|
Halifax.—Intercolonial
Railway.— Moncton.—Miramichi. — Restigouche.—Matapedla.— Caoouna.—Lord
Dufferin—Rivière du Loup.—Quebec—Montreal.—Toronto-—Colling wood.—A man
overboard— Owen Sound.—Steamer Frances Smith.—Provoking delays.
—Killarney. — Indians. — Bruce Mines. — Sault Ste. Marie. — Lake
Superior.—Sunset.—Full Moon.—Harbor of Gargantua.— The Botanist.—Michipicoten
Island.— Nepigon Bay. — Grand Scenery. — Sunday on Board.—Silver
Islet.—Prince Arthur's Landing.
1st July, 1872.—To-day,
three friends met in Halifax, and agreed to travel together through the
Dominion from the Atlantic to the Pacific. All three had personal and
business matters to arrange, requiring them to leave on different days,
and reach the Upper Provinces by different routes. In these circumstances
it was decided that Toronto should be the point of rendez-vous for the
main journey to the Far West, and that the day of meeting should be the
15th of July. One proposed to take the steamer from Halifax to Portland,
and go thence by the Grand Trunk Railway via Montreal; another, to sail up
the Gulf of St. Lawrence from Pictou to Quebec, (the most charming voyage
in America for wretched half-baked mortals, escaping from the fierce heat
of summer in inland cities) ; and it was the duty of the third—the chief
of the party—to travel along the line of the Intercolonial Railway, now
under construction' through Nova Scotia and New Brunswick to its junction
with the Grand Trunk in the Province of Quebec. This narrative follows the
footsteps of the Chief, when more than one path is taken. But, though it
was his duty to make a professional examination of all the engineering
works in progress on the Intercolonial,—the Eastern link of that great
arterial highway which is to connect, entirely through Canadian Territory,
a
Canadian Atlantic port with a Canadian Pacific port,—the reader would
scarcely be interested in a dry account of the culverts and bridges, built
and building, the comparative merits of wooden and iron work, the
pile-driving, the dredging, the excavating, the banking and blasting by
over 10,000 workmen, scattered along 500 miles of road. The Intercolonial
is to link, with rails of steel, the Provinces of Nova Scotia and New
Brunswick with the Province of Quebec; the Grand Trunk unites Quebec and
Ontario ; and the Canadian Pacific Railway is to connect the latter with
Manitoba and British Columbia, as well as with the various unborn
Provinces which, in the rapid progress of events, shall spring up in the
intervening region. But the work of actual railway-construction is an old
story; and, if told at all, must be served up at some other time in some
other way. The object of the present narrative is to give an account of
what was observed and experienced in out-of-the-way places, over a vast
extent of Canada little known even to Canadians. It will be sufficient for
our purpose, therefore, to begin at Toronto, passing over all that may at
any time be seen on the line from Halifax to Truro, and northerly across
the Cobequid Mountains to Moncton. From Moncton, westward, there is much
along the line worthy of description, but thousands of Railway tourists
will see it all with their own eyes in a year or two;—the deep forests of
New Brunswick, the noble Miramichi river with its Railway bridging on a
somewhat gigantic scale, the magnificent highland scenery of the Baie des
Chaleurs, the Restigouche, and the wild mountain gorges of the Matapedia.
But, without delaying even to catch a forty or fifty-pound salmon in the
Restigouche, we hasten on with the Chief up the shores of the great St.
Lawrence, hearing, as we pass Cacouna in the second week of July, a cheer
of welcome to Lord Dufferin, the new Governor General, who had just landed
with his family, escaping from the dust and heat of cities and the Niagara
Volunteer Camp, to enjoy the saline atmosphere and sea bathing, which so
many thousands of Her Majesty's subjects seek along the lower St. Lawrence
at this season. At Rivière du Loup a Pullman Car receives us. Passing the
cliffs of historic Quebec, we cross the broad St. Lawrence by that
magnificent monument of early Canadian enterprise, that triumph of
engineering skill, " The Victoria Bridge," opposite Montreal. Two days are
necessarily spent at Ottawa in making final arrangements, and Toronto is
reached at the time appointed for the rendez-vous.
