Chapter 4

Working a Canoe up a Rapid.

At the Cascades a short canal has been cut, and locks formed by the government, through which the vessels pass, till they attain the head of these rapids, after which they proceed without departing from the river till they arrive at the Cedars, where, by other locks, they ascend the most difficult part of the rapids. The current between the Cascades and the Cedars is so very impetuous, that the boatmen are obliged to have recourse to their setting-poles, which they fix in the bed of the river, and thus propel their boats with considerable celerity. These exertions, though fatiguing in the extreme, they are often obliged to continue for several hours without intermission, and not unfrequently even their best endeavours in this may prove abortive. When this is the case, they make a rope fast to the bow of the boat; and leaving only the helmsman on board, they plunge into the water and tow her by main strength up the rapids. This is the manner in which they perform the arduous passage, which, though only 120 miles, they seldom accomplish in less than ten days. How the men who are employed in this difficult navigation exist without ruining their constitutions is a mystery which I am utterly unable to explain. They are compelled, almost every hour, when actually melting with heat and fainting with fatigue, to jump into the water, frequently up to their arm-pits, and to remain in it towing their boats until they are completely chilled. They then have recourse to the aid of ardent spirits, of which on all occasions they freely partake, and, in a few minutes, are once more bathed in perspiration. The principal rapids between Montreal and Prescott are theCedarsand theCascadesalready mentioned, theCoteau du Lacand theLong Sault, the latter of which are about nine miles in length; and though they are seldom ascended in less than a day, boats have been known to descend through their whole length in fifteen minutes.

While about 140 of the settlers took their passage from La Chine in what the Canadians call Durham boats, my father and his family, with the remainder of the settlers, embarked in a vessel of the same description. The accommodation which the boat afforded was so poor, that our situation, during the thirteen days of our voyage from La Chine to Prescott, was in reality “below the reach of envy.” To make room for my mother and the children in the wretched little hole of a cabin, my brother and I were frequently obliged to sleep on the shore in the open air—the refreshing zephyrs being our only curtains, and the “spangled heavens, a shining frame,” our resplendent canopy. Taverns are undoubtedly found in many parts along the banks of the river; but, as the boats do not always stop in the neighbourhood of these refectories, we seldom had any other method of reposing our weary bodies than the one to which I have now alluded.

One night in particular, when we felt the air rather too cool for sleeping on the ground, my brother and I, with three of the settlers, solicited permission of a Canadian farmer to lie on the floor of his kitchen. This request, though humble and moderate, was peremptorily refused. We asked for neither bed nor blanket, meat nor drink, but barely for leave to stretch our fatigued limbs on the uncovered boards; yet even this was denied. We were in the act of quietly returning to the boat, when, on approaching the door of his stable, we found it open, entered, and had but just discovered some clean straw, upon which we designed to rest our heads for the night, when the owner stalked in, and on recognising us, commanded our instant departure. We were therefore compelled to decamp and to take our usual nightly station on the shore. This little incident banished sleep from my eyes; and I spent the greater part of the night in the indulgence of the most gloomy reflections. That fondly beloved Isle of Erin, where the genius of hospitality continually holds her court, and freely spreads her social influence, again recurred to my memory. I thought of her humblest sons, generous and humane, sons of benevolence and toil, whose hard labour just gives what life requires, but gives no more; yet who, with the ever ready smile of heart-felt sympathy, are willing to share that hard-earned little with the weary traveller whom chance directs to their threshold, or necessity throws upon their bounty.

We were from the 18th of August to the 1st of September in accomplishing this voyage of only 120 miles. I think I may say, without any danger of hyperbole, that, during this short period, each of us encountered greater difficulties, endured more privations, and submitted to stronger proofs of our fortitude, than had been our lot in all the preceding years of our lives. We were obliged by day, in consequence of the great weight of our luggage, to assist the sailors in towing the boat up the rapids, often up to the arm-pits in the water; and by night to rest our enervated and shivering limbs on the inhospitable shore of this river of cataracts.

On the ninth day of our amphibious journey my brother and I with several of the settlers, for the sake of a little variety, left the boat, and walked a few miles along the shore of the St. Lawrence. As we were entirely unacquainted with the country, we resolved to keep as close as possible to the bank, which in this part was completely covered with thick woods. When we had walked about a mile, our progress was interrupted by a large tract of swampy land, which we found to be totally impassable. Before we had reached the head of the swamp, and once more gained the shore, the boat was out of sight. However, we pursued our route along the bank until night approached, when we perceived a light about two miles down the river, which we concluded to be that of the boat. This conjecture proved to be correct. It appeared that, in our hurry to overtake her, we had over-reached the mark, and got too far a-head. As the night was dark, we whistled, hallooed, and fired off our guns, hoping to induce them to pull up and take us on board. But all our efforts proved ineffectual; we could neither make them hear us, nor understand our signals. At length one of our party observed a house about half a mile above us;—a discovery which afforded no small degree of pleasure. We had walked nearly ten miles through a dismal forest, over swamps and marshes, and were hungry and fatigued. A few moments before we had no prospect of discovering even a dry spot of land on which we might lay ourselves down to rest. Nothing appeared—

“But matted woods, where birds forget to sing,And silent bats in drowsy clusters cling.”

