Chapter II: Part 2

“The cultivator in Canada stands in very different circumstances from either the proprietor or farmer in Britain. He obtains an estate in full and perpetual property for a smaller sum than the annual rent which he would here be obliged to give for it. After paying this price, however, he must expend at least three times as much in clearing and bringing it into a state of cultivation. Even then it will not yield him rent; it will be merely a farm for him to cultivate, with the very important advantage indeed of its being wholly his own, and no landlord to pay. The taxes also are extremely light, when compared to those which press on the English farmer. But in return for these benefits, he must give to his servants considerably higher wages, and will even have no small trouble in procuring them on any terms. What is worse, he obtains for his produce much lower prices, and even these with difficulty, because the supply of grain and provisions in a region so wholly agricultural must more and more exceed the demand within the country itself. These commodities, indeed, will always find a market among the dense population of Britain, to which they are now admitted on payment of easy duties; and in point of fact, the price must be finally ruled by what they will sell for here. After paying the expense of transportation across the Atlantic, added to that of conveying them from the place of production to the ports of Montreal or Quebec, there is little prospect that the finest wheat of Upper Canada will permanently bring in this country more than 50_s._ per quarter. Deducting the duty, 5_s._—freight, _10s._—carriage from even a favourable situation in the interior, 8_s._—we have only 27_s._; or about 3_s._ 4_d._ per bushel left to the cultivator.

“Under these circumstances, it has become a prevailing opinion, and maintained by many as an indisputable maxim, that a Canadian proprietor cannot cultivate with advantage by means of hired servants, but must himself perform the full task of a common labourer. Those only are represented in the way of well-doing who have constantly in their hands the axe or the plough, whose ladies are seen milking the cows, churning, and performing the humblest menial offices. We must frankly say that, if such be the necessary lot of a settler in Canada, we cannot but concur with Captain Hall in thinking it unfit for the class now in consideration. Can it be supposed that a young man, accustomed to refined society, should renounce friends and country, and remove to a remote land, not to improve his condition, but to reduce himself to the level of a common labourer? How can he expect a fair partner, accustomed perhaps to value somewhat too highly the immunities of a refined society, to share with him so hard and humble a lot? We most readily admit that the labouring classes have within their reach the best blessings of life, and are often happier than those called their superiors. Still the desire of exemption from bodily toil, and of enjoying a portion of the conveniences and elegancies of life, is natural, and has a salutary effect in stimulating to activity and invention. The lively author of the “Backwoods,” a zealous advocate of the working system, admits the hardship of a young gentleman, employed to “chop down trees, to pile brush-heaps, split rails for fences, dressed in a coarse over-garment of hempen cloth called a logging shirt, and a Yankee straw hat flapped over his eyes.” We cannot help thinking that this ingenious lady is somewhat too severe on those of her own sex who, without her internal resources and powers of reflection, could not accommodate themselves to the hard and dreary life consequent upon this system. In short, we may observe, that if land in Canada will pay nothing but the mere manual labour put upon it, it is fitted only for the peasant settler, and can never afford an income for a person of better rank. This opinion seems confirmed by the judgment of the learned lady herself, when, after an experiment of three years, she concludes, that for a gentleman a small income is almost indispensable,—a good one desirable; this last a case not very likely to occur.

“Notwithstanding these weighty authorities, we do not hesitate to assert, that in farming on such a scale as will remunerate a person in the middling rank, his devoting himself to constant bodily labour is not only unnecessary, but decidedly injurious. It is admitted, we suppose, that, in our country, upon an extent of 150 to 200 acres, the tasks of planning, arranging, inspecting, and finding a proper market for the produce, afford very full occupation to a single individual. But in a Canadian farm, all these occupations are much more arduous and difficult. The business cannot be reduced into the same fixed routine; a greater variety of produce, both in grain and live stock, must be reared; servants, less steady, and oftener changed, require much stricter superintendance; markets are not found without more difficulty, and at a greater distance. To perform all these functions carefully and well, on a property of this extent, must, we apprehend, keep the owner’s hands very full. To attempt to combine with them the daily task of a common labourer, seems to ensure their being executed in an imperfect and slovenly manner, and consequently the whole concern greatly mismanaged. The newly-arrived emigrant is indeed told that the other is the approved mode, and that if he wishes to thrive in the country he must follow its customs. The fundamental principles of rural economy, however, cannot be changed by the interposition of the Atlantic. The original settlers in Upper Canada were mostly of the less opulent class, who could cultivate their lots only by the labour of their own hands. A few of them, who, by extraordinary exertion, have risen to some degree of wealth, retain still probably their primitive habits and maxims, and represent their success as connected with the hard personal labours which they then underwent. These are held forth as the models to be followed by the young cultivator. But a general rule cannot be founded on a few cases where peculiar activity and energy were displayed. With an average allotment of these qualities, such as we are generally entitled to expect, the union of the intellectual and directing with the manual and operative department, can rarely succeed. We are convinced that a person of competent judgment, devoting himself wholly to the former, would raise on the same ground a considerably larger produce than one who, exhausted by daily toil, should follow only in a rough way the mechanical routine observed among his neighbours. He would thus create a surplus applicable to his own profits; and we are convinced that it is only by the exertions of such a class that any improvement can be expected in the system of Canadian culture, which is admitted on all hands to be at present exceedingly defective.

