A TRIP TO MANITOBA BY MARY FITZGIBBON. "Manitoba, the great province which now forms part of the CanadianDominion" The Rt. Hon. W. E. GLADSTONE, MP at West Calder. DEDICATED TO LADY DUFFERIN. PREFATORY NOTE. The Canada Pacific Railway, so frequently referred to in the followingpages, is now almost an accomplished fact. It will, after traversing forover a thousand miles the great prairies of the Swan River andSaskatchewan territories, thread the Rocky Mountains and, running throughBritish Columbia to Vancouver's Island, unite the Pacific with theAtlantic. Of the value of this line to the Dominion and the mothercountry there cannot be two opinions. The system of granting plots ofland on each side of the railway to the Company, with power to re-sell orgive them to settlers, has been found most advantageous in, as it were, feeding the line and creating populations along its route. The cars whichcarry to distant markets the crops raised by the settlers, bring back tothem the necessaries of civilized life. Readers who ask with the post-office authorities, "Where is Manitoba?"[Footnote: Pages 58, 59] may be answered that Manitoba is a province inthe great north-west territory of the Canadian Dominion, lying within thesame parallels of latitude as London and Paris. It has one of the mosthealthy climates in the world--the death-rate being lower than in anyother part of the globe, --and a soil of wondrous fertility, sometimesyielding several crops in one year. Immense coal-fields exist within theprovince; its mountains abound with ore; and its natural wealth isenormous. While the province of Manitoba formed part of the Hudson Bay Company'sterritory, its resources were undeveloped. But in 1869 it was transferredto the Dominion Government, and received a Lieutenant-Governor and theprivilege of sending representatives to the Parliament at Ottawa. Underthe new _régime_ enterprise and industry are amply encouraged. The original population consisted chiefly of Indians and Frenchhalf-breeds; the abolition of the capitation tax on immigrants, however, has resulted in a large immigration of Europeans, who, with health andenergy, cannot fail to prosper, especially as they are without Europeanfacilities for squandering their money in luxury or intoxication. Of howuniversally the Prohibitory Liquor Law prevails in Manitoba, and yet howdifficult it sometimes is to punish its infraction, an amusing instancein given in Chapter XI. Mr. Alexander Rivington, in a valuable pamphletnow out of print ("On the Track of our Emigrants"), says that when hevisited Canada it was rare to see such a thing as mendicity--too oftenthe result of intemperance; "the very climate itself, so fresh andlife-giving, supplies the place of strong drink. Public-houses, the curseof our own country, have no existence. Pauperism and theft are scarcelyknown there--income-tax is not yet dreamt of. " Free grants of one hundredacres of prairie and meadow land are still being made to immigrants, andthe population is rapidly increasing. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. The Grand Trunk Railway--Sarnia--"Confusion worse confounded"--A ChurlishHostess--Fellow-Passengers on the _Manitoba_--"Off atlast!"--Musical Honours--Sunrise on Lake Huron--A Scramble forBreakfast--An Impromptu Dance--The General Foe. CHAPTER II. Saulte Ste. Marie--Indian Embroidery--Lake Superior--Preaching, Singing, and Card-playing--Silver Islet--Thunder Bay--The Dog River--Flowers atFort William--"Forty Miles of Ice"--Icebergs and WarmBreezes--Duluth--Hotel Belles--Bump of Destructiveness in Porters. CHAPTER III. The Mississippi--The Rapids--Aerial Railway Bridges--Breakfast atBraynor--Lynch Law--Card-sharpers--Crowding in the Cars--Woman'sRights!--The Prairie--"A Sea of Fire"--Crookstown--Fisher'sLanding--Strange Quarters--"The Express-man's Bed"--Herding likeSheep--On board the _Minnesota_. CHAPTER IV. Red Lake River--Grand Forks--The Ferry--Custom-house Officers atPembina--Mud and Misery--Winnipeg at last--A Walk through theTown--A Hospitable Welcome--Macadam wanted--Holy Trinity Church--APicturesque Population--Indians shopping--An "All-sorts" Store--St. Boniface and its Bells--An Evening Scene. CHAPTER V. Summer Days--The English Cathedral--IcelandicEmigrants--_Tableaux_--In chase of our Dinner--The IndianSummer--Blocked up--Gigantic Vegetables--Fruitfulness of theCountry--Iceland Maidens--Rates of Wages--Society atWinnipeg--Half-castes--Magic of the Red River Water--A HappyHunting-ground--Where is Manitoba? CHAPTER VI. Winter Amusements--A Winnipeg Ball--Forty Degrees below Zero--New Year'sDay--"Saskatchewan Taylor"--Indian Compliments--A Dog-train--Lost in theSnow--Amateur Theatricals--Sir Walter Raleigh's Hat--A Race with theFreshets--The Ice moves!--The First Steamer of the Season--Good-bye toWinnipeg. CHAPTER VII. A Manitoban Travelling-carriage--The Perils of Short Cuts--The Slough ofDespond--Paddy to the Rescue!--"Stick-in-the-Mud" and hisTroubles--McQuade's--An Irish Welcome--Wretched Wanderers. CHAPTER VIII. Faithless Jehu--The "Blarney Stone"--Mennonites in search ofNews--"Water, Water everywhere"--A Herd of Buffaloes--A MudVillage--Pointe du Chêne and Old Nile--At Dawson Route--A CheerfulParty--_Toujours perdrix_--The "Best Room"--A Government Shanty--Catsand Dogs--Birch River--Mushroom-picking--The Mosquito Plague--A CorduroyRoad--The Cariboo Muskeg. CHAPTER IX. The "Nor'-west Angle"--The Company's House--Triumph of"Stick-in-the-Mud"--On the Lake of the Woods--A Gallant Cook--Buns_à l'imprevu_--A Man overboard!--Camping out--Clear Water Bay--OurFirst Portage--A Noble Savage--How Lake Rice and Lake Deception wontheir Names--At our Journey's End. CHAPTER X. Making a New Home--Carrière's Kitchen--The Navvies' _Salle-à-Manger_--ACurious Milking Custom--Insect Plagues--Peterboro' Canoes--FishingTrips--Mail-day--Indian dread of drowning--The Indian Mail-carrier andhis Partner--Talking by Telegraph--Prairie Fires. CHAPTER XI. Irish Wit--Bears?--Death on the Red Pine Lake--A Grave in the CatholicCemetery--The First Dog train--A Christmas Fête--CompulsoryTemperance--Contraband Goods--The Prisoner wins the Day--Whisky on theIsland--The Smuggler turned Detective--A Fatal Frolic--"Mr. K----'s Legs". CHAPTER XII. Birds of Passage--An Independent Swede--By Sleigh to Ostersund--A Son ofthe Forest--Burnt out--A Brave Canadian Girl--Roughing it in theShanty--The Kitchen-tent--Blasting the Rock--The Perils ofNitro-glycerine--Bitter Jests. CHAPTER XIII. We lose our Cows--Cahill promoted--Gardening on a New Principle--Onionsin Hot-houses--Cahill is hoaxed--Martin the Builder--How the Navvieslived--Sunday in Camp--The Cook's Leap--That "Beautiful Skunk!"--WildFruits--Parting. CHAPTER XIV. For Ostersund--Lake Lulu--Giant Rocks and Pigmy Mortals--The IslandGarden--Heaven's Artillery--Strange Casualty at the Ravine--My Luggagenearly blown up--The Driver's Presence of Mind--How to carry aCanoe--Darlington Bay--An Invisible Lake--Lord and Lady Dufferin--APaddle to the Lakes--The Captain's Tug--Monopoly ofWater-carriage--Indian Legends--The Abode of Snakes. CHAPTER XV. Clear Water Bay transformed--Cahill's Farewell--Ptarmigan Bay--A Nightunder Canvas--"No more Collars or Neckties!"--Companions inMisfortune--Cedar Lake--"Lop-sticks"--An Indian Village--Shashegheesh'sTwo Wives--Buying Potatoes--_Seniores Priores_--ExcellentCarrots!--Frank's Flirtations with the Squaws--The Dogs eat Carrière'sToboggan. CHAPTER XVI. Falcon River--An Unlucky Supper--The Fate of our Fried Pork--A WearyPaddle--A Sundial in the Wilderness--A Gipsy Picnic--"Floating away"--TheDried Musk-rats--Falcon Lake--How can we land?--Mr. M---- "inagain"--Surprised by Indians--How we dried our Clothes--The Last Night inCamp. CHAPTER XVII. Indian Loyalty--A Nap on Falcon Lake--A False Alarm--The Power ofWhisky--"Magnificent Water Stretches"--A Striking Contrast--PicnicLake--How we crossed Hawk Lake--Long Pine Lake--Bachelors' Quarters atIngolf--We dress for Dinner--Our Last Portage--A Rash Choice--"Graspyour Nettle"--Mr. F----'s Gallantry--Cross Lake--Denmark's Ranche--ATramp through the Mire. CHAPTER XVIII. Tilford--Pedestrians under Difficulties--The Railway at last--Not exactlya First-class Carriage--The Jules Muskeg--Whitemouth and Broken-HeadRivers--Vagaries of the Engine-Driver--The Hotel at St. Boniface--RedRiver Ferry--Winnipeg--"A Vagabond Heroine"--The Terrier at fault. CHAPTER XIX. The _Minnesota_ again--Souvenirs of Lord and Lady Dufferin--FromWinnipeg by Red River--_Compagnons du Voyage_--A ModelFarm--"Bees"--Manitoba a good Field for Emigrants--Changes at Fisher'sLanding--A Mild Excitement for Sundays--Racing with PrairieFires--Glyndon--Humours of a Pullman Sleeping Car--Lichfield. CHAPTER XX. Lakes Smith and Howard--Lovely Lake Scenery--Long Lake--The LittleAmerican--"Wait till you see our Minnetaunka!"--Minneanopolis--VillaHotels--A Holiday Town--The Great Flour-mills--St. Paul's--Our AmericanCousins--The French Canadian's Story--Kind-hearted Fellow-passengers--ANew Way of Travelling together--The Mississippi--Milwaukee, the PrettiestTown in Michigan--School-houses--A Peep at Chicago--MarketPrices--Pigs!--The Fairy Tales of Progress--Scotch Incredulity--DetroitFerry--Hamilton--Good-bye to my Readers. CHAPTER I. The Grand Trunk Railway--Sarnia--"Confusion worse confounded"--A ChurlishHostess--Fellow-Passengers on the _Manitoba_--"Off atlast!"--Musical Honours--Sunrise on Lake Huron--A Scramble forBreakfast--An Impromptu Dance--The General Foe. After a long day's journey on the Grand Trunk Railway, without even theeccentricities of fellow-passengers in our Pullman car to amuse us, wewere all glad to reach Sarnia. The monotony of the scenery through whichwe passed had been unbroken, except by a prettily situated cemetery, andthe tasteful architecture of a hillside church, surrounded by trees justputting on their spring foliage. It was eight o'clock when we got to the wharf, and the steamer_Manitoba_ only waited for our arrival to cast loose her mooringsand enter the dark blue waters of Lake Huron. "Haste" will not expressthe excitement of the scene. Men, rushing hither and thither in search offriends, traps, and luggage, were goaded to fury by the calmness of theofficials and their determination not to be hurried. Hearing there was nochance of having tea on board that night, and discovering near the wharfa signboard announcing that meals could be obtained at all hours (except, as we were told, that particular one), we with difficulty persuaded theproprietress to let us have something to eat. Amidst muttered grumblingsthat she was "slaved to death, " that "her life was not worth a rap, " andso on, every remark being emphasized with a plate or dish, we were atlast supplied with bread, cheese, and beef-steak, for which we werekindly allowed to pay fifty cents (2s. 6d. ) each. The scene on board the boat beggars description. The other steamers beingstill ice-bound on Lake Superior, the _Manitoba_ was obliged to takeas much freight and as many passengers as she could carry, many of thelatter having been waiting in Sarnia upwards of ten days for herdeparture. Surveying parties, immigrants of almost every nation on theirway to make homes in the great North West, crowded the decks andgangways. The confusion of tongues, the shrill cries of the frightenedand tired children, the oaths of excited men, and the trundling andthumping of the baggage, mingled with the shrieks of adjacent engines"made night hideous. " Porters and cabmen jostled women laden with basketsof linen, brought on board at the last minute, when the poor tiredstewardess had no time to administer the well-merited reprimand;passengers rushed about in search of the purser, anxious to secure theirstate-rooms before they were usurped by some one else. It was midnight when the commotion had subsided, and quarters wereassigned to all but a stray man or two wandering about in search of someMr. Brown or Mr. Jones, whose room he was to share. Climbing into myberth, I soon fell asleep; but only for a few moments. The shrillwhistle, the vehement ringing of the captain's bell, the heavy beat ofthe paddles, roused me; and as we left the wharf and steamed out fromamong the ships and small craft dotting the water on every side, "Off atlast!" was shouted from the crowded decks. Then the opening bars of "Godsave the Queen" were sung heartily and not inharmoniously, followed bythree cheers for her Majesty, three for her Imperial Highness, three forher popular representative Lord Dufferin, and so on, till the enthusiasmculminated in "He's a jolly good fellow;" the monotony of which sent meto sleep again. At four o'clock next morning I scrambled out of my berth at the imminentrisk of broken bones, wondering why the inventive powers of our Yankeeneighbours had not hit upon some arrangement to facilitate the descent;dressed, and went in search of fresh air. Picking my steps quietlybetween sleeping forms--for men in almost every attitude, some withblankets or great-coats rolled round them, were lying on the floor andlounges in the saloon--I reached the deck just as the sun rose above thebroad blue waters, brightening every moment the band of gold where skyand water met. Clouds of ink-black smoke floated from our funnel, tingedby the rising sun with every shade of yellow, red, and brown. Mirrored inthe calm water below, lay the silent steamer--silent, save for theceaseless revolution of her paddles, whose monotonous throb seemed likethe beating of a great heart. For an hour or more I revelled in the beauty of water and sky, and ceasedto wonder why people born on the coast love the sea so dearly, and pinefor the sight of its waves. When the men came to wash the decks, apleasant, brawny fellow told me we were likely to have a good run up thelakes. The storms of the last few days having broken up the ice, anddriven it into the open, there was hope both of the ice-locked steamersgetting out, and of our getting into Duluth without much trouble--"unlessthe wind changes, which is more than possible, " he added abruptly; andwalked off, as if fearful of my believing his sanguine predictions tooimplicitly. Later the passengers appeared, grumbling at the cold, and at beingobliged to turn out so early, and wishing breakfast were ready. Of thiswished-for meal the clatter of dishes in the saloon soon gave welcomewarning. Dickens says that when, before taking his first meal on board anAmerican steamer, "he tore after the rushing crowd to see what was wrong, dreadful visions of fire, in its most aggravated form, floated throughhis mind; but it was only _dinner_ that the hungry public wererushing to devour. " We were nearly as bad on the _Manitoba_, thefriendly steward warning most of us to secure our seats without delay, the cabin-walls being gradually lined with people on either side, eachbehind a chair. One of the "boys" strode ostentatiously down the longsaloon, ringing a great hand-bell, which summoned a mixed multitudepell-mell to the scene of action, only to retreat in disappointment atfinding the field already occupied. It was amusing to watch the different expressions on the faces down thelines while waiting for breakfast. Men, chiefly surveyors, who duringtheir annual trips to and from work had got used to "that sort of thing, "took it coolly; judiciously choosing a seat directly opposite theirstate-room door, or standing in the background, but near enough to expelany intruder. New men, looking as uncomfortable as if they had beencaught in petty larceny, twisted their youthful moustaches, put theirhands in their pockets, or leant against the wall, trying to lookperfectly indifferent as to the event; some of their neighbours smilingsatirically at their folly. Old farmer-looking bodies, grumbling at thecrush, mingled with Yankees, toothpick in hand, ready for business;sturdy Englishmen whom one knew appreciated creature comforts; and dapperlittle Frenchmen, hungry yet polite. Here stood a bright-lookingIrishwoman, who vainly tried to restrain the impatience of five or sixchildren, whose faces still shone from the friction of their morningablutions; there, an old woman, well-nigh double with age, who, ratherthan be separated from the two stalwart sons by her side, was going toend her days in a strange land. Here was a group of bright, chatty littleFrench Canadians, with the usual superabundance of earrings and gayribbons decorating their persons; there, a great raw-boned Scotchwoman, inwardly lamenting the porridge of her native land, frowned upon thecompany. The bell ceased, and--"Presto!" all were seated, and turning over theirplates as if for a wager. Then came a confused jumble of tongues, alltalking at once; the rattle of dishes, the clatter of knives and forks, and the rushing about of the boy-waiters. It required quick wit to choosea breakfast dish, from the "White-fish--finanhaddy--beefsteak--coldroastbeef--muttonchop--bacon--potatoes--toast--roll--brown-bread-or-white--tea-or-coffee, " shouted breathlessly by a youth on one side, whilehis comrade screamed the same, in a shrill falsetto, to one's neighbouron the other; their not starting simultaneously making the confusionworse confounded. Such was the economical mode of setting forth the billof fare on the _Manitoba_. There were three hundred and fifty peopleon hoard; more than one-third of whom were cabin, or would-be cabin, passengers. The accommodation being insufficient, some were camping onthe upper deck, some in the saloon, many on the stairs, and otherswherever elbow-room could be found. Breakfast began at half-past seven, and at half-past nine the late risers were still at it; and it was notlong before the same thing (only more so!), in the shape of dinner, hadto be gone through. As Lake Huron was calm and our boat steady, we had more "God save theQueen" after dinner, besides "Rule, Britannia" and other patriotic songs, several of the passengers playing the piano very well. Some one alsoplayed a violin, and the men, clearing the saloon of sofas andsuperfluous chairs, danced a double set of quadrilles, after having triedin vain to persuade some of the emigrant girls to become their partners. They were an amusing group--from the grinning steward, who, cap on head, figured away through all the steps he could recollect or invent (some ofthem marvels of skill and agility in their way), to the solemn young man, only anxious to do his duty creditably. But alas for the short-livedjoviality of the multitude! After touching at Southampton the boataltered her course, and the effect of her occasional rolls in the troughof the waves soon became manifest. One by one the less courageous of the crowd crept away. Every face soonblanched with terror at the common enemy. Wretched women feebly tried tohelp crying children, though too ill to move themselves; others threwthem down anywhere, to be able to escape in time for the threatenedparoxysm; all were groaning, wan and miserable, railing at the poor, wearied stewardess, calling her here, there, and everywhere at the sametime, and threatening her as if she were the sole cause of their woe. About midnight, our course being altered, "Richard was himself again. " CHAPTER II. Saulte Ste. Marie--Indian Embroidery--Lake Superior--Preaching, Singing, and Card-playing--Silver Islet--Thunder Bay--The Dog River--Flowers atFort William--"Forty Miles of Ice"--Icebergs and WarmBreezes--Duluth--Hotel Belles--Bump of Destructiveness in Porters. The scenery just before entering the St. Mary River, which unites LakeHuron and Lake Superior, is very fine. As the steamer threaded the groupof islands with their high, rocky, picturesquely wooded shores, we weresometimes near enough to distinguish the many varieties of mosses andferns just springing into life; then, steaming across the rippling water, we reached some point whose distant beauty had made us long to carry awaymore than a memory of its outlines; and so, winding in and out amongstthe islands of this North American archipelago, we "fetched" the SaulteSte. Marie about sunset. [Footnote: The island-studded northern expanseof Lake Huron is known as Georgian Bay. As the level of Lake Superior isbetween thirty and forty feet higher than that of Lake Huron, there is acorresponding fall at the head of the St. Mary River. This difference oflevel prevents direct navigation between the two lakes; consequently, theAmericans have constructed across the extreme north-eastern point of theState of Michigan a fine canal, which gives them exclusive possession ofthe entrance by water to the great inland sea of Lake Superior. When, in1870, the Red River Expedition, under Colonel (now General Sir) GarnetWolseley, sought to make the passage in several steamboats _enroute_ for Thunder Bay, the State authorities of Michigan issued aprohibition against it. Fortunately, the Cabinet of Washington overruledthis prohibition, and the Expedition was permitted to pass; not, however, until valuable time had been lost. Considering the importance of thiscanal to the Dominion Government, and that at a crisis the United States'Cabinet could close Lake Superior to our vessels of war, I think somesteps should be taken by which the Imperial Government would become jointproprietors of the canal, with an equal share in its management at alltimes. ] The "Saulte, " as it is generally called, is a pretty littlevillage, situated at the foot of a hill on the north shore of the canal. Having to remain an hour there, we went ashore, up the long straightstreet, to a frame-house, or store, where there was an extensive displayof Indian work. The Lake Superior and Huron Red Indians are particularlynoted for the beauty of their embroidery on skins, silk, birch bark, andcloth, in beads, porcupine quills, or silk. Their imitative genius is sogreat that the squaws can copy anything, and I know people who have hadtheir crests and coats-of-arms embroidered upon their tobacco-pouchesand belts, from an impression on paper or sealing-wax. Generally theycopy flowers and ferns, invent their own patterns, or, what seems evenmore wonderful, make them by chewing a piece of bark into the form theyrequire--the bark assuming the appearance of a stamped braiding pattern. As the white people put an exorbitant price on the flour and trinketsthey give in exchange for the Indians' work, the latter ask, when sellingfor money, what seems more than its full value; but many who travel thatway, provided with cheap trinkets and gaudy ribbons, get the work cheaplyenough. There is quite a large Roman Catholic church in the village; but we hadto be content with a tiptoe peep through its windows, as after the"angelus" the door is locked. There are some small trading stores, a fewscattered houses, long, pretty winding roads up the hills, skirted bycozy little farmhouses and wheat-fields, and one or two dwellings of morepretension occupied as summer residences by Americans. A little higherup, on the other side of the canal, lie the low white buildings of theAmerican fort. That fortification, with its sentries and the nationalflag floating over the chief bastion, looked gay enough in the rays ofthe fast-setting sun. After remaining several hours to coal, we left thelittle village in the darkness, and when day dawned again found ourselvesout in the broad waters of Lake Superior--called by the Indians "theGreat Sea" (_Kichee Kumma_). For hours no land was to be seen oneither side, but we were visited by two little birds, quivering withcold, weary from their long flight, almost too timid to alight upon ourboat, yet too tired to resist the resting-place. Poor little wanderers!many a lonely emigrant, who had left all he loved behind to try hisfortune in an unknown land, felt sympathy for them. Seeing nothing but water and sky to interest us without, we turned ourattention to our fellow-passengers within. At one end of the long saloona zealous Cecilite, the centre of a mixed group, was "improving theoccasion, " Bible in hand--exhorting his hearers to turn from the error oftheir ways, and denouncing the world and its wickedness, as exemplifiedin the group of card-players close by. Their "I'll order it up!" "Pass!""I'll play it alone!" mingled with the grave accents of the preacher, whose exhortations were answered by shouts of laughter and ringing gleesfrom the other end of the boat, where stood the piano and its satellites. In vain the poor Cecilite tried "to stem the torrent" of what heconsidered "Satan's doings;" his obstinacy and want of tact onlyincreased the mischievous delight of his enemies. At the sides of thesaloon small knots of French Canadians chattered merrily; at the top ofthe stairs an emigrant or two were allowed to infringe the rule of "nodeck passengers, " because of the crowd on board. Poor things! One did notwonder that they escaped gladly from the jarring sounds and offensivesmells below. Early on Saturday morning we passed Silver Islet, that mine of wealth toour neighbours across the line. It lies in an island-dotted bay, and isso covered with mining works that it looks like a pile of buildingsrising out of the water. The crushing-mills are on the mainland close by. Silver Islet first belonged to a Canadian company; but from lack ofenterprise or capital it was sold to an American company for a nominalsum, and, as is often the case, the sanguine nature of Cousin Jonathan, acting on the motto, "Nothing venture nothing win, " has been successful, and the company is now (1879) shipping $20, 000 worth of silver ore a day. The islet can be visited only by those who have especial permission tosee the mines and works, or friends among the officials, neither of whichhad we. The adjacent village, at which the _Manitoba_ stopped, did not lookas if times were very prosperous with it. Two smoky little tugs lay idlyat the small wharf, and the few red wooden houses built against therocks, their flat roofs piled up with bales of goods and boxes--theever-present blue barrels of coal-oil being most conspicuous--seemedtenantless. Leaving Silver Islet far behind, we rounded Whitefish Point, with its tall lighthouse, and saw a very distinct mirage--a long stretchof cold blue water, filled with great blocks of ice. It was ratheramusing to see the eagerness with which glasses were levelled at the"counterfeit presentment" of a scene, of whose reality we should soonhave even too much. At the entrance of Thunder Bay, we passed Thunder Cape on our right andPie Island on our left; the former a bold promontory, rising 1300 feetabove the sea-level, and wooded with a short stunted growth of bush, principally poplar. Save for its picturesquely situated lighthouse andlog hut, where the keeper lives, no other sign of habitation was visible. Thunder Bay and Cape probably take their names from the fierce andfrequent storms that rage there; Pie Island from the peculiar formationof its northern end. Passing many rocky islands, with tiny waterfallszigzaging down their sides, we arrived at "Prince Arthur's Landing" andwalked up the long pier, partly roofed to form a temporary warehouse fora pile of freight, in the teeth of a blistering hot land-breeze, whichdrove the dust in blinding, choking eddies about us. After looking atsome specimens of Lake Superior agate which were on exhibition in a dustyshop, and buying some lemons at what we thought the exorbitant price of adollar and a half per dozen, we were glad to retrace our steps to thesteamer, where we found the captain ready and anxious to start. Half anhour's steaming brought us to the mouth of the Kaministiquai, or DogRiver, and entering it, we were at once in another country. No more dustyroads, baked-looking piers, nor begrimed aborigines; but bright, ripplingwater, cool green fields, dotted here and there with leafy trees, cattlegrazing or lying lazily in their shade, trim fences, long grass-growncountry roads, and soon the white walls and flowery garden of FortWilliam, the Hudson Bay Company's trading post. The rockery in the centreof the garden would have gladdened the heart of an Ontario gardener. Ibelieve that wealthy people there have had large fragments of LakeSuperior rock brought down to adorn their lawns and gardens. We foundfriends at the fort in the factor and his family, with whom we spent apleasant half-hour. Mr. McIntyre is well known, and many will owe himgratitude for kindness as long as Fort William or the Canada PacificRailway remains in their memory. We left Thunder Bay for Duluth at three o'clock. The day had becomecloudy, and showers fell all the evening, but not heavily enough toprevent every man, woman, and child from rushing out to "speak" thedown-coming boat _Ontario_, and hear her report on the state of theice-fields. She had been six days icebound at Duluth and the answer toour captain's inquiry was-- "Forty miles of ice; only one passage. If you hit that, all right; ifnot, you won't get through. " And wishing us luck and good night, with three hearty cheers from eitherdeck, we parted. Naturally anxious as we were for a speedy journey, thepossibility of failure in hitting the one open passage lent theadditional charm of uncertainty to our voyage; not charming, however, tothe poor emigrants whose stock of provisions was too scanty to admit of along stay on board, while the commissariat of the steamer was notprepared to supply them. Knowing this, the captain--a pleasant, handsomeman--quoting the saying that "Fortune favours the brave, " put on steam. By eight o'clock on Sunday morning we had met great blocks of ice, andgrown accustomed to hearing them bump against the side of the boat; andbefore noon we were well into the icefields, with loose blocks of ice onevery side, and a rough surface of piled-up masses as far as the eyecould see. Up a narrow strip of blue water we steamed, the passageclosing in our wake. Then the way became blocked ahead, while the vesselheeled to one side with a lurch, as a great block went under her keel. The captain held on steadily but slowly, stopping the machinery until alarge berg was passed, and taking advantage of an opening created by thewaves as they bore the floes upon their crests. As the ice-blocks closedin behind us the certainty of being unable to return, and the difficultyof going ahead, gave increased excitement to our adventure. One of its strangest features was the heat. Though clothed in thelightest summer dresses, we were uncomfortably warm--and this with milesof ice around us! The warm land-breeze, and our captain's promptitude anddetermination, enabled us to reach Duluth that evening. A change of windthe same night drove the ice back into the bay, and from the hotelwindows we saw and commiserated four vessels locked fast, their crews andpassengers suffering from cold and short rations for four days. Thechange of wind made us glad of our fur jackets. Duluth, situated on the rocky north, or Minnesota, shore of the extremewestern end of Lake Superior--otherwise St. Louis Bay--was apparentlyplanned in expectation of its one day becoming the principal centre ofcommerce between America and Canada--in short, the great capital of thelakes. Everything is on a large scale. The streets are broad; the wharvesand warehouses extensive; the hotels immense; the custom-house and otherpublic buildings massive and capacious enough to accommodate any numberof extra clerks when the rush of business shall come--a rush which isstill in the future. During the day and a half we spent there, the hotelomnibus and one other team were the only locomotives, and a lame man anda water-carrier with a patch over his eye the only dwellers in Duluth wesaw; while the people from our boat seemed to be the only visitors whowoke the echoes in the sleepy place. It was like a city in a fairy tale, over which a spell had been cast; its very cleanliness was depressing, and so suggestive of disuse, that I think a mass of mud scraped off theroad might have given some appearance of traffic and life to the scene. There _are_ people in Duluth, however, though it is difficult to saywhere they hide themselves; for some of our party went to service in alittle church on a hill, and came back charmed with the eloquence of theclergyman and the sweetness of the voices in the quartette choir, to saynothing of several pretty girls they noticed amongst the congregation. Still, Duluth will always seem to me like a city in a dream. On theopposite, or Wisconsin shore of the lake, is Superior City, a pretty, half-built town, rising slowly into commercial importance. Unfortunatelywe were unable to cross to it. I cannot leave Duluth without speaking of the "girls" in the hotel, asthey were called, in order not to wound the sensitive democracy of theYankee nature, which abhors the name of servant. There were three in thegreat dining-saloon, whose superabundance of empty chairs and tables gaveeven greater dreariness to the house than its long, empty corridors. Pretty fair girls they were, neat in dress, but so tightly laced that itwas painful to look at them. Their slow, stiff, automatic movements weresuggestive of machinery, and in keeping with the sleepy spell cast overthe town. All the lithe, living gracefulness of their figures wasdestroyed for the sake of drawing in an inch or two of belt. Watchingthem, I attacked my breakfast with greater energy, to prove to myselfthat there was something substantial about the premises. One word respecting the treatment of luggage in that part of the world byporters and officials, whose organ of destructiveness seems to beabnormally developed. Boxes were thrown pell-mell into the hold, ortossed on end out of high baggage-vans, with such unnecessary violencethat nothing less than cases of solid iron or stronger metal could havestood it. Trunks, "stationary" boxes warranted to stand any ill-usage, were cracked and broken; and the poor emigrants' boxes, of comparativelyslight construction, soon became a mass of ruins, with their contentsscattered on the ground. It was the same everywhere--at Duluth, atGlyndon, and at Fisher's Landing, where we took the Red River boat. AtGlyndon half the baggage was piled on an open truck, and the heavy rainwe passed through that night completed the ruin the officials began. Amember of the Hudson Bay Company, who had travelled a great deal overthis continent, said he found it best to carry his baggage in a smallhand-valise, or in a very large trunk so heavy that it required two mento move it; anything between the two was invariably smashed. CHAPTER III. The Mississippi--The Rapids--Aerial Railway Bridges--Breakfast atBraynor--Lynch Law--Card-sharpers--Crowding in the Cars--Woman'sRights!