Everybody about this part of the world is French, and such French too as they talk. I have’nt caught the meaning of one word since I have been here. I forgot to say that though I began this letter on board the “Montreal” I am now writing at an Hotel in Sherbrooke. It was very funny to see the changes that took place in the attire of some of the passengers when we were nearing Quebec. People (among whom perhaps I ought to class myself) who had remained unshaved and disreputable during the voyage, in old clothes, etc., now come out of their cabins looking Bond Street mashers (bar me); they were all those who had come out for amusement and whose journies mostly finished with the voyage; the others who preserved a travel-stained appearance were all going further on, some long distances, and some short. Among the long-distance people was a doctor Marsh, who was going to Brandon, some distance beyond Winnipeg, with his family, or at least with part of it—the rest are there already. He was a nice man indeed, and gave us some very useful advice and information, including his address. He is strongly of opinion that the North West is the place for both Henry and me, but at the same time he quite agreed with me that it would be foolish to go out there in the face of the near approach of winter without the certainty of work, which would keep us going through it. He has a son on a survey staff somewhere out there, and he says he thinks I should be able to get on too. When at last we got up alongside the wharf he was of great service to us; he has been backwards and forwards several times and knows the ropes well. He took us to an exchange office where he said we should get the most value for our money, which turned out to be $4 86c., about par I believe. He and everyone else that I asked said that the idea of a premium on English money was a myth, that $4 86c. was the highest, and that only in gold; for a fiver that Dr. Marsh exchanged he only got $24 instead of $24 30c. Well, we shall see when we get to Montreal and deliver the circular notes. The landing and all the Customs business was a great nuisance, though we got through capitally. I waited quietly till the hoorooche was all over, and then went and collared the most benevolent-looking old chap to come and stir up our baggage. I had them all unstrapped and ready, and he just looked into one or two and then asked me if I had anything in them that was not my own wearing apparel, or that had not been worn. I said no (there were lots of things that hadn’t been worn, but then they were my own wearing apparel), so he chalked them all up without even desiring that Henry’s big box might be opened, which was very lucky, as it would have been a great nuisance to have to knock those plates off the keyholes. I think it is a great mistake to put them on; there is no fear of the things getting wet down in the steerage deck where they are stowed, and they may possibly cause a lot of delay going through the Customs House. Then came our first experience of Canadian Railways, not a pleasant one. We were told the train would start at 2.15, accordingly we dispensed with dinner and were on the platform at the stated time, but the train never moved till nearly five o’clock. Then the baggage chequing business turned out a great nuisance, the men went down to cheque it while I was away getting the tickets, and when I came back they had all gone away. In this democratic country they could not be put to the inconvenience of coming back again, so I had to wait about till they came to cart it up to the train. I do not mean to say there would be any of this bother in travelling about from station to station, it was only during the confusion of landing when a lot of people all wanted their things done at the same time, and the baggage all had to be brought up from the wharf, still it was an item in our first railway experiences which, coupled with the delay in starting, put me out of temper with Canadian travelling, though there is not a shadow of doubt but what the chequing system is a great deal superior to our own. However, when we did get fairly under weigh it was not so bad. It is certainly very nice to be able to get up and walk about when one gets tired of sitting still, or go and stand on the platforms outside. Then, their rules are far less strict than ours. If a man likes to jump on or off while a train is going full speed ahead he can, nobody has the least objection to his coming down on his head if he likes; or if he feels inclined to jump off and run alongside he is perfectly at liberty to do so, only the Company will not bind themselves to stop and wait for him if he can’t run fast enough. In fact, a man here is entirely his own master, and as such is just as good us anybody else. There is one thing which seems to me a great disadvantage, that is so few of the railway officials are in any uniform at all. They may have a badge, or something of that sort, but I did not see any, consequently one never knows who to ask for information about the trains, etc. When we got to Richmond last night, where we had to change for Sherbrooke, a chap told us we should start in about twenty-five minutes; the next man told us that we should not start till two or three in the morning; and while we were endeavouring to arrive at the truth somebody shouted out to know if everybody was “on board” for Sherbrooke, Portland, etc., and he told us they were going to start right away, which they did—in about half-an-hour. Next we took two hours to go the twenty-five miles between Richmond and Sherbrooke, though I will forgive them for that as we were really in a goods’ train, to which they had attached a passenger car for our convenience. We eventually got in here about twelve last night. We did not go to the Magog House as Horton recommended, as it was a good long way from the station, and, we were told, might not be open. This place, the Sherbrooke Hotel, is just opposite the station, so being very tired and not wanting any bother we came in here. We got into conversation with a man at Richmond who turned out to be an Agricultural Agent of some sort, he had been Horton’s foreman on his farm many years ago, and knew them all very well. He turned out a very decent old chap, and a Scotchman, and he was very useful to us in getting us a feed, etc., when we got here, otherwise we should have had to go supperless to bed. This morning (Tuesday), we went first thing to see Allen, he was very cordial and obliging, and withal very encouraging; he did not give vent to any decided opinions, but he thought it very possible that Mr. Hill, of whom Mr. Horton spoke, and to whom we are to be introduced to-morrow, might be able to get me work on the Canada Pacific Railway, with which he is in some way connected. I sincerely hope he may, as I should then get a free pass to the West. Wednesday.—We saw Hill this morning, he could do nothing in the way of getting us work, but he gave us a lot of names and addresses which turned out useful, among others a letter to a chap called Ibotson, a sort of emigration agent, asking him to send us round to several farms which he mentioned. We went round to a heap of people with an old chap called Kemp, who is something to do with the something Colonization Society. The worst of it was we had to hire a trap, as the distance to be covered was considerable; that cost $3, but it was the only thing to be done. Everybody assured us that nothing but a personal interview would be any use, so we cruised about the country in a very nice little buggy for five hours under the escort of old Kemp, and I must say we should have been nowhere without him. I should never have known how to conduct the business with some of the specimens we came across, not to mention that we should have been sure to have lost ourselves half-a-dozen times over, and so should not have seen half the number of people. Well, the upshot of the day’s campaign was that I think Henry stands a good chance of a place. Everyone assures me that he could not do better than go to the farm in question. It belongs to an old man called Crabtree, or something like that, I don’t know exactly how he spells himself. He is a very rough-and-tumble old fellow, but, it seems, a capital farmer, and a good honest dealing man. He has one of the best farms in the county, and is very well off, having made all his money on his farm. Henry would get his board and lodging, and most probably somewhere about $10 a month besides. Of course nothing is fixed yet; the old chap’s wife was away, and he could do nothing without consulting her, but he said he would want help during the winter, and he would not engage anyone without letting us know. He cannot, however, do anything for the next fortnight, which is a nuisance. None of the others that, we called on came to very much, so we are going up to Montreal to-night to deliver introductions and stir up the mud generally. Both Ibotson and Kemp are going to make enquiries for us here, and write to us if anything turns up. It’s very good of them, they have both taken a lot of trouble, and it’s all done for love. In fact everybody is most good-natured, and willing to do everything in their power to help us. They all say they have no doubt we shall be able to get work very soon, but it cannot be done in a day; so it seems to me, having got these two old fellows to look out for us here, we had better go and present ourselves in Montreal, and so be as it were in two places at once. Moreover, I should like to see Roland Stanley if possible before I clinch any bargain. We are perfectly certain of getting disinterested advice from him, though I see no reason whatever to doubt the policy of what I have done or the intentions of our backers. I don’t know if I have made all our doings and plans sufficiently clear. I am writing in a very rambling sort of way, but that is a fault inseparable from having to write at odd times. We are living here for about a dollar a day each, not at all bad, with three good big meals included, still it’s spending money instead of making it, so I hope it won’t last long. It’s not such a bad beginning, though, when you come to think of it, we’ve only had two clear days in the country, and Henry is in a very fair way to be settled at a really good farm. Apart from business, the drive this afternoon was delightful, the country in places quite equal to any in Devonshire, though always with something wild looking about it. In some parts of the road it looked just exactly like England, so long as we did not look too far away. Upon the hills, etc., there is always a lot of pine-wood and stuff which does not look English, but it’s all pretty; I believe you would like it immensely. Sherbrooke itself is a jolly little town, though I believe here it is considered a good big one, and a place of some importance. I think I shall have to bring this to an end now; I don’t know exactly when the mail leaves Montreal, and I don’t want to miss it through not being ready, so if I have time to add anything more it will take the form of a postcript. I don’t know the least what address to give, our movements are so uncertain. Couldn’t father write to Roland Stanley and ask him to forward the letters to us? I think, if he seems the right sort of chap, I will ask him about this when I see him, at any rate I can let him know when we leave, where we are going to, and then if any of you should have sent a letter to him he will know where to forward it to. Give my love to the Father, and Old Daddy and Muriel, and everybody else,