“In estimating, however, the plans and views of such a settler, several circumstances must be taken into consideration, and, in particular, the situation of his property. The Canadian districts are classed under two heads. The first, called _The Bush_, comprehends those situated in the depth of the forest, where towns and markets are distant, and reached only by roads which are almost impassable. To compensate the obvious disadvantages of this locality, settlers obtain a greater chance of good land at a considerably lower rate; a party of neighbours or friends can cluster together; and they have every prospect that sooner or later the communications will be much improved, that villages will spring up in their vicinity, and their estates be thereby raised in value. These considerations may justly weigh with certain classes of emigrants, but for those now under consideration they are far overbalanced by the disadvantages. In such a position, there is much greater difficulty in procuring hired labour, while its price must be higher, because the workmen are not only fewer, but more generally aim at having land of their own. Hence the expense of clearing ground in the several districts has been stated as differing to the extent of 2_l._ an acre; and while the cost of raising the produce has thus been augmented, its price or money value is greatly diminished. Cash indeed is scarcely ever seen in the remoter parts. It may at first view seem singular that there should be abundance of commodities worth money, and yet not able to procure it; but we may observe, that gold and silver will purchase any thing in every quarter of the world, while the products of a landed estate are of value only on the spot: the merchant, therefore, may give goods produced in the same vicinity, but he cannot give money. Connected with this want is the impossibility of procuring many of the elegancies and luxuries of life, portions of which have, by the middling classes, come to be viewed in the light of necessaries. Mr. Pickering mentions that tea, when sold at Buffalo, cost 4_s._, at Port Talbot, 6_s._ per lb. Salt at the former place was 9_s._, at the latter, 1_l._ 2_s._ 6_d._ a barrel. The settler may have plenty of food and homespun cloth, but almost every other commodity will be beyond his reach. These observations are not indeed to be understood in their utmost rigour, for in every district a certain amount of money, or at least of foreign articles, may be obtained in exchange for the surplus produce. The merchant, however, in fixing the value, makes a large deduction on account of the long and difficult conveyance; besides, as he carries on trade on a small scale and without competition, he exacts high profits, and has the farmer a good deal at his mercy. Commercial transactions in all the country districts of America are usually carried on by an individual named a storekeeper, who keeps an assortment of all the commodities likely to be wanted, and receives in return the produce of the cultivator. This mode of proceeding still farther supersedes the necessity of employing cash as a medium of exchange.

“Compared to the various disadvantages now stated, the gentleman settler, who must take with him a certain amount of capital, ought not to regard even a considerable difference in the price of the land, because, as already observed, it forms the smallest part of the outlay requisite for bringing it into a productive state. With regard to the contingent expectation of a future rise in value, this can only take place upon the low original price, and therefore can never be of any very great amount. Besides, along with the general advance of the country, the settled districts, and those in the vicinity of towns, will acquire also an additional value. At all events, a rise in the land is of little importance to him, if it ceases to be his,—an issue to which a long course of heavy expenses and scanty produce is very likely to lead.

“We have thought it the more necessary to dwell upon these considerations, as they seem to have escaped a large proportion of the opulent settlers recently attracted towards Canada. Under the influence of vague and speculative hopes, they have made it their ambition to plunge into the extreme west and the heart of the bush, and seem to have imagined that the farther they placed themselves beyond every vestige of culture and civilisation, the greater advantages did they secure. A letter in 1834 states that almost all the emigrants of capital were hastening to the London District, a territory perhaps the most decidedly woodland of any in Canada. Settlers in these wilds encounter peculiar and extreme hardships, being deprived of every accommodation to which they had been accustomed; sometimes even in want of common necessaries, and in danger of starvation. At different times, pork, flour, or tea are wanting, when the weather cuts off all communication with the shore; and the ox-waggon, in travelling thence with supplies, is often so shaken that the contents are strangely mingled. Rice, sugar, currants, mustard, are jumbled together; and the next pudding perhaps proves to be seasoned with pepper, and even rappee. However, while their money lasts, they can make their way, and clear a certain portion of land, which yields in plenty the rude necessaries of life.

But they have no means to recruit their exhausted purse, or secure any supply of the comforts and elegancies to which they had been accustomed. If, in anticipation of prosperity, they have incurred any extent of pecuniary obligation, their situation becomes extremely embarrassing, and may issue in the entire loss of their property.

