Winter Amusements--A Winnipeg Ball--Forty Degrees below Zero--New Year's
Day--Saskatchewan Taylor--Indian Compliments--A Dog train--Lost in the
Snow--Amateur Theatricals--Sir Walter Raleigh's Hat--A Race with the
Freshets--The Ice moves--The First Steamer of the Season--Good-bye to
Winnipeg.
Snow lay several inches thick on the ground at Christmas, and we had
sleigh drives over the smooth white prairie, one great advantage of
Manitoban winters being that when once the ground is covered with snow,
if only to the depth of five or six inches, it remains, and there is good
sleighing until the frost breaks up in March or April. Sleighing parties
are varied by skating at the rink and assemblies in the town-hall, where
we meet a medley of ball goers and givers, each indulging his or her
favourite style of dancing--from the old fashioned "three-step" waltz
preferred by the elders, to the breathless "German," the simple _deux
temps_, and the graceful "Boston" dance, peculiar as yet to Americans
and Canadians. The band was composed of trained musicians who had
belonged to various regiments, and, on receiving their discharge,
remained in Canada. The hall was well lighted, the floor in good
condition, and we enjoyed taking a turn upon it, as well as watching the
Scotch reels, country dances, and Red River jigs performed by the others.
It was a gay and amusing scene, but the heavy winter dresses--many of
them short walking costumes--worn by the Manitoban belles, looked less
pretty than the light materials, bright colours, and floating trains of
an ordinary ball-room. The absence of carriages and cabs, and the
intensity of the cold, compelled ladies to adopt this sombre attire. The
mercury averaged from ten to twenty degrees below zero, frequently going
as low as thirty-three, and occasionally into the forties; yet the air is
so dry and still, that I felt the cold less when it was thirty-three
degrees below zero in Winnipeg than when only five degrees below in
Ottawa, and did not require any additional wraps.
On New Year's Day the now old-fashioned custom of gentlemen calling was
kept up, and we had many visitors, among them the American Consul, Mr.
Taylor, known in the Consulate as "Saskatchewan Taylor," from his
interest in the North-West and anxiety upon all occasions to bring its
capabilities before the public. He came in the evening, and, following
the American style, remained more than an hour, so that we were able to
get beyond the conventional topics of health and weather, and found him
very pleasant and entertaining.
During the afternoon the maid came in, looking rather flurried, and said
that visitors in the kitchen wished to see us. Going there, we were
greeted by seven Indians and their squaws, come to pay a New Year's
visit. As I looked at their brown faces and long, loose hair, memories of
stories told by cousins in the Hudson Bay Company's service, of having to
kiss all the squaws on New Year's Day, sent the blood with a rush back to
my heart; but, happily, this ceremony was dispensed with. Only one of the
party could speak English--a handsome, clear-skinned, straight-featured
Indian, in blue blanket coat, red sash, leggings, and gaily-decorated
hat. He stepped forward and made a little speech, wishing us "A long life
of many moons, sunshine, health, and rich possessions, and the smile of
the Good Spirit upon the blue-eyed papoose;" finishing by shaking hands
all round. The others, with an "Ugh!" of acquiescence, and smiling faces,
followed his example. Our hostess was unable to give them wine or whisky,
because of the stringent prohibitory laws, but she regaled them on great
slices of cake, with which they were much pleased. When Mr. C---- came in
from the line with his dog-train--four strong beasts drawing a light
cariole or covered tobogan, more like a great shoe than anything
else--the blue and red coat of his Indian runner, Tommy Harper, was much
admired by our visitors; and he told us afterwards of their admiration
for everything they saw in the house. This Tommy was a good-tempered old
fellow, but, when not running, was invariably asleep or smoking over the
kitchen fire.
About the middle of January (1877) we had a terrible snow-storm, the
worst that had been known in Manitoba for years. At five o'clock in the
evening the wind rose suddenly, and in half an hour was blowing a gale,
sending the snow whirling through the air in such blinding volume, that
it was impossible to distinguish anything twenty yards off. As night
closed in, which it does early at that season, the storm increased in
violence, and although there was then little snow falling, the wind drove
in all directions the dry snow lying upon the ground.
Many people lost their way. A shop-boy running home to tea, only round
the corner of the block, missed the turning into the gateway, and
wandered till daylight on the prairie, knowing it was certain death to
lie down. A family crossing the prairie, and seeing the storm
approaching, hastened to reach a wayside inn four or five hundred yards
distant, but before they could do so lost sight of it. After driving
several hours they were obliged to stop; and digging a hole in the snow
with their hands, covered themselves with robes and sleigh-rugs, and
drawing the sleigh over them as a little protection from the wind, they
waited until daylight--to find themselves within a hundred yards of the
inn! All next day stories were continually reaching us of narrow escapes,
of frozen feet and hands, of lost horses, frozen oxen, and travellers'
miseries in general. But this certainly was an exceptional storm, or
"blizzard," as the natives say.
Towards the end of winter it was proposed that some _tableaux_
should be exhibited in the town-hall for the benefit of a local charity.
