WINTER-TRAVELLING IN CANADA--DEPARTURE FROM LACHINE--SCENERY ALONG THE
ROAD--"INCIDENTS" BY THE WAY--ARRIVAL AT TADOUSAC--MR. STONE'S ADVENTURE
WITH INDIANS--CLUBBING SEALS.
It was on a bright winter's day in the month of January 1846 that I was
sent for by the Governor, and told to hold myself in readiness to start
early the following morning with Mr Stone for Tadousac--adding, that
probably I should spend the approaching summer at Seven Islands.
Tadousac, be it known, is a station about three hundred miles below
Montreal, at the mouth of the river Saguenay, and Seven Islands is two
hundred miles below Tadousac; so that the journey is not a short one.
The greater part of the road runs through an uninhabited country, and
the travelling is bad.
In preparation for this journey, then, I employed myself during the
remainder of the day; and before night all was ready.
Next morning I found that our journey was postponed to the following
day, so I went into Montreal to make a few purchases, and passed the
rest of the day in a state of intense thought, endeavouring to find out
if anything had been forgotten. Nothing, however, recurred to my
memory; and going to bed only half undressed, in order to be ready at a
moment's notice, I soon fell into a short disturbed slumber, from which
the servant awakened me long before daylight, by announcing that the
sleigh was at the door. In ten minutes I was downstairs, where Mr
Stone shortly afterwards joined me; and after seeing our traps safely
deposited in the bottom of the sleigh, we jumped in, and slid
noiselessly over the quiet street of Lachine.
The stars shone brightly as we glided over the crunching snow, and the
sleigh-bells tinkled merrily as our horse sped over the deserted road.
Groups of white cottages and solitary gigantic trees flew past us,
looking, in the uncertain light, like large snow-drifts; save where the
twinkling of a candle, or the first blue flames of the morning fire,
indicated that the industrious _habitant_ had risen to his daily toil.
In silence we glided on our way, till the distant lights of Montreal
awakened us from our reveries, and we met at intervals a solitary
pedestrian, or a sleigh-load of laughing, fur-encompassed faces
returning from an evening party.
About seven o'clock we arrived at the hotel from which the stage was to
start for Quebec--but when did stage-coach, or sleigh either, keep to
its time? No sign of it was to be seen, and it required no small
application of our knuckles and toes at the door to make the lazy waiter
turn out to let us in. No misery, save being too late, can equal that
of being too soon; at least, so I thought while walking up and down the
coffee-room of the hotel, upon the table of which were scattered the
remains of last night's supper, amid a confusion of newspapers and
fag-ends of cigars; while the sleepy waiter made unavailing efforts to
coax a small spark of fire to contribute some warmth to one or two damp
billets of wood.
About an hour after its appointed time, the sleigh drove up to the door,
and we hastened to take our places. The stage, however, was full, but
the driver informed us that an "extra" (or separate sleigh of smaller
dimensions than the stage) had been provided for us; so that we enjoyed
the enviable advantage of having it all to ourselves. Crack went the
whip, and off went the leader with a bound, the wheeler following at a
pace between a trot and a gallop, and our "extra" keeping close in the
rear. The lamps were still burning as we left the city, although the
first streaks of dawn illumined the eastern sky. In fifteen minutes
more we had left Montreal far behind.
There is something very agreeable in the motion of a sleigh along a good
road. The soft muffled sound of the runners gliding over the snow
harmonises well with the tinkling bells; and the rapid motion through
the frosty air, together with the occasional jolt of going into a hollow
or over a hillock, is very exhilarating, and we enjoyed our drive very
much for the first hour or so. But, alas! human happiness is seldom of
long duration, as we soon discovered; for, just as I was falling into a
comfortable doze, bang! went the sleigh into a deep "cahoe," which most
effectually wakened me. Now these same "cahoes" are among the
disadvantages attending sleigh-travelling in Canada. They are nothing
more or less than deep hollows or undulations in the road, into which
the sleighs unexpectedly plunge, thereby pitching the traveller roughly
forward; and upon the horses jerking the vehicles out of them, throwing
him backward in a way that is pretty sure to bring his head into closer
acquaintance with the back of the sleigh than is quite agreeable,
particularly if he be a novice in sleigh-travelling. Those which we now
encountered were certainly the worst I ever travelled over, rising in
succession like the waves of the sea, and making our conveyance plunge
sometimes so roughly that I expected it to go to pieces. Indeed, I
cannot understand how wood and iron could stand the crashes to which we
were exposed. In this way we jolted along, sometimes over good,
sometimes over bad roads, till about nine o'clock, when we stopped at a
neat, comfortable-looking inn, where the driver changed his horses, and
the passengers sat down to a hurried breakfast.
