The Backwoods of Canada written by Catharine Parr Traill

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Of Violets, we have every variety of colour, size and shape, lacking
only the delightful _viola odorata_ of our home woodlands: yet I know
not why we should quarrel with these meek daughters of the spring,
because they want the fragrance of their more favoured sisters. Many of
your wood-violets, though very beautiful, are also devoid of scent; here
variety of colour ought to make some amends for want of perfume. We have
violets of every shade of blue, some veined with purple, others shaded
with darker blue. We have the delicate white, pencilled with purple: the
bright brimstone coloured with black veinings: the pale primrose with
dark blue veins; the two latter are remarkable for the luxuriance and
size of the leaves: the flowers spring in bunches, several from each
joint, and are succeeded by large capsules covered with thick white
cottony down. There is a species of violet that grows in the woods, the
leaves of which are exceedingly large; so are the seed-vessels, but the
flower is so small and insignificant, that it is only to be observed by
a close examination of the plant; this has given rise to the vulgar
belief that it blooms under ground. The flowers are a pale greenish
yellow. Bryant's beautiful poem of the Yellow Violet is descriptive of
the first-mentioned violet.

There is an elegant _viola tricolor_, that blooms in the autumn; it is
the size of a small heart's-ease, and is pure white, pale purple, and
lilac; the upper petals are white, the lower lip purple, and the side
wings a reddish lilac. I was struck with the elegance of this rare
flower on a journey to Peterborough, on my way to Cobourg; I was unable
to preserve the specimens, and have not travelled that road since. The
flower grew among wild clover on the open side of the road; the leaves
were small, roundish, and of a dark sad green.

Of the tall shrubby asters, we have several beautiful varieties, with
large pale blue lilac, or white flowers; others with very small white
flowers and crimson anthers, which look like tufts of red down, spangled
with gold-dust; these anthers have a pretty effect, contrasted with the
white starry petals. There is one variety of the tall asters that I have
seen on the plains, it has flowers about the size of a sixpence, of a
soft pearly tint of blue, with brown anthers; this plant grows very
tall, and branches from the parent stem in many graceful flowery boughs;
the leaves of this species are of a purple red on the under side, and
inclining to heart-shape; the leaves and stalks are hairy.

I am not afraid of wearying you with my floral sketches, I have yet many
to describe; among these are those elegant little evergreens, that
abound in this country, under the name of winter-greens, of which there
are three or four remarkable for beauty of foliage, flower, and fruit.
One of these winter-greens that abounds in our pine-woods is extremely
beautiful; it seldom exceeds six inches in height; the leaves are a
bright shining green, of a long narrow oval, delicately notched like the
edges of a rose-leaf; and the plant emerges from beneath the snow in the
early part of the year, as soon as the first thaw takes place, as fresh
and verdant as before they were covered up: it seems to be a shy
blossomer. I have never seen specimens of the flowers in bloom but
twice; these I carefully preserved for you, but the dried plant will
afford but an imperfect idea of the original. You always called, you
know, your dried specimens corpses of plants, and said, that when well
painted, their representations were far more like themselves. The
flower-stalk rises two or three inches from the centre of the plant, and
is crowned with round crimson buds and blossoms, consisting of five
petals, deepening from the palest pink to the brightest blush colour;
the stigma is of an emerald greenness, forming a slightly ribbed turban
in the centre, around which are disposed ten stamens of an amethyst
colour: in short, this is one of the gems of the floral world, and might
aptly be compared to an emerald ring, set round with amethysts. The
contrast of colours in this flower is exceedingly pleasing, and the
crimson buds and shining ever-green leaves are scarcely less to be
admired than the flower; itself it would be considered a great
acquisition to your collection of American shrubs, but I doubt if it
would flourish when removed from the shade of the pine-woods. This plant
appears to be the _Chimaphila corymbosa_, or winter-green, described by
Pursh, with some trifling variation in the colour of the petals.

