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Q^atnell Hmuerailg BItbrarg 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 BENNO LOEWY LIBRARY 
 
 COLLECTEC3 BY 
 
 BENNO LOEWY 
 
 1854-1919 
 BEQUEATHED TO CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
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The ]>Text ISTumber of 
 
 "THE UNIQUE SERIES'^ 
 
 'Will Consist of 
 
 "?Chc Man from iCcxas^' 
 
 A NOVEL, 
 And -will be issued 
 
 1st December, 1888. 
 
7176 lp(^ of Jl^e Yael^t 
 
 AS KEPT BY 
 
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 AND ILLUSTRATED BY 
 
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 NATIONAL LITERACY BUREAU, 
 72 John Street, New York. 
 
Copyright, 1888, 
 By J. Armoy Knox. 
 
PUBIiISHEr^S PI^EFAGE. 
 
 J. Armoy Knox, the author of this book, liad the 
 yacht Champlain built, and, accompanied by "Adiron- 
 dack" Murray, sailed on her from Lake Champlain 
 through the Richelieu river into the Saint Lawrence, 
 down to the Saguenay; from thence out into the Gulf 
 of Saint Lawrence, around Nova Scotia, and to New 
 York via Boston. 
 
 The records of the trip, as written by Colonel Knox, 
 were published, in the form of weekly letters, in the 
 
 BOSTON HERALD, 
 
 NEW YORK WORLD, 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO POST, 
 
 CHICAGO HERALD, 
 
 TORONTO MAIL, 
 
 MILWAUKEE SENTINEL, 
 
 PHILADELPHIA PRESS^ 
 
 and other newspapers. 
 
 The pages of this book consist of these letters — includ- 
 ing the editor's headlines and printers' errors — as they were 
 cut from the columns of the above mentioned newspapers 
 and photo-engraved, with the addition of the illustrations 
 by Thos. Worth. 
 
(Letter to New York World.) 
 
 AN INTERNATIONAL CRUISE. 
 
 ARMOY KNOX AFLOAT. 
 
 TInloadlns a lot of Isnorance— Some 
 Genial Old Ruffians and their 
 Imported Tbeology— A Ijtttle His- 
 torical Jjeetnre. 
 
 ICoptjrigM, 1887, by J. Armoy Knox.'i 
 
 To start on a cruise of many thousand miles 
 requires a great deal of preparation, especially 
 when you have to build and equip a yacht, as 
 we had to do. There are vast numbers of odds 
 and ends to be gathered, and many of them to 
 be brought from long distances. 
 
 The yacht we saD in is named Champlaiu 
 after Samuel de Champlain, a Captam of 
 French marines, who came to America in the 
 beginning of the seventeenth century. He dis- 
 covered and gave his name to the lake on which 
 our yacht was buUt. He was .sent by King 
 Henry IV. of Prance to Canada to hold and ' 
 
govern it in his name and to convert the Indiana 
 to Christianity. 
 
 King Henry instructed " Our well-beloved 
 laeut. Samuel de Champlain to make great 
 seai'ch for gold in those strange and distant 
 lands and possess thyself of as much treasure 
 as you may, and brmg it back in the goodly 
 ships; also seize and brmg some of the natives 
 to work, in our royal galleys; and, above all, 
 concern thyself dSUgently to convert those 
 savage- men of that country to our most holy 
 faith." 
 
 What a quaint Christian scoimdrel was the 
 fourth Henry of Prance. If he had lived in 
 this land of ours, and in this age, he would not 
 have sent his well-beloved Lieutenant to Canada. 
 He would have worked for Christianity in the 
 Sunday-school, would have — aldermanioally or 
 otherwise — ^possessed himself of " much treas- 
 ure " and would have then gone to Canada him- 
 self. 
 
 Champlain obeyed the royal instructions. He 
 got very little gold, but in his ardor to Chris- 
 tianize the natives he bruised his shoulder firing 
 lead into "the savage men" out of an old 
 smooth-bore called an arquebuse. The poor 
 red man has always suffered through the Chris- 
 tian zeal of his white brother. Whenever an 
 invader on any part of this continent met an 
 Indian he either tried to make him a Christian 
 and then shot him, or he tried to Christianize 
 him and then sold him adulterated nun. The 
 result was about the same in each case. Twenty- 
 flve years before Champlain began firing re- 
 ligion into the Iroquois and the Huron on the 
 St. Lawrence, another soldier of the Cross, 
 named Hernando Cortez, sailed from Spain to 
 conquer and Christianize the sunburned Aztec. 
 Before departing he evoked the blessing of God 
 and of the sainte. A year afterwards, by his 
 order, his Lieutenant, Alvarado, massacred, at 
 the City of Mexico, 600 Aztecs, who declined to 
 pay him tribute and accept his plan of salva- 
 tion, and then he followed this up by a day of 
 public thanksgiving and prayer. 
 
 Sixty years afterwards monks of the order of 
 St. Francis of Assist arrived on the Rio Grande, 
 at what is now El Paso, Tex. , and there built 
 forts and (Jhurches and, aided by Spanish 
 soldiers, proceeded to lam the Comanche 
 Indians full of imported theology. Those who 
 refused to make profession of faith had spades 
 handed to them and were put to work digging 
 irrigating ditches, while a Spanish musket, with 
 a soldier at the end of it, occupied a portion of 
 the adjacent atmosphere. The tough Indians, 
 who would neither work nor convert, were 
 kindly persuaded with a thumb-screw by the 
 good monks. When thus reasoned with they 
 usually embraced the Christian religion and 
 afterwards died of alcoholism in that faith. 
 
 Oh, they were zealous missionaries and godly 
 pioneers, those genial old ruffians who sailed 
 away from home to strange and distant lands, 
 from which they wrote piously worded des- 
 patches to their royal masters, recounting their 
 perils and sufferings, which they meekly bore 
 for their religion's sake and what they could 
 steal from the aborigines 1 The religion of 
 Christ is the purest, sweetest, grandest faith 
 
 6 
 
that has ever blessed humanity, but what an 
 army of cutthroats, thieves and thugs have 
 used it as an excuse for the doing of deeds of 
 devilish darkness I 
 
 I shall change the subj]ect, however, as I am 
 not engaged to write mstory, but to tell the 
 truth about this yachting cruise of ours. I went 
 down to sea our yacht yesterday morning for 
 the first time and stayed on board last mght. 
 She is of very graceful lines and has quite'a 
 jaunty air as she rides at anchor on the smooth 
 surface of the lake. She has been bmlt specially 
 strong, with a view to safety, for we expect to 
 cruise in some rough waters. The last time I 
 sailed the ocean blue was a year ago, when I 
 came from Liverpool to New York on the 
 Etruria. The Cunarder is larger than our 
 yacht. I discovered this on attempting to pull 
 my valise into my cabin on the yacht. I found 
 that to get it in there, and to leave any room for 
 myself and a box of collars and cuffs that I 
 wanted to take with me, I would have to saw 
 six inches off the end of it. I asked Mr. Murray^ 
 to please have the valise stowed away in the. 
 
 hold. Then I made another discovery. Mr. 
 Murray kindly but flrmty informed me that 
 there was no hold in the Champlain. I.discov- 
 ered many other differences between our yacht 
 and the Etruria. The place where the main 
 saloon and the smoking-room would be in the 
 Champlain, if she did not differ from the Etru- 
 ria, is occupied in our yacht by the centre- 
 board. I do not know what a centre-board is, 
 but that is what it is called, and it occupies a 
 central position and is about three and a half 
 inches thick. To give you a better idea of her 
 dimensions I would state that there are two 
 main cabins. They are both of the same size ; 
 one is on the port and one on the starboard side. 
 Mr. Murray occupies the starboard cabin or 
 saloon, which has a rose-pattern carpet on it, 
 and into which projects the handle of the 
 
 fump. There is only one berth in this saloon, 
 t consists of a mattress, which in the daytime 
 is hung against the wall, and is carefully spread 
 out on the floor at night. On this Mr. Murray 
 sleeps. As he is a large man, and broad of 
 shoulder, he generally lies down on his left 
 edge, because if he were to turn on his back to 
 better enjoy his repose he would bulge out the 
 starboard side of our yacht. The port side is 
 occupied by the artist of the expedition and 
 myself— that is, when we occupy a perpendicu- 
 lar or a sitting position. When either lies down 
 to sleep the other is crowded out, and goes up 
 on deck and chews fine-out. We take alternate 
 watches. The artist says that mine below must 
 be a Waterbury, because it takes so long to 
 wind up. My saloon has also a carpet of the 
 same rose-pattern as. the other, but mine has 
 water-marks in irregular spots aU over it, and 
 there is a cold fowl wrapped in a napkin in the 
 comer. I do not know what the fowl is there 
 for unless it is because there was not room for 
 him elsewhere. As he lies there cold and still 
 in death, he gives evidence of having been a 
 fine rooster before he was struck down by the 
 ruthless hand of some unfeeling hired girl. It 
 would seem to me more appropi-iate to lay has 
 
 
pamfulpuiushmeiits,that we shouldlike to 
 inflict on the man who caused the delay. 
 We tried to catdi fish, but the fish wouldn't 
 bite. Then we went up to the town again, 
 threw a brick at a cow, and bought two 
 blue flannel shirts and some more drug 
 store beverages. Then we came back to 
 our camp and retired to bed in a great 
 gaunt gob of |^oom. 
 
 Next mommg a further discovery was 
 made. The intelligent mechanic was found 
 with a wet towel around his head, and he 
 said that he would be something or other — 
 " Mowed," I think, was the expression— if 
 he would do any work that day. 
 
 He kept his word. 
 
 So we had one more da^ of waiting, and 
 we were sere afraid that it would lengthen 
 into two, or maybe, three^ 
 
 Then our captain bold spake up. 
 
 And up spake he: 
 And his languagre, it was bad 
 
 As bad could be. 
 
 .It was regarding the intelligent me- 
 chanic that be spoke. The latter was a 
 liVench-Canadian, so the captain thought 
 it appropriate to use the French language 
 in speakmg of him ; that is why I say that 
 the 
 
 CAPTAIN'S iANGUAQE WAS BAB. 
 
 He does not know French, he only thinks 
 he does. 
 
 The day slowly'sinks into the crypt of the 
 days that haVe been as I sit on the banks 
 of Xake Champlain and look across the 10 
 miles of its rippUng waters — tujross to 
 where more than 50 peaks of the Adiron- 
 dack mountains can be seen. 
 
 As I look I think of other days— days of 
 long ago — and of the scenes that they nave 
 witnessed here. I see into the haze of the 
 centuries, and there, in the forests, and in 
 the green valleys that wind in and out 
 among tiiose grand old hills, I behold the 
 bark-built hut of the aboriginal inhabitant 
 — the red man who knew of no other lands 
 or nations or peoples beyond the big waters 
 of the sunrise. I see the maiden swinging 
 merrily on a vine branch, the mother pa- 
 tiently preparing the skins of beasts for 
 their scanty clothing, and away up among 
 the rocks and the pine^ on the niU tops the 
 young men with dow and arrow hunting 
 bear and deer, and down by meandering 
 streams in sunlit valleys, with hook of bone 
 and sinew of deer, are mose who strive for 
 the game whose home is in the water, and 
 there are others in their rude log canoes, 
 hollowed by hatchet of stone or brand of 
 Are, floating lazily on the mirror-like bosom 
 of tiie ItJte. And the white wings of Peace 
 and a halo of Contentment are over all. 
 Happy and unmolested, arid loving their 
 homes, dwell these simple people in an Ar- 
 cadia that we of to-day can never know. 
 
 Forward through the ages my mental 
 vision reaches, and I come to within 800 
 years of our own time. I look and I see the 
 
 JO 
 
same Talley, mountain and lake. The red 
 man is still there, and almost the same does 
 he seem. His bows, arrows and ornaments 
 are of somewhat iiiier workmanship, and 
 his birch bark canoe has replaced the hol- 
 low log. But there is a change, peace has 
 flown and contentment has vanished. The 
 war cry has taken the place of the whisper 
 of love, and, tribe agamst tribe, fierce bat- 
 tles are waged, and nature's emerald car- 
 pet is 
 
 CRIMSON WITH THE BLOOD OF MEN. 
 
 Theirs is the whole land, from the pine 
 regions of the north to the palmetto swamps 
 of the south, but they fight over its divis- 
 ion, they wage war for gain, they take up 
 arms for ambition's sake, and they plunder 
 and despoil each other in the name of pa- 
 triotism. 
 
 I look again and I see enter this lake — 
 sailing along its shores in a canoe — the first 
 white man whose eye has ever rested on its 
 waters. It is a luckless day, an ill-fated 
 moment for the Indian, when this man — 
 Samuel de Champlain, a captain of France 
 — elands on its shores. The sound of his first 
 gun-shot is the death-knell of the red man 
 in aU the region of the St. Lawrence. 
 Friendly with some and at enmity with 
 other tribes, Champlain, and those who 
 succeed him as representatives of the King 
 of France, use the strength and the weak- 
 ness of tribes in arraying them against 
 each other; they profit by their virtues and 
 vices, and eventually absorb their lands 
 and ruin their national and tribal lives. 
 
 To-day as I sit looking across the lake I 
 see them not. They are among the things 
 that were. But the hills are still as grand, 
 the valleys stiU as green, and river and lake 
 still as clear as when, centuries ago, in 
 those halcyon days of old, the red man 
 owned them all. 
 
 Vae victis. J. Armot Knox. 
 
 11 
 
(Letter to Phitadclphia Press.) 
 
 A GREAT YACHT CRUISE 
 
 J. Armoy Knox and "Adirondack" Munay 
 Start on Theii Joumeyi 
 
 THE HUMORIST'S FIEST LETTER* 
 
 Why He "Was Discharged ftom the Posi- 
 tion of Yacht's Oook. 
 
 OUTLINE OP THE PEOPOSED VOYAGE 
 
 Vp the St. Lawreuce, Dowa tho Saeuenay 
 
 and AloDg the Coasts of N-ova Scotia 
 
 ' and Labrador— A Rad Day's Flsh- 
 
 InuTt a Charming Nleht ou 
 
 the Lake and a Won* 
 
 dorful Exhibition 
 
 of Paddling, 
 
 Special CorrespoDdeoce of Thb Pnssn. 
 On BoaUd the Y aobt Ch aupla va, \ 
 Laejs OHAUPLAif. July 18, J 
 
 The last fishiog rod, the last rifle and 
 the last oaa of oondcaaed milk, irere stowed 
 away on board, the banaer waa cast 
 off from the shore and the yacht Cham- 
 plain, with her sails 6lled by a Southwest 
 breeze, sailed out imp Lake Champlain on 
 the first day of what will be a three 
 months' cruise through lake, and river and sea 
 — a cruise that will be thousands, of miles in 
 extent, and that wilLcarry her and her owners 
 Into strange waters, I'lom Lake Champlain 
 through the Richelieu River, into the St. Law- 
 rence; up the Ottawa to the Capital of Canada; 
 to Quebec, a city quaint and curious; through 
 the sombre Sagueiiay out . into the Gulf of St. 
 Lawrence, and along the coast of Kova Scotia 
 and, perhaps, Labrador, 
 
 The Champlain was built specially for this 
 voyage. She is a schooner rigged, centreboard 
 •yacht built and equipped with a view to speed 
 and saiety. The verdict of those who have sceil 
 her sail is that she is as pretty a piece of 
 naval architectural as ever shadowed water. 
 Mr, W. H H. Murray, who modeled the yacht, 
 is in cbmro'and. "We have also a captain and a 
 crew. Mr, Murray is an experienced yachts- 
 man. The captain is a seaman <A ability. 
 The crew is a Frenchman who answers to the 
 name of Archie, and who, when not acting in 
 
 12 
 
the capacity of a crew, performs the duties of 
 cook. In camp, two days before we sailed, I re< 
 ceived the appointment of cook, but beiqg too 
 ambitious I lost the position, I aspired to make 
 an omelet and I made it. It turned out to be 
 of the kind that when stretched out and then 
 let go at one end flies back with a snap. A.t the 
 Captain's suggestion it was tried on the ship'd 
 dog; when he declined to ii^ure his digestiro 
 organs with it. I was degraded to the rank .of 
 second or assistant cook, with power to act only 
 in emergencies. 
 
 I must leave to Mr. Murray the duty of tell- 
 ing you how the yacht behaves and why she so ^^^ vi^-«-« 
 behaves, and how she acts wneu running in the \^. ^ j ' "^x 
 eye of the wind or when her anchor gats foul of /^'^^^JiJ vf \ 
 » parallel of latitude or a snag, tor I am densely I ., \ t 
 
 ignorantof all nautical matters. Iknownoth-/ i 
 ing of such things except 'the little I learned/ 'jJ 
 while'proddlng a team of mules in front of a |j 
 prairie schooner i 
 
 inE.STAET, 
 
 We sailed Away from Burlington after break- 
 fast. A light breeze carried ua over the deep 
 blue of Lake Champlain out into the middle of 
 its ten miles, of width, where -we enoountered a 
 strong wind. The surface of the lake was 
 lumpy wiih white crested waves chas* 
 ing each other before the wind. Some- 
 thins was done to the sails, the 
 ■centre-board was tampered with, and we headed 
 ifor the Canadian line at the Northern end of 
 ■.the lake. It was an ideal- yachting day, and 
 just what we wanted to test the sailing 
 qaulities of our yacht. Skimming np 
 the lake we went with the peaks 
 of the Adirondack Mountains on our port 
 and the cloud-capped Green Mountains in the 
 distance on our starboard bow. The port ii 
 the left hand and the. starboard ia the 
 right-hand side of the boat looking for- 
 ward. 1 know this because I went into the 
 cabin and consulted my library and li said 
 so. My librarv consist of one consecutive 
 volume of the Yachtsman's Manual and I keep 
 
 13 
 
it m a tin backet to pre'rest It getting wet. If 
 I ca a spend an hour every day in my library I 
 may, before the end oftbis cruise, know enongh 
 of nautical etiquette to go below when it rains. 
 
 Champlain is 130 miles in length. On each 
 sideare many sheltered bays and seolnded inlets. 
 The shores are thictly wooded from the water's 
 edge, and few signs of human habitations 
 are to ba seen. We ran almdst twenty miles 
 In two hours, and the yacht acted nobly. 
 As her admiring pilot expressed it, she 
 ran "like the ghost of a scared cat." During T, 
 the two hours' run I was not in a pcrpendicu- ^ 
 lar position more than two seconds at one time, ^l 
 although heavily ballasted with a breakiiEist of 
 expensive canned groceries and an unwritten 
 article on "Beans as a Factor in the 'Nation's 
 Growth." 
 
 We ran in near the shore and anchored. We 
 sent the tender ashore for eggs and milk while 
 the artist.and I cast a line to leeward with in- 
 tent to secure some of the bass with which the 
 lake is. said to be well stocked, but the bass de- 
 clined our bogas hisects, india rubber frogs 
 and feather daster flies. Small fisli about four 
 Inches inches in length and called chubs were 
 hungry and hung themselves on onr hooks 
 'With distressing frequency. We were fishing 
 for bass and wanted nothing else. The artist, 
 after hauling out more than twenty chubs, at' 
 tached to his sinker a card on which was writ- 
 ten: 
 
 AU small fisb, especially chubs, 
 
 are requested 
 
 not to bite 
 
 nor monlcey with the bait. 
 
 The number of bass we didn't catch would^ 
 bankrupt the numerical system. •, ' ^ 
 
 SUNSET ON THE LAKE. ^ 
 
 AAer Icncheon the wind went down and w( 
 sailed befbre a light breeze until we came to t> 
 quiet bay on the Eastern shore, where we cast 
 anchor for the night. The waters of the Iake|j 
 became perfectly smooth and the sun went down 
 behind the Western hills in unusual splendor. 
 
 14 
 
What a picture it was — the yacht, with her 
 white wings folded, resting without motion on 
 the purple bosom of the lake, a background of 
 emerald forest and mountain, glimpses of the 
 great dom^ of deepest blue through rifts of cloud 
 masses glorious in crimson and gold. No pict- 
 ure ever painted had such wealth of gorgeous 
 tints. Such contrasts of colors so harmoniously 
 blended never came from painter's palette. Art 
 never mixed her colors with such matchless skill 
 nor covered canvas with such magnificent pro- 
 digality of hues. As the day faded into night 
 the purple went out of the waters, the gold in 
 the clouds changed to gray, darkness filled the 
 avenues in the woods and clothed the mountains 
 with a mantle of gloom, and then star after star 
 came out until, when the clouds drifting in 
 upper currents passed beyond the horizon, the 
 whole firmament was studied with sparkling 
 jewels. I have seen the day go and the night 
 come in many lands, but never before have I 
 seen the transformation accompanied by such 
 beautiful eifeots, and never have I seen as per- 
 fect a Summer night. There was a stillness as 
 if the world and all therem were dead, the 
 usual lapping sound of water on the beach was 
 absent, beat of heart and tick of watch were all 
 of sound that the ear could detect, and those 
 slight sounds only served to deepen the silence. 
 Lying on tlie deck and looking up at the worlds 
 and suns and planets that glistened and 
 sparkled in the great concavity of celestial space, 
 and then, looking over the side into the water, 
 there seemed to be no water there, but instead, 
 as we looked down through a great void, we saw 
 what appeared another and similar galaxy of 
 lustrous worlds and suns gleaming and scin- 
 tillating in the lower half of the azure vault, and 
 our boat seemed to be floating in space-^the 
 centre of the universe. It was like a dream — a 
 phantasy. Small, trivial and insignificant do we 
 and do our ambitions, our labors, and our lives 
 seem amid such surroundings. What thoughts 
 come to us amid these scenes. My speculations 
 as to what lay beyond our earthly being were in- 
 terrupted by Mr Murray, who broke Uie silence 
 and ttie spell. 
 
 SKILL IN PADDLINCJ. 
 
 He said: "Do you think it would be possi- 
 ble on such a still night as- this to paddle a boat 
 right on to you if you were camped on the beach 
 — paddle it so silently that, however, intently 
 you might listen, you would not know that, boat 
 or paddle was on the lake until they came within 
 the circle of your campfire's light? Well, it is 
 possible. The savage learned to do it that he 
 might undiscovered . approach the game he 
 hunted or ambush his enemy. Come with me 
 and I shall show you how It is done. Years 
 
 15 
 
ago I learned to do it, and to-night we shall 
 test whether my hand has forgotten its cun- 
 ning. A canoe' would be better, but we shall 
 try what can be dona with this light boat. 
 Hand me my old paddle; yes, I have owned it 
 lor a long time, and, in days that are gone, it 
 carried me through many miles of lafce and 
 river. Take a seat in the stern with your back 
 toward me. Shut your eyes so that 
 _ your whole attention may te con- 
 = contrated on detecting the sound 
 of the paddle in the water. Now keep perfectly 
 still until the boat becomes steady and until I 
 get ready to start." I shut my eyes and I 
 _ waited. I could hear a bull Irog on the 
 I shore _ a quarter of a mile away, the 
 creaking ot a rope in a block on the 
 ■yacht, and the faint splash of a fish 
 leaping away out in the lake. Ko other sound 
 reached my ear. The boat had settled down in 
 the water and was absolutely without motion. 
 After waiting probably five minutes, I said: 
 "Well, are you not ready to start?" Then from 
 the bow of the boat came a laugh that filled the 
 whole bay with hilarious sound, and that w«nt 
 away op amon^ the iiills on the other-shore 
 and came echoing back In meny ha-ha-has. I 
 opened my eyes and found that branches of 
 trees swung over my head and that we were 
 within two feet of the shore. "Without 
 sound or perceptible motion We had: 
 passed over the water between the yacht 
 and the beach. It Was a wonderful exhibition 
 of skill — skill bom of circumstances, conditions 
 and necessities requiring that the craft and, 
 strategy of man be pitted against the mors 
 acute senses of bird and beast. 
 
 16 
 
(Letter to New York TTorW.) 
 
 AN INTER NATION AL CRUISE. 
 
 ARMOY KNO)CS VERSIOV. 
 
 His Dlaposes of Some of His Sopexflnons Histor- 
 ical Enoirledge, Exhibiting a Uemarkable 
 Familiarity irlth the Arcomplishments of 
 Huron and Iroquois— The Delights of Doing 
 KothlsK— The Canadian Way of Uaklng a 
 Lemonade. 
 
 On Boabd Yacht Champlain, July 38. — 
 What historic ground this is around Lake 
 Champlain, what fierce contentions have been 
 here, and what savage battles have been fought 
 on these shores and in these waters I In the long 
 ago this was the dividing line between the 
 region claimed by the Hurons on the north and 
 that owned by tbe "Five Nations" on the 
 south — a bloody arena where, for many years, 
 the war-cry echoed from these hills almost con- 
 tinuously, as savage met savage in deadly 
 strife. Then the French came, and almost the 
 first thing they did was to make war in these 
 woods. Samuel de Champlain, the representa- 
 tive of the King of France, and the first white 
 man who ever saw this region, came up here 
 from the St. Lawrence one summer day nearly 
 three hundred yeai's ago, and with him' were 
 two other Frenchmen and a war party of 
 Huron Indians. On the banks of the lake they 
 encountered some two hundred Iroquois war- 
 riors, the mortal enemies of the Hurons. The 
 latter waited the attack of the Iroquois until 
 they advanced to within bow shot. Then the 
 raiU£S of the Huron warriors opened and Cham- 
 plain and the other two Frenchmen stepped for- 
 ward in front of the line. They wore steel 
 armor and each was armed with a gun called 
 an arquebuse. The Iroquois were filled with 
 amazemeilt when they beheld these strangely 
 attired men of a race they knew not. To their 
 amazement was added terror at the sound of 
 the Frenchmen's guns and at the deadly effect 
 of the four bullets with which each was loaded. 
 The Iroquois were panic-stricken and easily 
 defeated, and the Hurons killed and scalped 
 many of them. 
 
 Soon after this time the warriors of the 
 "Five Nations" obtained guns through trade 
 with the Dutch of Manhattan, and the wars be- 
 tween them and the Indians of the North con- 
 tinued. Then the French claimed the territory 
 by right of discovery, and erected forts on Lake 
 Champlain. The English also claimed it by 
 virtue of treaty with the " Five Nations," and 
 for years, beginning with the middle of the 
 eighteenth century, the rhythm of nature's 
 melody — song of bird, rustle of leaf and ripple 
 of water — was broken in vipcn by the jarrmg 
 sounds of battle and was lost amid the discord 
 
 It 
 
JE WORLD : SUNDAY, JULY 15 1| 
 
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 ! 'dn't 
 1 ain, 
 
 of beat of drum, boom of cannon and yeU of 
 savage combatant. The conflict went on, and 
 thousands of gallant Frenchmen, brave EngUsh- 
 men and fearless savage alUes were slam. 
 
 The French passed out of the lake forever in 
 1759 and the English flag floated over the old 
 fort. There was peace for a time, and deer ana 
 panther, beai- and beaver, came back to their old 
 haunts in forest and stream, and on t^f .rocky 
 heights of Ticonderoga grass grew within the 
 waUs of the fort, and in cannon's mouth spiders 
 spun their silken webs. Only a few yeai-s ot 
 tranquillity and once more there was tumul.t 
 and the fort was taken by Ethan AUen '' m the 
 name of the Great Jehovah and the Contmental 
 Congress." And then Burgoyne, with oyer 
 seven thousand British soldiers, came into the 
 lake and a^ain was heard the clash ot ai-ms, 
 and blood flowed, and men died. 
 
 With the nineteenth century came peace to 
 the region of Champlain, and only the suns ot 
 summer and the frosts of winter have since at- 
 tacked the old fort of Ticonderoga. Am 1 not 
 right in saying that around this lake echo more 
 memories of strife and warfare Ihat go to make 
 our country's history than around any other 
 spot on the continent ? 
 
 DOWN THE RICHBLIEXT. 
 
 We sail down into the Richelieu River, which 
 flows from Lake Champlain into the St. Law- 
 rence, and is nearly one hundred miles m length. 
 The day is hot and the breeze is hght as we 
 cross over the line into Canada and lazily glide 
 down the stream, passing occasional far™" 
 houses where the inhabitants come out andstare 
 at us. They seem surprised at the sight o£ a 
 yacht in these waters, and they gesticulate and 
 ask us where we are from, where we are gomg, 
 and don't we want to buy a bucketful oi 
 blackberries. We meet lumber barges, gi'eat 
 strings of them, pulled by spluttering httle 
 steam tugs, slowly moving south on their way 
 from Quebec to Albany or New York, and now 
 and then we pass a lonely boy sitting in a canoe 
 fishing in a lonely inlet. This is not the kind of 
 river that " rolls proudly on," or that runs its 
 turbid race," or that " hies tumbling onward to 
 the azure main." It is a quiet, smooth, decor- 
 ous river that doesn't hie, or turb or roll, but 
 that takes its time to wander through sun and 
 shade, along meadows of green rushes, and past 
 banks clothed with spruce and maple, pine and 
 balsam, 
 
 PLEASURES OP IDLENESS. 
 
 What a blessed thing is inaction ' To a man 
 
 whichni;;;;; 
 'to wai;;|;i;;: 
 
 thO Cr^:;;::: 
 water:::::::: 
 stays. !:::::■: 
 
 techni:!:!;:;: 
 that I;:;!::; 
 These j;:::;; 
 
 lubbei:::;::: 
 are a!::;::; 
 
 marin;;::;:: 
 the co;::iii!; 
 this, i;;;::l;: 
 origii:;;;!;:; 
 
 Engl:::::;:;: 
 
 Hors:::;;:;;: 
 
 Til;:;::; 
 was iBm-ll 
 tentij;;;!;;;! 
 
