Popular ignorance--The garden island--Summer and winter contrasted--A
wooden capital--Island politics, and their consequences--Gossip--"Blowin-
time"--Religion and the clergy--The servant nuisance--Colonial society--An
evening party--An island premier--Agrarian outrage--A visit to the
Indians--The pipe of peace--An Indian coquette--Country hospitality--A
missionary--A novel mode of lobster-fishing--Uncivilised life--Far away in
the woods--Starvation and dishonesty--An old Highlander and a Highland
welcome--Hopes for the future.
I was showing a collection of autographs to a gentleman at a party in a
well-known Canadian city, when the volume opened upon the majestic
signature of Cromwell. I paused as I pointed to it, expecting a burst of
enthusiasm. "_Who is Cromwell?_" he asked; an ignorance which I should
have believed counterfeit had it not been too painfully and obviously
genuine.
A yeoman friend in England, on being told that I had arrived safely at
Boston, after encountering great danger in a gale, "_reckoned that it was
somewhere down in Lincolnshire_."
With these instances of ignorance, and many more which I could name, fresh
in my recollection, I am not at all surprised that few persons should be
acquainted with the locality of a spot of earth so comparatively obscure
as Prince Edward Island. When I named my destination to my friends prior
to my departure from England, it was supposed by some that I was going to
the Pacific, and by others that I was going to the north-west coast of
America, while one or two, on consulting their maps, found no such island
indicated in the part of the ocean where I described it to be placed.
Now, Prince Edward Island is the abode of seventy thousand human beings.
It _had a garrison, though now the loyalty of its inhabitants is
considered a sufficient protection. It _has a Governor, a House of
Assembly, a Legislative Council, and a Constitution. It has a wooden
Government House, and a stone Province Building. It has a town of six
thousand people, and an extensive shipbuilding trade, and, lastly, it has
a prime minister. As it has not been tourist-ridden, like Canada or the
States, and is a _terra incognita_ to many who are tolerably familiar with
the rest of our North American possessions, I must briefly describe it,
though I am neither writing a guide-book nor an emigrant's directory.
This island was discovered by Sebastian Cabot in 1497, and more than two
centuries afterwards received the name of St. John, by which it is still
designated in old maps. It received the name of Prince Edward Island in
compliment to the illustrious father of our Queen, who bestowed great
attention upon it. It has been the arena of numerous conflicts during the
endless wars between the French and English. Its aboriginal inhabitants
have here, as in other places, melted away before the whites. About three
hundred remain, earning a scanty living by shooting and fishing, and
profess the Romish faith.
This island is 140 miles in length, and at its widest part 34 in breadth.
It is intersected by creeks; every part of its coast is indented by the
fierce flood of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and no part of it is more than
nine miles distant from some arm of the sea. It bears the name throughout
the British provinces of the "Garden of British America." That this title
has been justly bestowed, none who have ever visited it in summer will
deny.
While Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, and the banks of the St. Lawrence are
brown, even where most fertile, this island is clothed in brilliant green.
I suppose that the most elevated land in it is less than 400 feet above
the level of the sea; there is not a rock in any part of it, and the
stones which may be very occasionally picked up in the recesses of the
forest cause much speculation in the minds of the curious and scientific.
The features of this country are as soft as the soil. The land is
everywhere gently undulating, and, while anything like a hill is unknown,
it has been difficult to find a piece of ground sufficiently level for a
cricket-field. The north shore is extremely pretty; it has small villages,
green clearings, fine harbours, with the trees growing down to the water's
edge, and shady streams.
The land is very suitable for agricultural purposes, as also for the
rearing of sheep; but the island is totally destitute of mineral wealth.
It is highly favoured in climate. The intense heat of a North American
summer is here tempered by a cool sea-breeze; fogs are almost unknown, and
the air is dry and bracing. Instances of longevity are very common; fever
and consumption are seldom met with, and the cholera has never visited its
shores. Wages are high, and employment abundant; land is cheap and
tolerably productive; but though a competence may always be obtained, I
never heard of any one becoming rich through agricultural pursuits.
Shipbuilding is the great trade of the island, and the most profitable
one. Everywhere, even twenty miles inland, and up among the woods, ships
may be seen in course of construction. These vessels are sold in England
and in the neighbouring colonies; but year by year, as its trade
increases, the island requires a greater number for its own use.
