Sketches in Canada, and rambles among the red men — John Shaqi
Sketches in Canada, and rambles among the red menJameson, Mrs. (Anna)
History
Sketches in Canada, and rambles among the red men
Jameson, Mrs. (Anna)
Indians of North America -- Canada; Ontario -- Description and travel
The day was sultry, the air heavy and still, and a strange fog, or
rather a series of dark clouds, hung resting on the bosom of the lake,
which in some places was smooth and transparent as glass--in others,
little eddies of wind had ruffled it into tiny waves, or welts
rather--so that it presented the appearance of patchwork. The boatmen
looked up, and foretold a storm; but when we came within three or four
miles from the mouth of the river Niagara, the fog drew off like a
curtain, and the interminable line of the dark forest came into view,
stretching right and left along the whole horizon; then the white
buildings of the American fort, and the spires of the town of Niagara,
became visible against the rich purple-green back-ground, and we landed
after a four hours' voyage. The threatened storm came on that night. The
summer storms of Canada are like those of the tropics: not in Italy, not
among the Apennines, where I have in my time heard the "live thunder
leaping from crag to crag," did I ever hear such terrific explosions of
sound as burst over our heads this night. The silence and the darkness
lent an added horror to the elemental tumult--and for the first time in
my life I felt sickened and unpleasantly affected in the intervals
between the thunder-claps, though I cannot say I felt fear. Meantime the
rain fell as in a deluge, threatening to wash us into the lake, which
reared itself up, and roared--like a monster for its prey.
Yet, the next morning, when I went down upon the shore, how beautiful
it looked--the hypocrite!--there it lay rocking and sleeping in the
sunshine, quiet as a cradled infant. Niagara, in its girdle of verdure
and foliage, glowing with fresh life, and breathing perfume, appeared to
me a far different place from what I had seen in winter. As I stood on
the shore, quietly thinking, I was startled by the sound of the
death-bell, pealing along the sunny blue waters. They said it was tolled
for a young man of respectable family, who, at the age of three or four
and twenty, had died from habitual drinking; his elder brother having a
year or two before fallen from his horse in a state of intoxication, and
perished in consequence. Yes, everything I see and hear on this subject
convinces me that it should be one of the first objects of the
government to put down, by all and every means, a vice which is rotting
at the core of this colony--poisoning the very sources of existence; but
all their taxes, and prohibitions, and excise laws, will do little good,
unless they facilitate the means of education. In society, the same
evening, the appearance of a very young, very pretty, sad-looking
creature, with her first baby at her bosom, whose husband was staggering
and talking drunken gibberish at her side, completed the impression of
disgust and affright with which the continual spectacle of this vile
habit strikes me since I have been in this country.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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