“But matted woods, where birds forget to sing,

And silent bats in drowsy clusters cling.”

Judge, then, what was our pleasure on beholding a human habitation; for a human one it was, though its title to humanity was founded solely on the fact of its being the abode of man, without the least reference to the gentleness of his nature.

Scene on the River St. Lawrence.(Near Montreal.)

When we entered within the door, and informed the owner of the circumstances which obliged us to become intruders, and to claim his hospitality, he muttered out a few words with unfeeling frigidity, the purport of which was that we might lie upon the floor if we pleased! It was then about nine o’clock; and from that hour until eleven, when they retired to bed, I do not recollect that we had the pleasure of any further conversation either with our host or his lady. When they withdrew from the apartment we were left sole monarchs of the kitchen; but our throne was, in one respect, like that which the sycophantic courtiers of king Canute urged him to usurp—it was covered with coarse sand, and presented no very agreeable aspect as a resting-place to us, who presumed to think that we had done sufficient penance for our transgressions in this country, by the sufferings which we necessarily endured in the day during the course of our unfortunate perambulations. It was some time before we could reconcile ourselves to the idea of lying down on the rough kitchen floor; but at length the god of dreams prevailed over all our apprehensive sensibilities, and compelled us to resume a recumbent posture. I converted my hat into a pillow, and my cravat into a cap or turban; and, after promising my companions in tribulation a glass of rum in the morning by way of toasting Canadian hospitality, I fell asleep; but awoke some time before day-break with sore limbs and an aching head.

From the perusal of such incidents as these, one would probably form a very low and indifferent opinion of Canadian hospitality; but justice compels me to add, that the people who live on the shores of the St. Lawrence have so frequently been imposed upon, plundered, and otherwise maltreated by various evil-disposed emigrants in their progress to the Upper Province, that, if we had experienced even worse treatment than this which I have related, it ought not, under such provoking circumstances, to excite much astonishment.

The country on each side of the river, between Prescott and Montreal, is similar in appearance to that between the latter city and Quebec, with this difference, that the houses above Montreal are much inferior to those below. For about 60 miles beyond Montreal almost all the inhabitants are of French extraction, and still speak the language of their ancestors. They scarcely understand a word of English, and seem to be of very humble origin. Their habitations are constructed in the style of cottages; and though they certainly are not reproachable with any great degree of taste or elegance in their design, they have a just claim to honourable mention for the compensating attributes of cleanliness and of neatness, if not of refinement, in the simple decorations of their interiors. The traveller, who may have occasion to cross their thresholds, will seldom witness the semblance of poverty, or the shadow of discontent. Since my arrival in the country, I have not beheld a single trace of anxiety or care in the countenances of the people. In the city, the town, the village, and the open country, every eye sparkles with contentment, and every tongue speaks the language of independence. If the maxim of our ethic poet be correct, that—

“Reason’s whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,Lie in three words,health,peace, andcompetence,”

“Reason’s whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,

Lie in three words,health,peace, andcompetence,”

I do not wonder at beholding such an invariable picture of enjoyment in the looks of the Canadians; for they certainly possess, to a perfection which cannot be surpassed, every one of those integral elements in the happiness of man which the poet has thus tersely described. How melancholy the contrast to an Irishman! How delightfully, yet mournfully exhilarating to a Canadian, if, from a knowledge of the unhappy condition of our unfortunate countrymen, he should make the comparison, and find in it an inducement to bless his happier lot!

The only villages at this time (1820) between Montreal and Prescott are La Chine and Point Clear; the latter of which is eighteen miles from Montreal. It has a church and parsonage-house; contains about I,000 inhabitants, all of whom are Roman catholics.

The Village of the Cedars consists of a few houses, inhabited chiefly by mechanics. Coteau du Lac is equally small, but of more importance as a military post, a fort having been erected in its immediate vicinity for the protection of the trade upon the river, and for the purpose of intercepting the passage of an enemy, whether ascending or descending.

Cornwall, which is dignified with the appellation of a town, is more extensive than either of the two just mentioned. It is 86 miles from Montreal, and has a gaol, a court-house, a Roman catholic chapel, and a Presbyterian meeting-house. In Prescott, which contains about 150 inhabitants, there is a military fort, called “Fort Wellington.” At this place ship navigation commences, and continues as far as Niagara.