In summer, the island is a very agreeable residence; the sandy roads are
passable, and it has a bi-weekly communication with the neighbouring
continent. Shooting and fishing may be enjoyed in abundance, and the
Indians are always ready to lend assistance in these sports. Bears, which
used to be a great attraction to the more adventurous class of sportsmen,
are, however, rapidly disappearing.
In winter, I cannot conceive a more dull, cheerless, and desolate place
than Prince Edward Island. About the beginning of December steam
communication with the continent ceases, and those who are leaving the
island hurry their departure. Large stocks of fuel are laid in, the
harbour is deserted by the shipping, and all out-door occupations
gradually cease. Before Christmas the frost commences, the snow frequently
lies six feet deep, and soon the harbours and the adjacent ocean freeze,
and the island is literally "locked in regions of thick-ribbed ice" for
six long months. Once a fortnight during the winter an ice-boat crosses
Northumberland Strait, at great hazard, where it is only nine miles wide,
conveying the English mail; but sometimes all the circumstances are not
favourable, and the letters are delayed for a month--the poor islanders
being locked meanwhile in their icebound prison, ignorant of the events
which may be convulsing the world. Charlotte Town, the capital of the
island and the seat of government, is very prettily situated on a
capacious harbour, which was defended by several heavy guns. It is a town
of shingles, but looks very well from the sea. With the exception of
Quebec, it is considered the prettiest town in British America; but while
Quebec is a city built on a rock, Charlotte Town closely borders upon a
marsh, and its drainage has been very much neglected.
There are several commons in the town, the grass of which is of a
peculiarly brilliant green, and, as these are surrounded by houses, they
give it a cheerful appearance. The houses are small, and the stores by no
means pretentious. The streets are unlighted, and destitute of side walks;
there is not an attempt at paving, and the grips across them are something
fearful. "Hold on" is a caution as frequently given as absolutely
necessary. I have travelled over miles of corduroy road in a springless
waggon, and in a lumber waggon, drawn by oxen, where there was no road at
all, but I never experienced anything like the merciless joint-dislocating
jolting which I met with in Charlotte Town. This island metropolis has two
or three weekly papers of opposite sides in politics, which vie with each
other in gross personalities and scurrilous abuse.
The colony has "responsible government," a Governor, a Legislative
Council, and a House of Assembly, and storms in politics are not at all
unfrequent. The members of the Lower House are elected by nearly universal
suffrage, and it is considered necessary that the "Premier" should have a
majority in it. This House is said to be on a par with Irish poor-law
guardian meetings for low personalities and vehement vituperation.
The genius of Discord must look complacently on this land. Politics have
been a fruitful source of quarrels, misrepresentation, alienation, and
division. The opposition parties are locally designated "_snatchers_" and
"_snarlers_," and no love is lost between the two. It is broadly affirmed
that half the people on the island do not speak to the other half. And,
worse than all, religious differences have been brought up as engines
wherewith to wreak political animosities. I never saw a community in which
people appeared to hate each other so cordially. The flimsy veil of
etiquette does not conceal the pointed sneer, the malicious innuendo, the
malignant backbiting, and the unfounded slander. Some of the forms of
society are observed in the island--that extreme of civilisation vulgarly
called "_cutting_" is common; morning calls are punctiliously paid and
returned, and there are occasional balls and tea-parties. Quebec is
described as being the hottest and coldest town in the world, Paris the
gayest, London the richest; but I should think that Charlotte Town may
bear away the palm for being the most gossiping.
There is a general and daily flitting about of its inhabitants after news
of their neighbours--all that is said and done within a three-mile circle
is reported, and, of course, a great deal of what has neither been said
nor done. There are certain people whose business it is to make mischief,
and mischief-making is a calling in which it does not require much wit to
be successful.
The inhabitants are a sturdy race, more than one-half of them being of
Scotch descent. They are prevented from attaining settled business-like
habits by the long winter, which puts a stop to all out-door employment.
This period, when amusement is the only thing thought of, is called in the
colonies "blowin-time." All the country is covered with snow, and the
inhabitants have nothing to do but sleigh about, play ball on the ice,
drive the young ladies to quilting frolics and snow picnics, drink brandy-
and-water, and play at whist for sixpenny points.
