The Press. — London, England, 1855-11-24 00:00:00

NOVEMBER 24, 1855. and streets are not the men to enter upon a life of hardship and adventure—to be the pioneers of civilisation—to penetrate through unknown regions—to face unknown foes, and brave innumerable perils. The men who undertake by choice such a life as this are men born to the healthy, manly influence of country life —men made of a sterner stuff than we find among citizens or mechanics; and to the race of all such bold adventurers much honour is due. Among the hardiest of such men we should suppose the fur trappers and traders of the Rocky Mountains and the Far West stand pre eminent. To their courage and endurance it is due that the whole of the vast country lying be tweeu the Pacific and the Rocky Mountains is known and was explored ; that commercial com panies, with immense capital embarked in the enterprise, were formed to supply the fur trade ; that chains of communication were kept up from the Frozen Ocean to the Pacific; that forts were built and military outposts formed throughout the lines, governors and sub governors appointed, small colonies of traders and trappers created, and influence and friendship sought among the native tribes by kindness and considerate treatment. But, one after the other, the two first companies— the Great Pacific Fur and the North- West Company—both powerful in political importance and commercial greatness—have passed away before the Hudson's Bay Com pany, which alone has stood the test of time ; while the fiir trade, its legitimate enterprise, has almost perished, and the axe and the plough, with village and settlement, church and school, now fast crowd upon the steps of the trapper and the haunts of the aboriginal Indian. In a book such as this, extending back some forty years, the sketches and adventures given, it must be remembered, belong to the last generation. Most of the country travelled over by the writer, then little else but forest and river and the home of the Indian and wild buffalo, is now cultivated, and peopled with numerous settlements. Yet the interest of the adventures, and their animated and graphic detail, lose nothing by their age. They must be accepted as the memoirs of a fur-hunter of forty years' service, and as such will be very welcome to young and old of the present day. Amid such a variety of adventures it is impossible to give any detailed sketch of the wauderinga of' the writer, and as the fur trade is now comparatively extinct, we select only a few incidents here and there such as are common to life in the Indian districts, Here is an instance of how vital a consequence it is to preserve your temper among savages, and endeavour by a happy turn to ward off their sullen treachery. In this case, the trappers had entered the Indian territory to trade. The Indians were sulky, and hostilely dis posed : The moment we dismounted we were surrounded, and the savages, giving two or three war whoops and yells, drove the animals we had ridden out of our sight ; this of itself was a hostile movement. We had to judge from ap• pearances, and be guided by circumstances. My first care was to try and direct their attention to something new, and to get rid of the temptation there was to dispose of my goods ; so, without a moment's delay, I commenced a trade in horses ; but every horse I bought during that and the following day, as well as those we had brought with us, were instantly driven out of sight, in the midst of yelling and jeering ; nevertheless, I continued to trade while an article remained, putting the best face on things i could, and taking no notice of their conduct, as no insult or violence had as yet been offered to ourselves personally. Two days and nights had now elapsed since our arrival, without food or sleep; the Indians refused us the former, our own anxiety deprived us of the latter. The next morning, being famished, they endeavour to cook some venison, but no sooner is the kettle put on the fire than a dozen spears bear it off with a shout, and thirty or forty move, fire a volley into the ashes : At this time the man who had put the kettle on the lire took the knife with which he had cut the venison to lay it by, when one of the Indians, called Eyacktana, a bold and turbulent chief, snatched it out of his hand ; the man, in an angry tone, demanded his knife, saying to me," helve my knife from the villain, life or death." " No," said I. The chief, seeing the man angry, threw down his robe, and grasping the knife in his fist, with the point downwards, raised his arm, making a motion in advance as if he intended using it. The crisis had now )trrived I . At this moment there was a dead silence. The Indians were flocking in from ail quarters: a dense crowd stir- . THE PRESS. rounded us. Not a moment was to be lost ; delay would be fatal, and nothing now seemed to remain for us but to sell our lives as dearly as possible. With this impression, srasping a pistol, I advanced a step towards the villain who held the knife, with the full determination of putting an end to his career before any of us should fall; but while in the act of lifting my foot and moving my arm, a second idea flashed across my mind, admonishing me to soothe, and not provoke, the Indians, that Providence might yet make a way for us to escape : this thought saved the Indian's life, and ours too. Instead of drawing the pistol, as I intended, I took a knife from my belt, such as travel lers generally use in this country, and presented it to him, saying, " Here, my friend, is a chiefs knife, I give it to you ; that is not a chiefs knife, give it back to the man." Fortunately, he took mine in his hand ; but, still sullen and savage, he said nothing. The moment was a critical one ; our fate hung as by a thread : 1 shall never forget it ! All the bystanders had their eyes now fixed on the chief, thoughtful and silent as he stood ; we also stood motion less, not knowing what a moment migl , t bring forth. At last the savage handed the man his knife, and turning mine round and round for some time in his hands, turned ..... to his people, holding up the knife in his hand, exclaimed, " She-augh Me-yokat Waltz "—Look, my friends, at the chiefs knife : these words he repeated over and over again. He was delighted. The Indians flocked round him : all admired the toy, and in the excess of his joy he harangue 41 the multitude in our favour. Fickle, indeed, are stivngea I They were now no longer enemies, but friends ! Several others, following Eyticktima's example, harangued in turn, all in favour of the whites. This done, the great men squatted themselves down, and the pipe of peace was called for. Such are savages, as fickle as the wind, but rarely above being pacified if no revenge lurks iu their mind. Whoever has watched a couple of wolves attack a horse, or wild dogs attack their prey, will admit the graphic truth of this desciip- tion:— Two large wolves, such as I have mentioned, are suffi cient to destroy the most powerful horse, and seldom more than two ever begin the assault, although there may be a score in the gang. It is no less curious than amusing to witness their ingenious mode of attack. If there is no snow, or but little, on the ground, two wolves approach in the most playful and caressing manner, lying, rolling, and frisking about, until the too credulous and unsuspecting victim is completely put off his guard by curiosity and familiarity. During this time the gang, squatted on their hind quarters, look on at a distance. After some time spent in this way, the two assailants sepa rate, when one approaches the horse's head, the other his tail, with a slyness and cunning peculiar to themselves. At this stage of the attack their frolicksome approaches become very interesting—it is in right good earnest ; the formeris a mere decoy, the latter is the real assailant, and keeps his eyes steadily tired on the ham-strings or flank of the horse. 'fhe critical moment is then watched, and the attack is simu'taneous ; both wolves spring at their victim the same instant, one to the throat, the other to the flank, and if successful, which they generally are, the hind one never lets go his hold till the horse is completely dis abled. Instead of springing fcrward or kicking to disen gage himself, the horse turns round and round without attempting a defence. The wolf before, then springs behind, to assist the other. The sinews are cut, and in half the time I have been describing it the horse is on his side ; his struggles are fruitless : the victory is won. At this signal the Lookers-on close in at a gallop, but the small fry of followers keep at a respectful distance until their superiors are gorged, then they take their turn un molested. Apart from his fur-hun tin g adventures, which are full of incident, accident, and escapes, Mr. Ross gives us many curious pictures of the customs of the Indians. The treatment of their slaves when first captured is singularly cruel ; and the women perform all these bar barities ! When captured, the slaves are brought into camp tied on horseback, each behind a warrior : But the squaws no sooner meet them than they tear them down from the horses without mercy, and then begin trampling on them, tearing their heads and flesh, cutting their ears, and maiming their bodies with knives, stones, sticks, or other instruments of torture. After thus glutting their revenge, they drive the slaves to the camp. It is then settled unalterably what the slaves are doomed to suffer. Every afternoon, some hours before sunset, the camp makes a grand turn out for dancing the scalps. For this dance two rows of men, a hundred yards long or more, arrange themselves face to face, and about fifteen feet apart. Inside these are likewise two rows of women, facing each other, leaving a space of about five feet broad in the middle for the slaves; who, arranged in a line, occupy the ceutre in a row by themselves. • • • • • All this is but a prelude to the scenes that follow. The women, placed in the order we have stated, on each side of the slaves, and armed with the instruments of torture, continue jeering them with.the most distorted grimaces, cutting them with knives, piercing them with awls, pulling them by the hair, and thumping them with fist, stick, or stone, in every possible way that can torment without killing them. The loss of an ear, a tooth, the joint of a finger, or part of a seal p torn off during these frantic fits, are nightly occurrences. And if the wretches thus doomed to suffer happen not to laugh and htizza (which in their situation would almost be beyond the