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is an Indian traîneau of birch bark, turned up at the end, and in its proper capacity pulled over the snow by a squaw, loaded with her husband's chattels, while he walks in front. With us civilised easterns the order of things is reversed: the lady, instead of pulling the traboggin (which is quite flat and level with the snow), sits upon it; the gentleman gets as much of his body as he can upon the space that remains behind her, which is not above two feet square. then tucks one leg under him, and leaves the other trailing upon the snow behind, to act as a rudder. This arrangement takes place on the brow of a steep hill, and is no sooner completed than the gentleman puts the whole in motion by a vigorous kick from his disengaged leg, which sends the traboggin on its downward course with rapidly increasing velocity, until it is either upset by bad steering, or buries itself and its occupants in a drift, or speeds far over the smooth surface of the snow after it has reached the valley.

But there are other Canadian winter experiences, which, if they are less amusing, are at least quite as exciting as traboggining. The most novel of these is perhaps the mode adopted for crossing the St Lawrence at this season of the year.

The last time I ever had occasion to cross the St Lawrence, the thermometer stood at 26° below zero. A dense fog shrouded the river, which, as we stood upon the bank, became condensed, and fell in a thick shower of hoar-frost. We got into the canoe upon

WINTER TRAJECT OF THE ST LAWRENCE.

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the wharf, stretched ourselves at the bottom thereof, were muffled up to the eyes in furs, and as our friends crowded round the long narrow receptacle, and I looked up at their melancholy countenances, I felt excessively as if I was already in my coffin, and was only waiting to be let down. Presently we are let down with a vengeance; there is a rush down the steep bank, followed by a grating over the rough ice, then a plunge into the river, and we are so wrapt in fog that we can see nothing a yard from the canoe. The boatmen are fine muscular men, in shaggy beards and coats, who sing the old songs of the Canadian voyageurs, except when they are too much occupied in groping their way through the mist. At last it partially clears, and we find ourselves surrounded by floes of ice. Huge masses are jammed and squeezed up into fantastic shapes, to a height of ten or fifteen feet. We edge our way through the narrow lanes of water between the icefields, following a devious course, sometimes breaking through a thin crust of ice, until our onward progress is altogether arrested; then the voyageurs jump out, and pull the canoe upon the ice,-while we remain resigned at the bottom of the boat,— and rattle us over the jagged surface of the floe until we reach open water, when we are again launched, and at last, to our great gratification, find ourselves pulled up under the steep bank at Point Levi.

If the tide be running down, it often happens that

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canoes are carried many miles below Quebec, and the unfortunate passengers not unfrequently spend the whole night struggling amid floating ice. Under favourable circumstances the traject does not take above half an hour.

03

CHAPTER IV.

CANADIAN STATISTICS.

IN the close of 1849, a document, signed by several intelligent merchants, appeared, advocating the annexation of Canada to the United States, in which the following paragraph occurred: "While the adjoining States are covered with a network of thriving railways, Canada possesses but three lines, which together scarcely exceed fifty miles in length, and the stock in two of which is held at a depreciation of from sixty to eighty per cent-a fatal symptom of the torpor overspreading the land."

The province is now intersected in all directions by about 800 miles of railways already completed, upon which upwards of ten millions sterling have been expended.

The railway which connects Montreal with Quebec is part of the Grand Trunk, destined before long to be the great central highway of Canada. It is to be ultimately extended to Halifax, and at an early date to Trois Pistoles, a town 150 miles below Quebec. A

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THE GRAND TRUNK RAILWAY.

great portion of the traffic which has hitherto been carried to Montreal by the river, will now find conveyance by this line. But it is beyond that city that its influence will be chiefly felt. The journey into Upper Canada by steamboat is tedious in the extreme. The beauty of the Lake of the Thousand Islands, and the occasionally picturesque scenery upon the banks of the St Lawrence, scarcely compensate for the delays at the canals, except to a stranger; and even he would do well so to arrange his tour as to descend the river, and thereby not only avoid this inconvenience, but substitute for it the excitement of shooting the rapids in a steamer, when he will experience, upon a large scale, sensations with which he is familiar, if he has ever threaded the western rivers in a bark

canoe.

By the present mode of conveyance, it takes, under the most favourable circumstances, twenty-one hours to reach the town of Brockville from Montreal. When the railway is completed, the time occupied in this journey will not exceed four hours and a half. Branch lines are proposed, which will connect the most important places on the St Lawrence with the district now being rapidly developed upon the Ottawa. Indeed, a line is already open between Bytown, or, as it is in future to be called, the city of Ottawa, and Prescott.

But the most wonderful work now in process of construction, upon the Grand Trunk Railway, is the Victoria Bridge at Montreal.

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