A LAND OF TIMBER AND MINERALS
Although it may be many years before Newfoundland is known as an
agricultural country, every effort is now being made by the Government
to make known the richness of the soil in many sections of the country.
The fishing industry has been remunerative for so many generations that
little attention has been devoted to the possibilities of the soil,
and probably the close proximity of Canada, and its popularity as a
country of great rewards for emigrants who are prepared to till the
soil, have tended to keep Newfoundland in the background as a suitable
Colony for the agricultural emigrants from England and the Continent.
But whatever may be the future of agriculture, it is certain that the
timber and minerals of the island will be a growing source of revenue
each succeeding year.
[Illustration]
Among the many minerals that have been discovered in Newfoundland are
copper, iron-ore, chromite, pyrites, nickel, antimony, lead, manganese,
silver, gold, slate, and coal. In the districts of Codroy Valley, Bay
St. George, and the upper reaches of the Humber River, coal is
considered to be plentiful, and British capitalists are now about to
develop these areas. Iron-ore, however, is the most abundant mineral
in the Colony, and Canadian companies have drawn millions of tons from
Bell Island, in Conception Bay. It is calculated that the troughs
in this island contain the enormous amount of 3,635,543,360 tons of
splendid iron-ore. Most of the ore goes to the large smelting-works of
the Dominion Iron and Steel Company, Sydney, Canada.
Many and dense are the great forests of Newfoundland. Those who were
ignorant of the wealth of timber said that there was no future for the
lumbering industry; but apart from the rapidly increasing exports of
lumber, syndicates are now buying up the forests as rapidly as they
can, in order to convert them into paper, upon which your stories,
novels, and general news are daily printed. Only recently Lord
Northcliffe has spent over 1,000,000 sterling in the erection of pulp
and paper mills on the River Exploits. Over 20,000 men will be employed
at the mills. The first paper manufactured in Newfoundland was at these
mills in November, 1909.
The River Exploits, on which the Northcliffe Mills are built, runs
through one of the finest lumbering sections of the Colony. “Between
the Grand Falls and Badger Brook, at many parts on both sides of the
main river, pine flourishes luxuriantly, much of which appears to be of
excellent quality, being often of fair diameter, straight, and tall.
These reaches also display a fine growth of other varieties of timber;
and at some parts, especially above the forks of Sandy Hook, white
birch often attains a very large size. About Red Indian Lake there is a
superb growth of pine and spruce of large size, straight and tall.”
[Illustration: LORD NORTHCLIFFE’S PAPER MILLS AT GRAND FALLS.]
In spite of the loneliness of his life, the logger is usually a
happy and a healthy man. You may miss the finely-chiselled features,
intelligent eyes, and refined speech when you confront these loggers;
but you have not spent a day in their camp before you realize that they
possess something more wonderful than the above-mentioned qualities:
they have a native wit, born of a struggle, year after year, with
natural forces. Many of them are able to measure a tree exactly by a
rapid glance of the eye from root to tip, and they can so manipulate
a falling tree that it shall drop within an inch of the spot on which
they desire it. If you entered one of their camps you would probably be
disappointed because it looked so small and clumsy in comparison with
modern villas; but if you stopped to examine one of their houses, and
thought of the thousands of miles separating the logger from what is
called advanced civilization, you would be deeply impressed by the
skill exhibited in the construction of these wooden dwellings. The
trunks of the pine are laid across the corners with discriminating
exactness, and between the pines are layers of moss compressed so
tightly by the weight of the trunks that neither wind, rain, nor snow
can find its unwelcome way to the interior. About twenty men are the
tenants of one of the improvised houses, and everyone takes care that
the rooms are kept clean and tidy. The long bedroom is divided into
sections by curtains, and at the one end of this is a large kitchen,
with a big cooking-stove running towards the centre, around which the
loggers smoke and tell yarns in the long winter evenings. Yes, the
stalwart sons of Newfoundland are brainy enough when the forces of
Nature call their brains into play. You can see them returning from the
woods with timber, roughly hewn at first; but if you were to inquire
for that same timber a few months afterwards you would be shown a
beautiful schooner that had already been out and fought a battle with
ice and wind, and now lay in the harbour, her sides bulging with fish,
their snow-white bellies glimmering in the sunlight.
The ingenuity of the Newfoundlander is seen at its best, probably, when
navigation opens in spring and the logs are sent down the river on
their mad rush to the mills. Over 50,000 logs, as soon as they feel the
impetus of a favouring wind, go tumbling over the rapids and down the
broad river. The men skip across the logs as lightly as the deer steps
from crag to crag. If the logs become jammed, in a few moments they are
set at liberty, and breast forward goes the whole army once more. It is
exhilarating labour. One great expanse of forest, field and water, a
clear blue sky above, a fresh breeze blowing, the haunting cry of the
great northern diver--who in the heart of a smoke-laden city would not
sigh for a life such as this? When the logger’s work is finished in the
evening he can sit by the side of the river, or take a punt across the
lake and throw out his line for a few hours of sport with the salmon,
trout, and other fishes.
One of the great charms of Newfoundland is the strong wind, that
seldom rests a single day. Just as the sea gets into the blood of the
fisherman and continually lures him to the “long dim rollers,” so the
wind gets into the blood of the logger and lures him to the music of
the forests.
“O wild west wind, thou breath of autumn’s being,
Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves, dead,
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
* * * * *
Wild spirit which art moving everywhere.”
What wild music the wind draws from the harp-strings of the pine! The
clusters of spruce-trees quiver to their roots. Shrieking before the
blast, the gulls skim down to their coverts in the rocks, only to rise
again in a few moments, for one can tell that they love the wind as
much as they love the sea.
Through that narrow gorge between two rugged cliffs the wind comes
joyously on. It ruffles the moss on the slopes of the hills, scatters
the scarlet leaves of the raspberry-trees, and sends the waters of
the large blue lakes leaping in frolicsome waves up the beach to the
feet of the rocking pines. Behind the hills to the west the clouds are
tinged with amber, silver, and gold, and the clang of the woodman’s axe
is caught in the clutches of the wind, to be carried o’er chasm and
crag far out to sea. Yes, half the joy of life in Newfoundland is to be
found in its soul-haunting wind. And those who have known the din of
London’s busy streets appreciate it most. May the woodman still sing
and chop, and may the wind still play its music to the spirits of the
Indians who may still be dancing around camp-fires, invisible to mortal
eyes!