The Mississippi--The Rapids--Aerial Railway Bridges--Breakfast at
Braynor--Lynch Law--Card-sharpers--Crowding in the Cars--Woman's
Rights!--The Prairie--"A Sea of Fire"--Crookstown--Fisher's
Landing--Strange Quarters--"The Express-man's Bed"--Herding like
Sheep--On board the _Minnesota_.
After leaving Duluth at four o'clock on Tuesday morning by rail, the
country through which we passed was very beautiful. Lake succeeded lake,
then came wooded hills and tiny mountain streams, crossed by high
bridges. These bridges were without parapets, and so narrow that, looking
out of the window of the car, one saw a deep gorge sixty or seventy feet
below. One railway bridge across the Mississippi--a narrow enough stream
there, at least to eyes accustomed to the broad St. Lawrence--was more
than seventy feet high, and so unsafe that trains were allowed only to
creep slowly across it. The rapids on the St. Louis River, along the
banks of which the Northern Pacific runs, are magnificent. For some miles
the high banks occasionally almost shut out the view; then, as the train
winds round a sharp curve, a mountain torrent of foaming water bursts
upon the gaze. Rocks tower above it, with great trees bending from their
heights; in the stream are huge boulders round which the water whirls and
hisses, sending its spray high over the rugged banks, in every nook and
crevice of which grow long ferns and graceful wild-flowers. Then follows
a long smooth stretch of water with grassy wooded shores, and through the
trees one catches distant glimpses of yet wider and more beautiful falls
than those just passed.
We breakfasted at Braynor at nine o'clock, and heard with pleasure that
we had forty-five minutes wherein to satisfy exhausted nature. Everything
was delicious, and we should have done the fare even greater justice had
we known that it was the last good meal we should obtain for thirty-six
hours. When we returned to the car we were greatly amused by an
irrepressible fellow-traveller, whose over-politeness and loquacity
savoured of a morning dram or two.
He insisted on pointing out the exact spot--marked by a tall,
rough-looking post with a cross-tree on it, that stood near the
rails--where two Indians had been "lynched" for some crime by the
citizens; which exploit being regarded with _pardonable_ pride by
them, was boasted of to travellers accordingly. Volumes might be written
on Yankee oppression of the poor Red-skins, and yet leave the disgraceful
story but half told.
Our train was crowded, and during the morning two rather well-dressed
black-eyed men came on board. The conductor told us they were the pests
of that part of the road--three card-monté men--and that in spite of
being carefully warned many travellers, especially amongst the well-to-do
farmer class emigrating to Manitoba, were daily fleeced by them, there
being no apparent redress, as they are sharp enough to evade any direct
breach of the law. These men succeeded in drawing two boys of eighteen or
twenty into their toils, and obtained possession of their watches, as
well as all the money they had about them. When the lads protested
vehemently, the sharpers offered to return the former upon receipt of
five dollars, which they knew their victims did not possess. To our great
relief, the men got off at the station where we stopped for dinner.
We changed trains at Glyndon for the branch line, then only recently laid
to Fisher's Landing, but since that time continued to the frontier
station of Pembina. There was only one passenger car to hold all those
who had comfortably filled three on the other line, and it would be
difficult to convey any idea of the crowding and crushing that ensued to
obtain seats, and pack away the numerous travelling-bags and
provision-baskets brought by the emigrants from Ontario. Having gentlemen
with us, we were soon provided for; but just before the train started, a
very dirty, fashionably dressed young woman, carrying an equally dirty
baby, came in. Looking about her, and not finding a vacant seat, she said
in an insolent tone, giving her head a toss--
"No seats? Wall, I guess I ain't agoin' to stand and hold this here heavy
child!" and sat down in my lap. I had, like most people, often been "sat
upon," figuratively, during my life, but never literally, and it was with
some difficulty that I managed to extricate myself. The girl next
proceeded, with the assistance of a dirty pocket-handkerchief and the tin
drinking-mug belonging to the car, to perform her toilet and that of her
infant; her efforts resulting in a streakiness of dirt on both faces,
where the colour had been uniform before.
We were on the Prairie--the great rolling prairie, at last; and I was
disappointed--nothing but grass and sky, desolate and lonely. These,
however, were my first impressions. How fond I grew of the prairie I know
now that I am away from it; perhaps for ever. Towards night, black clouds
gathered in the sky, and distant thunder heralded the coming of one of
those great storms for which the prairie is so famous. The air was so
charged with electricity that the train had to be stopped several times,
and the wheels of the cars drenched with water to prevent their taking
fire. As night closed in, incessant flashes of white sheet lightning
almost blinded us. Each white flash was riven by red forks of flame,
until, with the horizon one constant blaze, the plain seemed a vast sea
of fire. Over our heads, in great zigzag lines, shot the fire fluid, as
the thunder rattled, roared, crashed, and broke around us; then, in a
momentary lull, came torrents of rain, rushing madly across the sward,
and drowning the noise of the fast-flying train, as if some fiend upon a
diabolical errand were borne through the warring elements. It seemed as
though two or three storms had met, to contend for mastery; flashes of
white, yellow, and red lightning outdid each other in brilliancy, and
peals of thunder, near and distant, reverberated in quick succession. No
one who has not encountered a rain-storm on the prairie can form an idea
of its grandeur and force.
