University of Virginia Library

LETTER XX.

To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—Ther wasn't no
grate rush of passengers like ther always is on the
North River botes, and nobody didn't git nocked over-board
in the confusion and hurryment of gettin aboard
of the Chief Justice Robinson. At the ring of the
bell we was all on board, and a cumfortabler bote or a
more obligin captain ain't afloat on river, lake, or sea,
than ours was.

Ther ain't nothin very wonderful to be seed gwine
down seven miles on the Niagary to Lake Ontario,
except it is the Old Fort Niagary, what's been tuck
and re-tuck, and capitilated and surrendered so often,
'mong the French, the Ingins, the British, and the
Americans, that it ain't very easy to make out who is
got the best rite to it now. It's seed lively times in its
day, that old place has; but it's monstrous lonesum
now, and they say it's been hanted ever sense they put
Billy Morgan in it for blowin the Masons. I hain't got
much blief in ghost-stories, but they say it's a positiv
fact, and that the pore old feller is to be seed every
dark night, dodgin about the dark corners, with a
taller-candle in his hand and a Free-mason's apron
on, lookin like he wanted to tell sumbody sumthing;
but evrybody's so 'fraid of him that he can't git no
chance to tell his secret. One thing is very certain
'bout Billy Morgan: if he couldn't keep the Mason's
secret, he keeps his own monstrous well.

It was a bright sunshiny day, and the water of the
lake as if it wanted to show us how well it could

behave itself, after its frollick among the rocks of the
Niagary, was as still and quiet as a mill-pond. Our
splendid steamer, with its British flag flyin—jest as
natural as if it was the banner of a sovereign peeple
and had a right to wave “over the land of the free and
the home of the brave,”—went spankin along, on its
way across the lake to Toronto, while the passengers
amused themselves accordin to ther likin. Sum old
codgers tuck a set-too 'bout politicks; sum of the
gentlemen red books and newspapers; sum smoked
ther segars, and sum promenaded with the ladys, while
the little ones went to playin romps on the deck,
keepin ther mothers in a peck of troubles for fear they
mought jump overboard, or brake ther necks climbin
on the awnin-posts.

We wasn't long gwine to Toronto, whar we only
stopped long enuff to git into another bote, and in a
few minits we was under way agin in the steambote
“Sovereign” of the “Royal Mail Line,” as they called
it, on our way down the lake to Kingston.

The names of things begun to sound monstrous
queer to my republican ears, and the red and gold
crowns what was painted on the cabin dores, and
was sticken about in different places on the bote
whar the eagle ought to be, looked odd enuff; but I
didn't find that they made the bote go any faster, or
that my clothes got any tighter for me, because I was
on a British Sovereign of the royal line gwine to
Kingston.

One don't see very much to interest him on the lake,
as what little is to be seed on the shore is so far off
that we don't git much good of it. Hooper and I
passed the time very agreeable though, smokin our
segars and talkin over what we had seed—now and
then pickin up a little fun among the passengers.
After tea, and when the moon was up, we was a good
deal interested in a courtship what was gwine on, between
a young cupple from New York. It seemed

that two very rich familys was tryin very hard to make
a match between a Miss-Nancy sort of a son on one
side, and a Liddy-Languish sort of a daughter on the
other; but neither of the young ones seemed to have
sense enuff to know how to go about it. The old
peeple gin 'em all the chance they could, and helped
'em along now and then, but the young feller seemed
to think more of his sorrel-colored whiskers, what
grow'd all over his unmeanin face, than any thing else;
and the gall, though she didn't seem to have no grate
objections to the arrangement, wasn't willin, or didn't
know how to do all the courtin. The old peeple
managed to keep 'em together pretty well all day, only
when the young spark went down now and then to git
a jewlip; and, in the evenin the feller's daddy made
him go and sing to her; but sich singin I never heard
before—half a ower of it was enuff to kill any young
woman in the world. What effect it did have I can't
say, but he kep it up 'bout six owers, 'thout stoppin to
give the pore gall time to draw a long breth between
his bominable songs. Once or twice the ingine blowd
off the steam, when she couldn't hear his croakin, and
it must really been a grate relief to her. At one
o'clock we went to bed and left him singin the “Minit
gun at Sea,” to one of the awfulest sam tunes I ever
heard.

At six o'clock the next mornin we waked up at
Kingston, and as we had but a few minits to stop
before we tuck another bote to go down the Saint
Lawrence, we hurried up into the town to see it. We
had got most up to the grate stone Market House,
what's big enuff for five or six sich towns, when the
Stuard cum runnin after us to ask us if we hadn't left
a watch on the bote. Shore enuff it was Hooper's
gold watch the man had in his hand. When Hooper
offered him a dollar for bringin it to him, he wouldn't
take a cent, and away he went.

“Very well,” ses Hooper, “that watch is worth jest

one hundred and fifty dollars more to me, than if it had
been left on a New York bote.”

