r
J. W. DUNBAR MOODIE
ROUGHING IT
IN THE BUSH
OR, FOREST LIFE IN CANADA
BY SUSANNA MOODIE
THE poor exiles of wealthy and over-populous nations
have generally been the first founders of mighty empires.
Necessity and industry producing greater results
than rank and affluence, in the civilization
of barbarous countries."
ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR
BY R. A. STEWART
TORONTO
BELL 6- COCKBURN
1913
F
6
Published October igi^
LIBRARY
755158
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO
Printed by MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED, Edinburgh
TO
AGNES STRICKLAND
AUTHOR OF THE "LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND1
THIS SIMPLE TRIBUTE OF AFFECTION
IS DEDICATED
BY HER SISTER
SUSANNA MOODIE
CONTENTS
FOREWORD ; -. . . page xi
ADVERTISEMENT TO THIRD LONDON EDITION . . xiii
INTRODUCTION TO THIRD LONDON EDITION . . . xv
CANADA — A CONTRAST ,.'•'. • *
CANADA — (POETICAL ADDRESS) . . r . • • • 16
I. A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE . . . .... 19
II. QUEBEC 37
III. OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY .... 57
IV. TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION 75
V. OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT, AND THE BORROW-
ING SYSTEM 105
VI. OLD SATAN AND TOM WILSON'S NOSE . .137
VII. UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY 151
VIII. JOHN MONAGHAN 177
IX. PHOZBE R , AND OUR SECOND MOVING . 197
X. BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER 213
CONTENTS
XI. THE CHARIVARI ... .... page 239
XII. A JOURNEY TO THE^WOODS .... 267
XIII. THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR INDIAN FRIENDS 287
-* • ..
XIV. BURNING THE FALLOW 327
_XV. OUR LOGGING-BEE 339
XVI. A TRIP TO STONY LAKE 357
XVII. " THE OULD DHRAGOON " 377
XVIII. DISAPPOINTED HOPES 389
XIX. THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN 4°9
XX. THE FIRE 437
XXI. THE OUTBREAK 463
XXII. THE WHIRLWIND 487
XXIII. THE WALK TO DUMMER 497
XXIV. A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS 531
THE WOODS 547
XXVI. THE MAPLE-TREE . . . 565
ILLUSTRATIONS
TH&.LOG HOUSE OF THE EARLY SETTLER . Frontispiece
PoRTR-Vr OF J. W. DUNBAR MOODIE . . . /page 8
PORTRAIT\F MRS. SUSANNA MOODIE . . A . . 24
QUEBEC FROM^THE WALLS, 1830 ../.... 40
THE FARM OF iV i ./ 72
MONTREAL. . .\, . . . ./. ^. . .. . . 126
SCENE ON THE RIVER 3^ LA^ENCE 168
COBOURG \f 200
KINGSTON . . . . / . \ 248
TORONTO .../..., \ 280
NIGHT FISHING /. ^v 344
A JOURNEY TC/THE WOODS . . . .\.' .- . . 392
THE OLD acnooLHOusE \ . . 44°
RICE LAI^E . . . . . . . .... . \ . 488
/ \
SUGAR/MAKING V\5°4
RESIDENCE OF THE LATE COLONEL STRICKLAND
/FOUNDER OF LAKEFIELD, ONTARIO .... 536"
BOOK PLATE OF J. W. DUNBAR MOODIE .^ . . . 564
FOREWORD
IN presenting this edition of Mrs. Moodie's excellent
book to the public, it still further emphasizes t£e con-
hgsjjyfwpf>n^ife in Canada in 1830 and 1013. When
first published in LondorTTrfiaB especiaTValue to the
because it toF
^hat waTniTTnducement to
undertake the voyage. To the reader of the present
day it has the additional charm of literary excellence,
and as such should have a permanent place in Cana-
dian literature. Editions have already been published
in London and Toronto, but are now out of print, and,
owing to the steadily increasing demand for Canadi-
ana, are becoming scarce. lam indebted to Dr. George
H. Locke, of the Toronto Public Library for the fine
portrait of Mrs. Moodie, and to Mr. M. J. Cockburn for
the portrait, and Book Plate of J. W. Dunbar Moodie.
W. C. BELL
TORONTO, August i, 1913
ADVERTISEMENTTOrHIRD EDITION
PUBLISHED BY RICHARD BENTLEY, IN 1854
IN JUSTICE TO MRS. MOODIE, IT IS RIGHT
to state that being still resident in the far-west
of Canada, she has not been able to superintend this
work whilst passing through the press. From this cir-
cumstance some verbal mistakes and oversights may
have occurred, but the greatest care has been taken to
avoid them.
Although well known as an authoress in Canada,
and a member of a family which has enriched English
literature with works of very high popularity, Mrs.
Moofjieis chiefly remembered in this c ountry by a vol-
ume of Poems published in 1831, under her maiden
name of Susanna Strickland. During the rebellion
in Canada, her loyal lyricsTprompted by strong affec-
tion for her native country, were circulated and sung
throughout the colony, and produced a great effect in
rousing an enthusiastic feeling in favour of law and or-
der. Another of her lyrical compositions, the charm-
ing Sleigh Song, printed in the present work, p. 175,
has been extremely popular in Canada. The warmth
of feeling which beams through every line, and the
touching truthfulness of its details, won for it a re-
ception there as universal as it was favourable.
The glowing narrative of personal incident and
suffering which she gives in the present work, will no
doubt attract general attention. It would be difficult
to point out delineations of fortitude under privation,
more interesting or more pathetic than those
contained in her second volume.
, January 22, 1852
INTRODUCTION TO THIRD EDITION
PUBLISHED BY RICHARD BENTLEY, IN 1854
IN MOST INSTANCES, EMIGRATIQIi_IS^
matter of necessity, not of cnoicej and this is mor
especiallyTrue"cl^e~eTrugration of persons of re-
spectable connections, or of any station or position
in the world. Jew educateoVrjersons, accustomed to
the refinements anoMuxuries of European society,
ever willingly rejjn^ujsEpi^s'e^dvjintages, and place
themselves beyond ^he^iroteetive influence of the
wise and revered^msJitutions of their native land,
without the pressure of some urgent cause,
gration may, indeed, generally be regarded aj
of severe duty, performedjit the..expen§^ .o£.pej;sQri_al
enjoyment, and accompanied bythsg&cri&^oL&Qse
TocalaTtachments which stamp the scenes amid which
our childhood grew, in imperishable characters upon
the heart. Nor is it until adversity has pressed sore-
ly upon the proud and wounded spirit of the well-edu-
cated sons and daughters of old but impoverished
families, that they gird up the loins of the mind, and
arm themselves with fortitude to meet and dare the
heart-breaking conflict.
'/The ordinary motives for the emigration of such
persons maybe summed up in a few brief words ; — . V?
the^emjgrgjit^bnpft of bettering his condition^ and of \\ il
escaping f rom theyulgar sarcasms too often hurled at
'the'TesTweaT^yJy the purse-proud,TommonpIace
there is a higher ma
stin, which has its origin in that love of independence
which springs up spontaneously in the breasts of the
high-souled children of a glorious land. They can- L
not labour in a menial capacity in the country where ^
XV
INTRODUCTION TO THIRD EDITION
they were born and educated to command. They
can trace no difference between themselves and the
more fortunate individuals of a race whose blood
warms their veins, and whose name they bear. The
<V\ wantj)fjvejdl]ijilo^ barrier
between them and the more favourecl offspring of the
samepal'tiiil stock; and they go forth to make for them-
selves a new name and to find another country ^o for-
get the pas^tjiicLloJjve|n thejufrire, to exult mtKe
of "their children hgjjjg free and the land of
* their adoption great.
The choice of the country to which they devote
their talents and energies depends less upon their
pecuniary means than upon the fancy of the emigrant
or the popularity of a name. From the year 1 826 to
1829, Australia and the Swan River were all the rage. "
No other portions of the habitable globe were deem-
ed worthy of notice. These were the El Dorados
and lands of Goshen to which all respectable emi-
grants eagerly flocked. Disappointment, as a matter
f course, followed their hTgh-raisedexpectations.
Many of the mosr~sanguine~uf^ these adventurers
returned to their native shores in a worse condi-
tion than when they left them. IiXJLS^Qrthe great
tideof emigrationjlowed westward, panada became
the great landmark for the rich in hope and poor in
purse. \Public newspapers and private letters teemed
with the unheard-of advantages to be derived from a
settlement in this highly-favoured region.
I ts salubrious climate, its fertile soil, commercial ad-
vantages, great water privileges, its proximity to the
mother country, and last, not least, its almost total
xvi
INTRODUCTION TO THIRD EDITION
^gxemption from taxation — that bugbear which keeps
honest John Bullina^stateorconstant ferment — were
the theme of every tongue, and lauded be*Tond all
praise. [The general interest, once excifr J, was indus-
triouslykept alive by pamphlets, published by inter-
ested parties, which prominently set foith allthe^g^L
tojjgjterived fcQrn a settlement in the Baclcwoocls.jof
"anada; while they carefully concealed the toil and
TTartrsrrip to be endured in order to secure these advan-
tages. They told of lands yielding forty bushels to
the acre, but they said nothing of the years when these
l^with the most carefulcultivation, would barely
jf^K^sfrmtj^ri gendered by the
^jyould blast the
return'fifteen;
vicinit
rf the
ur, and almost de-
ejr
prive him of bread, frhey talked of log houses to be
raised in a single day, by the generous exertions of
friends and neighbours, but they never ventured upon
a picture of the disgusting scenes of riot and low de-
bauchery exhibited during the raising, or upon a de-
scription of the dwellings when raised — dens of dirt
and misery, which would, in many instances, be sham-
ed by an English pig-sty.^The nec^sjariesonife were
describejlas inestimably^€-heap7but they forgot to add
that in, remote biash-aettlejiients, jrf|£^ miles
from a market town^and some of them even that dis-
tance from the nearest dwelling, the necessaries of life
which would be deemed indispensable to the Euro-
pean, could not be procured at all, or, if obtained,
could only be so by sending a man and team through
a blazed forest road, — a process far too expensive for
frequent repetition^?
xvii b
-
INTRODUCTION TO THIRD EDITION
, ye dealers in wild lands — ye speculators in the
credulity of your fellow-men — what a mass
of misei>>and of misrepresentation productive of that
misery, have ye not to answer for ! You had your acres
to sell, and what to you were the worn-down frames
and broken hearts of the infatuated purchasers? The
public believed the plausible statements you made
with such earnestness, and men of all grades rushed
to hear your hired orators declaim upon the blessings
to be obtained by the clearers of the wilderness.
Men who had been hopeless of supporting their
families in com fort and independence athome,thought
that they had only to come out to Canada to make
their fortunes ; almost even to realize the story told
in the nursery, of the sheep, and oxen that ran about
the streets, ready roasted, and with knives and forks
upon their backs. They were made to believe that
if jtjiidmot_actually rain gold, that precious metal
could be obtained, aslsTTDw-stated of California and
Australia, by stooping to pick it up.
The infection became general. A Canada mania
middle-anks of British society; jjjolf-
tens of thousjirI3srfortrie space oTlhree or
fouryears,landed upon these sj^p^|A1argf^giPJ^1'ty
of the higher_clas&Avere officers of the army and navy,
with tfieirlamilies — a class perfectly unfitted by their
previoushabits and education for con tending with the
stern realities of emigrant lifeTjThe hand that has
long heldthejswordj and been accus^txSeilltizreceive
flango under its control, js sel-
dom adapted to wield the spade and guide thej
or try its strength against the stubborn trees of the
-"• xviii
INTRODUCTION TO THIRD EDITION
forest. Nor will such persons submit cheerfully to the
saucyfamiliarity of servants, who, republicans in spirit,
think themselves as good as their employers. Too
many of these brave and honourable men were easy
dupes to thedesigning land-speculators. Not having
counted the cost,but only looked upon the bright side
of the picture held up to their admiring gaze, they fell
easily into the snares of their artful seducers.
tf To prove their zeal as colonists, they were induced
to purchase large tracts of wild land in remote and
unfavourable situations. This, while it impoverished
and often proved the ruin of the unfortunate immi-
grant, possessed a double advantage to the seller. He
obtained an exorbitant price for the land which he
actually sold,while the residence of a respectable settler
upon the spot greatly enhanced the value and price of
all other lands in the neighbourhood.
It is not by such instruments as those I have just
mentioned, that Providence works when it would re-
claim the waste places of the earth, and make them
subservient to the wants and happiness of its crea-
tures. - The Great Father of the souls and bodies of
men knows the arm which wholesome labour from in-
fancy has made strong, the nerves which have become
iron by patient endurance, by exposure to weather,
coarse fare, and rude shelter; and
send forth jnto the :. forest tp^hew out the rough paths
fc>r the advance of civilization. Trjgse men-become
wealthyand prosperousTafid form the bones and sih-
ewsTof "aLgrejit and risin ^country,. Their labour is
jwealth^nt gyhan.sHnn • if prnchices independence and
content, not home-sickness jmd_de^pair. What the
xix
-
4 ^"
\
INTRODUCTION TO THIRD EDITION
Backwoods of Canada are to the industrious and ever-
C~. "to-be-honoured sons of honest poverty, and what they
„ t 1A <^re to the refined amyrecfTfnpTsfe'd gentlgmanj these
simple sketches will enHe^vuur tu-poTtray. They are
jO drawn principally from my own experience, during a
Cj^ sojourn ofinineteen years in the colony.
C^ In ord^r to diversify my subject, and make it as
Cj amusing as possible, I have between the sketches in-
troduced a few small poems, all written during my
residence in Canada, and descriptive of the country.
In this pleasing task-J have beea-asststgcTby my
husband, J. W. Dnnbar Moodie, author of "Ten Years
in SoutrTTTfrica."
BELLEVILLE, UPPER CANADA
CANADA : A CONTRAST
CANADA A CONTRAST
IN THE YEAR 1832 I LANDED WITH
my husband, J. W. Du'nbar Ivtoodie, in Canada. Mr.
Moodie was the youngest son of Major Moodie, of
Mellsetter, in the Orkney Islands; he was a lieutenant
in the 2ist Regiment of Fusileers, and had been se-
verely wounded in the night-attack upon Bergen-op-
Zoom, inHolland.
Not being overgTilecT~with the good things of this
world — the younger sons of old British families sel-
dom are — he had, after mature deliberation, deter-
mined to try his fortunes in Canada, and settle upon
the grant of 400 acres of larictTerfed by the Govern-
ment to officers upon half-pay.
Emigration, in most cases — and ours was no ex- .
ception to the general rule — is a matter of necessity, pS'
not of choice, j It may, indeed, generally be regarded
as an act of duty performed at the expense of person-
al enjoyment, and at the sacrifice of all those local at-
tachments which stamp the scenes in which our child-
hood grew in imperishable characters upon the heart.
Nor is it, until adversity has pressed hard upon the
wounded spirit of the sons and daughters of old, but
impoverished, families, that they can subdue their
proud and rebellious feelings, and submit to make the
trial.
This was our case, and our motive for emigrating
to one of the British colonies can be summed up in a
few words. V* I
The emigrant's hope of bettering his condition. <^-__ )
and securing a sufficient competence to supportivis
family, to free himself from the slighting remarks too
often hurled at the poor gentlemaa^by the practical
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
people of the world, which is always galling to a proud
man, but doubly so when he knows that the want of
wealth constitutes the sole difference between him
and the more favoured offspring of the same parent
stock.
In 1 830 die tide of emigration flowed westward-, and
Caria3a^became the gcgat landmark for the rich in
lope and poor in purse. Public newspapers and priv-
ate letters teemed with the almost fabulous advan-
tages to be derived from a settlement in this highly
favoured region. Men, who had been doubtful of sup-
porting their families in comfort at home, thought
that they had only to land in Canada to realize a for-
tune. The infection became general. Thousands and
tens of thousands from the middlerajiks of British soc-
jgty, for the sj>ace of three or four years, landed upon
these shores jj^ large majority of these emigrants were
officers of the army and navy, witrTtHeir families: a
class perfectly unfitted, by their previous habits and
standing in society, for contending with the stern re-
alities ofemigrantlifeinthebackwoods..' Aclassform-
ed mainly from the younger scions of great families,
naturally proud, and not only accustomed to com-
mand, but to receive implicit obedience from the peo-
ple under them, are not men adapted to the hard toil of
life. Nor will such persons submit
cheerfully to the saucy familiarity of servants, who,
republicans at heart, think themselves quite as good
as their employers.
Too many of these brave and honest men tcok up
their grants of wild land in remote and unfavourable
localities, far from churches, schools, and markets, and
4
CANADA : A CONTRAST
fell an easy prey to the land speculators that swarmed
in every rising village on the borders of civiliz-
ation.
It was to warn such settlers as these last mentioned,
not to take up grants and pitch their tents in the wild-
erness, and by so doing reduce themselves and their
families to hopeless poverty, that my work Roughing
it in the Bush was written.
I gave the experience of the first seven years we_
passed in the woodsj_attempdngjto,ciear a bushJatrq, ^
as a warning to othe^sfand the number of persons
who have since told me, that my book "told the hist-
ory" of their own life in the woods, ought to be the
bestproof to every candid mind that I spoke the truth.
It is not by such feeble instruments as the above that
Providence works when it seeks to reclaim the waste
places of the earth, and make them subservient to the
wants and happiness of its creatures. The great
Father of the souls and bodies of men knows the
arm which wholesome labour from infancy has made
strong, the nerves that have become iron by patient
endurance, and He chooses such to send forth into
the forest to hew out the rough paths for the advance
of civilization.
These men become wealthy and prosperous, and
are the bones and sinews of a great and rising coun-
try. Their labour is wealth, not exhaustion ; it pro-
duces colTtentTnot holrie>-sickness_ariddespair. ^
What the backwoods of Canada are~to~ffie~Trid us tri-
ous and ever-to-be-honoured sons of honest poverty,
and what they are to the refined and polished gentle-
man, these sketches have endeavoured to show.
5
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
The poor man is in his native element; the poor
gentleman totally unfitted, by his previous habits and
education, to be a hewer of the forest and a tiller of
the soil. What money he brought out with him is
lavishly expended duringthe first twoyears in paying
for labour to clear and fence lands which, from his
ignorance of agricultural pursuits, will never make
him the least profitable return and barely find coarse
food for his family. Of clothing we say nothing. Bare
feet and rags are too^common in the bush.
Now, had the same mea!Ts~alTctfhe-same labour been
employed in the cultivation of a leased farm, or one
purchased for a few hundred dollars, near a village,
how different would have been the results, not only to
the settler, but it would have added greatly to the
wealth and social improvement of the country.
I am well aware that a great and, I must think, a
most unjust prejudice has been felt against my book
in Canada because I dared to give my opinion freely
on a subject which had engrossed a great deal of my
attention; nor do I believe that the account of our fail-
ure in the bush ever deterred a single emigrant from
coming to the country, as the only circulation it ever
had in the colony was chiefly through the volumes
that often formed a portion of their baggage. The
llie-wo£k_without read-
A ing i t-w4ll~be .surprised to find tjha^not_Qne-woni has
A v / jbeeji_ jjjcLto^ prejudice mtending ejnigrantsjrpm
k V j makingi_Canadatheir home. Unless, indeed, they
^ascribe the regret expressed at having to leave my
jnjjf-l'w^Jnnff ;?'n nofvji-ol i'n fVi^ paJff'illlQmf^sTcEneSS
which, for several months, preys upon the health and
6
CANADA : A CONTRAST
rose to a man to defend the British flag and chastise
the rebels and their rash leader.
In their zeal to uphold British authority, they made
no excuse for the wrongs that the dominant party
had heaped upon a clever and high-spirited man. To
them he was a traitor, and, as such, a public enemy.
Yet the blow struck by that injured man, weak as it
was, without money, arms, or the necessary muni-
tionsofwar, and defeated and broken in its first effort,
gave freedom to Canada, and laid the foundation of
the excellent constitution that we now enjoy. It drew
the attention of the Home Government to the many
abuses then practised in the colony, and made them
aware of its vast importance in a political point of
view, and ultimately led to all our great national im-
provements.
The settlement of the long- vexed clergy reserves
question, and the establishment of common schools
was a great boon to the colony. The opening up of
new townships, the making of roads, the establish-
ment of municipal councils in all the old districts,
leaving to the citizens the free choice of their own mem-
bers in the council for the management of their affairs,
followed in rapid succession.
These changes of course took some years to accom-
plish, and led to others equally important. The Pro-
vincial Exhibitions have done much to improve the
agriculturaliriterestSyand Have led to better and more"
productive methods of cultivation than were former-
ly practised in the Province. TJ^ie farmer gradually.
J^CfB"^ R wealthy and intHliggnHj^H^wnpr^
of his improved flocks and herds, of his fine horses
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
and handsome homestead. He was able to^send his
sons to college and his daughters to boarding school,
and not uncommonl^became an honourable mem-
ber of the Legislative Council.
While the sons of poor gentlemen have generally
lost caste and sunk into useless sots, the children of
these honest tillers of the soil have steadily risen to
the highest class, and have given to Canada some
of her best and wisest legjsJ|£orsZII^~
Merr who rest saTisrled^ with the mere accident of
birth for their claims to distinction, without energy
and industry to maintain their position in society,
are sadly at discount in a country which amply re-
wards the worker, but leaves the indolent loafer to
die in indigence and obscurity.
Honest poverty is encouraged, notdespised, in Can-
ada. Few of her prosperous men have risen from ob-
scurity tfTafflueri^e without going through the mill,
and thereibTerh~ave a fellow-feeling for those who are
struggling to gain the first rung on the ladder.
Men are allowed in this country a freedom enjoyed
byfew of the more polished countries in Europe— free-
dom in religion, politics, and speech; freedom to select
their own friends and to visit with whom they please
without consulting the Mrs. Grundys of society — and
to.]0 / they can tea^ajiiozejndependent social life than in
) / the mother country, because less Tr estficted bytrie con-
~ventlonal prejudices that govern older communities.
Few people who have lived many years in Canada,
and return to England to spend the remainder of their
days, accomplish the fact. They almost invariably
come back, and why? They feel more independent
~~
CANADA : A CONTRAST
country it is t&-llv& in- until they_gp_bacl^and realize
the want of social- fr€e4aai. I have heard this from"
so many educated people, persons of taste and refine-
ment,that I cannot doubt the truth of their statements.
Forty years has accomplished as great a change in
the habits and tastes of the Canadian people as it has
in the architecture of their fine cities and the appear-
ance of the country. A young Canadian gentleman
is as well educated as any of his compeers across the
big water, and contrasts very favourably with them.
Social and unaffected, he puts on no airs of offensive
superiority, but meets a stranger with the courtesy
and frankness best calculated to shorten the distance
between them and to make his guest feel perfectly at
home.
Few countries possess a more beautiful female
population. The women are elegant in their tastes,
graceful in their manners, and naturally kind and af-
fectionate in their dispositions. Good housekeepers,
sociable neighbours, and lively and active in speech
and movement, they are capital companions and
make excellent wives and mothers. Of course there
must be exceptions to every rule ; but causes of dhzoyee^
Or desertion of their
that itspeaks volumes fortheirdomestic worth. Num-
bers nfRHtighmffirprs ha^cjiosjejnjtheir wives ir^Can-
adat aj}d I never heard that they had cause to repent^
of their choicer^"
In common with our American neighbours, we find
that the worst members of our community are not
Canadian born, but importations from other countries.
7! ---
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
The Dominion and Local Governments are now
doing much to open up the resources of Canada by
the Intercolonial and projected PacificRailways and
other Public Works, which, in time/will make a vast
tract of land available for cultivation, and furnish
homes for multitudes of the starving populations of
Europe.
And again, the Government of the flourishing Pro-
vince of Ontario — of which the Hon. J. Sandfield
Macdonald is premier — has done wonders during the
last four years by means of its^ Immigration policy,
which has been most successfully carried out by the
Hon. John Carling, the Commissioner, and greatly
tended to the development of the country. By this
policy liberal provision is made for free grants of land
to actual settlers, for general education, and for the
encouragement of the industrial Arts and Agricul-
ture; by the construction of public roads and the im-
provement of the internal navigable waters of the
Province; and by the assistance now given to an econ-
omical system of railways connecting these interior
waters with the leading railroads and ports on the
frontier; and not only are free grants of land given in
the districts extending from the eastern to the west-
ern extremity of the Province/but one of the best of
the newtownshipshas beenselected in which theGov-
ernment is now making roads, and upon each lot is
clearing five acres and erecting thereon a small house,
which will be granted to heads of families, who, by six
annual instalments, will be required to pay back to
the Government the cost of these improvements —
not exceeding $200, or £40 sterling — when a free pat-
: 'v- 12
CANADA : A CONTRAST
ent (or deed) of the land will be given,, wjtjip.
chargejvhatever, under a protective Homestead Act.
This wise and liberal policy would have astonished
the Colonial Legislature of 1832, but will, no doubt,
speedily give to the Province a noble and progressive
back country, and add much to its strength and pros-
perity.
Our busy factories and foundries — our copper, sil-
ver, and plumbago mines — our salt and petroleum —
the increasing exports of native produce — speak vol-
umes for the prosperityLQf the Dnminjonjind for the
government of those who are at thehead of affairs. It
only requires the loyal co-operation of an intelligent
and enlightened people to render this beautiful ^i\d
free country the greatest and the happiest upon the J
face of the earth ._,
When we contrast forest life in Canada forty years .
ago with the present state of the country, my book \
will not be without interest and significance. We may I /
truly say, old things have passed away, all things \ \j^
have become new.
What an advance in the arts and sciences and in
the literature of the country has been made during /
the last few years. Canada can boast of many good
and even distinguishectauthors,and the love of books
and booklore is daily increasing.
Institutes and literary associations for the encour-
agement of learning are now to be found in all the
cities and large towns in the Dominion.^-We-arejoa »
longerjependent upon the States for the reproduc-
tion of the wovks of celebrated ytnfrhn^s; ^nr own
lishers, both in Toronto and Montreal, are furnishing
IT- -*— =
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
rcmr handsome book stores with volumes that rival, in
cheapness and typographical excellence, the best is-
sues from the large printing establishments in Amer-
ica. Wejiave no lackjoLnative talent or books, or of
intejtigenr readers to appreciate them.
* Ourprint shops are full of the well-educated de-
signs of native artists. And the grarTcTscenery oi our
lakes and forests, transferred to canvas, adorns the
homes of our wealthy citizens.
We must not omit in this slight sketch to refer to
the number of fine public buildings which meet us at
every turn, most of which have been designed and ex-
ecuted by native architects. Montreal can point to her
Victoria Bridge, and challenge the world to produce
its equal. This prodigy of mechanical skill should be
a sufficient inducement to strangers from other lands
to visit our shores, and though designed by the son
of the immortal George Stephenson,it was Canadian
hands that helped him to execute his great project —
to raise that glorious monument to his fame, which,
we hope, will outlast a thousand years.
Our new Houses of Parliament, our churches,banks,
public halls, asylums for the insane, the blind, and
the deaf and dumb are buildings which must attract
the attention of every intelligent traveller; and when
we consider the few brief years that have elapsed since
the Upper Province was reclaimed from the wilder-
ness, our progress in mechanical arts, and all the com-
forts which pertain to modern civilization, is unpre-
cedented in the history of older nations.
If the Canadian people will honestly unite in carry-
ing out measures proposed by the Government for
14
CANADA : A CONTRAST
the good of the country, irrespective of self-interest
and party prejudices, they must, before the close of
the present century, become a great and prosperous
people, bearing their own flagand enjoying their own
nationality. May the blessing of God rest upon Can-
ada and the Canadian people!
SUSANNA MOODIE
BELLEVILLE, 1871-.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
CANADA, THE BLEST— THE FREE!
With prophetic glance, I see
Visions of thy future glory,
'Giving to the world's great story
A page, with mighty meaning fraught,
That asks a wider range of thought.
Borne onward on the wings of Time,
I trace thy future course sublime;
And feel my anxious lot grow bright,
While musing on the glorious sight; —
Yea, my heart leaps up with glee
To hail thy noble destiny!
Even now thy sons inherit
All thy British mother's spirit.
Ah ! no child of bondage thou;
With her blessing on thy brow,
And her deathless, old renown
Circling thee with freedom's crown,
And her love within thy heart,
Well may'st thou perform thy part,
And to coming years proclaim
Thou art worthy of her name.
Home of the homeless!— frien
Who suffer on this earthly ball !
On thy bosom sickly care
Quite forgets her squalid lair;
Gaunt famine, ghastly poverty
Before thy gracious aspect fly,
And hopes long crush'd, grow bright again,
And, smiling, point to hill and plain.
By thy winter's stainless snow,
Starry heavens of purer glow,
Glorious summers, fervid, bright,
Basking in one blaze of light;
By thy fair, salubrious clime;
By thy scenery sublime;
By thy mountains, streams, and woods;
16
CANADA : A CONTRAST
By thy everlasting floods;
If greatness dwells beneath the skies,
Thou to greatness shalt arise!
Nations old, and empires vast,
From the earth had darkly pass'd
Ere rose the fair auspicious morn
When thou, the last, not least, wast born.
Through the desert solitude
Of trackless waters, forests rude,
Thy guardian angel sent a cry
All jubilant of victory!
"Joy," she cried, "to th' untill'd earth,
Let her joy in a mighty nation's birth, —
Night from the land has pass'd away,
The desert basks in noon of day.
Joy, to the sullen wilderness,
I come, her gloomy shades to bless,
To bid the bear and wild-cat yield
Their savage haunts to town and field.
Joy, to stout hearts and willing hands,
That win a right to these broad lands,
And reap the fruit of honest toil,
Lords of the rich, abundant soil.
" Joy, to the sons of want, who groan
In lands that cannot feed their own;
And seek, in stern, determined mood,
Homes in the land of lake and wood,
And leave their heart's young hopes behind,
Friends in this distant world to find;
Led by that God, who from His throne
Regards the poor man's stifled moan.
Like one awaken'd from the dead,
The peasant lifts his drooping head,
Nerves his strong heart and sunburnt hand,
To win a portion of the land,
That glooms before him far and wide
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
In frowning woods and surging tide
No more oppress'd, no more a slave,
Here freedom dwells beyond the wave.
"Joy, to those hardy sires who bore
The day's first heat — their toils are o'er;
Rude fathers of this rising land,
Theirs was a mission truly grand.
Brave peasants whom the Father, God,
Sent to reclaim the stubborn sod;
Well they perform'd their task, and won
Altar and hearth for the woodman's son.
Joy, to Canada's unborn heirs,
A deathless heritage is theirs;
For, sway'd by wise and holy laws,
Its voice shall aid the world's great cause,
Shall plead the rights of man, and claim
For humble worth an honest name;
Shall show the peasant-born can be,
When call'd to action, great and free.
Like fire, within the flint conceal'd,
By stern necessity reveal'd,
Kindles to life the stupid sod,
Image of perfect man and God.
" Joy, to thy unborn sons, for they
Shall hail a brighter, purer day;
When peace and Christian brotherhood
Shall form a stronger tie than blood —
And commerce, freed from tax and chain,
Shall build a bridge o'er earth and main
And man shall prize the wealth of mind,
The greatest blessing to mankind;
True Christians, both in word and deed,
Ready in virtue's cause to bleed,
Against a world combined to stand,
And guard the honour of the land.
Joy, to the earth, when this shall be,
CHAPTER ONE
A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
Alas! that man's stern spirit e'er should mar
A scene so pure — so exquisite as this.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH, OR FOR-
EST LIFE IN CANADA CHAPTER
ONE A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
THE DREADFUL
ulating Quebec and Montreal when our ship cast an-
chor off Grosse Isle, on the 3Oth of Augustst§4|.and
we were boarded a few minutes after by the health-
officers.
One of these gentlemen — a little, shrivelled-up
Frenchman— from his solemn aspect and attenu-
ated figure, would have made no bad representative
of him who sat upon the pale horse. He was the only
grave Frenchman I had ever seen, and I naturally
enough regarded him as a phenomenon. His com-
panion — a fine-looking, fair-haired Scotchman, —
though a little consequential in his manners, looked
like one who in his own person could combat and van-
quish all the evils which flesh is heir to. Such was the
contrast between these doctors that they would have
formed very good emblems, one, of vigorous health,
the other, of hopeless decay.
Our captain, a rude, blunt north-country sailor,pos-
sessing certainly not more politeness than might be
expected in a bear, received his sprucely dressed visit-
ors on the deck, and, with very little courtesy, abrupt
ly bade them follow him down to the cabin.
The officials were no sooner seated than, glancing
hastily round the place, they commenced the follow-
ing dialogue: —
"From what port, captain?"
Now, the captain had a peculiar lan^ua^e of his own.
from whicrfne commonly expunged all the connect-
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ing links. Small words, such as "and" and "the," he
contrived to dispense with altogether.
ir5eetland=^sailed from port o' Leith, bound for
luebec, Montreal — general cargo — seventy-two
steerage, four cabin passengers — brig Anne, one
hundred and ninety-two tons burden, crew eight
lands."
Here he produced his credentials, and handed them
to the strangers. The Scotchman just glanced over
the documents, and laid them on the table.
" Had you a good passage out?"
"Tedious,bafflingwinds,'heavyfogs,detained three
reeks on Banks — foul weather making Gulf — short
of water, people out of provisions, steerage passengers
irving."
"Any case of sickness or death on board?"
"All sound as crickets."
"Any births?" lisped the little Frenchman.
The captain screwed up his mouth, and after a mo-
ment's reflection he replied, "Births? Why, yes; now
I think on't, gentlemen, we had one femalemiboard.
who produced three at a birth/'
"That's uncommon," said the Scotch doctor, with
an air of lively curiosity? " Are the children alive and
well? I should like much to see them." He started
up and knocked his head — for he was very tall — a-
gainst the ceiling. " Confound your low cribs ! I have
nearly dashed out my brains."
"A hard task that," looked the captain to me. He
did not speak, but I knew by his sarcastic grin what
was uppermost in his thoughts. "The young ones all
males — fine thriving fellows. Step upon deck. Sam
A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
Frazer/'turning to his steward, "bring them down for
doctors to see." Sam vanished, with a knowing wink
to his superior, and quickly returned, bearing in his"
arms three fat, chuckle-headed bull terrigr^ ^he sag^
acioulTmolher following close at his heels, and look-
ing ready to give and take offence on the slighest pro-
vocation. ' '
" "Here, gentlemen, are the babies," said Frazer, de-
positing his burden on the floor. "They do credit to
the nursing of the brindled slut."
The old tar laughed, chuckled, and rubbed hishands
in ecstasy of delight at the indignation and disappoint-
ment visible in the countenance of the Scotch Escu-
lapius, who, angry as he was, wisely held his tongue.
Not so the Frenchman ; hisrage scarcely knew bounds
— he dancedin astateofmostludicrousexcitement,he
shook his fist at our rough captain, and screamed at
the top of his voice —
tink us dog, when you try to
pass your puppies on us for babies?"
" HoutT man, ^pp'f h** gnffry," said the Scotchman,
stifling a laugh; " you see 'tis only a joke! "
"Joke! me no understand such joke. Bete!" re-
turned the angry Frenchman, bestowing a savage kick
on one of the unoffending pups which was frisking a-
bout his feet. The pup yelped; the slut barked and
leaped furiously at the offender, and was only kept
from biting him by Sam, who could scarcely hold her
back for laughing; the captain was uproarious; the
offended Frenchman alone maintained a severe and
dignified aspect. The dogs were at length dismissed,
and peace restored.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
After some further questioning from the officials, a
Bible was required for the captain to take an oath.
Mine was mislaid, and there was none at hand.
"Confound it!" muttered the old sailor, tossing over
the papers in his desk; "that scoundrel, Sam, always
stows my traps out of the way." Then taking up from
the table a book which I had been reading, which hap-
pened to be Voltaire's History of Charles .xii^\\^
presented it, with as grave an air as he could assujrne.
to the Frenchman. Taking for granted that it was
the volume required, the little doctor was too polite
to open the book, the captain was duly sworn, and
the party returned to the deck.
Here anew difficulty occurred, which nearly ended
in a serious quarrel. The gentlemen requested the old
sailor to give them a few feet of old planking to repair
some damage which their boat had sustained the day
before. This the captain could not do. They seemed
to think "his refusal intentional, and took it as a per-
sonal affront. In no very gentle tones they. ordfiSS
Jiim instantly to prepare his boats, and put hisjjas-
* sengers on shore.
<f "Stiff breeze — short sea/' returned the bluff old
<Tseaman; "great risk in making land — boats heavily
/ laden with women and children will be swamped. Not
^ a soul goes on shore this night."
"If you refuse to comply with our orders, we will
report you to the authorities."
" I know my duty — you stick to yours. When the
wind falls off I'll see to it. Not a life shall be risked
to please you or your authorities."
He turned upon his heel, and the medical men left
24
.
v u:
X
A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
the vessel in great disdain. We had every reason to
be thankful for the firmness displayed by our rough
commander. That same evening we saw eleven per-
sons drowned, from another vessel close beside us,
while attempting to make the shore.
By daybreak all was hurry and confusion on board
the Anne. I watched boat after boat depart for the is-
land, full of people and goods, and envied them the
glorious privilege of oncemorestandingfirmlyon the
earth after two long months of rocking and rolling
at sea. How o^^^-iy ^ p"*'*"?p?tif*p1g'ociTrc>7 which
often ends in positive pain ! Such was my case when
at last indulged in the gratification so eagerly desired.
As cabin passengers we were not included in the gen-
eral order of purification, but were only obliged to
sencfour servanjjtodth the clothes and bedding we had
used a uf ingfthe voyage, on shore, to be washed.
The ship was soon emptied of all her live
My husband went off with the boats,
the island, and I was left jalone with my baby in the
otherwise empty vessel. Even Oscar, the captain's
Sco£cTrteffier,wh6had formed a devoted attachment
to me during the voyage, forgot his allegiance, became
possessed of the land mania, and was away with the
rest. With the most intense desire to go on shore, I
was doomed to look and long and envy evgry
of emigrants that-g444e4"pas£. Nor was this all; the
ship was out of provisions, and I was condemned to
undergo a rigid fast until the return of the boat, when
the captain had promised a supply of fresh butter and
bread. The vessel had been nine weeks at sea; the
poor steerage passengers for the two last weeks had
25
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
been out of food, and the captain had been obliged to
£feed them from the ship's stores. The promised bread
was to be oofained from a small steam-boat which
plied daily between Quebec and the island, transport-
ing convalescent emigrants and their goods in her
upward trip and provisions for the sick on her return.
How I reckoned on once more tasting bread and
butter ! The very thought of the treat in store served
to sharpen my appetite and render the long fast more
irksome. I could now fully realize all Mrs. Bowdich's
longings for English bread and butter, after her three
years' travel through the burning African deserts
with her talented husband.
"When we arrived at the hotel at Plymouth," said
\she, "and were asked what refreshment we chose —
/'Tea, and home-made bread and butter,' was my in-
stant reply. * Brown bread, if you please, and plenty
of it.' I never enjoyed any luxury like it. Iwasposit-
/ively ashamed of asking the waiter to refill the plate.
/ After the execrable messes, and the hard ship-biscuit,
/ imagine the luxury of a good slice of English bread
( and butter!"
At home, I laughed heartily at the lively energy
with which that char mi ng woman of genius related
this little incident in her eventual history— but off
Grosse Isle I realized it all.
V As the sun rose above the horizon, all these matter-
of-fact circumstances were gradually forgotten and
merged in the surpassing grandeur of the scene that
rose majestically before me. The previous day had
been dark and stormy, and a heavy fog had conceal-
ed the mountain chain, which forms the stupendous
26
A/T
A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
background to this sublime view, entirely from our
sight. As the clouds rolled away from their grey,
bald brows, and cast into denser shadow the vast
forest belt that girdled them round, they loomed out
like mighty giants — Titans of the earth, in all their
rugged and awful beauty — a thrill of wonder and de-
light pervaded my mind. The spectacle floated dim-
ly on my sight — my eyes were blinded with tears —
blinded by the excess of beauty. I turned to the right
and to the left, I looked up and down the glorious
river; never had I beheld so many striking objects
blended into one mighty whole! Nature had lavish-
ed all her noblest features in producing that enchant-
ing scene.
The rocky isle in front, with its neat farmhouses at
the eastern point, and its high bluff at the western ex-
tremity, crowned with the telegraph — the middle
space occupied by tents and sheds for the : cholera^
patients, and its wooded shores dotted over with mot-
•tey groups — added greatly to the picturesque effect
of the land scene. Then the broad glittering river,
covered with boats darting to and fro, conveying pas-
sengers from twenty-five vessels, of various size and
tonnage,which rode at anchor, with their flags flying
from the masthead, gave an air of life and interest to
the whole. Turning to the south side of the St. Law-
rence, I was not less struck with its low**feffilesriores,
whiteliouses7and neat churches, whose slender spires
and bright tin roofs shone like silver as they caught
the first rays of the sun. As far as the eye could reach,
a line of white buildings extended along the bank,
their background formed by the purple hue of the
27
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
dense, interminable forest. It was a scene unlike an^ I
had ever beheld, and to which Britain contains nojmr-
allel. Mackenzie, an old Scotch dragoon, who was one
of our passengers, when he rose in the morning and
saw the parish of St. Thomas for the first time, ex-
claimed: "Weel, it beats a'! Can thae white clouts
be a' houses ? They look like claes hung out to drie ! "
There was some truth in this odd comparison, and for
some minutes I could scarcely convince myself that
the white patches scattered so thickly over the op-
posite shore could be the dwellings of a busy, lively
population.
"What sublime views of the north side of the river
those-fazfiiTans of St. Thomas must enjoy," thought I.
Perhaps familiarity with the scene has rendered
them indifferent to itsastomjjiii i 1
Eastward,the view down the St. Lawrence towards
the Gulf is the finest of all, scarcely surpassed by any-
thing in the world. Your eye follows the long range
of lofty mountains until their bluesummits areblend-
ed and lost in the blue of thesky. Some of these, part-
ially cleared round the base, are sprinkled over with
neat cottages,and the green slopes that spread around
them are covered with flocks and herds. The surface
of the splendid river is diversified with islands of
every size and shape, some in wood, others partially
cleared, and adorned with orchards and white farm-
hojosej^As the early sun streamed upoffEEemost
prominent of these, leaving the others in deep shade,
the effect was strangely novel and imposing. In more
rernote_regigjisr3^here the forest has never yet echo-
ctTtothe woodman's axe, or received the impress of
28
A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
civilization, the first approach to the shore inspires a
melancholy awe which becomes painful in its intens-
ity.
And silencer-awful silence broods
Profoundly o'er these solitudes ;
Not but the lapsing of the floods
Breaks the deep stillness of the woods; /
A sense of cteSolaHbn reigns "
O'er these unpeopled forest plains
Where sounds of life ne'er wake a tone
-, Of cheerful praise round Nature's throne,
Man finds himself with God — alone.
My daydreams were dispelled by the return of the
boat, which brought my husband and the captain
from the island-
"~ " No bread," said the latter, shaking his head ; " you
\ must be content to starve a little longer. Provision-
/ ship not in till four o'clock." My husband smiled at the
look of blank disappointment with which I received
these unwelcome tidings. "Never mind, I have news
which will comfort you. The officer who commands
the station sent a note to me by an orderly, inviting
us to spend the afternoon with him. He promises to
show us everything worthy of notice on the island.
Captain claims acquaintance with me ; but I have
not the least recollection of him. Would you like to
go?"
" Oh, by all means. I long to see the lovely island.
It looks a perfect paradise at this distance."
The rough sailor-captain screwed his mouth on one
side, and gave me one of his comical looks; but he said
nothing until he assisted in placing me and the baby
in the boat.
" Don't be too sanguine, Mrs. Moodie ; many things
29
. ;
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
look well at a distance which are bad enough when
near."
£-" I scarcely regarded the old sailor's warning. So
^ eager was I to go on shore — to put my foot upon the
4T soil of thenew world for the first time — I was in no hu-
/ mour to listen to any depreciation of what seemed so
/ beautiful.
It was four o'clock when we landed on the rocks,
which the rays of an intensely scorching sun had ren-
dered so hot that I could scarcely place my foot upon
them. How the people without shoes bore it I can-
not imagine. Never shall I forget the extraordinary
spectacle that met our sight the moment we passed the
low range of bushes which formed a screen in front of
the river. A crowd of many hundred Irish emigrants
had been landed during the present and former day
and all this motley crew — men, women, and children,
who were not confined by sickness to the sheds (which
greatly resembled cattle-pens) — were employed in
washing clothes or spreading them out on the rocks
and bushes to dry.
he men and boys were in the water, while the wo-
, with their scanty garments tucked above their
knees, were tramping their bedding in tubs or in holes
in the rocks, which the retiring tide had left half full of
^-water. Those who did not possess washing tubs, pails,
or iron pots, or could not obtain access to a hole in the
rocks, were running to and fro, screaming and j>cold-
ing in no measured terms. The confusion of Babel
was among them. All talkers and no hearers — each
shouting and yelling in his or her uncouth dialect, and
all accompanying their vociferations with violent and
3°
A VISIT TO GROSS ISLE
extraordinary gestures, quite incomprehensible to
the uninitiated. Wewere literally stunned by the strife,
of tongues. I shrank, with feelings almostakinto fear,
from the hard-featured, sunburnt women as they el-
bowed rudely past me.
I had heard and read much of savages, and have
since seen, during my long residence in the bush,
somewhat of uncivilized life, but the Indian is one of
Nature's gentlemen — he never says or does a rude or
vulgar thing. The vicious, uneducated barbarian s,who
form the surplus of overpopulousEuropean countries,
are far behind the wild man in delicacy of feeling
or natural courtesy. The people who covered the is-
- tend appeared perfectly destitute of shame, or even
a sense of common decency. Many were almost na-
ked, still more but partially clothed. We turnedin dis-
gust from the revolting scene, but were unable to
leave the spot until the captain had satisfied a noisy
group of his own people, who were demanding a sup-
ply of stores.
And here I must observe that our passengers, who
were chiefly honest Scotch labourers and mechanics
from the vicinity of Edinburgh, and who while on
board ship had conducted themselves with the great-
est propriety, and appeared the most quiet, orderly
set of people in the world, no sooner set foot upon the
island than they became infected by the same spirit
of insubordination and misrule, and were just as insol-
ent and noisy as the rest.
While our captain was vainly endeavouring to sat-
isfy the unreasonable demands of his rebellious peo-
ple, Moodie had discovered a woodland path that led
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
to the back of the island. Sheltered by some hazel-
bushes from the intense heat of the sun, we sat down
by the cool, gushing river, out of sight, but, alas! not
out of hearing of the noisy, riotous crowd. Couliwe
have shut out the profane sounds which came to us
on every breeze, how deeply should we have enjoyed
an hour amid the tranquil beauties of that retired and
lovely spot !
The rocky banks of the island were adorned with
beautiful evergreens, which sprang up spontaneously
in every nook and crevice. I remarked many of our
favourite garden shrubs among these wildings of na-
ture: the fillagree, with its narrow, dark glossy-green
leaves; the privet, with its modest white blossoms and
purple berries ; the lignum-vitae,with its strong resin-
ous odour; theburnet-rose; and a great variety of eleg-
ant unknowns.
Here, the shores of the island and mainland, reced-
ing from each other, formed a small cove, overhung
with lofty trees, clothed from the base to the summit
with wild vines, that hung in graceful festoons from
the topmost branches to the water's edge. The dark
shadows of the mountains, thrown upon the water, as
they towered to the height of some thousand feet a-
bove us, gave to the surface of the river an ebon hue.
The sunbeams, dancing through the thick, quivering
foliage, fell in stars of gold, or long lines of dazzling
brightness, upon the deep black waters, producing the
most novel and beautiful effects. It was a scene over
which the spirit of peace might brood in silent ador-
ation; but how spoiled by the discordant yells of
the filthy beings who were sullying the purity of
32
A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
the air and water with contaminating sights and
sounds!
We were now joined by the sergeant, who very
kindly brought us his capful of ripe plums and hazel-
nuts, the growth of the island: a joyful present, but
marred by a note from Captain , who had found
that he had been mistaken in his supposed knowledge
of us, and politely apologized for not being allowed
by the health-officers to receive any emigrant beyond
the bounds appointed for the performance of quar-
antine.
I was deeply disappointed, but my husband laugh-
ingly told me that I had seen enough of the island,
and, turning to the good-natured soldier, remarked
that " it could be no easy task to keep such wild sav-
ages in order."
"You may well say that, sir — but our night scenes
far exceed those of the day. You would think they
were incarnate devils, singing, drinking, dancing,
shouting, and cutting antics that would surprise the
leader of a circus. They have no shame — are under
no restraint — nobody knows them here,- and they
think they can speak and act as they please; and they
are such thieves that they rob one another of the little
they possess. The healthy actually run the risk of tak-
ing the cholera by robbing the sick. If you have not
hired one or two stout, honest fellows from am ongyour
fellow-passengers to guard your clothes while they
are drying, you will never see half of them again.
They are a sad set, sir, a sad set. We.could, perhaps,
manage the men; butth
Oh,sirr~~
3
^obl
C W(
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Anxious as we were to return to the ship, we were
>liged to remain until sundown in our retired nook.
We were hungry, tired, and out of spirits : J:hq rnosqui-
/ __^ toes swarmed in myriads afoun? us^jEorme
—poof'baby, who, not at all pleased with her visit to
the new world, filled the air with cries, when the cap-
tain came to tell us that the boat was ready. It was
a welcome sound. Forcingourway once more through
the still squabblingcrowd,we gained thelandingplace.
Here we encountered a boat, j ust landing a fresh cargo
of emigrants from the Emerald Isle. One fellow, of
gigantic proportions, whose long, tattered great-coat
just reached below the middle of his bare red legs and,
like charity, hid the defects of his other garments, or
perhaps concealed his want of them, leaped upon the
rocks, and flourishing aloft hisshilelagh,bounded and
capered like a wild goat from his native mountains.
"Whurrah! my boys!" he cried. "Shure we'll all be
jintlemen!"
" Pull away, my lads ! " said the captain. Then turn-
ing to me, "Well, Mrs. Moodie, I hope that you have
had enough of Grosse Isle. But could you have wit-
nessed the scenes that I did this morning "
Here he was interrupted by the wife of the old Scotch
dragoon, Mackenzie, running down to the boat and
ayingher hand familiarly upon his shoulder, "Cap-
tain, dinna forget."
"Forget what?"
She whispered something confidentially in his ear.
"Oh, ho! the brandy!" he responded aloud. "I
should have thought, Mrs. Mackenzie, that you had
lad enough of that same on yon island?"
34
A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE
"Aye, 'sic a place for decent folk," returned the£
drunken body, shaking her head. " One needs a drar>
o' comfort, captain, to keep up one's heart ava."
The captain set up one of his boisterous laughs as
he pushed the boat from the shore. "Hollo! Sam
Frazer! steer in, we have forgotten the stores."
" I hope not, captain," said I; " I have been starving
since daybreak."
"The bread, the butter, the beef, the onions, and
potatoes are here, sir," said honest Sam, particulariz-
ing each article.
"All right ; pull for the ship. Mrs. Moodie, we will
have a glorious supper, and mind you don't dream of
Grosse Isle."
In a few minutes we were again on board. Thus
ended my first day's experience of the land of all our
hopes.
CHAPTER TWO
QUEBEC
CHAPTER TWO QUEBEC
Queen of the West! — upon thy rocky throne,
In solitary grandeur sternly placed;
In awful Majesty thou sitt'st alone,
By Nature's master-hand supremely graced.
The world has not thy counterpart — thy dower,
Eternal beauty, strength, and matchless power.
The clouds enfold thee in their misty vest,
The lightning glances harmless round thy brow;
The loud-voiced thunder cannot shake thy nest,
Or warring waves that idly chafe below;
The storm above — the waters at thy feet —
May rage and foam, they but secure thy seat.
The mighty river, as it onward rushes
To pour its floods in ocean's dread abyss,
Checks at thy feet its fierce impetuous gushes,
And gently fawns thy rocky base to kiss.
Stern eagle of the crag! thy hold should be
The mountain home of heaven-born liberty!
True to themselves, thy children may defy
The power and malice of a world combined;
While Britain's flag, beneath thy deep blue sky,
Spreads its rich folds and wantons in the wind;
The offsprings of her glorious race of old
May rest securely in their mountain hold.
ON THE FIFTH OF SEPTEMBER THE AN-
chor was weighed, and we bade a long farewell to
Grosse Isle. As our vessel struck into mid-channel, I
cast a last lingering look at the beautiful shores we
were leaving. Cradled in the arms of the St. Lawrence,
and basking in the bright rays of the morning sun, the
island and its sister group looked like a second Eden
just emerged from the waters of chaos. With what
joy could I have spent the rest of the fall in exploring
the romantic features of that enchanting scene! But
39
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
our bark spread her white wings to the favouring
breeze, and the fairy vision gradually receded from
my sight, to remain for ever on the tablets of memory.
The day was warm, and the cloudless heavens of
that peculiar azure tint which gives to the Canadian
skies and waters a brilliancy unknown in more fav-
oured latitudes. The air was pure and elastic, thejyin
shone out in uncommon splendour, lighting- »p~fcke
changing woods with a rich mellow colouring, com-
posed of a thousand brilliant and vivid dyes. The
mighty river rolled flashing and sparkling onward,
impelled by a strong breeze, that tipped its short roll-
ing surges with a crest of snowy foam.
Had there been no other object of interest in the
landscape than this majestic river, its vast magnitude,
and the depth and clearness of its waters, and its great
importance to the colony would have been sufficient
to have riveted the attention and claimed the admir-
ation of every thinking mind.
* Never shall I forget that short voyage fromGrosse
Isle to Quebec. I love to recall, after the lapse of so
^iiiauy yeais, every object that awoke in my breast
emotions of astonishment and delight. What wonder-
ful combinations of beauty, and grandeur,and power,
at every winding of that noble river! How the mind
expands with the sublimity of the spectacle, and soars
upward in gratitude and adoration to the Author of
all being, to thank Him for having made this lower
world so wondrously fair — a living temple, heaven-
arched, and capable of receiving the homage of all
worshippers.
Every perception of my mind became absorbed in-
40
t
QUEBEC
to the one sense of seeing, when, upon rounding Point
Levi, we cast anchor before Quebec. What a scene!
— Can the world produce such another? Edinburgh
had been the beau ideal to me of all thafwas beautF-
ful in Nature — a vision of the northern Highlands
had haunted my dreams across the Atlantic; but all
these past recollections faded before the present of
Quebec.
Nature has lavished all her grandest elements to
form this astonishing panorama. There frowns the
cloud-capped mountain, and below, the cataract foams
and thunders; wood, and rock, and river combined to
lend their aid in making the picture perfect and wor-
thy of its Divine Originator.
- The precipitous bank upon which the city lies piled,
reflected in the still deep waters at its base, greatly
enhances the romantic beauty of the situation. The
mellow and serene glow of the autumnal day harm-
onized so perfectly with the solemn grandeur of the
scene around me, and sank so silently and deeply in-
to my soul, that my spirit fell prostrate before it, and
^1 melted invoj^tajdlyJnt£Ll£ars. Yes, regardless of
the eager crowds around me, I leant upon the side of
the vessel and cried like a child — not tears of sorrow,
but a gush from the heart of pure and unalloyed de-
light. I heard not the many voices murmuring in my
ears — I saw not the anxious beings that thronged our
narrow deck — my soul at that moment was alonewith
God. The shadow of His glory rested visibly on the
stupendous objects that composed that magnificent
scene; words are perfectly inadequate to describe the
impression it made upon my mind — the emotions it
*A?' yl^J"
t Jr U-W
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
produced. The only homage I was capable of offer-
ing at such a shrine was tears — tears the most heart-
felt and sincere that ever flowed from human eyes. I
never before felt so overpowering my own insignific-
ance, and the boundless might and majesty of the
Jgternal.
Canadians, rejoice in your beautiful city! Rejoice
and be worthy of her — for few, very few, of the sons of
men can point to such aspot as Quebec — and exclaim,
She is ours! — God gave her to us in her beauty and
strength! — We will live for her glory — we will die to
defend her liberty and rights — to raise her majestic
Drow high above the nations!"
Look at the situation oXQitebert^-the^city founded
on thsjij^Gk^f^pTGSS^o^dsJ^h^dght of the lull
queen sitting enthroned above the waters, that
curb their swiftness and their strength to kiss her love-
y feet.
Canadians! — as long as you remain true to your-
selves and her, what foreign invader could ever dare
o plant a hostile flag upon that rock-defended height,
>r set his foot upon a fortress rendered impregnable
jy the hand of Nature? United in friendship, loyalty,
and love, what wonders may you not achieve? to what
an enormous altitude of wealth and importance may
you not arrive? Look at the St. Lawrence, that king
of streams, that great artery flowing from the heart
of the world, through the length and breadth of the
land, carrying wealth and fertility in its course, and
transporting from town to town along its beautiful
shores the riches and produce of a thousand distant
climes. What elements of future greatness and pro-
42
QUEBEC
sperity encircle you on every side! Never yield up
these solid advantages to become an humble depend-
ant on the great republic — wait patiently, loyally,
lovingly upon the illustrious parent from whom you
sprang, and by whom you have been fostered into life
and political importance ; in the fulness of time she
will proclaim your childhood past, and bid you stand
up in your own strength, a free Canadian people!