--The Prairie--"A Sea of Fire"--Crookstown--Fisher'sLanding--Strange Quarters--"The Express-man's Bed"--Herding likeSheep--On board the _Minnesota_. After leaving Duluth at four o'clock on Tuesday morning by rail, thecountry through which we passed was very beautiful. Lake succeeded lake, then came wooded hills and tiny mountain streams, crossed by highbridges. These bridges were without parapets, and so narrow that, lookingout of the window of the car, one saw a deep gorge sixty or seventy feetbelow. One railway bridge across the Mississippi--a narrow enough streamthere, at least to eyes accustomed to the broad St. Lawrence--was morethan seventy feet high, and so unsafe that trains were allowed only tocreep slowly across it. The rapids on the St. Louis River, along thebanks of which the Northern Pacific runs, are magnificent. For some milesthe high banks occasionally almost shut out the view; then, as the trainwinds round a sharp curve, a mountain torrent of foaming water burstsupon the gaze. Rocks tower above it, with great trees bending from theirheights; in the stream are huge boulders round which the water whirls andhisses, sending its spray high over the rugged banks, in every nook andcrevice of which grow long ferns and graceful wild-flowers. Then followsa long smooth stretch of water with grassy wooded shores, and through thetrees one catches distant glimpses of yet wider and more beautiful fallsthan those just passed. We breakfasted at Braynor at nine o'clock, and heard with pleasure thatwe had forty-five minutes wherein to satisfy exhausted nature. Everythingwas delicious, and we should have done the fare even greater justice hadwe known that it was the last good meal we should obtain for thirty-sixhours. When we returned to the car we were greatly amused by anirrepressible fellow-traveller, whose over-politeness and loquacitysavoured of a morning dram or two. He insisted on pointing out the exact spot--marked by a tall, rough-looking post with a cross-tree on it, that stood near therails--where two Indians had been "lynched" for some crime by thecitizens; which exploit being regarded with _pardonable_ pride bythem, was boasted of to travellers accordingly. Volumes might be writtenon Yankee oppression of the poor Red-skins, and yet leave the disgracefulstory but half told. Our train was crowded, and during the morning two rather well-dressedblack-eyed men came on board. The conductor told us they were the pestsof that part of the road--three card-monté men--and that in spite ofbeing carefully warned many travellers, especially amongst the well-to-dofarmer class emigrating to Manitoba, were daily fleeced by them, therebeing no apparent redress, as they are sharp enough to evade any directbreach of the law. These men succeeded in drawing two boys of eighteen ortwenty into their toils, and obtained possession of their watches, aswell as all the money they had about them. When the lads protestedvehemently, the sharpers offered to return the former upon receipt offive dollars, which they knew their victims did not possess. To our greatrelief, the men got off at the station where we stopped for dinner. We changed trains at Glyndon for the branch line, then only recently laidto Fisher's Landing, but since that time continued to the frontierstation of Pembina. There was only one passenger car to hold all thosewho had comfortably filled three on the other line, and it would bedifficult to convey any idea of the crowding and crushing that ensued toobtain seats, and pack away the numerous travelling-bags andprovision-baskets brought by the emigrants from Ontario. Having gentlemenwith us, we were soon provided for; but just before the train started, avery dirty, fashionably dressed young woman, carrying an equally dirtybaby, came in. Looking about her, and not finding a vacant seat, she saidin an insolent tone, giving her head a toss-- "No seats? Wall, I guess I ain't agoin' to stand and hold this here heavychild!" and sat down in my lap. I had, like most people, often been "satupon, " figuratively, during my life, but never literally, and it was withsome difficulty that I managed to extricate myself. The girl nextproceeded, with the assistance of a dirty pocket-handkerchief and the tindrinking-mug belonging to the car, to perform her toilet and that of herinfant; her efforts resulting in a streakiness of dirt on both faces, where the colour had been uniform before. We were on the Prairie--the great rolling prairie, at last; and I wasdisappointed--nothing but grass and sky, desolate and lonely. These, however, were my first impressions. How fond I grew of the prairie I knownow that I am away from it; perhaps for ever. Towards night, black cloudsgathered in the sky, and distant thunder heralded the coming of one ofthose great storms for which the prairie is so famous. The air was socharged with electricity that the train had to be stopped several times, and the wheels of the cars drenched with water to prevent their takingfire. As night closed in, incessant flashes of white sheet lightningalmost blinded us. Each white flash was riven by red forks of flame, until, with the horizon one constant blaze, the plain seemed a vast seaof fire. Over our heads, in great zigzag lines, shot the fire fluid, asthe thunder rattled, roared, crashed, and broke around us; then, in amomentary lull, came torrents of rain, rushing madly across the sward, and drowning the noise of the fast-flying train, as if some fiend upon adiabolical errand were borne through the warring elements. It seemed asthough two or three storms had met, to contend for mastery; flashes ofwhite, yellow, and red lightning outdid each other in brilliancy, andpeals of thunder, near and distant, reverberated in quick succession. Noone who has not encountered a rain-storm on the prairie can form an ideaof its grandeur and force. During a short lull in the storm, we stopped at a place called Crookstownfor tea, following a touter for the "_Ho_-tel" there--or rather arailway lantern, as the darkness completely hid the man--through mud andwater up to our ankles; over stumps and sticks; through a dilapidatedgateway, stoup, and wash-house, to a long, low room, where the table waslaid for tea. Seated round it on benches, chairs, three-legged stools--infact, on anything they could get hold of--were the engine-driver, conductor, express-man, and other officials. The meal consisted of breadand butter, potatoes boiled in their jackets, fried bacon swimming infat, and scalding tea in handleless cups. Asking for eggs, we were toldthere was not one to be had in the "town. " Query, what is a town?Crookstown could not boast of half a dozen houses besides the station. Another hour's journey brought us to Fisher's Landing, on Red Lake River, where we were to remain until next morning. Although the boat was at thelanding, we were not allowed to go on board until all the freight wasshipped. This intelligence was given us by a rakish-looking Yankee, whoadded that his "_Ho_-tel" was the best in the place, and if we wouldcome "right along" he would give us rooms for the night. Gathering up ourtraps, and thinking we could not do much worse than remain in the crowdedcar all night, we followed, paddling through the mud to the much-boasted"_Ho_-tel. " This was a house built of boards, the entrance room oroffice having a high desk or counter across one corner; a recess underthe stairs in the other containing a bench, on which were ranged two orthree pails and a basin, while on the wall hung the general towel, looking rather the worse for wear. A room opening from the recess had atable set like the one at Crookstown, apparently for breakfast; thefloors were literally covered with mud. What, we surmised, can thebedrooms be like in such a place? Our question was only too soonanswered. Presently a shaggy-headed, untidy woman made her appearance, hastily fastening her clothes. She was very cross, and grumbled thatthere were only two rooms, but that she would take one of us in with her(an offer which was politely declined), and snappishly ordered a man toshow the way upstairs. Clambering up a steep flight of steps after ourconductor and his lantern, we were ushered into a room containing abed--which had all the appearance of having been slept in for a week--arocking-chair, and a bureau; a smaller room opening out of it alsocontained a very-much-slept-in bed. Throwing open the door of the latterroom with a flourish that would have been creditable in a professionalshowman, he introduced us. "This, ladies, you can have. Two can sleep here _nicely_. True, thebed has not been made, but I can soon settle that!" and putting hislantern on the floor, he gave the bed a poke or two, and tried to smooththe frowsy-looking coverlet. "Oh, that's the express-man's bed!" he said, in answer to our inquiry asto who was to occupy the outer room. "Must have it, you know; alwaysstops here. The best room in the town!" Seeing that we did not appear satisfied, he added-- "You can lock your door" (there was a whole board a foot wide out of thepartition); "and, after all, it's only the express-man; you needn't mindhim. Then in the morning you can sit here, for he is off early, and wemake it the ladies' sitting-room. " And drawing the rocking-chair to thewindow, he set it going. But as we still _did_ object to the express-man's proximity, he ledthe way to another room, about the same size, but with a door that wecould latch, a bunk bed, a wooden box, and, for toilet apparatus, ayellow pudding-bowl, and white jug full of water. With some difficulty wesucceeded in getting a lamp, and spreading our rugs over the bed, we laydown. When the tramping about downstairs ceased, sometime after midnight, we dozed until morning. I was up first, and, going downstairs in searchof water, could not help laughing at the absurd sight of a row of legsand dangling braces under the stairway, the heads belonging to them, being bent over the pails I had noticed there the night before. Seven menhad slept on the floor of the express-man's room that night, for whichaccommodation they paid three dollars (15s. ). During the day sometwenty women emigrants, who were obliged to leave the car, taking refugethere from the mud and rain, were charged twenty-five cents (1s. 3d. )a head; and, as a concession, children were taken at half-price. Breakfast was a repetition of the supper at Crookstown, and althoughblessed with excellent appetites generally, we lost them completely atFisher's Landing. About noon, we smuggled ourselves on board the_Minnesota_, and a few judicious tips enabled us to take up ourquarters there at once. How we did enjoy our dinner! Never did fish, flesh, or fowl taste so good, and we felt compelled to apologize to thesteward for the emptiness of the dishes he carried away. However, he didnot appear astonished, as the bill of fare at the "_Ho_-tel" waswell known. It was Thursday morning before all the freight was stowed away and wecould leave the landing--or "Fisher's, " as _habitués_ of the roadcall it. The _Minnesota_ is a very comfortable boat, and with theexception of one or two farmers and their families, and an oldFrenchwoman, we had her to ourselves. The captain was a genial, large-hearted Yankee, the steward and pretty little maid were veryattentive; and, by contrast with the "_Ho_-tel, " we thoughtourselves in pleasant quarters. CHAPTER IV. Red Lake River--Grand Forks--The Ferry--Custom-house Officers atPembina--Mud and Misery--Winnipeg at last--A Walk through theTown--A Hospitable Welcome--Macadam wanted--Holy Trinity Church--APicturesque Population--Indians shopping--An "All-sorts" Store--St. Boniface and its Bells--An Evening Scene. Red Lake River flows into Red River at Grand Forks, some twelve orthirteen miles below Fisher's Landing. It is much the narrower stream, with so many bends that when we were not running headlong into the leftbank we grounded on the right. The boat frequently formed a bridge fromone bend to the other, and heads were ducked down or drawn back suddenlyto avoid having eyes scratched out by the spreading boughs of beech andhazel which stretched over the stream. It was nothing unusual to find ourcourse impeded by a large branch becoming so entangled in the wheel atthe stern, that men had to get down and chop it away before the boatcould proceed. At Grand Forks, where there is a Hudson Bay Company's trading post, abilliard saloon, hotel, general store, and post-office all in one, and afew smaller houses, the ferry is a large flat-bottomed sort of platform, railed on either side and fastened to a long thick rope stretched acrossthe river. When there is a load to ferry over, this platform is let loosefrom the shore, and the current carries it across, the rope keeping itfrom going down stream. The shores of Red River are almost bare; a fewmiserable poplars here and there, one or two small log-houses andmud-built huts from which wild, dirty Indians emerged to watch the boatpass, were all we saw upon them. The banks are for the most part so highthat only from the upper deck could we see inland. The frontier post, Pembina, is well known as the spot beyond which in1869 the rebel Louis Riel, the "Little Napoleon" of Red River, would notallow Mr. McDougall, the "lieutenant-governor of Manitoba, " appointed bythe Canadian administration, to pass. Here we had a visit from thecustom-house officers. They were good specimens of their differentcountries. The Canadian was a round, fat, jolly, handsome, fair man; theYankee was tall, slight, and black-eyed, with a cadaverous look, increased by his close-fitting mackintosh and cowl. They did not give usany trouble, and I felt sorry for their lonely life, and the pounds ofmud they had to carry with them everywhere. Such mud! There is no wharf or planking of any kind, and all freight andbaggage is landed on (or into) the muddy bank. Barrels rolled through itbecame unrecognizable, and were doubled in weight before they reachedtheir warehouse. Men worked on bare feet, with trousers rolled to theirknees, and the slippery, swashy look of everything was horrible. AnIndian (not of the Fenimore Cooper type) leant against an oldcooking-stove stranded on the bank, and an old squaw squatted on a heapof dirty straw, watching with lack-lustre eyes the disembarkation. A mileor two above Pembina is the American fort, with its trim barracks, fortifications, mounted guns, sentries, and some military life about it. Near it is the house built by Captain Cameron, when out with theexpeditionary force in 1867. The remainder of our journey up the RedRiver of the North was uninteresting, and we hailed with delight ourarrival at Winnipeg, on Saturday morning, the 4th of June. It took some time to disembark from the _Minnesota_. The emigrantshad been up at daylight, and after making haste to get their propertytogether, found that they had to wait the arrival of the custom-houseofficer. At about eight o'clock, a waggon being procured to take ourluggage, we, carrying our travelling-bags and shawls, walked--for therewere no cabs nor omnibuses--into Winnipeg. The _Minnesota_ had stopped at the old custom-house wharf, the bulkof her freight being for that end of the town, and we had to traverse theentire length of Winnipeg to reach Mrs. T----, who had kindly invited usto remain with her until Mrs. C---- could find a suitable house. Upnarrow, rickety planks, through mud and mire, past two log-houses fastfalling into ruin--which were pointed out as having been the only housesin Winnipeg, besides the Fort Garry settlement, ten years before, andwithin three years used as custom-houses--we made our way to the broadmain street. This is lined on each side by large, handsome shops, one ortwo banks, the new post-office in course of erection, and the largesquare town-hall, also unfinished. Then follow the new custom-house, landoffice, Canada Pacific Railway offices (square white brick buildings), and the round turret-like bastions of Fort Garry, [Footnote: Fort Garrystands at the confluence of the Assineboine with the Red River. ] with itsmassive wooden palisades, and low log buildings at the extreme end of thestreet, where it terminates at the mouth of the Assineboine. We had tocross a few yards of prairie in order to reach Mrs. T----'s house, formerly the officers' quarters of the mounted police force, now removedto Battleford and Fort McLeod. We were received very cordially, a welcomebeing extended to me, although a total stranger. The first thing that struck me in Winnipeg was the mud. I had heard thatRed River mud was the worst in the world, and I now for the first timerealized how bad mud could be. Not only was the roadway so soft thatevery turn of a wheel loaded it inches deep with the sticky compound, andmade it so heavy that the driver had frequently to stop and clear hiswheels with a stick, but, trodden from the crossings into the side-walks, it covered them with a slimy mixture very difficult to walk on. From thewindows I could see people slipping and sliding about so much, that anyone ignorant of the cause might, have attributed their unsteadiness tothe strength of their morning libations; the absence of women from thestreets making that solution appear possible, if not probable. On Sunday we went to Holy Trinity Church, a pretty little frame buildingwith a full congregation. Part of the church was occupied by the regimentof artillery quartered in Fort Osborne, a neat little barracks to thewest of the prairie. The choir was passable, and could boast of onethoroughly good tenor. An energetic clergyman preached an excellentsermon. Towards the end of June, Mr. C---- and his party left for the line; andwe, having taken the house vacated by the T----s the week before, werebusy getting comfortably settled. Numbers of people called; many of themold friends whom we had lost sight of for years; and every one was socordial and friendly, that we anticipated great pleasure during our stayin Winnipeg. It is a strange place, peopled with a strange variety from all quartersof the globe. Tall Indians stand in groups at the street corners, wrappedin long dirty-white, dark-blue, or scarlet blankets, held well abouttheir shoulders, and hanging below their knees. They wear beaded orembroidered cloth leggings, blue, scarlet, or black, tied with gayribbons. Their feet are in mocassins, their long black hair is braidedwith beads or ribbons, and a black silk handkerchief, in which eitherfeathers or a bunch of ribbons are fastened, is folded and knotted roundtheir foreheads. Young squaws with shaggy, flowing hair, short, colouredmerino skirts, and shawls over their heads, sit on the side-walks, chattering in their guttural tongue, and laughing over some joke; fat, glossy, half-breed ponies, in gorgeously beaded saddle-cloths, stand atthe edge of the road awaiting their masters--short, lithe, dark men, whoseem to touch the reins, vault into the saddle, and reach the end of thestreet in the same instant. The speed and strength of these small horsesis wonderful; their glossy coats and well-kept manes testify to the caretaken of them. An Indian never beats his horse, nor drags at the reins inthe cruel way so common among more "civilized" riders, but sits his horseas though it were part of himself. A long train of ox-carts is waiting tobe loaded for the distant prairie hamlets. The half-breed driver standsby in trousers and checked shirt, a loosely knotted handkerchief abouthis neck. He sometimes wears a hat, but oftener his short, shaggy blackhair is his only head-covering. His squaw sits in the bottom of thewaggon; his little brown papooses are peeping out from between the barsat the side. Other children, laced up in queer, birch-bark cradles ormoss bags, leaving only their arms free, and the upper part of theirbodies visible, lean against shop-doors or scattered bales of goods. I watched some Indians shopping, and was astonished to see how invariablythey waived aside inferior goods and chose such materials as merinos at adollar and a half to two dollars (7s. 6d. To 10s. ) a yard. One of themerchants told me it was useless to offer them anything but the best. AnIndian who could not speak English or French, and wanted five things, divided his money according to his idea of their relative cost in littlepiles on the counter, and going through a pantomime descriptive of hiswants, was handed first some silk handkerchiefs. Taking one up, he felt it, held it up to the light, and throwing it aside, shook his head vigorously, uttering an "Ugh!" of disgust. When shown a better one he was doubtful, butupon a much superior article being produced he took it, and willinglyhanded over one pile for it. This, however, was too much, and when giventhe change, he put it on one of the other piles, and proceeded in the sameway to make the rest of his purchases. "How easily they could be cheated!" I said to the clerk after the Indianhad left. "No, " he replied, "not so easily as would appear. They generally come infrom their camps in great numbers about once a year to sell their fursand make purchases. They go to different shops, and on their returncompare notes as to the quality and cost of their goods. Then, if one haspaid more than another, or has been cheated in quality, he will neverenter the shop again, and the firm that gives the greatest bargains ismost patronized on their return. " A few minutes afterwards another Indian came to buy a blanket, and wastold to go upstairs where they were kept. Slowly and doubtfully heascended, feeling his way step by step, and holding closely to thebanisters till he reached the top; then he turned to look back andexpress his astonishment in the "Ugh!" which, in different accents, meansso many different things. The Mennonites and Icelanders interested me very much. The former, whoare all thrifty and energetic, make excellent settlers. They have a largesettlement some twenty miles south-east of Winnipeg. The dress of thewomen is quaint, yet neat. They wear short, full skirts, just showingtheir small feet; jackets, and becoming white caps, from under whichtheir round black eyes, small straight features, and intelligentexpression, greet one pleasantly. The men are taller, with a quiet, unconscious air of superiority which is refreshing. The dress of theIcelanders is somewhat similar, but they are more lethargic-looking. Theyhave bright "milk and roses" complexions, great opaque blue eyes, and aheavy gait that gives them an appearance of stupidity, which is not atrue index of their character; they learn English rapidly, and areteachable servants, neat, clean, and careful, but have not constitutionalstrength to endure hard work, and when separated from their friendsbecome lonely and dispirited. There is a large settlement of them atGimli, about sixty miles from Winnipeg, on Lake Winnipeg. Some of theauthorities in Winnipeg told me that, as an emigration speculation, theywere not a success. The grasshopper plague which visited Manitoba duringtwo consecutive seasons destroyed their crops, and the ravages ofsmallpox during the fall of '76 and spring of '77 told upon them soseverely that they have so far only been an expense to the CanadianGovernment. The Hudson Bay Company's store had a great attraction for me. It was along, low building within the precincts of Fort Garry, stocked witheverything either useful or ornamental, from a ship's anchor to a lacepocket-handkerchief; a sort of curiosity shop of all the necessaries andluxuries of life; an outfitting establishment where one could not onlyclothe oneself from head to foot, but furnish one's house from attic tocellar, at very reasonable prices. Whatever the charges may be at theoutlying posts, competition keeps them within bounds in Winnipeg. As arule the goods are excellent in quality, and to judge by the number ofcarts, carriages, and saddle-horses always grouped about the door of thestore, a thriving business is done there. The Red River at Winnipeg is much wider than at any other point, yet sohigh are the banks, that until quite close to it one cannot see thewater. On the opposite or western shore is St. Boniface, the terminus ofthe branch line from Selkirk, and the site of the Roman Catholiccathedral, convents, and schools. The cathedral, a large square building, has a musical chime of bells, and the ringing of the "angelus, " whosesound floated over the prairie unmarred by steam whistles, factory bells, or any other of the multitudinous sounds of a large city, was alwayswelcome. Nowhere is evening more beautiful than in Manitoba. One instancein particular I noticed. The sun was setting low down in the heavens asin a sea of gold, one long flame-coloured line alone marking the horizon. In the south-west rose cloud upon cloud of crimson and gold, crossed byrapid flashes of pale yellow and white lightning, which momentarilyobliterated their rich colours. To the south was a great bank of blackthunder-cloud crested with crimson, reft to its deepest darkness bysuccessive flashes of forked lightning. Immediately overhead a narrowcurtain of leaden clouds was driven hither and thither by uncertainwinds; while below, the prairie and all its varied life lay bathed in thewarmth and light of the departing sun, throwing into bold relief theIndian wigwam, with its ragged sides and cross-poles. Squaws were seated round the camp fires, or dipping water from a poolhard by; Indians were standing idly about; droves of cattle were beingdriven in for milking; groups of horses, their fore feet tied looselytogether, were hobbling awkwardly as they grazed; tired oxen weretethered near, feeding after their day's work, while their driver layunder his cart and smoked. Above the low squat tent of the half-breed, there rose the brown-roofed barracks, its lazy flag clinging to thestaff. Through the surrounding bushes, water gleamed here and there. Inthe distance could be seen long trains of ox-carts, coming from remotesettlements, the low monotonous moan of their ungreased wheels making aweird accompaniment to the muttering thunder; or a black-robed processionof nuns, on their way to the small chapel on the prairie, whose tinklingbell was calling them to prayers. An Indian on his fiery little steed, his beaded saddle-cloth glistening in the sun, was galloping in mad hasteover the grass, away to the low hills to the north, which deserved theirname of Silver Heights as they received the sun's good-night kiss. Then the clouds, losing their borrowed tints, closed in like a pall; thelow wail of the wind grew louder as it approached and swept them away tothe south, leaving night to settle down upon the dwellers of the prairiecity, starlit and calm, while the distant glow of the prairie fires roseluridly against the eastern sky. But all night long the creaking moan ofthe ox-carts went on, giving the prairie a yet closer resemblance to "aninland sea. " CHAPTER V. Summer Days--The English Cathedral--IcelandicEmigrants--_Tableaux_--In chase of our Dinner--The IndianSummer--Blocked up--Gigantic Vegetables--Fruitfulness of theCountry--Iceland Maidens--Rates of Wages--Society atWinnipeg--Half-castes--Magic of the Red River Water--A HappyHunting-ground--Where is Manitoba? The summer passed uneventfully. Day after day we watched for thewhite-covered mail-waggon, pails dangling underneath it, dogs trottingbehind, rousing as they passed countless wild brethren from every quarterof the prairie. At sight of the waggon, we put on our hats and went to thepost-office for letters from home; then drove across the prairie to SilverHeights, or down to the English cathedral, which stood on the fairestbend of the river, and in a pretty, wooded dell--but, alas, it wasencircled by a tangled, uncared-for churchyard, overgrown with weeds andthistles, the tombstones broken and prostrate, the fences so dilapidatedthat stray cattle leaped over them and grazed amongst the unrecognizedgraves. I was told that arrangements had been made for a city cemetery onthe prairie, but the ground was merely staked off. A man who asked hisway there was directed to go straight across the prairie to the east, until he came to where grass and sky met. Forgetting that as he advancedthe horizon receded, he thanked his informant, and went on his fruitlesssearch; but after wandering many hours, like the boy after the pot ofgold at the end of the rainbow, he returned weary and unsuccessful. At the cathedral we heard the chorister boys chant the evening psalms;then went on to the little village of Kildonan, standing among greenfields and thriving farms; or turned in another direction across theAssineboine, up a lovely road leading for miles through the woods. Onemorning we went to the emigrant sheds to see several hundred Icelandersembark in their flat-bottomed boats, with their quaint wooden chests, ontheir way to Gimli. On another occasion we helped to organize aSunday-school festival, and after giving the children an unlimited supplyof cake, strawberries, and lemonade, we amused them with some_tableaux_. Taking possession of a disused old church, we made an_impromptu_ stage; by laying boards across the chancel railings; andthe effect was so good, that some play-loving people enlarged on our ideaby putting up rough side-scenes, and giving a series of entertainmentsthere during the following winter, with the average amount of amateurskill. One very hot Sunday, when we were without a servant, I rashly left ourjoint of roast beef on the kitchen table, while we discussed the pudding. Suddenly an ominous noise was heard. "Oh, Miss F----!" exclaimed myhostess, starting up, "Do stop that dog! The wretch has stolen thebeef--_all_ to-morrow's dinner!" To rush out of the house and over the prairie after the brute was thework of an instant; not so to catch him. On I ran, urged to redoubledexertions by Mrs. C----, who pursued me, excitedly flourishing her tablenapkin, while her little girl scrambled after her, screaming at beingleft behind. Every now and then the dog would stop to take breath, sitting still with aggravating coolness till I almost touched him, whenoff he would start again, at redoubled speed. At last, after wildlythrowing two or three handfuls of stones at him and all the sticks Icould pick up as I passed, I aimed furiously at the barracks and hit thedog on the head, when he dropped the beef, and I returned, hot andbreathless, but triumphant. The days were sultry, but the nights cool enough to make a blanketnecessary, except just before the frequent thunderstorms. Well might theIndians call the province "Manitoba" (God speaking), in their awe of theGreat Spirit whose voice alone is so terrible. October is the mostbeautiful month in that region, bright, clear, and balmy--the true Indiansummer, with cool, dewy nights, when the aurora sent its long streaks ofwhite and red light from the horizon to the zenith, to fall again in ashower of sparks, each night more beautiful than the last. Till, early inNovember, a storm of rain, succeeded by snow and frost, ended our Indiansummer, and in forty-eight hours we had winter. Not weeks of slushy snow, changeable temperature, chilling rains, and foggy skies, as in Ontario, but cold, frosty, bracing winter at once. By the end of November theriver was blocked, the boats had stopped running, and our onlycommunication with the outside world was by means of the daily stage. Butthe wretchedness of a journey over the prairie to the nearest railwaystation was only encountered by those whose business made it unavoidable. Before navigation had quite ceased, a provincial exhibition of theagricultural and other products of the country was held in the town-hall. Many of the vegetables were so large, that a description of them wastreated with incredulity until some specimens were sent to Ottawa, tobe modelled for the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition. One Swedishturnip weighed over thirty-six pounds; some potatoes (early roses andwhite) measured nine inches long and seven in circumference; radisheswere a foot and a half long and four inches 'round; kail branched out tothe size of a currant bush; cabbages, hard, white, and good, grew to afoot and a half in diameter, and there were cauliflowers as large. Neither Indian corn, melons, nor tomatos were exhibited, chiefly becausemost of the farmers in Manitoba have cultivated wheat-growing rather thanmarket-gardening, as the former brings in the largest returns for theleast labour. Corn is grown in Manitoba larger and far taller than any I saw inOntario. Tomatos will grow in profusion in a dry spot, especially where, as in Kuwatin, a hundred miles from Winnipeg, a southern exposure onsandy soil can be found; the same may he said of melons. Fruit trees aremost difficult to cultivate, the frosts being so severe. Yet with carethat obstacle may be overcome, and a few apples, grown and ripened in Mr. Bannatyne's garden, in Winnipeg, were exhibited. Every other kind ofgarden and farm produce was shown in abundance. The prairie soil is sorich that it yields a hundredfold, and the absence of the greatpreliminary labour of "clearing, " which the early settlers in Ontario hadto contend with, renders it a most advantageous country for emigrants. The chief difficulty is the scarcity of labour. All men not going out totake up land for themselves are employed on the railway; and women eitherare married and obliged to work on the farms with their husbands, or getmarried before they have been long in Manitoba. Many were the complaintsI heard from people who had taken out female servants, paying theirexpenses and giving them high wages, only to lose them before they hadbeen a month in the province. Their sole resource then was to employIcelanders, who often could not speak a word of English, so that alldirections had to be given by pantomime. Any one seeing the strangegesticulations and frantic efforts of some of the more energeticmistresses might be excused for thinking himself let loose in a city oflunatics. Mrs. C---- had one of these Icelanders as nursemaid, and she did verywell, picking up enough English in a few weeks to understand all wewanted. But I noticed that, however quickly she walked about the rest ofthe house, the stairs were as carefully traversed as though she had beenan Indian. One day, hearing her in great distress on the kitchen stairs, I went to see what was the matter. The staircase was a narrow one betweentwo walls, but without banisters; on the third or fourth step from thetop sat one of the children, aged four years, and a few steps below stoodthe maid clinging to the smooth wall, her face white with terror as, whenever she attempted to advance, the child made a feint to oppose herpassage and push her back. Afraid either to turn round or retreatbackwards, she stood trembling and calling for help, and it wasimpossible to avoid feeling amused at the absurdity of that big girlbeing intimidated by such a mite--who, with the original depravity ofhuman nature, was