The morning turned out beautifully clear and warm, at least in
comparison with what it had been; and upon re-entering the sleigh we all
looked extremely happy, and disposed to be pleased with everything and
everybody. The country through which we now passed was picturesque and
varied. Hills and valleys, covered with glittering snow and dark pines,
followed each other in endless succession; while in every valley, and
from every mountain-top, we saw hundreds of hamlets and villages, whose
little streets and thoroughfares were crowded with busy _habitants_,
engaged in their various occupations and winter traffic.
The laughing voices of merry little children romping along the roads
accorded harmoniously with the lively tinkling of their parents'
sleigh-bells as they set out for the market with the produce of their
farms, or, dressed in their whitest blanket capotes and smartest
_bonnets rouges_, accompanied their wives and daughters to a marriage or
a festival. The scene was rendered still more pleasing by the extreme
clearness of the frosty air and the deep blue of the sky; while the
weather was just cold enough to make the rapid motion of our sleighs
agreeable and necessary.
In some places the roads were extremely precipitous; and when we arrived
at the foot of a large hill we used generally to get out and walk,
preferring this to being dragged slowly up by the jaded horses.
During the day our sleighs were upset several times; but Mr Stone and
I, in the "extra," suffered more in this way than those of the regular
stage, as it was much narrower, and, consequently, more liable to tip
over. Upon upsetting, it unaccountably happened that poor Mr Stone was
always undermost. But he submitted to his fate most stoically; though
from the nature of things my elbow invariably thrust him deep into the
snow, on which, after being extricated, a splendid profile impression
was left, to serve as a warning to other travellers, and to show them
that a gentleman had been _cast_ there.
As very little danger, however, attended these accidents, they only
afforded subject for mirth at the time, and conversation at the end of
the stage--except once, when the sleigh turned over so rapidly, that I
was thrown with considerable force against the roof, which, being of a
kind of slight framework, covered with painted canvas, offered but small
opposition to my flight; my head, consequently, went quite through it,
and my unfortunate nose was divested to rather an alarming extent of its
cutaneous covering. With this exception, we proceeded safely and
merrily along, and about seven o'clock in the evening arrived at the
small town of Three Rivers.
Early next morning we resumed our journey, and about four in the
afternoon arrived at the famous city of Quebec, without having
encountered any very interesting adventures by the way.
The first sight we had of Quebec was certainly anything but
prepossessing. A recent fire in the lower town had completely destroyed
a large portion of it; and the first street I passed through was nothing
but a gaunt row of blackened chimneys and skeleton houses, which had a
very melancholy, ghostlike appearance when contrasted with the white
snow. As we advanced, however, to where the fire had been checked, the
streets assumed a more agreeable aspect--shops were open here and there,
and workmen busily employed in repairing damaged houses and pulling down
dangerous ones. Upon arriving at the steep street which leads from the
lower town to within the walls, the immense strength of the ramparts and
fortifications struck me forcibly. The road up which we passed to the
gate was very narrow: on one side a steep hill descended to the lower
town; and on the other towered the city walls, pierced all over with
loopholes, and bristling with cannon. At the head of the road, in an
angle of the wall, two silent but grim-looking guns pointed their
muzzles directly down the road, so as to command it from one end to the
other. All the other parts of the walls that I happened to see were
even more strongly fortified than this.
The streets of Quebec are very steep, much more so than those of
Edinburgh; and it requires no small exertion to mount one or two without
stopping to breathe at the top. Upon the whole, it is anything but a
pretty town (at least in winter), the houses being high, and the streets
very narrow. The buildings, too, are commonplace; and the monument to
Wolfe and Montcalm is a very insignificant affair. In fact, Quebec can
boast of little else than the magnificent views it commands from the
ramparts, and the impregnable strength of its fortifications. Some of
the suburban villas, however, are very beautiful; and although I saw
them in winter, yet I could form some idea of the enchanting places they
must be in summer.
After spending three pleasant days here, we got into our sleigh again,
and resumed our journey.