British mothers of Canadian sons! — learn to feel
for their country the same enthusiasm which fills your
hearts when thinking of the glory of your own. Teach
them to love Canada — to look upon her as the~first
the happiest, tricTrnest independent country in the
world ! Exhort them to l5eTwoHhy of her — to have
faith in her present prosperity, in her future great-
ness, and to devote all their talents, when they them-
selves are men, to accomplish this noble object. Make
your children proud of the land of their birth, the land
which has given them bread — the land in which you
have found an altar and a home ; do this, and you will
soon cease to lament your separation from the mother
country,and the loss of those luxuries which you could
not, in honour to yourself, enjoy; j^pjuatill soon learn
to love Canada as I nowloye-it^jwho once viewed it
with hatredsoThtense that I longed to die, that death
might effectually separate us for ever.
But, oh ! beware of drawing disparaging contrasts /*
between thecolony and its illustrious parent. All such f
comparisons are cruel and unjust; — you cannot exalt \
the one at the expense of the other without commit- \
ting an act of treason against both.
But I have wandered away from my subject into
43
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the regions of thought, and must again descend to
common workaday realities.
' The pleasure we experienced upon our first glance
at Quebec was greatly damped by the sad convic-
tion that the cholera-plague raged within her walls,
while the almost ceaseless tolling of bells proclaimed
a mournful tale of woe and deatlO Scarcely a person
visited the vessel who was not in black, or who spoke
not in tones of subdued grief. They advised us not
to go on shore if we valued our lives, as strangers most
commonly fell the first victims to this fatar\malac*y.
This was to me a severe disappointment, who felt an
intense desire to climb to the crown of the rock, and
survey the noble landscape at my feet. I yielded at
last to the wishes of my husband, who did not him-
self resist the temptation in his own person, and en-
deavoured to content myself with the means of en-
joymentplaced within my reach. My eyes were never
tired of wandering over the scene before me.
It is curious to observe how differently the objects
which call forth intense admiration in some minds will
affect others. The Scotch dragoon, Mackenzie, see-
ing me look long and intently at the distant Falls of
Montmorency, dryly observed —
" It may be a' vera fine ; but it looks na' better to
my thinken than hanks o' white woo' hung out o'er
the bushes."
< " Weel," cried another, " thae fa's are just bonnie;
'tis a braw land, nae doubt; but no' just so braw as
\auld Scotland."
/ " Hout, man! hauld your clavers, we shall a' be
Uairds here," said a third; "and ye maun wait a
44
QUEBEC
muckle time before they wad think aucht of you at (,
hame."
I was not a little amused at the extravagant ex-
pectations entertained by some of our steerage pas-
sengers. The sight of the Canadian shores had chang-
ed them into persons of great consequence. The
poorestand the worst-dressed, the least-deserving and
•the most repulsive in mind and morals exhibited most
disgusting traits of self-importance. Vanity and pre-
sumption seemed to possess them altogether. They
talked loudly of the rank and wealth of their connex-
ions at home, and lamented the great sacrifices they
had made in order to join brothers and cousins who
had foolishly settled in this beggarly wooden country.
Girls, who were scarcely able to wash a floor decent-
ly, talked of service with contempt, unless tempted
to change their resolution by the offer of twelve dollars
a month. To endeavour to undeceive tKelnwas~a~use-
*less and ungracious task. After having tried it with
several without success, I left it to time and bitter
experience to restore them to their sober senses. In
spite of the remonstrances of the captain and the
dread of the cholera, they all rushed on shore to in-
spect the UTTcTof Goshen, and to endeavour to realize
their absurd anticipations.
We were favoured, a few minutes after our arrival,
with another visit from the health-officers; but in this
instance both the gentlemen were Canadians. Grave,
melancholy-looking men, who talked much and om-
inously of the prevailing disorder, and the imposs-
ibility of strangers escaping from its fearful ravages .
This was not very consoling, and served to depress
45
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the cheerful tone of mind which, after all, is one of
the best antidotes against this awful scourge. The cab-
in seemed to lighten, and the air to circulate more
freely, after the departure of these professional ravens.
The captain, as if by instinct, took an additional glass
of grog, to shake off the sepulchral gloom their pre-
sence had inspired.
The visit of the doctors was followed by. lhat_of
two of the officials of the Customs — vulgar, illiterate
men, who, seating themselves at the cabin tablfr, with
a familiar nod to the captain and a blank stare at
us, commenced the following dialogue : —
Custom-house officer (after making inquiries as to
the general cargo of the vessel] : " Any good brandy
on board, captain? "
Captain (gruffly}: "Yes."
Officer : " Best remedy for the cholera known. The
only one the doctors can depend upon."
Captain (taking the hint): "Gentlemen, I'll send
you up a dozen bottles this afternoon."
Officer: "Oh, thank you. We are sure to get \t genu-
ine from you. Any Edinburgh ale in your freight?"
Captain (with a slight shrug) : "A few hundreds in
cases. I'll send you a dozen with the brandy."
Both: "Capital!"
First officer: "Any short, large-bowled, Scotch
pipes, with metallic lids? "
Captain (quite impatiently): "Yes, yes; I'll send
you some to smoke, with the brandy. — What else?"
Officer: "We will now proceed to business."
My readers would have laughed, as I did, could they
have seen how doggedly the old man shook his fist
46
QUEBEC
after these worthies as they left the vessel. " Scoun-
drels!" he muttered to himself; and then turning to
me, "They rob us in this barefaced manner, and we
dare not resist or complain, for fear of the trouble
they can put us to. If I had those villains at sea, I'd
give them a taste of brandy and ale that they would
not relish."
The day wore away, and the lengthened shadows
of the mountains fell upon the waters, when the Hors-
ley Hill, a large three-masted vessel from Waterford,
that we had left at the quarantine station, cast anchor
a little above us. She was quickly boarded by the
health-officers, and ordered round to take up her sta-
tion below the castle. To accomplish this object she
had to heave her anchor; when lo! a great pine-tree,
which had been sunk in the river, became entangled
in the chains. Uproarious was the mirth to which the
incident gave rise among the crowds that thronged
the decks of the many vessels then at anchor in the
river. Speaking trumpets resounded on every side;
and my readers may be assured that the sea-serpent
was not forgotten in the multitude of jokes which
followed.
Laughter resounded on all sides; and in the midst
of the noise and confusion, the captain of the Horsley
Hill hoisted his colours downwards, as if making sig-
nals of distress, a mistake which provoked renewed
and long-continued mirth.
I laughed until my sides ached, little thinkinghow
the Horsley Hill would pay us off for our mistimed
hilarity.
Towards night, most of the steerage passengers re-
47
1
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
turned, greatly dissatisfied with their first visit to the
city, which they declared to be a filthy hole, that
looked a great deal better from the ship's side than it
did on shore. This, I have often been told, is literally
the case. Here, as elsewhere, man has marred the
magnificent creation of his Maker.
A dark and starless night closed in, accompanied
by cold winds and drizzling rain. We seemed to have
made a sudden leap from the torrid to the frigid zone.
Two hours before, my light summer clothing was al-
most insupportable, and now a heavy and well-lined
plaid formed but an inefficient screen from the incle-
mency of the weather. After watching for some time
the singular effect produced by the lights in the town
reflected in the water, and weary with a long day of
anticipation and excitement, I made up my mind to
leave the deck and retire to rest. I had just settled
down my baby in her berth, when the vessel struck,
with a sudden crash that sent a shiver through her
whole frame. Alarmed, but not aware of the real dan-
ger that hung over us, I groped my way to the cabin,
and thence ascended to the deck.
Here a scene of confusion prevailed that baffles de-
scription. By some strange fatality, the Horsley Hill
had changed her position, and run foul of us in the
dark. The Anne was a small brig, and her unlucky
neighbour a heavy three-masted vessel, with three
hundred Irish emigrants on board; and as her bow-
sprit was directly across the bows of the Anne, and
she anchored and unable to free herself from the
deadly embrace, there was no small danger of the
poor brig going down in the unequal struggle.
QUEBEC
Unable to comprehend what was going on, I raised
my head above the companion ladderjust at the crit-
ical moment when the vessels were grappled toge-
ther. The shrieks of the women, the shoutsjind oaths
of the men, and the barking of the dogs in either ship
""Stctect the dense darkness of the night in producing a
most awful and stunning effect.
"What is the matter?" I gasped out. " What is the
reason of this dreadful confusion?"
The captain was raging like a chafed bull, in the
grasp of several frantic women, who were clinging,
shrieking, to his knees.
With great difficulty I persuaded the women to ac-
company me below. The mate hurried off with the
cabin light upon the deck, and we were left in total
darkness to await the result.
A deep, strange silence fell upon my heart. It was
not exactly fear, but a sort of nerving of my spirit to
meet the worst. The cowardly behaviour of my com-
panipns inspired me with courage. I was asnamed G>T *
their pusillanimity and want of faith in the Divine \
Providence. I sat down, and calmly begged them to
follow my example. ,,
An old woman, called Williamson, a sad repro-
bate, in attempting to do so set her foot within
the fender, which the captain had converted into
a repository for empty glass bottles; the smash
that ensued was echoed by a shriek from the whole
party.
"God guide us," cried the ancient dame; "but we
are going into eternity. I shall be lost; my sins are
more in number than the hairs of my head." This
49 D
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
confession was followed by oaths and imprecations
too blasphemous to repeat.
Shocked and disgusted at her profanity, I bade.her
pray, and not waste the few moments that might be
hers in using oaths and bad language.
" Did you not hear the crash? " said she.
"I did; it was of your own making. Sit down and
be quiet."
Here followed another shock, that made the vessel
heave and tremble; and the dragging of the anchor
increased the uneasy motion which began to fill the
Boldest of us with alarm.
/ " Mrs. Moodie, we are lost," said Margaret William-
son, the youngest granddaughter of the old woman,
a pretty girl, who had been the belle of the ship, fling-
ing herself on her knees before me, and grasping both
my hands in hers. " Oh, pray for me ! pray for me ! I
cannot, I dare not pray for myself; I was never taught
a prayer." Her voice was choked withconvulsive sobs,
and scalding tears fell in torrents from her eyes over
my hands. I never witnessed such an agony of de-
spair. Before I could say one word to comfort her,
another shock seemed to lift the vessel upwards. I
felt my own blood run cold, expecting instantly to go
down; and thoughts of death, and the unknown etern-
ity at our feet, flitted vaguely through my mind.
cried the girl,
springing to her feet. " Let us go on deck, mother,
and take our chance with the rest."
"Stay," said I; "you are safer here. British sailors
'never leave women to perish. You have fathers, hus-
bands, brothers on board, who will not forget you. I
5°
QUEBEC
beseechyou to remain patiently here until the danger j
is past." I might as well have preached to the winds. \ ^v>*'
The headstrong creatures would no longer be control- f J^P
led. They rushed simultaneously upon deck, just as!
the Horsley Hill swung off, carrying with her part of I
the outer frame of our deck and the larger portion of \
our stern. When tranquillity was restored, fatigued I
both in mind and body, 1 sunk into a profound sleep, I
and did not wake until the sun had risen high above /
the wave-encircled fortress of Quebec.
The stormy clouds had all dispersed during the
night; the air was clear and balmy; the giant hills
were robed in a blue, soft mist, which rolled around
them in fleecy volumes. Asthebeamsofthesunpene-
trated their shadowy folds, they gradually drew up
like a curtain, and dissolved like wreaths of smoke
into the clear air.
The moment I came on deck, my old friend Oscar
greeted me with his usual joyous bark, and, with the
sagacity peculiar to his species, proceeded to show
me all the damage done to thevessel during thenight.
It was laughable to watch the motions of the poor
brute as he ran from place to place, stopping before,
or jumping upon, every fractured portion of the deck,
and barking out his indignation at the ruinous con-
dition in which he found his marine home. Oscar had
made eleven voyages in the Anne,and had twice sav-
ed the life of the captain. He was an ugly specimen
of the Scotch terrier, and greatly resembled a bundle
of old rope-yarn; but a more faithful or attached creat-
ure I never saw. The captain was not a little jealous
of Oscar's friendship for me. 1 was the only person
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the dog had ever deigned to notice, and his master re-
garded it as an act of treason on the part of his four-
footed favourite . When my arms were tired with nurs-
ing, I had only to lay my baby on my cloak on deck
and tell Oscar to watch her, and the good dog would
lie down by her, and suffer her to tangle his long curls
in her little hands, and pull his tail and ears in the
most approved baby fashion, without offering the least
opposition ; but if any one dared to approach his charge,
he was alive on the instant, placing his paws over the
child and growling furiously. He would have been a
bold man who had approached the child to do her an
injury. Oscar was the best plaything and as sure a
| protector as Katie had.
During the day, many of our passengers took their
departure; tired of the close confinement of the ship
and the long voyage, they were too impatient to re-
main on board until we reached Montreal. The me-
chanics obtained instant employment, and the girls,
who were old enough to work, procured situations as
servants in the city. Before night, our numbers were
greatly reduced. The old dragoon and his family,
two Scotch fiddlers of the name of Duncan, a High-
lander called Tarn Grant, and his wife and little son,
and our own party were all that remained of the sev_-
enty-two passengers that left the port of Leith in the
brig Anne.
In spite of the earnest entreaties of his young wife,
the said Tarn Grant, who was the most mercurial fel-
low in the world, would insist upon going on shore to
Qee all the lions of the place. "Ah, Tarn! Tarn! ye will
lie o' the cholera," cried the weeping Maggie. " My
52
QUEBEC
heart will brak if ye dinna bide wi'me an' the bairnie.'^
Tarn was deaf as Ailsa Craig. Regardless of tears and
entreaties, he jumped into the boat, like a wilful man
as he was, and my husband went with him. Fortun-
ately for me, the latter returned safe to the vessel, in
time to proceed with her to Montreal, in tow of the
noble steamer, British America', but Tarn, the vola-
tile Tarn was missing. During the reign of the cholera,
what at another time would have appeared but a trifl-
ing incident was now invested with doubt and terror.
The distress of the poor wife knew no bounds. I think
I see her now, as I saw her then, sitting upon the floor
of the deck, her head buried between her knees, rock-
ing herself to and fro, and weeping in the utter aban-
donment of her grief. "_He is dead! he is dead! My
dear, dear Tarn ! The peltilencTE¥s^eTze"(rupdh him ;
and I and the puir bairn are left alone in the strange
land." All attempts at consolation were useless; she
obstinately refused to listen to probabilities, or to be
comforted. (All through the night I heard her deep
and bitter sobs and the oft-repeated name of him that
she had lost.,
The sun was sinking over the plague-stricken city,
gilding the changingwoods and mountain peaks with
ruddy light; the river mirrored back the gorgeous
sky, and moved in billows of liquid gold; the very air
seemed lighted up with heavenly fires, and sparkled
with myriads of luminous particles, as I gazed my
last upon that beautiful scene.
The tow-line was now attached from our ship to
the British America, and in company with two other
vessels, we fottowed fast in her foaming wake. Day
53
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
lingered on the horizon just long enough to enable
me to examine, with deep interest, the rocky heights
of Abraham, the scene of our immortal Wolfe's vict-
ory and death; and when the twilight faded into
night, the moon arose in solemn beauty, and cast mys-
terious gleams upon the strangestern landscape. The
wide river, flowing rapidly between its rugged banks,
rolled in inky blackness beneath the overshadowing
crags ; while the waves in mid-channel flashed along
in dazzling light, rendered more intense by the sur-
rounding darkness. In this luminous track the huge
steamer glided majestically forward, flinging showers
of red earth-stars from the funnel into the clear air,
and looking like some fiery demon of the night en-
veloped in smoke and flame.
The lofty groves of pine frowned down in hearse-
like gloom upon the mighty river, and the deep
stillness of the night, broken alone by its hoarse
wailings, filled my mind with sad forebodings — alas !
too prophetic of the future. Keenly, for the first Jjrne,
I felt that I was a stranger in a strange land; my
heart yearned intensely for my absent home. Home !
the word had ceased to belong to my present — it was
doomed to live for ever in the/rt-y/; for what emigrant
ever regarded the country of his exile as his hornet To
the land he has left that name belongs for ever, and in
no instance does he bestow it upon another. " I have
got a letter from home ! " " I have seen a friend from
/home!" "I dreamt last night that I was at home!"
' are expressions of everyday occurrence, to prove that
\ the heart acknowledges no other home than the land
I of its birth.
54
QUEBEC
From these sad reveries I was roused by the hoarse
notes of the bagpipe. That well-known sound brought
every Scotchman upon deck, and set every limb in
motion on the decks of the other vessels. Determined
not to be outdone, our fiddlers took up the strain, and
a lively contest ensued between the rival musicians,
which continued during the greater part of the night.
The shouts of noisy revelry were in no way congenial
to my feelings. Nothing tends so much to increase
our melancholy as merry music when the heart is sad ;
and I left the scene with eyes brimful of tears, and
my mind painfully agitated by sorrowful recollections
and vain regrets.
CHAPTER THREE
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
CHAPTER THREE
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
Fly this plague-stricken spot! The hot, foul air
Is rank with pestilence — the crowded marts
And public ways, once populous with life,
Are still and noisome as a churchyard vault;
Aghast and shuddering, Nature holds her breath
In abject fear, and feels at her strong heart
The deadly pangs of death.
OF MONTREAL I CAN SAY BUT LITTLE.
iThe cholera was at its height, and the fear of infection, ,
which increased the nearer we approached its shores, ,
cast a gloom over the scene, and prevented us from ,
exploring its infected streets. That the feelings of all >
on board very nearly resembled our own might be
read in the anxious faces of both passengers and crew.
Our captain, who had never before hinted that he en-
tertained any apprehensions on the subject, now con-
fided to us his conviction that he should never quit
the city alive: "This cursed cholera! Left it in Rus-
sia— found it on my return toLeith — meets me again
in Canada. No escape the third time." If the capt-
ain's prediction proved true in his case, it was not so
in ours. We left the cholera in England, we met it I
again in Scotland, and, under the providence of .God, /
we escaped its fatal visitation in Canada. j \/
Yet the fear and the dread of it on that first day
caused me to throw many an anxious glance on my
husband and my child. , 1 had been very ill during the
three weeks that our vessel was becalmed upon the
Banks o_£ N ejvjhu»4iaftd, and to this circumstance I
attribute my deliverance from the pestilence. I was
weak and nervous when the vessel arrived at Quebec,
59
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
but the voyage up the St. Lawrence, the fresh air and
beautiful scenery were rapidly restoring me to health.
Montreal from the river wears a pleasing aspect,
but it lacks the grandeur, the stern sublimity of Que-
bec. The fine mountain that forms the background
to the city, the Island of St. Helens in front, and
the junction of the St. Lawrence and the Ottawa —
which run side by side, their respective boundaries
only marked by a long ripple of white foam, and the
darker blue tint of the former river — constitute the
most remarkable features in the landscape.
The town itself was, at that period, dirty and ill-
rpavprl • anr! the opening of all the sewers, in order to
purify the place and stop the ravages of the pestil-
ence, rendered the public thoroughfares almost im-
passable and loaded the air with intolerable effluvia,
more likely to produce than stay the course of the
plague, the violence of which had, in all probability,
been increased by these long-neglected receptacles
of uncleanliness.
The dismal stories told us by the excise-officer who
came to inspect the unloading of the vessel, of the
frightful ravages of the cholera, by no means increas-
ed our desire to go on shore.
" It will be a miracle if you escape," he said .JlHun-
; and if Stephen Ayres
had not providentially come among us, not a soul
would have been alive at this moment in Montreal."
" And who is Stephen Ayres? " said I.
" God only knows," was the grave reply. " There
was a man sent from heaven, and his name was John."
" But I thought this man was called Stephen? "
60
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
" Ay, so he calls himself; but 'tis certain that he is
not of the earth. Fleshand blood could never do what
he has done — the hand of God is in it. Besides, no
one knows who he is, or whence he comes. When the
cholera was at the worst, and the hearts of all men
stood still with fear, and our doctors could do noth-
ing to stop its progress, this man, or angel, or saint
suddenly madehis appearance in ourstreets. He came
in great humility, seated in an ox-cart, and drawn by
two lean oxen and a rope harness. Only think of that !
Such a man in an old ox-cart^ drawn by rope harness \
The thing itself was a miracle. He made no parade
about what he could do, but only fixed up a plain paste-
board notice, informing the public that he possessed
an infallible remedy for the cholera, and would en-
gage to cure all who sent for him."
" And was he successful? "
" Successful! Itbeats all belief; and his remedy so
simple! For some days we all took him for a quack,
and would have no faith in him at all, although he
performed some wonderful cures upon poor folks, who
could not afford to send for the doctor. The Indian
village was attacked by the disease, and he went out
to them, and restored upwards of a hundred of the
I ndians to perfect health. They took the old lean oxen
out of the cart, and drew him back to Montreal in
triumph. This 'stablished him at once, and in a few
days' time he made a fortune. The very doctors sent
for him to cure them ; and it is to be hoped that, in
a few days, he will banish the cholera from the city."
" Do you know his famous remedy? "
" Do I not? — Did he not cure me when I was at
61
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the last gasp? Why, he makes no secret of it. It is
all drawn from the maple-tree. First he rubs the pa-
tient all over with an ointment, made of hog's lard and
maple-sugar and ashes from the maple-tree; and he
giveshimahot draught of maple-sugar and ley, which
throws him into a violent perspiration. In about an
hour the cramps subside; he falls into a quiet sleep,
and when he awakes he is perfectly restored to health."
Such were our first tidings of Stephen Ayres, the chol-
era doctor, who is universally believed to have effected
some wonderful cures. He obtained a wide celebrity
throughout the colony.*
The day of our arrival in the port of Montreal was
spent in packing and preparing for our long journey
up the country. At sunset I went upon deck to enjoy
the refreshing breeze that swept from the river. The
evening was delightful ; the white tents of the soldiers
on the Island of St. Helens glittered in the beams of
the sun, and the bugle-call, wafted over the waters,
sounded so cheery and inspiring that it banished all
fears of the cholera, and the heavy gloom that had
clouded my mind since we left Quebec. I could once
more hold sweet converse with nature, and enjoy the
soft loveliness of the rich and harmonious scene.
Aloud cry from one of the crew startled me; I turned
to the river, and beheld a man struggling in the water
a short distance from our vessel. He was a young sailor,
who had fallen from the bowsprit of a ship near us.
* A friend of mine, in this town, has an original portrait of
this notable empiric — this man sent from heaven. The face
is rather handsome, but has a keen, designing expression, and is
evidently that of an American from its complexion and features.
62
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
There is something terribly exciting in beholding
a fellow-creature in imminent peril, without having
the power to help him. To witness his death-struggles
— to feel in your own person all the dreadful alter-
nations of hope and fear — and, finally, to see him die,
with scarcely an effort made for his preservation.
This was our case.
At the moment he fell into the water, a boat with
three men was within a few yards of the spot, and
actually sailed over the spot where he sank. Cries of
" Shame ! " from the crowd collected upon the ban_k
oTthe river had no effect in rousing these people to
attempt the rescue of a perishing fellow-creature.
The boat passed on. The drowning man again rose to
the surface, the convulsive motion of his hands and
feet visible above the water, but it was evident that
the struggle would be his last.
" Is it possible that they will let a human being
perish', and so near the shore, when an oar held out
would save his life? " was the agonizing question at.
my heart, as I gazed, half-maddened by excitement,
on the fearful spectacle. The eyes of a multitude were
fixed upon the same object — but not a hand stirred.
Every one seemed to expect from his fellow an effort
which he was incapable of attempting himself.
At this moment — splash ! a^sailor plunged into the
water from the deck of a neighbouring vessel, and
dived after the drowning man. --A deep" Thank God ! "
burst from my heart. I drew a freer breath as the
brave fellow's head appeared above the water. He call-
ed to the men in the boat to throw him an oar, or the
drowning man would be the death of them both. Slow-
63
"
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ly they put back the boat — the oar was handed; but
it came too late! The sailor, whose name was Cook,
had been obliged to shake off the hold of the dying
man to save his own life. He dived again to the bot-
tom, and succeeded in bringing to shore the body of
the unfortunate being he had vainly endeavoured to
succour. Shortly after, he came on board our vessel,
foaming with passion at the barbarous indifference
j^pajmifested by the men in the boat
" Had they given me the oar in time, I could have
saved him. I knew him well — he was an excellent
fellow, and a good seaman. He has left a wife and
three children in Liverpool. Poor Jane! — how can I
tell her that I could not save her husband?"
He wept bitterly, and it was impossible for any of
us to witness his emotion without joining in his grief.
From the mate I learned that this same young man
had saved the lives of three women and a child wrien
the boat was swamped at Grosse Isle, in attempting
to land the passengers from the Horsley Hitt>
/ Such acts of heroism are common in the lower walks
^bf life. Thus, the purest gems are often encased in the
" fC H rudest crust, and the finest feelings of the human heart
/\ * % \are fostered in the chilling atmosphere of poverty.
While this sad event occupied all our thoughts, and
gave rise to many painful reflections, an exclamation
of unqualified delight at once changed the current of
our thoughts, and filled us with surprise and pleasure.
Maggie Grant had fainted in the arms of her hus-
band.
Yes, there was Tarn — her dear, reckless Tarn, after
all her tears and lamentations, pressing his young wife
64
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
to his heart, and calling her by a thousand endearing
pet names.
He had met with some countrymen at Quebec, had
taken too much whiskey on the joyful occasion, and
lost his passage in the Anne, but had followed a few
hours later in another steam-boat; and he assured
the now happy Maggie, as he kissed the infant Tarn,
whom she held up to his admiring gaze, that he nev-
er would be guilty of the like again. Perhaps he
kept his word; but I much fear that the first tempt-
ation would make the lively laddie forget his pro-
jmise.
Our luggage having been removed to the Custom-
house, including our bedding, the captain collected
all the ship's flags for our accommodation, of which we
formed a tolerably comfortable bed; and if our dreams
were of England, could it be otherwise, with her glori-
ous flag wrapped around us, and our heads resting
upon the Union Jack?
In the morning we were obliged to visit the city
to make the necessary arrangements for our upward
journey.
The day was intensely hot. A bank of thunder-
clouds lowered heavily above the mountain, and the
close, dusty streets were silent, and nearly deserted.
Here and there might be seen a group of anxious-
looking, care-worn, sickly emigrants, seated against
a wall among their packages, and sadly ruminating
upon their future prospects.
The sullen toll of the death-bell, the exposure of
ready-made coffins in the undertakers' windows, and
!the oft-recurring notice placarded on the walls, of fun -
65 E
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
erals furnished at such and such a place, at cheapest
rate and shortest notice, painfully reminded us, at
every turning of the street, that death was everywhere
— perhaps lurking in our very path; we felt no desire
to examine the beauties of the place. With this omin-
ous feeling pervading our minds,public buildings pos-
sessed few attractions, and we determined to make
our stay as short as possible.
Compared with the infected city, our ship appeared
an ark of safety, and we returned to it with joy and
confidence, too soon to be destroyed. We had scarce-
ly re-entered our cabin, when tidings were brought to
us that the cholera had made its appearance: a bro-
ther of the captain had been attacked.
It was advisable that we should leave the vessel im-
mediately, before the intelligence could reach the
health-officers. A few minutes sufficed to make the
necessary preparations; and in less than half an hour
we found ourselves occupying comfortable apart-
ments in Goodenough's hotel, and our passage taken
in the stage for the following morning.
Thp tjpflnpi'i-fon wag HW> a fltr ?m The change from
- — ^_ - ^••HMMMHMMIMOta-*— •J*
the close, rank ship to large, airy, well-furnished rooms
and clean attendants, was a luxury we should have en-
joyed had not the dread of the cholera involved all
things around us in gloom and apprehension. No one
spoke upon the subject ; and yet it was evident that
it was uppermost in the thoughts of all.^Several emi-
Jra~nts-4iad~xiied of the terrible disorder during^the
week, beneath the very roof that sheltered us, and its
ravages, we were told, had extended up the country
as far as Kingston ; so that it was still to be the phan-
66
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
torn of our coming journey, if we were fortunate en-
ough to escape from its headquarters)
At six o'clock the following morning, we took our
places in the coach for Lachine, and our fears of the
plague greatly diminished as we left the spires of
Montreal in the distance. The journey from Mont-
real westward has been so well described by many
gifted pens that I shall say little about it. The banks
of the St. Lawrence are picturesque and beautiful,
particularly in those spots where there is a good view
of the American side. The neat farmhouses looked to
me, whose eyes had been so long accustomed to the
watery waste, homes of beauty and happiness; and
the splendid orchards, the trees at that season of the
year being loaded with ripening fruit of all hues, were
refreshing and delicious.
My partiality for the apples was regarded by a fel-
low-traveller with a species of horror. "Touch them
not, if you value your life." Every draught of fresh
air and water inspired me with renewed health and
spirits, and I disregarded the well-meant advice: the
gentleman who gave it had just recovered from the
terrible disease. He was a middle-aged man, a farmer
from the Upper Province, Canadian born. He had
visited Montreal on business for the first time. "Well,
sir," he said, in answer to some questions put to him
by my husband respecting the disease, " I can tell
you what it is: a man smitten with the cholera
stares death right in the face; and the torment he
is suffering is so great that he would gladly die to
get rid of it."
" You were fortunate, C , to escape," said a back-
67
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
woods settler, who occupied the opposite seat ; " many
aynnnger man has ^iVH nf if » -' -
— "^Ayjbut I believe I never should have taken ithad
it not been for some things they gave me for supper at
the hotel; oysters they called them, oysters: they were
alive! I was persuaded by a friend to eat them, and I
liked them well enough at the time. But I declare to
you that I felt them crawling over one another in my
stomach all night. The next morning I was seized
with cholera."
"•Did yorrswallow them whole, C ?" said the
former spokesman, who seemed highly tickled by the
evil doings of the oysters.
"To be sure. I tell you, the creatures are alive.
You put them on your tongue, and I'll be bound
you'll be glad to let them slip down as fast as you
v»<
/»
; >>
»
No wonder you had the cholera," said the back-
woodsman; "you deserved it for your barbarity. If I
had a good plate of oysters here, I'd teach you the
way to eat them."
Our journey during the first day was performed
partly by coach, partly by steam. It was nine o'clock
in the evening when we landed at Cornwall, and took
coach for Prescott. The country through which we
passed appeared beautiful in the clear light of the
moon; but the air was cold, and slightly sharpened
by frost. This seemed strange to me in the early part
of September,but it is very common in Canada. Nine
passengers were closely packed into our narrow veh-
icle, but the sides being of canvas, and the open space
allowed for windows unglazed, I shivered with cold,
68
OUR'jJOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
which amounted to a state of suffering, when the day
broke, and we approached the little village of Matilda.
It was unanimously voted by all hands that we should
stop and breakfast at a small inn by the roadside, and
warm ourselves before proceeding to Prescott.
The people in the tavern were not stirring, and it
was some time before an old white-headed man un-
closed the door, and showed us into a room, redolent
with fumes of tobacco, and darkened by paper blinds.
I asked him if he would allow me to take my infant
into a room with a fire.
" I guess it was a pretty considerable cold night for
the like of her," said he. "Come, I'll show you to the
kitchen; there's always a fire there." I cheerfully fol-
lowed, accompanied by our servant.
Our entrance was unexpected, and by no means
agreeable to the persons we found there. A half-cloth-
ed, red-haired Irish servant was upon her knees, kind-
ttn"ff"u~p the fire; and a long thin woman, with a sharp
face, and an eye like a black snake, was just emerg-
ingTrom a bed in the corner. We soon discovered this
Ipparition to be the mistress of the house. ""^
44 The people can't come in here!" she screamed in
i shrill voice, darting daggers at the poor old man.
"Sure there's a^baby^ and the two women critters
are perished with cold," pleaded the good old man.
i " What's that to me? They have no business in my
rdtchen."
"Now, Almira, do hold on. It's the coach has stop-
>ed to breakfast with us; and you know we don't
ften get the chance."
All this time the fair Almira was dressing as fast as
'9
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
she could, and eyeing her unwelcome female gue
as we stood shivering over the fire.
" Breakfast !" she muttered, " what can we give th
to eat? They pass our door a thousand times without
any one alighting; and now, when we are out of every-
thing, they must stop and order breakfast at such an
unreasonable hour. How many are there of you?"
turning fiercely to me.
"Nine," 1 answered laconically,continuing to chafe
the cold hands and feet of the child.
"Nine! That bit of beef will be nothing, cut into
steaks for nine. What's to be done, Joe ? " (to the old
juan).
" Eggs and ham, summat of that dried venison, and
pumpkin pie," responded the aide-de-camp thought-
fully. " I don't know of any other fixings."
" Bestir yourself, then, and lay out the table, for the
coach can't stay long," cried the virago, seizing a fry-
ing-pan from the wall, and preparing it for the recep-
tion of the eggs and ham. "I must have the fire to
myself. People can't come crowding here, when I
have to fix breakfast for nine; particularly when there
is a good room elsewhere provided for their accom-
modation." I took the hint, and retreated to the parl-
our, where I found the rest of the passengers walking
to and fro, and impatiently awaiting the advent of the
breakfast.
/^To do Almira justice, she prepared from her scanty
/ materials a very substantial breakfast in an incredibly
t short time, for which she charged us a quarter of a
I dollar per head.
At Prescott we embarked on board a fine new steam-
70
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
Jboat, William 7F., crowded with Irish emigrants,
proceeding to Cobourg and Toronto.
""""While pacing the deck, my husband was greatly
struck by the appearance of a middle-aged man and
his wife, who sat apart from the rest, and seemed
struggling with intense grief, which, in spiteof all their
efforts at concealment, was strongly impressed upon
their features. Some time after, I fell into convers-
ation with the woman, from whom I learned their little
history. The husband was factor to a Scotch gentle-
man of largelanded property, who had employed him
TcTvisit Canada, and reportthe capabilities of the coun-
tryjprior to his investing a large sum of money in wild
lands. The expenses of their voyage had been paid,
and everything up to that morning had prospered
with them. They had been blessed with a speedy pass-
age, and were greatly pleased with the country and
the people; but of what avail was all this? Their^only
son, a fine lad of fourteen, had died that day of the chpl-
era,andall theirhopes for the future were buried in his
"grave'. For his sake they had sought a home in this
fai land; and here, at the very onset of their new car-
eer, the fell disease had taken him from them for ever
—here, where, in such a crowd, the poor heart-broken
mother could not even indulge her natural grief!
"Ah for a place where I might greet!" she said;
"it would relieve the burn ing weight at my heart. But
with sae many strange eyes glowering upon me, I tak'
shame to mysel' to greet."
"Ah, Jeannie, my puir woman," said the husband,"^
grasping her hand, " ye maun bear up ; 'tis God's will ; I
and sinfu' creatures like us mauna repine. But oh, I
J
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
/madam," turning to me, "we have sair hearts tl
Vday!"
Poor bereaved creatures, how deeply I commh
ated their grief — how I respected the poor father, ii
the stern efforts he made to conceal from indiffei
spectators the anguish that weighed upon his mint
Tears are the best balm that can be applied to tl
/anguish of the heart. Religion teaches man to be<
>j » his sorrows with becoming fortitude, but tears contri
v t ute largely both to soften and to heal the wound*
Vrom whence they flow.
ALBrockville we took in a party of ladies, whi<
somewhat relieved the monotony of the cabin, and
was amused. by listening to their lively prattle, ai
the little gossip with which they strove to wile awa]
the tedium of the voyage. The day was too stormy
to go upon deck — thunder and lightning, accoi
panied with torrents of rain. Amid the confusion
the elements, I tried to get a peep at the Lake of tl
Thousand Isles; but the driving storm blended
objects into one, and I returned wet and disappointed
to my berth. We passed Kingston at midnight, am
lost all our lady passengers but two. The gale_cc
tinued until daybreak, and noise and confusion
vailed all night, which was greatly increased by tl
uproarious conduct of a wild Irish emigrant, who.
thought fit to make his bed upon the mat before the
cabin door. He sang, he shouted, he harangued his
countrymen on the political state of theEmerala Isle,
>m a style which was loud if not eloquent. Sleep was
limpossible whilst his stentorian lungs continued to
|)our forth torrents of unmeaning sound.
OUR JOURNEY UP THE COUNTRY
Our Dutch stewardess was highly enrage.^,, Hi,s
conduct, shesaid,"was perfectly ondacent"Sheopen-
"ed the door, and, bestowing upon him several kicks,
bade him get away " out of that," or she would com-
plain to the captain.
' In answer to this remonstrance, he caught her by
the foot, and pulled her down. Then, waving the tat-
tered remains of his straw hat in the air, he shouted
with an air of triumph, "Git out wid you, you ould
witch ! Shure the ladies, the purty darlints, never sent
f5u wid that ugly message to Pat, who loves them
so intirely that he means to kape watch over them
through the blessed night." Then, making us a lud-
icrous bow, he continued, "Ladies, I'm at yer sarvice;
iTfllry wish I could get a dispensation from the Pope,
and I'd marry yeas all." The stewardess bolted the
door, and the mad fellow kept up such a racket that
we all wished him at the bottom of the Ontario.
The following day was wet and gloomy. The storm
had protracted the length of our voyage for several
hours, and it was midnight whpq we landed —
CHAPTER FOUR
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
IV. TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
"Of all odd fellows, this fellow was the oddest. I have seen
many strange fish in my days, but I never met with his equal."
ABOUT A MONTH PREVIOUS TO OUR
emigration to Canada, my husband said to me, "You
need not expect me home to dinner to-day; I am go-
ing with my friend Wilson to Y - , to hear Mr.
C - lectureupon emigration to Canada. Hehasjust
returned from the North Americanprovinces,and his
lectures are attended by vast numbers of persons who
are anxious to obtain information on the subject. I
got a note from your friend B - this morning, beg-
ging me to come over and listen to his palaver; and
as Wilson thinks of emigrating in the spring, he will
be my walking companion."
" Tom Wilson going to Canada ! " said I , as the door
closed on m better-half. "What ah
he wiTrTriake! What a loss to the single ladies of
S - -f What will they do without him at their ball's
and picnics?"
"" One of my sisters, who was writing at a table near
me, was highly amused at this unexpected announce-
ment. Shefellbackin her chair and indulged ina long
and hearty laugh. I am certain that most of my read-
ers would have joined in her laugh had they known
the object which provoked her mirth. "Poor Tom is
such a dreamer," said my sister, " it would be an act of
charity in Moodie to persuade him from undertaking
such a wild-goose chase; only that I Jan cjr Jffjjyood
brother is possessed with the same mania."
"Nay, God forbid!" said I. "I hope this" Mr. - ,
with the unpronounceable name, will disgust them
* with nis eloquence; for B- - writes me word, in his
77
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
droll way, that he is a coarse, vulgar fellow, and lacks
the dignity of a bear. Oh! I am certain they will re-
turn quite sickened with the Canadian project." Thus
I laid the flattering unction to my soul, little dream-
ing that I and mine should share in the strange ad-
ventures of this oddest of all odd creatures.
It might be made a subject of curious inquiry, to
those who delight in human absurdities, if ever there
were a character drawn in works of fiction so extra-
vagantly ridiculous as some which daily experience
presents to our view. We have encountered people in
the broad thoroughfares of life more eccentric than
ever we read of in books; people who, if all their fool-
ish sayings and doingswere duly recorded, would vie
withthedrollestcreations of Hood or George Colman,
and put to shame the flights of Baron Munchausen.
Not that Tom Wilson was a romancer; oh no ! He was
the very prose of prose, a man in a mist, who seem-
ed afraid of moving about for fear of knocking his
head against a tree, and finding a halter suspended
to its branches — a man as helpless and as ir^cfolent
as a baby.
Mr. Thomas, or Tom Wilson, as he was familiarly
called by all his friends and acquaintances, was the
son of a gentleman who once possessed a large land-
ed property in the neighbourhood; but an extravag-
ant and profligate expenditure of the income which
he derived from a fine estate which had descended
from father to son through many generations had
greatly reduced the circumstances of the elder Wil-
son. Still,his family held a certain rank and standing
in their native county, of which his evil courses, bad
78
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
as they were, could not wholly deprive them. The
youngpeople — and a very large family they made of
sons and daughters, twelve in number — were objects
of interest and commiseration to all who knew them,
while the worthless father was j ustly held in contempt.
Our hero was the youngest of the six sons ; and from
his childhood hewas famous for his nothing- to-doish-
ness. He was too indolent to engage heart and soul
in the manly sports of his comrades ; and he never
thought it necessary to commence learning his les-
sons until the school had been in an hour. As he grew
up to man's estate, he might be seen dawdling about
in a black frock-coat, jean trousers, and white kid
gloves, making lazy bows to the pretty girls of his ac-
quaintance; or dressed in a green shooting-jacket,
with a gun across his shoulder, sauntering down the
wooded lanes, with a brown spaniel dodging at his
heels, and looking as sleepy and indolent as his
master.
Theslownessof all Tom's movements was strange-
ly contrasted with his slight, elegant, and symmetric-
al figure; that looked as if it only awaited the will
of the owner to be the most active piece of human
machinery that ever responded to the impulses of
youth and health. But then, his face! What pencil
could faithfully delineate features at once so comical
and lugubrious — features that one moment express-
ed the most solemn seriousness, and the next the
most grotesque and absurd abandonment to mirth?
In him, all extremes appeared to meet; the man was
a contradiction to himself. Tom was a person of few
words, and so intensely lazy that it required a strong
79
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
effort of will to enable him to answer the questions of
inquiring friends; and when at length aroused to ex-
ercise his colloquial powers, he performed the task in
so original a manner that it never failed to upset the
gravity of the interrogator. When he raised his large,
prominent, leaden-coloured eyes from the ground,
and looked the inquirer steadily in the face, the effect
was irresistible; the laugh would come — do your best
to resist it.
Poor Tom took this mistimed merriment in very
;good part, generally answering with a ghastly con-
Jtortion which he meant fora smile, or, if he did trouble
limself to find words, with, " Well, that's funny ! What
takes you laugh? At me, I suppose? I don't wonder
it it; I often laugh at myself."
would have been a treasure to an undertaker.
He would have been celebrated as a mute; he looked
as if he had been born in a shroud, and rocked in a cof-
fin. The gravity with which he could answer a ridicul-
ous or impertinent question completely disarmed and
turned the shafts of malice back upon his opponent.
If Tom was himself an object of ridicule to many, he
had a way of quietly ridiculing others that bade defi-
ance to all competition. He could quiz with a smile,
and put down insolence with an incredulous stare. A
grave wink from those dreamy eyes would destroy the
veracity of a travelled dandy for ever.
Tom was not without use in his day and generation ;
queer and awkward as he was, he was the soul of truth
and honour. You might suspect his sanity — a matter
always doubtful — but his honesty of heart and pur-
pose, never.
80
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
When you met Tom in the streets, he was dressed
with such neatness and care (to be sure it took him
half the day to make his toilet), that it led many per-
sons to imagine that this very ugly young man con-
sidered himself an Adonis; and I must confess that I
rather inclined to this opinion. He always paced the
public streets with a slow, deliberate tread, and with
his eyes fixed intently on the ground — likeaman who
had lost his ideas, and was diligently employed in
searching for them. I chanced to meet him one day in
this dreamy mood.
"How do you do, Mr. Wilson?" He stared at me
for several minutes, as if doubtful of my presence or
identity.
"What was that you said?"
I repeated the question ; and he answered, with one
of his incredulous smiles —
"Was it to me you spoke? Oh, I am quite well, or
I should not be walking here. By the way, did you
see my dog?"
"How should I know your dog?"
" Tfjey-yay he lusLlnbles^me. He's a queer dog, too ;
but I never could find out the likeness. Good night!"
This was at noonday; but Tom had a habit of tak-
ing light for darkness, and darkness for light, in all he
did or said. He must have had different eyes and ears,
and a different way of seeing, hearing, and compre-
hending, than is possessed by the generality of his spe-
cies; and to such a length did he carry this abstrac-
tion of soul and sense that he would often leave you
abruptly in the middle of a sentence; and if you chanc-
ed to meet him some weeks after, he would resume the
81 F
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
conversation with the very word at which he had cut
short the thread of your discourse.
A lady once told him in jest that her youngest bro-
ther, a lad of twelve years old, had called his donkey
Braham, in honour of the great singer of that name.
Tom made no answer, but started abruptly away.
Three months after, she happened to encounter him
on the same spot, when he accosted her, without any
previous salutation —
"You were telling me about a donkey, Miss ,
a donkey of your brother's — Braham, I think you
called him — yes, Braham; a strange name for an ass!
I wonder what the great Mr. Braham would say to
that Ha, ha, ha!"
"Your memory must be excellent, Mr. Wilson, to
enable you to remember such a trifling circumstance
all this time."
"Trifling, do you call it? Why, I have thought of
nothing else ever since."
' From traits such as these my readers will be tempt-
ed toimaginehim brother to the animal whohad dwelt
so long in his thoughts; but there were times when he
surmounted this strange absence of mind, and could
talk and act as sensibly as other folks.
On the death of his father, he emigrated to New
South Wales, where he contrived to doze away seven
years of his valueless existence, suffering his convict
servants to rob him of everything, and finally to burn
his dwelling. He returned to his native village,dress-
ed as an Italian mendicant, with a monkey perched
upon his shoulder, and playingairs of his own compos-
ition upon a hurdy-gurdy. In this disguise he sought
82
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
the dwelling of an old bachelor uncle, and solicited
his charity. But who that had once seen our friend Tom
could ever forget him ? Nature had no counterpart of
one who in mind and form was alike original. The
good-natured old soldier, at a glance, discovered his
hopeful nephew, received him into his house with kind-
ness, and had afforded him an asylum ever since.
One little anecdote of him at this period will illus-
trate the quiet love of mischief with which he was im-
bued. Travelling from W to London in the stage-
coach (railways were not invented in those days), he
entered into conversation with an intelligent farmer
who sat next him ; New South Wales,and his residence
in that colony, forming the leading topic. A Dissent-
ing minister who happened to be his vis-a-vis^ and
who had annoyed him by making several impertinent
remarks, suddenly asked him, with a sneer, how many
years he had been there.
"Seven," returned Tom, in a solemn tone, without
deigning a glance at his companion.
" I thought so," responded the other, thrusting his
hands into his breeches pockets. " And pray, sir, what
were you sent there for?"
" Stealingpigs," returned theincorrigibleTom,with
the gravity of a judge. The words were scarcely pro-
nounced when the questioner called the coachman to
stop, preferring a ride outside in the rain to a seat with-
in with a thief. Tom greatly enjoyed the hoax, which
he used to tell with the merriest of all grave faces.
Besides being adevoted admirer of the fair sex,and
always imagininghimself in love with some unattain-
able beauty, he had a passionate craze for music, and
83
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
played upon the violin and flute with considerable
taste and execution. Thesoundof a favourite melody
operated upon the breathing automaton like magic,
his frozen faculties experienced a sudden thaw,and the
stream of life leaped and gambolled for a while with
uncontrollable vivacity. He laughed, danced, sang,
and made love in a breath, committing a thousand
mad vagaries to make you acquainted with his ex-
istence.
My husband had a remarkably sweet-toned flute,
and this flute Tom regarded with a species of idol-
atry-
" I break the Tenth Commandment, Moodie, when-
ever I hear you play upon that flute. Take care of your
black wife" (a name he had bestowed upon the covet-
ed treasure), "or I shall certainly run off with her."
" I am half afraid of you, Tom. I am sure if I were
to die, and leave you my black wife as a legacy, you
would be too much overjoyed to lament my death."
•"Such was the strange, helpless, whimsical being
who contemplated an emigration to Canada. How
he succeeded in the speculation the sequel will show.
It was late in the evening before my husband and
his friend Tom Wilson returned from Y . I had
provided a hot supper and a cup of coffee after their
long walk, and they did ample justice to my care.
Tom was in unusually high spirits, and appeared
wholly bent upon his Canadian expedition.
Mr. C must have been very eloquent, Mr.
ilson,"said I, "to engage your attention for so many
hours."
" Perhaps he was," returned Tom, after a pause of
84
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
some minutes, during which he seemed to be grop-
ing for words in the salt-cellar, having deliberately \
turned out its contents upon the table-cloth. "We j
were hungry after our long walk, and he gave us an /
excellent dinner." <p
"But that had nothing to do with the substance of
his lecture."
"Itwasthesubstance,afterall,"saidMoodie,laugh-
ing; " and his audience seemed to think so, by the at-
tention they paid to it during the discussion. But
come, Wilson, give my wife some account of the in-
tellectual part of the entertainment."
"What! I — I — I — I give an account of the lect-
ure? Why, my dear fellow, I never listened to one
word of it!"
"I thought you went to Y on purpose to ob-
tain information on the subject of emigration to
Canada?""
." Welly-and-so I did ; but when the fellow pulled out
his pamphlet, and said that it contained the substance
of his lecture, and would only cost ashilling, I thought
that it was betterto secure the substance than endeav-
our to catch the shadow — so I bought the book, and
spared myself the pain of listening to the oratory of
the writer. Mrs.Moodie! he had a shocking delivery;
a drawling, vulgar voice; and he spoke with such &
''nasal twang that I could not bear to look at him or
listen to him. He made such grammatical blunders
that my sides ached with laughing at him. Oh, I wish
you could have seen the wretch ! But here is the docu-
ment, written in the same style in whichitwas spoken.
Read it; you have a rich treat in store."
85
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
CI took the pamphlet, not a little amused at his de-
cription of Mr. C , for whom I felt an uncharit-
,ble dislike.
" And how did you contrive to entertain yourself,
Mr. Wilson, during his long address?"
"By thinking how many fools were collected to-
gether, to listen to one greater than the rest By the
way, Moodie, did you notice Farmer Flitch?"
"No; where did he sit?"
" At the foot of the table. You must have seen him ;
he was too big to be overlooked. What a delightful
squint he had ! What a ridiculous likeness there was
between him and the roast pig he was carving ! I was
wondering all dinner-time how that man contrived to
cut up that pig; for one eye was fixed upon the ceil-
ing, and the other leering very affectionately at me.
Jtrwas very droll, was it not?"
"And what do you intend doing with yourself when
u arrive in Canada?" said I.
"Find out some large hollow tree, and live like
Bruin in the winter by sucking my paws. In the sum-
mer there will be plenty of mast and acorns to satisfy
the wants of an abstemious fellow."
"But, joking apart, my dear fellow," said my hus-
band, anxious to induce him to abandon a scheme so
hopeless, "do you think that you are at all qualified
for a life of toil and hardship?"
"Are you?" returned Tom, raising his large, bushy,
black eyebrows to the top of his forehead, and fixing
his leaden eyes steadfastly upon his interrogator, with
an air of such absurd gravity that we burst into a
hearty laugh.
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
"Now what do you laugh for? I am sure I asked
you a very serious question."
"But your method of putting it is so unusual that
you must excuse us for laughing."
"I don't want you to weep," said Tom; "but as to
our qualifications, Moodie, I think them pretty equal.
I know you think otherwise, but I will explain. Let
me see; what was I going to say? — ah, I have it!
You go with the intention of clearing land, and work-
ing for yourself, and doing a great deal. I have tried
that before in New South Wales, and I know that it
won't answer. Gentlemenj^ajiVwjDrJcJ^^
is not in them,ind
find outYoujxpect,
ada, to make your fortune, or atJfiast securea com-(
fortaBle independence. I anticipate no such results ;^
~ye1^fnean~td go, parity out of a whim, partly to satis-
fy my curiosity whether it is a better country than
New South Wales ; and lastly, in the hope of better-
ing my condition in a small way, which at present is
so bad that it can scarcely be worse. I mean to pur-
chase a farm with the three hundred pounds I received
last week from thesale of my
M
if the^anadian soil yields only half what Mr. C- ;
says it does^I jiejjdjio£s£arvF!. Jfot ffee-fefined habits
in which you have been brought up, and your unfort-
unate literary propensities — (I say unfortunate, be-
cause you will seldom meet people in a colony who
can or will sympathize with you in these pursuits) —
they will make you an object of mistrust and envy to
those who cannot appreciate them, and will be a
source of constant mortification and disappointment
87
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
to yourself. Thank God! I have no literary propen-
sities; but, in spite of the latter advantage, in all prob-
ability I shall make no exertion at all ; so that your
energy, damped by disgust and disappointment, and
my laziness will end in the same thing, and we shall
6both return like bad pennies to our native shores,
lut, as I have neither wife nor child to involve in my
failure, I think, without much self-flattery, that my
>rospects are better than yours."
This was the longest speech I ever heard Tom
utter; and, evidently astonished at himself, he sprang
up abruptly from the table, overset a cup of coffee in-
to my lap, and, wishing us good day (it was eleven o'-
clock at night), he ran out of the house.
There was more truth in poor Tom's words than al
that moment we were willing to allow; for youth am
hope were on our side in those days, and we were most
ready to believe the suggestions of the latter.
My husba^-fraallydeterminedto emigratejto^an-
a4a, and in the hurry and Bustle~bTaTudden prepar-
'ation to depart, Tom and his affairs for a while wen
forgotten.
** How dark and heavily did that frightful antici]
ation weigh upon my heart ! As the time for our d(
parture drew near, the thought of leaving my friends
and native land became so intensely painful that il
haunted me even in sleep. I seldom awoke without
finding my pillow wet with tears. The glory of
was upon the earth — of an English May. The wood*
were bursting into leaf, the meadows andhedgero\
were flushed with flowers, and every grove and cops
wood echoed to the warblings of birds and the hum-
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
ming of bees. To leave England at all was dreadfuf /
— to leave her at such a season was doubly so. I wen A
to take a last look at the old Hall, the beloved home/
of my childhood and youth ; to wander once more be-/
neath the shades of its venerable oaks — to rest oncer
more upon the velvet sward that carpeted their roots.
It was while reposing beneath those noble trees that
I had first indulged in those delicious dreams which
are a foretaste of the enjoyments of the spirit-land.
In them the soul breathes forth its aspirations in a
language unknown to common minds; and that lang-
uage is Poetry. Here annually, from year to year, I
had renewed my friendship with the first primroses
and violets, and listened with the untiring ear of love
to the spring roundelay of the blackbird, whistled
from among his bower of May blossoms. Here I had
discoursed sweet words to the tinkling brook, and
learned from the melody of waters the music of nat-
ural sounds. In these beloved solitudes all the holy
emotions which stir the human heart in its depths had
been freely poured forth, and found a response in the
harmonious voice of Nature, bearing aloft the choral
song of earth to the throne of the Creator.
How hard it was to tear myself from scenes en-
deared to me by the most beautiful and sorrowful re-
collections, let those who have loved and suffered as
I did say. However the world has frowned upon me,
Nature, arrayed in her green loveliness, had ever smil-
ed upon me like an indulgent mother, holding out her
loving arms to enfold to her bosom her erring but de-
voted child.
£nglandl,w,hyr\w^l-ibj:ced,by.a.stai:n
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
necessity to leave you? What heinous crimejiacn
committed that Jfpiyho _adnrpH_ynn should baJprn
from your sacred bosom, to pine out rnyjoyless exist-
\ encejn a for eignc lime? Ohj:hat I might be permit-
' ted to return and dieuponyour wave-encircledshores,
and resTmy weary headundheart beneath your daisy-
covered sod at last! Ah, these are vain outbursts of
feeling — melancholy relapses of the springhome-sick-
ness! Canada! thou art a noble,free, and rising coun-
try— trie~greaTfostering_ mother jrf the orphans of jijy-
. The offspring of Britain, thou must be great,
and dolove
*"" — M ^ '— ~
gf my children's birth; and oh — dearer still to a mo-
ther's heart — lanef of their graves !
******
Whilsttalking over our comingseparation with my
sister C , we observed Tom Wilson walking slow-
ly up the path that led to the house. He was dressed
in a new shooting-jacket, with his gun lying careless-
ly across his shoulder, and an ugly pointer dog fol-
lowing at a little distance.
"Well, Mrs. Moodie, I am off," said Tom, shak-
ing hands with my sister instead of me. " I suppose
I shall see Moodie in London. What do you think of
my dog?" patting him affectionately.
" I think him an ugly beast," said C . " Do you
mean to take him with you?"
"An ugly beast ! — Duchess a beast? Why, she is a
perfect beauty! — Beauty and the beast! Ha, ha, ha!
I gave two guineas for her last night." (I thought of
the old adage.) " Mrs. Moodie, your sister is no judge
of a dog."
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
" Very likely," returned C , laughing. " And you
go to town to-night, Mr. Wilson? I thought as you
came up to the house that you were equipped for
shooting."
"To be sure; there is capital shooting in Canada."
" So I have heard — plenty of bears and wolves. I
suppose you take out your dog and gun in anticip-
ation?"
"True," said Tom.
" But you surely are not going to take that dog with
you ? "
"Indeed I am. She is a most valuable brute. The
very best venture I could take. My brother Charles
has engaged our passage in the same vessel."
" It would be a pity to part you," said I. " May you
prove as lucky a pair as Whittington and his cat."
" Whittington ! Whittington !" said Tom, staringat
my sister, and beginning to dream, which he invari-
ably did in the company of women. "Who was the
gentleman?"
" A very old friend of mine, one whom I have known
since I was a very little girl," said my sister; "but I
have not time to tell you more about him now. If you
go to St. Paul's Churchyard, and inquire for Sir Rich-
ard Whittington and his cat, you will get his history
for a mere trifle."
" Do not mind her, Mr. Wilson ; she is quizzing you,"
quoth I . " I wish youajsafe voyage acrossjhe^Atlant-
ic; I wish 1 could aHoTa happy meeting with your
friends. But where shall we find friends in a strange
land?"
" All in good time," said Tom. " I hope to have the
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
pleasure of meeting you in the backwoojte of Canada
before th7elTm6litfis~ln:e^^ we
shall have to tell one another! It will be capital. Good-
bye."
******
"Tom has sailed," said Captain Charles Wilson,
stepping into my little parlour a few days after his ec-
centric brother's last visit. "I saw him and Duchess
safe on board. Odd as he is, I parted with him with a
full heart ; I felt as if we never should meet again.
Poor Tom ! he is the only brother left me now that I
can love. Robert and I never agreed very well, and
there is little chance of our meeting in this world. He
is married, and settled down for life in New South
Wales ; and the rest — John, Richard, George — are all
gone — all!"
