Part 4

“The parts of the Eastern and Johnstown districts along the bank of the St. Lawrence enjoy perhaps the best situation as regards proximity to market of any in Upper Canada; and their advantage in this respect will be further improved on the completion of the canal now in progress for overcoming the obstructions in the navigation of that river. This tract, however, labours under the very serious drawback of being decidedly inferior in soil and climate to the more western territories. The former deficiency, it is true, will appear from our topographical survey to be by no means universal, the idea having been in some measure suggested by the rugged aspect of the immediate banks. Matilda and other districts appear to contain a considerable extent of fine land yet-unoccupied. The climate operates chiefly to prevent the raising of wheat so fine as to bear the cost of transportation to Europe; but this is of less moment since live stock had begun to be considered the more profitable branch. On the whole, therefore, we incline to think that settlers of capital, in their eagerness to push westward and into the bush, have bestowed too little attention on this portion of territory.

“The banks of the Ottawa on both sides as far up as Hull, and including those of its tributary the Rideau, appear to possess similar advantages. Some demand for produce is also made by the lumberers who pass to and from the upper tracts on this river. The soil and climate seem to call for nearly the same observations as have been made on the two preceding districts.

“The shores of Lake Ontario, including a space varying from ten to twenty miles inland, afford good scope for a settler of moderate capital. This territory, though not uniformly fertile, contains a large extent of excellent soil with a comparatively mild climate; and as the rigorous season is shorter, winter wheat even of fine quality may be produced. Toronto and Kingston, now considerable towns, present a ready market, through the medium too of respectable merchants, who are known to deal on liberal terms. The river Trent and the Rice Lake might perhaps be viewed as enlarging the sphere of eligible settlement somewhat beyond the limits now stated; but we could scarcely recommend to a gentleman to go far beyond Peterborough. The vicinity of the city first mentioned, and the goodness of the road called Gouge-street, may indeed carry the range a little farther in that direction, though we doubt whether it would be advisable to go to the remoter shores of Lake Simcoe. Gore district, where it passes Burlington Bay, must, we suspect, be considered as mere bush.

“Beyond Ontario, the shores of Lake Erie, even since the completion of the Welland Canal, cannot be recommended without some hesitation. The distance from Montreal becomes great, and as the goods could scarcely be conveyed without transhipment, the tolls of three canals must be paid. At all events, it is only the lands closely adjoining this great lake that appear to afford a profitable site for the more opulent settlers; for the interior of the London District, including even the banks of the Thames, must still, we suspect, be classed with the bush-territory. Mr. Shirreff found that wheat bore a very low price there, and that it was moreover difficult to be procured. The shores of Lake Huron must also be included under the same description.

“It ought, however, to be observed that these limits may be considerably modified by the great works mentioned in the commercial chapter as being contemplated for extending the communications of Upper Canada. These, unfortunately, are now at a stand for want of means; but if the plans of Lord Durham be carried into effect, we may hope to see them all accomplished on an augmented scale.

“It will be proper to consider under this view the eastern townships of Upper Canada. Their situation is peculiar, owing to the banks of the St. Lawrence and of the Richelieu being occupied by the French seigniories, having a tract of inferior ground in their rear. The townships are thus thrown much inland, and their products can be brought to market only by a land-carriage, varying from 60 to 120 miles. The roads too have hitherto been bad; but the British American Land Company have been employed in making a very good one from Port St. Francis to Sherbrooke, and in improving the others. The evil also is much mitigated by the circumstance that cattle, which form the main staple of this territory, can convey themselves to market, and, even if killed, the salted meat contains much more value in the same bulk than grain. Yet we should hesitate in advising settlers of the more opulent class to proceed further than Melbourne and Shipton, on the side of Port St. Francis, or beyond Shefford, if proceeding from Montreal. Here they will find good land, which, when the promised improvements are completed, will not be much more than 50 miles from a port on the St. Lawrence.