July 15th.—To-day, the
various members of the overland expedition met at the Queen's Hotel the
Chief, the Adjutant General, the boys, Frank and Hugh, the Doctor and the
Secretary, and arranged to leave by the first train to-morrow morning. On
the Chief devolved all the labor of preparation. The rest of us had little
to do except to get ourselves photographed in travelling costume.
July 16th.—Took train for
Collingwood, which is about a hundred miles due north from Toronto. The
first half of the journey, or as far as Lake Simcoe, is through a fair and
fertile land; too fiat to be picturesque, but sufficiently rolling for
farming purposes. Clumps of stately elms, with noble stems, shooting high
before their fan shape commences, relieve the monotony of the scene. Here
and there a field, dotted with huge pine stumps, shows the character of
the old crop. The forty or fifty miles nearest Georgian Bay have been
settled more recently, but give as good promise to the settlers.
Collingwood is an instance of what a railway terminus does for a place.
Nineteen years ago, before the Northern Railway was built, an unbroken
forest occupied its site, and the red deer came down through the woods to
drink at the shore. Now, there is a thriving town of two or three thousand
people, with steam saw-mills, and huge rafts from the North that almost
fill up its little harbor, with a grain elevator which lifts out of steam
barges the corn from Chicago, weighs it, and pours it into railway
freight-waggons to be hurried down to Toronto, and there turned into bread
or whiskey, without a hand touching it in all its transportations or
transformation, Around the town the country is being opened up, and the
forest is giving way to pasture and corn-fields. West of the town is a
range of hills, about one thousand feet high, originally thickly wooded to
their summits, but now seamed with roads and interspersed with clearings.
Probably none of us would have noticed them, though their beauty is enough
to attract passing attention, had they not been pointed out as the highest
" Mountains " in the great Province of Ontario!
We reached Collingwood at
midday, and were informed that the steamer Frances Smith would start for
Fort William, at two P.M. Great was the bustle, accordingly, in getting
the baggage on board. In the hurry, the gangway was shoved out of its
place, and when one of the porters rushed on it with a box, down it
tilted, pitching him, head first, into the water between the pier and the
steamer. We heard the splash, and ran, with half a dozen others, just in
time to see his boots kicking frantically as they disappeared. "Oh it's
that fool S------," laughed a bystander, "this is the second time he's
tumbled in." "He can't swim," yelled two or three, clutching at ropes that
were tied, trunks and other impossible life-preservers. In the meantime
S------rose, but, in rising, struck his head against a heavy float that
almost filled the narrow space, and at once sank again, like a stone. He
would have been drowned within six feet of the wharf, but for a tall,
strong fellow, who rushed through the crowd, jumped in, and caught him as
he rose a second time. S------, like the fool he was said to be, returned
the kindness by half throttling his would-be deliverer; but other
bystanders, springing on the float, got the two out. The rescuer swung
lightly on to the wharf, shook himself as if he had been a Newfoundland
dog, and walked off; nobody seemed to notice him or to think that he
deserved a word of praise. On inquiring, we learned that he was a
fisherman,—by name, Alick Clark—on his way to the Upper Lakes, who, last
summer also had jumped from the steamer's deck into Lake Superior, to save
a child that had fallen overboard. Knowing that Canada had no Humane
Society's medal to bestow, one of our party ran to thank him and quietly
to offer a slight gratuity ; but the plucky fellow refused to take
anything, on the plea that he was a good swimmer and that his clothes
hadn't been hurt.
At two o'clock, it being
officially announced that the steamer would not start until six, we
strolled up to the town to buy suits of duck, which were said to be the
only sure defence against mosquitoes of portentous size and power beyond
Fort William. Meeting the Rector or Rural Dean, our Chief, learning that
he would be a fellow-passenger, introduced the Doctor to him. The Doctor
has not usually a positively funereal aspect, but the Rector assumed that
he was the clergyman of the party and a D.D., and cottoned to him at once.
When we returned to the steamer, and gathered round the tea table, the
Rector nodded significantly in his direction : he, in dumb show, declined
the honor ; the Rector pantomimed again, and with more decision of manner
; the Doctor blushed furiously, and looked so very much as if an "aith
would relieve him," that the Chief, in compassion, passed round the cold
beef without " a grace." We were very angry with him, as the whole party,
doubtless, suffered in the Rector's estimation through his lack of
resources. The doctor, however, was sensitive on the subject and
threatened the secretary with a deprivation of sundry medical comforts, if
he didn't in future attend to his own work.
