island of Perot, situated at the mouth of the Utawas River. This island
is about fourteen miles in circumference; its soil is fertile, and it is
well cultivated. There are two considerable villages near its center,
but towards Point St. Claire, at its lower extremity, the settlements
are but very few. We landed at the point, and pitched our tent in a
meadow which stood bordering upon the water. Here the bateaux were drawn
up, and having been properly secured, the different crews, amounting in
all to upwards of fifty men, divided themselves into small parties, and
kindled fires along the shore, in order to cook their provisions for the
succeeding day, and to keep themselves warm during the night. These men,
who are engaged in conducting bateaux in Canada, are, as I have before
observed, a very hardy race: when the weather is fair, they sleep on the
grass at night, without any other covering than a short blanket,
scarcely reaching down to their knees; during wet weather a sail or a
blanket to the weather side, spread on poles stuck into the ground in an
inclined direction, is all the shelter they deem necessary. On setting
out each man is furnished with a certain allowance of salted pork,
biscuit, pease, and brandy; the pease and biscuit they boil with some of
the pork into porridge, and a large vessel full of it, is generally kept
at the head of the bateau, for the use of the crew when they stop in the
course of the day. This porridge, or else cold fat salted pork, with
cucumbers, constitutes the principal part of their food. The cucumber is
a fruit that the lower classes of the French Canadians are extremely
fond of; they use it however in a very indifferent state, as they never
pull it until it has attained a large size, and is become yellow and
seedy. Cucumbers thus mellow, chopped into small pieces without being
peeled, and afterwards mixed with sour cream, is one of their favourite
dishes.
At day-break on the second morning of our voyage, we quitted the island
of Perot, and crossed the Utawas River, in order to gain the mouth of
the south-west branch of the St. Lawrence. A tremendous scene is here
presented to the view; each river comes rushing down into the lake, over
immense rocks, with an impetuosity which, seemingly, nothing can resist.
The waves are as high as what are commonly met with in the British
Channel during a smart breeze, and the breakers so numerous and
dangerous, that one would imagine a bateau could not possibly live in
the midst of them; and indeed, unless it were navigated by men
intimately acquainted with the place, and very expert at the same time,
there would be evident danger of its being filled with water. Several
times, as we passed through the breakers, the water dashed over the
sides of our bateau. Tremendous and dangerous, however, as the rapids
are at this spot, they are much less so than some of those met with
higher up the River St. Lawrence.
The water of the Utawas River is remarkably clear, and of a bright
greenish colour; that of the St. Lawrence, on the contrary, is muddy,
owing to its passing over deep beds of marl for some miles before it
enters into Lake St. Louis. For a considerable way down the lake the
waters of the two rivers may be plainly distinguished from each other.
[Sidenote: THE RAPIDS.]
The Rapids immediately at the mouth of the south-west branch of the St.
Lawrence are called “Les Cascades,” or, “Le Saut de Trou.” In laden
bateaux it is no arduous task to shoot down them, but it is impossible
to mount against the stream even in such as are empty. In order to avoid
the laborious task therefore of carrying them along the shore past the
rapids, as used formerly to be done, a canal with a double lock has been
made here at a great expence. This canal extends but a very little way,
not more than fifty yards perhaps. Beyond this there is a succession of
other rapids, the first of which, called “Le Saut de Buisson” on account
of the closeness of the woods along the shores on each side, is so
strong, that in order to pass it, it is necessary to lighten the bateaux
very considerably. If the cargoes are large, they are wholly taken out
at once, and sent forward in carts to the distance of a mile and a half,
past all the rapids. The men are always obliged here to get out of the
bateaux, and haul them along with ropes, it being wholly impracticable
to counteract the force of the current by means of poles alone.
The passage of these rapids is so very tedious, that we here quitted the
bateaux, took our guns in hand, and proceeded on foot to “Le Coteau des
Cedres,” the Hill of Cedars, about nine miles higher up the river. In
going thither you soon lose sight of the few straggling houses at the
cascades, and enter the recesses of a remarkably thick wood, whose
solemn gloom, together with the loud roaring of the waters at a
distance, and the wild appearance of every object around you, inspire
the mind with a sort of pleasing horror. As you approach “Le Coteau des
Cedres,” the country assumes a softer aspect; cultivated fields and neat
cottages once more appear in view, and the river, instead of being
agitated by tremendous rapids, is here seen gliding on with an even
current between its lofty banks.
