ere 7 eranreerain —————a SSI re n= Etc Ir 2 - s/y3 ees UNIV OF ILLINOIS GIFT OF HARRISON E. CUNNINGHAM | Ou esas Q44C The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN fees NOTICE JUN e 31998, renew aii Library Mer : The Minimum Fee for each Lost Book lis $50.00 L161—O-1096 J . ek tes bie a oF Photographed and colored by ‘Fred Armbrister A CHARMING VIEW OF LAKE LOUISE Under the slanting sun, rose and purple shadows darken the bright emerald of the water. BEAUTIFUL CANADA BY VERNON QUINN Author of “Beautiful America’ and “Beautiful Mexico” WITH SIXTY-FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY | MCMXXV Copyright, 1925, by FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America To CYAN VA DUA “Lui ya longtemps que je taime, Jamais je ne toublierat. yt + y ute ae 7 2 i Lowe id ‘ Pe xy a ae Wi iy ay i A i “i Me tae , +h » is A A a ae H 7 da | aah ab ; 4 i, j } f a | ad 4 TAn0 ‘ of ' t ' " ; Y rf , rit Ni i ’ i ‘ ; i , ai Le | « MPO aDD when ny Bar AS ate Pr Ae hd - iy, : We aA ‘i i vig Menai Gy, in MN hihi UR Sa As a4 ens , we ub Lo Fi FOREWORD Voltaire called Canada ‘“‘a patch of snow— inhabited by barbarians, bears and beavers.’’ While few people are now so ill-informed, there are still many who do not know what a beautiful country Canada truly is. This volume covers the entire Dominion; but with a limited number of pages, descriptions must neces- sarily be shortened—many places, scarcely more than mentioned here, deserve glowing chapters devoted to their beauty. All that may be attempted, in so brief a space, is to give a general knowledge of Canada’s multifold scenic attractions, and create a desire to learn more, at firsthand or through reading, of that delight- ful country. Brief historic tales, and many Indian legends, are woven into the text; for Canada’s scenic beauty is insep- arable from the romance of her dramatic and heroic history; and every part of the coasts or lakes or moun- tains has at least one Indian legend to explain how it came to be formed. Many of the legends were gath- ered by the author directly from the Indians them- selves. That an idea may be had of the richness of Canadian literature, the opening verse of each chapter has been chosen from the works of Canadian poets. Much of vii Viil FOREWORD the verse throughout the text, also, is Canadian. The names of the authors of these quotations will be found in an appendix. The author wishes to express grateful appreciation of the courtesy and the helpful assistance of all those fine Canadians who are connected with the Department of the Interior, at Ottawa. Thanks are due to the Department of the Interior, also, and to the Canadian Pacific Railway and the Canadian National Railways, for many attractive photographs. For the exquisite photograph of Lake Louise which appears on the cover and as a frontispiece, the author is much indebted to Mr. Fred Armbrister, an artist whose photographic landscapes, because of their poetic composition and the charm of their coloring, are eagerly sought by visitors to Lake Louise. The sixty-five photographs used to illustrate the book were chosen from among many hundreds, in a desire to have them both beautiful and truly representative— in so far as a photograph may be—of Canada’s rugged seacoasts, her colorful prairies and her glorious moun- tains. Vie) New York, July, 1925 CONTENTS PAGE RIE TCE Chie UG uc rh) Rn Mh ate Ae MeN i ete ert I DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA The Lure of Cape Breton Island—Rugged Ingonish Bay —The Legend of Smoky Cape—Beautiful Bras d’Or —Sydney’s Busy Harbor—The Ragged Coast—His- toric Louisbourg—The Legend of Canso Gut—From Margaree to Cheticamp—Lovely Chedabucto Bay— Halifax, “The City by the Sea”—Pirate Gold in Mahone Bay—The Famous South Shore—Yarmouth, the Delightful Gateway—Digby and Cherry-land— The Legend of Annapolis Basin—The Ruins of Fort Anne—Valleys of Magic—Legends of the Basin of Minas—Up Cobequid Bay—Along the Northumber- land Strait—Where Fundy and Chignecto Meet . 1 II NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND The Story of Sainte Croix—St. Andrews-by-the-Sea—T he Legend of Chamcook Lake—The Islands of Passa- maquoddy Bay—Pirate Gold on Grand Manan—The Storied St. John—The Legend of Grand Falls— Fredericton, the Delightful City—Lakes Along the Way—The City of St. John—Scenic Moncton—The 1x x CONTENTS Legend of Hopewell Cape—Acadia Land—On Nor- thumberland Strait—The Romance of Miramichi Bay —The Lure of the Deep Forests—The Famous Resti- gouche River—Beautiful Chaleur Bay—The Legend of the Phantom Light—The Mythical Gougou ra THE PAPE Yas te The Legend of Prince Edward Island—When Cartier Came—Delightful Tignish—Along the North Coast —Rustico’s Famous Beach—Sea-meadows at East Point—The Charm of Souris—In Cardigan Bay—In- land from Montague—Lovely Murray Harbour— The Legend of the Gulls—The Great Hillsborough Bay—Charlottetown, the Flower City—‘“The Garden of the Gulf’’—Iceboats on the Strait—Fox Ranching —Colorful Bedeque Bay—Summerside’s Many De- lights—Around West Point—A Micmac Legend IV THE CHARM OF QUEBEC Romantic Quebec—The Islands in the Gulf—The “Great River of Canada’”—Gaspé’s Charm—The Legend of Percé Rock—Matapedia and “Beautiful Bic’’—His- toric Tadoussac—A Creation Legend—The Saguenay and Lake St. John—Murray Bay, the Popular Play- ground—The Charm of the Habitants—Quaint and Historic Quebec—The Shrine of Ste. Anne de Beau- pré—Montmorency Falls—Lake Edward and Lauren- tides Park—The Lakes of the South—The Legend of Shawinigan Falls—The ‘“‘River of the Iroquois’ — Beautiful Montreal—Canoe-routes Along the Ottawa —The Great North—The Legend of the Stars PAGE 33 59 77 CONTENTS xi Vv ONTARIO’S LOVELY LAKES PAGE Ottawa, the Beautiful Capital—On Lake Temiskaming— Temagami’s Lure—Lake Nipissing and French River —The Legend of the Five Men—In Algonquin Park —A Legend of Muskoka Lakes—The Lake-of-Bays District—The Charm of the Kawartha Lakes—A Legend of the Rideau Lakes—The Thousand Islands —Along Lake Ontario—In Gay Toronto—Niagara Falls, ‘Thundering Water’—Historic Lake Erie— Lake Huron and Georgian Bay—The Romance of Sault Sainte Marie—Hiawatha’s “Big Sea Water’ — The Lovely Nipigon Region—Legends of Naniboujou —The Twin Cities on Thunder Bay—In the Wilds of Quetico Park—The Rainy Lake Region—Canoe- trails in the Wilderness—The Lake-of-the-Woods and Minaki—The Waiting North . . By VI MANITOBA, “GOD’S PRAIRIE” The Colorful Prairies—Lord Selkirk’s Settlement—The Red River Rebellion—Winnipeg, the Magic City— The Valley of the Assiniboine—Portage la Prairie— An Indian Story—Brandon, the ‘Wheat City’— Lovely Lake Killarney—Lake Winnipeg’s Popular Beaches—Lake Manitoba, “Prairie Water’—Along Lake Winnipegosis—The Grand Rapids of the Sas- katchewan—The Legend of the Singing Birds—The Pas, Gateway to the North—Historic York Factory— Port Nelson, on Hudson Bay—The Great Churchill River—A Legend of Southern Indian Lake—The MPR COWUTIPNOLE yu cot Muar ents eft el Nt ESO xi CONTENTS VII COLORFUL SASKATCHEWAN Prairie Gold—The Legend of Qu’Appelle—Lovely Regina —Medicine-water at Little Manitou—Moose Jaw’s Name—At Swift Current—The Loon Legend of Cypress Hills—The Wonder-city of Saskatoon—On Big Manitou Lake — Historic Battleford — Prince Albert, the Gateway—A Prairie Legend—Treaty Money at Ile a la Crosse—The Mighty Churchill River—Reindeer Lake—An Indian Fishing Secret— Lake Athabasca—The mis of Cree Lake—Indian ChildrentiW ail. : OL PAGE VIII LOVELY ALBERTA A Chipewyan Legend—The Great Peace River—Fort McMurray—The Legend of Lesser Slave Lake— In Jasper National Park—The Athabasca Trail— Miette Hot Springs— Romantic Lac Beauvert— Mount Edith Cavell—The Athabasca Falls—The Legend of Maligne Canyon—Indian Magic at Pyramid Mountain—In Tonquin Valley—Yellow- head Pass—Edmonton, the Capital—Calgary and the South—Over Crow’s Nest Pass—Waterton Lakes National Park—Rocky Mountains National Parks— The Famous Banff District—Legends of Lake Minne- wanka—At Lake Louise—The Savane of the Ten Peaksarksauie . eee IX BRITISH COLUMBIA’S GRANDEUR Yoho National Park—The Road to Emerald Lake— Takakkaw Falls—The Legend of Twin Falls—Koo- CONTENTS Xill PAGE tenay National Park—The Beautiful Columbia—A Legend of Arrow Lakes—The Kootenay Country— Glacier National Park—Revelstoke National Park— The Okanagan Country—Thompson River Canyons —The Mighty Fraser—Cariboo Gold—The Lilliooet Country — A Legend of Mount Garibaldi — Van- couver, the Metropolis — On Vancouver Island— Lovely Victoria—Legends of the Queen Charlotte Islands—The Superb Coast—The City of Prince Ru- pert—Along the Skeena—Totem-poles at Kitwanga— The Bulkley Valley—At Prince George—Mount Robson Park—The ae of Whitehorn—The Great Atlin District. . 241 xX GOLDEN YUKON The Klondike Stampede — The Royal North-West Mounted Police—Beautiful Lake Bennett—Miailes Canyon and Whitehorse Rapids—At Whitehorse— Kluane Lake and the St. Elias Range—The Teslin Lake District—The Charm of Quiet Lake—Five Finger Rapids—Fort Selkirk and the Pelly River— A Legend of White River—Valleys of Gold—Daw- son, the Capital—At Fortymile—The Great North —An Eskimo Legend—‘“The Spell of the Yukon” . 293 XI THE LURE OF THE NORTH The Northwest Territories — Where Eskimos Meet— The Provisional District of Keewatin—At Baker Lake—A Legend of Bubawnt Lake—The Great Fish River—“Rupert’s Land’”—The Provisional District of Mackenzie—A Legend of Great Slave Lake—The XIV CONTENTS Coppermine River—A Mosquito Legend—The Mac- kenzie River—A Legend of Great Bear Lake—The Ramparts of the Mackenzie—The Hare Indians— The Provisional District of Franklin—The Franklin ‘Tragedy—The Great North * >.) ae XII CANADIAN NATIONAL PARKS Fort Anne—Fort Howe—Point Pelee—Menissawok— Wawaskesey — Nemiskam — Buffalo — Elk Island— Jasper—Rocky Mountains—Waterton Lakes—Yoho —lKootenay—Glacier—Revelstoke . ... , AITI SCENIC ROADS FOR MOTORISTS Motoring in Canada—The Trans-Canada Highway—In APPENDIX ° ° e e ’ e 4 @ ° ’ ° ‘ INDEX) eat 2 Ae eee Picturesque Nova Scotia—Forest Roads in New Brunswick—Some Quebec Roads—The Niagara Falls Gateway—The Blue Water Highway—Manitoba Highways—Prairie Roads in Saskatchewan—The Grand Circle—The California-Banff Bee Line—The Grand Canyon Route—The Canadian Rockies Circle —The Banff-Windermere Highway—The Golden Highway—On the Cariboo Trail—The Malahat Drive—In the National Parks . PAGE 319 RR - 355 - 373 iS) 2 ILLUSTRATIONS A Charming View of Lake Louise Bras d’Or Lake Middlehead Point . Where Waves Blow High The Nova Scotia Coast A Tree-lovely Road : The Twin Falls of the Pokiok A Log-Drive on the Miramichi The Giant’s Head . Where the North Shore Ends . An Island Sunset - Cap Bon Ami, Gaspé Peninsula Bird Rock, Bonaventure Island Fishing in the Laurentian Mountains Fraser Falls, Murray Bay . Montmorency Falls On the Lower St. Lawrence The Muskoka Lakes Beautiful Lake Nipissing . The Winnipeg River, at Minaki . XV Frontispiece FACING PAGE IO II 20 ai 38 39 52 53 66 67 82 83 94 95 104 105 126 127 142 Ry | ILLUSTRATIONS The Kakabeka Falls, near Fort William In Quetico Park Fishing for Gray Trout Sunset on Lake Killarney . A Prairie River A Saskatchewan Lake . Harvesting on the Prairie . : Pyramid Mountain, Jasper Park . Lac Beauvert at Sunset Mount Edith Cavell, Jasper Park A Sunlit Stretch of Lac Beauvert Sunset on the Athabasca Sheep-ranching in Alberta . In Waterton Lakes National Park Mount Assiniboine Lake Louise Bere: The Motor-Road to Moraine Lake Takakkaw Falls, Yoho Valley A Rocky Giant in Yoho Park . In Kootenay National Park Where the Portage Begins Rainbow Falls . The Meeting of the Waters Capilano Canyon and the Lions Siwash Rock, Vancouver FACING PAGE 143 152 153 170 171 190 IQI 208 209 214 Ne 9 B22 223 228 229 %) 4236 237 246 247 252 253 260 261 266 267 ILLUSTRATIONS An Island Lake Pyramid Falls . Where Whitehorn Lifts above Kinney Lake . Totem-Poles at Kitwanga . Majestic Mount Robson Atop o’ the World . The Famous Whitehorse Rapids A Yukon Lake . é The Ramparts of the Mackenzie . Caribou Island . my) Tumbling Glacier and Berg Lake . The Illecillewaet Glacier . The Glory of Emerald Lake . Vermilion Falls, Kootenay National Park Along the Banff-Windermere Highway . On the Trans-Canada Highway . A Luring Road in Yoho Park Flower-meadows and Glaciers The Malahat Drive, Vancouver Island Cameron Lake . XVII FACING PAGE 272 273 280 281 288 289 310 311 330 331 344 345 350 351 358 359 364 365 368 369 J at ' cA \ } a tate phd aloe a Oh DEANS a oo No ie Ny aareete year tee Si aK Sap a th AY Lvs j Lae Va aD) i 7 ihe tf ie ht ped i 4, Te aa WEE eH AiTs* Whe MF | ue Wy Wi BAG CUM MOU OPIS A AL ADU Ru (WaT na AMAL" V0) ah eis Ait seat Vp pee ha Rae i ' . t r i ' Yi ey 8 i { h 1 ) Aye.) et he, nih j , tt ; 7 oh. \ ly SOOM OAS cin ied if i yr dh) ha J ith Bo | tins 5 yy nih se) } Rit aC if iy J iit PRN Wa D EO) Matis hey ; i ; +4) Bike *s OLN hee Ave it) ‘f ‘ ty , } i OE a a Pe Ta a f Al ty " 4) Bre 1 ey Ne ott te we wit, id Wis | fe ms rae x nN, Dy), ing 7 DUS Nae , j is aN Tt ’ 1 Wai + $ i {7 + 4 ,? , ‘ an { i ‘ ah ; ' F ee cag ‘ had | YEU ; ia they i \ re te ij i f j A ( ‘iN 7 ‘ " NA v ie tb vid ‘ a ihe (} ; ' uP ( ret f Rh es oe ah lin PAE t (ety \ A) af ” Rt ire v ey, bi ia a : HU ‘i cv Fibiiabs di ; ‘ : ; se ok vee cai PAM ive if ‘ \ 4 ’ Ca j : Lay uy Aina Wht {lc Aes & } p ; a ‘| NOR ’ Cty he ? t 1 Ps , ; vat \ 4 Ld | ) Sh OER DUR ae } ) ; i 4 Pi! id 4 is i : ty Ws We vat oli f Wes sth shat) PRA kes a mL ; ia ‘i | | LT ee Re cya a "* ; I. DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA THE LuRE OF CAPE BRETON ISLAND RucceD INGONIsH Bay THE LEGEND OF SMOKY CAPE BEAUTIFUL BRAS D’OR SYDNEY’s Busy HARBOR ‘THE RacGeD COAST Historic LOUISBOURG THE LEGEND OF CANsO GUT From MaArGAREE TO CHETICAMP LOvELY CHEDABUCTO BAY HAirax, “THE CITY BY THE SEA” PIRATE GOLD IN MAHONE Bay ‘THE FAMOUS SOUTH SHORE YARMOUTH, THE DELIGHTFUL GATEWAY DIGBY AND CHERRY-LAND THE LEGEND OF ANNAPOLIS BASIN ‘THE RUINS OF ForT ANNE VALLEYS OF MacIc LEGENDS OF THE BASIN OF MINAS Up Cosequip Bay ALONG THE NORTHUMBERLAND STRAIT WHERE FUNDY AND CHIGNECTO MEET 6 Ay =! « ‘ i] et ivy rei Lind > why aye a ad voc, i Ws ; Ny C Real py RT A EE Ane ' A Hiya 0} 1 ie a i) eT ah bir aed i La. nt ee iA whet 5 ‘ ane, wae ie acne 2.) ah ry Vat: meyer pa wen Lint AMG | rea mee \ Ah N's ith it ‘ahh DR ats Seo i Nah Yat " ht ARM AMD ae yea Dine f ay: mid une te ag ae Utes ty mean Tak BEAUTIFUL CANADA I DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA “The fields are full of little lakes, And when the romping wind awakes The water ruffles blue and shakes, And the pines roar on the hill.” —Archibald Lampman HERE is no part of Nova Scotia’s rugged coast or her peaceful valleys that is not steeped in the history and the romance of the past thousand years. In the very long ago, ‘“‘in the days of the grand- fathers,” Nova Scotia was a vast wilderness, and Micmac Indians wandered through the forests, fished in the abundant lakes and streams, and pitched their tepees in delightful places where Glooscap, the pleasure-loving demigod, would surely visit them with blessings and keep away the fearsome Witch-people. Across a stretch of rolling blue water lay Greenland, and there the Beothuk tribe worshiped the Sun, but made their offerings—of food, shell beads, such pit- lable things as they possessed—to the Wind, as an evil god whom they feared and hoped to appease. On 3 4 BEAUTIFUL CANADA some bare cliff, jutting upon the sea, they laid their treasure, muttering a rhythmic prayer which the howl- ing of the Wind-god drowned as he swept the gift off, into the keeping of the Sea-god. Sometimes the greedy Sea-god refused to give up the treasure, and then it was that he and the Wind-god fought and the Sea leaped high to strike back at the Wind. Micmacs still roam over Nova Scotia; but the Beo- thuks are no more. It may be that they grew careless in these offerings; for certainly it was the beginning of the end for them when their evil god, the Wind, blew upon the sails of a Viking ship, in 986 A.D., and sent it far out of its course until a strange and unknown shore was sighted—the rugged, irregular, beautiful shore of Nova Scotia. When the Norse ship speeded back with its in- credible tales, no one was more stirred than was Eric the Red, a brave sea-rover, a ruthless and lawless pirate. But Eric was now an old man, too old to fight the mountainous seas and the monsters of the deep who, he believed, came up to devour any who ventured into their realm. So to his three sons this aged Viking told such tales of the wonderland beyond the seas that their blood, too, was stirred, and they got ready their ship and set sail, in roo1, with Leif Erickson in com- mand. The spring storms came and swirled their boat about, the drifting icebergs all but crushed it, and the fog for days closed in, smothering them with its muggy DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 5 gray tentacles; but these were fearless Vikings, and they swept on, while “Ye Billowes boyl’d & ye Stormes howl’d after— But ye Tempeste to them was onlie Laughter— They plough’d theare Boate thro’ ye roaring Deepe, Nor lett ye Blastes disturbe theare Sleepe.” At last they came “‘to a Launde al greene & Fayre,” and named it Vinland because of the tangle of wild- grape vines and a veritable jungle of cranberry-bushes. Their Vinland extended as far south as present Rhode Island; but the first shore to be visited, where grapes and cranberries were plentiful, was the delightful land that today is Nova Scotia. Other Vikings followed; and, much later, Breton and Basque fishermen sailed their brave little craft across the sea; but to John Cabot fell the honor of dis- covery when, in 1497, he landed upon Cape Breton Island, on what is now Cape North, but which he named Cape Discovery. For this exploit, Henry VII, hugely pleased, awarded the sum of ten pounds to “hyme that founde ye Newe Launde.” And Cape Breton Island, so long the secret fishing-grounds of Breton and Basque, became now the magnet that drew all nations; for behind it, they believed, lay the water- path to rich Cathay. Today Cape Breton is still a magnet. It is a magic land; there is an enchantment about its forests and streams, its deep bays and lovely lakes, that ever lures one back. ‘There are hills, that run up to the height 6 BEAUTIFUL CANADA of mountains. There are flower-strewn meadows with brooks chattering through them. There are smiling lakes and rugged, wave-beaten shores. High in the forests are rocky gorges with streams frothing down, or picturesque glens where the water lingers, loth to leave its tree-fringed pools. The rocky island of St. Paul, which Cabot named L’tle Saint-Jean, lies about twelve miles off the north- ern coast of Cape Breton Island, raising its head above the water where it may look upon both gulf and ocean. St. Paul is a favorite with fishermen, and with artists, too, for they find never-ending joy in the beauty of its coasts where surf pounds in against the rocks. Cape North, reaching out toward the island of St. Paul, is the northernmost point of Cape Breton main- land. It is a high and rugged promontory, with the Atlantic beating against it on one side and, on the other, St. Lawrence Bay, softening the force of the waves that roll in from the Gulf of St. Lawrence. | As far south as St. Ann Bay the coast is a wild one of wave-lashed rocks, of coves and little inlets made by the ocean storming in to claim the land, and of delightful gorges where streams come tumbling down with their burden of hill-water. The first deep indentation on the eastern coast, south of Cape North, is Aspy Bay. Here, the Micmacs say, a sea-monster lived, while a forest-monster roamed about the shore. These two were always fight- ing; the sea-monster would spout water up on land and the forest-monster, in his rage, would kick dirt DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA i into the water. This displeased Glooscap, and he turned them both into cliffs, placing one on the north side of Aspy Bay and one on the south side. And there they remain to this day, glaring at each other across the smiling blue water. Aspy Bay runs far in- land, and is fringed with coves and deep-cut cliffs. Hills, steep and irregular, curve about the bay, and trees and broken precipices edge the water. South of Aspy is Ingonish Bay, far-famed for its rugged loveliness. In the very midst of it a long point of land runs out to the ocean, cutting the bay into two harbors, ever picturesque with fishing-fleets, and wholly charming in their coloring. ‘The bright-white houses of the fisherfolk, clinging to the foot of the hills, are framed above with the changing green of the trees, and below with the ever-changing blue of the water. There are many allurements here for the vacationist— shooting in the hills, trout-fishing in the streams, deep-sea fishing, lobster-spearing, surf-bathing and boating. Many years ago a French cruiser foundered on the rocks off this coast, and soon the waves that swept in with the tide left behind them a scattering of golden coins. Those were exciting days. Everything else