"Was Tom in good spirits when you parted?"
"Yes. He is a perfect contradiction. He always
laughs and cries in the wrong place. 'Charles,' he said,
with a loud laugh, ' tell the girls to get some new mus-
ic against I return : and, hark ye ! if I never come back,
I leave them my Kangaroo Waltz as a legacy.'"
"What a strange creature!"
" Strange, indeed ; you don't know half his oddities.
He has very little money to take out with him, but he
actually paid for two berths in the ship, that he might
not chance to have a person who snored sleep near
him. Thirty pounds thrown away upon the mere
chance of a snoring companion! ' Besides, Charles,'
quoth he, 'I cannot endure to share my little cabin
with others ; they will use my towels, and combs, and
brushes, like that confounded rascal who slept in the
92
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
same berth with me coming from New South Wales,
who had the impudence to clean his teeth with my
tooth-brush. Here I shall beall alone, happy and com-
fortable as a prince, and Duchess shall sleep in the
after-berth, and be my queen.' And so we parted,"
continued Captain Charles. "May God take care of
him, for he never could take care of himself."
"That puts me in mind of the reason he gave for
not going with us. He was afraid that my baby would
keep him awake of a night.
says that he never will marry on mat account.
We left£h^British shores^n
cast amAoi%as niaveistready shown, under the CastJe-~
of St. Louis, at Quebec, on the 2nd of^Sggtember 1832.
Tom Wilson sailed the 1st of Mayf and had a speedy^
passage, and was, as we heard from his friends, com- u
JVirJjibly ?fttt1fld in^thebush, had bought a farm, an 5 <H
meant to commence operations in the fall. All this V ^j
was good news, and as he was settled near my bro-
ther's location, we congratulated ourselves that our
eccentric friend had found a home in the wilderness
at last, and that we should soon see him again.
On the 9th of September, the steam-boat William
IV. landed us at the then small but rising town of
- , on Lake Ontario. The night was dark and rainy ;
the boat was crowded with emigrants; and when we
arrived at the inn, we learnt that there was no room
for us — not a bed to be had; nor was it likely, owing
to the number of strangers that had arrived for sever-
al weeks, that we could obtain one by searching far-
ther. Moodie requested the use of a sofa forme during
93
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the night; but even that produced a demur from the
landlord. Whilst I awaited the result in a passage
crowded with strange faces, a pair of eyes glanced up-
on me through the throng. Was it possible? — could
it be Tom Wilson ? Did any other human being possess
such eyes,or use them in such an eccentric manner? In
another second he had pushed his way to my side, whis-
pering in my ear, "We met, 'twas in a crowd."
"Tom Wilson, is that you?"
"Do you doubt it? I flatter myself that there is no
likeness of such a handsome fellow to be found in the
world. It is I, I swear! — although very little of me is
left to swear by. The best part of me I have left to
fatten the mosquitoes and black flies in that infernal
bush. But where is Moodie? "
"There he is — trying to induce Mr. S , for love
or money, to let me have a bed for the night."
"You shall have mine," said Tom. "I can sleep up-
on the floorof the parlour in a blanket, Indian fashion.
It's a bargain — I'll go and settle it with the Yankee
directly; he's the best fellow in the world! In the
meanwhile here is a little parlour, which is a joint-
stock affair between some of us young hopefuls for
the time being. Step in here, and I will go for Moodie.
I long to tell him what I think of this confounded
country. But you will find it out all in good time;"
and, rubbing his hands together with a most lively
and mischievous expression, he shouldered his way
through trunks, and boxes, and anxious faces, to com-
municate to my husband the arrangement he had so
kindly made for us.
"Accept this gentleman's offer, sir, till to-morrow,"
94
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
said Mr. S ; " I can then make more comfortable
arrangementsfor your family. But we are crowded —
crowded to excess. My wife and daughters are oblig-
ed to sleep in a little chamber over the stable, to give
our guests more room. Hard that, I guess, for decent
people to locate over the horses."
These matters settled, Moodie returned with Tom
Wilson to the little parlour, in which I had already
made myself at home.
"Well, now, is it not funny that I should be the first
to welcome you to Canada?" said Tom.
"But what are you doing here, my dear fellow?"
"Shaking every day with the ague. But I could
laugh in spite of my teeth to hear them make such a
confounded rattling ; you would think they were all
quarrelling which should first get out of my mouth.
This shaking mania forms one of thechief attractions
of this new country."
" I fear,"said I,remarkinghow thin and pale hehad
become, "that this climate cannot agree with you."
" Nor I with the climate. Well,we shall soon be quits,
for, to let you into a secret, I am now on my way to
England."
"Impossible!"
"It is true."
"And the farm — what have you done with it?"
"Sold it."
"And your outfit?"
" Sold that too."
"To whom?"
"To one who will take better care of both than I
did. Ah ! such a country ! — such people ! — such rogues !
95
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
It beats Australia hollow: you know your customers
there — but here you have to find them out. Such a
take-in ! — God forgive them ! I never could take care
of money; and, one way or other, they have cheated
me out of all mine. I have scarcely enough left to pay
my passage home. But, to provide against the worst,
I have bought a young bear, a splendid fellow, to
make my peace with my uncle. You must see him ; he
is close by in the stable."
"To-morrow we will pay a visit to Bruin; but to-
night do tell us something about yourself, and your
residence in the Bush."
"You will know enough about the Bushby-and-by.
I am a bad historian," he continued, stretching out
his legs, and yawning horribly, "a worse biographer.
I never can find words to relate facts. But I will try
what I can do. Mind, don't laugh at my blunders."
We promised to be serious — no easy matter while
looking at and listening to Tom Wilson ; and he gave
us, at detached intervals, the following account of him-
self:—
" My troubles began at sea. We had a fair voyage,
and all that; but my poor dog, my beautiful Duchess!
— that beauty in the beast — died. I wanted to read
the funeral service over her, but the captain interfered
— the brute! — and threatened to throw me into the
sea along with the dead bitch, as the unmannerly ruf-
fian persisted in calling my canine friend. I never
spoke to him again during the rest of the voyage.
Nothing happened worth relating until I got to this
place, where I chanced to meet a friend who knew
your brother, and I went up with him to the woods.
96
I
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
Most of the wise men of Gotham we met on the road
were bound to the woods; so I felt happy that I was,
at least, in the fashion. Mr. was very kind, and
spoke in raptures of the woods, which formed the
theme of conversation during our journey — their
beauty, their vastness, the comfort and independence
enjoyed by those who had settled in them ; and he so
inspired me with the subject that I did nothing all
day but sing as we rode along —
'A life in the woods for me;'
until we came to the woods, and then I soon learned
to sing that same, as the Irishman says, on the other
side of my mouth."
Here succeeded a long pause, during which friend
Tom seemed mightily tickled with his reminiscences,
for he leaned back in his chair, and, from time to time,
gave way to loud, hollow bursts of laughter.
"Tom, Tom! are you going mad?" said my hus-
band, shaking him.
" I never was sane, that I know of," returned he.
" You know that it runs in the family. But do let me
have my laugh out. The woods! Ha! ha! When I
used to be roaming through those woocls,
though riot a thin^^nMJ-evgrflndLto sEoot^fbr
and^easls are not such fools asour KngUsh-emigrajvts
— and I chanced to think of you coming to spend the
rest of your lives in the woods — I usect~to~stop, and
hold my sides,lihd laugh untTTthe woods rang again
It was the only consolation I had."
"Good heavens!" said I, "let us never go to the
woods."
"You will repent if you do," continued Tom. "But
97 G
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
let me proceed on my journey. My bones were well-
nigh dislocated before we got to D . The roads
for the last twelve miles were nothing but a succes-
sion of mud-holes, covered with the most ingenious in-
vention ever thought of for racking the limbs, called
corduroy bridges; not breeches, mind you, — for I
thought, whilst jolting up and down over them, that I
should arrive at my destination minus that indispens-
able covering. It wasnight when we got to Mr. 's
place. -I was tired and hungry, my face disfigured
and blistered by the unremitting attentions of the
black flies that rose in swarms from the river. I
thought to get a private room to wash and dress in, |
but there is no such thing as privacy in this country.
In the bush,all things are in common ; you cannot even
get a bed without having to share it with a compan-
ion. A bed on the floor in a public sleeping-room !
/ Think of that; a public sleeping-room! — men, women,
) -and children, only divided by a paltry curtain. Oh, ye
gods! thinkof the snoring, squalling, grumbling,puff-
ing; thinkof the kicking, elbowing, and crowding; the
suffocating heat, the mosquitoes, with their infernal
buzzing — and you will form some idea of the misery I
endured the first night of my arrival in the bush.
"But these are not half the evils with which you
have to contend. You are pestered with nocturnal visit-
ants far more disagreeable than even the mosquitoes,
and must put up with annoyances more disgusting
than the crowded close room. And then, to appease
the cravings of hunger, fatpork is served to you three
times a day. No wonder that the Jews eschewed the
vileanimal ; they were people of taste. Pork, morning,
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
noon, and night, swimming in its own grease! The
bishop who complained of partridges every day should
have been condemned to three months' feeding upon
pork in the bush; and he would have become an an-
chorite, to escape the horrid sight of swine's flesh for
ever spread before him. No wonder I am thin ; I have
been starved — starved upon pritters and pork, and
that disgusting specimen of unleavened bread, yclep.t
cakes in the pan.
"I had such a horror of the pork diet, that whenever
I saw the dinner in progress I fled to the canoe, in the
hope of drowning upon the waters all reminiscences
of the hateful banquet ; but even here the very fowls
of the air and the reptiles of the deep lifted up their
voices, and shouted, 'Pork, pork, pork!'"
M - remonstrated with his friend for deserting
the country for such minor evils as these, which, after
all, he said, could easily be borne.
"Easily borne!" exclaimed the indignant Wilson.
" Go and try them ; and then tell me that. I did try to
bear them with a good grace, but it would not do. I off-
ended every body with my grumbling. Jhyas_.canstafrt-
lyreminded-by the ladies of the house that gentlemen
should not come to this country without theyjwere
able to putjaj^wjXhjL^^-iiiconYenieiice; that I should
make as good a settler as a butterfly in a beehive^fiaf
it was impossible to be nice about food and dress in the
bush ; Thaf~ppnplf»
content to be shabby and dirty, like their
neighbours jn the bush— until that horrid word bush
became synonymous with all that was hateful and re-
volting in my mind,
99
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" It was impossible to keep anything to myself.
The children pulled,my bipoks to pieces to look at the
pictures; and anN^mpud^nt, bare-legged Irish servant
girl took my toweis^o wipe the dishes with, and my
clothes-brush to black the shoes — an operation which
she performed with a mixture of soot and grease. I
thought I should be better off in a place of my own, so I
bought a wild farm that was recommended to me,arur
t paicFfoFIFclouble what it waTworth. WhenTcame to
e^aimne my^estate^Tlbuncl therejwafl^pTiouse upon
it, and fshould have to wait until the fall to get one put
up, and a few acres cleared for aaltivatiojn. I was glad
to returrrto my old quarters!
"Finding nothing to shoot in the woods, I deter-
mined to amuse myself with fishing; but Mr.
could not always lend his canoe, and there was no
other to be had. To pass away the time, I set about
making one. I bought an axe, and went to the forest
to select a tree. About a mile from the lake, I found
the largest pine I ever saw. I did not much like to try
my maiden hand upon it, for it was the first and the
last tree I ever cut down. But to it I went; and I
blessed God that it reached the ground without kill-
ing me in its way thither. When I was about it, I
thought I might as well make the canoe big enough;
but the bulk of the tree deceived me in the length of
my vessel, and I forgot to measure the one that be-
longed to Mr. . It took me six weeks hollowing
it out, and when it was finished, it was as long as a
sloop-of-war, and too unwieldy for all the oxen in the
township to draw it to the water. After all my labour,
my combats with those wood-demons the black-flies,
100
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
sand-flies, and mosquitoes, my boat remains a useless
j monument of my industry. And worse than this, the
fatigue I had endured, while working at it late and
j early, brought on the ague; which so disgusted me
| with the country that I sold my farm and all my traps
for an old song; purchased Bruin to bear me company
on my voyage home; and the moment I am able to
get rid of this tormenting fever, I am off."
Argument and remonstrance were alike in vain, he
could not be dissuaded from his purpose. Tom was
as obstinate as his bear.
The next morning he conducted us to the stable to
see Bruin. The young denizen of the forest was tied
to the manger, quietly masticating a cob of Indian
i corn, which he held in his paw, and looked half human
;as he sat upon his haunches, regarding us with a sol-
emn, melancholy air. There was an extraordinary
j likeness, quite ludicrous, between Tom and the bear.
We said nothing, but exchanged glances. Tom read
our thoughts.
"Yes," said he, "there is a strong resemblance; I
saw it when I bought him. Perhaps we are brothers;"
and taking in his hand the chain that held the bear, he
bestowed upon him sundry fraternal caresses, which
the ungrateful Bruin returned with low and savage
growls.
"He can't flatter. He's all truth and sincerity. A
child of nature, and worthy to be my friend ; the only
anadian I ever mean to acknowledge as such."
About an hour after this, poor Tom was shaking
with ague, which in a few days reduced him so low
hat I began to think he never would see his native
101
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
shores again. He bore the affliction very philosoph-
ically, and all his well days he spent with us.
One day my husband was absent, having accom-
panied Mr. S to inspect a farm, which he after-
wards purchased, and I had to get through the long
day in the best manner I could. The local papers were
soon exhausted. At that period, they possessed little
or no interest for me. I was astonished and disgusted
at the abusive manner in which they were written, the
freedom of the press being enjoyed to an extent in
this province unknown in more civilized commun-
ities.
Men, in Canada, may call one another rogues and
miscreants, in the most approved Billingsgate, thro-
ugh the medium of the newspapers, which are a sort
of safety-valve to let off all the bad feelings and mal-
ignant passions floating through the country, without
any dread of the horsewhip. Hence it is the common-
est thing in the world to hear one editor abusing, like
a pickpocket, an opposition brother; calling him a
reptile — a crawling thing — a calumniator — a hired
vendor of lies; and his paper a smut-machine — a vile
engine of corruption, as base and degraded as the pro-
prietor, &c. Of this description was the paper I now
held in my hand, which had the impudence to style it-
self the Reformer — not of morals or manners, certain-
ly, if one might judge by the vulgar abuse that defiled
every page of the precious document. I soon flung it
from me, thinking it worthy of the fate of many a
better production in the olden times, that of being
burned by the common hangman ; but, happily, the
office of hangman has become obsolete in Canada, and
/ 102
i
TOM WILSON'S EMIGRATION
the editors of these refined journals may go on abusing
their betters with impunity.
Books I had none, and I wished that Tom would
makehis appearance,and amuse mewith his oddities;
but he had suffered so much from the ague the day
before that when he did enter the room to lead me to
dinner, he looked like a walking corpse — the dead
among the living! so dark, so livid, so melancholy, it
was really painful to look upon him.
" I hope the ladies who frequent the ordinary won't
fall in love with me," said he, grinning at himself in
the miserable looking-glass that formed the case of
the Yankee clock, and was ostentatiously displayed
on a side table; " I look quite killing to-day. What a
comfort it is, Mrs. M , to be above all rivalry."
In the middle of dinner, the company was disturbed
by the entrance of a person who had the appearance
of a gentleman, but who was evidently much flustered
with drinking. He thrust his chair in between two
gentlemen who sat near the head of the table, and in
a loud voice demanded fish.
" Fish, sir? " said the obsequious waiter, a great fav-
ourite with all persons who frequented the hotel;
" there is no fish, sir. There was a fine salmon, sir, had
you come sooner; but 'tis all eaten, sir."
"Then fetch me something, smart!"
"I'll see what I can do, sir," said the obliging Tim,
hurrying out.
Tom Wilson was at the head of the table, carving a
roast pig, and was in the act of helping a lady, when
the rude fellow thrust his fork into the pig, calling out
as he did so —
103
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" Hold, sir ! give me some of that pig ! You have eat-
en among you all the fish, and now you are going to
appropriate the best parts of the pig."
Tom raised his eyebrows, and stared at the stran-
ger in his peculiar manner, then very coolly placed the
whole of the pig on his plate. " I have heard," he said,
"of dog eating dog, but I never before saw pig eating
"Sir! do you mean to insult me? "cried the strang-
er, his face crimsoning with anger.
"Only to tell you, sir, that you are no gentleman.
Here, Tim," turning to the waiter, "go to the stable
and bring in my bear; we will place him at the table
to teach this man howtp^bejiay^Lhiiiiselilin the pres-
ence oFTacfieir*'
A geiieidl uproar ensued; the women left the table,
while the entrance of the bear threw the gentlemen
present into convulsions of laughter. It was too much
for the human biped ; he was forced to leave the room,
and succumb to the bear.
My husband concluded his purchase of the fan
and invited Wilson to go with us into the country an<
try if change of air would be beneficial to him; for ii
jiis thgnjveak state it was impossibie^oi4rrm-fc
turn to England. His funds were getting very lo\
^~^nb!~Tum-4hankfully accepted the offer. Leaving
Bruin in the charge of Tim (who delighted in the odd-
ities of the strange English gentleman), Tom made
one of our party to .
CHAPTER FIVE
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT, AND THE
BORROWING SYSTEM
CHAPTER V. OUR FIRST SETTLE-
MENT, & THE BORROWING SYSTEM
To lend, or not to lend — is that the question ?
"THOSE WHO GO A-BORROWING, GO A-
sorrowing," saith the old adage ; and a wiser saw never
came out of the mouth of experience. J[ have tested
the truth of this proverb since my settlement in Can-
ada, many, many timesTto my cost; and what emi-
grant has not? So averse have I ever been to this prac-
tice, that I would at all times rather quietly submit
to a temporary inconvenience than obtain anything I
wanted in this manner. I verily believe that a demon
of mischief presides over borrowed goods, and takes
a wicked pleasure in playing off a thousand malicious
pranks upon you the moment he enters your dwelling.
Plates and dishes, that had been the pride and orna-
ment of their own cupboard for years, no sooner enter
upon foreign service than they are broken; wine-glasses
and tumblers, that have been handled by a hundred
careless wenches in safety, scarcely pass into the
hands of your servants when they are sure to tumble
upon the floor, and the accident turns out a compound
fracture. If you borrow a garment of any kind, be
sure that you will tear it; a watch, that you will break
it; a jewel, that you will lose it; a book, that it will be
stolen from you. There is no end to the trouble and
vexation arising out of this 'evil habit. If you borrow
a horse, and he has the reputation of being the best-
behaved animal in the district, you no sooner become
responsible for his conduct than he loses his char-
acter. The moment that you attempt to drive him,
he shows that he has a will of his own, by taking the
reins into his own management, and running away in
107
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
a contrary direction to the road that you wished him
to travel. He never gives over his eccentric capers
until he has broken his own knees, and the borrowed
carriage and harness. So anxious are you about his
safety, that you have not a moment to bestow upon
your own. And why? — the beast is borrowed, and
you are expected to return him in as good condition
as he came to you.
But of all evils, to borrow money is perhaps the
worst. If of a friend, he ceases to be one the moment
you feel thatyou are bound to him by the heavy clog of
obligation. If of a usurer, the interest, in this country,
soon doubles the original sum, and you owe an increas-
ing debt, which in time swallows up all you possess.
When we first came to the colony, nothing surpris-
ed me more than the extent to which this pernicious
custom was carried, both by the native Canadians,
the European settlers, and the lower order of Americ-
ans. Many of the latter had spied out the goodness
e of the land, and borrowed various portions of it, with-
out so much as asking leave of the absentee owners.
Unfortunately, our new home was surrounded by
these odious squatters, whom we found as ignorant
as savages, without their courtesy and kindness.
The place we first occupied was purchased of Mr.
B , a merchant, who 'took it in payment of sun-
dry large debts which the owner, ^^New England
loyalist, had been unable to settle. Old J6e"R ,
the present occupant, had promised to quit it with his
family, at the commencement of sleighing; and as the
bargain was concluded in the month of September,
and we were anxious to plough for fall wheat, it was
108
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
necessary to be upon the spot. No housi- was to be
found in the immediate neighbourhood, save a small
dilapidated log tenement,on an adjoiningfarm (which /
was scarcely reclaimed from the bush) that had been
some months without an owner. The merchant as-
sured us that this could be made very comfortable
until such time as it suited R to remove, and the
owner was willing to let us have it for the moderate
sum of four dollars a month.
Trusting to Mr. B 's word, and being strangers
in the land, we never took the precaution to examine
this delightful summer residence before entering up-
on it, but thought ourselves very fortunate in obtain-
ing a temporary home so near our own property, the
distance not exceeding half a mile. The agreement
was drawn up, and we were told that we could take
possession whenever it suited us.
._ The few weeks that I had sojourned in the country (
had by no means prepossessed me in its favour. The ;
home-sickness was sore upon me, and all my solitary
hours were spent in tears. My whole soul yielded itself
up to a strong and overpowering grief. One simple
word dwelt for ever in my heart, and swelled it to burst-
ing— "Home!" I repeated it waking a thousand times
aday,andmylastprayerbeforelsanktosleepwasstill
" Home ! Oh, that I could return, if only to die at
home!" And nightly I did return; my feet again trod i
the daisied meadows of England ; the songof her birds
was in my ears; I wept with delight to find myself
once more wandering beneath the fragrant shade of
her green hedge-rows; and I awoke to weep in earnest
when I found it but a dream. But this is all digression,
109
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
and has nothing to do with our unseen dwelling. The
reader must bear with me in my fits of melancholy,
and take me as I am.
*v— -.
It was the 22nd September that we left the Steam-
boat Hotel, to take possession of our new abode. Dur-
ing the three weeks we had sojourned at , I had
not seen a drop of rain, and I began to think that the
fine weather would last for ever; but this eventful day
arose in clouds. Moodie had hired a covered carriage
\ to convey the baby, the servant-maid, and myself to
the farm, as our driver prognosticated a wet day ;
while he followed with Tom Wilson and the teams
that conveyed our luggage.
The scenery through which we were passing was
so new to me, so unlike anything that I had ever be-
held before, that, in spite of its monotonous charac-
ter, it won me from my melancholy, and I began to
.- ( look about me with considerable interest. Not so my
English servant, who declared that the woods were
< frightful to look upon ; that it was a country only fit
lor wild beasts; that she hated it with all her heart
and soul, and would go back as soon as she was able.
About a mile from the place of our destination the
rain began to fall in torrents, and the air, which had
been balmy as a spring morning, turned as chilly as
that of a November day. Hannah shivered ; the baby
cried, and I drew my summer shawl as closely round
as possible, to protect her from the sudden change in
our hitherto delightful temperature. Just then, the car-
riage turned into a narrow, steep path, overhung with
lofty woods, and, after labouring up it with consider-
able difficulty, and at the risk of breaking our necks, it
no
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
brought us at length to a rocky upland clearing, part-
ially covered with a second growth of timber, and
surrounded on all sides by the dark forest.
"I guess," quoth our Yankee driver, "that at the
bottom of this 'ere swell you'll find yourself to kum\"
and plunging into a short path cut through the wood,
he pointed to a miserable hut, at the bottom of a steep
descent, and cracking his whip, exclaimed, " 'Tis a
smart location that. I wish you Britishers may enjoy
it.-
I gazed upon the place in perfect dismay, for I had
never seen such a shed called a house before. " You
must be mistaken; that is not a house, but a cattle-
shed, or pig-sty."
The man turned his knowing, keen eye upon me, and
smiled,half-humorously,half-maliciously,ashesaid —
"You were raised in the old country, I guess ; you **
have much to learn, and more, perhaps, than you'll
like to know, before the winter is over."
I was perfectly bewildered — I could only stare at
the place, with my eyes swimming in tears; but, as the
horses plunged down into the broken hollow, my at-
tention was drawn from my new residence to the perils
which endangered life and limb at every step. The
driver, however, was well used to such roads, and,
steering as dexterously between the black stumps,at
length drove up, not to the door, for there was none
to the house, but to the open space from which that
absent, but very necessary, appendage had been re-
moved. Three young steers and two heifers, which the
driver proceeded to drive out, were quietly reposing
upon the floor. A few strokes of his whip, and a loud
in
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
burst of gratuitous curses, soon effected an ejectment;
and I dismounted, and took possession of this unten-
able tenement. Moodie was not yet in sight with the
teams. I begged the man to stay until he arrived, as
I felt terrified at being left alone in this wild, strange-
looking place. He laughed, as well he might, at our
fears, and said he had a long way to go, and must be
off; then, cracking his whip, and nodding to the girl,
who was crying aloud, he went his way, and Hannah
and myself were left standing in the middle of the
dirty floor.
The prospect was indeed dreary. Without, pour-
ing rain; within, a fireless hearth; a room with but
one window, and that containing only one whole
pane of glass; not an article of furniture to be seen,
save an old painted pine-wood cradle, which had been
leftthereby some freak of fortune. This, turned upon
its side, served us for a seat, and there we impatient-
ly awaited the arriva^nf MooHt'p^Wt'lsnr^ and a man
whomtKe lormer Had hired that morning to assist on
the farm. Where they were all to be stowed might
have puzzled a more sagacious brain than mine. It
is true there was a loft, but I could see no way ot
reaching it, for ladder there was none, so we amused
ourselves, while waiting for the coming of our party,
by abusing the place, the country, and our own dear
Ives for our folly in coming to it.
Now, when not only reconciled to Canada,but lov-
ing it, arfcT feeling a deeplnterest Tn^ts_4?jssent^
fare, and trie fair prospect ot itsYuture greatness,
qften look back and laugh at the feeH«gs-wttrrwhi<
I then regarded this noble country.
m~~~- " us
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
When things come to the worst, they generally
mend. The males of our party no sooner arrived than
they set about making things more comfortable.
James, our servant, pulled up some of the decayed
stumps, with which the small clearing that surround-
ed the shanty was thickly covered, and made a fire,
and Hannah roused herself from the stupor of de-
spair, seized the corn-broom from the top of the load-
ed waggon, and began to sweep the house, raising
such an intolerable cloud of dust that I was glad to
throw my cloak over my head, and run out of doors,
to avoid suffocation. Then commenced the awful
bustle of unloading the two heavily loaded waggons.
The small space within the house was soon entirely
blocked up with several trunks and packages of all de-
scriptions. There was scarcely room to move, with-
out stumbling over some article of household stufE
The rain poured in at the open door, beat in at the
shattered window, and dropped upon our heads from
the holes in the roof. The wind blew keenly through
a thousand apertures in the log walls; and nothing
could exceed the uncomfortableness of our situation.
For a long time the box which contained a hammer
and nails was not to be found. At length Hannah
discovered it, tied up with some bedding which she
was opening out in order to dry. I fortunately spied
the door lying among some old boards at the back of
the house, and Moodie immediately commenced fit-
ting it to its place. This, once accomplished, was a
great addition to our comfort. We then nailed a piece
of white cloth entirely over the broken window, which,
without diminishing the light, kept out the rain.
113 H
rROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
j ames constructed a ladder out of the old bits of
boards, and Tom Wilson assisted him in stowing the
luggage away in the loft.
But what has this picture of misery and discomfort
to do with borrowing? Patience,mydear,good friends;
I will tell you all about it by-and-by.
While we were all busily employed — even the poor
baby, who was lying upon a pillow in the old cradle,
trying the strength of her lungs, and not a little irrit-
ated that no one was at leisure to regard her laud-
able endeavours to make herself heard — the door was
suddenly pushed open, and the apparition of a woman
squeezed itself into the crowded room. I left off ar-
ranging the furniture of abed, that had been just put
up in a corner, to meet my unexpected, and at that
moment, not very welcome guest. Her whole appear-
ance was so extraordinary that I felt quite at a loss
how to address her.
Imagine a girl of seventeen or eighteen years of
age, with sharp, knowing-looking features, a forward,
impudent carriage, and a pert, flippant voice, stand-
ing upon one of the trunks, and surveyingall our pro-
ceedings in the most impertinent manner. The creat-
ure was dressed in a ragged, dirty purple stuff gown,
cut very lowin the neck, with an old red cotton hand-
kerchief tied over her head; her uncombed, tangled
locks falling over her thin, inquisitive face, in a state
of perfect nature. Her legs and feet were bare, and,
in her coarse, dirty red hands, she swung to and fro
an empty glass decanter.
"What can she want?" I asked myself. "What a
strange creature ! "
114
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
And there she stood, staring at me in the most un-
ceremonious manner, her keen black eyes glancing
obliquely to every corner of the room, which she ex-
amined with critical exactness.
Before I could speak to her, she commenced the
conversation by drawling through her nose —
"Well, I guess you are fixing here."
I thought she had come to offer her services; and
I told her that I did not want a girl, for I had brought
one out with me.
"How!" responded the creature, "I hopeyou don't
take me for a help. I'd have you to know that I'm as
good a lady as yourself. No; I just stepped over to
isee what was going on. I see'd the teams pass our'n
about noon, and I says to father, ' Them strangers
are cum; I'll go and look arter them.' 'Yes,' says he,
fdo — and take the decanter along. May be they'll
want one to put their whiskey in.' ' I'm goin' to,' says
II ; so I cum across with it, an' here it is. But, mind
! — don't break it — 'tis the only one we have to hum ;
and father says 'tis so mean to drink out of green
glass."
My surprise increased every minute. It seemed
such an act of disinterested generosity thus to antic-
ipate wants we had never thought of. I was regularly
taken in.
"My good girl," I began, "this is really very kind —
but "
" Now, don't go to call me ' gal ' — and pass off your
English airs on us. We are genuine Yankees, and .
:hink ourselves as good — yes, a great deal better than
ou. I am a young lady."
15
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"Indeed!" said I, striving to repress my astonish-
ment. " I am a stranger in the country, and my ac-
quaintance with Canadian ladies and gentlemen is
very small. I did not mean to offend you by using the
term girl; I was going to assure you that we had no
need of the decanter. We have bottles of our own
— and we don't drink whiskey."
"How! Not drink whiskey? Why, you don't say!
How ignorant .yj3U_must be! JVlay be they have no
*whiskey in the old country ? "
" Yes, wehave; Jhullt is m)Uike_the_CajTc^
Jtey. But, pray take the decanter home again — I am
afraid that it will get broken in this confusion."
" No, no ; father told me to leave it — and there it is ; "
and she planted it resolutely down on the trunk. " You
will find a use for it till you have unpacked your
own."
Seeing that she was determined to leave the bottle,
I said no more about it, but asked her to tell me where i
the well was to be found.
"The well!" she repeated after me, with a sneer.
"Who thinks of digging wells where they can get plen-
ty of water from the creek ? There is a fine water privil-
ege not a stone's-throw from the door," and, jumping
off the box, she disappeared as abruptly as she had
entered. We all looked at each other ; Tom Wilson
was highly amused, and laughed until he held his
sides.
"What tempted her to bringthis empty bottle here?'
said Moodie. " It is all an excuse ; the visit, Tom, was
meant for you."
"You'll know more about it in a few days," saic
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
James, looking up from his work. " That bottle is not
brought here for nought."
I could not unravel the mystery, and thought no
more about it, until it was again brought to my recol-
lection by the damsel herself.
Our united efforts had effected complete transform-
ation in our uncouth dwelling. Sleeping-berths had
been partitioned off for the men ; shelves had been put
up for the accommodation of books and crockery, a
carpet covered the floor, and the chairs and tables we
had brought from gave an air of comfort to the
place,which,on the first view of it, I deemed impossible.
My husband, Mr. Wilson, and James, had walked over
to inspect the farm, and I was sitting at the table at
work, the baby creeping upon the floor, and Hannah
preparing dinner. The sun shone warm and bright,
and the open door admitted a current of fresh air,which
tempered the heat of the fire.
"Well, I guess you look smart," said the Yankee
damsel, presentingherself once more before me. "You
old country folks are so stiff, you must have every thing
nice or you fret. But, then, you can easily do it; you
\\&ve stacks of money ; and you can fix every thing right
off with money."
"Pray take a seat," and I offered her a chair, "and
be kind enough to tell me your name. I suppose you
must live in the neighbourhood, although I cannot
perceive any dwelling near us."
"My name! So you want to know my name. I
arn't ashamed of my own ; 'tis Emily S . I am
eldest daughter to the gentleman who owns this
house."
117
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" What must the father be," thought I, " if he resem-
bles the young lady, his daughter?"
/ I magine a young lady, dressed in ragged petticoats,
through whose yawning rents peered forth, from time
/to time, her bare red knees, with uncombed elf-locks,
/ and a face and hands that looked as if they had been
/ unwashed for a month — who did not know A from B,
/ and despised those who did. While these reflections,
/ combined with a thousand ludicrous images, were flit-
ting through my mind, my strange visitor suddenly
( exclaimed —
"Have you done with that 'ere decanter I brought
across yesterday?"
" Oh yes ! I have no occasion for it." I rose, took it
from the shelf, and placed it in her hand.
"I guess you won't return it empty; that would be
mean, father says. He wants it filled with whiskey."
The mystery was solved, the riddle made clear. I
could contain my gravity no longer, but burst into a
hearty fit of laughter, in which I was joined by Han-
nah. Our young lady was mortally offended ; she toss-
ed the decanter from hand to hand, and glared at us
with her tiger-like eyes.
"You think yourselves smart! Why do you laugh
in that way ? "
" Excuse me — but you have such an odd way of bor-
rowing that I cannot help it. This bottle, it seems, was
brought over for your own convenience, not for mine.
I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have no whiskey."
" I guess spirits will do as well ; I know there is some
in that keg, for I smells it."
" It contains rum for the workmen."
118
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
"Better still. I calculate when you've been here a
few months, you'll be too knowing1:o give rum toyour
helps. But old country folks are all fools, and that's
the reason they get so easily sucked in, and be so soon
wound-up. Cum, fill the bottle, and don't be stingy.
vthis countr we all live by borrowin
an
Thinking thatthis might be thecustom of the coun-
try, I hastened to fill the decanter, hoping that I might
get a little new milk for the poor weanling child in re-
turn ; but when I asked my liberal visitor if she kept
cows, and would lend me a little new milk for the baby,
she burst out into high disdain. "Milk! Lend milk?
I guess milk in the fall is worth a York shilling aquart.
I cannot sell you a drop under."
This was a wicked piece of extortion, as the same
article in the towns, where, of course, it was in greater
request, only brought three-pence the quart.
" If you'll pay me for it, I'll bring you some to-mor-
row. But mind — cash down."
" And when do you mean to return the rum," I said,
with some asperity.
"When father goes to the creek." This was thename
given by my neighbours to the village of P - , dist-
ant about four miles.
Day after day I was tormented by this importunate
creature; she borrowed of metea,sugar,candles,starch,
blueing, irons, pots, bowls — in short, every__articiejn
common domestic use — while it was with the utmost
difficulty we couldget them returned. Articles of food,
such as tea and sugar, or of convenience, like candl
starch, and soap, she never dreamed of being requir
119
/-(J0
\
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
at her hands. This method of living upon their neigh-
bours is a most con^emenfone tojinprinc?pTed^2eopleT
^ and tfiey
can keep the goods wjthout the unpleasant necessity
9f returning them, or feeling ffielnbl^T'oM^tioi^of
^ being grateful for their use. Living eight miles from
'" ~ ' ' , I found these constant encroachments a heavy
burden on our poor purse ; and being ignorant of the
country, and residing in such a lonely, out-of-the-way
place, surrounded by these savages,! was really afraid
of denying their requests.
The very day our new plough came home, the father
of this bright damsel, who went by the familiar and
unenviable title of Old Satan, came over to borrow it
(though we afterwards found out that he had a good
one of his own). Theland had never been broken up,
and was full of rocks and stumps, and he was anxious
to save his own from injury; the consequence was that
the borrowed implement came home unfit for use, just
at the very time that we wanted to plough for fall
wheat. The same happened to a spade and trowel,
bought in order to plaster the house. Satan asked the
loan of them for one hour for the same purpose, and
we never saw them again.
The daughter came one morning, as usual, on one
of these swindling expeditions, and demanded of me
the loan of some fine slack. Not knowing what she
meant by fine slack, and weary of her importunities, I
said I had none. She went away in a rage. Shortly
aftershe came again for some pepper. I was at'work,
and my work-box was open upon the table, well
stored with threads and spools of all descriptions.
120
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
Miss Satan cast her hawk's eye into it, and burst out
in her usual rude manner — A >
" I guess you told me a tarnation big lie the other v 1
day."
Unaccustomed to such language, I rose from my
seat, and pointing to the door, told her to walk out, as
I did noj_choose tn ^ in^^liwjjnjny own house.
"Your house! I'm sure it's fatheT^relunrod-tlie
incorrigible wretch. " You told me that you had no
fine slack, and you have stacks ®i it."
"What is fine slack?" said I, very pettishly.
"The stuff that's wound upon these 'ere pieces of
wood," pouncing as she spoke upon one of my most
serviceable spools.
" I cannot give you that ; I want that myself."
" I didn't ask you to give it. I only wants to borrow
it till father goes to the creekj"-^
"I wish he would make/ haste, then, as I want a
number of things which ycm-have borrowed of me,
and which I cannot longer do without."
She gave me a knowing look, and carried off my
spool in triumph.
I happened to mention the manner in which I was
constantly annoyed by these people, to a worthy
English farmer who resided near us; and he fell a-
laughing, and told me that I did not know the Can- , '
_adian YanJ£e£§,as well as he did, or I should not be
troubled with them long. **"""""
• " The "best way,"j5ays"rTfcl " to g^et ridofthem, is to
you nosatistactory answef,~ofcTer them to leave the . fi f)i f\A
JJouseTButTbelieve lean put you in a betterway still. /W^
121 ' »
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Buy some small article of them, and pay them a trifle
over the price, and tell them to bring the change. I
will lay my life upon it that it will be long before they
trouble you again."
I was impatient to test the efficacy of his scheme.
That very afternoon Miss Satan brought me a plate
of butter for sale. The price was three and ninepence;
twice the sum, by the by, that it was worth.
"I have no change," giving her a dollar; "but you
can bring it me to-morrow."
Oh, blessed experiment! for the value of one quart-
er dollar I got rid of this dishonest girl for ever; rather
than pay me, she never entered the house again.
About a month after this, I was busy making an
apple-pie in the kithen. A cadaverous-looking woman,
very long-faced and witch-like, popped her ill-looking
visage into the door, and drawled through her nose —
"Do you want to buy a rooster"*"
Now, the sucking-pigs with which we had been re-
galed every day for three weeks at the tavern, were
called roasters; and not understanding the familiar
phrases of the country, I thought she had a sucking-
pig to sell.
"Is it a good one?"
" I guess 'tis."
" What do you ask for it ? "
"Two Yorkers."
"That is very cheap, if it is any weight. I don't like
them under ten or twelve pounds."
" Ten or twelve pounds ! Why, woman, what do
you mean? Would you expect a rooster to be bigger
nor a turkey?"
122
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
We stared at each other. There was evidently some
misconception on my part.
"Bring the roaster up; and if I like it, I will buy it,
though I must confess that I am not very fond of roast
pig."
"Do you call this a pig?" said my she-merchant,
drawing a fine game-cock from under her cloak.
I laughed heartily at my mistake, as I paid her down
the money for the bonny bird. This little matter set-
tled, I thought she would take her departure; but that
rooster proved the dearest fowl to me that ever was
bought.
"Do you keep backy and snuff here?" says she,
sidling close up to me.
"We make no use of those articles."
" How ! Not use backy and snuff? That's oncom-
mon."
She paused, then added in a mysterious, confid-
ential tone —
"I want to ask you how your tea-caddy stands?"
" It stands in the cupboard," said I, wondering what
all this might mean.
" I know that; but have you any tea to spare?"
I now began to suspect what sort of a customer the
stranger was.
"Oh, you want to borrow some? I have none to
spare."
" You don't say so. Well, now, that's stingy. I nev-
er asked anything of you before. I am poor, and you
are rich; besides, I'm troubled so with the headache,
and nothing does me any good but a cup of strong
tea."
123
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" The money I have just given you will buy a quart-
er of a pound of the best."
" I guess that isn't mine. The fowl belonged to my
neighbour. She's sick; and I promised to sell it for
her to buy some physic. Money!" she added, in a
coaxing tone, "Where should I get money ?^ Lord
Ijjessvoiiipegple in this country havp nn rpr>n^y ; anH
Emily S told me that you are tarnation rich, and
draw your money from the old country. So I guess
you can well afford to lend a neighbour a spoonful of
tea."
"Neighbour! Where do you live, and what is your
name?"
"My name is Betty Fye — old Betty Fye; I live in
the log shanty over the creek, at the back of your'n.
The farm belongs to my eldest son. I'm a widow
with twelve sons ; and 'tis hard to scratch a-
long."
"Do you swear?"
"Swear! What harm? It eases one's mind when
one's vexed. Everybody swears in this country. My
boys all swear like Sam Hill; and I used to swear
mighty big oaths till about a month ago, when the
Methody parson told me that if I did not leave it off I
should go to a tarnation bad place; so I droppedsome
' ,-of the worst of them."
\ "You would do wisely to drop the rest; women
never swear in my country."
"Well, you don't say! I always heer'd they were
very ignorant. Will you lend me the tea?"
The woman was such an original that I gave her
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
what she wanted. As she was going off, she took up
one of the apples I was peeling.
"I guess you have a fine orchard?"
"They say the best in the district."
"We have no orchard to hum, and I guess you'll
want sarce"
"Sarce! What is sarce? "
" Not know what sarce is? You are clever ! Sarce
is apples cut up and dried, to make into pies in the
winter. Now do you comprehend?"
I nodded.
"Well, I was going to say that I have no apples,
and that you have a tarnation big few of them; and
if you'll give me twenty bushels of your best apples,
and find me with half a pound of coarse thread to
string them upon, I will make you a barrel of sarce on
shares — that is, give you one, and keep one for myself."
I had plenty of apples, and I gladly accepted her
offer, and Mrs. Betty Fye departed, elated with the
success of her expedition.
I found tomy cost, that,once admitted into the
house, menTwas no keeping her away, brie borrowed
everything she could think of, without once;, dujdinhig-
ofi£Sti|ution. 1 tried all ways'of a~ffrontrrrg-her> b u t^
without success! W fitter caiiTeTand she "w5s~stttrat
her old pranks7~~Whenever I saw her coming down
the lane, I used involuntarily to exclaim, " Betty Fye !
Betty Fye ! Fye upon Betty Fye ! The Lord deliver
me from Betty Fye 1" The last time I was honoured
with a visit from this worthy, she meant to favour me
with a very large order upon my goods and chattels.
"Well, Mrs. Fyj^hat
125
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" So many things that I scarce know where to begin.
Ah, what a thing 'tis to be poor! First, I want you to
lend me ten pounds of flour to make some Johnnie
cakes."
" I thought they were made of Indian meal?"
"Yes, yes, when you've got the meal? I'm out of it,
and this is a new fixing of my own invention. Lend
me the flour, woman, and 111 bring you one of the
cakes to taste."
This was said very coaxingly.
"Oh, pray don't trouble yourself. What next?" I
was anxious to see how far her impudence would go,
and determined to affront her if possible.
" I want you to lend me a gown, and a pair of stock-
ings. I have to go to Oswego to see my husband's sis-
ter, and I'd like to look decent."
^Mrs. Fyp, T npypr IpnH my rlnfrVg tO anyone. If
I lent them to you, I should never wear them again."
"So much thebetter for me " (with aknowing grin).
" I guess if you won't lend me the gown, you will
let me have some black slack to quilt a stuffpetticoat,
a quarter of a pound of tea and some sugar; and I will
bring them back as soon as I can."
" I wonder when that will be. You owe me so many
things that it will cost you more than you imagine to
repay me."
"Sure you're not going to mention what's past; I
can't owe you much. But I will let you off the tea and
the sugar, if you will lend me a five-dollar bill." This
was too much for my patience longer to endure, and
I answered sharply —
"Mrs. Fye, it surprises me that such proud people
126
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
as you Americans should^gndescend to the meanness
of borrowing from those whom you affect to despise.
Besides, as you never repay us tor wl
strangers unfortunately s<
nature is taxed to supply your domestic wants, at a
ruinous expense, besides the mortification of finding
that they have been deceived and tricked out of their
property. If you would come honestly to me and say,
' 1 want these things, I am too poor to buy them my-
self, and would be obliged to you to give them to me,'
Ijhould then acknowledge you as a common beggar, r\^ \jpj( \
and treat you accordingly; give or not give, as it suited
my convenience. But in the way in which you obtain^
these articles from me you are spared even a debt of
gratitude; for you well know that the many things
which you have borrowed from me will be a debt ow-
ing to the Day of Judgment."
"S'pose they are," quoth Betty, not in the least a-
bashed at my lecture on honesty, "you know what
the Scripture saith, 'It is more blessed to give than
to receive.'"
" Ay, there is an answer to that in the same book •
which doubtless you may have heard," said I, disgust-
ed with her hypocrisy, "'The wicked borroweth, and
payeth not again.'"
Never shall I forget the furious passion into which
this too apt quotation threw my unprincipled ap-
plicant. She lifted up her voice and cursed me, using
some of the big oaths temporarily discarded for con-
science' sake. And so she left me, and I never looked
upon her face again.
127
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
When I removed to our own house, the history of
which, and its former owner, I will give by-and-by,
we had a bony, red-headed, ruffianly American squat-
ter, who had "left his country for his country's goody
for an opposite neighbour. I had scarcely time to put
my house in order before his family commenced
borrowinp- or stealinp- frnm me. It is even worse than
^stealing, the things procured from you being obtained
rences —
^ on false prerences — addingjyiftg^o-thej^ Not hav-
*lng eitEeTaTroven or a cooking-stove, which at that
period were not so cheap or so common as they are
now, I had provided myself with a large bake-kettle
as a substitute. In this kettle we always cooked hot
cakes for breakfast, preferring that to the trouble of
thawing the frozen bread. This man's wife was in the
habit of sending over for my kettle whenever she want-
ed to bake, which, as she had a large family, happen-
ed nearly every day, and I found her importunity a
great nuisance.
I told the impudent lad so, who was generally sent
for it; and asked him what they did to bake their
bread before I came.
" I guess we had to eat cakes in the pan ; but now
we can borrow this kettle of your'n, mother can fix
bread."
I told him that he could have the kettle this time;
but I must decline letting his mother have it in future,
for I wanted it for the same purpose.
The next day passed over. The night was intense-
ly cold, and I did not rise so early as usual in the
morning. My servant was away at a quilting bee, and
we were still in bed, when I heard the latch of the kit-
128
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
chen-door lifted up, and a step crossed the floor. I
jumped out of bed, and began to dress as fast as I
could, when Philander called out in his well-known
nasal twang —
"Missus! I'm come for the kettle."
I (through the partition}: "You can't have it this
morning. We cannot get our breakfast without
it."
Philander: "Nor more can the old woman to hum,"
and, snatching up the kettle, which had been left to
warm on the hearth, he rushed out of the house, sing-
ing, at the top of his voice —
"Hurrah for the Yankee Boys!"
When James came home for his breakfast, I sent
him across to demand the kettle, and the dame very
coolly told him that when she had done with it I might
have it, but she defied him to take it out of her house
with her bread in it.
One word more about this lad, Philander, before we
part with him. Without the least intimation that his
company would be agreeable, or even tolerated, he
favoured us with it at all hours of theday, opening the
door and walking in and out whenever he felt inclin-
ed. I had given him many broad hints that his pres-
ence was not required, but he paid not the slightest
attention to what I said. One morning he marched
in with his hat on, and threw himself down in the
rocking-chair, just as I was going to dress my baby.
" Philander, I want to attend to the child ; I cannot
do it with you here. Will you oblige me by going in-
to the kitchen?"
No answer. He seldom spoke during these visits,
129 i
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
but wandered about the room, turning over our books
and papers, lookingat and handlingeverything. Nay,
I have even known him to take a lid off from the pot
on the fire to examine its contents.
I repeated my request.
Philander: "Well, I guess I shan't hurt the young
'un. You can dress her."
I : " But not with you here."
Philander: "Why not? We never do any thing that
we are ashamed of."
I : "So it seems. But I want to sweep the room —
you had better get out of the dust."
I took the broom from the corner, and began to
sweep ; still my visitor did not stir. The dust rose in
clouds; he rubbed his eyes, and moved a little near-
er to the door. Another sweep, and, to escape its in-
flictions, he mounted the threshold. I had him now
at a fair ad vantage, and fairly swept him out, and shut
the door in his face.
Philander (looking through the window]-. "Well, I
' guess you did me then ; but 'tis deuced hard to out-
wit a Yankee."
When a sufficient time had elapsed for the drying
of my twenty bushels of apples, I sent a Cornish lad,
in our employ, to Betty Fye's, to inquire if they were
ready, and when I should send the cart for them.
Dan returned with a yellow, smoke-dried string of
pieces dangling from his arm. Thinking that these
were a specimen of the whole, I inquired when we were
to send the barrel for the rest.
" Lord, ma'am, this is all there be."
" I mpossible ! All out of twenty bushels of apples ? "
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
"Yes," said the boy, with a grin. "The old witch
told me that this was all that was left of your share;
that when they were fixed enough she put them under
her bed for safety, and the mice and the children had
eaten them all up but this string."
This ended my dealings with Betty Fye.
I had another incorrigible borrower in the person
of old Betty B . This Betty was unlike the rest of
my Yankee borrowers; she was handsome in her per-
son, and remarkably civil, and she asked for the loan
of everything in such a frank, pleasant manner, that
for some time I hardly knew how to refuse her. After
I had been a loser to a considerable extent, and de-
clined lending her any more, she refrained from com-
ing to the house herself, but sent in her name the most
beautiful boy in the world : a perfect cherub, with reg-
ular features,blue, smiling eyes, rosy cheeks, and love-
ly curling auburn hair, who said, in the softest tones
imaginable, that mammy had sent him, with her com-
pliments, to the English lady to ask the loan of a little
sugar or tea. I could easily have refused the mother,
but I could not find it in my heart to say nay to her
sweet boy.
There was something original about Betty B ,
and I must give a slight sketch of her.
She lived in a lone shanty in the woods, which had
been erected by lumberers some years before, and
which was destitute of a single acre of clearing; yet
Betty had plenty of potatoes without the trouble of
planting, or the expense of buying; she never kept a
cow, yet she sold butter and milk; but she had a fash-
ion, and it proved a convenient one to her, of mak-
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
pets of the cattle of her neighbours. If our cows
strayed from their pastures, they were always found
near Betty's shanty, for she regularly supplied them
with salt, which formed a sort of bond of union between
them; and, in return for these little attentions, they
suffered themselves to be milked before they returned
to their respective owners. Her mode of obtaining
eggs and fowls was on the same economical plan, and
we all looked upon Betty as a sort of freebooter, living
upon the property of others. She had had three hus-
bands, and he with whom she now lived was not her
husband, although the father of the splendid child
whose beauty so won upon my woman's heart. Her
first husband was still living (a thing by no means un-
common among persons of her class in Canada), and
though they had quarrelled and parted years ago, he
occasionally visited his wife to see her eldest daughter,
Betty the younger, who was his child. She was now a
fine girl of sixteen, as beautiful as her little brother.
Betty's second husband had been killed in one of our
fields, by a tree fallingupon him while ploughing under
it. He was buried upon the spot, part of the blackened
stump forming his monument. In truth, Betty's char-
acter was none of the best, and many of the respect-
able farmers' wives regarded her with a jealous eye.
"I am so jealous of that nasty Betty B ," said
the wife of an Irish captain in the army, and our near
neighbour, to me, one day as we were sitting at work
together. She was a West Indian, and a negro by the
mother's side, but an uncommonly fine-looking mul-
atto, very passionate, and very watchful over the con-
duct of her husband.
m
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
"Are you not afraid of letting Captain Moodie go
near her shanty?"
" No, indeed ; and if I were so foolish as to be jealous,
it would not be of old Betty, but of the beautiful young
Betty, her daughter." Perhaps this was rather mis-
chievous on my part, for the poor dark lady went off
in a frantic fit of jealousy, but this time it was not of
old Betty.
Another American squatter was always sending
over to borrow a small-tooth comb, which she called
a vermin destroyer', and once the same person asked
the loan of a towel, as a friend had come from the States
to visit her, and the only one she had had been made
into a best " pinny " for the child ; she likewise begged
a sight in the looking-glass, as she wanted to try on a
new cap to see if it were fixed to her mind. This wo-
man must have been a mirror of neatness when com-
pared with her dirty neighbours.
One night I was roused up from my bed for the loan
of a pair of " steelyards." For what purpose, think you,
gentle reader? To weigh a new-born infant. The pro-
cess was performed by tying the poor squalling thing
up in a small shawl, and suspending it to one of the i
hooks. The child was a fine boy, and weighed ten
pounds, greatly to the delight of the Yankee father.
One of the drollest instances of borrowing I have
ever heard of was told me by a friend. A maid-servant
asked her mistress to go out on a particular afternoon,
as she was going to have a party of her friends, and
wanted the loan of the drawing-room.
It would be endless to enumerate our losses in this
way; but, fortunately for us, the arrival of an English
133
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
family in our immediate vicinity drew off the attention
of our neighbours in that direction, and left us time to
recover a little from their persecutions.
This system of borrowing is not wholly confined to
the poor and ignorant; it pervades every class of so-
ciety, i If a party is given in any of the small villages,
a boy is sent round from house to house to collect all
the plates and dishes, knives and forks, teaspoons and
candlesticks, that are presentable, for the use of the
company.
After removing to the bush, many misfortunes be-
fell us, which deprived us of ourincome,and reduced us
to great poverty. In fact we were strangers, and the
knowing ones took us in ; an d for many years we strug-
gled with hardships which would have broken stouter
hearts than ours, had not our trust been placed in the
: Almighty, who among all our troubles never wholly
deserted us.
While my husband was absent on the frontier dur-
ing the rebellion, my youngest boy fell very sick, and
required my utmost care both by night and day. To
attend to him properly, a candle burning during the
night was necessary. The last candle was burnt out ; I
had no money to buy another, and no fat from which
I could make one. I hated borrowing, but, for the dear
child's sake I overcame my scruples, and succeeded in
procuring a candle from a good neighbour, but with
strict injunctions (for it was her last) that I must re-
turn it if I did not require it during the night.
I went home quite grateful with my prize. It was a
clear moonlight night — the dear boy was better, so I
told old Jenny, my Irish servant, to go to bed, as I
134
OUR FIRST SETTLEMENT
would lie down in my clothes by the child, and if he
were worse I would get up and light the candle. It
happened that a pane of glass was broken out of the
window-frame, and I had supplied its place by fitting
in a shingle ; my friend Emilia S had a largeTom-
cat, who, when his mistress was absent, often paid me
a predatory or borrowing visit; and Tom had a pract-
ice of pushing in this wooden pane in order to pursue
his lawless depredations. I had forgotten all this, and
never dreaming that Tom would appropriate such
light food, I left the candle lying in the middle of the
table, just under the window.
Between sleeping and waking, I heard the pane
gently pushed in. The thought instantly struck me
that it was Tom, and that, for lack of something better,
he might steal my precious candle.
I sprang up from the bed, just in time to see him
dart through the broken window, dragging the long
white candle after him. I flew to the door, and pur-
sued him kalfov&r the field, but all to no purpose. I
can see him now, as I saw him then, scampering away
for dear life, with his prize trailing behind him, gleam-
ing like a silver tail in the bright light of the moon.
Ah! never did I feel more acutely the truth of the pro-
verb, "Those that go a -borrowing go a -sorrowing,"
than I did that night. My poor boy awoke ill and
feverish, and I had no light to assist him, or even to
look into his sweet face, to see how far I dared hope
that the light of day would find him better.
CHAPTER SIX
OLD SATAN AND TOM WILSON'S NOSE
CHAPTER SIX
OLD SATAN AND TOM WILSON'S NOSE
A nose, kind sir! Sure mother Nature,
With all her freaks, ne'er formed this feature.
If such were mine, I'd try and trade it,
And swear the gods had never made it.
AFTER REDUCING THE LOG CABIN INTO
some sort of order, we contrived, with the aid of a few
boards, to make a bed-closet for poor Tom Wilson,
who continued to shake every day with the pitiless
ague. There was no way of admitting light and air
into this domicile, which opened into the general a-
partment, but through a square hole cut in one of
the planks, just wide enough to admit a man's head
through the aperture. Here we made Tom a comfort-
able bed on the floor, and did the best we could to
nurse him through his sickness. His long thin face,
emaciated with disease, and surrounded by huge black
whiskers and a beard of a week's growth, looked per-
fectly unearthly. He had only to stare at the baby
to frighten her almost out of her wits.
" How fond that young one is of me," he would say;
"she cries for joy at the sight of me."
Among his curiosities, and he had many, he held
in great esteem a huge nose, made hollow to fit his face,
which his father, a being almost as eccentric as him-
self, had carved out of boxwood. When he slipped
this nose over his own (which was no beautiful class-
ical specimen of the nasal organ), it made a most per-
fect and hideous disguise. The mother who bore him
never would have recognized her accomplished son.
Numberless were the tricks he played off with this
nose. Once he walked through the streets of ,
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
with this proboscis attached to his face. " What a nose !
Look at the man with the nose!" cried all the boys in
the street. A party of Irish emigrants passed at the
moment. The men, with the courtesy natural to their
nation, forbore to laugh in the gentleman's face; but
after they had passed, Tom looked back, and saw them
bent half double in convulsions of mirth. Tom made
the party a low bow, gravely took off his nose, and
put it in his pocket.
The day after this frolic he had a very severe fit of
the ague, and looked so ill that I really entertained
fears for his life. The hot fit had just left him, and he
lay upon his bed bedewed with a cold perspiration, in
a state of complete exhaustion.
