The Great Lone Land by W. F. Butler

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NIAGARA--They have all had their say about Niagara. From Hennipin to
Dilke, travellers have written much about this famous cataract, and yet,
put all together, they have not said much about it; description depends
so much on comparison, and comparison necessitates a something like. If
there existed another Niagara on the earth, travellers might compare this
one to that one; but as there does not exist a second Niagara, they are
generally hard up for a comparison. In the matter of roar, however,
comparisons are still open. There is so much noise in the world that
analysis of noise becomes easy. One man hears in it the sound of the
Battle of the Nile-a statement not likely to be challenged, as the
survivors of that celebrated naval action are not numerous, the only one
we ever had the pleasure of meeting having been stone-deaf. Another
writer compares the roar to the sound of a vast mill; and this
similitude, more flowery than poetical, is perhaps as good as that of the
one who was in Aboukir Bay. To leave out Niagara when you can possibly
bring it in would be as much against the stock-book of travel as to omit
the duel, the steeple-chase, or the escape from the mad bull in a
thirty-one-and-sixpenny fashionable novel. What the pyramids are to
Egypt--what Vesuvius is to Naples--what the field of Waterloo has been
for fifty years to Brussels, so is Niagara to the entire continent of
North America.

It was early in the month of September, three years prior to the time I
now write of, when I first visited this famous spot. The Niagara season
was at its height: the monster hotels were ringing with song, music, and
dance; tourists were doing the falls, and touts were doing the tourists.
Newly-married couples were conducting themselves in that demonstrative
manner characteristic of such as responded freely to the invitation
contained in their favourite nigger melody. Venders of Indian bead-work;
itinerant philosophers; camera-obscura men; imitation squaws; free and
enlightened negroes; guides to go under the cataract, who should have
been sent over it; spiritualists, phrenologists, and nigger minstrels had
made the place their own. Shoddy and petroleum were having "a high old
time of it," spending the dollar as though that "almighty article had
become the thin end of nothing whittled fine:" altogether, Niagara was a
place to be instinctively shunned.

Just four months after this time the month of January was drawing to a
close. King Frost, holding dominion over Niagara, had worked strange
wonders with the scene. Folly and ruffianism had been frozen up, shoddy
and petroleum had betaken themselves to other haunts, the bride strongly
demonstrative or weakly reciprocal had vanished, the monster hotels were
silent and deserted, the free and enlightened negro had gone back to
Buffalo, and the girls of that thriving city no longer danced, as of
yore, "under de light of de moon." Well, Niagara was worth seeing
then-and the less we say about it, perhaps, the better. "Pat," said an
American to a staring Irishman lately landed, "did you ever see such a
fall as that in the old country?" "Begarra! I niver did; but look here
now, why wouldn't it fall? what's to hinder it from falling?"

When I reached the city of Toronto, capital of the province of Ontario, I
found that the Red River Expeditionary Force had already been mustered,
previous to its start for the North-West. Making my way to the quarters
of the commander of the Expedition, I was greeted every now and again
with a "You should have been here last week; every soul wants to get on
the Expedition, and you hav'n't a chance. The whole thing is complete; we
start to-morrow." Thus I encountered those few friends who on such
occasions are as certain to offer their pithy condolences as your
neighbour at the dinner-table when you are late is sure to tell you that
the soup and fish were delicious. At last I met the commander himself.

"My good fellow, there's not a vacant berth for you," he said; "I got
your telegram, but the whole army in Canada wanted to get on the
Expedition."

"I think, sir, there is one berth still vacant," I answered.

"What is it?"

"You will want to know what they are doing in Minnesota and along the
flank of your march, and you have no one to tell you," I said.

"You are right; we do want a man out there. Look now, start for Montreal
by first train to-morrow; by to night's mail I will write to the general,
recommending your appointment. If you see him as soon as possible, it may
yet be all right."

I thanked him, said "Good-bye," and in little more than twenty-four hours
later found myself in Montreal, the commercial capital of Canada.

"Let me see," said the general next morning, when I presented myself
before him, "you sent a cable message from the South of Ireland last
month, didn't you? and you now want to get out to the West? Well, we will
require a man there, but the thing doesn't rest with me; it will have to
be referred to Ottawa; and meantime you can remain here, or with your
regiment, pending the receipt of an answer."

So I went back to my regiment to wait.

