To E. A. S.:
(On the St. Lawrence),
12th Sept.
To-day has been a momentous birthday on the whole—and none the less so because I have been alone and, what is to me an infinite relief, quite unknown. I told no one about my Saguenay expedition till the last moment—and so there is nothing definite about me in the papers save that I “abruptly left St. John” (the capital of New Brunswick) and that I am to arrive in Quebec to-morrow. I sent you a card from Rivière du Loup, the northernmost township of the old Acadians, and a delightful place. I reached it early from Temiscouata (the Lake of Winding Water)—a journey of extreme interest and beauty, through a wild and as yet unsettled country. The track has only been open this summer. Before I reached its other end (the junction of the St. John river with the Madawaska) I was heartily sick of New Brunswick, with its oven-like heat, its vast monotonous forests with leagues upon leagues of dead and dying trees, and its all present forest-fires. The latter have caused widespread disaster.... Several times we were scorched by the flames, but a few yards away—and had “to rush” several places. But once in the province of Quebec, and everything changed. The fires (save small desultory ones) disappeared: the pall of smoke lightened and vanished: and the glorious September foliage made a happy contrast to the wearisome hundreds of miles of decayed and decaying firs. It was a most glorious sunset—one of the grandest I have ever seen—and the colour of the vast Laurentian Mountain range, on the north side of the St. Lawrence, superb. It was dark when we reached the mouth of the Saguenay River—said to be the gloomiest and most awe-inspiring river in the world—and began our sail of close upon a hundred miles (it can be followed by canoes for a greater length than Great Britain). The full moon came up, and the scene was grand and solemn beyond words. Fancy fifty miles of sheer mountains, one after another without a valley-break, but simply cleft ravines. The deep gloom as we slowly sailed through the noiseless shadow brooding between Cape Eternity and Cape Trinity was indescribable. We anchored for some hours in “Ha! Ha! Bay,” the famous landing place of the old discoverers. In the early morning we sailed out from Ha! Ha! Bay, and then for hours sailed down such scenery as I have never seen before and never expect to see again.... At Quebec I am first to be the guest of the well-known Dr. Stewart, and then of Mons. Le Moine at his beautiful place out near the Indian Village of Lorette and the Falls of Montmorenci—not far from the famous Plain of Abraham, where Wolfe and Montcalm fought, and an Empire lay in balance.
In New York, William was the guest of Mr. and Mrs. E. C. Stedman at 44 East 26th Street, whence he wrote to me:
“ ... So much has happened since I wrote to you from Montreal that I don’t see how I’m to tell you more than a fraction of it—particularly as I am seldom alone even for five minutes. Last week I left Montreal (after having shot the rapids, etc.) and travelled to Boston via the White Mountains, through the States of Vermont, Connecticut and Massachusetts. Boston is a beautiful place—an exceedingly fine city with lovely environs. Prof. A. S. Hardy (’Passe Rose,’ etc.) was most kind.... Cambridge and Harvard University, are also very fine. I enjoyed seeing Longfellow’s house (Miss L. still occupies it) and those of Emerson, Lowell, etc. I spent brief visits to Prof. Wright of Harvard, to Winsor the historian, etc. On Sunday afternoon I drove with A. S. H. to Belmont in Massachusetts, and spent afternoon with Howells, the novelist. He was most interesting and genial—I had the best of welcomes from the Stedmans. They are kindness personified. The house is lovely, and full of beautiful things and multitudes of books. I have already more invitations than I can accept: every one is most hospitable. I have already met Mr. Gilder, the poet, and editor of the ‘Century’; Mr. Alden of ‘Harpers’; Mr. Bowen, of the ‘Independent’; R. H. Stoddart, the ‘father’ of recent American letters; and heaven knows how many others. I have been elected honorary member of the two most exclusive clubs in N. Y., the ‘Century’ and ‘The Players,’ Next week there is to be a special meeting at the Author’s Club, and I am to be the guest of the evening....”
New York, 1:10:89.
“Can only send you a brief line by this mail. I enjoyed my visit to Mr. Alden at Metuchen in New Jersey very much. Among the new friends I care most for are a married couple called Janvier. They are true Bohemians and most delightful. He is a writer and she an artist ... and both have travelled much in Mexico. We dined together at a Cuban Café last night. He gave me his vol. of stories called ‘Colour Studies’ and she a little sketch of a Mexican haunted house—both addressed to ‘William Sharp. Recuerdo di Amistad y carimo.’”
On leaving New York he wrote to his kind host:
Oct. 8, 1889.