efforts of human nature), or if they fail to raise or loner, according to 1125 caprice, the scalps in regular order, they are doubly tor mented and unmercifully handled. tin these ooea,ions some termagant often pounces upon her victim, who not unfrequently falls senseless to the ground under the indiction of wounds. And if any slave happens, from a sudden blow, to start back &little out of line, awoman in the rear instantly inflicts another wound, which never fails to urge the victim as far forward ; so that they are often pushed backwards and forwards, till at last they become insensible. These cruelties continue regularly for six days, during which period, after every inflio• tion, the slaves are taken back to camp, washed, dressed, fed, and tended until dusk next evening, when they aro brought out to undergo the same punishment. On the sixth night they are handed over to their masters for good. - - • After failing twice successively in two great speculations in the fur trade, Mr. Ross at last gave up service, and retired for good on the Red River settlement. As he is ou his last voyage by water, he gives us a sketch of the independent, thoughtless, happy life led by most of the old voyageurs or °acme-men on the rivers : " I have now," said one, " been forty-two years in this country. For twenty four I was a light canoe man ; I required but little sleep, but sometimes got less than I re quired. Nu portage was too long for me; all portages were alike. My erd of the canoe never touched the ground till 1 saw the end of it. Fifty songs a day were nothing to me. I could carry, paddle, walk, and sing with any wan I ever saw. During that period, I saved the lives of ten bourgeois, and was always the favorite, because when others stopped to carry at a bad step, and lost time, pushed on—over rapids, over cascades, over cbfites : all were the same to me No water, no weather, ever stopped the paddle or the song. I have had twelve wives in the country, and was once possessed of fifty horses, and six running dogs, trimmed in the first style. 1 was then like a bourgeois, rich and happy : no bourgeois had better dressed wives than 1; no Indian chief finer horses; no white man better harnessed or swifter dogs. I beat all Indians at the race, and no white man ever passed me in the chase. I wanted for nothing, and I spent all my earnings in the enjoyment of pleasure. Five hundred pounds, twice told, have passed through my hands; although now I have not a spare shirt to my back, nor a penny to buy one. Yet, were I young again, I should glory in commencing the same career again. I would gladly spend another half-century in the same fields of en• joyment. There is nu life so happy as a voyageur's life : none so independent; n) place where a man enjoys so mach variety and freedom as in the Indian country. Huzza! huzza! pour le pays sauvage !" After this cri de fair, he sat down in the boat, and we could not help ad. miring the wild enthusiasm of the old Frenchman. He had boasted and excited himself till lie was out of breath, and then sighed with regret that be . could no longer enjoy the scenes of his peat life. The lively, entertaining sketches of life, cha racter, and adventure which abound in these volumes will insure their popularity. There is a perfect fund of adventure iu every page; and the hardships, trials, and perils of the fur hunters may well become one of our " Boy's Own Books." Gilbert Massenger. By Holme Lee. London : Smith and Elder. THE tales of this author are usually distinguished by forcible conceptions of character, and by the struggles and sacrifices which persons of strong will make to carry out their designs. In " Gilbert Massenger " the interest of the story depends on the principle of the hero, who resolves to break off his engagement with an amiable and lovely girl to whom he is fondly attached when his eyes are opened to the dreadful consequences which may result from his marriage through a taint of hereditary insanity in his family. There seems a defect in the construc tion of the story, as the whole history of his family's insanity was known to him before this engagement was contracted, and the revelations made after the death of his aunt add very little to his knowledge, and were not likely to have bad much effect on a character so resolved and stern as be is represented to have possessed. The tale, as may be supposed from its leading idea, is stern and gloomy in its tone. Gilbert, his parents having died in his youth, is brought up by his maiden aunt, a harsh, unbending woman, who endeavours to break his will, and who casts him off penniless when he resists. She is wrapt up in "spiritual pride ;" and the working of this sentiment, aptly described by Sterne as "a very " bad species of a very bad passion," is vividly delineated. But the conception is not thoroughly sustained. " Spiritual pride," when once it bas mastered a nature, is of so baleful and dominating a kind as to leave no room for the possibility of re pentance or the revival of natural feeling. It surely leads to the death of all humane and generous feeling and from its very essence leaves no room in the soul for any other sentiment than itself. But in the case of Gertrude Massenger there is a disposition to relent, and she does not fully carry 04 her apfq tv,r, I ■