At six o'clock it was
officially announced that the steamer would not start till midnight. Frank
and Hugh got a boat and went trawling; the rest of us were too disgusted
to do even that, and so did nothing.
July 17th.—The Frances
Smith left Collingwood at 5.30 A.M. "We're all right now," exclaimed Hugh,
and so the passengers thought, but they counted without their host
or—captain. We steamed slowly round the Peninsula to Owen Sound, reaching
it about eleven o'clock. The baggage here, could have been put on board in
an hour, but five hours passed without sign of even getting up steam. In
despair, we went in a body to the captain to remonstrate. He frankly
agreed that it was "too bad," but disclaimed all responsibility, as the
Government Inspector, on a number of trifling pleas, would not let him
start, nor give him his certificate,—the real reason being that he was too
virtuous ever to bribe inspectors. The deputation at once hunted up the
Inspector, and heard the other side. He had ordered a safety-valve for the
boilers and new sails a month before, but the captain had "humbugged," and
done nothing. The valve was now being fitted on, the sails were being
bent, and the steamer would be ready to start in half an hour. Clearly,
the Inspector, in the interest of the travelling public, had only done his
duty, and the captain was responsible for the provoking delays. We told
him so, without phrases, when he promised to hurry up and get off quickly
to and from Leith,—a port six miles from Owen Sound, where he had to take
in wood.
Leith was reached at 6.30,
and we walked round the beach and had a swim, while two or three men set
to work leisurely to carry on board a few sticks of wood from eight or ten
cords piled on the wharf. At ten P.M., there being no signs of a start,
some of us asked the reason and were told that the whole pile had to be
put on board. The two or three laborers were lounging on the wharf with
arms a-kimbo, and the captain was dancing in the cabin with some of the
passengers, male and female, as unconcernedly as if all were out for a
pic-nic. He looked somewhat taken aback when the Chief called him aside,
and asked if he commanded the boat, or if there was anybody in command;
but, quickly rallying, he declared that everything was going on
splendidly. The Chief looked so thundery, however, that he hurried down
stairs and ordered the men to "look alive;" but as it would take the two
or three laborers all night to stow the wood, half a dozen of the
passengers volunteered to help, and the Royal Mail steamer got off two
hours after midnight.
An inauspicious beginning
to our journey this! Aided all the way by steam, we were not much more
than one hundred miles in a direct line from Toronto, forty-four hours
after starting. At this rate, when would we reach the Rocky Mountains? To
make matters worse, the subordinates seemed to have learned from their
leader the trick of "how not to do it."
Last night a thunder storm
soured the milk on the boat, and though at the wharf, and within a few
hundred yards of scores of dairies, it did not occur to the steward that
he could send one of his boys for a fresh supply. To-day, after dinner, an
enterprising passenger asked for cheese with his beer, and of course did
not get it, as nobody knew where it had been stowed. In a word the Frances
Smith wanted a head, and, as the Scotch old maid lamented, "its an unco'
thing to gang through the warld withoot a heid."
June 18th.—To-day, our
course was northerly through the Georgian Bay towards the Great Manitoulin
Island. This island and some smaller ones stretching in an almost
continuous line, westward, in the direction of Lake Superior, form, in
connection with the Saugeen Peninsula, the barrier of land that separates
the Georgian Bay from the mighty Lake Huron. These two great inland waters
were one, long ago, when the earth was younger, but the water subsided, or
Peninsula and Islands rose, and the one sea became two. Successive
terraces on both sides of Owen Sound and on the different islands showed
the old lake beaches, each now fringed with a firmer, darker, escarpment
than the stony or sandy flats beneath, and marked the different levels to
which the waters had gradually subsided.
The day passed pleasantly,
for, as progress was being made in the right direction, all the passengers
willingly enjoyed themselves, while on the two previous days they had only
enjoyed the Briton's privilege of grumbling. Crossing the calm breadth of
the Bay, past Lonely Island, we soon entered the Strait that extends for
fifty miles between the North shore and Manitoulin. The contrast between
the soft and rounded outlines of the Lower Silurian of Manitoulin and the
rugged Laurentian hills, with their contorted sides and scarred foreheads,
on the mainland opposite, was striking enough to evoke from a Yankee
fellow-passenger the exclamation, " Why, there's quite a scenery here!"
