CHAPTER IV--Little Folks of Canada

The First White Settlers

If you look at the map of North America, you will find that nearly the whole upper half, with the exception of Alaska, bears the name of the Dominion of Canada. Its northern shores are bathed by the cold waters of the Arctic Ocean. On the east is the great Atlantic, and on the west is the stormy Pacific. The boys and girls who live in this vast country can travel for hundreds of miles along mighty rivers; they can sail on lakes so great that they may lose sight of land and grow seasick from the motion of the boat as it moves through the waves; they can climb high mountains capped with snow in the hottest summer weather; they can wander over vast prairies for days and even weeks at a time with no view of anything as far as the eye can see, save miles and miles of grass; they can lose themselves in thick forests where only wild animals and Indian hunters have ever ventured before. All these things are possible for the Canadian child without moving out of the land which he calls home.

Once upon a time, less than fifty years after Columbus discovered the New World, a brave Frenchman named Jacques Cartier left his sunny home in France, and sailed into the west. The king of France had heard of the wonderful land which Columbus had discovered, and which the Spaniards had begun to settle. He wished to have some part of it for himself, so he directed Cartier to go farther north than the Spaniards had done. When he reached a good place for a home, he was to land and set up the flag of France.

Cartier, with two ships, each of which bore sixty-one men, set out. They crossed the ocean and arrived on the coast of a large island. Its shores were still blocked with ice, although it was the month of April. To-day we know this island as Newfoundland or New-found-land. The Frenchmen were not pleased with the country, for it looked bare and rocky. When they landed, they were met by savages with red skins and black hair tied on the top of their heads, "Like a wreath of hay," as Carter said. He was quite sure that this was not a fit place for a home; so the ships were turned northward. They soon entered a large gulf which received the name of the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

On the shores of this gulf the white men were also met by Indians, whose homes were their upturned canoes. The savages wore little or no clothing; they lived on fish and flesh that was scarcely cooked; they seemed poor and very savage. The country, which was the mainland of Canada, looked pleasant, and Carter set up a tall cross and took possession of it in the name of France. He induced the Indian chief to allow his two sons to go back to France with him. Then he set sail for home, eager to tell his friends of the land he had visited.

The next year Cartier returned to Canada with a goodly company. They entered the gulf of St. Lawrence, as they had done before, but they sailed on until they came to the mouth of a wide river.

"It flows from afar off," said the two Indians who had gone to France with Cartier, and who had returned with him. "No man has ever seen its beginning," they continued.

"Perhaps," thought Cartier, who had no idea how vast was the new land that he had discovered, "it is not a river. It is so broad and so deep, it may be an arm of the ocean, and if I follow it, I may find the short way to India, about which so many have dreamed."

So he and his men kept on their way up the St. Lawrence River, stopping from time to time to admire the beautiful country and the wonderful sights that met them on every hand. Wild grape vines hung from the trees along the banks, and the delicious fruit was even now ripening. Water-fowls flew over their heads, and they got glimpses of wild animals such as they had never seen before. Most interesting of all were the little Indian villages scattered here and there along the shore.

From one of the settlements Cartier was passing, the people came out in their canoes to get a better sight of the white men, but they were afraid to come close to the ships, till Cartier's two young Indian friends spoke to them and told them not to fear. Then they came on board and listened to the story of the visit the two Indian youths had made in France, and of the wonderful things that had happened to them. The Indians were now quite sure that the strangers meant only good to them, and that there was nothing to fear.

They hastened to bring presents to the visitors and show friendship in every way that they knew. Cartier did not stay long in the place, however. He sailed on till he came to a fine harbor beneath steep, high cliffs. An Indian village stood here. To-day it is the site of the city of Quebec.

"Farther on, up the river, is a still larger town of our people, and it is ruled over by a very powerful chief," the Indians there told him.

"But the way is long and dangerous," added their own chief. "You had better not go there."

When he said this, he was thinking of the store of knives, bright-colored beads, and tiny looking-glasses the white men had shown him. A few of these strange and beautiful things had been given to him. He could not bear to think of that other chief also receiving some.

But Cartier was not to be frightened. He set sail once more and for thirteen days the ships kept on their way up the river. From time to time they stopped at Indian villages where the red children and their parents came dancing about them, bringing presents of fruit and fish. The savages told many stories about the country beyond; gold and precious stones were to be found there, and there were strange beings who lived without food. Still Cartier traveled on until he reached a village of at least fifty huts.