The further you go from Charlotte Town, the more primitive and hospitable
the people become; they warmly welcome a stranger, and seem happy, moral,
and contented. This island is the only place in the New World where I met
with any who believed in the supernatural. One evening I had been telling
some very harmless ghost stories to a party by moonlight, and one of my
auditors, a very clever girl, fancied during the night that she saw
something stirring in her bed-room. In the idea that the ghost would
attack her head rather than her feet, she tied up her feet in her _bonnet-
de-nuit_, put them upon the pillow, and her head under the quilt--a novel
way of cheating a spiritual visitant.
There are numerous religious denominations in the colony, all enjoying the
same privileges, or the absence of any. I am not acquainted with the
number belonging to each, but would suppose the Roman Catholics to be the
most dominant, from the way in which their church towers over the whole
town. There are about eleven Episcopalian clergymen, overworked and
underpaid. Most of these are under the entire control of the Bishop of
Nova Scotia, and are removable at his will and pleasure. This _will_
Bishop Binney exercises in a very capricious and arbitrary manner.
Some of these clergymen are very excellent and laborious men. I may
particularise Dr. Jenkins, for many years chief minister of Charlotte
Town, whose piety, learning, and Christian spirit would render him an
ornament to the Church of England in any locality. Even among the clergy,
some things might seem rather peculiar to a person fresh from England. A
clergyman coming to a pause in his sermon, one of his auditors from the
floor called up "Propitiation;" the preacher thanked him, took the word,
and went on with his discourse.
The difficulty of procuring servants, which is felt from the Government
House downwards, is one of the great objections to this colony. The few
there are know nothing of any individual department of work,--for
instance, there are neither cooks nor housemaids, they are strictly
"_helps_"--the mistress being expected to take more than her fair share of
the work. They come in and go out when they please, and, if anything
dissatisfies them, they ask for their wages, and depart the same day, in
the certainty that their labour will command a higher price in the United
States. It is not an uncommon thing for a gentleman to be obliged to do
the work of gardener, errand-boy, and groom. A servant left at an hour's
notice, saying, "she had never been so insulted before," because her
master requested her to put on shoes when she waited at table; and a
gentleman was obliged to lie in bed because his servant had taken all his
shirts to the wash, and had left them while she went to a "frolic" with
her lover.
The upper class of society in the island is rather exclusive, but it is
difficult to say what qualification entitles a man to be received into
"society." The _entree_ at Government House is not sufficient; but a
uniform is powerful, and wealth is omnipotent. The present governor, Mr.
Dominick Daly, is a man of great suavity of manner. He has a large amount
of _finesse_, which is needful in a colony where people like the
supposition that they govern themselves, but where it is absolutely
necessary that a firm hand should hold the reins. The island is prospering
under its new form of "responsible government;" its revenue is increasing;
it is out of debt; and Mr. Daly, whose tenure of power has been very
short, will without doubt considerably develop its resources. Mrs. Daly is
an invalid, but her kindness makes her deservedly popular, together with
her amiable and affable daughters, the elder of whom is one of the most
beautiful girls whom I saw in the colonies.
I remained six weeks in this island, being detained by the cholera, which
was ravaging Canada and the States. I spent the greater part of this time
at the house of Captain Swabey, a near relation of my father's, at whose
house I received every hospitality and kindness. Captain Swabey is one of
the most influential inhabitants of the island, as, since the withdrawal
of the troops, the direction of its defences has been intrusted to him, in
consideration of his long experience in active service. He served in the
land forces which assisted Nelson at the siege of Copenhagen. He
afterwards served with distinction through the Peninsular war, and, after
receiving a ball in the knee at Vittoria, closed his military career at
the battle of Waterloo. It is not a little singular that Mr. Hensley,
another of the principal inhabitants, and a near neighbour of Captain
Swabey's, fought at Copenhagen under Lord Nelson, where part of his cheek-
bone was shot away.
While I was there, the governor gave his first party, to which, as a
necessary matter of etiquette, all who had left cards at Government House
were invited. I was told that I should not see such a curious mixture
anywhere else, either in the States or in the colonies. There were about a
hundred and fifty persons present, including all the officers of the
garrison and customs, and the members of the government. The "prime
minister," the Hon. George Coles, whose name is already well known in the
colonies, was there in all the novel glories of office and "red-tapeism."