Spring breaks late over the province of Quebec-that portion of America
known to our fathers as Lower Canada, and of old to the subjects of the
Grand Monarque as the kingdom of New France. But when the young trees
begin to open their leafy lids after the long sleep of winter, they do it
quickly. The snow is not all gone before the maple-trees are all green;
the maple, that most beautiful of trees! Well has Canada made the symbol
of her new nationality that tree whose green gives the spring its
earliest freshness, whose autumn dying tints are richer than the clouds,
sunset, whose life-stream is sweeter than honey, and whose branches are
drowsy through the long summer with the scent and the hum of bee and
flower! Still the long line of the Canadas admits of a varied spring.
When the trees are green at Lake St. Clair, they are scarcely budding at
Kingston, they are leafless at Montreal, and Quebec is white with snow.
Even between Montreal and Quebec, a short night's steaming, there exists
a difference of ten days in the opening of the summer. But late as comes
the summer to Quebec, it comes in its loveliest and most enticing form,
as though it wished to atone for its long delay in banishing from such a
landscape the cold tyranny of winter. And with what loveliness does the
whole face of plain, river, lake, and mountain turn from the iron clasp
of icy winter to kiss the balmy lips of returning summer, and to welcome
his bridal gifts of sun and shower! The trees open their leafy lids to
look at the brooks and streamlets break forth into songs of
gladness--"the birch-tree," as the old Saxon said, "becomes beautiful in
its branches, and rustles sweetly in its leafy summit, moved to and fro
by the breath of heaven "--the lakes uncover their sweet faces, and their
mimic shores steal down in quiet evenings to bathe themselves in the
transparent waters--far into the depths of the great forest speeds the
glad message of returning glory, and graceful fern-and soft velvet moss,
and-white wax-like lily peep forth to cover rock and fallen tree and
wreck of last year's autumn in one great sea of foliage. There are many
landscapes which can never be painted, photographed, or described, but
which the mind carries away instinctively to look at again And again in
after-time-these are the celebrated views of the world, and they are not
easy to find. From the Queen's rampart, on the citadel of Quebec, the eye
sweeps over a greater diversity of landscape than is probably to be found
in any one spot in the universe. Blue mountain, far stretching river,
foaming cascade, the white sails of ocean ships, the black trunks of
many-sized guns, the pointed roofs, the white village nestling amidst its
fields of green, the great isle in mid-channel, the many shades of colour
from deep blue pine-wood to yellowing corn-field in what other spot on
the earth's broad bosom lie grouped together in a single glance so many
of these "things of beauty" which the eye loves to feast on and to place
in memory as joys-for ever?

I had been domiciled in Quebec for about a week, when there appeared one
morning in General Orders a paragraph commanding my presence in Montreal
to receive instructions from the military authorities relative to my
further destination. It was the long-looked-for order, and
fortune, after many frowns, seemed at length about to smile upon me. It
was on the evening of the 8th June, exactly two months after the despatch
of my cable message from the South of Ireland, that I turned my face to
the West and commenced a long journey towards the setting sun. When the
broad curves of the majestic river had shut out the rugged outline of the
citadel, and the east was growing coldly dim while the west still glowed
with the fires of sunset, I could not help feeling a thrill of exultant
thought at the prospect before me. I little knew then the limits of my
wanderings-I little thought that for many and many a day my track would
lie with almost undeviating precision towards the setting sun, that
summer would merge itself into autumn, and autumn darken into winter, and
that still the nightly bivouac would be made a little nearer to that west
whose golden gleam was suffusing sky and water.

But though all this was of course unknown, enough was still visible in
the foreground of the future to make even the swift-moving paddles seem
laggards as they beat to foam the long reaches of the darkening
Cataraqui. "We must leave matters to yourself, I think," said the
General, when I saw him for the last time in Montreal, "you will be best
judge of how to get on when you know and see the ground. I will not ask
you to visit Fort Garry, but if you find it feasible, it would be well if
you could drop down the Red River and join Wolseley before he gets to the
place. You know what I want, but how to do it, I will leave altogether to
yourself. For the rest, you can draw on us for any money you require.
Take care of those northern fellows. Good-bye, and success."

