YARMOUTH AND SHIPBUILDING
An odour of sanctity, permeating current speech and
manners, is characteristic of New Scotland. But religion is
less narrow, less austere, than in New England. One
familiar expression of the religious spirit is the grace
before meat. Of these anteprandial orisons the privileged
traveller, curious in such matters, might collect
some interesting examples in the course of his travels
through the Province, ranging from a long discourse,
which threatened to be interminable, which I heard
at Yarmouth, to a brief, almost ejaculatory, “Thank
God!” from the lips of an old naval officer at Sydney.
Of the devoutness of the people there can be no question.
Upwards of eighty years ago a Scotsman, author
of _Letters from Nova Scotia_, asked a well-informed native:
“Which do you think the most numerous denomination
of Christians in Nova Scotia?” “Oh,” was the reply,
“the Presbyterians, then the Roman Catholics, then the
Baptists, then the Methodists, then the Episcopalians.”
“Is the Baptist a numerous sect?”
“Yes, it is the most prosperous of all denominations.
A few years ago the Baptists were a small and comparatively
uninfluential body of men. Their teachers
were ignorant of all knowledge except what their Bibles
afforded, and their hearers were the poorest of our
peasantry. But by recent events they have received a most
important accession, not only of numbers, but also of wealth,
talent, and education; and I will stake my sagacity upon
the prophecy that, in a few years, the Baptist Church will
be predominant in Nova Scotia. The Church of England
may be established nominally, but the Baptist one
will be predominant.”
That was in 1828. Let us see what has happened.
According to the last census, as many as 1355 churches
were found to be in this one Province, the proportions
being as follow:—351 belonging to the Baptists, 270 to
the Presbyterians, 254 to the Methodists, 198 to the
Anglicans, and 156 to the Roman Catholics. The total
seating capacity of these 1355 churches was 409,738,
the Presbyterians heading the list with 100,337, the
Baptists coming next with 91,290, then the Methodists
with 71,731, the Roman Catholics with 70,974, and the
Anglicans last with 47,426. The Congregationalists had
only 16 churches, with a seating capacity of 4470.
Among the various churches were 1005 Sunday Schools,
with 66,680 scholars and 7750 teachers. In a general
classification the people divided themselves as follows:—129,578
Roman Catholics, 106,381 Presbyterians, 83,233
Baptists, 66,107 Anglicans, 57,490 Methodists, 6572
Lutherans, 2938 Congregationalists, 1494 Adventists,
1412 Disciples, and 437 Jews, with several smaller groups
of other denominations, leaving only 543 persons who
did not return themselves as belonging to some religion.
So that with regard to the prophecy, although the
Baptists have got more chapels, the Presbyterians can
boast more devotees (a visit to the churches will confirm
this), and, on the whole, the situation is little changed,
save that the Roman Catholics have vastly increased,
and now nominally may claim precedence over any other
sect. While the Scots are mainly Presbyterians, there
is a large number of Highland Roman Catholics, many
in Cape Breton, many in Antigonish County. At Antigonish
there is not only a Catholic University, but a
Catholic newspaper, very well conducted. The denominational
spirit is represented in the higher education,
King’s College, Windsor, being Anglican; Acadia University,
Wolfeville, a Baptist foundation; St. Francis Xavier
University at Antigonish I have just mentioned; and the
Presbyterians regard Dalhousie as their College, although
it is undenominational. Indeed no denominational test
is required of students at any save the Roman Catholic
establishment. The Methodists resort to Mount Allison,
just across the Provincial frontier.
Pulpit oratory is not, I fear, cultivated as an art in
Nova Scotia. It is mostly, as one would expect it to be,
of a hortatory character. I have even heard it alleged
that the Nova Scotian parsons are a practical, canny class,
rather than ripe in culture and sound in scholarship.
It is when we come to speak of education that we
see the superiority of the system to that which has
long prevailed in England, and which prevails in other
countries. There is practically no illiterate element
in the community. While it is unnecessary to say that
some have received less education than others, one may
look long before finding a man or woman unable to
read and write. There is a great difference between
the English and Nova Scotian systems—in Nova Scotia
there is far more attention paid to the problem of education,
and a greater ambition on the part of all classes to
get beyond the elementary stage.