I cannot say that this gentleman looked at all careworn; indeed the cares
of office, even in England, have ceased to be onerous, if one may judge
from the ease with which a premier of seventy performs upon the
parliamentary stage; but Mr. Coles looked particularly the reverse. He is
justified in his complacent appearance, for he has a majority in the
house, a requisite scarcely deemed essential in England, and the finances
of the colony are flourishing under his administration. He is a self-made
and self-educated man, and by his own energy, industry, and perseverance,
has raised himself to the position which he now holds; and if his manners
have not all the finish of polite society, and if he does sometimes say
"Me and the governor," his energy is not less to be admired.
Another member of the government appeared in a yellow waistcoat and brown
frock-coat; but where there were a great many persons of an inferior class
it was only surprising that there should be so few inaccuracies either in
dress or deportment. There were some very pretty women, and almost all
were dressed with simplicity and good taste. The island does not afford a
band, but a pianist and violinist played most perseveringly, and the
amusements were kept up with untiring spirit till four in the morning.
The governor and his family behaved most affably to their guests, and I
was glad to observe that in such a very mixed company not the slightest
vulgarity of manner was perceptible.
It may be remarked, however, that society is not on so safe a footing as
in England. Such things as duels, but of a very bloodless nature, have
been known: people occasionally horsewhip and kick each other; and if a
gentleman indulges in the pastime of breaking the windows of another
gentleman, he receives a bullet for his pains. Some time ago, a gentleman
connected with a noble family in Scotland, emigrated to the island with a
large number of his countrymen, to whom he promised advantageous
arrangements with regard to land. He was known by the name of Tracadie.
After his tenants had made a large outlay upon their farms, Tracadie did
not fulfil his agreements, and the dissatisfaction soon broke forth into
open outrage. Conspiracies were formed against him, his cows and carts
were destroyed, and night after night the country was lighted by the
flames of his barns and mills. At length he gave loaded muskets to some of
his farm-boys, telling them to shoot any one they saw upon his premises
after dusk. The same evening he went into his orchard, and was standing
with his watch in his hand waiting to set it by the evening gun, when the
boys fired, and he fell severely wounded. When he recovered from this, he
was riding out one evening, when he was shot through the hat and hip by
men on each side of the road, and fell weltering in blood. So detested was
he, that several persons passed by without rendering him any assistance.
At length one of his own tenantry, coming by, took him into Charlotte Town
in a cart, but was obliged shortly afterwards to leave the island, to
escape from the vengeance which would have overtaken the succourer of a
tyrant. Tracadie was shot at five or six different times. Shortly after my
arrival in the island, he went to place his daughter in a convent at
Quebec, and died there of the cholera.
One day, with a party of youthful friends, I crossed the Hillsboro' Creek,
to visit the Indians. We had a large heavy boat, with cumbrous oars, very
ill balanced, and a most inefficient crew, two of them being boys either
very idle or very ignorant, and, as they kept tumbling backwards over the
thwarts, one gentleman and I were left to do all the work. On our way we
came upon an Indian in a bark canoe, and spent much of our strength in an
ineffectual race with him, succeeding in nothing but in getting aground.
We had very great difficulty in landing, and two pretty squaws indulged in
hearty laughter at our numerous failures.
After scrambling through a wood, we came upon an Indian village,
consisting of fifteen wigwams. These are made of poles, tied together at
the upper end, and are thatched with large pieces of birch-bark. A hole is
always left at the top to let out the smoke, and the whole space occupied
by this primitive dwelling is not larger than a large circular dining-
table. Large fierce dogs, and uncouth, terrified-looking, lank-haired
children, very scantily clothed, abounded by these abodes. We went into
one, crawling through an aperture in the bark. A fire was burning in the
middle, over which was suspended a kettle of fish. The wigwam was full of
men and squaws, and babies, or "papooses," tightly strapped into little
trays of wood. Some were waking, others sleeping, but none were employed,
though in several of the camps I saw the materials for baskets and bead-
work. The eyes of all were magnificent, and the young women very handsome,
their dark complexions and splendid hair being in many instances set off
by a scarlet handkerchief thrown loosely round the head.
We braved the ferocity of numerous dogs, and looked into eight of these
abodes; Mr. Kenjins, from the kind use he makes of his medical knowledge,
being a great favourite with the Indians, particularly with the young
squaws, who seemed thoroughly to understand all the arts of coquetry. We
were going into one wigwam when a surly old man opposed our entrance,
holding out a calabash, vociferous voices from the interior calling out,
"Ninepence, ninepence!" The memory of _Uncas_ and _Magua_ rose before me,
and I sighed over the degeneracy of the race. These people are mendicant
and loquacious. When you go in, they begin a list of things which they
want--blankets, powder, tobacco, &c.; always concluding with, "Tea, for
God's sake!" for they have renounced the worship of the Great Spirit for a
corrupted form of Christianity.
