Peeps at Many Lands: Canada 12

Peeps at Many Lands: Canada 12

The habitant of the present day is, as a rule, happy and contented with

his lot, with a great reverence for the customs and habits of his

forefathers, and an unwavering devotion to his church. He is fond of

society, and loves the dance and the song. His leaning is manifested

in the arrangement of the farms in his part of the country. As you

steam down the great River St. Lawrence, you cannot help noticing how

the farms in what was once New France are laid out in long narrow

strips, nearly a mile in length, and all coming down to the river

shore. Along these stand the houses, all near the river and pretty

close one to another. Here the people grow tobacco, vegetables, and

fruit, especially the famous Snow-apple, also known as "Fameuse," with

a bright red skin and snow-white flesh. French Canada is also noted

for its breed of horses.

 

The present Prime Minister of the Dominion of Canada, Sir Wilfrid

Laurier, one of the ablest and most eloquent men in the whole of the

British Empire, is a native of French Canada. He has governed the

destinies of the Dominion for fully twelve years without a break, for

it was in 1896 that he first became Prime Minister of Canada.

 

[Illustration: MONTREAL AND THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE. PAGE 79.]

 

High above the great St. Lawrence stands the city of Quebec, which was

founded by the French explorer and colonial leader, Champlain, in 1608,

over 300 years ago. The city is built partly at the edge of the river

and partly on the summit and slope of a bold cliff overhanging the

stream. On this higher ground is the citadel, occupying the site of

the early fort, which was one of the principal defences of the first

settlers during the whole of the stormy period of the Iroquois wars.

It was here, too, that the heroic Wolfe, the British General of George

III.'s day, defeated the no less heroic French leader Montcalm. Quebec

is the seat of Laval University, the most famous centre of Roman

Catholic learning in Canada.

 

Higher up the river, too, is Montreal, the largest city in the whole of

the Dominion. In early days it was the chief centre of the fur trade,

and, like Quebec, a bulwark against the invading tides of the Iroquois.

To-day it is the principal commercial city of Canada and the seat of

varied manufactures. Here, again, is a large and famous University, a

seat of Protestant learning--namely, McGill University. Montreal has

also won fame for herself by her magnificent and merry winter carnival

and her great palace built of ice.

 

The capital of Canada is, however, neither Quebec nor Montreal, nor is

it Toronto, the second largest city in the Dominion and capital of the

province of Ontario, as well as the seat of several affiliated

Universities, and an important manufacturing centre. The place where

the Parliament of Canada meets, and, consequently, the capital of the

country, is Ottawa, on the river of the same name 116 miles by rail

west of Montreal. As a city it is famous for its beautiful and

imposing public buildings, the most stately of them all being the

Houses of Parliament.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XV

 

THE HOME OF EVANGELINE

 

One day in the year 1755 consternation and dismay invaded every heart

in what is now Nova Scotia, the large peninsula on the east of Canada

that fronts the fierce Atlantic gales, and bears the full brunt of

their fury without murmur or groan. At that time the inhabitants were

nearly all, like those of Quebec and the St. Lawrence shore,

descendants of people who came from France, more especially from

Brittany and Normandy. Originally the country was called Acadia. It

was James I. of England who changed that name to Nova Scotia, which is

Latin, and means "New Scotland." But though the name of the country

was changed, the people had not changed. They, like the habitants of

the St. Lawrence shore, clung tenaciously to the customs and habits of

their forefathers, and grew up in each successive generation with a

passionate devotion for their mother-tongue, and a no less deep love

for the land of their birth, _Acadie_.

 

The cause of the intense sorrow, rage, and despair which seized the

inhabitants of this happy and prosperous community on the day mentioned

was a proclamation of the British Governor. The countries of France

and England had long been at war together, and for many years

hostilities had waged with more or less bitterness between the

colonists of the two countries settled in America. The Acadians were

accused of having lent assistance in provisions and ammunition to the

French at the siege of Beauséjour. It was resolved to punish them for

their disloyal conduct, for they were at that time subjects of the King

of England. Accordingly, all the men were suddenly seized and put into

prison, and the women and children were ordered to gather, with their

household effects, on the seashore. Then, despite their weeping and

their grief, they were put on board the vessels of war, and taken away

to the other British colonies in America all the way from the New

England States to Jamaica. It is the fate of certain villagers of

Grand Pré, who were taken away from their homes at this time, that

Longfellow tells us about in his beautiful poem of "Evangeline."

 

"In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,

Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pré

Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,

Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.

Dikes, that the hands of the farmer had raised with labour incessant,

Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates

Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.

West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards, and cornfields,

Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward

Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains

Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic

Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended.

There, in the midst of its farm, reposed the Acadian village.

Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of chestnut.

Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.

Thatched were the roofs, with dormer windows; and gables projecting

Over the basement below protected and shaded the door-way.

There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset

Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the chimneys,

Matrons and maids sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles

Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden

Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors

Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the songs

of the maidens.

Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the children

Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless them.

Reverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons and maidens,

Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome.

Then came the labourers home from the field, and serenely the sun sank

Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from the belfry

Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of the village

Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense ascending,

Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and contentment.

Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers--

Dwelt in the love of God and of man."

 

 

No wonder, then, there was lamentation and weeping and woe when these

poor people were torn so cruelly away from the homes where they had

been so happy! Where, indeed, can you find a more beautiful picture of

human happiness, peace, and contentment than this Acadian village of

Grand-Pré?

 

CHAPTER XVI

 

REDSKIN, ESKIMO, AND CHINK

 

One day two gentlemen were driving by the side of a small but beautiful

inland lake, when they met a little, shrivelled old man, with a forward

tilt of the body, a lurching, shuffling gait, and a parchment-like

wrinkled skin. Met! Yes, but when the odd-looking little man caught

sight of the rig or vehicle approaching, he hastily turned off the

road, and passed the conveyance at a good distance away. Yet as he

passed he never once lifted his head.

 

This behaviour excited the curiosity of one of the gentlemen, a

stranger, and he asked his companion: "Who's that odd-looking figure?"

 

"Ah! I don't wonder at your asking that? He's an old Indian. For

years he has haunted the shores of this lake. Every summer he has

attacks of fever or some such illness, and when he feels them coming on

he goes away from the reserve in which his own people live and makes

himself a hut of the branches of trees beside the lake, in a lonely

spot where nobody can see him, and there he remains until he recovers,

and never speaks to a single individual all the time he is here."

 

Now, this poor old Indian is typical of his race. The Indian, the

glorified Redskin of Fenimore Cooper as well as the fierce Indian of

the Western Plains, whom Mayne Reid has made familiar to English

readers, is rapidly dying out. As a race, the North American Indian is

as decrepit, as sad, and as dejected a creature as the poor old man who

sought healing beside the lake. In Canada the Indians are fairly

numerous in certain parts; but they are very little seen in the cities

and towns of the white man. You may catch a fleeting glimpse of one or

two at some wayside station, come to offer moccasins, gloves, purses,

deer's horns, or other curios for sale to the passing traveller; but it

is not until the Indian is spoken to that the traveller hears the sound

of his voice, and even then the native may not open his lips, but will

content himself with using the language of signs.

 

The Indians nearly all live in "reserves"--that is, tracts of land

which the Government gives to them, and off which it keeps all white

men. The reserve is meant for the Indian alone, and he is allowed to

till it and do what he pleases with it. The Government also gives him

help in providing him with food. The Indians do, however, make a

little by hunting, earning bounties on the slaying of harmful wild

beasts, or selling venison and deer's horns to white settlers. Then,

again, in certain districts they help to gather strawberries in the

middle of the summer, and in other dist