During a short lull in the storm, we stopped at a place called Crookstown
for tea, following a touter for the "_Ho_-tel" there--or rather a
railway lantern, as the darkness completely hid the man--through mud and
water up to our ankles; over stumps and sticks; through a dilapidated
gateway, stoup, and wash-house, to a long, low room, where the table was
laid for tea. Seated round it on benches, chairs, three-legged stools--in
fact, on anything they could get hold of--were the engine-driver,
conductor, express-man, and other officials. The meal consisted of bread
and butter, potatoes boiled in their jackets, fried bacon swimming in
fat, and scalding tea in handleless cups. Asking for eggs, we were told
there was not one to be had in the "town." Query, what is a town?
Crookstown could not boast of half a dozen houses besides the station.
Another hour's journey brought us to Fisher's Landing, on Red Lake River,
where we were to remain until next morning. Although the boat was at the
landing, we were not allowed to go on board until all the freight was
shipped. This intelligence was given us by a rakish-looking Yankee, who
added that his "_Ho_-tel" was the best in the place, and if we would
come "right along" he would give us rooms for the night. Gathering up our
traps, and thinking we could not do much worse than remain in the crowded
car all night, we followed, paddling through the mud to the much-boasted
"_Ho_-tel." This was a house built of boards, the entrance room or
office having a high desk or counter across one corner; a recess under
the stairs in the other containing a bench, on which were ranged two or
three pails and a basin, while on the wall hung the general towel,
looking rather the worse for wear. A room opening from the recess had a
table set like the one at Crookstown, apparently for breakfast; the
floors were literally covered with mud. What, we surmised, can the
bedrooms be like in such a place? Our question was only too soon
answered. Presently a shaggy-headed, untidy woman made her appearance,
hastily fastening her clothes. She was very cross, and grumbled that
there were only two rooms, but that she would take one of us in with her
(an offer which was politely declined), and snappishly ordered a man to
show the way upstairs. Clambering up a steep flight of steps after our
conductor and his lantern, we were ushered into a room containing a
bed--which had all the appearance of having been slept in for a week--a
rocking-chair, and a bureau; a smaller room opening out of it also
contained a very-much-slept-in bed. Throwing open the door of the latter
room with a flourish that would have been creditable in a professional
showman, he introduced us.
"This, ladies, you can have. Two can sleep here _nicely_. True, the
bed has not been made, but I can soon settle that!" and putting his
lantern on the floor, he gave the bed a poke or two, and tried to smooth
the frowsy-looking coverlet.
"Oh, that's the express-man's bed!" he said, in answer to our inquiry as
to who was to occupy the outer room. "Must have it, you know; always
stops here. The best room in the town!"
Seeing that we did not appear satisfied, he added--
"You can lock your door" (there was a whole board a foot wide out of the
partition); "and, after all, it's only the express-man; you needn't mind
him. Then in the morning you can sit here, for he is off early, and we
make it the ladies' sitting-room." And drawing the rocking-chair to the
window, he set it going.
But as we still _did_ object to the express-man's proximity, he led
the way to another room, about the same size, but with a door that we
could latch, a bunk bed, a wooden box, and, for toilet apparatus, a
yellow pudding-bowl, and white jug full of water. With some difficulty we
succeeded in getting a lamp, and spreading our rugs over the bed, we lay
down. When the tramping about downstairs ceased, sometime after midnight,
we dozed until morning. I was up first, and, going downstairs in search
of water, could not help laughing at the absurd sight of a row of legs
and dangling braces under the stairway, the heads belonging to them,
being bent over the pails I had noticed there the night before. Seven men
had slept on the floor of the express-man's room that night, for which
accommodation they paid three dollars (15s.). During the day some
twenty women emigrants, who were obliged to leave the car, taking refuge
there from the mud and rain, were charged twenty-five cents (1s. 3d.)
a head; and, as a concession, children were taken at half-price.
Breakfast was a repetition of the supper at Crookstown, and although
blessed with excellent appetites generally, we lost them completely at
Fisher's Landing. About noon, we smuggled ourselves on board the
_Minnesota_, and a few judicious tips enabled us to take up our
quarters there at once. How we did enjoy our dinner! Never did fish,
flesh, or fowl taste so good, and we felt compelled to apologize to the
steward for the emptiness of the dishes he carried away. However, he did
not appear astonished, as the bill of fare at the "_Ho_-tel" was
well known.
It was Thursday morning before all the freight was stowed away and we
could leave the landing--or "Fisher's," as _habitués_ of the road
call it. The _Minnesota_ is a very comfortable boat, and with the
exception of one or two farmers and their families, and an old
Frenchwoman, we had her to ourselves. The captain was a genial,
large-hearted Yankee, the steward and pretty little maid were very
attentive; and, by contrast with the "_Ho_-tel," we thought
ourselves in pleasant quarters.