The Great Lone Land. Sir William Francis Butler

we left the busy scene of track-laying and struck out along the graded line for the Dalles of the St. Louis. Up to this point the line had been fully levelled, and the walking was easy enough, but when the much-talked of Dalles were reached a complete change took place, and the toil became excessive. The St. Louis River, which in reality forms the headwater of the great St. Lawrence, has its source in the dividing ridge between Minnesota and the British territory. From these rugged Laurentian ridges it foams down in an impetuous torrent through wild pine-clad steeps of rock and towering precipice, apparently to force an outlet into the valley of the Mississippi, but at the Dalles it seems to have suddenly preferred to seek the cold waters of the Atlantic, and, bending its course abruptly to the east, it pours its foaming torrent into the great Lake Superior below the old French trading-post of Fond-du-Lac. The load which I carried was not of itself a heavy one, but its weight became intolerable under the rapidly increasing heat of the sun and from the toilsome nature of the road. The deep narrow gorges over which the railway was to be carried were yet unbridged, and we had to let ourselves down the steep yielding embankment to a depth of over 100 feet, and then clamber up the other side almost upon hands and knees-this under a sun that beat down between the hills with terrible intensity on the yellow sand of the railway cuttings! The Ohio man carried no baggage, but the Jew was heavily laden, and soon fell behind. For a time I kept pace with my light companion; but soon I too was obliged to lag, and about midday found myself alone in the solitudes of the Dalles. At last there came a gorge deeper and steeper than any thing that had preceded it, and I was forced to rest long before attempting its almost perpendicular ascent. When I did reach the top, it was to find myself thoroughly done up--the sun came down on the side of the embankment as though it would burn the sandy soil into ashes, not a breath of air moved through the silent hills, not a leaf stirred in the forest. My load was more than I could bear, and again I had to lie down to avoid falling down. Only once before had I experienced a similar sensation of choking, and that was in toiling through a Burmese swamp, snipe-shooting under a midday sun. How near that was to sun-stroke, I can't say; but I don't think it could be very far. After a little time, I saw, some distance down below, smoke rising from a shanty. I made my way with no small difficulty to the door, and found the place full of some twenty or more rough-bearded looking men sitting down to dinner.

      "About played out, I guess?" said one. "Wall, that sun is h--; any how, come in and have a bit. Have a drink of tea or some vinegar and water."

      They filled me out a literal dish of tea, black and boiling; and I drained the tin with a feeling of relief such as one seldom knows. The place was lined round with bunks like the forecastle of a ship. After a time I rose to depart and asked the man who acted as cook how much there was to pay.

      "Not a cent, stranger;" and so I left my rough hospitable friends, and, gaining the railroad, lay down to rest until the fiery sun had got lower in the west. The remainder of the road was thronged with gangs of men at work along it, bridging, blasting, building, and levelling--strong able-bodied fellows fit for any thing. Each gang was under the superintendence of a railroad "boss," and all seemed to be working well. But then two dollars a head per diem will make men work well even under such a sun.

CHAPTER FIVE.

       Table of Contents

      Lake Superior--The Dalles of the St. Louis--The North Pacific Railroad--Fond-du-Lac-Duluth--Superior City--The Great Lake--A Plan to dry up Niagara--Stage Driving--Tom's Shanty again--St. Paul and its Neighbourhood.