"Poor Tom," said I, "he has passed a horrible day,
but the worst is over, and I will make him a cup of
coffee." While preparing it, Old Satan came in and
began to talk to my husband. He happened to sit dir-
ectly opposite the aperture which gave light and air
to Tom's berth, l This man was disgustingly ugly.
He had lost one eye in a quarrel. It had been gouged
out in a free fight, and the side of his face presented
a succession of horrible scars inflicted by the teeth of
his savage adversary. The nickname he had acquired
through the country sufficiently testified to the re-
spectability of his character, and dreadful tales were
told of him in the neighbourhood, where he was alike
feared and hated. )
The rude fellow, with his accustomed insolence, be-
gan abusing the Old Country folks.
The English were great bullies,he said; they thought
no one could fight but themselves; but the Yankees
140
OLD SATAN AND TOM WILSON'S NOSE
had whipped them, and would whip them again. He
was not afear'dof them, he never was afear'd in his life.
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth, when a
horrible apparition presented itself to his view. Slow-
ly risingfrom his bed,and putting on the fictitious nose,
while he drew his white night-cap over his ghastly and
livid brow, Tom thrust his face through the aperture,
and uttered a diabolical cry ; then sank down upon
his unseen couch as noiselessly as he had arisen. The
cry was like nothing human, and it was echoed by an
involuntary scream from the lips of our maid-servant
and myself.
"Good God ! what's that?" cried Satan, falling back
in his chair,and pointing to the vacant aperture. "Did
you hear it? did you see it? It beats the universe. I
never saw a ghost or the devil before!"
Mood ie, who had recognized the ghost, and greatly
enjoyed the fun, pretended profound ignorance, and
coolly insinuated that Old Satan had lost his senses.
The man was bewildered ; he stared at the vacant
aperture, then at us in turn, as if he doubted the ac-
curacy of his own vision. " 'Tis tarnation odd," he
said; "but the women heard it too."
" I heard a sound," I said, "a dreadful sound, but I
saw no ghost." - ^d +
"Sure an' 'twas himsel'," said my Lowland Scotch
i girl, who now perceived the joke ; " he was a-seekin' to
gie us puir bodies a wee fricht."
"How long have you been subject to these sort of
fits?" said I. "You had better speak to the doctor
about them. Such fancies, if they are not attended
to, often end in madness,"
141
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"Mad!" (very indignantly), "I guess Tm not mad,
but as wide awake as you are. Did I not see it with my
own eyes? And then the noise — I could not make
such a tarnation outcry to save my life. But be it man
or devil, I don't care, I'm not afear'd," doubling his
fist very undecidedly at the hole. Again the ghastly
head was protruded — the dreadful eyes rolled wildly
in their hollow sockets, and a yell more appalling than
the former rang through the room. The man sprang
from his chair, which he overturned in his fright, and
stood for an instant witKhis one eyeball starting from
his head, and glaring upon the spectre; his cheeks
deadly pale; the cold perspiration streaming from his
face ; his lips dissevered, and his teeth chattering in his
head.
"There — there — there. Look — look, it comes a-
gain ! — the devil ! — the devil !"
Here Tom, who still kept his eyes fixed upon his
victim, gave a knowing wink, and thrust his tongue
out of his mouth.
" He is coming ! — he is coming!" cried the affrighted
wretch ; and clearing the open doorway with one leap,
he fled across the field at full speed. The stream in-
tercepted his path — T ,-^ <*sed it at a bound, plunged
into the forest, and w. ~aeii,.i/"v»t'
"Ha,ha, ha!" chuckled poor lorn, sinking down ex-
hausted on his bed. "Oh that I had strength to fol-
low up my advantage, I would lead Old Satan such
a chase thathe should think his namesake was in truth
behind him."
During the six weeks that we inhabited that wretch-
ed cabin, we never were troubled by Old Satan again.
142
OLD SATAN AND TOM WILSONS NOSE
As Tom slowly recovered, and began to regain his
appetite, his soul sickened over the salt beef and pork,
which, owing to our distance from , formed our
principal fare. He positively refused to touch the sad
bread, as my Yankee neighbours very appropriately
termed the unleavened cakes in the pan ; and it was no
easy matter to send a man on horseback eight miles
to fetch a loaf of bread.
"Do, my dear Mrs. Moodie, like a good Christian
as you are, give me a morsel of the baby's biscuit, and
try and make us some decent bread. The stuff your
servant gives us is uneatable," said Wilson to me, in
most imploring accents.
"Most willingly. But I have no yeast; and I never
baked in one of those strange kettles in my life."
" I'll go to old Joe's wife and borrow some," said he ;
" they are always borrowing of you." Away he went
across the field, but soon returned. I looked into his
jug — it was empty. " No luck," said he ; "those stingy
wretches had just baked a fine batch of bread, and
they would neither lend nor sell a loaf; but they tolfl
me how to make their milk-emptyings."
"Well, discuss the same;" but I much doubted if
he could remember the recipe en
"You are to take an old tinman," said he, sitting
down on the stool, and poking the fire with a stick.
"Must it be an old one?" said I, laughing.
"Of course; they said so."
" And what am I to put into it ?"
"Patience; let me begin at the beginning. Some
lour and some milk — but, by George ! I've forgot all
ibout it. I was wondering as I came across the field
43
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
why they called the yeast milk- emptyings, and that
put the way to make it quite out of my head. But
never mind ; it is only ten o'clock by my watch. I
have nothing to do; I will go again."
He went. Would I had been there to hear the col-
loquy between him and Mrs. Joe; he described it
something to this effect: —
Mrs. Joe: "Well, stranger, what do you want
now?"
Tom: "I have forgotten the way you told me how
to make the bread."
Mrs. Joe : " I never told you how to make bread. I
guess you are a fool. People have to raise bread be-
fore they can bake it. Pray who sent you to make
game of me? I guess somebody as wise as yourself."
Tom : "The lady at whose house I am staying."
Mrs. Joe: "Lady! I can tell you that we have no
ladies here. So the woman who lives in the old log
shanty in the hollow don't know how to make bread.
A clever wife that! Are you her husband?" (Tom
shakes his head.} — " Her brother?" — (Another shake.}
— " Her son ? Do you hear ? or are you deaf?" (going
quite close up to him).
Tom (moving back) : " Mistress, I'm not deaf; and
who or what I am is nothing to you. Will you oblige
me by telling me how to make the mill- emptyings'!
and this time I'll put it down in my pocket-book."
Mrs. Joe (with a strong sneer)-. "Mill-emptyings!
Milk, I told you. So you expect me to answer your
questions, and give back nothing in return. Get you
gone; I'll tell you no more about it."
Tom (bowing very low) : " Thank you for your civ-
144
OLD SATAN AND TOM WILSON'S
ility. Is the old woman who lives in the little shanty
near the apple-trees more obliging?"
Mrs. Joe; "That's my husband's mother. You may
try. I guess she'll give you an answer." (Exit> slam-
ming the door in his face?)
"And what did you do then?" said I.
" Oh, went of course. The door was open, and I re-
connoitred the premises before I ventured in. I liked
the phiz of the old woman a deal better than that of her
daughter-in-law, although it was cunning and inquis-
itive, and as sharp as a needle. She was busy shelling
cobs of Indian corn into a barrel. I rapped at the door.
She told me to come in, and in I stepped. She asked
me if I wanted her. I told her my errand, at which
she laughed heartily."
Old woman: "You are from the old country, I
guess, or you would know how to make ^^-empty-
ings. Now, I always prefer bran-emptyings. They
make the best bread. The milk, I opine, gives it a
sourish taste, and the bran is the least trouble."
Tom: "Then let us have the bran, by all means.
How do you make it?"
Old woman : " I put a double handful of bran into a
small pot, or kettle, but a jug will do, and a teaspoon-
ful of salt ; but mind you don't kill it with salt, for if
you do, it won't rise. I then add as much warm water,
at blood-heat, as will mix it into a stifTbatter. I then
put the jug into a pan of warm water, and set it on the
hearth near the fire, and keep it at the same heat until
it rises, which it generally will do, if you attend to it,
in two or three hours' time. When the bran cracks at
the top, and you see white bubbles rising through it,
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
you may strain it into your flour, and lay your bread.
It makes good bread."
Tom : " My good woman, I am greatly obliged to
you. We have no bran; can you give me a small
quantity?"
Old woman: "I never give anything. You English-
ers, who come out with stacks of money, can afford
to buy."
Tom : "Sell me a small quantity."
Old woman : " I guess I will." (Edging quite close,
and fixing her sharp eyes on him.) " You must be very
rich to buy bran."
Tom (quizzically}-. "Oh, very rich."
Old woman : " How do you get your money ? "
Tom (sarcastically}: " I don't steal it."
Old woman : " Pr'aps not. I guess you'll soon let
others do that for you, if you don't take care. Are the
people you live with related to you ? "
Tom (hardly able to keep his gravity} : " On Eve's
side. They are my friends."
Old woman (in surprise] : "And do they keep you
for nothing, or do you work for your meat? "
Tom (impatiently} : " Is that bran ready ? " ( The old
woman goes to the binn, and measures out a quart of
bran.) " What am I to pay you ? "
Old woman: "A York shilling."
Tom (wishing- to test her honesty} : " Is there any
difference between a York shilling and a shilling of
British currency?"
Old woman (evasively} : " I guess not. Is there not
a place in England called York?" (Looking up, and
leering knowingly in kisface)
146
OLD SATAN AND TOM WILSON'S NOSE
Tom (laughing] : " You are not going to come York
over me in that way, or Yankee either. There is three-
pence for your pound of bran ; you are enormously
paid."
Old woman (calling after him): "But the recipe ;
do you allow nothing for the recipe?"
Tom : " It is included in the price of the bran."
"And so," said he, "I came away laughing, rejoic-
ing in my sleeve that I had disappointed the avar-
icious old cheat."
The next thing to be done was to set the bran rising. ^
By the help of Tom's recipe, it was duly mixed in the
coffee-pot, and placed within a tin pan, full of hot
water, by the side of the fire. I have often heard it
said that a watched pot never boils ; and there cert-
ainly was no lack of watchers in this case. Tom sat
for hours regarding it with his large heavy eyes, the
maid inspected it from time to time, and scarce ten
minutes were suffered to elapse without my testing
the heat of the water, and the state of the emptyings;
but the day slipped slowly away, and night drew on,
|and yet the watched pot gave no signs of vitality. Tom
sighed deeply when we sat down to tea with the old
fere.
"Never mind," said he, "we shall get some good
bread in the morning; it must get up by that time. I
will wait till then. I could almost starve before I
pould touch these leaden cakes."
The tea-things were removed. Tom took up his
flute, and commenced a series of the wildest volunt-
ary airs that ever were breathed forth by human lungs.
Mad jigs, to which the gravest of mankind might have
47
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
cut eccentric capers. We were all convulsed with
laughter. In the midst of one of these droll move-
ments, Tom suddenly hopped like a kangaroo (which
feat he performed by raising himself upon tip-toes,
then flingin g himself forward with a stooping jerk), to-
wards the hearth, and squinting down into the coffee-
pot in the most quizzical manner, exclaimed, "Miser-
able chaff! If that does not make you rise nothing
will."
I left the bran all night by the fire. Early in the
morning I had the satisfaction of finding that it had
risen high above the rim of the pot, and was surround-
ed by a fine crown of bubbles.
"Better late than never," thought I, as I emptied
the emptyings into my flour. "Tom is not up yet. I
will make him so happy with a loaf of new bread,
nice home-baked bread, for his breakfast."
It was my first Canadian loaf. I felt quite proud of
it, as I placed it in the odd machine in which it was
to be baked. I did not understand the method of
baking~iirtrrese ovens; or that my liread_sji.ould_have
remained in the kettle for half an hour until it Sad
rSen the second time, before I applied the fire to it,
order that the bread should be light. It not only
required experience to know when it was in a fit state
for baking, but the oven should have been brought to
a proper temperature to receive the bread. Ignorant
of all this, I put my unrisen loaf into a cold kettle, and
heaped a large quantity of hot ashes above and be-
low it. The first intimation I had of the result of my
experiment was the disagreeable odour of burning
bread filling the house.
148
i
OLD SATAN AND TOM WILSON'S NOSE
"What is this horrid smell?" cried Tom, issuing
from his domicile in his shirt sleeves. "Do open the
door, Bell (to the maid}] I feel quite sick."
" It is the bread," said I, taking off the lid of the
oven with the tongs. " Dear me, it is all burnt! "
"And smells as sour as vinegar," says he. "The
black bread of Sparta!"
Alas! for my maiden loaf! With a rueful face I
placed it on the breakfast-table. " I hoped to have
given you a treat, but I fearyou will find it worse than
the cakes in the pan."
"You may be sure of that," said Tom, as he stuck
his knife into the loaf, and drew it forth covered with
raw dough. " Oh, Mrs. Moodie, I hope you make bet-
ter books than bread."
We were all sadly disappointed. The others sub-
mitted to my failure good-naturedly, and made it the
subject of many droll, but not unkindly, witticisms.
For myself, I could have borne the severest infliction
from the pen of the most formidable critic with more
fortitude than I bore the cutting up of my first loaf
of bread.
After breakfast, Moodie and Wilson rode into the
town, and when they returned at night, brought g^v-
eral long 4etters-&tfUiie_.^Ari ! those firgtJdnd letters
from home! TJej^_sh^ J_Jorgef the rapture with
which I grasped them — the eager, trembling haste
with which I tore them open, wjaile the blind mgtears
which filled my_£Yes hinderecL me for some minutes
from readingji word
years have slowly passed away — it appears half a
century — but never, never can hqme letters givejne_
149
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the intense joy those letters jiid. After seven years'
~ exile, the hope of return grows feeble, the means are
still less in our power,and our friends give up all hope
of our return ; their letters grow fewer and colder,
their expressions of attachment are less vivid; the
heart has formed new ties, and the poor emigrant is
nearly forgotten. Double those years, and it is as if
the grave had closed over you, and the hearts that
once knew and loved you know you no more.
Tom, too, had a large packet of letters, which he
read with great glee. After re-perusing them, he de-
clared his intention of setting off on his return home
the next day. We tried to persuade him to stay until
the following spring, and make a fair trial of the coun-
try. Arguments were thrown away upon him; the
next morning our eccentric friend was ready to start.
"Good-bye !" quoth he, shaking me by the hand as
if he meant to sever it from thewrist. " When next we
meet it will be in New South Wales, and I hope by
that time you will know how to make better bread."
And thus ended TomJffilsonj
^
ada._H$ brotightout three hundred pounds, British
currency^; He rernajngdm the coTmtry j ust fourjnontns .
and returned.to England with
hisrjassagehom e.
CHAPTER SEVEN
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
VII. UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
Ay, your rogue is a laughing rogue, and not a whit the less
dangerous for the smile on his lip, which comes not from an
honest heart, which reflects the light of the soul through the
eye. All is hollow and dark within; and the contortion of the
lip, like the phosphoric glow upon decayed timber, only serves
to point out the rottenness within.
UNCLE JOE! I SEE HIM NOW BEFORE ME,
withhis jolly red face,tvvinkling black eyes, and rubi-
cund nose. No thin, weasel-faced Yankee was he, look-
ing as if he had lived upon 'cute ideas and specula-
tions all his life; yet Yankee he was by birth, ay, and
in mind, too; for a more knowing fellow at a bargain
never crossed the lakes to abuse British institutions
and locate himself comfortably among the despised
Britishers. But, then, he had such a good-natured,
fat face, such a mischievous, mirth-loving smile, and
such a merry, roguish expression in those small, jet-
black, glitteringeyeSjthatyou suffered yourself to be
taken in by him, without offering the least resistance
to his impositions.
Uncle Joe's father had been a New England loyal-
ist, and his doubtful attachment to the British Govern-
ment had been repaid by a grant of land in the town-
ship of H . He was the first settler in that town-
ship, and chose his location in a remote spot, for the
sake of a beautiful natural spring, which bubbled up
in a small stone basin in the green bank at the back
of the house.
"Father might have had the pick of the township,"
quoth Uncle Joe; "but the old coon preferred that sup
of good water to the site of a town. Well, I guess it's
seldom I trouble the spring; and whenever I step that
way to water the horses, I think what a tarnation fool
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the old one was, to throw away such a chance of mak-
ing his fortune for such cold lap."
"Your father was a temperance man?"
"Temperance! — He had been fond enough of the
whiskey bottle in his day. He drank up a good farm
in the United States, and then he thought he could
not do better than turn loyal, and get one here for noth-
ing. He did not care a cent, not he, for the King of
England. He thought himself as good, anyhow. But
he found that he would have to work hard here to
scratch along, and he was mightily plagued with the
rheumatics, and some old woman told him that good
spring water was the best cure for that; so he chose
this poor, light, stony land on account of the spring,
and took to hard work and drinking cold water in his
old age."
" How did the change agree with him?"
"I guess better than could have been expected.
He planted that fine orchard, and cleared his hundred
acres, and we got along slick enough as long as the old
fellow lived."
"And what happened after his death, that obliged
you to part with your land? "
" Bad times — bad crops," said Uncle Joe, lifting his
shoulders. " I had not my father's way of scraping
money together. I made some deuced clever spec-
ulations, but they all failed. I married young, and got
a large family; and the women critters ran up heavy
bills at the stores, and the crops did not yield enough
to pay them ; and from bad we got to worse, and Mr.
B put in an execution, and seized upon the whole
concern. He sold it to your man for double what it
'54
I
I
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
cost him; and you got all that my father toiled for
during the last twenty years of his life for less than
half the cash he laid out upon clearing it."
" And had the whiskey nothing to do with this
change? "said I, looking him in the face suspiciously.
" Not a bit! When a man gets into difficulties, it is
the only thing to keep him from sinking outright.
When your husband has had as many troubles as I
have had, he will know how to value the whiskey bot-
tle."
This conversation was interrupted by a queer-look-
ing urchin of five years old, dressed in a long-tailed
coat and trousers, popping his black shock head in at
the door, and calling out —
"Uncle Joe! — You're wanted to hum."
" Is that your nephew?"
"No! I guess 'tis my woman's eldest son," said
Uncle Joe, rising, "but they call me Uncle Joe. Tis
a spry chap that — as cunning as a fox. I tell you what
it is — he will make a smart man. Go home, Ammon,
and tell your ma that I am coming."
" I won't," said the boy; "you may go hum and tell
her yourself. She has wanted wood cut this hour,
and you'll catch it!"
Away ran the dutiful son, but not before he had ap-
plied his forefinger significantly to the side of his nose,
and, with a knowing wink, pointed in the direction of
home.
Uncle Joe obeyed the signal, drily remarking that
he could not leave the barn door without the old hen
clucking him back.
At this period we were still living in Old Satan's
155
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
log house, and anxiously looking out for the first snow
to put us in possession of the good substantial log dwel -
ling occupied by Uncle Joe and his family, which con-
sisted of a brown brood of seven girls, and the highly-
prized boy who rejoiced in the extraordinary name
of Ammon.
Strange names are to be found in this free country.
What think you, gentle reader, of Solomon Sly, Rey-
nard Fox, Hiram Dolittle, and Prudence Fidget; all
veritable names, and belonging to substantial yeo-
men? After Ammon and Ichabod, I should not be
at all surprised to meet with Judas Iscariot, Pilate, and
Herod. And then the female appellations ! But the
subject is a delicate one, and I will forbear to touch
upon it. I have enjoyed many a hearty laugh over the
strange affectations which people designate here very
handsome names. I prefer the old homelyjewish names,
such as that which it pleased my godfather and god-
mothers to bestow upon me, to one of those high-soun-
ding Christianities,the Minervas,Cinderellas,and Al-
merias of Canada. The love of singular names is here
carried to a marvellous extent. It was only yesterday
that, in passing through one busy village, I stopp-
ed in astonishment before a tombstone headed thus :
"Sacred to the memory of Silence Sharman, the be-
loved wife of Asa Sharman." Was the woman deaf
and dumb, or did her friends hope by bestowing up-
on her such an impossible name to still the voice of
Nature, and check, by an admonitory appellative, the
active spirit that lives in the tongue of woman? Truly,
Asa Sharman, if thy wife was silent by name as well
as by nature, thou wert a fortunate man !
156
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
But to return to Uncle Joe. He made many fair
promises of leaving the residence we had bought, the
moment he had sold his crops and could remove his
family. We could see no interest which could be serv-
ed by his deceiving us, and therefore we believed
him, striving to make ourselves as comfortable as we
could in the meantime in our present wretched abode.
But matters are never so bad but that they may be
worse.
One day when we were at dinner, a waggon drove
up to the door,and Mr. alighted, accompanied by
a fine-looking, middle-aged man, who proved to be
Captain S , who had j ust arrived from Demerara
with his wife and family. Mr. , who had pur-
chased the farm of Old Satan, had brought Captain
S over to inspect the land, as he wished to buy
a farm and settle in that neighbourhood. With some
difficulty I contrived to accommodate the visitors
with seats, and provide them with a tolerable dinner.
Fortunately, Moodie had brought in a brace of fine fat
partridges that morning; these the servant transferred
to a pot of boiling water, in which she immersed them
for the space of a minute — a novel but very exped-
itious way of removing the feathers, which then come
off at the least touch. In less than ten minutes they
were stuffed, trussed, and in the bake-kettle; and be-
fore the gentleman returned from walking over the
farm, the dinner was on the table.
To our utter consternation, Captain S agreed
to purchase, and asked if we could give him possession
in a week !
"Good heavens!" cried I, glancing reproachfully at
J57
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Mr . , who was discussing his partridge with stoic-
al indifference. "What will become of us? Where are
we to go?"
"Oh, make yourself easy ; I will force that old witch
Joe's mother to clear out."
"But 'tis impossible to stow ourselves into that
pig-sty."
" It will only be for a week or two, at farthest. This
is October; Joe will be sure to be off by the first of
sleighing."
"But if she refuses to give up the place?"
uOh, leave her to me. I'll talk her over," said the
knowing land speculator. " Let it come to the worst,"
he said, turning to my husband, "she will go out for
the sake of a few dollars. By the bye, she refused to
bar the dower when I bought the place; we must
cajole her out of that. It is a fine afternoon; suppose
we walk over the hill, and try our luck with the old
nigger?"
I felt so anxious about the result of the negoti-
ation, that, throwing my cloak over my shoulders,and
tying on my bonnet without the assistance of a glass,
I took my husband's arm, and we walked forth.
It was a bright, clear afternoon, the first week in Oc-
tober, and the fading woods, not yet denuded of their
gorgeous foliage, glowed in a mellow,golden light. A
soft,purple haze rested on the bold outline of the Hal-
dimand hills, and in the rugged beauty of the wild land-
scape I soon forgot the purport of our visit to the old
woman's log hut.
On reaching the ridge of the hill, the lovely valley
in which our future home lay smiled peacefully upon
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
us from amidst its fruitful orchards, still loaded with
their rich, ripe fruit.
"What a pretty place it is!" thought I, for the first
time feelingsomething like a local interest in the spot
springing up in my heart. " How I wish those odious
people would give us possession of the home which for
sojne time has been our own ! "
(jThe loghut that we were approaching,and in which
the old woman, R , resided by herself — having
quarrelled years ago with her son's wife — was of the
smallest dimensions, only containing oneroom, which
served the old dame for kitchen, and bedroom, and
all. The open door and a few glazed panes supplied
it with light and air, while a huge hearth, on which
crackled two enormous logs — which are technically
termed a front and a back stick — took up nearly half
the domicile ; and the old woman's bed, which was
covered with an unexceptionably clean patched quilt,
nearly the other half, leaving just room for a small
home-made deal table, of the rudest workmanship,
two basswood-bottomed chairs, stained red, one of
which was a rocking-chair, appropriated solely to the
old woman's use, and a spinning-wheel. Amidst this
muddle of things — for, small as was the quantum of
furniture, it was all crowded into such a tiny space that
you had to squeeze your way through it in the best
manner you couldi-we found the old woman, with a
red cotton handkerchief tied over her grey locks,hood-
fashion, shelling white bush-beans into a wooden bowl.
Without rising from her seat, she pointed to the only
remaining chair. "I guess, miss, you can sit there; and if
the others can't stand, they can make a seat of my bed."
'59
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
The gentlemen assured her that they were not tired,
and could dispense with seats. Mr. then went up
to the old woman, and proffering his hand, asked after
her health in his blandest manner.
"I'm none the better for seeing you, or the like of
you," was the ungracious reply. "You have cheated
my poor boy out of his good farm ; and I hope it may
prove a bad bargain to you and yours."
" Mrs. R /'returned the land speculator,nothing
ruffled by her unceremonious greeting, " I could not
help your son giving way to drink, and getting into
my debt If people will be so imprudent, they cannot
be so stupid as to imagine that others can suffer for
their folly."
"S uffer /"repeated theold woman, flashinghersmall,
keen black eyes upon him with a glance of withering
scorn. "You suffer! I wonder what the widows and
orphans you have cheated would say to that ? My son
was a poor, weak, silly fool to be sucked in by the like
of you. For a debt of eight hundred dollars — the goods
never cost you four hundred — you take from us our
good farm ; and these, I s'pose," pointing to my hus-
band and me, "are the folk you sold it to. Pray, miss,"
turning quickly to me, "what might your man give
for the place?"
{> "Three hundred ^pounds in rash."
'(j " Poor sufferer ! " again sneered the hag. " Fourjiun^
v\ dred dollars is a very small profit in as many weeks.
>V Well, I guess, you beat the Yankees hoi low. And pray,
" what brought you here to-day, scenting about you like
a carrion-crow? We have no more land for you to seize
from us."
1 60
I
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
Moodie now stepped forward, and briefly explain-
ed our situation, offering the old woman anything in
reason to give up the cottage and reside with her son
until he removed from the premises; which, he added,
must be in a very short time.
The old dame regarded him with a sarcastic smile.
" I guess Joe will take his own time. The house is not
built which is to receive him; and he is not the man
to turn his back upon a warm hearth to camp in the
wilderness. You were green when you bought a farm
of that man, without getting along with it the right of
possession."
" But, Mrs. R , your son promised to go out the
first of sleighing."
" Wheugh ! " said the old woman. " Would you have
a man give away his hat and leave his own head bare?
It's neither the first snow nor the last frost that will
turn Joe out of his comfortable home. I tell you all
that he will stay here, if it is only to plague you."
Threats and remonstrances were alike useless, the
old woman remained inexorable; and we were just
turning to leave the house, when the cunning old fox
exclaimed," And now, what will you give me to leave
my place?"
" Twelve dollars, if you give us possession next
Monday," said my husband.
"Twelve dollars ! I guess you won't get me out for
that."
" The rent would not be worth more than a dollar
a month," said Mr. , pointing with his cane to the
dilapidated walls. "Mr. Moodie has offered you a
year's rent for the place,"
161 j.
7
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" It may not be worth a cent," returned the woman,
"for it will give everybody the rheumatism that stays
a week in it — but it is worth that to me, and more nor
double that just now to him. But I will not be hard
with him," continued she, rocking herself to and fro.
"Say twenty dollars, and I will turnout on Monday."
"I dare say you will," said Mr. , "and who do
you think would be fool enough to give you such an
exorbitant sum for a ruined old shed like this?"
"Mind your own business, and make your own bar-
gains," returned the old woman tartly. "The devil
himself could not deal with you, for I guess he would
have the worst of it. What do you say, sir?" and she
fixed her keen eyes upon my husband as if she would
read his thoughts. " Will you agree to my price? "
"It is a very high one, Mrs. R ; but as I cannot
help myself, and you take ad vantage of that, I suppose
I must give it."
" 'Tis a bargain," cried the old crone, holding out
her hard, bony hand. " Come, cash down ! "
"Not until you give me possession on Monday
next ; or you might serve me as your son has done."
"Ha!" said the old woman, laughing and rubbing
her hands together; "you begin to see daylight, do
you? In a few months, with the help of him," point-
to Mr. , "you will be able to go alone; but have a
care of your teacher, for it's no good that you will learn
from him. But will you really stand to your word,
mister? " she added, in a coaxing tone, "if I go out on
Monday?"
"To be sure I will; I never break my word."
" Well, I guess you are not so clever as our people,
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
for they only keep it as long as it suits them. You
have an honest look; I will trust you; but I will not
trust him," nodding to Mr. , "he can buy and sell
his word as fast as a horse can trot. So on Monday I
will turn out my traps. I have lived here six-and-thirty
years; 'tis a pretty place, and it vexes me to leave it,"
continued the poor creature, as a touch of natural feel-
ing softened and agitated her world-burdened heart.
" There is not an acre in cultivation but that I helped
to clear it, nor a tree in yonder orchard but I held it
while my poor man, who is dead and gone, planted
it; and I have watched the trees bud from year to year,
until their boughs overshadowed the hut, where all
my children, but Joe, were born. Yes, I came here
young, and in my prime; and must leave it in age and
poverty. My children and husband are dead, and
their bones rest beneath the turf in theburying-ground
on the side of the hill. Of all that once gathered about
my knees, Joe and hisyoung ones aloneremain. And
it is hard, very hard, that I must leave their graves to
be turned by the plough of a stranger."
I felt forthedesolateoldcreature — the tears rushed
to my eyes; but there was no moisture in hers. No
rain from the heart could filter through that iron soil.
"Be assured, Mrs. R ," said Moodie, "that the
dead will be held sacred; the place will never be dis-
turbed by me."
"Perhaps not; but it is not long that you will re-
main here. I have seen a good deal in my time; but
I never saw a gentleman from the old country make
a good Canadian farmer. The work is rough and hard,
andtKey get out of humour with it, and leave it to their
163
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
hired helps, and then all goes wrong. They are cheat-
ed on all sides, and in despair take to the whiskey
bottle, and that fixes them. I tell you what it is, mis-
ter-~Igiyej^oujust three years to spend your money
an d rum yourseTfTlincrtherryou will become a cTCh -
—firmed drunkard, lik<
part of her prophecy was only too true.
Tnank Lrod ! the last has never beenfulfilled.aj
can be.
Perceiving that the old woman was not a little elated
with her bargain, Mr. urged upon her the propriety
of barring the dower. At first, she was outrageous,
and very abusive, and rejected all his proposals with
contempt; vowing that she would meet him in a cert-
ain place below, before she would sign away her right
to the property.
"Listen to reason, Mrs. R ," said the land spec-
ulator. " If you will sign the papers before the proper
authorities, the next time that your son drives you to
C , I will give you a silk gown."
"Pshaw! Buy a shroud for yourself; you will need
it before I want a silk gown," was the ungracious reply.
"Consider, woman; a black silk of the best quality."
" To mourn in for my sins, or for theloss of the farm."
" Twelve yards," continued Mr. , without notic-
ing her rejoinder, "at a dollar a yard. Think what a
nice church-going gown it will make."
"To the devil with you ! I never go to church."
"I thought as much," said Mr. , winking to us.
"Well, my dear madam, what will satisfy you?"
"I'll do it for twenty dollars," returned the old wo-
man, rocking herself to and fro in her chair; her eyes
164
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
twinkling, and her hands moving convulsively, as if
she already grasped the money so dear to her soul.
"Agreed," said the land speculator. "When will
you be in town?"
" On Tuesday, if I be alive. But, remember, I'll not
sign till I have my hand on the money."
" Never fear," said Mr. , as we quitted the house ;
then, turning to me, he added, with a peculiar smile,
" That's a devilish smart woman. She would have made
a clever lawyer."
Monday came, and with it all the bustle of moving,
and, as is generally the case on such occasions, it
turned out a very wet day. I left Old Satan's hut
without regret, glad, at any rate, to be in a place of
my own, however humble. Our new habitation, though
small, had a decided advantage over the one we were
leaving. It stood on a gentle slope, and a narrow but
lovely stream, full of speckled trout, ran murmuring
under the little window ; the house, also, was surround-
ed by fine fruit trees.
I know not how it was, but the sound of that tink-
ling brook, for ever rolling by, filled my heart with
a strange melancholy, which for many nights depriv-
sd me of rest. I loved it, too. The voice of waters, in
the stillness of night, always had an extraordinary
effect upon my mind. Their ceaseless motion and per-
oetual sound convey to me the idea of life — eternal
ife; and looking upon them, glancing and flashing
|>n, now in sunshine, now in shade, now hoarsely chid-
ig with the opposing rock, now leaping triumphantly
verit, — creates within me a feeling of mysterious awe
f which. I never could wholly divest myself.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
A portion of my own spirit seemed to pass into that
little stream. In its deep wailings and fretful sighs, I
fancied myself lamenting for the land I had left for
ever; and its restless and impetuous rushings against
the stones which choked its passage, were mournful
types of my own mental struggles against the strange
destiny which hemmed me in. Through the day the
stream moaned and travelled on, — but, engaged in my
novel and distasteful occupations, I heard it not; but
whenever my winged thoughts flew homeward, then
the voice of the brook spoke deeply and sadly to my
heart, and my tears flowed unchecked to its plaintive
and harmonious music.
In a few hours I had my new abode more comfort-
ably arranged than the old one, although its dimen-
sions were much smaller. The location was beautiful,
and I was greatly consoled by this circumstance. The
aspect of Nature ever did, and I hope ever will, con-
tinue—
" To shoot marvellous strength into my heart."
As long as we remain true to the Divine Mother, so
long will she remain faithful to her suffering child-
ren.
At that period my love for Canada was a feeling
s ^ . very nearly allied to that which the condemned crim-
inal entertains for his cell — his only hope of escape
being through the portals of the grave.
~~The fall rains had commenced. In a few days the
cold wintry showers swept all the gorgeous crimson
from the trees, and a bleak and desolate waste pre-
sented itself to the shuddering spectator. But, in spite
of wind and rain, my little tenement was never free
1 66
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
from the intrusion of Uncle Joe's wii'e and children.
Their house stood about a stone's-throwfrom the hut
we occupied, in the same meadow, and they seemed to
look upon it still as their own, although we had liter-
ally paid for it twice over. Fine strapping girls they
were, from five years old to fourteen, but rude and
unnurtured as so many bears. They would come in
without the least ceremony, and, young as they were,
ask me a thousand impertinent questions; and when
I civilly requested them to leave theroom, they would
range themselves upon the door-step, watching my
motions, with their black eyes gleaming upon me
through their tangled, uncombed locks. Their com-
pany was a great annoyance, for it obliged me to put
a painful restraint upon the thoughtfulness in which
it was so delightful to me to indulge. Their visits
were not visits of love, but of mere idle curiosity, not
unmingled with malicious pleasure at my awkward
attempts at Canadian house-wifieries.
For a week I was alone, my good Scotch girl hav-
ing left me to visit her father. Some small baby-arti-
cles were needed to be washed, and after making a
great preparation, I determined to try my unskilled
hand upon the operation. The fact is, I knew nothing
about the task I had imposed upon myself, and in a
few minutes rubbed theskin ofT my wrists without get-
ting the clothes clean.
The door was open, as it generally was, even during
the coldest winter days, in order to let in more light,
and let out the smoke, which otherwise would have
enveloped us like a cloud. I was so busy that I did
not perceive that I was watched by the cold, heavy,
167
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
dark eyes of Mrs. Joe, who, with a sneering laugh, ex-
claimed —
" Well ! I am glad to see you brought to work at
last. I hope you may have to work as hard as I have.
I don't see, not I, why you, who are no better than me,
should sit still all day, like a lady!"
"R - ," said I, not a little annoyed at her pre-
sence, "what concern is it of yours whether I work or
sit still ? I never interfere with you. If you took it in-
to your head to lie in bed all day, I should never
trouble myself about it."
"Ah, I guess you don't look upon us as fellow-
critters, you are so proud and grand. I s'pose you
Britishers are not made of flesh and blood, like us.
You don't choose to sit down at meat with your helps.
Now, I calculate, we think them a great deal better
nor you."
"Of course," said I, "they are more suited to you
than we are; they are uneducated, and so are you.
This is no fault in either; but it might teach you to
pay a little more respect to those who are possessed
of superior advantages. But, R - , my helps, as you
call them, are civil and obliging, and never make un-
provoked and malicious speeches. If theycould so far
forget themselves, I should order them to leave the
house."
" Oh, I see what you are up to," replied the insolent
dame ; "you mean to say that if I were your help, you
would turn me out of your hoiise; hutm a free-born
American, and I won't go at your bidding. Don'ttrTirrk
fr€6me here out of legal ll Lu yutiv^Ngn hate y
hate you all ;
and I rejoice to see you at the wash-tub, and I wish
1 68
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
that you may be brought down upon your knees to
scrub the floors."
This speech only caused a smile, and yet I felt hurt
and astonished that a woman whom I had never done
anything to offend should be so gratuitously spite-
ful.
In the evening she sent two of her brood over to
borrow my "long iron," as she called an Italian iron.
I was just getting my baby to sleep, sitting upon a
low stool by the fire. I pointed to the iron upon the
shelf, and told the girl to take it. She did so, but stood
beside me, holding it carelessly in her hand, and star-
ing at the baby, who had just sunk to sleep upon my
lap.
The next moment the heavy iron fell from her re-
laxed grasp, giving me a severe blow upon my knee
and foot; and glanced so near the child's head that it
drew from me a cry of terror.
"I guess that was nigh braining the child," quoth
Miss Amanda, with the greatest coolness, and with-
out making the least apology. Master Ammon burst
into a loud laugh. "Ifithad,Mandy,I guess we'd have
cotched it." Provoked at their insolence, I told them
to leave the house. The tears were in my eyes, for I
felt certain that had they injured the child, it would
not have caused them the least regret.
The next day, as we were standing at the door, my
husband was greatly amused by seeing fat Uncle Joe
chasing the rebellious Ammon over the meadow in
front of the house. Joe was out of breath, panting and
puffing like a steam-engine, and his face flushed to
deep red with excitement and passion.
169
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"You young scoundrel !" hecried, half choked
with fury, "if I catch up to you, I'll take the skin off
you!"
"You old scoundrel, you may have my skin if
you can get at me," retorted the precocious child,
as he jumped up upon the top of the high fence,
and doubled his fist in a menacing manner at his
father.
"That boy is growing too bad," said Uncle Joe,
coming up to us out of breath, the perspiration stream-
ing down his face. " It is time to break him in, or he'll
get the master of us all."
"You should have begun that before," said Moodie.
" He seems a hopeful pupil."
"Oh, as to that, a little swearing is manly," return-
ed the father; "I swear myself, I know, and as the
old cock crows, so crows the young one. It is not his
swearing that I care a pin for, but he will not do a
thing I tell him to."
" Swearing is a dreadful vice," said I, " and, wicked
as it is in the mouth of a grown-up person, it is per-
fectly shocking in a child ; it painfully tells he has
been brought up without the fear of God."
"Pooh! pooh! that's all cant; there is no harm in a
few oaths, and I cannot drive oxen and horses with-
out swearing. I dare say that you can swear, too, when
you are riled, but you are too cunning to let us hear
you."
I could not help laughing outright at this supposi-
tion,but replied very quietly," Those who practise such
iniquities never take any pains to conceal them. The
concealment would infer a feeling of shame; and when
170
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
people are conscious of their guilt, they are in tfcr
road to improvement." The man walked whistling
away, and the wicked child returned unpunished to his
home.
The next minute the old woman came in. "I guess
you can give me a piece of silk for a hood," said she,
" the weather is growing considerable cold."
"Surely it cannot well be colder than it is at pre-
sent," said I, giving her the rocking-chair by the fire.
"Wait a while; you know nothing of a Canadian
winter. This is only November; after the Christmas
thaw, you'll know something about cold. It is seven-
and-thirty years ago since I and my man left the
U-ni-ted States. It was called the year of the great
winter. I tell you, woman, that the snow lay so deep
on the earth, that it blocked up all the roads, and we
could drive a sleigh whither we pleased, right over the
snake fences. All the cleared land was one wide white
level plain ; it was a year of scarcity, and wejy^p* half
starved; but trseverecold was far worseffoTTrle
of it; but I was young then, and pretty well used to
trouble and fatigue; my man stuck to the British
government More fool he ! I wasjin A m ^ fi?a n horn t
and my heart wasjvvith the truejcausev BuLhis father-
was English, and, sa^shej I '11 live and die under their
Jflagt^Se he dragged me from my comfortable fireside
to seek a home in the far Canadian wilderness. Trou-
ble! I guess you think you have youTtTDtibles ; but
what are they to mine?" She paused, took a pinch of
snuff, offered me the box, sighed painfully, pushed the
red handkerchief from her high, narrow, wrinkled
171
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
,ow, and continued: "Joe was a baby then, and I had
another helpless critter in my lap — an adopted chik .
My sister had died from it, and I was nursing it at
the same breast with my boy. Well, we had to per-
form a journey of four hundred miles in an ox-cart,
which carried, besides me and the children, all our
household stuff! Our way lay chiefly through the
forest, and we made but slow progress. Oh! what a
bitter cold night it was when we reached the swampy
woods where the city of Rochester now stands. The
oxen were covered with icicles, and their breath sent
up clouds of steam. 'Nathan/ says I to my man, 'you
must stop and kindle a fire ; I am dead with cold, and
I fear the babes will be frozen.' We began looking
about for a good spot to camp in, when I spied a light
through the trees. It was a lone shanty, occupied by
two French lumberers. The men were kind ; they rub-
bed our frozen limbs with snow, and shared with us
their supper and buffalo-skins. On that very spot where
we camped that night, where we heard nothing but the
wind soughing amongst the trees, and the rushing of
the river, now stands the great city of Rochester. I
went there two years ago, to the funeral of a brother.
It seemed to me like a dream. Where we foddered
our beasts by the shanty fire, now stands the largest
hotel in the city; and my husband left this fine grow-
ing country to starve here."
I was so much interested in the old woman's narra-
tive— for she was really possessed of no ordinary
capacity, and, though rude and uneducated, might
have been a very superior person under different cir-
cumstances— that I rummaged amongmy stores, and
172
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
soon found a piece of black silk, which I gave her for
Lie hood she required.
The old woman examined it carefully over, smiled
to herself, but, like all her people, was too proud to
return a word of thanks. One gift to the family al-
ways involved another.
"Haveyou any cotton-batting, or black sewing-silk,
to give me, to quilt it with?"
"No."
" Humph !" returned the old dame, in a tone which
seemed to contradict my assertion. She then settled
herself in her chair, and, after shaking her foot a
while, and fixing her piercing eyes upon me for some
minutes, she commenced the following list of inter-
rogatories ; —
"Is your father alive?"
"No; he died many years ago, when I was a young
girl."
"Is your mother alive?"
"Yes."
"What is her name?" I satisfied her on this point.
"Did she ever marry again?"
" She might have done so, but she loved her husband
too well, and preferred living single."
"Humph! We have no such notions here. What was
your father?"
"A gentleman, who lived upon his own estate."
"Did he die rich?"
" Helostthegreaterpartof his property from being
surety for another."
" That's a foolish business. My man burnt his fingers
with that. And what brought you out to this poor
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
country — you, who are no more fit for it than I am to
be a fine lady?"
" The promiseof a large grant of land, and the false
statements we heard regarding it"
"Do you like the country?"
"No; and I fear I never shall."
"I thought not; for the drop is always on your
cheek, the children tell me; and those youngones have
keen eyes. Now, take my advice: return while your
money lasts; the longer you remain in Canadathe less
you will like it, and when your money is all spent,
you will belike a bird in a cage; you may beat your
wings against the bars, but you can't get out." There
was a long pause. I hoped that my guest had suffic-
iently gratified her curiosity, when she again com-
menced—
" How do you get your money? Do you draw it
from the old country, or have you it with you in
cash?"
Provoked by her pertinacity, and seeing no end
to her cross-questioning, I replied very impatiently,
"Mrs. R , is it the custom in your country to
catechize strangers whenever you meet with them?"
"What do you mean?" she said, colouring, I be-
lieve, for the first time in her life.
" I mean," quoth I, "an evil habit of asking impert-
inent questions."
The old woman got up, and left the house without
speaking another word,
UNCLE JOE AND HIS FAMILY
THE SLEIGH-BELLS*
'Tis merry to hear, at evening time,
By the blazing hearth the sleigh-bells' chime;
To know the bounding steeds bring near
The loved one to our bosoms dear.
Ah, lightly we spring the fire to raise,
Till the rafters glow with the ruddy blaze;
Those merry sleigh-bells, our hearts keep time
Responsive to their fairy chime.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, o'er vale and hill,
Their welcome notes are trembling still.
'Tis he. and blithely the gay bells sound,
As his sleigh glides over the frozen ground;
Hark! he has pass'd the dark pine wood,
He crosses now the ice-bound flood,
And hails the light at the open door
That tells his toilsome journey's o'er.
The merry sleigh-bells! My fond heart swells
And throbs to hear the welcome bells;
Ding-dong, ding-dong, o'er ice and snow,
A voice of gladness, on they go.
Our hut is small, and rude our cheer,
But love has spread the banquet here;
And childhood springs to be caress'd
By our beloved and welcome guest.
With a smiling brow his tale he tells,
The urchins ring the merry sleigh-bells;
The merry sleigh-bells, with shout and song
They drag the noisy string along;
Ding-dong, ding-dong, the father's come,
The gay bells ring his welcome home.
* Many versions have been given of this song, and it has been set to
music in the States. I here give the original copy, written whilst lean-
ing on the open door of my shanty, and watching for the return of my
husband.
J75
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
From the cedar swamp the gaunt wolves howl,
From the oak loud whoops the felon owl;
The snow-storm sweeps in thunder past,
The forest creaks beneath the blast;
No more I list, with boding fear,
The sleigh-bells' distant chime to hear.
The merry sleigh-bells with soothing power
Shed gladness on the evening hour.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, what rapture swells
The music of those joyous bells!
CHAPTER EIGHT
JOHN MONAGHAN
CHAPTER EIGHT JOHN MONAGHAN
Dear mother Nature; on thy ample breast
Hast thou not room for thy neglected son?
A stern necessity has driven him forth
Alone and friendless. He has naught but thee,
And the strong hand and stronger heart thou gavest,
To win with patient toil his daily bread.
A FEW DAYS AFTER THE OLD WOMAN'S
visit to the cottage, our servant James absented him-
self for a week without asking leave, or giving any in-
'timation of his intention. He had under his care a
fine pair of horses, a yoke of oxen, three cows, and a
numerous family of pigs, besides^ haying to chop all
the firewood required for our use His unexpected"
departure caused no small trouble in the family; and
when the truant at last made his appearance, Moodie
discharged him altogether.
The winter had now fairly set in — tke iron winter
of £83 3. Thesnow was unusuallv_dee^)r
l^irfirgt winf pr in Cgiiada^^djpasseHlh such irTfiiser-
able dwelling, wo fol£4t-izery severely. In spite of all
my boasted fortitude — and I think my powers of en-
durance have been tried to the utmost since my so- i
journ in this country-fthe rigour of the cHmate sub- > Y
fined my prnnrjJridepcriHerif Fngli^ ^pin^an^JLg!fjL
tually shamed my womanhood, and cried with the
cotd. ~Yes7 1" ought to bTusrTat confessingljuch unpar-
donable weakness ; but I was foolish, and inexperi-
enced, and unaccustomed to the yoke. \
My husband did not much relish performing the
menial duties of a servant in such weather, but he did
not complain, and in the meantime commenced an ac-
tive inquiry for a man to supply the place of the one
179
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
we had lost; but at that season of the year no one was
to be had.
It was a bitter, freezing night. A sharp wind howl-
ed without, and drove the fine snow through the chinks
in the door, almost to the hearthstone, on which two
immense blocks of maple shed forth a cheering glow,
brightening the narrow window-panes, and making
the blackened rafters ruddy with the heart-invigorat-
ing blaze.
The toils of the day were over, the supper things
cleared away, and the door closed for the night. Moo-
die had taken up his flute, the sweet companion of
happier days, at the earnest request of our home-sick
Scotch servant-girl, to cheer her drooping spirits by
playing some of the touching national airs of the glori-
ous mountain land, the land of chivalry and song, the
heroic North. Before retiring to rest, Bell, who had
an exquisite ear for music, kept time with foot and
hand, while large tears gathered in her soft blue eyes.
" Ay, 'tis bonnie thae songs ; but they mak' me greet,
an' my puir heart is sair, sair when I think on the bon-
nie braes and the days o' lang syne."
Poor Bell ! Her heart was among the hills, and mine
had wandered far, far away to the green groves and
meadows of my own fair land. The music and our
reveries were alike abruptly banished by a sharp blow
upon the door. Bell rose and opened it, when astrange,
wild-looking lad, barefooted, and with no other cover-
ing to his head than the thick, matted locks of raven
blackness that hung like a cloud over his swarthy, sun-
burnt visage, burst into the room.
" Guidness defend us ! Wha ha'e we here? " scream-
180
JOHN MONAGHAN
ed Bell, retreating into a corner. "The puir callant's
no cannie."
My husband turned hastily round to meet the in-
truder, and I raised the candle from the table the bet-
ter to distinguish his face; while Bell, from her hiding-
place, regarded him with unequivocal glances of fear
and mistrust, waving her hands to me, and pointing
significantly to the open door, as if silently beseech-
ing me to tell her master to turn him out.
"Shut the door, man," said Moodie, whose long
scrutiny of the strange being before us seemed, upon
the whole, satisfactory; "we shall be frozen."
"Thin, faith, sir, that's what I am," said the lad, in
a rich brogue, which told, without asking, the country
to which he belonged. Then, stretching his bare hands
to the fire, he continued, " By Jove, sir, I was never so
near gone in my life!"
"Where do you come from, and what is your busi-
ness here? You must be aware that this is a very late
hour to take a house by storm in this way."
"Thrue for you, sir. But necessity knows no law;
and the condition you see me in must plade for me.
First, thin, sir, I come from the township of D ,
and want a masther; and next to that, bedad ! I want
something to ate. As I'm alive, and 'tis a thousand pit- -.
ies that I'm alive at all at all, for shure God Almighty /
never made sich a misfortunate crather afore nor since V
—I have had nothing to put in my head since I ran )
away from my ould masther, Mr. F , yesterday at /
noon. Money I have none, sir; thedivil a cent. I have/
neither a shoe to my foot nor a hat to my head, and if
you refuse to shelter me the night, I must be contint
181
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
to perish in the snow, for I have not a frind in the
wide wurld."
The lad covered his face with his hands, and sobbed
aloud.
" Bell," I whispered, " go to the cupboard and get the
poor fellow something to eat. The boy is starving."
" Dinna heed him, mistress, dinna credit his lees. He
is ane o' thae wicked Papists wha ha'e just stepped in
to rob and kill us."
"Nonsense! Do as I bid you."
"I winna be fashed aboot him. An' if he bides here,
I'll e'en flit by the first blink o' the morn."
" Isabel, for shame! Is this acting like a Christian,
or doing as you would be done by? "
Bell was as obstinate as a rock, not only refusing to
put down any food for the famished lad, but reiter-
ating her threat of leaving the house if he were suffer-
ed to remain. My husband, no longer able to endure
her selfish and absurd conduct, got angry in good earn-
est, and told her that she might please herself; that
did not mean to ask her leave as to whom he receii
into his house. I, for my part, had no idea that she
would realize her threat She was an excellent serv-
ant, clean, honest, and industrious, and loved the d<
baby.
"You will think better of it in the morning," sai(
I, as I rose and placed before the lad some cold
and bread, and a bowl of milk, to which the runaway
did ample justice.
"Why did you quit your master, my lad?" said
Moodie.
"Because I could live wid him no longer. You see,
182
JOHN MONAGHAN
sir, I'm a poor foundling from the Belfast Asylum,
shoved out, by the mother that bore me, upon the wide
wurld, long before I knew that I was in it. As I was too
young to spake for myself intirely, she put me into a
basket, wid a label round my neck, to tell the folks that
my name was John Monaghan. This was all I ever got
from my parents; and who or what they were, I never
knew, not I, for they never claimed me; bad cess to
them ! But I've no doubt it's a fine illigant gintleman
he was, and herself a handsome rich young lady, who
dared not own me for fear of affronting the rich jin-
try, her father and mother. Poor folk, sir, are never
ashamed of their children ; 'tis all the threasure they
have,sir ; but my parents were ashamed of me,and they
thrust me out to the stranger and the hard bread of
depindence." The poor lad sighed deeply, and I be-
gan to feel a growing interest in his sad history.
"Have you been in the country long?"
"Four years, madam. You know my masther, Mr.
F ; he brought me out wid him as his apprentice,
and during the voyage he trated me well. But the
young men, his sons, are tyrants, and full of durty
pride; and I could not agree wid them at all at all. Yes-
terday, I forgot to take the oxen out of the yoke, and
Musther William tied me up to a stump, and bate me
with the raw hide. Shure the marks are on myshowlth-
ers yet. I left the oxen and the yoke, and turned my
back upon them all, for the hot blood was bilin' widin
me; and I felt that if I stayed it would be him that
would get the worst of it. No one had ever cared for
me since I was born, so I thought it was high time to
take care of myself. I had heard your name, sir, and
r
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
I thought I would find you out; and if you want a lad,
I will work for you for my kape, and a few dacent
clothes."
A bargain was soon made. Moodie agreed to give
Monaghan six dollars a month, which he thankfully
accepted ; and I told Bell to prepare his bed in a cor-
ner of the kitchen. But Mistress Bell thought fit to re-
bel. Having been guilty of oneact of insubordination,
she determined to be consistent,and throw offthe yoke
altogether. She declared that she would do no such
thing; thatherlife and that all our lives were in danger;
and that she would never stay another night under
the same roof with that Papist vagabond.
"Papist!" cried the indignant lad, his dark eyes
flashingfire/crmnoPapist,butaProtestantlikeyour-
self; and I hope a deuced dale better Christian. You
take meforathief; yetshureathief wouldhave waited
till you were all in bed and asleep, and not stepped
in forenint you all in this fashion."
There was both truth and nature in the lad's argu-
ment; but Bell, like an obstinate woman as she was,
chose to adhere to her own opinion. Nay, she even
carried her absurd prejudices so far that she brought
her mattress andlaid it down on the floor in my room,
for fear that the Irish vagabond should murder her
during the night. By the break of day she was off;
leaving me for the rest of thewinterwithouta servant.
Monaghan did all in his power to supply her place; he
lighted the fires, swept the house, milked the cows,
nursed the baby, and often cooked the dinner for me,
and endeavoured by a thousand little attentions to
show thegratitude he really felt forour kindness. To
184
I
JOHN MONAGHAN
little Katie he attached himself in an extraordinary
manner. All his spare time he spent in making little
sleighs and toys for her, or in dragging her in the said
sleighs up and down the steep hills in front of the
house, wrapped up in a blanket. Of a night, he cooked
her mess of bread and milk, as she sat by the fire, and
his greatest delight was to feed her himself. Afterthis
operation was over, he would carry her round the floor
on his back, and singher songs in native Irish. Katie al-
ways greeted his return from the woods with a scream
of joy, holding up her fair arms to clasp the neck of
her dark favourite.
" Now the Lord love you for a darlint!" he would cry,
as he caught her to his heart. " Shure you are the
only one of the crathers he ever made who can love
poor John Monaghan. Brothers and sisters I have
none — I stand alone in the wurld,and your bonny wee
face is the sweetest thing it contains for me. Och,
jewil ! I could lay down my life for you, and be proud
to do that same."
Though careless and reckless about everything that
concerned himself, John was honest and true. Helov-
ed us for the compassion we had shown him; and lie
would have resented any injury offered to our persons
with his best blood.
But if we were pleased with our new servant, Uncle
Joe and his family were not, and they commenced a
series of petty persecutions that annoyed him great-
ly, and kindled into a flame all the fiery particles of
his irritable nature.
Moodie had purchased several tons of hay of a
neighbouring farmer, for the use of his cattle, and it
185
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
had to be stowed into the same barn with some flax
and straw that belonged to Uncle Joe. Going early
one morning to fodder the cattle, John found Uncle
Joe feeding his cows with his master's hay, and as it
had diminished greatly in a very short time, he ac-
cused him in no measured terms of being the thief.
The other very coolly replied that he had taken a
little of the hay in order to repay himself for his flax,
that Monaghanhad stolen for the oxen. "Now by the
powers! "quoth John, kindling into wrath, "that is
adding a big lie to a dhirty petty larceny. I take
your flax, you owld villain ! Shure I know that flax
is grown to make linen wid, not to feed oxen. God
Almighty has given the crathers a good warm coat
of their own; they neither require shifts nor shirts."
" I saw you take it, you ragged Irish vagabond, with
my own eyes."
"Thin yer two eyes showed you a wicked illusion.
You had betther shut up yer head, or I'll giveyou that
for an eye-salve that shall make you see thrue for the
time to come."
Relying upon his great size, and thinking that the
slight stripling, who, by the bye, was all bones and
sinews, was no match for him, Uncle Joe struck Mon-
aghan over the head with the pitchfork. In a moment
the active lad was upon him like a wild cat, and in spite
of the difference of his age and weight, gave the big
man such a thorough dressing that he was fain to roar
aloud for mercy.
"Own that you are a thief and a liar, or I'll murther
you!"
" I'll own to anything whilst your knee is pressing
186
JOHN MONAGHAN
me into a pancake. Come now — there's a good lad —
let me get up." Monaghan felt irresolute, but after
extorting from Uncle Joe a promise never to purloin
any of the hay again, he let him rise.
"For shure," he said, "he began to turn so black
in the face, I thought he'd burst intirely."
The fat man neither forgot nor forgave this injury;
and though he dared not attack John personally, he
set the children to insult and affront him upon all
occasions. The boy was without socks, and Isenthim
to old Mrs. R , to inquire of her what she would
charge for knitting him two pairs of socks. The reply
was a dollar. This was agreed to, and dear enough
they were; but the weather was very cold, and the
lad was barefooted, and there was no other alterna-
tive than either to accept her offer or for him to go
without.