After takin a look at the market-house, which is
more like a castle than a place to sell meat and vegetables,
and which I expect was intended as much for
one as the other, we started for the garrison, to see the
mornin parade of the sogers. When we got to the
gates the 71st rigment of Highland Light Infantry was
drillin in the square; but as we went to walk in to see
'em, a ugly-lookin customer, what was standin on gard
at the gate, brung his bayonet down within 'bout three
inches of my nose.

“Take care,” ses I, “Mister! what the thunder is
you about?”

He sort o' grinned, and didn't say nothin.

Then Hooper walked upon tother side, and he poked
his bayonet rite at him.

“Ain't thar no admission?” ses Hooper.

The feller shuck his hed.

“He must be dum,” ses Hooper.

“Or maybe he talks Highland, and can't understand
American,” ses I.

Jest then a chap with a red cap and sum extra buttons
on his cote, cum to the gate, and told us that
nobody wasn't allowed to cum in thar, and that we
musn't talk to the sentinel on the post; and the feller
with the bayonet begun to walk up and down agin as
stiff as a handspike, and lookin savage as a meat-axe.
By this time the ladys from the bote cum up, and 'fore
they know'd thar wasn't no admission, they marched
rite through the gate, and the gentlemen all follered
'em. The feller with the bayonet looked monstrous
sheepish, but even he couldn't charge bayonet on a
plattoon of butiful American galls, and was compelled
to surrender to charms such as he wasn't used to seein
in his own country.

In a few minits after we went in, the rigment was

formed in line—the band struck up, and away they
marched over a bridge to the barracks on the other side
of the river. I couldn't help but think, as I heard the
cry of ther bag-pipes, and watched the sad countenances
and mechanical movement of them pore sogers,
what a sorry life ther's must be—away so far from ther
homes and relations—givin ther lives to support a
power that only tramples 'em under it's feet. But the
monarchical institutions that makes slaves of white
men, trains 'em to be contented in ther servile conditions,
and teaches 'em to glory in the shallow glitter
of a crown that is upheld by ther own sweat and
blood.

I would liked monstrous well to tuck a better look
at Kingston, but we had no time to spare. After takin
a short walk through one or two of the best streets,
we went aboard of the steambote Canady, and at
seven o'clock we was on our way down the Saint
Lawrence.

After passin Fort Henry, what looks a good deal
like Governor's Island at New York, we was soon
among the Thousand Islands, whar the waters of the
Saint Lawrence seems to git lost, and runs in evry
direction 'thout havin any shores at all. Sum of these
islands is monstrous pretty—the fact is ther's a general
assortment of 'em, of all shapes and sizes, and a man
would have to be terrible hard to please if he couldn't
find sum among 'em to suit his fancy. The water bein
scattered all about so, hain't got much current, and
runs still and deep, so the bote could pass close to ther
sides. One minit we would be sailin by one big enuff
for a plantation, and then agin we would be twisten
about among sum that wasn't bigger than so many
tater hills. Who ever counted 'em must had a good
deal of patience, but I reckon he wasn't far out of the
way. If ther's one ther's at least a thousand of 'em, I
do blieve.

You remember it was among these islands whar
Commodore Bill Johnson sot up for himself durin the
Canady rebellion. Bill was a monstrous tall customer
in his way, and gin the British a heap of trouble,
robbin ther hen-roosts and pig-stys, and skeerin the
wimmin and children out of ther senses with his
Proclamations. They gin him sum terrible hard
chases, but they mought as well looked for a needle
in a shuck-pen, as to try to find him in sich a place,
and so Bill weathered 'em out, and never was cotched.
The Captain of the bote pinted out the place whar he
burnt the steambote Robert Peel, and robbed all the
passengers; but he sed that “Fort Wallace,” whar he
used to date his Proclamations, was like Billy Morgan
—nobody could tell what had cum of it.

After gettin out of the thickest of the Islands, we
cum to Brockville, whar the bote stopped for a few
minits, and then we passed Prescott's Landin, and the
captain pinted out sum old stone ruins what he sed
was the place whar the British sogers fit the wind-mill,
and tuck the patriots prisoners what they hung at Fort
Henry. None of these towns along here on the
Canady side ain't no grate shakes, and all of 'em
makes a monstrous bad contrast with the smart bisness-lookin
towns on the American side, showin plain enuff
that our institutions is best calculated to promote the
prosperity of the peeple.

It was a very butiful day, and the scenery as we
passed from Island to Island, and Lake to Lake, was
very butiful. Sumtimes we could almost reach the
branches of the cedar-trees from the deck of the bote,
then agin we was in the middle of Lake Howe, or sum
other lake whar we couldn't hardly see the shores.
Most of the passengers was delighted with the interestin
objects that presented themselves in rapid succession.
Jest before we got into the Rapids I happened
to notice that New York chap what was courtin the

young lady—the river didn't have no curiosities for
him—and thar he sot on the bench by the side of the
pore gall, readin Shakspear to her, and actin it as he
went along, while she was sleepin with her mouth wide
open, and her green vale over her face to keep the flies
off. Pore creater, he had sung her almost to deth the
night before, and now he was recitin what little life she
had left out of her. The bominable fool didn't know
she was sleepin til she begun to snore pretty considerable
loud, and then he got up and shut up his book,
and went and tuck sumthing to drink. Thinks I, if
that's the way peeple courts in these parts, they'd stand
a monstrous pore chance of gettin a wife among the
Georgia galls.