“A young man, who desires to form a judgment how far such a mode of life will suit him, must be warned not to carry out the ideas of rank and dignity which are connected with the possession of land in Europe. Here, according to feudal ideas, not wholly extinct, it was anciently combined with power; and still, from the large rents paid for its use, it generally confers wealth without labour—the enjoyment of splendor and luxurious ease. But in America, this species of property has never implied hereditary influence; and it yields income, in most instances, only by hard personal labour, or an active superintendence. The few wealthy men of which it can boast, have acquired their riches by acting as merchants and storekeepers; and these are, on the whole, the persons of greatest consequence in the country. But, though landed estate does not ensure those factitious distinctions, there are important advantages of which it can never be divested. It is attended with a degree of independence seldom enjoyed by the middling classes in Britain; for here, farmers, with a heavy burden of rent and taxes, which they must make good amid many uncertainties, are always liable to come under the power of their landlords. Salaried officers, too, may be exposed to insult, and even the loss of their situations, through the caprice of employers or superiors; whereas, a proprietor in the colonies, if he can draw a subsistence from his lands, and keep clear of debt, is scarcely liable to any vicissitude. He is removed, indeed, from the society of his friends; but this, unless as to occasional visits, is usually the lot of professional men even in our own country, who must accept employment wherever they can find it. Again, he can never return to reside in his native land—a privation which, to those who have spent the best part of their lives abroad, is, in a great degree, imaginary; and, aided by the improving means of communication, he is not debarred from the possibility of seeing his relations at home. In regard to society in Canada, if he has followed the advice of not going far into the bush, he will find it as good as it is usually met with in the rural parts of Britain, or even in provincial towns.

“The foregoing estimates have been made with the view of ascertaining what income may be expected from a Canadian farm, after it is cleared and placed under regular cultivation; but the momentous question—by what means and resources the emigrant is to bring it into this condition, still remains to be considered. It must not be concealed that his task will be arduous; and if he is to perform it, as is here supposed, by hired labourers, a certain capital will be requisite. 200 acres of land, of good quality, and in an eligible situation, cannot be purchased for much less than 200_l._ He must erect some kind of habitation, though at first a simple one, and have certain farm-offices, implements, and labouring stock, which will require at least 100_l._ He must also have the means of subsistence till he is able to draw it from his farm; though this, it is presumed, during his noviciate, will be managed with the strictest economy. But the hardest part of the task now remains; for the dense forest which covers his ground must be cut down before a single blade can grow upon it. This process, with the addition of fencing and sowing, is averaged at 4_l._ an acre, which, with reference to the requisite space of 150 acres, would amount to 600_l._; the remaining 50 being advantageously allowed to remain in woodland. It is true that this process may be gradual, and that the increasing produce of the improved portions will afford means for clearing the remainder; but as there is also to be paid out of it the subsistence of the emigrant, the expenses of cultivation, and the additions necessary to the stock of the enlarged farm, the improvements must be far advanced before any surplus can be expected.”

CHAP. V.

SPORTING IN CANADA.

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The pursuit of most kinds of game in Canada does not differ sufficiently from that of other countries to make a description worth our while. That of the bear, however, is a sort of aboriginal sport, which sometimes involves rough adventures. Mr. Talbot, in his Travels, gives the following, which seems as perilous as any we can quote:—

“One of my father’s settlers, of the name of Howay, discovered the tracks of three bears on the morning of the 11th December; and, after following them for about three miles, came to the tree in which they had taken up their quarters. Having his dog, his gun, and his axe with him, he began to cut down the tree, the trunk of which was at least 16 feet in circumference. Whilst engaged in this employment, he occasionally directed his eyes upward, to see if his motions disturbed the bears in the place of their retreat. He became at length weary of acting as sentry to the prisoners, and had nearly forgotten this needful precaution, when, in the midst of his hewing, a large piece of bark struck him on the head. This aroused his attention, and, on looking again, he discovered, to his great consternation, one of the bears descending the tree in the usual manner, tail foremost. Apprehensive that he might be attacked by his black friend, which he perceived was coming down with every appearance of hostility, he laid down his axe, and, taking up his gun, resolved to discharge its contents into the body of bruin. Upon reflection, however, he desisted; for he was afraid, if he only wounded the animal, his own life would be the forfeit of his eager temerity. While he was thus deliberating, his dog perceived the bear, then only a few yards from the ground, and, by his barking, alarmed the brute so much that he ran up the tree with inconceivable swiftness. On arriving at the opening into the trunk, he turned himself about, and, looking down attentively, surveyed the dog and his master. Howay now regretted that he had not called upon some of his neighbours to assist him; but being afraid that if he should then go for any one the party would in the mean time effect their escape, he rallied his courage, and, resuming his gun, lodged a ball in the bear’s neck, which fortunately brought him lifeless to the ground. Victory generally inspires the conqueror with fresh courage, and is seldom the forerunner of caution. The conduct of Howay, however, affords an exception to a rule so generally acknowledged; for, instead of being elated by his success, and stimulated to pursue his conquest, he reflected, that, although he had been thus far fortunate, the favourable issue was to be imputed more to casualty than to any particular exertion of his own prowess, and concluded, that if he continued to fell the tree, he might in his turn become the vanquished. He, therefore, very prudently determined to go home and bring some of his neighbours to his aid. Leaving the bear at the foot of the tree he departed, and in a short time returned with two men, three dogs, and an additional axe. They soon succeeded in cutting clown the tree, which, when falling, struck against another, and broke off about the middle, at the identical spot where the beasts lodged. Stunned and confused, the affrighted animals ran so close to one of the men, that he actually put the muzzle of his gun close to its shoulder and shot two balls through its body. The other escaped unhurt; and the dogs pursued the wounded one till he compelled them to return with their flesh badly lacerated.

