_Journey from Montreal to Hamilton—Separation of Friends—Rideau
Canal—Emigrants passing up the St
Lawrence—Massena—Waddington—Ogdensburgh—Lake of the Thousand
Isles—Andrew Dinwoodie, a Farmer from Dumfries-shire—Live-stock from
England—Innkeeper of Kingston—Great Britain Steamer—Emigrant
Passengers—John By Steamer._
Having long made up my mind to visit the western parts of Upper Canada,
and the confluence of the Mississippi and Missouri, it was necessary to
separate from my companion, in whose company I had spent so many happy
hours, and to whose disinterested friendship I owe more than it will
ever be in my power to repay. It was arranged that he should take my
trunk and portmanteau to New York, to wait my arrival there, having
experienced the inconvenience of attempting to take luggage through a
thinly-peopled district. I reserved a plain suit of clothes, which had
already become shabby. Packing two shirts of cotton, and one of flannel,
five collars, five pair of cotton stockings, and a dressing-case, into a
small leathern cloak-bag which my friend had used for buckling behind
his saddle in Scotland, I left Montreal on the 18th of August; having
arranged to be at certain places on fixed days, so as to reach New York
in the first week of November. My friend left Montreal some hours before
me, on a visit to New Glasgow, and, after seeing Quebec, travelled by
Lake Champlain to New York, and reached England on the 17th September.
I was anxious to pass along the line of the Rideau canal, so much
praised by engineers, and sneered at by utilitarians, and which
nine-tenths of those best capable of judging of its merits condemn as a
lavish misapplication of national expenditure; but the irregularity of
the conveyances by this route, and my limited time, induced me to ascend
the St Lawrence; and, by way of varying the scene, I took the American
line of conveyances—travelling by stage to Lachine, and from thence to
Cascades by steam, from Cascades to Coteau du Lac by stage, and again by
steam to Cornwall, which we reached by 2 A.M. of the 11th.
The waters of the dark-coloured Ottawa, and limpid St Lawrence, formed a
striking contrast on the way to Cascades, situated on the former. The
banks of the St Lawrence were observed in some places to consist of clay
twenty feet deep, without any admixture—some excellent soil was seen
above Cascades—the wheat crop from Montreal upwards was perfectly ripe,
and barley in some instances carried.
At Coteau du Lac our steamer took seven batteaux, or open boats, in tow,
in one of which I counted 110 emigrants, of all ages, who were doomed to
pass the night on board. Men, women, and children were huddled together
as close as captives in a slave-trader, exposed to the sun’s rays by
day, and river damp by night, without protection. It was impossible to
look upon such a group of human beings without emotion. The day had been
so intensely hot, that the stoutest amongst them looked fatigued, while
the females seemed ready to expire with exhaustion. Conversation was
carried on in whispers, and a heaviness of heart seemed to pervade the
whole assemblage. Never shall I forget the countenance of a young
mother, ever anxiously looking at twin infants slumbering on her knee,
and covering them from the vapour rising from the river, and which
strongly depicted the feelings of maternal affection and pious
resignation. Night soon veiled the picture, and, I fear, brought no
relief to the anxious mother. The navigation up the St Lawrence in
batteaux is accomplished by propelling them with poles, and is
necessarily tedious. The accommodation is so wretched and irksome, that
the emigrants’ privations of transport may be said only to commence at
Montreal, where they perhaps expected them to end, and when their
spirits are ill fitted to bear up against them. Steam conveyance of late
must have shortened their sufferings.
On reaching Cornwall I immediately proceeded on board the American
steam-boat Dalhousie, which conveyed us across to Hoogdensburgh by six
A. M. From thence we were conveyed to Ogdensburgh by land, passing
through the villages of Massena and Waddington. We breakfasted at
Massena springs, the waters of which possess medicinal qualities, and
are pleasantly situated on a branch of the Racket.
The thriving village of Waddington is on the St Lawrence, and opposite
to which, on an island in the river, is situated the handsome residence
of Governor Ogden.