The entrance to the Strait has been called Killarney; according to our
absurd custom of discarding the musical, expressive, Indian names for
ridiculously inappropriate, European ones. Killarney is a little Indian
settlement, with one or two Irish families to whom the place appears to
owe very little more than its name. On the wharf is an unshingled
shanty—"the store"—the entrepot for dry goods, hardware, groceries,
"Indian work," and everything else that the heart of man in Killarney can
desire. As you look in at the door, a placard catches your attention, with
LOOK HERE GENTS.
English and Irish Vocubulary,
for sale here;
and, further in, another
placard hangs on the wall with the Killarney Carpe Diem motto of
TO-DAY FOR CASH AND
Tom-morrow for Nothing.
The Indians possessed,
until lately, the whole of the Island of Manitoulin as well as the
adjoining Peninsula; but, at a grand pow wow, held with their Chiefs by
Sir Edmund Head, while Governor of Qld Canada, it was agreed that they
should, for certain annuities and other considerations, surrender all
except tracts specially reserved for their permanent use. Some two
thousand are settled around those shores. They are of the great Ojibbeway
or Chippewa nation,—the nation that extends from the St. Lawrence to the
Red River, where sections of them are called Salteaux and other names.
West from the Red River to the Rocky Mountains, extend the next great
nation of the Algonquin family,—the Crees. The languages of these two
nations are so much alike, that Indians of the one nation can understand
much of the speech of the other. The structure is simple, there being
about a hundred and fifty monosyllabic radical roots, the greater number
of which are common to Ojibbeway and Cree, and on these roots the language
has grown up. Most of the Ojibbeways on Manitoulin are Christianized. At
one point on the Island, where the steamer called, we met Mr. Hurlburt, a
Methodist Missionary,—a thoughtful, scholarly man—who has prepared, with
infinite pains, a grammar of the language, and who gave us much
interesting information. He honestly confessed that there was little, if
any, difference in morals between the Christianized Indians around him and
the two or three hundred who remain pagan ; that, in fact, the pagans
considered themselves quite superior, and made the immorality of their
Christian countrymen their great plea against changing from the old
religion.
July 19th.—This morning we
entered a beautiful island-studded bay, on the north shore of which is the
settlement round the Bruce and Wellington Copper Mines. The mines have
been very productive, and give employment now to three or four hundred men
and boys, whose habitations are, as is usually the case at mines, mere
shanties. One, a little larger than the others, in which the "Gaffer"
lives, is dignified with the title of "Apsley House." From the Bruce Mines
we sailed westerly through a channel almost as beautiful as where the St.
Lawrence runs through the "thousand islands." A "silver streak of sea,"
glittering in the warm sun, filled with rounded islets of old Huro-nian
rock, that sloped gently into the water at one point, or more abruptly at
another, and offered every variety and convenience that the heart of
bather could desire; low, rugged, pine clad shores ; soft bays, here and
there, with sandy beaches : all that is required to make the scene one of
perfect beauty is a back-ground of high hills. Everywhere, through
Ontario, we miss the mountain forms, without which all scenery is tame in
the eyes of those who have once learned to see the perpetual beauty that
clothes the everlasting hills.
St. Joseph, Sugar, and
Neebish Islands, now take the place of Manitoulin; then we come to the
Ste. Marie River, which leads up to Lake Superior, and forms the boundary
line between the Dominion and the United States. At the Sault, or rapids
of the river, there is a village on each side; but, as the canal is on the
United States side, the steamer crosses, to go through it to the great
Lake. The canal has two locks, each three hundred and fifty feet long,
seventy feet wide, twelve deep, and with a lift of nine feet. It is well
and solidly built. The Federal Government has commenced the excavations
for the channel of another. Though the necessity for two canals, on the
same side, is not very apparent, still the United States Government, with
its usual forethought, sees that the time will soon come when they shall
be needed. The commerce on Lake Superior is increasing every year ; and it
is desirable to have a canal, large enough for men-of-war and the largest
steamers. We walked along the bank, and found, among the men engaged on
the work, two or three Indians handling pick and shovel as if "to the
manner born," and probably earning the ordinary wages of $2.25 per day.