We remained two days at Prescott; and, on the 3d of September, we embarked for York (now Toronto) on board a small schooner, called the Caledonia. We performed this voyage, which is a distance of 250 miles, in six days.

Brockville—St. Lawrence.

The St. Lawrence, between Prescott and Kingston, presents an aspect the most wild and fanciful. The Lake of the Thousand Isles, which is situated between them, exhibits a delightful combination of the varied scenery of nature. It has all the features of the placid, the picturesque, and the sublime, with a striking inter-mixture of the savage and the uncouth. While slowly gliding up the stream the stranger observes the northern shores thickly settled. The lowly cottage and the large mansion alternately attract his notice. The bustle and activity of life are everywhere visible upon the land; while, upon the lake, all is solemn stillness and solitude. Hundreds of little islands, assuming every variety of form, and covered with stunted trees of almost every species, are spread over the watery expanse, and afford a finished specimen of that peculiar sort of scenery which is produced when the several principles and causes of vegetation are not consentaneous—when the seed is planted by the hand of nature in a sterile soil; and fertilizing rains, morning dews, and fostering breezes, severally contribute their appointed quota of natural assistance, but seem to lose much of their accustomed efficacy by having no suitable objects on which to operate.

The rocky and barren soil of these islands invites not the hand of industry to redeem them from their unproductiveness; nor do their unfrequented retreats discover to the beholder even a solitary wigwam. They are the abode of silence, and the resting-place of solitude. The contemplative observer cannot view them without some feelings of regret: while his eye roves with delight over spots of earth disposed into all imaginary shapes, in which matchless beauty and proofs of skilful design are apparent in every direction, his judgment detects the fallacy of his sight; and he laments to find these picturesque creations yielding nothing for supplying the wants of man but such products as serve to gratify his curious vision. Scarcely can he restrain the wish, presumptuous though it be, that Providence in its wisdom had distinguished this portion of the universe by something of greater utility and of more substantial excellence.

Immediately opposite Prescott, on the shore of the United States, is the town of Ogdensburg; and twelve miles higher up, on the Canada shore, stands the delightful village of Brockville, so called in honour of the late lamented Sir Isaac Brock. This enchanting little spot unites in its situation every beauty of nature. In front of it flows the river St. Lawrence, interspersed with numerous islands, variously formed, and thickly wooded. Behind it is an assemblage of small hills, rising one above another in “gay theatric pride;” and on each side are well-cleared farms, in an advanced state of cultivation. Every thing combines to render it preeminently beautiful. The dwellings are of wood, and tastefully painted; and the court-house, on an elevated situation at the back of the village, seems, from its superior size, to be the guardian of the villagers—an idea of my fancy, which I did not venture to confirm by entering within its doors.

Sixty-seven miles from Prescott, and seventy-nine from Brockville, is the town of Kingston, built in 1784, and a place of great importance to the British interests in Canada. It is the naval depôt of the Upper Province, and is strongly protected by a fort, called Fort Frederick. In Kingston harbour, which is deep and well-sheltered, there were at this time several large ships, and one, the St. Lawrence, of 102 guns, which is said to have cost the enormous sum of 300,000l. Some of these vessels were constructed in England, and sent to Quebec in frame, whence they were transported to Kingston, at immense cost, on board of such boats as have been already described. The carriage of the Psyche frigate alone, from Quebec to Kingston, is said to have cost 12,000l.What could induce government to build ships in England, where timber is so dear, for the service of Canada? The policy of this “sending of coals to Newcastle” is a mystery which could not be solved by the best informed men in the Canadas. A sufficient number of mechanics to construct every ship necessary for the lake-service, might have been sent out for one-fourth of the expense incurred by the bare transportation of a single frigate from Quebec to Kingston.

Lake Ontario, to which Kingston serves as a kind of entrance, is in length 171 miles, in breadth 59, and in circumference 467. The depth of the water varies very much, but is seldom less than three, or more than 50 fathoms, although, in the centre of the lake, soundings have been made with a line of 350 fathoms without finding a bottom. It is often visited with violent storms, which render its navigation peculiarly dangerous; and though none except experienced seamen ought to be entrusted with the management of the craft which sail upon its wide and deceitful bosom, yet many have obtained the command of vessels who were utterly ignorant of the science of navigation.

Kingston—Lake Ontario.

The waters of this lake, as well as those of Lakes Erie, Huron, and Superior, rise to an unusual height in every thirty-five years. In 1816, Ontario was seven feet higher than it is known to have been for upwards of thirty years before that time. Does not this form a very interesting subject for the speculations of the natural philosopher? While the waters of these lakes never rise or fall more than eight or ten inches above or below their usual height, excepting at these stated periods, what cause can be assigned for the production of such a body of water as is sufficient to effect this extraordinary change?