In a few days, Monaghan brought them home ; but
I found upon inspecting them that they were old socks
new-footed. This was rather too glaring a cheat, and
I sent the lad back with them, and told him to in-
form Mrs. R that as he had agreed to give the
price for new socks, he expected them to be new al-
together.
The avaricious old woman did not deny the fact;
but she fell to cursing and swearing in an awful manner,
and wished so much evil to the lad, that,with the super-
stitious fear so common to the natives of his country,
he left her under the impression that she was gifted
with the evil eye, and was an " owld witch." He never
went out of the yard with the waggon and horses, but
she rushed to the door and cursed him for a bare-
187
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
heeled Irish blackguard, and wished that he might
overturn the waggon, kill the horses, and break his
own worthless neck.
"Ma'am," said John to me one day, after return-
ing from C -with the team, "it would be betther
for me to lave the masther intirely; for shure if I do
not, some mischief will befall me or the crathers.
That wicked owld wretch ! I cannot thole her curses.
Shure it's in purgatory I am all the while."
" Nonsense, Monaghan! you are not a Catholic, and
need not fear purgatory. The next time the old wo-
man commences her reprobate conduct, tell her to
hold hertongue,and mind her own business, for curses,
like chickens, come home to roost."
The boy laughed heartily at the old Turkish pro-
verb, but did not reckon much on its efficacy to still
the clamorous tongue of the ill-natured old jade. The
next day he had to pass her door with the horses.
No sooner did she hear the sound of the wheels, than
out shehobbled,and commenced her usual anathemas.
"Bad luck to yer croaking, yer ill-conditioned owld
raven. It is not me you are desthroying shure, but
yer own poor miserable sinful sowl. The owld one has
the grip of ye already, for 'curses, like chickens, come
home to roost'; so get in wid ye, and hatch them to
yerselfin the chimley corner. They'll all be roosting
wid ye by and by; and a nice warm nest they'll
make for you, considering the brave brood that be-
longs to you."
Whether the old woman was as superstitious as
John, I know not; or whether she was impressed with
the moral truth of the proverb — for, as I have before
1 88
JOHN MONAGHAN
stated, she was no fool — is difficult to tell; but she
shrunk back into her den, and never attacked the lad
again.
Poor John bore no malice in his heart, not he ; for
in spite of all the ill-natured things he had to endure
from Uncle Joe and his family, he never attempted
to return evil for evil. In proof of this, he was one day
chopping firewood in the bush, at some distance from
Joe, who was engaged in the same employment with
another man. A tree in falling caught upon another,
which, although a very large maple, was hollow, and
very much decayed, and liable to be blown down by
the least shock of the wind. The tree hung directly
over the path that Uncle Joe was obliged to traverse
daily with his team. He looked up and perceived,
from the situation it occupied, that it was necessary
for his own safety to cut it down ; but he lacked cour-
age to undertake so hazardous a job which might be
attended, if the supporting tree gave way during the
operation, with very serious consequences. In a care-
less tone he called to his companion to cut down the
tree.
"Do it yourself, H ," said the axe man, with a
grin. " My wife and children want their man as much
as your Hannah wants you."
" I'll not put axe to it," quoth Joe. Then, making
signs to his comrade to hold his tongue, he shouted
to Monaghan," Hollo, boy ! you're wanted here to cut
down this tree. Don't you see that your master's
cattle might be killed if they should happen to pass
under it, and it should fall upon them?"
"Thrue for you, Masther Joe; but your own cattle
189
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
would have the first chance. Why should I risk my
life and limbs by cutting down the tree, when it was
yerself that threw it so awkwardly over the other?"
" Oh, but you are a boy, and have no wife and child-
ren to depend upon you for bread," said Joe gravely.
"We are both family men. Don't you see that 'tis
your duty to cut down the tree ? "
x- The lad swung the axe to and fro in his hand, eye-
ing Joe and the tree alternately; but the natural kind-
heartedness of the creature, and his reckless courage,
overcame all idea of self-preservation, and raising
: aloft his slender but muscular arm, he cried out, "If
it's a life that must be sacrificed, why not mine as
well as another? Here goes! and the Lord have mercy
on my sinful sowl ! "
The tree fell, and, contrary to their expectations,
without any injury to John. The knowing Yankee
burst into a loud laugh. "Well, if you arn't a tarna-
tion soft fool, I never saw one."
"What do you mane?" exclaimed John, his dark
eyes flashing fire. "If 'tis to insult me for doing that
which neither of you dared to do, you had better not
thry that same. You have just seen the strength of
my spirit. You had better not thry again the strength
of my arm, or, may be, you and the tree would chance
to share the same fate;" and, shouldering his axe,
the boy strode down the hill, to get scolded by me
for his foolhardiness.
The first week in March all the people were busy
making maple sugar. " Did you ever taste any maple
sugar, ma'am?" asked Monaghan, as he sat feeding
Katie one evening by the fire.
190
JOHN MONAGHAN
"No, John."
"Well, then, you've a thrate to come; and it's my-
self that will make Miss Katie, thedarlint, an illigant
lump of that same."
Early in the morning John was up, hard at work,
making troughs for the sap. By noon he had complet-
ed a dozen, which he showed me with great pride of
heart. I felt a little curious about this far-famed maple
sugar, and asked a thousand questions about the use
to which the troughs were to be applied; how the trees
were to be tapped, the sugar made, and if it were real-
ly good when made?
To all my queries John responded, "Och! 'tis ill-
igant. It bates all the sugar that ever was made in
Jamaky. But you'll see before to-morrow night."
Moodie was away at P , and the prospect of
the maple sugar relieved the dulness occasioned by
his absence. I reckoned on showing him a piece of
sugar of our own making when he came home, and
never dreamt of the possibility of disappointment.
John tapped his trees after the most approved fash-
ion, and set his troughs to catch the sap ; but Miss
Amanda and Master Ammon upset them as fast as
they filled, and spilt all the sap. With great difficulty
Monaghan saved the contents of one large iron pot.
This he brought in about nightfall, and made up a
roaring fire in order to boil it down into sugar. Hour
after hour passed away, and the sugar-maker looked
as hot and black as the stoker in a steam-boat. Many
times I peeped into the large pot, but the sap never
seemed to diminish.
"This is a tedious piece of business," thought I, but
191
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
seeing the lad so anxious, I said nothing. About
twelve o'clock he asked me very mysteriously for a
piece of pork to hang over the sugar.
"Pork!" said I, looking into the pot, which was half
full of a very black-looking liquid ; " what do you want
with pork?"
"Shure, an' 'tis to keep the sugar from burning."
"But, John, I see no sugar!"
"Och,but 'tis all sugar, only 'tis molasses jist now.
See how it sticks to the ladle. Aha ! but Miss Katie
will have the fine lumps of sugar when she awakes in
the morning."
I grew so tired and sleepy that I left John to
finish his job, went to bed, and soon forgot all about
the maple sugar. At breakfast I observed a small plate
upon the table, placed in a very conspicuous manner
on the tea-tray, the bottom covered with a hard,
black substance, which very much resembled pitch.
"What is that dirty-looking stuff, John?"
"Shure an' 'tis the maple sugar."
"Can people eat that?"
"By dad, an' they can; only thry it, ma'am."
"Why, 'tis so hard I cannot cut it."
With some difficulty, and not without cutting his
finger, John broke a piece off, and stuffed it into the
baby's mouth. The poor child made a horrible face,
and rejected it as if it had been poison. For my own
part, I never tasted any thing more nauseous. It tast-
ed like acompound of pork-grease and tobacco juice.
"Well, Monaghan,if this be maple sugar, I never wish
to taste any again."
"Och,bad luck to it! "said the lad, flinging it away,
192
JOHN MONAGHAN
plate and all. "It would have been first-rate but for
the dhirty pot, and the blackguard cinders, and its
burning to the bottom of the pot. That owld hag,
Mrs. R -, betwitched it with her evil eye."
"She is not so clever as you think, John," said I,
laughing. " You have forgotten how to make the sugar
since you left D ; but let us forget the maple
sugar, and think of something else. Had you not bet-
ter get old Mrs. R to mend that jacket for you? it
is too ragged."
"Ay, by dad! an' it's mysel' is the illigant tailor.
Wasn't I brought up to the thrade in the Foundling
Hospital?"
"And why did you quit it?"
"Because it's a low, mane thrade for a jintleman's
son."
" But, John, who told you that you were a gentle-
man's son?"
"Och! but I'm shure of it, thin. All my propens-
ities are gintale. I love horses, and dogs, and fine
clothes, and money. Och! that I was but a jintleman!
I'd show them what life is intirely, and I'd challenge
Master William, and have my revenge out of him for
the blows he gave me."
"You had better mend your trousers," said I, giv-
ing him a tailor's needle, a pair of scissors, and some
strong thread.
"Shure, an' I'll do that same in a brace of shakes,"
and sitting down upon a rickety three-legged stool
of his own manufacturing, he commenced his tailor-
ing by tearing a piece of his trousers to patch the
elbows of his jacket. And this trifling act, simple as
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
it may appear, was a perfect type of the boy's general
conduct, and marked his progress through life. The
present for him was everything; he had no future.
While he supplied stuff from the trousers to repair the
fractures in the jacket, he never reflected that both
would be required on the morrow. Poor John ! in his
brief and reckless career, how often have I recalled
that foolish act of his. It now appears to me that his
whole life was spent in tearing his trousers to repair
his jacket.
In the evening John asked me for a piece of soap.
"What do you want with soap, John?"
"To wash my shirt, ma'am. Shure an' I am a baste
to be seen, as black as the pots. Sorra a shirt have I
but the one, an' it has stuck on my back so long that I
can thole it no longer."
I looked at thewrists and collar of the condemned
garment, which was all of it that John allowed to be
visible. They were much in need of soap and water.
" Well, John, I will leave you the soap ; but can you
wash?"
"Och, shure, an' I can thry. If I soap it enough,
and rub long enough, the shirt must come clane at
last."
I thought the matter rather doubtful ; but when I
went to bed I left what he required, and soon saw
through the chinks in the boards a roaring fire, and
heard John whistling over the tub. He whistled and
rubbed, and washed and scrubbed, but as there seem-
ed no end to the job, and he was as long washing this
one garment as Bell would have been performing the
same operation on fifty, I laughed to myself, and
194
JOHN MONAGHAN
thought of my own abortive attempts in that way,
and went fast asleep. In the morning John came to
his breakfast with his jacket buttoned up to his throat.
"Could you not dry your shirt by the fire, John?
You will get cold wanting it."
"Aha, by dad! it's dhry enough now. The divil
has made tinder of it long afore this."
"Why, what has happened to it? I heard you wash-
ing all night."
"Washing! Faith, an' I did scrub it till my hands
were all ruined intirely, and thin I took the brush to
it; but sorra a bit of the dhirt could I get out of it.
The more I rubbed the blacker it got, until I had used
up all the soap, and the perspiration was pouring off
me like rain. ' You dhirty owld bit of a blackguard of
a rag,' says I, in an exthremity of rage, 'you're not fit
for the back of a dacent lad an' a jintleman. The divil
may take ye to cover one of his imps;' an' wid that I
sthirred up the fire, and sent it plump into the middle
of the blaze."
"And what will you do for a shirt?"
"Faith, do as many a betther man has done afore me,
go widout."
I looked up two old shirts of my husband's, which
John received with an ecstasy of delight. He retired
instantly to the stable, but soon returned, with as much
of the linen breast of the garment displayed as his
waistcoat would allow. No peacock was ever prouder
of his tail than the wild Irish lad was of the old shirt.
John had been treated very much like a spoiled
child, and, like most spoiled children, he was rather
fond of having his own way. Moodie had set him to
195
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
do something which was rather contrary to his own
inclinations; he did not object to the task in words,
for he was rarely saucy to his employers, but he left
the following stave upon the table, written in pencil
upon a scrap of paper torn from the back of an old
letter:—
" A man alive, an ox may drive
Unto a springing well;
To make him drink, as he may think,
No man can him compel.
"JOHN MONAGHAN."
CHAPTER NINE
PHCEBE R , AND OUR SECOND MOVING
1
CHAPTER NINE PHCEBE
R , AND OUR SECOND MOVING
She died in early womanhood,
Sweet scion of a stem so rude;
A child of Nature, free from art,
With candid brow and open heart;
The flowers she loved now gently wave
Above her low and nameless grave.
IT WAS DURING THE MONTH OF MARCH 1
that Uncle Joe's eldest daughter,Phcebe, a very hand-
some girl, and the best of the family, fell sick. I went
over to see her. The poor girl was very depressed,
and stood but a slight chance for her life, being under
the medical treatment of three or four old women,
who all recommended differenttreatmentand admin-
istered different nostrums. Seeing that the poor girl
was dangerously ill, I took her mother aside, and beg-
ged her to lose no time in procuring proper medical
advice. Mrs. Joe listened to me very sullenly, and
said there was no danger; that Phcebe had caught a
violent cold by going hot from the wash-tub to fetch
a pail of water from the spring; that the neighbours
knew the nature of her complaint, and would soon
cure her.
The invalid turned upon me her fine dark eyes, in
which the light of fever painfully burned, and motion-
ed me to come near her. I sat down by her, and took
her burning hand in mine.
"I am dying, Mrs. Moodie,but they won't believe
me. I wish you would talk to mother to send for the
doctor."
" I will. Is there anything I can do for you ? — any-
thing I can make for you, that you would like to take? "
She shook her head. " I can't eat. But I want to
199
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ask you one thing, which I wish very much to know."
She grasped my hands tightly between her own. Her
eyes looked darker, and her feverish cheek paled.
"What becomes of people when they die?"
"My poor girl!" I exclaimed involuntarily; "can
you be ignorant of a future state?"
"What is a future state?"
I endeavoured, as well as I was able, to explain to
her the nature of the soul, its endless duration, and
responsibility to God for the actions done in the flesh;
its natural depravity and need of a Saviour; urging
her, in the gentlest manner, to lose no time in obtain
ing forgiveness of her sins, through the atoning blood
of Christ.
The poor girl looked at me with surprise and horror.
These things were all new to her. She sat like one in
a dream; yet the truth seemed to flash upon her at
once.
" How can I speak to God, who never knew Him?
How can I ask Him to forgive me? "
"You must pray to Him?"
"Pray! I don't know how to pray. I never said a
prayer in my life. Mother, can you teach me how to
pray?"
"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Joe, hurrying forward
" Why should you trouble yourself about suchthingst
Mrs. Moodie, I desire you not to put such thoughts
into my daughter's head. We don't want to know
anything about Jesus Christ here."
"Oh, mother, don't speak so to the lady! Do, Mrs.
Moodie, tell me more about God and my soul. I never
knew until now that I had a soul."
200
PHGEBE, AND OUR SECOND MOVING
Deeply compassionating the ignorance of the poor
girl, in spite of the menaces of the heathen mother —
for she was no better, but rather worse, seeing that
the heathen worships in ignorance a false god, while
this woman lived without acknowledging a God at all,
and therefore considered herself free from all moral
restraint — I bid Phoebe good-bye, and promised to
bring my Bible and read to her the next day.
The gratitude manifested by this sick girl was such
a contrast to the rudeness and brutality of the rest
of the family, that I soon felt a powerful interest in
her fate.
The mother did not actually forbid me the house,
because she saw that my visits raised the drooping
spirits of her child, whom she fiercely loved, and, to
save her life, would cheerfully have sacrificed her own.
But she never failed to make all the noise she could to
disturb my reading and conversation with Phcebe.
She could not be persuaded that her daughter was
really in any danger until the doctor told her that her
case was hopeless; then the grief of the mother burst
forth, and she gave way to the most frantic and im-
pious complainings.
The rigour of the winter began to abate. The beams
of the sun during the day were warm and penetrating,
and a soft wind blew from the south. I watched, from
day to day, the snow disappearing from the earth,
with indescribable pleasure, and at length it wholly
vanished, not even a solitary patch lingered under
the shade of the forest trees; but Uncle Joe gave no
sign of removing his family.
"Does he mean to stay all the summer?" thought I,
201
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" Perhaps he never intends going at all. I will ask him,
the next time he comes to borrow whiskey."
In the afternoon he walked in to light his pipe, and,
with some anxiety, I made the inquiry.
"Well, I guess we can't be moving afore the end of
May. My missus expects to be confined the fore part
of themonth,and I shan't move till she be quite smart
agin."
"You are not using us well, in keeping us out of the
house so long."
"Oh, I don't care a curse about any of you. It is
my house as long as I choose to remain in it, and you
may put up with it the best way you can ; " and, hum-
ming a Yankee tune, he departed.
I had borne patiently the odious, cribbed-up place
during the winter, but now the hot weather was com-
ing, it seemed almost insupportable, as we were oblig-
ed to have a fire in the close room, in order to cook
our provisions. I consoled myself as well as I could by
roaming about the fields and woods, and making ac-
quaintance with every wild flower as it blossomed,
and in writing long letters to home friends, in which
1 abused one of the finest countries in the world as
the worst that God ever called out of chaos. I can re-
call to memory, at this moment, the few lines of a
poem which commenced in this strain ; nor am I sorry
that the rest of it has passed into oblivion : —
Oh! land of waters, how my spiritjires
ison of t
_
No rural charm poetic thought inspires,
No music murmurs in thy mighty floods;
Though vast the features that compose thy frame,
Turn where we will, the landscape's still the same.
202
PHCEBE, AND OUR SECOND MOVING
The swampy margin of thy inland seas,
The eternal forest girdling either shore,
Its belt of dark pines sighing in the breeze,
And rugged fields, with rude huts dotted o'er,
Show cultivation unimproved by art,
That sheds a barren chillness on the heart.
How many home-sick emigrants, during their first
winter in Canada, will respond to this gloomy picture!
Let them wait a few years ; the sun of hope will a-
rise and beautify the landscape, and they will pro-
claim the country one of the finest in the world.
The middle of May at length arrived, and, by the
number of long, lean women, with handkerchiefs of
all colours tied over their heads, who passed my door,
and swarmed into Mrs. Joe's house, I rightly con-
cluded that another young one had been added to the
tribe; and, shortly after, Uncle Joe himself announced
the important fact, by putting his jolly red face in at
the door, and telling me that his missus had got a
chopping boy; and he was right glad of it, for he was
tired of so many gals, and that he should move in a
fortnight, if his woman did kindly."
I had been so often disappointed that I paid very
little heed to him, but this time he kept his word.
The last day of May they went, bag and baggage,
the poor sick Phoebe, who still lingered on, and the
new-born infant; and right joyfully I sent a Scotch
girl (another Bell, whom I had hired in lieu of her I
had lost), and Monaghan, to clean out the Augean
stable. In a few minutes John returned, panting with
indignation.
"The house," he said, "was more filthy than a pig-
sty." But that was not the worst of it; Uncle Joe,
203
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
before he went, had undermined the brick chimney,
and let all the water into the house. "Oh, but if he
comes here agin," he continued, grinding his teeth
and doubling his fist, " I'll thrash him for it. And
thin, ma'am, he has girdled round all the best graft
apple-trees, the murtherin' owld villain, as if it could
spile his digestion our ating them."
" It would require a strong stomach to digest apple-
trees, John; but never mind, it can't be helped, and
we may be very thankful that these people are gone
at last."
r John and Bell scrubbed at the house all day, and
in the evening they carried over the furniture, and I
went to inspect our new dwelling.
It looked beautifully clean and neat. Bell had
whitewashed all the black, smoky walls and boarded
ceilings, and scrubbed the dirty window- frames, and
polished the fly-spotted panes of glass, until they
actually admitted a glimpse of the clear air and the
blue sky. Snow-white fringed curtains, and a bed,
with furniture to correspond, a carpeted floor, and a
large pot of green boughs on the hearth-stone, gave
an air of comfort and cleanliness to a room which,
only a few hours before, had been a loathsome den of
filth and impurity.
This change would have been very gratifying, had
not a strong, disagreeable odour almost deprived me
of my breath as I entered the room. Itwasunlikeany-
thing I had ever smelt before, and turned me so sick
and faint that I had to cling to the door-post for sup-
port.
" Where does this dreadful smell come from?"
204
PHCEBE, AND OUR SECOND MOVING
"The guidness knows, ma'am; John and I have
searched the house from the loft to the cellar, but we
canna find out the cause of thae stink."
"It must be in the room, Bell; and it is impossible
to remain here, or live in this house, until it is removed."
Glancing my eyes all round the place, I spied what
seemed to me a little cupboard over the mantel-shelf,
and I told John to see if I was right. The lad mount-
ed upon a chair and pulled open a small door, but al-
most fell to the ground with the dreadful stench which
seemed to rush from the closet.
"What is it, John?" I cried from the open door.
"A skunk, ma'am, a skunk! Shure, I thought the
divil had scorched his tail, and left the grizzled hair
behind him. What a strong perfume it has!" he con-
tinued, holding up the beautiful but odious little crea-
ture by the tail.
"By dad ! I know all about it now. I saw Ned Lay-
ton, only two days ago, crossing the field with Uncle
Joe, with his gun on his shoulder, and this wee bit
baste in his hand. They were both laughing like sixty.
'Well, if this does not stink the Scotchman out of the
house,' said Joe/ I'll be contint to be tarred and feather -
ed ;' and thin they both laughed until they stopped to
draw breath."
I could hardly help laughing myself; but I begged
Monaghan to convey the horrid creature away, and
putting some salt and sulphur into a tin plate, and set-
ting fire to it, I placed it on the floor in the middle of
the room, and closed all the doors for an hour, which
greatly assisted in purifyingthehouse from theskunk-
ification. Bell then washed out the closet with strong
205
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ley, and in a short time no vestige remained of the mal-
icious trick that Uncle Joe had played off upon us.
The next day we took possession of our new man-
sion, and no one was better pleased with the change
than little Katie. She was now fifteen months old, and
could just begin to prattle, but she dared not venture
to step alone, although she would stand by a chair all
day, and even climb upon it. She crept from room to
room, feeling and admiring everything, and talking
to it in her baby language. So fond was the dear child
of flowers, that her father used to hold her up to the
apple-trees, then rich in their full spring beauty, that
she might kiss the blossoms. She would pat them with
her soft, white hands, murmuring like a bee in the
branches. To keep her quiet whilst I was busy, I had
only to give her a bunch of wild flowers. She would
sit as still as a lamb, looking first at one and then at
another, pressing them to her little breast in a sort of
ecstasy, as if she comprehended the worth of this most
beautiful of God's gifts to man.
She was a sweet,lovely flower hersel f,and her charm-
ing infant graces reconciled me, more than aught else,
to a weary lot. Was she not purely British? Did not
her soft blue eyes, and sunny curls, and bright rosy
cheeks for ever remind me of her Saxon origin, and
bring before me dear forms and faces I could never
hope to behold again ?
/ The first night we slept in the new house, a demon
of unrest had taken possession of it in the shape of a
countless swarm of mice. They scampered over our
pillows,and jumped upon our faces, squeaking and cut-
ting a thousand capers over the floorT) I never could re-
/ 206
PHCEBE, AND OUR SECOND MOVING
alize the true value ofWhittington's invaluable cat un-
til that night. At first we laughed until our sides ached,
but in reality it was no laughing matter. Moodie re-
membered that we had left a mouse-trap in the old
house; he went and brought it over, baited it, and set
it on the table near the bed. During the night no less
than fourteen of the pro vokingvermin were captured,
and for several succeeding nights the trap did equal
execution. How Uncle Joe's family could have allow-
ed such a nuisance to exist, astonished me ; to sleep
with these creatures continually running over us was ^
impossible; (and they were not the only evils in the
shape of vermin we had to contend with. The oldlogs
which composed the walls of the
bugsand large blacTTants;and theplac^owing to the
number of dogs that always Had slept under the beds
with t;he^hikh^l^ required
the utmost care^foTiHThe place of these noisome and
disgusting tenants.
Arriving in the country in the autumn, we had never -^
experienced any inconvenience from the mosquitoes
butafter the first moist, warm spring days, partlClllar-
ly after the showers, these tormenting insects annoyed
us greatly.)The farm lying in a valley cut .up .with little
streams in every direction,made us more liable to their /
inflictions/The hands, arms, and face of the poor babe \
were covered every morning with red in flamed bumps, . r
which often threw out blisters.
The banks of the little streams abounded with wild
strawberries, which, although small, were of a delic-
ious flavour. Thither Bell and I, and the baby, daily
repaired to gather the bright red berries of Nature's
207
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
own providing. Katie, young as she was, was very ex-
pert at helping herself, and we used to seat her in the
middle of a fine bed, whilst we gathered farther on,
Hearingher talking very lovingly to something in the
grass, which she tried to clutch between her white
hands, calling it "Pitty, pitty," I ran to the spot, and
found that it was a large garter-snake that she was so
affectionately courting to her embrace. Not then a-
ware that this formidable-looking reptile was perfect-
ly harmless, I snatched the child up in my arms and
ran with her home, never stopping until I gained the
house, and saw her safely seated in her cradle.
It had been a very late, cold spring, but the trees
had fully expanded into leaf, and the forest world was
glorious in its beauty. Every patch of cleared land
presented a vivid green to the eye; the brook brawl-
ed in the gay sunshine, and the warm air was filled
with soft murmurs. Gorgeous butterflies floated a-
bout like winged flowers, and feelings allied to poetry
and gladness once more pervaded my heart. In the
evenings we wandered through the woodland paths,
beneath the glowing Canadian sunset, and gathered
rare specimens of strange plants and flowers. Every
object that met my eyes was new to me, and produced
that peculiar excitement which has its origin in a thirst
for knowledge and a love of variety.
We had commenced gardening, too, and my vege-
tables did great credit to my skill and care ; and, when
once the warm weather sets in, the rapid advance of
vegetation in Canada is astonishing.
Not understanding much about farming, especially
in a climate like Canada, Moodie was advised by a
208
PHGEBE, AND OUR SECOND MOVING
neighbouring settler to farm his farm upon shares.
This advice seemed very reasonable; and had it been
given disinterestedly, and had the persons recom-
mended (a man and his wife) been worthy or honest
people, we might have done very well. . But the far-
mer had found out their encroaching ways, was an-
xious to get rid of them himself, and saw no better
way of doing so than by palming them upon us.
From our engagement with these people com-
menced that long series of losses and troubles to which
their conduct formed the prelude. They were to live
in the little shanty that we had just left, and work the
farm. Moodie was to find them the land, the use of
his implements and cattle, and all the seed for the
crops; and to share with them the returns. Besides
this, they unfortunately were allowed to keep their
own cows, pigs, and poultry. The produce of the or-
chard, with which they had nothing to do, was reserv-
ed for our own use.
For the first few weeks they were civil and oblig- , w
ing enough; and had the man been left to himself,
I believe we should have done pretty well; but the
wife was a coarse-minded, bold woman, who instig-
ated him to every mischief. They took advantage of
us in every way they could, and were constantly com-
mitting petty depredations.
From our own experience of this mode of farming,
I would strenuously advise all new settlers never to
embrace any such offer, without they are well ac-
quainted with the parties, and can thoroughly rely up-
on their honesty ; or else, like Mrs. O , they may
mpudently tell you that they can cheat you as they
209 o
?
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
please, and defy you to help yourself. All the money
we expended upon the farm was entirely for these
people's benefit, for by the joint contrivances very lit-
tle of the crops fell to our share ; and when any di-
vision was made, it was always when Moodie was ab-
sent from home and there was no person present to see
fair play. They sold what apples and potatoes they
pleased, and fed their hogs ad libitum. But even their
roguery was more tolerable thantheirksome restraint
which their near vicinity, and constantly having to
come into contact with them, imposed. We had no
longer any privacy, our servants were cross-question-
ed, and our family affairs canvassed by these gossip-
ing people, who spread about a thousand falsehoods
regarding us. I was so much disgusted with this
shareship, that I would gladly have given them all
the proceeds of the farm to get rid of them, but the
bargain was for twelve months, and, bad as it was, we
could not break our engagement.
One little trick of this woman's will serve to illus-
trate her general conduct. A neighbouring farmer's
wife had presented me with some very pretty hens,
who followed to the call of old Betty Fye's handsome
game-cock. I was always fond of fowls, and the inno-
cent Katie delighted in her chicks, and would call
them round her to the sill of the door to feed from her
hand. Mrs. O had the same number as I had,
and I often admired them when marshalled forth by
her splendid black rooster. One morning I saw her
eldest son chop off the head of the fine bird, and I
asked his mother why she had allowed him to kill the
beautiful creature. She laughed, and merely replied
210
PHOEBE, AND OUR SECOND MOVING
that she wanted it for the pot. The next day my sul-
tan walked over to the widowed hens, and took all his
seraglio with him. From that hour I never gathered
a single egg; the hens deposited all their eggs in Mrs.
O 's hen-house. She used to boast of this as an
excellent joke among her neighbours.
On the pth of June, my dear little Agnes was born.
A few days after this joyful event, I heard a great
bustle in the room adjoining to mine, and old Dolly
Rowe, my Cornish nurse, informed me that it was oc-
casioned by the people who came to attend the funer-
al of Phcebe R . She only survived the removal
of the family a week ; and at her own request had been
brought all the way from the lake plains to be
interred in the burying-ground on the hill which over-
looked the stream.
As I lay upon my pillow I could distinctly see the
spot, and mark thelong funeral procession, as it wound
along the banks of the brook. It was a solemn and
imposing spectacle, that humble funeral. When the
waggons reached the rude enclosure, the coffin was
carefully lifted to the ground, the door in the lid
opened, and old and young approached, one after an-
other, to take a last look at the dead before consign-
ing her to the oblivion of the grave.
Poor Phcebe ! Gentle child of coarse, unfeeling par-
ents, few shed more sincerely a tear for thy early fate
than the stranger whom they hated and despised. OJ"
Often have I stood beside that humble mound, when
i the song of the lark was above me, and the bee mur-
muring at my feet, and thought that it was well for
thee that God opened the eyes of thy soul, and called
211
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
thee out of the darkness of ignorance and sin to glory
in His marvellous light. Sixteen years have passed
away since I heard anything of the family or what
had become of them, when I was told by a neighbour
of theirs, whom I accidentally metlast winter, that the
old woman, who now nearly numbers a hundred years,
is still living, and inhabits a corner of her son's barn,
as she still quarrels too much with his wife to reside
with Joe ; that the girls are all married and gone ; and
that Joe himself, although he does not know a letter,
has commenced travelling preacher. After this, who
can doubt the existence of miracles in the nineteenth
century?
CHAPTER TEN
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
X. BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
O'er memory's glass I see his shadow flit,
Though he was gathered to the silent dust
Long years ago. A strange and wayward man,
That shunn'd companionship, and lived apart;
The leafy covert of the dark brown woods,
The gleamy lakes, hid in their gloomy depths, *""
Whose still, deep waters never knew the stroke
Of cleaving oar, or echoed to the sound
Of social life, contained for him the sum
Of human happiness. With dog and gun
Day after day he track'd the nimble deer
Through all the tangled mazes of the forest.
IT WAS EARLY DAY. I WAS ALONE IN 1
the old shanty, preparing breakfast, and now and then •
stirring the cradle with my foot, when a tall, thin, mid- J
die-aged man walked into the house, folio wed by two
large, strong dogs.
Placing the rifle he had carried on his shoulder in
a corner of the room, he advanced to the hearth, and,
without speaking, or seemingly looking at me, lighted
his pipe and commenced smoking. The dogs, after
growling and snapping at the cat, who had not given
the strangers a very courteous reception, sat down on
the hearth-stone on either side of their taciturn master,
eyeing him from time to time,as if long habit had made
them understand all his motions. There was a great
contrast between the dogs. The one was a brindled
bull-dog of the largest size, a most formidable and
powerful brute; the other a stag-hound, tawny, deep-
chested, and strong-limbed. I regarded the man and
his hairy companions with silent curiosity.
He was bet ween forty and fifty years of age; his head,
nearly bald, was studded at the sides with strong,
215
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
coarse, black curling hair. His features were high, his
complexion brightly dark, and his eyes, in size, shape,
and colour, greatly resembling the eyes of a hawk.
The face itself was sorrowful and taciturn ; and his
thin, compressed lips looked as if they were not much
accustomed to smile, or often to unclose to hold social
communion with any one. He stood at the side of the
huge hearth, silently smoking, his eyes bent on the fire,
and now and then he patted the heads of his dogs, re-
proving their exuberant expressions of attachment
with — "Down, Music; down, Chance!"
"A cold, clear morning," said I, in order to attract
his attention and draw him into conversation.
A nod, without raising his head, or withdrawing his
eyes from the fire, was his only answer; and, turning
from my unsociable guest, I took up the baby, who just
then awoke, sat down on a low stool by the table, and
began feeding her. During this operation, I once or
twice caught the stranger's hawk-eye fixed upon me
and the child, but word spoke he none; and present-
ly, after whistling to his dogs, he resumed his gun, and
strode out.
When Moodie and Monaghan came in to breakfast,
I told them what a strange visitor I had had ; and
Moodie laughed at my vain attempt to induce him to
talk.
"He is a strange being," I said; "I must find out
who and what he is."
In the afternoon an old soldier, called Layton, who
had served during the American war, and got a grant
of land about a mile in the rear of our location, came
in to trade for a cow. Now, this Layton was a perfect
216
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
ruffian, a man whom no one liked, and whom all feared.
He was a deep drinker, a great swearer, in short, a
perfect reprobate, who never cultivated his land, but
went jobbing about from farm to farm, trading horses
and cattle, and cheating in a pettifogging way. Uncle
Joe had employed him to sell Moodie a young heifer,
and he had brought her over for him to look at. When
he came in to be paid, I described the stranger of the
morning; and as I knew that he was familiar with every
one in the neighbourhood, I asked if he knew him.
"No one should know him better than myself," he
said ; " 'tis old Brian B , the still-hunter, and a near
neighbour of your'n. A sour, morose, queer chap he
is, and as mad as a March hare! He's from Lancashire,
in England, and came to this country some twenty
years ago, with his wife, who was a pretty young lass
in those days, and slim enough then, though she's so
awfully fleshy now. He had lots of money, too, and
he bought four hundred acres of land, just at the corner
of the concession line, where it meets the main road.
And excellent land it is; and a better farmer, while
he stuck to his business, never went into the bush, for
it was all bush here then. He was a dashing, hand-
some fellow, too, and did not hoard the money either ;
he loved his pipe and his pot too well ; and at last he
left off farming, and gave himself to them altogether.
Many a jolly booze he and I have had, I can tell you.
Brian was an awful passionate man, and, when the
liquor was in, and the wit was out, as savage and as
quarrelsome as a bear. At such times there was no one
but Ned Lay ton dared go near him. We once had
a pitched battle, in which I was conqueror, and ever
217
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
r to mm. „
j \\ I he would
kP» 'AM wife;woi
^ '^ giveness,
arter he yielded a sort of sulky obedience to all I said
r to him. Arter being on the spree for a week or two,
take fits of remorse, and return home to his
would fall down at her knees, and ask her for-
and cry like a child. At other times he would
hide himself up in the woods, and steal home at night,
Ckf^- and get what he wanted out of the pantry, without
speaking a word to any one. He went on with these
pranks for some years, till he took a fit of the blue
devils.
"'Come away, Ned, to the lake, with me/
said he; * I am weary of my life, and I want a change.'
" 'Shall we take the fishing-tackle?' says I. ' The
black bass are in prime season, and F will lend
us the old canoe. He's got some capital rum up from
Kingston. We'll fish all day, and have a spree at
night.'
" 'It's not to fish I'm going,' says he.
"'To shoot, then? I've bought Rockwood's new
rifle.'
" 'It's neither to fish nor to shoot, Ned ; it's a new
game I'm going to try; so come along.'"
" Well, to the lake we went. The day was very
hot, and our path lay through the woods, and over
those scorching plains, for eight long miles. I thought
I should have dropped by the way; but during our
long walk my companion never opened his lips. He
strode on before me, at a half-run, never once turning
his head:
" 'The man must be a devil!' says I, 'and accus-
tomed to a warmer place, or he must feel this. Hollo,
Brian ! Stop there! Do you mean to kill me?'
218
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
"'Take it easy/ says he; 'you'll see another day
arter this — I've business on hand and cannot wait'
" Well, on we went, at the same awful rate, and it
was midday when we got to the little tavern on the
lake shore, kept by one F , who had a boat for
the convenience of strangers who came to visit the
place. Here we got our dinner, and a glass of rum to
wash it down. But Brian was moody, and to all my
jokes he only returned a sort of grunt; and while I
was talking with F , he steps out and a few min-
utes arter we saw him crossing the lake in the old
canoe.
" 'What's the matter with Brian?' says F ; 'all
does not seem right with him, Ned. You had better
take the boat and look arter him.'
" 'Pooh!' says I ; 'he's often so, and grows so glum
nowadays that I will cut his acquaintance altogether
if he does not improve.'
"'He drinks awful hard,' says F ; 'may be he's
got a fit of the delirium-tremulous. There is no tell-
ing what he may be up to at this minute.'"
" My mind misgave me too, so I e'en takes the oars,
and pushes out, right upon Brian's track ; and by the
Lord Harry! if I did not find him, upon my land-
ing on the opposite shore, lying wallowing in his blood,
with his throat cut. * Is that you, Brian?' says I, giving
him a kick with my foot, to see if he was alive or
dead. 'What upon earth tempted you to play me
and F such a dirty, mean trick, as to go and stick
yourself like a pig, bringing such a discredit upon the
house? — and you so far from home and those who
i should nurse you.'"
219
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"I was so mad with him, that (saving your presence,
ma'am) I swore awfully, and called him names that
would be ondacent to repeat here; but he only an-
swered with groans and a horrid gurgling in his throat.
* It's a choking you are,' said I ; 'but you shan't have
your own way and die so easily either, if I can punish
you by keepingyou alive.' So I just turned him upon
his stomach, with his head down the steep bank; but
he still kept choking and growing black in the face."
Layton then detailed some particulars of his surg-
ical practice which it is not necessary to repeat. He
continued —
"I bound up his throat with my handkerchief, and
took him neck and heels, and threw him into the
bottom of the boat. Presently he came to himself a
little, and sat up in the boat; and — would you believe
it? — made several attempts to throw himself into the
water. 'This will not do,' says I; 'you've done mis-
chief enough already by cutting your weasand! If
you dare to try that again, I will kill you with the
oar.J I held it up to threaten him ; he was scared, and
lay down as quiet as a lamb. I put my foot upon his
breast. ' Lie still, now ! or you'll catch it.' He looked
piteously at me; he could not speak, but his eyes
seemed to say, 'Have pity upon me, Ned; don't kill
me.'
"Yes, ma'am, this man, who had just cut his throat,
and twice arter that had tried to drown himself, was
afraid that I should knock him on the head and
kill him. Ha! ha ! I never shall forget the work that
F and I had with him arter I got him up to the
house.
220
j
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
"The doctor came and sewed up his throat; and
his wife — poor crittur! — came to nurse him. Bad as
he was, she was mortal fond of him. He lay there,sick
and unable to leave his bed, for three months, and \
did nothing but pray to God to forgive him, for he \
thought the devil would surely have him for cutting \ •
his own throat; and when he got about again, which
is now twelve years ago, he left off drinking entirely,
and wanders about the woods with his dogs, hunting. rk
He seldom speaks to any one, and his wife's brother ,fjJ
carries on the farm for the family. He is so shy of
strangers that 'tis a wonder he came in here. The old
wives are afraid of him ; but you need not heed him
— his troubles are to himself, he harms no one."
Lay ton departed, and left me brooding over the sad
tale which he had told in such an absurd and jesting
manner. It was evident from the account he had
given of Brian's attempt at suicide, that the hapless
hunter was not wholly answerable for his conduct —
that he was a harmless maniac.
The next morning, at the very same hour, Brian
again made his appearance; but instead of the rifle
across his shoulder^, large stone jar occupied the
place, suspended by'a stout leather thong. Without
saying a word, but with a truly benevolent smile that
flitted slowly over his stern features, and lighted them
up like a sunbeam breaking from beneath a stormy
cloud, he advanced to the table, and unslinging the
jar, set it down before me, and in a low and gruff, but
by no means an unfriendly, voice, said, " Milk, for the
child," and vanished.
"How good it was of him! How kind!" I exclaimed,
221
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
as I poured the precious gift of four quarts of pure
new milk out into a deep pan. I had not asked him
— had never said that the poor weanling wanted milk.
It was the courtesy of a gentleman — of a man of
benevolence and refinement.
For weeks did my strange, silent friend steal in,
take up the empty jar, and supply its place with
another replenished with milk. The baby knew his
step, and would hold out her hands to him and cry,
"Milk!" and Brian would stoop down and kiss her,
and his two great dogs lick her face.
"Have you any children, Mr. B ?"
"Yes, five; but none like this."
" My little girl is greatly indebted to you for your
kindness."
"She's welcome, or she would not get it. You are
strangers; but I like you all. You look kind, and I
would like to know more about you."
Moodie shook hands with the old hunter, and as-
sured him that we should always be glad to see him.
After this invitation, Brian became a frequent guest.
He would sit and listen with delight to Moodie while
he described to him elephant-hunting at the Cape,
grasping his rifle in a determined manner, and whistl-
ing an encouraging air to his dogs. I asked him one
evening what made him so fond of hunting.
"'Tis the excitement," he said ; "it drowns thought,
and I love to be alone. I am sorry for the creatures,
too, for they are free and happy; yet I am led by an
instinct I cannot restrain to kill them. Sometimes
the sight of their dying agonies recalls painful feel-
ings, and then I lay aside the gun, and do not hunt
222
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
for days. But 'tis fine to be alone with God in the great
woods — to watch the sunbeams stealing through the
thick branches, the blue sky breaking in upon you in
patches, and to know that all is bright and shiny above
you, in spite of the gloom that surrounds you."
After a long pause, he continued, with much sol-
emn feeling in his look and tone —
" I lived a life of folly for years, for I was respectably
born and educated, and had seen something of the
world, perhaps more than was good, before I left home
for the woods; and from the teaching I had received
from kind relatives and parents I should have known
how to have conducted myself better. But, madam,
if we associate long with the depraved and ignorant,
we learn to become even worse than they. I felt deep-
ly my degradation — felt that I had become the slave to
low vice, and, in order to emancipate myself from the
hateful tyranny of evil passions, I did a very rash and
foolish thing. I need not mention the manner in which
I transgressed God's holy laws; all the neighbours
know it, and must have told you long ago. I could
have borne reproof, but they turned my sorrow into
indecent jests, and, unable to bear their coarse rid-
icule, I made companions of my dogs and gun, and
went forth into the wilderness. Hunting became a
habit. I could no longer live without it, and it sup-
plies the stimulant which I lostwhen I renounced the
cursed whiskey-bottle.
- "I remember the first hunting excursion I took
alone in the forest. How sad and gloomy I felt! I
thought that there was no creature in the world so mis-
erable as myself. I was tired and hungry, and I sat
223
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
down upon a fallen tree to rest. All was still as death
around me, and I was fast sinking to sleep, when my
attention was aroused by a long, wild cry. My dog, for
I had not Chance then, and he's no hunter, pricked
up his ears, but instead of answering with a bark of
defiance, he crouched down, trembling, at my feet.
'What does this mean ? ' I cried, and I cocked my rifle
and sprang upon the log. The sound came nearer
upon the wind. It was like the deep baying of a pack
of hounds in full cry. Presently a noble deer rushed
past me, and fast upon his trail — I see them now, like
so many black devils — swept by a pack of ten or fif-
teen large, fierce wolves, with fiery eyes and bristling
hair, and paws that seemed hardly to touch the ground
in their eager haste. I thought not of danger, for, with
their prey in view, I was safe'; but I felt every nerve
within me tremble for the fate of the poor deer. The
wolves gained upon him at every bound. A close
thicket intercepted his path, and, rendered desperate,
he turned at bay. His nostrils were dilated, and his
eyes seemed to send forth long streams of light. Itwas
wonderful to witness the courage of the beast. How
bravely he repelled the attacks of his deadly enemies,
how gallantly he tossed them to the right and left, and
spurned them from beneath his hoofs; yet all his
struggles were useless, and he was quickly overcome
and torn to pieces by his ravenous foes. At that mo-
ment he seemed more unfortunate even than myself,
for I could not see in what manner he had deserved
his fate. All his speed and energy, his courage and
fortitude,had been exerted in vain. I had tried to de-
stroy myself; but he, with every effort vigorously
224
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
made for self-preservation, was doomed to meet the
fate he dreaded ! Is God just to his creatures?"
With this sentence on his lips, he started abruptly
from his seat and left the house.
One day he found me painting some wild flowers,
and was greatly interested in watching the progress
I made in the group. Late in the afternoon of the
following day he brought me a large bunch of splen-
did spring flowers.
"Draw these," said he; "I have been all the way to
the lake plains to find them for you."
Little Katie, grasping them one by one, with in-
fantile joy, kissed every lovely blossom.
"These are God's pictures," said the hunter, "and
the child, who is all nature, understands them in a
minute. Is it not strange that these beautiful things
are hid away in the wilderness, where no eyes but the
birds of the air, and the wild beasts of the wood, and
the insects that live upon them, ever see them ? Does
God provide, for the pleasure of such creatures, these
flowers? Is His benevolence gratified by the admir-
ation of animals whom we have been taught to con-
sider as having neither thought nor reflection ? When
I am alone in the forest, these thoughts puzzle me."
Knowing that to argue with Brian was only to call
into action the slumbering fires of his fatal malady, I
turned the conversation by asking him why he called
his favourite dog Chance?
" I found him," he said, " forty miles back in the bush.
He was a mere skeleton. At first I took him for a
wolf, but the shape of his head undeceived me. I
opened my wallet, and called him to me. He came
225 p
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
slowly, stopping and wagging his tail at every step,
and looking me wistfully in the face. I offered him a
bit of dried venison, and he soon became friendly,
and followed me home, and has never left me since.
I called him Chance, after the manner I happened
with him; and I would not part with him forjtwenty
dollars."
Alas, for poor Chance! he had, unknown to his
master, contracted a private liking for fresh mutton,
and one night he killed no less than eight sheep that
belonged to Mr. D , on the front road; the cul-
prit, who had been long suspected, was caught in the
very act, and this mischance cost him his life. Brian
was sad and gloomy for many weeks after his fav-
ourite's death.
" I would have restored the sheep fourfold," he said,
"if he would but have spared the life of my dog."
f My recollections of Brian seem more particularly
to concentrate in the adventures of one night, when I
happened to be left 'alone, for the first time since my
arrival in Canada. I cannot now imagine how I could
have been such a fool as to give way for four-and-
twenty hours to such childish fears ; but so it was,
and I will not disguise my weakness from my indul-
gent reader.
I Moodie had bought a very fine cow of a black man,
named Mollineux, for which he was to give twenty-
seven dollars. The man lived twelve miles back in the
woods, and one fine frosty spring day — (don't smile
at the term frosty, thus connected with the genial sea-
son of the year; the term is perfectly correct when
applied to the Canadian spring, which, until the mid-
226
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
die of May, is the most dismal season in the year) —
he and John Monaghan took a rope and the dog,
and sallied forth to fetch the cow home. Moodie said
that they should be back by six o'clock in the evening,
and charged me to have somethingcooked forsupper
when they returned, as he doubted not their long walk
in the sharp air would give them a good appetite.
This was duringthe time that I was without a servant,
and living in old Mrs. 's shanty.
The day was so bright and clear, and Katie was so
full of frolic and play, rolling upon the floor, or tod-
dling from chair to chair, that the day passed on with-
out my feeling remarkably lonely. At length the
evening drew nigh, and I began to expect my hus-
band's return, and to think of the supper that I was to
prepare for his reception. The red heifer that we had
bought of Lay ton, came lowing to the door to be milk-
ed, but I did not know how to milk in those days, and,
besides this, I was terribly afraid of cattle. Yet, as I
knew that milk would be required for the tea, I ran
across the meadow to Mrs. Joe, and begged that one
of her girls would be so kind as to milk for me. My
request was greeted with a rude burst of laughter from
the whole set.
"If you can't milk," said Mrs. Joe, "it's high time
you should learn. My girls are above being helps."
"I would not ask you but as a great favour; I am
afraid of cows."
" Afraidofcows I Lord bless the woman ! A farmer's
wife and afraid of cows ! "
Here followed another laugh at my expense; and,
indignant at the refusal of my first and last request,
227
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
when they had all borrowed so much from me, I shut
the inhospitable door, and returned home.
After many ineffectual attemgtsx_I_succeeded at
last, and Jaore my-ha]f-pajT nrmilk In i_J2Jj][£gpj}J:.o th^
house. Yes! I frjt-proiirlpr of that milk than many
an'^u^oToTEhFBest thing he ever wrote, whether in
verse or prose; and it was doubly sweet when I con-
sidered that I had procured it without being under
any obligation to mvill-natured neighbours. I had
learned a useful leWon_ojjnd£pendence, to"wriTcTrtn
afteryeaTs 1 had olten again to refer. I fed little Katie
and put her to bed, made the hot cakes for tea, boiled
the potatoes, and laid the ham, cut in nice slices, in
the pan, ready to cook the moment I saw the men
enter the meadow, and arranged the little room with
scrupulous care and neatness. A glorious fire was
blazing on the hearth, and everything was ready for
their supper, and I began to look out anxiously for
their arrival.
The night had closed in cold and foggy, and I could
no longer distinguish any object at more than a few
yards from the door. Bringing in as much wood as I
thought would last me for several hours, I closed the
door; and for the first time in my life I found myself at
night in a house entirely alone. Then I began to ask
myself a thousand torturing questions as to the reason
of their unusual absence. H ad they lost their way in the
woods? Could they have fallen in with wolves (one
of my early bugbears) ? Could any fatal accident have
befallen them? I started up, opened the door, held
my breath, and listened. The little brook lifted up
its voice in loud, hoarse wailing, or mocked, in its bab-
228
BRIAN. THE STILL-HUNTER
bling to the stones, the sound of human voices. As it
became later, my fears increased in proportion. I grew
too superstitious and nervous to keep the door open.
I not only closed it, but dragged a heavy box in front,
for bolt there was none. Several ill-looking men had,
during the day, asked their way to Toronto. I felt a-
larmedlest such rude wayfarers should come to-night
and demand a lodging, and find me alone and unpro-
tected. Once I thought of running across to Mrs. Joe,
and asking her to let one of the girls stay with me un-
til Moodie returned ; but the way in which I had been
repulsed in the evening prevented me from making a
second appeal to their charity.
Hour after hour wore away, and the crowing of the
cocks proclaimed midnight, and yet they came not.
I had burnt out all my wood, and I dared not open the
door to fetch in more. The candle was expiring in the
socket, and I had not courage to go up into the loft
and procure another before it went finally out. Cold,
heart-weary, and faint, I sat and cried. Every now
and then the furious barking of the dogs at theneigh-
bouring farms, and the loud cackling of the geese
upon our own, made me hope that they were coming ;
and then I listened till the beating of my own heart
excluded all other sounds. Oh, that unwearied brook !
how it sobbed and moaned like a fretful child; — what
unreal terrors and fanciful illusions my too active mind
conjured up, whilst listening to its mysterious tones!
Just as the moon rose, the howling of a pack of
wolves, from the great swamp in our rear, filled the
whole air. Their yells were answered by the barking
of all the dogs in the vicinity, and the geese, unwill-
229
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ing to be behind-hand in the general confusion, set up
the most discordant screams. I had often heard, and
even been amused, during the winter, particularly on
thaw nights, with hearing the howls of these formid-
able wild beasts, but I had never before heard them
alone, and when one dear to me was abroad amid their
haunts. They were directly in the track that Moodie
and Monaghan must have taken; and I now made
no doubt that they had been attacked and killed on
their return through the woods with the cow, and I
wept and sobbed until the cold grey dawn peered in
upon me through the small dim window. I have pass-
ed many a long cheerless night, when my dear hus-
band was away from me during the rebellion,and I was
left in my foresthome with fivelittlechildren,and only
an old Irishwoman to draw and cut wood for my fire
and attend to the wants of the family, but that was
the saddest and longest night I ever remember.
Just as the day broke myfriends thewolves set up
a parting benediction, so loud and wild, and near to
the house, that I was afraid lest they should break
through the frail window, or come down the low, wide
chimney, and rob me of my child. But their detest-
able howls died away in the distance, and the bright
sun rose up and dispersed the wild horrors of the night,
and I looked once more timidly around me. The sight
of the table spread, and the uneaten supper, renewed
my grief, for I could not divest myself of the idea that
Moodie was dead. I opened the door, and stepped
forth into the pure air of the early day. A solemn
and beautiful repose still hung like a veil over the face
of Nature. The mists of night still rested upon the
230
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
majestic woods, and not a sound but the flowing of
the waters went up in the vast stillness. The earth
had not yet raised her matin hymn to the throne of
the Creator. Sad at heart, and weary and worn in
spirit, I went down to the spring and washed my face
and head, and drank a deep draught of its icy waters.
On returning to the house, I met, near the door, old
Brian the hunter, with a large fox dangling across his
shoulder, and the dogs following at his heels.
"Why! Mrs. Moodie, what is the matter? You are
early abroad this morning, and look dreadful ill. Is
anything wrong at home? Is the baby or your hus-
band sick?"
"Oh!" I cried, bursting into tears, " I fear he is
killed by the wolves."
The man stared at me, as if he doubted the evidence
of his senses, and well he might; but this one idea had
taken such strong possession of my mind that I could
admit no other. I then told him, as well as I could find
words, the cause of my alarm, to which he listened
very kindly and patiently.
" Set your heart at rest; your husband is safe. It is
a long journey on foot to Mollineux, to one unac-
quainted with a blazed path in a bush road. They
have stayed all night at the black man's shanty, and
you will see them back at noon."
I shook my head, and continued to weep.
"Well, now, in order to satisfy you, I will saddle
my mare and ride over to the nigger's, and bring you
word as fast as I can."
I thanked him sincerely for his kindness, and re-
turned, in somewhat better spirits, to the house. At
231
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ten o'clock my good messenger returned with the glad
tidings that all was well.
The day before, when half the journey had been
accomplished, John Monaghan let go the rope by
which he led the cow, and she had broken away
through the woods and returned to her old master ;
and when they again reached his place, night had set
in, and they were obliged to wait until the return of
day. Moodie laughed heartily at all my fears; but in-
deed I found them no joke.
Brian's eldest son, a lad of fourteen, was not exact-
ly an idiot, but what, in the old country, is very ex-
pressively termed by the poor people a " natural."
He could feed and assist himself, had been taught
imperfectly to read and write, and could go to and
from the town on errands, and carry a message from
one farmhouse to another, but he was a strange,way-
ward creature, and evidently inherited, in no small
degree, his father's malady.
Duringthe summer months he lived entirely in the
woods, near his father's dwelling, only returning to
obtain food, which was generally left for him in an
outhouse. In thewinter, driven home by the seventy
of the weather, he would sit for days together moping
in the chimney-corner, withouttaking the least notice
of what was passing around him. Brian never men-
tioned this boy — who had a strong, active figure, a
handsome, but very inexpressive, face — without a
deep sigh; and I feel certain that half his own dejec-
tion was occasioned by the mental aberration of his
child.
One day he sent the lad with a note to our house, to
232
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
know if Moodie wouldpurchasethehalfof an ox that
he was going to kill. There happened to stand in the
corner of the room an open wood box, into which
several bushels of fine apples had been thrown, and,
while Moodie was writing an answer to the note, the
eyes of the idiot were fastened as if by some magnetic
influence, upon the apples. Knowing that Brian had a
very fine orchard, I did not offer the boy any of the fruit.
When the note was finished, I handed it to him. The
lad grasped it mechanically, without removing his
fixed gaze from the apples.
" Give that to your father, Tom."
The boy answered not — his ears, his eyes, his whole
soul, were concentrated in the apples. Ten minutes
elapsed, but he stood motionless, like a pointer at a
dead set.
" My good boy, you can go."
He did not stir.
" Is there anything you want?"
"I want," said the lad, without moving his eyes from
the objects of his intense desire, and speaking in a
slow, pointed manner, which ought to have been heard
to be fully appreciated, " I want ap-ples ! "
"Oh, if that's all, take what you like."
The permission once obtained, the boy flung him-
self upon the box with the rapacity of a hawk upon its
prey after being long poised in the air to fix its certain
aim ; thrusting his hands to the right and left, in order
to secure the finest specimens of the devoted fruit,
scarcely allowing himself time to breathe until he had
filled his old straw hat and all his pockets with apples.
Tohelplaughingwas impossible; while this new Tom
233
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
o'Bedlam darted from thehouse,and scampered across
the field for dear life, as if afraid that we should pursue
him to rob him of his prize.
It was during this winter that our friend Brian was
left a fortune of three hundred pounds per annum; but
it was necessary for him to return to his native country
in order to take possession of the property. This he
positively refused to do ; and when we remonstrated
with him on the apparent imbecility of this resolution,
he declared that he would not risk his life, in crossing
the Atlantic twice, for twenty times that sum. What
strange inconsistency was this, in a being who had
three times attempted to take away that which he
dreaded so much to lose accidentally!
I was much amused with an account which he gave
me, in his quaint way, of an excursion he went upon
with a botanist, tocollect specimens of the plants and
flowers of Upper Canada.
" It was a fine spring day, some ten years ago, and
I was yoking my oxen to drag in some oats I had
just sown, when a little, fat, punchy man, with a broad,
red, good-natured face, and carrying a small black
leathern wallet across his shoulder, called to me over
the fence, and asked me if my name was Brian B ?
I said 'Yes; what of that?'
" ' Only you are the man I want to see. They tell me
that you are better acquainted with the woods than
any person in these parts; and I will pay you any-
thing in reason if you will be my guide for a fe
days/
"'Where do you want to go?' said I.
"'Nowhere in particular/ says he. 'I want to
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
here and there, in all directions, to collect plants and
flowers.'
"That is still-hunting witha vengeance," thought I.