There are 2516 elementary schools in the Province,
attended by 100,000 children under the charge of 2664
teachers (which gives an average of one teacher to the
great majority of the schools), Education is free, both
in the elementary schools, which are maintained by
Government grants and very low local rates, and in the
numerous high schools. A Provincial Normal School
also offers free instruction for the training of teachers;
and it may be said that, despite the fact that the
Province offers many lucrative careers for a brainy young
man, which makes it somewhat difficult to retain the
highest talent for this profession, the standard of teaching
in Nova Scotian schools is not inferior to the average
on the North American continent. In fact, it is probably
higher.
In various parts of the Province the old system of a
group of isolated one-teacher schools is being gradually
done away with, and “consolidated” schools are springing
up. These, each having several teachers, are looked upon
as an effective means of improving the education in county districts.
Of these there are at present twenty-three. I have
already described the Technical College lately established
in the capital; while hand-work and household science are
thoroughly taught the boys and girls at various centres.
Perhaps already the reader will have gathered that this
peninsula and island on the other side of the Atlantic has
everything, though but in embryo, of that which makes life
pleasant, useful, and prosperous, save Art. History shows
few communities of half a million people with fewer artistic
perceptions than New Scotland, and I know of no Nova
Scotia poet, Nova Scotia painter, Nova Scotia novelist, or
Nova Scotia architect of international repute. To some of
us—to a few of us—these are the things—these books,
these pictures, these buildings, which make even little
nations glorious; and of which they are prouder and the
world more grateful than for the products of the field, the
forge, the factory, and the counting-house.
But in this respect New Scotland resembles Old Scotland,
whose slow advance and scanty achievements in art were
once the wonder of Europe; and even in New England it
took nearly two centuries of civilisation to throw off the
Puritan yoke and allow the imagination to dwell in and the
hand to create beauty.
Perhaps we who dwell in London, or Paris, or Rome, or
even New York, are apt to exaggerate the value of these
things. For here we see that a people may be generous,
industrious, and contented without picture-galleries, without,
indeed, ever having seen a first-rate picture, a first-rate
building.
At Yarmouth, more than the wharves, more than the
clipped hedges, than the fishermen, the electric street
tramway, and the manifold evidence of prosperity, was I
interested in two fragments of stone, comparable in their
way to other celebrated archæological fragments in Europe
and Asia which tell, and alone survive to tell, of long-past
ages and vanished peoples. These are Runic stones of
Yarmouth, lately reposing in private grounds, but now
gathered into the safer and more accessible quarters of the
Yarmouth Public Library. About the end of the eighteenth
century a doctor named Fletcher discovered on the shore of
the Bay of Fundy, opposite the town, a rock weighing about
four hundred pounds, bearing an inscription which, when
deciphered by a capable antiquarian, was found to read,
“Harkussen men varu”—_i.e._, “Harku’s son addressed the
men.”
In the expedition of Tharfinn Karlsefne in 1007, the
name of Harku occurs in the list of those who accompanied
him. In a note on the published saga we read that on this
voyage “they came to a place where a firth penetrated far
into the country; off the mouth of it was an island, past
which there ran strong currents, which was also the case
farther up the firth.”
Why such a memento should be left on this Norse visit
to Markland cannot of course be explained, except to observe
that memorials were often made or erected in localities
where events had occurred, and in this instance the
chieftain’s address may have here contained some notable
pronouncement, or even commemorated the landing at that
spot.
The second Runic stone was found so recently as 1897,
lying face downwards, half buried in the mud on the west
side of Yarmouth harbour, one mile from where the former
stone had been found. It is very similar in size and shape
to the Fletcher stone. Its face is as fair and as smooth as
if dressed by a lapidary, and the inscription is in the same
characters. Of course these two stones have excited great
interest among scholars and antiquarians, and attempts have
been made to dispute their Scandinavian origin, and to
ascribe them to Red Indians, Semites, and even to the
Japanese.
For example, one theorist, Dr. Campbell, who would
have rejoiced in assisting the Pickwickians in elucidating
the celebrated Stumps inscription, unhesitatingly finds the
inscription to be Japanese. He says that in old Japanese
this reads,
_wahi deka Kuturade bushi goku_.
_Peacefully has gone out Kuturade, warrior eminent_, or in other
words: “Kuturadem, the eminent warrior, has died in
peace.”
