Fort Pelly to Fort Garry.

December 27th. - We had at last collected a sufficient number of dogs to draw my cariole* and three sleds laden with goods and provisions, hut these being too few for the transport of all our property, I settled that McKay and Short should wait at Fort Pelly till the arrival of more dogs enabled them to bring on the remaining baggage. Kline, in McKay's absence, was to take the place of the latter as a guide to the party, which now consisted of my old hands - McBeath, Matheson, Duncan, and Toma, with the addition of two or three men belonging to the Port and its neighbourhoods. It was late in the afternoon when we left Fort Pelly, intending no longer distance than would ensure us an early start next morning, but we marched so well as to make out eight miles before halting to encamp at the accustomed hour.

December 28th. - Nothing remarkable took place, except an unlucky accident to McBeath, who injured his foot by dropping on it an unopened bag of pemmican, weighing 90 lb., and as hard as a block of stone: as he seemed half crippled I put him into my cariole and walked all the rest of our seventeen-mile march.

December 29th. - Awakened between 3 and 4 o'clock by the jingling of bells, and other sounds of an arriving traveller. It proved to be Mr. McBeath, an officer in the Company's service, proceeding from Duck Bay to one of the western Forts.

[He was uncle to my man Morrison McBeath - they had not met for years. Till recently Mr. McBeath had been in charge of a very remote post near the Mackenzie River, having stayed (if I rightly remember) fifteen years in that desolate locality. He told me that in mid-winter, when the days are at their shortest, the sun was only visible there for a quarter of an hour, - arising suddenly above the horizon, traversing a short, low arc, then sinking into the utter night] "We breakfasted together, and at parting Mr. McBeath obligingly consented to lend us one of his dogs. He also lent me a pair of very neat light snowshoes. I at once put them on, and walked twelve miles without a halt: but this was severe work, and I was glad to get into the cariole after dinner, McBeath's foot being now nearly well.

Finding the other snowshoes too heavy, Kline made himself a smaller pair from bent willow wands, crossed with slips of leather; they were oval and perfectly flat, and seemed to be both light and strong. Our march today was about twenty-two miles.

December 30th. - 'Up by 1.15 A.M., and marched in two hours afterwards. [Contrary to the custom I always breakfasted before setting out in the morning, instead of waiting for that meal till part of the march had been accomplished, or postponing it to dinnertime at noon. This plan added much to the comfort of travelling, and seldom led to serious delay, though on the present occasion, it rather appears to have done so.]

'Walked for some time during the afternoon, but found my left heel, - sprained in the deep snow near Touchwood Hills, - growing very painful. The road ran mostly through poplar-brush, but latterly through willows and swamps. Cold, clear day. Distance of about 25 miles.'

[It got excessively cold towards evening, in proof of which I recollect one singular circumstance: - I was reading at my tent door, seated on a camp stool as close as possible to an enormous fire of logs, a good yard high at least. While so close to this blazing furnace that my cloth leggings were scorching, as usual, into holes, - though some regard for their safety regulated one's distance from the fire more than anything else, - the wind struck so cold on the side of my face, that tears kept dropping from eyes and nose upon the book before me, and each drop instantaneously froze where it fell. I fancy that the work of these small icicles may still be traced in certain marks and indentations on the pages of "Othello," the play I was reading that night.]

December 31st. - We marched at 4.30 a.m., and just before sunrise crossed Swan Lake, which has a width of about twelve miles. The ice was rough, and jolted the cariole violently: the cold was terrible. In hopes of warming myself, I got out to walk, - in a minute or two I was stopped by Taylor, the driver of my team, who began rubbing my nose, which he declared was frost-bitten.

'This was a very bleak and miserable part of the journey, but afterwards, our track led us into more genial regions, where woods of pine sparingly mingled with small larches formed a certain shelter, and though we traversed several other lakes, they were too narrow to be much affected by the keen north-easterly wind.

[How well do I remember the encampment in which we saw the old year buried and the new year born! Tall pine trees encompassed us with their rugged stems, and canopied the whole ground, save the small space that held us, with their vast spreading branches, all thickly covered with masses of the softest, purest snow. Our campfire, once more built up with fragrant pine instead of the dull poplar logs, blazed gloriously and sparkled, and threw out a delicious odour, while its light illumined the stately trees around, and endowed with pleasant looks of the home and sheltering warmth those solemn, snow-laden, mysterious forest-forms that hemmed us in so closely and so still.

