August  14,  1902. 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTA  IE  GARDENER. 
149 
A  Spring  Day  in  British  Columbia. 
There  will  soon  be  thirty  lumbermen  felling  some  of  the 
giant  Douglas  Firs  in  our  valley,  then  floating  them  down 
on  what  should  be  called  a  “  lagoon,”  but  is  horribly  styled 
a  “  slew,”  though  it  has  no  resemblance  to  a  “  slough  of 
despond  ”  or  of  any  sort.  The  trees  will  be  put  into  rafts 
and  so  sent  to  the  Fraser  River,  Avhen  it  is  at  flood  in  May 
or  June,  and  then  navigated  by  loggers  to  the  Harrison 
Sawmills.  All  this  will  be  new. to  me,  for  the  only  tree-fell¬ 
ing  we  do  on  the  farms  here  has  been  to  clear  the  land  for 
cultivation  and  then  set  fire  to  the  giants  as  they  lie  on  the 
ground.  There  is  not  much  of  this  laborious  work  to  be 
done  on  the  farms  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  but  a  few  miles 
“  up  the  slew  ”  the  Cedars  and  the  Pines  are  magnificent, 
and  the  lumbermen 
have  found  them  out. 
The  prohibition  issued 
in  January  last  against 
the  exportation  of  logs 
into  the  United  States 
has  already  worked 
marvels  of  benefits  to 
the  sawmills,  lumber¬ 
men,  and  trade  gene¬ 
rally  of  British  Co¬ 
lumbia.  I  heard  to¬ 
day  that  all  the  saw¬ 
mills  could  run  day 
and  night  if  they  could 
get  the  logs,  as  the 
huge  trees  are  called  ; 
so  our  valley  is  to  be 
busier  than  for  some 
time,  and  the  sound 
of  the  woodman’s  axe 
will  be  heard  all 
through  the  spring  and 
summer. 
I  see  that  our  Agent- 
General  has  been 
giving  a  useful  lecture 
about  British  Colum¬ 
bia.  He  related  how 
some  young  man  asked 
him  about  revolvers 
and  guns,  and  how 
many  he  should  take  if 
he  went  to  British  Co¬ 
lumbia.  I  think  I 
should  advise  everyone 
that  keeps  poultry  to 
have  a  gun  if  he  can 
shoot,  for  hawks  come 
and  there  are  lovely 
wild  ducks  and  grouse, 
and  the  blue  jays  and 
the  robins  (really 
thrushes)  play  havoc 
in  the  kitchen  garden 
if  no  one  teaches  them 
to  respect  the  rights  of 
property.  Revolvers 
are  strictly  forbidden. 
If  brought  at  all  they 
must  not  be  used  except  on  burglars !  then  a  gun  does  as 
well  nearly.  The  birds  of  prey  harry  my  neighbours’ 
poultry  terribly.  They  know  who  shoots  straight,  and  do 
not  come  here. 
I  wonder  every  spring,  as  the  various  beautiful  shrubs 
begin  to  burst  into  leaf,  whether  many  settlers  will  come 
our  way  this  year.  The  Canadian  Pacific  Railway  Company 
shows  that  the  traffic  grows,  but  what  would  be  cheering 
would  be  that  every  passenger  train  disgorged  its  living 
freight  of  earnest  home-seekers  who  would  hire  traps, 
pester  every  one  with  questions,  make  sketches  or  “  kodak  " 
the  scenery  and  farms  and  make  plans,  and  then  come  and 
settle,  if  not  at  Agassiz,  in  some  equally  lovely  district. 