It may very naturally be asked how it is known that
such is the reading, and how a Japanese inscription should
be found in Nova Scotia? His answer to the first question
is that “the identical writing in question has been found in
Siberia, Mongolia, and Japan.... As for the appearance
of old Japanese in America, I have known repeatedly that
the Choctaw, the Cree or Maskoki, the Ksaw, and all their
related tongues, are simply Japanese dialects.”
Kuturade was apparently an Iroquois, whose modern
name would be Katorati, The Hunter.... And there is
reason for thinking that this memorial might belong to
the early historical period of French colonisation (early
seventeenth century). We cannot tell when our Indians lost
their ancient art of writing, which the Crees at least seem
to have retained in the middle of the last century.
One reflects now upon the injustice, even the inhumanity,
of the British Columbians in seeking to exclude
the Japanese from their old home!
But there seems, apart from prejudice and the fantastic
ingenuity of minds prepared to doubt anything from the
spherical shape of the earth to the utility of the bi-cameral
system in the British Constitution, no reason to doubt that
these stones are really tangible evidence of the pre-Columbian
discovery of Nova Scotia. Humboldt agreed with Carl
Rafu in believing that in the year 1001 A.D. the Icelanders
touched upon the North American coast, and that for nearly
two centuries subsequently numerous visits were made by
them and the Norwegians.
“Bjorn Heinolsen, an Icelander, was the first discoverer.
Steering for Greenland he was driven to the south by
tempestuous and unfavourable winds, and saw different
parts of America, without, however, touching at any of
them. Attracted by the report of this voyage, Leif, son of
Eric, the discoverer of Greenland, fitted out a vessel to
pursue the same adventure. He passed the coast visited by
Bjorn, and steered south-west till he reached a strait between
a large island and the mainland. Finding the country
fertile and pleasant, he passed the winter near this place,
and gave it the name of Vinland, from the wild vine
growing there in great abundance.” According to Rafu,
“Bjorn first saw land in the island of Nantucket, one
degree south of Boston, then in Nova Scotia, then in
Newfoundland.”
Accurate information respecting the former intercourse
of the Northmen with the continent of North America
reaches only as far as the middle of the fourteenth century.
In the year 1349 a ship was sent from Greenland to Markland
(Nova Scotia) to collect timber. Upon their return
from Markland the ship was overtaken by storms and
compelled to land at Straumfjord, in the west of Iceland.
This is the last account of the Northmen in the New
World preserved to us in the ancient Scandinavian writings.
Says Rafu: “The principal sources of information are
the historical narratives of Eric the Red, Thorfinn Karlsefne,
and Snorre Thorbrandson, probably written in Greenland
itself as early as the twelfth century, partly by descendants
of the settlers born in Vinland.” One account in particular
seems to point very strongly to a visit to this part
of Nova Scotia, and is as follows:
“Thorfinn Karlsefne, in 1007, in one ship, and Birone
Grimolfsen in another ship, left Greenland for Vinland
(Massachusetts). They had a hundred and sixty men, and
took all kinds of live stock, intending to establish a colony.
They sailed southerly and found Helluland (Newfoundland),
where there were many foxes. They again sailed
southerly and found Markland (Nova Scotia), overgrown
with wood. They continued south-westerly a long time,
having the land to starboard, passing long beaches, and
deserts and sands, and came to a land indented with inlets.
They landed and explored the country, finding grapes and
some ears of wheat, which grew wild. They continued
their course until they came to a place where a frith
penetrated far into the country. Off the mouth of it was
an island, past which there ran strong currents, which was
also the case further up the frith, &c.”
The long beaches and deserts of sand referred to above,
seemingly refer to those stretching along the coast line from
Hawk Point, Cape Island, in a north-easterly direction,
one of which makes a fine race-course, at least six miles long.
In the distance, across Barrington Passage, may be
seen stretches of sandy hills not less than 40 feet high.
These are visible at a great distance from seaward. The
reference, “they came to a place,” with the other geographical
details, made a strong case for Yarmouth as the landing
place of old Thorfinn.
It would be surprising if in a country with such a line
of sea-coast as Nova Scotia, with adjacent forests of every
kind of hard and soft woods, and with a population largely
depending upon fishing, shipbuilding should not early have
been begun.