This was on the 12th June, and on the morning of the 13th I started by
the Grand Trunk Railway of Canada for the West. On that morning the Grand
Trunk Railway of Canada was in a high state of excitement. It was about
to attempt, for the first time, the despatch of a Lightning Express for
Toronto; and it was to carry from Montreal, on his way to Quebec, one of
the Royal Princes of England, whose sojourn in the Canadian capital was
drawing to a close. The Lightning Express was not attended with the
glowing success predicted for it by its originators. At some thirty or
forty miles from Montreal it came heavily to grief, owing to some
misfortune having attended the progress of a preceding train over the
rough uneven track. A delay of two hours having supervened, the Lightning
Express got into motion again, and jolted along with tolerable celerity
to Kingston. When darkness set in it worked itself up to a high pitch of
fury, and rushed along the low shores of Lake Ontario with a velocity
which promised disaster. The car in which I travelled was one belonging
to the director of the Northern Railroad of Canada, Mr. Cumberland, and
we had in it a minister of fisheries, one of education, a governor of a
province, a speaker of a house of commons, and a colonel of a
distinguished rifle regiment. Being the last car of the train, the
vibration caused by the unusual rate of speed over the very rough rails
was excessive; it was, however, consolatory to feel that any little
unpleasantness which might occur through the fact of the car leaving the
track would be attended with some sense of alleviation. The rook is said
to have thought he was paying dear for good company when he was put into
the pigeon pie, but it by no means follows that a leap from an
embankment, or an upset into a river, would be as disastrous as is
usually supposed, if taken in the society of such pillars of the state as
those I have already mentioned. Whether a speaker of a house of commons
and a governor of a large province, to say nothing of a minister of
fisheries, would tend in reality to mitigate the unpleasantness of being
"telescoped through colliding," I cannot decide, for we reached Toronto
without accident, at midnight, and I saw no more of my distinguished
fellow-travellers.

I remained long enough in the city of Toronto to provide myself with a
wardrobe suitable to the countries I was about to seek. In one of the
principal commercial streets of the flourishing capital of Ontario I
found a small tailoring establishment, at the door of which stood an
excellent representation of a colonial. The garments be longing to this
figure appeared to have been originally designed from the world-famous
pattern of the American flag, presenting above a combination of stars,
and below having a tendency to stripes. The general groundwork of the
whole rig appeared to be shoddy of an inferior-description, and a small
card attached to the figure intimated that the entire fit-out was
procurable at the very reasonable sum of ten dollars. It was impossible
to resist the fascination of this attire. While the bargain was being
transacted the tailor looked askance at the garments worn by his
customer, which, having only a few months before emanated from the
establishment of a well-known London cutter, presented a considerable
contrast to the new investment; he even ventured upon some remarks which
evidently had for their object the elucidation of the enigma, but a word
that such clothes as those worn by me were utterly un suited to the bush
repelled all further questioning-indeed, so pleased did the noor fellow
appear in a pecuniary point of view, that he insisted upon presenting me
gratis with a neck-tie of green and yellow, fully in keeping with the
other articles composing the costume. And now, while I am thus arranging
these little preliminary matters so essential to the work I was about to
engage in, let us examine for a moment the objects and scope of that
work, and settle the limits and extent of the first portion of my
journey, and sketch the route of the Expedition. It will be recollected
that the Expedition destined for the Red River of the North had started
some time before for its true base of operations, namely Fort William, on
the north-west shore of Lake Superior. The distance intervening between
Toronto and Thunder Bay is about 600 miles, 100 being by railroad
conveyance and 500 by water. The island-studded expanse of Lake Huron,
known as Georgian Bay, receives at the northern extremity the waters of
the great Lake Superior, but a difference of level amounting to upwards
of thirty feet between the broad bosoms of these two vast expanses of
fresh water has rendered necessary the construction of a canal of
considerable magnitude. This canal is situated upon American territory-a
fact which gives our friendly cousins the exclusive possession of the
great northern basin, and which enabled them at the very outset of the
Red River affair to cause annoyance and delay to the Canadian Expedition.
Poor Canada! when one looks at you along the immense length of your noble
river boundary, how vividly become apparent the evils under which your
youth has grown to manhood! Looked at from home by every succeeding
colonial minister through the particular whig, or tory spectacles of his
party, subject to violent and radical alterations of policy because of
some party vote in a Legislative Assembly 3000 miles from your nearest
coast-line, your own politicians, for years, too timid to grasp the
limits of your possible future, parties every where in your provinces,
and of every kind, except a national party; no breadth, no depth, no
earnest striving to make you great amongst the nations, each one for
himself and no-one for the country; men fighting for a sect, for a
province, for a nationality, but no one for the nation; and all this
while, close alongside, your great rival grew with giant's growth,
looking far into the future before him, cutting his cloth with
perspective ideas of what his limbs would attain to in after-time,'
digging his canals and grading, his railroads, with one eye on the
Atlantic and the other on the Pacific, spreading himself, monopolizing,
annexing, outmanoeuvring and flanking those colonial bodies who sat in
solemn state in Downing Street and wrote windy proclamations and
despatches anent boundary-lines, of which they knew next to nothing.
Macaulay laughs at poor Newcastle for his childish delight in finding out
that Cape Breton was an island, but I strongly suspect there were other
and later Newcastles whose geographical knowledge of matters American
were not a whit superior. Poor Canada! they muddled you out of Maine,
and the open harbour of Portland, out of Rouse's Point, and the command
of Lake Champlain, out of many a fair mile far away by the Rocky
Mountains. It little matters whether it was the treaty of 1783, or 1818,
or '21, or '48, or '71, the worst of every bargain, at all times, fell to
you.