The village of the Hill of Cedars contains about thirty houses, amongst
which we were agreeably surprised to find a remarkably neat and
excellent tavern, kept by an English woman. We remained here until three
in the afternoon, when we again set off on foot, partly for the pleasure
of beholding, from the top of the steep banks, the many noble and
beautiful prospects laid open before us, and partly for the pleasure of
stopping occasionally to chat with the lively French girls, that, during
this delicious season of the year, sat spinning in groups at the doors
of the cottages. About five o’clock the bateaux overtook us; but after
proceeding in them for about two miles, we again landed to escape the
tedious process of ascending fresh rapids. These are called the rapids
“du Coteau du Lac St. François;” they are several miles in length, and
though not the most dangerous, are yet the most tremendous to appearance
of any in the whole river, the white breakers being distinctly visible
at the distance of four miles; some travellers have gone so far as to
represent them as even more terrible to the beholder than the falls of
Niagara, but this is a very exaggerated account. Boats are here carried
down with the stream at the rate of fourteen or fifteen miles an hour,
according to the best information I could procure on the subject, though
the Canadian boatmen and others declare that they are carried down at
the rate of twenty miles in the hour. At some of the rapids, higher up
the river, the current is considerably swifter than at this place.
[Sidenote: THE RAPIDS.]
In descending these rapids they pass through the breakers in the middle
of the river, but in going up they keep close in to the shore, on the
north-west side, and being here sheltered by a numerous cluster of
islands, which break the force of the current, and having the benefit of
a short canal and locks, they get past the rapids with less difficulty
even than they pass the cascades. One of the islands here, farther
removed from the shore than the rest, is called Prisoners Island, having
been allotted for the residence of some of the American prisoners during
the last war. There were some buildings on the island at that time, but
it has been quite deserted since, on account of the great difficulty of
getting to it through the strong rapids. During the war, an officer, who
had compelled some of the Canadians, notwithstanding their
remonstrances, to make an attempt to reach the island at an improper
season, perished, with a great number of men, in going thither. Of the
whole party one alone escaped with his life. The St. Lawrence is here
about two miles wide.
This evening, the second of our voyage, the bateaux were drawn up for
the night at the bottom of “Le Coteau du Lac,” the Hill of the Lake, and
we pitched our tent on the margin of a wood, at a little distance from
the river. The next morning we proceeded again on foot for about two
miles, when we came to a tavern, where we waited the arrival of the
bateaux. The people of this house were English. From hence upwards there
are but few French to be met with.
[Sidenote: LAKE ST. FRANCOIS.]
We were detained here nearly half the day in endeavouring to procure a
fresh man, one of the conductor’s crew having been seized with an
intermittent fever. At last a man from a neighbouring settlement made
his appearance, and we proceeded on our voyage. We now entered Lake St.
François, which is about twenty-five miles in length, and five in
breadth; but the wind being unfavourable, we were prevented from
proceeding farther upon it than Point au Baudet, at which place the
boundary line commences, that separates the upper from the lower
province. When the wind comes from the south-west, the immense body of
water in the lake is impelled, directly towards this point, and a surge
breaks in upon the beach, as tremendous as is seen on the sea-shore.
There was one solitary house here, which proved to be a tavern, and
afforded us a well-drest supper of venison, and decent accommodation for
the night.
The next day the wind was not more favourable; but as it was
considerably abated, we were enabled to prosecute our voyage, coasting
along the shores of the lake. This was a most laborious and tedious
business, on account of the numerous bays and inlets, which the wind was
not sufficiently abated to suffer us to cross at their mouths:
notwithstanding all the difficulties, however, we had to contend with,
we advanced nearly twenty-five miles in the course of the day.
At the head of Lake St. François, we landed on a small island, called
“Isle aux Raisins,” on account of the number of wild vines growing upon
it. The bateaux men gathered great quantities of the grapes, wherewith
the trees were loaded, and also an abundance of plumbs, which they
devoured with great avidity. Neither of the fruits, however, were very
tempting to persons whose palates had been accustomed to the taste of
garden fruits. The grapes were sour, and not larger than peas; and as
for the plumbs, though much larger in size, yet their taste did not
differ materially from that of sloes.
[Sidenote: ISLANDS.]
Beyond L’Isle aux Raisins, in the narrow part of the river, there are
several other islands, the largest of which called L’isle St. Regis, is
near ten miles in length. All these islands still continue in the
possession of the Indians, and many of them, being situated as nearly as
possible in the middle of the river, which here divides the British
territory from that of the United States, it yet remains to be
determined of what territory they form a part. It is sincerely to be
desired that this matter may be adjusted amicably in due time. A serious
altercation has already taken place about an island similarly situated
in Detroit River, that will be more particularly mentioned hereafter.
