G. Murray.
WHEN old Winter, the king of the Arctic Circle, issues from his polar domain for his annual visit to southern latitudes, accompanied by his stalwart henchman Jack Frost, he binds tight with icy chains the great rivers and lakes, and even the mighty St. Lawrence bows to and acknowledges his power. Then the country and roads lie deep beneath the snow-king’s mantle, and man, who cannot hibernate like the bears, adopts a mode of locomotion different from those he uses in the long days of summer. The noisy wheel he replaces with the silent runner.
In all northern countries, where the snow covers the ground to any depth, the inhabitants use some kind of sleigh or sled to enable them to travel during the winter. In the Arctic zone the Laplanders and Esquimaux traverse their ice-bound land in low but comfortable sledges drawn by reindeer or dogs. Around the shores of Hudson’s Bay, and in sections north of Lake Superior, where the iron horse has not yet made his appearance, the winter vehicle in use is the “traineau,” drawn by a team of dogs. In Manitoba and the Canadian Northwest, until its annexation and settlement some years ago by the Dominion, this was the sole means of communication in winter between many of the scattered settlements; and even now, in the far north, the mails are so conveyed. In these days of high pressure, time is an object, and few would care to spend fourteen days in a sleigh when fourteen hours by rail would bring one to his destination. There are, however, yet living, old travelers who could many a tale unfold of tragic adventure over frozen field and flood—some even thrilling enough to stir the blood of the reader of sensational novels.
In those early days, when for four months in the year the sleigh afforded the only means of transportation, it was not regarded as a sport or pastime. The highways followed the windings and indentations of the lakes and rivers, and were frequently blocked with heavy snowdrifts. The ice made a shorter and more level path, and was consequently preferred as soon as it was strong enough to bear the weight of a horse and sleigh, so affording, during the colder months, a pleasant road. But toward the spring of the year, when the returning power of the sun honey-combed the ice, it made a dangerous track, and many a sleigh with its living freight has disappeared beneath the treacherous ice. Even without such tragic incidents, excitement would often be afforded by the loss of horses and sleigh, and a weary, perilsome walk to the nearest village or settlement. In those days no one thought of leaving home without his rifle, for in wood and bush lurked the ravenous wolf, and, still more to be dreaded, the Indian of those days. Happily this has all passed away, and the present generation travels by steam in comfortable cars, and the traveler has no fear of being brained by a tomahawk or losing his scalp. His sleigh-riding is limited to perhaps the next town or village, and usually combines pleasure with business.
In Dakota, Minnesota, and other northwestern States, and in Manitoba, during the months of February and March, when that American product, the “blizzard,” is on the trail, sleighing at any distance from civilization is somewhat perilous. We have a vivid recollection of a sleigh drive in the province of Manitoba, when for twenty miles we never saw the horse that was drawing our sleigh. With fearful velocity the blizzard overtook us, and in an instant the air was filled with a whirlwind of snow. Covering our faces, we left our “shaginappi” pony to follow the trail as best he could, trusting that somehow the sagacious animal would find his way to some house or settlement. After many weary hours, when hope was almost expiring, benumbed and nearly exhausted, just as the shadows of night were closing in around us, our steed suddenly drew up in front of a house, and the most gladsome sight we ever beheld was the light in the window of that little shanty. A warm, comfortable room and something to eat soon thawed us out, and after seeing that our four-footed friend was well housed, we were soon sound asleep, fagged out with our tussle. Never since have we yearned for a similar experience.
In lumbering, that great industry of Maine, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Canada, the sleigh and sled plays a very important part. When frost makes the swamps firm and snow levels the ground, the lumber-camp is in all its activity. The vast forest trees are cut and then easily drawn on sleds to the nearest lake or river, whence in spring they are floated to market.
Ever since the days when the “lily flag” of the Bourbons floated over “La Nouvelle France,” ice-trotting has been a Canadian winter pastime on the great St. Lawrence River, either at Quebec, Three Rivers or Montreal. In fact, in any of the inland villages, wherever a stretch of ice can be found, may be seen the French Canadian, seated on a sleigh after the style of a skeleton-sulky, no matter how cold or stormy it may be. He is happy if he can show the good points of his trotter in a race with a neighbor before an admiring audience of countrymen, and when not racing he will spend hours speeding his horse over the glassy track. The Canadian horse is hardy for his size and weight, unsurpassed for pluck and endurance, and usually possesses good action and temper. Many are descendants of Norman stock. Ice-trotting has always been a favorite sport at Montreal, and many of the trotters of the present day are descended from horses that have been used in this sport. Among those that made a name for themselves on the ice forty years ago was the well-known St. Lawrence.
In Canada sleighing has attained the greatest pre-eminence as a pastime, and perhaps in the whole Dominion it is nowhere so popular as in the ancient province of Quebec. Here the climate is absolutely unsurpassed for the thorough enjoyment of outdoor sports. When winter once sets in a thaw rarely occurs, with the exception of one in January, which seldom lasts longer than two or three days. Jack Frost is the ruler of the weather. Consequently, though the air may be cold, it is clear and dry and enjoyable, the roads hard and smooth, the runners glide easily and quietly, while the bells jingle merrily. All who can afford it keep some kind of a sleigh and horse, while the livery-stables in the larger towns do a thriving and profitable business. The country and city roads present a gay appearance. Every variety of turn-out is there, from the home-made “cariole” and French-Canadian pony of the habitant, to the handsome sleigh and team of the millionaire. What a revelation would a procession of all the styles of sleigh that have been in vogue since the settlement of the province afford! Or even those of the present century. There would be the little market-box, or “Berlin;” the ancient but still fashionable “cariole,” on runners so low that a chance upset does not present much danger; the trotting-sulky; the light but dashing cutter, a style more in vogue over the border than in Quebec, and dozens of fashionable equipages mounted on single or double runners and furnished with a wealth of furs that would make a Russian prince envious.
A MODERN TANDEM SLEIGH.