 Burl:::;:|::; 
 
 extei:;:;;:;:: 
 
 milei:::;:::: 
 
 Jui;:::;!: 
 readj::::;:: 
 July,;!;:;:;: 
 or af;;;;;;;; 
 
 yach:::::;;:: 
 cove;;;::;::: 
 ton :::::::;;! 
 
 the ;;;;;;;;;; 
 par;;;;;;;;;;; 
 tha;;;;;:;;;;; 
 poi;:;:;:;;;;: 
 
 bro ;;;;;::::: 
 
 hib:!;!;;;;;:; 
 the I;;;;;;;:; 
 our';;;;;;;;; 
 whei;;;;;;:; 
 lemo:;:;:;;; 
 squil::::::; 
 
 cents;;:;;; 
 boat-;;;:;;: 
 overt;;:;; 
 
 painfi;;;;; 
 inflict ;;;: 
 We tri;;;; 
 bite. ';;; 
 threw ::: 
 blue fl;;: 
 store b;:; 
 our ca;;: 
 gaunt {"■ 
 
 Next 
 made. 
 I, wi' 
 
 18 
 
tired of the rush and rattle and noise of a great 
 city, Trorn aud weary with the grave cares and 
 petty worries of business, with the fight to hold 
 one's own in life's struggle, and wifli the self- 
 ishness and heartlessness of men whose aim in 
 life is the acquisition of position — the posses- 
 sion of money — to such a one^ what a glorious 
 condition of restfulness is this sailing on, sum^ 
 mer seas, this abopdonment of cares, this indo- 
 lent nomadism! No Castle of Indolence ever 
 equalled a yacht on inland waters. No pleas- 
 ui-es of idleness ever excelled this lying stretched 
 out on deck, smoking a pipe and watching the 
 panorama of leagues of picturesque scenery as 
 it passes. You, who live on shore, have to go to 
 your pleasures or send and have such things as 
 entertain you brought to your homes. _We 
 havewoods and .waterfalls, mountains and 'val- 
 leys, towns and villages come to us aud pass in 
 review before us. Listen to me, you city peo- 
 ple. Our days are filled with peace and pleas- 
 ant compamonship, no letters to read and 
 answer, no visitors to interi'upt, no bores to 
 annoy, no trains to catch. At night cool 
 breezes fan our faces as we sleep. The perfume 
 of flower and tree and carol of nature's chor- 
 isters greet us when we wake. Our bathroom 
 is the whole expanse of cool river and sandy 
 beach. And then our appetites! They are 
 
 ,: I 
 
 worth a King's ransom, for is it not pleasure to 
 be hungry ? and then such enjoyment it is to eat 
 when sauces are not needed to create desire for 
 food. Now, think of this when the midnight 
 music from the back yard fence aud the odor 
 from the ash barrel in the 'alley greet you 
 when you wake on some of these hot nights, 
 and think of it as you absorb your morning 
 stimulant to spur your lethargic appetite . and 
 again, think of it when you run to catch a train 
 and get a cinder in your eye. Then, when you 
 miss the train and have said the first bad word 
 you think of, I want you to sit dotiTi and, 
 while you wait for the next train, spend the 
 time in envying us. Yes, I wish ypu to envy 
 us, but only for the reason that doing so may 
 suggest to you that it would bdgood for you 
 and yours to take such a rest and such a trip as 
 we are taking, and it may cause you to do s6 
 some day. We are pioneering the way through 
 these "waters, and we hope to induce many to 
 follow our path and our plan.. You need rest, 
 my overworked business brother, and so do you, 
 my professional friends — you doctors and you 
 lawyers. Steam engines require to be rested 
 occasionally or they would not last out half 
 their days, and so do you need rest and nee^ it 
 sorely, and if you take it you will lengthen 
 your days and brighten your lives. 
 
 Here we are at St. Johns, the first town in 
 Canada that we visit, and I go ashore to mail 
 some letters. St. Johns differs but little from 
 towns of its size ih the States, except thai 
 many of the people speak French and that all 
 move more slQwly arid do business more leis-i 
 m-eJy than do the people of the United States. , 
 
 MAKING A LEMONADE.- ' 
 
 Let me describe the langiiid, loitering way in, 
 which a Canadian does business. It was very 
 19 
 
hot, and I wanted a lemonade. I entered a 
 house on the door of which was a sign that 
 read: 
 
 : VINS ET UQtTEUHS, : 
 
 : UNE SPECIALITB POUK LES : 
 
 : "COCKTAILS." : 
 
 I made known my wants to the barkeeper, who, 
 with the aid of a corkscrew, was trying to kill 
 a fly on the counter. He missed the fly twice, 
 and then followed it over to the beer keg and 
 jabbed at it there until it escaped up among 
 some old extract>of-beef cans on the top shelf. 
 Then, in an indifferent, interrogative way, he 
 said " Beer ?" I repeated my order. He took 
 a careful look at my sun-burued nose, and from 
 the way he elevated his eyebrows I could see 
 that he thought it strange that I should prefer 
 lemonade to beer. He, however, made no re- 
 mark, but took a lemon out of a drawer, got a 
 knife and, after wiping it on his trousers, laid 
 it down while he put his hand to his mouth to 
 prevent the too sudden escape of quite an abun- 
 dant yawn. After cutting the lemon into two 
 parts he looked for something under the 
 counter and behind a beer keg. Not finding it 
 there, he seemed to remember something and 
 went into a back room, from which he soon 
 emerged with a wooden lemon-squeezer. Then 
 he put some sugar in the glass, following that 
 with a little water. At this point he suddenly 
 went to the open window and conversed with a 
 man across the street about the loan of a bird 
 dog. He began again on my lemonade by 
 sqeezing half of the lemon into the glass. Then 
 he looked out of the window and seemed to i)ur- 
 sue a train of thought. It took so much time 
 that I think he must have pursued it across the 
 Canadian frontier, perhaps as far as Troy or 
 Syracuse, N. Y. He went into the back room 
 for ice, and, not being able to remember where 
 his ice hammer was, he scratched his ear a mo- 
 ment, but memory would not respond, and he 
 took a beer bottle and with it leisurely broke 
 the ice and put it into the glass with some more 
 water. Covering the glass with a conical tin 
 vessel he rolled up his sleeves prepai-atory to 
 shaking the beverage. At this moment he was 
 inteiTupted by a man who smelled as if he had 
 some connection with the engine-room of a tug. 
 The man slammed an open letter down on the 
 counter and said, " That's a devil of a letter for 
 a man to get from his only son. Just cast your 
 eye over that, Jed." The barkeeper paused on 
 his first upward shake of my lemonade, and 
 taking up the letter read it, and intimated that 
 " it was a blooming shame." Then he changed 
 
 20 
 
a dollar bill tor a man in his shirt sleeves, who 
 was playing some game in the next room. At 
 last he shook my lemonade, and while he was 
 searching for a straw to put into it I drank it, 
 laid a dime on the counter, and went down to the 
 wharf. Should I ever again want a lemonade 
 in St. Johns I shall try to aiTive there and 
 order it the day before. 
 
 CANADIAN COURTESY. 
 
 I think the Canadians are more polite and 
 obliging than are our people. I bought some 
 stamps in the St. Johns Fost-Ofiice and tend- 
 ered a five-dollar bill. The Postnmster ex- 
 pressed re^et that he did not have change. He 
 said that if I would pardon him and kindly 
 wait he would go out and get the biU changed. 
 He had no clerk to send, and he actually locked 
 up the Post-Office and went around the block 
 and procured the change. At the express office 
 the agent was starting to the railroad station to 
 meet the only train that day for New York. 
 He expressed deep regret that he could not wait 
 for the parcel I wished to send. He said, how- 
 ever, that after I got it sealed and addressed his 
 son would run with it to the station, and if in 
 time he would forwai'd it. The young man 
 waiteti until I had sealed the package; he then 
 locked the express office, and the last I saw of 
 him he was moving his legs in a very impetu- 
 ous manner in the direction of the railroad 
 station. I fear that two such acts of courtesy 
 would hardly be met with in one day by a 
 stranger in-a TTnited States town. Is it because 
 we are such a busy people that we think we 
 have not time to be courteous and obliging ? 
 
 When Mr. Macdonald, the Mayor of St. 
 Johns'heard of our arrival, he called on us and 
 entertained us handsomely at his house. Mr, 
 Smith, the editor of the News, and some of the 
 members of the Y .cht Club a&o made our stay 
 at St. Johns very pleasant, and Mr. Alex. Mac- 
 donald gave us welcome and material hospitali<7' 
 on his steam yacht. So our first impressions of 
 Canada and Canadians are of a rose-tinted 
 character. 
 
 21 
 

 iiiiiiiiiiiiiiJi' 
 
 A YACHTING CRUISE. 
 
 "TEXAS SIFTINGS" KNOX AFLOAT. 
 
 Down the Klchelieu Kiver to the St. 
 
 Lawrence— A dventures Among' tho 
 
 French Canadians— Canal fachting 
 
 —The Pale Horse and its Driver^ 
 
 Trading Devilled Ham -A 
 
 Waste of Good French, 
 
 mmm 
 
 — A queer experience we have had 
 to-day — twelve miles through a canal on 
 a sailing yacht. It was unique and it was 
 very interesting. After leaving Lake 
 Champlain we sailed down the Richelieu 
 River to St. Johns, a town in Canada. 
 Here we came to a series of rapids. To 
 get around these it is necessary to use the 
 canal as far as Chambly. Before this 
 canal was made the route around these 
 rapids was a trail in the woods used by 
 the Indians and by the French who fol- 
 lowed them. Over this trail, which was 
 called a "carry" or "portage," they car- 
 ried their canoes and equipments until 
 they came to deep water again. It was up 
 the Richelieu, then called the "River of 
 the Iroquois," that Champlain came when, 
 nearly three centuries ago, he discovered 
 the lake that now bears his name. 
 
 At St. Johns, where the evening before 
 we had been hospitably entertained by 
 members of the yacht club and by Mayor 
 Macdonald, we entered the first lock of 
 the Chambly Canal. 
 
 It was at 4 30 in the morning when a 
 French Canadian, who looked like a 
 pirate who had been up all night and had 
 forgotten to change his clothes or wash 
 his, face since the fall of Quebec, awoke 
 us with a wild yell, as we lay out in the 
 river off the town. He desired to inform 
 us that he was the man who had been 
 
 22 
 
engaged to pilot us through the vasty 
 depths of the canal. He had about one 
 hundred feet of rope in his hand, and to 
 one end of the rope was attached a pale 
 horse of nondescript breed and grotesque 
 structure. This brute— I refer to the 
 horse— was spavined and had an impedi- 
 ment in his aft-starboard leg. (You see 
 I am getting posted in maritime language 
 already.) When he lifted this leg he did 
 It with a jerk as if he had stepped on a 
 tack. He stood about thirteen and a half 
 hands above the water line, and the only 
 rigging he carried was the rope aforesaid, 
 a singletree and a saddle. 
 
 "We pulled into the lock, the gate was 
 closed after us, the forward gate raised, 
 and on the rising waters the Champlain 
 floated until her deck was level with the 
 top of the lock. As the sun appeared over 
 the eastern hills we passed out of the lock 
 into the canal, the tow line was made fast 
 
 to the yacht, the driver swore and 
 
 THE PALE HORSE GYBED 
 
 into the tow-path, and promenaded north 
 with a swinging eccentric stride. The 
 yacht went rushing through the wild 
 waste of forty feet of surging waters at 
 the rate of three to four miles an hour. 
 
 I have a number of friends who like 
 yachting, but deny themselves the 
 pleasure, fearing the attendant danger. 
 They talk of squalls, and capsizing and 
 running on a lee shore, and that sort of 
 thing. Now, to all such timid people let 
 me commend canal yachting. You have 
 all the pleasure that you would have on 
 the briny deep. For instance, you can 
 keep your comb and brush, and socks 
 and tobacco, and soap, and crackers all 
 in one locker, just the same as If you were 
 yachting on the azure main, and the wood 
 of the locker will get damp and swell, and 
 the thing wont open. 
 
 On a canal theve are the same faculties 
 
 23 
 
for falling over stem sheets and bobstays 
 and buckets as there are elsewhere. Be- 
 sides this, canal yachting really offers 
 advantages and unique privileges that 
 cannot be had on lake or sea. There are 
 no sails to trim, no jibboom to knock off 
 your cap and hit you on the back, of the 
 neck as it gybes, and, instead of running 
 before the wind with your cap lashed 
 down over your ears, you don't run at all; 
 you merely glide along in the wake of a 
 fifteen dollar horse who does not feel 
 himself above his business. Then, if 
 your horse should stray into- a cornfield 
 and run you on a lee shore, you can step 
 off the deck on to lee shore and buy some 
 buttermilk. Or, if you fall overboard and 
 go to the bottom, you can stand up on the 
 broken pickle bottles and lost buckets 
 that canalers have dropped overboard 
 and that you will find there. Should the 
 yacht capsize in midstream you can run 
 along the mainmast and drop down a 
 farm house chimney, or swing yourself 
 off on to a haystack. 
 
 I tell you— and I speak from experience 
 — there be many advantages in. canal 
 yachting of which the deep sea yachtsman 
 little woteth. 
 
 When the yachtsman on the moaning sea 
 wants to stop he has to reef his sail and 
 cast his anchor. When we wish to pause 
 in our mad career on the canal we have 
 merely to say "Belay" to the driver on 
 the tow-path, and he says "Whoa," or its 
 French equivalent, to the pale horse, and 
 that makes him stop with an enthusiasm 
 that scatters gravel over the adjacent 
 scenery. I never saw a horse that could 
 stop in a more unanimous way or belay 
 on such small provocation. He also occa- 
 sionally made an extemporaneous stop. 
 One of these occasions was nearly being 
 his last. There was a light breeze, and 
 we had put up a small sail to lighten the 
 labour of the old horse. The speed ob- 
 tained by the yacht under sail required 
 that he should trot to keep the tow line 
 taut. He missed his driver, who had 
 stepped into a house to get a light for his 
 pipe, and he made one of his impromptu 
 pauses. It was not quite what could 
 properly be called a full stop, but more in 
 the nature of a semicolon. The yacht kept 
 
 24 
 
 .J.: 
 
 
 
 
on at double the horse's speed and there 
 was no means of stopping lier. We sud- 
 denly realized that if that horse did not 
 toddle along with more velocity there 
 would presently be a dire catastrophe. 
 We were lunching on deck at the moment 
 and we promptly got up from the table. 
 There was great tumult for a time and we 
 began shouting at the horse to go on. 
 The artist in his excitement yelled, 
 
 whoop! git up!! fire!!! scat!!!! 
 
 and hit him on the jerky leg with a cold 
 potato. Our impetuous cook threw a 
 stove lid at him and the captain put his 
 whole soul into a few boisterous notes on 
 the fog horn. Deafness-seemed to be one 
 of the horse's many infirmities. Our cries 
 of warning he heeded not. The tow line 
 became slack, dipped in the water, trailed 
 
 along in a great loop, then as the yacht 
 forged ahead of the horse the line grad- 
 ually straightened out, rose dripping 
 from the water, became taut, and whang! 
 splash! yacht and horse had changed 
 places; the yacht was towing the horse 
 "stern on," as the nautical phrase goes. 
 I cannot do descriptive justice to the wild 
 and voluble excitement qf the pirate 
 driver when he saw us sailing away with 
 his pale horse surging in our wake, and 
 for the same reason r must leave you to 
 imagine the pulling, hauling and profanity 
 required to get the brute ashore. 
 
 [ I had a picture made of the yacht and 
 her motive power. It was made from a 
 photograph taken on the spot. I instruct- 
 ed the photographer to include me in the 
 work of art. If he had obeyed my orders 
 the picture would have graced this 
 column. His only excuse for not includ- 
 ing me in the photograph was that at the 
 
 25 
 
time it was taken Jl was on ahgad at, a 
 farmhouse, a mile away. 
 
 TEADING DEVILLED HAM. 
 
 I was at a farmhouse trying to trade a 
 can of devilled ham for a pound of butter. 
 I would not advise anyone to attempt 
 this with a French-Canadian. Those wlio 
 are on terms of intimacy with potted ham 
 know that there is a picture of Satan with 
 the conventional horns, hoof and tail 
 inlaid in red ink on each can. This 
 probably prejudiced the farmer against it. 
 I explained to him in my most Parisian 
 French what it was. He said he would 
 rather not have me do it near the house, 
 but that if I wished to go down behind 
 the bluff I might touch the thing off there, 
 where the explosion could not damage 
 anything. I saw that he had failed to 
 understand me. Some of these Canadians 
 speak dreadful French. It is harsh and 
 guttural, and not at all the French "as she 
 is spoke" by me. It seems to me that it 
 would give a man a sore throat to even 
 think in such a patois. I explained that 
 the stuff was not an explosive, that it was 
 plain, everyday, granulated h-a double m 
 — ham, and I supplemented this state- 
 ment with signs intended to convey the 
 idea that it was good to eat. He shook his 
 head and said that he knew all about it, 
 had tried it once, that they did die in the 
 house, and that traps or terrier dogs were 
 good enough for him. 
 
 I would suggest to those who may here- 
 aftei go canal-yachting in Canada that 
 they do not waste a good article of French 
 language nor a can of seaworthy devilled 
 ham on the farmer they may meet by the 
 wayside. If he did trade he would not 
 appreciate the ham, and would possibly 
 use it as a shaving lather or a plug to stop 
 a leak in a wheel-barrow. He seems to 
 be addicted to salt bacon which he uses 
 as food, and the butter-milk habit has 
 such a hold on him that he cares for no 
 other stimulant. 
 
 I left the horny handed Canadian son 
 of toil without succeeding in making a 
 ti-ade, but I had my little revenge. I 
 dropped the ham into his well. Some day 
 when the can attains a state of noxious 
 desuetude, it will burst, and he will think 
 he has struck a vein of antique lard in his 
 drinking water. 
 
 26 
 
LOGOFTHErACHfCHAMPLAIN 
 
 The Yachtsmen Cross the 
 International Line. 
 
 KNOX'S OBSERVATIONS, 
 
 His Hap and Comparisons Between 
 Travel Here and in Canada. 
 
 On the map that I carry with me 
 there is a marked contrast between Can- 
 ada and the United States. On this 
 chromatic chart Canada is distinguished 
 by a pale glacial hue, suggestive of furs, 
 frostbites and snowshoes. There seems 
 to be a vast expanse of empty landscape 
 and vacant lots between towns, and the 
 whole country appears to be sparsely 
 settled with the few large letters of the 
 alphabet that constitute the names of 
 the several provinces. But on this map 
 of mine .the United States is all aglow 
 with warmth of color, and the railroad 
 lines are so numerous that they hardly 
 leave room for mountain tops to appear 
 between them, and there are mighty 
 rivers depicted, and the cities and towns 
 and villages are so numerous that their 
 names are crowded over the edge of the 
 continent, so that their last syllables 
 float out on the waves of the Atlantic 
 and Pacific oceans. The map was 
 not printed in Canada. 
 
 As we sail through Canadian rivers 
 we note almost as much contrast bet- 
 ween the two countries as is shown on 
 the map. 
 
 When we cross the northern frontier 
 of the United States there is no mis- 
 taking the fact that we are in Canada; 
 but the contrast is'not due to.color, as 
 
 27 
 
.t 
 
 'g 
 
 ng 
 aow 
 
 The 
 har- 
 us 
 ked 
 pro- 
 /een 
 the 
 in a 
 
 hool 
 
 were 
 
 gine 
 
 'heir 
 
 bout 
 
 be 
 
 as, 
 
 or 
 
 ved 
 
 up 
 
 ;re 
 
 he 
 
 ley 
 
 !m, 
 
 ■ade 
 his 
 •hen, 
 : the 
 oeath 
 I also. 
 »e re- 
 lined 
 loise 
 tung 
 t be 
 lec- 
 ler- 
 
 rom 
 
 I be- 
 
 fben 
 
 ■atcr 
 
 non 
 
 onr 
 
 St. 
 
 ■X- 
 
 in 
 rl 
 k 
 
 ■e 
 k 
 f 
 
 it is on my map. Tlie liun of meadow 
 and wood, river and sky, is just llie same 
 that we see iu the States-, hut when we 
 come to observe and study the people, 
 their homes and their habits, we note 
 a great difference. Of the 4,500,000 in- 
 habitants of this country, there are 
 ahnost 
 
 A Hillion and a Half 
 
 who are French or of French descent, 
 and who still speak iJie language of 
 France and conform to French customs 
 in many things. 
 
 In some of the towns there is 
 hardly a sign (on store or wall) painted 
 or printed ih English. In the country 
 many of the houses are thatched with 
 straw, and their pointed gables ^nd 
 queer tittle windows give them a quaint, 
 old-world aspect. Years ago how hard 
 it must have been for the French of 
 Canada to put the English yoke around 
 their necks, and how difficult for a man 
 whose forefathers fought under Na- 
 poleon at Waterloo, or manned the 
 guns within Quebec, to cheer with wild 
 enthusiasm on the birthday of Queen 
 Victoria. Yet I am told that these 
 people are among the most loyal sub- 
 jects of her gracious majesty. Queer 
 isn't it ? It hardly seems right that 
 they should be governed by a people 
 who are of another race and who speak 
 a different language. The English 
 never treated them as nations usually 
 treat a conquered people, and perhaps 
 that accounts for their loyalty. When 
 Canada was lost to France and came 
 under British rule, the English did 
 everything possible to make the change 
 easy and pleasant to the Canadians. 
 They allowed them to retain their lands, 
 the French laws were but slightly 
 changed, and religious liberty was ac- 
 corded them 
 
 There are many evidences of thrift 
 to be seen as we sail down the Riche- 
 lieu river past farmhouses and barns, 
 fields of goldein wheat and .oats, and 
 meadows rich in grass and clover. 
 There are farmhouses in sight all the 
 time on both banks of the river, and 
 every three or tour miles there is a 
 church. It is like a village of many 
 miles in length, with the river as its 
 only street. There are but few evi- 
 dences of progress or improvement to 
 be seen. There is none of that dispo- 
 sition to open up and develop the new 
 and to improve the old that is charac- 
 teristic of the enterprising, progressive, 
 restless people on the other side of the 
 line. The great, gaunt hand of 
 
 • 28 
 
The Frost Kingr 
 
 comes down heavily on these people. 
 His reign is cruelly oppressive. He 
 locks up canals and rivers — the Cana- 
 dians' great arteries of commerce — 
 during many dreary months of every 
 year, and the farmer's seed time and 
 harvest are but of short duration. 
 
 A beautiful country this is in the 
 summer ; but in winter how bleak and 
 bare and frigid it must seem. Ko won- 
 der that when that ancient mariner, 
 Jacques Cartier, discovered this north- 
 land, and sailed along its stern and 
 rocky coast, he said : " It verily seem- 
 eth as if this might be the land to 
 which Ood banished Cain." 
 
 There are many ways to travel , but 
 if you desire to travel for pleasure and 
 rest, let me commend to you a sailing 
 yacht as a pleasant means of locomo- 
 tion ; and if you want to get away from 
 the giddy world's unrest, from cares of 
 business, and from all the worries and 
 petty annoyances that make life in the 
 city a daily round of wearying toil, I 
 say to you go and do as we are doing. 
 
 " Cannot Spare the Time," 
 you say? Ah, well, then go on, my 
 friend, and worry and toil, and get 
 worn and weary and exhausted, and 
 one day you will " spare the time ;" 
 aye, as far as this world's work is con- 
 cerned, you will spare not only time,but 
 eternity, too ; and by the time you 
 should have died, if you had lived a 
 natural life, temperate in labor and in- 
 dulgent in rest, the world will be whirl- 
 ing around as smoothly as if you had 
 never been, and you will, long before, 
 have been in your grave and forgotten. 
 When the Lord made men he did not 
 intend that they should be gray-haired, 
 physical wrecks at 40, as so many are. 
 He,doubtless, intended that they should 
 not only work, but rest. 
 
 The majority of Americans do not 
 seem to know how to rest. True, 
 many leave the city in the summer, 
 presumedly in search of rest, .but 
 where do they go ? Mostly to other 
 cities and to crowded seaside villages 
 where there is no rest. The character 
 of labor and effort merely is changed. 
 
and they experience as mucb physical 
 and mental wear and tear ■ as they 
 would if they had remained at home. 
 But you, my brother of the blue shirt 
 and sun-bronzed face — you who, to es- 
 cape the tumult and the throng of men 
 and the vain cares that vex human life 
 — go to mountain, lake or river with 
 gun or rod, paddle or sail, I give my 
 hand to you. 
 
 And you who swelter in the heat of 
 city or town, how you would envy us 
 if you could focus your mind's eye on 
 us, and see us now, this cold, breezy 
 morning, as we sail down along the 
 northern bank of the St. Lawrence. A 
 night of restful sleep, such sleep as de- 
 pends on pure air, moderate exercise, 
 a tranquil mind, and a body not ex- 
 hausted by labor or dissipation ; then 
 a swim at sunrise, a row of a mile or 
 so, an appetite for ham and eggs, the 
 possession of which is a delight, an 
 appetite that we lose and find three or 
 four times a day— all this we have. 
 
 ruiiiii>'.iii\\i/(iwiiiiiniiiiin'»!^ 
 
 / 
 
And after breakfast here we are with 
 pipe in mouth, stretched prone on the 
 quarter deck, lazily watching the ever- 
 changing scenery go drifting by, as 
 our yacht courses down the current of 
 the great river of the north. 
 
 Danger? Well, no; nothing like 
 the danger that hangs hourly over you 
 in Boston. I might, perhaps, get 
 choked to death vdth a fishbone stuck 
 in my windpipe, or I might fall over a 
 lee scuttle, or a maintop combing, or 
 some other nautical obstruction, and 
 abrade ray skin, but that is the only 
 danger to life or limb that I think we 
 risk. There is no sewer gas to fear, no 
 chimneys to fall on us, no policemen 
 to club us, no mad dogs to bite us, no 
 street cars to run over us, no man with 
 a bill to ambush us, and, above all, no 
 " keep off the grass " signs to admon- 
 ish us, and no chance to be summoned 
 on a jury 
 
 How do we spend the time do you 
 say ? Well, we simply spend most of 
 it— squander it, doing nothing, and we 
 think that is 
 
 The Best Use To Which Holiday Time 
 
 can be put. I have no patience with 
 those old "improve the fleeing hour" 
 frauds who are always firing at us ad- 
 monitions to the effect that, if we 
 
 31 
 
would only profitably use our spare 
 moments, we would, etc., etc., etc. 
 They tell us that, as the goldeo mo- 
 ments go howling down into eternity, 
 we should occasionally wrench a few 
 out of the calendar and Improve them 
 (any insurance company will furnish 
 the calendar). Why, anyone can do this 
 if he wishes ; genius is not needed, 
 brains are not absolutely necessary : 
 all that is required is to snatch the mo- 
 ments as they fly and use them. • Many 
 have made fame and fortune by doing 
 this. You have, doubtless, read in 
 your Sunday school books of the man 
 who every day utilized the time while 
 he was shaving to write, and at the end 
 of one year had completed a two-vol- 
 ume treatise on " The Cruelty of Using 
 Worms as Bait." Sir James Ferguson, 
 during one winter, while standing on 
 the register waiting for his wife to 
 warm the bed, invented the woven- 
 wire bustle of commerce William 
 Penn ' grabbed small sections of the 
 17th century while he waited in the 
 morning for his coffee to settle, and 
 he utilized them in settling Pennsyl- 
 vania and in laying out Philadelphia. 
 I have read somewhere that both New 
 York and Boston laid out Philadel- 
 phia, but I presume that was a mere 
 printer's error. 
 
 The first Governor of Massachusetts 
 while waiting for a street car always 
 employed the golden moments profit- 
 ably. We are told that it was on one 
 of these occasions that he discovered 
 beans. An uncle of mine mastered the 
 French language and white-washed his 
 barn — while paying oflf a mortgage. 
 
 Yes, time is money ; I admit that 
 we should use it all to the best advan- 
 tage. Even the inflnitessimal fragment 
 of time that it takes a three-month 
 note to mature in the bank should be 
 utilized, if only in trying to get it re- 
 newed. George Washington was a 
 great man, but he did not put his 
 scraps of time to good use. He could 
 not tell a lie. Now, if he had applied 
 himself during his spare moments, say 
 while crossing the Delaware, he might 
 have been as distinguished a liar as 
 any of us. 
 
 32 
 
ARMOY KNOX GETS MAD 
 
 AT THE G0DFATBX:RS OF OVR 
 liAKFS AIVD RIVERS. 
 
 He Discourses Indignantly and Elo- 
 quently Upon the Bad Taste Dis- 
 played In Tbese Modern Days In 
 Naming; Prominent Parts of tbe 
 Earth's Crust— An Interesting Com- 
 bination of Cook and Creiv. 
 
 On Board Yacht Champlain.— The bad 
 taste of some of the people who have been 
 the godfathers of many of our lakes, rivers, 
 mountains, and other prominent sections of 
 the earth's crust is painful to think of, but 
 evidence of it greets us every day. It sticks 
 out and obtrudes itself on us on every hand. 
 In these modern days is there neither poetry 
 nor sentiment in the people vrho give names 
 to places and things? The savage appreciated 
 and selected names that were full of rhythm 
 and melody. The eternal unfitness of calling 
 a good valley 
 
 "dog-tbot hollow" 
 
 did not take hold on the untutored Indian ; nor 
 did it ever enter into the minds of the Spanish 
 or French who came after them to disgrace a 
 picturesque mountain peak with such a name 
 as "Dolan's Nubbin." Keither did they 
 name their towns after Jones, the railroad 
 freight agent, or for the aldermanic Scroggs, 
 as the people of the United States do so often. 
 The Indiana selected words with meaning and 
 music in them, and the Spanish and French, 
 after using up the names of all the saints, 
 searched the realms of poetry and sweet 
 sounds for names ; for instance, when an Indian 
 wished to give a distinctive appellation to a 
 place at the confluence of two streams, he 
 would call it " The-place-where-the-bright- 
 waters - meet-aud - don't - you - forget - that-it's-a- 
 daisy-spot," or 
 
 HYPHENATED INDIAN WORDS TO THAT EF- 
 FECT. 
 
 He was never stingy in the matter of syl- 
 lables. He would give a lake or river its full 
 na,me, even if it took half the language he 
 carried with him to do it. Indian travelers 
 who made a business of discovering and 
 naming places have been known to use up 
 almost their whole vocabulary in a week's 
 
 33 
 
-^^' 
 
 J 
 
 -£-iA- 
 
 .M. 
 
 lij&T' 
 
 trip, and return to their trfbe wilhchit balf a 
 dozen coLijjilete sentences to their backs. I 
 visited a lake last week and it is one of the 
 loveliest dimples that I have over seen on this 
 old globe's countenance. It was formerly 
 known by three different names: Pas-kun-ga 
 meh, which means going out' from the 
 river-. Isit-kan-i-a- ta-res-ko-wa, the greatest 
 of the beautiful lake?; and A-roy-una. "the 
 ■waters of the emerald rocks." Now don't 
 you think that the Vermont Yankees would 
 have been satisfied with some of these names 
 or even a section of one of them. If he con- 
 sidered Isit-kan-i-a-ta-res-ko-wa too long for 
 every day use he could have saved a piece 
 out of the Kiiddle of it and, with ends neatly 
 spliced, he would have had a name that cer- 
 tainly would have boon more euphonious 
 than the one the lake now beai-s. Some 
 thirty years ago a surveyor lost his way in 
 the mountains and wandered throu;;h the 
 wilderness until he arrived at this lake. A 
 search party trailed him and he was found 
 there. The name of the wretch was Tupper 
 and now A-roy-una, "the waters of the em- 
 erald rocks" is known only as "Bug Tup- 
 per." 
 
