The sands of Nairne's own life were running out. As he looked around him he could see much to make his heart content. He was never unmindful of the singular beauty of the place. "I wish I could send you a landscape of this place," he wrote to a friend, John Clark, in 1798; "Was you here your pencil might be employed in drawing a beautiful one which this Bay affords, as the views and different objects are remarkably various and entertaining." This is, no doubt, a mild account of the beauties of a very striking scene, but the 18th century had not developed our appreciation for nature. Nairne tells of his delight in tramping through the woods, and over the mountains, with a gun on his shoulder. The increase of settlement, and the burning of the woods, had driven the wild animals farther back into the wilderness, but partridges and water fowl were still abundant. There was salmon fishing almost at his door and "Lake Nairne," the present Grand Lac, had famous trout fishing. The thick woods, which at his coming extended all round the bay, were now cleared away. Much land had been enclosed and brought under cultivation and to do this had been a laborious and expensive task. Now he had three farms of his own, each with a hundred acres of arable land and with proper buildings. There was also a smaller farm for hay and pasture. "I have been employed lately," he writes in 1798, "making paths into our woods and marking the trees in straight lines thro' tracts of pretty good land in order to encourage the young men to take lots of land." He tells how the successive ridges, representing, no doubt, different water levels in remote ages, were numbered. In the highest, Number 7, the lakes are all situated; the elevated land was generally the best but as yet settlement was chiefly in Flats 1, 2, and 3. His great aim had always been to get people on the land and he denounced obstacles put in their way. "For God's sake let them pitch away, and if they have not good titles give them better." The Manor House had become a warm and comfortable residence well finished and well furnished. In 1801 Nairne wrote to his sister, with some natural exultation, that where he had at first found an untrodden wilderness were now order, neatness, good buildings, a garden and plenty of flowers, fruits and humming birds. In the winter one might often say "O, it's cold," but means of warming oneself were always available. His wife had proved always a useful helper and was indeed a motherly, practical woman, beloved by the people. These came to pay their compliments on the first day of the year, when there was much drinking of whiskey and eating of cakes, all costing a pretty penny. There were 100 young men in the parish composing a complete company of militia. The children grew up so fast that he could not distinguish the half of them.
On the commercial side also Murray Bay was developing. In 1800 a man came through the district buying up wheat at "9 livers a Bushel," but since the population was increasing very rapidly, and the people were accustomed to eat a great deal of bread, there was not much wheat for export. The total exports of all commodities amounted in 1800 to £1500:—oil, timber, grain, oxen and a few furs being the chief items. Oil was the most important product; it came from the "porpoise" fishery. What Nairne calls a porpoise, is really the beluga, a small white whale. The fishery is an ancient industry on the St. Lawrence.[15] The creature has become timid and is now not readily caught so that the industry survives at only a few points. At Malbaie it has wholly ceased; but in the summer of 1796 sixty-two porpoises were killed at "Pointe au Pique." In the summer of 1800, which was hot and dry, no less than three hundred were "catched." Malbaie must have had bustling activity on its shores when such numbers of these huge creatures were taken in a single season. We can picture the many fires necessary for boiling the blubber. The oil of each beluga was worth £5 and the skin £1. Nairne's own share in a single year from this source of revenue was £70, but even then the industry was declining.
We have Nairne's statement of income in 1798 and it indicates simple living at Malbaie. We must remember that in addition, he had received a number of bequests which brought in a considerable income and that he had sold out of the army for £3000. Perhaps, too, 1798 was a bad year.
| "Porpoise" fishery | £20 |
| Income from four farms at £20 each | 80 |
| Profits from mills | 20 |
| —— | |
| £120 |
The rent from the land granted to the habitants was scarcely worth reckoning, as the people paid nothing until the land was productive, a condition that could apparently be postponed indefinitely. Since under the seigniorial tenure, the farmers must use the seigneur's grist mill, Nairne had his mill in operation and Fraser was building one in 1798. Nairne had also one or more mills for sawing timber. "I hope there are a great many loggs brought and to be brought to your and my saw mills," Fraser wrote in 1797, but an income of only £20 a year from the mills does not indicate any extortionate exercise of seigniorial rights.
