A Trip to Manitoba | Page 6

and want of tact only
increased the mischievous delight of his enemies. At the sides of the
saloon small knots of French Canadians chattered merrily; at the top of

the stairs an emigrant or two were allowed to infringe the rule of "no
deck passengers," because of the crowd on board. Poor things! One did
not wonder that they escaped gladly from the jarring sounds and
offensive smells below.
Early on Saturday morning we passed Silver Islet, that mine of wealth
to our neighbours across the line. It lies in an island-dotted bay, and is
so covered with mining works that it looks like a pile of buildings
rising out of the water. The crushing-mills are on the mainland close by.
Silver Islet first belonged to a Canadian company; but from lack of
enterprise or capital it was sold to an American company for a nominal
sum, and, as is often the case, the sanguine nature of Cousin Jonathan,
acting on the motto, "Nothing venture nothing win," has been
successful, and the company is now (1879) shipping $20,000 worth of
silver ore a day. The islet can be visited only by those who have
especial permission to see the mines and works, or friends among the
officials, neither of which had we.
The adjacent village, at which the Manitoba stopped, did not look as if
times were very prosperous with it. Two smoky little tugs lay idly at
the small wharf, and the few red wooden houses built against the rocks,
their flat roofs piled up with bales of goods and boxes--the ever-present
blue barrels of coal-oil being most conspicuous--seemed tenantless.
Leaving Silver Islet far behind, we rounded Whitefish Point, with its
tall lighthouse, and saw a very distinct mirage--a long stretch of cold
blue water, filled with great blocks of ice. It was rather amusing to see
the eagerness with which glasses were levelled at the "counterfeit
presentment" of a scene, of whose reality we should soon have even too
much.
At the entrance of Thunder Bay, we passed Thunder Cape on our right
and Pie Island on our left; the former a bold promontory, rising 1300
feet above the sea-level, and wooded with a short stunted growth of
bush, principally poplar. Save for its picturesquely situated lighthouse
and log hut, where the keeper lives, no other sign of habitation was
visible. Thunder Bay and Cape probably take their names from the
fierce and frequent storms that rage there; Pie Island from the peculiar

formation of its northern end. Passing many rocky islands, with tiny
waterfalls zigzaging down their sides, we arrived at "Prince Arthur's
Landing" and walked up the long pier, partly roofed to form a
temporary warehouse for a pile of freight, in the teeth of a blistering hot
land-breeze, which drove the dust in blinding, choking eddies about us.
After looking at some specimens of Lake Superior agate which were on
exhibition in a dusty shop, and buying some lemons at what we thought
the exorbitant price of a dollar and a half per dozen, we were glad to
retrace our steps to the steamer, where we found the captain ready and
anxious to start. Half an hour's steaming brought us to the mouth of the
Kaministiquai, or Dog River, and entering it, we were at once in
another country. No more dusty roads, baked-looking piers, nor
begrimed aborigines; but bright, rippling water, cool green fields,
dotted here and there with leafy trees, cattle grazing or lying lazily in
their shade, trim fences, long grass-grown country roads, and soon the
white walls and flowery garden of Fort William, the Hudson Bay
Company's trading post. The rockery in the centre of the garden would
have gladdened the heart of an Ontario gardener. I believe that wealthy
people there have had large fragments of Lake Superior rock brought
down to adorn their lawns and gardens. We found friends at the fort in
the factor and his family, with whom we spent a pleasant half-hour. Mr.
McIntyre is well known, and many will owe him gratitude for kindness
as long as Fort William or the Canada Pacific Railway remains in their
memory.
We left Thunder Bay for Duluth at three o'clock. The day had become
cloudy, and showers fell all the evening, but not heavily enough to
prevent every man, woman, and child from rushing out to "speak" the
down-coming boat Ontario, and hear her report on the state of the
ice-fields. She had been six days icebound at Duluth and the answer to
our captain's inquiry was--
"Forty miles of ice; only one passage. If you hit that, all right; if not,
you won't get through."
And wishing us luck and good night, with three hearty cheers from
either deck, we parted. Naturally anxious as we were for a speedy

journey,