 It was bad enough for our forefathers to 
 ,murder the owners of these lands and 
 I waters after stealing their property, but it 
 ' was adding to the crime to take eway the 
 musical names pven by the savage, and it 
 was heapine msult on injury to replace 
 k^ those names with the tuneless (Assonance of 
 the Yankee vocabulary. While on this sub- 
 
 J'ect of names let me tell you of something 
 saw yesterday that illustrates how some 
 human pigmies, who would be forgotten in 
 a year and a day after their death, will strive 
 to push their little names into the future 
 that posterity may be deceived into thinking 
 that they viere giants. The same vanity 
 that actuates the discoverer of Jones' river, 
 and the founder of McGonigalville prompts 
 these people to force their names into the 
 ages to come,by attaching them to the names 
 
 ; or deeds of some of the great ones of the 
 
 ; earth. I walked over 
 
 THE PLAINS OP ABRAHAM 
 
 ■yesterday and on that blood bought field 
 ■ where the heroic Wolfe valiantly fought 
 and bravely died . I saw a modest granite 
 raonument. On a small, square on one side 
 ■was this inscription: 
 
 ; nereUie(i : 
 
 : WOLFE, : 
 
 ; ■Victorious, : 
 
 Sept. 18th, 1759. : 
 
 
 Oa the opposite side on a much larger 
 
 34 
 
square was graven:- 
 
 ;. T H IS P I L L A B : 
 
 Wfes Erected by the 
 
 : BRITISH ARMT IN CANADA : 
 
 : ■ A. D. 1849, : 
 
 : His Excellency Lieutenant General : 
 : SIR BENJAMIN D'URBAN, 
 
 ; G. C. 0., K. C. B., H. C. T. S., &o. : 
 
 : Commauder : 
 
 of the Forces ; 
 
 This is truly copied — I could comment on 
 it, .but I w«uld rather you would make your 
 own comments. If I would say what 1 
 think of this vain baronet with the alphabeti- 
 cal tail, it would make his knightly old shade 
 shiver down there. 
 
 MKANDElilNa AROOND. 
 
 What shall I write you about this weekT 
 It is hard to choose a subject for I have such 
 a wealth of scenes that I would like to de- 
 ^ribe to you and so many incidents interest- 
 ing and amusing I would like to give you, that 
 It.is difficult to make a choice. 
 
 I t'nded my last letter I think with the 
 discharge of the pale horse and our sail from 
 the canal. Wc went out of the canal, into 
 Chambly basin, a bay in the Richelieu about 
 two miles wide, Chambly is a small town. 
 I saw nothing worth noting there except the 
 telegraph office. The telegraph agent is also 
 ; postmaster both in the French and English 
 'tongues, .and he' runs a general store. He 
 'Will sell you a can of baking powder and a 
 postage stamp or a bottle of whiskey and a 
 •razor with et^ual fluency in either language, 
 and if you wish will throw in a bunch of 
 telegram blanks with each article purchased. 
 A large invoice of string beans and axe 
 handles that he had jiist received had 
 crowded the telegraph desk out into the 
 yard. He apologized for this but kindly al- 
 lowed me to sit on a sack of flour and write 
 ray telegram on top of a side of bacon. The 
 post office was closed but he pried the lid off 
 it with a screw driver when I gave him a 
 letter which he dropped in and then closed 
 tic post office again. The post office has a 
 square tin lid on top and is lal.)elled 
 
 FRESH BOSTON CR.\CKEn9. 
 
 As wc were out of provisions of every kind 
 I sent Archie, the young man who enacts the 
 dual role of cook and crew of tho Cham- 
 plain, to the store to buy supplies. There is 
 a sequel to this, but as the novelists say— let 
 ■us not anticipate. We sailed down the river 
 to Sorel at which point the Richelieu empties 
 
 35 
 
 '>Rhp/^ 
 
 
5nto the St. Lawronce. "it was time forTunch. 
 • and Archio was instruotcd to get ready the, 
 meal. He retired to the. cockpit, and emerg-j 
 ing after a few minutes reported that there! 
 was no coffee, lie was told to make tea 
 instead. Another visit to the cockpit, a 
 'pause, and again Archie emerged— (paren- 
 thetically I would say, as evidence of the con- 
 venience of our yacht, that emerg- 
 ing from any part of her is easy, 
 yoa can emerge onto the quarter dock 
 from the cock pit by making one step and a 
 stumble over a rope. We were informed 
 that there was no tea on board. 
 
 "Ze tea was forgot to be brung," he said. 
 
 "Well let us have milk, and get out some 
 canned meat and things." 
 
 "Oui, monsieur." 
 
 Again Archie returned to the cock pit ap- 
 parently to produce the desired food; soou 
 he returned. 
 
 "Ze milk she was Icf on shore an' ze 
 grocery, ve hcv none." 
 
 "Well, I suppose we can have crackers 
 and water, what have you got anyhow." 
 
 "Kozzing, monsieur, ve hev ab-so-leetly 
 nozzing, ze box of provisions vas no renient- 
 ber to come on board." 
 
 "Why, confound you, didn't you know' 
 that at first when you were ordered to get 
 luncheon?" 
 
 "Oui, monsieur." 
 
 "Then why didn't you say so at once?" 
 
 "1 vanted to break to monsieur ze calam- 
 ity by portions and to not tell ze news first 
 at one time altogether." It seems that it is 
 the cook's duty to buy supplies and the 
 crew's duty to go ashore ana bring them^ 
 aboard. Archie in his capacity as cook* 
 ordered the provisions but forgot to instruct 
 himself in his capacity as crew to go ashore 
 for them. We were in a dilemma, for, 
 there being nothing to cook, Archie imme- 
 diately became the crew, and we could not 
 then justly reprimand him for the blunder 
 of the cook; you see how mixed the tiling 
 was. As 1 am mixed in writing about it I'll 
 now drop it. 
 
 36 
 
c.._ 
 
 AN INTERNATIONAL CRUISE. 
 
 ARMOY KNOX'S LOG-BOOK. 
 
 The Pbenomenally Tacltiirii Skipper 
 or tbe Cbamplaln— Samples of Uls 
 monosyllabic Eloquence -Tbe Im- 
 pressive Plclarcsqnenesu of Qnebec 
 —Strange Contrasts of the New and 
 Old— ACliy a Cblcago Drummer In- 
 sisted tbat ^'Xbese Canadians Is no 
 Good.'> 
 
 QxrsBEC, Aug. 4.— We have'a treasure in the 
 captain of the Champlain. I have the impression 
 that he knows a great deal, and that he must 
 have a vast amount of knowledge stored up, 
 because he is niggardly with it and never volun- 
 tarily squandei-s any. What a pleasure it ia, 
 once in awhile, to meet a taciturn man, after 
 suffering from the voluble inanities of the loqua- 
 cious bore, who interrupts your thoughts with 
 remarks res^rding trivial things— remarks that 
 require no comment or answer from you, but 
 that side-track or derail your train of thought 
 and make you wish that there were not half so 
 much of the English language as there is. From 
 the dismal background of such verbose chatter, 
 our captain's silence stands out in blessed relief. 
 He conflnes himself to a few nautical phrases re- 
 garding sails, and sheets, and helm, tbat he Urea 
 at the crew from time to time, and curt remarks 
 regarding objects on tbe water or shore tha^ ha 
 
 31 
 
.5^;^ 
 
 makes, not to Murray or myself, but that he In- 
 cidentally drops for oar benefit, if we care to 
 catch them. For instance, when roundinj; a 
 bend in the irlver we come abreast of a pile of 
 cracked and fallen masonry, he says, " Old fort. 
 Indian name— built by French— took by British." 
 .Algain, as we pass a wreck, near Quebec, and be- 
 fore we can ask a question, he Says, "EngltSb 
 ship— West India— fiugar— collision— bust." He 
 then .relapses into silence so profound that we 
 can-hear his corns ache up in the forecastle. I 
 would rather listen to the captain keep h'lfs 
 mouth shut for an hour than listen to many a 
 more cultured man talk for a whole, day. Yes- 
 terday morning he went ashore to purchase 
 eggs and milk at a, farm-house. As he came 
 rowing back in the tender, we observed that he 
 was breathing hard and had an angry look in 
 one eye. The. other eye was closed and sur- 
 rounded by a large swelling, so that there was no 
 look in it at aU. His trousers were badly torn 
 below the knee, and there were scratches on the 
 naked leg that obtruded itself through the root. 
 As he stepped aboard, he touched his cap, pointed 
 to his lacerated trousers, and said, " Dog," then 
 to his damaged eye and said, " Man." He wont 
 below into the cockpit without another word, 
 but there was as much of a story told in the two 
 words he did say as many another man would 
 have taken an hour to tell. 
 
 A MASTER OP LACONICS. 
 
 I asked the captain to-day what was the beat 
 
 z--^-^:; 
 
 38 
 
way to sail a yacht in a rough sea with a strongr 
 wind dead astern. He tooK his pipe from his 
 mouth only long enough to say, " Don't." . 
 
 *" But if your channel is narrow, so that you 
 cannot change your course, what then ? " I said. 
 
 " Anchor." 
 
 I really wanted information on the subject, 
 and the captain was evidently opposed to run- 
 ning before such a wind, while I had heard 
 others favor It. In all such disputed cases I 
 refer to authorities, so I went below and, taking 
 my library out of the tin bucket in which it is 
 kept, turned to page 369, section 7, under the 
 head of " Heavy Weather— Wind Alt." I spent 
 half an hour in committing to memoi'y the in- 
 structions there given. Then I approached the 
 captain, who was sitting forward on plla of sail 
 whipping the end of a rope. I said, " Captain, I 
 think the authorities differ from you regarding 
 sailing a yacht before a wind dead astern." 
 
 ire~looke3 up with interest, and interroga- 
 tively said, " So ? " 
 
 " Yes," I responded. " They say, in such cases, 
 ' drop the peak of the mainsail until it is just 
 square, in with the jib smartly, reef the bow- 
 sprit and set the storm jib ; then lower the fore- 
 sail, close reef and reset it. Make fast the 
 weather topping lift, lower the peak to the lifts, 
 trice up and main tack to the throat and the 
 main sail is thus scandalized. Hold taut and belay 
 the lee topping lift, let go the main halliards and 
 haul the throat down to the boom by the tack 
 tricing line; stow the main sheet, crutch and 
 lash the bootn and away you go again.' " 
 
 I knowlmade this quotation correctly, just 
 OS printed in the " Yachtsman's Manual." When 
 I ended, the hncient mariner was gazing at me 
 with a stony stare that lasted for the space of a 
 minute, while his arms hung limp by his sides, 
 and I thought I had surely killed him. He re- 
 
 39 
 
covered with a shutter, but he did not speak. 
 He arose and went over to the port side and be- 
 gan, in a most vicious way, to untwist the kinks 
 in a coll of rope. He seema to avoid me since, 
 and now and then I catch his eye, with a g-lint of 
 awe and a big beam of bewilderment in it, fur- 
 tively watching me from behind a mast as I sit 
 aft on a life-preserver wrltins this. 
 
 BOCK-THOBNED, CANNON-GIRT QUEBEC. 
 
 Since writing the above we have arrived at 
 Quebec after a splendid run of 100 miles down 
 the St. Lawrence from the head of Lake St. 
 Peters. The queerest and quaintest town in the 
 continent is this rook-throned, cannon-girt city 
 of Quebec. It has none of the common-place, 
 rectangular characteristics of most American 
 cities. Built on a mighty rock on one of the 
 greatest waterways in the world, it is sur- 
 rounded by natural barriers of precipitous cliffs, 
 and by wall and parapet, buttress and breast- 
 work that make it more perfectly fortified than, 
 perhaps, is any other city in the world. Inhab- 
 ited by a people, the majority of whom differ in 
 language, custom and religion from the people 
 that nominally rule them— crooked streets and 
 narrow lanes, picturesque with the varied archi- 
 tecture of three centures, contrast of new and 
 old everywhere: seventeenth century residences 
 
^^^^ 
 
 thick -walled, dormer- windowed and many- 
 gabled, crowded upon and overshadowed by 
 great piles of modem iron-columned business 
 houses: carts of the same clumsy design and 
 heavy material as were those, used by, the Breton 
 peasants hundreds of yearra ago,^longside of 
 light and graceful carriages of tbe ^tcst pattern ; 
 the hoarse sound of an (excjiigion steamerjs" 
 whistle and tbe rattle of the railro^ cars min- 
 gling with the chimes of church jells— bells 
 were cannon in days of old and that once boomed 
 out the thunders of war in louder tones than 
 those in which they now call men to the worship 
 
 of the Prince of Pe^oe. 
 
 Tes, an odd and outr6 place is this, and columns 
 and columns could be filled with descriptions of 
 its many Interesting features. Away up here I 
 sit on Dufferin Terrace a broad esplanade 
 perched more than half way up the side of a 
 gigantic roolc that is crowned with the greatest 
 of all the citadels over which floats the Hed 
 Cross of England, Looking down far below I see 
 the great tide of the mighty St. Lawrence sweep- 
 ing around the promontory freighted with 
 CKaf ts of all sizes, from the small canoe to tbe 
 great man-of-war. Here, close In-shore, a three- 
 decked passenger steamer is going to Montreal ; 
 over there is a big ship bound for Liverpool with 
 timber, and beyond is the .United States man-of- 
 war Galena, carrying the only American flag to 
 be seen except the one that floats over our own 
 craft yonder under the shadow of the clifT. Down, 
 200 feet below, by the water's edge are houses on 
 the roofs of which one could drop a pebble-^-crazy 
 old houses, weather-beaten and stained by the 
 hand of time, are most of them, it was along that 
 narrow beach below that In a snow-storm many 
 years ago Montgomery came to meet Arnold and 
 make joint attack on tbe city; but through the 
 blinding snow came a bullet from this ledge up 
 here, and Montgomery never met Arnold. Ah me! 
 what romance and what tragedy have this great 
 rock and that wide river been the scene of. Wha t 
 memories of strife and bloodshed and great 
 men's names come to me as the twilight shad- 
 ows the waiers and— 
 
 41 
 

 Just aa I, inspired by my surroundings, was 
 pleasantly making a mental Journey througli 
 the mellow romances of the past I was rudely 
 hauled into the harsh commercial present by a 
 man with a bet-your-lile-I-know-what-I'm-talk- 
 Ing-about tone of voice. He said : 
 
 " Mister, I see from your rig that you belong 
 to the Galena over there, and as you're from the 
 States, you will understand what I am going to 
 say. See them roofs down there? Now, is it 
 any wonder that Canada is slow and 'way be- 
 hind the States in commerce and prosperity, (ind 
 that Quebec is dead, sir, dead? I'm travelling 
 for a Chicago house. Just cast your eye down 
 below. See there is a string of roofs a mile 
 long, and there'o 10,000 people promenade- this 
 terrace every day, and every blessed one of them 
 sees them roofs, and there isn't a solitary sign on 
 one of them. What do you think of that ? Nqw, 
 I'd have 'Use Smith's Baking Powder,' "Chew 
 Angustura Bitters,' ' How Is Your Liver?' and 
 that sort of thing painted all over them. Why, 
 if this blooming country was annexed to the 
 States and I owned them roofs I'd make a for- 
 tune selling out advertising spaces. That beats 
 hallowed memories of the past. You can't buy 
 beef steaks or underclothes with the memories 
 that cluster around a historic spot, but if you 
 paste a four-sheet circus poster op the spot, you 
 can make s^ome money. I tell you these Cnna- 
 dians is no good. They don't know, to-day, 
 whether they are living B. C. or A. D. Let's go 
 and have something. Want to wash the mildew 
 of this place out of my throat." 
 
(LOG OF TH E YACHT C HAMPLAIN. 
 
 Commercial Union with the 
 United States. 
 
 CANADIAN TRADE. 
 
 Enox'B ObserTatlons on the Effects of a 
 High Taiiff. 
 
 On Boaed Yacht Champlain, off Que- 
 bec, Aug. 7. — It is along rivers that we 
 find the oldest civilization. On the banks 
 of streams man originally settled. The 
 first settlements in all new countries are 
 on the shores of lakes, seas and rivers. It 
 is along the great arteries of the continent 
 that we find the people in their least arti 
 ficial condition, and it is by travel through 
 the waterways of a country that we can 
 best study its people, their habits and cus- 
 toms, and their social and political rela- 
 tions and conditions. The traveler who 
 rushes over a country on a railroad usually 
 passes through the worst parts of the 
 cities, towns and villages, and the most 
 poorly developed section of the agricul- 
 tural districts. He leaves with an idea 
 that the towns consist of comfortless rail- 
 road stations, trunk-laden omnibuses, of- 
 fensive backyards, prolific clothes lines, 
 smoke-begrimed factories, and the miser- 
 able tenements of the working people who 
 are too poor to own homes. And his im- 
 pression is that the country is made up of 
 rocks, patent medicine signs, telegraph 
 poles and the poorer class of farms. It is 
 not always thus, but generally that is 
 what he sees, and it is from that he forms 
 his mature impressions. The people he 
 meets are the hotel clerk and the baggage- 
 man, the railroad conductor and the ven- 
 der of antique figs and yesterday morn- 
 ing's papers, and these are not representa- 
 tive citizens of any country, nor will 
 converse with them teach him much. His 
 time and attention are taken up with the 
 packing of trunks and the catching of 
 trains, and he can devote but little of either 
 to what he sees and hears. Knowing this 
 from experience, we selected a yacht as a 
 means of locomotion, and the lakes and 
 river as a route on which to travel. We 
 are never hurried. We can stop as long as 
 we please at places or with people who in- 
 terest us, and there is no conductor's " all 
 aboard" to disturb or hurry us away. 
 
 AT QUSBKC 
 
 we have stayed several days, visited the 
 falls of Montmorenci, the Indian village of 
 Lorette and the shrine of the good St. 
 Anne, where the virtues of the waters and 
 the prayers of priest and patient are said 
 to perform miracles. We have been enter- 
 
 43 
 
tained at the Quebec Yacht Club and tbe 
 Garrison club, and have been at a yacht 
 race. Regarding all of this you may read 
 in a future letter. To-day I want tospeak 
 of Quebec and of some things I have 
 learned there. 
 
 Quebec, one of the oldest cities on the 
 continent, with a history that is red with 
 the blood of savage, French, English and 
 American, situated on a rocky promon- 
 tory that makes it the most unique among 
 the cities of the New World, and with sur- 
 roundings that are rich in the romantic 
 and picturesque, volumes could be written 
 on its peculiarities and interesting features 
 without exhausting the subject. 
 
 I shall only give you a few cold and un- 
 adorned facts and statistics. Inhabitants 
 60,000, more than nine-tenths of whom are 
 French or of French descent. City Coun- 
 cil composed of four Protestants, four Irish 
 Catholics and 16 French CathoUcs. The 
 Roman Catholic religion predominates. 
 The French, not only in the city, but in the 
 province of Quecec, are largely in the ma- 
 jority, and govern local matters. They 
 are moi'e conservative and less progressive 
 than are the l!;ngli<h-speaking inhabitants. 
 
 They have their own clubs and societies. 
 
 and there is not so much social intercourse 
 
 between them and the English-speaking 
 
 population as might be expected. The 
 
 French lack push and cntei^jrise. They 
 
 ai-e satisfied with the existing state of 
 
 things. Thev live and pray and work and 
 
 worship in the same way that their fore- 
 
 1 fathers did a hundred years ago. The pro- 
 
 [ gressive minority are heavily handicapped 
 
 ; by these lethargic people. At present the 
 
 1 absorbing topic of conversation here is 
 
 ' commercial union with the United States. 
 
 Twenty years ago more than ISOO vessels 
 
 entered the port of Quebec and departed 
 
 laden with what the Canadians hed to sell. ' 
 
 Now not more than 300 v&ssels receive | 
 
 cargo here annually. Then 30 wooden I 
 
 ships and many smaller crafts were built 
 
 in the shipyards of Quebec. During the 
 
 last thiee years not a keel has been laid 
 
 here. 
 
 TRADE IS DEAD 
 
 and the mines are closed. The lumbeiman 
 
 44 
 
has no market for his lumber, the farmer 
 has ceased to grow barley, potatoes and 
 other products that he f onnerly marketed 
 in the United States. Forty dollars a ton 
 duty on starch made from potatoes pi'e- 
 vents manufacture and • export of that 
 article. The fisherman, with $4 a barrel 
 duty on mackerel, can make but a poor 
 living, even working as he does, day and 
 night, during the fishing season. The 
 French shrug their shouldera and say that 
 they must acknowledge that times are cot 
 as good as they used to be, hor the country 
 as prosperous. They say they do not 
 know the reason, but they think it must be 
 the will of God. The English-speaking 
 people who llave been students of affairs 
 saythat the duty on lumber, fish and 
 other exports to the United States, and the 
 duty paid on tchal they find necessary to 
 buy in the States, keep the reople poor. 
 Free trade is what they want. Commer- 
 cial union with the United States, they 
 say, will bring back prosperity and in- 
 crease the natioral wecilth. 
 
 Along a line, of SOOO miles in extent, be- 
 tween the United States and Canada, cus- 
 tom houses and the officials coimected with 
 them have to be supported at a cost to the 
 Canadians of $4,00D,00O. They want this 
 done away with. I speak of the shipper, 
 the farmer, the lumberman, and evei"y 
 other person who has given the matter a 
 thought, except some manufacturers and 
 those who are controlted by personal inter- 
 ests rather than the public good. It is 21 
 yearssincethe United States abrogated the 
 treaty of reciprocity, and Canada has not 
 thriven since. With a territory of S,500,- 
 000 square miles — almost as large as all of 
 Europe^the increase of po{>ulation in ten 
 years has been only 600,000, or 18 percent. 
 Their exports in 20 years have only in- 
 creased from $57,000,000 to $89,000,000 in 
 value, while their imports have increased 
 from $73,000,000 to $108,000,000. In the 
 same length of time 
 
 THEIR DEBT HAS INCREASED 
 
 from $90,000,000 to $265,000,000. The debt 
 is now twice as much per capita as is the 
 debt of the United States. The average 
 commodities ' purchased by the United 
 States from Canada is about 60 cents per 
 head of ]x>pulation . The average per head 
 that is purchased by the Canadians from 
 the United States is nearly $9. It is evi- 
 dent that Canada has much more to ^ain 
 by conjmercial union -than has the United 
 States. The above is a very brief outline 
 of the prdrainent details of the commercial 
 union question, that is here disaissed in 
 clubs, on 'Change and in the streets. The 
 majority of the newspapers of the Do- 
 minion are in favor of some reciprocal 
 treaty with the United States, and it is 
 said by those who seem to know that a 
 large majority of the people, should the 
 question be put to them, would vote for 
 any reasonable change in the present tariff 
 of duti<>s. The existing government is^ 
 
 45 
 
 „-&§ c S b 
 
 O V S fK'r^ 
 
 
 ffl-O 
 
 
 43 ®^ 
 
 o S3 - ' 
 
 
L060FTHE YACHT CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 KNOX'S LETTER. 
 
 CIImlilDg Ofor qnebec In Hnt tTeather— 
 Qnaint Scenes and Cnstoms. 
 
 It is too hot to-day to write out in the 
 yacht as she lies at anchor in Quebec har- 
 bor; so I am writing this in a little wine 
 shop down under the shadow of the citadel 
 There are no ftrst-class hotels in this dtv" 
 and there are no restaurants, except a few 
 pt the spotted table-cloth and red-napkin 
 kind, where the waiter, in answering 
 your call, leans over you so closely that 
 you can taste two kinds of soup in his 
 breath, and says, " Well ? " 
 
 I And no place where I can wiite with 
 comfort except in the Gan-ison Club, and 
 that IS too far up town, and too much of a 
 cUmb on a hot day hke this. We have 
 been sleepmg on board the boat since we 
 came to this city, and taking most of our 
 meals on shore. The food furnished here 
 at hotels and restaurants is very bad, and 
 thecookmg is worse than anything I ever 
 suffered from in a city of this size: so I 
 come to this httle wine shop, where a fat 
 Frenchwoman who keeps it gives me a 
 bowl of bread and milk, and the use of the 
 Uttle room off the shop, tor 10 cents. The 
 ro9m IS inhabited by Hies and the smell of 
 dried codfish, but the smeU bemg a steady 
 one, I get used to it, and, as the room is 
 comparatively cool and I am not disturbed 
 I like It. Another advantage is that when 
 I have set a trap to catch an idea, and 
 while chewmg the end of my pencil as I 
 wait for the idea to be caught, I can cast 
 my eyes around the wall and feast them on 
 art. There are severe I chromatc pictures 
 
 46 
 
bt samts. St. Patrick, dressed m green, 
 yellow and blue, In front of a background 
 of lemon-colored sky, a staff in his hand, 
 and his right foot on a pile of gilt snakes ; 
 and there is a pui-ple-haired St Joseph, and 
 St. Peter seems to have the small-pox: but 
 perhaps it is only the effects of flies. JSTow 
 these saints were all good and saintly men 
 when they were mortals, and they are 
 worthy of all honor, therefore I think it a 
 shame that they should be foreshortened 
 into deformed freaks and clothed in such 
 gaudy garments. If poor St. Lawrence 
 could only see the ridiculous picture of 
 himself, copies of which I have seen in a 
 hundred places in Canada, with, its swol- 
 len jaw and a nose that would raise the 
 temperature in a room as big as a bating 
 rink, he would be very sorry tisat he ever 
 had anything to do with Canada, even if 
 its principal river was named in his honor. 
 
 A QUAINT TAVBEN. 
 
 Tradition says that this little wine shop is 
 almost as old as Quebec. I do not know 
 the name of the s&eet on which it is si|ai- 
 ated, and I am too lazy to go out and aik; 
 but no doubt it is a name that, before the 
 street got it, was used by some saint. It is 
 just around the comer frwn Break-neck 
 stairs, in Little Champlain street, and it 
 was past its door that Arnold went to his 
 death on that night of storm and snow and 
 blood, many years ago. I try to extract 
 some legends or traditions of the place 
 from the fat proprietress, and I find her a 
 rich mine of Ignorance. She knows noth- 
 ing whatever about the history of the 
 house; she has rented it during the last 10 
 years, and trade is very, very bad; that is 
 all she knows, but she is quite good-natured, 
 and tries to please. By putting leading 
 questions to her, I would guarantee to 
 prove anything, no matter how preposter- 
 ous. Youaskner if thisisnotthesceneof 
 such and such an historic incident, or the 
 spot on which Champlain held 13 hostile 
 Indians at bay until not an Indian was left 
 to bay at him, and she smiles a smile of 
 acquiescence that pushes her ears back 
 until they neai-ly meet, and says, "Oui, 
 monsieur." She says, " Oui, monsieur" to 
 every question, and I truly believe that 
 should I ask her if this was thefhottse that 
 Jack built, or the spot where the ark rested 
 after the flood, she would say "Oui, mon- 
 sieur," sol have to fall back on my Imagina- 
 tion. Itis always well to have an imagina- 
 tion with you when you are traveling. You 
 may need it and have to use it right along. 
 I have used mine pretty freely of late; for 
 instance, when the wind blew and the 
 yacht leaned over and stuck her rail under 
 the water, and the ink upset, and a can of 
 lard got mixed with my duck trousers and 
 smokmg tobacco, and the smoke from the 
 stove leaked into the cabin, then I used it 
 in striving to imagine that I was enjoying 
 myself and Uiat I liked yachting. I tnink 
 that in some of these efforts my im- 
 agination has been sprained, for it some- ,' 
 
 47 
 
times refuses to work. I tried it 
 on some rice pudding cooked on "board by 
 myself. I wanted to imagine that it was 
 fit tor human food, but my imagination 
 refused to aid me, except with the sugges- 
 tion that when lighting the fire with kero- 
 sene I might have "sloshed" around more 
 than was necessary. 
 
 If my imagination would only work to- 
 day, how I could people this little tavern 
 with those who have passed over its thresh- 
 old in the olden time. Nelson may have 
 dropped inhere before he dreamed of being 
 an admiral, and Tom Moore may have 
 dinink the juice of grapes that were gath- 
 ered in the valleys of sunny France, and 
 sung songs and written verses in this little 
 room, and doubtless many a gallant soldier 
 of France and many a mariner of England 
 has made these cobwebbed walls echo with 
 jest and song. But the glory of those days 
 has departed, and few were be who pat- 
 ronize the place now, except the habitants 
 who bring garden-stuff to market, and the 
 sailors from the ships in the stream beyond. 
 Even the card in the window announcing 
 that American whisky, at 10 cents a glass 
 and 5 cents a half-glass, is a specialty, fails 
 to attract customers. 
 
 PRECIPITOUS STREETS. 
 
 I vifalked thi'ough the city — well, it was not 
 a walk exactly. I climbed over a part of it 
 this morning. Some of the streets, like 
 Mountain street, are so steep that I have to 
 stop and rest several times before I reach 
 the summit. If, however, I do not wish to 
 climb, I can, for three cents, be shot up in 
 an elevator from the lower to the upper 
 town. When I was driving down one of 
 
 \ 
 
 ^^s 
 
 48 
 
these streets in a wagon a bundle fell out 
 of the vehicle. It went over the horse's 
 head and reached the gi-ound six feet in 
 front of him. As it may strain you to be- 
 lieve this, I would jiot mention it if I was 
 not so anxious to give you a true idea of 
 the steepness of the streets. 
 
 I meet priests wearing three-cornered 
 hats and black robes, everywhere ; and am 
 never out of sight of churches and of prop- 
 erty that belongs to the Roman Catholic 
 church. Here a party of sailoi-s from the 
 French frigate m the harbor, there ^a 
 farmer and his wife in a queer, heavy two- 
 wheeled cart, next, a.soldier from the cita^ 
 del, with gay uniform and jaunty gait, 
 laborers inblue blouses, rough and weauier- 
 beaten lumbermen down from the Sague- 
 nay with rafts of logs; clerks and business 
 men, dressed in clothes of English cut, and 
 many nuns and Sisters of Charity. These 
 are the people I see in the streets of Que- 
 bec, but you must not think that I am 
 describing a hurrying throi^. Canadians 
 neither hurry nor throng. I do not meet 
 more than three or four people on a block, 
 and they do not hurry along, for there is 
 not enough business to go around, and 
 they can take time to do the little that 
 that there is. 
 
 Quebec is asleep, and the merchant, as 
 he stands at his door waiting for a cus- 
 tomer, says she will not awake until some 
 day thq booming cannon on the fortifica- 
 tions above announce that the Stars and 
 Stripes float over the citadel, and the Yan- 
 
 \^J^ 
 
 49 
 
:ee capitalist comes to develop her manu- 
 f acturm^ and ship-building interests. 
 