There was a three-fold wall of stakes around it, and fields where leaves of corn were waving in the autumn wind. Behind this village was a hill which Cartier called Mount Royal. To-day, in the very spot where the Indian village once stood, is the large city of Montreal, the most important one in the country. Cartier and his men stayed in Canada for several months. They built two forts on the banks of the St. Lawrence; they made gardens, and marked out a road. They were of good heart until the long, cold winter was upon them, longer and colder than they had ever known. Many grew homesick with longing for sunny France; others fell ill. At last they decided to give up the settlement and to return home.

After that French ships visited Canada from time to time. They stopped to get loads of furs which the Indians were glad to sell, but no one came to settle in the country for many years.

At last the king of France said to himself, "I cannot hold the land on the other side of the ocean, unless I send people there to settle, and it is worth while to keep it because of the furs we can get in trade from the Indian hunters."

He sent over a colony of settlers who came sailing one bright day into the harbor of Port Royal. They landed on the beautiful shore and were soon busy building a chapel and a fort, as well as homes for themselves. A good priest came with them. He was so kind and gentle that even the savages loved him, and were quite willing to listen to the stories that he told them of a heavenly Father, and Jesus, the Savior of men.

The Explorer Champlain.

Among the settlers was the brave Champlain, who advised building a fort above the steep cliffs under which Cartier had anchored his ships years before. Workmen were soon at work on a fort, a chapel, and homes for the settlers. It was the beginning of the strong fortress and city of Quebec.

After these first settlers, came other Frenchmen and their families, and before many years, the red children and the white were playing merrily together.

"You must love each other," the gentle French priest had told them. "Though you are of different races, yet you are the children of the one Father."

So it was that the sons and daughters of the Frenchmen grew up with no fear of the little savages. Why, their priests often went to live in the Indian villages, that they might better show their friendship. Indians were often invited to feasts held in the white men's homes and joined in their sports. Moreover, the children's own relatives often chose Indian maidens for their wives, and were very happy with them. And because of this last, there came in time to be many people in Canada who were called halfbreeds, as they were partly French and partly Indian.

The Coming of the English.

Many years passed quietly by. The French people in Canada lived peacefully with their red neighbors. They built trading stations out in the country, and here furs were brought in great numbers by the Indian hunters. Forts were also built along the banks of the St. Lawrence, and still farther into the wilderness, on the shores of the Five Great Lakes, which separate Canada from the United States.

The French explorers and priests went even farther, for they made their way from these lakes down into the United States, never stopping till they had sailed the whole length of the Mississippi River. Everywhere they went they planted the French flag and claimed the country in the name of the king across the ocean. Now, the English, who had settled on the southern side of the Great Lakes, did not like the idea of the French becoming so powerful in North America; thus it came about after a while that there were wars between the two peoples.

The Indians of Canada took the part of their French friends. Terrible battles were fought; brave soldiers were killed; cruel deeds were done to women and little children by the savage Indians. Years passed by and the troubles did not come to an end. It seemed as though there was no way of settling matters and making peace.

All this time a little boy was growing up in England. His name was James Wolfe. He was delicate and sickly, yet his bright, clear eyes showed that he had a strong will. He longed with all his heart to be a soldier. And soldier he became, though it seemed as if he would never be able to bear such a hard life.

When he was only sixteen he fought for his country in Flanders. He soon showed how brave he was, and became a high officer in the army. He was sent to America to fight against the French and Indians. If he could only get to Quebec, he thought. It was the strongest fortress of all the enemy held. But that seemed impossible, for no one dreamed that an army could scale the steep crags above which the fortress was built.

Yet Wolfe kept thinking, thinking. By this time he was the commander of a whole fleet of English ships. At last there came a day when he sailed boldly up the St. Lawrence, and landed his men on the shore opposite to Quebec. He set up great cannons which should fire upon the fortress across the river. The siege began. In the midst of it heavy rain fell; Wolfe and many of his men became ill. Though he was burning with fever he still kept planning. One day, as he looked through his telescope, he saw something that he had never noticed before. It was a narrow path,--O, so very narrow--that wound in and out, yet ever upward, to the top of the crags that guarded Quebec.

He said to himself, "My men and I shall climb that path and take the fortress by surprise."