The Indians not only retain possession of these different islands, but
likewise of the whole of the south-east shore, of the St. Lawrence,
situated within the bounds of the United States; they likewise have
considerable strips of land on the opposite shore, within the British
dominions, bordering upon the river; these they have reserved to
themselves for hunting. The Iroquois Indians have a village upon the
Isle of St. Regis, and another also upon the main land, on the
south-east shore; as we passed it, several of the inhabitants put off in
canoes, and exchanged unripe heads[3] of Indian corn with the men for
bread; they also brought with them some very fine wild ducks and fish,
which they disposed of to us on very moderate terms.
Footnote 3:
The heads of Indian corn, before they become hard, are esteemed a
great delicacy; the most approved method of dressing, is to parboil,
and afterwards roast them.
On the fourth night of our voyage we encamped, as usual, on the main
land opposite the island of St. Regis; and the excellent viands we had
procured from the Indians having been cooked, we set down to supper
before a large fire, materials for which are never wanting in this woody
country. The night was uncommonly serene, and we were induced to remain
until a late hour in front of our tent, talking of the various
occurrences in the course of the day; but we had scarcely retired to
rest, when the sky became overcast, a dreadful storm arose, and by
day-break the next morning we found ourselves, and every thing belonging
to us, drenched with rain. Our situation now was by no means agreeable;
torrents still came pouring down; neither our tent nor the woods
afforded us any shelter, and the wind being very strong, and as adverse
as it could blow, there was no prospect of our being enabled speedily to
get into better quarters. In this state we had remained for a
considerable time, when one of the party, who had been rambling about in
order to discover what sort of a neighbourhood we were in, returned with
the pleasing intelligence that there was a house at no great distance,
and that the owner had politely invited us to it. It was the house of an
old provincial officer, who had received a grant of land in this part of
the country for his past services. We gladly proceeded to it, and met
with a most cordial welcome from the captain and his fair daughters, who
had provided a plenteous breakfast, and spared no pains to make their
habitation, during our stay, as pleasing to us as possible. We felt
great satisfaction at the idea, that it would be in our power to spend
the remainder of the day with these worthy and hospitable people; but
alas, we had all formed an erroneous opinion of the weather; the wind
suddenly veered about; the sun broke through the thick clouds; the
conductor gave the parting order; and in a few minutes we found
ourselves once more seated in our bateau.
[Sidenote: THE LONG FALL.]
From hence upwards, for the distance of forty miles, the current of the
river is extremely strong, and numberless rapids are to be encountered,
which, though not so tremendous to appearance as those at the Cascades,
and “Le Coteau du Lac,” are yet both more dangerous and more difficult
to pass. The great danger, however, consists in going down them; it
arises from the shallowness of the water and the great number of sharp
rocks, in the midst of which the vessels are hurried along with such
impetuosity, that if they unfortunately get into a wrong channel,
nothing can save them from being dashed to pieces; but so intimately are
the people usually employed on this river acquainted with the different
channels, that an accident of the sort is scarcely ever heard of. “Le
Long Saut,” the Long Fall or Rapid, situated about thirty miles above
Lake St. Francis, is the most dangerous of any one in the river, and so
difficult a matter is it to pass it, that it requires no less than six
men on shore to haul a single bateau against the current. There is a
third canal with locks at this place, in order to avoid a point, which
it would be wholly impracticable to weather in the ordinary way. These
different canals and locks have been made at the expence of government,
and the profits arising from the tolls paid by every bateau that passes
through them are placed in the public treasury. At these rapids, and at
several of the others, there are very extensive flour and saw mills.
On the fifth night we arrived at a small farm house, at the top of the
“Long Saut,” wet from head to foot, in consequence of our having been
obliged to walk past the rapids through woods and bushes still dripping
after the heavy rain that had fallen in the morning. The woods in this
neighbourhood are far more majestic than on any other part of the St.
Lawrence; the pines in particular are uncommonly tall, and seem to wave
their tops in the very clouds. In Canada, pines grow on the richest
soils; but in the United States they grow mostly on poor ground: a tract
of land covered solely with pines is there generally denominated “a pine
barren,” on account of its great poverty.
[Sidenote: WILD PIGEONS.]