Even thus, the glow of hope and the light of contentment irradiated the melancholy snow thoughts of the departing year and turned them into brightness as a welcome for the year to come.

1860 - Sunday, January 1st. - 'Our road was very rough at starting, through young pine woods full of "embarras" which jolted the cariole severely and repeatedly upset it. In the afternoon we came to Lake Winnipeg. The ice was smooth and we pushed along at a rapid pace.

'My team consists of three middle-sized Indian dogs, sharp-nosed, bushy-haired and wolfish. Chocolat, the leader, is dark red; Casse-toute, grey, shaded with black; and Fox, reddish fawn-colour. The driver is a brilliant and active man; he can run for miles behind the cariole while the dogs are galloping, encouraging them all the time with incessant volleys of abuse in a mixture of English, French, and Indian.

'(Vociferously) Fox! Fox! Ah, crapaud Fox! (Screamingly) Faux! Sacre demon! (Warningly) Fox, ye ould sinner, pren' garde: crapaud that ye aire. (Surprised) Chocolat! (Very distinctly and syllabically) Choc-o-lat, - michastim!* - Yeu-oh! yeu-oh! [to the right] - cha! cha! [to the left]. (Parenthetically) Ah, Chocolat, you weell catch it presently. (Indignantly and suddenly) Casse-toute: ah, sal-au-prix! (Shriekingly) Casse-toute!! (Contemptuously) mauvais' chien! (Despairingly - as if calling to a dog in the sky) Fox! Fox! Faux! Then a burst of unintelligible Indian rough words, followed by a hasty, furious shout to the whole team - Fox! Casse-toute! Chocolat! cre demons! - under cover of which he rushes past the cariole, shaking his whip, while the wretched dogs dart from side to side in agonies of fear, whining, squealing, and shrieking, like a drove of distracted pigs.

'The next team is drawn by a red-coloured Indian leader, in front of two large noble-looking Canadian dogs, white with yellow and black marks, short-haired but rough, resembling some of the St. Bernard mastiffs. With this team, the great trouble is to get the first start made. A driver is a man of more blows than words, and at each departure, one hears a harsh voice cry out - "Survellon, Marche! Passe-partout, Marche!" immediately answered by deep-toned yells from the cowering, crouching hounds; then comes a fearful cracking and thumping, and the poor beasts at last set off with their heavy load, howling as if their hearts would break.

'The cruelty with which dogs are treated here cannot be excused. Doubtless, they are often obstinate and provoking, and require severe floggings, - especially from a new driver, till he has brought his team into subjection, - but when one sees poor helpless animals, who are undergoing extreme labour in the trains, not merely beaten on the body with heavy lashes but systematically flogged on the head till their ears drip blood; and not simply this, but beaten with whip-handles till their jaws and noses are cut open with deep wounds, and not merely this, but cudgelled with clubs, and knelt upon and stamped upon till their howls turn to low groans of agony - this I say is enough to call down vengeance on the land.

'Worse cruelties even than these I have heard of, - I record what I have seen; and should blush to record it if I had not done my best to stop such hellish practices.

'The strange thing is, that men who are full of kindness and humanity towards one another and the rest of creation, should be as bad as the greatest ruffians in their treatment of the poor dogs - those most useful slaves who will work day and night, almost without a rest, for weeks together. But for them, there would be no means of travelling during the many months of snow, which no thaw removes till melted by the strengthened sun in April.'

[There is no after-colouring in these paragraphs, which are copied all but word for word from my journal. Yet, on looking back, my remarks seem to me too sweeping and unqualified.* The driver of the Canadian team treated his dogs with fearful brutality, but I cannot believe that the other men went nearly to such lengths as he did. My cariole driver, an excellent hand, could not have done the worst things I should have stopped him.

As far as I remember he was a good-natured fellow and knew how to make words do duty for blows. Of the remaining teams, - one was driven by a Red River man, who being new to the work began too leniently, and had to make up for it with, a harshness very foreign to his nature. I remember nothing- as to the driver of a team borrowed at Duck Bay, nor about the driver of the other Fort Pelly team. If the latter was Kline, my subsequent acquaintance with his driving convinces me that he was far from cruel to his dogs, reasonable allowance being made.

I probably rather generalized, to avoid pointing too plainly at an individual case, - but no one ought to bear another's blame, and I should indeed be sorry to subject my excellent Fort Garry men to the risk of unjust reproach. All said it remains that the dogs are treated very brutally and that even the kindest men are needlessly cruel. Not one of the drivers but made a practice of striking his dogs on the head, till I interfered, - and sometimes after that.