And believe me,

Your loving Son.
J. Seton Cockburn.

P.S. Friday.—Must post this this morning, so must look sharp. Roland Stanley was away on a fishing expedition. We saw his daughter. She said her father would probably be home on Friday or Saturday, so we decided to lie in wait for him in diggings, and to call again on Monday. I had no idea his place was so far away from Montreal—six-and-a-quarter miles by rail including the Victoria Bridge, which puts a lot on to the fare, and a good two miles by road. His name was not in the Directory, so we had to find this place by asking for it when we got to St. Lamberts. Charles Holloway also was out when we called—at his office I believe—so we are going down to the city to look for him this morning. We also called on Mrs. Fenton, but she was out, so we gave in and jacked it up for the day, as by that time it was nearly six o’clock. We had a fearful bother in finding them, as there were no numbers on the introductions, and there are about 1000 houses in Sherbrooke Street. The diggings we have got into will do very well for the time. We have taken them for a week at $5 each, board and lodging, which I think is about as cheap as we can get them anywhere in Montreal. Our address is 60, Aylmer Street, but it’s not a bit of use writing to us here, as we should be gone long before the letter reached us. I don’t suppose we shall be here much more than a week. I will write more fully what we are doing by next mail.

J. S. C.

I am not sure if I have got the leads which I got for my ink pencil. If they are in the right hand top drawer of your writing table, will you send them when you send my goggles?

Have not done anything about money yet for want of advice. It’s no use sending letters to Roland Stanley, he’s too far away from Montreal. He must wait till we get more settled. Please remember me to everybody, particularly the Miss Bruces.

60, Aylmer Street,
Montreal,

September 9th, 1884.