Peeps at Many Lands: Canada

CHAPTER I

THE GREAT DOMINION

If you look at a map of North America, you will see that the whole northern half of it is one vast extent, coloured perhaps in red, and stretching north from the boundary of the United States to the Arctic Ocean; you will see that it is deeply indented by the great Hudson Bay on the north, and the Gulf of St. Lawrence on the east; that it has an outline projecting into many bold headlands, and a coast washed by three oceans, fringed with countless islands, great and small.

This is Canada, a land that comprises fully one-third of the 12,000,000 square miles of the British Empire, thirty times as large as England, Ireland, and Scotland combined – not much less in area, in fact, than the whole of Europe. You may realize its breadth by thinking that if you were to get on a train at Halifax on the east, on Monday morning, and travel by the Imperial limited – a very fast train – day and night without stopping, you would not reach Vancouver on the west coast till Saturday morning. In the course of this long journey you would pass through eight large provinces – Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta, and British Columbia – and you would still miss the island province, Prince Edward, and the great northern territories. Here is a heritage of the Anglo-Saxon race, a new nation indeed, part of the greatest Empire in the world, being fashioned and built up with marvellous rapidity.

We will try to give our readers a few pictures of this new land. A country whose southern parts are in the same latitude as Marseilles, and whose northern islands hide in the everlasting silence of Arctic ice, naturally presents a great variety of physical features, climate, productions, and occupations, and this bewildering variety is increased by difference in age. Down in the east the Tercentenary last year marked the passing of 300 years since Champlain first landed; in the north and west it is rare to find a native born.

There are only about 6,000,000 people in this broad domain, and the settled parts and the large cities are mostly along the south, while the northern areas are in many parts covered by great forests, in which still roam the moose and the elk, the grizzly bear and the grey wolf, while the plash of the hunter's paddle following his line of beaver or otter-traps, or the tap of the prospector's hammer searching for silver or gold, have long been the only echo of the white man. Nomadic tribes of Indians still build their tepees beside the still waters of far inland lakes, and follow the pathless highway of river and stream.

There are no forests in the southern districts of Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta. Here is one vast open plain, grassy meadow or ploughed land as far as eye can see, the prairie.

The southern part of Ontario, Quebec, and the province of Nova Scotia, are, in appearance, much like England, studded as they are with large towns, prosperous and old-settled farms, and numerous thriving orchards and vineyards. If the rolling, wide prairies, reaching as far as the eye can pierce in every direction, is the chief feature of the provinces of Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta, the majestic river, St. Lawrence, is the chief feature of the province of Quebec, and four big lakes, or rather inland seas, are the principal feature of Ontario. It is between two of these large lakes, Ontario and Erie, on the one side, and a third larger lake, Huron, on the other, that the above-mentioned garden-like part of the province of Ontario is situated. The fourth lake, Superior, the biggest of all – nearly as big as all Scotland, in fact – lies farther to the west, and stretches for 400 miles along the south of Ontario. There is yet a fifth big lake, closely connected with these four – namely, Michigan – but it belongs to the United States rather than to Canada.

CHAPTER II

THE FAR WEST

The province of British Columbia, which is separated from the rest of Canada by the great range of the Rocky Mountains, is itself a "sea" of tumbled mountains, which reach all the way from the Rockies to the Pacific Ocean, and, like the northern portion of the Dominion, is covered with forests. Here again there are several large rivers, such as the Fraser and the Columbia, and a great many lakes. British Columbia is an exceptionally highly favoured region. Not only is she rich in natural resources – minerals, fish, lumber, fruit – but she can boast of scenery which can vie with that of Norway, as with that of Scotland, and even with the scenery of Switzerland.