“Important, however, as a marketable situation appears, it ought by no means to be procured by any great sacrifice as to the quality of the land; for, as Mr. Talbot justly states, it is vain for a cultivator to be near a market, if he has little or nothing to carry to it. It has been already mentioned, that after paying the original price, a much larger sum, nearly equal in every case, must be expended in bringing the land under cultivation. Thus there is little difference between the cost of good and bad soil, while the former only, under existing disadvantages, ever can remunerate the settler. It is a grievous thing, as Mr. Shirreff observes, to incur heavy labour and expense in clearing a spot, and then find it worth little. The settler, therefore, who brings with him a certain amount of capital, practises a most wretched economy when he hesitates to pay such an original price as will secure both a good situation and good land. If a small sacrifice must be made, it should rather be on the former. A larger produce will pay for a small addition on the cost of transport, and time may remedy the one evil, but will never make a bad sale good. Some sacrifice of this kind may often be necessary; since, as Mr. Fergusson remarks, on the immediate banks of lakes and rivers it is not unfrequently light and sandy, whence arises the necessity of going somewhat into the interior in order to find the more valuable description.

“In consequence of the views now stated, it becomes a highly important question what are the market or _cash_ districts (as they are sometimes called), in contradistinction to those in the _bush_. In regard to Canada, the topographical details already given must throw important lights on the subject; and to these some general observations shall now be added. The shipping ports of Montreal or Quebec form the central points, by proximity to which the advantages of all sites in either province are to be estimated; and next to this is a location on navigable waters having a ready communication with them. The banks of the St. Lawrence between these two cities are occupied to a considerable depth inland by the French seigniories. Land, however, in the vicinity of Montreal may still be procured, having the advantages of a ready market; but from this very circumstance it cannot be purchased under a price varying from 10_l._ to 20_l._ an acre, a rate beyond the reach of most emigrants. It may be rented indeed at 10_s._ or 12_s._ and Mr. Shirreff is of opinion that farming may there be carried on with advantage; but in a country where land may be obtained in full property at so cheap a rate, the British settler is not likely to be content with this dependent tenure. His object, therefore, must be sought somewhat farther in the interior.

“The parts of the Eastern and Johnstown districts along the bank of the St. Lawrence enjoy perhaps the best situation as regards proximity to market of any in Upper Canada; and their advantage in this respect will be further improved on the completion of the canal now in progress for overcoming the obstructions in the navigation of that river. This tract, however, labours under the very serious drawback of being decidedly inferior in soil and climate to the more western territories. The former deficiency, it is true, will appear from our topographical survey to be by no means universal, the idea having been in some measure suggested by the rugged aspect of the immediate banks. Matilda and other districts appear to contain a considerable extent of fine land yet-unoccupied. The climate operates chiefly to prevent the raising of wheat so fine as to bear the cost of transportation to Europe; but this is of less moment since live stock had begun to be considered the more profitable branch. On the whole, therefore, we incline to think that settlers of capital, in their eagerness to push westward and into the bush, have bestowed too little attention on this portion of territory.

“The banks of the Ottawa on both sides as far up as Hull, and including those of its tributary the Rideau, appear to possess similar advantages. Some demand for produce is also made by the lumberers who pass to and from the upper tracts on this river. The soil and climate seem to call for nearly the same observations as have been made on the two preceding districts.

“The shores of Lake Ontario, including a space varying from ten to twenty miles inland, afford good scope for a settler of moderate capital. This territory, though not uniformly fertile, contains a large extent of excellent soil with a comparatively mild climate; and as the rigorous season is shorter, winter wheat even of fine quality may be produced. Toronto and Kingston, now considerable towns, present a ready market, through the medium too of respectable merchants, who are known to deal on liberal terms. The river Trent and the Rice Lake might perhaps be viewed as enlarging the sphere of eligible settlement somewhat beyond the limits now stated; but we could scarcely recommend to a gentleman to go far beyond Peterborough. The vicinity of the city first mentioned, and the goodness of the road called Gouge-street, may indeed carry the range a little farther in that direction, though we doubt whether it would be advisable to go to the remoter shores of Lake Simcoe. Gore district, where it passes Burlington Bay, must, we suspect, be considered as mere bush.

“Beyond Ontario, the shores of Lake Erie, even since the completion of the Welland Canal, cannot be recommended without some hesitation. The distance from Montreal becomes great, and as the goods could scarcely be conveyed without transhipment, the tolls of three canals must be paid. At all events, it is only the lands closely adjoining this great lake that appear to afford a profitable site for the more opulent settlers; for the interior of the London District, including even the banks of the Thames, must still, we suspect, be classed with the bush-territory. Mr. Shirreff found that wheat bore a very low price there, and that it was moreover difficult to be procured. The shores of Lake Huron must also be included under the same description.