I happened, to hear what passed when Kline gave my message to the drivers, forbidding further cruelty. They could hardly take in the idea. "Not to beat our dogs?" - they asked in tones of astonishment. ''Beat them - yes," said Kline, "you may do that, but you are not to hammer them about the head."]

'At 3 P.M. We reached Duck Bay, on Lake Winnipeg, where the Company had just established a small post. The house has been hurriedly built of logs daubed with clay, and consists of two rooms, or rather of one room divided into two by a rude partition of boards with wide openings between their un-planed joints; but, despite the roughness of the plan, it is warm, - as all buildings of the kind seem to be, contrasting favourably with the cottages of Scotch or English labourers. The clay chimneys, moreover, never smoke, and have a famous draught, perhaps owing to a bend near the top, with which they are generally made.'

January 2nd. - 'We marched about noon and crossed over to the eastern side of the lake. There was a high north wind, which filled the air with clouds of fine powdery snow drifting before the blast, and we were glad to camp about four o'clock in a sheltered place among some poplars. Having opened a hole in the ice with our axes, we found it to be three feet thick.' [When the last layer of ice was penetrated, though only by a trifling cut, the water rushed into our funnel-shaped excavation, and instantly filled it to the brim.]

January 3rd. - 'Camped about four o'clock on the neck of land between Winnipeg's and Manitoba's lakes. The wind was very high in the morning but went down towards sunset, and our camp was unusually comfortable. 'The shores of Winnipeg's are flat and densely wooded with small poplars of the common kind. They are much indented with bays, which we traversed in a straight course, passing over the low swampy promontories in the same manner.'

January 4th. - 'Marched at five a.m., and crossed the neck of land, which seems to be about four miles wide, and rises near the centre into the hilly ground covered with rather large elm trees.

'There appear to be inlets of swamp from both lakes, which might perhaps be connected and formed into a canal if much traffic began to pass this way, - as before very long is likely enough to happen. Darkness, however, and want of time, prevented any close examination of the place.

'Boats at present pass between the two lakes by a very circuitous route, going along the Water Hen River, a stream connected with the south-east corner of Winnipeg and the north-east corner of Manitoba, by branches, each of which extends nearly due north, for several miles, till it reaches a small lake where they both terminate.

'On the neck of land, a Saulteaux Indian was put to death last year under singular circumstances. Being affected with some sort of madness he spoke to no one, and ate nothing for a month. His tribe took the idea that was a cannibal, and after wounding him severely buried him before life was extinct. Many hours afterwards the unhappy wretch was heard moving in his grave, so they dug him up and burned him to ashes.

'A few years ago a Roman Catholic priest was killed near this place by the same tribe. Persuaded by his exhortations during a previous visit, the Indians had allowed him to baptize all their children. An epidemic broke out soon afterwards, destroying most of these infants, and the superstitious savages attributed their loss to the mystic rites of the Church. Ignorant of what had happened, the priest after a while returned to his flock in the wilderness, but, instead of welcoming, these lost sheep received their shepherd with blows, and added him to the company of martyrs.

'We made a long march today, camping towards dusk near the mouth of the Crane River.

'The ice of Manitoba Lake is smoother than that of Winnipeg, which, I am told, is always the case, though there is no apparent reason for it, the shores of both being similar - low, woody, and indented with bays.

'Lake travelling, though rapid, is exceedingly disagreeable. High winds are perpetually sweeping over the immense plain of their frozen surface intensifying even moderate cold to a painful degree; the ice is uneven, crusted with snow of varying thickness, and drifted into hillocks and ridges which are constantly upsetting the cariole, - a trifling matter on shore, but extremely unpleasant here, where the hardness of the ice nearly breaks one's bones. ' This same hardness doubles the fatigue of cariole journeying, which may then be likened to sitting on a thin plank, dragged quickly over a bad granite causeway. Often were Tom Hood's lines in my mind -

'Walking or running on a frozen lake has also peculiar disadvantages. "Where the snow lies deeply the crust gives way at each step, where it is shallow or drifted away the hardness of the ice injures even the practiced voyageurs, causing swellings of the ankles and soles of the feet, and enlargement of the lower back-sinews of the legs.

'There is another annoyance in winter travelling. From what cause I know not, very slight exercise occasions profuse perspiration, which in the most momentary halt gets cold upon the skin; indeed, in high wind, the exposed side win be cold and clammy, while the rest of the body is melting with heat; - no harm, however, follow these sudden changes, which in a less healthy country would serve to kill a rhinoceros.