Between Kingston and York there are two or three very small villages, the largest of which is Belleville, containing at present about 150 inhabitants.

York (Toronto) is the seat of government for Upper Canada, and is situated on the north side of Lake Ontario. Its harbour, which is a very extensive one, is formed by a long narrow peninsula, commonly called Gibraltar Point. Though it is the capital of an extensive colony, it would, as it stands at this time, be considered in Europe but a village. Its defenceless situation, which cannot be much improved, renders it of little importance in time of war. It was captured by the Americans on the 27th of April, 1813. They had not, however, held possession of it many days when they evacuated it, having first destroyed all the public buildings.

Coburg.

The garrison is about a mile west of the town, and consists of a barrack for the troops, a residence for the commanding officer, a battery and two blockhouses, which are intended for the protection of the harbour. In the year 1793 there was only one wigwam on the present site of the town. It now contains 1,336 inhabitants, and about 250 houses, many of which exhibit a very neat appearance. The parliament-house, erected lately, is a large and convenient brick building, finished off in the plainest possible manner. The house in which the Lieut.-Governor resides is built of wood, and though by no means contemptible, is much inferior to some private houses in the town. Many of the law and government officers have very elegant seats in and about the town; and, with few exceptions, they are built of wood, and assume a most inviting aspect.

The streets of the capital are regularly laid out, intersecting each other at right angles. Only one of them, however, is yet completely built; and, in wet weather, the unfinished streets are, if possible, muddier and dirtier than those of Kingston. The situation of the town is very unhealthy, for it stands on a piece of low marshy land, which is better calculated for a frog-pond, or beaver meadow, than for the residence of human beings. The inhabitants are, on this account, much subject, particularly in spring and autumn, to agues and intermittent fevers; and, probably, five-sevenths of the people are annually afflicted with these complaints. He who first fixed upon this spot as the site of the capital of Upper Canada, whatever predilection he may have had for the roaring of frogs, or for the effluvia arising from stagnated waters and putrid vegetables, can certainly have had no very great regard for preserving the lives of his Majesty’s subjects. The town possesses one great advantage, however, which is that of a good though defenceless harbour.

When we arrived at York, my father waited on the Lieut.-Governor, and handed him the order for land which we had received from Earl Bathurst. His Excellency told him that he might select his land from any township in the Province at that time open for location; but assured him, that as he himself had been only a short time in the country, it was out of his power to recommend any particular division to his notice. He then referred my father to the Surveyor-General, and also gave him a letter of introduction to that officer, directing him to afford us such information as might be required. We called upon the Surveyor-General accordingly, but obtained very little satisfactory intelligence.

A short time afterwards, my father met with Col. Thomas Talbot, who came to Canada about thirty years before, an officer, if I mistake not, in the fifth regiment of foot. During the period of his being stationed here, he became so much attached to the woods and wilds, that, on his return home, he felt half dissatisfied with his native country. He, therefore, sold his commission, and obtained a grant of 100,000 acres of land, under the condition that he should place a settler upon every 200 acres. He selected an extensive tract on the northern borders of Lake Erie, about 150 miles S.W. of Toronto. In the year 1802, when there was not a single christian habitation within forty miles of his own estate, the Colonel commenced a settlement under the most discouraging and inauspicious circumstances imaginable. He called his domain Port Talbot, and, in eight or ten years, saw a thriving settlement gradually rise up around him. But he has not yet been able to fulfil his engagement with the government; nor is it likely that he will, if he continue to estimate his land at its present price—three dollars per acre for 150 acres, and 50 acres gratis.

The Colonel is one of the most eccentric characters on the whole continent. He not only lives a life of cheerless celibacy, but enjoys no human society whatever. So great was his aversion to the fair sex, that, for many years after his arrival at Port Talbot, he refused to hire a female servant, but milked his own cows, made his own butter, and performed every other function of kitchen-maid, house-maid, cook, and dairy-woman. Is it not rather strange that a British officer, of such high rank in the army, and respectable connexions in civil life, should be induced to settle in the pathless wilderness, where he is totally excluded from society, unless he should associate with a class of people whom he considers entirely beneath him, and with whom he has never yet in any respect confederated? Being a member of the legislative council of Upper Canada, he goes to York once or twice in the year. These visits, and an occasional one to England, at intervals of five or six years, serve to rub off the rust contracted in his lonely cottage, and to remind him that the world is still as merry as it was when he figured in its gayest circles.

From the Colonel’s extensive knowledge of the country, my father considered him to be well qualified for giving advice with respect to the choice of a settlement. He, therefore, made him acquainted with our circumstances and want of information. The Colonel mentioned several settlements as eligible, but particularly recommended the township of London, a tract of land surveyed many years ago by order of General Simcoe, the first Lieut.-General of Upper Canada. It was, therefore, agreed that we should immediately proceed to London; and, on the 11th of September, our whole party set off for Niagara on board the same schooner that brought us from Prescott.