enjoying the fun. A friend of mine went through some odd experiences with these Icelandmaids. Upon the arrival of a fresh domestic she was ordered to wash downthe hall and door-steps. Next day, at the same hour, while a party ofvisitors were in the drawing-room, the door burst open, and Christian, scrubbing-pail and brush in hand, plumped down on her knees in the middleof the floor, and went through a vigorous pantomime of scrubbing. Hermistress was too astonished to speak for a moment or two, until the girl, surprised at her silence, looked up, uttering an indescribable "Eh?" ofanxious inquiry, which was well-nigh too much for the gravity of herlisteners. Often, after ten minutes' patient endeavour to explain something, one wasrewarded by a long drawn out "Ma'arum?" infinitely trying to one'spatience. Yet, in time, they often make excellent servants, and manypeople prefer them to Ontario or English emigrants. And certainly inpoint of economy they are infinitely superior to both; for not only willan Iceland maid waste nothing, but she is content with five or sixdollars a month in wages (£1 5s. Or £1 10s. ), while girls from Ontario orEngland expect nine or ten dollars. Servants taken out on the line ofrailway demand and receive from fifteen to thirty dollars (£3 15s. To £710s. ) a month. These exorbitant wages are, however, lessening asimmigration increases. Society at Winnipeg is very pleasant; composed chiefly of the oldfamilies who formed the Hudson Bay Company and their descendants, many ofwhom have Indian blood in their veins. Their education, carefully begunby their parents, is often completed in Scotland, and they are well-read, intelligent people, as proud of their Indian as of their Europeandescent. Many of them are handsome and _distingué_-looking. Theirelegant appearance sometimes leads to awkward mistakes. One of theseladies, meeting a young Englishman fresh from the old country, and fullof its prejudices, was entertained by him with reflections on race, andcondolences at having to associate with half-castes. At last he inquiredhow long she had been in the country? Making him a stately curtsy, sheanswered-- "All my life! _I_ am one of these despised half-breeds, " andinstantly left him. She said afterwards she was sorry for the poorfellow's discomfiture; but he brought it upon himself by disregarding allher efforts to change the conversation. When younger sons of good families are sent to seek their fortunes in theNew World, their social standing is not fixed by their occupation, and aman who has served behind a counter all day is as well received in adrawing-room as one who has sat on the bench or pleaded a case in court. Of course in such a state of society impostors often effect an entrance, and their detection makes their entertainers chary of strangersafterwards. But so long as a man behaves himself like a gentleman he istreated as one. Many officials, sent by the Canadian Governmenttemporarily to fill responsible posts, and officers whose regiments havebeen disbanded, remain in Winnipeg, preferring it to any other part ofCanada, and illustrating the adage, "He who once drinks of the Red Riverwater cannot live without it. " It is a very muddy stream, however, andnot at all inviting as a beverage. A great many visitors, chiefly Englishmen, go to Manitoba for theshooting and fishing, which are excellent. A friend of mine last yearbagged four hundred ducks, several geese, great numbers of partridges, loons, and as many hares as he would waste shot on in a fortnight'sholiday. No doubt, when Manitoba and its capabilities become betterunderstood, and the line of railway is completed, the number of touristsin search of sport will much increase. How little the new province has been known hitherto the following factwill show. A letter for me, mailed in a county town in England, inSeptember, and merely addressed to Winnipeg, Manitoba, omitting Canada, travelled to France, where it received sundry postmarks, and suchsensible hints by the post-office officials as, "Try Calcutta. " At last, some one better acquainted with the geography of this side of the globeadded, "Nouvelle Amerique, " and my letter reached me, _viâ_ NewYork, in Christmas week, richly ornamented with postmarks, and protestsfrom officials that it "came to them in that condition, " tied togetherwith two varieties of string, and frankly exhibiting its contents--a pairof lace sleeves, which, but for the honesty of the mail service, mighteasily have been abstracted. CHAPTER VI. Winter Amusements--A Winnipeg Ball--Forty Degrees below Zero--New Year'sDay--Saskatchewan Taylor--Indian Compliments--A Dog train--Lost in theSnow--Amateur Theatricals--Sir Walter Raleigh's Hat--A Race with theFreshets--The Ice moves--The First Steamer of the Season--Good-bye toWinnipeg. Snow lay several inches thick on the ground at Christmas, and we hadsleigh drives over the smooth white prairie, one great advantage ofManitoban 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 goodsleighing until the frost breaks up in March or April. Sleighing partiesare varied by skating at the rink and assemblies in the town-hall, wherewe meet a medley of ball goers and givers, each indulging his or herfavourite style of dancing--from the old fashioned "three-step" waltzpreferred by the elders, to the breathless "German, " the simple _deuxtemps_, and the graceful "Boston" dance, peculiar as yet to Americansand Canadians. The band was composed of trained musicians who hadbelonged to various regiments, and, on receiving their discharge, remained in Canada. The hall was well lighted, the floor in goodcondition, and we enjoyed taking a turn upon it, as well as watching theScotch reels, country dances, and Red River jigs performed by the others. It was a gay and amusing scene, but the heavy winter dresses--many ofthem short walking costumes--worn by the Manitoban belles, looked lesspretty than the light materials, bright colours, and floating trains ofan ordinary ball-room. The absence of carriages and cabs, and theintensity of the cold, compelled ladies to adopt this sombre attire. Themercury averaged from ten to twenty degrees below zero, frequently goingas low as thirty-three, and occasionally into the forties; yet the air isso dry and still, that I felt the cold less when it was thirty-threedegrees below zero in Winnipeg than when only five degrees below inOttawa, and did not require any additional wraps. On New Year's Day the now old-fashioned custom of gentlemen calling waskept up, and we had many visitors, among them the American Consul, Mr. Taylor, known in the Consulate as "Saskatchewan Taylor, " from hisinterest in the North-West and anxiety upon all occasions to bring itscapabilities before the public. He came in the evening, and, followingthe American style, remained more than an hour, so that we were able toget beyond the conventional topics of health and weather, and found himvery pleasant and entertaining. During the afternoon the maid came in, looking rather flurried, and saidthat visitors in the kitchen wished to see us. Going there, we weregreeted by seven Indians and their squaws, come to pay a New Year'svisit. As I looked at their brown faces and long, loose hair, memories ofstories told by cousins in the Hudson Bay Company's service, of having tokiss all the squaws on New Year's Day, sent the blood with a rush back tomy heart; but, happily, this ceremony was dispensed with. Only one of theparty could speak English--a handsome, clear-skinned, straight-featuredIndian, in blue blanket coat, red sash, leggings, and gaily-decoratedhat. He stepped forward and made a little speech, wishing us "A long lifeof many moons, sunshine, health, and rich possessions, and the smile ofthe Good Spirit upon the blue-eyed papoose;" finishing by shaking handsall 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 greatslices of cake, with which they were much pleased. When Mr. C---- came infrom the line with his dog-train--four strong beasts drawing a lightcariole or covered tobogan, more like a great shoe than anythingelse--the blue and red coat of his Indian runner, Tommy Harper, was muchadmired by our visitors; and he told us afterwards of their admirationfor everything they saw in the house. This Tommy was a good-tempered oldfellow, but, when not running, was invariably asleep or smoking over thekitchen fire. About the middle of January (1877) we had a terrible snow-storm, theworst that had been known in Manitoba for years. At five o'clock in theevening the wind rose suddenly, and in half an hour was blowing a gale, sending the snow whirling through the air in such blinding volume, thatit was impossible to distinguish anything twenty yards off. As nightclosed in, which it does early at that season, the storm increased inviolence, and although there was then little snow falling, the wind drovein all directions the dry snow lying upon the ground. Many people lost their way. A shop-boy running home to tea, only roundthe corner of the block, missed the turning into the gateway, andwandered till daylight on the prairie, knowing it was certain death tolie down. A family crossing the prairie, and seeing the stormapproaching, hastened to reach a wayside inn four or five hundred yardsdistant, but before they could do so lost sight of it. After drivingseveral hours they were obliged to stop; and digging a hole in the snowwith their hands, covered themselves with robes and sleigh-rugs, anddrawing the sleigh over them as a little protection from the wind, theywaited until daylight--to find themselves within a hundred yards of theinn! 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 usefulwas invited to "talk it over" with Mrs. C----. And talk they did, at suchlength 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 oldScotch nurse of ours, who, being summoned to keep house for a ministercousin, was anxious first to learn how to play the lady and entertain herguests. The cook advised her to listen at the drawing-room door when wehad 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 thestory of "Beauty and the Beast, " "Elizabeth knighting Raleigh, " scenesfrom "Hamlet" and "The Bohemian Girl, " an emblematic group of thenations included in the British Empire, surrounded by representatives ofthe army and navy, and some well-known statues. Assuredly there wasvariety enough in our programme to suit all tastes! Our dress rehearsal, held in the old church before mentioned, was moreamusing--to the actors, at all events--than the performance itself. The"sides, " which looked well enough to those without, proved a delusion anda snare to those within. They were used as dressing-rooms, but theirpartition from the stage being only partial, and their flooring stoppingfar short of the front, a great gap was left--a pitfall down whicheverything tumbled. Their appointments were primitive, consisting of asmall looking-glass, a pincushion, and a piece of comb in each room. The"properties" on the ladies' side were an old straw bonnet wreathed withartificial 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 ofour amateurs were fortunate enough to get complete costumes made, butothers appeared in a fragmentary condition, with a bodice of the time ofElizabeth, and a petticoat of that of Victoria. Sir Walter Raleigh worethe old felt hat belonging to his dressing-room, and patheticallyappealed to the spectators to imagine it adorned with a white feather andjewelled clasp. The girls who appeared in more than one scene had to change theirdresses, and it is impossible to describe the confusion of belongingsthen thrown in a vast heap on the floor, or the despair of one youngperformer whose polonaise had disappeared in the gulf. As all were indifferent stages of _déshabille_, no gentleman could be called tothe rescue; so I lay down on my face and groped about with my hands tillI fished it up. But before I succeeded, two or three people were standingon my skirts, and a pile of gipsy costumes was deposited on my legs. Myrising 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 ofgold paper and glass buttons, and other ingenious devices, made abrilliant show, and the general effect was pronounced excellent. We hadcrowded houses for _two_ consecutive nights, and the only drawbackto the pleasure of our _tableaux_ was the sad and sudden death ofone of Captain H----'s children, which took place on the first night, andaroused general sympathy. Soon after our theatrical entertainments the snow almost entirelydisappeared, cricket was played on the prairie, and people began to lookforward to the reopening of navigation, and to bet actively on the dayand hour when the first steamboat would arrive; though the ice was stillso solid that horse-races were held on the river. The 20th of April was a warm day, succeeding heavy rains, and it washoped that the ice would move next day. In the evening we were at ourassembly in the town-hall, which is built on the side of a broad, shallow_coolé_, or gully. About ten o'clock, seeing several people lookanxiously 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 scatteredabout the houses on the prairie. The freshets increased so rapidly, thatit was feared if we did not leave at once we should never get home, thewater being level with the bridge, which was in imminent danger of beingcarried away. The lower story of the hall was also flooded, andconsidered scarcely safe. So there was cloaking in hot haste, and thegentlemen who lived near brought all the top-boots and goloshes theycould collect for the benefit of those who had to cross the partiallysubmerged roads. The ice did move next day, and on the 27th, at the sound of the steamboatwhistle, I ran to the window. As if by one impulse, every door on themain street opened, and the inmates poured forth, men putting on theircoats, women their bonnets, while holding the kicking, strugglingbare-headed babies they had snatched up in their haste to reach thelanding as soon as the boat; boys of all sizes, ages, and descriptions, gentle and simple, rich and poor, mustered as though by magic. In fiveminutes the streets and banks of the river were black with people rushingto meet the steamer, and the shout that greeted her at the wharf was loudand genuine. It was the last time her arrival caused such excitement, asbefore another season the railway was running to St. Boniface, andfreight and passengers could get to Winnipeg all through the winter. The spring of 1877 was wet and backward, and we looked forward to ourjourney out to the contract, where a house was nearly ready for us, withanything but unmixed pleasure. In the hope that the state of the roadsmight improve, we delayed our departure until the first week in June. Formy own part, I rejoiced over every additional delay, as I was loth toleave Winnipeg, and the many kind friends I had made there. CHAPTER VII. A Manitoban Travelling-carriage--The Perils of Short Cuts--The Slough ofDespond--Paddy to the Rescue!--"Stick-in-the-Mud" and hisTroubles--McQuade's--An Irish Welcome--Wretched Wanderers. After many days of packing, general confusion, and disturbing dust, culminating in breakfast in the kitchen, dinner on a packing-case in theparlour, high tea at a neighbour's in our travelling-gear, and a night atthe hotel, we rose at five o'clock on the morning of the 5th of June tobe ready for our journey to Clear Water Bay. All the teams, with thehousehold goods and chattels, had started the day before, except two forpersonal baggage, and the one we were to occupy. Of course we were ready too soon, and hours were spent in standing idlyabout, and going to the gate to see if the trams were coming. When theywere at last packed and off, it was decided to be altogether too late forus to follow until after luncheon which with only an uncertain prospectof a heavier meal later, we turned into dinner. Then some one rememberedhalf a dozen forgotten things which it was impossible to do without, andit was nearly four o clock when our waggon arrived--a springless vehiclewith three narrow seats, and drawn by two broken winded steeds. After packing all our _impedimenta_ in the waggon there wasliterally no room for us. What was to be done? Between our efforts tomake the driver, a stupid, tipsy French half-breed, understand English byscreaming it as loud as we could, the variety of our baggage, and thecuriosity of the passers by, we soon had a small crowd of interestedlisteners and apparently sympathizing friends. Finally the livery stablekeeper made his appearance, and after some discussion agreed to exchangethat waggon for a larger one. Jumping into it, he lashed the horses, whowent at a furious pace down the street, proving their powers, but, alas, scattering the half packed contents of the waggon--rugs, cushions, blankets, tin kettles, and pails--at irregular intervals over the road. In half an hour a larger vehicle was brought, and we hastily repacked, receiving contributions of our property from every one who passed whilethe operation was going on, so that it was late in the afternoon beforewe left Winnipeg. When we arrived at the river, of course the ferry-boatwas on the opposite side, and we had to wait for its return, which seemedthe climax to the day's worries. We growled audibly, feeling that we wereentitled to do so, having had enough provocation to ruffle the mostangelic tempers. With scarcely room to sit, and nowhere, to speak of, toput our feet, bodily discomfort helped to put us out of humour. Can you imagine a three-seated waggon, containing a load of valises, travelling-bags, a tin box of edibles for a week's journey, tents, blankets, pans, kettles, pails, a box of earth filled with beddingplants, a bundle of currant bush slips, a box of cats--being _the_cat and five kittens--a box of family silver, engineers' instruments, wraps of every description, provender for the horses, a bag of bread, thedriver's own provisions (it was part of the bargain that he was to "find"himself), loose articles of all kinds, thrown in at the last moment, fiveadults, two children, one small dog and an unhappy-looking canary? Thismotley assemblage was stowed away as well as possible, the kettles andpails being hung at the back and sides, after the fashion of thetravelling tinkers' carts. There certainly was a very emigrant-likeappearance about the whole thing, in spite of the tasteful trimming ofour shade hats. The ferry-boat came for us at last, and as we drove over the prairie at amoderate rate, delays having become things of the past, we were for thenext hour almost merry. This transient joy was soon dispelled by ourdriver, who, without any warning, turned off the road through some swampyground. Pulling up suddenly before an apparently unbroken line of trees, he craned his neck first one way and then the other in search of anopening, unheeding the expostulations in French and English with which hewas assailed, until, finding what he sought, and nicking his whip overthe horses' ears, he condescended to reply, "_Je fais le detour!_Bad, _voila!_" Then, urging his horses on, he charged into thebushes, and drove along what had been once a cart trail (one could hardlycall it a road), overgrown with underbrush. Long branches met overhead, and we were kept busy, alternately warding them, off our faces andholding on to our seats--for the track was a succession of uneven hills, hollows, and short turns, with which our driver seemed as unacquainted asourselves. About six o'clock we came to the high-road, which crossed the end of ourtrack--the highroad that has cost our country over thirteen milliondollars--the far-famed and much-talked-of Dawson road. It was some twofeet higher than our rough track, and separated from it by a large mudpuddle, in which, after a lurch to one side and a violent jerk from thehorses, the waggon-wheels sank on the other. A volley of oaths wasdischarged by our half-breed, followed by a crack of his long whip, and asharp struggle, and then the near horse fell back on his haunches and westuck fast. Down rolled the best valise, out sprang Jehu, carrying withhim into the mud our biggest blanket. Mr. C----, in slippers, sat on thetop of the waggon demanding his boots, which where _somewhere_ atthe bottom; somebody else was searching wildly for a rope and axe, whichproved to be _nowhere_; everybody was giving a different opinion onthe best means of extricating ourselves, only uniting in one thing, namely, abuse of the driver, who stood knee-deep in mud, hitching up histrousers and muttering something about _le détour_. We women, meantime, tried to quiet the screaming children, and prevent the"unconsidered trifles" which filled the corners of the waggon fromfalling out--a duty not unattended with danger, as pussy, on guard overher nursery, and excited by the general _bouleversement_, gave aspiteful claw to any foot or hand which approached too near her box. No rope, axe, nor chain, could be found; there was nothing but mud onevery side to unload in, and not a house for miles to shelter us for thenight. Fortunately, before very long a waggon passed on the high-road, whose occupants were a kindly Irishman, his wife, and child. "Faith, is it help ye want, yer honour? It's meself never refused help toany man, " said Paddy; and jumping down, he produced a chain. Fasteningthe tongue of the waggon to one end, and the horses to the other, hedrove them up to the high-road, where, having firmer foothold, a fewpulls drew us out of the mud-hole. We thanked the old man for his help, but saw him and his chain depart with regret. Having better horses and alighter load, he soon left us far behind. On we jogged, sometimes on the road, but more often off it, drivingthrough every clump of trees that grew in our way, as the roots gave somefirmness to the swampy ground. Now and then, when returning to the road, the waggon would almost stick, but, after a lunge, pull, and struggle, attended by a volley of French from our Jehu and a screech from thewomen, it righted itself again. A little later we passed the teams thathad left Winnipeg so long before us in the morning; one of them was stuckdeep in the mud, and the drivers were just parting company--the first, aFrench Canadian, declining to help the second, an Irish Canadian boy, whose good-natured face was a picture of dismay, as he stoodcontemplating the scene of disaster. The Frenchman declared that he hadstuck three times, and had to unload both teams twice, and he wasn'tgoing to do it again; so he whipped up his horse and left poor young"Stick-in-the-Mud, " as we dubbed him, to his fate. Promising to send ayoke of oxen from McQuade's, five miles further on, where we intendedputting up for the night, we also left him, but not without regret. Icould not help feeling sorry for the poor boy out there alone on theprairie, perhaps for the whole night, as it was by no means certain thatthe hoped-for yoke of oxen would be forthcoming. But the lad was socivil, and evidently so determined to make the best of things, thatfortune favoured him. A mile further on we met a long train of carts, andMr. C---- shouted to the driver of the first to go and help"Stick-in-the-Mud, " promising to pay him for his services. By this timeit was getting dark, the mosquitoes were troublesome, and the childrenwere hungry and cross, and we joyfully hailed the first glimmer of thelights at McQuade's. But though in sight of the haven where we would be, our troubles were not yet over. Crossing a broken culvert not half a milefrom the house, one of the horses fell in, and we all had to get out andwalk, an annoyance which we felt to be the "last straw" on ourmuch-enduring backs. McQuade's is merely a farmhouse on the main road. But in the usualcondition of those roads it is the first stopping-place from Winnipeg, and McQuade's, or "Little Pointe du Chêne, " as it is sometimes called, isfamiliar to all the engineers on the staff of that part of the CanadaPacific Railway. The yard was full of the teams which had left Winnipegthe day before, and the kitchen, or general living room, was crowded withteamsters, who, however, when we appeared, withdrew to a dark littlecook-house a few yards from the door. The room vacated for us was low-roofed, with unplastered ceiling, whoserafters were hung with bunches of garden herbs. Two narrow windows wereset sideways in the wall, their deep window-seats serving as bookcase andsideboard: holding the Bible and almanac, the old lady's best bonnet, apot or two of preserves, a nosegay of spring flowers, and a tea-caddy. Anold-fashioned four-post bedstead stood in one corner, covered with apatchwork quilt; in another was an impromptu bed, spread on the floor, and occupied by a woman and two children, apparently asleep. A table, covered with oil-cloth, with some cups and saucers on it, stood betweenthe bed and a dresser cupboard, containing rows of shining milk-pans, piled one on the top of the other and separated by a board. Behind thehouse door a flight of narrow steps led "up ter chamber, " as the oldwoman in the rocking-chair informed us; and underneath these stairs was aprimitive washing apparatus, consisting of a bench holding a basin andtwo wooden pails, with a long towel hanging from a stick. The farmer bustled in and out, greeting some of us as old friends, summoning Alice, the maid-of-all-work--a down-trodden, stupid-lookinggirl of fourteen--to make up the fire and get the kettle boiling, andputting his head into the doorway, "just to tell the missus, " as heushered us in. "The missus, " a kindly-looking old Irishwoman in a whitecap and kerchief, wriggled over in her chair to greet us, for she was"set fast by the rheumatism, " and could not rise. But from longconfinement to her chair she had learnt to get about in it very well; hernatural energy expending itself on shuffling all over the room, screamingto Alice to know "why that there kettle didn't boil?" and generallymaking us welcome in her way. "There's lots of milk--plenty; you're welcome to it; and there'll beboilin' water presently. If I could only get a holt of that Alice, I'dmake things lively for her! I'm wore out with her entirely. If you'vebrought your own provisions all right; but there have been so manytravellers by lately, there isn't a bite in the house, till me eldestdarter comes and bakes for me to-morrow. " Yes, she had seven darters, allwell married round about, blessed be God! and they came turn and turnabout to look after the old people, do the work, and see after things, while she just kept the bit thing Alice to do the chores and wait on her;but she warn't much good. Thus our hostess ran on, until the horse was extricated, and we gotpossession of our rugs and provisions. The boiling water appearing at thesame time, we soon sat down to tea; and, as it was too late to pitch ourtent that night, we spread our rugs and blankets on the two bedsteads "upter chamber"--a mere unfurnished garret--and were soon in bed. Not long afterwards, hearing a great deal of laughter downstairs, Ilistened, and gathered that "Stick-in-the-Mud" had arrived, and the menwere chaffing him for having paid the half-breed two dollars for lendinghim two oxen for five minutes to extricate his train. Tired as I was, the mosquitoes were so attentive that I found itimpossible to sleep. About midnight "that wretched Alice" crept up thestairs, and lay down in a corner, partitioned off from the rest of thegarret by a grey blanket nailed to the rafters. I am sure she did notundress much, nor could she have slept long, as she was downstairs againbefore three o'clock, and I heard the old woman rating her from her bed. When we descended at about six, the men and teams were all gone, and thetenants of the floor bed had taken advantage of an offered ride to helpthem on their way. Poor woman! she was journeying from Detroit, to thework on "15, " to join her brother. She had been a month on the road, andhad still another week or ten days of walking before her. CHAPTER VIII. Faithless Jehu--The "Blarney Stone"--Mennonites in search ofNews--"Water, Water everywhere"--A Herd of Buffaloes--A MudVillage--Pointe du Chêne and Old Nile--At Dawson Route--A CheerfulParty--_Toujours perdrix_--The "Best Room"--A Government Shanty--Catsand Dogs--Birch River--Mushroom-picking--The Mosquito Plague--A CorduroyRoad--The Cariboo Muskeg. When we resumed our journey, the weather was hazy and seemed to threatena thunderstorm. Accordingly, we made great haste, in the hope of reaching"Pointe du Chêne" proper before the storm broke. But when all else wasready, neither our Jehu nor his steeds could be found; he had taken themabout a mile further on, to spend the night at a friend's, and did notmake his appearance until eight o'clock. As I bade our old hostessgood-bye, she seized hold of my ulster, and feeling its texture, said-- "Are ye warm enough, child, in that thing? Ye'll feel the cold drivin'. Ye'd better have a shawl. " Thanking her for her inquiries, I assured her that I was quite warm. "Ah, well, " she said, patting me on the arm, "take care of yourself. Goodpeople are scarce. " Poor old creature! her good nature made me glad she was my countrywoman. A kind thought expressed in the familiar accents of "Ould Oireland" iswelcome to the wayfarer in strange lands, even though it may often be"only blarney" after all. Reaching a bend in the little river Seine at noon, we halted for dinner, and lighted a fire. But not daring to waste much time in unpacking, wetook what we could eat in our fingers, and fed the children. Before wehad finished, we were joined by a party of Mennonites, in a comfortablecovered waggon drawn by two powerful horses. The family consisted of anelderly man; his wife, a pretty, quaint-looking little woman; a daughter, apparently sixteen; a boy of twelve; and two little girls of about six, looking like twins. They were well dressed, in the quaint costume oftheir country. The man, who alone could speak English, told us they weregoing to Winnipeg to hear the war news, and gave a look of utterastonishment at our ignorance of the latest telegrams. It made me feelquite ashamed of not having taken more interest in the progress ofcurrent events, to meet a party of emigrants driving miles through thesesolitudes to hear what I had passed heedlessly by when close under myhand. The Mennonite elder was very polite; but, judging from the shrugsindulged in by the family after a remark uttered in their own language, they did not think highly of our intelligence. Before we were packed into the waggon again the rain came down inearnest, and the whole afternoon was spent in vain endeavours to keepourselves dry. Waterproofs, blankets, umbrellas, all were soaked, as hourafter hour we were dragged slowly through the muskeg, or marsh, followingno apparent track, and with the water often up to the "hubs" of thewheels. No sooner were our umbrellas placed in a suitable position tokeep off the rain, than Jehu would make one of his _détours_, andthe wind and rain meeting us on the other side, away flew our wraps, andall the umbrellas had to be rearranged. The difficulty of doing this, andyet keeping them from dripping down some one's neck, was almostinsuperable. Mosquitoes, too, flying about in swarms, added their quotato our discomfort. The poor canary had a hard time of it, for in spite ofall our care the cage repeatedly filled with water, which I had to emptyover the side of the waggon. Luckily, the cats kept quiet, and no one wasanxious to know whose feet were in the box of plants! About three miles from Pointe du Chêne, a herd of buffalo feeding in thedistance made us forget our misery for a moment. They had not been metwith so near a civilized neighbourhood for years; the wet and stormyweather was the cause of their approach. I was disappointed in theirappearance; they looked to me very like a herd of farm cattle, but seemedto feed closer together. I had, however, not much chance to study theirpeculiarities; another _détour_ speedily requiring my attention. Onlooking for the buffaloes when again at leisure, they were nowhere to beseen. Pointe du Chêne is, without exception, the muddiest village I ever wasin. We drove through streams of mud; fences were built in mud, mudextended on every side for acres. The houses were so surrounded with mud, ankle-deep, nay, knee-deep, that one wondered how the inmates ever gotout. Yet they told us that in a few weeks all would be quite dry; thatwhat were now some of the largest mud-lakes would then be the finestwheat-fields; and it is possible that mud here may have the samefertilizing properties as it has on the banks of the Nile, and thatagriculture may be carried on upon the same principles in this part ofCanada as in Egypt. At the Dawson route way-house we were received by a white-haired old man_en route_ to take a situation as cook in one of the houses on theline--though certainly no one ever looked less like a cook. He ushered usinto the kitchen, the only room boasting a fire, and we were there met bythe proprietor, a depressed and apologetic sort of person. After severalwhispered consultations with a hopeless wife, who moved in melancholyprotest, or sat with her head leaning against the wall, applying thecorner of her apron to her eyes so constantly, that that particularcorner would not lie flat when allowed to drop, he put up a stove in thefront room, which was soon festooned in every direction with our drenchedgarments. Two rooms upstairs, clean-looking, but almost devoid of furniture, wereallotted to us, and finding that we should be unable to continue ourjourney for at least thirty-six hours, we tried to make the best of them. Fearing that we might encounter further delays where it would beimpossible to get food, we decided to husband what we had, especially aswe discovered that our Jehu, whenever he got into the waggon from the wetmuskeg, had sat on the bag of bread, which still further reduced oursupplies. Accordingly we determined to content ourselves with whatevermight be set before us, which proved to be pork, bread, and tea forbreakfast; bread, tea, and pork for dinner; and tea, pork, and bread forsupper. As we ventured to make a mild remark upon the monotony of thebill of fare, a bottle of pickles was produced next morning, our dejectedhostess informing us, in a sepulchral tone, that it cost "one dollar, Hudson Bay Company store prices. " Towards nightfall the French teamster arrived, with his load rathermixed. He had been compelled to unload and reload so often, thateverything was where it should not be. Stove-pipes, down which the rainpoured in rusty streams, were lying on the top of the best mattresses;and, generally speaking, all the light things were underneath, and allthe heavy ones on the top. Soon after the