'At dinner-time, we met a man named Le Rond, one of the free traders who press the Company so hard in this quarter. He was travelling alone, with a lightly laden dog-sled, containing articles of barter and such furs as he had been able to secure. During summer he went with Sir Francis Sykes and his party to Turtle Mountain, where they seem to have had good sport, killing buffalo, all sorts of deer, and two brown bears.'

January 5th. - 'A severe day's journey. Getting up at 2 A.M. and breakfasting, we were off by 4, and, continuing the western side of the lake, traversed a wide bay in the face of a very high, intensely cold wind. So great was the drift that it obscured the little light afforded by the moon and stars through a cloudy atmosphere, and I became much afraid that some of the party would get lost, especially those who had walked forward an hour before the sleds started. It grieved me that the men should be exposed to such a storm where I had shelter in the cariole; but I could do nothing to help them, so putting other cares aside I strove to make myself comfortable.

'Vain task! Though I buried myself head and all in two robes and a blanket, the wind found its way through everything, and I suspect that the master, sitting still in his wraps, suffered more from cold than his men who were running against the bitter hurricane, and suffered besides under the depressing sense of his idle helplessness, while they felt the cheering influences of hardy toil.

'I hate cariole travelling. It is humiliating to be dragged about in a portable bed, like some sick woman, while the active voyageurs are maintaining their steady run for hours, - for days, - for weeks, I daresay, if you required it - for fatigue seems with them an unknown word.

'Nevertheless, what must be must, and as, from various causes, I found myself unable to run for more than a few hours at a time, I was obliged to submit to the luxurious degradation that my very soul abhorred. How different from the days, when on my good horse's back I rode rifle in hand, free and confident, equal to any man, and ready for anything!

'We reached Manitoba Fort about six o'clock and were hospitably received by Mr. Mackenzie, the officer in charge. This post is built on the western shore of the lake and consists of a small dwelling-house and some scattered cottages. The lake is very narrow here, so contracted, indeed, that its upper and lower divisions are sometimes, but improperly, treated as separate, and called by different names.

'The word Manitobah - pronounced Manitoba, with a strong accent on the last syllable - signifies "Spirit" or "Demon" Lake, a name said to originate in the existence of a small extent of never-frozen water, which is supposed to be kept open by some supernatural being. Winnipeg (as I heard it pronounced, it is spelt in many ways) means, I am told, the same as Winnipeg (the name of the far larger lake into which the Red River flows), the word in both cases signifying muddy water.

'Lakes Winnipeg and Manitoba are similar in size, their length is about 130 miles, and their general breadth is about 30 miles. When on either of these lakes, except in a single place towards the southern extremity of the latter, both the shores are visible at a time, even if you are travelling close to the side.

'The water of Manitoba is clear, that of Winnipeg muddy, and in some parts brackish. Considerable quantities of salt are manufactured at these places, and the saline influence is so great there that the water sometimes hardly freezes, and travellers are accustomed to making a long round to avoid risking a sudden plunge through the ice.'

January 6th. - 'We left the Fort at 10 A.M., after exchanging the Duck Bay train for another. It was a pleasant day; crossed over to the other side of the lake, and marched without any halt till nearly 10 pm., when we arrived at the house of Mr. James Monkman, an English half-breed, who has a small farm, and a fishery which produces the finest whitefish of the district.

'The house is small, and contains only two rooms, one - of which we expected to find empty, but unluckily it had been lately let, and was full of women and children. Mr. Monkman, however, insisted on receiving us all, and somehow or other, the whole party found accommodation.

'The night was mild, but our kind host, supposing us to be chilly, heaped piles of wood on the fire, and in a few minutes the heat became suffocating. The cottage, built of massive logs plastered with mud, and lighted by firmly fixed parchment windows, admitted no communication with the outer air, the small low-ceilinged room was occupied by four men, two women, several boys, and about half a dozen children of different ages - I found myself gasping for breath.

'We sat down to supper; my host and I in equal suffering, but neither complaining, for each supposed the heat pleasant to our the other and so we began to drink hot tea. Ere long great drops of perspiration streaming from our brows drove us pocket handkerchiefs and revealed the true state of the case - simultaneously we rose and opened the door - oh ! what a relief.'

Mr. Monkman was much interested in hearing an account of our wanderings, and in return gave me a good deal of European information gathered from newspapers I had not seen; so - apart from the short purgatory of fire - we passed a very agreeable evening, succeeded by a good night's rest, notwithstanding the crowded state of the room.