The country in this part of the state of New York is of indifferent
soil, and very partially cleared; the farm-houses are of the meanest
description, and there is no appearance of wealth or comfort amongst the
rural population. In many instances farmers were engaged in securing
their hay crops on the Sabbath, and much wheat was standing in a state
of over-ripeness. The previous state of the weather may, in some
measure, explain both proceedings.
We arrived at Ogdensburgh shortly after nightfall, at an excellent
hotel, which seemed filled with people. Tea, or, in common parlance of
the country, supper, was soon provided for the stage-passengers, who did
ample justice to the viands. On learning a steam-boat was to sail next
morning at daybreak for Kingston, I retired to a double bedroom, in
company with Mr M——, a north country Scotsman, who had just arrived in
the country, and was travelling to York. The landlord of the hotel
showed us personally to our bedroom, and also conducted us to the quay
in the morning.
Ogdensburgh is situated at the confluence of the Oswegatchie river with
the St Lawrence, and is the lower termination of American navigation on
Lake Ontario. It has many appearances of prosperity, and contains a
population of nearly two thousand souls.
At five in the morning the United States steam-boat left Ogdensburgh,
calling at Morristown on the American side of the lake, and on the
British one at Brockville and Kingston, where I remained for the
evening. Darkness prevented me seeing the Lake of the Thousand Isles, on
my way down to Montreal, and I was not fortunate in passing up during
day. The Lake of the Thousand Isles takes its name from the number of
islands which it contains, and is about forty miles in length; forming
the termination of Lake Ontario, and commencement of the river St
Lawrence. The islands are generally small rocks, a few feet above water,
covered with stunted trees, standing as close together as curling-stones
on a rink of ice in Scotland, and completely excluding a sight of the
mainland. The weather was unfavourable, a drizzling rain having set in,
which perhaps affected my feelings, and increased the sombreness of the
scenery, which at all times possesses little interest from the want of
life. So much is this felt, that a gentleman of my acquaintance, passing
up the Lake of the Thousand Isles a few weeks before, was sitting by a
traveller engaged with his note-book, when a crow came in sight. He
interrupted the writer, and begged he would notice the crow, as it was
the only moving thing he had seen during three hours’ sail.
On board of the United States I had a long conversation with a
fellow-passenger, Andrew Dinwuddie, from Dumfries-shire, in Scotland,
and I hope he will pardon me mentioning his name. Andrew was an
excellent specimen of his cautious countrymen, and showed credentials
highly honourable to his honesty and integrity. He had come to America
in spring, accompanied by two brothers, who had purchased land near
Prescott, paying L.300 for 200 acres, seventy of them being cleared.
Andrew was unmarried, and determined to look about him before sitting
down for life. After assisting his brothers to plant their potatoes, he
worked with an English farmer in the neighbourhood of Ogdensburgh for a
month, and was now on his way to Geneva and Canandaigua in the state of
New York, at which places he intended to work for some time. Andrew
seemed to have belonged to what is called in Scotland the class of small
farmers, and was much pleased with the change of country he had made;
having assisted at the Englishman’s hay and wheat harvest, for which he
got $8 a-month, working moderately, and messing with his employer on the
best of fare. He had found no difficulty in mowing during the warm
weather;—and greatly preferred American butcher-meat three times a-day,
to the oatmeal porridge, barley bread, and sour milk of Scotland.
While at Kingston, ten short-horned cattle, nineteen Southdown sheep,
and a lot of swine, came to the yard of the Kingston hotel, at which I
lodged, on their way to the county of Dumfries, Upper Canada, direct
from England. They were objects of interest to many of the inhabitants,
and were seemingly in excellent health and condition.
I left Kingston about dusk for York, in the St George steam-boat; one of
the shafts broke when opposite the Bay of Quinte, and we returned to
Kingston about noon next day. Another vessel was immediately expected to
carry us on our voyage; and, in the meantime, the captain refused the
passengers dinner; and four of us went on shore to dine, in order to be
in readiness. We called at the Commercial Hotel, esteemed the first
house of entertainment in Upper Canada; and, on an application at the
bar, were told a joint could not be prepared for us until four o’clock.
