Pictures of Canadian Life: A Record of Actual Experiences

by J. Ewing Ritchie

One of our latest lady writers is very enthusiastic on the subject of Quebec. I am sorry to say I cannot share in that enthusiasm, and I was by no means disconsolate that I could not stay to attend a convivial meeting to which I was invited by a French colonist, one of our fellow-passengers. I was soon tired of its dusty and narrows streets, and its pavements all made of boards, and its priests and nuns. There are no shops to look at worth speaking of, and the idea of riding in one of the caleches was quite out of the question. Nothing more rickety in the shape of a riding machine was ever invented. It seemed to me that they were sure to turn over as soon as you turned the corner. The caleche is simply a little sledge on wheels. As a sledge I fancy it is delightful, though by no means up to the sledges I have driven on the Elbe in hard winters in days long long departed; but as a carriage, drawn by a broken-down horse, with a driver almost as wild as the original Indian, the caleche, I own, finds little favour in my eyes. Up the town there does not seem much life. There is plenty of it, however, in the shipping district, where a great deal of building is going on.

Of one thing I must complain in connection with emigration, and that is the pity the emigrants land at Quebec at all. The steamers all go up to Montreal after they have shot down their helpless crowd of emigrants on the wharf, where they have to spend a dreary day waiting to get their luggage. How much more pleasant it would be to take them right on to Montreal, which, at any rate, is the destination of ninety-nine out of a hundred at the very least. As it is, they are taken on by a special train, which starts no one knows when, and which arrives at Montreal at what hour it suits the railway authorities. In that respect, it seems to me, there is room for great improvement; but on this head I speak diffidently, as, perhaps, the steamship owners and the railway companies know their own business better than I do. The trip is a picturesque one, and can be enjoyed in these short nights better on the deck of a steamer than in a railway-car. [I am glad to hear since writing the above that this state of things will not further exist, and that every arrangement is now being made by the Canadian Pacific Railway authorities for the speedy transfer from the steamer to the train.] The more I see of matters, the clearer it seems to me that large parties of emigrants should not be sent out by themselves, but that they should be under the care of some one who knows the country and the railway officials.

I am sorry to say, as regards some of the better class of emigrants, the long delay at Quebec gave them an opportunity of getting drunk, of which they seemed gladly to have availed themselves. The future of some of these young fellows it is not difficult to predict. In a little while they will have exhausted their resources, and will return home disgusted with Canada, and swearing that it is impossible to get a living there. There was no need for them to go to an hotel at all. In the yard there was a capital shed fitted up for refreshments. I had there a plate of good ham, bread-and-butter and jam, and as much good tea as I wanted—all for a shilling. It was a boon indeed to the emigrants we had landed from the Sarnia to find such a place at their disposal.

As to myself, I need not assure you I was glad enough to find myself in a Pullman car, bound for Montreal. I shed no tears as we left Quebec far behind, and glided on under a cloudless, moonlit sky, serenaded by those Canadian nightingales, the frogs. At first I felt a little difficulty in retiring to rest. As a modest man, I was inclined to object to the presence of so many ladies, although we had been on the best of terms during our voyage out. It is true that they had their husbands with them, but nevertheless I felt uncomfortable, and vowed I would retreat to the smoking-room. However, I was over-persuaded, and lay down with the rest; though more than once that eventful night I was awoke by awful sounds, reminding me rather of the hoarse roar of the Atlantic in a storm than of the peaceful slumbers of a Pullman car.

CHAPTER IV.

AT MONTREAL, AND ON TO OTTAWA—INTERVIEWING AND INTERVIEWED.

One discovery I have made since I have been here is that Canada has its clouded skies and its rainy days, and that a Canadian spring may be quite as ungenial as an English one. Yet it is, I still see, the country for a working man. And I write this in full knowledge of the fact that here at Montreal the charitable, on whom the poor depend—for there is no poor-law in this country, and let us hope, seeing what mischief has been done by poor-laws, there may never be one—have been sorely exercised this winter how to feed the hungry, and to clothe the naked, and to find the outcast a home. But, mind you, I only recommend the place for the poor agricultural labourer or artisan; and already I find the larger portion of such who have come out with me are in full work, and are thankful that they have come, but they had to take anything that was offered. It is clear this is not the country for clerks and shop-lads, and the secretary of the Young Men’s Christian Association—which I find here to be a flourishing institution—writes:

‘Young men are coming by each steamer. Many of them are introduced to us with excellent recommendations, and have occupied good positions in England. Some have left their situations on the representation of railway and steamboat agents as to the opportunities in this country. We find it absolutely impossible to secure employment for them in many cases, business in every department has been so dull. Almost all the houses have been employing hands that they could dispense with. Reports from the West show the market glutted as bad as in Montreal.’ And I fear things have not improved since.

It is cruel to get such young men out of England. They are worse off here than they would be at home. It is curious to note, in connection with emigration, the evident desire of the educated mechanic to keep his rivals out. ‘By all means bid them stop at home,’ he cries, ‘or wages will be lower in the colonies.’ Already I have been interviewed by a working-class official here, and that is his cry. And I give it for what it may be worth, merely remarking that such illustrations as he gave in support of his views turned out to be the merest moonshine.