We were received in one _camp_ by two very handsome squaws, mother and
daughter, who spoke broken English, and were very neat and clean. The
floor was thickly strewn with the young shoots of the var, and we sat down
with them for half an hour. The younger squaw, a girl of sixteen, was very
handsome and coquettish. She had a beautiful cap, worked in beads, which
she would not put on at the request of any of the ladies; but directly Mr.
Kenjins hinted a wish to that effect, she placed it coquettishly on her
head, and certainly looked most bewitching. Though only sixteen, she had
been married two years, and had recently lost her twins. Mr. Kenjins asked
her the meaning of an Indian phrase. She replied in broken English, "What
one little boy say to one little girl: I love you." "I suppose your
husband said so to you before you were married?" "Yes, and he say so now,"
she replied, and both she and her mother laughed long and uncontrollably.
These Indians retain few of their ancient characteristics, except their
dark complexions and their comfortless nomade way of living. They are not
represented in the Legislative Assembly.
Very different are the Indians of Central America, the fierce Sioux,
Comanches, and Blackfeet. In Canada West I saw a race differing in
appearance from the Mohawks and Mic-Macs, and retaining to a certain
extent their ancient customs. Among these tribes I entered a wigwam, and
was received in sullen silence. I seated myself on the floor with about
eight Indians; still not a word was spoken. A short pipe was then lighted
and offered to me. I took, as previously directed, a few whiffs of the
fragrant weed, and then the pipe was passed round the circle, after which
the oldest man present began to speak. [Footnote: "Why has our white
sister visited the wigwams of her red brethren?" was the salutation with
which they broke silence--a question rather difficult to answer.] This
pipe is the celebrated calumet, or pipe of peace, and it is considered
even among the fiercest tribes as a sacred obligation. A week before I
left Prince Edward Island I went for a tour of five days in the north-west
of the island with Mr. and Miss Kenjins. This was a delightful change, an
uninterrupted stream of novelty and enjoyment. It was a relief from
Charlotte Town, with its gossiping morning calls, its malicious stories,
its political puerilities, its endless discussions on servants, turnips,
and plovers; it was a bound into a region of genuine kindness and
primitive hospitality.
We left Charlotte Town early on a brilliant morning, in a light waggon,
suitably attired for "roughing it in the bush." Our wardrobes, a draught-
board, and a number of books (which we never read), were packed into a
carpetbag of most diminutive proportions. We took large buffalo robes with
us, in case we should not be able to procure a better shelter for the
night than a barn. We were for the time being perfectly congenial, and
determined on thoroughly enjoying ourselves. We sang, and rowed, and
fished, and laughed, and made others laugh, and were perfectly happy,
never knowing and scarcely caring where we should obtain shelter for the
night. Our first day's dinner was some cold meat and bread, eaten in a
wood, our horse eating his oats by our side; and we made drinking-cups, in
Indian fashion, of birch-tree bark--cups of Tantalus, properly speaking,
for very little of the water reached our lips. While engaged in drawing
some from a stream, the branch on which I leaned gave way, and I fell into
the water, a mishap which amused my companions so much that they could not
help me out.
After a journey of thirty miles our further course was stopped by a wide
river, with low wooded hills and promontories, but there was no ferry-
boat, so, putting up our horse in a settler's barn, we sat on the beach
till a cranky, leaky boat, covered with fish-scales, was with some
difficulty launched, and a man took us across the beautiful stream. This
kindly individual came for us again the next morning, and would accept
nothing but our thanks for his trouble. The settler in whose barn we had
left our horse fed him well with oats, and was equally generous. The
people in this part of the island are principally emigrants from the north
of Scotland, who thus carry Highland hospitality with them to their
distant homes. After a long walk through a wood, we came upon a little
church, with a small house near it, and craved a night's hospitality. The
church was one of those strongholds of religion and loyalty which I
rejoice to see in the colonies. There, Sabbath after Sabbath, the
inhabitants of this peaceful locality worship in the pure faith of their
forefathers: here, when "life's fitful fever" is over, they sleep in the
hallowed ground around these sacred walls. Nor could a more peaceful
resting-place be desired: from the graveyard one could catch distant
glimpses of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and tall pine-trees flung their dark
shadows over the low green graves.
