University of Virginia Library

EXTRACT FROM A JOURNAL OF AN EXCURSION
FROM MONTREAL TO ST ANDREWS.

BY THE AUTHOR OF `A CANADIAN LEGEND.'

We were now sailing on the Lake of the Two
Mountains, here twentyfive miles broad, the waves as
smooth and polished as a mirror, and gemmed with innumerable
green islands. The shores were in many
places bold and finely wooded, and little flourishing
settlements frequently burst upon the eye, crowned by
a glittering spire, and surrounded by luxuriant and well
cultivated farms; while the western horizon was bounded
by a range of highlands, sometimes swelling into what
in this level country are termed mountains. An Indian
village of considerable extent had long been in view,
and we approached it just where the waters again narrowed
into the channel of the Ottawa. A few canoes
were lightly skimming the waves, navigated by Indians
and squaws, in their fantastic dresses; and in one of
these little barks, Judge Macdonald recognised Big
Tom, a noted chief, preeminently distinguished by the
superior splendor of his tinsel gewgaws, and the number
of red feathers which decorated his head.

These villages, for there are two, separated only by
the church, are inhabited by rival tribes, the Algonquins
and Six Nations. The latter were formerly the most
powerful tribe in North America, and are still lords of
the soil as far as the eye can reach, retaining as hunting
grounds all the immense tracts of forest skirting
the borders of the lake and river, possessions which are
guarantied to them by the laws of the country. They
spend their summers principally in roving expeditions,
and return with the cold weather to enjoy the fruits of
their labors. The Algonquins were a strange tribe from
the banks of the Hudson, who came and took up their
residence in the neighbourhood of the Six Nations.
They were viewed with aversion and distrust by their
powerful rivals, and frequent feuds and skirmishes took
place between them. At length a deeper cause rooted
the hatred which existed between them. It happened
that six bold young chiefs of the Six Nations set off on
a hunting expedition, in pursuit of some peculiarly obnoxious
animal, that had committed great depredations
on their territory; but after several days, they returned,
disappointed and unsuccessful from the chase. Six young
men of the Algonquins, animated by a spirit of emulation
and adventure, and hoping for better success, then went
privately off, in the same pursuit. They proved victorious,
and were returning in triumph with the spoils of
the enemy, when their rivals, jealous of the renown they
would acquire, and mortified at their own defeat, treacherously
waylaid, and murdered them. The relatives of
the unfortunate Algonquins were too feeble to revenge
their death by declaring open war against their formidable
neighbours; but the injury was never forgotten, and
they embraced every opportunity to annoy and harass
their treacherous foe, when they could do it with impunity.
It is now many years since this event happened;

but it has not yet been forgotten or forgiven by the
Algonquins. They, however, from political motives
doubtless, live, in general, peaceably with the Six Nations,
and even occasionally intermarry. The village
belonging to the latter tribe is extensive and ancient.
It was flourishing even so far back as 1611, when Monsieur
Champlain penetrated into the country. That
occupied by the Algonquins was first visible to us.
We admired its neatness, the regularity of its houses,
many of them two stories high, with steep red roofs,
and the white mansion of the chief, situated on a smooth
green turf, apart from the others, and surrounded by
stately forest trees. We were told to suspend our
admiration till we saw the rival village; and, when
opposite the church, a central point, which commanded
a fine view of both, we were forced to acknowledge,
that it indeed exhibited marks of opulence and taste
that would have honored a state of refined civilization.

The tout ensemble was truly beautiful. We were not
sufficiently near to distinguish objects minutely; and
the distance, while it heightened the illusions of fancy,
concealed all the blemishes, and disclosed only the
interesting outlines of the picture. The church is a
large stone building, well proportioned, and, as usual
in Canada, ornamented with a tin covered spire, surmounted
by a cross. Adjoining it, on each side, is a
commodious range of houses, also of stone, inhabited
by the priests of the respective tribes; and, in front of
the whole, a noble avenue of elms stretches for a considerable
distance along the bank of the river. It was
a holiday; and, as we sailed slowly past, we observed
a procession of priests in their black flowing robes, followed
by a multitude of Indians, men and women,
tricked out in feathers and glittering ornaments, with
dark blankets wrapped, like cloaks, about them; each

hostile tribe walking with solemn steps, beneath the
deep shadow of the trees, to meet and throw aside their
animosities, and engage together in the imposing ceremonies
of their religion. It was a picturesque and novel
sight; more like a dream of enchantment, than anything
I ever witnessed. We gazed till each dusky figure had
disappeared from view, and the sound of the vesper bell
mingled its last sweet note with the rippling of the waves.