Frenchman, "Stick-in-the-Mud"arrived alone, drenched and miserable. _His_ load was again "stuckin the muskeg, a matter of two mile off, he guessed. " If left there allnight, it would sink so deep in that quicksand-like marsh that therewould be little hope of ever extracting it. The poor lad said his teamwas too done up to be of any use, and he was so "dead tired, he hadn't aleg to stand on. " Still, he didn't object to go back if men and teamswere sent with him. And after a great deal of tramping through the muddyvillage, our people succeeded in getting a yoke of oxen to send to therescue of our Saratogas. Meantime the best room of the inn had been "tidied up"--I suppose in ourhonour, for next day our meals were served there instead of in thekitchen as at first. It resembled the "best room" of most Canadianfarmhouses. A four-post bedstead stood in one corner, covered with apatchwork quilt, generally the work of the wife when a girl; a bureau wasdecorated with the few books possessed by the family--usually a Bible, almanac, and photograph album--the best cups and saucers, a looking-glassand a pin-cushion; an old-fashioned roomy sofa filled another corner. Thedining-table in the centre had extension leaves, very far from level; thewall was decorated with a big clock, a couple of bright-coloured prints, a portrait or two and a sampler; and the floor was covered in patcheswith rag mats. If we flattered ourselves that promotion into the "best room" wouldensure privacy, we were doomed to disappointment. The whole family, fromthe doleful mamma to the youngest olive-branch, favoured us with theirpresence, sat on the sofa, and, looking through the album, were kindenough to discuss their relations and friends _pro bono publico_. The youngest child, aged five, having an occasional inclination to layviolent hands upon portions of our dinner, was pounced upon by one orother of her family, roughly shaken or thumped, and banged down upon ahard wooden chair; while from some other loving relative came the remark, made between set teeth, "I'd slap her, I would!" Poor little thing! shedid not seem "a' there, " as the Scotch say; the frequent boxing andbanging her poor head underwent probably increasing, if it did notoccasion, her stupidity. Early on Friday morning we set out again, under more favourable auspices, though the day was cold and cloudy. One of the division superintendents, or "walking bosses" as they are called, employed by the contractors, hadarrived at our resting-place the day before, _en route_ for the"Angle, " and he offered to exchange teams with us, if we would allow himto accompany his good horses. This proposal was gladly accepted, and withthe utmost satisfaction we saw our French-Indian Jehu depart with hisill-conditioned brutes. After leaving Pointe du Chêne, the road for some distance lies up a longrocky hill, and then passes through a comparatively well-wooded country. But we thought little of surrounding scenery. The wind was so cold, andthe frequent snow-storms during the day were so disagreeable, that we hadquite enough to do to keep ourselves and the children warm. We had our dinner near a dismantled log-house on the bank of a narrowcreek, and reaching Whitemouth River about seven, put up at a shantybuilt by Government to shelter travellers on the Dawson road. It is keptby a Norwegian named Nord and his wife, and can only boast of three smallrooms and a kitchen. It was too cold to camp out, so, spreading our rugsand blankets on the floor, we lay down and slept, too tired to heed thehardness of the boards. On Saturday the air was warmer, and the road comparatively good, and wewere sufficiently at ease to look out for and admire the wild-flowersthat grew on every side (Mr. R---- good-naturedly stopping to gather somefor us), and watch for the young rabbits started by the dogs, who yelpedloudly when in full chase after them. We had two dogs when we leftWinnipeg, but now our pack numbered eight, some joining us at everyhalting-place. But in the same proportion that the dogs increased, thecats decreased, a kitten being begged at every house, as they wereoverrun with mice; and our cats were received with almost as much delightas Dick Whittington's historical speculation. Unfortunately, however, therecipients were too poor to make our fortunes in return. At noon wepassed our teamsters, and Mr. R----'s gang of navvies, ratherpicturesquely grouped round their camp fire, where tea was boiling andpork frying. The untethered horses were feeding by the roadside, and"Stick-in-the-Mud, " for once superior to his name, was alone ploddingsteadily on. This was our easiest day's journey, and it was scarcely fouro'clock when we reached Birch river, a dry sandy hill round which a tinycreek wound. We were glad of a few hours' respite to run about andstretch our weary limbs. One of our party discovering that the banking ofthe shanty was full of mushrooms, we gathered a great many, and took themto the kitchen to be cooked. This way-house is kept by two brothers, who have literally nothing to dobut cook, eat, and sleep, bare shelter being all that the Governmentsupplies to travellers. One of the brothers was making dough-nuts andboiling them in a pot of fat, and although they did not look tempting Ihad the greatest curiosity to taste them. However, as he did not give meany encouragement to ask for one, my curiosity remained unsatisfied, andI had to content myself with the mushrooms, which had full justice doneto them. As night came on, the mosquitoes were terrible; smoke was of noavail to keep them away. The cook told me that the season for them wasonly just beginning, and that they were nothing to what they would be ina month. The previous summer their cow had literally been tortured todeath, between the mosquitoes and deer-flies. Mr. C---- had a mosquitonetting tent which was put up in the room we slept in, so that we hadcomparative exemption from their torments; but it was too hot to sleep, and all night long I heard the men outside fighting with and swearing attheir winged enemies. We set out early on Sunday, as we had a long day's drive before us, andwere to have our first experience of a corduroy road. The one in questionwas a very bad specimen, a succession of deep mud-holes, round some ofwhich we skirted cautiously, wondering how "Stick-in-the-Mud" would getthrough, and plunging into some swamps, which seemed to tax all thestrength our team could exert to lug us out again. We soon arrived at thegreat Cariboo muskeg, on the smooth squared-timber road. This muskegmust, at some earlier stage of the world's existence, have been a greatlake full of islands; now it is a grassy swamp, the water clear as springwater, studded with groups of high rocks of varied size and shape, overgrown by tall pines, birch, scrubby underbrush, ferns, and moss. Wehad been getting on with such comparative ease that we began to think ourfears of the "corduroy road" had been groundless; but before night weexperienced the wisdom of the warning not to "halloo before we were outof the bush. " We took our lunch on some flat rocks, near a place known onthe road as "six-mile shanty;" not without difficulty, as the dogs, likeourselves, were hungry, and, while we were in chase of a refractoryumbrella carried away by the wind, one dog demolished the butter andanother ran off with our roast beef; and when we reflected that it wasthe last fresh meat we were likely to taste for months, we saw it departwith regret, even though the ham had been left us. If the roads were bad in the morning, they were ten times worse in theafternoon; and nothing, I think, will ever make me forget the last fivemiles of real corduroy road we traversed before reaching the "Angle. " Itconsisted of round logs, loosely bound together, and thrown down upon amarsh, no two consecutive logs being of the same size. There hadoriginally been some foundation, and there were still deep drains dug oneach side; but the logs had given way at different ends in some parts, and altogether in others. It was bump, bump, bang, and swash; swash, bang, and bump; now up, now down, now all on one side, now all on theother. Cushions, rugs, everything that could slide, slid off the seats;the children were frightened and fretting; the bird fluttered itselfalmost to death in vain attempts to escape; the kittens were restless;and all our hair-pins, slipping down our backs, added a cold shiver toour other miseries. One longed to cry out and beg to be allowed to stop, if only for amoment. But of what use would that have been? We had to endure it, so itwas best to get it over quickly. In many places the old road wascompletely gone, and we had to drive through such dreadful holes that wewondered the waggon, came out entire. [Footnote: Much of this part of theroad is now under water and well-nigh impassable, the prospect of soonhaving the Canada Pacific Railway in working order making it seem wasteof time and money to repair it. ] Never was smooth road greeted withgreater pleasure than we hailed the last mile from the "Angle;" and neverdid more stiff and weary travellers arrive at any bourn than our partywhen alighting at the "Angle" that night. CHAPTER IX. The "Nor'-west Angle"--The Company's House--Triumph of"Stick-in-the-Mud"--On the Lake of the Woods--A Gallant Cook--Buns_à l'imprèvu_--A Man overboard!--Camping out--Clear Water Bay--OurFirst Portage--A Noble Savage--How Lake Rice and Lake Deception wontheir Names--At our Journey's End. The "Nor'-west Angle" is a little village at the north-west corner ofthe Lake of the Woods, and at the mouth of a nameless river, or narrowarm of the lake. The banks on one side are high and wooded, on the otherhigh also, but completely bare of shrubs or trees; while between them theriver wanders hither and thither through marshy ground, looking somewhatas one fancies the fens at home must do. The company's house is a long, low white building, with narrow windowsand doors, neat fences and grass plots in front, and a very fair kitchengarden, showing signs of care and attention. The houses near are allone-storied, log-built, and plastered with mud inside and out. There arealso several birch-bark wigwams, full of smoke and swarthy children; theowners squatting at their low doors, or, with their dirty blanketswrapped more tightly round them, leaning on the fence to stare at thenew-comers. The "Angle" was quite lively that afternoon. All our own teams werethere, "Stick-in-the-Mud" having arrived first after all, with his loadin a better condition than the others. Such a genuine smile ofsatisfaction beamed on his good-natured face, that I could not forbearcongratulating him on his triumph over difficulties. Several other teamshad brought supplies for the contractor; and fifty or sixty navvies goingout in search of work on the contract were camped about everywhere; somein tents, some under waggons, while some sat up all night round thefires, smoking and recounting their experience of the road. Many of themen were very lame and stiff, after their hundred-mile tramp. Numbers ofIndians had come in to trade, and the ceaseless "tom-tom" from the wigwamon the opposite bank told how they were gambling away their earnings. They kept up this dissipation until daylight, when they went away incanoes. The way-house being full when we arrived, the Hudson BayCompany's officer very kindly vacated his quarters for us, and paid usevery attention in his power, even robbing his tiny garden of half itsearly lettuce for our benefit. We had a comfortable night's sleep, muchenjoyed after our toils and troubles, and on a misty summer morning wepacked ourselves and our luggage into a large rowing-boat. The bigsteamer, _Lady of the Lake_, being, as usual, stuck on a rock, aboutforty miles out, we were towed behind a barge by a shaky-looking littletug. Glad were we to have room to move about a little, and after thecrowded and cramping waggon the boat seemed a paradise. Floating almost due north over the smooth waters of the bay, we were soonon the Lake of the Woods. The scenery is very lovely; island followsisland. Some seem but a pile of moss-covered stone, every crevice filledwith ferns, blueberries, and wild juniper bushes; others are great massesof rock, their perpendicular sides covered with curling black cariboomoss and crowned with great pines; others, again, have shelving sandyshores, covered with tangled vines and bright-hued wild-flowers. As wepassed along, each long stretch of the lake appeared more beautiful thanthe last. Then the sun went down, turning to gold and crimson the fleecyclouds mirrored in the lake, glinting on the distant white pines, throwing into bold relief their darker brothers and the jagged walls ofmoss-covered rock, in varied tints--black, red, green, and white. Theshadows slowly deepened, the long grey clouds hung like a curtain in thesky, where the stars began to gleam softly. The varied foliage turned toa deep, rich blue, shading into green like a peacock's tail. Silence wasaround us, broken only by the weird cry of the loon diving in the distantbay, and the ceaseless, monotonous puff-puff of the little tug as shepursued her way over the peaceful waters. About three or four o'clock--how little note we took of time!--we reachedthe rock on which the big steamer was still fast, stopping to give heranother anchor and cable, and wishing her good luck and a speedy release. We had been amusing ourselves during the afternoon by watching the cookon the barge dive up and down through the narrow doorway of a sort of boxto a small rusty sheet-iron cooking-stove, with an equally rustystove-pipe. First seizing an axe, he chopped up some wood from a pile inthe corner, and filled the stove; then he dragged down a bag of flour intohis den; then up again he started, as suddenly as a Jack-in-the-box, fora round tin; then for some flat pans. Next we heard him shouting frombelow, "Is that fire burning good, boys? Cram her full; pile in morewood, and don't heed the smoke!" and he suddenly appeared with the pansfull of buns, which were quickly baked. Then, leaning over the railing ofthe barge, he cried-- "If you would have your tea now, ladies, while the buns are hot, andwould pass along your tea-kettle, I have some tea ready for you. " Accepting his invitation with thanks, a tin can of buns was soon in ourboat, and never did the lightest tea-buns, served in the daintiest ofsnowy napkins, taste more delicious. The number we demolished proved ourappreciation of his cookery. About sundown we altered our course. After passing a pretty green hill, from which a group of squaws, children, and dogs watched us, we turned tothe west and entered Clear Water Bay. The night was getting dark, damp, and chilly, the children were sleepy, and we were tired and silent. Themen on the tug had become quiet and drowsy; nothing seemed to stir butthe flying sparks from the funnel of the tug, which dropped all aroundus, and not even a cry from a loon broke through the stillness. Suddenly--"Here we are!" rang out from a dozen voices, followed by aheavy splash and a cry of "A man overboard!" While we peered out into thedarkness, dreading we knew not what, a laugh came from the barge. It wasonly the short stove-pipe, which some one had knocked overboard in thedarkness. In our relief at finding that the accident was nothing worse, we quite forgot the future misery of our poor friend the bun-maker, whosecookery would have to be carried on amidst redoubled volumes of smoke. Amoment later the light of a camp fire appeared, and leaving the tug thebarge was poled up to it. One of the engineers belonging to Mr. C----'sstaff came to meet us. He had been ordered into town, and had waited atClear Water two days for the tug or steamer to take him to the "Angle, "intending, if they did not arrive before morning, to cross next day in acanoe. We were soon comfortably settled in Mr. K----'s tent, while he directed aparty of Indians, who seemed to spring up in every direction, to put upanother. Some of the men on the barge had tents too; others made greatfires, piled with broken branches until the blaze shot up to thetree-tops. The swift, silent movements of the Indians stepping hitherand thither, now in the glare of the fire, then lost in the surroundingdarkness; the chatter of the men; the barking of the dogs; and the sharpcrackle of the blazing logs helped to compose a strange and lively scene. Gradually all grew quiet, and settled down for the night; the Indians, rolling themselves in their blankets, lay down with their feet to thefire, and we felt that this was indeed a fitting ending to our day uponthe Lake of the Woods. I think one always wakes earlier when camping out than when sleeping in ahouse. Our first night under canvas in the "Nor'-west" was no exceptionto the rule. We were up and out before five o'clock; yet, early as itwas, we found our camping-ground almost deserted. The Indians, who werenearly all "packers, " employed by the contractors to carry stuff over theportages, had shouldered their packs and gone, and only a few of the menstill lingered. One poor fellow had caught several fish, and on beingasked what he would take for them, replied that he would gladly exchangea couple for a piece of fat and the loan of a frying-pan to cook his ownmeal in. This offer was at once accepted, and before long we had somenicely cleaned fish added to our repast. The fire being stirred up, andthe kettle set on, I heard groans of despair over the condition of thelarder. The tin box which contained all that was left of our suppliesbecame more difficult to pack the more empty it grew, and, being unloadedthe night before by hands ignorant of the necessity of keeping it rightside up, the salt was spilt into the tea, and the preserves were smearedover all the spoons. There was no bread left, and at last we had tocontent ourselves with a rather light meal of fish and salted tea, consoled by the reflection that we were near the end of our journey. The camping-ground did not look at all romantic in the morning. Furniturewas scattered everywhere, boxes of all sizes and descriptions were strewnabout amidst dead fires and charred branches, and a general air ofuntidiness and discomfort pervaded everything. Mr. K---- left us soonafter breakfast, and we set out to walk over our first portage. [Footnote: A "portage" is the shore of a cataract, rapid, or chute, alongwhich the Indians carry their canoes and luggage. The Winnipeg River, inits course of 160 miles from the Lake of the Woods to Lake Winnipeg, makes a descent of 360 feet, occasioning falls, rapids, chutes, andcataracts, which make its navigation difficult. The portaging, orcarrying power of the Indians, says Major Butler, is remarkable; one manoften carrying two hundred-weight for several miles. The skill with whichthey avoid whirlpools, land below the fall and re-launch their canoesabove it beyond the power of the current, is unerring, and indispensableto travellers. ] This led us up a narrow pathway, all hills and hollows;then over a smooth rock with the trail scarcely visible. A narrow gullysucceeded, still wet from the spring rain; then we passed through a beltof low-growing trees leading to a bare rock, its crevices filled withmoss white as the rock itself. On reaching the highest point we stoppedto rest and look back. Clearwater Bay lay far below us, glistening in thesunlight, and beyond, over the point that forms the bay, the lake and itsnumberless islands extended for miles. As we descended, we met thepackers returning for another load, coming at a light, easy run, oneafter the other, in Indian file, their straps hanging loosely over onearm. Mr. C----'s own man, a handsome, lithe, graceful Indian of the Branttribe, stepped out of the line to shake hands with us and bid us welcometo the contract, with a natural politeness and grace which would haveadorned the drawing-rooms of civilization. This Indian, rejoicing in the name of Youal Carrière, was tall andslight, lithe as a tiger, and quick as lightning; never at a loss, naturally intelligent, and an adept in almost everything he attempted. Having had a fair commercial education when in Brantford among his ownpeople, he was as good a clerk in an office as guide in the bush or cookin camp. He was a keen politician, and ready to discuss almost anyquestion, yet always respectful and attentive. Although never officious, he managed to make himself indispensable. He was fonder of life in thebush than in town, yet as ready to amuse himself when there as any of hisfriends; rather inclined to brag of his doings and sayings, and able totell the best story in camp, whoever might be his comrades. We soon found ourselves on the shore of a small lake, which obtained itsname oddly enough. The first party of surveyors who crossed it upset twobags of rice in its waters, and thenceforward it was known as Rice Lake. On reaching the opposite shore, we found a man waiting to cross. He hadcome down the night before, but all the boats were on the other side. The second portage was much shorter and more level than the first, andconsisted of a pretty woodland track of less than half a mile to LakeDeception, so called from the many times and many ways in which the firstsurveying party were misled when running the line along its shores. Onenight, after a hard day's work, they had settled down round their campfires, and, while dozing over their pipes, were roused by a shrill halloofrom down the trail. Not having had a mail for weeks, and expecting onehourly, they all turned out to meet the carrier, shouting loudly to guidehim to the camp; but they were answered only by the shrill scream of thescreech-owl, whose hooting had led them on their bootless chase. LakeDeception is very beautiful, with deep shady bays, high rocky shores, andfair green islands. At the head of one of the bays Mr. C---- had builthis house. As we neared the wharf, where stood a small shanty called by the men "TheFort, " with a piece of red cotton doing duty as a flag flying from itsroof, a canoe came out to meet us, and a warm welcome from the doctor, anold friend, followed. The Fort contained three rooms, each having anarrow window, and the largest provided with a mud chimney and openfireplace. The furniture comprised a couple of bunk-beds, a few shelves, one table, several stools and benches, washstands built into the corners, and a comfortable sofa, seeming very much out of place in what, to oureyes, looked anything but a comfortable abode. Yet we were told it wasone of the most luxurious shanties on the line. Our luggage could not be brought over until late in the afternoon, sothere was nothing to be done but to exercise our patience and wait, enduring the discomfort of feeling as well as looking as if we hadtravelled for a week, with all the dust of the Dawson road, as well asall the mud of the muskegs, upon our persons. CHAPTER X. Making a New Home--Carrière's Kitchen--The Navvies' _Salle-à-Manger_--ACurious Milking Custom--Insect Plagues--Peterboro' Canoes--FishingTrips--Mail-day--Indian dread of drowning--The Indian Mail-carrier andhis Partner--Talking by Telegraph--Prairie Fires. A detailed account of how we spent the next few weeks would be of littleinterest, so I will only give it in outline. We slept in the house andtook our meals at the fort, Carrière doing the cooking under a low tentclose by, which, as a kitchen, was decidedly a curiosity. It occupied asmall space not ten feet square, in only five feet of which we couldstand upright, and contained cases of tinned fruits, vegetables, sauces, and meats, barrels of flour and meal, caddies of tea and coffee, a smallsheet-iron cooking-stove, all the pots, pans, pasteboards, and all otherculinary necessaries. There was also a rickety table, at which the men, often five and six at a time, had their meals, sitting on the nearestcase, bag, or barrel. It was so crowded that one wondered how Carrièremanaged to get up such excellent dinners with such limited accommodation. He also made delicious bread, baking it in a hole in the side of thehill, heated by building a fire round it. By degrees we moved into the house, as the carpenters moved out, takingtheir bed of shavings with them; and we found daily amusement in thenovelty of our surroundings. The house stood on a slight elevation in thevalley above the lake, about a hundred and fifty feet off. To the westwas a perpendicular wall of rock, rising to a height of forty or fiftyfeet, covered with tall pines, moss, and ferns. To the east lay a plot ofgrass, divided by a deep narrow creek from half a dozen dirty tentsoccupied by the navvies. The largest of these had a fire burning before it, over which hung aperpetual kettle of pea-soup. Hard by stood a long table of rough boards, laid on rudely fashioned trestles; another board, narrower, and severalinches lower, serving as a seat. This table was set almost as often asthe pea-soup was stirred. Its appointments were simple, but satisfactoryto the guests. There were tin plates and cups, heavy knives and forks, apepper pot, a mug of mustard, another of salt, a bottle of pickles, andone of sauce. When dinner was ready, the cook, a little fat man, with anapron tied round his waist, a long red _toque_ on his head, and hisshirt-sleeves rolled above his elbows, put his hands to his mouth, andgave a loud halloo. Then from every part of the works poured the menbelonging to his mess, going first to the creek to wash their hands. Assoon as they were seated, the little fellow filled their plates firstwith soup and next with pork and beans, out of another steaming pot. Tenminutes of rapid feeding satisfied their appetites, and they adjourned tothe fallen trees and scattered logs to enjoy their pipes at leisure. Vigorously wiping down the table, the cook set it anew for the"officers"--that is, the contractors, engineers, and their assistants;the doctor, paymaster, and any one of similar status, who happened to be_en route_ to another part of the line. Their dinner call was ashrill whistle, and their bill of fare differed from the navvies' only inthe addition of pies made of dried apples, and an unlimited allowance ofpickles and sugar. Their dinner hour, too, was a "movable feast, " as inrainy weather they took it between the showers; the navvies did not minda wetting. Behind Mr. C----'s house the ground rose more rapidly to the line ofrailway, and at the north end of the west rock was a fish-pond, whichnever had any fish in it, although a good deal of attention was paid tostocking it. About four hundred feet to the east is another rock almostas high as the one on the west, beyond which the lake narrows, and thefuture railway crossing is projected. Of course it took much longer toarrange and make up the necessary useful and ornamental "fixings, " as theYankees call them, for our new house when we were thrown entirely uponour own resources than it would have done in town, where stores andassistants are always to be had; and the saying that "necessity is themother of invention, " was repeatedly verified in our case. Time, therefore, never hung heavily upon our hands, and everything about ushaving the charm of novelty, gave zest to what to many people would havebeen but a dull life. The climate is delightful. A cool fresh breeze always blowing from thelake, tempers the heat, and to a great extent keeps off those foes tocomfort in the bush--mosquitoes, black flies, sand flies, and deer flies, or bull-dogs, as they call them there. Manitoban mosquitoes are larger than those of any other part of Canada, and nothing but smoke will drive them away. Many people who live on theprairies, instead of going for their cattle at milking time, build asmudge (a fire of chips mulched with wet hay or green twigs when wellstarted, to create smoke) near the milk house, and the cattle will cometo the fire to obtain relief from the mosquitoes. The black flies aresmaller, and the first intimation one has of their attack is a smallstream of blood trickling down one's neck from behind the ear. They biteand die, but there are myriads to take their place. The black flies aremost troublesome during the day, the mosquitoes at night. Sand flies, astheir name implies, resemble a grain of sand, and their bites are like athousand red-hot needles piercing the skin at once, they are attracted bya light, and no netting will keep them out. Last, but by no means least, are the deer-flies, great big brutes, larger than the largest blue bottlefly. They generally devote their attentions to cattle, and I have seenthe poor cows rushing madly down the clearing, the bells round theirnecks jangling wildly, lashing their tails and tossing their heads, neverstopping until safe from their tormentors in the shelter of the darkstable. The dogs, too, are often so covered with these wretched pests, that nothing but dragging themselves through the thick underbrush willset them free. Their bite is very venomous. One of the engineers showedme the back of his hand where one had bitten him a few hours before; itwas blue and angry-looking, swollen to twice its usual size, and verypainful. Fortunately the deer-fly does not bite often. We were able to explore the lake, as Mr. C---- had two Rice Lake orPeterboro' canoes. These boats are built by a firm in Peterboro', Ontario, and are steadier than birch-bark canoes, though not so light. They are much used in all parts of Canada, although the Indians preferthe birch-bark. We went out almost every evening, named all the bays, points, and islands, caught lots of excellent pike with a trolling line, which relieved the monotony of bacon and ham for breakfast, or went tothe net spread at the mouth of a little river or creek emptying into LakeDeception, and brought home great jack-fish weighing from two to sixpounds. From a little stream to the north-west of the house we haddelicious brook trout, and occasionally large lake trout from some of theother lakes, presented by the fishermen in their neighbourhood. I weighedone which was over nineteen pounds. Sometimes we took short walks up theline, and through wood-paths made by the men on their way to work. Wepicked blueberries whenever our hands were not employed in driving offthe flies. But our chief excitement during the week was the arrival of the mail. Ourfirst thought every Thursday morning was, "This is mail-day, " and Joe'swhite canoe was eagerly watched for--often in vain, as storms on the Lakeof the Woods, when the canoes could not venture out, delayed its cominguntil Friday. Strange as it seems, very few Indians can swim, probably from their fearthat they shall drown while learning. They believe that, if drowned, their spirits wander for ever in a vain search for the happyhunting-grounds, and no Indian will marry the daughter of one who has methis death in that way, lest the curse should descend to him. Yet they havesuch faith in their canoes and their own skill in their management ofthem, that they will go out fearlessly in storms that a white man wouldnever face. On mail-day our field-glasses were in constant requisition, and whoeverwas lucky enough to announce the appearance of Joe felt the hero of thehour. There were other canoes as white as Joe's, so after severaldisappointments I studied the trimming on his hat, and never made amistake afterwards. Joe was such an important person that I must describehim. He was a short, slight, though broad-shouldered Indian, wearing agrey flannel shirt, striped cloth trousers, alpaca coat, prunella boots, and black felt hat, with several folds of pink and white net twistedround it. He always had a broad grin on his face, and a hearty "Bon jour, nitchee, " for every one. The dress of his companion or partner differedfrom Joe's only in the absence of boots and hat, and wearing the hairbraided in two long tails, instead of being cut short. How we appreciated our letters no one who has not been in the woods, witha mail only once a week, can understand. I remember one day after ourmail had arrived, a lad coming in from the shanty to ask if there wasanything for him. His sad face, as he turned away on being told that ourmail-carrier was no longer allowed to bring mails for the contractors'men, haunted me for days. Poor home-sick boy! he had not heard from hispeople for months. I often thought of him afterwards, when, thecontractor having made arrangements for a mail-carrier independent ofthe Government, I saw the huge bag brought in every week, and watched theeager crowd of faces waiting for its contents to be distributed. We had another source of entertainment in the telegraphic communicationbetween Winnipeg and all the houses on the line, one of the staff in theoffice good-naturedly keeping us posted in current events. Talking toothers along the wire always had a strange significance to me, likehaving an invisible guest talking to us, who could only hear what wechose to repeat. When anything amusing was said, one involuntarilylistened for the invisible laughter. This telegraphic conversation was anuisance in one way, for often in the middle of dinner Mr. C---- wouldexclaim, "There's D---- calling!" and away he would go, and probably notcome back till dinner was cold, the cook cross, and the confusiongeneral. We were not without visitors, for the doctor, contractors, and engineerswere coming and going continually. About the middle of July, 1878, thecontractors' head-quarters at Darlington Bay being finished, and morework going on at that end of the line, his officials moved there, and wewere left with only a gang of forty men in a shanty near. Our fat cookalso went to Bear Lake, about a mile west of the house, which by thattime had received the name of Inver Lodge. One day towards the end of August a rumour reached us that the woods wereon fire on the other side of the west hill, and that the flames weretravelling towards us. I put on my hat and went up to see if the reportwere true, and found flames curling along over the moss and underbrushnear a sand embankment where two or three men were working. The fire didnot look very formidable to me, and on asking the men if there was anydanger of its reaching the house, one put down his barrow, and while heslowly wetted the palms of his hands, and rubbed them together, said, "Nafear, me leddie; a barrowfu' o' sand noo an' then wul keep it fra'gangin' any further. " So I went back reassured. But as night came on, theblaze increased so much that it became alarming. Mr. C---- and the menwere away at Kuwatin, some fifteen miles from us, and could not be backbefore daylight. A kindly old Irishman, Michael Cahill, who for a drinkof butter-milk came in the evenings to work in the garden, offered hisservices to sit up and watch the fire. "Not that he thought there was a ha'porth of danger, but, Lord blessthem! the misthress and the childre 'ud be frightened. " Poor old man! hehad a true Irish heart, with an air of better days long vanished, and adeep loyalty to "thim of the ould stock;" and his boasts of grandeur andvaliant deeds were mingled with childlike credulity. The fire was at its height about midnight, and had reached a large treein a line with our house, when the wind from the lake caught and drove itback. The underbrush soon burnt out, but the trees were like pillars offlame, crackling and roaring in the silent night, till they fell with acrash to the ground. Half roused by the noise, old Cahill would muttersomething about keeping watch until the master came home. The old fellowhad wrapped himself in his great-coat, and was sitting on a chair in theyard sound asleep. Fearing that he might catch cold, I woke him. But hetreated the insinuation that he had slept a wink with such indignantcontempt that I had to leave him to take his chance. The fire burntitself out before daylight, and we felt as if we had made more fuss thanwas necessary, when Mr. C---- and the men arrived after four hours' hardpaddling. About Ingolf the fires raged so fiercely that the engineersthere moved all their valuable instruments and papers into the canoes, and left the shanty to its fate; a change in the wind, however, saved it, driving the flames back when the walls were scorching. CHAPTER XI. Irish Wit--Bears?