At Yarmouth, about 1761, with the building of a small
schooner, christened the _James_, of about 25 tons burden,
the industry had its birth. From the time of the launching
of this modest craft until that of the _County of Yarmouth_,
a full rigged ship of 2154 tons, in 1886, there is seen
a steady development of the shipbuilding industry, in
which the south-western portion of the Province bore the
leading part.
In 1765 there were said to be in Queen’s County alone
seventeen sail of fishing schooners, all of native construction.
Other portions of the southern coast were not far behind.
Trade with the West Indies soon became important, and
before the close of the eighteenth century larger schooners
and brigantines were built, running to upwards of one
hundred tons.
Somewhat later the export of timber from the various
ports along the Northumberland Strait induced shipbuilding
on a very much larger scale. Soon after the Highlanders
came to Pictou they turned their attention to the exports
of timber in home-built vessels, and many of these of
considerable burden were built.[11]
[Footnote 11: For this information I am indebted, _inter alia_, to an
admirable little paper by Mr. R. M. M’Gregor, M.P.P.]
This time not merely Yarmouth, and Shelburne, and
Liverpool, and Pictou, but all New Scotland, owned an
important fleet of sailing ships, but still small in number
compared with the veritable navy they were to own and
be enriched by within a few years.
The forty years, from 1840 to 1880, saw the palmiest
days of this great industry. One still hears tales of the
mighty Captain George M’Kenzie of New Glasgow, to
whom more than to any one man Nova Scotia owed the
great impetus that was given during this period to shipbuilding.
Along the ports of the Northumberland Strait,
at least, this worthy mariner and builder, full of energy and
genius, did more than any one else to improve the character
of the ships built. He twice represented the County of
Pictou in the Legislature, and, indeed, his shipbuilding
ventures are referred to by his friend, Joseph Howe, in the
latter’s famous speech on the “Unification of the Empire.”
In 1850 Captain M’Kenzie was presented with a
service of plate by the merchants of Glasgow on the
occasion of the arrival of one of his 1500 ton ships,
the _Hamilton Campbell Kidston_, which was the largest
vessel that up to that time had ascended the Clyde.
Along the Northumberland Strait, Pictou, New Glasgow,
Tatamagouche, River John, and Merigomish, were all
noted for their shipbuilding. The Crimean War gave a
decided impetus to the industry, and about this time there
were said to be in New Glasgow alone fourteen square-rigged
vessels built in one year. The coal trade from
Pictou to the United States was also a stimulus.
In the west, Yarmouth, Windsor, Hantsport, Maitland,
Londonderry, and other Bay of Fundy ports were
centres for shipbuilding. But, indeed, there were scarcely
any harbours or rivers of note, both in the mainland and
parts of the Island of Cape Breton, that did not play a
greater or less part in this great industry.
A little over a quarter of a century ago there were registered
in Nova Scotia 3025 vessels, with a tonnage of 558,911
tons, or about one and a quarter tons of shipping _per capita_ of
the population, a larger holding than any other country in
the world, not even excepting those of Northern Europe.
The fleet of Yarmouth alone covered every ocean, and
represented the largest tonnage _per capita_ of any port in
the world. You saw Yarmouth ships in Helsingfors and
Monte Video.
The building and rigging of such a fleet of course
gave lucrative employment to a vast army of men.
Loggers, choppers, shipwrights, carpenters, blacksmiths,
caulkers, riggers, were employed full time at good wages.
But freights fell lower and lower. Conditions changed
in the carrying trade, and at Yarmouth I gathered that
the prosperous days of wooden sailing vessels reached
their zenith in 1879, when they had to give way to iron
sailing ships, these again to be replaced by the tramp
steamer which has invaded every sea, lake, and river
formerly sailed by the white-winged fleet.
And so the immense fleet of Yarmouth vanished.
Some of its owners were ruined, and others retired with
a more than comfortable competence. A few capitalists
foresaw the coming change—the incoming of steam—and
established other marine industries.
Nova Scotia ceased not only to be a shipbuilding,
but also to be a ship-owning and ship-operating country.
But in consequence of the recent revival of the lumber
trade to America and to the Southern Continent, there has
come the building of a large number of smaller vessels
in the Bay of Fundy ports. Three-masted schooners, of
some 300 and 400 tons, have been launched, while the
demand for smaller vessels for the West India trade has
never entirely ceased, and such are being launched every
year from Shelburne and other ports of the southern
shore. From the same portion of the Province, and in
particular from the County of Lunenburg, where the
fishing industry is pursued vigorously, fishing vessels are
being constantly built.