“It ought, however, to be observed that these limits may be considerably modified by the great works mentioned in the commercial chapter as being contemplated for extending the communications of Upper Canada. These, unfortunately, are now at a stand for want of means; but if the plans of Lord Durham be carried into effect, we may hope to see them all accomplished on an augmented scale.

“It will be proper to consider under this view the eastern townships of Upper Canada. Their situation is peculiar, owing to the banks of the St. Lawrence and of the Richelieu being occupied by the French seigniories, having a tract of inferior ground in their rear. The townships are thus thrown much inland, and their products can be brought to market only by a land-carriage, varying from 60 to 120 miles. The roads too have hitherto been bad; but the British American Land Company have been employed in making a very good one from Port St. Francis to Sherbrooke, and in improving the others. The evil also is much mitigated by the circumstance that cattle, which form the main staple of this territory, can convey themselves to market, and, even if killed, the salted meat contains much more value in the same bulk than grain. Yet we should hesitate in advising settlers of the more opulent class to proceed further than Melbourne and Shipton, on the side of Port St. Francis, or beyond Shefford, if proceeding from Montreal. Here they will find good land, which, when the promised improvements are completed, will not be much more than 50 miles from a port on the St. Lawrence.

“A young man, who desires to form a judgment how far such a mode of life will suit him, must be warned not to carry out the ideas of rank and dignity which are connected with the possession of land in Europe. Here, according to feudal ideas, not wholly extinct, it was anciently combined with power; and still, from the large rents paid for its use, it generally confers wealth without labour—the enjoyment of splendor and luxurious ease. But in America, this species of property has never implied hereditary influence; and it yields income, in most instances, only by hard personal labour, or an active superintendence. The few wealthy men of which it can boast, have acquired their riches by acting as merchants and storekeepers; and these are, on the whole, the persons of greatest consequence in the country. But, though landed estate does not ensure those factitious distinctions, there are important advantages of which it can never be divested. It is attended with a degree of independence seldom enjoyed by the middling classes in Britain; for here, farmers, with a heavy burden of rent and taxes, which they must make good amid many uncertainties, are always liable to come under the power of their landlords. Salaried officers, too, may be exposed to insult, and even the loss of their situations, through the caprice of employers or superiors; whereas, a proprietor in the colonies, if he can draw a subsistence from his lands, and keep clear of debt, is scarcely liable to any vicissitude. He is removed, indeed, from the society of his friends; but this, unless as to occasional visits, is usually the lot of professional men even in our own country, who must accept employment wherever they can find it. Again, he can never return to reside in his native land—a privation which, to those who have spent the best part of their lives abroad, is, in a great degree, imaginary; and, aided by the improving means of communication, he is not debarred from the possibility of seeing his relations at home. In regard to society in Canada, if he has followed the advice of not going far into the bush, he will find it as good as it is usually met with in the rural parts of Britain, or even in provincial towns.

“The foregoing estimates have been made with the view of ascertaining what income may be expected from a Canadian farm, after it is cleared and placed under regular cultivation; but the momentous question—by what means and resources the emigrant is to bring it into this condition, still remains to be considered. It must not be concealed that his task will be arduous; and if he is to perform it, as is here supposed, by hired labourers, a certain capital will be requisite. 200 acres of land, of good quality, and in an eligible situation, cannot be purchased for much less than 200_l._ He must erect some kind of habitation, though at first a simple one, and have certain farm-offices, implements, and labouring stock, which will require at least 100_l._ He must also have the means of subsistence till he is able to draw it from his farm; though this, it is presumed, during his noviciate, will be managed with the strictest economy. But the hardest part of the task now remains; for the dense forest which covers his ground must be cut down before a single blade can grow upon it. This process, with the addition of fencing and sowing, is averaged at 4_l._ an acre, which, with reference to the requisite space of 150 acres, would amount to 600_l._; the remaining 50 being advantageously allowed to remain in woodland. It is true that this process may be gradual, and that the increasing produce of the improved portions will afford means for clearing the remainder; but as there is also to be paid out of it the subsistence of the emigrant, the expenses of cultivation, and the additions necessary to the stock of the enlarged farm, the improvements must be far advanced before any surplus can be expected.”

CHAP. V.

SPORTING IN CANADA.

