ish is plentiful,
the soldiers and sailors of Queen Victoria in the Bay of the White
Rolling Sand live well.
I was agreeably surprised to find at this remote post that only one
soldier drank anything stronger than beer or water; and of course very
little of the former, owing to the expense of transport, was to be had.
The soldier that did drink spirits did not drink to excess.
How did all this happen in a place where drunkenness had been
proverbial? The soldiers, who were of the 82nd regiment, had been
selected for the station as married men. Their young commanding officer
patronized gardening, cricketing, boating, and every manly amusement,
but permitted no gambling. He formed a school for the soldiers and their
families, and, in short, he knew how to manage them, and to keep their
minds engaged; for they worked and played, read and reasoned; and so
whiskey, which is as cheap as dirt there, was not a temptation which
they could not resist. In winter, he had sleighing, snowshoeing, and
every exercise compatible with the severe weather and the very deep snow
incident to the station.
I feel persuaded that, now government has provided such handsome
garrison libraries of choice and well selected books for the soldiers,
if a ball alley, or racket court, and a cricket ground were attached to
every large barrack, there would not only be less drinking in the army,
but that vice would ultimately be scorned, as it has been within the
last twenty years by the officers. A hard-drinking officer will scarcely
be tolerated in a regiment now, simply because excessive drinking is a
low, mean vice, being the indulgence of self for unworthy motives, and
beneath the character of a gentleman. To be brought to a court-martial
for drunkenness is now as disgraceful and injurious to the reputation of
an officer as it was to be tried for cowardice, and therefore seldom
occurs in the British army.
The vice of Canada is, however, drink; and Temperance Societies will not
mend it. Their good is very equivocal, unless combined with religion, as
there is only one Father Matthew in the world, nor is it probable that
there will be another.
Penetanguishene is at present the _ultima Thule_ of the British military
posts in North America. It borders on the great wilderness of the North,
and on that backbone of primary rocks running from the Alleghanies,
across the thousand islands of the St. Lawrence, to the unknown
interior of the northern verge
|