Another of our winter-greens grows in abundance on the Rice-Lake plains;
the plant does not exceed four inches; the flowers are in little loose
bunches, pale greenish white, in shape like the blossom of the arbutus;
the berries are bright scarlet, and are known by the name of winter-
berry, and partridge-berry; this must be _Gualtheria procumbens_. But a
more beautiful little evergreen of the same species is to be found in
our cedar swamps, under the name of pigeon-berry; it resembles the
arbutus in leaf and flower more closely than the former plant; the
scarlet berry is inserted in a scarlet cup or receptacle, divided at the
edge in five points; it is fleshy, seeming to partake of the same nature
as the fruit. The blossoms of this elegant little shrub, like the
arbutus, of which it looks like the miniature, appear in drooping
bunches at the same time the ripened berry of the former year is in
perfection; this circumstance adds not a little to the charm of the
plant. If I mistake not, this is the _Gualtheria Shallon_, which Pursh
likens to the arbutus: this is also one of our winter-greens.

There is another pretty trailing plant, with delicate little funnel-
shaped flowers, and a profusion of small dark green round buds, slightly
variegated, and bright red berries, which are produced at the
extremities of the branches. The blossoms of this plant grow in pairs,
closely connected at the germen, so much so, that the scarlet fruit that
supersedes the flowers appears like a double berry, each berry
containing the seeds of both flowers and a double eye. The plant is also
called winter-green, or twin-berry; it resembles none of the other
winter-greens; it grows in mossy woods, trailing along the ground,
appearing to delight in covering little hillocks and inequalities of the
ground. In elegance of growth, delicacy of flower, and brightness of
berry, this winter-green is little inferior to any of the former.

There is a plant in our woods, known by the names of man-drake, may-
apple, and duck's-foot: the botanical name of the plant is Podophyllum;
it belongs to the class and order _Polyandria monogynia_. The blossom is
yellowish white, the corolla consisting of six petals; the fruit is
oblong; when ripe, of a greenish yellow; in size that of an olive, or
large damson; when fully ripe it has the flavour of preserved tamarind,
a pleasant brisk acid; it appears to be a shy bearer, though it
increases rapidly in rich moist wood-lands. The leaves come up singly,
are palmated and shade the ground very much when a number of them grow
near each other; the stalk supports the leaf from the centre: when they
first appear above the ground, they resemble a folded umbrella or
parasol, all the edges of the leaves bending downward, by degrees
expanding into a slightly convex canopy. The fruit would make a delicate
preserve with sugar.

The lily tribe offer an extensive variety from the most minute to the
very largest flowers. The red martagon grows abundantly on our plains;
the dog's tooth violet, _Erythronium_, with its spotted leaves and
bending yellow blossom, delicately dashed with crimson spots within, and
marked with fine purple lines on the outer part of the petal, proves a
great attraction in our woods, where these plants increase: they form a
beautiful bed; the leaves come up singly, one from each separate tuber.
There are two varieties of this flower, the pale yellow, with neither
spots nor lines, and the deep yellow with both; the anthers of this last
are reddish-orange, and thickly covered with a fine powdery substance.
The daffodil of our woods is a delicate bending flower, of a pale
yellow; the leaves grow up the flower-stalk at intervals; three or more
flowers usually succeed each other at the extremity of the stalk: its
height is from six to eight inches; it delights in the deep shade of
moist woods. This seems to unite the description of the jonquil and
daffodil.

A very beautiful plant of the lily tribe abounds both in our woods and
clearings; for want of a better name, I call it the douri-lily, though
it is widely spread over a great portion of the continent. The Americans
term the white and red varieties of this species, the "white" and "red
death." The flower is either deep red, or of a dazzling white, though
the latter is often found stained with a delicate blush-pink, or a deep
green; the latter appears to be caused by the calix running into the
petal. Wherefore it bears so formidable a name has not yet transpired.
The flower consists of three petals, the calix three; it belongs to the
class and order _Hexandria monogynia_; style, three-cleft; seed-vessel
of three valves; soil, dry woods and cleared lands; leaves growing in
three, springing from the joints, large round, but a little pointed at
the extremities.

We have lilies of the valley, and their cousins the Solomon's seals, a
small flowered turk's-cap, of pale primrose colour, with an endless
variety of small flowers of the lily tribe, remarkable for beauty of
foliage or delicacy of form.