The  sort  of  thing  they  could  see  and  kodak  would  be  what  I 
saw  A^esterday  a  couple  of  miles  from  my  oaatl  more  recent 
farm-home.  I  set  out  to  walk  to  my  farmhouse,  and  as  I 
went  listened  to  the  birds  twittering  their  first  notes,  and 
the  thrushes — absurdly  called  “  robins  ”  here — piping  the 
three  first  notes  of  the  English  thrush’s  song,  then  stopping 
short.  Then  I  listened  to  the  “  slew  ”  making  a  noise  like 
what  we  call  the  “  rippling  ”  of  a  brook  in  England,  and 
noted  the  changed  look  of  spring  coming  over  the  Birch  and 
Maple  trees.  The  clouds  AA:ere  skimming  along  the  face  of 
the  Great  Mountains,  all  deep  china  blue  for  two  or  three 
thousand  feet  of  their  height,  then  capped  Avith  glorious 
snow  and  denser  clouds  and  such  lights  and  shadows  as,  I 
suppose,  no  one  could  paint  or  kodak.  Then  over  a  rustic 
bridge  Avithout  a  railing  of  any  kind  over  this  rippling 
“  sleAV,”  into  an  orchard  of  Apple,  Plum,  and  other  fruit 
trees,  all  Avell  trimmed  and  neat.  Thirty  porkers  came 
grunting  towards  me,  needing  no  flattery  or  explanation, 
for  there  could  be  nothing  better  at  the  Islington  show,  and 
they  are  “  registered,”  too,  as  thoroughbreds.  I  found  the 
farmer,  AA'ho  is  a  widower,  and  his  old  uncle  resting  a  bit 
before  dinner  at  tAveive 
o’clock,  for  the  churn¬ 
ing  of  a  huge  lot  of 
butter  had  just  been 
completed,  and  the 
uncle  was  preparing 
the  meal.  I  had  to  see 
the  pedigree  Ayrshires, 
the  horses,  and  the 
splendid  neAv  barn, 
bigger  than  many  a 
church,  and  I  had  to 
listen  to  a  tale  of  early 
Carriboo  days.  “  Car- 
riboo  days  ”  corre¬ 
spond  Avith  English 
ideas  of  “Norman  or 
Saxon  days  ”  ;  for  the 
uncle  was  a  Carriboo 
miner  in  1857. 
I  remarked  Avhat  a 
fine  man  and  hoAv 
handsome  Lord  Kit¬ 
chener  Avas  ;  his  por¬ 
trait  hung  on  the  wall, 
as  it  does  in  many  a 
Canadian  home. 
“  Yes,”  said  the  old 
felloAv,  “  he  reminds 
me  of  Sir  Matthew 
Begbie  ”  (Chief  Jus¬ 
tice  in  Carriboo  days). 
I  said  Sir  Matthew 
ought  to  have  been  in 
the  Transvaal  ten  years 
ago  ;  how  well  he  kept 
the  roAvdy  American 
element  doAvn  in 
British  Columbia. 
“  Yes,”  said  the  old 
miner,  “  I  remember.” 
On  one  of  the 
Judge’s  tours  he  rested 
his  horses  and  himself 
in  a  well-grassed  dis¬ 
trict,  and  while  he 
rested  he  fished ;  he 
laid  a  fine  trout  on  the 
bank  and  Avent  further 
up  the  stream  for  more. 
A  Yankee  came  along  and  cut  up  the  beautiful  trout  for  bait 
and  Avent  a-fishing,  too.  When  the  Judge  came  back  he  in¬ 
quired  Avho  had  cut  up  his  trout.  “  I  did,”  said  the  bully¬ 
ing  teamster  or  poacher.  “  Then  you  are  no  gentleman,” 
said  the  Judge.  “I  Avill  give  you  a  thrashing,”  said  the 
bully,  “if  you  dare  say  that  to  me.”  Said  the  Judge  (“he 
being  well  scienced,”  said  the  old  miner),  “  Sir,  I  can  oblige 
you  if  you  want  to  fight,  and  I  repeat  you  are  no  gentleman 
to  have  cut  up  my  trout  in  this  Avay.”'  Upon  which  the 
offender  fell  upon  him.  As  the  Judge  punished  him  very 
severely  with  his  fists,  the  brute  took  to  kicking,  but  the 
Judge  held  him  off  and  made  him  sue  for  mercy. 
This  Avas  only  another  little  feather  in  his  cap,  for  every 
law-loving  miner  and  teamster  respected  Judge  Begbie,  the 
right  man  in  the  right  place,  and  he  often  thought  his  right 
place  AAras  in  the  midst  of  the  roughest  and  most  dangerous 
characters.  With  his  cook,  his  mule,  and  his  horses,  he 
went  to  carry  out  the  laAV,  and  he  did  it  without  flinching. 
V 
Monthly  Rose  Field  Marshal. 