Weary of travelling by water, I separated from the party at York, and proceeded by land to Port Talbot, where I agreed to join them. The road from York to Port Talbot, for the first fifty miles, runs nearly in a south-west course, through a thickly settled country, the soil of which is light and sandy, and therefore not susceptible of any great improvement. Several small rivers, whose banks are very high, and nearly perpendicular, intersect this part of the country, and render travelling an undertaking of difficult and dangerous performance. Horses, in ascending and descending these steep banks, frequently fall, and are sometimes dashed to pieces, in spite of the best exertions of their drivers. From the head of Lake Ontario to the Grand River Ouse, the river takes a western direction, and thence to the township of Woodhouse its inclination is southern, but from Woodhouse to Port Talbot it preserves a south-western course.

On the banks of the Grand River Ouse, twenty-one miles from Dundas, I passed through several villages inhabited by the Six Nations of Indians. These villages, which, from their proximity to each other, appear to be comprised in one settlement, are composed of about 200 houses, which contain nearly 1,500 inhabitants. The land upon which they reside is some of the most fertile in the whole province. It was given to the Indians of the Five Nations, who have since admitted another nation to participate in all their rights and immunities, immediately after the revolutionary war, as a compensation for lands which they had forfeited in the United States by their adherence to Great Britain. Six miles on each side of the river, from its source to its mouth, originally composed this grant; but they have since sold several townships to different individuals. Still, however, they retain a quantity of land sufficient, under proper cultivation, for the maintenance of half a million of people. In one of the Indian villages a neat church has been erected at the expense of government. It is greatly superior in workmanship, as well as in size, to many of the parish churches in Great Britain. The pulpit is situated at the upper extremity of the aisle, and is surmounted with the royal arms of England, executed in bas-relief.

A clergyman of the Established Church occasionally performs divine service in the church; and when he is absent, his place in the pulpit is supplied by an Indian, whom his countrymen dignify with the title of “Dr. John.” This worthy divine, in the absence of the English clergyman, affords his brethren a specimen of his oratorical abilities; but it is very evident that the gospel has not yet obtained much influence in the hearts of these Indians, or in that of the native preacher. It cannot, therefore, be supposed to exercise any great control over their conduct.

As I happened to be at this village on the sabbath, and felt curious to see uncivilised men engaged in the worship of the Deity, I called upon Dr. John, and requested to know if there would be any service in the forenoon. He had little the appearance of a minister of that gospel, the principle of which is—“Peace upon earth, and good will towards men,” for he was busily engaged in whetting a tomahawk, and replied to my question with the utmost indifference: “I meant,” said he, “to have had a meeting to-day, but I lost my spectacles in a frolic last night, and cannot, therefore, preach again till Mr. Smith (a neighbouring shopkeeper) gets his goods from Montreal.”

After crossing the Grand River, the road for many miles has a very delightful aspect. On each side of the road, extensive plains, thinly planted, apparently, by the hand of man, spread further than the eye can reach, and afford a pleasant contrast to the sombre gloom which hangs, like the shadow of darkness, over the greater part of this extensive continent. These plains are almost wholly uninhabited, although possessed of many superior advantages. But the want of timber and water for domestic purposes, and the inferiority of the soil, which is light and sandy, render them of little comparative value. To the traveller alone, wearied with his wanderings through interminable forests, these beautiful plantations and flower-covered fields afford an exhilarating prospect. Towards Long Point, in the neighbourhood of which there are also similar extensive plains, the country on each side of the road is tolerably well settled; but the houses of public entertainment afford the most wretched accommodations, and exhibit an appearance, both inside and out, which by no means induces one to form a favourable opinion of Canadian hostelries.

I reached Port Talbot on the 15th of September, and found that my friends had not arrived. As I was sitting a while after in a tavern contiguous to the river, and I expected to have met with my father and his family, a lady and gentleman rode up to the door. When the lady entered, I handed her a seat. The gentleman next appeared, and, on seating himself, inquired, as is customary in the country, whether I was travelling east or west. I told him that I had already explored as much of the western country as I then intended; and added, that, during the last four months, I had travelled from within seven degrees of the Observatory at Greenwich, and that it was not my design to go farther into the country until I had seen my friends, whom I daily expected from the east, safely and comfortably settled a few miles farther to the northward. This topographical reply a little surprised them, for it was too general, and did not descend to suchminutiæas is usually expected.

Light-tower, near Coburg.(Lake Ontario.)