Our Ferns are very elegant and numerous; I have no less than eight
different specimens, gathered from our immediate neighbourhood, some of
which are extremely elegant, especially one that I call the "fairy
fern," from its lightness. One elastic stem, of a purplish-red colour,
supports several light branches, which are subdivided and furnished with
innumerable leaflets; each leaflet has a footstalk, that attaches it to
the branch, of so slight and hair-like a substance that the least breath
of air sets the whole plant in motion.

Could we but imagine Canada to have been the scene of fairy revels, we
should declare that these graceful ferns were well suited to shade the
elfin court of Oberon and Titania.

When this fern first appears above the ground, it is scarcely to be
distinguished from the decaying wood of the fallen pines; it is then of
a light reddish brown, curiously curled up. In May and June, the leaves
unfold, and soon assume the most delicate tint of green; they are almost
transparent: the cattle are very fond of this fern.

The mocassin flower or lady's-slipper (mark the odd coincidence between
the common name of the American and English species) is one of our most
remarkable flowers; both on account of its beauty and its singularity of
structure. Our plains and dry sunny pastures produce several varieties;
among these, the _Cypripedium pubescens_, or yellow mocassin, and the
_C. Arietinum_ are the most beautiful of the species. The colour of the
lip of the former is a lively canary yellow, dashed with deep crimson
spots. The upper petals consist of two short and two long; in texture
and colour resembling the sheath of some of the narcissus tribe; the
short ones stand erect, like a pair of ears; the long or lateral pair
are three times the length of the former, very narrow, and elegantly
twisted, like the spiral horns of the Walachian ram: on raising a thick
yellow fleshy sort of lid, in the middle of the flower, you perceive the
exact face of an Indian hound, perfect in all its parts, the eyes, nose,
and mouth; below this depends an open sack, slightly gathered round at
the opening, which gives it a hollow and prominent appearance; the
inside of this bag is delicately dashed with deep crimson, or black
spots: the stem of the flower is thick towards the upper part, and takes
a direct bend; the leaves are large oval, a little pointed and ribbed;
the plant scarcely exceeds six inches: the elegant colour and silken
texture of the lower lip or bag renders this flower very much more
beautiful to my taste than the purple and white variety, though the
latter is much more striking on account of the size of the flower and
leaves, besides the contrast between the white and red, or white and
purple colours.

The formation of this species resembles the other, only with this
difference, the horns are not twisted, and the face is that of a monkey;
even the comical expression of the animal is preserved with such
admirable fidelity, as to draw a smile from every one that sees the odd
restless-looking visage, with its prominent round black eyes peering
forth from under its covering.

These plants belong to class and order _Gynandria diandria_; are
described with some little variation by Pursh, who, however, likens the
face of the latter to that of a sheep: if a sheep sat for the picture,
methinks it must have been the most mischievous of the flock.

There is a curious aquatic plant that grows in shallow, stagnant, or
slow-flowing waters; it will contain a full wine-glass of water. A poor
soldier brought it to me, and told me it resembled a plant he used to
see in Egypt, that the soldiers called the "Soldier's drinking-cup" and
many a good draught of pure water, he said, I have drank from them.

Another specimen was presented me by a gentleman who knew my
predilection for strange plants; he very aptly gave it the name of
"Pitcher-plant;" it very probably belongs to the tribe that bear that
name.

The flowers that afford the most decided perfumes are our wild roses,
which possess a delicious scent: the milk-weed, which gives out a smell
not-unlike the night-blowing stock; the purple monarda, which is
fragrance itself from the root to the flower, and even after months'
exposure to the wintry atmosphere; its dried leaves and seed-vessels are
so sweet as to impart perfume to your hands or clothes. All our Mints
are strong scented: the lily of the valley is remarkable for its fine
smell; then there is my queen of the lakes, and her consort, the water-
king, with many other flowers I cannot now enumerate. Certain it is that
among such a vast assemblage of flowers, there are, comparatively, very
few that are gifted with fragrant scents. Some of our forest-trees give
out a fine perfume. I have often paused in my walks to inhale the
fragrance from a cedar swamp on some sunny day while the boughs were
still wet with the dew-drops or recently fallen shower.

Nor is the balsam-poplar, or tacamahac, less delightfully fragrant,
especially while the gummy buds are just beginning to unfold; this is an
elegant growing tree, where it has room to expand into boughs. It grows
chiefly on the shores of the lakes and in open swamps, but it also forms
one of the attractions of our plains, with its silver bark and waving
foliage; it emits a resinous clear gum in transparent globules on the
bark, and the buds are covered with a highly aromatic gummy fluid.