Soon afterwards, on a dark night, they did climb it. Wolfe himself rose from his sick bed and led them. As the sun rose the next morning the English army appeared on the Plains of Abraham, behind the fort, and one of the great battles of the world was fought. Before night fell, Quebec was in the hands of the English. Both Wolfe, and Montcalm, the French commander were killed. Henceforth, not only Quebec, but all Canada would be ruled over by the English.

Henry Hudson and the Great Lone Land.

It was in the year 1610, that a brave seaman named Henry Hudson, sailed northward along the shores of North America. He had already discovered the Hudson River in the United States, and traded with the Indians there for furs. He had tried to find a short way to India but had failed. Now he hoped by going still farther he might yet discover it. On and still on he sailed till he entered a large bay on the northern shore of Canada, which ever since has been called Hudson Bay. Here, in the midst of ice and snow, he and his men were obliged to pass the winter. There was little to eat, and it was bitter cold.

His men blamed him for bringing them to such suffering, and at last rose against him. They set him adrift in a small boat, with his young son and a few faithful followers. Then, leaving him to die of cold and hunger, they sailed for home, to tell of the large bay that had been discovered, and of the wild country around it. As time went by other Englishmen visited Hudson Bay, but they had no wish to stay long in its icy waters or on its lonely shores.

At last, however, a number of English merchants formed themselves into the Hudson Bay company.

They said, "We will send men to North America who shall build forts along the shore of Hudson Bay. They shall buy furs of the Indians, and send them to us here in England. The furs of the wild animals there are rich and beautiful, and will bring us riches."

In this way it came about that English ships brought to Canada men who at once set to work building forts and trading stations in the neighborhood of the bay discovered by Henry Hudson. They had with them knives and hatchets, beads and bright colored blankets,--everything that an Indian might wish in exchange for his furs. They treated the red men kindly, for they wanted to trade peaceably with them, but at the same time they kept their guns ready in case of an attack by the savages.

Alexander Mackenzie and his long Journey.

Even after the English had won the country for themselves, they did not know how large it was, for no one had explored the country from north to south or from east to west. At last a brave Scotchman named Alexander Mackenzie came to settle in Canada. He was fond of adventure and liked nothing better than roaming for miles through the wilderness, hunting the wild animals in the forest, and skimming over the lakes and down the streams in an Indian canoe. He visited many a settlement where the red children had never before looked upon a white man; he discovered rivers and lakes of which the French and English knew nothing before. He arrived in his wanderings on the shore of the Great Slave Lake in the very heart of the country. A large river flowed out of it. Where did it go, and how far? The Indians could not tell him.

At the beginning of the summer, he set out with a small party of white men and an Indian guide. At first it was very pleasant paddling down the river in their canoes, but after a few days they came to rapids. Then they had to take to the land and carry their canoes and their supplies on their shoulders. As they traveled onward they came to still other rapids which stopped their course again and again.

The farther north they traveled, the colder it became. The days were much longer, too, for it was nearing mid-summer. It seemed very strange to them to have the midnight as bright as daylight. The wild animals were scarce now.

"Suppose," thought Mackenzie, "we are unable to shoot enough for our food," but still he kept on. He passed Indian villages on his way, and at last met with Eskimos who were wandering about on their summer hunt.

The wild animals were different now from what the explorers had met before; they had reached the home of the polar bear and the arctic fox. The river was full of broken ice and there were whales in the water. They were close to the shores of the Arctic Ocean, and had traveled a thousand miles down the great river, which they named Mackenzie in honor of their brave leader. The party did not remain long in the bleak, northern country, but turned about and journeyed homeward as quickly as possible.

Three years afterwards Mackenzie made up his mind to cross Canada to the westward. Slowly but surely he made his way, now gliding along a stream or over a lake in his canoe; now cutting a path through a thick forest; again finding himself stopped by high cliffs or by a rushing torrent. But he kept on until he came to the Rocky Mountains, whose snowy tops reached far up towards the heavens.

"Not far beyond those mountains is the sea," Mackenzie's Indian guide told him.

He still pushed on, through narrow passes, between walls of rock, up steep slopes and down through deep valleys. At last he reached the other side, launching his boats in a stream flowing to the west. In a short time the Pacific Ocean lay stretched before his eyes.

Among the Eskimos and Indians.

The middle of Canada is a great plain, which ends in the north in frozen marshes, where the homes of the little Eskimos are to be found. There, in the midst of the ice and snow they work and play, in much the same way as their brothers and sisters in Greenland and Alaska.

