The Backwoods of Canada | Page 5

as my journal
provided I had kept one during the last fortnight.
So barren of events has that time been that the sight of a party of
bottle-nosed whales, two or three seals, and a porpoise, possibly on
their way to a dinner or tea party at the North Pole, was considered an

occurrence of great importance. Every glass was in requisition as soon
as they made their appearance, and the marine monsters were well nigh
stared out of countenance.
We came within sight of the shores of Newfoundland on the 5th of
August, just one month from the day we took our last look of the
British isles. Yet though the coast was brown, and rugged, and desolate,
I hailed its appearance with rapture. Never did any thing seem so
refreshing and delicious to me as the land breeze that came to us, as I
thought, bearing health and gladness on its wings.
I had noticed with some curiosity the restless activity of the captain's
bird some hours previous to "land" being proclaimed from the look-out
station. He sang continually, and his note was longer, clearer, and more
thrilling than heretofore; the little creature, the captain assured me, was
conscious of the difference in the air as we approached the land. "I trust
almost as much to my bird as to my glass," he said, "and have never yet
been deceived."
Our progress was somewhat tedious after we entered the gulf. Ninety
miles across is the entrance of this majestic river; it seems an ocean in
itself. Half our time is spent poring over the great chart in the cabin,
which is constantly being rolled and unrolled by my husband to gratify
my desire of learning the names of the distant shores and islands which
we pass.
We are without a pilot as yet, and the captain being a cautious seaman
is unwilling to risk the vessel on this dangerous navigation; so that we
proceed but slowly on our voyage.
August 7.--We were visited this morning by a beautiful little bird, not
much larger than our gold-crested wren. I hailed it as a bird of good
omen--a little messenger sent to bid us welcome to the New World, and
I felt almost a childish joy at the sight of our little visitor. There are
happy moments in our lives when we draw the greatest pleasure from
the most trifling sources, as children are pleased with the most simple
toy.
From the hour we entered the gulf a perceptible change had taken place
in all on board. The captain, a man of grave, quiet manners, grew quite
talkative. My husband was more than usually animated, and even the
thoughtful young Scotchman became positively an entertaining person.
The crew displayed the most lively zeal in the performance of their

duty, and the goldfinch sung cheerily from dawn till sunset. As for me
Hope was busy in my heart, chasing from it all feelings of doubt or
regret that might sadden the present or cloud the future.
I am now able to trace distinctly the outline of the coast on the southern
side of the river. Sometimes the high lands are suddenly enveloped in
dense clouds of mist, which are in constant motion, rolling along in
shadowy billows, now tinted with rosy light, now white and fleecy, or
bright as silver, as they catch the sunbeams. So rapid are the changes
that take place in the fog-bank, that perhaps the next time I raise my
eyes I behold the scene changed as if by magic. The misty curtain is
slowly drawn up, as if by invisible hands, and the wild, wooded
mountains partially revealed, with their bold rocky shores and
sweeping bays. At other times the vapoury volume dividing, moves
along the valleys and deep ravines, like lofty pillars of smoke, or hangs
in snowy draperies among the dark forest pines.
I am never weary of watching these fantastic clouds; they recall to me
the pleasant time I spent in the Highlands, among the cloud-capped
hills of the north.
As yet, the air is cold, and we experience frequent squalls of wind and
hail, with occasional peals of thunder; then again all is serene and
bright, and the air is filled with fragrance, and flies, and bees, and birds
come flitting past us from the shore.
August 8.--Though I cannot but dwell with feelings of wonder and
admiration on the majesty and power of this mighty river, I begin to
grow weary of its immensity, and long for a nearer view of the shore;
but at present we see nothing more than long lines of pine-clad hills,
with here and there a white speck, which they tell me are settlements
and villages to the south; while huge mountains divested of verdure
bound our view