Our Grasses are highly interesting; there are varieties that are wholly
new to me, and when dried form the most elegant ornaments to our
chimney-pieces, and would look very graceful on a lady's head; only
fashionists always prefer the artificial to the natural.

One or two species of grass that I have gathered bear a close but of
course minute resemblance to the Indian corn, having a top feather and
eight-sided spike of little grains disposed at the sidejoints. The
_sisyrinchium_, or blue-eyed grass, is a pretty little flower of an
azure blue, with golden spot at the base of each petal; the leaves are
flat, stiff, and flag-like; this pretty flower grows in tufts on light
sandy soils.

I have given you a description of the flowers most worthy of attention;
and, though it is very probable some of my descriptions may not be
exactly in the technical language of the correct botanist, I have at
least described them as they appear.

My dear boy seems already to have a taste for flowers, which I shall
encourage as much as possible. It is a study that tends to refine and
purify the mind, and can be made, by simple steps, a ladder to heaven,
as it were, by teaching a child to look with love and admiration to that
bountiful God who created and made flowers so fair to adorn and fructify
this earth.

Farewell, my dear sister.

LETTER XV.

Recapitulation of various Topics.--Progress of Settlement.--Canada, the
Land of Hope.--Visit to the Family of a Naval Officer.--Squirrels.--
Visit to, and Story of, an Emigrant Clergyman.--His early Difficulties.
--The Temper, Disposition, and Habits of Emigrants essential Ingredients
in Failure or Success.

September the 20th, 1834.

I PROMISED when I parted from you before I left England to write as soon
as I could give you any satisfactory account of our settlement in this
country. I shall do my best to redeem that promise, and forward you a
slight sketch of our proceedings, with such remarks on the natural
features of the place in which we have fixed our abode, as I think
likely to afford you interest or amusement. Prepare your patience, then,
my dear friend, for a long and rambling epistle, in which I may possibly
prove somewhat of a Will-o'-the-wisp, and having made you follow me in
my desultory wanderings,--

Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through briar,
Over park, over pale,
Through flood, through fire,--

Possibly leave you in the midst of a big cedar swamp, or among the
pathless mazes of our wild woods, without a clue to guide you, or even a
_blaze_ to light you on your way.

You will have heard, through my letters to my dear mother, of our safe
arrival at Quebec, of my illness at Montreal, of all our adventures and
misadventures during our journey up the country, till after much weary
wandering we finally found a home and resting-place with a kind
relative, whom it was our happiness to meet after a separation of many
years.

As my husband was anxious to settle in the neighbourhood of one so
nearly connected with me, thinking it would rob the woods of some of the
loneliness that most women complain so bitterly of, he purchased a lot
of land on the shores of a beautiful lake, one of a chain of small lakes
belonging to the Otanabee river.

Here, then, we are established, having now some five-and-twenty acres
cleared, and a nice house built. Our situation is very agreeable, and
each day increases its value. When we first came up to live in the bush,
with the exception of S------, here were but two or three settlers near
us, and no roads cut out. The only road that was available for bringing
up goods from the nearest town was on the opposite side of the water,
which was obliged to be crossed on a log, or birch-bark canoe; the
former nothing better than a large pine-log hollowed with the axe, so as
to contain three or four persons; it is flat-bottomed, and very narrow,
on which account it is much used on these shallow waters. The birch
canoe is made of sheets of birch bark, ingeniously fashioned and sewn
together by the Indians with the tough roots of the cedar, young pine,
or larch (tamarack, as it is termed by the Indians); it is exceedingly
light, so that it can be carried by two persons easily, or even by one.
These, then, were our ferry-boats, and very frail they are, and require
great nicety in their management; they are worked in the water with
paddles, either kneeling or standing. The squaws are very expert in the
management of the canoes, and preserve their balance with admirable
skill, standing up while they impel the little bark with great velocity
through the water.

Very great is the change that a few years have effected in our
situation. A number of highly respectable settlers have purchased land
along the shores of these lakes, so that we no longer want society. The
roads are now cut several miles above us, and though far from good can
be travelled by waggons and sleighs, and are, at all events, better than
none.