No stages ran below Quebec, so that we now travelled in the sleigh of a
farmer, who happened to be going down part of the way.
Soon after leaving the city, we passed quite close to the famous Falls
of Montmorenci. They are as high, if not higher, than those of Niagara,
but I thought them rather tame, being nothing but a broad curtain of
water falling over an even cliff, and quite devoid of picturesque
scenery. A curious cone of ice, formed by the spray, rose nearly
half-way up the falls.
The scenery below Quebec is much more rugged and mountainous than that
above; and as we advanced the marks of civilisation began gradually to
disappear--villages became scarcer, and roads worse, till at last we
came to the shanties of the wood-cutters, with here and there a solitary
farmhouse. Still, however, we occasionally met a few sleighs, with the
conductors of which our driver seemed to be intimately acquainted.
These little interruptions broke, in a great degree, the monotony of the
journey; and we always felt happier for an hour after having passed and
exchanged with a Canadian a cheerful _bonjour_.
Our driver happened to be a very agreeable man, and more intelligent
than most Canadians of his class; moreover, he had a good voice, and
when we came to a level part of the road I requested him to sing me a
song--which he did at once, singing with a clear, strong, manly voice
the most beautiful French air I ever heard; both the name and air,
however, I have now forgotten. He then asked me to sing--which I did
without further ceremony, treating him to one of the ancient melodies of
Scotland; and thus, with solos and duets, we beguiled the tedium of the
road, and filled the woods with melody! much to the annoyance of the
unmusical American feathered tribes, and to the edification of our
horse, who pricked up his ears, and often glanced backwards, apparently
in extreme surprise.
Towards evening the driver told us that we should soon arrive at Baie de
St. Paul; and in half an hour more our weary horse dragged us slowly to
the top of a hill, whence we had a splendid view of the village. In all
the miles of country I had passed over, I had seen nothing to equal the
exquisite beauty of the Vale of Baie de St. Paul. From the hill on
which we stood the whole valley, of many miles in extent, was visible.
It was perfectly level, and covered from end to end with thousands of
little hamlets, and several churches, with here and there a few small
patches of forest. The course of a little rivulet, which meanders
through it in summer, was apparent, even though covered with snow. At
the mouth of this several schooners and small vessels lay embedded in
ice; beyond which rolled the dark, ice-laden waves of the Gulf of St.
Lawrence. The whole valley teemed with human life. Hundreds of
Canadians, in their graceful sleighs and carioles, flew over the
numerous roads intersecting the country; and the faint sound of tinkling
bells floated gently up the mountain-side, till it reached the elevated
position on which we stood. The whole scene was exquisitely calm and
peaceful, forming a strange and striking contrast to the country round
it. Like the Happy Valley of Rasselas, it was surrounded by the most
wild and rugged mountains, which rose in endless succession, one behind
another, stretching away in the distance till they resembled a faint
blue wave on the horizon. In this beautiful place we spent the night,
and the following at Mal Baie. This village was also pretty, but after
Baie de St. Paul I could but little admire it.
Next night we slept in a shanty belonging to the timber-cutters on the
coast of the gulf, which was truly the most wretched abode, except an
Indian tent, I ever had the chance (or mischance) to sleep in. It was a
small log-hut, with only one room; a low door--to enter which we had to
stoop--and a solitary square window, filled with parchment in lieu of
glass. The furniture was of the coarsest description, and certainly not
too abundant. Everything was extremely dirty, and the close air was
further adulterated with thick clouds of tobacco smoke, which curled
from the pipes of half a dozen wood-choppers. Such was the place in
which we passed the night; and glad was I when the first blush of day
summoned us to resume our travels. We now entered our sleigh for the
last time, and after a short drive arrived at the termination of the
horse road. Here we got out, and rested a short time in a shanty,
preparatory to taking to our snow-shoes.
The road now lay through the primeval forest, and fortunately it proved
to be pretty well beaten, so we walked lightly along, with our
snow-shoes under our arms. In the afternoon we arrived at another
shanty, having walked about eighteen miles. Here we found a gentleman
who superintended the operations of the lumberers, or wood-cutters. He
kindly offered to drive us to Canard River, a place not far distant from
the termination of our journey. I need scarcely say we gladly accepted
his offer, and in a short time arrived at the river Saguenay.