Farther south, yet still where the summer is short, and the winter is long and cold, Indian children camp out on the prairies and on the borders of the forests. Most of these red children live in tents, or tepees, as they call them. The winter tents are lined with heavy skins, and a large fire burns in the middle, around which they sleep during the cold winter nights. They dress in the skins of the wild animals their fathers have killed, and they wear soft moccasins on their feet. They run many a mile in these moccasins without getting tired or losing their breath.

Sometimes the little Indians have great feasts when ducks and geese, deer and hares are to be found, or when the berries and birds' eggs are plentiful. But many a time during the long winter game is scarce, and there is no food to be had. Then the children must not complain, though they are faint with hunger. If an Indian child hopes to grow up and be a brave man, he must learn to bear many things and show no one how much he is suffering.

Fearful storms rage about his home in the winter. The snow falls hour after hour and the fierce winds drive it in great gusts. Sometimes in summer the winds blow hard too, but then they are hot and dry and they scorch the faces of those who are exposed to them.

The red children learn many things not to be found in books. They look at the grass,--the way the blades turn shows them where to look for the east and west. The flight of birds warns them of a coming storm and in what direction to look for it. A broken twig tells them that a wild animal has passed by.

They have many sports. In winter they bind snow-shoes on their feet and skim over the snowfields. In summer they ride over the prairies on their ponies with pads of deer skin beneath them.

Sometimes they let their ponies move along at a slow walk; but more often they gallop wildly along, with black hair waving in the air, and with bright and eager eyes. Then, too, the red children have canoes, in which they paddle on the lakes or streams near home.

The canoe of the Canadian Indian is the best possible boat for the kind of life he follows, just as the Eskimo's kayak suits the icy waters of the north. Everything he needs for it can be found in the forest. He cuts down the cedar for its ribs, he gathers birch-bark with which to cover it, he gets resin from the pine to make it water-tight. When the ice begins to break up in the springtime and the wild swans and geese fly overhead, then he takes it from its winter resting place beneath the snow and launches it on the lake or stream near his home. With his birch canoe he can travel a long way through the wilderness, for when he has hunted or fished all day long, he can bring his canoe up on the shore and turn it bottom upwards. In an instant he has a roof to shelter him while he takes his night's sleep.

The Indian children are sure to have dogs about their home. These are long-legged, sharp-nosed creatures, and they always look lean and hungry. Sometimes a puppy is cared for tenderly. Then, perhaps, it grows up full of love for its young master. But generally the dogs are only half-fed, and they are ever ready to fight with each other, and rob the stores of their masters. Yet they are very helpful to the Indian, as well as to many a white traveler in Canada. They drag the sledges over the snow in the winter and the little carts in the summer.

Many a time they stop to quarrel among themselves; many a time the sledge is over-turned and the rider is landed in a bank of snow. Many a time the dogs refuse to obey the word of the driver. Then the long whip flies right and left among them, and with angry howls they get back into order.

Wild Animals of the Forest and Prairie.

Out on the prairies and among the forests are many wild animals which the Indian boy delights to hunt. He has a bow and arrows of his own, and when he his older, his father promises him that he will buy him a gun from the white traders. Perhaps the most clever of all the animals hunted in Canada is the beaver. It might well be called the animal-carpenter. Its favorite home is a shallow lake or stream. The children of the wilderness are ever on the lookout for small earth mounds along the banks. Whenever they find these, they also notice that trees have been cut down nearby. It was certainly the work of beavers. These little mounds, then, are the roofs of store houses where the wise little creatures have placed piles of tender wood and roots, for their winter's supply.

From these store-houses, tunnels have been dug out for some distance under the shallow water of the pond or stream, to the very doors of the beavers' homes, which have been made very carefully out of twigs and brush, and plastered with mud. The tops can generally be seen above the surface of the water. Inside there are beds of boughs covered with soft grass and bark, and here the beavers sleep most of the hours during the winter. If the hunters come upon a beaver village in cold weather, there is no sign that the animals are near, for the beavers are all inside their homes. This is the time to get them, however, for then the soft thick fur is at its best.

In the autumn the men and boys generally catch the animals in traps, but in the winter, when the ice is frozen quite solid, the hunters stop up the passage from the beaver's home to his store-house on the bank. Then with their axes, they break into the lodges, and dragging out the fat sleepy animals, they kill them, one by one. The sledges are soon packed and the hunters start for home, thinking as they go, of the feast of fat meat they will soon have. The beautiful furs must be tanned and put away for the traders, but the flesh of the animals they will enjoy themselves.