Take, for instance, the Grand Cañon of the Fraser River. This is "a narrow gorge, where the river winds its tortuous way between great broken walls of cliffs, dashing against the huge black boulders which lie in its path, covering them with white foam and spray. As the cañon expands, the scene is varied by glimpses of Chinese gold-washers on the gravel-bars, or Siwash Indians fishing with dip-nets from the rocks for salmon; while here and there are scattered drying-frames festooned with red flesh of the salmon, and fantastically decorated Indian graves give a weird touch to the scene. Here the mountains of the coast range, which the river passes, rise to heights varying from 6,000 to 9,000 feet above the level of the sea. They are extremely rugged and densely wooded, the south and western slopes especially, luxuriantly covered with the characteristic growth peculiar to the humid climate."

Although the interior of British Columbia is a sea of mountains, like an ocean suddenly turned into stone when in the grip of a mighty tempest, the hollows between the broken mountain-crests consist of a number of long narrow valleys, many of them filled wholly or in part with lakes. On a still, peaceful day in summer or early autumn nothing in the world can be lovelier than one of these lakes – Kootenay, Slocan, Arrow, Okanagan. The face of the water is like a sheet of highly polished steel, of a pure greenish-black colour, and every tree and stone, and every hut, on the mountain-sides around, and even every cloud in the sky above, is reflected on it with marvellous distinctness. The hollows of the mountains are filled with a soft but rich purple haze, or it may be a scarf of white, fleecy cloud hangs across the shoulders of the mountains, while another veil of delicate lace-work drapes their crests. As you gaze at the witching beauty of the scene, you feel your heart soften towards the great mountains. You imagine they do not know how to frown or be angry. You think it would be impossible for storm or tempest ever to rage or ravage against them. Mountains, forests, green pasture-lands, blossoming orchards, the lake itself – the whole scene is so wonderfully peaceful, so gloriously lovely.

The bare walls of rock, sprinkled with forest trees, the jagged, pinnacled outlines of the mountain-tops, the cappings of perpetual snow which frame in some of these lakes, recall to the observer the stern grandeur of the Norwegian fjords; while the little towns and orchards which cling to the foot of the mountains conjure up unforgotten visions of Lucerne and Thun and similar beauty spots of Switzerland.

Apostrophizing any one of the little towns on the shore of any one of these beautiful sheets of water, you might say:

Among the most striking features of the interior of British Columbia are the Selkirk and Purcell ranges, which wheel round the northern end of Lake Kootenay, and stretch some distance down its eastern side. The lofty, rugged, sharp-cut peaks of these ranges "receive and break most of the heavy rain-clouds which blow in from the Pacific. There is therefore more rain and more snow, and consequently the soil receives more moisture, and the growth of forest and farm is more dense. The lower slopes, beneath the snow-line, except where the bare rock refuses to sustain life, are clothed with impenetrable forests of spruce, cedar, and hemlock, of which the underbrush is the most difficult barrier to exploration."

"These characteristics give more richness and contrast in the colour. On a clear day the snow-capped summits and crested peaks, tinged, perhaps, with the crimson glow of the setting sun, glisten and sparkle with dazzling brilliancy. Great luminous spears of transparent blue ice cut down into the dark rich green of the forest, which is blended into the warmer tints of shrubbery and foliage in the foreground. Great castellated crags of white and green rock break through the velvet mantle of forest. Blueberry bushes and alders, with white-flowered rhododendrons, adorn with delicate tracery the trailing skirts of the forest, and rich-tinted red, purple, and yellow wild-flowers nestle in the fringe. All this, rising against the clear blue of the sky, while soft veils of mist rise from the valleys, floating across the face of the mountains, or break and hang in fleecy tassels upon the edges of cliffs and crags, makes a study in colour and grandeur beyond the power of human artist to depict or poet to describe."

This description applies almost equally to the Rocky Mountains, the backbone that stretches from north to south of the continent, the gigantic barrier which separates the flat prairies from the broken coast districts.