A village has started up where formerly a thick pine-wood covered the
ground; we have now within a short distance of us an excellent saw-mill,
a grist-mill, and store, with a large tavern and many good dwellings. A
fine timber bridge, on stone piers, was erected last year to connect the
opposite townships and lessen the distance to and from Peterborough; and
though it was unfortunately swept away early last spring by the unusual
rising of the Otanabee lakes, a new and more substantial one has risen
upon the ruins of the former, through the activity of an enterprising
young Scotchman, the founder of the village.

But the grand work that is, sooner or later, to raise this portion of
the district from its present obscurity, is the opening a line of
navigation from Lake Huron through Lake Simcoe, and so through our chain
of small lakes to Rice Lake, and finally through the Trent to the Bay of
Quinte. This noble work would prove of incalculable advantage, by
opening a direct communication between Lake Huron and the inland
townships at the back of the Ontario with the St. Laurence. This project
has already been under the consideration of the Governor, and is at
present exciting great interest in the country: sooner or later there is
little doubt but that it will be carried into effect. It presents some
difficulties and expense, but it would be greatly to the advantage and
prosperity of the country, and be the means of settling many of the back
townships bordering upon these lakes.

I must leave it to abler persons than myself to discuss at large the
policy and expediency of the measure; but as I suppose you have no
intention of emigrating to our backwoods, you will be contented with my
cursory view of the matter, and believe, as in friendship you are bound
to do, that it is a desirable thing to open a market for inland produce.

Canada is the land of hope; here every thing is new; every thing going
forward; it is scarcely possible for arts, sciences, agriculture,
manufactures, to retrograde; they must keep advancing; though in some
situations the progress may seem slow, in others they are proportionably
rapid.

There is a constant excitement on the minds of emigrants, particularly
in the partially settled townships, that greatly assists in keeping them
from desponding. The arrival of some enterprising person gives a
stimulus to those about him: a profitable speculation is started, and
lo, the value of the land in the vicinity rises to double and treble
what it was thought worth before; so that, without any design of
befriending his neighbours, the schemes of one settler being carried
into effect shall benefit a great number. We have already felt the
beneficial effect of the access of respectable emigrants locating
themselves in this township, as it has already increased the value of
our own land in a three-fold degree.

All this, my dear friend, you will say is very well, and might afford
subject for a wise discussion between grave men, but will hardly amuse
us women; so pray turn to some other theme, and just tell me how you
contrive to pass your time among the bears and wolves of Canada.

One lovely day last June I went by water to visit the bride of a young
naval officer, who had purchased a very pretty lot of land some two
miles higher up the lake; our party consisted of my husband, baby, and
myself; we met a few pleasant friends, and enjoyed our excursion much.
Dinner was laid out in the _stoup_, which, as you may not know what is
meant by the word, I must tell you that it means a sort of wide
verandah, supported on pillars, often of unbarked logs; the floor is
either of earth beaten hard, or plank; the roof covered with sheets of
bark or else shingled. These stoups are of Dutch origin, and were
introduced, I have been told, by the first Dutch settlers in the states,
since which they have found their way all over the colonies.

Wreathed with the scarlet creeper, a native plant of our woods and
wilds, the wild vine, and also with the hop, which here grows
luxuriantly, with no labour or attention to its culture, these stoups
have a very rural appearance; in summer serving the purpose of an open
ante-room, in which you can take your meals and enjoy the fanning breeze
without being inconvenienced by the extreme heat of the noon-day sun.

The situation of the house was remarkably well chosen, just on the
summit of a little elevated plain, the ground sloping with a steep
descent to a little valley, at the bottom of which a bright rill of
water divided the garden from the opposite corn-fields, which clothed a
corresponding bank. In front of the stoup, where we dined, the garden
was laid out with a smooth plot of grass, surrounded with borders of
flowers, and separated from a ripening field of wheat by a light railed
fence, over which the luxuriant hop-vine flung its tendrils and graceful
blossoms. Now I must tell you the hop is cultivated for the purpose of
making a barm for raising bread. As you take great interest in
housewifery concerns, I shall send you a recipe for what we call hop-
rising*. [* See Appendix.]

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