* * * * *

The pursuit of most kinds of game in Canada does not differ sufficiently from that of other countries to make a description worth our while. That of the bear, however, is a sort of aboriginal sport, which sometimes involves rough adventures. Mr. Talbot, in his Travels, gives the following, which seems as perilous as any we can quote:—

“One of my father’s settlers, of the name of Howay, discovered the tracks of three bears on the morning of the 11th December; and, after following them for about three miles, came to the tree in which they had taken up their quarters. Having his dog, his gun, and his axe with him, he began to cut down the tree, the trunk of which was at least 16 feet in circumference. Whilst engaged in this employment, he occasionally directed his eyes upward, to see if his motions disturbed the bears in the place of their retreat. He became at length weary of acting as sentry to the prisoners, and had nearly forgotten this needful precaution, when, in the midst of his hewing, a large piece of bark struck him on the head. This aroused his attention, and, on looking again, he discovered, to his great consternation, one of the bears descending the tree in the usual manner, tail foremost. Apprehensive that he might be attacked by his black friend, which he perceived was coming down with every appearance of hostility, he laid down his axe, and, taking up his gun, resolved to discharge its contents into the body of bruin. Upon reflection, however, he desisted; for he was afraid, if he only wounded the animal, his own life would be the forfeit of his eager temerity. While he was thus deliberating, his dog perceived the bear, then only a few yards from the ground, and, by his barking, alarmed the brute so much that he ran up the tree with inconceivable swiftness. On arriving at the opening into the trunk, he turned himself about, and, looking down attentively, surveyed the dog and his master. Howay now regretted that he had not called upon some of his neighbours to assist him; but being afraid that if he should then go for any one the party would in the mean time effect their escape, he rallied his courage, and, resuming his gun, lodged a ball in the bear’s neck, which fortunately brought him lifeless to the ground. Victory generally inspires the conqueror with fresh courage, and is seldom the forerunner of caution. The conduct of Howay, however, affords an exception to a rule so generally acknowledged; for, instead of being elated by his success, and stimulated to pursue his conquest, he reflected, that, although he had been thus far fortunate, the favourable issue was to be imputed more to casualty than to any particular exertion of his own prowess, and concluded, that if he continued to fell the tree, he might in his turn become the vanquished. He, therefore, very prudently determined to go home and bring some of his neighbours to his aid. Leaving the bear at the foot of the tree he departed, and in a short time returned with two men, three dogs, and an additional axe. They soon succeeded in cutting clown the tree, which, when falling, struck against another, and broke off about the middle, at the identical spot where the beasts lodged. Stunned and confused, the affrighted animals ran so close to one of the men, that he actually put the muzzle of his gun close to its shoulder and shot two balls through its body. The other escaped unhurt; and the dogs pursued the wounded one till he compelled them to return with their flesh badly lacerated.

“By this time the winter sun had ceased to shed his refulgent beams upon that portion of the globe, and the men deemed it imprudent to follow the tracks until the succeeding morning; when Howay, accompanied by a person of the name of Nowlan, an American by birth, and of course well acquainted with the woods, followed the tracks, having previously provided themselves with a rifle, an axe, about six charges of powder and shot, and bread and meat sufficient for their dinner. This was early in the morning of Thursday, the 12th of December. About two o’clock in the afternoon they were observed by some persons crossing the river Thames, nearly seven miles from the place at which they set off. This was the only intelligence we had of them for thirteen days. After they had been absent for some time their friends concluded that they must either have perished with hunger and cold, or have been destroyed by the wounded bear. I was strongly of opinion that they had been frozen to death, for the weather was excessively cold, and they were slightly clothed, without a tinder-box and totally unprovided with any means of shielding themselves from the inclemency of the weather. I therefore assembled a large party of the settlers pertaining to the townships of London and Nassouri, and proposed that we should stock ourselves with provisions for a few days, and go in quest of the two unfortunate hunters. To this proposal they unanimously agreed; and we set off on the following morning, provided with pocket compasses and trumpets, a good supply of ammunition, and the necessary apparatus for lighting fires, taking with us some of the best dogs in the country. In the interval between their departure and ours a partial thaw had taken place, which left not the slightest layer of snow upon the ground, except in low and swampy situations. We had, therefore, no tracks for our direction, nor any idea of the course which Howay and Nowlan had taken, except what we had obtained from the persons who saw them crossing the Thames on the day of their departure. We had no very sanguine hopes of finding them; but continued for two days to explore thousands of acres of interminable forests and desolate swamps, apparently untrodden by human foot, yet without the most distant prospect of success. We returned home, having given up all expectation of seeing them again, either living or dead. There was, however, one consideration which administered a portion of comfort to our anxiety: the objects of our search were men without families—they were strangers in America. They had no parents here to mourn over their untimely fate; no wives to lament the hour when they first met, or the moment when they last parted; and no children to deplore their early orphanage, or to call in vain for their fathers’ return. In fact, they were mourned by none but unconnected neighbours.