In Canada they all wear glistening snow-caps, while glaciers of enormous extent rest in their awful cañons, and their hoary sides are laced with the most beautiful green-blue mountain torrents which leap from dizzy heights in cascades of dazzling beauty. Some of the most imposing scenery of the Rockies is enclosed within the great National Park at Banff, an area of 5,732 square miles of mountains, and here is a great game preserve, where are found bear, moose, elk, deer, mountain sheep and goats, and many smaller animals. No one may shoot or trap here, and it is expected that the number of wild animals will greatly increase. There is, too, a large herd of buffalo maintained in the park.

In the forests, on the slopes, grows the famous Douglas fir, which reaches a great size and height; trees 30 feet across the trunk are not uncommon, and there is one in Stanley Park, Vancouver, which your cabman is sure to show you should you visit that city, which has a hole in the trunk so large that parties of tourists stand in it to be photographed. The climate is so mild that winter is replaced by a rainy season, and roses bloom outside all the year round. This makes the famous Okanagan and Kootenay valleys so suitable for fruit-culture.

Victoria is the capital of British Columbia. It is situated on Vancouver Island, on the Pacific, and its climate and natural beauty have made it the home of choice for many English families retiring from service in the Orient, and so it is the most English of Canadian cities. Vancouver is the commercial capital, it is the terminus of the Canadian Pacific Railway, and from its fine harbour steamship lines run to China, Japan, and Australia. Prince Rupert is a new port farther north, and is the western terminus of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway now being built across the continent.

British Columbia has been called a "little paradise on earth," and if beauty of scenery, and the poetry of Nature, and the contentment, prosperity, and happiness of man can anywhere combine to make a spot on this earth anything approaching to a paradise, assuredly that spot is to be found in the fairest province of the Dominion of Canada. And how many of the names of the little towns which cling to the feet of the mountains mirrored in these lakes have not only musical, but richly poetic names! Who can listen to such words as Kelowna, Summerland, Nelson, Vernon, Castlegar, Halcyon, Mara, Kootenay, Slocan, Okanagan, without feeling a thrill of poetic delight? Were these names as familiar to the mind as are Lomond, Katrine, Leven, Blair Athole, Glencoe, Inveraray, Oban, they would not fail to conjure up as many pictures of surpassing scenic beauty as do those pearls of the Scottish Highlands, especially as in many respects the physical features of the two regions are somewhat alike.

And the coast districts of British Columbia are every bit as remarkable as the mountainous lake districts of the interior. They, too, bear more than a superficial resemblance to the west coast of Scotland. Like the latter, the western shore of British Columbia is cut into deeply by the ocean. Like the west of Scotland, again, the numerous bays and fjords are rock-bound, and long and winding. And, once more, like that same Scottish ocean marge, the Pacific coast of this Canadian province is thickly studded with islands, varying in size from a tiny dot of rock to Vancouver Island, which is about half as big as Ireland, and studded with mountains which rise up to from 6,000 to 7,500 feet.

CHAPTER III

HOME-LIFE IN CANADA

The English visitor to a Canadian city finds things much as they are at home: there are different names for articles in common use; the hotel elevator goes faster than the lift at home; the trams are street-cars, the streets are not so clean; the traffic is not so well managed; and the public buildings and parks are newer, and lack the grace and beauty of the old land architecture. The houses all have verandas, on which, in summer, the people spend a great part of their time, even eating and sleeping there; and most of the houses have lawns unprotected from the street by walls or fences. The houses are kept much warmer in winter than is the English custom, and ice is everywhere used in the summer. All well-to-do people in the towns, and many in the country, have telephones. Other minor differences there are, but you would soon feel quite at home in a Canadian house.