was forgotten while the inhabitants rushed out to Money Point to fish for gold. A rod with a pitch-smeared end was thrashed about the waves, and among the many things that clung to it would sometimes be a French coin. Shutting Ingonish Bay in on the south is a high preci- 8 BEAUTIFUL CANADA pice which still bears the name given to it by the early Breton fishermen, who called it Cap Enfumé because the ascending mist has the appearance of rising smoke. Fishermen of today know it affectionately as ‘Old Smoky.” A Micmac legend claims that, long ago, in the moon of the many berries, their chiefs gathered on top of this precipice for a powwow; and while they sat and smoked their huge pipes they bestowed a worthy name upon any Indian lad who had earned it. One chief told of a bear his son had hunted, battled and slain; and they agreed to name the boy Big Bear. Another told of a great wind that swept down from the heights, ready to swamp a canoe; this chief’s son had stood on the cliff and, at the risk of being dashed over, held back the wind with a fan of fir-branches in each hand; and he was then named Great Fir-Tree. One by one, the chiefs recounted the heroic deeds of their sons. But when the time came for the last chief to speak, he was silent: there was nothing he could say, for his son was a coward. ‘The chiefs taunted him; and in his great shame he rushed and threw himself over the cliff. But the Sea-god caught him before he reached the water; for he would have no coward’s father in his realm. He placed the chief at the foot of the cliff, and told him that there he should stay until his son did perform a brave deed. And so to this day the poor chief is there, smoking his mighty pipe and ever wait- ing; those who go near the cliff say they can even hear him calling to his son—but it may be only the sound of DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 9 the waves and the wind, softened a bit by the ghost- gray mist. St. Ann Bay, south of Smoky Cape, ends in St. Ann Harbour, which lies, almost land-locked, a lovely sea of wind-rippled green, its ragged shores running back into the low hills in many coves and crooked inlets. Below St. Ann Bay two channels carry the ocean- water into Bras d’Or Lake, hugging between them as they wind inland the long and irregular Boularderi Island, sandy, tree-covered and lovely. The Bras d’Or is an immense arm of the sea that spreads its more than four hundred and fifty square miles into the very heart of Cape Breton Island. Wooded hills roll back from the shores; cultivated farms and meadows run down to the water; white houses, framed in the green of trees and grass, are splashed with color by gay flower-patches. Sail-boats dot the lake, their lilting white dipping against the green. Odd-shaped little islands crop up, unexpectedly and delightfully, and mirror their trees, in rippled and silver-green shadows, in the loveliness below. The earliest French name for this superb inland sea was Lac de Labrador; but so exquisite is the coloring of the lake at sunrise, a great expanse of molten gold, that Labrador easily became Le Bras d’Or. The lakes, Great and Little Bras d’Or, with their bays and channels, their irregular, winding waterways, all but divide Cape Breton into two islands; and this cleavage has been completed by the cutting of St. IO BEAUTIFUL CANADA Peter’s Canal through the one narrow neck of land at the southern end. A much-loved village, spread out on the shores of Bras d’Or Lake, is Whycocomagh. Back of it are softly rolling hills; in the foreground a crescent-shaped bay, dotted with islands; each vista of sea and islands and hills like a lovely, warm-toned painting. Baddeck, perched on the rocky crags that rise from St. Patrick Channel, is the gateway to a region of many charms. Luring roads lead up into the hills, one of them winding past the picturesque Uisge-Ban Falls where the water rushes down in a cataract of spray. Other roads dip through to the ocean, following up its rugged coast. Many Indians come from their reserva- tion in the summer and camp near Baddeck, to dispose of their excellent services as guides and canoe- men, and to sell the attractive baskets and bead-work they have fashioned during the winter. They are forgetting many of their legends of “the days of the newness of things,’’ but some of the old tales still are told. One legend explains how Loch Lomond, beyond Bras d’Or Lake, came to be. In the long-ago a giant Wolf roamed through the forests eating up Indian children. When Glooscap learned this he changed him into an animal smaller than the squirrel. Little Wolf sat down and cried and cried, and his tears formed this big lake before Glooscap changed him again to wolf-size. For sheer beauty and romance Bras d’Or will ever remain supreme; but for fame it must give way to Courtesy, Canaaian National Kys. BRAS D’OR LAKE The great arm of*the sea that is the heart of Cape Breton Island. és Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. MIDDLEHEAD POINT A quiet cove where the ocean creeps up in Ingonish Harbour. DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA I! Sydney Harbour, once known as Spanish Bay. This is one of the finest natural harbors in the world. Its beauty now is that of commercialism, for steel and coal have claimed it. Ships from all parts of the world come here; the harbor teems with activity; and there is a touch of picturesqueness in the innumerable yachts and smaller boats that constantly come and go. The town of Sydney, climbing back from the harbor, was founded by colonists from the United States at the close of the American Revolution, and was the capital of the province of Cape Breton until that island be- came part of Nova Scotia in 1820. Today it is a lovely city, with gay green hedges, and great trees framing ever-changing scenes in the busy harbor. Lying in the ocean about one hundred miles east of Sydney are the French islands of St. Pierre and Miquelon, all that remains of France’s once great empire in North America. A world unto themselves, their interests centered in their fishing, these islands are wholly unique; and a visit to them will be filled with interest and charm. A boat plies fortnightly between Sydney and St. Pierre. The entire eastern peninsula of Cape Breton Island is so ragged that it is made up of one bay after another, separated only by long points of broken rock that run out into the sea. The inrushing waves dash upon these rocks, only to fall back in flying spray; the out- going tide lingers about them, curling in their crevices, leaving their clean-washed hollows flecked with foam. Mira Bay, in this ragged east coast, is famous for 12 BEAUTIFUL CANADA its leaping tuna—the giant albacore, weighing from five hundred to eight hundred pounds. But Mira Bay also is a place of sheer loveliness. Seascapes that delight the artist are here. The long, narrow, charm- ingly irregular Mira Lake winds down into the island in an uncertain and erratic course until the upcropping of the Mira Hills sends it curving back toward the sea. Scatari Island, lying offshore, is the most easterly point of the Maritime Provinces. Long before Breton fishermen made Scatari Island their rendezvous the Micmacs—then known as the Souricois—gathered here once a year for a fishing jubilee. First the fleetest young men of the tribe ran a race, and the winner then became ruler of the island for the days that they re- mained; all had to obey him, his temporary name being the name of the first fish he caught A few days were given over to feasting and dancing. “Thay goe not out of one place when thay Dance, & make certaine gestures & motions of ye Body, first lifting vp one Foote & then another, stamping vpon ye Grounde.”’ Then came the fishing contest, each man striving to carry home the greatest load of all. Below Cape Breton—the little out-thrust of land from which the entire island gets its name—is historic Louisbourg, where the ruins of the once-important fort and the crumbling walls of the old French city still may be seen. The life of this fort was brief and tragic. When Nova Scotia was ceded to England by the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713, Cape Breton Island DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 13 remained with France; and to this haven many of the Acadians fled when they were compelled either to leave their own much-loved land or to swear allegiance to England and take up arms, if need be, against their mother France. Joined by French from Newfound- land, they built and strongly fortified Louisbourg, which soon became an important port and the capital of L’isle Royale, as Cape Breton Island then was called —in Champlain’s day it had been L’isle de St. Lau- rence. As the years sped past, Louisbourg grew in greatness. hither came vessels freighted with cargo from the West Indies, vessels with supplies and muni- tions from France; and thither sped ships for refuge when chased by British men-o’-war on the high seas. In 1745, England and France being at war, some daring New Englanders decided to swoop upon this stronghold of the enemy. ‘The fort was considered impregnable, and it was valiantly defended by the French and their Indian allies; but the New Englander of 1745 was no different from the New Englander of today—what he went after he managed to get—and it is not surprising that the British flag soon was flying from the citadel of Louisbourg and Colonel Pepperell was taking tally of his prisoners. Three years later, Louisbourg was returned to the French in exchange for Madras; and ten years later, 1758, England and France again being at each other’s throat, a powerful fleet crossed from England and, after nearly two months of bombardment, the town once more was taken. ‘The fort, already in ruins, 14 BEAUTIFUL CANADA was now dismantled, the French inhabitants shipped to France, and the city utterly destroyed. This is merely an outline of its eventful life. The tragedies of those days of siege, the splendid heroism of the French women as well as the men in the dis- tressed fort, the unswerving loyalty of the Indians— all of these linger poignantly about the sod-grown ruins; for though the fort and the brave little city are gone, the spirit of those heroic men and women, many of them still sleeping here, will ever remain. Arichat Island, whose unattractive name is now Madame Island, from the French Isle Madame, lies off the southern coast of Cape Breton Island, and spreads its shores out in a series of long points of land, like a deep and uneven fringe. ‘These knife-blade peninsulas are sandy, tree-covered, and entirely lovely. On the east the fringe is broken by a crescent-shaped bay, as rugged and as inviting as its name, Bay of Rocks, indicates. Separating Cape Breton Island from Nova Scotia peninsula there is a deep, natural channel, the Gut of Canso; and this, a Micmac legend claims, was made by the demigod Glooscap. Flying over the ocean in the form of a hawk, a high wave caught him and carried him under water. There his magic power suddenly deserted him and he would have been drowned had not Cod swum with him to land. Gloos- cap in gratitude offered Cod anything that he desired; and Cod could think of nothing more delightful than DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 15 a broad waterway here, so that he might swim at will back and forth between ocean and gulf. A railway runs up through the very heart of Cape Breton Island, making almost any part of it easily accessible, connecting, as it does, with the two steam- ships which call at all the important ports. Beyond the great mining center of Nabou Harbour, on the scenic west coast of the island, the villages are fewer, the forests deeper, and the landscapes lovelier. Margaree River, famous for its trout and salmon and the pastoral beauty of its valley-land, is an outlet for Lake Ainslie, which spreads its broad arms across almost to join Bras d’Or. Another branch of the Margaree rushes down from the north, cutting around a range of hills in delightful windings, with trees crowding upon its shores and boulders cropping out of its wide and often shallow bed. Beyond Margaree Harbour ranges of hills begin, and extend northward to the end of the island. Eastern Harbour, almost completely shut in by Cheticamp Island, is colorful and lovely. It vies with Ingonish Bay in its ruggedness. Cliffs and wooded hills run up from the water, cut by gorges where creeks splash down; and scattered against the background of rich green trees are the houses where the fisherfolk live. For two centuries the Acadians have been here, in a little world of their own, shut in by hills and sea; and the simplicity of their lives, their delightful naiveté, is one of the charms of the Cheticamp region. 16 BEAUTIFUL CANADA The wildest scenery on the island is found in the heavily timbered hill-ranges that fold upon one another from Eastern Harbour to Cape North. Crystal- clear streams add to the loveliness of these wooded slopes; and the knowledge that gold lies tucked away in the rocks quickens the interest in them. “I must go down to the sea again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied ; And all I ask is a windy day and the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and blown spume, and the sea- gulls crying.” An ideal place to “go down to the sea,’’ and one of the most delightful harbors on the Nova Scotia coast, is Chedabucto Bay. Even its name is music. Many poets have sung of this “‘silver-gray sea’; and artists have lingered, attempting to reproduce the beauty of its rugged shores. From Chedabucto Bay southward to Halifax Harbour—formerly Chebucto Bay—the coast is an ever-changing one. In the midst of winding channels, craggy islands, sandbars and shoals, are fine deep harbors. There are many rocky ledges that lie dry at low-water, many lovely beaches where the Atlantic curls in and leaves a burden of sand as it washes out. Sheet Harbour—its name from a sheet-like cliff at its entrance—and Owl’s Head Harbour could tell tragic DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 13 tales of the old days, when brigs came speeding in, all canvas spread, crashed upon hidden shoals, and immediately went down. One of the world’s finest harbors is at Halifax. When the French were strengthening their fortifica- tions at Louisbourg, two centuries ago, the Massa- chusetts Bay Colony saw the necessity for an equally strong English fort on the peninsula of Nova Scotia. The splendid harbor of Chebucto Bay—Micmac for “Chief Haven’’—was an ideal site; but not until 1749 was Halifax actually founded, and only a few years later christened in blood, when the Indians, ever the friends of the French, gathered in the Basin of Minas, ascended the Shubenacadie, and fell upon the city with their merciless tomahawks. But that showed the weakness of the town, and its real fortification then began. Halifax soon became a formidable stronghold that played a large part in all the succeeding wars. Today it is the greatest British military and naval station in the two Americas. Halifax is an Old World city, charmingly English in atmosphere. It is ‘“The City by the Sea,” built on a hill overlooking its broad and stately harbor, climbing back to Bedford Basin, and clinging, on the other side, to the picturesque Northwest Arm, which perhaps, some day, may be given again its more poetic Indian name. With so many bays on this ragged east coast of Nova Scotia there would seem a sameness; and yet each is lovely in its own way; each has its own indi- 18 BEAUTIFUL CANADA viduality, its own personality. St. Margaret, par- ticularly, has a charm that is in no way dimmed by the romantic beauty of its neighbors, Mahone Bay and Chester Basin. In Mahone Bay the pulse quickens, the breath is suspended a bit, not merely because of the beauty— and with more than three hundred islands there is loveliness aplenty—but because here, it is claimed, Captain Kidd’s gold, his chests of jewels and pieces of eight, lie buried. Many years ago a fisherman had a dream, and in it he saw himself being lowered into a pit, which, to his surprise, led to a tunnel under the sea; and at the end of the tunnel he came upon chests of gold. The Indians are great believers in dreams. “Thay beleeue that all ye dreames which thay dreame are true.” They assured the fisherman that not only must such a tunnel exist but the opening to it, perhaps covered over with the débris of years, would be on Oak Island, in Mahone Bay. So to Oak Island, even to this day, go the treasure-seekers, sinking shafts, hoping to reach pirate gold. It is claimed, too, that the ghosts of Kidd’s men haunt this island; and that is offered as further proof that the treasure surely must be there. Nova Scotia’s South Shore is famous for its beauty. It is made up of ragged points, bays running deeply inland, islands lying offshore, sand-dunes piling and unpiling, the ocean lapping in to meet rivers and creeks which rush down through spruce and balsam and oak woods. Inshore there is a water-tangled wildwood. DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 19 Myriads of lakes, and streams and rivulets, are scattered everywhere. Rossignol, the largest of the lakes, is nearly twelve miles long; and one of the rivers tumbling into it winds down through the hills from Kedgemakooge Lake, lying in the heart of moose pastures and trout streams, and so delicately beautiful that it is known as Fairy Lake. Canoeists find great delight in this region. The railway, clinging to the Atlantic coast from Halifax to Yarmouth, affords a comfortable way to view the rugged South Shore; but to know the real charm of this unique region, one must wander off into the pine and spruce woods where the many lakes are, and where, in the spring, Nova Scotia’s own flower, the trailing arbutus, fills the air with perfume; or one must cruise along the shore, landing occasionally to explore some lonely cove, or one of the many sandy, wave-washed islands. Cape Sable Island, off the southern tip of the. pen- insula, was first settled by Acadians, but at the time Louisbourg was destroyed they were driven out, and its next settlers were Tories from the United States. The Acadians have found their way back, and have now their delightful little fishing villages along the shores. This island, because of its name, is some- times confused with Sable Island, which lies alone in the ocean, about a hundred and fifty miles, slightly southeast, from Halifax. This curious Sable Island is composed of sand-dunes 20 BEAUTIFUL CANADA thrown up by the ocean, its mainland being now about twenty miles long and one mile wide, with a ten-mile lake in the center. During the days following Cabot’s widely published discovery of ‘‘ye Newe Launde,”’ Portuguese fishermen hastened across the seas, and on this island they made their headquarters. It then was nearly a hundred miles long, and horses were brought over, to cover the distances, and cattle and sheep to supply food. In 1598 the Marquis de la Roche set sail grandly from France with a shipful of criminals, loosed from French prisons, to colonize the new land of Acadie. His lawless passengers proved none too pleasant com- pany on the voyage across; and when Sable Island was sighted, de la Roche hastily dumped his convict- colonists here while he sailed on, ostensibly to select a favorable site. A storm, charitable historians say, carried him back to France as quickly as he could get there, his colony deserted in mid-ocean. Driftwood from the many wrecks was used for crude shelter; wild cattle, relics of the Portuguese, formed a change in diet from the plentiful fish; and abundant sealskins afforded warm clothing. But the monotony began to weary these convicts, and for pastime they took to murdering one another. When at last a Normandy fishing sloop passed that way, only twelve of the sixty remained to be taken back to France. It is claimed that a Franciscan monk whom de la Roche left with the convicts was so heart-torn by their ghastly deeds that he refused to go back to a civilized world, and spent Courtesy, N. S. Publicity Bureau WHERE WAVES BLOW HIGH With an inshore wind, the sea is wild and magnificent. Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. THE NOVA SCOTIA COAST Wave-battered rocks alternate with beaches of cream-yellow sand. DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 21 the remainder of his days on Sable Island. Here, on moonlight nights, when the fog swirls low, he still may be seen, mariners say; and on almost any night one can hear his voice, wailing on the wind as the sand rolls in with the sea. So many ships were wrecked on Sable Island that it became known as “‘the graveyard of the Atlantic.” To arrest its constantly changing shape, which was in itself a great menace, the Canadian Government in 1901 planted thousands of spruce and juniper trees, fruit trees and berry bushes, and covered the shores with root-binding grasses. And now, instead of barren sand-dunes, it is an island of rare loveliness, set in the midst of the sea. The many islands south of Yarmouth were formerly the refuge of storm-petrels. A writer of a century ago tells of the amazement of mariners when they saw these “Mother Cary’s chickens’ burrowing nests in the ground. ‘They had believed that the storm-bird laid her egg on the ocean, quickly dived and caught it beneath her wing, and there held it until it was hatched. | The city of Halifax is English; Lunenburg, to the south, is German; but Yarmouth is wholly and delight- fully Canadian. It is a charming city, with its famous hawthorn hedges, and its broad and pleasant harbor. In front are the islands—masses of green, at high tide, dipping their feet in the water; at low tide, broad beaches and ledges of rock, scarcely separated by the shallow channels. Behind the city are the hills, with oe ) BEAUTIFUL CANADA their trout and salmon streams and their many moose haunts enticing the sportsman. There are luring motor-roads, too, that follow the coast or climb up and down the winding hills, leading off through forests of fragrant spruce, or shadowy birch-woods where the undergrowth of sassafras and ferns and blueberry- bushes is a mass of tangled loveliness; but these truant roads ever dip back for a glimpse of the sea. Yarmouth, because of its direct steamship connec- tion with Boston, is one of the gateways to Nova Scotia; and certainly it is a delightful one. Another gateway, entered from St. John, New Brunswick, is Digby. Between Yarmouth and Digby there is a peaceful farming country where Acadians, returned after exile, took up again their interrupted lives. ‘Their descend- ants cling to the old speech and to many of the quaint and delightful customs of Evangeline’s day. Off to the left, Long and Bear Islands and the rolling hills of Digby Neck are seen across St. Mary Bay. ‘The Neck is a continuation of North Mountain, which some upheaval of nature rent asunder, forming the famous Digby Gap, where ships pass through into Annapolis Basin. ce e . . . I will remember the bay, ‘The white sails gliding through the gap from strange lands far away; The heavenly waters stretching by many a purple slope; The tide from out of Fundy, quiet of foot as hope.” DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 23 The little town of Digby climbs up the hillside, its white houses all but hidden by a wealth of green, the tide of Annapolis Basin lapping in at its feet. Digby cherries are famous, and the beauty of the orchards vies with the beauty of the bay. Even more famous are its smoked herring, known facetiously as ‘Digby chickens.”’ Bear River, nearby, is the cherry-land. Its orchards, clouds of white in blossom-time, or sprinkled with the luscious red of ripening fruit, are worth journeying far to see. An annual Cherry Carnival is held here, and the Micmacs come down from the hills to join in the water frolics. The Annapolis Basin is a long and strangely beauti- ful body of water where the Bay of Fundy, gaining entrance through Digby Gap, runs up to see what lies behind North Mountain. An Indian legend claims this once was a fresh-water lake where Great Beaver, the enemy of Glooscap, lived. In the forests that shut in the lake there was a Wolf who liked nothing better than sailing. Great Beaver made him a raft of young birch-trees, bound together with birchbark, and raised upon it a sail of spruce-branches; and on this Wolf rode gaily up and down the lake. But one day he ran through the forest and came to the top of North Mountain, and there he saw the Bay of Fundy spread out before him. No longer, then, was he satis- fied with his little lake. But how could he get his boat to this bigger sea? He asked Great Beaver to dig him a canal; but that Great Beaver would not do, 24 BEAUTIFUL CANADA for it would let in the salt water and spoil his own home. Wolf then ran off to Beaver’s enemy, Gloos- cap, and the demigod at once sent Lightning to split open North Mountain. So Lightning made the wide gap where the winds come howling through from the Bay of Fundy, and Wolf went sailing gaily away. Great Beaver could not live in salt-water, so he had to climb over the hills to Minas Basin which then, according to the legend, was a fresh-water lake. Annapolis Royal has been built near the old, old fort of St. Anne, formerly Port Royal, which stands as a relic of the brave little village that in 1605 sheltered the first Europeans to “La Cadie,” and as a memorial to the daring of those who ventured across new seas to make their home in a new and unknown land. ‘In the yeere 1604 Monsieur de Monts rigged 2 shippes, and bare with those parts that trend West- ward from Cape Breton, giuing names to places at pleasure, or vpon occasion.” Champlain, De Monts and Poutrincourt sailed into Annapolis Basin in 1604; and the month being June, the land was at its loveliest; but it was nearly a year later, after a disastrous winter spent on Lisle de Sainte Croix, that Port Royal was founded. Then began a series of hardships, of fortunes and mis- fortunes; and for the following two centuries the fort played a thrilling but often tragic part in the struggles between the French and the English for supremacy in Acadia; and it played no small part in all the DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 25 American wars. The first blood to be spilled was when the English at the infant colony of Jamestown, Virginia, sailed up in 1613 and left nothing standing but an old mill. So rich is Fort Anne in history, so steeped in romance, so redolent of courage and high faith and heroism, that the Canadian Government has set aside the ruins and about twenty acres of ground for a National Park. The Annapolis Valley, in the late springtime, is all perfume and fairy loveliness—for the apple-trees then are in bloom. Mile after mile they stretch away, fluffy clouds of white and pink, calling to the bees with the sweetness of their fragrance, holding the passer- by with the sheer glory of their beauty. The orchards of Cornwallis Valley, over the ridge from Annapolis, are checkered with hayfields. The Acadians here carry on their farming much as did their ancestors who built the dykes which still sturdily hold back the tides. Scows, laden with hay, ply the waterways; and on land the picturesque ox plods along the highroad with his fragrant burden piled high. An Acadian poet thus gives a glimpse of his much-loved land: “From the soft dyke-road, crooked and wagon-worn, Comes the great load of rustling, scented hay, Slow-drawn, with heavy swing and creaky sway, Through the cool freshness of the windless morn.” Beyond Cornwallis Valley lies the romantic valley of the Gaspereau; and spread upon the ridge which 26 BEAUTIFUL CANADA separates these two is Wolfville, in the heart of Evangeline Land. Grand Pré, immortalized by Long- fellow’s poem, lies beside Wolfville. “In the Acadian Land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas, Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand Pré Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward, Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks with- out number. Dykes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant, Shut out the turbulent tide... . 9 Directly across Minas Basin, and connected with Wolfville by boat, is Parrsboro, famed for its fishing and hunting. ‘This is a pleasant summer resort, with the advantages of water sports and wooded hills, for a beach lies in front, and behind the town rise the Cobequid Hills, with timbered slopes and winding valleys. The Five Islands, lying in front of Parrsboro, were the missiles which Glooscap threw at Great Beaver, the Micmacs say, when he wished to drive Beaver out of Minas Basin. In the long ago, they claim, this basin was a lake, but when Glooscap drove Great Beaver out he quickly sent Lightning to open up the broad gap which is now Minas Channel, to let in DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 277 sea-water from the Bay of Fundy and so prevent Beaver from returning. The spectacular Split Rock, which guards the entrance to Minas Basin, and which nature in some moment of supreme torment shattered and twisted in two, was caused, the Micmacs claim, when Glooscap became angry with Lightning and picked up this rock to throw at him. Lightning turned and split the rock in his hand with a bolt of fire which made him quickly drop it. As if further protection were needed for this lovely harbor, the lofty promontory of Blomidon stands with its head held high, its rocky base out-thrust to meet the onrushing tide. ‘sé . . . . And away to the northward Blomidon rose, and the forests old; and aloft on the mountains Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic Looked on the happy valley, but ne’er from their station descended.” In this “happy valley” lies the important town of Windsor, picturesquely situated on a point which runs out between the Avon and the St. Croix Rivers. In the long-ago the Indian village on this site was known as Piziquid, ‘““The Meeting of the Waters,” for here the two rivers come together to form the wide Avon, which opens into Minas Basin like a broad bay. The Acadians early settled in the Avon Valley, building 28 BEAUTIFUL CANADA dykes to reclaim the marshes, planting apple-trees and their much-loved willows; but, except for the dykes, and an occasional gnarled old tree, there is now little evidence of their half-century of happy and busy life here. Minas Basin narrows to Cobequid Bay, and where this bay runs up to meet Salmon River, the city of Truro lies. Truro was founded in 1761 by Scotch- Irish settlers from New Hampshire, and is today one of the leading towns of Nova Scotia. Much of its Victoria Park, covering nearly a thousand acres, has been left in the same wild loveliness that the Indians knew when they wandered through the region centuries ago. With the river running down to the bay in front, hills rising to mountains behind, and lakes and streams scattered everywhere, there is a wealth of scenery that is as varied as it is beautiful. Across the hills is Northumberland Strait, where the town of Pictou holds first interest. Long before white men came, the Micmacs had a village here; for this was the very heart of Glooscap’s country, they believed, and so a desirable place in which to live. Also it was, unhappily, the home of the Indian witch, Gamona, who caught wild animals and skinned them alive, using the warm skins for her magic. A chip- munk managed to escape from her clutches, but her claws left stripes down his back, and they are there to this day. She caught an owl, but he, too, managed to escape, and flew straight off to find Glooscap. Glooscap had no magic that could harm the witch, DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 29 but he gave Owl big eyes, that he might ever watch her and give warning to his brother animals. And when Owl says, ‘Hoo, hoo,” that means the witch is flying about. East of Pictou, Cape George, running out toward Cape Breton Island, ends abruptly to leave room for George Bay, which extends in to the Gut of Canso. The shores of the bay, wooded and dotted with villages, rise in softly rounded hills where sheep are often at pasture and woods give way to pleasant meadows. Antigonish Harbour is but one of the bay’s many picturesque inlets. Inshore a bit from Antigonish is a haunted lake, if one may believe the tales told by the natives. It is a mere lakelet, scarcely more than a pond. Many years ago a farmer living there gave his soul to the Devil in exchange for the heart of a maiden he eagerly desired and which, alas, the Devil possessed. Both the farmer and the girl soon died; and ever afterward there has wandered about the lake, at twilight, a “Something” in the form of a black cat or a dog. No native dares go near enough, at the mystic hour, to investigate the weird creature his imagination pictures through the nightfall gloom. ‘““Haunted”’ places, especially marshes, are very common on Cape Breton Island and this upper end of Nova Scotia peninsula, where ‘‘Bochen,”’ the mir- aculous water-horse, lives in the swampy regions. Many are the Acadian tales woven about him, and his 30 BEAUTIFUL CANADA changing mood. Sometimes he is a devil-horse; at other times he does only good. West of Pictou the coast varies with undulating meadows, wooded points, and occasional bits of rugged shore. The oyster, lobster and deep-sea fish- ing are so excellent here that many villages nestle beside the water; and some of these have grown into resorts where the vacationist comes, lured by the boat- ing and deep-sea fishing and by the rest and joy of summering in a quiet Acadian fishing village. The narrow isthmus of Chignecto, lying between Baie Verte, where Northumberland Strait washes in on the north, and Cumberland Basin, where the Bay of Fundy runs up through Chignecto Bay on the south, marks the boundary-line between Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. In Chignecto Bay the Fundy tides sweep in, often as high as forty or fifty feet; and as they wash out they leave broad beaches and ledges of brick-red mud, and marshes where wild-fowl have their feeding-ground. The water that rushes in is tinged with red, from its own clay-bank. Far off down the bay the rolling gray- green of Fundy—called by the French the Baie Fran- caise, and by the Micmacs the Tormented Sea—battles with the winds, which hurl the water in one direction while the tides rush with it in another. Of all Nova Scotia’s countless attractions, none is more interesting than the tormented tides of the Bay of Fundy. In this northern end of the bay, especially, where the water becomes more confined, it rolls not DELIGHTFUL NOVA SCOTIA 31 merely in waves, but in spectacular walls that march onto the shore. The changing colors of this water, red and blue and green and silver, are remarkable at all times; in the early morning they are exquisite, when fogs still hang low and the crimson of the sky tinges the water through the misty gray veil. “Tides of Fundy, tides of Fundy, What is this you bring to me— News from nowhere, vague and haunting As the white fog from the sea.” iy % Bey Nae oh th havi J Se Wh i sh Se ee then 2 : b 444 Bad i ty aN: Oo ve i] is \' 4 , ‘ , Ti = ] . 1, } 4 t A ’ : ‘. iy pt 7 a) i ; y iP) at. aj, : al Oy | i) | . wy { ‘ a ! J , 7 i; ; le { ‘ ¥ e} Nin & { aha : t ; i ‘ \ j f ‘hi f in let Ae A OS pf ; ¥ y : J 1} v7. Ly vif Ree yp ee.) racy K ¢ r : } ! iii Ye Pay te CRE Ae ere eT II. NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND THE Story OF SAINTE Croix St. ANDREWS-BY-THE-SEA THE LEGEND OF CHAMCOOK LAKE TuHE IsLANDS OF PASSAMAQUODDY Bay PirATE GOLD ON GRAND MANAN THE StTorieD ST. JOHN THE LEGEND OF GRAND FALLS FREDERICTON, THE DELIGHTFUL CITY Lakes ALONG THE WAyY Tue Ciry or St. JOHN ScENIC MONCTON THE LEGEND OF HOPEWELL CAPE AcapIA LAND On NORTHUMBERLAND STRAIT THE ROMANCE OF MIRAMICHI Bay THE LuRE OF THE DEEP ForEsTS THE FAMOUS RESTIGOUCHE RIVER BEAUTIFUL CHALEUR Bay Tue LEGEND OF THE PHANTOM LIGHT Tue MYTHICAL GouGou ais Mass r (cay ity) Ny, ae it Vay % ae UR ia Aisi OY ORES vibe’ tines wih . N “Nh oy}, dae wi , A hia AvP yg i a Mx wiki ni ye 4 dak iM vay ; Ne si wt) ney iy 4 eva le Wen ee wpiuin ie ey he eng i hat ee a ‘ ‘ikea a i jo) Al Hh sayy ret ; iy ay a a sik _ ‘2 a ’ i M " A nt * ie II NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND “Hung like a rich pomegranate o’er the sea The ripened moon; along the trancéd sand The feather-shadowed ferns drooped dreamfully; The solitude’s evading harmony Mingled remotely over sea and land; A light wind woke and whispered warily, A myriad ripples tinkled on the strand.” —Charles G. D. Roberts N 1604 an Indian village stood where now is the city of St. John, the wigwams somehow finding room among the many pines and hemlocks that crowded down to the water’s edge. A few Micmacs were fishing, on a day in late June, when suddenly one of them gave a cry of alarm. Rolling in on the waves of the Tormented Sea was what appeared to them to be a great monster of the deep. One glance at the terrifying creature, and the wigwams were deserted: the women with their papooses fled to the shelter of the forest; the men, as befitted Indian braves, grabbed up their bows and arrows and stood ready to do battle. But, to their wide-eyed amazement, they saw that this monster was only a ship; but such a ship as never before had they even dreamed could exist. It was Sieur de Monts and Champlain, seeking a site for their colony. The Indians were friendly enough, when the great 35 36 BEAUTIFUL CANADA ship sailed in, and Champlain lingered long enough to name the river St. John; but he had dreams of a warm southern land for his colony, and so they soon weighed anchor and sailed on. When they reached Passamaquoddy Bay, dotted with its many lovely wooded islands, it seemed to them that, surely, there could be no more delightful place in all the world. It was too luring to leave. ‘There must have been long discussion as to which of the many islands to choose. De Monts settled it by selecting an island in the midst of a broad river that flowed into the bay. Being a devout Catholic, he planted a cross when he landed, and named the island Sainte Croix. The Etchemins, crowding down to the banks to stare in wonder at the strangers, called their river the Schoodic; it is now the St. Croix, and forms part of the boundary-line between Maine and New Brunswick. Filled with enthusiasm, the French colonists set to work clearing the ground, building log houses, and planting—wherever Champlain landed, almost his first act was to plant seeds. But the little settlement seemed doomed from the beginning. The winter cold was intense; shortage of food and an all-meat diet brought on scurvy, and nearly half the colonists died from this “mal de terre’; keen nostalgia assailed the others; and when the spring of 1605 arrived and with it came a boat from France with supplies, all were eager to sail for home. But De Monts and Champlain would not accept NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 37 defeat. Poutrincourt had now joined them, and they removed the little colony across the Bay of Fundy to the sheltered inlet of Annapolis Basin which they had found so beautiful the preceding summer. Here they built Port Royal, using the material they brought from the demolished houses at Sainte Croix. The old settlement, where their disastrous first winter had been spent, now destroyed and deserted, was soon reclaimed by nature. Vines overran it, bushes sprang up, trees grew ever higher and higher, until all traces of this first brave little fort were effaced—only the island remained, “With tangled brushwood overgrown, And here and there a lofty pine, Around whose form strange creepers twine, And crags that mock the wild sea’s moan.” Even the name has been changed. Today it is Dochet Island. The St. Croix River flows down from a chain of lakes, the Chiputneticook, which stretch through a wide and timbered valley, and form an ideal place for camping, hunting, fishing, canoeing, or other vacation delights. At the mouth of the river the city of St. Andrews has been built, on a long and sloping peninsula which runs out into Passamaquoddy Bay. St. Andrews is New Brunswick’s most famous summer-resort. It is a tree-lovely city, noted for its beautiful scenery, with a deep wood running inland and the bay curving softly in front. 38 BEAUTIFUL CANADA “The far-off shores swim blue and indistinct, Like half-lost memories of some old dream. The listless waves that catch each sunny gleam Are idling up the waterways land-linked, And, yellowing along the harbor’s breast, The light is leaping shoreward from the west.” Back of St. Andrews rises Chamcook Mountain, keeping vigil over the lovely water of Chamcook Lake. An Etchemin legend claims that at one time neither the mountain nor the lake was here. In those far-off days there was an Etchemin chief whose only son, playing in the forest, was torn to pieces by wildcats; but as the child’s spirit started on its long journey the great Manitou appeared and changed it into this lake, that it might remain near the disconsolate chief. But the chief, in his sorrow, hid himself away in the tepee and would neither eat nor sleep; and the lake lay gloomy and sad. So the Manitou again appeared, and changed the father into Chamcook Mountain, that he might ever stand beside his little son. And now no longer is there mourning. Those who know the mountain know the joy of its loveliness; and know, too, that the lake lies ever smiling. Anglers seek Cham- cook Lake because of the gamy ouananiche, the land- locked salmon. Beyond this land of the Etchemins, if Champlain and other early writers may be believed, there was a strangely long-legged tribe, “the Armouchiquois, next unneighborly neighbors to the Etechemins.”’ Purchas says of them: ‘They are light-footed and lime- A ‘TREE-LOVELY ROAD St. Andrews is noted for its many scenic drives. Pa a a Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. THE, TWIN FALLS OF THE-POK LOK A wild glen near Fredericton, the city in the forest. NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 39 fingered. Their legges greate and long, and dispro- portioned with likeness of proportion; when they sit on their heeles their knees are halfe a foote higher then their heades. ‘They are valiant and planted in the best Countrey.”’ Passamaquoddy Bay is all but shut in by its many islands. Some are mere rocky crags, rising in gray and red above the sea-blue water; others lie like dark emeralds set in gold, where the bright tree-patch is edged round with yellow sand; still others are broad and lovely islands, where there are meadows, and fish- ing villages, and craggy coves hemmed in with trees. Campobello Island lies at the very edge of the United States, and is a favorite summering-place for New York and Boston anglers. The shores are ex- tremely rugged and picturesque, and the island is well wooded. A short distance away is the island of Grand Manan, which has both beauty and romance. Rugged gray cliffs rise sheer from the water for three hundred or more feet, deep chasms cutting them, leaning spruce- trees almost touching overhead. Near Dark Harbour, in a secluded little cove, pirate gold is supposed to be buried. Many have sought here for treasure; and, could they only know it, have found it—not as doubloons and jingling pieces of eight, but in the health and joy of this thrilling outdoor sport of treasure- hunting, in the tonic from the ocean and from the incense-freighted hemlocks and pines. Grand Manan is a favorite fishing center, and with 40 BEAUTIFUL CANADA its balsam forests, its flower-scattered meadows, and its rugged, inviting coasts, it is a delightful summering- place. One of the many boat excursions that may be taken from the island crosses a sunlit stretch of Fundy to the lovely and history-steeped city of St. John, lying at the mouth of the river which the Indians called the Ouygoudy. This meant Highway, for by it they came down from the St. Lawrence. Cham- plain, however, being a good Catholic, spread broad- cast in this new land the names. of the saints; and as he sailed into the mouth of the Ouygoudy on St. John’s Day, he replaced what he considered the heathenish name of the Micmacs by the reverential one of his saint. The St. John rises in the woods of northern Maine, forms part of the boundary-line of that state, and then becomes wholly New Brunswick’s own. The Indians of its upper reaches called it the Woolastook, or Long River; for when they set out upon it in their birchbark canoes it seemed to them a river with- out end. ‘These northern Indians were the Meliseets. ‘Their Dogges are like Foxes, which spende not, neuer giue ouer, and haue rackets tyed vnder their feete, the better to runne on the Snowe.” In the summer months the Meliseets paddled down the St. John to trade—and not always peaceably—with the Micmacs. Down this waterway, too, came the Mohawks, search- ing for scalps, making sudden raids upon Meliseet or Micmac villages. The entire upper reaches of the river, famous for NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 41 its scenery, are wild and lovely; but the St. John’s most spectacular moment is at Grand Falls. Here the water, in a tremendous volume, makes a sudden leap of sixty feet into a rocky basin entirely hidden by the clouds of flying spray. Then off, down a deep, wind- ing gorge, the river cascades in frothy falls, boils over rapids, or stops to swirl in giddy whirlpools. There is a fascination in the roar of these falls, and in the rushing beauty of the water. And when huge logs are floated over and are tossed about like so many match-sticks, the fascination is akin to awe. New Brunswick is a land rich in legends, and many tales hover about Grand Falls. The most popular is of the Meliseet maiden who gave her life that her people might be saved. She was off in the forest gathering balsam-bark when she was surprised by a large party of Mohawks on their way to destroy the Meliseet village of Medoctec. The Indian girl was forced to guide the war-canoes, which were then in the Madawaska, a tributary stream. When she piloted them safely past the dangerous Little Falls and into the broad and quiet St. John, they had full confidence in her; and when she assured them there were no more portages, the canoes were lashed together as they went gliding stealthily downstream. But suddenly a roar- ing of water was heard. A bend in the river con- cealed the danger, and the maiden told the Mohawks it was a cataract in a nearby stream. ‘Too late to escape, they saw the precipice, and in spite of frantic efforts went over. Thus the Mohawk warriors and 42 BEAUTIFUL CANADA the Meliseet maiden were dashed to death on the rocks below, and the village of Medoctec was saved. The furious boiling and seething of the water at the foot of the falls is caused by the torment of these Mohawks, whose spirits still struggle for release; and in the roar of the cataract, if one but listen closely, their anguished groanings may be heard. On the stretch of the St. John that winds down from Grand Falls to Fredericton, there are many Indian villages, ever interesting and delightful; and the river itself is constantly varying. At places it is broad and shallow and dotted with islands; again it narrows to a mere channel, with rocky shores sweeping up on both sides, and trees crowding thickly about them; in some of its stretches there are groves of silver-white birch that run down in little points into the river, ferns crowding between the trees wherever they can find roothold. Again there are rolling meadows that sweep back, always to end in trees. Many streams winding into the St. John have rapids or falls of their own, lying hidden in the deep woods. Fredericton, the capital of the province, is a city built in the forest, a woodsy, flower-splashed city that is quaint and altogether charming. Even the St. John River takes on here a restful beauty, as it flows sedately by in a broad stream nearly three-quarters of a mile wide. Almost opposite the town is the mouth of the Nashwaak River where, in 1692, Villebon built a fort and removed his little French garrison from Jemseg, farther down the St. John. Scarcely was he NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 43 settled when New Englanders sailed boldly up to attack him; but the Meliseet Indians gave excellent support and the fort could not be taken. Two years later, however, it was deserted, and was destroyed in 1700. But this stretch of the St. John River was an ideal place for a city; it could not long remain deserted. By 1740 the French village of Ste. Anne climbed back from the shores; and when the Acadians were driven from Nova Scotia many of them found refuge here. But the Acadians were ousted by the influx of Tories at the close of the American Revolution. They took the town for their own; the name was changed to Fredericton; and since 1786 it has been the capital of New Brunswick. Between Fredericton and St. John a railroad clings to the bank of the river, winding as it winds, afford- ing ever-interesting vistas of water and wooded islands; another railroad, running more directly, dips down through the interior, crossing and recrossing pic- turesque streams; but the most delightful ride, for one not in a hurry, is by the steamboat that plies down the St. John. Boats freighted with cargo—corn on the cob, bright-red tomatoes, sweet-scented hay—come alongside in midstream, tie up and unload while the steamer chugs on, undisturbed. ‘There are stops at wharves, where freight is piled high, where white- sailed boats may be at anchor, and little craft bob about in the waves the churning steamer sends shore- ward. vi BEAUTIFUL CANADA The Jemseg River, which is no more than a winding channel, brings to the St. John the water from Grand Lake. Long ago this great lake, with its many coves and bays and deep inlets, lay in the heart of an immense forest; today it is surrounded by orchards, by clover- fields, with their burden of nectar which gives such delectable flavor to New Brunswick honey, by well- kept farms, and coal-mines in operation. The Salmon River, following a tortuous course through a land of pastoral beauty, flows into Grand Lake; and just above its mouth is Chipman, a coal-mining center, a steamship terminus, and the junction of two important rail- roads. Washademoak Lake, which opens off the St. John River, is the outlet for the Washademoak River, a great fishing stream. Below this lake the St. John curves back into Belleisle Bay, and then begins its Long Reach of sixteen miles with scarcely a winding. On one side a range of hills, known locally as the Devil’s Back, rises in softly rolling contours. On the other side the banks are low; and in the midst of the river are many islands. At the end of the Reach the St. John makes its big bend and soon loses its identity as a river in a series of bays. The largest of these bays, near the mouth of the river, is the Kennebecasis, which is but a broadening of the exquisitely lovely Kennebecasis River. The bay is nearly four miles wide, and has many wooded islands to add to its charm and its colorful beauty. NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 45 “Of all the gallant Frenchmen Whose names and deeds endure, In old Acadian annals, The greatest was La Tour.” Thus Whittier sings of Charles La Tour; and at the mouth of the St. John River, where the city now stands, was the little fort which Madame La Tour, in 1645, so heroically defended while her husband was absent seeking help in Boston. Port Royal was founded on the shores of Annapolis Basin in 1605; in 1610 Charles La Tour was there, a boy of fourteen, and during the following many years, full of stirring events, he came to love the land of Acadia as his own. Never once did he waver in his loyalty to France, even when his own father, captured on the highseas, taken a prisoner to London, and then lionized at the English Court, became a British subject and begged his son to accept the favors England was ready to offer should he give up the French fort near Cape Sable. Charles: La ‘Tour scorned bribes, and held the fort for France; and the King of France recognized this loyalty by appoint- ing him Lieutenant-governor of Acadia. More eventful years sped past. Cardinal Richelieu, alarmed at the hold the English were gaining over- seas, sent now a new colonizing expedition, and ap- pointed Razilly, a very excellent man, Governor of all Acadia. Razilly’s lieutenant and successor was Charles d’Aulnay, and between d’Aulnay and Charles 46 BEAUTIFUL CANADA La Tour a bitter war raged; for La Tour refused to give up his rights in the land he knew and loved, rights which he richly deserved. He was now entrenched in Fort La Tour, which he had built at the mouth of the St. John River; d’Aulnay was at Port Royal. La Tour would sally to Annapolis Basin to attack d’Aulnay’s fort; d’Aulnay would lose no time in crossing Fundy for an attack upon Fort La Tour. So the battle waged; and then d’Aulnay learned that La Tour was absent and the fort unprotected. An opportunity to be snatched, he decided, as he rushed to the attack. But he had reckoned without Madame La Tour. She rose heroically to the occasion. Under her guidance the few French and their Indian allies made such a determined resistance that d’Aulnay was retiring in discouragement when a cowardly German, who had sought refuge at the fort at the first firing of a gun, now turned traitor, for a price, and betrayed the fort, betrayed the staunch-hearted woman and her brave little garrison. Even then Madame La Tour refused to capitulate until d’Aulnay had guaranteed fair treatment to all his prisoners. This he readily agreed to; but, once inside, the cruel d’Aulnay not only broke his pledge and hanged every man except one whom he made executioner, but he forced Madame La Tour, with a rope around her own neck, to watch the murder of these men who so bravely had helped her hold the fort. The horrors of this treacherous massacre broke her heart; and she died three weeks NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 47 later, a prisoner in the hands of the merciless d’Aulnay. Five years later d’Aulnay was drowned in Annapolis Basin; and a strange, almost incredible, sequel to the whole tragedy is that Charles La Tour, the husband of the courageous woman who is known as ‘“‘the heroine of Acadia,” and whom he truly loved, married the widow of d’Aulnay, the fiend who had caused Madame La Tour’s tortured death. The marriage brought La Tour back into his own in Acadia; but the very next year, 1654, Oliver Crom- well sent over an expedition which took the fort and held it for England—at least for a while. During the following century it was the target for constant naval bombardment from St. John Harbour. In 1758, while the French were in possession, it was captured by a combined force of English and New Englanders, and named Fort Frederic. At the outbreak of the American Revolution, a few American privateers slipped up, surprised it, captured and dismantled it. But many Tories from New England were now com- ing to St. John, and a fort here seemed desirable. In 1777, therefore, six years before the city of St. John had its real beginning, Fort Howe was built at a com- manding position on Fort Howe Hill. The ruins of this old fort, and nineteen acres of surrounding ground, have been made a historic National Park. The city of St. John was at first called Parrtown, and its importance as a city began in 1783 when twenty ships, with about three thousand Tories from the 48 BEAUTIFUL CANADA United States, sailed into St. John Harbour. By the following year, six or seven thousand more Tories had arrived, besides a large number who founded towns elsewhere in New Brunswick. St. John is today the largest city in the province; and it is a beautiful city, with its tree-shaded streets and its many glimpses of the sea. Its most notable scenic feature is furnished by the outflowing St. John River where it meets and does battle with the incoming Fundy tide. Here are the Reversing Falls, said to be the only phenomenon of its kind in the world. At low-tide the mighty river-water, brought together in a narrow gorge, rushes furiously through and drops in a succession of rapids into the bay. At high-tide, the rush of the incoming bay is so great that not only does it cover these rapids but it sweeps against the river- water until it takes it rushing madly back upstream, to fall upon itself and race down again. St. John is Canada’s winter port, for it remains open for trans-Atlantic ships when Quebec and Montreal lie icebound down the frozen St. Lawrence. Much of the Bay of Fundy coast, between St. John Harbour and Chignecto Bay, is fertile marshland, prairie-like, where meadows of tall grass or fields of oats or clover drink in greedily the warm sunshine, or lie moist under the mists from the bay. The Bay of Fundy narrows to Chignecto Bay; Chignecto Bay narrows to Shepody Bay; and Shepody Bay narrows to the Petitcodiac River. The Indian word codiac, “bend,” was applied to the river only at NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 49 its great curve where there was an Indian village. Higher in its course there is a much sharper bend, and this the French called, in a quaint mingling of lan- guages, the petit codiac; and the combined name came soon to be applied to the entire stream. Pennsylvania Dutch, hearing of the delights of this lovely country, left their settlements along the Del- aware and the Schuylkill and brought their all to The Bend, building log cabins among the Indian tepees. Many Acadians joined them. Tories from the United States found it a pleasant place after the Revolution; and the name of the town was changed to Moncton, in honor of the general who served second in command under Wolfe at the taking of Quebec and later was British Governor of New York. Today Moncton is the second city in size in the province, and is an im- portant manufacturing and railroad center. Its scenic attractions are many, and include the spectacular tidal wave, known as the “Bore,” a solid wall of water three to four feet high, which marches up the river from Fundy. At Hopewell Cape, a short distance away, are grotesque rocks of red sandstone which the lashing tides have sculptured into fantastic shapes. Seen in the moonlight, when day-glare is gone and contours are softened, they well might be, as the Indians claim, weird creatures stalking out to sea. The Micmacs say that a great monster once lived in the rocks along this shore, and he ate nothing but white porpoises. But so greedy was he that the por- poises soon began to disappear. Then he unchained 50 BEAUTIFUL CANADA his servants and sent them out to fish for him; but the servants were Micmac Indians the monster had captured, and, once free, they hastened off to their tribe. The monster lashed about in such fury that his tail shattered the rocky cliffs and left these weird pillars edging the shore. At once he turned them into giants, leaving their feet, however, solid rock, so they might never run away, as did the Indians, but per- mitting their bodies to assume human form whenever a white porpoise swam near. The Missiguash River, on the isthmus of Chignecto, is steeped in the history of the French and English struggles for Acadia; for on one side of the stream was the French Fort Beauséjour, and on the other side the English Fort Lawrence. In 1755, the year the Acadians were driven from the Basin of Minas, the French fort was captured, its name changed to Cumberland, and later it was abandoned and soon fell into ruins. | The coast of New Brunswick edging upon North- umberland Strait is almost wholly Acadian now. Delightful fishing villages dot the shore or curve about the many inlets; farming-land and stretches of cool deep woods run back from the sea. Cape Tormentine is an important port where the railroad shifts its cars from the track to a comfortable steamer, to be ferried across the strait to Borden, Prince Edward Island. Point du Chéne, also, is a little seaside resort where the railroad runs up to meet the boat, affording a delightful sail across to Summer- NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 51 side, Prince Edward Island. Shediac, nearby, with its harbor sheltered by a tree-covered island, holds out many lures to the vacationist—its exquisite sea- scapes, its sandy bathing beaches, its boating joys, and, not the least, its famous oysters. Farther along the coast is Richibucto Bay, shut in by a chain of islands and receiving the water of the great trout and salmon stream, the Richibucto River. In 1534, seventy years before Champlain came, Jacques Cartier was in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, searching for the route to Cathay. Early in July he and his men landed on the New Brunswick coast, at Point Escuminac, for a brief run on shore before sail- ing into Miramichi Bay. Even before Cartier came, however, the Basque fishermen were here. Already they had picked up a few Indian words, one of the first they learned being michi, ‘boats.’ As they sailed into this broad harbor and saw hundreds of canoes rushing toward them, their occupants curious to see the big ship from another world, the Basque lookout cried excitedly to his com- panions: “Mira! Mira michi!’’ which meant, ‘Look! Look—boats!’’ The Basque sailors laughed at him for his mixture of Spanish and Indian, and began to call the bay, in jest, ““Miramichi.’”’ And through the centuries that name has clung to it, and has been given to a town on its shore, to the largest river which flows into the bay, and to three tributaries of that river. Some believe that “Miramichi” is an Indian word meaning ‘‘Hand’’—because five branches of the river yniversitY OF : WLLINO!S LIBRAR 52 BEAUTIFUL CANADA run together like fingers; others say it is Indian for ‘Happy Retreat,”’ because of the lovely wooded glens along the river’s course. When Cartier sailed into Miramichi Bay so many canoes came paddling out that he was afraid their great numbers might swamp his boat, knowing that in their curiosity they would crowd upon him; so he fired his cannon to frighten them off. He hastily, then, showed his friendliness by presenting the chief with a bright red hat. The inner harbor is shut in by a chain of islands that stretch, like fairy stepping-stones, across the bay. Both Chatham, a charming little city, lying where bay and river meet, and Newcastle, a short distance up the broad’ Miramichi, are favorite outfitting-points for the vacationist fortunate enough to be able to spend fascinating days in the interior. All of northern New Brunswick is densely timbered. Spruce, fir, pine, cedar, hemlock, poplar, maple, birch—it seems that every lovely tree that ever was, grows somewhere here. And in these forests are thousands of moose, roaming about, swimming the cool streams, standing knee-deep in the pleasant lakes, feeding on the tender undergrowth, or resting motionless in the forest, their bodies the color of the background, their antlers like prongs of a tree. Herds of caribou, too, are here. Red deer are plentiful. And innumer- able fur-bearing animals live their busy lives some- where in these forests—bear, raccoons, otter, mink, beaver, marten, and many other creatures of the wild. s = *. : Pe: a % - Pd ; walt mid | x a ~ a Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. A LOG-DRIVE ON THE MIRAMICHI This famous river is a favorite with anglers and canoeists. ck Sa Ra ct Ceurtesy, Canadian National Rys. THE GIANT'S HEAD Weird, wave-sculptured rocks edge the shore at Hopewell Cape. NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 53 Campers delight in the migratory birds that find New Brunswick’s deep and lovely woods too alluring to pass over; and in the wild-fowl that always are abundant here. A network of rivers and streams, and many lakes, winding through the incensed forests, form a labyrinth of water that the canoeist finds irresistible. The Tobique-Nipisiguit canoe trip, from Plaster Rock on the Tobique to Bathurst on Chaleur Bay, is one of the most delightful to be found anywhere. It winds, and often races, for about one hundred and fifty miles through the wildest forests of northern New Bruns- wick, and has a portage of only three miles. ‘This route may be varied by going down the Upsalquitch to Campbellton. Either way affords fine salmon fishing, wonderful camping sites, and beautiful forest scenery. The Restigouche, with crystal-clear water, is a favorite with the lazy canoeist; for a hundred miles or so there are no rapids, and one may float along at leisure and enjoy the forest creatures that come down to the river to drink or bathe. The Mira- michi, also, is a favorite with canoeists; and the routes of the St. John and its tributaries are innumerable. The Tobique and the Nipisiguit, rising in little lake- lets on the slopes of Bald Mountain and flowing in opposite directions, are noted for their trout and salmon. So also are the many branches of the Mira- michi; and almost every other river in New Bruns- wick. But the favorite salmon stream, with anglers, 54 BEAUTIFUL CANADA because of the abundance, the gaminess, and the im- mense size of the fish, is the Restigouche River, with its many tributaries, one of which has the delightful name of Quatawamkedgewickasis, which means Little Quatawamkedgewick. Part of the Restigouche’s course lies between Quebec and New Brunswick. Its lower reaches, nearly four miles broad, gradually widen into the very beautiful Chaleur Bay, which Cartier named the Baie des Chaleurs because the heat, on July 10, 1534, was more than pleasantly noticeable. “The Micmac name for the bay was the Sea of Fish. Dalhousie, running down to the water where the river ends and the bay begins, is a much-loved summer- resort and a charming little sea-town, lying at the foot of wooded hills. Few places are so rich in legend as this lovely Chaleur Bay. “Who has not heard of the phantom light That over the moaning waves, at night, Dances and drifts in endless play, Close to the shore, then far away, Fierce as the flame in sunset skies Cold as the winter light that lies On the Baie des Chaleurs.” This legend of the phantom light goes back to the days when pirates roamed the seas. A brave young man and his lady fair set sail to begin a wondrous life together in the new world. But their ship was NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 55 sighted on the highseas by a pirate crew. With bellowing sails they sped into Chaleur Bay, the buccaneer ship in their wake. ‘They were overtaken, and sunk. Only the heavens had been witness to the tragedy; and the displeased heavens suddenly opened and dropped upon the pirate ship a ball of fire; flames sprang up the rigging, and tongues of flame leaped along the deck. Punishment had come swiftly; in another moment the ship and the cut-throat crew were at the bottom of the Baie des Chaleurs. Mariners claim that now, in the dead of night, the pirate ship comes up from the deep and flits about the bay, lighted by a glow of phantom-fire that leaps up the rigging, manned by a crew of wailing specter- pirates. Partly shutting in Chaleur Bay are two large, wooded islands—Shippegan and Mictou—the haunts of wild-fowl. These are isles of delight to the man with rod or gun, or to the mere seeker of rest and extraordinary beauty. But these islands, especially Mictou, were held in the utmost dread by the Indians; for here, they believed, dwelt the terrible sea-monster Gougou, half-woman, half-dragon, who was big enough to put in her pocket the largest ship that sailed, and who ate Indians as choice titbits. Even Champlain was led to believe in her. In 1603 he wrote: “There is still one strange thing, worthy of account, which many Savages have assured me was true; that is that neare the Baie des Chaleurs, toward the South, there is an island where a frightfull Monster makes his 56 of to BEAUTIFUL CANADA home, which the Savages call Gougou, and which they told me had the form of a Woman, but very Terrible, and of such a Size that they tell me the toppes of Mastes of our Vessel would not reache to his waiste, so great do they represent him; and they say that he has often eaten up and still continues to eat up many Savages; these he puts, when he can catch them, into a great pocket, and afterward he eats them; and those who had escaped the danger of this awful Beaste said that its pocket was so greate that it could have put our Vessel into it. ‘This Monster makes horrible noises in this Island, which the Savages call the Gougou; and when they speak of it, it is with unutterable fear, and severall have assured me that they have seene him. . . . If I were to record all they say of her, it would be considered as idle tales, but I hold that this is the dwelling-place of some Devil that torments them in the manner described.” A charming little summer-resort on this south shore the Baie des Chaleurs is Jacquet River, where a crystal stream winds through the woods and meadows end in the bay. ‘The view out over Chaleur, the water sparkling in the sunshine, the waves ever rest- less, is alluring; and the shore itself is attractive, with wide clean beaches running back to cliffs of fantastic rock or to meadows white with drifts of daisies. “Of all the floures in the mede Than love I most these floures white and rede, Soch that men callen daisies in our towne, To hem I have so greate affection.” NEW BRUNSWICK, THE LURING LAND 57 New Brunswick has much to offer the homeseeker. To the vacationist it is a land of unending delights. Fishing, hunting, yachting, canoeing, camping, explor- ing its ever-new wilds; motoring on its many scenic highways, horseback-riding into the deep woods where logging-roads go, hiking off into the bypaths or blaz- ing new trails through the incense-sweet trees and the cool deep ferns—these are a few of its inexhaustible joys. Mountains and meadows, woods and sea, give a pleasing variety to the beauty of this land so rich in scenery, this land of the magnificent forests. In the spring, when the trees are all so freshly green, and white with dogwood blossoms, they are exquisite. In the summer the woods are even more enticing, with their tangled vines and brilliant wild-flowers. But by far the loveliest time is the early autumn, when maples splash the spruce and hemlock forests with flame and crimson and scarlet, poplars glow vivid-yellow, and oaks are a gay gold-bronze. ‘The visitor, leaving New Brunswick, has many pleasing memories, but none is more haunting, none more enduring, than the exquisite coloring of her autumn woods. “With magic color the forest glows, Fit for a pageant fair— Gold and scarlet, ruby and rose, Bright as a bugle’s blare.” NOV da aa pet th iM Nene ’ Hid . L } , } ve ae 4 a en J A) a Lf t fr ret, " ‘ ‘ Auth if | ’ VOTO) ey OAR RAN pit a a sine i ik 2 bee THE HAPPY ISLE Tue LEGEND OF PRINCE Epwarp ISLAND WHEN CARTIER CAME DELIGHTFUL TIGNISH ALONG THE NorTH COAST RustTico’s FAMOUS BEACH SEA-MEADOWS AT EAsT POINT THE CHARM OF SOURIS In CARDIGAN BAY INLAND FROM MONTAGUE LovELY Murray HARBOUR THE LEGEND OF THE GULLS THE GREAT HILLSBOROUGH BAY CHARLOTTETOWN, THE FLOWER CITY “THE GARDEN OF THE GULF’ ICE-BOATS ON THE STRAIT Fox RANCHING CoLoRFUL BEDEQUE Bay SUMMERSIDE’s Many DELIGHTS AROUND WEsT POINT A Micmac LEGEND MINA ENG Cie i vine del Lia i any VRE, Pru MC) ‘. : a ht A hs ey 5 hal awit , fe] ‘ \ AY bead aoe ‘ Pa A y y be WA hte BEV UAN TRAE a RENE RES pe) aes: ‘ » ; a’ III MoE HAPPY VLSivh “There’s a piping wind from a sunrise shore Blowing over a silver sea, There’s a joyous voice in the lapsing tide That calls enticingly.” —L. M. Montgomery RINCE EDWARD ISLAND was known to Pp the Indians as Abegweit, ‘Resting on the Waves.” And, surely, no more delightful description could be given of it. It lies in a long crescent of red and green and gold, the sea-blue around it and the sky-blue above it. When mists drift in from the gulf, half-veiling the shores, the island looks as if it were indeed “resting on the waves,”’’ ready to float gently off should a big wave come to disturb it. The sandstone cliffs and the clay-soil of the island are a rich red; and the Micmacs say they were colored by their demigod Glooscap for his pleasure, because red promotes cheer, and to this island he came when there were annoyances on the mainland. He especi- ally disliked rain, and here, on the Happy Isle, all was gay sunshine. But one day his enemy, Big Beaver, discovered where Glooscap had gone, and persuaded Gull and his brothers to fly over the island and shower him with rainwater, carried in birchbark buckets. The gulls found the buckets very heavy, so they rested on 61 62 BEAUTIFUL CANADA clouds; but the clouds, too, found the buckets heavy and they dropped lower and lower and began to frown darkly. And to this very day, whenever there are low black clouds over the island, it is because Gull and his brothers are perched upon them, ready to empty their birchbark buckets. There may be occasional rains, but Abegweit is still a Happy Isle that ‘‘calls enticingly.”” When Cartier examined its shores in 1534 he described it as ‘“The Low and Beautiful Land”; but Champlain, seventy years later, felt that so lovely a place should have the name of one of his beloved saints. Accordingly, he called it L’ile Saint-Jean; and that name clung to it for about two centuries, until in 1799 the English changed it to Prince Edward, in honor of the Duke of Kent. This island, about one hundred and forty miles long and varying in width from two to thirty miles, is the smallest of all the provinces. It lies in the southern part of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, separated from New Brunswick and Nova Scotia by the Northumberland Strait. The shores are extremely irregular, with deep indentations and rivers almost joining across the island. This gives many fine harbors, many little coves run- ning up into red-rock shores, many crescent beaches of bright-red pebbles flecked with white, many quiet inlets where marsh-grass runs out into the sea, and where marsh-birds, dipping up from their bath, rest a moment and sway delightedly, shaking water-dia- monds from their wet wings. When Cartier came upon “The Low and Beautiful THE HAPPY ISLE 63 Land,” on July 1, 1534, he was entranced. Such great forests, such a variety of trees, such an abundance of berries—nothing escaped him; and he wrote enthusi- astically of his discovery. The natives, however, were shy and kept in hiding. On the second day Cartier landed on what is now North Point. He called it Cap des Sauvages because of the many natives who peeped at him from behind trees but, not knowing whether this strange, bearded man, in his wholly- strange clothing, be mortal or demon, were afraid to approach. As Cartier was putting off from shore, one of the Indians, more courageous than his com- panions, ran out from his hiding-place and began mak- ing signs to him. The white man, eager to get into communication with the natives, hastened back to shore. But the Indian’s courage deserted him. Man or demon, he would take no chances. In a flash he was off in the forest. Cartier waited, and called; but the Indian—watching his every move, no doubt— remained in hiding, so the white man left him a knife and a piece of red cloth tied to a stick, and went back to his boat. What must have been the Indian’s joy and delight to own such unheard-of treasures as these! North Point is one of the tips of the great crescent of land that is Prince Edward Island. Black Reef, a treacherous shoal, lies in the gulf a few miles to the north of the point, the clang of its bell-buoy warning mariners of the many ships that have come to grief there. A few miles to the south is the friendly little village of Tignish, its inhabitants French and Scotch, 64 BEAUTIFUL CANADA descendants of the early Acadians and of Highlanders. Fisherfolk live at Tignish. Their little world is centered about the cod and mackerel and herring hauls, the lobster-pots, the changing sandbars offshore, their many boats. To the outsider Tignish is a delight. There are seas to be sailed in the daytime, fish to be lured into the nets; and at night, with the tang of brine in the air, and the stars coming out overhead, you sit on the beach, on an upturned boat, and listen to tales of the sea. There is a wholesome charm about this little village clinging to the edge of the sea, and a colorful beauty in its fishing-fleets. At dawn the boats set out gaily, the chauntey song or the cheery whistle of the fisherfolk coming back, muffled, through the morning fog; at sunset, creamy sails against darkening sky, they come gliding triumphantly in, deep-laden with the day’s catch. “When the dark comes down, oh, the wind is on the sea, With lisping laugh and whimper to the red reef’s threnody, The boats are sailing homeward now across the harbor bar With many a jest and many a shout from fishing grounds afar. So furl your sails and take your rest, ye fisherfolk so brown, For task and quest are ended when the dark comes down.” THE HAPPY ISLE 65 Sandbars stretch along much of the north coast, shutting in the bays like deep lagoons. Here and there are openings in the sand, where vessels may pass through. Cascumpeque, the first of the large bays, is Indian for “Floating through Sand.” On this shore about a century and a quarter ago a thrilling event was a “sea-cow’” drive. Walrus came up on the banks in herds of three or four hundred. They were left unmolested until the wind blew off-land, and then the settlers, armed with long, sharp-pointed sticks, got between the ‘‘sea-cows”’ and the water and prodded the poor creatures until they went waddling off, away from the sea and into the woods. There, out of their element, they lost all sense of direction, and all their herd instinct, and, once scattered, few of them escaped. Malpeque Bay, near Cascumpeque, was named by Cartier ‘River of Boats’’ because of the great number of canoes that he» saw there. The Indians were hastening up-river, away from him, to the short port- age across the island to Bedeque Bay. A heavy wind carried Cartier back to his ship, but not before his observant eyes had seen, for the first time, smoke issuing from the mouths of the Indians. Later, when he had become more familiar with tobacco, he gave a quaint description of it: “There groweth also a certaine kinde of Herbe where- of in Summer they doe make greate provision for all the yeere, making greate account of it, and onlie Men use it; and firste they cause it to be dry’d in the Sunne, then 66 BEAUTIFUL CANADA weare it about their Neckes wrap’d in a little Beastes skinne made like a bagge, together with a hollow peece of stone or woode like a Pipe. "Then when they please they make Powder of it and put it in one of the endes of the say’d Cornette or Pipe, and laying a coale of Fire upon it at the other ende, they doe sucke so long that they fill their bodys full of Smoake, till that it cometh out of their Mouthe and Nostrills even as out of the tunnell of a Chimney.” All along the north coast there are Acadian fishing villages that curve about the little coves, the white cottages tucked away in the green of trees and splashed with bright-colored flowers. ‘These are ideal places for the vacationist who loves the sea, who likes to go out with the fishermen in the early morning, while the day-dawn fog is still thick and the boat sails on and on through a world of pearl-white mist, nothing to be seen but the fog, nothing to be heard but the flapping of canvas and the surge of the sea. The rivers of the north coast are popular with anglers for their fine trout; and oysters and lobsters are to be had where the rivers meet the gulf. Many splendid beaches, fine sand running out into shallow water, are to be found along the entire stretch of gulf coast. One of the most popular is at Rustico, where the fishing, boating, and bathing are excellent. At the extreme eastern tip of the crescent, East Point reaches a rocky foot out into the water. Far off, across a stretch of rolling sea, often flecked with whitecaps, the coast of Cape Breton Island looms, salen Unanananinnansten : Courtesy, East “P. E. I. Tourist Assn. WHERE THE NORTH SHORE ENDS Point reaches out into the restless St. Lawrence. waves of the Gulf of “UIE FO sjood jsurede pazJanoyjIsS aie saat} YABP “[OOD LASNOS ANVISI NV “Sty JDUO1}D AT uDIrvUuDy) ‘KSIJANOD THE HAPPY ISLE 67 purple-blue in the distance. On each side of East Point the shore is formed of striated rock, wave- eaten into shelves and ledges and fascinating caves where the outgoing sea leaves kelp and tiny water- creatures floating about in pools until the incoming tide washes back to claim them. Rocky beaches curve into crescent banks; and, above, tall grass escapes from the meadows and runs down to the ledges where the waves of the gulf come rolling in. When the seas blow high, spray drenches the grass and edges the blades with jewels. These sea-fringe meadows are exquisite then; but there is a joy in them even when they lie only a subdued foreground to the vast water- loveliness beyond. The short eastern coast has many fine harbors. Col- ville Bay was named Souris by the French, not because of the ragged, mouse-eaten appearance of its shores but because the forest which then crowded about the bay was overrun with mice. ‘The name still clings to the town. Souris, in spite of its growing importance as a fishing center and a port of call for steamers plying between Pictou, Nova Scotia, and the lonely Magdalen Islands, is a quiet and wholly charming little village, busy with its shipping, busy with its fishing, yet never too busy to greet the stranger and to see that he misses none of the joys of woods or water. There is a fine sandy beach here that proves a constant lure. Cardigan Bay and Murray Harbour vie with each other in the loveliness of their seascapes. The busy ports of Georgetown and Montague give Cardigan 68 BEAUTIFUL CANADA Bay a picturesqueness, with boats ever coming and go- ing, that is wholly different from the quieter beauty of Murray Harbour. Some of the loveliest scenery on the island lies inland from Montague—deep woods with creeks winding through them, trees arching over the water; broad and quiet rivers that glide along leisurely or linger in pleasant, tree-shaded pools; rolling meadows where sheep are grazing or cows stand knee-deep in shallow streams. Flowers add colorful beauty to the meadows, crowd along the highways, and scatter their blossoms through the deep woods. Cardigan Bay and the inshore rivers and woods are charming; but there are few places on the island more lovely than Murray Harbour. The water, white- capped and restless, comes rolling in, hesitates, then surges back. Boats, their white sails lilting to the swing of the sea, cut against the blue of water and sky. Sea-gulls wheel about the boats, or swoop down to ride the waves, flecks of white like the frothy white- caps. A Micmac legend claims that the whitecaps are sea-gulls too, unable to fly above the water because the Spirit of the Sea holds onto them by strings tied to their legs. Long ago Glooscap arranged for a powwow between Spirit of the Sea and Spirit of the Air; and, following the custom, each took the other a handsome present. Spirit of the Sea could think of nothing more lovely than the bright-gold sand that carpeted his floor; so THE HAPPY ISLE 69 proudly he took up with him as much of this as he could carry; but the ungrateful Spirit of the Air, hav- ing no use for such a gift, flung it back into the sea— and there it remains to this day, the islands in Murray Harbour. Now Spirit of the Air had selected, as his choicest treasure, the whitest and fluffest of his sea-gulls. This gift greatly pleased Spirit of the Sea. He let the gulls fly about at the bottom of the gulf, securely fastened to his lodgepole by a long string tied to the leg of each one. One day Spirit of the Sea saw Stormcloud weep- ing, while Wind lashed the waves high. Wind was angry, he told Sea, because the gulls all flew away from his friend Stormcloud. They played with Sun- cloud, but the moment Stormcloud appeared they