 The chief 'topic of the day here is com- 
 mercial union with the United States It 
 is discussed hourly. The English-spealdng 
 population want it. The French-Cana- 
 dians are living in the last century, and do 
 not want anything; or, rather, they do not 
 Imow thiit they need or want anything. 
 They are under the dominion of their 
 church, and the church does not desire 
 commercial union, fearing that that might 
 lead to annexation, and under the Govern- 
 ment of the United States the church could 
 not expect such privileges as it enjoys 
 under the laws of Canada. I am not yet 
 prepared to write on this subject, not imtil 
 I learn more of the views of the people 
 elsewhere. 
 
 ANTICIPATIirO THE BARBER. 
 
 There is a little house here On one of the 
 principal streets, and in this house on the 
 last day of the year 1775 was laid the body 
 of G«n. Montgomery. It is une of the 
 show places of the tiitjr. Before a stranger 
 has been 10 minuetes in Quebec some one 
 will ask him: "Hdve you seen the old 
 house in which the body of Qen. Mont- 
 
 fomery lay?" And he cannot walk a 
 lock without meeting a man or boy who 
 will suggest that for 10 cents he will guide 
 him to the " maison ou le corps du Oen. 
 Montgomery f ut depose.' As I threw my- 
 self back in a barber's chair this morning 
 I saw that the barber was loaded for 
 tourists, so I anticipated him. Using my 
 suave traveling voice, I said : "I want to 
 be shaved inside six minutes, and, as I do 
 not care to converse with lather in my 
 mouth and a razor traveling along the out- 
 
 50 
 
side of my windpipe, I'd like that we have 
 our conversation out before you begin. To 
 start with, I will say that I am from the 
 United States, I have visited the citadel, I 
 have seen the house in which Gen. Mont- 
 gomery's body lay , and I promised my uncle 
 on his dyklgbed never to discuss either 
 commercial union or annexation. Now 
 file your fractuK^ English at me." He 
 said: " Merci, moasteur, I nozzing more 
 has to remark," and he g^ve me a fair 10- 
 cent shave without saying auother word. 
 
 AN OLD ADVBRTISEMKNT. 
 
 Most of the Quebec newspapers ore pub- 
 lished in French. There is only one paper 
 of any consequence published in Engh^. 
 It is called the Morning Chronicle, is pub- 
 lished daily, is an excellent paper, and, 
 under very able editorial and business 
 management, is prosperous. It is the 
 oldest newspaper m Canada. It was es- 
 tablished in 1764, and was then called the 
 Gazette. Interesting to Americans should 
 be the fact that the first copy of the Ga- 
 zette was printed by Benjamin Franklin, 
 who then owned a printing press in Que- 
 bec. I saw what is claimed to be one of 
 those first copies. It is a very small affair, 
 only eight short columns. It begins with 
 an elaborate prospectus, in which the 
 usual florid promises are made by the 
 editor and proprietor. He says he will be 
 impartial and just in criticising acts of 
 pubUc men, and will spare no expense in 
 obtaining all the news, etc. It reads very 
 much like a prospectus of to-day. I note 
 that he omitted only one thing; he neg- 
 lected to say, "We have come to stay," 
 but the paper has stayed for a century and 
 a quarter, nevertheless. This first copy 
 contained only one advertisement. It an- 
 nounces "An assortment of goods, just 
 imported from London, and to be sold at 
 the lowest price, by John Baird, in the 
 upper part of Henry Morin's house, at the 
 entry of the Guide Sac." 
 
 The assortment covers a variety of arti- 
 cles, from brass candlesticks to gun wads. 
 When John Baird handed in that adver- 
 tisement to the editor, proprietor, business 
 manager, local reporter and printer of the 
 Gazette, 120 years ago, and tried to get 
 special position top of column, and 85 per 
 cent, off card rates for cash, he little 
 thought that people of the fourth and fifth 
 generation after would read it in a news- 
 paper containing more than a thousand 
 advertisements a day. Now, if Mr. Baird 
 had painted an announcement of his 
 " goods, just imported from London" on a 
 fence or on a rock, the fence would have 
 been burned up long since, and a jaU or a 
 church would have oeen IjuUt on the rock. 
 
 The moral, therefore, is, advertise in 
 newspapers, for, while one copy of your 
 ad. may be used to wrap around a picnic 
 sandwich, another may serve to carry 
 your name and fame thundering down the 
 a g^. 
 
 \rith this moral I close, for the crew has 
 just called for me. He says the wind is 
 fair, and in an hour we sail for the 
 
 61 
 
A RAGING BASIN. 
 
 Knox and Mnrray Tempt the Dan- 
 gers of a Stone Walled Pond, ^ 
 
 Calamities of a Nlglit— The Im- 
 
 pendlDg Sebooner— Saved by a 
 
 Bo-wsprlt— Anotber Peril — 
 
 Wild Searcb for a Kedee. 
 
 On Board Yacht Champlain, 
 Off Quebec. 
 
 Knox's Letter. 
 
 These St. Lawrence waters are very 
 rough sometimes. The tide comes up &t 
 the rate of five miles an hour. The ri^e 
 and fall at neap tide is some fourteen feet, 
 while the spring tides, with a heavy east 
 wind, rise as high as twenty feet at the 
 City of Quebec. 
 
 We seldom picture a river as anything 
 but a smoothly flowing current, except 
 when there are rapids for the waters to rush 
 and foam and tumble down. It is very 
 different on a great river like the St. 
 Lawrence. When the wind meets the tide 
 or the strong current of the river's down- 
 ward flow, then great waves are formed, 
 white-capped, short, snappy, and danger- 
 ous to small crafts. The winds and the 
 tides have it out with each other, regard- 
 less of the yachtsman's comfort or the 
 Marquis of Queensbury rules. Seething' 
 angry waters and boisterous winds wrestle 
 and puff and flercely contend until the 
 winds get blown and retire. 
 
 The water of the St. Lawrence is of a 
 greenish tinge, and when riled looks like 
 chopping sea in the English channel. My 
 acquaintance with this river, extending 
 
 Over many years, was made through a map 
 when I was a boy. The St. Lawrence, 
 when I first knew it, was a blue streami 
 glazed on the surface with some kind of 
 shiny varnish that was cracked and peeled 
 off in spots, and there was a ragged nail- 
 hole situated, as well as I can remember, 
 down about the mouth of the Saguenay, 
 and about a quarter of an inch' from the 
 shore. It was a stream as tranquU and 
 blue as a pan of skim milk on a pantiy 
 shelf, and, except an occassional pareUel of 
 latitude and a few meridians, it had no 
 obstruction in its course to the gulf. 
 
 I found the river quite different when I 
 made its personal acquaintance. That has, 
 more than anything else, taught me not to 
 put faith in maps. I know that railroad 
 maps ,are made to deceive, but I did not 
 think that' the English National Board of 
 Education.would w illin gly deceive, with a 
 bogus, chromo river, a small unlettered 
 boy whose father paid them half a cro^vn 
 a week to jam his oldest child full of au- 
 thentic geographical lore and other solid 
 knowledge. 
 
 1 was surprised at the roughness of the 
 water, but a greater surprise awaited me. 
 We were 
 
 ALMOST WRECKED IN A BASIN. 
 
 The authorities kindly allowed us to 
 anchor the Champlain in the Basin Louise, 
 at Quebec. This is a dock inclosed by high, 
 granite walls or embankments that rise 
 thirty feet above low water. It is a great 
 square, about three hundred yards on each 
 side, and with only one small opening 
 outward to the river. Since our arrival, 
 we have slept on board, and have allowed 
 our crew to stay on shore at night, and 
 much more pleasant we have found it to 
 be rooked to sleep by the gentle swell of 
 the water than to pass the night in the 
 finest room in the city. 
 
 Yesterday morning, at about four 
 o'clock, I was asleep and absorbed in a 
 dream. In my dream I was mounted on a 
 nightmare of the mustang race. I thought 
 I was once more a tenderfoot on the plains, 
 and the mustang was bucking, and I was 
 jolting up and down on his back until I 
 eould,feel the fifty dollars' worth of gold 
 filling loosen and jingle in my teeth. The 
 brute, with that inconsistency of animals 
 and things in a dream, suddenly changed 
 to a boat that also bucked, threw me on a 
 
 62 
 

 
 J^ B-l-^ 
 
 
 ^: 
 
 
 
 / 
 
"Belay, there, belay!" came the order, 
 I knew bow to belay, but I could ao 
 more belay that rope than I could have 
 stopped Niagara in its fall; and, besides, 
 my mghtshirt waa moat of it wrapped 
 around my neck, with the en j of it slap- 
 ping my face, and thus interfering with 
 my UBefuIneaa. I kept laying cable down 
 in that water at a speed that only Cyrus 
 W. Field could equal, and we would soon 
 Iiave been banging up against the side of 
 the dock if a hitch in the cable had not 
 caught on the bowsprit bits. The schooner 
 was now within, fifteen feet of us and 
 drifting on. Her rail waa ten feat above 
 our deck, and she looked as big as a man- 
 of-war. Her crew, which consisted of 
 three young men, were rushing up and 
 down her deck, jumping- over barrels and 
 liatchways, just like wild animals In a 
 cage, only that wild animals so placed do 
 not express their feelings in profane Can»> | 
 . dian French. 
 
 "Cut that rope; cut it quick!" came the 
 order to me through the roar of the storm 
 and thO' folds of the night-shirt arouad my 
 ears. I picked up the cook's glittering 
 Iread knife from the top of the cold, cold 
 stove, and with one whack severed fhs 
 rope. Something catne. whizzing down 
 Tritb a run and hit msonthohaad. It 
 hurt; but 1 did not wait to find out whether- 
 it waa a mast or Only a block. I had out 
 the wrong rope. The New Zealand was 
 now within two feet of our bowsprit and 
 still bearing sloWly down on us. Murray 
 ^as at the bow hauling on a rope in an in- 
 sane effort, as it seemed to me, to ^ull up 
 the bottom of the St. Iiawrence rivQr, 
 
 WAS PEBfEOTLY' CALM 
 
 At first, and I remember wondering if tha 
 yacht would ever ba ralaed; if I would be 
 found in -her or in the mud at the bottom. 
 of the basin, and I thought of how a "re- 
 mains" would look, lianging on tha end of 
 a grappling iron, dressed in a ro6my night- 
 shirt with two blue anchors embroidartd 
 on ike collar. Then 1 became excited,' I 
 realized that J should jnake an ^ort for 
 life, if for no other reason than to finish 
 this series of letters. Justice to m/. mwiy 
 readers demanded fhati should struggle 
 to save my young life, I became more ex- 
 cited as 1 thought of you stopping your 
 paper because my weekly letters were 
 •lopped by the ruthless hand of tha Storm 
 King and a blamed old scboonar loaded to 
 
 64 
 
ths muzzle with sand. Sa, Z threw aside 
 my modesty, let out a reef is my £nltaciiig 
 gitimentj and-dimbed out to the end of tha 
 bovrgprit. 
 
 The gentle and. urbane reader who is not 
 a tightrope walker, and who wishes to un- 
 derstand the full scope of this daiiiag feafi 
 will please procure a pole, hang it out of a 
 second story window and then ran out to 
 the end of it, while some one wiggles, it 
 violently from the inside, and tha 
 wind howla And blows his eara 
 full of water. Than he can retica 
 to his closet, shut the door, lis down on a 
 cane bottomed lounge and imagine my 
 feelings as I ran out on that bowsprit. It 
 is twenty feet long, and to me seamed a 
 thousand. I reached out against tha 
 schooner's side, with tha idiotic intention 
 of pushing her oS, Just then a wave lif tel 
 ber; our bowsprit crashed through ber Tbt- 
 teli sides a distance of two feet^ and stack. 
 The three New Zealandera could do noth- 
 ing but talk, and we talked back at them, 
 and the winds seemed to laugh and shtiak 
 with delight at our troubles, and the noise 
 of tha elements drowned .our voices, 
 wbila wa jabbed boathooks into ths 
 ■ side of th& old hulk^ We did 
 ' not get loose until four men.- came off 
 ! from shore and cut us apart with an ax. 
 Then a tng came and hauled the sihooner 
 ^away. We were feeling that the danger 
 was over, and I was about to retire and take 
 an arnica bath, and put on a suit of stick- ^xx 
 Jng plaster, wben we discovered that we^^ 
 : irere going along in the wake of the^;' 
 i.-scboo|ier. Her anchor had caught in oiir^' 
 '«ible. More •'ahoys" from Murray and?^ 
 solos OS the foghorn by myself; the tug 
 'hoTsto, toe tangle was untangled some- 
 .bow, and once more we were free, Aswa 
 were congratulating each other on this sec- 
 p.ond eacape« a third and a greator danger 
 S' threatened us. The New, Zealand had. 
 
 ^1 
 
drBEgod our anchor somo distaaca from its 
 restiucplace; when she let it go there was 
 a great slack in our threa hundred feet of 
 cable, and before that was taken up the 
 wind drove ui down on the yacht 
 Hippie. As we came eweepias 
 down on her bow, Murray began 
 hauling on onr anchor cable, and 
 shouted to me to "throw over the kedge." 
 I ran in the direction hd pointed. Z 
 didn't imow what a kedge was, but I saw 
 that it was no time for asking questions. 
 The order was to throw out a kedge. It 
 had to be done quickly, add I was going to 
 do it, too. It. knew it was better ninety- 
 nine innocent articles should be sactlfioed 
 than that one kedge should not be flung 
 into the surging tide, so I fired ovarboord 
 everything of weighty iron or tin or brasi 
 that I cnuld see, hoping that among them 
 might be a kedge. When about to throw 
 the stovepipe astern— how was I to know- 
 that "kedge" was not the nautical name 
 for stovepipe? — I was stopped by the bow- 
 sprit of the other yacht coming sweeping 
 through our rigging, and with the shock 
 of the two yachts coming together. Then 
 I realized, as I was thrown backwards and 
 fell on a can of kerosene oil, that there was 
 no use of wasting any more of our valuable 
 portable property. Two frightened young 
 men, as scantily clothed as I Was, poured 
 up out of the cabin of the Ripple. There 
 was a tableau that would be a fortune to 
 the great marine painter that would put H 
 on canvas; 
 
 There was more pulling m ropes And 
 poking of boathooks, and once asain we 
 were safely anchbred, and MunWfaajl I 
 
 6S 
 
went down into tbe cabin and patched up 
 each other's bruises and abrasions. 
 
 "Quite a little blow, old boy, wasn't' it?' 
 said Murray. 
 
 "Ycsi rather braezy and interesting, 
 and quite creditable for a granite-walled 
 basin." 
 
 "It will be worse than that when we get 
 down below the Saguenay." 
 
 "Well, I think so, if one can be nearly 
 wrecked three times before breakfast in a 
 land-locked, rock-protectdd Quebec dock, 
 I expect, when wa get further down the 
 river,'we shall get all the exercise our sys- 
 tems need in dodging lighthotises, kaepiag 
 tngs from running away with us and pi'e- 
 venting schooners climbing over us." 
 
 Murray says that when a man goes 
 yachtinehe must expect such little inci- 
 dents. If be calls our experience a little, 
 incident, I wonder if he \srouldn't call a hur- 
 ricane, a surf b^ten lea shore and death a 
 slight inconvenience. 
 
 There is one thing regarding which I 
 have made up ray mind. As long as this 
 trip lasts I am going to sleep with my 
 trousers on. Another thing, we, the peo- 
 ple of the United States, don't want any' 
 annexation of Canada. Do we want to be 
 kept awake at night governing a country 
 where a stranger is banged around- on an 
 empty stomach, before daybreak, by the 
 elements and an old sand scow? 
 
 ***** 
 
 I am getting madder and madder every 
 minute. My mind is made up. The 
 United States positively does nut want to 
 annex Canada. I have just found out that 
 my gun case is at the bottom of the Basin 
 Louise. It was a heavy, tin-cnverad affair, 
 and I must have mi.'itaken it for a kedge 
 yesterday morning. What Is a kedge, any,- 
 how? 
 
[LADELPHIA PRESS^ 
 
 ON THE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 KNOX'S ADVENTURES. 
 
 Ti'ying; tn Cook a Meal in a Stoi'Ui— ^Heavy 
 Fog— A Lazy Hotel Clei'kt.; 
 
 Out from the harbor of Quebec Into* the 
 middle of the great river, sailed the Cbam- 
 plain yesterday morniug. It was our inten- 
 tion to reach Tadoiisac, at the mouth of the 
 Baguenay, in one days' run (145 miles from 
 Quebec) if the winds would favor us. It was 
 a beautiful morning. As the first beams of 
 the rising sun frlanced on the rippling water, 
 I the river— as seen from the heights of Quebec 
 I —looked like a great serpent whoso scales 
 ■were gleaming shields of burnihsed 
 sjlver. The iCrcfe was with us, ,but 
 ' the breeze was light as we sailed 
 down the river past the Palls of Mont- 
 morency, a sheet of water that thundered^ 
 down into the St. Lawrence, over a cliff twoi! -i 
 hundred feet high. We coasted along'^tEe - 
 wooded .margin of the Isle Orleans for. 
 twenty miles. Here, the river widened oijt 
 to a breadth of five Or six miles. The wind 
 * died out DO a mere breath, and we floated 
 with the tide at the rate of about four knots is*; 
 |in hour.) * j3 
 
 Cooking; In a Squall. ^^ 
 
 Dinnertime was approaohiUK; and, as I 
 am caterer for tl^e boat, I had just begun 
 to^cate,. and had .got the stove, hot..and 
 ^^^-^^'^^'^^^^^ covered with pots, pans and skiilets;^,,,.,.^ 
 the helmsman called out There's a/sqii.ill 
 comihgl Down with the maiusaill/ We'll 
 have to-run her before it with a ^doable- 
 reefed foresail. Gfve the tender more cable, 
 astern, there! Below there 1.^ Cook, ahojrl 
 Take a reef in your blooming stovepipe or it 
 will be at the bottom of the river in, a " holy i.^^ ^ 
 minute." — ^r^-^-sfe-- ' '^SC^ 
 
 XYoii should understand that when the stove 71 
 is on duty and not acting as a seat for the^ -jJ / 
 crew, the pipe projects through the roof ot' » -' 
 the port cabin ; at other times it is lashed to K^ 
 the roof where it is qirite handy to knock 
 against and spill soot on the carpet. I 
 \ looked out and saw, about four miles astern.^j^ 
 
 ~~i. V a bank of mist or rain coming leisurely 4own ^ 
 ^\;^ the river. I supposed that it would take 
 about half an hour to reach us, but before I 
 could lower the flying jib of mv stove it was 
 _^, upon us, and away we went plunging down 
 .y_^A\i the river like a straw.hat crossing lots on a 
 _-^ \I windy day. The yacht careened slightly, 
 — - and the potatoes from the windward side ot 
 
 ■^ <the stove jningled with the breakfast bacon 
 VJ on the lee, while the rice joined with the 
 beans. Another lurch of the boat gave a 
 coffee flavor to everything in sight. There 
 was trampling of feet overhead, beating of 
 rain, whistling of wind througb rig- 
 ging,' creaking of blocks . and hoops as 
 sail came down, and hoarse orders from the 
 _ 
 
iTian at the helm. Why do manners, who or- 
 ainanly are gentle voiced men, issue orders 
 from away down in the back of their necks 
 when they get excited? 1 give it up; but, as 
 Wanki Pooh soys. "1 have known it done." 
 
 Ihe squalUasted only a few minutes, or 
 else we tan out of it into smooth water and 
 Bunshine. "This is a typical yachtsman's 
 day," said Murray, "and vou raav see still 
 more variety of weather before night." 
 
 I told him that it might be a yachting day, 
 out It was a ble&sed poor day for cookine, 
 and that if we had much niore variety of 
 weather, we wouldn't be likely to see any- 
 thing to eat until night. 
 
 A Fob You Could Chew. 
 In 10 mmutes we were in a fog, the thickest 
 I ever saw. You could actually fill your 
 mouth with it and chew it. 'You don't 
 credit that, you say; well, it is a fact 
 but I'll give you further proof of its density. 
 Dunng the squall, all my fresh water was 
 spilled,' and I could not use the river w&,ter to 
 make cofliee, owing to its braekishness. I 
 just went on deck, took a few handfuls of the 
 log and packed it down tightly in the coffee 
 pot, and you could not ask for better coffee 
 than I made with it. I tell vou these St. 
 Lawrence fogs are thick. I could give you 
 more startling evidence of the density of 
 th9se fogs, but, in writing. I always govern 
 myself by the old admonition : 
 ^ "Lest men suspect your fale,untrue, 
 :::>:::. Keep probability in view." 
 ^-^ A Big Catch of FlaH. 
 
 ''•nr P* along the north shore next tt> 
 
 Murray Bay where we ancliored for the 
 night. From below the Isle of Orleans, the 
 land rises in a successioff of wooded moun- 
 tain peaks. Scarcely » human, habitation 
 can be seen, in many miles, and few signs of 
 life of any kind." A stray sea-gull, one or 
 —tyro seals, and some porpoises were all the 
 Sr living things we saw. At Murray Bay the 
 r-rivaris 18 miles wide. 
 
 A Uuique Hotel Clerk. 
 
 Tadousac is a small village on the shores of 
 a bav at the mouth of the Saguenay. Some, 
 few Quebec people have summer cottages 
 , here, and there is a hotel. Nature and a very 
 ■:> ordinary carpetitec have doAe all that has 
 been done lor the hotel.. The first has fur- 
 nished the view of the bay and the river and 
 the far-away southern shore of the St. Law- 
 rence — a view that is magnificent beyond 
 what words can express. The second has 
 nailed up a lot of boards intd the shape of a 
 barn and called it a hotel. He has also 
 erected_ .a flag pole, but neglected to put a 
 Hag ou it. The only other visible adornment 
 or improvement is a coat of last year's white- 
 wash on the fence. The hotel is furnished 
 with a singular clerk; but I cannot truthfully 
 call him an ornament. He is a young man 
 
 59 
 
V «M> J 
 
 ^s^whose 30 summurS have passed lightly over a 
 head sbiogled yr\t\i bair of an autumaal sun- 
 set hue. His cbieC characteristics are lan- 
 uguor, and a pair of spotted trousers. The 
 •pattern of his trousers is so loud that the 
 guests cannot hear the telephone bell ring in 
 the office. ~ There are no' telephones in this 
 ^rt of Canada. 
 
 I give this person more space vn this letter 
 than he is worthy of. I do so, only because 
 he is so amusingly different frodi an Ameri- 
 can hotel clerit, and is a type of the clerk to 
 be found— after patient search through the 
 corridors— in all the Canadian hotels of the 
 
 fitYI&llGI* cLbSS 
 
 After the yacht cast anchor in the bay I 
 Trent ashore, and strolled up to the hotel. 
 There were two men, a can of blueberries and 
 a dog on the porch. I walked up to the office 
 counter and discovered the atoredescribed 
 young man sitting readmg a newspaper; he 
 was also gnawing a quill toothpick aud had 
 ]iiis feet filed away on top of a safe. It was a 
 small safe that would not hold more than a 
 peck of gold without ripping at the seams; 
 but it looked as if it could contain all the 
 cash receipts of that hotel for 99 years. 
 
 "Would you be kind enough to tell me 
 trhere the postoffice isl" 
 
 Thus I addressed the young man. He 
 changed the toothpick to- the other side of his 
 mouth and kept on reading until he had fin- 
 ished the paragraph, then, without looking 
 up, said : , „ 
 
 "Aw — postoCiCB— want find postoffice — up 
 
 toad to left, yo knaw— quite discanoe—yaafi." 
 
 I found the postoffice, and, on my way 
 
 back, again called at the hotel because I 
 
 wanted a cigar. 
 
 The clerk was checking off a laundry list 
 with a ser-vant. I said: "Can I get some cig- 
 ars, herel" 
 
 "Two handkerchiefs, tour socks, one towel, 
 six drawers— "and on he went through a long 
 list. X stepped across the hall aud studied a 
 chart of the St. Lawreuce, toUowiug its 
 course from lake to gulf a^nd callfng in at 
 every town and bay on the routed 
 
 " four undershirts, two pair cuffs — 
 
 that's all. See that they are ddne this week. 
 Aw, did you— aw— awffk for cigars, sir?"_ 
 
 I bought two cigars, for which Igave him 
 33 cents, and about five dollars' worth of 
 genial sarcasm in referencd to the lenetb of 
 
 60 
 
time he could preside ai a .hotel desk in the 
 United States, before the public nould fish 
 him out fi'om bebind the couuter, throw him 
 down the freight elevator shatt and pile iron- 
 bound trunks nu hii", or bnfore the hotel 
 proprietor would fire him into the . cold, in- 
 clement world, amid the throng of husrying 
 pedestrians who would walk over him. One 
 of the guests told nie that the clerk was so^ 
 Jazy that he never peeled his potatoes at 
 dinnei', but ate them with their skins ou. 
 From another source I learned that he was 
 so full of ennui and a sense of his own im- 
 piortauce on one occasion, that he did 
 not reply to the query of a guest named 
 Smith, regarding the hour of the Quebec 
 steamer's departure, until six hours after 
 Smith::faad' left on the steamer, when be sent 
 the desired information to his residence in 
 Quebec, by half-rate telegraphic message to 
 collect. 
 
 I <!an imagine this young man, some half 
 hour after Gabriel's trumpet sounds for the 
 last time, saying, "Aw-front, go and^awfter 
 yop."get tbi-uugb there, ye knaw — go anftsee 
 if the gentleman duesn't-aw'want some- 
 thing." 
 
 61 
 
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 2 < 
 
 OS li. 
 
 62. 
 
now about St. Lawrence. Are you 
 ready ?] — 
 
 What a grand river is tlie St. Law- 
 rence, wide and terrific in volume, im- 
 petuous — [Holdup there; "terrific' 
 is not a good word; make it "majes- 
 tic." Where was I ? Yes, " impet- 
 uous." Well, go on.], — impetuous, 
 clear and rapid in its course from lake 
 to ocean. Beauty and grdndeur are 
 its chief. — [Pass a pillow aft here, cap- 
 tain ; this blessed valise has nearly 
 sawed ofE my ear,] — are its chief — 
 [thanks]— characteristics. --[Got ' 'char- 
 acteristics."?] — It 
 
 Drains Half a. Continent. 
 
 Three hundred and fifty square miles 
 pay it tribute. 1500 miles through 
 mountains and woods, valleys and — 
 [No, Archie, I'm tired of coffee ; make 
 it tea this evening, and fry the eggs 
 this time without rupturing them, as 
 you usually do. What was the last 
 word I gave you 7 Ail right,] — valleys 
 and — [Confound it, can't you ask Mr. 
 Murray ? Don't you see I m busy, and 
 what do I know about baking powder 
 anyhow ?] — valleys and meadows 
 spreading out over — [Remember 
 " spreading out " does not begin a 
 new sentence.] — over broad areas be- 
 tween fields of waving corn and banks 
 fragrant with the perfume of new 
 mown hay — [By the way, it isn't corn, 
 is it, that grows up above on the 
 river? It is beans and potatoes, I 
 think, that are mostly raised there. 
 Corn will do however, for you couldn't 
 very well speak of a field of waving 
 beans or a meadow of rustling pota- 
 toes ], — and again narrowing as it 
 passes between rocky capes ; through 
 wilderness and along cultivated savan- 
 nahs it flows. For almost 250 leagues 
 — [Three miles in a league, isn't 
 there?], — from its mouth to Quebec, 
 the tide — [Kick that box of tobacco 
 up this way, captain.] — rises and falls. 
 Its waters are tinged with the saltness 
 of the ocean, and seaweed clings to 
 the rocks that shadow its shores. Past 
 the commercial metropolis of Cana- 
 da it flows in great swirls and eddies 
 of greenish water; it circles around 
 the rock foundations of Old Quebec ; 
 past farmhouses, hamlets, villages and 
 towns spread out— [No, scratch out 
 those last two words ; make it " scat- 
 tered."],— scattered all along its south- 
 ern shore, it rolls on in its majesty and 
 might, receiving tribute from all the 
 lands and waters around, as surely, 
 
 • 63 
 
this — [Ask the captain if that is the 
 steam yacht Alexandria we hear whis- 
 tle. All right, — this — this what was I 
 going to say? Oh, yes.],— king of 
 rivers should. Rivers, the source of 
 which are away up in the northern 
 land, where the ice god reigns, and 
 where only the 
 
 Indian and the Wild Beast 
 
 live, pour their wealth of waters out 
 on its bosom. There are very few 
 saints above that have not a river 
 named for them here on earth, but not 
 one of them has a river to his name 
 that could hold a candle to the river 
 of St. Lawrence.— [Better leave that 
 paragraph out. It seems a little like 
 forcing things to speak of a river hold- 
 ing a candle. Now I'll go on to speak 
 of the trip down from Quebec. I 
 think Murray said he would describe 
 that squall, and the fog, and the close 
 call we had when we scraped the 
 paint off the red buoy up at Cape 
 Tourmente, so I'll skip that.] — 
 
 From Quebec to Mai bale — or Mur- 
 ray bay — we were escorted by one of 
 the members of the Quebec Yacht Club, 
 in his yacht, the— [What was the name 
 of it ? Yes]— Juliet. The Juliet took 
 the south shore, while we ran down the 
 north side of the Isle of Orleans, and we 
 saw our escort no more until we ren- 
 dezvoused at Murray bay.— [That is a 
 great word — don't know how to spell 
 it, but it sounds well. You notice 
 that ships and yachts of a fleet or 
 squadron always rendezvous. Can't 
 see why we don't speak of worship- 
 pers rendezvousing at church, or of 
 aldermen rendezvousing at the City 
 Hall, but we don't. Yes, you'll find it 
 back of the stove. You can fire it 
 overboard when you get through with 
 it.] — It was a calm, hot day, and the 
 sailing was slow, but the tide for five 
 or six hours carried us along at the 
 rate of four or five miles an hour past 
 Cape Tourmente, a rocky crag 1800 
 feet high, scarred and torn by winds, 
 waves and earthquakes. Then down 
 along the green banks of Grosse is- 
 land, where in one long, narrow fur- 
 row, some thirty odd years ago, the 
 bodies of 6000 sons and daughters of 
 Ireland, slain— [not "slain," write it 
 murdered,] — murdered by famine and 
 English heartlessness, were laid away. 
 — [There should be something after 
 "laid away," to round off that sen- 
 tence, but we'll let it go at that.]— The 
 Laurentian mountain range, sloping 
 
 64 
 
up abruptly Tfom the water's eflge, 
 follows the course of the river on the 
 north aide. Bald, precipitous hills, 
 rocky and barren some of them are.— 
 [Am. I going too' fast for you ?]— 
 Others are clothed with birch and ma- 
 ple, elm and balsam. For hours we 
 sail down the river, close into shore, 
 without seeing— [Change that " sail " 
 to "skim." It is s^ips that sail; 
 yachts always skim, you know,]^ 
 without seeing a house. The coast 
 line is just as wild as when the In- 
 dians lived back in those woods there, 
 and to-day it looks much as it must 
 
 have looked 300 years ago, when 
 Jacques Cartier First Beheld It. 
 It is cold, inhospitable, sterile, even 
 on this summer day.— [Rub the rust 
 off with kerosene oil first, and see 
 that it is not loaded before you begin 
 fooling with it.]— There are no homes, 
 no harvests here, and more sterile and 
 
 65 
 
bleak docs it become the further we 
 go down the river. Ah! there is a 
 house. As we want water let us cast 
 anchor and row ashore. There must 
 be fresh water near where people live. 
 Our laconic captain says : "No good ; 
 fishing station;" but he obeys orders, 
 and while sails descend and anchor 
 swings down, down, into the depths, 
 we row ashore. — [Of all the mean 
 matches ever invented, these sulphur 
 things are the worst. Push over that 
 bucket this way. Where was I? Oh, 
 "ashore."]— On a beach of sand of a 
 blue black color, we land. It is the 
 queerest, heaviest sand I ever saw, 
 and shines witli a metallic lustre. It 
 is iron ; yes, miles and miles of the 
 river bank are covered with— FNo. 
 
 aw»^J— the d^sintegri^^M^'tSart^J^gj 
 of m»jietic an^jHjWiterousimtfWre/ 
 There qksfr«B^' grea!>>«Dck«JIPi*^f it— 
 [fi|fej^'iIi^||Lnot. NeveJjKise lard; it 
 should alw%^ bej^nedT?W butter. 
 Wli5^on't ywft^^e your inOTIgy and 
 buy"^ook bo(^flfc|Some where ^^ng 
 this rivli tliajr wil^JMnc day b?feg 
 wealth to^Jse who deih^p it and to ' 
 the terrU^rthat contai^^— [Wait 
 a minuir untrS^l^o and seel^Jit that 
 tell him I cannot go ashore yet 
 awhile.] — the disintegrated particles 
 of magnetic and tillaniferous iron ore. 
 There must be great pockets of it — 
 [Of course not. Never use lard; it 
 should always be fried in butter. 
 Why don't you save your money and 
 buy a cook book ?] — somewhere along 
 this river that will some day bring 
 wealth to those who develop it and to 
 the territory that contains it.— [Wait 
 a minute until I go and see what that- 
 pirate Archie is putting into the bat- 
 ter. He'll poison us all some day, 
 and we'll sail home in metallic cask- 
 ets.] — Up on the side of the rock, 50 
 feet above us, stands the little house, 
 and there is actually a garden, which 
 seems to stand on end, and is about 
 the size of a back parlor carpet. 
 Weeds and beans compete with each 
 other in an effort to grow in it. It is 
 unfenced, I suppose because it does 
 not need a fence. The neighbor's cow 
 will never break in and chew up th<! 
 ^ ^^1_— j rrr shrubbery and trample on the orna- 
 
 66 
 
mental plants— [Got the length of or- 
 namental plants yet? Tell me when 
 I'm going too fast for you] — because 
 she would have either to swim the St. 
 Lawrence or bring a rope by land and 
 come down the cliflE hand over hand 
 on it. A neighbor's cow is an enter- 
 prising animal, but it is too much to 
 expect that she would do that, either 
 for the sake of exercise or beans. 
 