The rock is a loose and friable calciferous sandstone, reddish-colored,
and easily excavated. Hence the reason why the Sault Ste. Marie, instead
of being a leap, flows down its eighteen feet of descent in a continuous
rapid, wonderfully little broken except over loose boulders. The water is
wearing away the rock every year. As it would be much easier to make a
canal on the British side of the river, one ought to be commenced without
delay. The most ordinary self-respect forbids that the entrance to our
North-west should be wholly in the hands of another Power, a Power that,
during the Riel disturbances at Red River, shut the entrance against even
our merchant ships. In travelling from Ocean to Ocean through the
Dominion, more than four thousand miles were all our own. Across this one
mile, half-way on the great journey, every Canadian must pass on
sufferance. The cost of a canal on our side is estimated, by the Canal
Commissioners in a blue-book, dated February 2nd, 1871, at only $550,000.
Such a canal, and a Railway from Nepigon or Thunder Bay to Fort Garry,
would give immediate and direct steam communication to our North West,
within our own Territory.
At the western terminus of
the canal, the Ste. Marie River is again entered. Keeping to the north, or
British side, we come to the Point aux Pins, covered with scrub pine (Pinus
Banksiana) which extends away to the north from this latitude. Rounding
'the Point aux Pins, the river is two or three miles wide; and, a few
miles farther west, Capes Gros and Iroquois tower up on each side. These
bold warders, called by Agassiz "the portals of Lake Superior," are over a
thousand feet high; and rugged, primeval Laurentian ranges stretch away
from them as far back as the eye can reach. The sun is setting when we
enter "the portals," and the scene well worthy the approach to the
grandest lake on the globe. Overhead the sky is clear, and blue, but the
sun has just emerged from huge clouds which are emptying their buckets in
the west. Immediately around is a placid sea, with half a dozen steamers
and three-masted schooners at different points. And now the clouds, massed
into one, rush to meet us, as if in response to our rapid movement towards
them, and envelope us in a squall and fierce driving rain, through which
we see the sun setting, and lighting up, now with deep yellow and then
with crimson glory, the fragments of clouds left behind in the west. In
ten minutes the storm passes over us to the east, our sky clears as if by
magic, and wind and rain are at an end. The sun sets, as if sinking into
an ocean; at the same moment the full moon rises behind us, and, under her
mellow light, Lake Superior is entered.
Those who have never seen
Superior get an inadequate, even inaccurate idea, by hearing it spoken of
as a 'lake,' and to those who have sailed over its vast extent the word
sounds positively ludicrous. Though its waters are fresh and crystal,
Superior is a sea. It breeds storms, and rain and fogs, like the sea. It
is cold in mid-summer as the Atlantic. It is wild, masterful, and dreaded
as the Black Sea.
July 20th.—Sailed all night
along the N. E. coast of the great Lake, and in the morning entered the
land-locked harbour of Gargantua.
Two or three days
previously the Chief had noticed, among the passengers, a gentleman, out
for his holidays on a botanical excursion to Thunder Bay, ands won by his
enthusiasm, had engaged him to accompany the expedition. At whatever point
the steamer touched, the first man on shore was the Botanist, scrambling
over the rocks or diving into the woods, vasculum in hand, stuffing it
full of mosses, ferns, lichens, liverworts, sedges, grasses, and flowers,
till recalled by the whistle that the captain always obligingly sounded
for him. Of course such an enthusiast became known to all on board,
especially to the sailors, who designated him as 'the man that gathers
grass' or, more briefly, 'the hay picker' or 'haymaker.' They regarded
him, because of his scientific failing, with the respectful tolerance with
which all fools in the East are regarded, and would wait an extra minute
for him or help him on board, if the steamer were cast loose from the pier
before he could scramble up the side.
This morning the first
object that met our eyes, on looking out of the window of the state-room,
was our Botanist, on the highest peak of the rugged hills that enclose the
harbour of Gargantua. Here was proof that we, too, had time to go ashore,
and most of us hurried off for a ramble along the beach, or for a swim, or
to climb one of the wooded rocky heights. Every day since leaving Toronto
we had enjoyed our dip; for the captain was not a man to be hurried at any
place of call, and, annoyed though our party were at the needlessly long
delays, there was no reason to punish ourselves by not taking advantage of
them occasionally.
