Upper Athabasca is, unquestionably, the most elevated part of North America. All its mountains are prodigious, and their rocky and snow-capt summits seem to lose themselves in the clouds. At this season, immense masses of snow often become loosened and roll down the mountains’ sides with a terrific noise, that resounds throughout these quiet solitudes like distant thunder—so irresistible is the velocity of their descent, that they frequently carry with them enormous fragments of rock, and force a {199} passage through the dense forests which cover the base of the mountain. At each hour, the noise of ten avalanches descending at once, breaks upon the ear; on every side we see them precipitated with a frightful rapidity.
From these mountains, the majestic river of the north, the upper branch of the Sascatshawin, the two great forks of the McKenzie, the Athabasca and Peace rivers, the Columbia, and Frazer at the west, derive the greater part of their waters.
In the neighborhood of the Miette river, we fell in with one of those poor families of Porteurs or “Itoaten,” of New Caledonia, of whom I spoke to you in a former letter; they saw us from the summit of the mountain that overlooks the valley through which we were passing, and perceiving we were whites, hastened down to meet us. They appeared overjoyed at seeing us, particularly when they discovered that I was a Black-gown; they crowded around me, and begged me to baptize them with an earnestness that affected me to tears, though I was able to grant this favor to only two of their smallest children, the others required instruction, but there was no interpreter. I exhorted them to return soon to their own country, where they {200} would find a Black-gown (Father Nobili) who would instruct them. They made the sign of the cross, recited some prayers in their own language, and sang several hymns with great apparent devotion. The condition of these people seemed very wretched; they had no clothes but a few rags and some pieces of skins, and yet, notwithstanding their extreme poverty, they laid at my feet the mountain sheep they had just killed.
The history of a poor young woman, one of their number, deserves to be recorded, as it affords a lively picture of the dangers and afflictions to which these unfortunate people are often exposed. When she was about fifteen years of age, her father, mother, and brothers, together with another family of her nation, were surprised in the wood by a party of Assiniboine warriors, and massacred without mercy. At the time of this horrid scene, the young girl was in another part of the forest with her two sisters, both younger than herself; they succeeded in concealing themselves, and thus escaped falling into the hands of the assassins. The hapless orphan wandered about the desert for two years, without meeting any human being, subsisting on roots, wild fruits, and porcupines. {201} In winter she sheltered herself in the abandoned den of a bear. The sisters left her at the end of the first year, since which they have never been heard of. At length, after three years, she was fortunately found by a good Canadian, who took her home, provided her with comfortable food and clothing, and six months after restored her to her tribe.
We resumed our journey the following day, and arrived about nightfall on the banks of the Athabaska, at the spot called the “Great Crossing.” Here we deviated from the course of that river, and entered the valley de la Fourche du Trou.[263]
As we approached the highlands the snow became much deeper. On the 1st of May, we reached the great Bature, which has all the appearance of a lake just drained of its waters. Here we pitched our tent to await the arrival of the people from Columbia, who always pass by this route on the way to Canada and York Factory. Not far from the place of our encampment, we found a new object of surprise and admiration. An immense mountain of pure ice, 1,500 feet high, enclosed between two enormous rocks. So great is the transparency of this beautiful ice, that we can easily distinguish {202} objects in it to the depth of more than six feet. One would say, by its appearance, that in some sudden and extraordinary swell of the river, immense icebergs had been forced between these rocks, and had there piled themselves on one another, so as to form this magnificent glacier. What gives some color of probability to this conjecture is, that on the other side of the glacier, there is a large lake of considerable elevation. From the base of this gigantic iceberg, the river Trou takes its rise.
The people of Columbia have just arrived. I must therefore take this present opportunity, the only one I shall have for a long time, of sending you my letters, and before closing this, permit me again to recommend myself and all my missions to your holy sacrifices and fervent prayers.[264]
Meantime, I have the honor to be, with the most sincere respect and esteem, Monseigneur, your very humble and obedient servant in Jesus Christ,
P. J. De Smet, S. J.