“By this time the winter sun had ceased to shed his refulgent beams upon that portion of the globe, and the men deemed it imprudent to follow the tracks until the succeeding morning; when Howay, accompanied by a person of the name of Nowlan, an American by birth, and of course well acquainted with the woods, followed the tracks, having previously provided themselves with a rifle, an axe, about six charges of powder and shot, and bread and meat sufficient for their dinner. This was early in the morning of Thursday, the 12th of December. About two o’clock in the afternoon they were observed by some persons crossing the river Thames, nearly seven miles from the place at which they set off. This was the only intelligence we had of them for thirteen days. After they had been absent for some time their friends concluded that they must either have perished with hunger and cold, or have been destroyed by the wounded bear. I was strongly of opinion that they had been frozen to death, for the weather was excessively cold, and they were slightly clothed, without a tinder-box and totally unprovided with any means of shielding themselves from the inclemency of the weather. I therefore assembled a large party of the settlers pertaining to the townships of London and Nassouri, and proposed that we should stock ourselves with provisions for a few days, and go in quest of the two unfortunate hunters. To this proposal they unanimously agreed; and we set off on the following morning, provided with pocket compasses and trumpets, a good supply of ammunition, and the necessary apparatus for lighting fires, taking with us some of the best dogs in the country. In the interval between their departure and ours a partial thaw had taken place, which left not the slightest layer of snow upon the ground, except in low and swampy situations. We had, therefore, no tracks for our direction, nor any idea of the course which Howay and Nowlan had taken, except what we had obtained from the persons who saw them crossing the Thames on the day of their departure. We had no very sanguine hopes of finding them; but continued for two days to explore thousands of acres of interminable forests and desolate swamps, apparently untrodden by human foot, yet without the most distant prospect of success. We returned home, having given up all expectation of seeing them again, either living or dead. There was, however, one consideration which administered a portion of comfort to our anxiety: the objects of our search were men without families—they were strangers in America. They had no parents here to mourn over their untimely fate; no wives to lament the hour when they first met, or the moment when they last parted; and no children to deplore their early orphanage, or to call in vain for their fathers’ return. In fact, they were mourned by none but unconnected neighbours.

“Thirteen days had now elapsed since the departure of the two adventurous settlers, and all hope of their return had completely vanished. On the morning of Christmas-day, as I was in the act of sending messengers to some of Howay’s most intimate acquaintance, to request them to take an inventory of his property, I was informed that he and his companion had returned a few hours before, alive, but in a most wretched condition. When I had recovered in some measure from my surprise I went to see them, for I felt anxious to hear from themselves an account of their extraordinary preservation. Never in my life did I behold such spectacles of woe, poverty, and distress. Their emaciated countenances, wild and sunken eyes, withered limbs, and tattered garments, produced such an extraordinary effect upon my imagination, that I approached them with a degree of timidity for which I was unable to account. I sat down beside them, and for some time fancied I was holding converse with the ghosts of departed spirits; nor could I entirely banish this idea from my mind during a conversation of several hours. Their preservation appeared to me as signal an interposition of Providence as any of which I had before heard; and, since it may not prove uninteresting to you, who are unacquainted with the woods and wilds of America, I shall give you a particular account of it. I consider it the more likely to interest you, because it is none of those second-hand stories which usually, as they fly from cabin to cabin, increase prodigiously, until they swell beyond the reasonable bounds of probability, and fearfully invade those illimitable regions—

‘Where human thought, like human sight, Fails to pursue their trackless flight.’