 Lying around on the rocks are sev- 
 eral queer-looking wickerwork creels, 
 that look like covers 
 
 For a Giant's Demijohns. 
 
 The captain, who has rowed us 
 ashore, looks at them and says "eels." 
 The house is closed, and there is no 
 smoke — [Well, this is the hardest mat- 
 trass I ever reposed on. It's all full 
 of lumps. "Smoke" was the last 
 word I gave you, wasnt it?] — from 
 the chimney; no signs of life. We 
 look in through the only window. 
 Surely they are subjects of King Pov- 
 erty who live here. Bare walls, two 
 chairs, a table, a few tin dishes, a 
 three-legged stove, a bed, and — ye 
 gods ! in such a place, a cradle. Yes, 
 a cradle, and such a cradle — an 
 old basket with " Pommery Sec" 
 branded on the end, nailed on to rock- 
 ers of hewn cedar. A patchwork 
 quilt and a pillow are in the cradle, 
 and a pair of tiny shoes rest on the 
 pillow. We turn to the bean patch, 
 and while we absorb some unripe 
 beans, we weave romances around the 
 lives of the owners of the cottage, 
 and we construct castles in the air for 
 them, which we knock down as fast 
 as built. 
 
 We wonder if the young father and 
 mother are off for a day's pleasure. 
 Surely anything' away from here 
 would seem pleasure, — [Listen to 
 those porpoises. I'll try and get a 
 shot at one of them as soon as I finish 
 this letter.] — Have they gone in their 
 bark canoe, up to the settlements, to 
 exhibit with pride the little one to its 
 grandam and grandsire, or may they 
 not have left on a sadder errand? 
 Somehow we think that they may 
 have gone to lay the child in the little 
 graveyard under the shadow of the 
 cross of St. Croix, in the bay below. 
 We cannot explain why we think so, 
 but we cannot help it. We hope, for 
 the parents' sake, that these are mere 
 imaginings prompted by the desolate 
 sadness and gloom of the surround- 
 ings, or perhaps it was the beans. I 
 
 6t 
 
HERALD — SUNDAY, 
 
 newspaper 
 over fig- 
 be inter- 
 were to 
 I bt ran in- 
 whelher 
 lllilion and 
 bftd to 
 creek. 
 
 1'ved at 
 l>ouch 
 Ij you 
 
 I't. Law- 
 I ime, im- 
 I kerrific ' 
 {I'majes- 
 " impet- 
 yipetuouH, 
 Irom lake 
 lljleur are 
 |)re, cap- 
 lipearly 
 jhief— 
 'char- 
 Ill 
 
 ! miles 
 1,0 ugh 
 liid— 
 Ijnake 
 'eggs 
 m, as 
 e last 
 Ijir alleys 
 |sk Mr. 
 Ijy, and 
 pwder 
 I w a 
 aber 
 IJQ a 
 be- 
 llanks 
 new 
 
 really think it must have Ijeen the 
 beans, for Murray, who ate more of 
 them than I did, oSers more gloomy 
 suggestions than I do. Heaven knows 
 the child could not be much worse oflE 
 in his grave than to grow up here, an 
 ignorant, stunted, fll-fed fisherman, 
 his knowledge extending only to frag- 
 ments of the French language and 
 the traditional manner of catching 
 eels. Murray suggests that it may be 
 a female child. He is certainly look- 
 ing on the worst side of things to-day. 
 —[Let us cut this episode short, and 
 bring the letter down to date. Try 
 this pencil. Yours is too soft.] 
 
 Against the wind we beat into Ta^ 
 dousac bay, at the mouth of the river' 
 Saguenay. The line where the latter 
 joins the St. Lawrence is very dearly 
 defined. The water of the St. Law- 
 rence is greenish, that of the Saguenay 
 is of the color of strong tea that might 
 cost, about 70 cents a pound. They 
 do not seem to blend at the surface. 
 The bed of the Saguenay is several 
 hundred feet deeper than the bed of 
 the St. Lawrence is at their juncture. 
 It is said to be the 
 
 Deepest Biver in the World. 
 
 In some places its depth exceeds 1000 
 feet, and its average depth for 65 miles 
 from its mouth is over a hundred fath- 
 oms. There is no anchorage in all 
 that distance. 
 
 Tadousac is a small village, one ho- 
 tel, two stores and a number of cot- 
 tages.— [Why, what confounded smell 
 is — I'll be blessed if there isn't cheese 
 mixed with this tobacco I The. next 
 time I go yachting I'll go in a boat 
 that will be at least big enough to give 
 me room to stow an extra snirt away 
 without having to put it alongside the 
 
 readers 
 ures. T 
 ested a 
 read an 
 to tlie sul| 
 it had to, 
 eleven i 
 saunterj 
 Where 1 
 Tadousl 
 now »l 
 ready 'J 
 What 
 rence, w 
 petuons- 
 is not 
 tic." 
 uous, 
 clear 
 to ocqj 
 its chl 
 tain;] 
 saweq 
 [than 
 acterl 
 
 Thr<l| 
 
 pay 
 
 moun'll 
 [No, A| 
 it tea tjl 
 this ti|| 
 
 you, 
 
 worclj 
 
 and^ 
 
 MurJ 
 
 whafl 
 
 anyhjl 
 
 sprea I 
 
 "spri 
 
 new 
 
 -tweej 
 
 frag] 
 
 mow I 
 
 iinaii 
 
 68 
 
breakfast bacon, and where a fellow's 
 toothpowder won't have to be filed 
 away in the same pigeonhole with the 
 butter. This is a pleasure excursion 
 and I don't want to kick, but my can- 
 did, unasked opinion is that the pleas- 
 ure is slightly mixed when one has to 
 carry his soap in his breast pocketto 
 keep it from mingling with his cream 
 laid writing paper or getting jammed 
 in the centreboard case.]^There is al- 
 so a postofflce at this place, but it does 
 not obtrude itself on the public. It 
 modestly secludes itself in a back 
 yard and calls attention to itself by a 
 shingle on which is painted " P. O." 
 The shingle is nailed to a cart that is 
 tilted up against the back fence. The 
 mail arrives here from Quebec about 
 twice a week in summer, provided 
 there is no fog. When the ice forms 
 on the river the people read their old 
 letters over again, or else go up to the 
 postofHce and sit on nail kegs, and lie 
 about the severity of the winters they 
 had when they were boys. — [What! 
 get up and let you get the spoons and 
 knives from under my mattress ! 
 Great saints, if that isn't a place to 
 stow away table ware 1 No "wonder I 
 thought my frugal couch was unusual- 
 ly hard. Don't you put them there 
 again. Soon as I get to Riviere du 
 Loup, I shall gently but firmly fire 
 you, Archie, and get a cook and crew 
 that will carry our cutlery and silver 
 plate in nis pocket. Get thee gone, 
 sirrah. Supper ready. Well, we have 
 written enough for one letter, anyhow. 
 Close up by signing my name.] — 
 
 69 
 
A GREAT YACHT CRUISE 
 
 KNOX'S LETTER. 
 
 Liars, Pl^rates, and Gbnuls— A Statue- 
 of-Llberty Colorrd Squaiv— Shoot- 
 ing SealH In Canadian Waters. 
 
 The French-Canadians who live in the 
 rural districts are called habitants. The 
 habitant wlio lives in the settlements 
 visited by strangers is a liar, a pirate and 
 a ghoul. Those words do not quite ex- 
 press my meaning, but they are all that 
 come to me just now. If you have any 
 private words of your own that will more 
 strongly express fraud, rapacity, indo- 
 lence, sycophancy and mendacity, slick 
 them in right here; they cannot do injus- 
 tice to the character of the habitant. Away 
 back in behind the hills, where he lives ou 
 a farm, and is uncontaminated by the ar- 
 rival of a weekly steamer, he may be dif- 
 ferent, but I speak of tlie native who 
 infests the little towns in the naked, deso- 
 late, rock-girt bays of the lower St. Law- 
 rence. 
 
 He is undersized, dark-skinned and 
 himgry looking. He moves and acts and 
 does everything else, except talk, in a 
 lazy, slow way. He leans against fences 
 and stands on wharfs during most of his 
 waking hours. 1 never saw but One of. 
 them in a hurry. When I saw him he was 
 iFalling off a bridge at low tide. The hab- 
 itant is a loafer. But in some things he is 
 not like the American loafer. He wears 
 belter clothes and is seldom addicted to 
 drink; but he never seems to work or to 
 be anxious to have work thrust upon hiin. 
 Sometimes he drives a cart orcaleche from 
 the wharf to the hotel, but he does it in a 
 perfunctory way, and as if he were merely 
 acting for the moment as a bubstilute for 
 the regular driver. His manner.*, customs 
 and language are the smue as those of 
 the pioneers who settled the country. He 
 
 70 
 
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 11 
 
(I shall give further details of this in an- 
 other letter.) 
 
 From Quebec to below the Labrador 
 coast there is no game worth hunting. 
 No animal thatcould not exist on granite 
 and soutj-western fogs, or on birchbark 
 and ice, would think of residing here as a 
 steady thing. In all the hotels— if the 
 miserable pensions where tourists are 
 robbed can be called hotels — there is osten- 
 tatiously posted in the halls a J)rinted copy 
 of the Canadian game laws. These in- 
 form you that you must not shoot duck or 
 deer, nor kill partridge, nor, by trap or 
 other device, take either moose or caribou 
 during certain months of the year called 
 the close season, or you will be lined. No 
 one has ever been fined. They might as 
 well prohibit us from trolling for mermaids 
 or snaring mastodons. 
 
 There are some salmon in the small riv- 
 ers, I am told. I met Mr. Brackett. the 
 well known Boston artist, at Tadousac. 
 He pays the government $150 a year for 
 the privilege of searching for salmon in the 
 Marguerite river. He has been steadily 
 exploring during two months this summer, 
 assisted by a native guide and a trunk full 
 of expensive rods, reels and gaflfs, and has 
 in that time discovered and slain. I think, 
 six salmon. When the government of 
 Canada cac get $25 a piece for its salmon 
 1 do not wonder that the Canadians make 
 so much ado regarding American inter- 
 ference with their fishery interests. 
 
 There are white porpoises in great num- 
 bers in the lower St. Lawrence and in the 
 Saguenay, and shooting and harpooning 
 them is excellent sport They weigh from 
 600 to 1500 pounds, and are from ten to 
 fifteen feet in length. • It is, however, 
 about a seal huutiu^exDedition that I want 
 to tell you now. 
 
 At a hamlet near Riviere du Loup, I 
 asked if there were any seal hunters there. 
 I was directed to the hut of an Indian who 
 made a business of shooting seal. I found 
 him, and he agreed, for ihe iumof $i and 
 any seal in whose life blond I should im- 
 bue my hands, to take me out all the next 
 day. That was yesterday. He did not 
 come as promised because he was sick, 
 but 
 
 UE SENT HIS BUOTHER, 
 
 an aged Indian, who spoke a fluent sort of 
 Indian tongue,' slightly adulterated with a 
 Utile French and Eiigli'sh. There was only 
 about 10 per cent, of the latter sprinkled 
 through his conversation, so that to have 
 any knowledge of what he was talking 
 about, you ■ had to watch for a faiuiliar 
 word as you would watcii for flashes of 
 
 n 
 
lightniuc; to guide your steps ou a dark 
 night. 'He had a canoe, and au old smooth 
 bore gun, a small harpoon and a large wife. 
 The latter I objected to taking with us, 
 not because she had a fate ugly enough to 
 warp a pine board, but because she evi- 
 dently vreighed upward of 200 pounds, 
 and the caiiue was a frail thing made ut' 
 birchbark, and looked only equal to the 
 carrying of two men and a sandwich lunch. 
 I gathered from w hat the Indian said that if 
 I wished ohi}' one to go in the canoe, he 
 would stay ashore and the squaw would go 
 with me : '■ Le bonne squaw every time 
 portage balteau noadi-qnoddy." 
 
 r declined to be alone In an open boat 
 with a statue-of-libcrty colored female 
 weighing 200 pounds. After much talk, 
 I at last agieed that I would fake both, for 
 I was anxious to shoot some seals, as I had 
 only shot one since we started ou this trip. 
 I thought if they who knew the capacity 
 of the cauoe would take the risk, I might 
 be safe in doing so. 
 
 In the <bow knelt the old Indian, the 
 squaw on her knees in the stern, and I in 
 the middle of the canoe. The water was 
 smooth inshore, and they paddled for a 
 mile or two very quickly. Piesently a 
 seal's head appeared above the surface. 
 The Indian did not speak or move his 
 hands from the paddle, but with a move- 
 ment of his lips pointed it out. Before I 
 could raise my rifle it disappeared, and 
 when it came up again it was half a mile 
 away, A seal does not plunge nor dive 
 below with a splutter when alarmed, as a 
 porpoise does. It just disappears. You 
 are looking at its head, have taken sight 
 and are about to pull the trigger, when you 
 suddenly realize that you are aiming at a 
 slight ripple on the water, and that there 
 is no seal in sight. The Indians shoot seal 
 with buckshot. They use the cheapest 
 and worst kind of 
 
 OLD MUZZLE-LOADING GUNS 
 
 i ever saw. They carry their powder in a 
 horn, their buckshot in a sealskin bag, and 
 they use pieces of buckskin or rawhide for 
 
wads. The porpoise hunters have the 
 same kind of guns, but use bullets. As 
 we paddled along I shot some sea pigeons. 
 They are a small kind of duck and very 
 difficult to shnot. As sound tnivels quicker 
 than does lead from a rifle, they hear the 
 snap of the hummer aad dive before the 
 bullet can reach them. I beat them at 
 this game by shooting to make them dive, 
 and then watching until they came up, 
 planting a bullet in them beforo they 
 liad time to shake the water out of their 
 eyes 
 
 We came to a promontory, and the In- 
 dian ran the canoe ashore. I could not see 
 why he did this, unless he expected to 
 tind seal in the woods. He said: " Port- 
 age. Heap good noodi-quoddy " To have 
 such a sentence as that flred at a man as 
 he enters the woods w]th two strange In- 
 dians is not soothing. He loaded the 
 canoe on the shoulders of the squaw, 
 strapped the cuu to her back, and gave 
 her the paddles to carry. He bore his 
 share of the heat and burden of the day by 
 carrying the harpoon, which weighed 
 about a pound and a half. Now I knew 
 why he brought bis wife with him. We 
 went up a hill and through woods for half 
 a mile, pushing through dense under- 
 growth in some places and over fallen 
 trees and rocks in otiiers. We emerged 
 from this on to the beach. We had crossed 
 the land end of the promontory to save 
 paddling around, a distance of about six 
 miles That was why he Iiad spoken so 
 complimentary of his wife in the morning: 
 "Le bonne squaw portage batteau" — the 
 good squaw for carryini; a boat. 
 
 The Iridian stepped into the canoe, mo- 
 tioned nie to follow, and said something 
 to his wife.- She replied "Oui," and that 
 was the only word she .spoke all that day. 
 She squatted in the sand, and the Indian 
 paddled out into the river. We went 
 alongshore a distance of about four miles, 
 then out into the river, where the tide was 
 running down rapidly. 
 
 Seals are easy to shoot. We got three 
 in a short time, 
 
 THE INDIAN KILLING 
 
 one with his buckshot, and two falling to 
 the share of my rifle When shot, you 
 have to paddle up quickly and harpoon 
 them before they sink. In winter, when 
 they are much fatter than they are now, 
 they float for a longer time after being 
 shot 
 
 Further out we saw a number of seals. 
 The water was doited with their heads; 
 piobablv_ there were 40 in sight. j^Tlie old 
 
 \^\? 
 
 74 
 
mah pointed to the vlouds and talked and 
 made signs and slioolc his head. I told 
 him I was in a hurry, and tliat this was 
 no time to stop to teach me his Huron, 
 Iroquois or Comanche lancnacc. It was 
 not, however, until I showed liim a dollar, 
 and explained by sijtns tlial it was his if 
 he paddled me out quickly to the seals, 
 Ihrtl he consented. Before wc reached the 
 place where they had been, they had all 
 disappeared, and the water had become 
 roug;h. One of the sudden squalls com- 
 mon on the St. Lawrence had come up, 
 and the canoe bounced on waves each 
 twice as high as itself. The Indian had 
 .■seen the squall coming. That was what 
 he had been trying to explain to me when 
 he poin ed to tlie sky; but he had neverthe- 
 less, for the sake of a prospective dollar, 
 risked his own worthless old life and my 
 highly insured existence. 
 
 The wind vv.ns rising and the waves get- 
 ting higher, and I signalled to the old to- 
 bacco sign in the stern to paddle ashore. 
 He obeyed with alacrity. In fact, he was 
 too eager to start, and, turning too quickly, 
 got into the trough cf the tea, and in a 
 uionieut the canoe shipped a wave and'was 
 
 half full of water. The Indian was pad- 
 dling with all his might, but the wind and 
 tide were against him, and we were slowly 
 but certainly drifting out into the river, 
 which is 25 miles wide here. He made 
 signs to me that indicated his desire that 1 
 should bail the water out of the canoe. 
 Now, there is a great deal of repose in tnj 
 nature. I never indulge in wild orgies of 
 manual labor. I seldom run when I can 
 wilk, never walk when I can ride, and 
 prefer sitting to standing at any time. I 
 usually have my physical exercise done for 
 me by proxy, by a hired man at $t a day 
 and his board. So I hesitated, neither 
 desiring the job nor feeling equal to it ; but 
 the old Indian was urgent, and when an- 
 other wave joined the first in the canoe. I 
 
 15 
 
<^ 
 
 saw thai somethiDg had to be done, and 
 " if it were done, 'twere well it were done 
 quickly." I used ray $4 cap, the one 
 with the brass buttons on it, to bail with, 
 and the way I made moisture fly astonished 
 myself and nearly drowned the Indian. 
 People ashore who were looking in our di- 
 rection must have thought that a water- 
 spout was spouting, or a cyclone cycling 
 out in the river. The wind was blowing 
 us out toward the dangerous swirls and 
 eddies. 
 
 IN THE MIDOLE; OF THE RIVER, 
 
 despite the efforts 6{ the Indian. He 
 shoved a paddle toward me, and in his 
 beautiful and figurative language, that I 
 did not understand, said that if I ever 
 wanted to see mud on my boots again or 
 change my shirt here on earth. I had bet- 
 ter take the paddle and pad for all I 
 was worth. These are not the exact words 
 he used, perhaps, but I caught the idea he 
 meant to convey, and I made some wild, 
 impetuous strokes with the paddle that 
 nearly capsized the craft. Once, when 1 t 
 missed touching the water with my paddle, 
 I narrowly missed crashing through the 
 bottom of the canoe ; but when I settled 
 down to steady paddling, I made the water 
 fairly smoke. I must have been accumu- 
 lating energy all of these years, and have 
 had a tremendous lot of it stored inside 
 nie without knowing it. Perhaps I have 
 been an athlete all the time without being 
 aware of the fact. I may have inherited 
 
 76 
 
thews and sinews and physical force from 
 some ancestor who was a prodigy of 
 strength and prowess, and these qualities 
 may have been lying dormant in me until 
 called into action by necessity. Necessity 
 is said to he the mother of invention. In 
 this case she was mother and grandmother 
 and ancestors for 10 generations back of an 
 amount of force in paddling and an expen- 
 diture of energy that has been seldom seen 
 on the St. Lawrence. Do I not make my- 
 self understood ? Well. then, let it pass. 
 
 We got ashore near the yacht, and while 
 the old Indian, with the extra dollar in his 
 pocket, went to the portage to find his 
 squaw, I went on board and tried to get 
 my boots off. I wore a pair of high rub- 
 ber boots over a thin pair of leather shoes. 
 They were full of water, and after I got 
 the water out by lying down on my back 
 and waving my legs in the air, the boots 
 refused to come oflf. Then theie was a 
 sound of deviltry by night, as the crew 
 whom I was using as a bootjack hauled 
 and tugged and lost his hold, and in an 
 extemporaneous way sat dowa in a pot of 
 rice. I got them off by splitting them 
 down the side with a knife, and then I 
 climbed into my cabin, lay down beside a 
 venison ham, two pounds of cheese and a 
 paper sack full of new laid beans ; and in 
 a moment I was asleep and dreaming of 
 being toasted before a slow fire on the end 
 of a harpoon held by a fat squaw, in 
 presence of a tribe of hostile Indians. 
 
 11 
 
KNOX AS A FISHERMAN 
 
 Trout Fishing Extraordinary 
 with a French Canadian. 
 
 SEAL ABD POKPOISE HUNTING. 
 
 The Texan's Graphic Description. 
 
 of the Capture of Seals and 
 
 Porpoises. 
 
 Qn Boaed Yacht Champiaut. 
 Tadotisao, p. Q. 
 
 I have often gone fishing, but I have 
 never caught enough flsh to give me even 
 a basis to found a lie on. I have been with 
 many a flshiDg party, but I have usually 
 been taken because I owned a boat, or a 
 wagon, or something useful to the party. 
 
 My duty at such times has been to 
 watch over the provisions and the demi- 
 john, and afterwards corroborate such 
 stories as the rest of the party chose to 
 tell their friends at home, of the enormoxis 
 trout and tremendous bass they caught 
 or that they hooked and didn't catch. •! 
 am considered an expert in estimating the 
 weight to an ounce of very large fish that 
 break the line and get away. There seems 
 to be veiy little fishing done in this part of 
 the St. Lawrence. We have tried it at 
 several places, but with very little success. 
 
 The only big haul we made was one 
 afternoon when we came upon a school 
 of fish so closely packed together that 
 TOU could have walked on them. Fact! 
 We got three dozen inside of about five 
 minutes — out of a herring barrel in a 
 grocery store. 
 
 TKOtrr FISHING lEXTBAORDINj^EY. 
 
 I Started, on Monday, to go trput fish- 
 ing on a lake near Tadousac I met a 
 
French Canadian, named Baptiste, in Iiis 
 boat on the Saguenay, the day before, and 
 he told me of a large lake only six miles 
 away where the trout were so numerous 
 of late that they were lactually suffering 
 frotn lack of water. They were all large 
 flshghe said, no small ones at all,and they 
 were prepared at all times to accept bait 
 of any character. I asked him where I 
 could find some one to guide me to the 
 lake. He said that although he was sur- 
 feited with pulling out trout at this sea- 
 son, he would not mind going with me 
 himself, just to oblige, me. I thought 
 this very courteous to a stranger, but 
 these Canadians are always courteous and 
 obliging. 
 
 There would be some little expense, he 
 intimated, which "Monsieur vould no 
 doubt be veeling to pay " I assured him 
 I was-perfectly willing to pay, and urged 
 him to spare no expense in making pre- 
 parations and in providing Ashing ma- 
 terials. I knew that when I got back 
 from this trip to New York my friends 
 would expect to see fish scales in my hair, 
 and I wished to be able to meet their ex- 
 pectations with, at least, a truthful fish- 
 ing narrative that would do me credit. 
 
 Baptiste came for me about 7 o'clock 
 next morhing. He was driving a horse 
 and sitting on a two-wheeled thing he 
 called a cart. He said he had made ' pre- 
 parrations grandes." I saw no sign of the 
 preparations for trout slaughter, except 
 one rough fishing-pole etnd^iae. I noticed 
 also an axe in the cart. 
 
 We started in the cart over the moun- 
 tains. There are no roads in this part of 
 the country beyond a radius of one mile 
 from Tadousac. The country is moun- 
 tainous and rocky. We climbed up hills 
 and bumped over boulders and fallen 
 trees into canyons, while Baptiste talked 
 
 79 
 
reprovingly sometimes, and sometimes 
 encouragingly, to tlie horses, and I smoked 
 and waited to tiave my neck broken. I 
 soon found out -what tlie axe was for. 
 Tlie cart would get stuck in a narrow 
 place.and Baptiste would get out and hew 
 down a tree that was in the way, while I 
 would restrain the quadruped in the cart. 
 
 WHEEB PATIENOK WAS EEQTJISITE. 
 
 About 9 o'clock we overtook another 
 cart, on the top of which was a canoe. 
 This cart was Stuck in a small ravine 
 through which flowed a deep stream 
 about six feet wide. Two men were cut- 
 ting down trees and making a bridge. 
 Baptiste told me that this was part of 
 " ze preparrations grandes"that he had 
 made for me. The canoe, he said, was 
 to use on the lake when we got there , 
 the cart was to carry the canoe, and the 
 two men were to kick the horse when it 
 stopped, and to build bridges and hew 
 
 ^-t. 
 
 out the way with their axes. It took an 
 hour to finish the bridge, and we were 
 then only two miles from Tadousac. 
 
 " Patience, Monsieur ; ve get zere by- 
 emby, and zen remember ze feesh ve 
 catch. Ve vill mooch rewarded be." 
 
 The shades of 4 P. M. were falling 
 around us when we came to another 
 gorge with a deep stream in it. 
 
 "Patience, Monsieur, eet ees only wan 
 mile to ze lake that ees full, oh ! so full 
 of poisson Eet will take wan day to 
 build ze bridge, but ve vill get dere and 
 catch mooch of ze trout, tree, four pound 
 every wan." 
 
 I turned the procession back to Tad- 
 ousac, and got on the yacht after dark 
 I did not go into the cabin for I knew it 
 was not big enough to hold both me and 
 my indignation. I lay down on deck and 
 confided to the stars above my belief that 
 of all the citizens of the United States at 
 present traveling abroad, I considered 
 myself the most elaborate and credulous 
 fool. This morning I was somewhat 
 
 80 
 
cooler, and was laughing at the absurd- 
 ity of the adventure, when Baptiste came 
 on board in pursuit of a settlement. 
 
 It is not probable that I shall ever 
 laugh again. He said that the expense 
 was $1(5. I expostulated. He said it 
 was really cheap. "Fife dollar for ze 
 feex of ze road and for ze cart, and fife 
 dollar for ze build of ze bridge. I charge 
 nozzing for myself." The old scoundrel 
 got the money. Never mention trou 
 to me again. If ever a Canadian talks to 
 me of making " preparrations grandes" 
 for my pleasure I'll have a fit. 
 
 SEAL and' POEPOISE SHOOTING. 
 
 The porpoise that inhabit the waters of 
 the lower St. Lawrence and the Labrador 
 coast differ very much from the porpoise 
 to be found along the coast of the United 
 States. They are much larger and their 
 color is perfectly white. I saw one killed 
 here that measured sixteen feet in length 
 and weighed 2000 pounds. 
 
 Yesterday, according to agreement, 
 two seal and porpoise hunters came 
 alongside the yacht in a whaleboat at six 
 o'clock in the morning. I was ready to 
 go with them when they arrived. They 
 did not speak English, and as their 
 French and mine did not run in parallel 
 lines, I took our captain with me as in- 
 terpreter. The boat was chiefly remark- 
 able for smell and oiliness. She was 
 about twenty-four feet long, had a deck, 
 a sail and a cask of water. There was 
 also a large piece of solid wood on 
 board, coiled around which was a rope, 
 and to the end of the rope was at- 
 tached a very rusty harpoon, crude in 
 style and make. "The hunters were fur- 
 ther armed with old single-barreled per- 
 cussion shotguns loaded with ball. I 
 had a Colt's repeating rifle and enough 
 cartridges to kill all the porpoise within 
 many leagues. 
 