Besides beavers, there are martens, minks and fishers to be hunted and trapped, as well as muskrats and skunks. As soon as autumn comes the men and boys begin to put their traps in order, for with the first cold of November, they will carry them out to the pine forests. The Indian children would tell you that they cannot imagine why the fisher is so called. They know its ways and that it never goes near to the water except when it has to cross over to the other side. It has a long bushy tail and its fur is even richer than the costly sable.

As for the mink, they have discovered it is quite different from either the marten or the fisher, and its fur is not as beautiful. It lives near the streams and feeds upon crabs and fish. Many a time the young Indian has caught a mink by baiting his trap with fish.

Sometimes, as the children are playing around the camp in the evening, they hear a sudden screech in the distance. It is the cry of a wild-cat, or lynx. They would not care to have it take them by surprise, for it is a fierce creature, and its teeth and claws are very sharp. The men, however, hunt wild-cats and get many of them every year, because they are well paid for the skins.

Then there are foxes, silver and black and red. Many thousands of these sly creatures are shot or trapped every year in Canada. Sometimes a fox-cub is brought into the camp to amuse the children. It is a gentle, pretty creature at first, but before long it will show the ugly cunning of its parents.

The boys sometimes search for muskrats, whose homes are much like those of the beavers, a number of them always found together.

Off for the Hunt.

There are many half-breed children in Canada, as you already know. They grow up with a love of hunting like their Indian brothers. They dress in Indian fashion, wearing moccasins and leggings. Many of them live in rough log huts and sleep on piles of brush covered with fur robes. When the cold weather sets in, the Indian, and the half-breed boy as well, does what he can to help the men of the household get ready for the busiest work of the year, as the trapping and hunting season is at hand.

By the first of November the lakes and streams are frozen, and the winter coats of the wild animals are at their best. On a bright, frosty morning, often with the thermometer below zero, the trapper dresses himself in his thickest socks and moccasins, warm leggings and cloak. He fastens a fur cap down over his head and draws on his long fur mittens which reach up to his elbows. A hatchet, hunting knife, and fire-bag hang from his belt.

While he is dressing, his wife is busy preparing his pack, for he may be gone several days. The pack consists of a blanket, a kettle and cup, sugar and salt, tea, of which the Indians are very fond, and enough pemmican to last several days. Pemmican is dried meat ground fine and mixed with fat. If the trapper is not very poor he has steel traps and a gun to add to his pack. When it is ready, it is bound to a hand sledge which is simply a thin board curled up at one end. It is easily drawn over the snow, and at the end of the hunt is loaded with furs and game to carry home.

Now for the snow shoes! When these have been bound on his feet, the trapper can skim over the snow fields with the greatest ease, drawing his sledge behind him. He must not sing nor make any noise as he moves along; nor if he has any company can there be any loud talking. Otherwise the animals whom he seeks, might take fright and flee from danger, and this must not happen on any account.

Ah, how cold it is! the breath freezes as it leaves the mouth and nostrils, the eye-lashes become stiff with frost, but the hunter is too busy watching for signs of the prey he seeks, to think of these things. His hands and feet become numb with the biting cold, but this is only what he expected, and he trusts to his quick movements to keep them from freezing. At last the forest is reached and he turns his eyes in every direction for signs that animals have been near. A white man would see nothing, where an Indian or a half-breed reads whole pages in Mother Nature's wonderful book.

Yes, a marten was here only an hour or two since and is still not very far away. A trap must be set up in this very spot and baited with dried meat, or with a tender piece of squirrel. Then the hunter creeps away, to seek places where there are other signs of life and to set up new traps while he waits. If he is after foxes or minks, he visits the shores of the lakes and swamps. He looks carefully about him now for the foot-marks of the fox, or the sharp, clear track of the mink.

When the evening comes the trapper looks about him for some place that is sheltered from the wind. There he makes a roaring fire, over which he brews a pot of tea. When this is ready, he enjoys his hot drink, together with a share of the pemmican brought from home. Next he gathers soft pine boughs for a bed, covers them with a blanket, and with his feet towards the fire, lies down for his night's rest. Toward morning the fire burns low, and the cold grows so bitter that the man cannot sleep. He gets up, piles on more wood, and warms himself by the bright flames. Once more he stretches himself on his bed of boughs, hoping to sleep until the morning sunshine shall awaken him.

