and the woods rang with the sounds of the bugle and the voices of hunter-trains.
In the midst of this vast and profound solitude, undisturbed by the storms which sweep the mountain, lies a sheet of still water, associated from the earliest ages with religious memories, which, like the valley of the Ganges to the Hindoo, the temple of the golden visions to the Hellenic poet, or the shades of Igdrasil to the Scandinavian, consecrates to the Transylvanian the “Lake of St. Anne.” The bosom of this mountain basin lies 3000 feet above the level of the sea, an elevation little below the summit of Snowdon or Ben-Lomond; but here a deep valley surrounded by hills, which rise 1200 feet higher, covered with a cloud of oak and beech, while gigantic pines spread a deep and solemn shadow round the pale waters of the Lake, tinged with a silvery green by the reflection of the wooded hills. The absence of every human sound, and the deep silence which sleeps upon the valley, gives an imposing sense of awful repose, the mysterious influence of which is heightened by the magical effect of a wonderful echo, which, as it spreads round the Lake, rises by degrees until it dies away in a prolonged cadence, almost an octave higher than its original tone.
According to tradition, when the rites of the ancient Huns were confined to their solitudes and fastnesses, it was at the Lake of St. Anne that they made sacrifice to the god of war; and afterwards, when the light of the true faith had banished these dark superstitions, a chapel dedicated to the Mother of our Lady, was founded on the ashes of the pagan fires by one of the earliest Christian ladies, to whom St. Anna had appeared in a dream. This solitary fane became a place of great devotion, until the sacred walls having been profaned by a false vow, were struck by lightning and reduced to a ruin. Subsequently, however, they were restored by one of the bishops, and the valley became again animated by the Szekler pilgrims: its lonely water brightened with the reflection of their gonfannons, and its echo prolonging the cadence of their hymns. Beside the chapel, there was also a small dwelling with a bell-turret, the habitation of the “Pilgrim Father.” But now all have disappeared; the storms of war have reduced the chapel to a heap of ruins; the echoes are silent; and no living shadow is reflected in the still water, but the deer which comes down to drink at its margin, and the heron which watches in its pools.
M.
FLOATING A WHALE.
It was my good fortune, when stationed off the Island of Vancouvers, in 1858, to be an eye-witness of one of the most extraordinary modes of capturing a whale that I have ever heard of.
It appears the natives are similar to those upon the shores of Siberia and Kamskatcha—much addicted to whales’ blubber; and at their royal feasts nothing is held in such estimation as a quantity of the aforesaid delicacy.
One fellow-sailor of mine tells a story of being invited to one of these feasts on the coast of Siberia, and having laid before him the two greatest delicacies of the season, “whales’ blubber,” and the substance taken from the first stomach of a reindeer directly it is killed; and as he kindly added, for our information, forming a dish not unlike spinach.
Blubber being thus held in such high repute by the Vancouver Indians, as well as their more northern brethren, it may be supposed they are particularly anxious to obtain it; and although they do not object to a dead and often putrid whale which chance casts upon their coasts, they naturally prefer fresh meat, and to secure it go to great lengths. Their canoes generally consist of a single tree, hollowed out by fire or some other means, ballasted by their own activity in springing from side to side as occasion requires; and though sometimes hoisting a sail made of cedar bark, just as often entirely dependent on a pair of paddles, one worked at the stern, the other at the bow.
Considering the fragile nature of these boats, the reader may believe I was somewhat incredulous as to their efficacy in the pursuit of the great Leviathan, and inwardly thinking “seeing was believing,” determined, if possible, to accompany one of these expeditions.
As good luck had it, my ship remained three months at Vancouver’s, lying at anchor in the lovely harbour of Victoria, or, according to the Indian language, “Esquimault.” Thus it happened that I saw a good deal of the island, and, being in favour with the captain, had a good many runs ashore, and I hope made some use of the opportunities thus afforded me.
During the winter season severe storms frequently visit these coasts, and, blowing directly down from the northern Pacific, bring with them great shoals of fish, and frequently whales, who, getting out of their latitude, and their strength probably much reduced by struggling against the storm, they are cast on the coast of Vancouver. Once there, they are speedily observed by the active islanders, always on the look out for their esteemed luxury. No time is to be lost: the receding tide leaves the whale for a time impotently lashing his tail, unable to regain the deep water, trying to bury his nose in the shallow breakers, and making loud attempts to spout, which generally end in a guttural sound, not unlike the bellowing of a hundred bulls. All is excitement on the shore: Indians rush here and there: friends are summoned from every quarter: canoes handed down to the water, while the weapons of destruction are prepared.
The weapon used is worthy of description, both from its ingenuity and the important part it takes in the capture of the whale. It consists, first, of a barbed spear-head, to this is tied a large seal’s skin made into the shape of a bag, and filled with air so as to resemble a large bladder; secondly, to the spear-head a long rope is attached, which is sometimes made of bark, but oftener of a kind of sea-weed which grows to an enormous length, and when wet resists almost any force; thirdly, into a socket in the centre of the spear-head a pole is fitted, but so arranged that it can be easily withdrawn, while the head is left imbedded in the flesh of the whale, acting as an anchor to the bladder and rope.