The stranger visiting a Canadian town is at once struck by the keenness of the local enthusiasm. That is to say, the people who live in that town are immensely proud of it, and consider it the finest and best place to live in in all the world. They are very fond of pointing out the advantages which it enjoys, and never neglect the smallest opportunity of boasting of its beauty or wealth or public spirit, or whatever it may be that it excels in. The governing authorities of the town, as the Mayor and Town Council, vote money from time to time expressly to advertise their town, in the hope of attracting strangers to come and live there. Then the citizens form themselves into clubs for the purpose of helping the population to reach as soon as possible 20,000, or 50,000, or 100,000, as the case may be; and these clubs bear the strange titles of the Twenty Thousand Club, the Fifty Thousand Club, the Hundred Thousand Club, and so on.

The houses in the towns, and even many houses in the country, are not considered properly furnished if they have not the telephone fitted up inside them. The Canadians – women, and even children, as well as business men – use the telephone pretty well every day of their lives. Does a lady want to know how her neighbour's little girl's cut finger is getting on, she rings her neighbour up on the "'phone." A lady does her shopping at the grocery store, or orders her joint for dinner "over the 'phone." A boy asks his classmate how much history they have to learn for their home-lesson to-night. Indeed, in a Canadian home the telephone is used as much and as frequently as the poker is for stirring the fire on a cold winter's day in any English home.

In many of the thinly inhabited districts the place where people meet and gossip and pick up the news of what is happening in the country-side is not the weekly market or the church, because very often neither the one nor the other exists, but it is the "store." This is not a barn or similar building in which people put their hay or corn or other produce till they wish to sell it. The word means "a shop," and the country store, the focus and centre of the life of the district, is almost always a shop where pretty nearly every conceivable thing is sold, from iron wedges (for splitting logs) to oranges, from ready-made suits of clothes to note-paper. And the storekeeper is nearly always the postmaster as well. Thus, if you want to find out all about a district, you are most likely to obtain the information you seek from the storekeeper. He can tell you what land or what farms there are for sale in the locality, and the prices that are being asked. He knows the names of everybody within a range of a good many miles, and often knows a great deal more about people than their names alone.

In the older parts of the country, life on the farm is much the same as elsewhere; the houses are built of stone and brick, with verandas and lawns, heated by furnaces, and furnished with all that comfort, even luxury, demands. But far back in the newer parts of Ontario or New Brunswick we see in a small clearing in the forest or on the edge of a lake or stream the "log-cabin," with the blue smoke curling up from the chimney at one end. If we come up to the door we are sure of a welcome; that is the rule in the wilderness. We enter, to find the house of two rooms, and perhaps an attic above; the big iron stove for both cooking and heating stands at one end, and the rifle, guns, and fishing-tackle, and the dried skins on the wall, tell of the pleasures of forest life. Perhaps the owner greets you with a fine Scotch or Yorkshire "twang," and you need feel no surprise if you see last month's Punch or the Weekly Times lying on the table. These hardy settlers make their living in part by the battle with the forest, in part by what they shoot or trap, but largely by working in the winter for the large lumber (timber) companies who have bought the pine in the woods from the Government; sometimes, too, they act as guides in the summer and autumn for the tourists or amateur huntsmen. Their life teaches them to be strong, active, and self-reliant, with a fine disdain for the city man, who is so helpless on the trail or in a canoe.

On the prairie the life is quite different. Here the settler is content with the little wooden cabin of double boards with tar-paper between, which he erects himself; his supplies he brings in the form of flour, bacon, and canned goods from the nearest town many miles away. His nearest neighbour may be ten miles away, his railway-station twenty; all around to the horizon stretches a vast plain, like the sea. His horses are hobbled at night to keep them from straying, for there are no fences; he cuts their hay for the winter in the "slews" or "swales" – low-lying, marshy spots on the prairie. He is fortunate if there is within reasonable distance a poplar thicket, where he can cut some firewood. From morn to night he follows the plough through the rich black soil, which has waited for it from time immemorial; his whole life is the wheat. A lonely, hard existence, but the reward comes so fast that in a few years of good crops he may spend his winters in the South, while his sons and daughters attend college.