flew off to land. So Sea made a bargain. For every drop of water Wind should blow down to him from the skies there should be a gull for Wind and Storm- cloud to play with. So now the sea-gulls come up, but Spirit of the Sea holds on tightly to the strings on their legs and jerks them back when he has counted all the waterdrops. It was at Murray Harbour that the early settlers, never having heard of fireflies, believed them to be evil spirits dancing in the air, and a pail of milk was nightly set out to appease them. In the morning the milk would be gone, and the good folk never once sus- pected the roaming pigs. The metropolis of the island is its capital, Charlottetown, lying at the confluence of two wide 70 BEAUTIFUL CANADA rivers—the East or Hillsborough and the North or York, while the West or Elliott River skirts the town. Where the waters of these three rivers mingle, Charlottetown Harbour reaches out to Hillsborough Bay, broad and colorful, with blood-red beaches stretching in burnt crimson between the silver-blue of the sea and the many shades of green and yellow on shore. The French who sailed into the harbor in 1733 found it so beautiful that they named their little settlemert Port la Joie. There is a quiet loveliness about Charlottetown, with its wide, tree-bordered streets, its many lawns, and its bright flower-beds. And not the least of its charms is the undercurrent of happiness, the sense of deep and great content, that pervades the town. In 1775 two American cruisers, sent to the St. Lawrence to intercept troop or munition ships from England, grew tired of waiting for their prey and sailed into Charlottetown Harbour, took the city, and carried off with them acting-Governor Callbeck and two of his officers. But instead of being commended for this exploit, they were severely reprimanded by Washington, who was then at Cambridge, and the Governor and his men were set at liberty with many apologies from the great General. Not to be out- done in courtesy, Governor Callbeck then wrote to Washington, in his exquisite English: ‘T should ill deserve the generous treatment which your Excellency has been pleased to show me had I not gratitude to acknowledge so great a favor. I THE HAPPY ISLE | 71 cannot ascribe any part of it to my own merit, but must impute the whole to the philanthropy and humane disposition that so truly characterizes General Wash- ington. Be so kind, therefore, as to accept the only return in my power, that of my most grateful thanks.” Late that same year, the colonies then being deep in war, a few daring Americans whose whaleboats were on the Nova Scotia coast decided to swoop across and capture Charlottetown. But they had no suitable vessel—only the two small whalers. In these they boldly sailed into Pictou harbor and captured a fine armed merchantman loading for Scotland. It then occurred to them that possibly Charlottetown was now protected, as in truth it was, so they stood to in Baie Verte to wait for reinforcements they expected among Nova Scotia sympathizers. And at this time along came the sloop-o’-war Hunter from England and, learning at Pictou of the Americans and the cap- tured ship, hastened with all sails spread to Baie Verte. But the Massachusetts men were not napping. When they saw her coming and knew they were far too few to protect their prize, they slipped out the back door, as it were, and escaped overland; and the Hunter then towed the deserted ship into Charlottetown Harbour, where its captain decided it would best remain while the seas were infested with American marauders. Radiating from Charlottetown are many roads, both by land and by water, that entice the visitor to see where they go. Some lead to trout-streams that wind, through a fringe of trees, down to the sea. 2 BEAUTIFUL CANADA Others go to creeks that have been transformed into millponds, wholly picturesque, but tragic when they mean the death of the lovely trees that the island ill can afford to lose. Some run off through the meadows or rolling uplands where cattle and sheep are grazing; or where grainfields, rippling green or gay yellow, or dotted with squat little ‘‘stooks” waiting to be carried away, lie side by side with fields of potatoes or turnips. Apple orchards are scattered about, sprin- kled: with red or gold in the fall, masses of loveliness in the late spring, with “Colors of dream afloat on cloud and tree, So far, so clear, A spell, a mystery!” A favorite name for Prince Edward Island long has been ‘“The Garden of the Gulf.’ For centuries the land has been tilled; for the past century it has been encouraged with kelp and mussel-mud; and it never fails to produce a bountiful harvest. Oats, potatoes and turnips are raised widely; hay is gathered on the uplands; berries of all kinds thrive. In the woods gay birch and beech are friendly neighbors of somber spruce and cedar; while the island shows its Canadian spirit by flaunting everywhere bright-leaved maple- trees. A railroad spreads over the island, reaching out to all the important points, and connecting with the mainland by car-ferry, which carries the train across THE HAPPY ISLE 73 Northumberland Strait from Borden to Cape Tormen- tine, New Brunswick, and so on out into the world. Formerly, for about two months in the year, the frozen and uncertain strait had to be crossed in ice- boats, equipped with sails for possible stretches of open water, with oars for use among icefloes, and with runners for crossing the miles of solid ice, the modus operandi then being the crew pulling the boat by four leather straps attached to each side. Often a blind- ing snowstorm would swirl them far off their course; the many hummocks in the icy trail would make difh- cult going; but the trip across the sea of ice in one of these unique and jolting boats was a thrilling experience. From the train-port at Borden the railroad runs up to Emerald Junction; and there the visitor has before him a fascinating choice of directions. He often is tempted to linger in the neighborhood of Emerald, wandering through country lanes where Acadians are busy in their grainfields, or visiting one of the many fox-farms. ‘This is an industry for which Prince Edward Island is noted, and one which never fails to interest the outsider. The friendly little creatures, silver-gray or black, shut into their wire “runs,’’ seem too lovely to kill; yet fox-farming, as it is scientifically managed on the island, brings much wealth into the province. While Borden is the most direct way to this vacation isle, there is steamship connection between Pictou and Charlottetown; and another steamship route between 74 BEAUTIFUL CANADA Point du Chéne and Summerside, affording a delight- ful sail. Before the shores of New Brunswick are lost in the distance, the low red cliffs of Bedeque Bay are showing in soft purple which slowly changes to red as the coast is approached. Summerside is the island’s second largest town, and its name alone gives it a glamour which is lacking in the prosaic names of Charlottetown and Georgetown. It spreads its pleas- ant streets about an inlet of Bedeque Bay, and is much in favor as a summering-place. There is excellent fishing and boating, and a gypsy-wild fascination in climbing about the low red cliffs. Bedeque Bay is famous for the magnificence of its cloud effects, especially at sunset. “The west o’erbrims with warmest dyes; Its chalice overflows With pools of purple coloring the skies Aflood with gold and rose.” Added to the glory of color in the clouds and its iridescent reflection in the water below, there are the colorful cliffs. Egmont Bay, called by the French La Grande Anse, is even more superb in its massed clouds, and its blue- green water, silvered by the sun of midday and purple at twilight. Beyond West Point, at the end of Egmont Bay, the shore runs up to North Point in an almost unbroken line. Cartier cruised here, looking in vain for a THE HAPPY ISLE 75 harbor, at last believing this to be only the shore of a bay and “The Low and Beautiful Land” part of the mainland. About half-way up the west coast there is a small inlet which in the old days was almost encircled by dense pine forests with thick and tangled underbrush. Here, the Micmacs believed, Thunder came down from the clouds, in the form of a black bear, to fish in the water as a pastime. One day an Indian maiden, gathering berries, pushed her way through the under- brush and came upon the inlet, not seeing the black bear who lay under a pine-tree nearby. Thunder was en- tranced with her beauty. Changing himself into an Indian brave, he plucked a mayflower and threw it at her—the Micmac way of asking her to be his wife; and once he had her in his arms he floated up to his home in the clouds. There she lived very happily, until she fell in love with Morning-star; and Thunder, in his jealousy, sent her hurtling down to earth. She fell into the shallow inlet where he had found her; and her blood, spattering over the rocks, stained them red. And so they remain to this day. Micmacs still live on the island. They have adopted white man’s clothing, white man’s ways, and they have all but forgotten the traditions of their ancestors; but in their hearts they are Micmacs and, away from veneer, alone in the deep woods or out on the wide seas, they are wholly Indian. They make excellent and interesting guides when one goes for deep-sea fish- ing, or after the lobsters or oysters for which the island 76 BEAUTIFUL CANADA is noted, or to find the best places in the many trout- streams. [heir ancestors never cast their fishnets without murmuring a prayer to the fish, entreating them to be brave enough to run into the net, promising to burn their bones and throw the ashes back into the stream so the spirit-fish could then come to life again. When the present-day Micmac hooks a fine trout, he must feel, even subconsciously, some of this reverence which extended through so many generations of the long ago. One of the insistent charms of Prince Edward Island is the friendliness of the people who live there. There is something pleasing, too, in their stanch Canadianism, and in the intense loyalty to their little province. They call it, lovingly, ‘“The Island,” as if in all the world there could be none other. ‘They even claim that in prehistoric days the Indians, too, called it Minegoo, “The Island.” What Prince Edward Island may lack in great forests, in high mountains and spectacular waterfalls, it more than has in colorful beauty, in quaintness and wholesomeness, in a beguiling serenity. Its initials well might stand for Peaceful, Enchanting Island. “O, you beautiful land, Deep-bosomed with beeches and bright With the flowery largesse of May Sweet from the palm of her hand Outflung, till the hedges grow white As the green-arched billows with spray. O, you beautiful land!” IV. THE CHARM OF QUEBEC ROMANTIC QUEBEC THE ISLANDS IN THE GULF THE “GREAT RIVER OF CANADA” Gaspf£’s CHARM THE LEGEND OF Percé Rock MATAPEDIA AND “BEAUTIFUL BIC” Historic ‘TADOUSSAC A CREATION LEGEND THE SAGUENAY AND LAKE ST. JOHN Murray BAy, THE POPULAR PLAYGROUND THE CHARM OF THE HABITANTS QUAINT AND Historic QUEBEC THE SHRINE OF STE. ANNE DE BEAUPRE MONTMORENCY FALLS LAKE EpwWarD AND LAURENTIDES PARK THE LAKES OF THE SOUTH THE LEGEND OF SHAWINIGAN FALLS THE “RIVER OF THE IROQUOIS” BEAUTIFUL MONTREAL CANOE-ROUTES ALONG THE OTTAWA THE GREAT NorTH THE LEGEND OF THE STARS / ‘ he ie N if \ ; batty AR ; 1 } nt a Qi \ ai wie i init ' t RY Me ave (A) \ 1 y re Ay Gh 5, f Mi fi j i= 5 | aA y f es ALD int Ul ’ / 4 : é \ ANS , hs \ ‘" ‘ 4 Fi ay Y nS a Dek bes 4 aa ie ‘ ay a “\) be fh) A f by Dit brag . raat oe a | . f ' ’ , { ‘ ie La i ‘ *' uy if y f aye ¥ | Pern ye eae ae ar" en. rie ay) « ik hs 1 : my! Ba NA 0 Nai are ites a sy wt ; My , eh i . \\ i iy thy) " ! 4 “Sai ld ! i 5 ‘ mink ny ! va s 4 Ay P| - i ; ry } 4 a Ws 7 ie : ’ 1 gyi 1 ‘i ‘ ry , uy i wae ; he aa | . (ees vay: ‘ [ waren t } RON m i , ‘on i ys vii *j i.) i fi Va “fh » Rey en Teh fy ee , ai < y 7\ a 4 J 4 eth a a “ed ‘\e ah Ay fat, ; ' ‘ ‘ nS an a! Ot i ; 4 4 te Tice at . +f f , . \ ‘ : Y t ‘ 7 it ' ] 4 . at L] A 7 ; ‘ NLPae } weg e y PME a 1a f ‘| Ane, a ie apy ra; fans y ‘ eke he RLS ‘ ve Le | j vi ¥ 4 N fi tiie IV THE CHARM OF QUEBEC “The sky had a gray, gray face, The touch of the mist was chill, The earth was an eerie place, For the wind moaned over the hill; But the brown earth laughed, and the sky turned blue When the little white sun came peeping through.” —Anne Huestis HERE is romance in the very word Quebec. Four centuries of history—tragic, heroic, daring history—have spread their glamour, and the province is steeped in memories of the past— memories redolent of great deeds, of brave men, of courageous and loyal women. But Quebec lives not alone in the past; there is a busy and happy and beauti- ful present. As Purchas quaintly expressed it, it is ‘‘a goodlie Countrey furnish’d with Oaks, wilde Vines, Peares, Goose-berries, Diamonds, and other Profitable Pleasures.” The province is so vast that it comprises almost a world in itself. The north, an immense wilderness of lakes and rivers and dense timber, stretches back from the Laurentian Mountains which border the northern shore of the St. Lawrence. ‘The south is a narrow strip that ends in Gaspé Peninsula, and through this strip the Notre Dame and the Shikshok 79 80 BEAUTIFUL CANADA Mountains extend, a continuation of the Appalachians. Between these two lies the wedge-shaped basin of the St. Lawrence. In the Gulf of St. Lawrence are the islands of Anticosti and the Magdalen group, with the two Bird Rocks standing alone, white with sea- birds. When Cartier came this way in 1534 he lingered in amazement at these Bird Rocks. He believed them to be snow-mountains until he approached and dis- covered myriads of white birds—gannets, auks, puffins, and innumerable others. Purchas took Cartier’s description of them, and expanded it: ‘The soile of the Ilands is sandie red, but by reason of manie Birds on them they looke white. ‘The Birds sitt as thicke as stones lie in a paued streete, or to vse Iaques Cartier’s comparison, as thicke as any Fielde or Medow is of grasse. . . . Some are as bigge as Iays, blacke and white, with beakes like vnto Crowes: their wings are not bigger than halfe ones hande, and there- fore they cannot flye high: they are very fatte....A bigger, and white, which bite like Dogges they term’d Margaulx. Beares swimme thither to feaste with these Birds. One they saw was as greate as a Cow, saith Cartier, and as white as a Swan, which they did kill and eate, and the flesh was as goode as of a two-yeere-old Calfe.” The Rocks are still white with birds, and birds wheel about them in undulating masses of white. The great auk is no more; but there are countless gannets THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 81 and other sea-fowl whose incessant cries furnish wild music for the lonely keeper of the light. A few leagues southwest of Bird Rocks are the Magdalen Islands, tenanted by Acadian fishermen. Long before Cartier arrived and thoroughly examined this group, “‘Britaines, Baskes, and Biskaines” were coming here for the whale fishing and for walrus, “‘the huge and mightie sea-oxen with greate teeth.” The islands are a fishing center today; and because of their isolated position they are a quaint and interesting place to spend a few days or a few weeks. ‘They are reached by steamer from Pictou. One long island, made up of drifted sand-dunes, rolling sandbars and red hills and shutting in long and lovely lagoons, is scattered about with other islands. Amherst, at the southern end, is the most important of the group. Entry Island flanks it on the east, and Deadman’s Island on the west; and far off to the north lies Brion Island, wholly isolated. “The Sauvages worshippe the Deuill,” wrote Cartier, of Anticosti Island, ‘‘and doe dwel in houses made of Firre-trees bound together in the toppe and sett rounde like vnto a Doue-house.”’ Anticosti, larger than Prince Edward Island, lies at the estuary of the St. Lawrence River like a great fish swimming out to sea. Its north coast rises in rugged mountains, and most of the island is timbered and well stocked with game. It is privately owned. The Indians had many names for the St. Lawrence, and a legend for almost every cove and headland, 82 BEAUTIFUL CANADA every rocky stream tumbling down from the hills. The early explorers called it the ‘Great River of Canada.” And today it usually is known as the “Beautiful St. Lawrence.’’ Few rivers have such varied loveliness, such constantly changing scenery. The actual source of the river is in Minnesota, four of the Great Lakes serving for its bed; but the St. Lawrence as it is known and loved begins where the water leaves Lake Ontario and sweeps northeast to the sea. At its mouth it is more than a hundred miles wide; near Quebec it is less than a mile. Purchas expresses its vastness in one of his quaint similes: “The Greate Riuer of Canada is like vnto an insati- able Merchante so that other streames are in manner but meere Pedlers.” Between the St. Lawrence and the Baie des Chaleurs the surpassingly lovely Gaspé Peninsula reaches out into the gulf. Wherever one may go, in this delectable land of the Gaspeche, there is beauty. Mountains rise from two to three thousand feet, not ruggedly but in soft, sweeping lines. They fold back to form enchant- ing river-valleys, or cup around exquisite lakes. The Chaleur Bay curls into the shore in little half-moon coves, with broad beaches running up to rough-rock banks. Where bay ends and gulf begins, the banks rise to cliffs, rich red, wave-worn fantastically, and splashed with yellow and green where alge cling. When a storm rages at sea and breakers come driving in, the Gaspé coast is superb. Here and there the cliffs fall away to reveal entranc- * ee } Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. CAP BON AMI, GASPE PENINSULA Much of the beauty of this peninsula lies in the soft, sweeping lines. f Courtesy, Canadian Nattenal Rys. BIRD ROCK, BONAVENTURE ISLAND The rich red cliffs, green above, are draped in white by the many sea-birds. THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 83 ing little half-bowls, the green hills curving behind them, the blue gulf stretching in front; and here the bright-white cottages of the fisherfolk are scattered. Each of these villages has its many tales of the sea. Near Cap d’Espoir Queen Anne’s great fleet, destined to capture Quebec, was completely wrecked. Here, too, the fisherfolk claim, on rare days, when the water is very quiet, the Flying Dutchman appears. ‘Tower- ing waves announce the phantom ship, which comes rolling in, riding the heavy seas; these break near the shore, and waves and ship disappear, leaving again the glass-smooth sea. The most noted of the little fishing villages is Perce, which lies in a low bowl where the gulf eats back into the shore in a semicircular bay. Out at the tip of the bay is Percé Rock, rising in a huge mass straight up from the water for nearly three hundred feet. Its grass-covered top forms a refuge for sea-birds. White clouds of them float about the rock; white blankets, dotted with black, drape the ledges. These birds are exquisite. And the wild music of their cries serves to warn mariners of the danger of the rocks, when they come blindly into the harbor in a thick fog. Where the water curls about the base of Perce there is a lofty arch, like a tunnel through the rock, high enough for boats to pass through. “Ile Percée is like a Rocke, very steepe, rising on both sides, wherein there is a hole, through which Shallops and Boates may pass at a high water; and at a lowe water one may goe from the maine Lande to the said Ile.’’ Standing be- 84 BEAUTIFUL CANADA side Percé is another giant which once was fastened to it by a rock-bridge. This strange Percé Rock had many Indian legends to explain it, and even the early settlers wove about it tales of supernatural happenings. Fisherfolk at the village of Percé will tell you that even now, at the ghostly hour when twilight merges into dark, the wraith of a woman may be seen hovering against the rock, or floating above it. A Breton maid, they say, crossing the wide seas to join her fiancé in New France, was captured by pirates, and she alone of all on board was spared, to become the property of the pirate-captain. To escape this fate she plunged into the gulf, as the buccaneer-ship neared Percé Rock, and was at once drowned. But the pirates saw her on the rock, beckoning to them. They drew near quickly, and to their horror their ship began to turn to stone. Frantically they tried to shove off; but a huge wave swept the ship against the rock, carrying the pirate- crew, as the wave surged back, to the bottom of the sea. There, for many years afterward, the fishermen of the neighborhood pointed out the granite masts and the slate sails of the ship plainly showing against the rock. Wind and weather have now almost obliterated them. But, even so, no mariner will go near Percé Rock after sundown, for fear the ghostly maid will turn his boat to stone. Behind the little village of Percé, the wooded slopes of Mont Sainte Anne rise abruptly about thirteen THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 85 hundred feet, forming a striking and colorful back- ground. Offshore, three miles or so, lies Bonaventure Island, famous as a fishing-center, and wonderfully picturesque with its red and yellow cliffs, wind and wave-eaten into ledges, splashed with white and black and gray where sea-fowl hover. Cartier sought shelter behind this island in 1534 when a furious storm arose; but he found the water dangerously rough and hastened to a harbor which his scout-boat had reported a short distance to the north. And so he came to Gaspé Bay. All the beauty of the ages, all the poetry of the centuries, all the romance of the world, seem here to be commingled. Broad blue water dotted with the white of lilting sails; gay, sun-splashed beaches of gold-red sand; warm-white houses against tree-dark hills sweeping up from the water, or fields of grain, wholly exotic, rippling in silver and lush green; and, beyond, against the sky, the ineffable smoke-blue of the mountains. Crystal streams tumble down from the hills into the bay, adding the beauty of falling water; and sand-dunes, far out, lie gold-yellow against the blue. Truly, Gaspé Bay is exquisite | When Cartier landed here he received a royal wel- come by the Indians who had come down the St. Lawrence for the fishing. Neither could speak a word of the other’s tongue, but through the universal lan- guage of gesture they carried on a lengthy conversa- tion. Cartier took possession of the land for his king, 86 BEAUTIFUL CANADA planting a cross bearing the words “Vive le Roi de France.’ The Indians exclaimed that the land be- longed to them; but a few gifts soon appeased them, and Cartier then persuaded two youths to return with him to France, that they might serve as interpreters on his next trip. At first they held back, frightened, but vanity won when Cartier brought out two flashing uniforms. They eagerly threw away their rags, donned these unheard-of clothes, and set sail gaily for France the following day, Cartier either failing to dis- cover the St. Lawrence on this first trip or purposely returning to France to winter there and prepare properly for exploration the following spring. Gaspé Bay, made easily accessible by the railroad which clings to the shore of Chaleur Bay and curves round the tip of the peninsula, is becoming increasingly popular as a summering-place. Lovers of sport are lured by the fine yachting and deep-sea fishing, and by the game that abounds in the forests back of Gaspé. Moose, caribou, deer and bear are here; in the hill- streams are salmon and trout; and wild-fowl frequent the rivers and the secluded lakes. The entire Gaspé Peninsula is rich in scenic beauty; and creatures of the wild wander through the woods, except where the railroad has frightened them away. But even the railroad does not bother the fish. The Matapedia River, which the train follows closely, is noted for its salmon. And the deep and narrow Mata- pedia Valley, with its rushing, singing water and its tree-clad walls, is equally noted for its exquisite scenery. THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 87 Lake Matapedia, lying high in the hills, is a lovely bit of rippled blue, forest-trees hemming it in, overhead “White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep. Light mists, whose soft embraces keep The sunshine on the hills asleep!” On the St. Lawrence shore, near Lake Matapedia, Metis Beach reaches back into the hills, while the St. Lawrence, nearly forty miles wide here, sweeps in like a broad green sea. A little farther up the river there is a harbor so lovely that its brief name, Bic, has now become ‘‘Beauti- ful Bic.” A bay curves into the shore; wooded hills rise back of the beach for more than a thousand feet; little islands are scattered in front. When, in the early days, Frenchmen landed on a bit of this south shore of the St. Lawrence where a stream comes gurgling down from the hills, the shoals at the mouth of the river were covered with seals, which they knew as sea-wolves, /oups-marins; and so the hill-river was called Riviere du Loup. That is now the name of both the stream and the attractive and important town at its mouth. Across the St. Lawrence, connected with Riviere du Loup by steamer, is the historic village of Tadoussac, lying at the mouth of one of the most remarkable rivers in the world—the Saguenay. Tadoussac is popular as a resort because of its wild and rugged setting; but the romance of centuries clings to it. From the earliest days it was one of the main 88 BEAUTIFUL CANADA fur-trading centers. Basque and Breton mariners came, to exchange gaudy baubles for valuable furs. Cartier stopped here in 1535 and named a headland the Point-of-All-the-Devils because “the windes doe strike into the say’d haven with a greate furie.”’ Champlain came in 1603, having with him two Montagnais interpreters who had been to France. They landed at the little Indian settlement, and Cham- plain went in state to call on the Sagamo, or great chief. The interpreters told the Sagamo of the French King and his powerful army, and of the excellent ally he would be; and thus Champlain was accorded a royal welcome, delivered in the usual very long speech. Then, he records, “Wee went out of his Cabine and they began to make their Tabagie or Feaste. . . . They had eight or ten Kettels full of meate in the middest of the said Cabine, and they were setting one fron another some six paces, — and each one vpon a seuerall fire. ‘The men sat on both sides the house, with his dish made of the barke of a tree; and when the meate is sodden, there is one which devideth to euery man his parte in the same dishes, wherein they feede very filthily, for when their handes be fattie, they rubbe them on their haire, or else on the haire of their Dogges. “Before their meate was sodden one of them rose vp and tooke a Dogge & danced about the said Kettels from the one ende of the Cabine to the other: when he came before the greate Sagamo he caste his Dogge perforce vpon the grounde and then all of them with one voice THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 89 cried, ho, ho, ho, which being done he wente and sette him downs in his place; then immediately another rose vp and did the like. . . . When they had ended their Feaste they began to dance, taking the heades of their enemies in their handes which hanged vpon the walle behinde them; and in signe of joy there is one or two which sing, moderating their voice by the measure of their handes which they beate vpon their knees, then they reste sometimes, and cry, ho, ho, ho.” Champlain, the good Catholic, was interested in their theology—which he later denounced as “‘brutall and bestiall.’”” They believed in one god who created all things, the Sagamo told him. ‘This God tooke a certaine number of Arrowes and stucke them in the grounde from whence Man and Woman grew.” But the god became angry and sent a big flood over all the world. That would have been the end of everything had not Beaver taken hold of a birch-tree with his strong teeth and held the world above-water until the god came again and took the flood away. ‘They beleeue in one God, one Sonne, one Mother, and the Sunne, which were four—the Sonne was goode and the Sunne also; the Mother was naught and did eate them; and the Father was not very goode.” Champlain sailed up the Saguenay about sixty miles, until rapids turned him back; but the Indians told him of the beautiful lake, now St. John, which lay beyond, and of the rich copper mines in the region to the north. Lake St. John, called by the Indians ‘Flat Lake,” lies like a broad sea, almost circular in shape, cupped 90 BEAUTIFUL CANADA in the midst of rolling hills, with mountains rising be- yond. ‘The Thousand Islands of the Saguenay are scattered at the east end of the lake, where the water finds outlet, through two stretches of furious rapids, into the Saguenay River. A fertile valley surrounds this inland sea, and here French-Canadian farmers are leading happy and busy lives in a little world of their own. Grain, tobacco or potato fields lie side by side with dairying farms. Five large rivers and innumerable smaller streams flow into Lake St. John from all directions, and these abound in fish. In the lake are the famous ouananiche, or land-locked salmon, which anglers travel far to find. The rivers from the north—the Peribouka, Mistassimi, Ashuapmouchouan—come from fascinat- ing stretches of wilderness, unsettled and almost unex- plored. From the south the Ouiatchouan and the Metabetchouan bring to the St. John the water from a tangled labyrinth of lakes and streams. The Ouiatchouan Falls, nearly three hundred feet high, and in a wild setting, are wonderfully spectacular, especi- ally when the late spring floods swell the river. A legend of the Porcupine Indians claims that a maiden was enticed into the canoe of an unwelcome suitor and carried to midstream. MHer frantic cries brought her lover to the rescue, and in the fight all were swept over the Ouiatchouan Falls. The good Manitou caught the maiden and her lover and carried them safely to shore; but the wicked Indian perished, and the water that boils at the foot of the falls is THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 91 caused by his thrashing about in his rage and his efforts to escape. On the shores of the lake, at Pointe Bleue, there is a reservation of Montagnais; and these interesting Indians, whose ancestors for centuries wandered through the mountains of this region and traveled its many waterways, make the finest kind of guides and canoemen. Often, about the campfire at night, if the white man be wholly en rapport, they will recount, in rhythmic singsong or short staccato sentences, some of the lore of their ancient tribe. Roberval is the principal town on the lake, but there are many smaller villages. A railroad runs up from Quebec, skirts the southern shore of Lake St. John and follows down the Saguenay to Chicoutimi. In 1647 Father de Quen, the first white man to reach this interesting region, was paddled up the Saguenay as far as Chicoutimi, and from there his guides, knowing the impassable rapids above, took him to ‘‘Flat Lake” by way of Lake Kemogami, Lac Verte, and so beautiful a river that De Quen at once named it La Belle Riviere. Much of Canada’s early romance centers about her missionaries. ‘The lives of the first Recollet, Jesuit and Sulpician fathers who came to the wilderness are a pean of courage and heroism, of unbelievable forti- tude, of a faith that was deep and devout, and a zeal that knew no discouragement. “One must submit to infinite Fatigues and barren and ingrateful Labour,” one Jesuit wrote in his report. “Patience is absolutely necessary for this Employ. All 92 BEAUTIFUL CANADA along our Travels we dined upon the Ground. A Fagot of Cedar was our Pillow in the Night; our Cloaks our Coverlets; our Knees our Table; some Bushes tied together our Seats; the Leaves of Indian Corn our Napkins. We had some Knives, but they were of no use to us for want of Bread to cut.” The Indians at first looked with suspicion on these ‘“Black-robes” and the ‘“Bare-feet’’; for the medicine- men, fearing for their own power, declared the friars to be sorcerers, and their books and rosaries part of the witchcraft. But the sheer courage of the mission- aries won admiration. The first converts, however, were made with much difficulty. The Indians believed that after death they went to a glorious existence in a Happy Hunting-ground, where life was one eternal round of pleasures—hunting, fishing, family joys. ‘“They beleeue that the dead go into farre Countries to make merrie with their friends.’ In comparison, the white man’s Heaven seemed a gloomy abode with ceaseless monotony—no wife, no small son to teach the ways of the forest, no hunting, no fishing. They preferred their own Hereafter. It is the lower reaches of the Saguenay which make it so remarkable a river. Glacial action cleaved a chasm sixty miles long straight through mountains nearly two thousand feet high, digging so deeply that the bottom of the river is in places a thousand feet below sea-level. ‘The centuries have clothed the stern cliffs with pine-trees, and the scenery is one of somber magnificence, with the sublime grandeur of towering THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 93 cliffs and immensely deep fjords. Cape Eternity, ris- ing 1700 feet sheer from the water, and the nearby Cape Trinity, 1500 feet, are the river’s most majestic moments. ‘This stretch of the Saguenay is both grand and awful; one never passes it without a shudder. ‘A faire Riuer,’’ Champlain wrote of this mighty stream, ‘‘and of incredible depth, which cometh downe from a very high place from whence there descendeth a fall of water with greate impetuositie. All the Countrie which I saw was nothing but Mountaines, the most parte of Rockes cover’d with woodes of Firre- trees, Cypresses and Birch-trees.”’ When Champlain was leaving Tadoussac at this time, 1603, “to returne vnto France, one of the Sagamos of the Mountayners gaue his Sonne to M. du Pont to carrie him into France. Wee prayed them to giue vs a woman of the Irocois who they were to haue eaten: who they gave vnto vs, and we brought her home with the foresaid Sauage.”’ From Tadoussac up the St. Lawrence the north shore of the Great River of Canada is one of much beauty and grandeur, with bays opening out, rivers falling down from the hills, and in the background the blue of the Laurentian Mountains. An island in St. Paul Baie is a mountain which fell there, it is claimed, dur- ing a cataclysmic earthquake in 1663 when “the earth began not merely to quake but to boil and surge.” The Isle-aux-Coudres was doubled in size by another mountain which fell at the same time, it is said. As recently as 1925 Baie St. Paul was much shaken by an 94 BEAUTIFUL CANADA earthquake and great damage was done, although fortunately no mountains fell. The most popular resort of the Lower St. Lawrence is Murray Bay, which lies on this north shore of the river. When Champlain sailed into it in 1603 he named it “La Malle Baie” because of ‘‘the tides which there doe runne prodigiously,”’ and to this day the natives call it La Malbaie. Between Point a Pic and Cap al Aigle a crescent arm of the river curves back to form the lovely bay. Luxurious hotels, beautiful summer homes, a golf course that is the pride of Canada, and similar excellent attractions make Murray Bay a resort for those who seek a gay summering- place. At the same time there is a wholly different charm in the quaint old French village which keeps aloof on the banks of its river. Where the hills rise back of the bay there are luring forests, with caribou, bear and other wild creatures wandering about but keeping a wary eye on their enemy man. Ravines wind down, musical with falling water. Streams and lakes entice the camper. The railroad between the city of Quebec and Murray Bay passes through quaint little French- Canadian villages lying between hills and river, their bright church-spires ever dominating the scenery. Much of Quebec’s charm centers about her habitants. Through all the centuries these descendants of the early French colonists to Canada have preserved their tradi- tions, their language, and their individuality. “They are not French today: whole-heartedly and intensely Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. FISHING IN THE LAURENTIAN MOUNTAINS These streams, alone, are an allure, with their wild and beautiful setting. "days 0} days wif sapeosed I se ajsey OU UF Si 19}BM JY, AVA AVUMOAW ‘STIVA YASVUA “SKY [DUOIIDAT UDIPDUDD ‘KSaqanoy i “3 THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 95 they are Canadian. There is a cherished love for France, the Mother Country, and a real admiration for Great Britain; but the deep and ardent love is for Canada. They are wholly charming, these habitants, unspoiled by the outside world, uninterested in modern innova- tions. Their little villages might be bits of old Nor- mandy or Brittany transplanted—except that the whitewashed houses are immaculate. Gran’mere, with her quaint costume and lovable ways, and gran’pére, plodding beside his ox-team, hauling frag- rant hay to the barn, might have stepped straight out of a story-book—a very delightful story-book. The loom and the spinning-wheel occupy as important a place in the household as the tall iron stove and the high old bed with its drawers of trundle-beds beneath, where the family of ten to twenty children pile in snugly. In the yard, often edging onto the road, is the great outdoor oven where the family bread is baked, and where the dog and the wee children curl up beside the warm rocks, sniffing the pleasant odors. When the day’s work is done, the violin croons a soft accompaniment while pére leads in the singing of the old habitant songs which his ancestors sang in the long ago when they tilled this very same land for some Seignior. In winter evenings, when dark comes early, the children gather about the cheerful tall stove and listen, wide-eyed, to tales of the terrible loup-garou, or to more pleasant tales of life here when gran’pére was young or when his gran’pére was a boy. The 96 BEAUTIFUL CANADA goodnight story is always a happy one, with quaint humor, so dreams will be undisturbed. Many tales are woven about Dalbec, who in the long ago lived at Ste. Anne—perhaps. Dalbec, it seems, was a famous hunter. One day when he was returning home through the forest he came to a little lake, and in the reeds on the opposite shore he saw a fox just stooping to drink. He quickly raised his gun; but as he took aim, six ducks swam out of the reeds near the fox. He had only one cartridge left. Should it be the fox, or a fine fat duck for supper? The mighty hunter bent the gun-barrel into a circle, killed all six of the ducks, the fox, and the bullet then came back and broke the leg of the dog standing beside him. And, gran’pere adds, “C'est bien vrail”’ This same Dalbec, with remarkably keen ears, once heard some wild-geese flying over his cottage as he sat at supper. It was pitch-dark outside and he could see nothing, but he shot in the direction of the honk- ing. He waited, but no goose fell, so he went to bed. The next morning when he stepped out of the door, two wild-geese dropped at his feet—they had been so high it had taken them all night to fall! Among themselves the habitants speak only French —sometimes a patois, often a remarkably pure French. Many of them know no other language; but many speak, in addition to their mother-tongue, a’ charming habitant-English. THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 97 “You can pass on de worl’ w’erever you lak, Tak’ de steamboat for go Angleterre, Tak’ car on de State, an’ den you come back, An’ go all de place, I don’t care— Ma frien’, dat’s a fack, I know you will say, W’en you come on dis contree again, Dere’s no girl can touch, w’at we see ev'ry day, De nice leetle Canadienne.” For quaint and lasting charm, for wealth of historic lore, for lingering, haunting memories, no city can compare with delightful, walled Quebec. There are two cities: the Lower Town, where one is swept back three centuries, each winding street a bit more quaint, a bit more picturesque, than every other street, it seems; and the modern Upper Town of beautiful residences, important stores, and_ hotels famous for their excellence. Quebec is built upon a great mass of gray rock, “a verrie highe Mountayne which falleth downe on both ye sides,” where the St. Charles River flows into the St. Lawrence. Beyond the “‘verrie highe Mountayne”’ is a “‘leuel & goodlie Countrie’” which is famous in history as the Plains of Abraham. When Cartier sailed up the Great River of Canada in 1535, having with him the two Indians he had dressed in flashy uniforms and taken to France the pre- ceding year, he had lost hope of the river’s leading to China, yet he was no less eager to enter the heart of this land which the Indians painted so alluringly. They told him he was approaching their home, the 98 BEAUTIFUL CANADA Huron settlement of Stadacona—where the city of Quebec now stands—and the next day “‘ledict cappi- taine’’ with his ‘‘gentilz hommes” and fifty men landed and went to call on the Huron chief, Donnacona. There was great rejoicing at the return of the two braves, who had come from a world beyond the seas; and Cartier was royally feasted. But when he wished to continue up the river, on to the Huron town of Hochelaga—present Montreal—objections were raised. ‘There were impassable rapids, he was told; the forests were filled with ferocious beasts that lay in waiting by the portages. When these direful warnings had no effect on Cartier, the Indians resorted to an amazing scheme. The French were lured to the banks of the river, where Donnacona kept them entertained, until suddenly they were startled