 A stiff breeze soon took us out to the 
 swirls and eddies where the Saguenay 
 joins its dark waters with the green 
 flood of the St Lawrence. We passed two 
 canoes with two Indians, an old man and 
 a boy, in each. Motionless on his knees 
 in the bow knelt the old man, his gun by 
 his side and his paddle in hand ; the boy 
 was also on his knees in the stern, with 
 paddle poised awaiting a sign from the 
 old man. The other canoe and its occu- 
 pants were f3,c similes of thelir^t, They 
 were seal hunters and were watching for 
 a seal to come to the surface. Just as 
 we passed them a seal's head appeared 
 on the water, about 400 yards ahead. 
 Simultaneously, the two paddles of each 
 
 8] 
 
canoe flashed in the water, and the 
 canoes shot forward noiselessly, but at 
 an astonishing rate of speed. It was a 
 race for the spot where either would con- 
 sider he was near enough to shoot. They 
 passed us, and we were fifty yards be- 
 hind them and about 150 yards from the 
 seal, when the Indian in the foremost 
 canoe laid down his paddle and reached 
 for his gun. 
 
 I was waiting for that moment. It 
 was an easy shot. The sea, just then, 
 was as smooth as glass, and the deck of 
 the heavy whaleboat had no perceptible 
 motion. The head of the seal only ap- 
 peared above the water. The second In- 
 dian stopped at the same moment, al- 
 though he was ten yards further from the 
 seal. As they were raising their guns to 
 their shoulders, I fired. There was a tre- 
 mendous commotion in the water where 
 the seal's head had been, and two dis- 
 gusted Indians were sitting glaring at us, 
 as motionless as when we first saw 
 them. 
 
 Supposing fiat we had only wounded 
 the seal and that it had dived, our boat 
 headed North and sailed away. Looking 
 back, we saw the two Indians racing 
 again toward the seal, which was now 
 on the surface of the water dead. The 
 Indian who first reached it stuck his har- 
 poon in it, while the other appealed to us 
 with voice and gesture. We tacked 
 around and told them to divide such pro- 
 fit as there might be in the seal between 
 them. It was of no use to me, as the 
 skin cannot be tanned here except in a 
 way that leaves it hard and thick. 
 
 Over to windward we sighted a school 
 of porpoises, ten of them. They were 
 making a sound exactly like the engine 
 of a steamboat blowing oil steam. Their 
 huge bodies came to the surface about 
 every half minute. They seemed to be 
 playing with or chasing each other, as, 
 with a circular swoop, they rose two or 
 three feet above the water and then dived 
 down again. Each time they came up 
 they were nearer to us, as they were 
 coming directly toward our boat. The 
 men told me to shoot next timei they 
 would rise. Up they came, four of them, 
 but not in the place I expected. 
 
 I fired, and could hear the bullet go 
 "ping" into the foremost one. He made 
 a mighty tumult in the water, rising his 
 whole length high up into the air, then, 
 with a lash of his tail that made the 
 water hiss and foam, disappeared beneath 
 the surface. The others went down also, 
 and none of them came up while we re- 
 
 82 
 
mained there. The hunters explained 
 that I had probably shot the porpoise 
 through the fat, but the bullet only stung 
 and frightened him, and would not be 
 fatal. After shooting a porpoise it is nec- 
 essary to harpoon it very quickly, other- 
 wise it will sink and be lost. 
 
 THE ST. LA.WKENCB EDDIES. 
 
 Little gusts of wind came down from 
 the mountains, and as our boat ran be- 
 fore it, she made the water sizz. Then 
 we would sail out on a stretch of water 
 that was perfectly smooth, and anon 
 would be swung round in an eddy, four 
 times In twenty-five seconds. The St. 
 Lawrence eddies are wonderful and Inex- 
 plicable. I have seen some of them 
 catch a great big log of driftwood; whirl 
 it around, stand it on end, and then suck 
 it under.. 
 
 The two hunters got out into the canoe 
 that accompanied the whale boat, took 
 their guns and harpoons and paddled off. 
 Suddenly, from almost under the bow of 
 the canoe, arose a porpoise. Quick as 
 thought the hunter in the bow dropped 
 his paddle, raised his gun, and, before 
 the brute had finished blowing, snapped 
 a cap. The miserable old musket would 
 not work. 
 
 When men who make their living 
 shooting porpoise that are worth from 
 $20 to $50 each will not invest $30 in a 
 good repeating rifle, but will stick to the 
 old fusees of their fathers, it is no wonder 
 that the Chicago man who met me in 
 Quebec, said: "Them Canadians is no 
 good. They don't know whether they 
 are living B. C. or A. D." 
 
 The hunters came back to the boat and, 
 in the native patois, made remarks that I 
 am pleased to know I did not understand. 
 
 The man who had tried to fire the shot 
 slammed his gun down on the deck and 
 kicked it into the cockpit. Then they 
 consoled themselves with a lunch of fat, 
 salt pork and a chunk of in-the-gloam- 
 ing-colored rye bread. As I had eaten a 
 good breakfast before starting and had 
 been thinking for the past five hours that 
 the smell of the cabin was about all the 
 lunch I needed, 1 declined to join them. 
 When a man can assuage his appetite 
 with a smell what is the use of pamper- 
 ing it with fat bacon and anonymous 
 bread. 
 
 . We swung around where we were. We 
 could not anchor because the depth of 
 water inside the mouth of the Saguenay 
 is over 500 feet, so we drifted and waited. 
 We had not long to wait for soon the sea 
 was alive with porpoises. I suppose there 
 
 «3 
 
were no less than fifty in sight at once. 
 Close to us arose three. Again the hun- 
 ters told me to shoot at the next rise, while 
 they silently dropped into a canoe and as 
 silently paddled out astern With a 
 whoof ! whoof 1 whoof ! three white discs 
 came to the surface. I took deliberate 
 aim at a spot behind the fin of one of 
 them and fired. Three porpoises de- 
 scended into the depths. I thought I had 
 missed, but could not understand why. 
 
 HAEPOONING A POEPOISK. 
 
 Two paddles gleamed in the water; the 
 canoe shot, ahead 100 yards and then 
 stopped. The man in the bow seized his 
 rusty ha,rpoon in his right hand and in his 
 left grasped a coil of, perhaps, fifty feet 
 of rope, and for a moment stood like a 
 statue in the bow of the canoe. Then, 
 with all the impetus that his strength 
 could give it, he flung the harpoon into 
 the water. As he did so his companion 
 heaved overboard the block of wood, 
 around which the rope attached to the har- 
 poon was coiled. The rope disappeared 
 and the block went under. Up it came 
 again, and then went down with a rush. 
 In five minutes it went a mile; then it 
 quietly floated on the surface of the water. 
 We sailed up to the spot ; the block was 
 thrown on board and the rope was hauled 
 in until the great white carcass of the 
 porpoise floated on the surface astern. 
 
 I was satisfied, and we started for the 
 harbor, towing the porpoise with us. On 
 the way we shot a baby porpoise. It was 
 less than a year old and of a brown color. 
 They do not become white until after they 
 are 15 or 18 months old. The mother suck- 
 les her young until it is almost two years 
 old. It was estimated that the large por- 
 poise that I shot would weigh 1500 pounds 
 and would produce nearly 100 gallons of 
 oil, worth fifty cents a gallon here. The fat 
 is about four inches thick all round just 
 under the skin. The skin makes good 
 leather and is worth $6. 
 
 From a calculation of these figures you 
 can see that porpoise hunting might be 
 made a very profitable pursuit. Most of 
 those who hunt them here are lazy. When 
 they kill a porpoise they do not work any 
 more until the proceeds of the sale is ex- 
 hausted. They only go " porpusin " when 
 they need food or money. The two hun- 
 ters who went with me yesterday have 
 killed eighteen this season. 
 
 84 
 
THE DREARY SAGUENAY. 
 
 A Monntain Crack Three Thonsanil 
 Feet Deep. 
 
 Ninety Uiles of SesoIatlon-'An Ac- 
 complished Liar of the Olden Time 
 —The Adventurous Pioneers— 
 Canadian and Texan Piety 
 Contrasted. 
 
 Imagine a great stretch of granite 
 mountains, riven asun'der by some im- 
 mense force in the time when this 
 scarred and battered old world of ours 
 was" young, their walls thrown from 
 one to two miles •■ apart, formings a 
 mighty fissure of from two thous- 
 and to three thousand feet in depth, 
 and ninety miles in length. Then 
 imagine, at the bottom of this tremen- 
 dous chasm, a mass of flowing water 
 more ■ than six hundred feet in depth, 
 and you have the Saguenay river, 
 which rises in hake St. John and flows 
 into the St. Lawrence, one hundred 
 and fifty miles below Quebec. But no 
 imagination can picture such a weird 
 and sombre thing as it is. It must be 
 seen and its dismal influence felt ; it 
 must be looked down upon from the 
 crags above, and then sailed upon, be- 
 fore one can appreciate or understand 
 its utter desolateness. 
 
 We sailed up 'this extraordinary 
 stream the other day, as far as a settle- 
 ment called Chicoutimi, ninety miles 
 from its mouth, and in all that distance 
 
 85 
 
C'-n.^-i. 
 
 G 
 
 not a living thing did we see, except a 
 solitary raven. 
 
 Its waters are ot a dark brown color. 
 It has no shelving shores, but instead, 
 great masses of rock— in many places 
 seventeen hundred feet high — rise 
 straight up from the water's edge. 
 There is no anchorage in the whole 
 stretch of the river, except in one place, 
 called Ha Ha bay. The largest ship in 
 the world could sail along within a rod 
 of the precipide on either side. In 
 crevices far up the naked walls grow 
 stunted fir trees. It is no wonder that 
 the ancient mariners spoke of the 
 gloomy entrance of this river as the 
 portals of hell. It is a chaotic night- 
 mare of gloom and desolation, of stern 
 and naked rocks, of frowning preci- 
 eipices, dark sullen waters, and sombre 
 shadows. Compared with it, I can im- 
 agine the Styx to be a cheerful, sportive 
 stream. Even with the bright sun of a 
 cloudless surtimer day shining down 
 upon us, we experienced a shivering 
 feeling, and we sailed out into the mid- 
 dle of the streamjas far from the chilly 
 shadows of the savage overhanging 
 cliffs as possible. It was with a feeling 
 of relief, as if awaking from an ugly 
 dream, that we passed out of the river's 
 mouth into the more cheerful waters of 
 the St. Lawrence. 
 
 The people who live near the Sague- 
 nay and those who visit it and write 
 about it, nre prone to exaggerate the 
 height of its cliffs and depths^of its 
 waters. If it was necessary t^^rain a 
 point and lie about it, I tl^iMf; I should 
 be equal to the task ; burtjthere 
 
 _'_j lieed to do that — the tiiit^egarding 
 
 — ^ sounds strange 
 
 Old Jacques Cartier, who visitei 
 Saguenay in 1535, was the first exagger- 
 ator who wrote of the place. Among 
 other things, he said: "In ascending 
 the Saguenay, you reach a country 
 where there are men dressed like us, who 
 live in cities, and have much gold, 
 rubies and copper." Think of theyid- 
 vantage that a sixteenth century liar, 
 < like Cartier, had over one like you or 
 (3j me, for- instance. In writing of the 
 river, I have to confine myself to 
 rocks, and water, and -great wastes 
 Df uninhabited atmosphere. If I 
 should throw in a ruby mine, or a 
 mermaidi or a cave, filled with treas- 
 
 fifi 
 
 86 
 
ures, some tourist who had been 
 there would — to use the language 
 of the editor of the Crosby Coun- 
 ty Cla/rion: " Sit down on me in 
 thunder tones," and expose my men- 
 dacity. Carlier was the first' to visit 
 this region, and he had no reason to 
 think that any other tourist would vis- 
 it for many years. It was probably 
 noted by his contemporaries and com- 
 mented on, that, although he was of a 
 frugal disposition arid \isually appro- 
 priated anything of value he could find 
 in the strange lands he visited, he failed 
 to bring back to France any of the 
 gold and rubies of the Saguenay. But 
 we must not be too hard on Cartier 
 and the early explorers. In their day 
 the people of the Old World were 
 ready to believe any marvelous tale 
 regarding hitherto unexplored regions. 
 They did not know that the laws of 
 nature that ruled in their own lands 
 would necessarily be the same in other 
 and more distant lands, and they swal- 
 lowed stories of giants, and griffins, 
 and one-eyed men that these travelers 
 claimed to have seen, and asked for 
 more. It is a pleasure to most people 
 to excite wonder in the mindp of 
 others, and to be the first to tell a sur- 
 prising tale of things extraordinary. 
 So all the early navigators kept their 
 imaginations steadily at work, six days 
 a week, and used so little truth that 
 it is a wonder there is not more of it 
 left in the world to-day. 
 
 The adventurous spirit and courage 
 of the men who, centuries ago. sailed 
 on unknown seas in search of new 
 worlds, amaze me. If there were any 
 worlds left for us to discover, we 
 would go in iron steamers, and enjoy 
 comfort, luxury and safety. But tliose 
 men sailed in ships, some of which 
 were not over twenty tons burden, 
 sailed without charts, or canned milk, 
 or electric hair brushes, or a smoking 
 room, or any one who would play 
 poker or bet on daily run of the ship — 
 in fact, without any of the modern 
 comforts of ocean travel ; but they kept 
 on discovering us, all over this conti- 
 nent, even when sometimes they had 
 to work Sundays, and go for days with- 
 out food, and stand watches to keep 
 the sailors from lunching off each 
 other. I really think they deserved 
 credit for this, especially when we con- 
 sider that when they got through a job 
 nf discovering, and went home and re- 
 ported to the kings who owned them, 
 they were sometimes put in prison, or 
 had their beads amputated. 
 
 ST 
 
The past is all right, and if it is 
 not I could not help it. I tliinii it is 
 a good thing that we have a past. 
 No man should be without one — one 
 that he can look baclc to with pleas- 
 ure and without a desire to assume a 
 nom de plume. But it is the pres- 
 ent that interests me most. Historic 
 memories hanging around a place do 
 not make the coffee at the hotel any- 
 less gritty, and they of tea add to the 
 amount of the bill. Time past we 
 can talk of ; time to come we can 
 hope for, but it is only in. time pres- 
 ent that we can act. Yes, it is well, 
 and pleasant too, to think of the past, 
 and wonder at the things done in the 
 days that are gone, but the most of 
 my pleasure is in observing and study- 
 ing how the mad world wags to-day. 
 I would rather watch the comedy of 
 the present than nose around — pardon 
 the expressive expression— among the 
 mildewed bones of the tragedies of the 
 past. 
 
 Before I branch off from this sub- 
 ject, however, I would call your at- 
 tention to how they honor historic 
 spots in Canada. There are a great 
 many of these spots, and there is a 
 church built on almost every one of 
 them. They are erected where early 
 discoverers and pioneers landed — and 
 they seem to have kept on landing all 
 over the country — where any of them 
 died ; where saints appeared In vision; 
 where the faithful were saved from 
 danger after vowing to erect a shrine 
 to their special saint. I could not find 
 a place worthy of being mentioned in 
 history, where a church does not now 
 stand. Roberval is the onl}' important 
 Canadian pioneer not thus honored, 
 but as he was lost in the Saguenay, 
 in over one hundred fathoms of water, 
 and as no one knows the spot, he had 
 no chance. I think this church build- 
 ing an excellent thing, and much bet- 
 ter than the way they mark such places 
 in Texas. San Antonio is so full of 
 historic spots that if they were all 
 put down on a map of the city it 
 would look like the skin of a leopard. 
 There they build saloons over the spots, 
 and when you want to see one of 
 them the barkeeper has to lift a beer 
 keg off the hallowed spot where some 
 good Jesuit father died, full of Indian 
 arrows, in the seventeenth century; 
 or take you behind the counter, back 
 of the ice-chest, that you may behold 
 the spot where General Santa Anna 
 committed some atrocious deed. It 
 
 SHIP OF SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 88 
 
has been asserted that' saloon keepers 
 select these places because they, attract 
 antiquarians and other sacred, spot 
 hunters, who incidentally purchase 
 beer. Of the truth of this, I know 
 not. 
 
 Talking about spots, you must think 
 that the Champlain has not changed 
 her spots much during the last week 
 or two, as we are still writing about 
 Quebec and the Saguenay. It would. 
 
 however, be a mistake to think so. We 
 made a very sudden change the other 
 night, and left an $18 anchor and 100 
 feet of cable to mark the spot. We 
 didn't want to leave either the anchor 
 or the spot, but a Qanadian gale de- 
 monstrated in about two minutes that 
 
 it would be best for, us to sever our 
 connection with the anchor by means 
 of a sharp axe, and accompany it down 
 the river. It escorted us more than 
 100 miles, until we gave it the slip in 
 a sheltered bay on the Labrador coast, 
 and.it went howling along iu the di- 
 
 rection of "Greenland's fey moun- 
 tains." 
 
 I shall tell you more of this in my 
 next letter. I would do so now but 1 
 must mail this letter at once, or it will 
 not get away from this place for two 
 weeks. A sore-backed horse who car- 
 ries the mail somewhere in the direc- 
 tion of the United StateSj is just now 
 waiting for it„ and is patiently stand- 
 ing on the beach chewing seaweed 
 w£ile I write these closing lines. 
 
 89 
 

 
 
 ^ <^'s 1=^ 
 
 
 <^ 
 
 D ^^^ b i 
 
 
 OOrS LOST MANUSCRIPT.! 
 
 HOW IT WAS LOST AND FOUND I 
 
 COLUMBUS COULDN'T FIND 
 HIS TOBACCO. 
 
 STORY ABOUT A BANSHEE-A 
 
 STORM-GOING DOWN WITH 
 
 THE SHIP. 
 
 Did you ever write something and lose 
 the manuscript, and hunt for it in all 
 sorts of probable and improbable places ; 
 and, failing to find it, sit down and try to 
 rewrite from memory what you liad writ- 
 ten before. If so, you doubtless found it 
 a hard task, and probably gave it up, pre- 
 ferring to write on a new subject. 
 
 I lost a manuscript when on a cruise on 
 the lower St. Lawrence ; I never tried to 
 rewrite it, but today I found it, or rather 
 it came back to me after it had traveled 
 many thousand miles by land and sea, 
 and had passed through many climes and 
 countries. The following letter will ex- 
 plain how it was lost and how it returned 
 to me: 
 
 on the bark Firefly 
 
 honord Sur Kornel nox i send you by this male 
 a Fu sheets of riting wioh Belongrs to you its no 
 Us too me & 1 hav Been a lonjr ways sense 1 se n 
 you i shipped to Halifax & then had a helava 
 time goinff to Bristol england & then 1 came to 
 liverpool & hear i am in a place cauled Algeeis 
 in the Mediturean on a barS with a generl Cargo 
 & Ful of rats & the Captain f ullernagoos awl the 
 time &s wares most offul the Feed is no good & 
 i am sick of having my sistem jamd full of Beens 
 awl the time wishi had Sum of the grub we had 
 on the yot on the Saint lawrence will you ever 
 forgit the bloobery py honord sur wich it was in 
 the tqle. of the coat you give me & in Behine the 
 the lininK i ripped yesterday 1 Found the papers 
 the ar sum you wer going to put in a Book i 
 think i rite this too you with my respex & the 
 Captain will put yure adres on this & male it for 
 me at napels wher weer going 
 
 no more at present from your 
 obedient respextf ully 
 
 John Maddox able seaman 
 that was a Devil of a trip we had on the Cham- 
 
 {)lain but if ever you croose any more I would 
 ike to work for you i never will forgit that py 
 
 Tho Lost Manuscript. 
 
 "We lie becalmed off Cape Chatte, on the 
 St. Lawrence. The distance to either 
 shore is 15 miles. The water all around 
 is perfectly smooth. The sky and clouds 
 
 90 
 
are reflected from its surface, or rather 
 seem to be duplicated in the depths below. 
 The sun shines with a pleasant autumn 
 warmth, and the yacht floats on an even 
 keel with 30 fathoms of cold, damp water 
 below her. The waters seem to be asleep 
 and forgetful of their course toward the 
 sea. A haze partially veils the shore and 
 magnifies and distorts distant objects so 
 that a schooner two miles away looks as 
 large as a frigate, and seems to float 
 among the clouds. 
 
 Away beyond the mountains warring 
 winds may blow, and out in Kansas rol- 
 hcking breezes may be playing with the 
 straw hat of our fellow man and whirling 
 sand and cinders into his eyes; but, in all 
 these leagues of water around us, there is 
 not as much moving air as would make a 
 lover's sigh or float a thistle down. The 
 sails are motionless, and the stars and 
 stripes at the masthead hang in limp, de- 
 jected folds. Over yonder a pair of seals 
 float asleep on the surface. Here and there 
 a fish leaps, and from the spot radiates a 
 tiny wave that broadens and spreads far 
 and wide, and we can hear faintly the 
 sound of a church in some distant hamlet 
 on the shore. There is nothing else be- 
 yond the yacht to tell us that the world is 
 not dead or asleep. 
 
 I have been on the plains when not a 
 blade of grass moved, and in the woods 
 when the leaves on all the trees were 
 motionless, but insect, bird and beast 
 abounded, and there was not such still- 
 ness and suspension of motion there as 
 we experience here. 
 
 I lean over the rail, look down into the 
 water and Indulge in thought. Indulging 
 in thought is my only dissipation when 
 yachting. I think of Columbus when he 
 came across the seas and was impatient 
 to discover us. How he must have fretted 
 and chaffed during those long days when 
 he was becalmed and the sailors were mu- 
 tinous, and he had to hold his salt pork in 
 his fingers because forks were not then in- 
 vented ; and when much worried over all 
 this he went below to soothe his mind 
 with a smoke, and couldn't find his smo- 
 king tobacco, how mad it must have made 
 him to suddenly remember that tobacco 
 had not yet been discovered. 
 
 We throw a block of wood overboard 
 and shoot at it, but it does not float far 
 enough away to make the shooting inter- 
 esting. Then we sit on the quarter deck 
 and smoke, and the skipper tells a story 
 of blood curdling sounds that break the 
 
 stillness of the woods at night, how a 
 deer can be heard 10 miles off making its 
 way to water through a tamarac swamp, 
 and how the sound of a panther suckling 
 her young is audible at a distance of — but 
 let that pass. In a calm like this a man 
 is excusable for anything, and any yarn 
 to relieve the monotony Is cheerfully and 
 unquestionably accepted. 
 
 Our pilot, who sits at the helm eating 
 plug tobacco, is reminded by the skip- 
 per's story of a piece of his early expe- 
 rience. He breaks the piece off and gives 
 it to us in that matter of fact way that men 
 have who go down to the sea in ships. 
 He says that he shipped before the mast 
 and sailed from Quebec to Liverpool. 
 They left Quebec in a gale, and the storm 
 lasted throughout the voyage. The cook 
 could not light the galley fires, and our 
 pilot lived on hard tack and animate pork 
 all the time, and for 39 days worked and 
 swore and slept in wet clothes. He wore 
 two pair of trousers, and when he arrived 
 in Liverpool had to scrape the blue mould 
 off his inside trousers and his legs. It is 
 now my turn, and I tell an elaborate 
 
 Story about a Banshee 
 that belonged tp our family in Ireland for 
 five generations. It had always been one 
 of those wild kind of banshees until I took 
 it in hand, and inside a month had it so 
 tame that it would follow me all around 
 and lick salt out of my hand. 
 
 A large cake of corn bread is presented 
 tome when I conclude my narrative. Then 
 the artist begins: "I once went fishing 
 with a party. It was just at this time of 
 year. We didn't take a drop of anything 
 ti drink with us — " 
 
 At this point the cake is taken from me 
 and handed to the artist, and then we all 
 go below to sleep, except the skipper who 
 says that this is a good day to boil beans, 
 and he starts to boil a pot full. His weak- 
 ness is beans, which he thinks he can cook 
 better than any one. I cooked the beans 
 the last time, but failed to let them boil 
 long enough, and the skipper was angry, 
 not so much that the beans were too hard 
 for him to eat but that the crew did eat 
 them, and that when they afterwards 
 moved around on deck the noise that the 
 beans made as they rattled together an- 
 noyed him. 
 
 On this river the weather is very varia- 
 ble. Before I have been asleep an hour 
 I am awakened by the rattling of ropes, 
 
 91 
 
creaking blocks and hurried tramp of feet 
 overhead. I am astonished because I hear 
 no sound of wind or wave. Going above 
 I find the western sky black with hurry- 
 ing clouds ; a wall of mist and white 
 capped waves away astern; but around 
 about us is sunshine, and, if possible, a 
 more oppressive calmness than before. 
 Then comes tlie sound of distant thun- 
 der from behind the hills. The pilot 
 dons his yellow oilskin and takes the 
 helm, and 
 
 The Crew " Stand By." 
 It is on us in a moment, and as the yacht 
 bends to the breeze a twilight darkness 
 succeeds the sunshine; the damp, chill 
 wings of a thick mist enfold us, and in 
 two minutes the water is boiling, hissing, 
 seething all around; and although the 
 yacht is now carrying nothing but a dou- 
 ble reefed foresail she goes rushing, plung- 
 ing through the mad waves like some 
 living thing running away in insane ter- 
 ror from an unknown danger. The wind 
 becomes stronger every moment and 
 great banks of black clouds come scurry- 
 ing past, mingling together and massing 
 themselves one on top of the other as they 
 con*. The waves swash and surge along 
 the rail, flocks of foam fly past us, and 
 spray dashes in our faces as the yacht 
 lies over and seems to take flying leaps 
 from wave to wave. 
 
 I pull my cap over my ears, and hold- 
 ing on to the cabin top crawl aft to where 
 the skipper stands. 
 
 " I like this," I say. "This is exhilar- 
 ating. Now this is what I call yachting. 
 Is this what you would designate as a 
 gale, or is it merely a squall ? " 
 
 He takes me by the lappels of my left 
 ear and in 
 
 A Calm Fianissinio Voice 
 whispers so that I can plainly hear it 
 above the howling of the wind : 
 
 "This is nothing but a couple of Cana- 
 dian zephyrs out on a lark, and when 
 they come out it is a good time for inter- 
 rogative lunatics from the States who 
 don't know danger when they see it, to go 
 below and say their prayers. Why, man, 
 this is a hurricane ; and it is blowing us 
 out into the Gulf of St. Lawrence and on 
 to the Labrador coast at the rate of a mile 
 a minute, and there's only one harbor 
 within twenty leagues. Go below and 
 take a bite of cheese to quiet your nerves. 
 Don't spare it, for it's likely the last that 
 
 92 
 
you'll ever wrap a, ioolli around." 
 
 I like jokes la their proper place, but a 
 slippery quarter deck does not seem to bo 
 a good spot for dropping facetious re- 
 marks, especiallywhenone has to hold on 
 like thunder to a rope to keep from being 
 blown outside of her majesty's dominions. 
 We sweep past great battlements of 
 crags and cliffs, but nowhere is there 
 shelter. The wind blows more fiercely 
 every moment, and seems to shrink in 
 savage glee as we toss before it — seems 
 to say: "Ha, ha! You wanted a breeze 
 this morning, you whistled for wind didn't 
 you ? And one of yoi said in his reck- 
 less, sinful way that he'd be damned if 
 he wouldn't rather be in a storm than in 
 a calm any day. Well, you have got it, 
 haven't you ? And how do you like this 
 ! for a breeze so far ? What's the matter 
 with this for an amateur blow ? No flies 
 on this impromptu gale, is there ?" And 
 it goes away with a malevolent roaring 
 down the river, scooping up great 
 stretches of water from the wave tops 
 and scattering them in spray high up on 
 the face of the rock-bound coast ; and on 
 up it speeds through the valleys among 
 the hills where it doubtless rattles the 
 windows, whistles through the keyholes, 
 shakes the houses and howls down the 
 chimneys of the pious old French habit- 
 ants, who cross themselves and feel 
 thankful that they are under shelter in 
 such a storm. And then other winds 
 come after it, and hOwl as loudly and 
 derisively as they pass us on their riot- 
 ous way and sweep on to overtake the 
 other. 
 
 The pilot sits grimly at the helm, gnaw- 
 ing tobacco and issuing orders in a hoarse, 
 dime-museum voice, while our dinner 
 service of tin plate can be heard slosh- 
 ing around below and anon fetching up 
 with a crash and clamor against the star- 
 board bird'seye-maple slop bucket. I stay 
 on deck and hold on to the shrouds. 
 
 Going Down with the Ship. 
 
 I am determined to go down with the 
 ship if she goes down, and the more I 
 think of this and of how difficult it would 
 be to do anything else, the more deter- 
 mined I am to go down with her, but I 
 am resolved to go down on the outside. I 
 do not wish my friends to read of me be- 
 ing dredged up out of the cabin where my 
 remains would be found mixed with par- 
 tially boiled beans, ham bones and tin 
 ware. I am, however, not born to be 
 
 drowned. I am probably preserved by the 
 fates for some wise reason and better pur- 
 pose. Destined, it may be, to make money 
 and found an asylum for the widows and 
 orphans of idiots who go yachting on the 
 lower St. Lawrence. 
 
 Gra,dually the winds grow less and 
 less violent, the clouds scatter, the demon 
 of the storm makes one last effort to beat 
 and batter us down, and now, as if de- 
 feated and disappointed, goes moaning 
 out to sea. The waves subside into great 
 swells that heave and sob and sullenly 
 shake their white crests into bubbles and 
 streaks of foam. The moon shines murk- 
 ily from behind light, fleecy clouds that 
 drift across her face. The north star 
 wipes the vapor from his eye and winks 
 down on us, and then come other stars, 
 and that great one low down on the horizon 
 — that is a lighthouse ; and there is a bay, 
 and shelter and anchorage there ; and as 
 the yacht sweeps proudly and triumphant- 
 ly into the bay, with the stars and stripes 
 in ribbons at her masthead, and the phos- 
 phorescent water dashing from her bows 
 in two long streaks of gleaming silver, I 
 go below, and as a finish to this, my most 
 eventful day's yachting, roll myself in a 
 wet blanket and go to sleep. 
 
 93 
 
LOG OF THE YACHT CHAMPLAIN 
 
 Col. J. Armoy Enox Rides a 
 Bucking Broncho. 
 
 The Way a Yachtsman 
 Cot Naturalized. 
 
 A Country Where Hades Is 
 All Frozen Over. 
 
 Below the Island of Bic the scenery 
 on the north shore of the St. Law- 
 rence is as desolate a piece of the 
 earth's surface as ever pained the eye 
 of a man who likes to look on things 
 that are pleasant, bright or fruitful. 
 It is the same all the way down to 
 where I am writing this, on a rocky 
 headland on the borders of "lonely 
 Labrador." 
 