Leaving our friends in the house, we went down to a small creek running up
into the woods, the most formidable "_longer fences_" not intercepting our
progress. After some ineffectual attempts to gain possession of a log-
canoe, we launched a leaky boat, and went out towards the sea. The purple
beams of the setting sun fell upon the dark pine woods, and lay in long
lines upon the calm waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. It was a glorious
evening, and the scene was among the fairest which I saw in the New World.
On our return we found our host, the missionary, returned from his walk of
twenty-two miles, and a repast of tea, wheaten scones, raspberries, and
cream, awaited us. This good man left England twenty-five years ago, and
lived for twenty in one of the most desolate parts of Newfoundland. Yet he
has retained his vivid interest in England, and kept us up till a late
hour talking over its church and people. Contented in his isolated
position, which is not without its severe hardships, this good missionary
pursues his useful course unnoticed by the world as it bustles along; his
sole earthly wish seems to be that he may return to England to die.
The next morning at seven we left his humble home, where such hospitality
had awaited us, and he accompanied us to the river. He returned to his
honourable work--I shortly afterwards went to the United States--another
of the party is with the Turkish army in the Crimea--and the youngest is
married in a distant land. For several hours we passed through lovely
scenery, on one of the loveliest mornings I ever saw. We stopped at the
hut of an old Highland woman, who was "_terribly glad_" to see us, and
gave us some milk; and we came up with a sturdy little barefooted urchin
of eight years old, carrying a basket. "What's your name?" we asked. "_Mr.
Crazier_," was the bold and complacent reply.
At noon we reached St. Eleanor's, rather a large village, where we met
with great hospitality for two days at the house of a keeper of a small
store, who had married the lively and accomplished daughter of an English
clergyman. The two Irish servant-girls were ill, but she said she should
be delighted to receive us if we would help her to do the household work.
The same afternoon we drove to the house of a shipbuilder at a little
hamlet called Greenshore, and went out lobster-fishing in his beautiful
boat. The way of fishing for these creatures was a novel one to me, but so
easy that a mere novice may be very successful. We tied _sinks_ to
mackerel, and let them down in six fathoms water. We gently raised them
now and then, and, if we felt anything pulling the bait, raised it slowly
up. Gently, gently, or the fish suspects foul play; but soon, just under
the surface, I saw an immense lobster, and one of the gentlemen caught it
by the tail and threw it into the boat. We fished for an hour, and caught
fifteen of these esteemed creatures, which we took to the house in a
wheelbarrow. At night we drove to St. Eleanor's, taking some of our spoil
with us, and immediately adjourned to the kitchen, a large, unfinished
place built of logs, with a clay floor and huge smoke-stained rafters. We
sat by a large stove in the centre, and looked as if we had never known
civilised life. Miss Kenjins and I sat on either side of the fireplace in
broad-brimmed straw hats, Mrs. Maccallummore in front, warming the feet of
the unhappy baby, who bad been a passive spectator of the fishing; the
three gentlemen stood round in easy attitudes, these, be it remembered,
holding glasses of brandy and water; and the two invalid servants stood
behind, occasionally uttering suppressed shrieks as Mr. Oppe took one out
of a heap of lobsters and threw it into a caldron of boiling water on the
stove. This strange scene was illuminated by a blazing pine-knot. Mr.
Kenjins laughingly reminded me of the elegant drawing-room in which he
last saw me in England--"Look on this picture and on that."
On the Sunday we crossed the Grand River, on a day so stormy that the
ferryman would not take the "_scow_" across. We rowed ourselves over in a
crazy boat, which seemed about to fill and sink when we got to the middle
of the river, and attended service at Port Hill, one of the most desolate-
looking places I ever saw. We saw Lenox Island, where on St. Ann's day all
the island Indians meet and go through ceremonies with the Romish priests.
We remained for part of the next day with our hospitable friends at St.
Eleanor's, and set out on an exploring expedition in search of a spring
which Mr. K. remembered in his childish days. We went down to a lonely
cabin to make inquiries, and were told that "none but the old people knew
of it--it was far away in the woods." Here was mystery; so, leaving the
waggon, into the woods we went to seek for it, and far away in the woods
we found it, and now others besides the "old people" know of it.