'To-day I must drag in my oats. If to-morrow will
suit, we will be off.'
"'And your charge?' said he. 'I like to be certain
of that.'
"'A dollar a day. My time and labour upon my
farm, at this busy season, is worth more than that.'
"'True/ said he. ' Well, I'll give you what you ask.
At what time will you be ready to start?'
'"By daybreak, if you wish it.'
"Away he went; and by daylight next morning he
was at my door, mounted upon a stout French pony.
'What are you going to do with that beast? 'said I.
' Horses are of no use on the road that you and I are
to travel. You had better leave him in my stable.'
'"I want him to carry my traps,' said he; 'it maybe
some days that we shall be absent.'
" I assured him that he must be his own beast of
burthen, and carry his axe, and blanket, and wallet of
food upon his own back. The little body did not much
relish this arrangement ; but as there was no help for
it, he very good-naturedly complied. Off we set, and
soon climbed the steep ridge at the back of your farm,
and got upon lake plains. The woods were flush
with flowers, and the little man grew into such an ec-
stasy, that at every fresh specimen he uttered a yell
of joy, cut a caper in the air, and flung himself down
upon them, as if he was drunk with delight. ' Oh, what
treasures ! what treasures ! ' he cried. ' I shall make my
fortune!'
235
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"It is seldom I laugh," quoth Brian, "but I could
not help laughing at this odd little man ; for it was not
the beautiful blossoms, such as you delight to paint,
that drew forth these exclamations, but the queer little
plants which he had rummaged for at the roots of old
trees, among the moss and long grass. He sat upon a
decayed trunk, which lay in our path, I do believe for
a long hour, making an oration over some greyish
things, spotted with red, that grew upon it, which look-
ed more like mould than plants, declaring himself re-
paid for all the trouble and expense he had been at,
if it were only to obtain a sight of them. I gathered
him a beautiful blossom of the lady's slipper, but he
pushed it back when I presented it to him, saying,
' Yes, yes ; 'tis very fine. I have seen that often before ;
but. these lichens are splendid.'
" The man had so little taste that I thought him a
fool, and so I left him to talk to his dear plants, while
I shot partridges for our supper. We spent six days
in the woods, and the little man filled his tin case with
all sorts of rubbish, as if he wilfully shut his eyes to
the beautiful flowers and chose only to admire ugly,
insignificant plants that everybody else passes by
without noticing, and which, often as I had been in
the woods, I never had observed before. I never pur-
sued a deer with such earnestness as he continued his
hunt for what he called 'specimens.'
" When we came to the Cold Creek, which is pretty
deep in places, he was in such a hurry to get at some
plants that grew under the water, that in reaching
after them he lost his balance, and fell head over heels
into the stream. He got a thorough ducking, and was
236
BRIAN, THE STILL-HUNTER
in a terrible fright ; but he held on to the flowers, which
had caused the trouble, and thanked his stars that he
had saved them as well as his life. Well, he was an
innocent man," continued Brian ; " a very little made
him happy, and at night he would sing and amuse
himself like a child. He gave me ten dollars for my
trouble, and I never saw him again ; but I often think
of him, when hunting in the woods that we wandered
through together, and I pluck the wee plants that he "
used to admire, and wonder why he preferred them
to the fine flowers."
When our resolution was
and take up our grantTof land Intrie backwoods, no
one was_sj2je£rn£s±m±i3angjtp^^
this Tuinous scheme as our friend Brian B , who
Kprarry qin'f-p plnqnPinj^iJjT^^ thp trials
arid sorrows that awaited usT^During the last week of
our stay in the township of H — — , he visited us every
evening, and never bade us good-night without a tear
moistening his cheek. We parted with the hunter as
with an old friend; and we never met again. His fate
was a sad one. After jjrejeft that part of thecountry,
he fell into a moping melancholy, which ended in self-
destruction. But a kinder or warmer-hearted man,
while he enjoyed the light of reason, has seldom
crossed our path.
I
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE CHARIVARI
CHAPTER ELEVEN THE CHARIVARI
Our fate is seal'd! 'Tis now in vain to sigh,
For home, or friends, or country left behind.
Come, dry those tears, and lift the downcast eye
To the high heaven of hope, and be resign 'd;
Wisdom and time will justify the deed,
The eye will cease to weep, the heart to bleed.
Love's thrilling sympathies, affections pure,
All that endear'd and hallow'd your lost home,
Shall on a broad foundation, firm and sure,
Establish peace; the wilderness become
Dear as the distant land you fondly prize,
Or dearer visions that in memory rise.
THE MOAN OF THE WIND TELLS OF
the coming rain that it bears upon its wings; the deep
stillness of the woods, and the lengthened shadows
they cast upon the stream, silently but surely foreshow
the bursting of the thunder-cloud; and who that has
lived for any time upon the coast, can mistake the
language of the waves — that deep prophetic surging
thatushers intheterriblegale? So it is with the human
heart — it has its mysterious warnings, its fits of sun-
shine and shade, of storm and calm, now elevated
with anticipations of joy, now depressed by dark pre-
sentiments of ill.
All who have ever trodden this earth, possessed of
the powers of thought and reflection, of tracingeffects
back to their causes, have listened to these voices of
the soul, and secretly acknowledged their power ; but
few, very few, have had courage boldly to declare their
belief in them : the wisest and the best have given
credence to them, and the experience of every day
proves their truth; yea, the proverbs of past ages a-
ound with allusions to the same subject, and though
41 Q
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the worldly may sneer, and the good man reprobate
the belief in a theory which he considers dangerous,
yet the former, when he appears led by an irresistible
impulse to enter into some fortunate, but until then
unthought of, speculation; and the latter, when he
devoutly exclaims that God has met him in prayer,
unconsciously acknowledges the same spiritual a-
gency. For my own part, I have no doubts upon the
subject, and have found many times, and at different
periods of my life, that the voice in the soul speaks
truly; that if we gave stricter heed to its mysterious
warnings, we should be saved much after-sorrow.
Well do I remember how sternly and solemnly this
inward monitor warned me of approaching ill, the
last night I spent at home; how it strove to draw me
back as from a fearful abyss, beseeching me not to
leave England and emigrate to Canada, and howglad-
ly would I Have obeyed the injunction had it still been
in my power. I had bowed to a superior mandate,
the command of duty; for my husband's sake, for the
sake of the infant, whose little bosom heaved against
my swelling heart, I had consented to bid adieu for
ever to my native shores, and it seemed both useless
and sinful to draw back.
Yet, by what stern necessity were we driven forth
to seek a new home amid the western wilds? We were
not compelled to emigrate. Bound to England by a
thousand holy and endearing ties, surrounded by a
circle of chosen friends, and happy in each other's love,
we possessed all that the world can bestow of good—
but wealth. The half-pay of a subaltern officer, man-
aged with the most rigid economy, is too small to
242
THE CHARIVARI
supply the wants of a family; and if of a good family,
not enough to maintain his original standing in so-
ciety. True, it may find his children bread, it may
clothe them indifferently, but it leaves nothing for
the indispensable requirements of education, or the
painful contingencies of sickness and misfortune. In
such a case, it is both wise and right to emigrate.
Nature points it out as the only safe remedy for
the evils arising out of an over-dense population,
and her advice is always founded upon justice and
truth.
Up to the period of which I now speak, we had not
experienced much inconvenience from our very limit-
ed means. Our wants were few, and we enjoyed many
of the comforts and even some of the luxuries of life;
and all had gone on smoothly and lovingly with us
until the birth of our first child. It was then that pru-
dence whispered to the father, " You are happy and
contented now, but this cannot always last; the birth
of that child, whom you have hailed with as much
rapture as though she were born to inherit a noble
estate, is to you the beginning of care. Your family
may increase, and your wants will increase in propor-
tion ; out of what fund can you satisfy their demands?
Some provision must be made for the future, and
made quickly, while youth and health enable you to
icombat successfully with the ills of life. When you
parried for inclination, you knew that emigration
must be the result of such an act of imprudence in
:>ver-populated England. Up and be doing, while you
till possessThelneans of transporting yourself to a
and where the industrious can never lack bread, and
43
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
where there is a chance that wealth and independence
may reward virtuous toil."
Alas! that truth should ever whisper such unpleas-
ant realities to the lover of ease — to the poet, the au-
thor, the musician, the man of books, of refined taste
and gentlemanly habits. Yet he took the hint, and
began to bestir himself with the spirit and energy so
characteristic of the glorious North, from whence he
sprung.
"The sacrifice," he said, "must be made, and the
sooner the better. My dear wife, I feel confident that
you will respond to the call of duty; and hand-in-hand
and heart-in-heartwewill go forth to meet difficulties,
and, by the help of God, to subdue them."
Dear husband! I take shame to myself that my pur-
pose was less firm, that my heart lingered so far be-
hind yours in preparing for this great epoch in our
lives; that, like Lot's wife, I still turned and looked
back, and clung with all my strength to the land I
was leaving. It was not the hardships of an emigrant's
life I dreaded.^I could bear mere physical privations
philosophically enough; it was the loss of the society
in which I had moved, the want of congenial minds,
of persons engaged in congenial pursuits, that made
me so reluctant to respond to my husband's call.
I was the youngest in a family remarkable for
their literary attainments; and, while yet a child, I
had seen riches melt away from our once prosperous
home, as the Canadian snows dissolve before the first
warm days of spring, leaving the verdureless earth
naked and bare.
There was, however, a spirit in my family that rose
244
THE CHARIVARI
superior to the crushing influences of adversity. Pov-
erty, which so often degrades the weak mind, became
their best teacher, the stern but fruitful parent of high
resolve and ennobling thought. The very misfortunes
that overwhelmed, became the source from whence
they derived both energy and strength, as the inun-
dation of some mighty river fertilizes the shores over
which it spreads ruin and desolation. Without losing
aught of their former position in society, they dared
to be poor; to place mind above matter, and make
the talents with which the great Father had liberally
endowed them, work out their appointed end. The
world sneered, and summer friends forsook them;
they turned their backs upon theworld, and upon the
ephemeral tribes that live but in its smiles.
From out the solitude in which they dwelt, their
names went forth through the crowded cities of that
cold, sneering world, and were mentioned with re-
spect by the wise and good ; and what they lost in
wealth, they more than regained in well-earned re-
putation.
Brought up in this school of self-denial, it would
have been strange indeed if all its wise and holy pre-
cepts had brought forth no corresponding fruit. I
endeavoured to reconcile myself to the change that
awaited me, to accommodate my mind and pursuits
i to the new position in which I found myself placed.
Many a hard battle had we to fight with old pre-
judices, and many proud swellings of the heart to
subdue, before we could feel the least interest in the
and of our adoption, or look upon it as our home.
All was new, strange, and distasteful to us; we
45
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
shrank from the rude, coarse familiarity of the uned-
ucated people among whom we were thrown ; and they
in return viewed us as innovators, who wished to
curtail their independence by expecting from them
the kindly civilities and gentle courtesies of a more
refined community. They considered us proud and
shy, when we were only anxious not to give offence.
The semi-barbarous Yankee squatters, who had "left
their country for their country's good," and by whom
we were surrounded in our first settlement, detested
us, and with them we could have no feeling in com-
mon. We could neither lie nor cheat in our dealings
with them ; and they despised us for our ignorance in
trading and our want of smartness.
The utter want of that common courtesy with which
a well-brought-up European addresses the poorest of
his brethren, is severely felt at first by settlers in Can-
ada. At the period of which I am now speaking, the
titles of "sir," or " madam," were very rarely applied
by inferiors. They entered your house without knock-
ing; and while boastingof their freedom, violated one
of its dearest laws, which considers even the cottage
of the poorest labourer his castle, and his privacy
sacred.
"Is your man to hum ? " — " Is the woman within ? "
were the general inquiries made to me by such guests,
while my bare-legged, ragged Irish servants were al-
ways spoken to as "sir" and "mem" as if to make the
distinction more pointed.
Why they treated our claims to their respect with
marked insult and rudeness, I never could satisfac-
torily determine, in any way that could reflect honour
246
THE CHARIVARI
on the species, or even plead an excuse for its brutal-
ity, until I found that this insolence was more gen-
erally practised by the low, uneducated emigrants
from Britain, who better understood your claims to
their civility, than by the natives themselves. Then
I discovered the secret.
The unnatural restraint which societyimposes upon
these people at home forces them to treat their more
fortunate brethren with a servile deference which is
repugnant to their feelings, and is thrust upon them by
the dependent circumstances in which they are plac-
ed. This homage to rank and education is not sincere.
Hatred and envy lie rankling at their heart, although
hidden by outward obsequiousness. Necessity com-
pels their obedience ; they fawn, and cringe, and flat-
ter the wealth on which they depend for bread. But
let them once emigrate, the clog which fettered them
is suddenly removed ; they are free ; and the dearest
privilege of this freedom is to wreak upon their sup-
eriors the long- locked-up hatred of their hearts. They
thinktheycan debaseyou to their level by disallowing
all your claims to distinction; while they hope to
exalt themselves and their fellows into ladies and gen-
tlemen by sinking you back to the only title you re-
ceived from Nature — plain "man" and "woman."
Oh, how much more honourable than their vulgar
pretensions !
I never knew the real dignity of these simple epi-
thets until they were insultingly thrust upon us by
the working-classes of Canada.
But from this folly the native-born Canadian is ex-
empt ; it is only practised by the low-born Yankee, or
247
G
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the Yankeefied British peasantry and mechanics. It
originatesin the enormous reaction springingout of a
sudden emancipation from a state of utter dependence
into one of unrestrained liberty. As such, I not only
excuse, but forgive it, for the principle is founded in
nature; and, however disgusting and distasteful to
those accustomed to different treatment from their in-
feriors, it is better than a hollow profession of duty
and attachment urged upon us by a false and unnat-
ural position. Still, it is very irksome until you think
more deeply upon it; and then it serves to amuse
rather than to irritate.
And here I would observe, be fore quitting this sub-
ject, that of all follies, that of taking out servants from
the old country is one of the greatest, and is sure to
end in the loss of the money expended in their pas-
sage,and to becomethecause of deep disappointment
and mortification to yourself.
• They no sooner set foot upon the Canadian shores
than they become possessed with this ultra-republi-
can spirit. All respect for their employers, all sub-
ordination is at an end ; the very air of Canada severs
the tie of mutual obligation which bound you to-
gether. They fancy themselves not only equal to you
in rank, but that ignorance and vulgarity give them
superior claims to notice. They demand the highest
wages, and grumble at doing half the work, in re-
turn, which they cheerfully performed at home. They
demand to eat at your table, and to sit in your com-
pany, and if you refuse to listen to their dishonest and
extravagant claims, they tell you that "they are free;
that no contract signed in the old country is binding
248
I
THE CHARIVARI
in 'Meriky'; that you may look out for another per-
son to fill their place as soon as you like; and that you
may get the money expended in their passage and
outfit in the best manner you can."
I was unfortunately persuaded to take out a wo-
man with me as a nurse for my child during the voyage,
as I was in very poor health; and her conduct, and
the trouble and expense she occasioned, were a per-
fect illustration of what I have described.
^ When we consider the different position in which
servants are placed in the old and new world, this
conduct, ungrateful as it then appeared to me, ought
not to create the least surprise. In Britain, fatcin-
stance, they are too often dependent upon th^capHp^
of their employers for bread. Their wages are low;
their moral condition still lower. They are brought
up in the most servile fear of the higher classes, and
they feel most keenly their hopeless degradation, for
no effort on their part can better their position. They
know that if once they get a bad cha rafter fo<y tynijrf
starve or steal : and to this conviction we are indebt-
ed for a great deal of their seeming fidelity and long
ancj laborious service in our families, which we owe
less to any moral perception on their part of the sup-
erior kindness or excellence of their employers, than
to the mere feeling of assurance, that as long as they
do their work well, and are cheerful and obedient, they
will be punctually paid their wages, and well housed
and fed.
Happy is it for them and their masters when even
this selfish bond of union exists between them!
JJiTt in Canada the ^tftt** of things in this respect
249
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
./• js^wholly reverse^. The serving_cliaj5Si^QSipa£5tive-_
ly speaking, is small, and admits of little competition .
Servants that understand the work of the country are
cA not easily procured, and such always can commang!
the highest wages, The possession of a good servant
is such an addition to comfort, that they are persons
, of no small consequence, for the dread of starving no
\r jonger frightens them into servile obedience.^The^
can live without you, and they well know that you
cannot do without them. If you attempt to practise
upon them that common vice of English mistresses,
to scold them for any slight omission or offence, you
rouse into active operation all their new-found spirit
of freedom and opposition. They turn upon you with
a torrent of abuse ; they demand their wages, and de-
clare their intention of quitting you instantly. The
more inconvenient the time for you, the more bitter
become their insulting remarks. They tell you, with
a high hand, that "they are as good as you; that they
can get twenty better places by the morrow, and that
they don't care a snap for your anger." And away
_ they bounce, leaving you to finish a large wash, or a
heavy job of ironing, in the best way you can.
When we look upon such conduct as the reaction
arising out of their former state, we cannot so much
blame them, and are obliged to own that it is the nat-
ural result of a sudden emancipation from former re-
straint. With all their insolent airs of independence,
I must confess that I prefer the Canadian to the Euro-
pean servant. If they turn out good and faithful, it
springs more from real respect and affection, and you
possess in your domestic a valuable assistant and
250
THE CHARIVARI
friend ; but this will never be the case with a servant
brought out with you from the old country, for the
reasons before assigned. The happy independence
enjoyed in this highly-favoured land is nowhere bet-
ter illustrated than in the fact that no domestic can
be treated with cruelty or insolence by an unbenevol-
ent or arrogant master.
Forty years has made as great a difference in the
state of society in Canada as it has in its commercial
and political importance. When we came to the Can-
adas, society was composed of elements which did
not always amalgamate in the best possible manner.
The Canadian women_, while they retain the bloom
and freshn^ToFyouth, are exceedingly pretty ;J>ut
these charms soon fade, owing, rjerhaps, to the jfrejcce
extremes oLtheif-e^Hftate, or the withering effect of
the dry metallic air of stoves, and their going too early
into company and being exposed, while yet children,
to the noxious influence of late hours, and the sudden
change from heated rooms to the cold, biting, bitter
winter blast.
Thoughsmall in stature,they are generally well and
symmetrically formed, and possess a graceful easy
carriage. The early age at which they marry and are
introduced into society, takes from them all awkward-
ness and restraint.
They have excellent practical abilities, which, with
a little mental culture, would render them intellectual
and charming companions. At present, too many of
these truly lovely girls remind one of choice flowers
half-buried in weeds.
Music and dancingare theirchief accomplishments.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Though possessing an excellent general taste for mus-
ic, it is seldom in their power to bestow upon its study
the time which is required to make a really good
musician. They are admirable proficients in the other
art, which they acquire readily, with the least in-
struction, often without any instruction at all, beyond
that which is given almost intuitively by a good ear
for time, and a quick perception of the harmony of
motion.
The waltz is their favourite dance, in which old and
young join with the greatest avidity; it is not un-
usual to see parents and their grown-up children
dancing in the same set in a public ballroom.
On entering one of the public ballrooms, a strang-
er would be delighted with such a display of pretty
faces and neat figures. I have hardly ever seen a real-
ly plain Canadian girl in her teens; and a downright
ugly one is almost unknown.
The high cheek-bones, wide mouth, and turned-up
nose of the Saxon race, so common among the lower
classes in Britain, are here succeeded in the next gen-
eration, by the small oval face, straight nose, and
beautifully -cut mouth of the American; while the
glowing tint of the Albion rose pales before the wither-
.vjlh ing influence of late hours and stove-heat.
They are naturally a fine people, and possess cap-
i^^ abilities and talents, which, when improved by culti-
vation, will render them second to no people in the
world ; and that period is not far distant.
To the benevolent philanthropist, whose heart has
bled over the misery and pauperism of the lower
classes in Great Britain, the almost entire absence of
252
THE CHARIVARI
mendicity from Canada would be highly gratifying.
Canada has few, if any, native beggars; her objects
of charity are generally imported from the mother ^r^0^'
country, and these are never suffered to want food or
clothing. TheCanadiansaj^gtyUlvgharitaljlc.[ki(jplgT i
no person in distress is driven with harsh and cruel \
ffom thglf doors: they not Qnlv^nprnnsTv^/ r
relieve the wants oTsufTeritl'g strangers cast upon their
bounty, but they nurse them insickn ess, and use every
means in their power tf^f^fiiirfi them emp^yrmrTTf /
The number of orphan children yearly adopted by /
wealthy Canadians, and treated in every respect as
their own, is almost incredible.
It is a glorious country for the labouring classes, for
while blessed with health, they are always certain of
employment, and certain also to derive from it ample
means of support for their families. An industrious,
hard-working man in a few years is able to purchase
from his savings a homestead of his own ; and in pro-
cess of time becomes one of the most important and
prosperous class of settlers in Canada, her free and
independent yeomen, who form the bones and sinews
of this rising country, and from among whom she al-
ready begins to draw her senators, while their educat-
ed sons become the aristocrats oftherisinggeneration.
It has often been remarked to me by people long
resident in the colony, that those who come to the
country destitute of means, but able and willing to
work, invariably improve their condition and become
independent; while the gentleman who brings out
withhim a small capital is too often tricked and cheat-
ed out of his property, and drawn into rash and dan-
253
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
gerous speculations which terminate in his ruin. His
children, neglected and uneducated, but brought up
with ideas far beyond their means, and suffered to
waste their time in idleness, seldom take to work, and
not unfrequently sink down to the lowest class.
It was towards the close of the summer of 1833,
which had been unusually cold and wet for Canada,
while Moodie was absent at D , inspecting a
portion of his government grant of land, that I was
startled one night, just before retiring to rest, by the
sudden firing of guns in our near vicinity, accompan-
ied by shouts and yells, the braying of horns, the beat-
ing of drums, and the barking of all the dogs in the
neighbourhood. I never heard a more stunning up-
roar of discordant and hideous sounds.
What could it all mean? The maid-servant, as much
alarmed as myself, opened the door and listened.
" The goodness defend us ! " she exclaimed, quickly
closing it, and drawing a bolt seldom used. " We shall
be murdered. The Yankees must have taken Canada,
and are marching hither."
"Nonsense! that cannot be. Besides, they would
never leave the main road to attack a poor place like
this. Yet the noise is very near. Hark! they are fir-
ing again. Bring me the hammer and some nails, and
let us secure the windows."
The next moment I laughed at my folly in attempt-
ing to secure a log hut, when the application of a
match to its rotten walls would consume it in a few
minutes. Still, as the noise increased, I was really
frightened. My servant, who was Irish (for my Scotch
girl, Bell, had taken to herself a husband, and I had
„,„..., •- 254
j
THE CHARIVARI
been obliged to hire another in her place, who had
been only a few days in the country), began to cry and
wring her hands, and lament her hard fate in coming
to Canada.
Just at this critical moment, when we were both
self-convicted of an arrant cowardice, which would
have shamed a Canadian girl of six years old, Mrs.
O tapped at the door, and although generally a
most unwelcome visitor, from her gossiping, mischiev-
ous propensities, I gladly let her in.
"Do tell me," I cried, "the meaning of this strange
uproar?"
"Oh, 'tis nothing," she replied, laughing. "You and
Mary look as white as a sheet; but you need not be
alarmed. A set of wild fellows have met to charivari
Old Satan, who has married his fourth wife to-night,
a young girl of sixteen. I should not wonder if some
mischief happens among them, for they are a bad set,
made up of all the idle loafers about Port H
and C ."
" What is a charivari ? " said I. " Do, pray, enlight-
en me."
" Have you been nine months in Canada, and ask
that question? Why, I thought you knew everything! .^a/tcr-
Well, I will tell you what it is. The charivari is ji cus- Tpf*
torn that the Canadians got from the French, injhe
* Lower Province, and agueer custom it is." When an
old man marries a young wife, or an old woman a
young husband, or two old people, who ought to be
thinking of their graves, enter for the second or third
time into the holy estate of wedlock,as the priest calls
it, all the idle young fellows in the neighbourhood
255
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
meet together to charivari them. For this purpose
they disguise themselves,blackening their faces, put-
ting their clothes on hind part before, and wearing
horrible masks, with grotesque caps on their heads,
adorned with cocks' feathers and bells. They then
form in a regular body, and proceed to the bride-
groom's house, to the sound of tin kettles, horns, and
drums, cracked fiddles, and all the discordant instru-
ments they can collect together. Thus equipped, they
surround the house where the wedding is held, just
at the hour when the happy couple are supposed to
be about to retire to rest — beating upon the door with
clubs and staves, and demanding of the bridegroom
admittance to drink the bride's health, or in lieu there-
of to receive a certain sum of money to treat the band
at the nearest tavern.
"If the bridegroom refuses to appear and grant
their request, they commence the horrible din you
heard, firing guns charged with peas against the doors
and windows, rattling old pots and kettles, and abus-
inghimforhisstinginessinnomeasured terms. Some-
times they break open the doors, and seize upon the
bridegroom; and he may esteem himself a very for-
tunate man, under such circumstances, if he escapes
being ridden upon a rail, tarred and feathered, and
otherwise maltreated. I have known many fatal ac-
cidents arise out of an imprudent refusal to satisfy
the demands of the assailants. People have even lost
their lives in the fray; and I think the Government
should interfere, and put down these riotous meetings.
Surely it is very hard that an old man cannot marry
a young gal, if she is willing to take him, without ask-
256
THE CHARIVARI
ing the leave of such a rabble as that. What righthave
they to interfere with his private affairs?"
"What:, indeed?" said I, feeling a truly British in-
dignation at such a lawless infringement upon the
"--natural rights of man.
"I remember," continued Mrs. O , who had got
fairly started upon a favourite subject,"a sceneof this
kind, that was acted two years ago, at , when old
M r. P took his third wife. He was a very rich store-
keeper, and had made during the war a great deal of
money. He felt lonely in his old age, and married a
young, handsome..xsdd.Q.w^to enliven his -house. The
lads in the village were determined to make him pay
for his frolic. This got wind, and Mr. P was ad-
vised to spend the honeymoon in Toronto; but he
only laughed, and said that 'he was not going to be
frightened from his comfortable home by the threats
of a few wild boys.' In the morning, he was married
at the church, and spent the day at home, where he
entertained a large party of his own and the bride's
friends. During the evening all the idle chaps in the
town collected round the house, headed by a mad
young bookseller, who had offered himself for their
captain, and, in the usual forms, demanded a sight of
the bride, and liquor to drink her health. They were
very good-naturedly received by Mr. P , who sent
a friend down to them to bid them welcome, and to
inquire on what terms they would consent to let him
off, and disperse.
"The captain of the band demanded sixty dollars,
as he, Mr. P , could well afford to pay it.
" ' That's too much, my fine fellows ! ' cried Mr. P
257 R
\
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
from the open window. ' Say twenty-five, and I will
send you down a cheque upon the Bank of Montreal
for the money.'
"Thirty! thirty! thirty! old boy!' roared a hun-
dred voices. * Your wife's worth that. Down with the
cash, and we will give you three cheers, and three times
three for the bride, and leave you to sleep in peace. If
you hang back, we will raise such a 'larum about your
ears that you shan't know that your wife's your own
for a month to come ! '
"Til give you twenty-five,' remonstrated the bride-
groom, not the least alarmed at their threats, and
laughing all the time in his sleeve.
"'Thirty; notonecopperless!' Here they gave him
such a salute of diabolical sounds that he ran from
the window with his hands to his ears, and his friend
came down to the verandah, and gave them the sum
they required. They did not expect that the old man
would have been so liberal, and they gave him the
'Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!' in fine style, and marched
off to finish the night and spend the money at the
tavern."
"And do people allow themselves to be bullied out
of their property by such ruffians?"
"Ah, my dear! 'tis the custom of the country, and
'tis not so easy to put it down. But I can tell you that
a charivari is not always a joke.
"There was another affair that happened just before
you came to the place, that occasioned no small talk
in the neighbourhood ; and well it might, for it was a
most disgraceful piece of business, and attended with
very serious consequences, Some of the charivari
THE CHARIVARI
party had to fly, or they might haveended theirdays
in the penitentiary.
"There was a runaway nigger from the States came ^
to the village, and set up a barber's poll, and settled I
among us. I am no friend to the blacks; but really
Tom Smith was such a quiet, good-natured fellow, y
andsocivil and obliging, thathesoon got a good busi-
ness. He was clever, too, and cleaned old clothes un-
til they looked almost as good as new. Well, after a
time he persuaded a white girl to marry him. She
was not a bad-looking Irishwoman, and I can't think
what bewitched the creature to take him.
" Her marriage with the black man created a great
sensation in the town. All the young fellows were
indignant at his presumption and her folly, and they
determined to give them the charivari in fine style,
and punish them both for the insult they had put up-
on the place.
"Some of the young gentlemen in the town joined
in the frolic. They went so far as to enter the house,
drag the poor nigger from his bed, and in spite of his
shrieks for mercy, they hurried him out into the cold
air — for it was winter — and almost naked as he was,
rode him upon a rail, and so ill-treated him that he
died under their hands.
"They left the body, when they found what had
happened, and fled. The ringleaders escaped across
the lake to the other side; and those who remained
could not be sufficiently identified to bring them to
trial. The affair was hushed up; but it gave great un-
easiness to several respectable families whose sons
were in the scrape."
259
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"But scenes like these must be of rare occur-
rence?"
"They are more common than you imagine. A
man was killed up at W the other day, and two
others dangerously wounded, at a charivari. The
bridegroom was a man in middle life, a desperately
resolute and passionate man, and he swore that if such
riff-raff dared to interfere with him, he would shoot
at them with as little compunction as he would at so
many crows. His threats only increased the mis-
chievous determination of the mob to torment him;
and when he refused to admit their deputation, or
even togive them a portion of the wedding cheer, they
determined to frighten him into compliance by firing
several guns, loaded with peas, at his door. Their
salute was returned, from the chamber window, by
the discharge of a double-barrelled gun, loaded with
buckshot. The crowd gave back with a tremendous
yell. Their leader was shot through the heart, and
two of the foremost in the scuffle dangerously wound-
ed. They vowed they would set fire to the house,
but the bridegroom boldly stepped to the window,
and told them to try it, and before they could light
a torch he would fire among them again, as his gun
was reloaded, and he would discharge it at them
as long as one of them dared to remain on his prem-
ises.
"They cleared off; but though Mr. A was not
punished for the accident, as it was called, he became
a marked man, and lately left the colony to settle in
the United States.
" Why, Mrs. Moodie, you look quite serious. I can,
260
THE CHARIVARI
however, tell you a less dismal tale. A charivari would
seldom be attended with bad consequences if people
would take it as a joke, and join in the spree."
"A very dignified proceeding, for a bride and bride-
groom to makethemselves the laughing-stock of such
people!"
"Oh, but custom reconciles us to everything; and
'tis better to give up a little of our pride than endanger
the lives of our fellow-creatures. I have been told a
story of a lady in the Lower Province, who took for
her second husband a young fellow, who, as far as his
age was concerned, might have been her son. The
mob surrounded her house at night, carrying her
effigy in an open coffin, supported by six young lads,
with white favours in their hats; and they buried the
poor bride, amid shouts of laughter, and the usual ac-
companiments, just opposite her drawing-room win-
dows. The widow was highly amused by the whole
of their proceedings, but she wisely let them have
their own way. She lived in a strong stone house, and
she barred the doors, and closed the iron shutters, and
set them at defiance.
"* As long as she enjoyed her health,' she said, 'they
were welcome to bury her in effigy as often as they
pleased ; she was really glad to be able to afford amuse-
ment to so many people.'
"Night after night, during the whole of that win-
ter, the same party beset her house with their dia-
bolical music; but she only laughed at them.
" The leader of the mob was a young lawyer from
these parts, a sad mischievous fellow; the widow be-
came aware of this, and she invited him one evening
261
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
to take tea with a sm all party at her house. He accepted
the invitation, was charmed with her hearty and hospi-
table welcome, and soon found himself quite at home;
but only think how ashamed he must have felt, when
the same 'larum commenced, at the usual hour, in front
of the lady's house!
"'Oh/ said Mrs. R , smiling to her husband,
' here come our friends. Really, Mr. K , they amuse
us so much of an evening that I should feel quite dull
without them.'
"From that hour the charivari ceased, and the old
lady was left to enjoy the society of her young hus-
band in quiet.
" I assure you, Mrs. M , that the charivari often
deters old people from making disgraceful marriages,
so that it is not wholly without its use."
A few days after the charivari affair, Mrs. D
stepped in to see me. She was an American; a very
respectable old lady, who resided in a handsome frame-
house on the main road. I was at dinner, the servant-
girl, in the meanwhile, nursing my child at a distance.
Mrs. D sat looking at me very seriously until I
concluded my meal, her dinner having been taken
several hours before. When I had finished, the girl
gave me the child, and then removed the dinner-ser-
vice into an outer room.
"You don't eat with your helps," said my visitor.
" Is not that something like pride?"
"It is custom," said I ; "we were not used to do so
at home, and I think that keeping a separate table is
more comfortable for both parties."
" Are you not both of the same flesh and blood ? The
262
THE CHARIVARI
rich and the poor meet together, and the Lord is the
maker of them all."
"True. Your quotation is just, and I assent to it
with all my heart. There is no difference in the flesh
and blood; but education makes a difference in the
mind and manners, and till these can assimilate, it is
better to keep apart"
"Ah! you are not a good Christian, Mrs. Moodie.
The Lord thought more of the poor than He did of
the rich, and He obtained more followers from among
them. Now, we always take our meals with our peo-
pie."
Presently after, while talking over the affairs of our
households, I happened to say that the cow we had
bought of Mollineux had turned out extremely well,
and gave a great deal of milk.
"That man lived with us several years," she said;
" he was an excellent servant, and D paid him his
wages in land. The farm that he now occupies forms
a part of our U. E. grant. But, for all his good con-
duct, I never could abide him, for being a black?
" Indeed ! Is he not the same flesh and blood as the
rest?"
The colour rose into Mrs. D 's sallow face, and
she answered with much warmth. ^ ~
"What! do you want to compare me with zniggert "
" Not exactly. But, after all, the colour makes the
only difference between him and uneducated men of
the same class."
"Mrs. Moodie!" she exclaimed, holding up her
hands in pious horror; "they ,are the children of the
devil ! God never condescended to make a nigger."
63
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" Such an id ea is an impeachment of the power and
majesty of the Almighty. How can you believe in
such an ignorant fable?"
"Well, then," said my monitress, in high dudgeon,
"if the devil did not make them, they are descended
from Cain."
" But all Cain's posterity perished in the flood."
My visitor was puzzled.
"The African race, it is generally believed, are the
descendants of Ham, and to many of their tribes the
curse pronounced against him seems to cling. To be
the servant of servants is bad enough, without our
making their condition worse by our cruel persecu-
tions. Christ came to seek and to save that which was
lost; and in proof of this inestimable promise, He did
not reject the Ethiopian eunuch who was baptized by
Philip, and who was, doubtless, as black as the rest of
his people. Did you not admit Mollineux to your
table with your other helps?"
"Mercy sake! do you think that I would sit down
at the same table with a nigger? My helps would
leave the house if I dared to put such an affront upon
them. Sit down with a dirty black, indeed ! "
"Do you think, Mrs. D ,that there will be any
negroes in heaven?"
"Certainly not, or I, for one, would never wish to go
there;" and out of the house she sallied in high disdain.
Yet this was the woman who had given me such a
plausible lecture on pride. Alas, for our fallen nature !
Which is more subversive of peace and Christian fel-
lowship— ignorance of our own characters, or of the
characters of others?
264
THE CHARIVARI
Our departure for the woods became no w a frequent
theme of conversation. My husband had just return-
ed from an exploring expedition to the backwoods,
and was delighted with the prospect of removing
thither.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ON A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
CHAPTER TWELVE
ON A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
'Tis well for us poor denizens of earth
That God conceals the future from our gaze;
Or Hope, the blessed watcher on Life's tower,
Would fold her wings, and on the dreary waste
Close the bright eye that through the murky clouds
Of blank Despair still sees the glorious sun.
IT WAS A BRIGHT FROSTY MORNING
when I bade adieu to the farm, the birthplace of my
little Agnes, who, nestled beneath my cloak, was
sweetly sleeping on my knee, unconscious of the long
journey before us into the wilderness. The sun had
not as yet risen. Anxious to get to our place of des-
tination before dark, we started as early as we could.
Our own fine team had been sold the day before for
forty pounds; and one of our neighbours, a Mr. D ,
was to convey us and our household goods to Douro
for the sum of twenty dollars. During the week he
had made several journeys, with furniture andstores;
and all that now remained was to be conveyed to the
woods in two large lumber sleighs, onedriven by him-
self, the other by a younger brother. ^^^
It was not without regret that I left Melsetter, for/
so my husband had called the place, after his father's*
estate in Orkney. It was abeautiful, picturesque spot;
and,in spite of the evil neighbourhood, I had learned
to love it; indeed, it was much against my wish that it
was sold. I had a great dislike to removing, which in-
volves a necessary loss, and is apt to give to the emi-
grant roving and unsettled habits. But all regrets
were now useless; and happily unconscious of the life
of toil and anxiety that awaited us in those dreadful
269
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
woods, I tried my best to be cheerful, and to regard
the future with a hopeful eye. /
Our driver was a shrewd, cTever man for his oppor-
tunities. He took charge of the living cargo, which
consisted of my husband, our maid-servant, the two
little children, and myself — besides a large hamper
full of poultry, a dog, and a cat. The lordly sultan of
the imprisoned seraglio thought fittoconducthimself
in a very eccentric manner, for at every barn -yard we
happened to pass, he clapped his wings, and crowed
so long and loud that it afforded great amusement to
the whole party, and doubtless was very edifying to
the poor hens, who lay huddled together as mute as
mice.
" That 'ere rooster thinks he's on the top of the heap,"
said our driver, laughing. " I guess he's not used to
travelling in a close conveyance. Listen ! How all the
crowers in the neighbourhood give him back a note of
defiance! But he knows that he's safe enough at the
bottom of the basket."
The day was so bright for the time of year (the first
week in February),thatwe suffered no inconvenience
from the cold. Little Katie was enchanted with the
jingling of the sleigh-bells, and, nestled among the
packages,kept singing or talking to the horses in her
baby lingo. Trifling as these little incidents were, be-
fore we had proceeded ten miles on our long journey,
they revived my drooping spirits, and I began to feel a
lively interest in the scenes through which we were
passing.
The first twenty miles of the way was over a hilly
and well-cleared country; and as in winter the deep
270
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
snow fills up the inequalities, and makes all roads a-
like,we glided as swiftly and steadily along as if they
had been the best highways in the world. Anon, the
clearings began to diminish, and tall woods arose on
either side of the path; their solemn aspect, and the
deep silence that brooded over their vast solitudes, in- . f
spiring the mind with a strange awe. Not a breath of
windstirred the leafless branches,whose huge shadows
— reflected upon the dazzling white covering of snow
— lay so perfectly still,that it seemed as if Nature had
suspended her operations, that life and motion had
ceased, and that she was sleeping in her winding-sheet,
upon the bier of death.
" I guess you will find the woods pretty lonesome,"
said our driver, whose thoughts had been evidently
employed on the same subject as our own. "We were
once in the woods, but emigration has stepped ahead
of us, and made our'n a cleared part of the country.
When I wz^Jjfly^jilUilris <^
ery side of us, was bush land. A&JnJEet
every se
^hept^j
had everpass
through the great swamp, and some of them believ
that it was the end of the world."
"What swamp is that?" asked I.
" Oh, the great Cavan swamp. We are just two miles
from it; and I tell you that the horses will need a good
rest, and ourselves a good dinner, by the time we are
through it. Ah ! Mrs. Moodie, if ever you travel that
way in summer, you will know something about cord-
uroy roads. I was 'most jolted to death last fall; I
thought it would have been no bad notion to have in-
sured my teeth before I left C . I really expected
271
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
that they would have been shook out of my head be-
fore we had done manoeuvring over the big logs.
" H ow will my crockery stand it in the next sleigh ? "
quoth I. " If the road is such as you describe, I am a-
fraid that I shall not bring a whole plate to Douro."
"Oh! the snow is a great leveller — it makes all
rough places smooth. But with regard to this swamp
I have something to tell you. About ten years ago,
no one had ever seen the other side of it, and if pigs
or cattle strayed away into it, they fell a prey to the
wolves and bears, and were seldom recovered.
"An old Scotch emigrant, who had located himself
on this side of it, so often lost his beasts that he deter-
mined during the summer season to try and explore
the place, and see if there were any end to it. So he
takes an axe on his shoulder, and a bag of provisions
for a week, not forgetting a flask of whiskey, and off
he starts all alone, and tells his wife that if he never
returned, she and little Jock must try and carry on the
farm without him ; but he was determined to see the
end of the swamp, even if it led to the other world.
He fell upon a fresh cattle tract which he followed all
that day; and towards night he found himself in the
heart of a tangled wilderness of bushes, and himself
half eaten up with mosquitoes and black flies. He
was more than tempted to give in and return home
by the first glimpse of light.
"The Scotch are a tough people ; they are not easily
daunted — a few difficulties only seem to make them
more eager to get on ; and he felt ashamed the next
moment, as he told me, of giving up. So he finds out
a large thick cedar-tree for his bed, climbs up, and
272
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
coilinghimself among the branches likeabear,he was
soon fast asleep.
"The next morning, by daylight, he continued his
journey, not forgetting to blaze with his axe the trees
to the right and left as he went along. The ground was
so spongy and wet that at every step he plunged up
to his knees in water, but he seemed no nearer the end
of the swamp than he had been the day before. He
saw several deer, a racoon, and a ground-hog, during
his walk, but was unmolested by bears or wolves.
Having passed through several creeks, and killed a
great many snakes, he felt so weary towards the close
of the second day that he determined to go home the
next morning. But j ust ashe beganto think his search
was fruitless, he observed that the cedars and tamar-
acks which had obstructed his path became less num-
erous, and were succeeded by bass and soft maple.
The ground, also, became less moist, and he was soon
ascending a rising slope, covered with oak and beech,
which shaded land of the very best quality. The old
man was now fully convinced that he had cleared the
great swamp, and that, instead of leading to the other
world, it had conducted him to a country that would
yield the very best returns for cultivation. His favour-
able report led to the formation of the road that we
are about to cross, and to the settlement of Peterbor-
ough, which is one of the most promising new settle-
merits in this district, and is surrounded by a splendid
back country."
We were descending a very steep hill, and encount-
ered an ox-sleigh, which was crawling slowly up it in
a contrary direction. Three people were seated at the
273 s
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
bottom of the vehicle upon straw, which made a cheap
substitute for buffalo-robes. Perched, as we were, up-
on the crown of the height, we looked completely
down mto tne steigh, and during the whole course of
nV* my life I never saw three uglier mortals collected into
such a narrow space. The man was blear-eyed, with
a hare-lip, through which protruded two dreadful yel-
low teeth that resembled the tusks of a boar. The wo-
man was long-faced, high cheek-boned, red-haired,
and freckled all over like a toad. The boy resembled
his hideous mother, but with the addition of a villain-
ous obliquity of vision which rendered him the most
disgusting object in this singular trio.
As we passed them, our driver gave a knowing nod
to my husband, directing, at the same time, the most
quizzical glance towards the strangers, as he exclaim-
ed, "We are in luck, sir! I think that 'ere sleigh may
be called Beauty's egg-basket!"
We made ourselves very merry at the poor people's
expense, and Mr. D , with his odd stories and
Yankeefied expressions, amused the tedium of our
progress through the great swamp, which in summer
presents for several miles one uniform bridgeof rough
and unequal logs, all laid loosely across huge sleepers,
so that they jump up and down, when pressed by the
wheels, like the keys of a piano. The rough motion
and jolting occasioned by this collision is so distress-
ing, that it never fails to entail upon the traveller sore
bones and an aching head for the rest of the day.
The path is so narrow over these logs that two wag-
gons cannot pass without great difficulty, which is
rendered more dangerous by the deep natural ditches
274
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
on either side of the bridge, formed by broad creeks
that flow out of the swamp, and often terminate in
mud-holes of very ominous dimensions. The snow,
however, hid from us all the ugly features of the road,
and Mr. D steered us through in perfect safety,
and landed us at the door of a little log house which
crowned the steep hill on the other side of the swamp,
and which he dignified with the name of a tavern.
It was now two o'clock. We had been on the road
since seven; and men, women, and children were all
ready for the good dinner that Mr. D had prom-
ised us at this splendid house of entertainment, where
we were destined to stay for two hours, to refresh
ourselves and rest the horses.
" Well, Mrs. J , what have you got for our din-
ner?" said our driver, after he had seen to the accom-
modation of his teams.
"Fritters* and pork, sir. Nothing else to be had in
the woods. Thank God, we have enough of that ! "
D shrugged up his shoulders, and looked at us.
" We've plenty of that same at home. But hunger's
good sauce. Come, be spry, widow, and see about it,
for I am very hungry."
I inquired for a private room for myself and the
children, but there were no private rooms in the house •
The apartment we occupied was like the cobbler's
stall in the old song, and I was obliged to attend upon
them in public.
"You have much to learn, ma'am, if you are going
to the woods," said Mrs. J .
" To unlearn, you mean," said Mr. D . " To tell
* Vulgar Canadian for potatoes.
275 *" - -~~
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
you the truth, Mrs. Moodie, ladies and gentlemen
have no business in the woods. Eddication spoils man
or woman for that location. Sq^mdpw (turning to our
hostess), you are not tired of living alone yet?"
"No, siijJLJirunr; nnwhh for n irrnnd rrTnbrmrt I
hacTenough of the first. I like to have my own way —
tolie down mistress, and get up master;1"
"You don't like to be put out of your 0/d?way," re-
turned he, with a mischievous glance.
She coloured very red ; but it might be the heat of
the fire over which she was frying the pork for our
dinner.
I was very hungry, but I felt no appetite for the
dish she was preparing for us. It proved salt, hard,
and unsavoury.
D pronounced it very bad, and the whiskey
still worse, with which he washed it down.
I asked for a cup of tea and a slice of bread. But
they were out of tea, and the hop-rising had failed,
and there was no bread in the house. For this disgust-
ing meal we paid at the rate of a quarter of a dollar
a-head.
I was glad when the horses being again put to, we
escaped from the rank odour of the fried pork, and
were once more in the fresh air.
"Well, mister; did not you grudge your money for
that bad meat? "said D , when we were once more
seated in the sleigh. " But in these parts the worse the
fare the higher the charge."
"I would not have cared," said I, "if I could have
got a cup of tea."
'Tea! it's poor trash. I never could drink tea in
276
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
my life. But I like coffee, when 'tis boiled till it's quite
black. But coffee is not good without plenty of trim-
mings."
"What do you mean by trimmings?"
He laughed. "Good sugar, and sweet cream. Coffee
is not worth drinking without trimmings."
Often in after-years have I recalled the coffee trim-
mings, when endeavouring to drink the vile stuff
which goes by the name of coffee in the houses of
entertainment in the country.
We had now passed through the narrow strip of
clearing which surrounded the tavern, and again en-
tered upon the woods. It was near sunset, and we
were rapidly descending a steep hill, when one of the
traces that held our sleigh suddenly broke. D
pulled up in orderto repair the damage. His brother's
team was close behind, and our unexpected stand-
still brought the horses upon us before J.D could
stop them. I received so violent a blow from the head
of one of them, just in the back of the neck, that for a
few minutes I was stunned and insensible. When I
recovered, I was supported in the arms of my hus-
band,over whose knees I was leaning, and D was
rubbing my hands and temples with snow.
"There, Mr. Moodie, she's coming to. I thought
she was killed. I have seen a man before now killed
by a blow from a horse's head in the like manner."
As soon as we could, we resumed our places in the
sleigh; but all enjoyment of our journey, had it been
otherwise possible, was gone.
When we reached Peterborough, Moodie wished
us to remain at the inn all night,aswe had still eleven
277
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
miles of our journey to perform, and that through a
blazed forest-road, little travelled, and very much
impeded by fallen trees and other obstacles; but
D was anxious to get back as soon as possible
to his own home, and he urged us very pathetically
to proceed.
The moon arose during our stay at the inn, and
gleamed upon the straggling frame-houses which
then formed thejiow populous and thriving town of
Peterborough/ We crossed the wild, rushing beauti-
ful Otonabee River by a rude bridge, and soon found
ourselves journeying over the plains or level heights
beyond the village, which were thinly wooded with
picturesque groups of oak and pine, and very much
resembled a gentleman's park at home.
Far below, to our right (for we were upon the Smith-
town side) we heard the rushing of the river, whose
rapid waters never receive curb from the iron chain of
winter. Even while the rocky banks are coated with
ice, and the frost-king suspends from every twig and
branch the most beautiful and fantastic crystals, the
black waters rush foaming along, a thick steam rising
constantly above the rapids, as from a boiling pot.
The shores vibrate and tremble beneath the force of
the impetuous flood, as it whirls round cedar-crowned
islands and opposing rocks, and hurries on to pour its
tribute into the Rice Lake, to swell the calm, majestic
grandeur of the Trent, till its waters are lost in the
beautiful Bay of Quinte", and finally merged in the
blue ocean of Ontario.
The most renowned of our English rivers dwindle
into little muddy rills when compared with the sub-
278
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
limity of the Canadian waters. No language can ade-
quately express the solemn grandeur of her lake and
river scenery; the glorious islands that float, like vi-
sions from fairyland, upon the bosom of these azure
mirrors of her cloudless skies. No dreary breadth of
marshes, covered with flags, hides from our gaze the
expanse of heavy-tinted waters; no foul mud-banks
spread the unwholesome exhalations around. The
rocky shores are crowned with the cedar, the birch,
the alder, and soft maple, that dip their long tresses
in the pure stream ; from every crevice in the limestone
the harebell and Canadian rose wave their graceful
blossoms.
The fiercest droughts of summer may diminish the
volume and power of these romantic streams, but it
never leaves their rocky channels bare, nor checks the
mournful music of their dancing waves.
Through the openings in the forest, we now and then
caught the silver gleam of the river tumbling on
in moonlight splendour, while the hoarse chiding of
the wind in the lofty pines above us gave a fitting re-
sponse to the melancholy cadence of the waters.
The children had fallen asleep. A deep silence per-
vaded the party. Night was above us with her mys-
terious stars. The ancient forest stretched around us
on every side, and a foreboding sadness sunk upon my
heart. Memory was busy with the events of many
years. I retraced step by step the pilgrimage of my
past life, until, arriving at this passage in the sombre
history, I gazed through tears upon the singularly sav-
age scene around me, and secretly marvelled, "What
brought me here?" «-— -
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"J£f©v4dence,JLwas the answer which the soul gave.
'"Not for your own welfare, perhaps, but for the wel-
fare of your children, the unerring hand of the Great
Father has led you here. You form a connecting link
in the destinies of many. It is impossible for any
human creature to live for himself alone. It may be
your lot to suffer, but others will reap a benefit from
your trials. Look up with confidence to Heaven,
and the sun of hope will yet shed a cheering beam
through the forbidding depths of this tangled wilder-
ness."
The road now became so bad that Mr. D was
obliged to dismount and lead his horses through the
more intricate passages. The animals themselves,
weary with their long journey and heavy load, pro-
ceeded at footfall. The moon, too, had deserted us,
and the only light we had to guide us through the dim
arches of the forest was from the snow and the stars,
which now peered down upon us, through the leafless
branches of the trees, with uncommon brilliancy.
" It will be past midnight before we reach your bro-
ther's clearing" (where we expected to spend the
night), said D . " I wish, Mr. Moodie, we had fol-
lowed your advice and stayed at Peterborough. How
fares it with you, Mrs Moodie, and the young ones?
It is growing very cold."
We were now in the heart of a dark cedar swamp,
and my mind was haunted with visions of wolves and
bears ; but beyond the long, wild howl of a solitary
wolf, no other sound awoke the sepulchral silence of
that dismal-looking wood.
"What a gloomy spot ! " said I to my husband. " In
280
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
the old country, superstition would people it with
ghosts."
"(rVinst.q! TjiRr^ are nr> grjnngfg iff ("]an.ada!" said
Mr. D . "The country is too new for ghosts. \No
Canadian.is_ai£ar^d_o£gl^ Itjsj^nly m old CQU"-
tfieSj like j^pur'n, thatare full~bf sin and wickedness, (* c^-Ol
that people believe in such nonsense. * No human hab-
itation h^s-ewHseei^FeetecKTrt^ through
which you are passing. Until a very few years ago,
few white persons had ever passed through it; and the
Red Man would not pitch his tent in such a place as
this. Now, ghosts, as I understand the word, are the
spirits of bad men that are not allowed by Providence
to rest in their graves, but, for a punishment, are made
to haunt the spots where their worst deeds were com-
mitted. I don't believe in all this; but, supposing it
to be true, bad men must have died here before their
spirits could haunt the place. Now, it is more than
probable that no person ever ended his days in this
forest, so that it would be folly to think of seeing his
ghost."
This theory of Mr. D 's had the merit of origin-
ality, and it is not improbable that the utter disbelief
in supernatural appearances which is common to most
native-born Canadians, is the result of the same very
reasonable mode of arguing. The unpeopled wastes
of Canada must present the same aspect to the new
settler that the world did to our first parents after their
expulsion from the Garden of Eden ; all the sin which
could defile the spot, or haunt it with the association
of departed evil, is concentrated in their own persons.
Bad spirits cannot be supposed to linger near a place
281
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
where crime has never been committed. The belief in
ghosts, so prevalent in old countries, must first have
had its foundation in the consciousness of guilt.
After clearing the low, swampy portion of the
woods, with much difficulty, and the frequent appli-
cation of the axe to cut away the fallen timber that
impeded our progress, our ears were assailed by a
low, roaring, rushing sound, as of the falling of wat-
ers.
"That is Herriot's Falls," said our guide. " We are
within two miles of our destination."
Oh, welcome sound ! But those two miles appeared
more lengthy than the whole journey. Thick clouds,
that threatened a snow-storm, had blotted out the
stars, and we continued to grope our way through a
narrow, rocky path, upon the edge of the river, in al-
most total darkness. I now felt the chillness of the
midnight hour and the fatigue of the long journey,
with double force, and envied the servant and children,
who had been sleeping ever since we left Peterborough.
We now descended the steep bank, and prepared to
cross the rapids.
Dark as it was, I looked with a feeling of dread upon
the foaming waters as they tumbled over their bed
of rocks, their white crests flashing, life-like, amid the
darkness of the night.
"This is an ugly bridge over such a dangerous
place," said D , as he stood up in the sleigh and
urged his tired team across the miserable, insecure
log bridge, where darkness and death raged below,
and onefalsestep of his jaded horses would have plung-
ed us into both. I must confess I drew a freer breath
282
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
when the bridge was crossed, and D congratu-
lated us on our safe arrival in Douro.
We now continued our journey along the left bank
of the river, but when in sight of Mr. S 's clearing,
a large pine-tree, which had newly fallen across the
narrow path, brought the teams to a standstill.
The mighty trunk which had lately formed one of
the stately pillars in the sylvan temple of Nature, was
of too large dimensions to chop in two with axes ; and
after about half an hour's labour, which to me, poor,
cold, weary wight ! seemed an age, the males of the
party abandoned the task in despair. To go round it
was impossible; its roots were concealed in an im-
penetrable wall of cedar-jungle on the right-hand side
of the road, and its huge branches hung over the pre-
cipitous bank of the river.
"We must try and make the horses jump over it,"
said D . "We may get an upset, but there is no
help for it ; we must either make the experiment, or
stay here all night, and I am too cold and hungry for
that — so here goes." He urged his horses to leap the
log; restraining their ardour for a moment as the sleigh
rested on thetop of the formidable barrier,butso nice-
ly balanced, that the difference of a straw would al-
most have overturned the heavily-laden vehicle and
its helpless inmates. We, however, cleared it in safe-
ty. He now stopped, and gave directions to his bro-
I ther to follow the same plan that he had adopted; but
whether theyoungman had less coolness, orthehorses
in his team were more difficult to manage, I cannot
tell: the sleigh, as it hung poised upon the top of the
log, was overturned with a loud crash, and all my
283
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
household goods and chattels were scattered over the
road.
Alas, for my crockery and stonechina! scarcely one
article remained unbroken.
"Never fret about the china," said Moodie; "thank
God, the man and the horses are uninjured."
I should have felt more thankful had the crocks
been spared too; for, like most of my sex, I had a
tender regard for china, and I knew that no fresh sup-
ply could be obtained in this part of the world. Leav-
ing his brother to collect the scattered fragments,
D proceeded on his journey. We left the road,
and were winding our way over a steep hill, covered
with heaps of brush and fallen timber, and as we reach-
ed the top, a light gleamed cheerily from the windows
of a log house, and the next moment we were at my
brother-in-law's door.
My brother-in-law and his family had retired to
rest, but they instantly rose to receive the way-worn
travellers; and I never enjoyed more heartily a warm
welcome after a long day of intense fatigue, than I
did that night of my first sojourn in the backwoods.
THE OTONABEE.
Dark, rushing, foaming river!
I love the solemn sound
That shakes thy shores around,
And hoarsely murmurs, ever,
As thy waters onward bound,
Like a rash, unbridled steed
Flying madly on its course;
That shakes with thundering force
The vale and trembling mead.
284
A JOURNEY TO THE WOODS
So thy billows downward sweep,
Nor rock nor tree can stay
Their fierce, impetuous way;
Now in eddies whirling deep,
Now in rapids white with spray.
I love thee, lonely river!
Thy hollow restless roar,
Thy cedar-girded* shore;
The rocky isles that sever
The waves that round them pour.
Katchawanook t basks in light,
But thy currents woo the shade
By thy lofty pine-trees made,
That cast a gloom like night,
Ere day's last glories fade.