The suggestion was hailed with delight, and every one likely to be useful
was invited to "talk it over" with Mrs. C----. And talk they did, at such
length and with such vivacity, that I wondered how the two stage-managers,
Captain H---- and Miss P----, could ever evolve order from such a chaos.
The great clatter of tongues in that small room reminded me of an old
Scotch nurse of ours, who, being summoned to keep house for a minister
cousin, was anxious first to learn how to play the lady and entertain her
guests. The cook advised her to listen at the drawing-room door when we
had a party: but she quitted her post in disgust, having heard nothing but
"a muckle clackit."
At last it was settled that the _tableaux_ were to represent the
story of "Beauty and the Beast," "Elizabeth knighting Raleigh," scenes
from "Hamlet" and "The Bohemian Girl," an emblematic group of the
nations included in the British Empire, surrounded by representatives of
the army and navy, and some well-known statues. Assuredly there was
variety enough in our programme to suit all tastes!
Our dress rehearsal, held in the old church before mentioned, was more
amusing--to the actors, at all events--than the performance itself. The
"sides," which looked well enough to those without, proved a delusion and
a snare to those within. They were used as dressing-rooms, but their
partition from the stage being only partial, and their flooring stopping
far short of the front, a great gap was left--a pitfall down which
everything tumbled. Their appointments were primitive, consisting of a
small looking-glass, a pincushion, and a piece of comb in each room. The
"properties" on the ladies' side were an old straw bonnet wreathed with
artificial flowers, and a gaudy overskirt; and on that of the gentlemen,
two hats, and a pistol and tin mug--which had probably done duty for the
"dagger and the bowl," in the last scene of a dreadful tragedy. Some of
our amateurs were fortunate enough to get complete costumes made, but
others appeared in a fragmentary condition, with a bodice of the time of
Elizabeth, and a petticoat of that of Victoria. Sir Walter Raleigh wore
the old felt hat belonging to his dressing-room, and pathetically
appealed to the spectators to imagine it adorned with a white feather and
jewelled clasp.
The girls who appeared in more than one scene had to change their
dresses, and it is impossible to describe the confusion of belongings
then thrown in a vast heap on the floor, or the despair of one young
performer whose polonaise had disappeared in the gulf. As all were in
different stages of _déshabille_, no gentleman could be called to
the rescue; so I lay down on my face and groped about with my hands till
I fished it up. But before I succeeded, two or three people were standing
on my skirts, and a pile of gipsy costumes was deposited on my legs. My
rising sent dismay to the owners' hearts, and they wailed that they would
"never be able to find their things again!"
When the great night arrived we, by means of jewellery constructed of
gold paper and glass buttons, and other ingenious devices, made a
brilliant show, and the general effect was pronounced excellent. We had
crowded houses for _two_ consecutive nights, and the only drawback
to the pleasure of our _tableaux_ was the sad and sudden death of
one of Captain H----'s children, which took place on the first night, and
aroused general sympathy.
Soon after our theatrical entertainments the snow almost entirely
disappeared, cricket was played on the prairie, and people began to look
forward to the reopening of navigation, and to bet actively on the day
and hour when the first steamboat would arrive; though the ice was still
so solid that horse-races were held on the river.
The 20th of April was a warm day, succeeding heavy rains, and it was
hoped that the ice would move next day. In the evening we were at our
assembly in the town-hall, which is built on the side of a broad, shallow
_coolé_, or gully. About ten o'clock, seeing several people look
anxiously from the windows, we went to inquire the cause, and found the
"water was out." Freshets from the prairies were rushing down the
_coolé_ beneath, carrying everything before them--dog-kennels, logs,
broken furniture, boxes, and all the usual _débris_ found scattered
about the houses on the prairie. The freshets increased so rapidly, that
it was feared if we did not leave at once we should never get home, the
water being level with the bridge, which was in imminent danger of being
carried away. The lower story of the hall was also flooded, and
considered scarcely safe. So there was cloaking in hot haste, and the
gentlemen who lived near brought all the top-boots and goloshes they
could collect for the benefit of those who had to cross the partially
submerged roads.
The ice did move next day, and on the 27th, at the sound of the steamboat
whistle, I ran to the window. As if by one impulse, every door on the
main street opened, and the inmates poured forth, men putting on their
coats, women their bonnets, while holding the kicking, struggling
bare-headed babies they had snatched up in their haste to reach the
landing as soon as the boat; boys of all sizes, ages, and descriptions,
gentle and simple, rich and poor, mustered as though by magic. In five
minutes the streets and banks of the river were black with people rushing
to meet the steamer, and the shout that greeted her at the wharf was loud
and genuine. It was the last time her arrival caused such excitement, as
before another season the railway was running to St. Boniface, and
freight and passengers could get to Winnipeg all through the winter.
The spring of 1877 was wet and backward, and we looked forward to our
journey out to the contract, where a house was nearly ready for us, with
anything but unmixed pleasure. In the hope that the state of the roads
might improve, we delayed our departure until the first week in June. For
my own part, I rejoiced over every additional delay, as I was loth to
leave Winnipeg, and the many kind friends I had made there.