Around the village were rich pastures, fields of grain
and Indian corn; and beyond it rose a thickly wooded
hill of considerable height and extent, crowned by a
small white chapel, which is distinctly seen from a great
distance. It was placed there in commemoration of
the Passion of our Saviour, and there are two of still
smaller size, on the declivities of the hill. Every year
great multitudes of Catholics, for they are not appropriated
exclusively to Indian worshippers, walk to them
in procession, and celebrate high mass and other offices
of their religion.

At length we came once more within view of the
island of Montreal, and hailed as we would have done
the familar features of a friend, its green mountains and
cultivated plains, its substantial farm houses, and pretty
country seats and villas. Our companion pointed out
to us an object of peculiar interest to our national feelings.
It was a dilapidated windmill, and the grassy
remains of a fort which had fallen into the possession
of our gallant General Montgomery, when he captured
the island, and, near by, the ruins of a house which he
took by assault. The house, it seems, was the residence
of a private French gentleman, but fortified to secure it
from the depredations of the Indians. The general had
peremptory orders to seize upon every fortified place,
and, of course, though with reluctance, felt compelled to
take possession of this, which yielded without resistance.

Fortunately for the traveller, who loves to find traces of
other times, and identify them with natural scenery, it
has never been rebuilt. It stands alone in a peculiarly
romantic spot, half buried in the foliage of gigantic
trees. I should say the walls stand; for scarcely anything
else remains of what it was. They are of stone,
but fast crumbling away, and fringed with moss and
lichens; and the apertures, where once were windows,
are twined with ivy, which curls and wreathes itself
fantastically over the gray and shattered building. It
was a beautiful object, and might have harmonized well
with the landscapes of an older country. I had never
before seen anything which could at all realize the ideas
I have conceived of those European ruins which have
so often charmed my imagination, and I gazed upon it
till its faintest outline had melted away in the distance.

About sunset we approached the St Ann rapids; we
had been watching with interest the gradually increasing
rapidity of the current; and, long before we reached
them, the tremendous roaring of the waters burst upon
our ears. All was haste and preparation. The sails
were lowered, and the Canadian boatmen set up that
hideous shouting and hallooing from one side of the
vessel to the other, which is always a prelude to any
season of peculiar danger or difficulty. The water now
began to foam, and dash, and break with violence over
the rocks. The captain, who seemed rather stupid,
wore an uncommonly anxious look, which attracted my
notice, and I asked him if he had never been over the
rapids before. He replied, that it was the first time he
had ever commanded the boat, but he had often sailed on
the river, and knew the course. Could my heart have
been appalled in the midst of so grand and beautiful a
scene, his ignorance might have occasioned me some
alarm, particularly as I learned that many of the crew