This river, owing to its immense depth, never freezes over at its mouth;
so we crossed it in a boat, and on the evening of the 7th of February we
arrived at the post of Tadousac.
This establishment belongs to the Hudson Bay Company, and is situated at
the bottom of a large and deep bay adjoining the mouth of the river
Saguenay. Unlike the posts of the north, it is merely a group of
houses, scattered about in a hollow of the mountains, without any
attempt at arrangement, and without a stockade. The post, when viewed
from one of the hills in the neighbourhood, is rather picturesque; it is
seen embedded in the mountains, and its white-topped houses contrast
prettily with the few pines around it. A little to the right rolls the
deep, unfathomable Saguenay, at the base of precipitous rocks and abrupt
mountains, covered in some places with stunted pines, but for the most
part bald-fronted. Up the river, the view is interrupted by a large
rock, nearly round, which juts out into the stream, and is named the
"Bull." To the right lies the Bay of St. Catherine, with a new
settlement at its head; and above this flows the majestic St. Lawrence,
compared to which the broad Saguenay is but a thread.
Tadousac Bay is one of the finest natural harbours in the St. Lawrence.
Being very deep quite close to the shore, it is much frequented by
vessels and craft of every description and dimension. Ships, schooners,
barks, brigs, and bateaux lie calmly at anchor within a stone's-throw of
the bushes on shore; others are seen beating about at the mouth of the
harbour, attempting to enter; while numerous pilot boats sail up and
down, almost under the windows of the house; and in the offing are
hundreds of vessels, whose white sails glimmer on the horizon like the
wings of sea-gulls, as they beat up for anchorage, or proceed on their
course for England or Quebec. The magnificent panorama is closed by the
distant hills of the opposite shore, blending with the azure sky. This,
however, is the only view, the land being a monotonous repetition of
bare granite hills and stunted pines [see note 1].
Here, then, for a time, my travels came to a close, and I set about
making myself as comfortable in my new quarters as circumstances would
permit.
Tadousac I found to be similar, in many respects, to the forts in the
north. The country around was wild, mountainous, and inhabited only by
a few Indians and wild animals. There was no society, excepting that of
Mr Stone's family; the only other civilised being, above the rank of a
labourer, being a gentleman who superintended a timber-cutting and
log-sawing establishment, a quarter of a mile from the Company's post.
My _bourgeois_, Mr Stone, was a very kind man and an entertaining
companion. He had left Scotland, his native land, when very young, and
had ever since been travelling about and dwelling in the wild woods of
America. A deep scar on the bridge of his nose showed that he had not
passed through these savage countries scathless. The way in which he
came by this scar was curious, so I may relate it here.
At one of the solitary forts in the wild regions on the west side of the
Rocky Mountains, where my friend Mr Stone dwelt, the Indians were in
the habit of selling horses, of which they had a great many, to the
servants of the Hudson Bay Company. They had, however, an uncommonly
disagreeable propensity to steal these horses again the moment a
convenient opportunity presented itself; and to guard against the
gratification of this propensity was one of the many difficulties that
the fur-traders had to encounter. Upon one occasion a fine horse was
sold by an Indian to Mr Stone, the price (probably several yards of
cloth and a few pounds of tobacco) paid, and the Indian went away. Not
long after the horse was stolen; but as this was an event that often
happened, it was soon forgotten. Winter passed away, spring thawed the
lakes and rivers, and soon a party of Indians arrived with furs and
horses to trade. They were of the Blackfoot tribe, and a wilder set of
fellows one would hardly wish to see. Being much in the habit of
fighting with the neighbouring tribes, they were quite prepared for
battle, and decorated with many of the trophies of war. Scalp-locks
hung from the skirts of their leather shirts and leggins, eagles'
feathers and beads ornamented their heads, and their faces were painted
with stripes of black and red paint.