The lady, who appeared a good deal embarrassed, or rather in a state of mental anxiety, said, with much apparent concern, “Alas, Sir, I fear your friends in America are few, and your hope of seeing them comfortably settled, like most worldly hopes, vain and unfeasible.” I conjured her to explain herself; and, after some hesitation, she reluctantly complied, for her exclamation had undoubtedly been involuntary:—“You are not altogether friendless! You have at leastone brother! I saw him a few hours ago, in health, but unhappy. He is travelling in this direction, and will be with you in a few hours.” With this expression on her lips, she rose from her seat, and retired hastily to an adjoining apartment, where, addressing the landlady, she continued—“About eight o’clock this morning we overtook a number of young men, all Europeans, among whom was a gentleman, evidently the brother of this young man. They are the only surviving passengers of a large party belonging to the Fort Erie schooner, which was wrecked a few nights ago on the United States’ shore.” I heard this with undefinable emotions, and, rushing into the apartment, in which the lady was still conversing with the hostess, entreated her to tell me all she knew of the melancholy catastrophe. She said, “About three o’clock on the evening of the 19th of September, I saw your friends embark at Fort Erie for Port Talbot, on board a large schooner; and from the great number of passengers who embarked, and the indifferent quality of the vessel, the people of Fort Erie entertained serious apprehensions for the safety of the travellers—the weather being very boisterous, and the captain of the schooner an inefficient and inexperienced man. In a few days afterwards news arrived at Fort Erie that the vessel had been wrecked on the morning of the 21st, on the shore of the United States; and that the few young men who survived were taken up by a New York schooner, and landed in Canada.”

On hearing this awful intelligence, I immediately set off to meet my brother and his companions. Before I had proceeded more than half a dozen miles I met the whole party; and judged from their countenances that the information I had received was not exactly correct. I told them what I had heard, and desired to know whether or not I had been misinformed. My brother replied, that my information was in the main correct; that they had indeed been shipwrecked, but that no lives had been lost, except that of a Mrs. Lewis, who had died in consequence of severe cold and fatigue. I was also further given to understand that my father and his family were all well and safe, and in the United States, waiting only a vessel to bring them over to the shores of Canada. It is impossible to describe the sudden transition of my feelings on hearing these joyful tidings. A few moments before I had the strongest grounds for believing that my nearest relations were lodged in a cold and watery grave; but now I could indulge in the joyful anticipation of meeting them once more, restored, as it were, to life. In about a fortnight after this they all arrived at Port Talbot, after having experienced much kindness from the inhabitants of the State of New York during their continuance among them.

In the latter part of October, my father removed his family from Port Talbot to Westminster, where he procured lodgings for them until a house was erected on his own lands. The township of Westminster is separated from that of Port Talbot only by the river Thames. London is situated about 24 miles north of Lake Erie. On the 1st of November, 1818, it was entirely unsettled, and its surface studded with the various trees which are to be found in Canada. The land is considered, if not superior to every township hitherto opened for location, at least inferior to none in the whole province. The township forms a square, and is divided into 16 concessions, in each of which are 6,400 acres. These concessions are subdivided into lots of 200 acres, of which there are 32 in each. Between every two concessions there are 66 feet set apart for roads, which are called concession lines. These, together with seven side roads of equal width, which intersect them at right angles, and are equi-distant from each other, comprise all the public roads in a township.

On the 26th of October, my brother and I, with six men carrying provisions and felling-axes, took our departure from Westminster; and, having hired a guide, proceeded into London, to fix upon the most desirable lot for the erection of a house. 1,200 acres were assigned to my father for his own demesne, if I may so call it. We had, therefore, a large tract of land to explore before we could decide on the most eligible site. After spending the greater part of the day in approving and disapproving of particular lots, we unanimously determined on making the second lot in the sixth concession the future asylum of our exiled family.

When we had agreed on this point, our next consideration was to procure shelter for the night; for we were upwards of nine miles from the abodes of civilised beings, and in the midst of desolate wilds,—

“Where beasts with men divided empire claim,And the brown Indian marks with murd’rous aim.”

“Where beasts with men divided empire claim,

And the brown Indian marks with murd’rous aim.”

After walking about for some time in quest of a suitable place for making a fire, we discovered an old Indian wigwam, deserted by its inhabitants. In this little hut we resolved to continue during the night; and, having a tinder-box, with all the other necessary materials, we speedily lighted an excellent fire. After we had taken supper on the trunk of a tree, we lay down to rest, each rolling himself up in a blanket, and each in his turn supplying fuel to the fire. Thus did we pass the first night on our American estate.