 It is said that it is the religious be- 
 lief of some tropical savages that hell 
 is a region of snow and ice, barren- 
 ness, and desolation. I think that the 
 man who originated that idea of the 
 regions of torment must have seen 
 the northern shore of the lower St. 
 Lawrence, at least in a vision, and if 
 he claimed that there were lower and 
 more dreadful depths in the place of 
 eternal punishment, he must have had 
 the Labrador coast in his mind's eye. 
 The scenery down to the mouth of 
 the St. Lawrence comprises great 
 masses of rocks, stunted firs, rocks, 
 dwarfed birches, rocks, blueberries 
 and rocks. Interspersed with these 
 the traveller will occasionally notice 
 rocks. 
 
 The monotony of this cheerless 
 shore is only broken by a lighthouse 
 here and there, or a wooden cross 
 erected to mark the spot where the 
 bodies of those who perished in some 
 shipwreck are laid. It is pleasant 
 enough to sail along such a coast for 
 a day. Its wildness is new to you. 
 The novelty of its barrenness inter- 
 ests you, and it makes you 
 
 SEore Pleased and Satisfied 
 
 than you ever were before with the 
 place, far away, that you call home, 
 even if you do live in Chicago. It is 
 when you sail along for a distance 
 
 94 
 
of some 300 miles that you begin to 
 think that tliis is one of the ends of 
 the earth that there is entirely too 
 much of. 
 
 The south shore 'Of the river is a 
 fertile garden when compared to this. 
 As far down as where the river ends 
 and the gulf begins, the south shore 
 is dotted all along with houses, in- 
 habited by people who live by a piti- 
 ful effort at farming and by codfish- 
 ing. They harmonize with their sur- 
 roundings — like the trees they are 
 stiiated, and like the rocks they are 
 weather-worn and uncomely. Then 
 the weather ! I do not know what to 
 say of it. It must be damaged shelf- 
 worn weather that has been kept un- 
 til more than ripe, and found to be 
 unfit for human use in any other 
 country. To palm it off on the people 
 here who have so little that is good 
 given them by nature, is the acme of 
 cruelty. The weather, however, 
 makes up in quantity and variety for 
 what it lacks in quality. It will blue- 
 mould your boots one day and freeze 
 the edge off your razor the next. It 
 seems to consist mostly of fog, rain, 
 mist, erratic winds and a profuse 
 smell of dried codfish. That is how 
 it is now in August. It is not yet 
 cold enough for more than two pairs 
 of trousers, a toboggan suit and a 
 fur overcoat, but in winter I believe 
 it must be colder. My reason for 
 this belief is that a native told me 
 that in cold weather, in January, he 
 had often seen the sound of a steam 
 whistle, as it shot up into the air, 
 turn into an icicle about twice as long 
 and thick as a bamboo fishing pole. 
 
 And wind ! Well, it does not blow 
 all the time, but 
 
 When It Does Blow, 
 
 it is not a perfume-laden zephyr that 
 whispers through the woodlands and 
 makes the flowers to nod in rhythmic 
 motion ; nor is it the breeze that makes 
 a ripple on the water, like a dark 
 shadow, and drives the fleecy clouds 
 athwart the moon's pale face; nor is it 
 even like the stiff nor'wester that fills 
 the white sails, of commerce, turns a 
 borrowed umbrella inside out, and 
 blows the back gate off its hinges. 
 No, the wind of these regions is some- 
 thing that does not wander around the 
 premises in search of an ^olian harp ; 
 neither does it dally with the wavy 
 tresses on beauty's brow ; but it is a 
 
 95 
 
robust tempest that comes howling 
 straight across lots, rooting up trees 
 and blowing water out of wells — some- 
 thing that comes shrieking up the 
 gulch, peeling the bark off the unpro- 
 tected house dog, pulling up post-holes 
 by the roots and hurling them into the 
 next school district. It was such a 
 wind as this that blew us down here 
 — a wind that began like the subdued 
 tone of a fiddle being tuned, and ended 
 like the thundering crash of a whole 
 brazen orchestra, with a calliope be- 
 hind the scenes ; a wind that suggested 
 a man who once' tried to -collect a bill 
 from me — at first pleasant and agree- 
 able, then animated, then boisterous ; 
 at last clamorous, noisy and abusive. 
 We did not wish to come so far with 
 it, but we came. 
 
 I cannot get en rapport with these 
 fisherfolks. I always like to mingle 
 with the people of the country I am 
 visiting In my youth I was told that 
 I should do at Rome as the Romans 
 do, and I usually try to do so ; but 
 should I make the attempt here, I 
 would have to 
 
 Saturate Slyself in Codfish, 
 
 talk codfish, eat codfish, smell of cod- 
 fish, and sing "God Save the Queen" 
 on the slightest provocation. So I 
 know I never could be anything but a 
 tenderfoot here. Now it was different 
 in Texas. When I went there, I got 
 "acclimated " before I was in the State 
 two days. One could conform to hab- 
 its, customs and surroundings there 
 without affecting one's physical com- 
 fort or knocking the hoops off one's 
 conscience. I don't think I ever told 
 you about how I became a Texan in 
 two minutes. 
 
 Well, this would be about as good a 
 time as any other to tell it. I would 
 much rather write about Texas than 
 about this ragged and hungry looking 
 country. Wish I was on the back of 
 a mustang now, out on the western 
 pWins, instead of sitting here on this 
 hard rock on " a foreign strand." 
 
 When I first went to Texas I was 
 accompanied by an obtrusive English 
 accent and a pair of speckled trousers 
 that invited harsh criticism. It was 
 at a place called Columbus that I 
 made my debut as a tenderfoot. Be- 
 side my accent and the ostentatious 
 trousers, I carried with me a very 
 high estimate of myself, and I consid- 
 ered it to be my duty, as a subject of 
 
 96 
 
Victoria Dei gratia, to let tlie liordes 
 of Texas barbarians know that I was 
 a person of importance. 
 
 At Columbus I wanted to buy a 
 horse, as it was my intention to ride 
 from that place to the Bio Grande. 
 While sitting on the veranda of the 
 little wooden hotel, I dropped my 
 haughty patrician reserve for a time 
 and conversed with 
 
 A Number of Cowboys, 
 who were stopping at the place. I did 
 not hesitate to express my contempt 
 for the Texas horses I had seen. I 
 made facetious remarks regarding the 
 ungraceful manner in which Texans 
 rode, and I was sarcastic in the mat- 
 ter of the Texas saddle. 
 
 In Texas fools sometimes rush in 
 where desperadoes fear to tread. 
 
 The cowboys asked me what was the 
 best way to ride, and what kind of 
 horses did we have in our country. I 
 told them that I rode with a long stir- 
 rup. I related exploits wherein I fig- 
 
 ured as wmnmg a steeplechase across 
 a stiff country in the west of Ireland, 
 and I told of some horses I had owned 
 —phenomenal horses, with pedigrees 
 running away back into the dark ages. 
 Even to this day whenever I think of 
 what an ass r demonstrated myself to 
 be on that occasion, I make an effort to 
 blush. 
 
 The cowboys seemed to take all I 
 said good-naturedly, and they made no 
 comment. The head cowboy, how- 
 ever,looked tired, and asked the others 
 to take a drink He invited me to join 
 them When we arrived at the bar I 
 said I would take a glass of claret. 
 
 " Jim.he says he'll take claret. May- 
 be he'd like it in a silver goblet, with a 
 strawberry or an oyster in it, as he's 
 accustomed to in his ancestral castle at 
 home. Oh, he's a daisy, I tell you. 
 Barkeeper, the tenderfoot'U take some 
 whiskey, same as the rest of us I 
 reckon that's what heHl take. 
 
 A small still voice within me whis- 
 pered that whiskey was under the cir- 
 cumstances, the thing for me to take, 
 and I took it. 
 
 " Want to buy a horse, you say, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Yes," I replied; I want a good 
 
 9t 
 
steady horse." 
 " Oh, no, you want 
 
 A Bucklner Broncho, 
 
 that's what you want." 
 
 " What is a bucking broncho?" 
 
 " Don't know, eh ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Then that's ee-kzactly what. you 
 want. Ain't it, boys ? " 
 
 Chorus of boys— "You just bet 
 your sweet life." 
 
 The result was that the chief pirate 
 sold me a dismal looking plug, a sad- 
 dle and a bridle for f 50. When I got 
 ready to leave, the boys were all 
 standing around to see me off. Sar- 
 castic remarks were made about me 
 being a " steeplechaser 'way back," 
 and the crowd was requested to give 
 me room to spread myself. I got mto 
 the saddle and was gathering, up the 
 reins, when the wretched parody on a 
 horse arose in the air, bent his back 
 like a bow, and came down again 
 with all his four feet in a bunch under 
 his centre of gravity. I did not at 
 that moment seem to have any centre 
 of gravity of my own. There was a 
 vague idea in my brain that the earth 
 in its diurnal whirl had slipped a cog, 
 or in its wild climb around the sun 
 had stumped its toe. These thoughts 
 were simultaneous with the sensation 
 of being hit with something. \ knew 
 in a moment that it was with the 
 earth on which we live, for nothiner 
 
 98 
 
smaller than a globe 25,000 nilles in 
 circumference could have given me 
 such a cold, harsh, stunning bat on 
 the ear.' 
 
 When I got to my feet, shook the 
 sand out of my hair, and hung a horse 
 blanket around my splintered gar- 
 ments, I discovered that my bucking 
 broncho was gone. The cowboys were 
 pointing him out to each other as he 
 could be discerned scooting across the 
 scenery. Turning to ' the crowd, I 
 said: "Gentlemen, let's all take a 
 drink " Although surprised, 
 
 They all "Walked to the Bar 
 
 without comment. 
 
 "What was it that that animal — that 
 bucking broncho — did to me ?" 
 
 "He bucked you; that's what Tie 
 did." 
 
 "That was bucking, was it ? Well, 
 I'm thankful he didn't broncho, or 
 it might have gone hard with me. 
 Have another drink, gentlemen." 
 
 While they drank, I slipped out into 
 the yard, and cast my imported Eng- 
 
 lish accent into the 
 dropped some of my self-esteem when 
 the broncho bucked. When I came 
 in again I said, "Gentlemen, have 
 another." They seemed more sur- 
 prised than before, but they took it. 
 Then Jim stepped out, took my hand, 
 and leading me into the middle of the 
 room, said: 
 
 "Pardners, the man that'll git 
 bucked as premiscus as this chap has, 
 an' then, in plain United States lan- 
 guage, sets up the drinks three times, 
 an' do it hearty, is no tenderfoot, and 
 the man that sez he is is a liar." 
 
 At that moment I graduated. I 
 
 99 
 
ceased being a tenderfoot and liecame 
 a Texan. 
 
 Seems to me .that there is not as 
 much abolit yachting in this letter as 
 I might have written, but as it is 
 about the regulation length it must go 
 as it is. Armed with a gun, I am go- 
 ing to spend this-afteriioon bearding 
 tbe wild goose in his den. 
 
 ,- ''~V~\ 
 
KNOX'S CRUISE. 
 
 Sailing From French Into British 
 America. 
 
 An ITnexprcted Avalancbe of Mall 
 
 —A Town Built on Codfish— 
 
 Tbe Irrepressible Cartler— 
 
 Gallicized Scotcbmeu. 
 
 Since I started, two mimths ago, on this 
 cruise I did not receive a letter or news- 
 paper' at any Poatoffioe on the- route until 
 yesterday. I did not wish to receive any. 
 When I go away for a rest in summer I do 
 not like to be worried with letters. ' I 
 want to enjoy absolute absence from care, 
 and you know you cannot have that if you 
 receive letters saying, for instance : " We 
 beg to inform you that the note of Jones, 
 in your favor and payable yerterday, has 
 been protested for non-payment : " or " Your 
 barn was burned last night, " etc. I have 
 known a man's holiday ruined by a friend 
 writing, "An article in yesterday's Daily 
 Leader gave you a blast." The friend did 
 not send a copy of the "blast," and the poor 
 man was in such a state of mental unrest 
 that his brain became frayed at the edges, 
 worrying over the matter, and wondering 
 what evil thing the Leader had said re- 
 garding Mm. If I must know of these 
 things, I prefer to hear of them, on my 
 return, so I instructed my friends not to 
 send me any mail matter. Yesterday I 
 called at a PostofBoe to mail a letter. The 
 Postoffioe was in a small village in a bay 
 on the gulf coast. It is the smallest Post- 
 ofiSoe I ever saw. It is a shed about 
 eight feet square attached to the rear resi- 
 dence of the P. M. I found it to contain 
 two maps of Canada, one chair, one pine 
 table and one letterbox for outgoing mails, 
 both foreign and domestic. 
 
 The postmaster sells stamps at the ordi- 
 nary market quotations, and guesses how 
 many stamps you should put on your letter 
 by "hefting" it in his hand. I did not 
 
 101 
 
1 ttink of asking him for any mail. I would 
 have thought it as likely that I would re- 
 ceive an offer of the crown of Bulgaria as 
 that I would receive a letter there. The 
 postmaster knew who I was, for in these 
 small villages a stranger's arrival, his name 
 and hia probable business are soon known, 
 and he-said i "Veel I ze pleasure have to 
 sen' ze mail of monsieur to ze boat?" 
 
 "mail!" 
 
 "Oui, monsieur." 
 
 "Mail for me?" 
 
 "Oui, monsieur; much! grande! tr-r-J-e- 
 mendous! 
 
 "Well, if there is any, just give it to 
 me— I'll take it. Needn't bother sending 
 it." 
 
 "Monsieur could not carry eet^ze amount 
 of eet ees so much. I have take eet in ze 
 house. Monsieur can see ze sacks. ' 
 
 "Sacks?" 
 
 "Oui, oui. lin-m-mense! ter-r-r-ifio.^, 1 
 show monsieur." 
 
 Then he went into the house, and dragged 
 , out two great sacks full of newspapers, 
 each of them addressed to me. There 
 were all kinds of newspapers, dailies and 
 weeklies, published at all sorts of places, 
 from Mexico to Manitoba. 
 
 "Tree hundred and seexty-seex is ie 
 amount I count— more aa we gets at ze 
 PostpflBce in tree, four year," 
 
 I opened some of the newspapers and 
 
 ff 
 
 'ji PoST QpFlCi 
 
 102 
 
qaw traces of the exchange editor's shears, 
 eo I knew that they were.exchanges sent to 
 me by way of a jote by some of my New 
 York journalistic friends, who possibly had 
 ithe office boy spend a day addressinp; them. 
 The village is in the only harbor, within' 
 many miles, on this coast, and the sender 
 or senders rightly judged that I would call 
 there, and so sent the papers, as a surprise, 
 to me. I stuck them all back in the sacks 
 and gave them back to the postmaster. I 
 said: "You take them, keep them, read 
 ihem, sell them, give them to the poor, do 
 anything you wish with them. I am not a 
 literary glutton, and J don't "want them." 
 I left her' majesty's servant jsazing at me 
 'with astonishment, and, I presixmerhe has 
 reading, matter enough to last him for a 
 year, and enough papers left over to start 
 fir^s with as long as he lives. 
 
 I'spent a day at Gaspe. It is a town of 
 about eight hundred inhabitants, who live 
 by codfishing. On approaching the coastj 
 aqd miles bef6re you see land, you can 
 smell the chief industry of th^ place with 
 the naked nose. The Gaspe codfish are 
 said to be better than those found in any 
 other part of the world. The natives. not 
 only live by them but on them. Codfish 
 andiwtatoes for breakfast, the same for 
 dinner, and a complete lack o£ variety for 
 
 \n 7/7 
 
 103 
 
supper. An "ancient and fishlike smell" 
 permeates eveiything on the coast. The 
 chief agricultural product of the place is 
 potatoes, and it is said that they are often 
 found with fish bones in them. A large 
 fleetof vessels ia devoted to the fisheries, 
 The cod is split and cleaned, and then 
 spread out in rows, acres in extent, to dry 
 in the sun. 
 
 I met an old whaleman who told me 
 much of the place, of its history, and of 
 its present and past condition.. He was 
 inclined to delve into the hoary and mil- 
 dewed past, and I let him delve. He be- 
 gan with the inevitable JacQues Cartier. 
 They, all do it. In no part of the province 
 of Quebec can you talk to a man for two 
 minutes but he will twist the conversation 
 around so as to have a chance to tell you 
 that Jacques Cartier landed here in 153il, 
 
 ^ and so forth. If you ask a grocer if the 
 
 =^ eggs he is selling you are fresh, he will tell 
 you that there wasn't a fresher lot of eggs 
 laid in the province since Jacques Cartieif 
 landed on yonder rock, at the mouth of the 
 bay, and presented the first poultry ever 
 on this continent— three black Spanish 
 bens and a Houdan rooster— to the~" ' 
 
 104 
 

 ore. 
 
 "EU, 
 
 
 of the Miomae Indians; and than he wiU 
 take jroij to the door and let you look at 
 the rock through a Beld glass. 
 
 .THE- DSMOH DISOOVEBEE. 
 The" name of the. discoverer of Canada 
 ■haunts mej I oaunbt get away from it. Out 
 in the Rulf I pass a fishing smack, and 
 "Jacques Cartier, St. John, N. B." is 
 painted on her ster.i. I go ashore, and find 
 "L'Hotel de Jacques Cartier" stare me in 
 the faoei I 'shut my eyas and I gee, in 
 great white letters' dancins: on a black 
 background, the name of Jacques Cartier. 
 Igo to sleep repeating the name, I cannot 
 help it, and in the morning the firet sen- 
 tence that forms itself in toy waking brain 
 is "Jacques Cartier discovered Canada in 
 ISSl-confoaaiJiim!" lw«tt1itQ a little 
 tihnrchjiaet Sunday, to hear a sermon. 
 The preacher's, text was "Lo 1 I come" 
 (Psalma Sl:7), and the first words of the 
 sermon were "Brethren,, when Jacques 
 Cartier Came" 
 
 J stayed to hear no more. 
 
 To return to tho old whalei'. Ha told 
 me that when Cartier first landed at Gaspe 
 he tound a tribe of Indiana unusually ad- 
 vanced in civilization;. They knew the 
 points of the compass; had maps of the 
 country for many hundreds of miles along 
 the coast; knew a little of astronomy;, and 
 worshiped a cross.. _ They had atraditfon 
 that told of men who had landed on their 
 shores in distant ages, and who, by erect- 
 ing a cross, cured them of a dreadful plague 
 that was then destroying them. It is sup- 
 posed that these men were Norse Vikings, 
 who established fishing stations here in the 
 eleventh century, and told the Indians 
 something of Christiauity, 
 
 The Micmacs had many legends and tra- 
 ditions that seemed to indicate that gome 
 Btory parallel to the world's history, as 
 told in the Bible, may have reached them. 
 One of these is to the effect that, in the 
 early ages of the world, men and beasts 
 spoke one language, and lived in harmony 
 together for many, many years. The 
 Great Spirit lived in a. beautiful island far 
 out in the seaK^vhere neither bird norcanoa 
 could venture, and where no man nor 
 beast had ever been. As time wenf; on, 
 the children of men, and the baar, the 
 bison, the turtle, and othev beasts wanted 
 to go to the island, and they held a council 
 
 
 I^USTLE 
 
 105 
 
I 
 
 Jffi 
 
 and determined to liuild a, causeway 
 across the sea, and only the 
 WiB& Owl objected, and predicted dire 
 calamity if they should do so, but they 
 heeded not. And from far and wide they 
 came, and the beaver cut down the trees, 
 and the bear and the turtle carried rocks, 
 and, as they began to build, a great miracle 
 was wrought, and the beasts and the men 
 who had hitherto spoken the same tongue 
 could not understand each other, and the 
 building of the causeway came to naught 
 and the builders were scattered over the 
 face of the earth. Since then only the 
 Wise Owl has spoken a word that men 
 coold understand, and for ages in the 
 gloomy depths of the woods he has startled 
 the Indian with his mournful words, "Too 
 woot, Too-wo," which, being freely trans 
 lated, meaneth, "You sons of guns, 1 told 
 you so." 
 
 TheMicmac nation now consists of about 
 eight thousand Indians, scattered all along 
 the coast of the maritime provinces, who 
 live by hunting and fishing. Many years 
 ago, when the Governor General of Canada 
 visited Gaspe he was waited on l>y a dele- 
 gation of chiefs of the Micmacs. Among 
 nther things that .they had recovered from 
 a wreck was. a box of decanter labels, mada 
 of metal and adorned witb gilt lejtters. 
 Kot knowing their proper use, the chiefs 
 used them as neck ornaments, and entered 
 the presence of the Governor labeled "Old 
 Tom," "Sheiry," "Whisky," "Brandy," 
 etc 
 
 ,1 
 
 ii 4*" 
 
 106 
 
If jnoT) look on tUe map you trill.gfiS that 
 Gaspe is &t the point of a great peniiMala 
 running inco the gulf and lying between 
 the St. Lawrence and the bay of Chalenr. 
 Here was once a great whaling ground, 
 but now very tew whales are found in this 
 region. It isableal; and desolate shore, 
 and strangers seldom linger there longer 
 than the time it takes the steamer to land 
 and receive the mail and freight. The 
 traveler usually walks through the village 
 until ti^e cheerless surroundings make him 
 blue and low spirited, aUd the odor of cod- 
 fish, in a state of desuetude, percolates 
 through his system; then he goes back to 
 his boat, and writes in bis diary under the 
 head of 
 
 DESCRIPTION or OaSPE. 
 
 The scenery here covers as much ground 
 as at some other places, but it is not so 
 varied or obtrusive. It consists chiefly of 
 ^dfish lying on their backs in the cold em- 
 brace of death, and of a photograph gallery 
 where photos, representing groups of the 
 deceased spread nut in rows, are sold for 
 SO cents each." Then the boat sails away, 
 and the tourist never, never comes back" 
 there again. i 
 
 It has been said that Frenchmen cannot 
 be. denationalized. The French Canadian 
 is a strong evidence of the truth of this 
 statement. He is as French in thought, 
 speech and manners as were his forefathers 
 who came from France two hundred years 
 ago, -I had always thought that the 
 Scotch, as a rule, held to their manners, 
 custom>i and language with mors than or- 
 dinary tenacity. If so, there are wonder- 
 ful exceptions to the rule iii several places 
 on the St^ Lawrence. After the conquest 
 of Canada the English gave several grants 
 of land 'to a Scotchman named Malcolin 
 Frazer, who settled many families (hi it. 
 I saw quite a number of Frazers and Mc- 
 Xabs who could not speak a word of- Eng- 
 lish. They were Scotch in appearance, 
 but French in everything else. It was 
 veiy odd to hear these, sandy haired, 
 freckle faced Scotchmen say in French, 
 that they could not speak English, or to 
 hear some speak English with the French 
 accent. 
 
 From Cape Gaspe south, as we proceed 
 along the shores of New Brunswick and 
 Nova Scotia, wo notice that the Cath- 
 olic dmrches are further and further apart; 
 
 lOT 
 
OEOBseg-eeaae to ciowa the hilltops, aad \»6 
 gradually sail out of a Frenohlnto a Scotoh 
 and English atmosphere. The hilU are 
 npt so barren, and there are less of-them 
 than on the St. Lawrence, co^t. I am 
 glad of this,°for I was getting weary of the 
 sameness of the lower St.- Lawrencei In 
 traveling these waters in a steamer you 
 P98B BO r^uickly that tlie scenery does not 
 become monotonous. I commend to yon 
 the trip from Montreal to Pictou in' 
 Nova Scotia by steamer. The Quebec 
 Steamship Company send a steamer, the 
 Miraniichi, over this route twice a month 
 dming'tht^summer. The Hiramichi was 
 built for a blockade runner, and is a very 
 handsome and well equipped boat. She 
 leaves Montreal on, say, Monday and runs 
 to Pictou, in Nova Scbtia, a distance 6t 
 over a' thousand miles, arriving in Pictou 
 on Saturday. The mute is down the St. 
 Lawrence past the island of Anticosti and 
 Cape Gaspe into (ba.gull, through the bay 
 of Cbaleiir, touching at . aeveral points on 
 Prince Edward's Island, And through 
 Northumberland straits to Pictotl. Erom 
 there atralnwill take you in a few hours 
 to Halifax or to St. John', New Brunswick, 
 or by steamer you can reach Boston in a 
 day* 
 
LOG OF T HE YACHT C HAMPLAIN 
 
 Col. Enox Tells the Story 
 of a Good Binner, 
 
 Eccentricities of a Hova 
 Scotia Goat. 
 
 Tribulations of Trying to 
 Write Without a Subject. 
 
 I like to dine. I lilce a good dianer. 
 Wliat would be an excellent dinner at 
 one time,and undei some circumstances, 
 might be considered a very wretched 
 meal at some other time, and in some 
 
 other place. TEe constituent parts of 
 an enjoyable dinner are good company, 
 an appetite and something to eat. I 
 hare encompassed many queer dinners 
 in my wanderings, and have sometimes 
 assuaged a damoroiis appetite with 
 unique provender. I have consumed 
 expensive viands in the gilded haunts 
 of millionaires, whose tables groaned 
 under luxuries garnered from all the 
 ends of the earth ; and again, on the 
 pMnsof the West;: hundreds of miles 
 from a napkin, I have breakfasted on a 
 prickly pear, dined on a chew of tobac- 
 co, and supped on a reminiscence. I 
 have surfeited myself on the high-priced 
 food of the rich, and I have cultivated 
 
 ing 
 
corns on my palate with the friclion of 
 the yellow biscuit and corn bread of 
 the lowly cowboy. But of all the Uiu- 
 ners in which I have ever participated, 
 one I ate yesterday was the most en- 
 joyable. It will be to me an enduring 
 memory while life lasts. In the years 
 to come I shall look back and see it, an 
 oasis of a dinner aiuid the arid wastes 
 of the soups, joints and Entries of the 
 boarding house table d'hote on which I 
 preyed iu early life. 
 
 It was in a cabin on the side of a 
 bleak mountain in Nova Scotia that 1 
 enjoyed this rare dinner. I went ashore 
 yesterday morning very early, and 
 hired an Irishman to guide me through 
 the mountains in search of partridges, 
 or such other game as might cross our 
 path. In about 20 miles of a tramp we 
 found nothing worthy of death. The 
 bleak and barren hills are very sparsely 
 inhabited. The soil, when there is any, 
 is thin and poor, and the hills are steep 
 and bare. You could 
 
 Not Baise Even aa Echo on Them. 
 
 We had walked from dawn until al- 
 most sunset ; we had eaten nothing all 
 day, and we were very tired and hun- 
 gry. I was so hungry that I could act- 
 ually hear the hunger gnawing holes in 
 the ceiling of my interior, and occa- 
 sionally turning around and biting itself 
 on the leg from mere spite, vexation 
 and weariness of waiting 
 
 Down near the foot of the mountain, 
 a mile away, we saw a house. Toward 
 it we directed our steps, and with throb- 
 bing appetites approached what we dis- 
 covered to be a very wretched cabin. 
 Five bare legged children and an unat- 
 tractive pig occupied the foreground of 
 the doUar-an-acre landscape. 
 
 "Not much prospect of a banquet 
 here, Larry ?" 
 
 "I be thinking so, sir; to judge by 
 that pig, that hasn't more fat on his 
 ribs than wid oil a jewsharp, and the 
 childher, that haven't as much clothes 
 on the pack of thim as would clean a 
 gun, it's a rimuant of the famine of '47 
 we have struck. ' 
 
 We entered the hut and found the 
 owner, an Irishman, sitting on a stool 
 beside a pot, eating potatoes. His 
 mode of eating was to break the potato 
 in t wo pieces, dip the end of the half 
 in salt that was spread on his knee, and 
 then squeeze it out of its skin into his 
 mouth. When I told him that we were 
 
 110 
 
■- \ 
 
 hungry he expressed regret 
 nothing but potatoes to offer -us, but 
 what he had he said, we were welcome 
 to, "wid a heart and a half." His hos- 
 pitable wife, suggested that while we 
 rounded the edge of our appetites with 
 the potatoes she would make a scone of 
 oatmeal bread, and if John, her hus- 
 band, would catch the goat, we could 
 have milk. 
 
 John found the goat in the act of 
 masticating the hair stuflSng of a new 
 horse collar. When he realized that 
 his horse collar was being filed away in' 
 the digestive machinery of a $2 goat, 
 the disastrous character of the misfor' 
 tune dawned on him, and he gave vent 
 to his feelings in a yell that sounded 
 like the wail of a lost sOul prowling 
 around a Chicago street at 1 A. M. 
 Willi dismay in every feature, and a 
 singletree ip. his hand, he ,-v^ent for the 
 goat. She did not wait for him,- but 
 spreading her tail to the breeze, she 
 promenaded oS in that jaunty and de- 
 bonair Way peculiar to inountain goats.- 
 She went- streaking around the bouse, 
 up the hill, then down and across the 
 brook, and back, and around the house 
 with John in full cry in her wake. As 
 the pageant came tearing past the door, 
 the goat bleating a derisive defiance, 
 John waving the singletree in the am- 
 bient gloaming and calling on us to 
 head her off, and we trying to eat hot . 
 potatoes, trip up the goat and laugh 
 all at the same time; it was a spectacle 
 the like of which is seldom seen. The 
 goat went around the house so often 
 
 M' 
 
 111 
 
'-^ — 
 
 ~-*^^ 
 
 --^55«-^ 
 
 and so rapT31y tnat sbe lookeailfce a 
 process! OQ of goats that wanted to go 
 somewhere and was. 
 
 Pressed for Time. 
 
 John was suddenly possessed with an 
 inspiration, and as suddenly he stopped 
 in his mad career. Whyshould he. pur- 
 sue the animal ;- why not turn, meet, 
 and intercept her on the next lap? 
 With John to think was to act. He 
 was no sooner, struck with the idea 
 than he turned, and — then he was struck 
 by the goat, and doubled up like the 
 mattress of a folding bed. 
 
 When a goat rushing through space 
 is suddenly confronted by a man, who 
 hits her on the head with his stomach, 
 the gpE^t is invariably surprised. This 
 goat wis so astonished that she stood 
 still for a moment, and during that 
 moment she was seized by two of the 
 white-haired children and tied to a 
 cart. We had to slam John on the back 
 with a board to ' straighten him out. 
 While, this was going on the woman 
 milked the goat. Soon the oat-cake 
 was cooked, and then Such a dinner as 
 we. had 1 There was nothing, absolutely 
 nothing, but the oatcake, the milk and 
 the potatoes. But how I enjoyed them, 
 and how much of these things I ate, 
 words would fa!I me to express. 
 