Bimeby we cum to the Long Sow Rapids, as they
call 'em, and you may depend it don't take very much
steam to go down 'em. It made the har stand on my
hed to go whirlin eend for eend as we did down that
racin current, whar the water runs so swift that it makes
one's hed swim to look at it, and the bote jest takes
her hed and goes whar and how she pleases in spite of
all the paddle-wheels and rudder can do. Sumtimes,
when we cum to a short turn, we would cum in a ace
of runnin rite spang on the rock-shore, and the bote
would slew over to one side like it was gwine to spill
us all out, and the fust thing we would know while we
was all holdin our breth to keep from gettin drownded,
we would find ourselves gwine like a streak of lightnin,
starn fust, down the next stretch. It was monstrous
fine ridin, and the little boys and galls danced and
clapped ther hands with joy, but the grown peeple
wore monstrous long faces sumtimes, and opened ther
eyes tight; while the captain and the man at the wheel
had ther hands full to keep the bote off the rocks.
The captain sed it wouldn't been so bad if the wind
hadn't blowd so hard down the river.

After gettin through the Rapids, we had a little

slower and safer travellin through Lake Saint Francis
to Cooto du Lack, whar we arriv a little after dark.
Here we was to take stages, sixteen miles, to the Cascades.
But they wasn't sich stages as we have in
Georgy, not by a long shot. They was sumthing
between a New York Omnibus and a Noa's Ark, and
would carry 'bout as many passengers as either of 'em.
Before the bote got to the landin the bell rung for the
number of coaches it would take to carry us, and by
the time we got on shore thar they all was, reddy to
start. I don't know how many of us, men, wimmin,
and children they stowed inside and on the top of
each one of 'em, but six coaches carried 'bout a
hundred of us, bag and baggage, without the least
difficulty.

Hooper, and me, and five or six more, tuck seats on
top, behind the drivers, so we could smoke our segars.
Pop went the whips, and in the next minit we was
rollin along over a plank rode, at the rate of six miles
a ower, as smooth as if we was in a ralerode car, and
a monstrous sight comfortabler. It was the delightfulest
travelin I ever had in my life. The plank rode
was as level and as clean as a barn floor, and the little
Canadian hosses trotted off with us, 'thout ever stoppin
or movin ther heds or tails out of the same position,
durin the whole drive, only when we stopped twice to
water. The scenery was butiful. On our right was
the broad Saint Lawrence, shinin like a sheet of silver
in the moonlight, while evry now and then we could
look down onto the roofs of the little vine-covered
cabins what was dotted all along on both sides of the
road, with ther little narrow fields leadin back to the
woods and hills on the left, or the river on the right.
Now and then we would cum to a house bigger than
the rest, what had shade-trees and a big wooden
cross out before the dore, whar the priests lived.
But evrybody was gone to bad, and the little cottages

themselves seemed to be sleepin in the calm
moonlight.

Three owers—what didn't seem longer than one
ower in a Georgia stage, whar the horses is wadin
nee-deep in the sand, and one don't hear the wheels
more'n once or twice in a mile, when they happen to
run over a pine root—brung us to the Cascades. After
shuckin out the passengers and baggage, and gettin all
the children and band-boxes gethered up, they tuck
us down a steep hill to the steambote, whar we went
to bed.

In the mornin, when we waked up, we found ourselves
in the butiful Lake Saint Louis, on our way to
La Chin. We got up in time to see sum of the butiful
islands—among 'em Nun's Island, what stands high
out of the water, and is covered with houses and little
plantations. On the highest part of the Nun's Island
is a monstrous big cross, what we could see a long
ways off, remindin us that we was in a Catholic country.
By seven o'clock we was at La Chin, whar we
tuck sum more stages over a good rode, eight miles, to
Montreal.

This is another butiful country. The rode runs all
the way through one continual string of cottages, what
stands close by the rode, with little plantations 'bout as
big as a good-sized Georgia turnip-patch, runnin down
to the river on one side, and back to the Green Mounting
of Montreal on the other. It was early in the
mornin, and the peeple was jest gwine to ther work;
and it was odd enuff to see the men with ther blue
frocks, and ther red caps stickin on one side of ther
heds, geerin up ther teams, and the pretty little
barefooted French galls, with ther short petticotes,
gwine to milk the cows. From the top of the stage
we could look rite down into the chamber winders,
and evry now and then I could see a pair of bright
eyes peepin out through the mornin-glorys and trumpet-flowers

at us. The whole eight miles was a panorama
of buty, and glad as I was to see Montreal, I would
liked it very well if the rode had been a little
longer.

But the wheels of our coach was soon rollin over
the wooden pavements of the city, and in a few minits
more we found ourselves all safe and sound at the
Exchange Hotel, with good appetites for our breckfusts.
So no more from