Thy solitary voice
The same bold anthem sung
When Nature's frame was young.
No longer shall rejoice
The woods where erst it rung.
Lament, lament, wild river!
A hand is on thy mane J
That will bind thee in a chain
No force of thine can sever.
Thy furious headlong tide,
In murmurs soft and low,
Is destined yet to glide
To meet the lake below;
And many a bark shall ride
i * The banks of the river have since been denuded of trees. The rocks
that formed the falls and rapids have been blasted out. It is tame enough
how.
f This is the Indian name for one of the many expansions of this beautiful
fiver.
$ Some idea of the rapidity of this river may be formed from the fact
ihat heavy rafts of timber are floated down from Herriot's Falls, a distance
j»f nine miles from Peterborough, in less than an hour. The shores are bold
ind rocky, and abound in beautiful and picturesque views.
85
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Securely on thy breast,
To waft across the main
Rich stores of golden grain
From the valleys of the West
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR INDIAN
FRIENDS
CHAPTER XIII. THE WILD-
ERNESS, AND OUR INDIAN FRIENDS
Man of strange race! stern dweller of the wild!
Nature's free-born, untamed, and daring child!
THECLOUDSOFTHEPRECEDING NIGHT,
instead of dissolving in snow, brought on a rapid
thaw. A thaw in the middle of winter is the most dis-
agreeablechange that can be imagined. After several
weeks of clear, bright, bracing, frosty weather, with a
serene atmosphere and cloudless sky, you awake one
morning surprised at the change in the temperature;
and, u pon looking out of the window, behold the woods
obscured by a murky haze — not so dense as an Eng-^
lish November fog, but more black and lowering—
and the heavens shrouded in a uniform covering of
leaden-coloured clouds, deepening into a livid indigo
at the edge of the horizon. The snow, no longer hard
and glittering, has become soft and spongy, and the
foot slips into a wet and insidiously-yielding mass at
every step. From the roof pours down a continuous
stream of water, and the branches of the trees, collect-
ing the moisture of the reeking atmosphere, shower
it upontheearth from every drippingtwig. Thecheer-
less and uncomfortable aspect of things without never
fails to produce a corresponding effect upon the minds
of those within, and casts such a damp upon the spir-
its that it appears to destroy for a time all sense of
^njoyment. Many persons (and myself among the
number) are made aware of the approach of a thunder-
storm by an intense pain and weight about the head ;
and I have heard numbers of Canadians complain
that a thaw always made them feel bilious and heavy,
and greatly depressed their animal spirits.
89 T
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
I had a great desire to visit our new location, but
when I looked out upon the cheerless waste, I gave
up the idea, and contented myself with hoping for a
better day on the morrow ; but many morrows came
and went before a frost again hardened the road
sufficiently for me to make the attempt.
The prospect from the windows of my sister's log
hut was not very prepossessing. The small lake in
front, which formed such a pretty object in summer,
now looked like an extensive field covered with snow,
hemmed in from the rest of the world by a dark belt
of sombre pine- woods. The clearing round the house
was very small,andonlyjustreclaimed from the wild-
erness, and the greater part of it was covered with
piles of brushwood, to be burnt the first dry days of
spring.
The charred and blackened stumps on the few acres
that had been cleared during the preceding year were
everything but picturesque; and I concluded, as I
turned, disgusted, from the prospect before me, that
there was very little beauty to be found in the back-
woods. But I came to this decision during aCanadian
thaw, be it remembered, when one is wont to view
every object with jaundiced eyes.
Moodiehad only been able to secure sixty-six acres
of his government grant upon the Upper Katchawa-
nook Lake, which, being interpreted, means in Eng-
lish, the "iafce-of-the... Waterfalls," a very poetical
meaning, which most Indian names have. He had,
however, secured a clergy reserve of two hundred acres
adjoining; and he afterwards purchased a fine lot,
which likewise formed part of the same block, one
290
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
hundred acres, for £150. * This was an enormously
high price for wild land ; but the prospect of opening
the Trent and Otonabee for the navigation of steam-
boats and other small craft, was at that period a fav-
ourite speculation, and its practicability, and the great
advantages to be derived from it, were so widely be-
lieved as to raise the value of the wild lands along
these remote waters to an enormous price; and settlers
in the vicinity were eager to secure lots, at any sacri-
fice, along their shores.
Our government grant was upon the lake shore,
and Moodie had chosen for the site of his log house a
bank that sloped graduallyfrom the edge of the water,
until it attained to the dignity of a hill. Along the top
of this ridge, the forest road ran, and midway down
the hill, our humble home, already nearly completed,
stood, surrounded by the eternal forest. A few trees
had been cleared in its immediate vicinity, just suffici-
ent to allow the workmen to proceed, and to prevent
the fall of any tree injuring thebuilding,or the danger
of its taking fire duringthe process of burning the fal-
low
A neighbour had undertaken to build this rude
dwelling by contract, and was to have it ready for us
by the first week in the new year. The want of boards
to make the divisions in the apartments alone hinder-
ed him from fulfilling his contract. These had lately
been procured, and the house was to be ready for our
Deception in the course of a week. Our trunks and bag-
* After a lapse of fifteen years, we have been glad to sell these lots of
and, after considerable clearings had been made upon them, for less than
hey originally cost us.
91
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
gage had already been conveyed thither by Mr. D ;
and, in spite of my sister's kindness and hospitality, I
longed to find myself once more settled in a home of
my own.
The day after our arrival, I was agreeably surprised
by a visit from Monaghan, whom Moodie had once
more taken into his service. The poor fellow was de-
lighted that his nurse-child, as he always called little
Katie, had not forgotten him, but evinced the most
lively satisfaction at the sight of her dark friend.
Earlyevery morning, Moodie went off to thehouse;
and the first fine day, my sister undertook to escort
me through the wood to inspect it. The proposal was
joyfully accepted; and although I felt rather timid
when I found myself with only my female companion
in the vast forest, I kept my fears to myself, lest I
should be laughed at.
The snow had been so greatly decreased by the
late thaw, that it had been converted into a coating of
ice, which afforded a dangerous and slippery footing.
My sister, who had resided for nearly twelve months
in the woods, was provided for her walk with Indian
moccasins, which rendered her quite independent;
but I stumbled at every step. The sun shone brightly,
the air was clear and invigorating, and, in spite of the
treacherous ground and my foolish fears, I greatly en-
joyed my first walk in the woods. Naturally of a cheer-
ful, hopeful disposition, my sister was enthusiastic in
her admiration of the woods. She drew such a lively
pictureof thecharmsof a summer residence in the for-
est, that I began to feel greatly interested in her de-
scriptions, and to rejoice that we, too, were to be he*
292
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
near neighbours and dwellers in the woods ; and this
circumstance not a little reconciled me to the change.
Hoping that my husband would derive an income
equal to the one he had parted with from the invest-
ment of the price of hiscommission in the steam-boat
stock, I felt no dread of want. Our legacy of ^"700 had
afforded us means to purchase land, build our house,
and give out a large portion of land to be cleared, and,
with a considerable sum of money still in hand, our
prospects for the future were in no way discouraging.
When we reached the top of the ridge that over-
looked our cot, my sister stopped, and pointed out a
log-house among the trees. " There, S ," she said,
"is your house. When that black cedar swamp is
cleared away, that now hides the lake from us, you
will have a very pretty view." My conversation with
her had quite altered the aspect of the country, and
predisposed me to view things in the most favourable
light. I found Moodie and Monaghan employed in
piling up heaps of bush near the house, which they
intended to burn off by hand, previous to firing the
rest of the fallow, to prevent any risk to the building
from fire. The house was made of cedar logs, and
presented a superior air of comfort to most dwellings
of the same kind. The dimensions were thirty-six
feet in length, and thirty-two feet in breadth, which
gave us a nice parlour, a kitchen, and two small bed-
rooms, which were divided by plank partitions. Pan-
try or storeroom there was none; some rough shelves
in the kitchen, and a deal cupboard in a corner of the
parlour, being the extent of our accommodations in
that way.
293
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Our servant, Mary Tate, was busy scrubbing out
the parlour and bedroom; but the kitchen, and the
sleeping-room off it, were still knee-deep in chips, and
filled with the carpenter's bench and tools, and all our
luggage. Such as it was, it was a palace when com-
pared to Old Satan's log hut, or the miserable cabin
we had wintered in during the severe winter of 1833,
and I regarded itwith complacency as my futurehome.
While we were standing outside the building, con-
versing with my husband, a young gentleman, of the
name of Morgan, who had lately purchased land in
that vicinity, went into the kitchen to light his pipe
at the stove, and, with true backwood carelessness,
letthehot cinderfall amongthe dry chips that strewed
the floor. A few minutes after, the whole mass was
in a blaze, and it was not without great difficulty that
Moodie and Mr. R succeeded in putting out the
fire. Thus were we nearly deprived of our home be-
fore we had taken up our abode in it.
The indifference to the danger of fire in a country
where most of the dwellings are composed of inflam-
mable materials is truly astonishing. Accustomed
to see enormous fires blazing on every hearth-stone,
and to sleep in front of these fires, his bedding often
riddled with holes made by hot particles of wood fly-
ing out duringthe night, and igniting beneath his very
nose, the sturdy backwoodsman never dreads an en-
emy in the element that he is used to regard as his best
friend. Yet what awful accidents, what ruinous cal-
amities arise out of this criminal negligence, both to
himself and others!
A few days after this adventure, we bade adieu to
294
THE WILDERNESS, AND OURFRIENDS
my sister, and took possession of our new d welling,and
commenced "a life in the woods."
The first spring we spent in comparative ease and
idleness. Our cows had been left upon our old place
during the winter. The ground had to be cleared be-
fore it could receive a crop of any kind, and I had little
to do but to wander by the lake shore, or among the
woods, and amuse myself.
These were the halcyon days of the bush. My hus-
band had purchased a very light cedar canoe, to which
he attached a keel and a sail ; and most of our leisure
hours, directly the snows melted, were spent upon the
water.
These fishing and shooting excursions were delight-
ful, The pure beauty of the Canadian water, the som-
bre but august grandeur of the vast forest that hem-
med us in on every side and shut us out from the rest
of the world, soon cast a magic spell upon our spirits,
and we began to feel charmed with the freedom and
solitude around us. Every object was new to us. We
felt as if we were the first discoverers of every beauti-
ful flower and stately tree that attracted our attention,
and we gave names to fantastic rocks and fairy isles,
and raised imaginary houses and bridges on every pic-
turesque spot which we floated past during our aquatic
excursions. I learned the use of the paddle, and be-
came quite a proficient in the gentle craft.
- It was not long before we received visits from the
I ndians,a people whose beauty, talents, and good qual-
ities have been somewhat overrated, and invested with
a poetical interest which they scarcely deserve. Their
honesty and love of truth are the finest traits in char-
295
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
acters otherwise dark and unlovely. But these are two
God-like attributes, and from them spring all that is
generous and ennobling about them.
There never was a people more sensible of kind ness,
or more grateful for any little act of benevolence exer-
cised towards them. We met them with confidence;
our dealings with them were conducted with the strict-
est integrity; and they became attached to our per-
sons, and in no single instance ever destroyed the good
opinion we entertained of them.
The tribes that occupy the shores of all these inland
waters, back of the great lakes, belong to the Chippewa
or Missasagua Indians, perhaps the least attractive of
all these wild people, both with regard to their physic-
al and mental endowments.
The men of this tribe are generally small of stature,
with very coarse and repulsive features. The forehead
is low and retreating, the observing faculties large, the
intellectual ones scarcely developed; the ears large,
and standing off from the face; the eyes looking to-
wards the temples, keen, snake-like, and far apart;
the cheek bones prominent ; the nose long and flat, the
nostrils very round ; the jaw-bone projecting, massy,
and brutal; the mouth expressing ferocity and sullen
determination; the teeth large, even, and dazzlingly
white. The mouth of the female differs widely in ex-
pression from that of the male; the lips are fuller, the
jaw less projecting, and the smile is simple and agree-
able. The women are a merry, light-hearted set, and
their constant laugh and incessant prattle form a
strange contrast to the iron taciturnity of their grim
lords.
296
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
Now I am upon the subject, I will recapitulate a few
traits and sketches of these people, as they came under
my own immediate observation.
A dry cedar swamp, not far from the house, by the
lake shore, had been their usual place of encampment
for many years. The whole block of land was almost
entirely covered with maple trees, and had originally
been an Indian sugar-bush. Although the favourite
spot had now passed into the hands of strangers, they
still frequented the pi ace, to make canoes and baskets,
to fish and shoot, and occasionally to follow their old
occupation.
Scarcely a week passed away without my being vis-
ited by the dark strangers ; and, as my husband never
allowed them to eat with the servants (who viewed
them with the same horror that Mrs. did black
Mollineux), but brought them to his own table, they
soon grew friendly and communicative, and would
point to every object that attracted their attention,
askinga thousand questions as to its use, the material
of which it was made, and if we were inclined to ex-
change it for their commodities?
With a large map of Canada they were infinitely
delighted. In a moment they recognized every bay
and headland in Ontario, and almost screamed with
delight when, following the course of the Trent with
their fingers, they came to their own lake.
How eagerly each pointed out the spot to his fel-
lows ; how intently their black heads were bent down
and their dark eyes fixed upon the map! What
strange uncouth exclamations of surprise burst from
their lips as they rapidly repeated the Indian names
297
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
for every lake and river on this wonderful piece of
paper !
The old chief Peter Nogan begged hard for the cov-
eted treasure. He would give " Canoe, venison, duck,
fish, for it; and more by and by."
I felt sorry that I was unable to gratify his wishes;
but the map had cost upwards of six dollars, and was
daily consulted by my husband, in reference to the
names and situations of localities in the neighbour-
hood.
I had in my possession a curious Japanese sword,
which had been given to me by an uncle of Tom Wil-
son's— a strange gift to a young lady ; but it was on
account of its curiosity, and had no reference to my
warlike propensities. The sword was broad, and three-
sided in the blade, and in shape resembled a moving
snake. The hilt was formed of a hideous carved image
of one of their wargods; and a more villainous-looking
wretch was never conceived by the most distorted im-
agination. He was represented in a sitting attitude,
the eagle's claws, that formed his hands, resting upon
his knees ; his legs terminated in lion's paws; and his
face was a strange compound of beast and bird — the
upper part of his person being covered with feathers,
the lower with long, shaggy hair. The case of this aw-
ful weapon was made of wood, and, in spite of its ser-
pentine form, fitted it exactly. No trace of a join could
be found in the scabbard, which was of hard wood,
and highly polished.
One of my Indian friends found this sword lying
upon the bookshelf, and he hurried to communicate
the important discovery to his companions. Moodie
298
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
was absent, and they brought it to me to demand an
explanation of the figure that formed the hilt.
I told them that it was a weapon that belonged to a
very fierce people who lived in the East, far over the
Great Salt Lake; that they were not Christians as we
were, but said their prayers to images made of silver,
and gold, and ivory, and wood, and that this was one
of them ; that before they went into battle they said
their prayers to that hideous thing, which they had
made with their own hands.
The Indians were highly amused by this relation
and passed the sword from one to the other, exclaim-
ing, " A god !— O wgh— A god ! "
But, in spite of these outward demonstrations of con-
tempt, I was sorry to perceive that this circumstance
gave the weapon a great value in their eyes, and they
regarded it with a sort of mysterious awe.
For several days they continued to visit the house,
bringing along with them some fresh companion to
look at Mrs. Hoodie's ^/aM — until, vexed and annoy-
ed by the delight they manifested at the sight of the
eagle-beaked monster, I refused to gratify their curi-
osity, by not producing him again.
The manufacture of the sheath, which had caused
me much perplexity, was explained by old Peter in a
minute. "Tis burnt out," he said. "Instrument made
like sword — heat red hot — burnt through — polished
outside."
Had I demanded a whole fleet of canoes for my
Japanese sword, I am certain they would have agreed
to the bargain.
The Indian possesses great taste, which is display -
299
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ed in the carving of his paddles, in the shape of his
canoes, in the elegance and symmetry of his bows, in
thecutofhis leggings and moccasins,the sheath of his
hunting knife, and in all the little ornaments in which
he delights. It is almost impossible fora settler to im-
itate to perfection an Indian's cherry-wood paddle.
My husband made very creditable attempts, but still
there was something wanting — the elegance of the
Indian finish was not there. If you showthem a good
print, they invariably point out the most natural, and
the best executed figures in the group. They are
particularly delighted with pictures, examine them
long and carefully, and seem to feel an artist-like
pleasure in observing the effect produced by light
and shade.
I had been showing John Nogan, the eldest son of
Old Peter, some beautiful coloured engravings of cele-
brated females; and, to my astonishment, he pounced
upon the best, and grunted out his admiration in the
most approved Indian fashion. After having looked
for a long time at all the pictures very attentively, he
took his dog Sancho upon his knee, and showed him
the pictures, with as much gravity as if the animal
really could have shared in his pleasure.
The vanity of these grave men is highly amusing.
They seem perfectly unconscious of it themselves, and
it is exhibited in the most child-like manner.
Peter and his son John were taking tea with us,
when we were joined by my brother, Mr. S . The
latter was giving us an account of the marriage of
Peter Jones, the celebrated Indian preacher.
" I cannot think," he said, " how any lady of proper-
300
THE WILDE RNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
ty and education could marry such a man as Jones.
Why, he's as ugly as Peter here."
This was said, not with any idea of insulting the red-
skin on the score of his beauty, of which he possessed
not the smallest particle, but in total forgetfulness that
our guest understood English. Never shall I forget
the red flash of that fierce dark eye, as it glared upon
my unconscious brother. I would not have received
such a fiery glance for all the wealth that Peter Jones
obtained with his Saxon bride. John Nogan was high-
ly amused by his father's indignation. He hid his
face behind the chief; and, though he kept perfectly
still, his whole frame was convulsed with suppressed
laughter.
A plainer human being than poor Peter could
scarcely be imagined ; yet he certainly deemed himself
handsome. I am inclined to think that their ideas of
personal beauty differ very widely from ours.
Tom Nogan, the chiefs brother, had a very large,
fat, ugly squaw for his wife. She was a mountain of
tawny flesh; and, but for the innocent, good-natured
expression which, like a bright sunbeam penetrating
a swarthy cloud, spread all around a kindly glow, she
might have been termed hideous.
This woman they considered very handsome, call-
ing her "a fine squaw — clever squaw — a much good
woman " ; though in what her superiority consisted, I
never could discover, often as I visited the wigwam.
She was very dirty, and appeared quite indifferent to
the claims of common decency (in the disposal of the
few filthy rags that covered her). She was, however,
very expert in all Indian craft. No Jew could drive a
301
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
better bargain than Mrs. Tom; and her urchins, of
whom she was the happy mother of five or six, were
as cunning and avaricious as herself.
One day she visited me, bringing along with her a
very pretty covered basket for sale. I asked her what
she wanted for it, but could obtain from her no satis-
factory answer. I showed her a small piece of silver.
She shook her head. I tempted her with pork andflour,
but she required neither. I had just given up the idea
of dealing with her, in despair, when she suddenly seiz-
ed upon me, and, lifting up my gown, pointed exulting-
ly to my quilted petticoat, clapping her hands, and
laughing immoderately.
Another time she led me all over the house, to show
me what she wanted in exchange for basket. My pa-
tience was well-nigh exhausted in following her from
place to place, in her attempt to discover the coveted
article, when, hanging upon a peg in my chamber, she
espied a pair of trousers belonging to my husband's
logging-suit. The riddle was solved. With a joyful cry
she pointed to them, exclaiming "Take basket. Give
them !" It was with no small difficulty that I rescued
the indispensables from her grasp.
From this woman I learned a story of Indian cool-
ness and courage which made a deep impression on
my mind. One of their squaws, a near relation of her
own, had accompanied her husband on a hunting ex-
pedition into the forest. He had been very successful,
and having killed more deer than they could well carry
home, he went to the house of a white man to dispose
of some of it, leaving the squaw to take care of the rest
until his return. She sat carelessly upon the log with
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THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
his hunting-knife in her hand, when she heard the
breaking of branches near her,and, turning round, be-
held a great bear only a few paces from her.
It was too late to retreat; and seeingthat the animal
was very hungry, and determined to come to close
quarters, she rose, and placed her back against a small
tree, holding her knife close to her breast, and in a
straight linewith the bear. The shaggy monster came
on. She remained motionless, her eyes steadily fixed
upon her enemy, and, as his huge arms closed around
her, she slowly drove the knife into his heart. The bear
uttered a hideous cry, and sank dead at her feet. When
the Indian returned, he found the courageous woman
taking the skin from the carcass of the formidable
brute. What iron nerves these people must possess,
when even a woman could dare and do a deed like this !
The wolf they hold in great contempt,and scarcely
deign to consider him as an enemy. Peter Nogan as-
sured me that he never was near enough to one in his
life to shoot it; that, except in large companies, and
when greatly pressed by hunger, they rarely attack
men. They hold the lynx, or wolverine, in much dread,
as they often spring from trees upon their prey, fast-
ening upon the throat with their sharp teeth and claws,
from which a person in the dark could scarcely free
himself without first receiving a dangerous wound.
The cry of this animal is very terrifying, resembling
the shrieks of a human creature in mortal agony.
My husband was anxious to collect some of the
native Indian airs, as they all sing well, and have a
fine ear for music, but all his efforts proved abortive.
"John," he said to young Nogan (who played very
03
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
creditably on the flute, and had just concluded the
popular air of " Sweet Home "), " cannot you play me
one of your own songs? "
"Yes,— but no good."
" Leave me to be the j udge of that. Cannot you give
me a war song?"
"Yes, — but no good," with an ominous shake of the
head.
"A hunting-song?"
"No fit for white man," — with an air of contempt
" No good, no good ! "
"Do, John, sing us a love-song," said I, laughing,
" if you have such a thing in your language."
"Oh! much love-song — very much — bad — bad —
no good for Christian man. Indian song no good for
white ears." This was very tantalizing, as their songs
sounded very sweetly from the lips of their squaws,
and I had a great desire and curiosity to get some of
them rendered into English.
To my husband they gave the name of "the musi-
cian," but I have forgotten the Indian word. It signi-
fied the maker of sweet sounds. They listened with
intense delight to the notes of his flute, maintaining a
breathless silence duringthe performance ; their dark
eyes flashing into fierce light at a martial strain, or soft-
ening with the plaintive and tender.
The cunning which they display in their contests
with their enemies, in their hunting, and in making
bargains with the whites (who are too apt to impose
on their ignorance), seems to spring more from a law
of necessity, forced upon them by their isolated posi-
tion andprecarious mode of life, than from any innate
304
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
wish to betray. The Indian's face, after all, is a perfect
index of his mind. The eye changes its expression
with every impulse and passion, and shows what is
passing within as clearly as the lightning in a dark
night betrays the course of the stream. I cannot think
that deceit forms any prominent trait in the Indian's
character. They invariably act with the strictesthon-
our towards those who never attempt to impose upon
them. It is natural for a deceitful person to take ad-
vantage of the credulity of others. The genuine Indian <
never utters a falsehood, and never employs flattery
(that powerful weapon in the hands of the insidious)
in his communications with the whites.
His worst traits are those which he has in common
with the wild animals of the forest, and which his inter-
course with the lowest order of civilized men (who, in
point of moral worth, are greatly his inferiors), and
the pernicious effects of strong drink, have greatly >
tended to inflame and debase.
It is amelancholy truth, and deeply to belamented,
that the vicinity of European settlers has always pro-
duced a very demoralizing effect upon the Indians.
As a proof of this, I will relate a simple anecdote.
John, of Rice Lake, a very sensible, middle-aged
Indian, was conversing with me about their language,
and the difficulty he found in understanding the books
written in Indian for their use. Among other things,
I asked him if his people ever swore, or used profane
language towards the Deity.
The man regarded me with a sort of stern horror,
s he replied, " Indian, till after he knew your people,
icver swore — no bad word in Indian. Indian must
05 u
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
learn your words to swear and take God's name in
yain."
^7 Oh, what a reproof to Christian men! I felt abash-
v Q- ed and degraded in the eyes of this poor savage — who,
ignorant as he was in many respects, yet possessed
that first great attribute of the soul, a deep reverence
$ for the Supreme Being. How inferior were thousands
Mr ^ of my countrymen to him in this important point!
The affection of Indian parents to their children,
and the deference which they pay to the aged, is an-
other beautiful and touching trait in their character.
One extremely cold, wintry day, as I was huddled
with my little ones over the stove, the door softly un-
closed, and the moccasined foot of an Indian crossed
the floor. I raised my head, for I was too much ac-
customed to their sudden appearance at any hour to
feel alarmed, and perceived a tall woman standing
silently and respectfully before me, wrapped in a large
blanket. The moment she caught my eye she dropped
the folds of her covering from around her, and laid at
my feet the attenuated figure of a boy, about twelve
years of age, who was in the last stage of consump-
tion.
"Papoose die," she said, mournfully clasping her
hands against her breast and looking down upon the
suffering lad with the most heartfelt expression of
maternal love, while large tears trickled down her
dark face. "Hoodie's squaw save papoose — poor
Indian woman much glad,"
Her child was beyond all human aid. I looked
anxiously upon him, and knew, by the pinched-up
features and purple hue of his wasted cheek, that he
306
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIEND5
had not many hours to live. I could only answer with
tears her agonizing appeal to my skill.
"Try and save him! All die but him." (She held
up five of her fi ngers.) " Brought him all the way from
Mutta Lake* upon my back, for white squaw to
cure."
" I cannot cure him, my poor friend. He is in God's
care ; in a few hours he will be with Him."
The child was seized with a dreadful fit of coughing,
which I expected every moment would terminate his
frail existence. I gave him a teaspoonful of currant
jelly, which he took with avidity, but could not retain
a moment on his stomach.
"Papoose die," murmured the poor woman ; "alone
— alone! No papoose; the mother all alone."
She began re-adjusting the poor sufferer in her
blanket. I got her some food, and begged her to stay
and rest herself; but she was too much distressed to
eat, and too restless to remain. She said little, but her
face expressed the keenest anguish; she took up her
mournful load, pressed for a moment his wasted, burn-
ing hand in hers, and left the room.
My heart followed her a long way on her melan-
choly journey. Think what this woman's love must
have been for that dying son, when she had carried a
lad of his age six miles through the deep snow upon
her back, on such a day, in the hope of my being able
to do him some good. Poor heart-broken mother!
I learned from Joe Muskrat's squaw some days after
).hat the boy died a few minutes after Elizabeth Iron,
lis mother, got home.
*Mud Lake, or Lake Shemong, in Indian.
07
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
They never forget any little act of kindness. One
cold night late in the fall, my hospitality was demand-
ed by six squaws, and puzzled I was how to accommo-
date them all. I at last determined to give them the
use of the parlour floor during the night. Among
these women there was one very old, whose hair was
as white as snow. She was the only grey-haired Indian
I ever saw, and on that account I regarded her with
peculiar interest. I knew that she was the wife of a
chief, by thescarletembroidered leggings, which only
the wives and daughters of chiefs are allowed to wear.
The old squaw had a very pleasing countenance, but
I tried in vain to draw her into conversation. She
evidently did not understand me; and the Muskrat
squaw and Betty Cow were laughing at my attempts
to draw her out. I administered supper to them with
my own hands, and, after I had satisfied their wants
(which is no very easy task, for they have great appe-
tites), I told our servant to bring in several spare mat-
tresses and blankets for their use. " Now mind, Jenny,
and give the old squaw the best bed," I said; "the
others are young, and can put up with a little incon-
venience."
The old Indian glanced at me with her keen, bright
eye; but I had no idea that she comprehended what
I said.
Some weeks after this, as I was sweeping over my
parlour floor, a slight tap drew me to the door. On
opening it I perceived the old squaw, who immediately
slipped into my hand a set of beautifully-embroider-
ed bark trays, fitting one within the other, and exhibit-
ing the very best sample of the porcupine-quill-work.
308
THEWILDERNESS, ANDOUR FRIENDS
While I stood wondering what this might mean, the
good old creature fell upon my neck,and kissing me,ex-
claimed, "You remember old squaw — make her com-
fortable! Old squaw no forget you. Keep them for
her sake," and before I could detain her she ran down
the hill with a swiftness which seemed to bid defiance
to years. I never saw this interesting Indian again,
and I concluded that she died during the winter, for
she must have been of a great age.
My dear reader, I am afraid I shall tire you with
my Indian stories; but you must bear with me pa-
tiently whilst I give you a few more. The real char-
acter of a people can be more truly gathered from
such seemingly trifling incidents than from any ideas
we may form of them from the great facts in their
history, and this is my reason for detailing events
which might otherwise appear insignificant and un-
important.
A friend was staying with us, who wished much to
obtain a likeness of Old Peter. I promised to try and
make a sketch of the old man the next time he paid
us a visit. That very afternoon he brought us some
iucks in exchange for pork, and Moodie asked him
:o stay and take a glass of whiskey with him and his
riend Mr. K . The old man had arrayed himself
n a new blanket-coat, bound with red, and the seams
til decorated with the same gay material. His leg-
gings and moccasins were new, and elaborately fring-
|d; and to cap the climax of the whole, he had a blue
loth conical cap upon his head ornamented with a
leer's tail dyed blue, and several cock's feathers.
He was evidently very much taken up with the
r
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
magnificence of his own appearance, for he often
glanced at himself in a small shaving glass that hung
opposite, with a look of grave satisfaction. Sitting a-
part, that I might not attract his observation, I got
a tolerably faithful likeness of the old man, which,
after slightly colouring, to show more plainly his
Indian finery, I quietly handed over to Mr. K .
Sly as I thought myself, my occupation and the ob-
ject of it had notescaped the keen eye of the old man.
He rose, came behind Mr.K 's chair and regarded
the picture with a most affectionate eye. I was afraid
that he would be angry at the liberty I had taken.
No such thing! He was as pleased as Punch.
"That Peter?" he grunted. " Give me — put up in
wigwam — make dog too ! O wgh ! owgh ! " and he rub-
bed his hands together, and chuckled with delight.
Mr. K had some difficulty in coaxing the picture
from the old chief, so pleased was he with this rude
representation of himself. He pointed to every parti-
cular article of his dress, and dwelt with peculiar glee
on the cap and blue deer's tail.
A few days after this I was painting a beautiful little
snow-bird that our man had shot out of a large flock
that alighted near the door. I was so intent upon my
task, to which I was putting the finishing strokes, that
I did not observe the stealthy entrance (for they all
walk like cats) of a stern-looking red man, till a slen-
der, dark hand was extended over my paper to grasp
the dead bird from which I was copying, and which as
rapidly transferred it to the side of the painted one,
accompanying the act with the deep guttural note of
approbation, the unmusical, savage "Owgh."
310
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
My guest then seated himself with the utmost grav-
ity in a rocking-chair, directly fronting me, and made
the modest demand that I should paint a likeness of
him, after the following quaint fashion: —
" Hoodie's squaw know much — make Peter Nogan
toder day on papare — make Jacob to-day — Jacob
young — great hunter — give much duck — venison —
to squaw."
Although I felt rather afraid of my fierce-looking
visitor, I could scarcely keep my gravity; there was
such an air of pompous self-approbation about the
Indian, such a sublime look of conceit in his grave
vanity.
"Hoodie's squaw cannot do everything; she can-
not paint young men," said I, rising, and putting away
my drawing-materials, upon which he kept his eye
intently fixed, with a hungry, avaricious expression.
I thought it best to place the coveted objects beyond
his reach. After sitting for some time, and watching
all my movements, he withdrew, with a sullen, dis-
appointed air.
This man was handsome, but his expression was
vile. Though he often came to the house, I never could
reconcile myself to his countenance.
Late one very dark, stormy night, three Indians
begged to be allowed to sleep by the kitchen stove.
The maid was frightened out of her wits at the sight
of these strangers, who were Hohawks from the Ind-
ian woods upon the Bay of Quint<£, and they brought
along with them a horse and cutter. The night was so
stormy, that, after consulting our man — Jacob Faith-
ful, as we usually called him — I consented to grant
ii
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
their petition, although they were quite strangers, and
taller and fiercer-looking than our friends the Missa-
saguas.
I was putting my children to bed, when the girl
came rushing in, out of breath. "The Lord preserve
us, madam, if one of these wild men has not pulled off
his trousers, and is a-sitting mending them behind the
stove! and what shall I do?"
"Do? — why,stay with me, and leave the poor fellow
to finish his work."
The simple girl had never once thought of this plan
of pacifying her outraged sense of propriety.
Their sense of hearing is so acute that they can dis-
tinguish sounds at an incredible distance, which can-
not be detected by a European at all. I myself wit-
nessed a singular exemplification of this fact. It was
mid- winter ; the I ndians had pitched their tent, or wig-
wam, as usual, in our swamp. All the males were
absent on a hunting expedition up the country, and
had left two women behind to take care of the camp
and its contents, Mrs. Tom Nogan and her children,
and Susan Moore,a young girl of fifteen, and the only
truly beautiful squawl ever saw. There was something
interesting about this girl's history, as well as her
appearance. Her father had been drowned during a
sudden hurricane, which swamped his canoe on Stony
Lake; and the mother, who witnessed the accident
from the shore,and was near her confinement with this
child, boldly swam out to his assistance. She reached
the spot where he sank, and even succeeded in recover-
ing the body ; but it was too late ; the man was dead.
The soul of an Indian that has been drowned is
312
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
reckoned accursed, and he is never permitted to join
his tribe on the happy hunting-grounds, but his spirit
haunts the lake or river in which he lost his life. His
body is buried on some lonely island, which the Ind-
ians never pass without leaving a small portion of food,
tobacco, or ammunition, to supply his wants; but he
is never interred with the rest of his people.
His children are considered unlucky, and few will-
ingly unite themselves to the females of the family,
lest a portion of the father's curse should be visited
on them.
The orphan Indian girl generally kept aloof from
the rest, and seemed so lonely and companionless,
that she soon attracted my attention and sympathy,
and a hearty feeling of good-will sprang up between
us. Her features were small and regular, her face oval,
and her large, dark, loving eyes were full of tenderness
and sensibility, but as bright and shy as those of the
deer. A rich vermilion glow burnt upon her olive
cheek and lips, and set off the dazzling whiteness of
her even and pearly teeth. She was small of stature,
with delicate little hands and feet, and her figure was
elastic and graceful. She was a beautiful child of
nature, and her Indian name signified "The voice of
angry waters." Poor girl, she had been a child of
grief and tears from her birth! Her mother was a
Mohawk, from whom she, in all probability, derived
her superior personal attractions; for they are very
far before the Missasaguas in this respect.
My friend and neighbour, Emilia S , the wife
of a naval officer, who lived about a mile distant from
me, through the bush, had come to spend the day with
313
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
me; and hearing that the Indians were in the swamp,
and the men a way, we determined to take a few trifles
to the camp, in the way of presents, and spend an
hour in chatting with the squaws.
What a beautiful moonlight night it was, as light
as day! — the great forest sleeping tranquilly beneath
the cloudless heavens — not a sound to disturb the deep
repose of nature but the whispering of the breeze,
which, during the most profound calm, creeps through
the lofty pine tops. We bounded down the steep bank
to the lake shore. Life is a blessing, a precious boon
indeed, in such an hour, and we felt happy in the mere
consciousness of existence — the glorious privilege of
pouring out the silent adoration of the heart to the
Great Father in His universal temple.
On entering the wigwam, which stood within a few
yards of the clearing, in the middle of a thick group
of cedars, we found Mrs. Tom, alone with her elfish
children, seated before the great fire that burned in
the centre of the camp ; she was busy boiling some
bark in an iron spider. The little boys, in red flannel
shirts, which were their only covering, were torment-
ing a puppy, which seemed to take their pinching and
pommelling in good part, for it neither attempted to
bark nor to bite,but,like the eels in the story,submit-
ted to the infliction because it was used to it. Mrs.
Tom greeted us with a grin of pleasure, and motioned
to us to sit down upon a buffalo-skin, which, with a
courtesy so natural to the Indians, she had placed
near her for our accommodation.
"You are all alone," said I, glancing round the
camp.
^ — »- 3M
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
"Ye'es; Indian away hunting — Upper Lakes.
Come home with much deer."
"And Susan, where is she?"
" By and by," (meaning that she was coming).
" Gone to fetch water — ice thick — chop with axe —
take long time."
As she ceased speaking, the old blanket that form-
ed the door of the tent was withdrawn, and the girl,
bearing two .pails of water, stood in the open space in
the white moonlight. The glow of the fire streamed
upon her dark, floating locks, danced in the black,
glistening eye, and gave a deeper blush to the olive
cheek ! She would have made a beautiful picture ; Sir
Joshua Reynolds would have rejoiced in such a model
— so simply graceful and unaffected, the very beau
ide'alo>{ savage life and unadorned nature. Asmileof
recognition passed between us. She put down her
burden beside Mrs. Tom, and noiselessly glided to her
seat.
We had scarcely exchanged a few words with our
favourite, when the old squaw, placing her hand a-
gainst her ear, exclaimed, "Whist! whist!"
"What is it?" cried Emilia and I, starting to our
feet. " Is there any danger? "
" A deer — a deer — in bush ! " whispered the squaw,
seizing a rifle that stood in a corner. "I hear sticks
crack — a great way off. Stay here ! "
A great way off the animal must have been, for
though Emilia and I listened at the open door, an ad-
vantage which the squaw did not enjoy, wecould not
hear the least sound: all seemed still as death. The
squaw whistled to an old hound, and went out.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" Did you hear anything, Susan ? "
She smiled, and nodded.
"Listen; the dog has found the track."
The next moment the discharge of a rifle, and the
deep baying of the dog, woke up the sleeping echoes
of the woods ; and the girl started off to help the old
squaw to bring in the game that she had shot.
The Indians are great imitators, and possess a nice
tactinadoptingthe customs and mannersof those with
whom they associate. An Indian is Nature's gentle-
man— never familiar, coarse, or vulgar. If he takes a
meal with you, he waits to see how you make use of
the implements on the table, and the manner in which
you eat, which he imitates with a grave decorum, as
if he had been accustomed to the same usages from
childhood. He never attempts to help himself, or de-
mand more food, but waits patiently until you perceive
what he requires. I was perfectly astonished at this
innate politeness, for it seems natural to all the Indians
with whom I have had any dealings.
There was one old Indian who belonged to a dis-
tant settlement, and only visited our lakes occasion-
ally on hunting parties. He was a strange, eccentric,
merry old fellow, with a skin like red mahogany, and
a wiry, sinewy frame, that looked as if it could bid de-
fiance to every change of temperature.
Old Snow-storm, for such was his significant name,
was rather too fond of the whiskey-bottle, and when
he had taken a drop too much,he became an unman-
ageable wild beast. He had a great fancy for my hus-
band, and never visited the other Indians without ex-
tending the same favour to us. Once upon a time, he
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THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
broke the nipple of his gun; and Moodie repaired the
injury for him by fixing a new one in its place, which
little kindness quite won the heart of the old man, and
he never came to see us without bringing an offering
of fish, ducks, partridges, or venison, to show his grati-
tude.
One warm September day, he made his appearance
bare-headed, as usual, and carrying in his hand a great
checked bundle.
" Fond of grapes ? " said he, putting the said bundle
into my hands. "Finegrapes — brought them from is-
land for my friend's squaw and papouse.
Glad of the donation, which I considered quite a
prize, I hastened into the kitchen to untie the grapes
andput them intoa dish. But imaginemy disappoint-
ment, when I found them wrapped up in a soiled shirt,
only recently taken from the back of the owner. I call-
ed Moodie, and begged him to return Snow-storm his
garment, and to thank him for the grapes.
The mischievous creature was highly diverted with
the circumstance, and laughed immoderately.
"Snow-storm," said he, " Mrs. Moodie and the chil-
dren are obliged to you for your kindness in bringing
them the grapes; but how came you to tie them up in
a dirty shirt?"
"Dirty!" cried the old man, astonished that we
should object to the fruit on that score. "It ought to
be clean ; it has been washed often enough. Owgh !
You see, Moodie," he continued, " I have no hat —
never wear hat — want no shade to my eyes — love the
sun — see all around me — up and down — much better
widout hat. Could not put grapes in hat — blanket
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
coat too large,crush fruit, juice run out. I had noting
but my shirt, so I takes off shirt, and brings grape
safe over the water on my back. Papouse no care for
dirty shirt; their lee-tel bellies have no eyes"
In spite of this eloquent harangue, I could not
bring myself to use the grapes, ripe and tempting as
they looked, or give them to the children. Mr. W
and his wife happening to step in at that moment
fell into such an ecstasy at the sight of the grapes,
that, as they were perfectly unacquainted with the
circumstance of the shirt, I very generously gratified
their wishes by presenting them with the contents of
the large dish ; and they never ate a bit less sweet for
the novel mode in which they were conveyed to me !
The Indians, under their quiet exterior, possess a
deal of humour. They have significant names for
everything, and a nickname for every one, and some
of the latter are laughably appropriate. A fat, pom-
pous, ostentatious settler in our neighbourhood they
called Muckakee, "the bull frog." Another, rather a
fine young man, but with a very red face, they named
Segoskee, "the rising sun." Mr. Wood, who had a farm
above ours, was a remarkably slender young man,
and to him they give the appellation of Metig, "thin
stick." A woman, that occasionally worked for me,
had a disagreeable squint; she was known in Indian
by the name of Sachdbb, " cross-eye." A gentleman
with a very large nose was Choojas, "big, or ugly
nose." My little Addie, who was a fair, lovely crea-
ture, they viewed with great approbation, and called
Annoonk, "a star"; while the rosy Katie was Nogesi-
gook, "the northern lights." As to me, I was Nono-
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
cosiqui, a "humming-bird"; a ridiculous name for a
tall woman, but it had reference to the delight I took
in painting birds. My friend, Emilia, was "blue
cloud"; my little Donald, "frozen face";youngC ,
"the red-headed wood-pecker," from the colour of
his hair; my brother, Chippewa, and "the bald-head-
ed eagle." He was an especial favourite among
them.
The Indians- are-of ten. made a prey of and cheat-
ed by the unprincipled settlers, who think it no crime
to overreach a red-skin. One anecdote will fully
illustrate this fact. A young squaw, who was near
becoming a mother, stopped at a Smith- town settler's
house to rest herself. The woman of the house, who
was Irish, was peeling for dinner some large white
turnips, which her husband had grown in their gar-
den. The Indian had never seen a turnip before, and
the appearance of the firm, white, juicy root gave her
such a keen craving to taste it that she very earn-
estly begged for a small piece to eat. She had pur-
chased at Peterborough a large stone-china bowl, of
a very handsome pattern (or, perhaps, got it at the
store in exchange for basket), the worth of which
might be half a dollar. If the poor squaw longed for
the turnip, the value of which could scarcely reach
a copper, the covetous European had fixed as long-
ing a glance upon the china bowl, and she was
determined to gratify her avaricious desire and ob-
tain it on the most easy terms. She told the squaw,
with some disdain, that her man did not grow tur-
nips to give away to " Injuns," but she would sell
her one. The squaw offered her four coppers, all the
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
change she had about her. This the woman refused
with contempt. She then proffered a basket; but
that was not sufficient ; nothing would satisfy her but
the bowl. The Indian demurred; but opposition had
only increased her craving, for Jtheturnip in a ten-
fold degree; and, after a short mental struggle, in
which the animal propensity overcame the warnings
of prudence,the squaw gaveupthe bowl, and received
in return one turnip\ The daughter of this woman
told me this anecdote of her mother as a very clever
thing. What ideas some people have of moral jus-
tice!
I have said before that the r Indian never forgej^a
^kindness. We had a thousand proofs of this, when
overtaken by misfortune, and, withering beneath the
iron grasp of poverty, we could scarcely obtain bread
for ourselves and our little ones; then it was that the
truth of the Eastern proverb was brought home to
our hearts, and the goodness of God fully manifested
towards us, "Cast thy bread upon the waters, and
thou shalt find it after many days." During better
times we had treated these poor savages with kind-
ness and liberality, and they never forsook us. For
many a good meal I have been indebted to them,
when I had nothingtogive in return, when the pantry
was empty, and "the hearth-stone growing cold," as
they term the want of provisions to cook at it. And
their delicacy in conferring these favours was not the
least admirable part of their conduct. John Nogan,
who was much attached to us, would bring a fine
bunch of ducks, and drop them at my feet " for the
papouse," or leave a large maskinonge on the sill of
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
the door, or place a quarter of venison just within it,
and slip away without saying a word, thinking that
receiving a present from a poor Indian might hurt
our feelings, and he would spare us the mortification
of returning thanks.
Often have I grieved that people with such gener-
ous impulses should be degraded and corrupted by
civilized men ; that a mysterious destiny involves and
hangs over them, pressing them back into the wilder-
ness, and slowly and surely sweeping them from the
earth.
Their ideas of Christianity appeared to me vague
and unsatisfactory. They will tell you that Christ
died for men, and that He is the Saviour of the
World, but they do not seem to comprehend the spir-
itual character of Christianity, nor the full extent of
the requirements and application of the law of Chris-
tian love. These imperfect views may not be enter-
tained by all Christian Indians, but they were very
common amongst those with whom I conversed.
Their ignorance upon theological, as well as upon
other subjects, is, of course, extreme. One Indian
asked me very innocently if I came from the land
where Christ was born, and if I had ever seen Jesus.
They always mention the name of the Persons in the
Trinity with great reverence.
They are a highly imaginative people. The pract-
ical meaning of theirnames, and their intense admir-
ation for the beauties of nature, are proof of this.
Nothing escapes their observing eyes. There is not
a flower that blooms in the wilderness, a bird that
cuts the air with its wings, a beast that roams the
321 x
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
wood, a fish that stems the water, or the most minute
insect that sports in the sunbeams, but it has an Ind-
ian name to illustrate its peculiar habits and qualities.
Some of their words convey the direct meaning of the
thing implied — thus, cht-charm, "to sneeze," is the
very sound of that act; too-me-duh, "to churn," gives
the noise made by the dashing of the cream from side
to side ; and many others.
They believe in supernatural appearances — in
spirits of the earth, the air, the waters. The latter they
consider evil, and propitiate before undertaking a
long voyage, by throwing small portions of bread,
meat, tobacco, and gunpowder into the water.
When an Indian loses one of his children, he must
keep a strict fast for threed ays, abstaining from food
of any kind. A hunter of the name of Young told me
a curious story of their rigid observance of this strange
rite.
"They had a chief," he said, "a few years ago, whom
they called 'Handsome Jack,' — whether in derision,
I cannot tell, for he was one of the ugliest Indians I
ever saw. The scarlet fever got into the camp — a ter-
rible disease in this country, and doubly terrible to
those poor creatures who don't know how to treat it.
His eldest daughter died. The chief had fasted two
days when I met him in the bush. I did not know
what had happened, but I opened my wallet, for I
was on a hunting expedition, and offered him some
bread and dried venison. He looked at me reproach-
fully.
"'Do white men eat bread the first night their pa-
poose is laid in the earth? '
322
THE WILDERNESS, AND OUR FRIENDS
"I then knew the cause of his depression, and left
him."
On the night of the second day of his fast another
child died of the fever. He had now to accomplish
three more days without tasting food. It was too much
even for an Indian. Ontheeveningofthefourth,hewas
so pressed by ravenous hunger, that he stole into the
woods, caught a bull-frog, and devoured it alive. He
imagined himself alone; but one of his people, sus-
pecting his intention, had followed him,unperceived,
to the bush. The act he had just committed was a hide-
ous crime in their eyes, and in a few minutes the camp
was in an uproar. The chief fled for protection to
Young's house. When the hunter demanded the cause
of his alarm, he gave for answer, "There are plenty of
flies at my house. To avoid their stings I come to
you."
It required all the eloquence of Mr. Young, who
enjoyed much popularity among them, to reconcile
the rebellious tribe to their chief.
They are very skilful in their treatment of wounds
and many diseases. Their knowledge of the medi-
cinal qualities of their plants and herbs is very great.
They make excellent poultices from the bark of the
bass and the slippery elm. They use several native
plants in their dyeing of baskets and porcupine quills.
The inner bark of the swamp-alder, simply boiled in
water, makes a beautiful red. From the root of the
black briony they obtain a fine salve for sores, and
extract a rich yellow dye. The inner bark of the root
of the sumach, roasted, and reduced to powder, is a
good remedy for the ague, a tea-spoonful given be-
323
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
tween the hot and cold fit. They scrape the fine white
powder from the large fungus that grows upon the
bark of the pine, into whiskey, and take it for violent
pains in thestomach. The taste of this powder strong-
ly reminded me of quinine.
I have read much of the excellence of Indian cook-
ery, but I never could bring myself to taste anything
prepared in their dirty wigwams. I remember being
highly amused in watchingthe preparation of a mess,
which might have been called the Indian hotch-potch.
It consisted of a strange mixture of fish, flesh, and
fowl, all boiled together in the same vessel. Ducks,
partridges, maskinonge, venison, and muskrats form-
ed a part of this delectable compound. These were
literally smothered in onions, potatoes, and turnips,
which they had procured from me. They very hospit-
ably offered me a dishful of the odious mixture, which
the odour of the muskrat rendered everything but
savoury; but I declined, simply stating that I was
not hungry. My little boy tasted it, but quickly left
the camp to conceal the effect it produced upon him.
Their method of broiling fish, however, is excellent.
They take a fish, just fresh out of the water, cut out
the entrails, and without removing the scales, wash it
clean, dry it in a cloth, or in the grass, and cover it all
over with clear hot ashes. When the flesh will part
from the bone, they draw it out of the ashes, strip off
the skin, and it is fit for the table of the most fastidi-
ous epicure.
The deplorable want of chastity that exists among
the Indian women of this tribe seems to have been
more the result of their intercourse with the settlers
324
THE WILDERNESS, ANDOUR FRIENDS
in the country, than from any previous disposition to
this vice. The jealousy of their husbands has often
been exercised in a terrible manner against the of-
fending squaws; but this has not happened of late
years. The men wink at these derelictions in their
wives, and share with them the price of their shame.
The mixture of European blood adds greatly to
the physical beauty of the half-race, but produces a
sad falling-offfrom the original integrity of the Ind-
ian character. The half-caste is generally a lying,
vicious rogue, possessing the worst qualities of both
parents in an eminent degree. We have many of these
half-Indians in the penitentiary, for crimes of the
blackest dye.
The skill of the Indian in procuringhis game, either
by land or water, has been too well described by bet-
ter writers than I could ever hope to be, to need any
illustration from my pen, and I will close this long
chapter with a droll anecdote which is told of a gentle-
man in this neighbourhood.
The early loss of his hair obliged Mr. to pro-
cure the substitute of a wig. This was such a good
imitation of nature that none but his intimate friends
and neighbours were aware of the fact.
It happened that he had had some quarrel with an
Indian, which had to be settled in one of the petty
courts. The case was decided in favour of Mr. ,
which so aggrieved the savage, who considered him-
self the injured party, that he sprang upon him with
a furious yell, tomahawk in hand, with the intention
of depriving him of his scalp. He twisted his hand
in the locks which adorned the cranium of his adver-
325
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
sary, when — horror of horrors! — the treacherous wig
came off in his hand. "Owgh! owgh '."exclaimed the
affrighted savage, flinging it from him, and rushing
from the court as if he had been bitten by a rattle-
snake. His sudden exit was followed by peals of
laughter from the crowd, while Mr. coolly pick-
ed up his wig, and drily remarked that it had saved
his head.
THE INDIAN FISHERMAN'S LIGHT.
The air is still, the night is dark,
No ripple breaks the dusky tide;
From isle to isle the fisher's bark
Like fairy meteor seems to glide;
Now lost in shade — now flashing bright
On sleeping wave and forest tree;
We hail with joy the ruddy light,
Which far into the darksome night
Shines red and cheerily!
With spear high poised, and steady hand,
The centre of that fiery ray,
Behold the Indian fisher stand
Prepared to strike the finny ray,
Hurrah! the shaft has sped below —
Transfix'd the shining prize I see;
On swiftly darts the birch canoe;
Yon black rock shrouding from my view
Its red light gleaming cheerily!
Around yon bluff, whose pine crest hides
The noisy rapids from our sight,
Another bark — another glides —
Red meteors of the murky night.
The bosom of the silent stream
With mimic stars is dotted free;
The waves reflect the double gleam,
The tall woods lighten in the beam,
Through darkness shining cheerily!
326
I
CHAPTER FOURTEEN,
BURNING THE FALLOW'
XIV. BURNING THE FALLOW
There is a hollow roaring in the air —
The hideous hissing of ten thousand flames,
That from the centre of yon sable cloud
Leap madly up, like serpents in the dark,
Shaking their arrowy tongues at Nature's heart.
IT IS NOT MY INTENTION TO GIVE A
regular history of our residence in the bush, but
merely to present to my readers such events as may
serve to illustrate a life in the woods.
The winter and spring of i834jiad passed away.
The latter was uncommonly cold and backward; so
much so that we had a very heavy fall of snow up-
on the 1 4th and I5th of May, and several gentlemen
drove down to Cobourg in a sleigh, the snow lying
upon the ground to the depth of several inches.
A late, cold spring in Canada is generally succeed-
__ burning hot summer^and the summer of '34
was the hottest I ever remember. No rain- fell upoji
the e^tlTforjnany weeks, tilFnature drooped and
withered beneath one bright blaze of sunlight; and
the aoriif* QnH fpw»f in i-Vip wnnds, and rhe rhnWa in .* \oi.
the large tqwnsjmd cities, spread death and sickness CLV
through the country.
Mobdie hathrnarte-during the winter a jgrge^dfiar-
ing of twenty acres around the house. Trie progress
of the workmen had been watched by me with the
keenest interest. Every tree that reached the ground
opened a wider gap in the dark wood, giving us a
broader ray of light and a clearer glimpse of the blue
sky. But when the dark cedar swamp fronting the
house fell beneath the^strokes of the axe, and we got
a first- viVw^of the lake^jiiy_lQy was complete ; a new
and beautiful objecTwas now constantly before me,
329
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
which gave me the greatest pleasure. By night and
day, in sunshine or in storm, water is always the^most
and no view carTBe
y~grand in which it is wanting. From a child, it
always had the most powerful effect upon my mind,
from the green ocean rolling in majesty, to the tink-
ling forest rill, hidden by the flowers and rushes along
its banks. Half the solitude of my forest home van-
ished when the lake unveiled its bright face to the
blue heavens, and I saw sun, and moon, and stars,
and wavingtrees reflected there. I would sit for hours
at the window as the shades of evening deepened
round me, watching the massy foliage of the forests
pictured in the waters, till fancy transported me back
to England, and the songs of birds and the lowing
of cattle were sounding in my ears. It was long, very
long, before I could discipline my mind to learn and
practise all the menial employments which are neces-
sary in a good settler's wife.
The total absence of trees about the doors in all new
settlements had always puzzled me, in a country where
the intense heat of summer seems to demand all the
shadethat can be procured. My husband had left sev-
eral beautiful rock-elms (the most picturesque tree in
thecountry) near our dwelling,but, alas! the first high
gale prostrated all my fine trees, and left our log cot-
tage entirely exposed to the fierce rays of the sun.
The confusion of an uncleared fallow spread around
us on every side. Huge trunks of trees and piles of
brush gave a littered and uncomfortable appearance
to the locality, and as the wfnthpr had hppn very dir
..for some weeks, I heard my husband daily talking
33°
BURNING THE FALLOW
with his choppers as to the expediency of firing the
fallow. They still urged him to wait a little longer, un-
til he could get a good breeze to carry the fire well
through the brush.
Business called him suddenly to Toronto, but he
left a strict charge with old Thomas and his sons, who
were engaged in the job, by no means to attempt to
burn it off until he returned, as he wished to be upon
the premises himself, in case of any danger. He had
previously burnt all the heaps immediately about the
doors.
While he was absent, old Thomas and his second
son fell sick with the ague, and went home to their
own township, leaving John, a surly, obstinate young
man, in charge of the shanty where they slept and
kept their tools and provisions.
Monaghan I had sent to fetch up my three cows, as
the children were languishing for milk, and Mary and
I remained alone in the house with the little ones.
The day was sultry, and to wards noon a strong wind
sprang up that roared in the pine tops like the dash-
ing of distant billows, but without in the least degree
abating the heat. The children were lying listlessly
upon the floor for coolness, and the girl and I were
finishing sun-bonnets, when Mary suddenly exclaim-
ed," Bless us, mistress, what a smoke ! " I ran immedi-
ately to the door, but was not able tcrdistinguish ten
yards before me. The swamp immediately below us
was on fire, and the heavy wind was driving a dense
black cloud of smoke directly towards us.
"Whatcan thismean?" I cried. " Whocanhave set
fire to the fallow?"
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
As I ceased speaking, John Thomas stood pale and
trembling before me. "John, what is the meaning of
this fire?"
"Oh, ma'am, I hope you will forgive me; it was I
set fire to it, and I would give all I have in the world
if I had not done it."
"What is the danger?"
" Oh, I'm terribly afear'd that we shall all be burnt
up," said the fellow, beginning to whimper.
" Why did you run such a risk, and your master from
home, and no one on the place to render the least as-
sistance?"
"I did it for the best," blubbered the lad. "What
shall we do?"
"Why, we must get out of it as fast as we can, and
leave the house to its fate."
" We can't get out," said the man, in a low, hollow
tone, which seemed the concentration of fear ; "I would
have got out of it if I could ; but just step to the back
door, ma'am, and see."
I had not felt the least alarm up to this minute; I
had never seen a fallow burnt, but I had heard of it as
a thing of such common occurrence that I had never
connected with it any idea of danger. Judge, then, my
surprise, my horror, when, on going to the back door,
I saw that the fellow, to make sure of his work, had
fired the field in fifty different places. Behind, before,
on every side, we were surrounded by a wall of fire,
burning furiously within a hundred yards of us, and
cutting off all possibility of retreat; for could we have
found an opening through the burning heaps, we could
not have seen our way through the dense canopy of
332
BURNING THE FALLOW
smoke; and, buried as we were in the heart of the for-
est, no one could discover our situation till we were
beyond the reach of help.