Half a dozen fishermen,
Alick Clark among them, had come from Collingwood to fish in Superior for
white fish and salmon trout, and having fixed on Gargantua for summer
head-quarters, they were now getting out their luggage, nets, salt,
barrels, boats, &c. We went ashore in one of their boats, and could not
help congratulating them heartily on the beauty of the site they had
chosen. The harbour is a perfect oblong, land-locked by hills three or
four hundred feet high on every side except the entrance and the upper
end, where a beautiful beach slopes gradually back into a level of
considerable extent. The beach was covered with the maritime vetch or wild
pea in flower, and beach grasses of various kinds. When the Botanist came
down to the shore, he was in raptures over sundry rare mosses, and
beautiful specimens of Aspidium fragrans, Woodsia hyperborea, Cystopteris
montana, and other rare ferns, that he had gathered. The view from the
summit away to the north, he described as a sea of rugged Laurentian hills
covered with thick woods.
From Gargantua, the
captain, who now seemed slightly conscious that time had been lost,
steered direct for Michipicoten Island. In the cozy harbour of this
Island, the S.S Manitoba lay beached, having run aground two or three
clays before, and a little tug was doing its best to haul her off the rock
or out of the mud. For three hours the Frances Smith added her efforts to
those of the tug, but without success, and had to give it up, and leave
her consort stranded. In the meantime some of the passengers went off with
the Botanist to collect ferns and mosses. He led them a rare chase over
rocks and through woods, being always on the look out for the places that
promised the rarest kinds, quite indifferent to the toil or danger. The
sight of a perpendicular face of rock, either dry or dripping with
moisture, drew him like a magnet, and, with yells of triumph, he would
summon the others to come and behold the treasure he had lit upon.
Scrambling, puffing, rubbing their shins against the rocks, and half
breaking their necks, they toiled painfully after him, only to find him on
his knees before some "thing of beauty" that seemed to them little
different from what they had passed by with indifference thousands of
times. But it they could not honestly admire the moss, or believe that it
was worth going through so much to get so little, they admired the
enthusiasm, and it proved so infectious that, before many days, almost
every one of the passengers was bitten with 'the grass mania,' or 'hay
fever,' and had begun to form "collections."
July 21st.—Sunday morning
dawned calm and clear. The Rural Dean read a short service and preached.
After dinner we entered Nepigon Bay, probably the largest, deepest,
safest, and certainly the most beautiful harbour on Lake Superior. It is
shut off from the Lake by half a dozen Islands, of which the largest is
St. Ignace,—that seem to have been placed there on purpose to act as
break-waters against the mighty waves of the Lake, and form a safe harbour;
while, inside, other Islands are set here and there, as if for defence or
to break the force of the waves of the Bay itself; for it is a stretch of
more than thirty miles from the entrance to the point where Nepigon River
discharges into the Bay, in a fast flowing current, the waters of Nepigon
Lake which lies forty miles to the north. The country between the Bay and
the Lake having been found extremely unfavourable for Railway
construction, it will probably be necessary to carry the Canadian Pacific
Railway farther inland, but there must be a branch line to Nepigon Bay,
which will then be the summer terminus for the traffic from the West,
(unless Thunder Bay gets the start of it) just as Duluth is the terminus
of the "Northern Pacific."
The scenery of Nepigon Bay
is of the grandest description ; there is nothing like it in Ontario.