“On the day of their departure, they pursued the bear, which took a north-western course for at least twenty miles, and at night stopped upon his track. With great difficulty they lit a fire, having contrived to produce a light by the application of a piece of dry linen to the pan of their gun whilst flashing it. Thus, before a good fire, they spent the first night, which was exceedingly cold, both supperless and sleepless.

“In the morning they continued the chase, as soon as they had eaten a small piece of bread, the crumbs or fragments of their dinner on the preceding day. This was equally divided between themselves and their dog. About noon, when they had travelled on the track, through all its windings and doublings, for at least twenty miles, they were unable to distinguish the north from the south, and of course considered themselves lost in the boundless immensity of interminable forests. They resolved to pursue the bear no longer, conscious that it would lead them still further into the wilderness, from whence they apprehended they could not without difficulty extricate themselves, for the snow was disappearing fast, and the rain continuing to increase. They now recollected, that, in the early part of the day, they had crossed over the track of another bear, which they fancied would lead them to the settlements. This they unwisely resolved to follow, consoling themselves with the thought, that, if it should not conduct them to the abodes of man, it might lead them to the bear’s retreat; and that if they should succeed in killing him in a spot even remote from any settlement, his flesh would afford them nourishment, and his skin a more comfortable couch than the snow-covered deserts on which they had bivouacked the preceding night. Hope, which—though it often bids desponding thoughts depart, and sometimes cheers us in the darkest hour—is too frequently the cause of our expecting where expectation is vain, and disappointment ruinous, had, in the present instance, nearly precipitated its unfortunate votaries into the vortex of irretrievable misery. They followed on the track, until the snow completely disappeared, and the sky became so dreadfully overcast, that they were compelled to relinquish all ideas of hunting, and to think only of escaping from solitude and starvation. They were by this time on the banks of a small rivulet, the course of which they resolved to pursue, expecting that it would eventually lead them to the Thames, into which they calculated, as a matter of undoubted certainty, it emptied itself. On the banks of this rivulet they passed the second night, but were not able to get any sleep. It rained incessantly, and they suffered much from their exposed situation, for they were only partially covered with a few strips of barks. The wolves howled around them, and the tempest “fiercely blew.” The trees bent their proud crests even with the ground; and many, torn up by the roots through the violence of the wind, fell to rise no more, near the very spot on which our travellers vainly sought repose.

“On the third day they continued their journey down the brook, which, growing wider and wider, inclined them to think it was the head of some extensive river, and they hoped it would prove to be that of the Thames. The violence of the storm began to subside about noon, but without any abatement of the cold, or cessation of the rain, which continued to fall during the whole of the day. A little before sunset they fired at a partridge, but unfortunately missed it. Three charges of powder and shot were now all that remained. Still hope, with its sustaining influence, prevented their hearts from sinking within them, and still did they expect a speedy termination of their toils and sufferings. But another joyless night found them waking in all its watches, and another sunless morning saluted them,—the victims of despair.

“On the fourth day, they felt excessively hungry and weak; their thirst also was insatiable, being compelled every five or six minutes to drink. In the afternoon, their hunger increased to such a degree, that they could have eaten any thing except human flesh. Sixty hours had now elapsed without their having tasted food of any kind, and the appalling idea of suffering by starvation for the first time obtruded itself. Before the close of the day, however, they succeeded in shooting a partridge, one-half of which they imprudently ate as their supper, and feasted on the remainder at breakfast the ensuing morning,—thus fulfilling the scriptural injunction in a sense in which it was not conveyed, “Take no thought for the morrow.” They declared their hunger was no more appeased by eating this bird, than it would have been, at a more fortunate period of their lives, by swallowing a cherry! Little more than one charge of powder was now left; and this they resolved to preserve for lighting fires, knowing, as the frost had again set in, that if they were exposed for a single night to the weather, without the protection of a fire, they must inevitably perish.

“The fifth night proved extremely cold, and Nowlan perceived, in the morning, that his feet were badly frozen. Pitiable as their situation was before this heart-rending event, it then became still more wretched. This unfortunate man had now to endure a complication of unprecedented sufferings. To the imperative hankerings of hunger, which he could not satisfy, a continual thirst, which he could not appease, a violent fever, which seemed not to abate, and the “pelting of the pitiless storm,” from which he had no shelter, there was added a species of torment the most excruciating that human nature is doomed to suffer. Until this deplorable event, they had travelled at least fifty miles a day, walking, or, as they expressed it, running from before sunrise until after sunset. They were now unable to perform more than half their accustomed journey, and even that with the utmost difficulty.