--Death on the Red Pine Lake--A Grave in the CatholicCemetery--The First Dog-train--A Christmas Fête--CompulsoryTemperance--Contraband Goods--The Prisoner wins the Day--Whisky on theIsland--The Smuggler turned Detective--A Fatal Frolic--"Mr. K----'s Legs". The chimneys in Mr. C----'s house were built of mud, and one of them, which smoked whenever a fire was lighted, had to be pulled down andrebuilt. The workmen, who were of various nationalities--Carrière anIndian, old Cahill an Irishman, a Scotchman, and a Mennonite, who thumpedthe mud mortar with a dogged perseverance that was quite amusing--wereall engaged on this chimney. One day I heard Carrière contradict anassertion of Cahill's with regard to the work, calling it "a d----d lie!"Stepping back from the foot of the ladder on which Carrière stood, theold Irishman lifted his straw hat with the air of a courtier, andreplied politely, "Carrière, ye're a gintleman! an' _that's_another. " Before the chimney was quite finished, Mr. And Mrs. C---- went down toKuwatin to spend a few days, leaving me with the maid and old Cahill tosuperintend the house-cleaning; and many a half-hour's amusement had I, listening to the old man's reminiscences of Ireland. When he found that Iknew and took an interest in many of the people in his own country hisdelight was unbounded. The height of his ambition seemed to be to have"tin min undher him, " and his greatest trial was "huntin' thim tarmintsof cows. " He was the butt of all the jokes and tricks in the camps round, yet he took everything good-naturedly; "the boys must have their laughsometimes, " being his only comment. He said he was only thirty-seven, but, according to his own account, he had been "kept at school till hewas sixteen, lived tin years on the Knight o' Glynne's estate, and gonefishin' with him in the Shannon, been twinty-five years with ColonelKitchener in Limerick, siven years undher Mr. Usborne of Aruprior CanadyWest, and knew the Ottawa as well as any man, two years with his brotherin Michigan and two years in Kuwatin, and all the fault of the editor ofthe _Ottawa Times_ newspaper, for praisin' up the country andtellin' lies about the wages. " Cahill always dressed in his best on Sunday. How he managed to get up hiswhite shirts was a mystery. To be sure, one was made to last severalSundays, for when one side got dirty he turned the other out. The navviescalled him the forest ranger, because he always took the gun with himwhen he went for the cows, and each day as he passed the shanties on hisway back empty-handed, they chaffed him about his want of sport. Oneevening he returned as usual, apparently empty-handed, but coming intothe kitchen for the milk-pails, he produced from his pockets fivepartridges and four pigeons. When I asked him why he did not carry themto show the men that he did shoot something sometimes, he gave me aknowing look and said, "Shure, I wouldn't give thim that satisfaction. " We were glad of the game, as a change from the continual salt meat andfish, being unable to get fresh meat until November, and then onlyMontana beef. The second year the contractor bought only Canadian cattle. The difference in the meat is very great, the one being hard and full ofthread-like sinews, the other juicy and tender. The evening before the September mail went out, I was sitting up latewriting letters, when Mrs. C---- in a frightened tone called me to"_listen to that queer noise_"--a crunching, rustling sound from therocks west of the house, just as if some heavy animal was making its waythrough the underbrush and dry moss. Rumours of the vicinity of bears hadreached us that day, and we jumped at once to the conclusion that Bruinwas upon us. What was to be done? We were quite certain the poor calf, tethered to a stump on the grass plot, would fall an easy victim. Thenall the windows were wide open downstairs, and we did not think itprobable Bruin would respect the mosquito-netting sufficiently for us todepend upon it as a defence. Mr. C---- and the men were away down the line, and the doctor, who had come in that day, was enjoying a slumber, fromwhich it seemed cruel to disturb him after his hard day's tramp. However, as the noise increased, and seemed nearer every moment, it had to bedone. Did you ever try to wake a very sound sleeper, making apparentlynoise enough to awaken the dead, and when about to give it up in despairhave him answer, after your last effort, in a mild, good-naturedlyaggravating tone, which impresses you with the belief that he has onlyclosed his eyes for a moment's meditation? Just so did our excellentEsculapius. Imploring him to get up, and telling him that the bears wereupon us, I rushed to obey Mrs. C----, who screamed to me to shut all thewindows. While I was scrambling on to the kitchen table to reach thelast, the doctor appeared, very much _en déshabille_, with his hairrumpled and a general air of incompleteness about him, demanding thewhereabouts of the bear; and at the same moment Mrs. C----, in hernight-dress, leant over the banisters above, listening with all her earsfor the answer. The absurdity of the whole scene so struck me that I couldscarcely refrain from laughing outright. Sallying forth, armed with a bigstick, the valiant doctor drove out from behind the wood-pile on therock--a large, half-starved dog, who was trying to worry a meal off thedried hide of a defunct cow! The night was brilliant; bright moonlight lay like a long string ofdiamonds on the bosom of the lake; a blue, cloudless sky spread over ourheads; but far away to the south a great bank of murky clouds, lined withsilver, was momentarily rent by fierce flashes of forked lightning, followed by the muttering of distant thunder. In November a very sad accident occurred, by which Mr. C---- lost one ofhis staff. The weather was cold and disagreeable, just the few transitiondays between the beautiful Indian summer and clear Canadian winter. Untilthen the thermometer had registered 70 degrees in the shade at noon, butthe change had come suddenly, as it always does in Manitoba, and in afew days the smaller lakes had frozen over wholly, but the larger ones onlypartially. The mail had been delayed in consequence of there being nomeans of passage either by land or water. On the 10th Mr. W---- and Mr. K---- dined at Inver, and the former resisted all persuasions to remainuntil the morning, being anxious to reach his station, Ingolf, next dayin time to intercept the expected mail-carrier, and feeling sure he couldreach the intermediate station, Kalmar, before dark. He left about threeo'clock. What seeming trifles sometimes make all the difference betweenlife and death! That day dinner was half an hour late, an unusual thingin our punctual house, and if he had only had that half-hour more ofdaylight, his fate would have been changed. He crossed the three firstlakes in safety upon the ice, and naturally thought that he should findthe fourth equally firm, forgetting that the sun had been, shining on thenorth side with a heat doubled by the high, rocky shore. He attempted tocross, but, alas, never reached the other side. The next evening (Saturday), not hearing him work the telegraph, Mr. K----, who had been detained at Inver, asked Kalmar when Mr. W---- left, andthe answer that he had not seen him told us the sad news at once. Nextmorning at daybreak a party went in search of the unfortunate man, andfound his body not thirty feet from the shore. His hat, profile (or map), and the long pole carried by all who have to cross unsound ice, werefloating near. His large boots, which were so strapped round his waistthat it was impossible to get them off, had kept him down. The lake (RedPine) is small but deep, and he had died alone in the forest, with onlythe giant rocks around him to echo back his dying cries. While I write, memory recalls his laughing air, when telling me that morning how he hadtried to cross the narrows of our lake, but had desisted, fearing aducking on such a cold day; and I, pointing to his immense boots, saidthey were scarcely fit to wear when running such risks. How little Idreamt what harm they were doomed to do! His great brown eyes, with thesad, far-away look in them, as if, unknown to himself, they saw into thefuture; his graceful, manly figure, as he sprang up the hill behind thehouse, and his cheery "Good-bye, till I see you again, " can never beforgotten. When the winter roads became passable, they took him into Winnipeg, andlaid him in the Roman Catholic cemetery there--alone, away from all heloved, without a kindly hand to tend his last resting-place. His deathcast a gloom over all our party. Though grieving for him and missing himcontinually, we could never realize that he was really dead. And theknowledge that it was so even to us made our hearts fill with sympathyfor one far away, to whom the sad tidings would have more than thebitterness of death. Our great excitement after winter had set in in earnest was the arrivalof the first dog-train. Hearing the shrill "Marsh-sha" (Marcha) of thedriver, we all rushed to the window to see the pretty beasts, in theirgaily-worked saddle-cloths and merry bells, come down the hill; then, when a halt was called, to watch them sit down on their haunches and lookproudly about them, as if quite aware of the interest they excited. Thetaboggans they drew were not heavily laden, and as far as I can judgefrom my limited experience, the dogs are invariably kindly treated bytheir drivers; all looked well fed and in good condition. During thesummer, and sometimes in the winter, when the poor Indians themselves aremore than half-starved, it is little wonder that the dogs fare as badlyas their masters, and look lean and miserable. The winter of 1878 was mild and open, more so than had been known in theNorth-west for thirty years. The snow had vanished almost completely fromthe portages, and water covered the ice on many of the lakes. When, atChristmas, the staff accepted Mrs. C----'s invitation to spend the day atInver, the question was whether they would come with dogs or canoes?Neither, however, were practicable, and they had to walk--some of themeighteen miles. We amused ourselves icing the cake, inventing devices, with the aid ofscraps of telegraph wire, as supports for the upper decorations, decorating the house with cedar and balsam wreaths, and providing as gooda dinner as it was possible to obtain in the woods. With the exception ofhaving nothing for our guests to drink, we succeeded tolerably well. Being within the limits of prohibitory laws, it was necessary to ask theLieutenant-governor of Manitoba for an especial "permit" to have winesent out; and we were answered that, "if the men had to do withoutwhisky, the gentlemen might do without wine. " So we had to contentourselves with half a glass of sherry each, the remains of some smuggledout with our luggage in the spring. We soon had proof that the men rebelled against the prohibitory law. Thepresence of whisky being suspected in a neighbouring camp, a constablewho had been but recently appointed, and was anxious to show his zeal, never rested until he had discovered the smuggler and brought him tojustice; the clause that the informer was entitled to half the fine offifty dollars not diminishing his ardour. To a lawyer the proceedings would have been amusing, for all partiesconcerned were novices in their respective _rôles_. The justice ofthe peace, with a great idea of his own importance, the majesty of thelaw, and the necessity for carrying it out to the letter, had obtainedseveral manuals for the guidance of county justices of the peace andstipendiary magistrates, over the technicalities of which he spent many asleepless hour. No sooner had he mastered the drift of one act, than thenext repealed so many of its clauses that the poor man became hopelesslybewildered. Handcuffs there were none, neither was there a lock-up, andthe constable spent his time in keeping guard over the prisoner, beingpaid two dollars a day for the service. The latter was fed and housed, and, not having been overburdened with work or wages for some time, didnot object to the incarceration. Ultimately he was tried, found guilty, and fined fifty dollars or a monthin jail. Many arguments arose between magistrate and constable, as thelatter, having served in the United States, and there learned asmattering of Yankee law, was resolved to make his voice heard in thecase. The inability of the prisoner to pay the fine of course made itnecessary to fall back upon the alternative--thirty days in jail, whichjail was a hundred and odd miles off. There was no conveyance to take himthither; and no roads even if there had been; and the man refused towalk. "If I had the money I'd pay the fifty and have done with it, " he said;"but, not having it, I can't do it. If I am to go to jail, allright--take me; but whoever heard of a man walking there of his ownaccord?" and he whittled away at the stick in his hand feeling that hewas master of the situation. Being remanded until the next day, to keepup some semblance of proper procedure, he went away quite contentedly, only to return the next day and the next to repeat the same farce. At lastboth magistrate and constable began to look rather tired, while theprisoner, on the contrary, was quite at his ease. The wire was down betweenus and Winnipeg, and no advice could be obtained. So at last the constable, agreeing to forfeit his share of the fine, and the magistrate to take atime-bill on the contractor for the next section of the railway for theremaining twenty-five dollars, they let the man go, neither of them, I amsure, seeing him depart with regret. The next whisky seizure that occurred in the neighbourhood was a smalltwo-gallon keg, found in the middle of a barrel of sugar. The load wasowned by one man and driven by another, whose consternation at finding hewas a holder of contraband goods was so genuine that the authoritiesthought emptying the whisky on the snow was sufficient punishment, and--possibly dreading a repetition of the last trial--let the man go. Soon afterwards several kegs of whisky were found on an island in theLake of the Woods. The owner gave himself up, and entered the service ofthe contractor as especial whisky detective, and such was his vigilance, that no whisky ever passed him. He was quite impartial, not letting evenour mail bags go unquestioned, and so was not disliked. During his termthe line was quiet and orderly; but, unfortunately, he went into Winnipegon leave, shot a youth belonging to one of the river steamers in adrunken frolic, and was convicted of the murder. One day, hearing a very peremptory-sounding knock at the door--a knock atany time being an event--I opened it in haste, to see a short, jaunty-looking man, red-haired and red-faced, clad in long stockings drawnwell over his trousers and mocassins, a short skin coat tied round hiswaist with a red sash, and on his head a long red _toque_. "Good mornin', miss, " said this odd apparition. "I'm come for Mr. K----'slegs. " Seeing that I had not the faintest idea of what he meant, hetouched his forehead again. "Please, 'm, Mr. K---- sent me for his legs. He said I'd find them in the office;" and the little fellow, who seemedall on springs, craned his neck round to see into the room. Fairlypuzzled, I stood aside to let him pass; so in he went, returninginstantly with a tripod on his shoulder. "Here they are, miss, " he said cheerfully. "Much obliged. Fine day, miss;" and was off to the lake before I had recovered my surprise at hisamazing request and his general absurdity. CHAPTER XII. Birds of Passage--An Independent Swede--By Sleigh to Ostersund--A Son ofthe Forest--Burnt out--A Brave Canadian Girl--Roughing it in theShanty--The Kitchen-tent--Blasting the Rock--The Perils ofNitro-glycerine--Bitter Jests. We had plenty of strange visitors; almost every day men passing alongthe line came in, either to inquire the distance to the next shanty, orto ask for a meal or drink of milk. Some showed a friendly disposition, and would entertain us with their full family history. Others, with manyprofessions of gratitude for our kindness, would eat enough to last thema week, one would suppose, and go on their way. Others, more taciturn andindependent, took their refreshment in silence, and offered to pay forwhat they received. One in particular, a tall, slight man, ratheradvanced in years, came in one morning, and made us understand by signsthat he was hungry. When a meal was put before him, he sat down, took hishat off--this was something unusual--and upon every offer of more ediblesbowed his thanks with much dignity. He could speak neither English norFrench, and looked like a Swede. When his repast was finished, he offeredby signs to mend shoes as payment. Thinking that he was begging forshoes, we screamed, as every one so oddly does to foreigners--as if itmade our language any more intelligible to them--that we had none forhim. Seeing we did not understand him, he sat down and went through thepantomime of mending shoes. Still shaking our heads, as we had no shoesto be mended, he, after fumbling in his pockets, produced a quarter, which he pressed us all in turn to take. In vain we tried to make himunderstand that his breakfast was a gift; going away a step or two, hecame back again and again, still offering the quarter. At last, out ofall patience, Mr. C---- ordered him off the premises. The stranger wentup the hill, but lingered until the coast was clear, to put the quarteron the ice at the door. Then, thinking perhaps that it might not be seenthere by the right people, he stuck it into a crevice between two logs inthe shed, and went away whistling merrily, his pride relieved of hisobligation, as well as his pocket of his money. Towards the end of the winter, the sleighing being a little better on theportages, we drove to Ostersund, the nearest house east of us. It wasSunday, the 3rd of March, and a bright, clear, cold day. Our conveyancewas a sort of combination arrangement of a long, low platform, with oneseat, on two bob-sleighs, which platform turned on a pivot independent ofthe sleighs. This was supposed to be an invention that lessened the bumpsand swings experienced by the traveller, who was jolted over the hillsand hollows of the rough roads. Rough, indeed, they were--up and downsteep hills, among and over huge boulders thrown out by the blasts inadjacent cuttings, along the edge of narrow rocks, where Carrière had tohold on to the sleigh on one side, to keep it from swinging round, anddown the face of the jagged cliff, into such deep gullies, that it was awonder we were not tipped over on the horse's back, or left behind, whenhe went up the ascent. The problem that chiefly occupied me during thiswild huntsman-like ride was: If the combination sleigh were indeed asuccess, what would my sensations have been without it? On the lakes the road was smooth and delightful, and our old broken-downsteed supplied by the Government, derisively dubbed "Pegasus" by Mrs. C----, achieved something approaching a trot. Poor thing! its hide hadbecome so hardened by former cruel treatment, that there was no spot onwhich the whip had the least effect. We were accompanied by the usualnumber of dogs, who ran yelping after the rabbits in all directions. Onone of the portages we passed an old Indian, clad in a long blue blanketcoat, with a red sash round his waist, and beaded leggings, andmocassins; his long hair was tied back, and a red silk handkerchief wasloosely knotted round his brow. He leant upon his old brown gun, and thetall trees, through whose leafless branches the sunshine fell in longstreaks on the snow and moss, formed a fitting background for his gauntfigure. Unheeding the hoarse barking of the dogs, he replied toCarrière's "Bon jour" with a guttural "Bon jour, nitchee;" but until wewere out of sight remained in the same attitude. On the 26th of March, an event happened which startled us all out of theeven tenor of our lives. Between ten and eleven in the morning, the roofof our house caught fire from the kitchen chimney, and having no engineor fire-extinguisher about the premises, we were houseless, with scarcelyanything to call our own, in half an hour. The moment we discovered thefire, we ran to the nearest cutting, where there were twenty men, to asktheir assistance. After vainly attempting to get at the fire by choppingaway the roof, they could do nothing but save as much property aspossible. Mrs. C---- was at Kalmar, and being too excited to remaininactive, I deposited the children in the contractor's shanty, persuadingthem to stay there until I returned, and went back to the house to savewhat I could. I had plenty of assistance. Never did men work better. Ihave seen many a fire in crowded cities, where engines and hundreds ofpeople were at hand, without half the proportionate amount of goods beingsaved; and what was rescued from the flames was not destroyed by roughhandling. The house was built of logs, the crevices being stuffed with moss, andlined with thick brown paper, the seams of the latter covered with anarrow beading of pine. The roof was lined with tar-paper, which made adense and blinding smoke. It had been built a year, and was so dry thatit burnt like a tinder-box. The cook, a bright, pretty Canadian girl, in her anxiety to save herkitchen utensils, was caught by the flames, getting her eyebrows and hairsinged while making a final dash for the boiler; and in the long weeksthat followed before it could be replaced she never ceased to lament herfailure. She was worth ten men, and saved many things which we did notthink of at the time, but should have found it difficult to do withoutafterwards. We were a motley group, sitting and standing on the hill above the creekto watch our house burn to the ground. Navvies of every nation; tall, brawny Scotchmen; jolly-looking Irishmen, their faces a mixture of pityfor our misfortune and enjoyment of the "fun;" stumpy little FrenchCanadians; solemn, stupid-looking Icelanders and Mennonites. Carrière wasthere on his crutches. Poor fellow! standing knee-deep in the lake to cutice out had brought on such a severe attack of rheumatism, that it waswith difficulty he moved about at all. We were surrounded by aheterogeneous mass of household goods: here a pile of bedding, surmountedby a looking-glass, there a basket of crockery, glass, and china; here adismantled stove, with the fire yet burning in it, there a clothes-horse, still covered with clean clothes ironed that morning. A heap of wearingapparel, taken out of some cupboard, lay close beside one of thestove-pipes. All round the house were trophies of household furniture, just as they had been carried out--the baby's cradle full of books fromthe drawing-room table, china vases underneath a heap of dinner plates, and rolls of plans from the office, blown into every corner of the fences. And all the time the house blazed on. Then the fire spread, and ran upthe hill at the back, burning the old ice-house and a large tree, whichfell to the ground with a crash the moment after the roof fell in. At thesame moment a stock of cartridges exploded, and a volley of musketryformed the fitting finale to our fire. The poor children, who had hitherto been wonderfully good and patient, now became so nervous and frightened that we could scarcely pacify them. Our old friend, the contractor's superintendent, coming back to hisshanty shortly after the disaster, with his usual unselfish kindnessinsisted on giving it up to us, and going himself into a wretched lean-tobehind the store, until the house could be rebuilt. It would be difficultto describe the discomfort of the next few days. Mrs. C---- came home immediately, and we were all busy sorting out thesalvage, retaining what was necessary to furnish the shanty, and storingthe remainder in a log-house used as a workshop. How we raked amongst thestill hot embers in the hope of picking up a relic, or with regretfulinterest traced the shape of some favourite object in the ashes! As myroom was the first burned, I saved nothing but a few clothes, most ofwhich were comparatively useless, silk dresses and a log shanty not beingharmonious combinations. All my books, pictures, jewellery, and thoseodds and ends which, though of little money value, had grown priceless tome from association, were destroyed; and my desk also, containing mynotes of dates and places, so that in these pages I have had to trustentirely to memory. In dry weather the shanty we now occupied was a very tolerable one, builtof rough logs, their crevices filled with mud both inside and out; theroof was of logs also, but cut in halves, scooped out, and ingeniouslyinterlaced--thus, [Illustration], to allow the water to run off. Duringthe cold weather these logs had been filled with moss, and when thespring rains began the water settled in places, rotted them, and camethrough. The shanty was divided into three by a partition reaching half-way to theroof. In the first room stood one bunk bed filled with straw, in thesecond were two narrow ones, so close together that two people could notget out of bed at the same time. One small window, halfway between eachroom, gave light to both. There was no door into the outer room, only avacant space in the partition. In the centre was an iron stove set in abox of sand. There were two narrow windows on each side, and the onlydoor led into the outer world. When we had made it as comfortable as wecould, the outer room had to be telegraph office (the instrument keepingup such a continual ticking that we blessed an odd day when the wire wasdown) as well as dining-room. The big table filled up half the width ofthe room, and the sideboard a quarter, leaving the remainder for thesofa, small tables--under which were stored boxes and trunks of varioussizes--safe, and chairs. We covered the walls with pictures, nailswhereon to hang everything that would hang, and small shelves. Thematting saved from the hall covered what was otherwise unoccupied of theshanty floor. In fine weather it was not at all unpleasant, as thechildren and I almost lived out of doors, and even when in the shantykept our hats on, ready to go out again the moment our office was calledon the line; as it was impossible to impress children, aged two and fiveyears respectively, with the fact that their merry chatter and atelegraphic message in course of transition were incompatible. In wet weather, cooped up as we were, with the roof dripping in a dozenplaces, their number increasing after every storm; with all our tin panscalled into requisition to catch the falling drops, and the childrenfeeling it a duty they owed to society to empty their contents on thefloor the moment our backs were turned; with the instrument at work, andthe current bad, I was often made desperate by the utter impossibility ofkeeping the children quiet. Rolling them in a shawl, I would rush out toa tent pitched about ten feet from the shanty door, and used as akitchen, rather than endure any longer the strain upon my nerves in theshanty. This kitchen-tent had a few rough, heavy planks for floor, and astove at one end, with the pipe up through the canvas, and the ridge poleand uprights studded with nails, whereon hung cups, jugs, pans, and tins. Two tables stood under the slanting roof, with rows of nails beneath tohold irons and everything else with a handle. There was a small cupboardin one corner, and the others were filled with boxes, barrels, and themaid's trunk. The tent had been used as a cook-house so often that it wasperforated by small holes made by flying sparks, and to touch the canvaswith one's head was to invoke a shower-bath. Soaking in wet weather andbroiling in fine, it was anything but a paradise of cooks, yet it waswonderful how well the maid managed in it, and how neat and tidy she keptit. We were always intensely interested in the blasting of the cutting aboutthree hundred feet from us. At the sound of the horn we were on the watchto see the men ran off behind the rock. Then the smoke curled up, and thereport followed, sending the flying stones well into the air, and in asecond we could hear them rattle down all round us, on the roof of theshanty and far out into the lake. Hearing the horn one day when quitefive hundred feet from the cutting, I turned to watch, believing myselfat a safe distance; and as I saw the stones falling, and thought it aheavier charge than usual, I heard the hiss of one fast approaching. Before I could decide whether to run or not it whizzed past--so close tomy ear that I could feel the wind it made--and buried itself in the sandnot two feet behind me; while another fell within a few inches of my feetin front. Snatching the child who was with me up in my arms, I took careto get some distance further up the hill before the next charge exploded. One of the engineers told me he had seen stones thrown thirteen hundredfeet from a cutting. They use nitro-glycerine, and have had severalserious accidents while handling it. One poor lad who was carrying a canweighing fifty pounds up the dump, tripped, and was blown to atoms; partof one foot, stuck in the fork of a tree about a hundred feet off, beingall that was found of him. A man lost his sight and one arm from merelystriking a rock where some of the horrid stuff had been spilt. Often haveI watched the long train of packers coming down the hill, each with a canof glycerine on his back, and wondered how they dared carry it over therough roads, knowing that one false step would cost them their lives. Once when I was out with the children, the dogs barked furiously at oneof these poor men. Calling them off, I seized the opportunity to makesome remark about his load. "Ay, miss!" he said, sadly and bitterly;"'tis a main mean load fur any man to ha' to carry. " Yet, in spite of thedanger and the many accidents, I have heard these packers chaffing eachother when passing. "It's a warm day, " says one. "That's so; but maybeye'll be warmer 'fore ye're to camp tonight, " is the reply. "That's so. D'ye want any word taken to the divil?" Then again, "Where are ye boundfor, Jack?" "To h---, I guess. " "Take the other train, and keep a berthfor me, man!" "Is it ye're coffin ye're carryin', Pat?" asks another. "Faith, ye're right, an a coroner's inquest into the bargain, Jim!" Yetthe wretched expression of these very men proved that they felt thebitterness of death to be in their jests. CHAPTER XIII. We lose our Cows--Cahill promoted--Gardening on a New Principle--Onionsin Hot-houses--Cahill is hoaxed--Martin the Builder--How the Navvieslived--Sunday in Camp--The Cook's Leap--That "Beautiful Skunk!"