In quality of construction, these Nova Scotia built
boats have obtained an enviable reputation, and it would
seem as if it would be many years before the wooden
shipbuilding industry will be entirely lost to the Province.
Something has indeed been done in the way of
the construction of small steam boats, and nearly all the
coastal steam packets are home-built.
Yet, when the big wooden ships vanished, Yarmouth
captains, as factors in the world’s mercantile marine,
remained. Their experience and reputation insured them
employment elsewhere. After these vessels had become
obsolete, and were forced from the trade, these tried
fellows were eagerly sought for by English and Scotch
shipping firms, as skilled mariners and of unquestionable
integrity. To-day many important ships in America and
Britain are commanded by Nova Scotians, and Yarmuthians
in particular.
Wooden shipbuilding on a grand scale being a thing
of the past, if the sea-loving New Scotlanders are to
become again a race of shipbuilders and sailors, it must
be in steel bottoms. Already a beginning has been made
in a small way. Several small steel steamers have been
built in the town of New Glasgow, and one has lately
been launched at Yarmouth.
At the former place was launched last year the
three-master steel schooner _James William_, of about 500
tons register. As a swift sailer, and more particularly
as a good carrier, this vessel has more than exceeded
the expectations of her builders. The beginning so
auspiciously made is full of promise for the future, and it
may well be said that within the next few years Nova Scotia
may come back to her own, and once more take her place
under newer conditions as a great shipbuilding country.
Many of the Yarmouth fishermen repair to Gloucester
in the spring, and go to the Banks in vessels from that
port. These do well as a rule, and in November troop
home to enjoy the fruits of their labours. There are no
Bank fishermen out of Yarmouth ports nowadays, and
those who do not go out of Gloucester remain at home
and conduct fishing operations “off shore.” Very often
fish are scarce when bait is plentiful, and vice versa, and
oftentimes during the early fall the weather is so rough
that operations are perforce suspended for days at a time.
Of late, however, I was informed, large schools of
herrings have struck in along the shores, and big catches
have been made, so big in fact that at some points schooner
loads have been shipped to the American market.
* * * * *
The Argylls strongly suggest the scenery of the
Scottish Highlands, and must have done so to the
Western Highlanders who first settled the place. It is
the centre of a fine fishing and hunting country. There is
a remarkably curious natural phenomena at the “Narrows”;
for six hours the waters rush madly up stream, and for the
next six tumble as rapidly down again. The island-studded
waters provide fine duck shooting, and Lobster Bay is a
famous spot for these crustaceans.
As for Pubnico, it claims to be the very oldest French
Acadian settlement, being planted by D’Entremont in
1650, and is still peopled by that race. The harbour is
a beautiful sheet of land-locked water, where exceptionally
safe bathing and boating may be had. Many little old-fashioned
villages are close at hand, and are an object lesson
in early French habits and customs.
Barrington was described to me as a “homey” little
place, where visitors have delightfully jolly candy-pulls,
clambakes, and lobster-roasts nightly around roaring bonfires
on the beach.
I had long wanted to see Cape Sable Island. I was told
that it had enjoyed an unwonted prosperity during the last
few years. The island is seven miles long and from two to
three miles across, with a steam ferry plying to Barrington
Passage. It is famous for its splendid beaches, Hawk and
Stoney Island, and all sorts of shore and sea birds are found
here in abundance, and furnish good sport.
The first settlement appears to have been made about
1786 by Michael Swim, who had previously migrated from
New York to Shelburne. Being a man of some education,
he was long known as _the Clerk_ of the Island, and hence,
according to one tradition, the name Clark’s Harbour.
It is well worth while leaving the railway at Barrington
and traverse nine miles towards the coast to see the relics of
Fort St. Louis, now called Port La Tour. Here was the
scene of one of the most romantic episodes in the history of
Acadia. In 1627 the gallant young Charles de la Tour
was entrenched here. Hearing of the English plan to
drive the French from Acadia, and strong in his alliance
with the Micmacs, he wrote Louis XIII. asking to be
appointed commandant of all the coasts of Acadia. His
father, Claude de la Tour, it will be remembered, bore the
letter, and on the way back was captured by Sir David
Kirke, and taken to England.[12] Here he renounced his
loyalty to the French king, married an English lady, was
made a baronet of Nova Scotia, and received a large grant
in Acadia for himself and his son. Sir Claude then sailed
with his wife and an escort of two warships to where his
son Charles was holding the last fort in Acadia.