In the morning, about sunrise, we were suddenly awakened by the howling of a pack of wolves, which were in full cry after an unfortunate deer. The howl of these ferocious animals so nearly resembles the cry of fox-dogs, that, when I awoke and heard it, I fancied myself in the midst of the sporting woods of Erin. But the delusion was not of long continuance, for I speedily discovered, that, instead of being in my native land,—

”Where the tints of the earth, and the hue of the sky,In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,”

”Where the tints of the earth, and the hue of the sky,

In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,”

I was in the midst of a dreary and monotonous wilderness.

To increase our consternation, or, at least, to direct it into another channel, the horses, which we brought with us to carry our bed-clothes and provisions, had broken from their tethers during the night, and consumed every ounce of our bread!—

“Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,Except when fast approaching danger warns.”

“Calm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,

Except when fast approaching danger warns.”

And yet I was on this occasion sufficiently provoked to revenge our loss on the sides of the ill-natured brutes. We had brought our provender, with the utmost difficulty, a distance of nearly twelve miles through woods and swamps; and then to be deprived of it in this way, was too much for a man of the firmest philosophy to bear without impatience. We should have been under the disagreeable necessity of dispensing with our breakfast, if we had not had the consideration to bring some potatoes with us, which, happily, under the circumstances, are not so well suited to the appetite of an American horse as they are to the palate of an Irishman.

We continued encamped in the woods from the 26th of October until the 1st of December. During this period, we laid the foundation of a house 46 feet long, and 21 feet wide; one half of which we finished first, for the accommodation of the family, who removed into it on the 2d of December—five months and nineteen days after our embarkation for America. During the thirty-five days which we spent in the woods, previous to the arrival of the family, our only lodging was the miserable wigwam, which had a hundred holes in its roof, through which, when lying awake at night, we could easily note every remarkable star that passed the meridian. Our only bed was composed of withered leaves, while

“A log contriv’d a double debt to pay—By night a pillow, and a seat by day.”

“A log contriv’d a double debt to pay—

By night a pillow, and a seat by day.”

These are only slight specimens of the hardships which must be encountered by those who settle in a wilderness; and yet, no small degree of fortitude is requisite to support the mind of him who is obliged to submit to them. It is a grievance of no inconsiderable magnitude to be compelled, after a day of severe labour, to stretch one’s weary limbs on the bare ground in the cold month of November, and to be protected from the fierce north wind, and from the chilling frost, only by a miserable hut, with a fire sufficiently near it to counteract, in some degree, their benumbing effects.

But the hope of independence is sufficient to sustain the mind under privations still greater than these; and he who can bring himself to think, when lying down to rest on the bare earth, that the day is not far distant when he may happily repose on a more inviting couch, without one anxious thought respecting the future prospects of himself and his family, regards these transient sufferings with a kind of feeling nearly allied to actual pleasure. He sees the time fast approaching when the wilderness to him shall be ‘a fruitful field, and the desert shall blossom as the rose;’ when the productive soil shall gratefully yield an ample reward to his toils; and when the hardships of his situation shall, by the blessing of Heaven on his exertions, gradually disappear, and leave him in possession of health, plenty, and independence. While indulging in such joyful and ecstatic visions, the wooden pillow of a new and industrious settler becomes softer than bolsters of down, and his solitary blanket feels more comfortable than sheets of Holland.

We have presented the views of almost every class of observers on this interesting country; but there yet remains unquoted an observer of the difficulties, toils, and trials to which woman is subjected in Canada; and from her admirable, graphic, and womanly record we make large extracts. The book is the “Backwoods of Canada,” and the authoress the wife of an emigrant officer.

“It is now settled that we abide here till after the government sale has taken place. We are, then, to remain with —— and his family till we have got a few acres chopped, and a log-house put up on our own land. Having determined to go at once into the bush, on account of our military grant, which we have been so fortunate as to draw in the neighbourhood of S——, we have fully made up our minds to enter at once, and cheerfully, on the privations and inconveniences attending such a situation, as there is no choice between relinquishing that great advantage and doing our settlement duties. We shall not be worse off than others who have gone before us to the unsettled townships, many of whom, naval and military officers with their families, have had to struggle with considerable difficulties, but who are now beginning to feel the advantages arising from their exertions.

“In addition to the land he is entitled to as an officer in the British service, my husband is in treaty for the purchase of an eligible lot by Small Lakes. This will give us a water frontage, and a further inducement to bring us within a little distance of S——; so that we shall not be quite so lonely as if we had gone on to our government lot at once.”

We have experienced some attention and hospitality from several of the residents at Peterborough. There is a very genteel society, chiefly composed of officers and their families, besides the professional men and storekeepers. Many of the latter are persons of respectable family and good education. Though a store is, in fact, nothing better than what we should call in the country towns at home a “general shop,” yet the storekeeper in Canada holds a very different rank from the storekeeper of the English village. The storekeepers are the merchants and bankers of the places in which they reside. Almost all money matters are transacted by them; and they are often men of landed property and consequence, not unfrequently filling the situations of magistrates, commissioners, and even members of the provincial parliament.