During a considerable part of the next day, we also proceeded on foot,
in order to escape the tedious passage up the “Rapide Plat,” and some of
the other dangerous rapids in this part of the river. As we passed
along, we had excellent diversion in shooting pigeons, several large
flights of which we met with in the woods. The wild pigeons of Canada
are not unlike the common English wood pigeons, except that they are of
a much smaller size: their flesh is very well flavoured. During
particular years, these birds come down from the northern regions in
flights that it is marvellous to tell of. A gentleman of the town of
Niagara assured me, that once as he was embarking there on board ship
for Toronto, a flight of them was observed coming from that quarter;
that as he sailed over Lake Ontario to Toronto, forty miles distant from
Niagara, pigeons were seen flying over head the whole way in a contrary
direction to that in which the ship proceeded; and that on arriving at
the place of his destination, the birds were still observed coming down
from the north in as large bodies as had been noticed at any one time
during the whole voyage; supposing, therefore, that the pigeons moved no
faster than the vessel, the flight, according to this gentleman’s
account, must at least have extended eighty miles. Many persons may
think this story surpassing belief; for my own part, however, I do not
hesitate to give credit to it, knowing, as I do, the respectability of
the gentleman who related it, and the accuracy of his observation. When
these birds appear in such great numbers, they often light on the
borders of rivers and lakes, and in the neighbourhood of farm houses, at
which time they are so unwary that a man with a short stick might easily
knock them down by hundreds. It is not oftener than once in seven or
eight years, perhaps, that such large flocks of these birds are seen in
the country. The years in which they appear are denominated “pigeon
years.”
There are also “bear years” and “squirrel years.” This was both a bear
and a squirrel year. The former, like the pigeons, came down from the
northern regions, and were most numerous in the neighbourhood of lakes
Ontario and Erie, and along the upper parts of the River St. Lawrence.
On arriving at the borders of these lakes, or of the river, if the
opposite shore was in sight, they generally took to the water, and
endeavoured to reach it by swimming. Prodigious numbers of them were
killed in crossing the St. Lawrence by the Indians, who had hunting
encampments, at short distances from each other, the whole way along the
banks of the river, from the island of St. Regis to Lake Ontario. One
bear, of a very large size, boldly entered the river in the face of our
bateaux, and was killed by some of our men whilst swimming from the main
land to one of the islands. In the woods it is very rare that bears will
venture to attack a man; but several instances that had recently
occurred were mentioned to us, where they had attacked a single man in a
canoe whilst swimming, and so very strong are they in the water, that
the men thus set upon, being unarmed, escape narrowly with their lives.
[Sidenote: BEARS AND SQUIRRELS.]
The squirrels, this year, contrary to the bears, migrated from the
south, from the territory of the United States. Like the bears, they
took to the water on arriving at it, but as if conscious of their
inability to cross a very wide piece of water, they bent their course
towards Niagara River, above the falls, and at its narrowest and most
tranquil part crossed over into the British territory. It was
calculated, that upwards of fifty thousand of them crossed the river in
the course of two or three days, and such great depredations did they
commit on arriving at the settlements on the opposite side, that in one
part of the country the farmers deemed themselves very fortunate where
they got in as much as one third of their crops of corn. These squirrels
were all of the black kind, said to be peculiar to the continent of
America; they are in shape similar to the common grey squirrel, and
weigh from about one to two pounds and a half each. Some writers have
asserted, that these animals cannot swim, but that when they come to a
river, in migrating, each one provides itself with a piece of wood or
bark, upon which, when a favourable wind offers, they embark, spread
their bushy tails to catch the wind, and are thus wafted over to the
opposite side. Whether these animals do or do not cross in this manner
sometimes, I cannot take upon me to say; but I can safely affirm, that
they do not always cross so, as I have frequently shot them in the water
whilst swimming: no animals swim better, and when pursued, I have seen
them eagerly take to the water. Whilst swimming, their tail is useful to
them by way of rudder, and they use it with great dexterity; owing to
its being so light and bushy, the greater part of it floats upon the
water, and thus helps to support the animal. The migration of any of
these animals in such large numbers is said to be an infallible sign of
a severe winter[4].
Footnote 4:
In the present instance it certainly was so, for the ensuing winter
proved to be the severest that had been known in North America for
several years.
On the sixth evening of our voyage we stopped nearly opposite to Point
aux Iroquois, so named from a French family having been cruelly
massacred there by the Iroquois Indians in the early ages of the colony.
The ground being still extremely wet here, in consequence of the heavy
rain of the preceding day, we did not much relish the thoughts of
passing the night in our tent; yet there seemed to be no alternative, as
the only house in sight was crowded with people, and not capable of
affording us any accommodations. Luckily, however, as we were searching
about for the driest spot to pitch our tent upon, one of the party
espied a barn at a little distance, belonging to the man of the
adjoining house, of whom we procured the key; it was well stored with
straw, and having mounted to the top of the mow, we laid ourselves down
to rest, and slept soundly there till awakened in the morning by the
crowing of some cocks, that were perched on the beams above our head.
[Sidenote: OSWEGATCHEE RIVER.]