I have said that the possession of the canal at the Sault St. Marie
enabled the Americans to delay the progress of the Red River Expedition.
The embargo put upon the Canadian vessels originated, however, in the
State, and not the Federal, authorities; that is to say, the State of
Michigan issued the prohibition against the passage of the steam boat,
and not the Cabinet of Washington. Finally, Washington overruled the
decision of Michigan-a feat far more feasible now than it would have been
prior to the Southern war-and the steamers were permitted to pass through
into the waters of Lake Superior. From thence to Thunder Bay was only the
steaming of four-and-twenty hours through a lake whose vast bosom is the
favourite playmate of the wild storm-king of the North. But although
full half the total distance from Toronto to the Red River had been
traversed when the Expedition reached Thunder Bay, not a twentieth of the
time nor one hundredth part of the labour and fatigue had been
accomplished. For a distance of 600 miles there stretched away to the
northwest a vast tract of rock-fringed lake, swamp, and forest; lying
spread in primeval savagery, an untravelled wilderness; the home of the
Ojibbeway, who here, entrenched amongst Nature's fastnesses, has long
called this land his own. Long before Wolfe had scaled the heights of
Abraham, before even Marlborough, and Eugene, and Villers, and V'endome,
and Villeroy had commenced to fight their giants fights in divers
portions of the low countries, some adventurous subjects of the Grand
Monarque were forcing their way, for the first time, along the northern
shores of Lake Superior, nor stopping there: away to the north-west there
dwelt wild tribes to be sought out by two classes of men-by the black
robe, who laboured for souls; by the trader, who sought for skins-and a
hard race had these two widely different pioneers who sought at that
early day these remote and friendless regions, so hard that it would
almost seem as though the great powers of good and of evil had both
despatched at this same moment, on rival errands, ambassadors to gain
dominion over these distant savages. It was a curious contest: on the one
hand, showy robes, shining beads, and maddening fire-water, on the other,
the old, old story of peace and brotherhood, of Christ and Calvary--a
contest so full of interest, so teeming with adventure, so pregnant with
the discovery of mighty rivers and great inland seas, that one would fain
ramble away into its depths; but it must not be, or else the journey I
have to travel myself would never even begin.

Vast as is the accumulation of fresh water in Lake Superior, the area of
the country which it drains is limited enough. Fifty miles from its
northern shores the rugged hills which form the backbone or "divide" of
the continent raise their barren heads, and the streams carry from thence
the vast rainfall of this region into the Bay of Hudson. Thus, when the
voyageur has paddled, tracked, poled, and carried his canoe up any of the
many rivers which rush like mountain torrents into Lake Superior from the
north, he reaches the height of land between the Atlantic Ocean and
Hudson Bay. Here, at an elevation of 1500 feet above the sea level, and
of 900 above Lake Superior, he launches his canoe upon water flowing
north and west; then he has before him hundreds of miles of quiet-lying
lake, of wildly rushing river, of rock-broken rapid, of foaming cataract,
but through it all runs ever towards the north the ocean-seeking current.
As later on we shall see many and many a mile of this wilderness--living
in it, eating in it, sleeping in it-although reaching it from a different
direction altogether from the one spoken of now, I anticipate, by
alluding to it here, only as illustrating the track of the Expedition
between Lake Superior and Red River. For myself, my route was to be
altogether a different one. I was to follow the lines of railroad which
ran-out into the frontier territories of the United States, then, leaving
the iron horse, I was to make my way to the settlements on the west shore
of Lake Superior, and from thence to work Round to the American
boundary-line at Pembina on the Red River; so far through American
territory, and with distinct and definite instructions; after that,
altogether to my own resources, but with this summary of the general's
wishes: "I will not ask you to visit Fort Garry, but however you manage
it, try and reach Wolseley-before he gets through from Lake Superior, and
let him know what these Red River men are going to do." Thus the military
Expedition under Colonel Wolseley was to work its way Across from Lake
Superior to Red River, through British territory; I was to pass round by
the United States, and, after ascertaining the likelihood of Fenian
intervention from the side of Minnesota and Dakota, endeavour to reach
Colonel Wolseley beyond Red River, with all tidings as to state of
parties and chances of fight. But as the reader has heard only a very
brief mention of the state of affairs in Red River, and as he may very
naturally be inclined to ask, What is this Expedition going to do--why
are these men sent through swamp and wilderness at all? A few explanatory
words may not be out of place, serving to make matters now and at a later
period much more intelligible. I have said in the opening chapter of this
book, that the little community, or rather a portion of the little
community, of Red River Settlement had risen in insurrection, protesting
vehemently against certain arrangements made between the Governor of
Canada and the Hon. Hudson's Bay Company relative to the cession of
territorial rights and governing powers. After forcibly expelling the
Governor of the country appointed by Canada, from the frontier station at
Pembina, the French malcontents had proceeded to other and still more
questionable proceedings. Assembling in large numbers, they had fortified
portions of the road between Pembina and Fort Garry, and had taken armed
possession of the latter place, in which large stores of provisions,
clothing, and merchandise of all descriptions had been stored by the
Hudson Bay Company. The occupation of this fort, which stands close to
the confluence of the Red and Assineboine Rivers, nearly midway between
the American boundary-line and the southern shore of Lake Winnipeg, gave
the French party the virtual command of the entire settlement. The
abundant stores of clothing and provisions were not so important as the
arms and ammunition which also fell into their hands--a battery of
nine-pound bronze guns, complete in every respect, besides several
smaller pieces of ordnance, together with large store of Enfield rifles
and old brown-bess smooth bores. The place was, in fact, abundantly
supplied with war material of every description. It is almost refreshing
to notice the ability, the energy, the determination which up to this
point had characterized all the movements of the originator and
mainspring of the movement, M. Louis Riel. One hates so much to see a
thing bungled, that even resistance, although it borders upon rebellion,
becomes respectable when it is carried out with courage, energy, and
decision.