--WildFruits--Parting. A few weeks after the fire, the C----s had another loss, in the suddendeath of two cows. No cause could be assigned for it; unless there mighthave been poison in the wild hay which they ate, put there by the Indiansto kill the foxes. The difficulty of supplying their place on the line inthe spring made the loss considerable, especially with children in thehouse, and no fresh meat attainable. Carrière had been so completely laid up with rheumatism that he hadresigned his post, giving place for our old friend Cahill, whoimmediately undertook the charge of the garden, which he said heunderstood thoroughly. Looking one day into the hot-beds, which he seemedto have taken much pride in, I found he had filled more than half thespace with different varieties of onions, and another part with carrawayseeds! When I asked why he put them in there, he said-- "Shure, ye couldn't have anything betther nor inions. Many's the thousandI've raised in Ireland, when I was with Kurnel Kitchener in Limerick. " After the cress had gone to seed, Mrs. C---- told him, to take it out, and sow other things in its place. A little while afterwards, I saw theold fellow transplanting something very carefully, which proved uponinvestigation to be the cress. When I told him it was not worth thetrouble, he looked up and said, in a very indignant tone-- "Throw it away, is it? Shure, if I'd known that was all the good it was, it's meself wouldn't have filled me hot-beds wid it! The thrash!" One day he received a very long, narrow parcel and note through the mail. Early next morning, I saw the old fellow sitting on a stump in thegarden, carefully spelling over the letter, which did not seem a longone. When Harry ran up to him, Cahill brought the child back to me, andlooking all about to see that no one else was near, said, in a mysterioustone-- "See here, Miss F----. I got a parcel be the mail-man yesterday, an'here's the spicification that came wid it. Would you read it, miss, andtill me who ye think would send it? I think meself it's a trick, an' I'llbe even wid thim yit. " And he handed me a crumpled piece of paper aboutfour inches square, on which I read-- "To Michael Cahill, Esq, Office of the Civil Engineer, Lake Diception "Sirs, "Hearin' ye were lately appointed Governmint gardner, we sind a sample of our goods. Eny orders ye can sind will receive prompt attintion. "Green and Brown, manufacturing company, "County of Limerick, "Ireland. " "Of course it's a joke, Cahill, " I said. "But where's the sample?" "Shure, I buried it behind the shanty; it's a wooden hoe, cut out o' theroot of a three, I think I know who sint it, " he went on, drawing near, with another cautious look round. "It was wrapped up wid some copies of the _Ottawa Citizen_newspaper, an' there are only two min on the line that take it at all. Soye see I can spot them!" Fumbling in his pockets, he produced a scrap ofthe paper, and, turning it this way and that, discovered some writingwhich, upon close inspection, proved to be my own name. His tormentorshad wrapped it in one of the papers I had lent him. To describe the old man's wrath and astonishment, mingled with keen senseof fun (for an Irishman _can_ see a joke, even against himself), isimpossible. I had little trouble in persuading him that to take no noticeof either parcel or "spicification" would be the best way to disappointhis foes. Long afterwards, whenever I met him, he gave me a knowing sideglance of mutual understanding that was irresistible. In the mean time, the house was fast being rebuilt on the old site, buton a much improved plan. The former had been a two-story building ofsquared logs, and, to my eyes, an insult to the landscape. The new one, alow cottage of rough logs, seemed to fit into the valley without marringthe view from any point. The beautiful wooded hall to the north, whichhad been completely shut out by the old house, now formed a lovelybackground to the cottage and garden. The little Frenchman Martin, the master builder, was another character inhis way; a lively, energetic little fellow, whose eyes were everywhere. Not the driving in of a single nail escaped him. Yet, with all hiswatchfulness, he did more work than any three of his men. The habitualuse of salt pork and beans, added to the total absence of vegetable dietduring the long winter and summer, had caused scurvy to break out amongthe men, and poor Martin was suffering very much from it. To keep him inbetter health until the house was finished, Mrs. C---- supplied him withpotatoes, which he ate raw, sliced and soaked in vinegar; and I believe, from a conversation I overheard between him and one of his men, thatthese raw potatoes, bread, and tea constituted the man's entire food forthe last six weeks of his work on the line. Many others had not even thepotatoes, yet they daily passed the garden, where lettuces and othervegetables, a cure for their sufferings, grew in profusion, and did nottake a leaf. I know, had I been in like case, early training would havegone to the winds, and the eighth Commandment have become a dead letter. We had unusual opportunities of seeing the real life of a navvy while welived in the shanty. Our men came from nearly all parts of theworld--Russia, Sweden, Germany, Holland, Iceland, Ireland, Great Britain, and the Dominion. There were also many Scotch and French half-breeds, aswell as full-blooded Indians, among them, the contractors finding thatassociating the various nationalities in camp was more conducive to peaceand obedience than when a large number of fellow-countrymen formed agang. Next to us, in reality under the same roof, was the store, containing everything a navvy could want--from hats and boots to picklesand tobacco. Sunday, the only day off work, was the general shopping day, and as itwas also mail day the place was crowded, and the week's news discussed. Alittle below the store was another large shanty, where about a hundredand twenty men lived, the kitchen ruled over by a tall and rathergood-looking Frenchman, who had lived amongst the Indians at Fort Francisso long that he spoke their language as well as they did. "Black Joe, " ashe was generally called, was an authority amongst the men, and was veryfond of a little black poodle, which he cared for as a child, spendingall his leisure, moments in fondling it and teaching it tricks. He hadan assistant named Ironsides, who was not only "cookee, " but could sew upand dress a cut as well as the doctor, and his services were very oftencalled into requisition. Sunday was washing day in camp, too; every tub was in use, and every lowbranch or rude fence hung with the men's clothes. In one place you wouldsee a man sitting on a stump to have his hair cut; another repairing theweek's wear and tear of his garments. A group of interested listeners lieor sit round the happy possessor of the latest paper, who is reading italoud. Others, of livelier tastes, gather round an accordion-player, whogives the "Marseillaise" with the fire and feeling of a true artist. Somehard workers, whose idea of pleasure is perfect rest, lie on their backsin the sun, with their hats tilted over their faces, sound asleep, heedless of the roars of laughter from a cluster of men, to whom oldCahill is relating one of his most wonderful stories; others stand beforea small looking-glass, hung against a tree, performing their toiletswith immense satisfaction; while more active spirits are on their way tothe lake, with their fishing tackle, for a long day's sport. Card-playing was forbidden in camp. Of course there were a few whogambled in defiance of orders, but when detected they were at oncedismissed by the superintendent, who declared that they ought not toprofane the Sabbath. Mr. K---- was strict, and apparently severe with themen, yet he was a general favourite. He avowed one day that he couldmanage any number of men, but the "weemin were beyond him. " Thecontractor had tried employing women cooks, believing that they would bemore economical than the men; but those he engaged were such a trouble tolook after, that he declared "either he or thim weemin would have toleave the line. " One woman cook was called by the men "7-10, " from hergreat size, and her camp being at 7-10 station. On her way across theLake of the Woods after her dismissal, the big steamer, as usual, ran ona rock, and the passengers had to be transferred to a row-boat largeenough to hold thirty people. "7-10" refusing assistance, and attemptingto jump into the boat, jumped completely _over_ it, and was draggedout of the water by the laughing crew, who dubbed the rock "7-10's Leap. " Mr. C---- had all the stores of provisions which were saved from the fireput into a small root-house under the north hill. The ice in the lakeshaving broken up unusually early the bad state of the roads during thewinter made it necessary for all supplies brought out on the contract tobe "packed"--that is, carried on men's backs. Each man being paid twodollars a day, and not averaging more than sixteen miles, made this avery expensive process; consequently our supplies became valuable, onlywhat was absolutely indispensable being sent for till the Dawson road waspassable and the steamer running. One morning I saw Cahill peering intothe root-house, and evidently watching something with great interest. Then he ran to the shanty for his gun, and my curiosity being aroused, Iinquired what was the matter. Touching the brim of his old straw hat, hereplied, "Shure, it's fine prey I've got to shoot this mornin', Miss F----. As beautiful a skunk as ever ye see!" and levelling the gun, he wasabout to shoot, when memories of former odours made me implore him todesist. "But he'll ate all the pork!" the old fellow remonstrated, muchaggrieved at being deprived of so fine an opportunity of displaying hisprowess. I assured him that, if let alone, the "beautiful skunk" would goquietly away when he had enjoyed a good meal; but, if disturbed, he woulduse his natural weapon of defence, and destroy everything in theroot-house. But-- "A man convinced against his will Is of the same opinion still, " and old Cahill, though he shouldered his weapon and walked away, grumbledas he went. We paid frequent visits to the root-house that morning to seeif the intruder had gone, but he did not leave until the middle of thesecond day. Skunks, or polecats, are not numerous in that part of thecountry. The dogs sometimes came in from a hunt very strongly scented bythem, but, with the exception of our visitor, we never saw one about thepremises. They abound in prairies and swampy grounds, and when attackedthe odour they emit is overpowering and indescribable; without exceptionthe worst that ever assailed our nostrils. As the spring wore on we spent the brightening days in gatheringwild-flowers, going fishing, and repeating the weekly routine of a quietlife in the woods. The weather grew hotter, the flies more plentiful, andour highest gratification seemed to be to make a good smudge in theevening, sit round it, and talk. How gladly we welcomed the firststrawberries and blue-berries which pretty Mrs. Bucketee, as we calledher, brought to us! She got the name from always being hungry(_bucketee_), when she came, and she laughed merrily one day whencalled so inadvertently. We ourselves went out and gathered severalpailsful from the rocks on the first portage. Blue-berries, orknuckle-berries as they are called in Ontario, grow much larger in theNorth-west than I ever saw them elsewhere, being sometimes as large assmall Delaware grapes. The little bushes grow thickly in the crevices ofthe rocks, and are so completely covered with fruit that their tinyleaves are scarcely visible. They have a beautiful bloom upon them whenfresh, and are cool and delicious to the taste. Summer swiftly passed, and the time drew near when I was to leave LakeDeception, and, after staying a day or two at each of the other houses onthe line, turn my steps eastward, back to what my friends calledcivilized life. It was not without many a heartache that I bade good-byeto the wee bairns whom I loved so dearly, knowing that, though my regretsmight be lifelong, in their childish hearts the pain of parting would bebut the grief of an hour. CHAPTER XIV. For Ostersund--Lake Lulu--Giant Rocks and Pigmy Mortals--The IslandGarden--Heaven's Artillery--Strange Casualty at the Ravine--My Luggagenearly blown up--The Driver's Presence of Mind--How to carry aCanoe--Darlington Bay--An Invisible Lake--Lord and Lady Dufferin--APaddle to the Lakes--The Captain's Tug--Monopoly ofWater-carriage--Indian Legends--The Abode of Snakes. The 27th of August dawned sultry and oppressive, but having decided toleave Inver for a long-promised visit to Ostersund on that day, andfeeling that if I did not get the parting with the children over at onceI should never succeed in going away at all, I determined to carry out myintention, although by doing so I was obliged to forego the pleasure ofvisiting Kalmar, which I regretted very much. Mr. K---- and Mr. F---- came for me about two o'clock, and sending theman on with my travelling-bag, I prepared to enjoy the first long walk Ihad taken since I left Ontario. From the top of the east rock I took mylast look at the spot where I had spent nearly sixteen months, on which Ishall always look back with kindly memories. Clinging to the roughrailing, and walking quickly over the floating logs, we were soon acrossthe boom in Lake Deception, and over the first short portage to LakeBeau-Beau--or "Champagne Charlie" Lake--a beautiful sheet of water, withseveral pretty islands, along whose southern shore the Canada PacificRailway line runs. Catching sight of a boat, which probably belonged to a gang of men whowere at work with pulleys, removing great fragments of rock from acutting near, Mr. F---- took possession of it, and we rowed across, ignoring the fatigue of the poor navvies, who, after a hard day's work, would have to walk round the lake to recover their property. On the opposite shore part of the trail lay through a long, narrowvalley, where it became such a mere path that two could not walk abreast;then it passed over such lofty hills, and into such sudden dips of valleyland, that one could not help speculating as to the immense cost offilling up and levelling to bring the line to the proper grade. Weskirted the shores of Lake Lulu, whose blue waters glistened in theafternoon sun, as we caught a momentary glimpse through the trees of thetiny hill, where a clear fresh spring tempted us to sit on the gnarledtrunk of a fallen tree and refresh ourselves. How small we felt byinvoluntary comparison with the gigantic rock towering above our heads, or even with the huge fragments thrown out and scattered at its base! Iwonder if future ages will look upon these blocks of stone as we do uponStonehenge, and conjecture with what powerful weapons we ancients couldhave moved them, or what convulsion of nature had dislodged them fromtheir bed, and thrown them headlong into the lovely dell. I should like to linger over the delightful three weeks I spent atOstersund, and describe in detail the tranquil pleasures of every day. How we sat working with the children, through long, quiet mornings, onthe small space cleared in front of the house, or wandered through thewoods in search of mosses and ferns; how we went for long paddles on LakeLulu, either in the bright afternoon, when we took the children with usover to the island garden, returning with supplies of ripe red tomatoes, or in the clear, silent evenings, when we pushed out the canoe in anydirection--for all were charming--watching the glowing sunset die beyondthe hills, and the Indian camp fires wake to life along the shores. One of the strangest thunderstorms I ever saw raged while I was atOstersund. The whole day had been warm, and as night fell the air becamesultry, and the sky assumed a leaden hue. Directly west of us, the onlybit of horizon we could see was across the line of railway; on eitherside of this, high wooded rocks, some few hundred feet from the line, dropped to a much lower level than that on which the house stood, andbeyond the brow of this declivity the sky had the appearance of a hugefire, whose bright-red flames shot up into great clouds of rolling, whirling smoke, their inky hue gradually expanding until the whole skybecame covered. Still the flames raged on in a weird stillness brokenonly by the sound of rushing wind, the crackling and swaying of branches, or a low, distant moan that warned us the storm was on its way. For morethan half an hour we watched the horizon, scarcely believing that itsstrange hue was not really the reflection of a fire in the woods, till, with a report as of a thousand cannon crashing on all sides, and thefierce blast of a tornado, the storm was upon us. It spent itself, however, in that one blast; the red light gradually paled and died, starspeeped through the riven clouds, and the muttering thunder rolled away tothe south. A culvert was being built close to the house, and we took the greatestinterest in the proceedings of all concerned--from the oxen, with theirtinkling bells, labouring up the steep with the heavy timbers in tow, tothe sad-faced contractor and his jovial, good-looking partner. As Istood one morning watching the latter go up with a springing step to thetop, to superintend the placing of a beam, I saw the chain below snap, and at the same instant the huge beam swung round, striking thecontractor, who, with a groan, fell headlong to the bottom of theravine--a distance of twenty feet. Instantly half a dozen men sprang downand pulled him up, while another ran for Mr. K----, who telegraphed forthe doctor. Most fortunately, a cross stick against which the poor manstruck had broken his fall, and except for a few bruises and the shock hewas unhurt, and back at work again in a few days. I lingered on at Ostersund until I heard that my heavy luggage hadarrived at Kuwatin, _via_ Clear Water Bay and the Lake of the Woods, having had a narrow escape on its way over the portage. The horse ranaway, and dragged the cart over a number of nitro-glycerine cans. Thedriver fled in terror, but returned some time afterward, and wasastonished to find an atom of either horse, cart, or luggage remaining. The driver was not wanting in bravery either, for a few days before, theleft wheel of his cart had come in contact with a stump and turned over, the whole weight of the horse's body falling upon the man. Knowing thatthe load in the cart was too heavy for the horse to raise unassisted, andthat if he struggled he would be pounded to death, he had the presence ofmind to seize the brute by the ear and hold his head to the ground untilassistance came--an hour and a half afterwards--when the poor fellow wastoo exhausted and numbed to get up. As it was necessary that I should repack my luggage before sending it toWinnipeg, I was obliged to tear myself away from Ostersund, hoping to seemy friends again before I left the contract altogether. This hope, however, was not fulfilled, and it was a last farewell I took of them asthey stood on the rustic wharf, while Mr. K---- pushed off the birch-barkcanoe on which I was lounging. Paddling along the east shore, ratherclose in, as the lake was rough, we soon reached the portage to MiddleLake. Lifting the canoe well out of the water, and turning it over, Mr. K---- raised it above his head; then, slipping the paddles on hisshoulders, and across the bars of the canoe, he carried it with ease upthe steep bank and down the hill to the other lake. In this way Indianswill carry, or, as they call it, "portage, " their canoes for longdistances. Middle Lake is long, narrow, and swampy-looking, less prettythan any we crossed on our way out. Leaving the canoe at the next portagewell drawn in under the trees, and the paddles carefully hidden in theunderbrush, lest any stray traveller should take advantage of it, wewalked the remaining two miles to Darlington Bay. The heavy rains of the week before had made parts of the track very wet, but by jumping from one log to another, and utilizing stones scatteredfrom the cuttings, we managed to cross very well. One of the mostbeautiful spots is where the line crosses War Eagle Rock Lake. Until onthe very brow of the rocky, perpendicular shore, one does not suspect theexistence of a lake, and when nearly there I laughed as Mr. K---- askedhow wide a lake I thought there was between us and the trail leadingthrough some trees apparently close by. A moment later I paused inastonishment. At our feet, full sixty feet below, lying between two wallsof rock, which looked as though an earthquake had rent it apart to leavespace for the sparkling water, was the lake of the romantic name. Belowthe boom, which is eighty feet across, the breach widened, leaving spacefor a tiny rocky island with only sufficient foliage upon it to make itpicturesque--a natural fortress to guard the opening into the broad, beautiful sheet of water which lay beyond. A blacksmith's forge hidden amid the trees, with the brawny smith singingover his work, was the only object of interest we passed before reachingDarlington, the contractor's head-quarters, where Mr. K---- was to leaveme. The bay is an arm of the waters of the Winnipeg River, about three milesfrom its outlet--a low, swampy-looking place. There is a cluster ofshanties for the men, and another serving as offices, with a remnant ofcivilization in one narrow window, in the shape of a doctor's sign; whichhangs crooked, however, as if ashamed of the bad company it has got into. Further on are two log-houses with rather more pretension to comfortabout them, where the contractor and his chief engineer lived. I remainedtwo days with Mrs. W----, the contractor's wife, whose kind hospitalitywill never be forgotten by me, and went on to Kuwatin on Saturdayevening. Mr. F----'s house there is built on the top of the high, rockyland which commands a view of the Lake of the Woods and the WinnipegRiver, and is close to the portage path over which Lord and Lady Dufferinand their party crossed when on their trip through Manitoba the previoussummer, camping at night on the shores of the river. After spending Sunday morning in packing baggage to be sent by the Dawsonroute, we went for a paddle up to the rapids. When the canoe had taken usas far as possible, we got out and clambered over the rocks into thefoam. The mouth of the Winnipeg is divided into two channels by a largeisland; the lower, on which we were, is a succession of rapids each morebeautiful than the last. Skirting the shore through a pretty, woodedpath, we reached a bare hill above the highest rapid. At our feet thewater ran smooth and clear round a bend on the river below. A littlefurther it dashed against great rocks, sending the spray whirling inclouds over their heads where jagged edges fretted it as it passed, orforming clear, deep, dark pools between their smooth and solid sides. Then it swirled round a tiny island, beyond which a long ridge ofpiled-up rocks stretched its bare sides almost across the stream, asthough to stay its impetuous course. The varied expanse of water, framedin overhanging trees, and rocks which rose black against the glowing sky, while the setting sun tinted every jet of spray with crimson and gold, formed a picture I would have liked to carry away with me in more thanmemory. Over many of the deep pools there were long poles with baitedlines, and there, too, the Indians catch large fish with both spear andnet. Half a mile above the rapids, we reached the partially bored tunnelthrough the island which divides the river, the rocks blasted out beingused to fill up the embankment at the crossing. A few days before, thisspot had been the scene of a narrow escape from drowning. Two gentlemen, who attempted to cross in a birch-bark canoe too near the rapids, werecaught by the eddy round the point; the canoe was capsized, and went topieces over the first rapid, while the canoeists, with great difficulty, swam to the further shore, striking it only a few feet above therapid--barely enough to save their lives. Returning from the tunnel, we went into a low-roofed shanty, latelyoccupied by a family of nine. Its accommodation consisted of bunks builtinto the wall for beds, with some dirty hay in them, a smoky mud chimney, a hole dug in the middle of the mud floor to let off the water thatdripped through the roof, and the door hanging loose on its dried skinhinges. There was no window, and but for the many gaps between the logsof the walls, the inmates must have had very little air. On Sunday, the 29th of September, soon after seven o'clock in themorning, loaded with wraps, satchel-bags, and baskets, our travellingparty was on the way down a muddy hill to the little tug awaiting it. Ourold friend, Captain W----, greeting us enthusiastically, and busiedhimself in improvising seats for us with our bags and bale of blankets. The little tug had been built by the captain's own hands, and henaturally thought a great deal of it, but in our eyes it seemed theshakiest-looking craft we had ever been afloat in. Blackened with smoke, exposure, and hard usage, it was yet thoroughly seaworthy, and althoughit rolled about until well under weigh, was not uncomfortable. The sternwas roofed, but the rain drove in at the open sides, until we stretchedsome waterproofs across from one upright to another. The engine firesunderneath, where the energetic one-eyed stoker was not sparing of fuel, made it very warm, and before long I found my way round the tinywheel-house to the bow, and settling myself as comfortably as I couldupon a saw-horse, enjoyed my trip over the lake in spite of the drizzlingrain. As we passed the Hudson Bay Company's post at that portage, the man atthe wheel pointed out the channel he would take when carrying suppliesfor the work on the next portion of the Canada Pacific Railway, whichwould "likely be worked next year;" and the confident tone of monopoly ofthe traffic on the lake with which the man spoke raised vaguespeculations as to the mine of wealth this little creaky boat must be tothe four men who built and worked it, their expenditure being literallyconfined to their own provisions, the oil burnt in their lanterns, andthe cost of cutting the wood for fires. A long canoe, paddled by two grinning young squaws, shot out from thecompany's post, and for a time kept alongside us. About nine we enteredthe Narrows, a passage only just wide enough to allow the tug to pass, and were quickly in the Lake of the Woods. I tried before to recall theimpression made by the beauties of this exquisite lake, when crossing itfor the first time. Its islands and shores were then clad in all theyoung verdure of the spring; now they wore all the glory of the autumn, in hues of crimson, yellow, red, and gold--dark pines blending with andforming backgrounds to the loveliest scenes that painter ever traced orpen described. As I sat on the old saw-horse, vainly endeavouring tograsp all the beauty around, the man at the wheel told me the legends ofeach point and island, gathered from the Ojibbeways during his life amongthem. If any unwary traveller ran his canoe on yonder great dark island, closely wooded to the shore, braving the wrath of the _Mutaha Manito_(Bad Spirit), who claimed it as his own, storms would be sent over thelake by the offended deity, wrecks and misery alone appeasing him. APale-face once, scorning the warning of the Redskin, had landed there, and even dared to build a fire on its shores; but before the sunagain set he found an unknown grave in the great lake. Never in thememory of the Indians had such a terrific storm raged as after theperpetration of the impious act. Further on we saw, in a broad expanse of water, a long, narrow, lonelyisland, its trees low and stunted, its underbrush so matted that it wouldseem impenetrable, where the _Kichee Manito_ (Great Spirit), grieving that the likeness of the _Mutaha Manito_, the_Kennebeck_ (serpent), should trouble his children when upon thechase, or in their homes in the good land he had given them, and yet toomerciful to destroy, sent his messengers in the silent night to gatherall the serpents together. He gave them this island to live in, biddinghis children leave them unmolested. And the poor Indian, in hisgratitude, has never disobeyed the behest. Another beautiful island isthe resting-place of the Great Spirit when he pays his rare visits toearth, and the Indian leaves upon its shores his choicest fish of thefirst catch of the season, and the first-fruits of the chase as hisoblation. Another green hilly island is the grave of the braves, wherethey are laid until the spirits come to lead them to the happy huntinggrounds. CHAPTER XV. Clear Water Bay transformed--Cahill's Farewell--Ptarmigan Bay--A Nightunder Canvas--"No more Collars or Neckties!"--Companions inMisfortune--Cedar Lake--"Lop-sticks"--An Indian Village--Shashegheesh'sTwo Wives--Buying Potatoes--_Seniores Priores_--ExcellentCarrots!--Frank's Flirtations with the Squaws--The Dogs eat Carrière'sToboggan. Towards noon we turned westward into Clear Water Bay, and were soon atthe landing. How changed from the night when we landed here nearly a yearand a half before! Then it was only a forest traversed by a narrow path;now the scene is crowded with a log storehouse and well-used roads, several shanties, piles of glycerine cans, a barge waiting the arrival ofthe tug, swarms of boats and canoes, and groups of navvies standing roundthe storehouse, whence we hear the twang of a rudely played, but notunmusical, violin: Indians and squaws, beside their wigwams, complete thepicture. Here we met our old friend Cahill, who came on board to saygood-bye. He had been away haymaking when I left Lake Deception, and Iregretted not seeing him. He had made up his mind to leave the countryand return to Ontario. In despair because he had not his two trunks withhim, so that he could accompany us, he implored us to wait until he wentand fetched them, and when we tried to explain that we should have nomeans of conveying his trunks he drew himself up and informed us withdignity that he could afford to pay his way like any other honest man. But at last, understanding that our mode of travelling would preclude anysuch weighty baggage as trunks, he bade us farewell and a heartyGod-speed, muttering as he walked away that he would not be long after usin "this God-forsaken counthry, that all the gintlefolks were lavin'. "I have never heard if he carried out his threat, but wherever he may endhis days, I am sure his kind Irish heart will be unchanged. Taking the barge in tow and our Indians--Carrière, who was to act asguide, and a merry Iroquois named Frank Saddler--coming on board, westeamed out of Clear Water Bay, and in the fast-falling rain reached ourlanding-place, a large rock on a sandy, wooded shore, whence we were tomake our first portage into Ptarmigan Bay. The captain let the tug runclose up to this rock, and with little difficulty we disembarked on aspot that seemed to lead nowhere. Bidding us a cordial good-bye, goodluck, and speedy return all round, the jolly old skipper left us, and wewatched the little tug with the barge hugged close alongside to keep itoff the sunken rocks, disappear in the rain. We decided that it was too wet and late to make any further progress thatnight, so Carrière and Frank went in search of a camping-ground; and soonthe merry ring of their axes, the crash of falling timber, and thecrackling of fires, which sent ruddy gleams through the trees, raised ourdrooping spirits and dried our damp clothes, and no merrier party everclustered round the welcome blaze. We enjoyed our pan of fried pork andcold roast beef, accompanied by tin pannikins of tea, more thoroughlythan the most _recherché_ repast served in the most perfectlyappointed dining-room. Spreading the waterproof sheets and robes on theground in the tent, Mr. F---- made the bed over its entire width, thenrolled the ends up, leaving us space to dress. We had a huge fire acrossthe doorway of our tent, and about ten or twelve feet off blazed anotherfire, behind which rose the tent of the gentlemen. "Now we're in camp, away with the frivolities of civilized life, " criedMr. F----, as he took off his collar and necktie and tossed them into hiswife's lap. "I'm not going to put those on again until I get to Winnipeg, and fashion demands the sacrifice; nor coat either--unless, " heprudently added, "I'm caught in the rain;" and he looked up at the stillweeping clouds. No ribbons, no bows, no extra adornments, were to be allowed, and nextmorning, when I appeared with some, I was voted a rebel by the assembledtravellers, and in mock politeness offered a stump to sit on, and aknife, fork, and spoon all to myself. Rising at seven, we made ourtoilets on the shore of the small bay where we had landed the nightbefore, and it required some little practice to wash our faces, standingor kneeling on the slippery stones, without getting our skirts wet orletting the water run up our sleeves. After breakfast we packed up, andthe men having taken over the canoes, we all followed, each carrying whatwe could, through a narrow belt of woods; then the path rounded a grassyswamp to a long, rocky point. Mr. M---- was some distance in front, withthe frying-pan in one hand, and a basket containing the knives, forks, etc. , in the other, while my load was the lantern, whisky-keg, and asmall tin pail of pork. Just as I reached the rock, Mr. M----, who wasfeeling his way along the top, and warning me to be careful, slipped, turned, and, vainly trying to grasp the rock, went down on all fours witha run and splash into the lake. Away went Frank after him, shouting witha laugh, "I'll save the frying-pan!" "What's that?" cried Mrs. F----, who was behind me with a load of shawls. "Only Mr. M---- in the lake, " said I; and adding conceitedly, "Wait aminute, Mr. M----, and I'll come and pull you out"--I stepped upon whatwas apparently firm ground, and sank to my knees in soft, slimy mud, fromwhich I was with difficulty extricated. When the canoe loads weredivided, it was voted unanimously that Mr. M---- and I should be put inthe same boat, to sink or swim together. The day cleared, and we reached our next portage after a three-hours'paddle, from Ptarmigan Bay to a nameless lake, one of the most beautifulI ever saw. The portage is about half a mile long, up a narrow path overa hill, and the men loaded and travelled so well, that in two trips theyhad carried everything over, while we, though more lightly laden, onlyaccomplished one. Somebody here called attention to the wisdom with whichI had chosen my load, as it got lighter at every trip, especially thewhisky, which, by the way, was contraband. Of course we gave the lake aname--in fact, it had half a dozen before we left it, one being in honourof the dear little baby, who, through all the discomforts of our trip, enjoyed and bore it best among us. But the name it retained was CedarLake, from a lovely passage, three or four hundred feet long, between themainland and an island, each high, rocky bank being covered with largecedars, which almost met overhead. Passing out from among the cedars, Carrière paused a moment; then, steering the canoe in another direction, said--"This is the way, Mr. M----. I doubted a moment, for I was only over this part of the trail once, nearly four years ago. Four years this Christmas. " "Why, how can you tell which way to take? All the points and islands lookalike to me. " "By some landmarks. I paid an Indian a dollar to show me this road, and Inever forget. I know the dry wood yonder, and I know the portage by a bigstone I cooked my dinner on. There's an old tree fallen in the water bythe landing, which will be troublesome, " he added. Ten minutes afterwardswe reached the spot, and had a great deal of difficulty in getting thesaid tree out of the way, and ourselves ashore. This portage is longer than the first, and over quite a steep hill, where, in spite of its diminishing character, I found my load almost morethan I could carry, and gladly gave the pork to Frank. It was noon whenwe reached the mouth of a creek in Shoal Lake. Sitting down comfortablyupon a quantity of mown hay on the shore, we had our lunch, the first manover the portage having made a fire, and rested for an hour. Theunfortunate Mr. M----, reaching from a log for water, and stumbling inagain, afforded us some entertainment, but this time I did not propose torescue him. Shoal Lake is about twelve miles long and five wide, and is at times theroughest lake in the chain. Canoes are often wind-bound for days upon itsshores, and we congratulated ourselves on our good fortune in having sucha fine day to cross in. It was a long twelve miles' paddle. As we crossedthe northern end, Carrière pointed out the winter trail to the "Nor'-westAngle, " six miles from its southern shores, which could be followed forover nine miles by the lop-sticks in view. The Indians formerly madethese lop-sticks only to commemorate some great event, but now they willmake one in return for a bag of flour or a feast. Choosing one of thetallest trees, they cut off all the branches, except the very topmost, and their bare stems make them distinguishable from the rest of theforest a long way off. There is a Hudson Bay Company's post on one of the islands on Shoal Lake, and we could