Already some of the city people were beginning to find Murray Bay a delightful place in which to spend the summer. In 1799 Nairne writes to a friend, Richard Dobie, in Montreal, that it is the best place in the world for the recovery of strength. "You shall drink the best of wheys and breathe the purest sea air in the world and, although luxuries will be wanting, our friendship and the best things the place can afford to you, I know, will make ample amends:"—a simple standard of living that subsequent generations would do well to remember. In 1801 the manor house must have been the scene of some gaiety for there and at Malcolm Fraser's were half a score of visitors. Christine, Nairne's second daughter, who preferred Quebec to the paternal roof, had come home for a visit and other visitors were the Hon. G. Taschereau and his son, Mr. Usburn, Mr. Masson, Mrs. Langan and Mrs. Bleakley, Fraser's daughters, described as "rich ladies from Montreal," the last with three children. No doubt they drove and walked, rowed and fished, much as people from New York and Baltimore and Boston and Toronto and Montreal do still on the same scene, when they are not pursuing golf balls. The coming of people with more luxurious habits made improvements necessary and also, Nairne says, increased the expense of living—a complaint that successive generations have continued with justice to make.
With Tom and Mary Nairne absent at school in Edinburgh, the family at Murray Bay during Nairne's last days consisted of but four persons—of himself and his wife and the two daughters Magdalen and Christine. Christine, a fashionable young lady, disliked Murray Bay as a place of residence, tolerated Quebec, but preferred Scotland where she had been educated. "Christine does not like to stay at Murray Bay and Madie her sister does not like to stay anywhere else," wrote Nairne in 1800. In the manner of the eighteenth century he was extremely anxious that his children should be "genteel". Christine's Quebec friends pleased him. "I saw her dance at a ball at the Lieutenant-Governor's and she seemed at no loss for Genteel partners but does not prepare to find one for life. I am well pleased with her and do not in the least grudge her so long as she is esteemed by the best company in the place." It was not easy to find at Quebec proper accommodation for unmarried young women living away from home. Nairne writes in August, 1797, that he and Christine each paid $1.00 a day in Quebec where they lodged, although they mostly dined and drank tea abroad. "The town gentry of Quebec are vastly hospitable Civil and well-bred but no such a thing as an invitation to stay in any of their houses." At length a Mr. Stewart opened his doors. He must, Nairne wrote, be paid tactfully for the accommodation he furnishes. Things went better when later Miss Mabane, the daughter of a high official of the Government, kept Christine with her at Quebec all the winter of 1799-1800; no doubt Christine was pleased when Miss Mabane would not allow her to go to Murray Bay even for the summer. Her elder sister, Madie, appears to have been hoydenish and somewhat uncongenial to a young lady so determined to be "genteel."
In the winter time communication with the outside world was almost entirely suspended. In case of emergency it was possible indeed to pass on snow shoes by Cap Tourmente, over which there was still no road, and so reach Quebec by the north shore. But this was a severe journey to be undertaken only for grave cause. Partly frozen over, and often with great floes of ice sweeping up and down with the tide, the river was dangerous; the south shore, lying so well in sight, was really very remote. Yet news passed across the river. On February 12th, 1797, Malcolm Fraser, who was on the south shore, found some means of sending a letter to Nairne. Anxious to get word in return he planned a signal. He said that on March 6th he would go to Kamouraska, just opposite Murray Bay, and build a fire. If Nairne answered by one fire Fraser would be satisfied that nothing unusual had happened; if two fires were made he would understand that there was serious news and would wish as soon as possible to learn details. Signalling across the St. Lawrence attained a much higher development than is found in Fraser's crude plan. Philippe Aubert de Gaspé tells how the people on the south shore could read what had happened on the north shore from Cap Tourmente to Malbaie. On St. John's eve, December 26th, the season of Christmas festivities, there was a general illumination. Looking then across the river to a line of blazing fires the news was easily understood. "At Les Eboulements eleven adults have died since the autumn, three of whom were in one house, that of Dufour. All are well at the Tremblays; but at Bonneau's some one is ill. At Belairs a child is dead,"—and so on. The key is simple enough. The situation of the fire would indicate the family to which it related. A fire lighted and kept burning for a long time meant good news; when a fire burned with a half smothered flame it meant sickness; the sudden extinguishing of the fire was a sign of death; as many times as it was extinguished so many were the deaths; a large blaze meant an adult, a small one a child. Before the days of post and telegraph these signals were used winter and summer; so great an obstacle to communication was the mighty tide of the St. Lawrence.[16]