Entering from the east we pass up a broad strait, and can soon take our
choice of deep and capacious channels, formed by the bold ridges of the
Islands that stud the Bay. Bluffs, from three hundred to one thousand feet
high, rise up from the waters, some of them bare from lake to summit,
others clad with graceful balsams. On the mainland, sloping and broken
hills stretch far away, and the deep shadows that rest on them bring out
the most distant in clear and full relief. The time will come when the
wealthy men of our great North-west will have their summer residences on
these hills and shores ; nor could the heart of man desire more lovely
sites. At the river is an old Hudson Bay station, and the head-quarters of
several surveying parties for the Canadian Pacific Railway. The Chief,
therefore has business here, and the Doctor also finds some ready to his
hand, for one of the engineers in charge is seriously ill; but the captain
can spare only an hour, as he wishes to be out of the Bay by the western
Channel, which is much narrower than the eastern, before dark. We leave at
5.30, and are in Lake Superior again at 8.30. The passengers, being
anxious for an evening informal service, the captain and the Rural Dean
requested our secretary to conduct it. He consented, and used, on the
occasion, a form compiled last year specially for surveying parties. The
scene was unusual, and perhaps, therefore, all the more impressive. Our
Secretary, dressed in grey homespun, read a service compiled by clergymen
of the Churches of Rome, England and Scotland; no one could tell which
part was Roman, which Anglican or which Scottish, and yet it was all
Christian. The responses were led by the Dean and the Doctor, and joined
in heartily by Romanists, Episcopalians, Baptists, Methodists and
Presbyterians; for there were sixty or seventy passengers present, and all
those denominations were included in the number. The hymns were,—" Rock of
Ages " and " Sun of my Soul;" these, with the "Gloria Patri" were
accompanied on a piano by a young lady who had acted for years as the
leader of a choir in a small Episcopal Chapel, and she was supported,
right and left, by a Presbyterian and a Baptist. The sermon was short,
but, according to the Doctor, would "have been better, if it had been
shorter ;" but all listened attentively, and no one could tell from it to
what particular Church the preacher belonged. The effect of the whole was
excellent; when the service was over, many remained in the saloon to sing,
converse, or join in sacred music, and the evening passed delightfully
away. The ice was broken ; ladies and gentlemen, who had kept aloof all
the week, addressed each other freely, without waiting to be introduced,
and all began now to express sorrow that they were to part so soon. It was
near the "wee sma' hour" before the pleasant groups in the saloon
separated for the night.
At one, A.M., we arrived at
"Silver Island,"—a little bit of rock in a Bay studded with islets. The
most wonderful vein of silver in the world has been struck here. Last
year, thirty men took out from it $1,200,000; and competent judges say
that, in all probability, the mine is worth hundreds of millions. The
original $50 shares now sell for $25,000. The company that works it is
chiefly a New York one, though it was held originally by Montreal men, and
was offered for sale in London for a trifle. Such a marvellous "find" as
this has stimulated search in every other direction around Lake Superior.
Other veins have been discovered, some of them paying well, and, of
course, the probability is that there are many more undiscovered; for not
one hundredth part of the mineral region of Lake Superior has been
examined yet, and it would be strange indeed if all the minerals had been
stumbled on at the outset. Those rocky shores are, perhaps, the richest
part of the whole Dominion.
During the halt at Silver
Island we went to bed, knowing that the steamer would arrive at Thunder
Bay early in the morning. So ended the first half of our journey from
Toronto to Fort Garry, by rail ninety-four miles, by steamboat five
hundred and thirty miles. The second half would be by waggons and canoes;—waggons
at the beginning and end; and, in the middle, canoes paddled by Indians or
tugged by steam launches over a chain of lakes, extending like a net work
in all directions along the watershed that separates the basin of the
great Lakes and St. Lawrence from the vast Northern basin of Hudson's Bay.
The unnecessary delays of the Frances Smith on this first part of our
journey had been provoking; but the real amari aliquid was the Sault Ste.
Marie Canal. The United States own the southern shores of Superior, and
have therefore only done their duty in constructing a canal on their side
of the Ste. Marie River. The Dominion not only owns the northern shores,
but the easier access to its great North-west is by this route; a canal on
its side is thus doubly necessary. The eastern key to two-thirds of the
Dominion is meanwhile in the hands of another Power; and yet, if there
ought to be only one gateway into Lake Superior, nature has declared that
it should be on our side. So long ago as the end of the last century, a
rude canal, capable of floating large loaded canoes without breaking bulk,
existed on our side of the river.* The report of a N. W. Navigation
Company in 1858 gives the length of a ship canal around the Ste. Marie
rapids on the Canadian side as only 838 yards, while on the opposite side
the length is a mile and one-seventh. In the interests of peace and
commerce, and because it would be a convenience to trade now and may be
ere long an absolute national necessity, let us have our own roadway
across that short half mile. Canada can already boast of the finest ship
canal system in the world; this trifling addition would be the crowning
work, and complete her inland water communication from the Ocean,
westerly, across thirty degrees of longitude to the far end of Lake
Superior.
(*) May 30th (1800) Friday,
Sault Ste. Marie. Here the North-West Company have another establishment
on the North side of the Rapid. * * * Here the North-West Company have
built locks, in order to take up loaded canoes, that they may not be under
the necessity of carrying thorn by land, to the head of the Rapid, for the
current is too strong to be stemmed by any craft.—Harmon's Journal. |