January 7th. - 'Off about 9 o'clock. The track (now along the eastern shore) runs for some distance on the ice, passes Oak Point, and finally leaves the lake at the southeast corner, a position occupied by a Roman Catholic mission house and chapel.

'Wasting no time there, I went on to a wood two miles farther on the way and halted for dinner; when, much to my surprise and displeasure, I discovered that some of the men had chosen to stop at the mission to rest and smoke in the priest's house, and it cost both time and trouble to bring them away from their comfortable quarters.' [The offenders were men hired for the job at one or other of the Forts; undisciplined fellows, careless about pleasing, though till then there had been no particular fault to find with them. I had only one day more of their services.]

'After the whole were come up, I found that the less experienced travellers were too tired or footsore to go on to White Horse Plains that night, .so leaving them to camp where they were, I set out at 6 P.M. with the cariole, and one sled, driven respectively by Taylor and Kline.

'We got to the settlement on the "Ridge" between 9 and 10, stopped a few minutes at a French half-breed's house, and then proceeded. The proper track had not been opened, so we were compelled to go many miles around.

'The distance seemed interminable. Hours followed hours, the dogs got much fatigued, and I began to feel very stiff and sore from lying so long in a jolting box, where one has hardly room to move hand or foot; but still, my men pushed on at a steady pace, and at last, at a quarter past 3 in the morning, we entered the Fort, - where tea and other hot liquids refreshed us after our sixteen hours' journey.'

[Sixteen hours of actual work I suppose, for we were eighteen hours on the way between Monkman's and White Horse Plains. Our usual dinner halt was two hours.]

Sunday, January 8th. - 'Found my men all fresh and ready. The hardy Kline had not even troubled to go to bed, preferring to amuse himself by visiting his friends.

'Shortly after starting we passed the Roman Catholic church, just as the congregation was coming out. There seemed to be about two hundred people, mostly men, and more or less of French-Canadian blood. They have one almost invariable type of dress, which, though handsome in itself, looks rather sombre in a crowd, - capots of dark blue, leggings of the same, caps either of the same or some dark fur. The only relief to this monotony is given by a scarlet, crimson, or variegated scarf around the waist, and red stripes embroidered with various coloured ribbons down the outside of the leggings. The female costume is generally dark also, and not remarkable, though with much picturesqueness about the head-dress, which is sometimes a dark shawl or blanket worn as a hood, sometimes a crimson or yellow silk handkerchief, which forms a rich contrast to the glossy black hair it partly conceals.

'The Fort of White House Plains is situated near the Assiniboine, and the settlement extends itself along the banks of that river. For twenty miles, almost without a break, small farms run outwards from the river-side into the uncultivated but grass-clad prairies. The soil seems rich, a belt of large, fine elm trees borders the course of the stream, and young poplars grow in masses here and there; the ground undulates considerably in many parts, and altogether this settlement looks warmer and more home-like than that on the Red River near Fort Garry.

'The settlers' houses are generally plain square boxes, devoid of the smallest attempt at ornament; without a chimney even, unless a short projecting iron stove-pipe may be called so. Wood is the material invariably employed, - placed horizontally in long logs about a foot square. Neither gardens nor surrounding fences are in favour, and the cottages stand all raw and bare-faced, as boulders are strewn by a flood, or meteor stones dropped from the sky.

'Near Fort Garry there are better buildings than these, but incomparably the prettiest house in the district is one lately put up by Mr. Rowand, at Sturgeon Creek. Standing on rising ground, and backed by a wood of poplars, this cottage looks southwards to the sun and commands a pleasant rural view of wooded slopes and many distant homesteads. Enclosing the principal floor, - which is raised on a low basement story, - and surrounding three sides of the house, runs a wide covered verandah, gaily painted and quaintly formed; while, above, the steepness of the shingle roof is broken by numerous dormer windows, like a flock of sheep reposing on a sunny bank. A garden, reached by steps from the verandah, and some neatly enclosed grass fields diversified with skillfully arranged transplanted trees, frame in a picture whose equal I am persuaded will not easily be found in British Central America.

'A short distance from this pretty place I met my old friend James McKay, driving by himself in a horse cariole. He begged me to take my place beside him, - determined to forward me on my road, though his lay in the opposite, direction, - then stirring up his horse he speedily brought me Fort Garry - which I reached that afternoon after an absence of nearly seven months.

Letters from home. . . . It was June when I received the last.