hear the trained dogs there howling dreadfully. About sixo'clock we reached Indian Bay, on the northern shore of Shoal Lake. Itsentrance is guarded by an island, and round its western point lie the lowmeadow lands at the mouth of Falcon River. The Indian village on theshore of the bay comprises but a few scattered log-houses anduntidy-looking wigwams of birch bark, most of them empty. The ground aboutthe lodges was planted with potatoes, and upright poles with cross sticksstood near, to dry fish and skins upon. The Indians, with the exceptionof a few half-grown boys, were all away at the Hudson Bay trading-post toget their treaty-money, which varied in amount according to their rank inthe tribe, the chief getting the immense sum of twenty-five dollars ayear. A group of squaws turned out to greet the approach of our canoes, which excited far more interest than ourselves. We went up a long path tothe chief's house, where an old squaw with five children, aged fromsixteen to three years, lived. Another house close by was inhabited byShashegheesh's youngest wife, a tall, slight, rather good-looking squaw, wearing a merino skirt and loose cotton jacket. Mr. F---- had commissionedCarrière to buy some potatoes of her; but before the bargain was completed, her old rival, a puffy-cheeked, but still handsome woman, came forward, asserting her prior right, assuring us that her potatoes were the best. On this, the younger squaw, without a word of remonstrance, dropped thehalf-apronful she had gathered; and the old one, sending for a birch-barktray, sold the potatoes off her rival's domains, and pocketed thetwenty-five cents (1s. 3d. ). Carrière tried hard to induce her to throwin one or two miserable-looking carrots for the same money; but, laughingderisively, she declined unless he would pay more. Anxious, however, tosell them, she followed us down to the shore, carrots in hand. We peeped into the house; it was bare of all furniture, a roll of skinsand some matting which they make themselves being the only things wecould see. Yet Shashegheesh is one of the richest chiefs in that part ofthe country, and has two wives, because he can afford to build and keeptwo houses. Several other houses, well built and with good mud chimneys, were empty, but, Carrière said, only during the summer. A tattered birch-bark wigwam near the landing was inhabited by a squawand half a dozen children. A papoose, laced in his birch-bark cradle, hisface covered with blood, was roaring lustily. The squaw said his face wassore, and he had scratched it. His screams increasing at our appearance, she seized hold of the strap the cradle is carried by, and gave it aviolent shake, making a queer guttural remark that silenced him at once. The inside of this wigwam was more comfortable than Shashegheesh's house. The floor was strewn with clean cedar boughs, leaving a round space inthe centre, where there were still remains of a fire. The squaw and thegirls here, too, were better dressed than the chief's family. One childabout ten had a bright pink merino dress, profusely trimmed with narrowblack velvet and small white china buttons; her hair was braided withcoloured ribbons and beads, strings of beads also encircling her wrists, neck, and ankles. She came out and danced for our entertainment, twistingand whirling about, snapping her fingers over her head, and tossing herlong braids about. Her friends all regarded her performance with evidentadmiration. While we looked on, a canoe, laden with cedar boughs, and paddled by twopretty young squaws, came gliding in along the shore. Frank, who couldnot understand a word of their language, sat on a log near, and soonpeals of merry laughter betrayed a lively flirtation. Close together, thegirls sidled up to him; and he, casting insinuating glances at them, poked them in the ribs, when they ran laughing away, hiding behind thelow bushes that skirted the shore. Presently they peeped out, to find anexpression of utter indifference on Frank's face, as he idly kicked thepebbles at his feet. When they gradually returned to the charge, Frank, with a laughing look at us, said something in his own tongue, to whichthey listened with finger on lip, looking at each other, as thoughsaying-- "What does it mean? Shall we remain or fly?" Before they could decide, Frank made a feint to spring after them, atwhich they turned, and fled like frightened fawns. Not being followed, they ventured to return, coming closer and closer, until Frank, watchinghis opportunity, really sprang after them, grasped the prettiest by theelbows, and bent her lithe body back until he could look close into thebrown eyes. Then, as she struggled violently, with a laugh he let herfree. It was time to embark, and kissing his hand to the girls, he leapedinto the canoe and pushed off, we following more slowly, taking a lastlook of the group on shore--the Indian wigwam, the pretty squaws, leaningsadly against each other as they watched Frank's canoe round the point;the stout matron, still flourishing the emaciated-looking carrots, andshrilly vociferating their perfections to Carrière; and the dancing-girlwaving a farewell with a huge cedar bough. Carrière told us that during the previous winter the village was full, and when he stopped a night there, _en route_ from Winnipeg, some ofthe Indians took his dog-train over to an opposite point for a fiddlerwho lived there, and all spent the night in a grand "spree" of dancingand drinking. But in the morning only the shattered remains of histoboggan and dogs were to be found, the half-starved native animalshaving devoured provisions and robes, and gnawed the toboggan to pieces, so that he had to make the best of his way home on foot--a sadder, if nota wiser, man. CHAPTER XVI. Falcon River--An Unlucky Supper--The Fate of our Fried Pork--A WearyPaddle--A Sundial in the Wilderness--A Gipsy Picnic--"Floating away"--TheDried Musk-rats--Falcon Lake--How can we land?--Mr. M---- "inagain"--Surprised by Indians--How we dried our Clothes--The Last Night inCamp. Half an hour after leaving the Indian village we reached Falcon River, anarrow winding stream running in a swamp between hills. About half a miledown we struck our camp for the night, at a spot where a rude wharf orlanding of logs had been built by the contractors' haymakers. Inside arude "corelle, " or paddock, where they had kept their cattle, we pitchedour tent and made a fire. The night set in so dark and cloudy that, unless within the immediate blaze, it was impossible to see what we weredoing. We were hungry, and the added luxury of potatoes made us anxiousto have dinner as soon as possible. Carrière brought in wood for thenight, Mr. F---- made up our tent, and Mr. M---- superintended thestowage of the canoes, while Frank put our precious potatoes in a tinkettle over the fire, and, in mistaken zeal, the frying-pan of pork atthe same time. The latter, of course, was cooked long before the former, so, taking it off the fire, he set it on the ground hard by. Mr. M----coming up a moment after, and yielding to the universal desire to "pokethe fire, " stepped into the pan of pork. While we were laughing over hispropensity for tumbling into things, Carrière, who, poor fellow, wasstill suffering terribly from rheumatism, limped up with a log on hisshoulder, and also fell foul of the pork. At the same moment a lanternappeared in the distance, carried by Mr. F----, on his return from thecanoe. Jumping over the fence, he exclaimed, "By Jove! that blaze isgood. I'll get warm before I do anything else, " and stepped back splashinto the ill-fated pan of pork, making what was left of the contents flyin every direction. "That's a bad place for it!" said Carrière, coolly picking up the pieces, and putting it on the other side of the fire. "Are those potatoes boiled yet?" Frank shouted from the darkness, and, being answered in the affirmative, made his appearance with the bagcontaining our dinner service of tin and other table necessaries. Teamade, drawn, and the potatoes boiled to a turn, Frank prepared to serveup the dinner, but looked in vain for the pork. "I say, Carrière, whathave you done with the frying-pan? I left it just here!" he cried, seizing a brand from the fire for a torch. Scarcely had he uttered thewords when a stumble and "O Lord!" told us that the pork was really donefor this time. Rain fell heavily all night, but held off in the morning long enough forus to get breakfast and start, which we lost no time in doing as therewas a long paddle before us to our next camping-ground. Oh, the windingsof that Falcon River! In some parts not more than a canoe's length wide, and in none more than two, it wound in and out, up and down, this way andthat. For a hundred feet we were dead against the wind, then a sharp turnsent us spinning along before it, when, standing up, I held thewaterproof in my outstretched arms as a sail. Each bend of the shore wasso abrupt that the impetus of turning drove the canoe half a length intothe long grass, and it was with some difficulty backed out. We were cutoff from our companions' canoe, but could see their heads apparently onlya few feet from us, as the crow flies; but so numerous were the turns ofthe river between us, that they were really half a mile behind. At noon we stopped at another haymaker's deserted camping-ground, andtook shelter from the now pouring rain under a lean-to of poles coveredwith bark. A low shanty near having a rude crank for holding a kettleover the fire, we had a comfortable lunch. Out in the open, where therewere remnants of rough cultivation, was a sundial made of a jagged-edgedflat piece of tin, the figures scratched with a knife. Carrière said thatit was the best camping-ground on the river, and while a gang of men werethere was very comfortable. Had any one from the more civilized worldseen us idly lolling about on the logs or ground in our travellingcostumes, the Indians leaning against the uprights, the baby as happy asa queen on an outspread buffalo robe, the tin plates and mugs, knives, forks, and kettles, to say nothing of the whisky-keg, and general_debris_ of a finished feast, and at the same time heard the steady, drenching rain descending round us, he might have wondered at thelaughter, fun, and chaff in which we all indulged. But we could not stay there all day, and the rain showing no signs ofabating, we set out again. Not far from the camping-ground we passed anIndian standing on the bank near two birch-bark canoes, while up on thehill a wretched wigwam sent forth the usual number of squaws, children, and dogs to greet our approach. The Indian had no potatoes, no ducks, nofish, no anything to sell; so, with a "Bon jour, nitchee, " we sped on. About this time I noticed that my hat, a brown straw with green leavessomewhere amongst the trimming, was weeping blue tears all down myulster. Taking the drenched and now almost colourless leaves out, I sentthem afloat on the river, mentally resolving that if I ever undertook ajourney of the kind again, I would have a casing of waterproof, and leavevoluminous skirts and useless adornments at home. At one of the landing spots was an upright pole, from the top of whichhung half a dozen musk-rats, tied together with a red string; and such isthe honesty of the Indians, that they might hang there until they rottedoff, before any but the rightful owner would touch them. Carrière said the swamp was full of traps, and pointed out many spotswhere he knew they were placed to catch the musk-rats, but which to oureyes were undistinguishable from the rest of the swamp. On, on, down the interminable river. The rain was still falling, and wewere all gradually getting numbed and quiet; running into the shore, orspinning before the wind, no longer affording any excitement. We got sofar ahead of the other canoe that we could not hear even Mr. K----'s"Whoop it up!" as he called a wild halloo he indulged in whenever hethought our spirits needed raising. Pulling up under the shelter of somebulrushes, for the wind was becoming keener every moment, we waited withchattering teeth until our comrades joined us, when we kept togetherbetter for the remainder of the way. During the afternoon we severaltimes crossed the south or first line surveyed for the Canada Pacific, which has been proved by recent inquiries the most inexpensive route. ButI could not help pitying the "party" that had to work through such awretched country. As we neared the mouth of the river we felt the wind very much, and vaguefears of what the weather would be like outside, and what chance therewas of landing, began to assail us. However, there was nothing for it butto persevere. When nearly dusk, the wash of the waves on the shore warnedus that we were on the Falcon Lake. Subdued by atmospheric woes, we heardthe sound without comment, but it revived the drooping energies of ourcanoe-men, and, putting on a spurt, we were soon across the bay. Beyondthe point great white capped waves tossed and raged before the fury ofthe wind. If we could only round the point, a good camping-ground awaitedus, but it was a question whether the canoes could live through the turn. However, the alternative of landing in a swamp made it worth the attempt. Asking me if I was afraid to venture, and being answered, "Not if_you_ are not!" Mr. M---- headed the canoe towards the lake, and ina moment we were abreast of the point, when Carrière said--"Better nottry it, sir; it is too dark to cross the lake, and on this shore thecanoe would be dashed to pieces before we could unload her. " So we turned, and a few vigorous strokes drove the canoe well up into thelong grass, where we sat a moment waiting for the next scene of thetragi-comedy. It was Mr. M---- "in again"--but purposely this time. Rolling up their trousers as high as they could, the men jumped into theswamp, and though sinking nearly to their waists, they with a"Heave-ahoy!" pulled the loaded canoe well up to the bank. Then biddingus stay quiet until they got the tents pitched and the fire alight, theyleft us in the fast-gathering darkness to do that hardest work of all, which generally falls to woman's lot--to wait. As we sat silently there, the baby asleep, the maid telling her woes over the side of the canoe inthe most heart-rending manner, we were nearly startled out of our wits bythe sudden appearance of a birch-bark canoe propelled by two shaggy-hairedIndians, which glided into the swamp alongside of us. Listening to thering of axes and voices on shore, then pointing to us, they asked somequestion in their own tongue, which we answered by pointing to the landand nodding. With an "Ugh!" they left their canoe and went on shore, where they were immediately pressed into the service to unload and gatherhay for our beds. They had a "tom-tom"--an instrument something between adrum and a tambourine, which they play at all their feasts and gamblingbouts--a scarlet top knotted cock of the woods, a small fish, a littlebirch bark basket with the lid tightly sewed down, and an old worn-outblanket in their canoe. It was quite dark by the time we landed, cramped and cold from our longday on the river. I, however, was the best off, as I had the width of thecanoe to myself, and was not afraid to move about a little, while Mrs. F---- had to share her seat with the maid and the baby. We flounderedhelplessly up the wet path, sinking over our ankles in many places, but aglorious fire on the top of the height greeted us, and a mug of hotwhisky and water--taken medicinally, of course--made us quite ready toeat a hearty dinner and dry our wet clothes. The tent was prepared, and, drying under its folds, we divested ourselves of one garment, and afterdrying it dived under again, to put it on while we dried the next. Hammering sticks into the ground round the fire, we soon surmounted themwith an array of different-sized boots and various-coloured stockings. Weheld more voluminous articles to the fire ourselves, avoiding the sparksas best we might, and closing our eyes to let the smoke-drawn tears rollslowly down our cheeks, to be opened suddenly by an outcry from the otherside of the fire of-- "Look out there, Miss F----; your flannel skirt is burning!" And as I grasp the precious article, and quench the sparks with my hands, I see through the flames some of his own garments floating into the fire. The wind blows the sticks down and prostrates an impromptu clothes-linewith all its load, while the maid's lugubrious countenance, as she driespetticoat after petticoat and skirt after skirt, set me speculating howmuch there would be left of her if she took them _all_ off. OurIndian visitors sit hugging their knees and holding their bare feet tothe fire, gazing at all the trouble we take over our absurd superfluitiesof clothing with stolid indifference. Frank is lying on the hay near, threatening them with the dire vengeance he will wreak on their backs ifthey get up in the night and burn the dry wood be has had such difficultyin collecting, and which is to be kept for cooking breakfast; and of howlittle value their life will be to them if they so much as lay a fingeron the tent he is going to leave standing there ready to occupy on hisway back. The wilder his threats become, the more expressionless aretheir faces; not a gleam of intelligence crosses them when he says heknows well enough they can talk English as well as he can. "Wasn't he taken in once? But never will Redskin impose on him again. "And he laughs scornfully at the idea. We sat up late that night, as the rain had ceased, and we had been sodull all day that we felt bound to make up for it now, especially as thiswas to be our last night in camp. Frank and Carrière vied with each otherin relating their narrow escapes from accidents and scarcity ofprovisions, when Hudson Bay fare of "one pound of flour, half a pound oftea, and one pound of fat pork, or one jack-fish six mile long, " wouldhave been appreciated. These stories were varied by anecdotes of peoplethey had travelled with; some trick of speaking or peculiarity ofexpression or action, cleverly mimicked by the Indians, pointing theirstory and giving pungency to their wit. CHAPTER XVII Indian Loyalty--A Nap on Falcon Lake--A False Alarm--The Power ofWhisky--Magnificent Water Stretches--A Striking Contrast--PicnicLake--How we crossed Hawk Lake--Long Pine Lake--Bachelors' Quarters atIngolf--We dress for Dinner--Our Last Portage--A Rash Choice--Graspyour Nettle--Mr. F----'s Gallantry--Cross Lake--Denmark's Ranche--ATramp through the Mire. Next morning the sun rose bright and clear, but as there was still agood deal of wind, which was likely to increase as the day advanced, westarted early; not, however, before Mr. F---- had sent the strangeIndians to shoot some ducks we had heard on the lake. They returned withone old and five young birds, for which they got five cents apiece, andthe remnants of our breakfast. We all set to work to pick them at once. Carrière, at my instigation, tried every inducement in his power, offering the Indians three times its value in money, to purchase thelittle basket of wild rice they had in their canoe, but without success. "It belonged to another Indian, and they had not leave to sell it, " theysaid, in answer to all his persuasions. We embarked on the Falcoln Lakeside of the point; the water was still so rough that the canoes had to beheld off the rocks to prevent their bumping. Mr. F---- and Frank struckdirectly across the lake and hugged the western shore, but Mr. M---- andCarrière, trusting to my being a good sailor, kept in the middle of thelake in a direct course to the portage. The waves were just high enough to give the canoe a cradle-like motion. Settling myself comfortably, and being covered with a warm rug, I sleptsoundly until we reached the portage--an hour's paddle--so that I knewvery little of the beauties of the lake. Looking back at it as we sat onthe shore waiting for the other canoe, its shores seemed hilly, anddevoid of bays or foliage. When the others came in, they expressedastonishment that I could sleep when the water was so rough; they couldnot see us at all times, and feared we were lost, and the reappearance ofthe canoe, apparently without me in it, had puzzled them not a little. Before we were ready to cross the portage our Indian visitors overtook usand carried some of our baggage. When asked to take a canoe, they lookedat it, lifted it shook their heads, laughed and told Carrière it was 'tooheavy, they were not beasts. ' Mr. F---- offered them a dollar to take itover to the next lake--less than half a mile. 'No'--they lifted it againcarefully, taking everything out of it--"no, they wouldn't do it for fivedollars. " Then Mr. M---- and Frank, putting their folded coats on their shouldersto rest the edge on, took up the canoe, one end on Mr. M----'s leftshoulder, and the other on Frank's right, and went off at an easy run, the Indians watching them open mouthed. Then they again tried the weightof the other, anxious to get the money, but too lazy to earn it. At lastMr. F---- had a "happy thought". Showing the Indians the whisky keg, andholding the open bunghole to their noses, he made them understand that ifthey carried the canoe over they should have some of "the cratur" whenthey returned. This worked like a charm, in two minutes the canoe washoisted on their shoulders, and they were off at double the pace of theothers. Before they returned, Mr. F---- emptied out most of the whiskyand replaced it with water, shaking the keg well to give it a flavour. Itis against the law to give Indians spirits, but he knew that this milddraught could not hurt them. They were apparently quite satisfied, andleft us, promising to bring us some potatoes to the end of the nextportage. But either they detected the fraud, and did as Indians generallydo when cheated--said nothing at the time, but would rather starve thangive one a chance to cheat them again--or they were unable to procure thepotatoes; at all events, we saw no more of them. The next lake at which we arrived was very picturesque. I asked Carrièreits name, but he laughed and replied, "It has no name, Miss F----. It isonly one of those 'magnificent water stretches' we hear MacKenzie talkingso much about. " [Footnote: During the debate on the building of the FortFrancis Locks, when justifying their immense cost to the country in orderto utilize the water communication, the Honourable Alexander MacKenzie, then leader of the Government, and Minister of Public Works, spokefrequently of the "magnificent water stretches between them andWinnipeg. "] We were determined not to allow it to be nameless any longer, and unanimously decided to call it Otley Lake, after the brown-eyed baby. It is a small lake, and soon crossed. A short portage follows, and on theshores of the next and yet smaller lake we stopped for luncheon. Theportage was muddy; we had tucked up our skirts as high as we could tokeep them out of harm's way, and were standing idly about, watching themaid wash, and Frank cook the ducks, when we heard distant shouting. Before we could decide whence it came, Mr. F----, who had gone out in thecanoe to reconnoitre, reappeared; but not alone. Mr. K---- was with him, in a new and spotless suit of Oxford grey, irreproachable collar andcuffs, light-blue necktie, and new hat; looking clean, fresh, andcivilized. What a contrast! Mrs. F---- gave her dress a shake, andstraightened her hat, while I, in my anxiety to let down the loops in myskirts, made sad havoc amongst the strings; and the maid exclaimed, in atone of personal injury-- "Law! and we're such figures!" I reproached him for making us feel our position so keenly. The scenewould have made a good caricature: our travel-tossed party, with draggledskirts, and hats shapeless from much drenching rain; the men coatless, collarless, cuffless, with trousers rolled up and hair guiltless ofparting; remnants of provisions, dishes, rugs, shawls, and coats litteredover the ground, --all in sharp contrast with the perfect type andfinished product of civilization landing from the canoe. The very gracewith which he lifted his hat as he greeted us made us feel that contrastmore! However, we soon forgave him, we were so glad to see him; especially ashe brought the mail-bag. While the men read their letters, I consoledmyself for having none with a can of Californian pears, which were amongthe many things Mr. K---- brought. Don't misunderstand me, and think Iate them all; but I confess to a fair share. The ducks, too, fried inpork fat, were not bad, and we enjoyed our picnic very much, even though, not having provided for visitors, one did without a fork and anotherwithout a spoon, to make them go round. Before leaving the scene of ourmeeting, the lake was dubbed Picnic Lake. It was only a hundred yards orso across to Hawk Lake, which looked wild and stormy. But Mr. K---- hadcrossed it in safety a few hours before, so there was really littledanger with good men and canoes. It was impossible to remain where wewere without provisions, and there was every prospect of the wind'sincreasing instead of diminishing; so there was nothing for it but toventure. Our canoe, as usual, took the lead, and shooting beyond an island wellinto the open, was soon joined by the others. Strict orders were given byour commander-in-chief, Mr. F----, to keep together: Mr. K---- and histwo men in one canoe to the left towards the middle of the lake, abouthalf a canoe's length ahead, and three away from ours; Mr. F----'s beingabout the same distance on the right, and nearest the shore. Thus Mr. K----'s canoe broke the first dash of the wave, and ours made it stillless strong against Mr. F----'s. But before long the delight of dancingover the waves made Mr. M---- and Carrière work to such purpose that weregained the lead, Mr. M---- shouting, "Here comes another, Carrière!Head her up!" as a great wall of white-capped water rushing down upon usseemed to threaten destruction to our tiny boat; then, with a splash, struck it, dashing the spray over us as we rose above it and were readyfor another. As the wave passed behind we could hear it strike the nextcanoe, and then the wash of the water as it went under. It was great fun, and I could have wished it to last longer, but for a glance at Mrs. F----, who with white face and compressed lips clasped her baby closer in herarms as each wave came. Though of too true metal to make a fuss or giveexpression to her terror, one could see what she suffered every moment, until, getting to leeward of a large island, the lake became calm and thetension of her nerves relaxed. It took from an hour and a half to twohours to cross Hawk Lake, but to me it seemed only a few minutes. Turning into a bay to the east, we landed on our last portage beforereaching Ingolf. It was a long, wet track, with a narrow ravine in themiddle, over which a rude road of loose logs had been made, while downthe hills trickled tiny streams and a brawling, moss-bordered brook. There were two trails, and while the Indians and canoe-men took the lowerand shorter, we pursued the upper. We were too tired to notice the beautyof the country, and were glad to reach the canoes on Long Pine Lake. Wepassed parties of men returning from their work, some of whom took chargeof our luggage; and all crowding into one canoe, we were soon at Ingolf, the most western station on Contract 15. Long Pine Lake looked still and pond-like; the weeds and slimy tendrilsin the water were too visible, the bank we landed upon was too muddy, andthe scattered _débris_ of recent building did not add to itsattractions. Although the engineers had but lately moved into the house, and one wing of it was still in the workmen's hands, everything was ascomfortable and well arranged as good taste could make it. Bachelors'quarters they were--the only house on the contract uninhabited bywoman--but the ingenuity and industry with which they had been fitted upmore than compensated for her absence. The walls of the sitting, smoking, and general lounging room were hungwith trophies of the chase--Indian work, pictures and photographs oflovely faces from the artist world; while books, papers, and easy chairstempted one to linger. The dining-room and kitchen were still unfinished. So, when we had shaken ourselves straight, and resumed our despisedcollars and neckties, Mr. K---- took us over in the canoe to thecontractor's shanty to dinner. The pretty woman who waited upon us couldnot complain of the fare not being appreciated. We did full justice toit; lingering until long after dark, telling our adventures andsharpening our wits against each other. The doctor also joined our party. But a six-o'clock breakfast and early departure being decided upon, wehad to break up at a reasonable hour. In the morning we found we must keep to the canoe route, instead of goingby waggon to Cross Lake as we had intended. Rain had fallen all night, but it was then bright and clear. Long Pine Lake looked better in thesunlight, and the portage to Hawk Lake, to which we had to return inorder to reach Cross Lake, unnoticed the night before, was fully enjoyednow. The ground was carpeted ankle-deep with moss of endless variety, andferns sparkling with raindrops. Hawk Lake was calm, only a light rippleglittering in the sun where had been white-capped waves before. Crossingthe north-west end, we struck a short portage to a tiny lake, acrosswhich a few minutes' paddle carried us. It was now comparatively easywork for the men, all the heavy camping baggage having been left atIngolf, and the remainder, except our hand-satchels, sent on by packersgoing through to Cross Lake. As Mr. K---- and his men accompanied us, nodouble trips were necessary. Our last portage showed many signs of active life; there were severalboats left by packers--glycerine cans, large racks on whichwhitefish-nets were drying, a shanty with a rugged garden round it, besides the well-worn paths which tell of frequent traffic. The men wentbriskly up the hill with our canoe, and were soon out of sight; butthinking that the lower path was likely to be the coolest and mostsheltered, we followed that. It was so pretty and dry for the firsthalf-mile that we congratulated ourselves upon our choice, and pitiedthe poor men toiling up the rocks in the heat. But our self-satisfactionwas short-lived. A few yards further the path began to descend, gettingwetter and more swampy at every step. Mr. K----, who carried his paddles, threw them across the mud as bridges, and by taking advantage of all thefallen trees and stumps, we got on pretty well for a time. But the taskbecame more and more difficult every minute. Once, while scrambling alonga half-submerged log, I grasped some tall weeds to save myself fromfalling; they tinned out to be stinging nettles, and I do not feel calledupon to recommend them as a means of support. Presently Mr. F----, whowas in front, called out-- "Hallo! here's a jolly puddle!" and plunged in up to his knees. It wastoo wide to bridge, the paddles were too narrow to afford us foothold;and before we guessed his intention, Mr. F---- deposited the satchels hecarried on the other side, came back and took his wife on his back, saying I was to wait till he returned. The extra weight made him sinkdeeper in the swamp; and as Mrs. F----'s dress floated on the slimysurface, Mr. K---- followed, and raising it tenderly on the blade of thepaddle, the procession moved on; while I, the sole spectator, stood, likea stork, on a stump barely wide enough to support one foot at a time, awaiting my turn. When we arrived at the lake, a few minutes afterwards, we found the maid, who had gone on with Mr. M---- and the baby, while we were loitering atthe last landing, busy removing the mud which encased her clothes. _She_ had found no friendly back on which to rise above the swamp, and had accordingly fared badly. While waiting for the canoes, we spreadour shawls on the grassy shore under some trees and sat down. Presentlysome one regretted the absence of the provision-bag, and the maidregretted that she had not asked how to make the buns we had forbreakfast. (She amused us much by her anxiety to collect receipts. ) Tosoothe these mourners, Mr. M----, with some little trouble, produced fromone of his pockets a can of salmon. "Hungry! Oh yes, we were hungry enough to eat anything. " But when the tinwas opened, we found that canned salmon, without bread or vinegar, went along way. Even our hunger could not tempt us to take more than one taste, after which we unanimously resolved not to spoil our appetites fordinner. Cross Lake is long, narrow, and uninteresting, and the surroundingcountry flat, though rocky. When we crossed it was quite calm, butCarrière said that it was one of the roughest of the lakes in a storm, the west wind having a clear sweep over it. After paddling for about anhour and a half, when we reached the spot where the railway line crosseda narrow part of the lake, and the embankment was partly filled in, weturned to our left into a narrow, winding creek, very like Falcon River, and in five minutes were at Denmark's Ranche. Then we climbed up a very muddy bank, and along a still muddier dump, orrailroad embankment, to the shanty, a large log-hut with severaladditions, one of a single room ten feet square. The cook, his wife--adelicate-looking woman--and two children lived here. They welcomed uskindly, and with many apologies for the want of space. Their room wasneat and clean, and the inmates seemed contented with everything exceptthe mud, which was so deep all round the shanty that it was impossible togo out with any comfort, and the absence of exercise was very much felt. The ranche was always full of people coming and going, so there was nolack of society or news. The room we dined in was large, about twentyfeet by sixteen. The table was covered with brown oil-cloth, and hadbenches along it at one end. The other was filled with temporary bunkslike the berths in a steamer, one above the other. The _menu_contained, among other things, a wild goose, roasted and stuffed with amixture of breadcrumbs and raisins, more like an imitation plum puddingthan anything else, flat pies filled with dried apples, and theinevitable plates of fresh, sliced cheese, which is the chief peculiarityof Ontario farmhouse tables. While at dinner a heavy shower fell, and we were told that we could formno idea of the state of the road in consequence of so much rain. Novehicle could traverse it, and we must walk the remaining six miles tothe end of the track. Mr. M---- went immediately to detain the train untilwe could reach it, and after saying good bye to Mr. K----, who returned toIngolf, we followed, Mr. D---- coming with us to "carry the baby, " hesaid. And so