“Thirteen days had now elapsed since the departure of the two adventurous settlers, and all hope of their return had completely vanished. On the morning of Christmas-day, as I was in the act of sending messengers to some of Howay’s most intimate acquaintance, to request them to take an inventory of his property, I was informed that he and his companion had returned a few hours before, alive, but in a most wretched condition. When I had recovered in some measure from my surprise I went to see them, for I felt anxious to hear from themselves an account of their extraordinary preservation. Never in my life did I behold such spectacles of woe, poverty, and distress. Their emaciated countenances, wild and sunken eyes, withered limbs, and tattered garments, produced such an extraordinary effect upon my imagination, that I approached them with a degree of timidity for which I was unable to account. I sat down beside them, and for some time fancied I was holding converse with the ghosts of departed spirits; nor could I entirely banish this idea from my mind during a conversation of several hours. Their preservation appeared to me as signal an interposition of Providence as any of which I had before heard; and, since it may not prove uninteresting to you, who are unacquainted with the woods and wilds of America, I shall give you a particular account of it. I consider it the more likely to interest you, because it is none of those second-hand stories which usually, as they fly from cabin to cabin, increase prodigiously, until they swell beyond the reasonable bounds of probability, and fearfully invade those illimitable regions—

‘Where human thought, like human sight,
Fails to pursue their trackless flight.’

“On the day of their departure, they pursued the bear, which took a north-western course for at least twenty miles, and at night stopped upon his track. With great difficulty they lit a fire, having contrived to produce a light by the application of a piece of dry linen to the pan of their gun whilst flashing it. Thus, before a good fire, they spent the first night, which was exceedingly cold, both supperless and sleepless.

“In the morning they continued the chase, as soon as they had eaten a small piece of bread, the crumbs or fragments of their dinner on the preceding day. This was equally divided between themselves and their dog. About noon, when they had travelled on the track, through all its windings and doublings, for at least twenty miles, they were unable to distinguish the north from the south, and of course considered themselves lost in the boundless immensity of interminable forests. They resolved to pursue the bear no longer, conscious that it would lead them still further into the wilderness, from whence they apprehended they could not without difficulty extricate themselves, for the snow was disappearing fast, and the rain continuing to increase. They now recollected, that, in the early part of the day, they had crossed over the track of another bear, which they fancied would lead them to the settlements. This they unwisely resolved to follow, consoling themselves with the thought, that, if it should not conduct them to the abodes of man, it might lead them to the bear’s retreat; and that if they should succeed in killing him in a spot even remote from any settlement, his flesh would afford them nourishment, and his skin a more comfortable couch than the snow-covered deserts on which they had bivouacked the preceding night. Hope, which—though it often bids desponding thoughts depart, and sometimes cheers us in the darkest hour—is too frequently the cause of our expecting where expectation is vain, and disappointment ruinous, had, in the present instance, nearly precipitated its unfortunate votaries into the vortex of irretrievable misery. They followed on the track, until the snow completely disappeared, and the sky became so dreadfully overcast, that they were compelled to relinquish all ideas of hunting, and to think only of escaping from solitude and starvation. They were by this time on the banks of a small rivulet, the course of which they resolved to pursue, expecting that it would eventually lead them to the Thames, into which they calculated, as a matter of undoubted certainty, it emptied itself. On the banks of this rivulet they passed the second night, but were not able to get any sleep. It rained incessantly, and they suffered much from their exposed situation, for they were only partially covered with a few strips of barks. The wolves howled around them, and the tempest “fiercely blew.” The trees bent their proud crests even with the ground; and many, torn up by the roots through the violence of the wind, fell to rise no more, near the very spot on which our travellers vainly sought repose.

“On the third day they continued their journey down the brook, which, growing wider and wider, inclined them to think it was the head of some extensive river, and they hoped it would prove to be that of the Thames. The violence of the storm began to subside about noon, but without any abatement of the cold, or cessation of the rain, which continued to fall during the whole of the day. A little before sunset they fired at a partridge, but unfortunately missed it. Three charges of powder and shot were now all that remained. Still hope, with its sustaining influence, prevented their hearts from sinking within them, and still did they expect a speedy termination of their toils and sufferings. But another joyless night found them waking in all its watches, and another sunless morning saluted them,—the victims of despair.

“On the fourth day, they felt excessively hungry and weak; their thirst also was insatiable, being compelled every five or six minutes to drink. In the afternoon, their hunger increased to such a degree, that they could have eaten any thing except human flesh. Sixty hours had now elapsed without their having tasted food of any kind, and the appalling idea of suffering by starvation for the first time obtruded itself. Before the close of the day, however, they succeeded in shooting a partridge, one-half of which they imprudently ate as their supper, and feasted on the remainder at breakfast the ensuing morning,—thus fulfilling the scriptural injunction in a sense in which it was not conveyed, “Take no thought for the morrow.” They declared their hunger was no more appeased by eating this bird, than it would have been, at a more fortunate period of their lives, by swallowing a cherry! Little more than one charge of powder was now left; and this they resolved to preserve for lighting fires, knowing, as the frost had again set in, that if they were exposed for a single night to the weather, without the protection of a fire, they must inevitably perish.