We struck into the forest, an old, untrodden forest, where generations of
trees had rotted away, and strange flowers and lichens grew, and bats flew
past us in the artificial darkness; and there were snakes too, ugly
spotted things, which hissed at us, and put out their double tongues, and
then coiled themselves away in the dim recesses of the forest. But on we
went, climbing with difficulty over prostrate firs, or breaking through
matted juniper, and still the spring was not, though we were "far away in
the woods." But still we climbed on, through swamp and jungle, till we
tore our dresses to pieces, and our hats got pulled off in a tree and some
of our hair with them; but at last we reached the spring. It was such a
scene as one might have dreamed of in some forest in a fabulous Elysium.
It was a large, deep basin of pure white sand, covered with clear water,
and seven powerful springs, each about a foot high, rose from it; and
trees had fallen over it, and were covered with bright green moss, and
others bent over it ready to fall; and above them the tall hemlocks shut
out the light, except where a few stray beams glittered on the pure
transparent water.
And here it lay in lonely beauty, as it had done for centuries, probably
known only to the old people and to the wandering Indians. In enterprising
England a town would have been built round it, and we should have had
cheap excursions to the "Baths of St. Eleanor's."
In the evening we went to the house of Mr. Oppe at Bedeque, but not
finding him at home we presumed on colonial hospitality so far as to put
our horse in the stable and unpack our clothes; and when Mr. Oppe returned
he found us playing at draughts, and joined us in a hearty laugh at our
coolness. Our fifth and last day's journey was a long one of forty miles,
yet near Cape Traverse our horse ran away down a steep hill, and across a
long wooden bridge without a parapet, thereby placing our lives in
imminent jeopardy. After travelling for several hours we came to a lone
house, where we hoped to get some refreshment both for ourselves and the
horse, but found the house _locked_, a remarkable fact, as in this island
robbery is almost unknown. We were quite exhausted with hunger, and our
hearts sank when we found every door and window closed. We then, as an act
of mercy, stole a sheaf of oats from a neighbouring field, and cut the
ears off for the horse with our penknives, after which we, in absolute
hunger, ate as many grains as we could clean from the husks, and some
fern, which we found very bitter. We looked very much like a group of
vagrants sitting by the road-side, the possession of the oats being
disputed with us by five lean pigs. When after another hour we really
succeeded in getting something more suitable for human beings, we ate like
famished creatures.
While I was walking up a long hill, I passed a neat cabin in a garden of
pumpkins, placed in a situation apparently chosen from its extreme
picturesqueness. Seeing an old man, in a suit of grey frieze and a blue
bonnet, standing at the gate, I addressed him with the words, "_Cia mar
thasibh an diugh." "Slan gu robh math agaibh. Cia mar thasibh an fein,"
[Footnote: "How are you to-day?" "Very well, thank you. I hope you are
well."] was the delighted reply, accompanied with a hearty shake of both
hands. He was from Snizort, in the Isle of Skye, and, though he had
attained competence in the land of his adoption, he mourned the absence of
his native heather. He asked me the usual Highland question, "Tell me the
news;" and I told him all that I could recollect of those with whom he was
familiar. He spoke of the Cuchullin Hills, and the stern beauty of Loch
Corruisk, with tears in his eyes. "Ah," he said, "I have no wish but to
see them once again. Who is the lady with you--the lily?" he asked, for he
spoke English imperfectly, and preferred his own poetical tongue. "May
your path be always bright, lady!" he said, as he shook my hand warmly at
parting; "and ye'll come and see me when ye come again, and bring me tales
from the old country." The simple wish of Donnuil Dhu has often recurred
to me in the midst of gayer scenes and companions. It brought to mind
memories of many a hearty welcome received in the old man's Highland home,
and of those whose eyes were then looking upon the Cuchullin Hills.
After this expedition, where so much kindness had been experienced,
Charlotte Town did not appear more delightful than before, and, though
sorry to take leave of many kind relatives and friends, I was glad that
only one more day remained to me in the island.
I cordially wish its people every prosperity. They are loyal, moral, and
independent, and their sympathies with England have lately been evidenced
by their liberal contributions to the Patriotic Fund. When their trade and
commerce shall have been extended, and when a more suitable plan has been
adopted for the support of religion; when large portions of waste land
have been brought under cultivation, and local resources have been farther
developed, people will be too much occupied with their own affairs to busy
themselves, as now, either with the affairs of others, or with the puerile
politics of so small a community; and then the island will deserve the
title which has been bestowed on it, "_The Garden of British America._"