I have not written all this by way of complaint, or because I think our own prospects look black, for they don’t; thanks to some powerful friends and good introductions. I think we are both pretty sure of profitable work for the winter, which, of course, means also after the winter; but, because my first impressions of the country are different from what I expected them to be, and I wished for the sake of afterwards comparing them with later experiences to put them on record, and I put them in the form of a letter to you, because, being a thinker on such Subjects, you may like to grin and note how my surprises are what you would have expected. I don’t know what the people at home thought of my first letter; it must have dispelled some illusions concerning the voyage out, which they seemed to have thought we should like immensely, but we didn’t, except at the beginning and the end. The first letter we had from the Governor said, “I suppose by this time you are just about losing sight of the Irish coast, and beginning to meet the long swell of the Atlantic, and wishing your voyage was to last forty days instead of ten.” Such a wish was far from my thoughts, and the dickens a bit of the Irish coast we ever lost sight of, for we never saw it, passing it in the dark and in thick weather, and, at the time we ought to have been losing sight of it, we were tumbling about at the instigation of a nor’-wester of moderate proportions; and we never felt the delights of a long swell at all, the wind, blowing fairly hard the whole time, shifted regularly every day from nor’-west in the morning to west and sou’-west at night, and kept us jumping about like a pea on a hot plate the whole time, which, with soaking decks and cold weather, made it imperative to go below occasionally to get warmed, dried, fed, and—sea-sick sometimes, when the weather and the st—ks were worst. It was a good week before it occurred to me that I might be able to get a light for my pipe under the lee of the hurricane deck, especially if I borrowed a fusee for the purpose. However, I was sorry when the run was over after all, and I had to commence knocking about from pillar to post on shore. I am sure I must have walked from twelve to fifteen miles to-day in job hunting alone, having made six business applications at long distances apart. It has been upon one occasion exactly the same as with the Indian business. If you remember, they said, “had he been a civil engineer we could have sent him out at once;” and I called on a chap here, a C.E., called Bantry, who asked me if I knew anything about surveying; I said I did, rejoicing inwardly at the vagueness of the question, but he soon stopped generalizing, and asked had I ever done any practical surveying in fact, could I take charge of a survey-staff, to go out west or elsewhere. I said I felt certain I could do so, but to his direct question was obliged to admit that I had never had any experience. He seemed sorry; he wanted someone to take charge of a survey, but he said he could hardly employ me for that purpose, seeing I had had no practice. I think, had I possessed a theodolite, and all the other paraphanalia, I could have got him to take me on trial, but of course it was no use spending a lot of money on instruments that I might never want, just for the chance. This is the only time I have come near getting a job yet. It was riling to miss it, but I don’t see how it could have been otherwise. What would you have done? I am rather at a loss to know what to do now. I seem to have pretty well dried up Montreal, and don’t see much use sticking here for another week, and yet the man whom I have got to see at 9 a.m. to-morrow, may recommend me to half-a-dozen different places, and those again may give rise to another half-a-dozen. What’s the use of writing it all down any way? I am sitting on a very low chair at a very high table, consequently my left arm feels as though it was restraining an apparent tendency on the part of the table to set at nought the established laws of gravity. How is the old Tadpole, the wily banker, the impecunious toiler among heaps of gold? Tell him to prig a few thousand pound notes, and wrap himself up in them all but his head, that will do for the port light, and labelled “wrong side up, with care,” and get himself sent across here, then I shall have nothing to do but to chaw baccy, and wait till he comes out of jail. Have you seen my particular friend the “Dook” lately? How’s he a-getting on? And what’s he doing? And what does he want to do? which is just the difference between great expectations and little realities. By-the-bye, did you ever hear of a single ladder bucket dredger for a depth of thirty-five feet to dredge 1,200 tons an hour? The buckets are 1 cwt. 7st. capacity, and travel up at the rate of 125 feet per minute; the engines are vertical, and the connecting rods go slick on to the pinions, on which is the friction arrangement, instead of on the spur wheel. I got an introduction to some people in the Harbour Commisioners, and the above details are all I got out of them.
Now, good-bye old chap, and good-bye to the port-light too. Don’t bother to answer this, unless you have got something to say: you are sure to be busy, and I generally have my evenings pretty much to myself.
Your loving brother,
J. Seton Cockburn.
P.S.—I meant to post this in time for the English Mail on Saturday, but found, on coming here, that the post is Thursday. We are now at Eton Corner, where Henry has at last come to an anchor. Of course, I had come down with him to see the chap, and make the financial arrangements. I can’t tell you anything about them yet, as we found the chap in question had been suddenly called away, and would not be back till to-night. Hardy is his name. (I’ve found some ink). We went out to the farm this morning. It is said to be a very good one, and the fellow is worth a good deal of money. I expect I’ll have time to tell you what arrangements I have made before I mail this. Henry was delighted with the place, and was not at all disconcerted by what they told him he would have to do. I think he will get on well. There is no doubt that he understands clearly what is expected of him, and that he means to do it.
[Extra Supplement.]
Sherbrooke, Monday.—Many thanks for your letter, which I have just received; I also got one from Frank, and one from mother this morning when I arrived here. I have just settled Henry’s business, and left him to his own resources at the farm. His address is, c/o W. Hardy, Eton Corner, P.Q. Your letter and those from home were almost the first reminders I had about my birthday. I just remembered, about an hour before I got them that it was past and over. You see I, in a manner, anticipated your wishes about letting you know what I think of the country, though, on reading it over, I don’t really know whether I have talked a lot of rubbish or not. I have given you a lot of semi-political cant, when what you want to know is simply, how easy is it to make coin out here. Well, I think the answer to that is pretty easy. If a man is not ambitious, and would be content to be a common or garden farmer for the greater part of his life, and have, say a $1000 a year to settle down on when he gets old, why let him ask some to give him some land and begin. Everyone says it’s the jolliest life going, but then “everyone” is a farmer, so their opinion is no more than consistent. That is just about the state of the case at present. If a man is ordinarily careful in the choice of his land and the situation thereof, he has the best possible chance of making a comfortable living, and if he has got an agricultural soul his life will probably be a happy one. Concerning the preparatory training necessary before buying a farm, I should say there was some bosh written on the subject. Mind, I am only talking, I’m not giving deeply-studied opinions, or anything of that sort. I know too precious little about it. I’ve seen it stated constantly in books and newspapers, that “anybody” can easily get ten dollars a month, and their keep to begin upon. I say emphatically anybody can’t. Henry is to get nothing at all to start with, bar of course his board and lodgings, etc. I don’t say that I couldn’t have done better for him, but I don’t think I could, not without spending a lot of money in travelling about, and I made up my mind long ago to take the first thing that offered both for him and for myself. I have sent a short description of the people with whom he will have to live, etc., to mother, and he will, no doubt, send a full account of his commencement and first impressions. Just to give you an idea of the eagerness with which he commenced his work, I may tell you that he would not come down to the station this morning to see me off, because “there was too much to be done.” He had offered to churn the butter for Mrs. Hardy, and the boss had to go to a committee meeting of the annual fair, etc., etc. Well, it’s a good sign. I gave him all the tips I could think of, and all the advice, and I believe he has begun his work with the firm resolve of making himself valuable to old Hardy. Now I’m going to shut up, as I’ve got to write to mother. Tell the old Coke I will write him a jaw sometime. Much obliged to him for his letter.
J. Seton Cockburn.
60, Aylmer Street,
Montreal,
Wednesday, 17th Sept., ’84.