“The fifth night proved extremely cold, and Nowlan perceived, in the morning, that his feet were badly frozen. Pitiable as their situation was before this heart-rending event, it then became still more wretched. This unfortunate man had now to endure a complication of unprecedented sufferings. To the imperative hankerings of hunger, which he could not satisfy, a continual thirst, which he could not appease, a violent fever, which seemed not to abate, and the “pelting of the pitiless storm,” from which he had no shelter, there was added a species of torment the most excruciating that human nature is doomed to suffer. Until this deplorable event, they had travelled at least fifty miles a day, walking, or, as they expressed it, running from before sunrise until after sunset. They were now unable to perform more than half their accustomed journey, and even that with the utmost difficulty.

“On the afternoon of the sixth day, the sun appeared for a few moments, and convinced them that they were not on the banks of the Thames. The knowledge of this gave them much uneasiness, from a conviction which it impressed on their minds, that they were on the banks of a river which might lead them to the desolate and uninhabited shores of Lake Huron or Lake St. Claire. Still they preferred following its course, hoping to discover some Indian settlement, which they could have no expectation of finding if they departed from its margin. Immediately after the sun had disappeared they discovered a boat on the opposite side of the river, and, a little further down, a canoe. The appearance of these vessels induced them to think that a new settlement could not be far distant; but, when they had travelled several miles further, and had not met with any other traces of inhabitants, they concluded that the vessels had been driven down the river by the ice during the late thaw, and had been stopped at the point where they were first noticed. They were just about to cut down some timber for the night, when they observed a stack of hay a few perches before them, and on their side of the river. The hay appeared to have been mowed on the flats, or shallows, where it grows spontaneously beneath the gloomy shades of the overhanging forest. This circumstance, when coupled with their recent discovery of the boat and canoe, convinced them that they were in the immediate neighbourhood of some settlement. The hay-stack afforded them a comfortable asylum for the night, and appeared to them the most enviable bed on which they had ever reclined.

“On the morning of the seventh day, they rose much refreshed, having enjoyed, for the first time since they left home, a few hours of sound sleep. They were confirmed afresh, by the incident of the stack, in their resolution to keep close to the river, being elated with the idea that it would certainly lead them to some inhabited place. But their dog, the faithful companion of their dangers and partaker in their sufferings, was that morning unable to proceed any farther. When he attempted to follow them, he staggered a few paces, and then fell, but had not power to rise again. The hunger of the men had by this time increased to such a degree, that they could have eaten the most loathsome food; yet they desisted from killing the dog;—they left him to die a lingering death rather than imbrue their hands in the blood of a fellow-sufferer. Scarcely had they proceeded a mile beyond the hay-stack, when they were intercepted by an impassable swamp, which compelled them to leave the direction of the river. Difficulties seemed to surround them on every hand, and success appeared to smile on them for a moment but to add to their other sufferings the pangs of blighted hope and bitter disappointment. They were compelled to wander once more into the pathless desert, with very faint expectations of regaining the river.

“They walked a considerable distance on the eighth day; and at four o’clock on the ninth discerned the tracks of two men and a dog. They now imagined the long-wished for settlement at hand. With renewed spirit and alacrity, therefore, they pushed onward, indulging by the way the pleasing reflection, that the issue of the newly-discovered track would ere long terminate their woes, and bring them to enjoy once more the unspeakable pleasure of human society. Judge, then, what must have been their feelings, when, towards evening, they were brought to the very spot on which they had lain five nights before! Hope now no longer shed her delusive rays into their hearts; and they neither had a thought, nor felt a desire, to prolong a miserable existence. They sat down, therefore, without making a fire, and formed a resolution that night to end both their miseries and their lives. The tears trickled down their haggard cheeks, as they gazed upon each other’s altered countenance; and the chief dread which both felt was, that the one should die before his companion, and leave the survivor to expire unpitied and unseen. Another reflection added poignancy to their sufferings; and that was, the idea of being devoured, after death, by the ravenous monsters of the wilderness. Howay, however, with some degree of fortitude endeavoured to compose himself, trusting that, ’though, after his skin, wolves should destroy his mortal body, yet in his flesh should he see God; whom he should see for himself, and his eyes should behold, and not another.’ But Nowlan, though sixty-four winters had furrowed his cheeks, had very little notion of a future state,—his perishable body alone engrossed his attention. Educated, or rather reared, in this land of impiety and infidelity, his ideas of the Deity and of his attributes were little calculated to elevate his views from the miseries of this world to the felicities of another and a better. He had scarcely ever heard the sound of the gospel, and knew nothing of its offers of mercy. In this world he had no longer any interest; and about the eternal concerns of the next he was wholly ignorant, and seemed utterly unconcerned. How deplorable the situation of such a being! Better for him had he never been born! With bright and well-founded prospects of a blissful immortality, a man may rejoice in the midst of tribulations, if possible still more acute; but, without these powerful consolations in a dying hour, he must sink in despair beneath the accumulated weight of misery and remorse.