Having stated it was possible to dine without a joint, and we soon
expected a steam-boat to take us to York, a mutton-chop was promised in
half-an-hour. We had not, however, retired to the parlour five minutes,
when a spruce waiter entered, and told us Mr Macdonald would not give
dinner. I could not help contrasting this treatment with what we
experienced at Ogdensburgh; and if Mr Macdonald’s behaviour passes for
British manners and hospitality, they have not improved by
transportation to Canada.
The Great Britain, one of the largest vessels on Lake Ontario, was laid
alongside of the St George, and all hands employed in transferring the
cargo of the one to the other. A passage was made from the upper decks
of both vessels, along which the passengers passed to and fro; and as
they came crowding up stairs for hours together with their luggage,
reminded me of bees entering a hive laden with pollen; it was eleven
o’clock before the bustle was over, and the vessel under weigh. I
observed a quantity of gunpowder conveyed from the St George to the
Great Britain in the most careless manner, and locked in the captain’s
room. The owner of the Great Britain, Mr ——, was on board at the time,
and must have sanctioned the transport of this dangerous commodity.
The night-scene on board the Great Britain formed a counterpart to that
of the batteau on the St Lawrence, almost every inch of surface being
crowded with reposing individuals; the lower decks and passages were
crowded to excess, and a great part of the upper deck, which is
uncovered, was also occupied. The aged and infirm sought shelter below;
the boys clustered round the chimney stalks for heat, while the more
hardy stretched themselves on the upper deck without almost any
covering, surrounded by forms, or under lee of large packages. Near the
stern of the vessel a young woman, perhaps with a view of avoiding
danger, placed three infants on her outspread mantle, with their
innocent faces towards heaven; and as they gradually sunk to rest, the
motion of their slumbering eyelids seemed mimicry of the twinkling stars
in the firmament.
The Great Britain reached York about six P.M., previous to which the
passengers were mustered on the upper deck, and paid their
passage-fares on going below. Many of the emigrant deck-passengers had
not, or affected not to have, money; and I saw two middle-aged
respectable-looking females place part of their wardrobe in pawn for
their fares, and luggage had been credited from conveyance to
conveyance all the way from Montreal, with the fares of its owners.
Steam-boat proprietors do not lose much in this way, as the friends of
emigrants generally relieve the pawned effects.
The meeting of emigrants and their friends at York was an interesting
sight. In particular, a group of Scotch Highlanders, consisting of old
women and half-a-dozen of innocent-looking girls, incapable of speaking
the English language, appeared in ecstasy at joining their friends on
the pier, who seemed to have arrived in the country some time before.
They laughed, embraced, and saluted each other on the cheek, which is
rarely witnessed in America.
To accommodate a gentleman, I lodged in the Steam-boat Hotel at York,
which I found an indifferent establishment in the sleeping department. I
could not have remained a second night, or gone to bed the first one,
had light enabled me to see the actual state of things.
A friend having agreed to accompany me in a tour through the western
part of Upper Canada, and who was waiting my arrival, we left York
together, in the John By steamer, for Hamilton, where we arrived at
eleven o’clock. The John By had been constructed to ply on the Rideau
canal, with paddle wheels in the stern—the worst sailing and
ill-constructed boat in Canada. The engine was high pressure; and if a
vessel was to be built for roasting passengers, the John By might have
furnished useful hints. She was soon afterwards wrecked.
We could not gain admittance into any of the hotels at Hamilton, except
one, on account of the lateness of the hour. The beds were all occupied
before our arrival; but the bar-keeper said he would place one on the
floor, where Mr C—— and I were soon stretched side by side, and soon
afterwards some individuals, similarly situated, were admitted to share
our bed. On awakening next morning I missed Mr C—— from my side, who was
lying in a distant corner of the room; and he afterwards told me, that
disliking the company which joined us, he slipped from bed so soon as he
could do so unnoticed.