Winter Sports.

A great many of the white children of Canada live in Quebec and Ontario. Although these provinces lie in the southern part, yet the winter is very cold even there. The children enjoy it, however, because the air is clear and dry, and there is plenty of snow on the ground. Even the little folks learn how to use snow-shoes, and with these on their feet, they skim over the crusted snowfields like the wind.

They have many toboggan rides, too. Nothing could be pleasanter for a party of merry children, than to spend the morning coasting down the steep hillside on wooden sleds called toboggans, which are shaped much like the Indian hand-sledges. They move so fast over the snow, that the riders must hold on tightly lest they tumble out. Sometimes there is a sudden upset as the toboggan strikes a rough spot on the hillside. Then there is much laughing and shouting as the children pick themselves up, and make ready for a fresh start.

Perhaps the greatest sport of all is a ride on an ice-boat which is raised on large iron skates, and in a good wind will sail very swiftly. When the St. Lawrence River is frozen over, one can see numbers of ice-boats skimming along with their loads of happy passengers.

Of course the children of Canada skate and play hockey. The lakes and ponds are frozen over for many months, so that parties are continually made up for skating and games on the ice.

One must certainly not forget to mention sleigh-rides. There is no place in the world where the people enjoy sleigh-riding more. They wrap themselves up in warm furs, and spring into the pretty sleighs to which gaily decked horses are harnessed. Jingle, jingle, sound the bells, and when the word is given, away move the sleighs filled with their merry loads.

The Big Cities.

Although Canada has been under English rule for a long time, yet many French people have continued to live there. In fact, in the province of Quebec there are more French than English. The old part of the city of Quebec looks much to-day as it did in the long ago, when Wolfe climbed the cliff and took the French army by surprise. Along the narrow streets there are many quaint old houses with peaked roofs, in whose gardens French-Canadian children play the games and sing the songs of France. Here and there you will see an altar on which flowers have been placed, and people bowing before the image of the Virgin Mary.

If you visit Quebec, you will certainly go to the citadel. Far above the water it stands, on the summit of the cliff, while just below it lies the old city, with its high, pointed roofs, and queer gates opening into old-fashioned gardens. Far, far below lies the beautiful St. Lawrence, where ships of many countries lie at anchor. Immense rafts of lumber come floating down the river, to be sent on the waiting ships to other lands. On some of these rafts are tiny houses for the men who have rowed them from the forests, hundreds of miles up the river.

Before you leave the city you will walk out on the Plains of Abraham which stretch into the country back of the citadel. There the great battle was fought that gave Canada to the English; and there in the summer of 1908 a great celebration was held. Three hundred years ago the city of Quebec was founded, and in memory of this, many thousands of people gathered to see the pageants, representing the great things that have happened there. The city was gay with flags and bright-colored banners. There were concerts, balls and grand dinners. The Prince of Wales himself was there to take part in the good time. The pageants were the best part of the celebration, of course. They were given on the Plains of Abraham, and hundreds of men, women and children took part. Thousands of people gathered in the open-air theatre to look on.

Montreal is another beautiful city. It is built on an island in the St. Lawrence River. Most of the children there are of French blood, but there are also many boys and girls of Irish, Scotch and English families. They are all proud of the wonderful bridge, nearly two miles long, that crosses the river at Montreal, and of the beautiful cathedral that will hold ten thousand people. They, as well as the children of Quebec, see ships of many countries anchored near their homes. Many of these ships have crossed the ocean to receive the lumber and furs that Canada wishes to send to other lands.

The capital of Canada is Ottawa, in the province of Ontario. It is also on the St. Lawrence. High up above the water, on the river banks, stand many beautiful buildings, where all the business of the government of Canada is carried on. Ottawa is a beautiful place for a home and the children who live there should be very happy. They have the winter sports of Quebec, while on the hot summer days they can sail in and out among the islands of the river, or picnic under the trees of the forests only a short distance away.

On the Farms.

In your grandfather's time, few people except the Indians and halfbreeds, were living on the prairies over which Mackenzie made his way on his journey westward. There were no roads there in those days; no tracks over which trains filled with passengers went flying by. Great herds of buffaloes wandered about, feeding on the tall prairie grass, while here and there little red children ran in and out of their wigwams, and danced about the camp-fires.