As they maintain a rank in society which entitles them to equality with the aristocracy of the country, you must not be surprised when I tell you that it is no uncommon circumstance to see the sons of naval and military officers and clergymen standing behind a counter, or wielding an axe in the woods with their fathers’ choppers; nor do they lose their grade in society by such employment. After all, it is education and manners that must distinguish the gentleman in this country, seeing that the labouring man, if he is diligent and industrious, may soon become his equal in point of worldly possessions. The ignorant man, let him be ever so wealthy, can never be equal to the man of education. It is the mind that forms the distinction between the classes in this country. “Knowledge is power!”

We had heard so much of the odious manners of the Yankees in this country, that I was rather agreeably surprised by the few specimens of native Americans that I have seen. They were, for the most part, polite, well-behaved people. The only peculiarities I observed in them were a certain nasal twang in speaking, and some few odd phrases; but these were only used by the lower class, who “guess,” and “calculate,” a little more than we do. One of their most remarkable terms is to “Fix.” Whatever work requires to be done, it must befixed. “Fix the room,” is, set it in order. “Fix the table,”—“Fix the fire,”—says the mistress to her servants; and the things are fixed accordingly.

I was amused one day by hearing a woman tell her husband the chimney wanted fixing. I thought it seemed secure enough, and was a little surprised when the man got a rope and a few cedar boughs, with which he dislodged an accumulation of soot that caused the fire to smoke. The chimney beingfixed, all went right again. This odd term is not confined to the lower orders alone; it becomes a standard word even among the later emigrants from our country.

With the exception of some few remarkable expressions, and an attempt at introducing fine words in their every-day conversation, the lower orders of Yankees have a decided advantage over our English peasantry in the use of grammatical language; they speak better English than you will hear from persons of the same class in any part of England, Ireland, or Scotland—a fact that we should be unwilling, I suppose, to allow at home.

If I were asked, what appeared to me the most striking feature in the manners of the Americans that I had met with, I should say it was coldness, approaching to apathy. I do not at all imagine them to be deficient in feeling or real sensibility, but they do not suffer their emotion to be seen. They are less profuse in their expressions of welcome and kindness than we are, though probably quite as sincere. No one doubts their hospitality; but, after all, one likes to see the hearty shake of the hand, and hear the cordial word that makes one feel oneself welcome.

Persons who come to this country are very apt to confound the old settlers from Britain with the native Americans; and when they meet with people of rude, offensive manners, using certain Yankee words in their conversation, and making a display of independence, not exactly suitable to their own aristocratical notions, they immediately suppose they must be genuine Yankees, while they are, in fact, only imitators; and you well know the fact, that a bad imitation is always worse than the original.

You would be surprised to see how soon the new comers fall into this disagreeable manner and affectation of equality, especially the inferior class of Irish and Scotch; the English less so. We were rather entertained by the behaviour of a young Scotchman, the engineer of the steamer, on my husband addressing him with regard to the management of the engine. His manners were surly, and almost insolent. He scrupulously avoided the least approach to courtesy or outward respect; nay, he even went so far as to seat himself on the bench close beside me, and observed, that, among the many advantages this country offered to settlers like him, he did not reckon it the least of them, that he was not obliged to take off his hat when he spoke to people, (meaning persons of our degree,) or address them by any other title than their name; besides, he could go and take his seat beside any gentleman, or lady either, and think himself to the full as good as them.

“Very likely,” I replied, hardly able to refrain from laughing at this sally; “but I doubt you greatly overrate the advantage of such privileges, for you cannot oblige the lady or gentleman to entertain the same opinion of your qualifications, or to remain seated beside you, unless it pleases them to do so.” With these words I rose up and left the independent gentleman, evidently a little confounded at the manœuvre: however, he soon recovered his self-possession, and continued swinging the axe he held in his hand, and said, “It is no crime, I guess, being born a poor man.”

“None in the world,” replied my husband; “a man’s birth is not of his own choosing. A man can no more help being born poor than rich; neither is it the fault of a gentleman being born of parents who occupy a higher station in society than his neighbour. I hope you will allow this?”

The Scotchman was obliged to yield a reluctant affirmative to the latter position, but concluded with again repeating his satisfaction at not being obliged in this country to take off his hat, or speak with respect to gentlemen, as they styled themselves.

“No one, my friend, could have obliged you to be well-mannered at home any more than in Canada. Surely you could have kept your hat on your head, if you had been so disposed; no gentleman would have knocked it off, I am sure. As to the boasted advantage of rude manners in Canada, I should think something of it, if it benefited you in the least, or put one extra dollar in your pocket; but I have my doubts if it has that profitable effect.”

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