He Is Down Here
Trying To Hurry The Contractors Who Are To Build Their Houses And
Stables At Warren; Also To Buy Farming Implements And Lumber.
His
horses and mules he intends buying at St. Louis.
He gives a most
vivid account of all the roughing they have under gone. They are
living in a small way-side inn, nine men in one room with no
furniture. One of them managed one night to get hold of a
stretcher in lieu of a bed, and just as he was settling down to
his first beauty-sleep a carter came and told him to move on, as
the stretcher was his. He suggested that as we are to pass Warren
we should pay them a visit on our way up; that he would take up a
tent and furniture, besides provisions; but I do not think it
sounds inviting enough, as, though I do believe we should do the
community a good turn, besides the pleasure of our company, they
would have a tent and a few luxuries after our departure, instead
of feeding, as they daily do, on beans and bacon, living in a
filthy hotel and having had nothing to wash in until they bought
themselves a bucket. Last night, just after we had gone to bed, a
loud knock was made at our door, and a man asked "if we intended
getting up to-night," at which we were furious; but he persisted
in the most determined way in questioning us as to whether "it
wasn't Mrs. H - - 's room," and we had time to get more than angry
before we recognised A - - 's voice and simultaneously both jumped
out of bed to receive him, _en deshabille_. It is very nice
of him coming all this way, four hundred miles, to meet us. He
looks much the same as ever, only as brown as a berry from the
reflection of a fortnight's sun on the snow. He is wonderfully
cheery, seems glad to see us, has so many questions to ask of you
all, and swears by the healthiness of the Canadian climate and the
life they lead at the farm. We are none of us ever to be sick or
sorry again!
We have been a long drive to-day, starting at 11 o'clock, and only
back just in time to do our last packing, send off this letter,
and dine before we go on to Winnipeg at about 7 o'clock. We drove
across a bridge on the Missouri to Fort Snelldon, a miniature
Aldershot, with huts and tents, and a beautiful stretch of grass
for manoeuvres or galloping, on to the Minhaha Falls, where, we
stayed some time gazing and admiring and even walking under the
falls. The volume of water falling seemed extraordinary, but was
completely eclipsed by the falls of St. Anthony at Minneopolis,
which we saw later. The latter originally fell perpendicularly;
but to utilise them for the enormous saw-mills built at the
water's edge they have been under-planked, so that the water goes
down in a slant. We were most fascinated by the sight, and watched
the torrent from various points of view.
Minneopolis is much like other Western towns we have seen, semi-
detached houses standing in their own grounds, the grass in many
instances well kept, but utterly destitute of flowers, which one
misses so much. This place, St. Paul's, is beautifully situated,
built on both sides of the river, the banks of which are very
steep. Good-night; in twenty-four hours more we hope to be at our
destination in the far North-west. But we are not to go out
immediately to the farm, as we are arriving rather earlier than
A - - expected, and the men who have been living with him all the
winter cannot turn out before Friday to make room for us; so we
are to stay in Winnipeg for a day or two.
* * * * *
WINNIPEG, May 18th.
Here we are, and we do feel ourselves really landed in the far
North, after a most prosperous journey the whole way. We arrived
"quite on time" last night, rather an unusual thing with these
trains, particularly since the floods, when the passengers were
dependent on the steamer, we saw yesterday as we passed high and
dry on the prairie, which had to convey them from one train to
another across the floods close to St. Vincent.
O the prairie! I cannot describe to you our first impression. Its
vastness, dreariness, and loneliness is appalling. Very little is
under cultivation between this and St. Paul, so that only a house
here and there breaks the line of horizon. There are a few cotton
and aspen trees along the Red River Valley, but with that
exception the landscape for the last fifteen hours' travelling has
been like the sea on a very smooth day, without a beginning or an
end.
We were met at the station here by one of A - - 's friends, who
drove us out about a mile and a half from the town across the
Assiniboine over a suspension bridge built exactly opposite the
old Fort Garry, and somewhere close to the spot where our first
English pioneers must have landed from the river steamer some
twelve years ago to a very comfortable house belonging to another
mutual friend, a dear kind old gentleman whose wife and daughter
being away has placed the whole house at our disposal until we can
get out to the farm, which we find is sixteen miles off.
It will be very difficult to describe everything to you. To begin
with, the depot or station presented a curious appearance, such
crowds of men loafing about with apparently no other object but to
watch the new arrivals; so different to English stations where
everyone seems in a hurry either coming or going. And then the
roads we had to drive along defy description. The inches (no other
word) of mud, and the holes which nearly capsize one at every
turn.
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