Every onward step, every hour, was bringing us more into the world’s usages. I had not been long at Spuzzem when I was invited to attend a telephone conference. On taking my place, at once I recognized the voice addressing me, although at twelve miles distance, and I had not heard it for two years. It was that of Mr. Onderdonk, giving the party a cordial invitation to make his house our home during our stay in Yale.
Under Mr. Cambie’s roof we had another delightful evening, as might be supposed from my many years pleasant intercourse with him. It is twenty years since he entered my staff on the first explorations on the Intercolonial Railway in 1863, and I am glad to say our relations have been untinged by the least unpleasantness. I cannot but express the satisfaction I felt in meeting so many of my old associates in my journey from Kamloops. I was no longer the Chief Engineer of the Railway: I was simply a wayfarer. Nevertheless I felt no little satisfaction to find the works originally planned by me so well advanced and in such good hands. Nothing could have given me more pleasure than the cordial way in which the members of my old staff received me. There is always a perfunctory mode of paying a civility which it is somewhat embarrassing not to offer, and it is generally well understood on both sides what such attentions amount to. But in the case of my old friends I was received by a hearty, natural, unmistakeable kindness, and I feel confident that it will not be unwelcome to them to learn that I was much affected by it.
It was nearly ten the next morning before we started, continuing our journey on the hand-car. The works we pass still continue very heavy. We are in the heart of the Cascades, and many of the rocky masses which rise up perpendicularly from the foaming torrent must be pierced by tunnels as the only means of passage through them.
We make our halt at Mr. Onderdonk’s gate at Yale, to meet with a hearty welcome from his family. I continue my journey some twenty miles further, but I return to Mr. Onderdonk’s house before dark, for it is Saturday night and I had accepted his kind invitation to pass the Sunday with him. We now sleep in beds in the true meaning of the word, and how we enjoy our night’s rest! We learn that there is but one church in Yale, a small wooden building of the Church of England, and we readily accept the offer to attend the service. En route Mr. and Mrs. Cambie joined us, increasing our number to nine. When we entered the building we really formed the major part of the congregation. As the service proceeded other parties arrived at irregular intervals. There were twenty-four in all, including five children. Two clergymen officiated, evidently educated men, but with “advanced” views. To me even the Lessons, the only part of the service not chanted, were far from being read in a natural tone of voice. Intoning the service may be proper enough in some circumstances, but it certainly seemed out of place in Yale. There are possibly at this time eight hundred or a thousand people, white people, Christians statistically at least, within half a mile of the spot where the church was situated, nevertheless the congregation was little more than half as large as the number assembled for worship the previous Sunday, at the invitation of Dr. Grant, in the Eagle Pass. As we walked home we saw not a few loitering about the streets, and especially around the taverns. One would think that with all the teaching which the Church of England has received since the days of Wesley, the wants of those to whom the clergy have to minister would be better understood. I asked myself could these clergymen know the character and habits of the men who have been brought together to perform the work of the railway. No class of men are so peculiar. They are not perfect in many respects. Some are sensual, brutal and self-indulgent. But they are not all of this character. If the mass of them have any trait which is at all in prominence, it is their respect for straightforward dealing and regard of what is natural. They can understand what is plain and free from pretension and affectation, but the least shade of what is artificial and strained repels them. This very conclusion was again forced upon me from the appearance of the congregation. I doubt if a single man of the six or eight hundred workmen in Yale on that Sunday were present in the Anglican Chapel, the only church open for worship. If the workmen were not attracted by the service, the merest handful of ordinary citizens were present. It was painful to observe so small an attendance. The character of the service may not have been the wholly repelling cause which existed; but I venture the remark that in my humble judgment in circumstances of this character the simpler the worship the more consideration it will obtain. What is wanted on railway works is the active, simple effort of the missionary who will seek men out in their houses and penetrate within their daily lives and conduct. Such ministers of religion bring men within their influence by the genuineness of the sympathy which they show and by an appeal to the best feelings of their listeners. Ritualism on the Fraser was obviously not a success. I am strongly of the opinion that such men as the army chaplain whom we had on board the “Polynesian” would have found a fine field in Yale, and would have attracted crowds of willing worshippers to his services.
We pass a quiet afternoon in Mr. Onderdonk’s shady verandah, around which the hop vines luxuriantly grew. In the evening, as the lights appeared in the windows, Yale had a pleasant and picturesque appearance. It is built on a bend of the river at the head of steamboat navigation, and at night, with the reflected lights in the stream, it assumes an importance which by day one would not concede to it. As a landscape the mountains are too lofty, too near, too precipitous and crowded to be remarkable for beauty. There is a total absence of all distance in the picture. One sees only a maze of rugged, towering rocks, for the most part covered with a stunted vegetation.
Monday came and with it our determination to start by the steamer for New Westminster. We gratefully said good-bye to our polished host and hostess, whose kindness reminded me of what I had heard of the hospitality of the old Knickerbocker families. During our stay at Yale it was hard to believe that we were not in some hospitable mansion on the banks of the Hudson. We take with us a dug-out canoe and a crew of Indians to paddle us on our journey when we deem it advisable to leave the boat. My purpose is to proceed by steamer to the point which on Saturday night I reached by hand-car and then take to the canoe. I will thus be enabled fully to examine the whole line in the valley of the Fraser. The steamer is by no means of little account on these waters, to judge by the passengers that she carries and the places she stops at. Our landings are frequent, to receive or discharge freight, cattle and passengers.
We reach the spot where, with my son, I go on board the canoe. We arrive at Harrison River at half-past three. I was met at this point by Mr. Brophy, also an old Intercolonial friend. Mr. Wilmot, who has hitherto kindly accompanied us, goes on shore. We ourselves continue our descent of the Fraser. The three Indians paddle at a good pace down the Nicomen Slough to a point off Sumas. It is after six and twilight is coming on, so we find our way through a cross channel to the main river. We believe that any other course would be hazardous, so we follow the stream to the point where Dr. Grant was to leave the steamer and where we expect to meet him. The Fraser is wide at this spot and the current swift but we keep the centre of the river. The Indians continue to paddle briskly. We float down the current very rapidly. The air is much warmer than we have yet experienced it, both when we were in the mountains and since we reached Kamloops. Night comes on, and although there is no moon the sky is without a cloud and the stars shine brightly, giving us enough light to guide our canoe. We still keep to the middle of the river where the stream is the strongest. About eight o’clock we see a light on the shore towards which we paddle, and as we approach we hear the well known voice of Dr. Grant.
We find supper waiting for us for which we are indebted to Mrs. Perkins, who keeps a workman’s boarding house. But we had a mile further to paddle to the engineers’ camp, where we are to find beds. They receive us as hospitably as engineers always receive men accredited to them. They insist on me taking the one stretcher they have; the rest of the party find rest on the floor.
We were up early, for although we had come sixty miles yesterday we were anxious to continue our journey. A heavy fog made it impossible to leave before nine. We paddle for an hour and a half until we reach Stave River, where we land. There is a fine view of Mount Baker, forty miles distant, when the weather is clear, but there is too much mist in the air to-day for us to see it.
We again land three miles above Maple ridge, and walk that distance over the half-constructed railway, crossing Kanaka bridge. We owed our dinner at Maple Ridge to Mrs. Sinclair’s culinary art.