LightNovesOnl.com

A Frenchman in America Part 21

A Frenchman in America - LightNovelsOnl.com

You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] Destroyed by fire three days after I left Toronto.

CHAPTER XXII.

WEST CANADA--RELATIONS BETWEEN BRITISH AND INDIANS--RETURN TO THE UNITED STATES--DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY--ENCOUNTER WITH AN AMERICAN CUSTOM-HOUSE OFFICER.

_In the train from Canada to Chicago, February 15._

Lectured in Bowmanville, Ont., on the 12th, in Brantford on the 13th, and in Sarnia on the 14th, and am now on my way to Chicago, to go from there to Wisconsin and Minnesota.

From Brantford I drove to the Indian Reservation, a few miles from the town. This visit explained to me why the English are so successful with their colonies: they have inborn in them the instinct of diplomacy and government.

Whereas the Americans often swindle, starve, and shoot the Indians, the English keep them in comfort. England makes paupers and lazy drunkards of them, and they quietly and gradually disappear. She supplies them with bread, food, Bibles, and fire-water, and they become so lazy that they will not even take the trouble to sow the land of their reservations. Having a dinner supplied to them, they give up hunting, riding, and all their native sports, and become enervated. They go to school and die of attacks of civilization. England gives them money to celebrate their national fetes and rejoicings, and the good Indians shout at the top of their voices, _G.o.d save the Queen!_ that is--_G.o.d save our pensions!_

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BRITISH INDIAN.]

England, or Great Britain, or again, if you prefer, Greater Britain, goes further than that. In Brantford, in the middle of a large square, you can see the statue of the Indian chief Brant, erected to his memory by public subscriptions collected among the British Canadians.

Here lies the secret of John Bull's success as a colonizer. To erect a statue to an Indian chief is a stroke of genius.

What has struck me as most American in Canada is, perhaps, journalism.

Montreal, Toronto, Ottawa, Quebec possess excellent newspapers, and every little town can boast one or two journals.

The tone of these papers is thoroughly American in its liveliness--I had almost said, in its loudness. All are readable and most cleverly edited.

Each paragraph is preceded by a neat and attractive heading. As in the American papers, the editorials, or leading articles, are of secondary importance. The main portion of the publication is devoted to news, interviews, stories, gossip, jokes, anecdotes, etc.

The Montreal papers are read by everybody in the Province of Quebec, and the Toronto papers in the Province of Ontario, so that the newspapers published in small towns are content with giving all the news of the locality. Each of these has a "society" column. Nothing is more amusing than to read of the society doings in these little towns. "Miss Brown is visiting Miss Smith." "Miss Smith had tea with Miss Robinson yesterday."

When Miss Brown, or Miss Smith, or Miss Robinson has given a party, the names of all the guests are inserted as well as what they had for dinner, or for supper, as the case may be. So I take it for granted that when anybody gives a party, a ball, a dinner, a reporter receives an invitation to describe the party in the next issue of the paper.

At nine o'clock this evening, I left Sarnia, on the frontier of Canada, to cross the river and pa.s.s into the United States. The train left the town, and, on arriving on the bank of the River St. Clair, was divided into two sections which were run on board the ferry-boat and made the crossing side by side. The pa.s.sage across the river occupied about twenty minutes. On arriving at the other bank, at Port Huron, in the State of Michigan, the train left the boat in the same fas.h.i.+on as it had gone on board, the two parts were coupled together, and the journey on _terra firma_ was smoothly resumed.

There is something fascinating about crossing a river at night, and I had promised myself some agreeable moments on board the ferry-boat, from which I should be able to see Port Huron lit up with twinkling lights. I was also curious to watch the train boarding the boat. But, alas, I had reckoned without my host. Instead of star-gazing and _reverie_, there was in store for me a "bad quarter of an hour."

No sooner had the train boarded the ferry-boat than there came to the door of the parlor car a surly-looking, ill-mannered creature, who roughly bade me come to the baggage van, in the other section of the train, and open my trunks for him to inspect.

As soon as I had complied, he went down on his knees among my baggage, and it was plain to see that he meant business.

The first thing he took out was a suit of clothes, which he threw on the dirty floor of the van.

"Have these been worn?" he said.

"They have," I replied.

Then he took out a blue jacket which I used to cross the Atlantic.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HAVE YOU WORN THIS?"]

"Have you worn this?"

"Yes, for the last two years."

"Is that all?" he said, with a low sardonic grin.

My trunk was the only one he had to examine, as I was the only pa.s.senger in the parlor car; and I saw that he meant to annoy me, which, I imagined, he could do with perfect impunity.

The best thing, in fact, the only thing to do was to take the misadventure good-humoredly.

He took out my linen and examined it in detail.

"Have these s.h.i.+rts all been worn?"

"Well, I guess they have. But how is it that you, an official of the government, seem to ignore the law of your own country? Don't you know that if all these articles are for my own private use, they are not dutiable, whether new or not?"

The man did not answer.

He took out more linen, which he put on the floor, and spreading open a pair of unmentionables, he asked again:

"Have you worn this? It looks quite new."

I nodded affirmatively.

He then took out a pair of socks.

"Have you worn these?"

"I don't know," I said. "Have a sniff at them."

He continued his examination, and was about to throw my evening suit on the floor. I had up to now been _almost_ amused at the proceedings, but I felt my good-humor was going, and the lion began to wag its tail. I took the man by the arm, and looking at him sternly, I said:

"Now, you put this carefully on the top of some other clothes."

He looked at me and complied.

By this time all the contents of my large trunk were spread on the floor.

He got up on his feet and said:

"Have I looked everywhere?"

Click Like and comment to support us!

RECENTLY UPDATED NOVELS

About A Frenchman in America Part 21 novel

You're reading A Frenchman in America by Author(s): Max O'Rell. This novel has been translated and updated at LightNovelsOnl.com and has already 615 views. And it would be great if you choose to read and follow your favorite novel on our website. We promise you that we'll bring you the latest novels, a novel list updates everyday and free. LightNovelsOnl.com is a very smart website for reading novels online, friendly on mobile. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact us at [email protected] or just simply leave your comment so we'll know how to make you happy.