 You may not understand why I am 
 BO enthusiastic over, this dinner— you 
 who ordw a dinner a la carte, or a 
 la charge-it-up-to-me ; but if you will 
 some mominfc KO .out into the woods 
 and walk around there until evening 
 without eating anything, and then read 
 this while a frugal supper is being 
 cooked for you, you will appreciate my 
 feelings. 
 
 Quite a number of people have asked, 
 " How do you write your letters on 
 board the yacht, and how do you spend 
 your time f " We generally write our 
 letters under adverse circumstances and 
 the canvas roof of the cabin. We hunt 
 for the driest pad of paper on the ship. 
 
 H2 
 
and then get a pencil out of the candle 
 box and sharpen it with the carving 
 knife. If you have followed me care- 
 f ally so far, you will see that we are 
 now ready to write. The next thing is 
 toselect a subject. The dispute we had 
 in the morning with tl)e keeper of the 
 wharf, the talk we liad with the man 
 who sold us milk, and the pun I made 
 about the " bobstay," may be exceed- 
 ingly interesting to us, but would not 
 interest the readers of the Hekald. It 
 is enough to paralyz&a writer tothinli 
 that what he writes will be read by 
 more than 100,000 people. It fills him 
 with solemnity when he realizes that 
 the thoughts that go surging through 
 his brain, and that crystallizes in type, 
 may go to the world full of a higli pur- 
 pose and typographical errors, and 
 have an influence in forming the tastes, 
 and moulding the character of his fel- 
 low-men, or be used to wrap around a 
 sandwich. The humorous fancy that 
 was created, and that wandered through 
 his intellect until it took tangible shape 
 in nonpareil type, may, by countless 
 thousands, be used as a pattern 
 
 For Iiiterary Composition or a Shirt, 
 
 and columns of sage advice may sink 
 deep into the hearts of yearly subscrib- 
 ers, or be used to wad a gun. You see 
 now how important it is to have a suit- 
 able subject. I say, " Murray, what 
 are you going to write about?" He an- 
 swers, " Well, I shall describe the coun- 
 try we sailed through yesterday, and 
 follow that with a few thoughts on com- 
 mercial union between Canada and the 
 United States, and then I shall wind up 
 with a synopsis of the history of Can- 
 ada from its discovery to date." 
 
 When he covers all that ground there 
 is nothing left for me, and that is the 
 reason I have to write, as I have in this 
 leliter, about a cheap, everyday goat. 
 When I expostulate with Murray about 
 monopolizing all the subjects, he says, 
 "Oh, thunder! haven't you got your 
 imaginatiou to fall back on." 
 
 I am not working my imagmalion on 
 this trip. The things that actually hap- 
 pen are more interesting and humorous 
 than the things that are imagined or 
 created. If you describe a thing you 
 have- seen, no matter how strange it is, 
 it will seem natural to the reader, simply 
 because it is natural The thing that is 
 a mere creation of the imagination can 
 never be as true as the thing that is, 
 
 113 
 
that exists, or that has existed. I lose 
 patience with artists who sit at a desk 
 and sketch characters, digging the 
 features and the eccentricities of form 
 out of their imaginations. Why don't 
 they go out and sit on a bench in the 
 park, or ride up town in a street car, 
 and reproduce the peculiarities of the 
 people they see on the streets or in the 
 cars? There are more quaint and cur- 
 ious eccentricities of lorm and feature, 
 speech and action, to be observed in 
 the people we meet, than can be cre- 
 ated by the most vivid imagination. 
 
 Here I am, away off the track and 
 writing about a matter that is not perti- 
 nent to anything I had in mind when I 
 began this letter. That is the result of 
 not having a subject to write on. You 
 would, however, pardon my lack of 
 coherence, I am sure, if you saw me 
 trying to finish this letter, asl sit on the 
 quarter deck that slopes at an angle of 
 45 degrees, while a dense Nova Scotian 
 fog is boring its way through my clothes 
 and making my teeth chatter, and I am 
 holding on to a boom, I think they call 
 it, with one hand and using the other 
 to write this. 
 
 114 
 
THE " CHftNlPLAlN." 
 
 Full of Patriotism and 
 Whisky. 
 
 THE LEPEES OF TKAOADIE. 
 
 I have had about all the yachting and 
 all the rest I need this summer. I am ac- 
 tually fatigued with resting. When Ba- 
 con wrote Shaltespeare's plays for him, 
 he made one of his characters come on 
 1. u. e. and say, "If all the years were 
 playing holidays, to rest would be as 
 tedious as to toil." As I am at present 
 estranged from my library, I may have 
 got the quotation wrong, but as written 
 above it expresses the idea tlie author 
 meant to convey. 
 
 I am very glad that we have to earn 
 not only our bread but our holidays by 
 the sweat of our brows. We appreciate 
 the bread all the more because we have 
 to labor for it. If there was no night the 
 continuous day would be a weariness. If 
 it was not for the days of labor, we 
 would not appreciate the holidays. I am 
 beginning to think that I shall be as glad 
 to go back to work as I was to leave it 
 when I entered on this three months' rest. 
 Man may get so much pie — especially if it 
 is all the same kind of pie — that he will 
 yearn for a piece of plain bread, by way 
 of cliange. I believe that to-day. I would 
 enjoy being back in the busy haunts of 
 the metropolis, climbing over my fellow 
 man in an effort to get a scat in a cross- 
 town car, better than I now enjoy sitting 
 in the woods here, on the coast of Prince 
 Edward's Island, with foreign ants and 
 strange members of the bug family pros- 
 pecting all over me. 
 
 It is a blessed thing that we are so built 
 by nature, that all of us like change of 
 scene and occupation. If it were other- 
 wise and humanity had been content to 
 remain as created, we would all be decol- 
 lette savages, without a desire to im- 
 prove our condition or take a chance in 
 the Louisiana lottery. 
 
 Yachting is very enjoyable, I know, 
 and I like it, but there is a sort of monot- 
 ony about dodging the foresail when it 
 gybes to port, and dodging it again five 
 minutes afterwards when it gybes to star- 
 board; and there is a lack of variety in 
 stepping over the same bucket, and up- 
 setting the same pot of spar varnisli every 
 time you take a turn on deck ; and then 
 
 115 
 
a diet in which codflsh takes "center 
 stage " and plays the leading role, may be 
 nutritive but is not attractive. These 
 things however, are not so wearying to 
 me as has been tlie dreadful sameness of 
 the coast line of the lower St. Lawrence 
 and of the gulf. I pour out wild un- 
 bridled language every morning, when I 
 awake and look out on rocks and hills 
 and cliffs that have the same bare and 
 desolate appearance as have other rocks 
 and hills and clifEs that we have been 
 passing, every day for a month. I little 
 thought that I should ever really be filled 
 with a fervent desire to see "Try Boker's 
 Bitters," or "Get Your Suspenders at 
 Cohens," painted in two colors, on the 
 face of nature, but I assure you I would 
 give a trade dollar to refresh my eyes 
 by gazing on a rock or headland so 
 adorned. 
 
 MDLB ON PEAIKIB. 
 
 I used to like mountains, and I remem- 
 ber when I lived on the plains, how tire- 
 some the unbroken curve of the horizon 
 became as we looked on it from day to 
 day, and how Simpson, when he was 
 confined to the house with a broken leg, 
 used to have a mule staked out on the 
 prairie to rest his eye on, as he expressed 
 it, and ' 'vary the darned monotony of 
 fifty miles of dead, level dirt." 
 
 But that was not any worse than this. 
 Of course there is some variety in the 
 size of the rocks and hills, but it is the 
 same variety repeated daily, and I have 
 had enough of, it. When I- have feasted 
 my eye on all there is of a ten-cent pan- 
 orama, I don't encore it and ask the man 
 to keep on turning the handle, until I get 
 a dollar's worth. 
 
 One thing I am glad of : I have es- 
 caped from the land infested by the 
 French-Canadian. Down here on Prince 
 Edward's Island there are very few of 
 them. I had become so accustomed to 
 exchanging my bad French for their 
 worse English, that this morning, down 
 in the bay below, when I met a man who 
 Had an up-all-night-and-don't-care-who- 
 knows-it expression of countenance, I 
 said : "Parlez-vous Anglaise ?" 
 
 The man said : 
 
 "No, faith, an' I don't, an' I'm not 
 ashamed to own it, but I spake English, 
 thank God !" 
 
 The inhabitants of this Island are 
 mostly Scotch and English, and I have 
 already found that they enjoy a good 
 American joke, when it is laboriously ex- 
 plained to them, put in writing, and left 
 with them over night. I have also dis- 
 
 116 
 
covered that any facetious remark re- 
 garding her.gracious majesty is considered 
 a sin against high heaven and the 
 British constitution. I saw what I pre- 
 sume was a typical Prince Edward's 
 Islander this morning at five o'clock. He 
 was standing on a wharf, full of patriot- 
 ism and whisky. The spray was dashing 
 against his bare Highland legs, and the 
 wind was tossing the scant locks on his 
 uncovered head, while he was, in the 
 most solemn manner, singing "God Save 
 the Queen." 
 
 THE LEPERS OP TRACADIB. 
 
 Yesterday, I saw the most miserable, 
 hopeless, wretched wreck ofhumanity that 
 I have ever looked on — a leper. 
 
 A hundred and thirty years ago, when 
 England and France were at war, the 
 French who lived on the coast near the 
 mouth of the Miraraichi river, were in 
 dire straits. They were harassed by Eng- 
 lish cruisers that captured vessels freight- 
 ed with supplies sent to their relief. Their 
 trade in fish and furs was destroyed, and 
 famine was carrying them ofE bv the hun- 
 dreds. A French vessel, in an effort to 
 escape from an English cruiser, ran ashore 
 and was wrecked. The starving and al- 
 most naked fishermen siezed on the 
 
 UT 
 
wreckage and, among other things, found 
 many boxes of old clothes. They thanked 
 God and the saints for what they consid- 
 ered a blessing and a manifestation of the 
 Lord's special interest in their welfare. 
 The supposed blessing turned out to be 
 the most fearful calamity that could have 
 befallen them. The wrecked vessel had 
 been engaged in the Levant trade, before 
 coming to Canada, and the old clothes had 
 been shipped at Smyrna, and, as subse- 
 quent events proved, contained the germs 
 of the most fearful disease that flesh is heir 
 to — leprosy, "the unclean disease " of the 
 Mosaic record. This awful malady soon 
 broke out among the half-starved fisher- 
 men and from that day to this there have 
 been lepers in Canada, and the same sen- 
 tence has been pronounced on them that 
 the Lord once instructed Moses to pro- 
 nounce on the leper of old: "He is unclean 
 He shall dwell alone; without the camp 
 shall his habitation be." 
 
 At Tracadie, there is a lazaretto in which 
 all the lepers are confined. Leprosy is the 
 most hopeless Of all diseases and one of 
 the most loathsome. Its progress at first 
 is slow, and the disease is painless; but 
 there is no mistaking the unnatural white- 
 ness of the skin that indicates the first 
 stage of the horrible plague. Then it is 
 that the victim must bid farewell to all 
 that is bright, or pure, or lovable on earth, 
 and suffer a living death in the foul Laz- 
 aretto, where, with others similarly cursed, 
 he will swell and rot and slowly fall to 
 pieces, until death ends his agony. Wives 
 are forcibly torn from the embrace of 
 husbands, and children are taken from 
 their mothers' arms and consigned to the 
 prison hospital. 
 
 A strange thing about this leprosy is 
 that a healthy mother may have a leprous 
 child, and a woman in the last stages of 
 the disease has been known to give birth 
 to a child that grew to womanhood, and 
 did not show any symptoms of the lep- 
 rosy. 
 
 When the skin has become perfectly 
 white, the second stage of the disease be- 
 gins, and with it comes pain and indescri- 
 bable suffering. Yellow spots appear all 
 over the body, and slowly spread until 
 they run into one another. Then the limbs 
 swell and the skin cracks, and the third 
 and last stage begins with the appearance 
 of dreadful ulcers, the thickening of the 
 skin, the distortion of the features, and 
 the dropping off of joints of fingers and 
 toes. The end is blindness, helplessness, 
 corruption. 
 
 Faugh! I wish I had not seen it. 1 
 suppose you wish I had not written of it. 
 
 118 
 
LOG OF THE YACHT CHAMPLAIN 
 
 Tbe Cruise Ended and the Craft 
 in Winter Quarters. 
 
 A Glorious Holiday and 
 Some of Its Features. 
 
 This is the last word written in the 
 log of the yacht Ohamplain. The log 
 is going to be locked away in a 
 drawer, and no more entries will be 
 made in it until "the robins nest 
 again." The trim little craft that has 
 carried us so safely over and through 
 several thousand miles of smooth and 
 rough waters, will be tied to a cat's- 
 head, have her masts extracted, and 
 have an awning built over her. Thus 
 protected, she will wait until next 
 year, when she will again be prepared 
 to sail through summer seas. To-day 
 my three months' holiday ends here, 
 ' ' in the Acadian land on the shores 
 of the basin of Minas." 
 
 I write this on a green hillside, just 
 above where was once the village of 
 Grand Pre, and at my feet lie the 
 
 119 
 
mandofrs made historic by Longfel- 
 low, and wheie in the years long gone 
 were tlie "thatch-roofed village, the 
 home of Acadian farmers." Below 
 me, stretching to the water's edge, are 
 thousands of acres of meadow land, 
 reclaimed from the sea by the French 
 immigrants who came here in the 
 early part of the 17th. century. They 
 were an industrious people. They 
 built dykes to keep the water away 
 from rich, alluvial land, on which 
 they raised immense crops of grain, 
 much of which they exported to Bos- 
 ton. They weie a contented people, 
 simple In their habits and plain in 
 their mode of living. In the frequent 
 wars between France and England, 
 they took up arms against the Eng- 
 lish. When Nova Scotia was ceded 
 to the British the Acadians 
 
 Befused to Take the Oath of Allegi- 
 ance. 
 
 They outnumbered the Nova Sco- 
 tlans, who were loyal to the English 
 Government, and in the subsequent 
 wars they fought on the French side. 
 In 1755 the Council at Halifax deter- 
 mined that the Acadians must either 
 take the oath of allegiance or leave the 
 country. They were called together, 
 and the alternative was set before 
 them. They chose exile. Their lands 
 and property were therefore confis- 
 cated, and they were banished to North 
 Carolina, Virginia and Maryland. All 
 the world knows the sad story of their 
 exile as told by Longfellow. 
 
 "Well, our summer cruise is ended. 
 What do I think of it and what do I 
 think of Canada. 
 
 I liked it. I enjoyed it. I recom- 
 mend it to all of you who can spare 
 the time next year to follow, at least a 
 part of the way, on our trail ; but I do 
 not commend the whole of it. I have 
 seen much of the Province of Quebec, 
 and of the shores of lonely Labrador, 
 and I have sailed down the St. Law- 
 rence, around Nova Scotia and Prince 
 Edward Island, and along the shores 
 of New Brunswick,' and to-day I shall 
 end my summer cruise at Halifax, 
 where I shall leave by steamer for Bos- 
 
 120 
 
ton. A grand holiday and a pleasant 
 time we liave liad, sailing througli river 
 and lake and sea. Most enjoyable it 
 was at first. Through Lake Champlain, 
 down the Richelieu, into the St. Law- 
 rence, and down that great river as 
 far as Quebec, and beyond that to the 
 Saguenay. That was good. Ail of it 
 was good. So far there was never a 
 more enjoyable yachting cruise ; green 
 lawns sloping away back from the riv- 
 er; grand old woods of hemlock and 
 spruce, balsam and birch ; cool springs 
 in sunlit glades ; quiet bays where fish 
 were plenty, and where, lying at an- 
 chor, we rested and romanced 
 
 And Built Castles iu the Air. 
 
 Such a trip I commend to you. The 
 historic peaks of the Adirondacks, the 
 pastoral scenery of the upper St. Law- 
 rence and the wild and desolate cliSs 
 and crags of the Saguenajr are surely 
 worth seeing. 
 
 But I never again want to sail down 
 the lower St. Lawrence, or along the 
 gulf coast. It is a wretched, cold, in- 
 hospitable, barren country — a dreary 
 monotony of bleak headlands, rocky 
 inlets, and fishing villages, where the 
 inhabitants, when not trying to catch 
 codfish, are fightina starvation. Don't 
 go there. You will see nothing but 
 people who mangle the old time French 
 language, priests who live on the labor 
 of these people, pitiful strips of half 
 cultivated land, churches in number 
 far beyond the necessities of the popu 
 lation, and rocks and hideous shoals 
 that are monuments to thousands of 
 the shipwrecked dead of three cen- 
 turies. 
 
 Like Canada? Yes, I like it. I 
 like the good Canadians we met — like 
 them for their hospitality and their 
 kindness to usv I like the country for 
 its coolness in summer and its pict- 
 uresqueness in winter, but I do not 
 want to annex it to the United States. 
 The man is a fool who will say that it 
 will not some day form a part of the 
 greatest republic on earth. A Con- 
 gress at Washington will govern Can- 
 ada some day, but I doubt if we or 
 any of our sons shall have any part in 
 that government. I surely think that 
 our grandchildren will. It will come 
 about and be consummated gradually 
 and of necessity, but meanwhile there 
 
 121 
 
is no reason why the two countries I 
 should not exist and be prosperous ; 
 under separate -gevernments. Four 
 fifths of the people of Canada to-day 
 would vote in favor of commercial 
 union with the United States. Four- 
 fifths would vole against annexation. 
 This is merely my opinion, based on 
 what I have seen and heard, and what 
 representative Canadians have told 
 me. 
 
 How did I like yachting'? Well, I 
 have traveled on almost everything, 
 from- an Irish jaunting car to a camel's 
 hump ; have crossed continents on the 
 deck of a canal boat and on board of a 
 bucking broncho, but no means of 
 locomotion have. J ever enjoyed as 
 much as I did 
 
 Sailing on the Olxamplain, 
 
 To see a country and enjoy a holiday, 
 a yacht is unquestionably the best 
 venicle. 
 
 122 
 
THE YACHT CRUISE ENDED. 
 
 MMi U Allcpft PleasnTGS of 
 YacIitM. 
 
 KNOX'S LETTER. 
 
 Some of the Trials of a Humorist— Parting 
 » witli the Taoht. 
 
 Tacht Champlain. — This is tlie last day 
 of my yacliting cruise tliis summer, and, 
 as tliis is tlie last letter that I shall write 
 to you for some time, and wishing to 
 part without any hard feelings or misun- 
 derstanding on either side, I beg to make 
 the following personal statement : 
 
 I distinctly object to being considered 
 a humorist. Of course those who linow 
 me best — you, my friendly readers, and 
 my creditors for instance — are well aware 
 of the fact that I am not a humorist, and, 
 heaven knows, never claimed to be. 
 
 The fact that I have been associated in 
 business with more than one humorist has 
 somehow led to the erroneous belief that 
 I am so full of facetiousness that I have 
 only to turn a faucet and it flows out of 
 me. I know that there are many people 
 now on earth, with whom I am not ac- 
 quainted, who will go down to their silent 
 sarcophagi hugging the delusion that I 
 am so surcharged with humor that I have 
 to get up in the night to give it opportu- 
 nity to escape, and that I often wake up 
 the hired man at 3 a m. to tell him a new- 
 laid joke. 
 
 There are others who think that because 
 I come from Texas I should wear long 
 hair, have a bowie in my boot, and a 
 revolver in each pocket. On meeting me 
 for the first time these people feel that 
 they have been imposed upon, and that I 
 am not what they had a right to expect, 
 nor all that I should be. On being intro- 
 duced to a Vermont man, recently, he ex- 
 pressed himself as feeling actually hurt 
 because I did not begin shooting at him. 
 
 When the stranger to whom I have been 
 introduced gets through with me he walks 
 sadly away and, when he gets around the 
 corner, tells his friends that I am more 
 or less of a brass-mounted fraud. 
 
 The disappointment of these strangers 
 reminds me of that of the man from 
 
 123 
 
Podunk, who went up to Boston to hear 
 Mark Twain lecture. He got into the 
 wrong hall where, for two hours, he list- 
 ened to Rev. Joe. Cook, thinking all the 
 time that it was Twain who was speaking. 
 Then he went back to Podunk on the mid- 
 night train. Next morning a Podunker 
 met him. 
 
 "Been to Bosting, Hiram?" 
 
 "Yap." 
 
 "To hear Twain lecture?" 
 
 "Yap " 
 
 "An' did ye hear kiim?" 
 
 "Why, course I did. That's what I 
 went for." 
 
 "War he funny?" 
 
 "Wall, y-e-e-s, he war funny, but he 
 warnt so goshed darned funny. " 
 
 It is a great misfortune to get the repu- 
 tation of being funny. The unfortunate 
 creature so atflicted is to be pitied. Peo- 
 ple stand around with their mouths ajar 
 ready to laugh when he speaks, and should 
 he fail to exude scintillating gems of idi- 
 ocy at every tick of the clock they say he 
 is an overrated humbug. Even the pro- 
 fessional humorist, who makes a living by 
 restoring old jokes of the glacial epoch 
 and by blowing life into the mummied 
 dust of the jests of the hilarious past, 
 suffers much at the hands of the thought- 
 less throng that he meets in his daily 
 walks. They haul him into gilded sal- 
 oons, and, after forcing expensive refresh- 
 ments on him, try to seduce him to say 
 something funny. It would be no more 
 impertinent to ask the dentist they may 
 happen to meet at a club to entertain the 
 company by pulling a tooth, or to request 
 a broker to broke for their amusement. 
 
 Now, while I have your ear, or to be 
 exact, your eye, I wish to tell you of 
 another grievance I have. I like to tell 
 my grievances to people who cannot talk 
 back to me and tell me of bigger ones that 
 they are afflicted with. 
 
 There is another popular fallacy that 
 places me in a false light, and causes me 
 many a sleepless lunch hour. It consists 
 of a widespread belief that I possess more 
 of that moral quality called cheek than 
 usually falls to the lot of the average poor, 
 weak worm of the dust. It originated in 
 this wise: I once wrote to a Western 
 editor, and asked him to insert in his 
 "valuable and widely read journal" a 
 notice or criticism of the production, in 
 New York, of a play that I and an accom- 
 plice had written. The notice was only 
 about a column in length, and I had taken 
 the pains to write it myself. I always 
 write my own notices because you never J 
 
 124 
 
-s. 
 
 
 know the editor personally, yet I address- 
 ed him in a cordial and familiar way, just 
 as I would an equal, and I told him that 
 he was at liberty to jam the notice into 
 any vacant corner of the paper (editorial 
 page preferred), "no questions asked and 
 no money to change hands." The follow- 
 ing is what he wrote me in jeply: 
 
 'BiR:— If I had your cheek Iwould have 
 it stuffed. Tom Ochiltree claims to have 
 mpi'e cheek than any man in the United 
 States. He has probably never met you. 
 If you should ever scoot across my path 
 I would like to take you up the gmcb to 
 some quiet nook where we could compare 
 cheeks, and where I eould learn on the 
 dead quiet how you manage to keep out 
 of jaU." 
 
 Now wasn't that unkind? Ever since, 
 when that varlet needs a few lines to fill 
 out a column, he puts in something Sup- 
 posed to be "cute and cunning" about my 
 cheek and sends me a marked copy of his 
 paper. 
 
 All of this goes to show that the press 
 molds public opinion, and that, even when 
 it has a Chattel mortgage on it, it can make 
 or mar a reputation. 
 
 Well, the first section of our yachting 
 cruise is ended, the Champlain is securely 
 tied to a wooden post, and I am about to 
 say good-by to the little craft that has 
 safely carried me for almost- three months; 
 
 jJliSl has jolted all that was bilious out of 
 "my system, and under whose cabin cover 
 I have done more restful sleeping and 
 enjoyable eating than I ever did before in 
 the same length of time. When I leave 
 her I shall miss much that I had become 
 
 125 
 
accustomed to while on board. I may not 
 again for some time drink coffee out of a 
 shaving mug, nor bump my head against 
 obtrusive lockers and beams, nor eat 
 biscuits that are burned on the top and 
 have to be scalped before being eaten, 
 and I won't find salt water in my gravy; 
 neither shall I button my shirt with a 
 piece of tarred rope for many a long day 
 to come. Instead of that I shall soon 
 discard my seafaring clothes, and, in the 
 garb of civilization, mingle again with my 
 fellow-man on the front platform of a 
 horse car, and the jingle and rattle and 
 noise of city streets will take the place of 
 the sound of rippling water and moaning 
 wind on river and lake and sea. I shall 
 like the change, but I know I shall always 
 look back with pleasure to the many 
 pleasant days that we sailed on summer 
 seas. We experienced but few hardships 
 on the trip, and we met with much that 
 was very enjoyable. Of course, to have 
 to get up in the middle watches of a damp, 
 dark night, when a gale was blowing, and 
 help to haul in an anchor or push a lea 
 shore off our bows with a 50-cent boat- 
 hook was at the time considered a tough 
 experience, but time and distance have 
 mellowed its toughness, and to me it has 
 now all the seeming of an agreeable, 
 unique and interesting episode. 
 
 It is a goodly thing, isn't it, that our 
 memory retains with much more tenacity 
 our pleasant than it does our unpleasant 
 experiences. We remember the pleasures 
 and joys long after we have forgotten the 
 pains and sorrows of the past When we 
 think of our boyhood we remember the 
 glorious summer bathing in the willow 
 margined pond down by the mill, while 
 we ftrgot the going supperless to bed in 
 the cold, dark winter nights. We remem- 
 ber the joyous ramble in the woods, or up 
 the mountain side, while we forget the 
 painful sore toe and the cheerless mumps. 
 'Tis well that it is so. 
 
 Our whole cruise was a bright and 
 pleasant holiday, made so to a great 
 extent by the hospitality arid attentions 
 of the good Canadian people It was our 
 fortune to meet. 
 
 Enjoyable, too, was the writing of the 
 letter to you once a week, telling you of 
 some of the noteworthy incidents of the 
 voyage. Although you never answered 
 any of my letters I bear you no ill-will, 
 and I hope some day to have opportunity 
 to write to you again. 
 
 J. Abmoy Knox. 
 
 126 
 
PUBLISHERS' DEPARTMENT. 
 
 A SPLENDID ESTABLISHMENT. 
 
 Mr, S, H. Johnston's New Place on 
 Union Square, Netfr ITo rk— Diamonds, 
 Jewelry and Sllverirare. 
 
 There is probably no man in New York so 
 well known individually in connection with the 
 handling of diamonds, watches, jewelry and 
 silverware, as Mr. J. H. Johnston. For thirty- 
 four years he has conducted a large establish- 
 ment at the comer of the Bowery and Broome 
 street, and the customers Of that establishment 
 are to be found literally all over the world. 
 During all of these long years Mr. Johnston has 
 sustained a most honorable reputation, absolute 
 accuracy of representation in regard to the 
 goods offered being one of the fundamental and 
 never-departed-from rules of the estabhshment. 
 
 But at last " the uptown march of trade " has 
 carried Mr. Johnston along with it, and Tiffany 
 now has a Union square rival. On the opposite 
 Fifteenth street corner, where the old Bank of 
 the Metropolis used to be, Mr. Johnston has 
 opened a reaUy magnificent establishment. In 
 fact it may be considered the most beautifully 
 fitted up store in the whole city of New York, 
 and especially in this line of business. The 
 magnificent show cases extend from the floor to 
 the ceiling, and with the equally handsome 
 centre show cases, are valued at $17,000. In 
 these cases and throughout the store is dis- 
 played a rarely handsome and complete stock 
 of diamonds, watches, jewelry and silverware — 
 all offered at prices that are a veritable revela- 
 tion to Union square. 
 
 There is not a finer or more reliable stock of 
 such goods in the United States than this is. 
 When that is said all is said that can be said — 
 even though one were to print columns of lauda- 
 tion. Mr. Johnston takes personal charge of 
 this uptown palace of luxury, ably assisted by 
 his staff of salesmen. The down-town estab- 
 lishment is still continued, under the manage- 
 ment of Mr. Albert Johnston, the son of the 
 proprietor. There is no doubt but the Union 
 square estabhshment will be a great and en- 
 during success. There is certainly no element 
 lacking that is necessary to secure an arrival at 
 such a result. There is also a branch house at 
 Saratoga Springs, at 334 Broadway, open every 
 year during the season. — JVew York Star. 
 
 127 
 
Mr. Proctor's Curious Slip. 
 
 In a recent number of the Harper's 
 
 Weekly Mr. R. A. Proctor, scientist, 
 doctrinaire, and profound pundit of whist, 
 appears as the practical propagandist of 
 lotteries. Gne rises from the reading of 
 this article under a puzzling and comical 
 uncertainty whether he is the salaried 
 proctor of The Louisiana Lottery, or 
 merely the most monumental of uncon- 
 scious humorists. 
 
 His declared objection, the nominal in- 
 spiration of his homily, is to cover the sin 
 of lotteries with such obloquy, and show 
 the impossibility of winning at them in 
 such terms of demonstration, that they 
 will cease to decoy the unwary. 
 
 And what is the outcome and fruit of 
 his endeavor? He has succeeded in 
 throwing around the forbidden practice a 
 halo of seduction. He has made lottery- 
 dealing more attractive than it ever was 
 before. He has done as much to stimu- 
 late the buying of lottery tickets as the 
 winning of the capital prize by a well- 
 known citizen. He has made himself 
 more valuable to the Louisiana Lottery 
 than a regiment of avowed advocates. 
 He demonstrates the absurdity of expect- 
 ing to win, abolishes "luck "as an ele- 
 ment in the affairs of men, and then, as a 
 practical commentary on his doctrine, 
 tells us that he had made but two experi- 
 ments in lottery matters, and in each case 
 had won a " goodly prize." 
 
 It is hardly credible, except .from Mr. 
 Proctor's own lips. Listen to him : 
 
 " In passing, I may remark that if I 
 believed in luck I should certainly be 
 tempted to venture in some of these lot- 
 teries; for twice, though not from de- 
 sire for gambling gains,! have tried my 
 luck (as the foolish ones put it) in lot- 
 teries, and each time I have won a 
 goodly prize." 
 
 Thmk of arguing a man out of buying 
 a lottery ticket on the theory that there 
 was no such thing as luck, after telling 
 him you had only tried the experiment 
 twice and had won both times. He de- 
 clares that lightning has no existence, 
 and then admits that he has been struck 
 by it twice. The unconscious humor of 
 
 the thing is unique, irruptive, and 
 spheral. The avarage man actuated by 
 the average natural desire to get rich by 
 a short cut, will recollect Mr. Proctor's 
 demoralizing example and utterly forget 
 Mr. Proctor's moralizing precepts. — New 
 Orleans Times-Democrat. 
 
 128 
 
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