“After indulging in the gloomiest reflections for nearly an hour,—during which time they both declared, that if a tree had then been in the act of falling on them, they would not have made any exertion to escape from its destructive stroke,—they began to look upon it as their duty to employ the means which Providence had placed within their reach for the preservation of that life which He who gave possessed the sole right of taking away; and they resolved once more to light a fire. This with the utmost difficulty they accomplished, for they were so much debilitated as to be scarcely able to exert themselves in collecting a sufficient quantity of fuel. As they consumed the last grain of their powder in this operation, they became susceptible but of one emotion,—that of indescribable horror, at the idea of being compelled, ere another night should elapse, to pay the debt of nature in a manner the most abhorrent to their feelings. They now conversed freely, but in a melancholy strain, on the method in which it was most likely that the frost would accomplish their destruction; and agreed in the opinion, that it would first attack the extremities of their bodies, and gradually proceed up towards the vitals, until their hearts’-blood should become congealed to ice. After this discourse they lay down, almost unmindful of the past and careless about the future, endeavouring to resign themselves to the fate which awaited them, whatever that might be.

“On the morning of the ninth day of their deplorable wanderings, they arose in a state of perfect apathy, and began to traverse the same lands which they had so reluctantly trodden six days before. In the evening they arrived at the hay-stack, where they left the dog. They found him still living, but unable to get upon his feet. He was reduced to a mere skeleton, and appeared to be in the agonies of death. The desire of life once more took its seat in their hearts, and they resolved to seek diligently for some sort of food. Their appetites were now so unconquerably ravenous, that they stripped the bark off an elm tree, and devoured large quantities of its inner rind. Scarcely had they eaten it, however, when they became exceedingly delirious, and were forced to lie down among the hay, where they remained until morning in an agony of despair.

By daylight, on the tenth morning, they were much better, and would have arisen, but, recollecting that they now possessed no materials for lighting a fire, they resolved to roll themselves up in the hay again, and quietly await the hour of dissolution, whenever it should arrive. Their resolution had but just been formed, when they heard the joyful sound of a cow-bell, which seemed to proceed from the opposite shore of the river. They arose immediately, and, on looking over the water, perceived to their infinite satisfaction a log-house recently erected, but yet without any appearance of inhabitants. For some time they felt inclined to doubt the evidence of their senses, and to consider the log-house as a creature of their disturbed imaginations. They recollected passing that way before without observing any building; but, on calling to mind the circumstance of seeing the boat and the canoe, they were convinced that all was reality—delightful, heart-cheering reality! They, therefore, resolved, by some means or other, to ford the river; and walking with feeble steps but bounding hearts along the bank, they soon discovered a crossing place. On arriving at the opposite shore, they were met by a white man and two Indians, who took them to the house of one Townsend, with whom they were well acquainted, and from whom they experienced every mark of attention which their wretched condition required. The heart of sensibility, if conversant with affliction, may form some estimate of their feelings at that moment. Every tender emotion, of which the soul of unlettered man is susceptible, may be supposed to have been in full exercise at that exhilarating interview. And if a single feeling had then any marked preponderance over another, it must have been that of gratitude—boundless, unspeakable gratitude, to the protecting power of an Almighty and gracious Deliverer.

“A few months previous to this event, Townsend had discovered a salt-spring on the banks of the river Sauble, and was at this time preparing to commence a manufactory of that article at a distance of nearly twenty miles from any human habitation. This embryo salt-manufactory was the building which Howay and Nowlan discovered after they heard the ringing of the cow-bell. It was a fortunate circumstance for them; for if this spot had been uninhabited, as it was a short time before, they must unquestionably have breathed their last on the banks of that unexplored river, which flows into Lake Huron at a point which is nearly 100 miles from any settlement. They were only thirty miles from the lake when interrupted by the swamp, in avoiding which they had inadvertently wandered back into the woods; and, on discovering their own tracks, returned unconsciously to the place where they had lain five nights before—a catastrophe, which, at the time, they lamented as a dire misfortune, but which afterwards, as you have seen, was the cause of their final deliverance.

“At Townsend’s house they were fifty miles from home, every yard of which they had to travel through the wilderness, but not without the aid of a blazed line to direct them. Nowlan’s feet were by this time in a very bad condition; and as he could not procure at that lonely dwelling the materials necessary to prevent mortification, which he was apprehensive would very soon take place, he and his companion set off early on the following morning. Mrs. Townsend kindly furnished them with provisions, and every thing necessary for their journey; and on the eve of the thirteenth day after their departure from the Talbot Settlement, they had once more the happiness of enjoying the comforts of their own firesides.—So much for the enviable pleasures of the American bear-chase!”

We add to this interesting account a few remarks on bears from a clever writer on Natural History.