To-day scarcely a buffalo is left in the land, the shriek of the steam engine is often heard, while many comfortable farm houses can be seen. In the summer time there is much to do, even for the little folks. The boys help weed the vegetable gardens, and care for the cows and the horses, while their fathers are busy in the fields of wheat and oats that stretch over many acres. The girls learn to darn and sew, as well as wash dishes and help their mothers make bread and pies for the hungry workmen.

Sometimes the farmer raises only hay, but the big crops must be cared for very carefully and the boys do their share of the work. Ranches where cattle and horses are raised are also found on the prairies. Certainly no place could be better for this work, since the broad acres of tall grass make the best feeding-grounds possible.

When August comes, the men and boys get out their guns and watch for the coming of the prairie chickens. Later on, the wild ducks and geese appear in large flocks. This is the time for the boys to take their canoes and a few supplies, and camp out on the shores of the lakes and ponds, for they know that the birds love the water and are sure to seek it. There will be feasting in the big farmhouses now, because there will be plenty of tender wild ducks to roast, and the cellars are full of the vegetables raised in the gardens.

Besides the autumn shooting and the feasts that follow, there are many other good times for the young folks on the big farms. They meet together for singing and dancing, they play tennis, they have games of hockey, both on land and ice, they have jolly sleigh rides in the frosty air, they skate and they curl, and, of course, the small boys and girls make snow-forts and houses that will last without melting for a month at a time. If you who live in warmer lands should pity them for having such long, cold winters and so much snow, the children would laugh at the idea. They would tell you that they love the winter and hate to have it come to an end. They can have such jolly times out of doors, and then, when they are tired of their rough sports, they can gather around roaring fires in the big living-rooms of the houses, and listen to the stories the older folks tell them of the days of long ago.

In a Lumber Camp.

For many years the white settlers in Canada have been busy cutting down trees in the big pine forests, yet they still stretch for many miles through the country. When the autumn comes the children of the lumber-men hear their fathers tell of the winter's work before them. They are going out into the forests to live, and will not be home again for many months. A party of these lumber-men start out together. They carry everything they will need for their rough housekeeping,--a few kettles and dishes for cooking, some heavy blankets, a supply of flour for bread, salt-pork, tea and molasses.

The last good-bye is said and they start out on their long journey to the forests. As soon as they reach the place for the winter camp they set to work to build a house of logs. In the middle of the roof a place is left open, to let out the smoke when a fire is burning inside. Around the side of the big room, the men build bunks in which to sleep at night, and in the middle they make a fireplace, where the blazing logs on winter evenings will send out such warmth and cheer, that Jack Frost will not dare to venture through the cracks in the walls.

The lumber-men are happy in their work. All day long the sound of their axes rings through the forest, while they vie with each other in cutting down the big trees. Then when night comes and their supper of bread, tea and fried pork is finished, they gather around the fire to smoke and tell stories. The weeks pass quickly, and with the coming of spring, immense piles of logs are ready to go to the saw-mills.

When the ice begins to break up, it is a sign to the men to bind the logs into cribs. Thirty or forty logs are enough for one crib. The cribs are fastened together to form rafts, which are set floating down the rivers. Some of the men ride on the rafts and guide them by means of long poles tipped with steel, to prevent them from running aground. Others of the party go at once to the saw-mills, to be ready to receive the logs when they arrive. Buzz-z-z sounds through the air, as the big wheels turn and the trees of the forest are rapidly changed into strong lumber.

Beyond the Mountains.

Let us now cross the Rocky Mountains, and make a short visit in British Columbia. It is the most beautiful province in Canada, with its mountains covered with forests and its rivers stocked with fish. The children who live near the Fraser River, can tell wonderful fish stories, for at a certain time of the year, millions of salmon leave the ocean and make their way up this river. Then big folks and little are busy with nets, hauling in the fish and carrying them to the canneries.

Gold is also found on the Fraser River, while the mountains nearby are rich in other minerals.

The Klondike Mines.

Far up in the northwest of Canada, near the borders of Alaska, are the famous Klondike mines. You have probably heard of them, and of the long, hard journey a person must take to get there. Such wonderful stories have been told of the riches one can bring away from these mountains, that many a young man has left home and friends to seek his fortune there. Now-a-days it is easier to reach the Klondike mines than it was a few years ago, but the country is cold and dreary and most of the food must be brought from a distance, so that few white children have found their way there. Yet as they sit in their cosy homes, they are glad to listen to the stories of that wild country, told to them by the brave men who have been to the Klondike gold regions.