by frightful howls. Floating down from the direction of Hochelaga came a canoe containing three huge Devils—Indians dressed in dogskins, bison-horns fastened to their heads, their faces luridly painted. The Devils paid no attention to the men on shore, but as they passed they chanted in a loud and mournful voice that they came from the dead as a warning that any one who went up-river would perish in the ice and snow. The canoe drifted ashore near Cartier, and the three wailing Devils got out and pro- ceeded to ‘“‘die,”” whereupon all the Indians threw them- selves upon the ground and set up a weird and distres- sing howl. Still unawed, Cartier and seventy of his men THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 99 ascended the St. Lawrence as far as Hochelaga. This Indian settlement stood upon such a fine eminence above the river that Cartier named the hill Mont Réal, his Norman French for Royal Mount; and that name it has retained through all the centuries. Returning to Stadacona, Cartier built a rude fort and wintered there; for ice in the river tied up his little fleet. It was a dreary and tragic winter for his men; but for Cartier, with his eager mind, it was not without interest. The Indian medicine-men especially intrigued him, for these were the mouth- pieces of the Devil. While the savages crowded round in awe, the medicine-men held the invisible Devil tied to a pole in the ground. His message received, the Devil was released, and the crowd broke into loud shouts, jumped over the fire, rushed into the nearest tent, and put “halfe a pole out of the toppe of the Cabine, with something tied thereto, which the Diuell carrieth away.” Cartier adds, disgustedly, ‘‘They teache their eldest Sonnes the mysterie of this Iniqui- tie.” In 1541 Cartier came again to Stadacona and attempted a settlement; but the Indians now were hostile, for he had carried off with him their beloved chief Donnacona and many of their friends, all of whom had died in France. Roberval came shortly afterward; but he, too, found hostility, and his settle- ment had to be abandoned. And so the foundation of Quebec was left to Champlain; the fortified group of houses which he built in 1608 formed the begin- 100 BEAUTIFUL CANADA ning of the present quaint and lovely city. The name Stadacona had disappeared with the Hurons; and Champlain’s settlement took the name the Abenaki Indians applied to this part of the great river, Kebek, “Narrow.” From the very beginning of Quebec, history piled fast upon it. It was a coveted stronghold, constantly assaulted by the English. In 1629 it was captured, but soon returned by treaty; a century and a quarter of further struggle ensued; and in 1759 came the memorable battle familiar to every schoolboy, when Wolfe, mortally wounded, heard some one shout, ‘They run!” and raised himself to ask eagerly, ‘“Who run?” ‘The enemy,” he was told, and he dropped back with a sigh of great content. ‘God be praised, I now die in peace,” he said. Montcalm, who so valiantly had defended the city, and who also was mortally wounded, died in an anguish of uncertainty the following day, not knowing whether the French army then marching toward Quebec would turn the tide for his beloved France or whether the colony was irretrievably lost. Canada was ceded to England four years later; and thus, as British territory when the American Revolu- tion broke out, Quebec again found itself under siege. Benedict Arnold, approaching from Lake Champlain, was met by General Montgomery, who already had taken Montreal, and they planned a surprise attack on the night of December 31, 1775, in the midst of a blinding snowstorm. But their plans had reached the THE CHARM OF QUEBEC IOI British, and the heavy guns were ready. The Ameri- cans knew this, but they rushed to the attack, only to be mowed down. General Montgomery was killed, Benedict Arnold wounded, and many prisoners were taken. After the War of 1812 “historic Quebec’ knew a century of peace; but when the World War came she was among the first to muster her heroic sons, and they were among the Canadian Contingent that sailed from Gaspé Bay in October, 1914. The four centuries of history that enwrap Quebec permeate the town with their glamour and romance. The tragedies have been softened; the joys a thou- sandfold magnified. Of the yesterdays there linger now but colorful memories. There’s a spell here, and it lays a gripping hold upon the visitor as he wanders about the quaint and winding streets. He senses the haunting, elusive atmosphere, the ghosts of the years that have gone. But there is a very wide-awake, up-to-date atmos- phere, too, in this charming city of Quebec. This is especially true in winter, when the sports lure crowds from the gay cities in the States to gayer Quebec for tobogganing, snowshoeing, skiing, skimming over the hills behind an Alaskan dog-team, or the many other winter joys tobe had here. Dufferin Terrace is famous the world over. | A fine view of Quebec is to be had by approaching the city from Levis, across the St. Lawrence. At this distance the town shows in a magnificent panorama, 102 BEAUTIFUL CANADA perched superbly above the river, with its towered hotel, its impressive citadel, the frowning guns on its ramparts, and the many boats, from all the world over, riding at anchor at its feet. Another short boat-ride which affords a fine pan- oramic view of the city is to the Isle of Orleans. The Indians called this twenty-mile stretch of land in the midst of the St. Lawrence, Minegoo, ‘“The Island”’; but Cartier named it L’ile de Bacchus, because of the plentiful wild-grape vines laden with luscious fruit. Many delightful short-trips may be made from Quebec. The most famous of these is to Ste. Anne de Beaupré, with its noted shrine to La Bonne Sainte Anne, visited annually by a quarter of a million pil- grims. At some date prior to 1628 Breton sailors were caught in a storm that raged upon the St. Lawrence and threatened destruction to their small fishing-craft. They appealed to Sainte Anne, the patroness of their loved Brittany, vowing that if she would save them they would erect a shrine to her on the most beautiful spot they could find. They saw ahead of them the shore of Minegoo, ‘“The Island,” its trees, beyond the rolling waves, spray-drenched and lovely. Almost at once the river magically grew calm, and the men began to row toward a wooded point of this island, intend- ing there to erect their shrine. But La Bonne Sainte Anne willed it otherwise. A strong wind blew from the east and the waves rose again and swept the little boat across to the north shore of the St. Lawrence. THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 103 There the sailors landed, on Petit Cap; and it seemed to them as lovely a place as could be found in all the world. A small stretch of grassland, which they named Beau Pré, ‘‘Beautiful Meadow,”’ extended back from the river, and rising above it were the steep Laurentian hills, covered with shaggy-lovely trees. Here they built their shrine; and Ste. Anne de Beaupré soon became the Mecca for all fishermen who sailed into the St. Lawrence. Its fame spread, and a missionary was appointed. ‘The first recorded miracle occurred when the original crude chapel was being replaced by a substantial church in 1659 and an old man, bent double with rheumatism, hobbled up to lay, with a world of devotion, one of the foundation- stones. Instantly he was well and strong. Shortly afterward a woman, paralyzed for a year and a half, a helpless invalid, was carried to the shrine, and scarcely had she uttered her first prayer to La Bonne Sainte Anne when she found herself completely well. These miracles, recorded by the Jesuits in their ‘Relations,’ spread far and wide; and from that day the Good Sainte Anne ever has paid heed to the appeals of the truly devout. At the time of a disastrous fire which destroyed the church in 1922, great stacks of crutches were evidences of some of the many miracles that faith in this good saint has compassed. A tem- porary church was at once erected, and work on the new basilica, a very beautiful and worthy cathedral, was soon begun; so that pilgrimages to the shrine were uninterrupted. Thousands continue to come, to 104 BEAUTIFUL CANADA kneel at the foot of the Miraculous Statue and pray to the Mother of the Virgin Mary for her intercession. To Catholics the priceless treasure at this shrine is a piece of the wristbone of Sainte Anne, its authenticity vouched for by letters which hang on the wall nearby. Protestants find equally interesting a very beautiful painting by Le Brun presented to the church in 1666. The railroad which runs from Quebec to the pretty little village of Ste. Anne de Beaupré passes Mont- morency Falls. The cataract, 274 feet high, is so milk- foamy white that the French peasants called it La Vache, the Cow. The Abenaki Indians of the old days believed that this spectacular fall was a favorite haunt of the Spirit of the Water; and once a year, at the Feast of the Falling Water, they brought him gifts—tobacco, shell-beads, beaver-skins—and cast them into the spray at the foot of the fall, chanting a rhythmic prayer for abundant crops and plentiful fish. As the water was then heavy with spring floods, the gifts were swept into the St. Lawrence, and the Great River carried the message to all its tributaries to water the land of the Abenakis, and to fill their nets with fish. The falls are very beautiful, and they have historic interest as well, with the Kent House perched above them and a. famous battleground at their foot. North of the city of Quebec lies a wild and lake- sprinkled wilderness, reached by the railroad running to Lake St. John and on to Chicoutimi on the Saguenay. This line passes such delightful places as Indian Lorette, with an interesting Huron settlement, - Courtesy, Canadian Pacific é MONTMORENCY FALLS Here the Indians brought offerings to the Spirit of the Water. Courtesy, Canadian National Rys. ON THE LOWER ST. LAWRENCE Where an arm of the river reaches back into the Gaspé Hills. THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 105 a spectacular waterfall and a wild rock-gorge; and Lake Edward, which the Indians knew as the Lake- of-the-Many-Islands, and which the white man knows for its rushing rapids and gamy fish. And it passes near the Laurentides Park, a reserve covering about three thousand square miles of wildwood. The scenery in Laurentides Park is extremely wild. © From a watershed which crosses it, rivers rush south to the St. Lawrence and north to the Saguenay. The hills are heavily timbered and are blue with many lakes. In the frothing rivers that pour down *the ravines, trout abound; and moose and caribou are plentiful in the forests. The Jacques Cartier Lake and River are especially noted for their fine sport and their scenic beauty. The Chaudiere River pours into the St. Lawrence very nearly opposite Quebec. Its headwaters, not far from the United States border, are in a region that is a network of rivers, streams, and narrow, winding lakes. ‘The largest of the lakes are the Memphre- magog, which spills across into Vermont and at its upper end connects with Lake Magog, and Lake Megantic, whose gamy trout afford rare sport to the angler. One of the oldest cities in Canada is Trois Rivieres, situated picturesquely on the north bank of the St. Lawrence, where the broad and historic St. Maurice, famed for its beautiful Shawinigan Falls, sweeps down from a string of lakes in the hills, to end here in the Great River. 106 BEAUTIFUL CANADA In the long ago the St. Maurice formed the boundary between the Huron country and that of the Algonquins. One day a party of Hurons went hunt- ing on the shores of the river, above Shawinigan Falls; and in the late afternoon they started downstream with loaded canoes. When they came near to the head of the cataract, where the portage must begin, they began paddling to shore; but suddenly the woods were alive with Algonquins. They quickly turned to the oppo- site bank; but there, too, the enemy was waiting, howl- ing with glee. Near the Hurons was the edge of the cataract; it was impossible to pull back upstream against the strong current; to land meant falling into the hands of merciless enemies. The Huron chief stood up, tall and straight in his canoe, gave a mock- ing yell to the Algonquins, and steered for the foaming precipice. His people did the same; and all were dashed to pieces at the bottom of the fall, one hundred and fifty feet below. | When the early missionaries came into this region the Indians took them at twilight and tried to point out to them—from a safe distance—the ghost-canoe with the ghost-chieftain proudly going over the preci- pice. Almost, as the wind swept the foam outward and the gathering dark gave it vague outlines, they could be seen. In these prosaic days of powerhouses and pulp- mills, however, even the wraith of the Huron chief must refuse to come back to a country he knew only as a beautiful wilderness. Above Trois Rivieres, for twenty-five miles, the St. THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 107 Lawrence is so broad it is known as Lake St. Peter; and at the upper end of this lake the Richelieu River brings to the St. Lawrence its burden of water from Lake Champlain. The Richelieu was a much used high- way during the American Revolution; during the pre- ceding century and a half of French and English struggles; and for untold centuries before the white men came. In 1610 Champlain and his Montagnais friends were preparing to camp on one of the islands opposite the mouth of this river when word came that their Algonquin allies were attacking a large party of Iroquois who had come down the Richelieu looking for scalps. The Algonquins were in urgent need of assist- ance, and Champlain and his men went with the Mont- agnais to their aid. But, “Before the said Mountayners set forth to the Warre, they assembled all, with their richest apparell of Furres, Beauers, and other Skinnes adorn’d with Pater-nosters [beads] and Chaines of diuers colors, and assembled in a greate publicke place, where there was before them a Sagamo which led them to the Warre; and they march’d one behind another, with their Bowes and Arrowes, Mases and Targets, wherewith they furnish themselues to fight: and they went leaping one after another, in making many gestures of their Body’s, they made many turnings like a Snaile: afterward they began to dance after their accustomed manner, as I haue said before: then they made their Feaste. . . . and then they went into the Water, and strooke at one another with their oares, and beate Water vpon another: yet they did no 108 BEAUTIFUL CANADA hurt, for they warded the blows which they strooke one at another. After they had ended all those ceremonies, the Sauages went to Warre against the Irocois.” The Richelieu was then known as the River of the Iroquois. When Champlain sailed up it in 1609, about twelve miles before he reached the lake which bears his name he came to a long and densely wooded island, and named it L’ile aux Noix because of the many nut-trees. Years later, when the French found it necessary to control the Richelieu River, then the great highway of both the Iroquois and the English, a fort was built at this strategic point on the Ile aux Noix. During all the French and English and Indian struggles, and during the American Revolution and the War of 1812, this French fort and its English successor saw eventful history. At the cost of millions of dollars the English then constructed the present impos- ing and substantial buildings which comprise Fort Lennox, and which, long ago abandoned as a mili- tary post, the Canadian National Parks preserves as a historic site. In 1611 Champlain cleared a space on the Island of Montreal, intending to make of it neutral territory with a trading-post where all Indian tribes might come to trade peacefully; but the city of Montreal, which now spreads along the eastern shore of the island, was not founded until thirty years later when the Sieur de Maisonneuve, inspired by supernatural visions and voices which bade him establish a great Roman THE CHARM OF QUEBEC 109 Catholic center in New France, built the little settle- ment here as the first step toward his ‘‘Kingdom of God,” and named it Ville-Marie. The Huron name Hochelaga had disappeared with their village; and the fur-trading camp which had existed for a few weeks each year was known merely as The Sault, from the rapids nearby. As the St. Lawrence is the Great River of Canada, so Montreal is the Great City of Canada. And it is a proud and surpassingly beautiful city. Mont Royal, on which Cartier stood in 1534 and looked far out over the country of the Huron-Iroquois, stands today as majestically, as superbly, keeping watch over the widespread city. From its summit, on a clear day, Lake Champlain may be seen, a far-off valley of silver, stretching between purpled hills which are the Adiron- dacks and the Green Mountains. In the foreground, out over a glimmering sea of roofs and spires, and many lovely trees, the blue-green St. Lawrence, silvered by the sun, narrows to strands of white raging between green islands, lies in a ribbon of green silver, then broadens to the beautiful Lake St. Louis. To the west, the Lake-of-the-[wo-Mountains leads into the Ottawa, blue even across the far stretch of meadows. And to the north, beyond glittering bands of rivers dotted with innumerable islands, the Laurentian Mountains sweep back, the smoke-blue of their foot- hills merging into soft violet that turns to mauve where it meets the sky. As the largest city in Canada, and one of the largest 110 BEAUTIFUL CANADA in the two Americas, Montreal is vitally alive, pulsing with the energy of a big commercial center, important as one of the greatest shipping ports on the continent. It is a thoroughly modern, teemingly active city. But there is also another side. For in the French quarter, centering about the quaint Bonsecours Market, a wholly different atmosphere prevails. Passing from the ultra-modern town into the sleepy, old-world streets of the French quarter, one is led to believe in fairy- tales, in the power of the magic wand that can sweep away two centuries or more and carry one back to the Ville-Marie of the fur-trading days, the good old days of the voyageurs and the coureurs de bois. Few large cities are a lure to the vacationist; and yet Montreal, situated so delightfully on an island in the midst of the St. Lawrence, with mountains rising be- yond, has much to offer. In every direction there is water. The canoe-trails are a lure which few can resist. There are lakes and river-bays where the waves are restless enough to give zest toa sail. ‘The wooded hills call to those who love the forests. A nearby Indian reservation is a constant attraction; and the quaint habitant villages on the island are ever in- teresting. In winter there are even more allurements, for no city in the western hemisphere can surpass Montreal in winter sports. The toboggan-slides and ice-rinks are the finest in America. The hills for skiing and snow- shoeing or for the old-fashioned bobsledding, the hard-packed roads for sleighing, and the frozen THE CHARM OF QUEBEC III rivers and iceways cannot be excelled. Health and joy and verve are to be had in Montreal’s out-of-doors in winter-time. There is a stimulant in the gay colors and the flying figures, exhilaration in the pure air, and beauty in the snow-covered hills. For those who like the carnival-spirit, colorful Frost King pageants are held. Montreal Island lies at the mouth of the Ottawa River, which the Indians called the River of the Algonquins, and the early voyageurs named Grand River. From its source in a string of irregular, long, winding lakes, the Ottawa follows a tortuous course, almost doubling upon itself before turning definitely eastward and joining the St. Lawrence in the Lake- of-the-[wo-Mountains. The length of the river is nearly a thousand miles. About four hundred miles of its less erratic course forms part of the boundary be- tween Quebec and Ontario. The Ottawa is considered one of the most beautiful rivers in Canada. Dense forests shut it in; rocks in its bed cause surging rapids and many cascades; where the river is less impetuous the water lingers to form broad and wind-blown lakes, with trees edging the shores and islands cropping up. The upper reaches of the river lie near the height-of-land; and across the watershed are lakes feeding many streams flowing to James Bay, the big southern arm of Hudson Bay. The Ottawa leads the canoeist to a vast region of almost continuous waterways, where he may traverse hundreds of miles with no long portage. ‘There is a 112 BEAUTIFUL CANADA wide variety of choice in routes. Some cling largely to broad, still lakes and deep and winding rivers, while others are frequently spiced with what Father Henne- pin terms “‘most rapid and horrible Currents full of greate Rockes, where the water roars Night and Day like the most Frightfull Thunder.”