After conversing with them a short time, they were admitted through the
wicket one by one, and their arms taken from them and locked up. This
precaution was rendered necessary at these posts, as the Indians used to
buy spirits, and often quarrelled with each other; but, having no arms,
of course they could do themselves little damage. When about a dozen of
them had entered, the gate was shut, and Mr Stone proceeded to trade
their furs and examine their horses, when he beheld, to his surprise,
the horse that had been stolen from him the summer before; and upon
asking to whom it belonged, the same Indian who had formerly sold it to
him stood forward and said it was his. Mr Stone (an exceedingly quiet,
good-natured man, but, like many men of this stamp, very passionate when
roused) no sooner witnessed the fellow's audacity than he seized a gun
from one of his men and shot the horse. The Indian instantly sprang
upon him, but being a less powerful man than Mr Stone, and, withal,
unaccustomed to use his fists, he was soon overcome, and pommelled out
of the fort. Not content with this, Mr Stone followed him down to the
Indian camp, pommelling him all the way. The instant, however, that the
Indian found himself surrounded by his own friends, he faced about, and
with a dozen warriors attacked Mr Stone and threw him on the ground,
where they kicked and bruised him severely; whilst several boys of the
tribe hovered around him with bows and arrows, waiting a favourable
opportunity to shoot him. Suddenly a savage came forward with a large
stone in his hand, and, standing over his fallen enemy, raised it high
in the air and dashed it down upon his face. My friend, when telling me
the story, said that he had just time, upon seeing the stone in the act
of falling, to commend his spirit to God ere he was rendered insensible.
The merciful God, to whom he thus looked for help at the eleventh hour,
did not desert him. Several men belonging to the fort, seeing the turn
things took, hastily armed themselves, and hurrying out to the rescue,
arrived just at the critical moment when the stone was dashed in his
face. Though too late to prevent this, they were in time to prevent a
repetition of the blow; and after a short scuffle with the Indians,
without any blood shed, they succeeded in carrying their master up to
the fort, where he soon recovered. The deep cut made by the stone on
the bridge of his nose left an indelible scar.
Besides Mr Stone, I had another companion--namely, Mr Jordan, a clerk,
who inhabited the same office with me, and slept in the same bedroom,
during the whole winter. He was a fine-looking athletic half-breed, who
had been partially educated, but had spent much more of his life among
Indians than among civilised men. He used to be sent about the country
to trade with the natives, and consequently led a much more active life
than I did. One part of his business, during the early months of
spring, was hunting seals. This was an amusing, though, withal, rather
a murderous kind of sport. The manner of it was this:--
My friend Jordan chose a fine day for his excursion, and, embarking in a
boat with six or seven men, sailed a few miles down the St. Lawrence,
till he came to a low flat point. In a small bay near this he drew up
the boat, and then went into the woods with his party, where each man
cut a large pole or club. Arming themselves with these, they waited
until the tide receded and left the point dry. In a short time one or
two seals crawled out of the sea to bask upon the shore; soon several
more appeared, and ere long a band of more than a hundred lay sunning
themselves upon the beach. The ambuscade now prepared to attack the
enemy. Creeping stealthily down as near as possible without being
discovered, they simultaneously rushed upon the astonished animals; and
the tragic scene of slaughter, mingled with melodramatic and comic
incidents, that ensued, baffles all description. In one place might be
seen my friend Jordan swinging a huge club round with his powerful arms,
and dealing death and destruction at every blow; while in another place
a poor weazened-looking Scotchman (who had formerly been a tailor! and
to whom the work was new) advanced, with cautious trepidation, towards a
huge seal, which spluttered and splashed fearfully in its endeavours to
reach the sea, and dealt it a blow on the back. He might as well have
hit a rock. The slight rap had only the effect of making the animal
show its teeth; at which sight the tailor retreated precipitately, and,
striking his heel against a rock, fell backwards into a pool of water,
where he rolled over and over--impressed, apparently, with the idea that
he was attacked by all the seals in the sea. His next essay, however,
was more successful, and in a few minutes he killed several, having
learned to hit on the head instead of on the back. In less than a
quarter of an hour they killed between twenty and thirty seals, which
were stowed in the boat and conveyed to the post.
Nothing worth mentioning took place at Tadousac during my residence
there. The winter became severe and stormy, confining us much to the
house, and obliging us to lead very humdrum sort of lives. Indeed, the
only thing that I can recollect as being at all interesting or amusing--
except, of coarse, the society of my scientific and agreeable friend,
Mr Stone, and his amiable family--was a huge barrel-organ, which, like
the one that I had found at Oxford House, played a rich variety of psalm
tunes, and a choice selection of Scotch reels--the grinding out of which
formed the chief solace of my life, until the arrival of an auspicious
day when I received sudden orders to prepare for another journey.
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Note 1. It may be well to say that the above description applied to the
country only in the summer and autumn months. It is now, we believe, an
important summer resort, and a comparatively populous place.