were likewise strangers; but everything was so exciting
and magnificent about me, that my whole attention
was absorbed, and I was only anxious to conceal the
circumstance from my companions, who discovered a
slight uneasiness, and proposed going on shore; a plan
I had no wish to adopt. However, we safely passed
the rapids; the boat plunged, and for an instant almost
sunk in the waves that curled and dashed around her.
Every tongue was silent, and never did I experience a
sensation of such mingled awe and delight. We looked
back upon the fearful pitch, with emotions which it is
impossible to describe. The angry element, bathed in
the rich crimson of the setting sun, was lashing itself
to fury, and, in the midst of the most frightful breakers,
appeared a little bark canoe, whose progress we watched
with intense interest. One moment it rode triumphantly
on the summit of a foaming billow, the next sunk almost
from view, apparently too fragile to withstand the overwhelming
torrent. But it bravely weathered the host
of dangers which beset it, and, shooting swiftly past us,
soon left our more sluggish vessel far behind. We
were now passing the pretty village of St Ann's. Its
church, standing on a little promontory, extending into
the rapids, was a most pleasing object, a beacon in the
midst of rocks and dangers. Just at this time, the wind
again subsided, and left us totally becalmed. Night
was fast approaching, and we began to grow impatient;
for we had entered the St Lawrence, at the end of the
island, and from thence to La Chine its navigation is
rather difficult. The captain, we were now convinced,
knew little of it, as in confirmation of our previous
suspicions, Miss — heard the Judge say to him, just
after we passed the rapids, `Why did you come over
that steep pitch? It was not the right channel.' To
which he replied, `It was the helmsman's fault; he had
never been over before, and knew nothing about it.'
Many of the sailors also were half intoxicated; they
had amused themselves, during the calm in the morning,
with drinking perpetually, and had become noisy and
rude, and were unwilling to use their oars.

At the foot of the rapids, Judge Macdonald showed
us the spot where a most dreadful accident happened in
the spring. Mr and Mrs H., with three children and
three female servants, were passing down the river, on
their way to Quebec. They landed, and walked past
the rapids; but as the children complained of fatigue,
returned to the boat too soon, and were but a few yards
from the shore, when one of the boatmen, who was intoxicated,
by an unskilful use of the oar created an eddy
which tipped the canoe on one side. This alarmed the
servants, who, instead of remaining quiet, rose suddenly
up, and by their imprudence completely overset the
boat. Mr H., who was an excellent swimmer, seized
one of the children but a wave washed it instantly from
his arms. He remained in the water a long time, vainly
searching for the remainder of his family, till entirely
exhausted he was compelled to go on shore, but in a
state bordering on distraction. Mrs H., however, was
most providentially preserved. On dragging the canoe
to land she was discovered fastened in between the
seats, but lifeless and benumbed by her long submersion.
Her recovery, which was almost unhoped for,
seemed miraculous, and it was long before they dared
to inform her of the dreadful extent of her loss. Her
husband was obliged to dissemble and stifle his agony
in her presence, but in private it nearly overpowered
his reason. They shortly after this dreadful event,
proceeded to Quebec. The bodies of the children were
found, brought to town, and buried. One of the servant
women escaped, the others never rose.

Soon after passing this melancholy spot, we met a
large Durham boat, under full sail, streamers flying, and
a band of music playing delightfully. There was a
merry party on board, and among them some gentlemen
of our acquaintance, who saluted us with Yankee
Doodle as they passed. They were striving to clear the
rapids before dark. These were the scenes in which
Moore composed, or rather imitated from the French,
his beautiful Canadian boat song.

Night had now closed around us, and for two or three
hours we made so little progress, that we began to fear
we should be obliged to remain on board all night. We
wished to be put ashore at Point St Clair, but the captain
said the shoals were dangerous, and he did not like
to venture. We were soon however relieved from our
apprehensions, as the wind again rose, and a stiff
breeze wafted us swiftly onward. It was a bright starlight
night; not a cloud was visible on the stainless
azure above us, and the dancing waves beneath
sparkled with the reflected glories of the heavens.
Lights were seen along the shore, and now and then
showed us a small village or solitary cottage in the
midst of surrounding gloom. Judge Macdonald sang
several Highland songs in Gaelic. His voice was rich
and well modulated, and there was a wild sweetness in
the airs that well accorded with the time and place.

The captain and mate held repeated consultations respecting
the situation of La Chine. We found they had
entirely mistaken it, and there were some on board
who thought we had passed it. Poor M., whose head

still continued to ache, fancied we were approaching the
La Chine rapids, and even declared she could hear
their roar. We afterwards found that stouter hearts
among us, had entertained the same fear. About midnight,
however, we entered the desired haven and in a few
minutes were comfortably established for the night in a
neat tavern. We rose at six the next morning, and
after a pleasant ride of nine miles, reached the good
and loyal city of Montreal with keen appetites for
breakfast. Our friends had all arrived on the preceding
evening, and we soon after met to discuss our various
adventures.