      ALMOST in the centre of the Dalles I passed the spot where the Northern Pacific Railroad had on that day turned its first sod, commencing its long course across the continent. This North Pacific Railroad is destined to play a great part in the future history of the United States; it is the second great link which is to bind together the Atlantic and Pacific States (before twenty years there will be many others). From Puget Sound on the Pacific to Duluth on Lake Superior is about 2200 miles, and across this distance the North Pacific Railroad is to run. The immense plains of Dakota, the grassy uplands of Montana and Washington, and the centre of the State of Minnesota will behold ere long this iron road of the North Pacific Company piercing their lonely wilds. "Red Cloud" and "Black Eagle" and "Standing Buffalo" may gather their braves beyond the Coteau to battle against this steam-horse which scares their bison from his favourite breeding grounds on the scant pastures of the great Missouri plateau; but all their efforts will be in vain, the dollar will beat them out. Poor Red Cloud! in spite of thy towering form and mighty strength, the dollar is mightier still, and the fiat has gone forth before which thou and thy braves must pass away from the land! Very tired and covered deep with the dust of railroad cuttings, I reached the collection of scattered houses which bears the name of Fond-du Lac. Upon inquiring at the first house which I came to as to the whereabouts of the hotel, I was informed by a sour-visaged old female, that if I wanted to drink and get drunk, I must go farther on; but that if I wished to behave in a quiet and respectable manner, and could live %without liquor, I could stay in her house, which was at once post office, Temperance Hotel, and very respectable. Being weary and footsore, I. did not feel disposed to seek farther, for the place looked clean, the river was close at hand, and the whole aspect of the scene was suggestive of rest. In the evening hours myriads of mosquitoes and flying things of minutest size came forth from the wooded hills and did their best towards making life a misery; so bad were they that I welcomed a passing navvy who dropped in as a real godsend.

      "You're come up to look after work on this North Pacific Railroad, I guess?" he commenced-he was a Southern Irish man, but "guessed" all the same--"well, now, look here, the North Pacific Railroad will never be like the U.P. (Union Pacific) I worked there, and I know what it was; it was bully, I can tell you. A chap lay in his bunk all day and got two dollars and a half for doing it; ay, and bit the boss on the head with his shovel if the boss gave him any d---- chat. No, sirree, the North Pacific will never be like that."

      I could not help thinking that it was perhaps quite as well for the North Pacific Railroad Company and the boss if they never were destined to rival the Union Pacific Company as pictured by my companion; but I did not attempt to say so, as it might have come under the heading of "d---- chat," worthy only of being replied to by that convincing argument, the shovel.

      A good night's sleep and a swim in the St. Louis river banished all trace of toil. I left Fond-du-Lac early in the afternoon, and, descending by a small steamer the many-winding St. Louis River, soon came in sight of the town of Duluth. The heat had become excessive; the Bay of St. Louis, shut in on all sides by lofty hills, lay under a mingled mass of thunder-cloud and sunshine; far out in Lake Superior vivid lightnings flashed over the gloomy water and long rolls of thunder shook the hills around. On board our little steamboat the atmosphere was stifling, and could not have been short of 100 degrees in the coolest place (it was 93 at six o'clock same evening in the hotel at Duluth); there was nothing for it but to lie quietly on a wooden bench and listen to the loud talking of some fellow-passengers. Three of the hardest of hard cases were engaged in the mental recreation of "'swapping lies;" their respective exchanges consisting on this occasion of feats of stealing; the experiences of one I recollect in particular. He had stolen an axe from a man on the North Pacific Railroad and a few days later sold him the same article. This Piece of knavery was received as the acme of cuteness; and I well recollect the language in which the brute wound up his self-laudations: "If any chap can steal faster than me, let him."

      As we emerged from the last bend of the river and stood across the Bay of St. Louis, Duluth, in all its barrenness, stood before us. The future capital of the Lakes, the great central port of the continent, the town whose wharves were to be laden with the teas of China and the silks of Japan stood out on the rocky north shore of Lake Superior, the sorriest spectacle of city that eye of man could look upon-wooden houses scattered at intervals along a steep ridge from which the forest had been only partially cleared, houses of the smallest possible limits growing out of a reedy marsh, which lay between lake and ridge, tree-stumps and lumber standing in street and landing-place, the swamps croaking with bull-frogs and passable only by crazy looking planks of tilting proclivities--over all, a sun fit for a Carnatic coolie, and around, a forest vegetation in whose heart the memory of Arctic winter rigour seemed to live for ever. Still, in spite