Now, a peep at the home of the "habitant" – the French-Canadian farmer in the Province of Quebec. A tiny white house in the shadow of a little church, whose spire is tipped with a golden cross, overlooking a mighty river; a narrow strip of farm, every inch in cultivation; a group of many dark-eyed children chattering in a picturesque patois; you close your eyes and you are in Brittany. Hard-working, home-loving, religious, but light-hearted, these people preserve throughout centuries without change the virtues and customs, the speech and the religion of their ancestors. They grow most of what they eat; they make everything they wear; and little money means wealth. Their sons are found in the factory towns of the New England States, and in the lumber woods of the North.

or —

as Drummond the habitant poet quaintly says.

Most of the schools in Canada are public, which means just the opposite to what it means to the English boy who knows Rugby, Eton, or Harrow; they are like English Board-schools, free to all, and attended by both boys and girls. Then there are high schools, where students may be prepared for college, and there are private schools, corresponding to the English public schools; of these the oldest and most noted is Upper Canada College, which is like the Eton of Canada. There are Universities in all the provinces, and Toronto and McGill University in Montreal are as large as the great Universities at home.

The English boy or girl coming to Canada will find the money quite different from what he has been accustomed to; it is measured in dollars, and a dollar is about equal to four shillings. There are 100 cents in a dollar, and there is a copper coin for 1 cent, value one halfpenny, usually called a "copper," and silver coins for 5, 10, 25, and 50 cents; but for large sums bank-notes in denominations of 1, 2, 5, 10 dollars and more are used. As the decimal system is used, it is really simpler than pounds, shillings, and pence, and one soon becomes accustomed to it, though for some time one fears that one is paying too much, especially as prices for small articles are often higher in Canada.

CHAPTER IV

WINTER SPORTS

As soon as the ground is covered with snow, and the snow gets hard enough, every boy and girl in Canada fetches out his or her flexible flyer, bob-sleigh, or other form of child's sleigh, and dragging it to the top of an incline, sets it off gliding to the bottom.

The flexible flyer is a small sleigh that will not carry more than one big child or two very small ones. The rider lies stretched out on the sleigh, flat on his stomach, with his legs sticking out behind. A bob-sleigh is larger – often made, in fact, by fastening a piece of board across two sleighs running one behind the other. The riders on this go down in a sitting attitude, with their legs sticking out on each side of them, while one of them steers with his feet. And jolly fun it is to see them flying down like an express train, laughing and shouting, with red, rosy cheeks and bright, sparkling eyes. What matters an occasional spill in the snow? That only adds to the fun, and makes the game all the merrier.

While the children enjoy this "coasting," as they call it, the young men strap on their snowshoes and race across fields and fences, leaping or rolling over the latter, until they arrive at some appointed inn, where they partake of a good meal, with plenty of singing of rousing, lusty choruses and other kinds of jollification. Then on they strap their snowshoes again, and, with many a whoop and shout, stretch out in Indian file on their homeward journey. If there is no moon they carry torches, and the ruddy, flickering light adds picturesqueness to the long belted blankets or tunics and tasselled tuques of the snowshoe runners.

"A pretty picture it is as the snowshoers turn down into a gully, some slipping, some recovering from a threatened upset by a feat of balancing, and then, still in Indian file, getting over the fence, every man in his own peculiar way. Some take it at a leap, others climb it cautiously; some roll over sideways in a lump, pitching feet and snowshoes before them. Some are too slowly careful, and, catching a shoe on the top rail, measure their full length in the snow. There is no stopping here, for we are far from road and railroad, out in the open country, with several miles of field before us, and twenty fences in the way. Most of the farmers, with fellow-feeling, have left a few rails down, so that there is no obstruction. But a tramp is as tame without a tumble as without a fence, so here goes for your five feet ten! Never was there charger could take a high fence like a snowshoer! As an old song of the Montreal Snowshoers' Club runs: