
utterly ignorant of the science of navigation.
[Illustration: _Kingston—Lake Ontario._]
The waters of this lake, as well as those of Lakes Erie, Huron, and
Superior, rise to an unusual height in every thirty-five years. In 1816,
Ontario was seven feet higher than it is known to have been for upwards
of thirty years before that time. Does not this form a very interesting
subject for the speculations of the natural philosopher? While the
waters of these lakes never rise or fall more than eight or ten inches
above or below their usual height, excepting at these stated periods,
what cause can be assigned for the production of such a body of water as
is sufficient to effect this extraordinary change?
Between Kingston and York there are two or three very small villages,
the largest of which is Belleville, containing at present about 150
inhabitants.
York (Toronto) is the seat of government for Upper Canada, and is
situated on the north side of Lake Ontario. Its harbour, which is a very
extensive one, is formed by a long narrow peninsula, commonly called
Gibraltar Point. Though it is the capital of an extensive colony, it
would, as it stands at this time, be considered in Europe but a village.
Its defenceless situation, which cannot be much improved, renders it of
little importance in time of war. It was captured by the Americans on
the 27th of April, 1813. They had not, however, held possession of it
many days when they evacuated it, having first destroyed all the public
buildings.
[Illustration: _Coburg._]
The garrison is about a mile west of the town, and consists of a barrack
for the troops, a residence for the commanding officer, a battery and
two blockhouses, which are intended for the protection of the harbour.
In the year 1793 there was only one wigwam on the present site of the
town. It now contains 1,336 inhabitants, and about 250 houses, many of
which exhibit a very neat appearance. The parliament-house, erected
lately, is a large and convenient brick building, finished off in the
plainest possible manner. The house in which the Lieut.-Governor resides
is built of wood, and though by no means contemptible, is much inferior
to some private houses in the town. Many of the law and government
officers have very elegant seats in and about the town; and, with few
exceptions, they are built of wood, and assume a most inviting aspect.
The streets of the capital are regularly laid out, intersecting each
other at right angles. Only one of them, however, is yet completely
built; and, in wet weather, the unfinished streets are, if possible,
muddier and dirtier than those of Kingston. The situation of the town is
very unhealthy, for it stands on a piece of low marshy land, which is
better calculated for a frog-pond, or beaver meadow, than for the
residence of human beings. The inhabitants are, on this account, much
subject, particularly in spring and autumn, to agues and intermittent
fevers; and, probably, five-sevenths of the people are annually
afflicted with these complaints. He who first fixed upon this spot as
the site of the capital of Upper Canada, whatever predilection he may
have had for the roaring of frogs, or for the effluvia arising from
stagnated waters and putrid vegetables, can certainly have had no very
great regard for preserving the lives of his Majesty’s subjects. The
town possesses one great advantage, however, which is that of a good
though defenceless harbour.
When we arrived at York, my father waited on the Lieut.-Governor, and
handed him the order for land which we had received from Earl Bathurst.
His Excellency told him that he might select his land from any township
in the Province at that time open for location; but assured him, that as
he himself had been only a short time in the country, it was out of his
power to recommend any particular division to his notice. He then
referred my father to the Surveyor-General, and also gave him a letter
of introduction to that officer, directing him to afford us such
information as might be required. We called upon the Surveyor-General
accordingly, but obtained very little satisfactory intelligence.
A short time afterwards, my father met with Col. Thomas Talbot, who came
to Canada about thirty years before, an officer, if I mistake not, in
the fifth regiment of foot. During the period of his being stationed
here, he became so much attached to the woods and wilds, that, on his
return home, he felt half dissatisfied with his native country. He,
therefore, sold his commission, and obtained a grant of 100,000 acres of
land, under the condition that he should place a settler upon every 200
acres. He selected an extensive tract on the northern borders of Lake
Erie, about 150 miles S.W. of Toronto. In the year 1802, when there was
not a single christian habitation within forty miles of his own estate,
the Colonel commenced a settlement under the most discouraging and
inauspicious circumstances imaginable. He called his domain Port Talbot,
and, in eight or ten years, saw a thriving settlement gradually rise up
around him. But he has not yet been able to fulfil his engagement with
the government; nor is it likely that he will, if he continue to
estimate his land at its present price—three dollars per acre for 150
acres, and 50 acres gratis.
The Colonel is one of the most eccentric characters on the whole
continent. He not only lives a life of cheerless celibacy, but enjoys no
human society whatever. So great was his aversion to the fair sex, that,
for many years after his arrival at Port Talbot, he refused to hire a
female servant, but milked his own cows, made his own butter, and
performed every other function of kitchen-maid, house-maid, cook, and
dairy-woman. Is it not rather strange that a British officer, of such
high rank in the army, and respectable connexions in civil life, should
be induced to settle in the pathless wilderness, where he is totally
excluded from society, unless he should associate with a class of people
whom he considers entirely beneath him, and with whom he has never yet
in any respect confederated? Being a member of the legislative council
of Upper Canada, he goes to York once or twice in the year. These
visits, and an occasional one to England, at intervals of five or six
years, serve to rub off the rust contracted in his lonely cottage, and
to remind him that the world is still as merry as it was when he figured
in its gayest circles.
From the Colonel’s extensive knowledge of the country, my father
considered him to be well qualified for giving advice with respect to
the choice of a settlement. He, therefore, made him acquainted with our
circumstances and want of information. The Colonel mentioned several
settlements as eligible, but particularly recommended the township of
London, a tract of land surveyed many years ago by order of General
Simcoe, the first Lieut.-General of Upper Canada. It was, therefore,
agreed that we should immediately proceed to London; and, on the 11th of
September, our whole party set off for Niagara on board the same
schooner that brought us from Prescott.
Weary of travelling by water, I separated from the party at York, and
proceeded by land to Port Talbot, where I agreed to join them. The road
from York to Port Talbot, for the first fifty miles, runs nearly in a
south-west course, through a thickly settled country, the soil of which
is light and sandy, and therefore not susceptible of any great
improvement. Several small rivers, whose banks are very high, and nearly
perpendicular, intersect this part of the country, and render travelling
an undertaking of difficult and dangerous performance. Horses, in
ascending and descending these steep banks, frequently fall, and are
sometimes dashed to pieces, in spite of the best exertions of their
drivers. From the head of Lake Ontario to the Grand River Ouse, the
river takes a western direction, and thence to the township of Woodhouse
its inclination is southern, but from Woodhouse to Port Talbot it
preserves a south-western course.
On the banks of the Grand River Ouse, twenty-one miles from Dundas, I
passed through several villages inhabited by the Six Nations of Indians.
These villages, which, from their proximity to each other, appear to be
comprised in one settlement, are composed of about 200 houses, which
contain nearly 1,500 inhabitants. The land upon which they reside is
some of the most fertile in the whole province. It was given to the
Indians of the Five Nations, who have since admitted another nation to
participate in all their rights and immunities, immediately after the
revolutionary war, as a compensation for lands which they had forfeited
in the United States by their adherence to Great Britain. Six miles on
each side of the river, from its source to its mouth, originally
composed this grant; but they have since sold several townships to
different individuals. Still, however, they retain a quantity of land
sufficient, under proper cultivation, for the maintenance of half a
million of people. In one of the Indian villages a neat church has been
erected at the expense of government. It is greatly superior in
workmanship, as well as in size, to many of the parish churches in Great
Britain. The pulpit is situated at the upper extremity of the aisle, and
is surmounted with the royal arms of England, executed in bas-relief.
A clergyman of the Established Church occasionally performs divine
service in the church; and when he is absent, his place in the pulpit is
supplied by an Indian, whom his countrymen dignify with the title of
“Dr. John.” This worthy divine, in the absence of the English clergyman,
affords his brethren a specimen of his oratorical abilities; but it is
very evident that the gospel has not yet obtained much influence in the
hearts of these Indians, or in that of the native preacher. It cannot,
therefore, be supposed to exercise any great control over their conduct.
As I happened to be at this village on the sabbath, and felt curious to
see uncivilised men engaged in the worship of the Deity, I called upon
Dr. John, and requested to know if there would be any service in the
forenoon. He had little the appearance of a minister of that gospel, the
principle of which is—“Peace upon earth, and good will towards men,”
for he was busily engaged in whetting a tomahawk, and replied to my
question with the utmost indifference: “I meant,” said he, “to have had
a meeting to-day, but I lost my spectacles in a frolic last night, and
cannot, therefore, preach again till Mr. Smith (a neighbouring
shopkeeper) gets his goods from Montreal.”
After crossing the Grand River, the road for many miles has a very
delightful aspect. On each side of the road, extensive plains, thinly
planted, apparently, by the hand of man, spread further than the eye can
reach, and afford a pleasant contrast to the sombre gloom which hangs,
like the shadow of darkness, over the greater part of this extensive
continent. These plains are almost wholly uninhabited, although
possessed of many superior advantages. But the want of timber and water
for domestic purposes, and the inferiority of the soil, which is light
and sandy, render them of little comparative value. To the traveller
alone, wearied with his wanderings through interminable forests, these
beautiful plantations and flower-covered fields afford an exhilarating
prospect. Towards Long Point, in the neighbourhood of which there are
also similar extensive plains, the country on each side of the road is
tolerably well settled; but the houses of public entertainment afford
the most wretched accommodations, and exhibit an appearance, both inside
and out, which by no means induces one to form a favourable opinion of
Canadian hostelries.
I reached Port Talbot on the 15th of September, and found that my
friends had not arrived. As I was sitting a while after in a tavern
contiguous to the river, and I expected to have met with my father and
his family, a lady and gentleman rode up to the door. When the lady
entered, I handed her a seat. The gentleman next appeared, and, on
seating himself, inquired, as is customary in the country, whether I was
travelling east or west. I told him that I had already explored as much
of the western country as I then intended; and added, that, during the
last four months, I had travelled from within seven degrees of the
Observatory at Greenwich, and that it was not my design to go farther
into the country until I had seen my friends, whom I daily expected from
the east, safely and comfortably settled a few miles farther to the
northward. This topographical reply a little surprised them, for it was
too general, and did not descend to such _minutiæ_ as is usually
expected.
[Illustration: _Light-tower, near Coburg._
(Lake Ontario.)]
The lady, who appeared a good deal embarrassed, or rather in a state of
mental anxiety, said, with much apparent concern, “Alas, Sir, I fear
your friends in America are few, and your hope of seeing them
comfortably settled, like most worldly hopes, vain and unfeasible.” I
conjured her to explain herself; and, after some hesitation, she
reluctantly complied, for her exclamation had undoubtedly been
involuntary:—“You are not altogether friendless! You have at least _one
brother_! I saw him a few hours ago, in health, but unhappy. He is
travelling in this direction, and will be with you in a few hours.” With
this expression on her lips, she rose from her seat, and retired hastily
to an adjoining apartment, where, addressing the landlady, she
continued—“About eight o’clock this morning we overtook a number of
young men, all Europeans, among whom was a gentleman, evidently the
brother of this young man. They are the only surviving passengers of a
large party belonging to the Fort Erie schooner, which was wrecked a few
nights ago on the United States’ shore.” I heard this with undefinable
emotions, and, rushing into the apartment, in which the lady was still
conversing with the hostess, entreated her to tell me all she knew of
the melancholy catastrophe. She said, “About three o’clock on the
evening of the 19th of September, I saw your friends embark at Fort Erie
for Port Talbot, on board a large schooner; and from the great number of
passengers who embarked, and the indifferent quality of the vessel, the
people of Fort Erie entertained serious apprehensions for the safety of
the travellers—the weather being very boisterous, and the captain of
the schooner an inefficient and inexperienced man. In a few days
afterwards news arrived at Fort Erie that the vessel had been wrecked on
the morning of the 21st, on the shore of the United States; and that the
few young men who survived were taken up by a New York schooner, and
landed in Canada.”
On hearing this awful intelligence, I immediately set off to meet my
brother and his companions. Before I had proceeded more than half a
dozen miles I met the whole party; and judged from their countenances
that the information I had received was not exactly correct. I told them
what I had heard, and desired to know whether or not I had been
misinformed. My brother replied, that my information was in the main
correct; that they had indeed been shipwrecked, but that no lives had
been lost, except that of a Mrs. Lewis, who had died in consequence of
severe cold and fatigue. I was also further given to understand that my
father and his family were all well and safe, and in the United States,
waiting only a vessel to bring them over to the shores of Canada. It is
impossible to describe the sudden transition of my feelings on hearing
these joyful tidings. A few moments before I had the strongest grounds
for believing that my nearest relations were lodged in a cold and watery
grave; but now I could indulge in the joyful anticipation of meeting
them once more, restored, as it were, to life. In about a fortnight
after this they all arrived at Port Talbot, after having experienced
much kindness from the inhabitants of the State of New York during their
continuance among them.
In the latter part of October, my father removed his family from Port
Talbot to Westminster, where he procured lodgings for them until a house
was erected on his own lands. The township of Westminster is separated
from that of Port Talbot only by the river Thames. London is situated
about 24 miles north of Lake Erie. On the 1st of November, 1818, it was
entirely unsettled, and its surface studded with the various trees which
are to be found in Canada. The land is considered, if not superior to
every township hitherto opened for location, at least inferior to none
in the whole province. The township forms a square, and is divided into
16 concessions, in each of which are 6,400 acres. These concessions are
subdivided into lots of 200 acres, of which there are 32 in each.
Between every two concessions there are 66 feet set apart for roads,
which are called concession lines. These, together with seven side roads
of equal width, which intersect them at right angles, and are
equi-distant from each other, comprise all the public roads in a
township.
On the 26th of October, my brother and I, with six men carrying
provisions and felling-axes, took our departure from Westminster; and,
having hired a guide, proceeded into London, to fix upon the most
desirable lot for the erection of a house. 1,200 acres were assigned to
my father for his own demesne, if I may so call it. We had, therefore, a
large tract of land to explore before we could decide on the most
eligible site. After spending the greater part of the day in approving
and disapproving of particular lots, we unanimously determined on making
the second lot in the sixth concession the future asylum of our exiled
family.
When we had agreed on this point, our next consideration was to procure
shelter for the night; for we were upwards of nine miles from the abodes
of civilised beings, and in the midst of desolate wilds,—
“Where beasts with men divided empire claim,
And the brown Indian marks with murd’rous aim.”
After walking about for some time in quest of a suitable place for
making a fire, we discovered an old Indian wigwam, deserted by its
inhabitants. In this little hut we resolved to continue during the
night; and, having a tinder-box, with all the other necessary materials,
we speedily lighted an excellent fire. After we had taken supper on the
trunk of a tree, we lay down to rest, each rolling himself up in a
blanket, and each in his turn supplying fuel to the fire. Thus did we
pass the first night on our American estate.
In the morning, about sunrise, we were suddenly awakened by the howling
of a pack of wolves, which were in full cry after an unfortunate deer.
The howl of these ferocious animals so nearly resembles the cry of
fox-dogs, that, when I awoke and heard it, I fancied myself in the midst
of the sporting woods of Erin. But the delusion was not of long
continuance, for I speedily discovered, that, instead of being in my
native land,—
”Where the tints of the earth, and the hue of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,”
I was in the midst of a dreary and monotonous wilderness.
To increase our consternation, or, at least, to direct it into another
channel, the horses, which we brought with us to carry our bed-clothes
and provisions, had broken from their tethers during the night, and
consumed every ounce of our bread!—
“Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,
Except when fast approaching danger warns.”
And yet I was on this occasion sufficiently provoked to revenge our loss
on the sides of the ill-natured brutes. We had brought our provender,
with the utmost difficulty, a distance of nearly twelve miles through
woods and swamps; and then to be deprived of it in this way, was too
much for a man of the firmest philosophy to bear without impatience. We
should have been under the disagreeable necessity of dispensing with our
breakfast, if we had not had the consideration to bring some potatoes
with us, which, happily, under the circumstances, are not so well suited
to the appetite of an American horse as they are to the palate of an
Irishman.
We continued encamped in the woods from the 26th of October until the
1st of December. During this period, we laid the foundation of a house
46 feet long, and 21 feet wide; one half of which we finished first, for
the accommodation of the family, who removed into it on the 2d of
December—five months and nineteen days after our embarkation for
America. During the thirty-five days which we spent in the woods,
previous to the arrival of the family, our only lodging was the
miserable wigwam, which had a hundred holes in its roof, through which,
when lying awake at night, we could easily note every remarkable star
that passed the meridian. Our only bed was composed of withered leaves,
while
“A log contriv’d a double debt to pay—
By night a pillow, and a seat by day.”