Victoria, with the magnificent harbour of Esquimalt, offers far superior advantages, for the coal-mines of Vancouver Island are the only ones on the Pacific coast of North America. Victoria is but 6,053 miles from Hongkong, or about twenty-one days’ steaming; and if a railway were constructed from Halifax to some point in British Columbia, the whole distance to Southampton would be accomplished in thirty-six days—from fifteen to twenty days less than by the Overland Route viâ Suez.[22]
At the present time this subject acquires additional interest from the projected Federation of the British North American Colonies, and the uncertain condition of our relations with the Northern States of America.
The time seems to have come when the Hudson’s Bay Company, having done good service by a beneficent rule over the territories granted it, which contrasts strongly with that of the American Fur Companies, should share the fate of all the great monopolies which have fallen before it. Lord Wharncliffe has lately brought this question before the House of Lords, proposing the formation of the north-west territory into a separate colony, and inquiring whether any steps had been taken in the matter. But of course the Government had done nothing, and apparently has no intention of moving.
Millions of money and hundreds of lives have been lost in the search for a North-West Passage by Sea. Discovered at last, it has proved useless. The North-West Passage by Land is the real highway to the Pacific; and let us hope that as our countrymen gained the glory of the former brilliant achievement, valueless to commerce, so they may be the first to establish a railway across the continent of America, and reap the solid advantages which the realisation of the old dream has failed to afford.
The cacoethes scribendi is upon us, and we would fain run on through many pages, to describe our sojourn in the fair land of California, fruitful in strange scenes and curious adventures. But the reader, wearied perchance by the dull details and prosings of this last chapter, will agree with us that the book is already long enough, and we dare not gratify our wish to write more. He might ask, however, what became of our friend, Mr. O’B. That migratory gentleman, like the Wandering Jew, or the soul of the celebrated John Brown, is doubtless still “marching on.” When we returned to Victoria, after our journey to Cariboo, Mr. O’B. had departed, and his portrait is therefore wanting in the Frontispiece. He had “moved on” to San Francisco. When we arrived in that city, he had “moved on” to Melbourne, Australia. From there he has probably “moved on” to New Zealand, or again reached India, to circle round to England in due course, happy in any country free from wolves, grisly bears, and Assiniboines.
The many kindnesses we received from Sir James Douglas, and numerous other friends in Victoria, must remain undetailed, though not forgotten. We sailed in the S.S. Pacific, on the 20th of December, for San Francisco; were caught in a white squall off Neah Bay; the boiler burst; and Christmas Day came off before we reached our destination.
The glories of the Golden City; the pleasures enjoyed in the society of Mr. Booker, and the other kind members of the Union Club there; the wonders of the Big-tree Grove in the Mariposa Valley, where grow Wellingtonias (called Washingtonias in the States), upwards of 400 feet high—higher than St. Paul’s—on the stumps of which are built ball-rooms, and on the prostrate trunks bowling alleys; the beautiful ladies of “Frisco,” as the Californians playfully denominate San Francisco, and the fraternising rowdies of “Copperopolis” and Columbia City, must remain undescribed. These things, and how we dreamed through the voyage down the smooth Pacific, with the languid carelessness of lotos-eaters; how we escaped the wiles of the grass-widow,[23] and quarrelled with argumentative Northerners on board the steamer Golden City, are they not recorded in our journals?
We reached Liverpool by way of Panama and New York, on the 5th of March, 1864, and entered at once into the pleasures of a return home in the company of old friends, who welcomed us as we disembarked from the China.
LONDON:
CASSELL, PETTER, AND GALPIN, BELLE SAUVAGE WORKS,
LUDGATE HILL, E.C.