he did, the whole distance, and his own bairns, miles away, had many a hug that day by proxy, I fancy. Poor Carrière, too, though very lame, rather than let the baggage be leftbehind and Mr. K---- inconvenienced, also came. For the first mile it_was_ muddy, but, thinking it better than our expectations, we slippedand plodded along very contentedly, stopping every now and then to scrapeour boots, but this made our progress slow, and we had no time to waste. Soon the path, or what had once been one, terminated, and we had to jumpthe drain to the embankment, and climb that. In five minutes our feetweighed pounds, and we understood the navvies' saying that they "took upland wherever they worked. " Goloshes were useless, and we soon discardedthem, and, but for fear of hurting my feet with hidden stones or sticks, Iwould have discarded my shoes too. Still on we plodded, sinking to ourankles at almost every step; it was warm work. At the end of the secondmile, near a group of shanties, the road was a little dryer, and a pileof ties gave us a resting-place for a few minutes. After this the roadgot worse and worse, and trying to walk on the greasy, slippery railwayties scattered about was even more difficult than plodding through themud. The maid, who entered a protest against the country at everyopportunity, was sliding and slipping over these ties in front; glancingdown the embankment, three or four feet in depth, she uttered a heartfelt"Thank God! a path at last, " and, giving one jump, she sank nearly to herknees in the marsh. The doleful expression of her face, and the hopelessdisappointment with which she scrambled up the muddy bank back to theslippery ties, was too much for my gravity. I am afraid my laughteroffended the poor girl, and it was scarcely fair, either, as she hadborne all the disagreeables far better than people in her class generallydo. CHAPTER XVIII. Tilford--Pedestrians under Difficulties--The Railway at last--Not exactlya First-class Carriage--The Jules Muskeg--Whitemouth and Broken-HeadRivers--Vagaries of the Engine-driver--The Hotel at St. Boniface--RedRiver Ferry--Winnipeg--"A Vagabond Heroine"--The Terrier at fault. We reached Tilford about six. How we pitied the pretty, sad-lookingwoman, wife of the engineer, for having to live in a house stranded upona bank of mud, just high enough to keep the water out, and with mud andmarsh on all sides for miles, making it impossible to go out! They had nosociety, and only the bare necessaries of life about them; the mailcarrier and the telegraph were their only means of communication with theoutside world. Excusing our travel-stained appearance, they persuaded us to stay todinner. My hands were so muddy that I tried to keep them under the tableas much as possible; but, finding this awkward, I looked to see if it wasnoticed, and was relieved by finding I had companions in misery. We left Tilford at seven, and for some little distance the road seemedbetter. Fortunately, it was a moonlight night, or we should have haddifficulty in keeping the trail. For some distance it ran along the muddydump, then came a great open culvert, with a gang of men sitting round afire at the bottom. One of them called out as we appeared, "Ye's can'tgit down here; ye's'll have to go round. " Retracing our steps a hundredfeet, we found a track down the side to a submerged bridge, which wetraversed as quickly as possible, but not without getting wet to ourknees in ice-cold water. Next we climbed up a narrow path, so close tothe edge that a false step would have precipitated us ten or twelve feetto the rock below. A steep, uneven fragment of path had to be traversed, and we were in the middle of the cutting. Just beyond was another culvertin a more advanced stage; and we walked carefully across a narrow singleboard, whose ends lay loosely over one another in the careless way inwhich men generally run up scaffolding, so that one nail is the onlything that keeps them in this world. The planks were slippery, and in theuncertain moonlight we scarcely breathed while crossing them. On, on, through more mud and water, until, about half-past eight, we saw thewhitewashed walls of the telegraph office at the end of the track, andMr. M---- came springing down the bank to meet us. "I have just been asking if you were still at Tilford, " he said. "I neverthought you could get through but would give in and stay there all night. The engine-driver was getting impatient to be off, so I came to findout. " When we reached the train a load of ties blocked the way, so we had toclimb up on a truck, jump down again, and go round a cattle-van to theopen truck or freight-car, where our luggage was already piled, and onwhich we were to make our trip to Winnipeg. Spreading the robes on thefloor, Mr. M---- piled the bags and valises in the centre for us to leanagainst, and covered us with blankets and shawls. Before settling down, however, I took friendly advice, and trusting to the covering of thesemi-darkness, changed my shoes, throwing the mud-laden ones overboard. Then, when well under the blankets, I was comparatively warm. Carrièreand Frank came to say good-bye before the train started. They, poorfellows, had to trudge back to the ranche that night, and I, beingperhaps the only one of the party who was never likely to see them again, parted from the kindly, good-natured men with regret. Mr. D---- also leftus, with many good wishes and good-byes. The track was not ballasted for the first forty-five miles, and the carrocked frightfully. The wind was bitterly cold, and we crouched downcloser under the blankets, but were unable to keep warm until after teno'clock, when Mr. F---- stopped the train at Whitemouth and borrowed aroll of blankets from the engineer there. With this additional covering, we succeeded in warming our wet clothes. The dear little baby slept allthe time in its mother's arms, as cozy and comfortable as possible. Heronly dread was that it might be smothered, and many an anxious peep wastaken under its many coverings to make sure of its existence. We talkedin snatches; and until after eleven amused ourselves with learning somerailway technicalities, in order that we might be able to talk of "whenwe were out on the line. " But as the moonlight faded, we grew very quietand drowsy. Once, when I was just dropping into a little nap, Mrs. F----'scaution, "Don't go to sleep, or you will roll off!" roused me to theconsciousness of not having a sofa or even _terra firma_ to reposeupon. On that part of the line the country is flat and uninteresting, entirelymuskeg or marsh, with the exception of one small rock cutting, where thenecessary drainage formed the principal item in the cost of construction. On each side we could see the long "take offs" glittering in themoonlight, like silver ribbons thrown at random on the grass. The Julesmuskeg, about two miles across, was at first only passable when frozen inwinter, except for pedestrians, and we heard of several gangs of men whowere sent there to work, digging all day and being unable next morning tofind any trace of their labours. The only breaks in this monotonous marshare Whitemouth and Broken-Head Rivers, flowing between wooded shores. Theformer is about forty miles from Ingolf, and the latter nearly seventy. Both are small streams flowing into the most southerly end of LakeWinnipeg. At the junction near Selkirk are a small store and bar-room, apparently well patronized, if one may judge from the mental and physicalwanderings of a man who asked the way to Winnipeg, and the wild notes ofa fiddle issuing from the open doorway. While the train waited for theswitch signal, we were too tired to take much note of our surroundings, the appearance of a rail fence between the track and the outlying countrybeing more suggestive of approaching civilization to our Ontario eyesthan anything else. Receiving the signal, the train backed down the Pembina branch. There thewind was less trying, the road smoother, and we were getting accustomedto our cramped position. Gradually the train slackened, until it wasalmost at a footpace. Scarcely had we begun to wonder what was wrong, when the speed suddenly increased, and after rushing madly along for afew minutes slackened again, without any apparent cause. The man who hadheld a lantern at the back of our truck from the junction now began togrumble. "What can the driver mean by going at such a rate?" heexclaimed. Then, when the train slackened, he growled, "Hang the fellow, he's gone to sleep!" At last Mr. F---- said he would go in the engine-carand keep the man awake. When we stopped to take in water a few minutesafterwards he left us, and we reached the station at St. Boniface, theterminus of the railway, at three o'clock, without any further anxiety. There were only a couple of sleepy porters at the station, so we left theblankets, etc. , lying on the platform until one porter found the man whohad the key of the storehouse. Picking up our satchels, and shivering asthe cold morning air came in contact with our wet clothes, we went overthe prairie a hundred yards or so to a hotel, hastily put up for theaccommodation of benighted travellers, there being no means of crossingthe Red River for Winnipeg before seven. The house was crowded to excess, the bar-room was full of noisyrevellers, the landlord was in bed, and there were no rooms to be had. Wewaited at the head of the narrow flight of stairs, while a sleepy porterroused five men from their slumbers in the sitting-room, and heard avery grumbling discussion going on behind a half-open door near us, awoman in an injured tone protesting that, "It weren't no good wakin' her!She couldn't help the house not bein' big enough, nor more people comingnor it would hold;" while the man said, "It weren't his'n, neither; butplaces must be found to put 'um in. " Presently the sitting-room door opened, and a young man, looking as if hehad slept in his hat and used his coat for a pillow, emerged, staring atus as if taking an inventory of our wardrobe, and disappeared downstairs. With a great yawn, and a muttered remark about something being "a d----dshame, " a man who looked like a cattle-dealer followed. Then his partnerappeared, an energetic, scrubby-looking little man, who informed us thatwe might enter: which we did, glad to get a place to sit down in; buthastily retreated, on discovering another man just getting up from thefloor, and one busy lacing his boots. When the latter raised his head werecognized our clergyman from the Contract. He had come in over theDawson route with the poor man who had lost his eyesight and arm bystriking the rock where nitro-glycerine had been spilt. His fellowworkmen had among themselves collected eleven hundred dollars towardssupporting him, or getting him into some asylum, and he was now returningby the line. Mr. M---- went back to the station to fetch a robe and some blankets, which we spread on the floor, and lay down, to wait for morning. The roomwas small--eight by ten feet--the furniture, a short uncomfortable sofa, two chairs, a table, and a couple of pictures, of Pope Leo IX. And St. Joseph. Daylight seemed a long time coming. Mr. M---- looked more like a ghost than anything else. The poor man hadwalked up and down the station platform all the time. Neither storekeepernor key being found, he had feared to leave our luggage lying aboutunguarded. Crossing the river in the clear bright morning amongtidy-looking women going to market, and natty men in clean white shirtsand well-brushed clothes, made us feel more disreputable than ever. Andwe _were_ disreputable! Our skirts, draggled and muddy half-way toour waists, clinging and wet still; our hair un-brushed, our facesbespattered with mud, and blackened with smoke and dust from the engineand our night's travel--the railway hotel not having afforded ussufficient water to wash them; while the fatigue and wakeful night gaveus a haggard, wobegone, been-out-on-a-spree appearance quiteindescribable. It is a long walk from the Red River ferry to the Canada Pacific Hotel, but our anxiety to arrive there before Winnipeg was abroad, made us getover it as quickly as possible. Haverty, the manager, received us, regretting that until after breakfast he could only let us have one room. Fortunately, I had some friends whom I did not mind disturbing at thatearly hour, so leaving my satchel to be sent after me, and taking theback streets as much as possible, I went in search of them. The maid whoanswered my knock was a stranger to me, and, putting on a very forbiddingexpression of decided refusal, was not, until I told my name, inclined tolet me in. My friend was not up, but a few minutes afterwards I waswarmly welcomed and given a bath and clean clothes before any one but herhusband saw me. We were detained in Winnipeg nearly a week, waiting for our luggage. Fortunately for me, the friend with whom I took refuge was about my ownheight, and very kindly lent me what I needed until I could procuregarments of my own. This was, however, a great cause of trouble to alittle English terrier, of which she made a pet. Recognizing hermistress's slippers and dress, she rubbed her head against my feet andwas very affectionate, but glancing up at my face and discovering that ofa stranger, she jumped back growling. Shortly afterwards, tempted by thefamiliar clothes, she again made friendly advances, only to snarl out herdisapproval upon hearing my voice, evidently feeling so puzzled andimposed upon, that, until I had my own clothes, she declined to makefriends with me at all. Every one was so kind that the days in Winnipegwere all too short, but the luggage arriving on Wednesday, October the10th, left us no further excuse to remain, and with many regrets atparting, I said good-bye. CHAPTER XIX. The _Minnesota_ again--Souvenirs of Lord and Lady Dufferin--FromWinnipeg by Red River--_Compagnons du Voyage_--A ModelFarm--"Bees"--Manitoba a good Field for Emigrants--Changes at Fisher'sLanding--A Mild Excitement for Sundays--Racing with PrairieFires--Glyndon--Humours of a Pullman Sleeping Car--Lichfield. We came up the Red River in the _Minnesota_, the vessel in which Ihad gone down two years and a half before; the same, too, used by Lordand Lady Dufferin, with their party. Some Americans who were with usgood-temperedly vied with each other in their efforts to get thestate-rooms occupied by the vice-regal party, and the steward was askedmany questions as to their sayings and doings. All the Americans tookgreat interest in everything about them; carrying their admiration to theextent of making birch-bark-covered needle-books of the coarse redflannel spread upon the ground for Lord Dufferin to walk upon--intendingthem as valuable souvenirs for their friends. We left Winnipeg about noon, for three days' monotonous trip on theriver. Novel or work in hand, we went into the saloon to read or work, furtively study our fellow-travellers, and by-and-by make acquaintancewith them. We were a motley group. Round one table gathered a knot ofchatty Americans, evidently travelling together, and quite as much athome on board the boat as in their own drawing-room. Besides this partyof friends, there were plenty of solitary units, of more or less amusingcharacteristics: a pretty, merry woman of about thirty, mother of threechildren; a handsome old lady, hard at work on an embroideredtable-cloth--a present, she told us, for a friend, to whose wedding shewas going; a young clergyman, whose walk, expression, and generalappearance betrayed his ritualistic tendencies, and who strolled up anddown, now and then stopping to join in the ladies' conversation. Asad-looking woman lay on the sofa, trying to hide her tear-stained facebehind a newspaper which was never turned, the columns to her containingonly regrets for dear friends left behind. A fussy old lady in afashionable cap and cannon curls, after informing us that she was Mrs. B----, of ----, drew her chair near every _tête-a-tête_ couple, and, politely requesting to be allowed to take part in the conversation, gradually usurped it all, till, before she had apparently quite satisfiedherself upon every one's private affairs, she was left at liberty to joinanother group. A tall, delicate, sad-looking man, the defeated candidatefor ----, was returning to Ontario, where he was soon after elected foranother constituency. A sleepy-looking young Frenchman and his more livelyfriend, an energetic speculator, who had gone to Manitoba prospecting forland, was returning disgusted, having seen, "dem' it, nothing but mud. " Apoor old lady was kept in subjection by a tall daughter, with a face soclosely veiled, that our curiosity was aroused. Not until the third daydid I come upon her--suddenly--while her face was uncovered, and then nolonger wondered that she tried to conceal the dreadful squint nature hadgiven her. There were, also, a would-be-fast-if-she-could young lady ofeighteen, who had apparently read in novels of flirtations on boardsteamers, until she hoped to make the same experiences her own, and hadnot woman's wit enough to hide her disappointment; and a nice-lookinggirl going home to get her wedding garments ready, who moaned over thelong journey to be taken again in six weeks, hoping to be asked "why thenecessity?" Finally, a professor and his pretty, lady-like wife, and oneor two other nice people, made up our _compagnons du voyage. _ I have already mentioned Red River and its many windings, which it isneedless to allude to here. We passed Grand Forks at midnight onSaturday, and, leaving an order for stages to be sent on in the morningto overtake us, got off the steamer at ten o'clock on Sunday, saving morethan a day on the river by driving to Fisher's Landing. The farm, wherewe went ashore, is owned by an Ontario emigrant. The house is situated inthe midst of a beautiful grove of oak and birch, among which grassyavenues, with huge branches meeting overhead, formed roads to the neatfarmyards and granaries. A big bell hung on cross poles at the entranceto one of the avenues leading to what was once the rolling prairie, nowfields of grain--six hundred acres, without a fence, stump, or ditch tomar the effect. The clear line of the horizon was broken only by anotherfarmhouse, owned by a brother-in-law, whose farm lay beyond. The mantold us he had emigrated six years before to Manitoba, and had gone asfar as Emerson, where the mud frightened him; and, turning back, he hadtaken up this land, paying a dollar and a quarter an acre for it, and hadsucceeded so well, that at the end of the second year it had paid allexpenses. Since then he had built a good house and barns, and boughtextra stock, and he was putting money in the bank. The only trouble hehad was the difficulty of getting men at harvest-time, the farms beingtoo scattered to be able to follow the Ontario plan of "Bees;" [Footnote:"Bees" are gatherings from all the neighbouring farmhouses to assist atany special work, such as a "threshing bee, " a "raising" or "buildingbee. " When ready to build, the farmer apprises all his neighbours of thedate fixed, and they come to his assistance with all their teams and men, expecting the same help from him when they require it. They have "bees"for everything, the men for outdoor work, and the women for indoor; eachas quilting or paring apples for drying, when they often pare, cut, andstring several barrels in one afternoon. When the young men join them, they finish the evening with high tea, games, and a dance. ] and he oftenhad to work eighteen or twenty hours running, the late and earlydaylight, as well as the bright, clear moonlight, helping him. The Yankee emigration agents have a powerful assistant in the Pembinamud, in persuading Canadian emigrants to remain in Dakota or Minnesota. But if these emigrants were less impatient, or less easily persuaded, they would find quite as good, if not better land, in Manitoba than onthe American side of the line, besides being under our own Queen andlaws. The stage was so long in coming, that some of our party took advantage ofthe farmer's offer to drive them to Fisher's Landing for seventy fivecents a head. We were not long in following them, and after jolting foran hour and a half over a rough road, most of it through farms, wereached Fisher's. How changed the place was since we stopped there on ourway up! We found a uniform row of painted wooden houses, shops, offices, ware rooms, and boarding houses, besides several saloons and billiardrooms. Up the slight hill to the south, where had been rude boardshanties, mud, and chaos, one or two pretty cottages had been built, having green blinds, and neatly arranged gardens and lawns. A mediumsized wharf and gravelled banks had arisen where was only a dismal swamp, while away over the prairie lay the iron rails of the St. Vincent and St. Paul extension line, soon to be running in connexion with the Pembinabranch of the Canada Pacific at the boundary, when the tedious trip uponRed River can be avoided. The side tracks were full of loaded freight, and cars waiting to tranship at the wharf, the steamer which leftWinnipeg two days before we did having only just arrived. In spite of the external improvement in the Landing, it had not improvedin morals, and is quoted in all the country round as the refuge of allthe thieves, gamblers, drunkards, and cut-throats from both Canada andthe United States. Certainly the men we saw lounging about lookedanything but prepossessing. Hearing some shots fired during the afternoon, I was told with a shrug-- "There's some one got a bullet in him! There's always something of thatsort happening on Sunday. They can't work, so need some excitement. Itdoes not matter much, as there is no law in the place, and they manage tobring their scores out pretty even in the end, without any fuss aboutit. " Probably, however, the town is not quite so black as it is painted, andthough not a desirable place of residence, it might be worse. All the afternoon we heard at intervals the whistle of the boat we hadleft--so near that we began to regret the two dollars' additional expenseof the stage. But we were told that, although scarcely a mile off as thecrow flies, it was, such are the windings of the river, at least twelveor fourteen hours' journey from the Landing. We left at a little afterfour, and until dark, when rain fell, we raced with numbers of prairiefires; some great walls of smoke and flame, others mere narrow strips offire, all travelling in straight lines, and not interfering with eachother. A tiny spark from the engine would ignite a fresh spot, and beforeour car had passed it had begun its race with the others. The driver, whowas a new hand, and ignorant of the road, dashed over it at a breakneckpace, the cars swaying from side to side like a ship in a storm. AtGlyndon we took on a Pullman sleeping car, when there was a scramble forberths; a section containing two, an upper and lower, costing fourdollars for one night. Mrs. F---- and the baby taking the lower one, Iprepared to climb into the upper. Divesting myself of my hat, dress, andboots in the dressing room at the end of the car, I put on an ulster, andmounting the steps, held by the shining darkey attendant, went aloft. Thespace between the bed and the roof was so small that it was impossible tosit upright, but the difficulties of getting comfortable were compensatedfor by the amusement afforded me by my neighbours, separated only by athin slide, or the heavy curtains hung on poles in front. From one side came the expostulations of an elderly man with a youngFrenchman upon his demand for a berth, it being more proper that ladiesshould be provided for first, all his eloquence being answered only by afretful, "But I wants my sleep, I have vera much fatigue!" On the otherside a choleric old man growled anathemas at his boots and the absence ofa boot jack, which gradually changed into fierce snorts and rumblings asof approaching earth quakes, terminating in startling explosions. Opposite me, some one, after turning and twisting about for a while, atlast thrust a dishevelled head between the curtains, and in shrillaccents requested the porter to open the ventilator--"she was justmelting!" Scarcely was her request complied with, than a night-capped, grizzled head appeared from the other side, and in stentorian tonesdemanded, "Where the deuce the wind was coming from? Shut that confoundedthing, or I'll break your bones;" to which, however, the porter paid noheed, and the grizzled head grumbled itself to sleep again, mutteringthreats of reporting him in the morning. It was very hot, and I found it impossible to sleep. The strangeness ofmy surroundings, and the occasional thinking aloud of my neighbours, keptme wakeful. We stopped at seven, at Lichfield, to breakfast, where, forthe moderate charge of seventy-five cents each, a cup of bad coffee, aroll, and some fat bacon were served. CHAPTER XX. Lakes Smith and Howard--Lovely Lake Scenery--Long Lake--The LittleAmerican--"Wait till you see our Minnetaunka!"--Minneanopolis--VillaHotels--A Holiday Town--The Great Flour-mills--St. Paul's--Our AmericanCousins--The French Canadian's Story--Kind-hearted Fellow-passengers--ANew Way of Travelling together--The Mississippi--Milwaukee, the PrettiestTown in Michigan--School-houses--A Peep at Chicago--MarketPrices--Pigs!--The Fairy Tales of Progress--Scotch Incredulity--DetroitFerry--Hamilton--Good-bye to my Readers. On leaving Lichfield our road lay through some beautiful, slightlyundulating country. Between lofty bluffs, the train emerged along theshores of a lovely lake, and before its beauties had disappeared, anotherand another followed in rapid succession. The first two, Smith andHoward, are very much alike. Then we passed through two or three prettylittle villages, their streets avenues of trees, the roads as well keptas the drive of an English park, the houses and gardens marvels ofneatness, and glorious with flowers, and the orchards laden with ripefruit. As we passed Long Lake, a narrow sheet of water that called forthexpressions of admiration from us all, a bright little American child, with whom we had made friends, said shyly-- "You think that pretty. Wait till you see our lake--our Minnetaunka: theycall it Wayzata now!" she added sadly. We did see it about noon, and its beauties justified the preference. Minnetaunka--let us keep the old name which the child seemed to love sowell--about twenty-five miles long, is full of islands kept in perfectorder. Their natural beauties are developed with the taste and skill thatcharacterize the American nation, by the inhabitants of the beautifulvillas scattered along its shores. Tiny yachts and skiffs lay at anchor, or, with all sails set, skimmed the glistening water, bearing, no doubt, pleasure-parties from the pretty villa hotels, which could only bedistinguished from private houses by the numerous chairs andnewspaper-readers on their verandahs. A little steam-yacht lay at thewharf, while a merry party of young people, laden with picnic baskets, embarked. When the train sped on, and we had strained our eyes for thelast peep, the child, watching our faces, asked-- "It _is_ beautiful, isn't it?" We had no words to tell her how lovely we thought it. Cedar Lake, whichwe passed before reaching Minneanopolis, could not bear the comparison. An old man, pointing out some large flour-mills near the road, told us ofa terrible explosion there in 1877, when many lives were lost. Themachinery and mills were shattered to pieces, and thousands of pounds'worth of damage was done; yet in 1878 they were again in full workingorder, and as celebrated as ever for the fineness of their flour. At St. Paul's we changed trains, and said good-bye to the charmingAmericans who had been the pleasantest of travelling companions. On the Chicago and Milwaukee line which we now took, we saw more of theAmerican element, and felt Uncle Sam's land a greater reality. Every manwas a colonel or general; every woman was neat and pretty, but painfullyslight. All were perfectly at home; no matter how long the journey, theydid not get so tossed and travel-stained as we Canadians. Before the train left St. Paul's we heard the story of a poor littleFrench Canadian woman. She was returning to Quebec from Fort McLeod, eleven hundred miles from Winnipeg, in the North-west territories. Shehad gone there to settle, but a terrible home-sickness for her own peoplehad impelled her to spend nearly her last shilling in the payment of herpassage back. Now she came in great distress to tell of the loss of herpocket-book, containing her tickets, and all she had to buy food andlodging on the way. A generous compatriot said he would see that she wasprovided for; and the railway officials offering to give her a throughticket for less than half-price, the money was soon collected fromamongst the passengers, the Yankees being the most liberal. The poorthing, drying her eyes, acknowledged her gratitude with all theexpressive gesticulation of her race. Comedy and tragedy jostle each other in life. At St. Paul's, also, oursleepy Frenchman and a friend, who had left Winnipeg together to betravelling companions to Ottawa, discovered that their tickets were fordifferent routes, and they had to separate. They met again at Chicago, only to say good-bye once more, their routes still not agreeing. AtToronto they again encountered, to separate at Brockville. One went bythe "Canada Central, " and the other the "St. Lawrence and Ottawa" atPrescott; so each entered Ottawa at opposite ends. And, as one of themsaid, "The best of the fun is, my baggage goes with T----, and I travel_sans_ everything. " From St. Paul's our road lay along the banks of the most beautiful partof the Mississippi river, which, shallow though it is, is also broad, bright, and clear. The surrounding country was in the height of itssummer beauty. Charming villages nestled under the high banks; houseswere built on projecting shelves of rock, with so little space betweenthem, that it seemed as if a slight shove would precipitate them over theedge. Every foot of ground was utilised, and there was none of the_débris_ that hangs about the back yards and odd corners of Canadianvillages. At every wharf were numbers of small craft and river steamers, seemingly plying a thriving trade. We passed Milwaukee--the prettiest town in the State of Michigan--atnight, and could only see, through the misty darkness, its many light andtidy streets. A noticeable feature in all the villages, however small, was the size of the substantial buildings devoted to education. Many ofthem were very handsome, with grounds prettily laid out and well kept, while the surrounding hamlets are merely groups of neat little woodencottages. We had only an hour in Chicago, and saw no more of the Western metropolisthan could be gleaned in a drive through to the station, or Great Westerndepot. Here the remainder of our Winnipeg friends left us. Anxious totelegraph to friends in Toronto, I with some questioning found my waythrough a large luggage office, crowded with packages and porters, up arickety outside staircase to a small room in a blackened row ofbuildings. My telegrams despatched, I wandered through some of theneighbouring streets in search of a restaurant, whereat to replenish ourluncheon-basket. Out of mere curiosity I asked the price of the differentedibles displayed on the counter. A cold roast fowl, weighing, possibly, a fraction over a pound, was three shillings (sixty cents), deliciousfresh rolls, sixpence (ten cents) a dozen, buttermilk on draught, threepence (five cents) a glass; English ale, half a dollar (fifty cents)a pint bottle; black pudding, a penny a pound; and as much cold roastpork and beans, or boiled ham, as I liked for a shilling. The man smiledat my ignorance in asking the price of pork in Chicago--the greatpork-packing centre of the West. As our train left, we passed car-loads of fat hogs, lying two or threedeep, waiting to be unloaded at some one or other of the greatestablishments, where, in but a few minutes, the pig is killed, dressed, cut up, and packed ready for shipment again as pork. The public gardensin the suburbs, surrounded with handsome private residences, are pretty, but until we reached Detroit there was little to interest us in thecountry. Inside we had the usual mixture of travelling companions. Ananimated discussion arose between two old farmers, one returning toOntario from a short visit to a son in California, the other going toCanada after an absence of over thirty years. The former called forth thelatter's expressions of wonder by recounting all the changes andimprovements he would find. More and more incredible they sounded. A citywhere he had left a swamp; thriving farms and villages where heremembered dense woods, traversed alone by wolves and bears; mills in themidst of impassable rapids; bridges over falls no man dare cross in hisday; and when at last he was told that, instead of getting out andentering boats at Detroit, the train, engine, and all ran on board theiron ferry-boat, and was taken across intact, then carrying us through toHamilton, he bustled out of his seat in great indignation, exclaiming-- "Hoot, mon, I'll na believe ony mair o' yure lies; I'm na sic an ouldfule as ye tak' me for. The hale train on a boat, indeed!" and heindignantly placed himself at the other end of the car, his informantonly rubbing his hands together in great glee at the fun. The little black porter on the Pullman was very attentive, getting coffeefor us at the different stations, seeing our baggage through thecustom-house at Detroit, and when the train was on the boat, and it wasfairly under weigh, taking me down into the engine-rooms, where I couldlook and wonder at the power propelling the boat, laden with two trains, across the river. On deck, the lights from the numerous ships and buildingsenabled me to see an outline of the city and river; but I wished it hadbeen daylight, or even moonlight, for then I could have seen everythingto greater advantage. Returning to the car, I passed the incredulousScotchman standing open-mouthed near the machinery, and watched him as hewalked to the gangway muttering, "Ay, it is a boat, after a'. Weel, weel, wonders wull never cease. " On Canadian soil again, and speeding on to theend of our journey, we stopped nowhere until we reached Hamilton, atthree o'clock in the morning of Wednesday, October 16th. There my brothermet us, and after spending the remainder of the night, or rather morning, at the Royal Hotel, we went on to Toronto by the nine o'clock train, reaching that place before noon. There, too, I will leave my readers, asking their indulgence for this simple account of my trip to Manitoba. THE END.