And, in truth, up to this point in the little insurrection it is not easy
to condemn the wild Metis of the North-west--wild as the bison which he
hunted, unreclaimed as the prairies he loved so well, what knew he of
State duty or of loyalty? He knew that this land was his, and that strong
men were coming to square it into rectangular farms and to push him
farther west by the mere pressure of civilization. He had heard of
England and the English, but it was in a shadowy, vague, unsubstantial
sort of way, unaccompanied by any fixed idea of government or law. The
Company--not the Hudson Bay Company, but the Company-represented for him
all law, all power, all government. Protection he did not need-his quick
ear, his unerring eye, his untiring horse, his trading gun, gave him
that; but a market for his taurreau, for his buffalo robe, for his lynx,
fox, and wolf skins, for the produce of his summer hunt and winter trade,
he did need, and in the forts of the Company he found it. His wants were
few-a capote of blue cloth, with shining brass buttons; a cap, with beads
and tassel; a blanket; a gun, and ball and powder; a box: of matches, and
a knife, these were all he wanted, and at every fort, from the mountain
to the banks of his well-loved River Rouge, he found them, too. What were
these new people coming to do with him? Who could tell? If they meant him
fair, why did they not say so? why did they not come up and tell him what
they wanted, and what they were going to do for him, and ask him what he
wished for? But, no; they either meant to outwit him, or they held him of
so small account that it mattered little what he thought about it; and,
with all the pride of his mother's race, that idea of his being slighted
hurt him even more than the idea of his being wronged. Did not every
thing point to his disappearance under the new order of things? He had
only to look round him to verify the fact; for years before this
annexation to Canada had been carried into effect stragglers from the
east had occasionally reached Red River. It is true that these new-comers
found much to foster the worst passions of the Anglo-Saxon settler. They
found a few thousand occupants, half-farmers, half-hunters, living under
a vast commercial monopoly, which, though it practically rested upon a
basis of the most paternal kindness towards its subjects, was
theoretically hostile to all opposition. Had these men settled quietly to
the usual avocations of farming, clearing the wooded ridges, fencing the
rich expanses of prairie, covering the great swamps and plains with
herds and flocks, it is probable that all would have gone well between
the new-comers and the old proprietors. Over that great western thousand
miles of prairie there was room for all. But, no; they came to trade and
not to till, and trade on the Red River of the North was conducted upon
the most peculiar principles. There was, in fact, but one trade, and that
was the fur trade. Now, the fur trade is, for some reason or other, a
very curious description of barter. Like some mysterious chemical agency,
it pervades and permeates every thing it touches. If a man cuts off legs,
cures diseases, draws teeth, sells whiskey, cotton, wool, or any other
commodity of civilized or uncivilized life, he will be as sure to do it
with a view to furs as any doctor, dentist, or general merchant will be
sure to practise his particular calling with a view to the acquisition of
gold and silver. Thus, then, in the first instance were the new-comers
set in antagonism to the Company, and finally to the inhabitants
themselves. Let us try and be just to all parties in this little oasis of
the Western wilderness.

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