[Footnote 12: See _ante_, p. 19.]
Meanwhile the youthful French hero, lord of Acadia
under Poutrincourt’s charter, knew nothing of his good
fortune or of these paternal proceedings. When Sir Claude
reached his destination here at Fort St. Louis, he demanded
an interview with his son, who was astonished to find his
father in command of an English ship and wearing the
dress of an English admiral. Sir Claude related the
flattering reception he had met with in London, and the
honours that had been heaped upon him.
Instead of showing joy, Charles was thunderstruck.
He replied haughtily that “if those who sent you on this
errand think me capable of betraying my country, even at
the solicitation of a parent, they have greatly mistaken me.
I am not disposed to purchase the honours now offered me
by committing a crime. I do not undervalue the proffer of
the King of England; but the Prince in whose service I am
is quite able to reward me; and whether he does so or not,
the inward consciousness of my fidelity to him will be in
itself a recompense to me. The King of France has
confided the defence of this place to me. I shall maintain
it, if attacked, till my latest breath.”
In these circumstances Sir Claude thought to bring the
ungrateful youth to reason by force. Thrice he landed his
soldiers and sailors and tried to storm Fort St. Louis, but in
vain. His men were repulsed, and soon became disgusted
with the whole enterprise.
Eventually they all repaired to Port Royal and took up
settlement with the other Scotch colonists there. It might
be supposed that in this extremity the young English girl
to whom Sir Claude had promised power and luxury on his
Nova Scotian estates would now desire to return to England;
but she refused.
“I have shared your prosperity, Sir Claude,” she said, “I
will now share your evil fortunes.” And evil they proved.
For in 1632, after the shameful treaty of St. Germain-en-Laye,
by which Canada and Nova Scotia were ceded
back to France by King Charles I., Sir Claude, “between
the devil and the deep sea,” was fain at last to throw
himself on the mercy of his son, who established the couple
and their suite in comfort, some distance from the fort,
and there he remained for some time, until King Charles
found employment for him elsewhere in British Dominions.
I have related elsewhere something of the drama of the
young La Tours, of the heroism of the wife when besieged
by the villain Charnisay, of her death, of the long exile of
her husband, and his marriage with the widow of his enemy.
Upon such a spot one could hardly look unmoved;
but explore as one might, all trace of the La Tours seems
to have vanished from off the earth, save that on the page
of history and their names on the map.
In the old days the Acadians were settled in considerable
numbers about Barrington. At the time of their expulsion,
a flourishing settlement, with stone church and grist mill,
was utterly destroyed, the cattle burnt, and the inhabitants
deported to Boston and Halifax. Some few returned afterwards
to Cape Sable and received grants in Pubnico, where
they contributed to the present thrifty settlement.
In 1761-63, some eighty families from Nantucket and
Cape Cod settled in Barrington, but about half of them,
disappointed in their hope of making this a whaling station,
soon returned; and in 1767 the township of Barrington,
including Cape Sable Island, was granted to a body of one
hundred and two New Englanders.
Barrington is a quiet and picturesque little town, to
which a goodly number of summer visitors resort. It is
easy of access, being on the railway, and a point of call for
the smaller steamers from Yarmouth and Clark’s Harbour.
I am not sure whether it is not worth mentioning, but
Barrington is one of the few small towns in New Scotland
whose streets are lighted by oil lamps set upon old-fashioned
lamp-posts. The posts were brought from Boston many
years ago.
Between Barrington and Shelburne, scattered for some
twenty-seven miles inland, lie what are called the Clyde
settlements. The river Clyde is a really beautiful stream,
and rich in salmon and trout. The railway station is at
Port Clyde, near its mouth, and Clyde River settlement is
two and a half miles further up. Goose Lake, Goose
Creek, and Bower’s Lake are favourite haunts of trout
fishers.
Seventeen miles further up the river is Middle Clyde,
and Upper Clyde still another ten—both pretty villages,
within easy reach of lake and river fishing. This is a good
moose ground, partridge and rabbits are plentiful, and the
skilled hunter may add to his bag a brace of wild cat or an
occasional bear.