Pictures of Canadian Life: A Record of Actual Experiences

by J. Ewing Ritchie

The Earl of Carnarvon, who next spoke, had this advantage over the noble chairman, in that he had made a trip to Canada himself. The emigrants, he said, would encounter difficulties. They were not going to a paradise, but they would find that they had a better chance of getting a living in the New World; especially if they avoided bad company and the crowded towns, and got into the country, and underwent a certain preparatory training. As to Canada, it was a country in which a man would succeed who had health and strength and industry, and a good head and a good heart, and the fear of God to teach him that honesty was the best policy.

Sir Henry Tyler, M.P., the chairman of the Grand Trunk Railway, followed in a similar strain. The people were not crowded up in Canada as they were here. It was a grand country for honest, hard-working men and well-behaved women; but he recommended them at first to seek good honest people to work with, rather than high wages. Turning to the young women, he assured them they would find good husbands in Canada—a remark which seemed to give them much satisfaction; and he hoped that they would have large families when they married, as large families were a blessing out there.

Then came forward Mr. Clare Sewell Read, M.P., who, as a countryman, said he saw some country bumpkins in the party, and he could assure them, as he had been in Canada, its soil was unrivalled for fertility.

Lord Napier of Magdala followed, and then came the Hon. Donald A. Smith, one of the directors of the Canadian Pacific Railway, to tell how people prospered in Canada who behaved well and worked hard. The Rev. Oswald Dykes and the Rev. Burman Cassin also addressed the audience; and there were others, such as the Earl of Aberdeen, the Rev. W. Tyler, and the Rev. Styleman Herring, who were ready to say a few words had time permitted; but the train had to be packed up with passengers and luggage, and there was no time to spare.

In a few minutes they were off, amidst tears and cheers, while Mr. Jones and I, with Mr. Alexander Begg, of the Canadian Pacific Railway, and the remainder of the emigrants, followed. A little after five we arrived at Liverpool, and then Mr. Jones had to work like a horse.

Meanwhile, I, with a couple of artistic friends, who are to sketch us, all took our ease in our inn, from which comfortable quarters I felt sadly indisposed to stir; but I had to see the emigrants off, and my heart sank into my shoes as, looking at the hundreds swarming the platform, and the pyramids of luggage, and then at the Sarnia moored in mid-stream, the thought suggested itself, How on earth can they all be stowed away?—a query which, however, was soon settled, as, at a later hour, I found myself on board the Sarnia, leaving smoky Liverpool behind, and with the ship’s head turned to the sunset ‘and the baths of all the Western stars.’

The Sarnia, it may be as well to inform my readers, is one of the screw-steamers running between Quebec and Liverpool, by the Dominion Line, which line commenced its gay career in 1870. I ought to be very happy on board, since I learn, from the attentive perusal of documents lying in the cabin, that, owing to the lines in the model, the rolling of the ship is to a great extent, not destroyed, but reduced, making a considerable decrease in sea-sickness, and that in the book of rules and regulations compiled for the guidance of the Dominion Line officers, they must run no risk which might by any possibility result in accident to the ship, and that they are further requested to bear in mind that the safety of the lives and property entrusted to their care is the ruling principle that should govern them in the management of their ships. I almost fancy I must have thrown away my money in insuring my life against loss and my person against accidents. What have I to fear, if the rules and regulations of the company be observed? I am very glad, as it is, I did not insure for a larger sum, though the agent, who, of course, had his eye on the extra commission, was kind enough to suggest it were well to insure for the larger sum, in case the ship went down!—a thing not to be dreamed of.

I have consulted that oracle of our fathers—Francis Moore. In his ‘Vox Stellarum’ he tells me, to my comfort and satisfaction, that after the 25th of April the winds will be light. Francis Moore, you may tell me, is not weatherwise. Are the scientific meteorologists, with their forecasts, wiser? It is hard to say.

It is a comfort to think that the emigrants are well off for literature. The Graphic company—whose last dividend, I learn, was a good deal over a hundred per cent.—have sent a tremendous packet of Graphics. The Bible Society sent Testaments. The Religious Tract Society have placed at Mr. Jones’s disposal tracts and books. The Rev. Newman Hall has sent 250 books, while a goodly packet of the ‘Family Circle Edition’ of the Christian World will, I dare say, be in much request—quite as much as the five hundred sheets of hymns which the Earl of Aberdeen brought with him on Wednesday to St. Pancras as his contribution to the common stock. Yes, indeed, as my Welsh friends would say, the lines for us are cast in pleasant places, and we have a goodly heritage. It is to be hoped it may be so.

I never saw a more tidy lot of emigrants—some of them evidently the right class to get on. I had an amusing chat with one, who told me what inquiries he had made before he would entrust Mr. J. J. Jones with ‘Cæsar and his fortunes.’ If the emigrants are all like him, the Yankees, if there be such in Canada, will find it rather difficult to take them in. We swarm with children and babies. I fear some of us will wish, before we reach the St. Lawrence, that good King Herod was on board. Of course, these are not my sentiments. I suppose most of us were babies once—there is every reason to believe that I was; nevertheless, the most gushing mother will admit that there are times when even the sweetest of babes ceases to charm. My companions in the smoking-room the first night were, however, by no means babes. I had not been there half-an-hour before I was offered 34,000 acres of land—abounding with fish and game, and all that the carnal heart could desire—a decided bargain. I did not close with the offer. Perhaps I ought to have done so. But such earthly grandeur is beyond my dreams.