I closed the door, and went back to the parlourP.
Fear was knocking loudly at my heart, for our utter
helplessness annihilated all hope of being able to ef- \ i
feet our escape — I felt stupefied. The girl sat upon
the floor by the children, who, unconscious of theperil
that hung over them, had both fallen asleep. She was
silently weeping ; while the fool who had caused the
mischief was crying aloud.
A strange calm succeeded my first alarm ; tears and
lamentations were useless ; a horrible death was im-
pending over us, and yet I could not believe we were
to die. I sat down upon the step of the door, and watch-
ed the awful scene in silence. The fire was raging in
the cedar swamp immediately below the ridge on
which the house stood, and it presented a spectacle
truly appalling. From out the dense folds of a canopy
of black smoke, the blackest I ever saw, leaped up con-
tinually red forks of lurid flame as high as the tree
tops, igniting the branches of a group of tall pines that
had been left standing for saw-logs.
A deep gloom blotted out the heavens from our
sight. The air was filled with fiery particles which
floated even to the door-step — while the crackling
and roaring of the flames might have been heard at a
great distance. Could we have reached the lake shore,
where several canoes were moored at the landing, by
launching out into the water we should have been
in perfect safety; but, to attain this object, it was ne-
cessary to pass through this mimic hell; and not a
333
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
bird could have flown over it with unscorched wings.
There was no hope in that quarter, for, could we have
escaped the flames, we should have been blinded and
choked by the thick, black, resinous smoke.
The fierce wind drove the flames at the sides and
back of the house up the clearing ; and our passage to
the road or to the forest, on the right and left, was en-
tirely obstructed by a sea of flames. Our only ark of
safety was the house, so long as it remained untouch-
ed by the consuming element. I turned to young
Thomas and asked him how long he thought that
would be.
"When the fire clears this little ridge in front,
ma'am. The Lord have mercy upon us, then, or we
must all go!"
"Cannotjy0#, John, try and make your escape, and
see what can be done for us and the poor children?"
My eye fell upon the sleeping angels, locked peace-
fully in each other's arms, and my tears flowed for
the first time.
Mary, the servant-girL looked piteously up in my
face. The^good, faithful creature had not uttered one
word of complaint, but now she faltered forth —
"The dear, precious lambs! — Oh! such a death!"
I threw myself down upon the floor beside them,
and pressed them alternately to my heart, while in-
wardly I thanked God that they were asleep, uncon-
scious of danger, and unable by their childish cries to
distract our attention from adopting any plan which
might offer to effect their escape.
The heat soon became suffocating. We were parch-
ed with thirst, ancTlheit: was, uul <rdrop of water in
334
BURNING THE FALLOW
the house, and none to be procured nearer than the
lake. I turned once more to the door, hoping that a
passage might have been burnt through to the water.
I saw nothing but a dense cloud of fire and smoke —
could hear nothing but the crackling and roaring of
the flames which were gaining so fast upon" us tKaT
I felt their scorching breath in my face.
"Ah," thought I — and it was a most bitter thought
— " what will my beloved husband say when he returns
and finds that his poor Susy and his dear girls have
perished in this miserable manner? But God can save
us yet."
The thought had scarcely found a voice in my heart
before the wind rose to a hurricane, scattering the
flames on all sides into a tempest of burning billows.
I buried my head in my apron, for I thought that our
time was come, and that all was lost, when a most
terrific crash of thunder burst over our heads, and, like
the breaking of a water-spout, down came the rushing
torrent of rain which had been pent up for so many
weeks.
In a few minutes the chip-yard was all afloat, and
the fire effectually checked. The storm which, un-
noticed by us, had been gathering all day, and which
was the only one of any note we had that summer,
continued to rage all night, and before morning had
quite subdued the cruel enemy whose approach we
had viewed with such dread.
The imminent danger in which we had been placed
struck me more forcibly after it was past than at the
time, and both the girl and myself sank upon our
knees and lifted up our hearts in humblethanksgiving
335
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
to that God who had saved us by an act of His pro-
vidence from an awful and sudden death. When all
hope from human assistance was lost, His hand was
mercifully stretched forth,making Hisstrength more
perfectly manifested in our weakness : —
^- " He is their stay when earthly help is lost,
The light and anchor of the tempest-toss'd."
There was one person, unknown to us, who had
watched the progress of that rash blaze, and had even
brought his canoe to the landing, in the hope of get-
ting us off. This was an Irish pensioner named Dunn,
who had cleared a few acres on his government grant,
and had built a shanty on the opposite shore of the
lake.
"Faith, madam! an' I thought the captain was
stark, staring mad to fire his fallow on such a windy
day, and that blowing right from the lake to the
house. When Old Wittals came in and towld us that
the masther was not to the fore, but only one lad, an1
the wife an' the childer at home, — thinks I, there's
no time to be lost, or the crathurs will be burnt up in-
tirely. We started instanther, but, by Jove ! we were
too late. The swamp was all in a blaze when we got
to the landing, and you might as well have thried to
get to heaven by passing through the other place."
This was the eloquent harangue with which the
honest creature informed me the next morning of the
efforts he had made to save us, and the interest he
had felt in our critical situation. I felt comforted for
my past anxiety, by knowing that one human being,
however humble, had sympathized in our probable
fate; while the providential manner in which we had
336
BURNING THE FALLOW
been rescued will ever remain a theme of wonder and
gratitude.
The next evening brought the return of my hus-
band, who listened to the tale of our escape with a
pale and disturbed countenance, not a little thank-
ful to find his wife and children still in the land of the
living.
For a long time after the burning of that fallow,
it haunted me in my dreams. I would awake with a
start, imagining myself fighting with the flames, and
endeavouring to carry my little children through
them to the top of the clearing, when invariably their
garments and my own took fire just as I was within
reach of a place of safety.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
OUR LOGGING-BEE
CHAPTER XV. OUR LOGGING-BEE
There was a man in our town,
In our town, in our town —
There was a man in our town,
He made a logging-bee;
And he bought lots of whiskey,
To make the loggers frisky —
To make the loggers frisky
At his logging-bee.
The Devil sat on a log heap,
A log heap, a log heap —
A red hot burning log heap —
A-grinning at the bee;
And there was lots of swearing,
Of boasting and of daring,
Of fighting and of tearing,
At that logging-bee.
J. W. D. M.
A LOGGING-BEE FOLLOWED THE BURN-
ing of the fallow as a matter of course. In the bush,
where hands are few and labour commands an enor-
mous rate of wages, these gatherings are considered
indispensable, and much has been written in their
praise ; but to me, they present the most disgusting
picture of a bush life. They are noisy, riot€*js,dr-«*vk--
en meetings, often terminating in violent ..quarrels,
sometimes even in bloddshecjl Accidents of the most
serious nature often occur, and very little work is
done when we consider the number of hands employ-
ed, and the great consumption of food and liquor.
I am certain, in our case, had we hired with the
money expended in providing for the bee, two or three
industrious, hard-working men, we should have got
through twice as much work, and have had it done
well, and have been the gainers in the end.
341
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
People in the woods have a craze for giving and
going ^aP&es, $nd run to them with as much eager-
ness as a peasant runs to a racecourse or a fair ; plen-
ty of strong drink and excitement making the chief
attraction ofthe bee7
In raising a house or barn, a bee may be looked
upon as a necessary evil, but these gatherings are
generally conducted in a more orderly manner than
those for logging. Fewer hands are required, and
they are generally under the control of the carpenter
who puts up the frame, and if they get drunk during
the raising they are liable to meet with very serious
accidents.
simple, wttft invited
to our bee, and the maid and I were engaged for two
days preceding the important one, in baking and
cooking for the entertainment of ou^guests. When
Hooked at the quaTFEl^ I
thought that it never could be alLjgaten, even by
thirty-two men. It was a burning hot dayTowards
Ithe end of July when o»r loggers -feegaaJxt come in,
and the "gee! "and "ha!" to encourage the oxen re-
sounded on every side.
There was my brother S -- , with his frank Eng-
lish face, a host in himself; Lieutenant -- in his
blouse, wide white trousers, and red sash, his broad
straw hat shading a dark manly face that would have
been a splendid property for a bandit chief; the four
gay, reckless, idle sons of - , famous at any spree,
but incapable of the least mental or physical exer-
tion, who considered hunting and fishing as the sole
aim and object of life. These young men
OUR LOGGING-BEE
very little-assistance themselves, and their example
deferred others who were inclmeKo'wBrfcrr
There were the two R s, who came to work
and to make others work ; my good brother-in-law,
who had volunteered to be the Grog Boss, and a host
of other settlers, among whom I recognized Hoodie's
old acquaintance, Dan Simpson, with his lank red
hair and long freckled face; the Youngs, the hunters,
with their round, black, curly heads and rich Irish
brogue ; poor C , with his long, spare, consump-
tive figure, and thin, sickly face. Poor fellow, he has
long since been gathered to his rest !
There was the ruffian squatter P , from Clear
Lake, — the dread of all honest men; the brutal
M , who treated oxen as if they had been logs,
by beating them with handspikes; and there was Old
Wittals, with his low forehead and long nose, a living
witness of the truth of phrenology, if his large organ
of acquisitiveness and his want of conscientiousness
could be taken in evidence. Yet in spite of his de-
relictions from honesty,he was a hard-working, good-
natured man, who, if he cheated you in a bargain, or
took away some useful article in mistake from your
homestead, never wronged his employer in his day's
work.
He was acurious sample of cunningand simplicity
— quite a character in his way — and the largest eater
I ever chanced to know. From this ravenous pro-
pensity, for he ate his food like a famished wolf, he
had obtained his singular name of "Wittals."
During the first year of his settlement in the bush,
with a very large family to provide for, he had been
343
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
often in want of food. One day he came to my
brother with a very long face.
"Mr. S , I'm no beggar, but I'd be obliged to
you for a loaf of bread. I declare to you on my hon-
our that I have not had a bit of wittals to dewour for
two whole days."
He came to the right person with his petition. Mr.
S with a liberal hand relieved his wants, but he
entailed upon him the name of" Old Wittals," as part
payment.
His daughter, who was a very pretty girl, had
stolen a march upon him into the wood, with a lad
whom he by no means regarded with a favourable eye.
When she returned, the old man confronted her and
her lover with this threat, which I suppose he con-
sidered "the most awful" punishment that he could
devise —
"March into the house, Madam 'Ria (Maria);
and if ever I catch you with that scamp again, I'll
tie you up to a stump all day, and give you no
wittals."
I was greatly amused by overhearing a dialogue
between Old Wittals and one of his youngest sons, a
sharp Yankeefied-looking boy, who had lost one of
his eyes, but the remaining orb looked as if it could
see all ways at once.
" I say, Sol, how cameyou to tell that tarnation tear-
ing lie to Mr. S yesterday? Didn't you expect
thatyou'd catch a good wallopping for the like of that?
Lying may be excusable in a man, but 'tis a terrible
bad habit in a boy."
"Lor', father, that worn't a lie. I told Mr. S—
344
OUR LOGGING-BEE
our cow worn't in his peas. Nor more she wor; she
was in his wheat.
"But she was in the peas all night, boy."
"That wor nothing to me; she worn't in just then.
Sure I won't get a licking for that?"
"No, no, you are a good boy; but mind what I tell
you, and don't bring me into a scrape with any of your
real lies."
Prevarication, the worst of falsehoods, was a virtue
in his eyes. So much for the old man's morality.
Monaghan was in his glory, prepared to work or
fight, whichever should come uppermost; and there
was old Thomas and his sons, the contractors for the
clearing, to expedite whose movements the bee was
called. Old Thomas was a very ambitious man in his
way. Though he did not know A from B, he took it
into his head that he had received a call from Heaven
to convert the heathen in the wilderness; and every
Sunday he held a meeting in our loggers' shanty, for
the purpose of awakening sinners, and bringing over
" Injun pagans" to the true faith. His method of ac-
complishing this object was very ingenious. He got
his wife, Peggy — or " my Paggy," as he called her —
to read aloud to him a text from the Bible, until he
knew it by heart; and he had, as he said truly, "a good
remembrancer," and never heard a striking sermon
but he retained the most important passages, and re-
tailed them second-hand to his bush audience.
I must say that I was not a little surprised at the
old man's eloquence when I went one Sunday over to
the shanty to hear him preach. Several wild young
fellows had come on purpose to make fun of him; but
345
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
his discourse, which was upon the text " We shall all
meet before the judgment-seat of Christ," was rather
too serious a subject to turn into a jest, with even old
Thomas for the preacher. All went on very well until
the old man gave out the hymn, and led off in such
a loud, discordant voice, that my little Katie, who
was standing between her father's knees, looked sud-
denly up and said," Mamma, what a noise old Thom-
as makes!" This remark led to a much greater
noise, and the young men, unable to restrain their
long-suppressed laughter, ran tumultuously from the
shanty.
I could have whipped the little elf; but small blame
could be attached to a child of two years old, who had
never heard a preacher, especially such a preacher as
the old backwoodsman, in her life. Poor man ! he was
perfectly unconscious of the cause of the disturbance,
1 and remarked to us after the service was over —
"Well, ma'am, did not we get on famously? Now,
worn't that a bootiful discourse?"
"It was, indeed; much better than I expected."
" Yes, yes ; I knew it would please you. It had quite
an effect on those wild fellows. A few more such ser-
mons will teach them good behaviour. Ah! the bush
is a bad place for young men. The farther in the bush,
say I, the farther from God, and the nearer to h — 1. I
told that wicked Captain L , of Dummer, so the
other Sunday; 'an',' says he, 'if you don't hold your
confounded jaw, you old fool, I'll kick you there.'
Now, ma'am — now, sir, was not that bad manners in
a gentleman, to use such appropriate epitaphs to a hum-
ble servant of God, like I?"
346
OUR LOGGING-BEE
And thus the old man ran on for an hour, dilat-
ing upon his own merits and the sins of his neigh-
bours.
There was John , from Smith-town, the most
notorious swearer in the district; a man who esteem-
ed himself clever, nor did he want for natural talent,
but he had converted his mouth into such a sink of
iniquity that it corrupted the whole man, and all the
weak and thoughtless of his own sex who admitted
him into their company. I had tried to convince John
(for he often frequented the house under the pre-
tence of borrowing books) of the great crime that he
was constantly committing, and of the injurious effect
it must produce upon his own family, but the mental
disease had taken too deep a root to be so easily cur-
ed. Like a person labouring under some foul disease,
he contaminated all he touched. Such men seem to
make an ambitious display of their bad habits in such
scenes, and if they afford a little help, they are sure
to get intoxicated and make a row. There was my
friend, old Ned Dunn, who had been so anxious to
get us out of the burning fallow. There was a whole
group of Dummer Pines: Levi, the little wiry, witty
poacher; Cornish Bill, the honest-hearted old peas-
ant, with his stalwart figure and uncouth dialect; and
David, and Ned — all good men and true; and Mal-
achi Chroak,a queer, withered-up, monkey-man, that
seemed like some mischievous elf flitting from heap
to heap to make work and fun for the rest; and many
others were at that bee who have since found a rest
in the wilderness: Adam T , H , J. M ,
H. N .
347
father.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
These, at different times, lost their lives in those
bright waters in which, on such occasions as these,
they used to sport and frolic to refresh themselves
during the noonday heat. Alas! how many, who were
then young and in their prime, that river and its lakes
have swept away !
Our men worked well until dinner-time, when, after
washing in the lake, they all sat down to the rude
board which I had prepared for them, loaded with the
best fare that could be procured in the bush. Pea-soup,
legs of pork, venison, eel, and raspberry pies, garnish-
ed with plenty of potatoes, and whiskey to wash them
down, besides a large iron kettle of tea. To pour out
the latter, and dispense it round, devolved upon me.
My brother and his friends, who were all temperance
men, and consequently the best workers in the field,
kept me and the maid actively employed in replen-
ishing their cups.
The dinner passed off tolerably well ; some of the
lower order of the Irish settlers were pretty far gone,
but they committed no outrage upon our feelings by
either swearing or bad language, a few harmless
jokes alone circulating among them.
Some one was funning Old Wittalls for having
eaten seven large cabbages at Mr. T 's bee, a
few days previous, and his son, Sol, thought him-
self, as in duty, bound to take up the cudgel for his
" Now, I guess that's a lie, anyhow. Fayther was
sick that day, and I tell you he only ate five."
This announcement was followed by such an ex-
plosion of mirth that the boy looked fiercely round
348
OUR LOGGING-BEE
him, as if he could scarcely believe the fact that the
whole party were laughing at him.
Malachi Chroak, who was good-naturedly drunk,
had discovered an old pair of cracked bellows in a
corner, which he placed under his arm, and apply-
ing his mouth to the pipe, and working his elbows
to and fro, pretended that he was playing upon the
bagpipes, every now and then letting the wind escape
in a shrill squeak from this novel instrument.
"Arrah, ladies and jintlemen, do jist turn your
swate little eyes upon me whilst I play for your
iddifications the last illigant tune which my owld
grandmother taught me. Ochhone! 'tis a thousand
pities that such musical owld crathers should be
suffered to die, at all at all, to be poked away into a
dirthy,dark hole, when their canthles shud beburnin'
a-top of a bushel, givin' light to the house. An' then
it is she that was the illigant dancer, stepping out so
lively and frisky, just so."
And here he minced to and fro, affecting the airs
of a fine lady. The supposititious bagpipe gave an
uncertain, ominous howl, and he flung it down and
started back with a ludicrous expression of alarm.
" Alive, is it ye are ? Ye croaking owld divil, is that
the tune you taught your son? "
"Och! my owld granny taught me, but now she is dead,
That a dhrop of nate whiskey is good for the head;
It would make a man spake when jist ready to dhie,
If you doubt it — my boys! — I'd advise you to thry.
Och! my owld granny sleeps with her head on a stone, —
'Now, Malach, don't throuble the gals when I'm gone!'
I thried to obey her; but, och, I am shure,
There's no sorrow on earth that the angels can't cure.
349
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Och! I took her advice — I'm a bachelor still;
And I dance, and I play, with such excellent skill,
(Taking up the bellows and beginning to dance.}
That the dear little crathurs are striving in vain
Which first shall my hand or my fortin' obtain."
" Malach! " shouted a laughing group. " How was
it that the old lady taught you to go a-courting?"
" Arrah, that's a sacret ! I don't let out owld granny's
sacrets," said Malachi, gracefully waving his head to
and fro to the squeaking of the bellows ; then sudden-
ly tossing back the long, dangling black elf-locks that
curled down the sides of his lank yellow cheeks, and
winking knowingly with his comical little deep-seat-
ed black eyes, he burst out again —
" Wid the blarney I'd win the most dainty proud dame,
No gal can resist the soft sound of that same;
Wid the blarney, my boys — if you doubt it, go thry —
But hand here the bottle, my whistle is dhry."
The men went back to the field, leaving Malachi
to amuse tKbse who remained in theliouse ; and we
certainly did laugh our fill at his odd capers and con-
ceits.
Then he would insist upon rparryin^ our^maid.
There could be no reluSai^hSve^ her he would. The
to keep him quiet, laughingly promised that she
ta k«* hirn for her husEancI.' This didrrorsafisfv
him. She must take her oath upon the Bible to that
effect. Mary pretended that there was no Bible in the
house,but he found an old spelling-book upon a shelf
_in the kitchen, and upon it he made her swear, and
called upon me to bear witness to her oath, that she
was now his^&etrotEatl, and he would go next day
with her to the "praist." Poor Mary had reason to
3So
OUR LOGGING-BEE
repent hei frolic,yor he stuck close to her the whole
evening, tormenting her to fulfil her contract
After the sun went down, the logging-band
in_to supper, which was all ready for them. Those
who remained sober ate the meaTin peace, a~nd quiet-
ly returned to their own homes, while the vicious and
the drunken stayed to brawl and fight
^After having placed the supper on the table, I was
so tired with the noise, and heaT7^nd~iaTTgu5~Df the
daj^that I wenTfo~bied",Teaving to Mafj^"ncT~rny1ius-
band the care oFlhe guests.
The little bed-jcKamber was only separated from
the kitcKeh by a few thiri'Boarcts"; and, unfortunately
for me and the girl, who was soon forced to retreat
thither, we could
JjIOfl
in ttie next room. My husbanii*-dis-
it, and retired into
the parlour with^tlje few of theIoggers who, at that
hour, remained sober. THfi house rang^with the sound
, profane songs, and blasphem-
^ous_swearng. It would have been no hard task to
have imagined jthejse miserable, degraded beings,
fiendsjLnjteajdjpj^ I was when they at
last broke up and we jvere once more left in peace
Jto collect the broken-glasses and cups, and the scat-
teredj^agmentsofthatjiateful feast!
vVe were obliged to endure a second and a third
repetition of this odious scene, before sixteen acres
of land were rendered fit for the reception of our fall
crop of wheat.
My hatred to these tumultuous, disorderly meet-
ins was not in the least decreased by my husband
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
being twice seriously hurt while attending them.
After the second in jury he received, he seldom went
to them himself, but sent his oxen and servant in his
place. In these odious gatherings, the sober, moral,
and industrious man is more likely to suffer than the
drunken and profane, as, during the delirium of drink,
these men expose others to danger as well as them-
selves.
The conduct of many of the settlers, who considered
themselves gentlemen, and would have been very
much affronted to have been called otherwise, was
often more reprehensible than that of the poor Irish
emigram^tp whbmthey should have set : ajn exam pie
of order anjdLsobriety. The behaviour of these young
men drew upon. them the severe but just censures of
the poorer class, whom they regarded in every way
as tfieir inferiors*
Just after the last of these logging-bees, we had to
part with our good servant Mary, and just at a time
when it was the heaviest loss to me. Her father, who
had been a dairyman in the north of Ireland, an hon-
est, industrious man, had brought but upwards of one
hundred pounds to this country. With more wisdom
than is generally exercised by Irish emigrants, in-
stead of sinking all his means in buying a bush farm,
he hired a very good farm in Cavan, stocked it with
cattle, and returned to his old avocation. The services
of his daughter, who was an excellent dairy maid, were
required to take the management of the cows ; and
her brother brought a waggon and horses all the way
from the front to take her home.
This event was perfectly unexpected, and left me
352
OUR LOGGING-BEE
without a moment's notice to provide myself with
another servant at a time when servants were not to
behad, and I was perfectly unable to do the leastthing.
My little Addie was sick almost to death with the
summer complaint, and the eldest still too young to
take care of herself.
This was but the beginning of trouble.
Ague and lake fever had attacked our new settle-
ment. The men in the shanty were all down with it,
and my husband was confined to his bed on each al-
ternate day, unable to raise hand or foot, and raving
in the delirium of the fever.
In my sister and brother's families, scarcely a heal-
thy person remained to attend upon the sick; and at
Herriot's Falls, nine persons were stretched upon the
floor of one log cabin, unable to help themselves or
one another. After much difficulty, and only by offer-
ing enormous wages, I succeeded in procuring a nurse
to attend upon me during my confinement. The wo-
man had not been a day in the house before she was
attacked by the same fever. In the midst of this con-
fusion, and with my precious little Addie lying insen-
sible on a pillow at the foot of my bed — expected
every moment to breathe her last — on the night of
the 26th of August the boy I had so ardently coveted
was born. The next day, old Pine carried his wife
(my nurse) away upon his back, and I was left t
Struggle . throughjjrj the best manner I could, with aj"
sick husband, a sick child, and a new-born babe.
It was a melancholy season, one of severe menta
and bodily suffering. Those who have drawn such
agreeable pictures of a residence in the backwoods,
353 z
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
never dwell upon the periods of sickness, when, far
from medical advice, and often, as in my case, depriv-
ed of the assistance of friends by adverse circum-
stances, you are left to languish, unattended, upon the
couch of pain.
The day that my husband was free of the fit, he
did what he could forme and his poor sick babes, but,
ill as he was, he^was obliged to sow the wheat to en-
able the man to proceed with the drag, and was,there-
fore, necessarily absent in the field the greater part of
the day.
I was very ill, yet, for hours at a time, I had no
friendly voice to cheer me, to proffer me a drink of
V cold water, or to attend to the poor babe ; and worse,
still worse, there was no one to help that pale, marble
> child, who lay so cold and still, with "half-closed vio-
let eyes," as if death had already chilled her young
heart in his iron grasp.
There was not a breath of air in our close, burning
bed-closet; and the weather was sultry beyond all that
I have since experienced. How I wished that I could
be transported to a hospital at home, to enjoy the
common" care that in such places is bestowed upon
the sick! Bitter tears flowed continually over those
young children. I had asked of Heaven a son, and
there he lay helpless by the side of his almost equally
helpless mother, who could not lift him up in her arms,
or still his cries; while the pale, fair angel, with her
golden curls, who had lately been the admiration of
all who saw her, no longer recognized my voice, or
was conscious of my presence. I felt that I could al-
most resign the long and eagerly-hoped-for son,to win
354
OUR LOGGING-BEE
one more smile from that sweet suffering creature.
Often did I weep myself to sleep, and wake to weep
again with renewed anguish.
And my poor little Katie, herself under three years
of age, how patiently she bore the loss of my care and
every comfort ! How earnestly the dear thing strove
to help me ! She would sit on my sick-bed, and hold
my hand, and ask me to look at her and speak to her;
would inquire why Addie slept so long, and when she
would wake again. Those innocent questions went
like arrows to my heart.
Lieutenant , the husband of my dear Emilia,
at length heard of my situation. His inestimable wife
was from home, nursing her sick mother; but he sent
his maid-servant up every day for a couple of hours,
and the kind girl despatched a messenger nine miles
through the woods to Dummer, to fetch her younger
sister, a child of twelve years old.
Oh, how grateful I felt for these signal mercies ! for
my situation for nearly a week was one of the most
pitiable that could be imagined. The sickness was so
prevalent that help was not to be obtained for money;
and without the assistance of that little girl, young
as she was, it is more than probable that neither my-
self nor my children would ever have rrsen from that
bed of sickness.
The conduct of our man Jacob, during this trying
period, was marked with the greatest kindness and
consideration. On the days that his master was con-
fined to his bed with the fever, he used to place a vessel
of cold water and a cup by his bedside, and then put
his honest English face in at my door to know if he
355
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
could make a cup of tea, or toast a bit of bread for the
mistress, before he went into the field.
Katie was indebted to him for all her meals. He
baked, and cooked, and churned, milked the cows,
and made up the butter, as well and as carefully as
the best female servant could have done. As to poor
John Monaghan, he was down with the fever in the
shanty, where four other men were all ill with the
same terrible complaint.
I was obliged to leave my bed and endeavour to
attend to the wants of my young family long before
I was really able. When I made my first attempt to
reach the parlour I was so weak, that, at every step,
I felt as if I should pitch forward to the ground, which
seemed to undulate beneath my feet, like the floor of
a cabin in a storm at sea. Myjhusband continued to
gj.ifffr for rn any weeks with the aqugT'and'wheH he
was convalescent, all thecHHctren,eveh the poor babe,
were seized with it ; nor did it leave us till late in the
spring of 1835.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
XVI. A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
Oh, Nature! in thy ever- vary ing face,
By rocky shore, or 'neath the forest tree,
What love divine, what matchless skill, I trace!
My full warm heart responsive thrills to thee.
Yea, in my throbbing bosom's inmost core,
Thou reign 'st supreme; and, in thy sternest mood,
Thy votary bends in rapture to adore
The Mighty Maker, who pronounced thee good.
Thy broad, majestic brow still bears His seal;
And when I cease to love, oh, may I cease to feel!
MY HUSBAND HAD LONG PROMISED ME
a trip to Stony Lake, and in the summer of 1835,
before the harvest commenced, he gave Mr. Y ,
who kept the mill at the rapids below Clear Lake,
notice of our intention, and the worthy old man and
his family made due preparation for our reception.
The little girls were to accompany us.
We were to start at sunrise, to avoid the heat of
the day, to go up as far as Mr. Y 's in our canoe,
re-embark with his sons above the rapids in birch-
bark canoes, go as far up the lake as we could accom-
plish by daylight, and return at night ; the weather
being very warm, and the moon at full. Before six
o'clock we were all seated in the little craft, which
spread her white sail to a smart breeze, and sped mer-
rily over the blue waters. The lake on which our clear-
ing stood was about a mile and a half in length, and
about three-quarters of a mile in breadth; a mere pond
when compared with the Bay of Quinte", Ontario, and
the inland seas of Canada. But it was our lake, and,
consequently, it had ten thousand beauties in our eyes
which would scarcely have attracted the observation
of a stranger.
At the head of the Katchawanook, the lake is di-
359
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
vided by a long neck of land that forms a small bay
on the right-hand side, and a very brisk rapid on the
left. The banks are formed of large masses of lime-
stone; and the cardinal-flower and the tiger-lily seem
to have taken an especial fancy to this spot, and to
vie with each other in the display of their gorgeous
colours.
It is an excellent place for fishing; the water is
very deep close to the rocky pavement that forms the
bank, and it has a pebbly bottom. Many a magic
hour, at rosydawn or evening grey,have I spentwith
my husband on this romantic spot, our canoe fasten-
ed to a bush, and ourselves intent upon ensnaring the
black bass, a fish of excellent flavour that abounds
in this place.
Our paddles soon carried us past the narrows and
through the rapid water, the children sitting quietly
at the bottom of the boat enchanted with all they
heard and saw, begging papa to stop and gather wat-
er-lilies, or to catch one of the splendid butterflies
that hovered over us ; and often the little Addie dart-
ed her white hand into the water to grasp at the
shadow of the gorgeous insects as they skimmed a-
long the waves.
After passing the rapids, the river widened into
another small lake, perfectly round in form, and hav-
ing in its centre a tiny green island, in the midst of
which stood, like a shattered monument of bygone
storms, one blasted, black ash-tree.
The Indians call this lake Bessikdkoony but I do
not know the exact meaning of the word. Some say
that it means "the Indian's grave," others "the lake
360
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
of the one island." It is certain that an Indian girl is
buried beneath that blighted tree; but I never could
learn the particulars of her story, and perhaps there
was no tale connected with it. She might have fallen
a victim to disease duringthe wanderingsof her tribe,
and been buried on that spot; or she might have been
drowned, which would account for her having been
buried away from the rest of her people.
This little lake lies in the heart of the wilderness.
There is but one clearing upon its shores, and that
had been made by lumberers many years before; the
place abounded with red cedar. A second growth of
young timber had grown up in this spot, which was
covered also with raspberry-bushes — several hundred
acres being entirely overgrown with this delicious
berry.
It was here annually that we used to come in large
picnic parties, to collect this valuable fruit for our
winter preserves, in defiance of black flies, mosquitoes,
snakes, and even bears; all which have been encoun-
tered by berry-pickers upon this spot, as busy and as
active as themselves, gathering an ample repast from
Nature's bounteous lap.
And oh! what beautiful wild shrubs and flowers
grew up in that neglected spot ! Some of the happiest
hours I spent in that bush are connected with remin-
iscences of " Irving's shanty," for so the raspberry-
grounds were called. The clearing could not be seen
from the shore. You had to scramble through a cedar
swamp to reach the sloping ground which produced
the berries.
The mill at the Clear Lake rapids was about three
361
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
miles distant from our own clearing; and after stem-
ming another rapid, and passing between two beauti-
ful wooded islands, the canoe rounded a point, and
the rude structure was before us.
A wilder and more romantic spot than that which
the old hunter had chosen for his homestead in the
wilderness could scarcely be imagined. The waters of
Clear Lake here empty themselves through a narrow,
deep, rocky channel, not exceeding a quarter of a mile
in length, and tumble over a limestone ridge often or
twelve feet in height, which extends from one bank of
the river to the other. The shores on either side are
very steep, and the large oak-trees which have an-
chored their roots in every crevice of the rock, throw
their fantastic arms far over the foaming waterfall, the
deep green of their massy foliage forming a beautiful
contrast with the whitewashing waters that foam over
the chute at least fifty feet below the brow of the lime-
stone rock. By a flight of steps cut in the banks we
ascended to the platform above the river on which
Mr. Y 's house stood.
It was a large, rough-looking, log building, sur-
rounded by barns and sheds of the same primitive
material. The porch before the door was covered with
hops, and the room of general resort, into which it im-
mediately opened, was of large dimensions, the huge
fireplace forming the most striking feature. On the
hearth-stone, hot as was the weather, blazed a great
fire, encumbered with all sorts of culinary apparatus,
which, I am inclined to think, had been called into re-
quisition for our sole benefit and accommodation.
The good folks had breakfasted long before we
362
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
started from home, but they would not hear of our
proceeding to Stony Lake until after we had dined.
It was only eight o'clock a.m., and we had still four
hours to dinner, which gave us ample leisure to
listen to the old man's stories, ramble round the
premises, and observe all the striking features of the
place.
Mr. Y was a Catholic, and the son of a respect-
able farmer from the south of Ireland. Some few years
before, he had emigrated with a large family of seven
sons and two daughters, and being fond of field sports,
and greatly taken with the beauty of the locality in
which he had pitched his tent in the wilderness, he
determined to raise a mill upon the dam which Nature
had provided to his hands, and wait patiently until
the increasing immigration should settle the town-
ships of Smith and Douro, render the property valu-
able, and bring plenty of grist to the mill.
He was not far wrong in his calculations, and though
for the first few years he subsisted entirely by hunting,
fishing, and raising what potatoes and wheat he re-
quired for his own family on the most fertile spots he
could find on his barren lot, very little corn passed
through the mill.
At the time we visited his place, he was driving a
thriving trade, and all the wheat that was grown in the
neighbourhood was brought by water to be ground at
Y— 's mill.
He had lost his wife a few years after coming to the
country; but his two daughters, Betty and Norah, were
excellent housewives, and amply supplied her loss.
From these amiable women we received a most kind
363
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
and hearty welcome, and every comfort and luxury
within their reach.
They appeared a most happy and contented family.
The sons — a fine, hardy, independent set of fellows —
were regarded by the old m an with pride and affection .
Many were his anecdotes of their prowess in hunting
and fishing.
His method of giving them an aversion to strong
drink while very young amused me greatly, but it is
not every child that could have stood the test of his
experiment.
" When they were little chaps, from five to six years
of age, I made them very drunk," he said ; "so drunk
that it brought on severe headache and sickness, and
this so disgusted them with liquor, that they never
could abide the sight of it again. I have only one
drunkard among the seven; and he was such a weak,
puling crathur, that I dared not try the same game
with him lest it should kill him. Tis his nature, I
suppose, and he can't help it; but the truth is, that to
make up for the sobriety of all the rest, hejs killing
himself with drink."
NoTah gave ire-an account of her catching a deer
that had got into the enclosure the day before.
" I went out," she said, " early in the morning, to
milk the cows, and I saw a fine young buck struggling
to get through the rail fence, in which havingentangled
his head and horns, I knew by the desperate efforts he
was making to push aside the rails, that if I was not
quick in getting hold of him, he would soon be gone."
" And did you dare to touch him ? "
" If I had had Mat's gun I would have shot him, but
364
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
he would have made his escape long before I could
run to the house for that, so I went boldly up to him
and got him by the hind legs; and though he kicked
and struggled dreadfully, I held on till Mat heard me
call and ran to my help, and cut his throat with his
hunting knife. So you see," she continued, with a
good-natured laugh, "I can beat our hunters hollow
— they hunt the deer, but I can catch a buck with my
hands."
While we were chatting away, great were the pre-
parations making by Miss Betty and a very hand-
some American woman who had recently come thi-
ther as a help. One little barefooted garsoon was
shelling peas in an Indian basket, another was string-
ing currants into a yellow pie-dish, and a third was
sent to the rapids with his rod and line to procure a
dish of fresh fish to add to the long list of bush dainties
that were preparing for our dinner.
It was in vain that I begged our kind entertainers
not to put themselves to the least trouble on our ac-
count, telling them that we were now used to the
woods, and contented with anything; they were de-
termined to exhaust all their stores to furnish forth
the entertainment. Nor can it be wondered at, that,
with so many dishes to cook, and pies and custards to
bake, instead of dining at twelve, it was past two
o'clock before we were conducted to the dinner- table.
I was vexed and disappointed at the delay, as I wanted
to see all I could of the spot we were about to visit be-
fore night and darkness compelled us to return.
The feast was spread in a large outhouse, the table
being formed of two broad deal boards laid together,
365
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
and supported by rude carpenter's stools. A white
linen cloth, a relic of better days, concealed these ar-
rangements. The board was covered with an indes-
cribable variety of roast and boiled, of fish, flesh, and
fowl. My readers should see a table laid out in a
wealthy Canadian farmer's house before they can
have any idea of the profusion displayed in the enter-
tainment of two visitors and their young children.
Besides venison, pork, chickens, ducks, and fish of
several kinds, cooked in a variety of ways, there was
a number of pumpkin, raspberry, cherry, and currant
pies, with fresh butter and green cheese (as the new
cream-cheese is called), maple molasses, preserves,
and pickled cucumbers, besides tea and coffee — the
latter, be it known, I had watched the American wo-
man boiling in i\\Q frying-pan. It was a black-look-
ing compound, and I did not attempt to discuss its
merits. The vessel in which it had been prepared had
prejudiced me, and rendered me very sceptical on that
score.
We were all very hungry, having tasted nothing
since five o'clock in the morning, and contrived, out
of the variety of good things before us, to make an
excellent dinner.
J was glad, however, when we rose to prosecute
our intended trip up the lake. The old man, whose
heart was now thoroughly warmed with whiskey, de-
clared that he meant to make one of the party, and
Betty, too, was to accompany us; her sister Norah
kindly staying behind to take care of the children.
We followed a path along the top of the high ridge
of limestone rock, until we had passed the falls and
366
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
the rapids above, when we found Pat and Mat Y
waiting for us on the shore below, in two beautiful
new birch-bark canoes, which they had purchased
the day before from the Indians.
Miss Betty, Mat, and myself were safely stowed
into one, while the old miller, and his son Pat, and
my husband, embarked in the other, and our steers-
man pushed offinto the middle of the deep and silent
stream, the shadow of the tall woods, towering so
many feet above us, casting an inky hue upon the
waters.
The scene was very imposing, and after paddling
for a few minutes in shade and silence, we suddenly
emerged into light and sunshine, and Clear Lake,
which gets its name from the unrivalled brightness of
its waters, spread out its azure mirror before us. The
Indians regard this sheet of water with peculiar rev-
erence. It abounds in the finest sorts of fish, the
salmon-trout, the delicious white fish, maskinonge,
and black and white bass. There is no island in this
lake, no rice beds, nor stick nor stone to break its tran-
quil beauty, and, at the time we visited it, there was
but one clearing upon its shores.
The log hut of the squatter P , commanding a
beautiful prospect up and down the lake, stood upon
a bold slope fronting the water; all the rest was
unbroken forest.
We had proceeded about a mile on our pleasant
voyage when our attention was attracted by a singu-
lar natural phenomenon, which Mat Y called
the battery.
On the right side of the shore rose a steep, perpen-
367
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
dicular wall of limestone, that had the appearance of
having been laid by the hand of man, so smooth and
even was its surface. After attaining a height of a-
bout fifty feet, a natural platform of eight or ten yards
broke the perpendicular line of the rock, when another
wall, like the first, rose to a considerable height, ter-
minating in a second and third platform of the same
description.
Fire, at some distant period, had run over these
singularly beautiful terraces, and a second growth of
poplars and balm-of-gileads, relieved, by their tender
green and light, airy foliage, the sombre indigo tint
of the heavy pines that nodded like the plumes of
a funeral-hearse over the fair young dwellers on the
rock.
The water is forty feet deep at the base of this
precipice, which is washed by the waves. After we
had passed the battery, Mat Y turned to me and
said, "That is a famous place for bears ; many a bear
have I shot among those rocks."
This led to a long discussion on the wild beasts
of the country.
"I do not think that there is much danger to be
apprehended from them," said he; "but I once had
an ugly adventure with a wolf, two winters ago, on
this lake."
I was all curiosity to hear the story, which sounded
doubly interesting told on the very spot, and while
gliding over those lovely waters.
"We were lumbering at the head of Stony Lake,
about eight miles from here, my four brothers, myself,
and several other hands. The winter was long and
368
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
severe ; although it was the first week in March, there
was not the least appearance of a thaw,and the iceon
these lakes was firm as ever. I had been sent home
to fetch a yoke of oxen to draw the saw-logs down to
the water, our chopping being all completed and the
logs ready for rafting.
"I did not think it necessary to encumber myself
with my rifle, and was, therefore, provided with no
weapon of defence but the long gad I used to urge on
the cattle. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon
when I rounded Sandy Point, that long point which
is about a mile ahead of us on the left shore, when
I first discovered that I was followed, but at a great
distance, by a large wolf. At first I thought little
of the circumstance, beyond a passing wish that I
had brought my gun. I knew that he would not at-
tack me before dark, and it was still two long hours
to sundown ; so I whistled, and urged on my oxen,
and soon forgot the wolf — when, on stopping to re-
pair a little damage to the peg of the yoke, I was
surprised to find him close at my heels. I turned,
and ran towards him, shouting as loud as I could,
when he slunk back, but showed no inclination to
make off. Knowing that he must have companions
near, by his boldness, I shouted as loud as I could,
hoping that my cries might be heard by my brothers,
who would imagine that the oxen had got into the
ice and would come to my assistance. I was now
winding my way through the islands in Stony Lake;
the sun was setting red before me, and I had still three
miles of my journey to accomplish. The wolf had be-
come so impudent that I kept him off by pelting him
369 2 A
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
with snowballs; and once he came so near that I
struck him with the gad. I now began to be seriously
alarmed, and, from time to time, shouted with all my
strength; and you may imagine my joy when these
cries were answered by the report of a gun. My bro-
thers had heard me, and the discharge of a gun, for
a moment, seemed to daunt the wolf. He uttered a
long howl, which was answered by the cries of a
large pack of the dirty brutes from the wood. It was
only just light enough to distinguish objects, and I
had to stop and face my enemy, to keep him at bay.
" I saw the skeleton forms of half a dozen more of
them slinking among the bushes that skirted a low is-
land ; and tired and cold, I gave myself and the oxen
up for lost, when I felt the ice tremble on which I stood,
and heard men running at a little distance. ' Fire your
guns!' I cried out, as loud as I could. My order was
obeyed, and such a yelling and howling immediately
filled the whole forest as would have chilled your very
heart. The thievish varmints instantly fled away in-
to the bush.
" I never felt the least fear of wolves until that night ;
but when they meet in large bands, like cowardly
dogs, they trust to their numbers and grow fierce. If
you meet with one wolf, you may be certain that the
whole pack is at no great distance."
We were fast approaching Sandy Point, a long
white ridge of sand running half across the lake, and
though only covered with scattered groups of scrub-
by trees and brush, it effectually screened Stony Lake
from our view. There were so many beautiful flowers
peeping through the dwarf, green bushes, that wish-
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
ing to inspect them nearer, Mat kindly ran the canoe
ashore, and told me that he would show me a pretty
spot where an Indian, who had been drowned during
a storm off that point, was buried. I immediately re-
called the story of Susan Moore's father, but Mat
thought that he was interred upon one of the islands
farther up.
"It is strange," he said, "that they are such bad swim-
mers. The Indian, though unrivalled by us whites in
the use of the paddle, is an animal that does not take
readily to the water, and those among them who can
swim seldom use it as a recreation."
Pushing our way through the bushes, we came to
a small opening in the underwood, so thickly grown
over with wild Canadian roses in full blossom, that the
air was impregnated with a delightful odour. In the
centre of this bed of sweets rose the humble mound
that protected the bones of the red man from the rav-
enous jaws of the wolf and the wild cat. It was com-
pletely covered with stones, and from amongthe cre-
vices had sprung a tuft of blue harebells, waving as
wild and free as if they grew among the bonny red
heather on the glorious hills of the North or shook
their tiny bells to the breeze on the broom -encircled
commons of England.
The harebell had always from a child been with me
a favourite flower; and the first sight of it in Canada,
growing upon that lonely grave, so flooded my soul
with remembrances of the past, that in spite of myself
the tears poured freely from my eyes. There are mo-
ments when it is impossible to repress those outgush-
ngs of the heart —
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" Those flood-gates of the soul that sever,
In passion's tide to part for ever."
If Mat and his sister wondered at my tears, they
must have suspected the cause, for they walked to a
little distance and left me to the indulgence of my
feelings. I gathered those flowers and placed them in
my bosom, and kept them for many a day; they had
become holy, when connected with sacred home recol-
lections, and the never-dying affections of the heart
which the sight of them recalled.
A shout from our companions in the other canoe
made us retrace our steps to the shore. They had al-
ready rounded the point, and were wondering at our
absence.
Oh, what a magnificent scene of wild and lonely
grandeur burst upon us as we swept round the little
peninsula, and the whole majesty of Stony Lake broke
upon us at once, another Lake of the Thousand Isles
in miniature, and in the heart of the wilderness ! Im-
agine a large sheet of water, some fifteen miles in
breadth and twenty-five in length, taken upby islands
of every size and shape, from the lofty naked rock of
red granite to the rounded hill covered with oak-trees
to its summit, while others were level with the wat-
ers, and of a rich emerald green, only fringed with a
growth of aquatic shrubs and flowers. Never did my
eyes rest on a more lovely or beautiful scene. Not a
&y vestige of man or of his works was there. The setting
sun, that cast such a gorgeous flood of light upon this
exquisite panorama, bringing out some of these lofty
islands in strongrelief, and casting others into intense
shade, shed no cheery beam upon church spire or cot-
372
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
tagepane. We beheld the landscape, savage and grand
in its primeval beauty.
As we floated among the channels between those
rocky picturesque isles, I asked Mat how many of
them there were.
" I never could succeed," he said, " in counting them
all. One Sunday, Pat and I spent a whole day in going
from one to the other, to try and make out how many
there were, but we could only count up to one hundred
and forty before we gave up the task in despair. There
are a great many of them, more than any one would
think — and,whatis very singular,thechannel between
them is very deep, sometimes above forty feet, which
accounts for the few rapids to be found in this lake.
It is a glorious place for hunting, and thewaters, un-
disturbed by steam-boats, abound in all sorts offish,
"Most of these islands are covered with huckle-
berries, while grapes, high and low-bush cranberries,
blackberries, wild cherries, gooseberries, and several
sorts of wild currants grow here in profusion. There
is one island among these groups (but I never could
light upon the identical one) where the Indians year-
ly gather their wampum-grass. They come here to
collect the best birch-bark for their canoes, and to
gather wild onions. In short, from the game, fish, and
fruit which they collect among the islands of this lake,
they chiefly depend for their subsistence. They are
very jealous of the settlers in the country coming to
hunt and fish here, and tell many stories of wild
beasts and rattlesnakesthat abound alongits shores;
but I, who have frequented the lake for years, was
never disturbed by anything beyond the adventure
373
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
with the wolf, which I have already told you. The
banks of this lake are all steep and rocky, and the
land along the shore is barren and totally unfit for
cultivation.
" Had we time to run up a few miles farther, I could
have showed you some places well worth a journey
to look at; but the sun is already down, and it will be
dark before we get back to the mill."
The other canoe now floated alongside, and Pat a-
greed with his brother that it was high time to return.
With reluctance I turned from this strangely fascin-
ating scene. As we passed under one bold rocky is-
land, Mat said laughingly, "That is Mount Rascal."
"How did it obtain that name?"
"Oh, we were out here berrying with our good
priest, Mr. B . This island promised so fair, that
we landed upon it, and, after searching for an hour,
we returned to the boat without a single berry, upon
which Mr. B named it * Mount Rascal.'"
The island was so beautiful, it did not deserve the
name, and I christened it " Oak Hill," from the abun-
dance of oak-trees which clothed its steep sides. The
wood of this oak is so heavy and hard that it will not
float in the water, and it is in great request for the
runners of lumber-sleighs, which have to pass over
very bad roads.
The breeze, which had rendered our sail up the
lakes so expeditious and refreshing, had stiffened in-
to a pretty high wind, which was dead against us all
the way down. Betty now knelt in the bow and as-
sisted her brother, squaw fashion, in paddling the
canoe; but, in spite of all their united exertions, it
374
A TRIP TO STONY LAKE
was past ten o'clock before we reached the mill. The
good Norah was waiting tea for us. She had given
the children their supper four hours ago, and the lit-
tle creatures, tired with using their feet all day , were
sound asleep upon her bed.
After supper, several Irish songs were sung, while
Pat played upon the fiddle, and Betty and Mat enliv-
ened the company with an Irish jig.
It was midnight when the children were placed on
my cloak at the bottom of the canoe, and we bade
adieu to this hospitable family. The wind being dead
against us, we were "obliged to dispense with the sail,
and take to our paddlesjrThe moonlight was as bright
as day, the air warm and balmy; and the aromatic,
resinous smell exuded by the heat from the balm-of-
gilead and the pine-trees of the forest, added greatly
to our sense of enjoyment as we floated past scenes
so wild and lonely — isles that assumed a mysterious
look and character in that witching hour. In mo-
ments like these I ceased toregretmy separation from
my native land^rid^^ll^e^ithmejQj^Qi Nature
very spirit of peace seemed to brood over the waters,
which were broken into a thousand ripples of light
by every breeze that stirred the rice blossoms, or
whispered through the shivering aspen-trees. The
far-off roar of the rapids, softened by distance, and
the long, mournful cry of the night owl, alone broke
the silence of the night. Amid these lonely wilds the
soul draws nearer to God, and is filled to overflow-
ing by the overwhelming sense of His presence. I
It was two o'clock in the morning when we fasten-
375
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ed the canoe to the landing, and Moodie carried up
thechildrento the house. I found the girl still up with
my boy, who had been very restless during our ab-
sence. My heart reproached me, as I caught him to
my breast, for leaving him so long; in a few minutes
he was consoled for past sorrows, and sleeping sweet-
ly in my arms.
A CANADIAN SONG.
Come, launch the light canoe;
The breeze is fresh and strong:
The summer skies are blue,
And 'tis joy to float along;
Away o'er the waters,
The bright-glancing waters,
The many-voiced waters,
As they dance in light and song.
When the great Creator spoke,
On the long unmeasured night,
The living day-spring broke,
And the waters own'd His might;
The voice of many waters,
Of glad, rejoicing waters,
Of living, leaping waters,
First hailed the dawn of light.
Where foaming billows glide
To earth's remotest bound;
The rushing ocean tide
Rolls on the solemn sound;
God's voice is in the waters;
The deep, mysterious waters,
The sleepless, dashing waters,
Still breathe its tones around.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE "OULD DHRAGOON"
XVII. THE "OULD DHRAGOOi
IT IS DELIGHTFUL TO OBSERVE A FEEL-
ing of contentment under adverse circumstances.
Wemayu-smile at the-xude^and clumsy attempts of
the remote and isolatgd^back woodsman tcT attain
somethingJike_^oriLfcrt, but happy he~wEo7with the
btibyant spirits of the light-hearted Irishman, con-
trives to make himself happy even when all others
would be miserable.
A certain degree of dissatisfaction with our pre-
sent circumstances is necessary to stimulate us to
exertion, and thus to enable us to secure future
comfort ; but where the delusive prospect of future
happiness is too remote for any reasonable hope of
ultimate attainment, then, surely it is true wisdom
to make the most of the present and to cultivate a
spirit of happy contentment with the lot assigned to
us by Providence.
"Ould Simpson," or the " Quid Dhragoon," as he
was generally called, was a good sample of this
happy character; and I shall proceed to give the
reader a sketch of his history, and a description of
his establishment. He was one of that unfortunate
class of discharged soldiers who are tempted to sell
their pensions often far below their true value, for
the sake of getting a lot of land in some remote
settlement, where it is only rendered valuable by the
labour of the settler, and where they will have the
unenviable privilege of expending the last remains
of their strength in clearing a patch of land for the
benefit of some grasping storekeeper who has given
them credit while engaged in the work.
The old dragoon had fixed his abode on the verge
319
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
of an extensive beaver-meadow, which was consider-
ed a sort of natural curiosity in the neighbourhood ;
and where he managed by cutting the rank grass in
the summer time, to support several cows, which af-
forded the chief subsistence of his family. He had
also managed,with the assistance of his devoted part-
ner, Judy, to clear a few acres of poor rocky land on
the sloping margin of the level meadow, which he
planted year after year with potatoes. Scattered over
this small clearing, here and there, might be seen the
but-endofsome half-burnt hemlock tree, which had
escaped the general combustion of the log heaps, and
now formed a striking contrast to the white lime-
stone rocks which showed their rounded surfaces a-
bove the meagre soil.
The " ould dhragoon " seemed, moreover, to have
some taste for the picturesque, and by way of orna-
ment, had left standing sundry tall pines and hem-
locks neatly girdled todestroy their foliage, the shade
of which would have been detrimental to the "blessed
praties " which he designed to grow in his clearing,
but which, in the meantime, like martyrs at the stake,
stretched their naked branches imploringly towards
' the smiling heavens. As he was a kind of hermit,
from choice, and far .j^nioyed from other settlers,
jvvhose^assistance is so necessary in new settlements,
C, old.^Suopspn Ivas compelled "to resort -to^Qle most
extraordinary ^oivtrivahces vvhile clearing his land.
Thus, after felling the trees, instead of chopping them
into lengths, for the purpose of facilitating ihe.epej^
tion of piling them preparatory to burning, which
"wcnrid-have cost him too much labour, he resorted
380
THE «OULD DHRAGOON"
to the pmctirp of^jniggering," as it is called; which
is simply laying light pieces of round timber across
the trunks of the trees, and setting-fire-to them at-tbe
point of contact, by which means the treea.aFe~skrw"ly
burned through. *
It was while busily engaged in this interesting oper-
ation that I first became acquainted with the subject
of this sketch.
Some twenty or thirty little fires were burning
briskly in different parts of the blackened field, and
the old fellow was watching the slow progress of his
silent "niggers," and replacing"th~enT IrorrTtime Lu
time as they smouldered away. After threading my
way among the uncouth logs, blazing and smoking
in all directions, I encountered the old man, attired in
an old hood, or bonnet, of his wife Judy, with his patch-
ed canvas trousers rolled up to hisknees, one foot bare,
and the other furnished with an old boot, which from
its appearance had once belonged to some more
aristocratic foot. His person was long, straight, and
sinewy, and there was a light springiness and elas-
ticity in his step which would have suited a younger
man, as he skipped along with a long handspike over
his shoulder. He was singing a stave from the " En-
niskillen Dragoon " when I came up with him.
"With his silver-mounted pistols, and his long carbine,
Long life to the brave Inniskillen dragoon."
His face would have been one of the most lugubri-
ous imaginable, with his long, tangled hair hanging
confusedly over it, in a manner which has been hap-
pily compared to a "bewitched haystack," had it
not been for a certain humorous twitch or convulsive
381
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
movement which affected one side of his countenance
whenever any droll idea passed through his mind. It
was with a twitch of this kind, and a certain inde-
scribable twinkle of his somewhat melancholy eye, as
he seemed intuitively to form a hasty conception of
the oddity of his appearance to a stranger unused
to the bush, that he welcomed me to his clearing. He
instantly threw down his handspike, anckLeaving his^
"jriggej^-te-Sftt^^
o^LQur^ojng to his jiojiseju^ctrsomething to drink.
On the way, I explained to him the object of my
visit, which was to mark out, or "blaze," the sidelines
of a lot of land I had received as part of a military
grant, immediately adjoining the beaver-meadow,
and I asked him to accompany me, as he was well
acquainted with the different lots.
"Och! by all manner of manes, and welcome; the
dhevil a foot of the way but I know as well as my
own clearing; but come into the house, and get a
dhrink of milk, an' a bite of bread an' butther, for sor-
row a dhrop of the whiskey has crossed my teeth for
the last month ; an' it's butpoor intertain ment for man
or baste I can offer you, but shure you're heartily wel-
come."
The precincts of the homestead were divided and
subdivided into an infinity of enclosures of all shapes
and sizes. The outer enclosure was a bush fence,
formed of trees felled on each other in a row, and the
gaps filled up with brushwood. There was a large
gate, swung with wooden hinges, and a wooden latch
to fasten it ; the smaller enclosures were made with
round poles tied together with bark. The house was
382
THE "OULD DHRAGOON"
of the rudest description of "shanty," with hollowed
basswood logs, fitting into each other somewhat in
the manner of tiles for a roof, instead of shingles.
No iron was to be seen, in the absence of which there
were plenty of leathern hinges, wooden latches for
locks and bark-strings instead of nails. There was a
large fireplace at one end of the shanty, with a chim-
ney, constructed of split laths, plastered with a mix-
ture of clay and cowdung. As for windows, these
were luxuries which could well be dispensed with; the
open door was an excellent substitute for them in the
daytime, and at night none were required. When I
ventured to object to this arrangement, that he would
have to keep the door shut in the winter time, the old
man replied, in the style so characteristic of his coun-
try, "Shure it will be time enough to think of that
when the could weather sets in." Everything about
the house wore a Robinson Crusoe.aspec^and though
there was not any appearance of original plan or fore-
sight, there was no lack of ingenious contrivance to
meet every want as it arose.
Judydropped us alow curtseyas we entered, which
was followed by a similar compliment from a stout
girl of twelve, and two or three more of the children,
who all seemed to share the pleasure of their parents
in receiving strangers in their unpretending tene-
ment. Many were the apologies that poor Judy offer-
ed for the homely cheer she furnished us, and great
was her delight atthe notice we tookofthe "childher."
She set little Biddy, who was the pride of her heart,
to reading the Bible; and she took down a curious
machine from a shelf, which she had "conthrived out
383
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
of her own head," as she said, for teaching the child-
ren to read. This was a flat box, or frame, filled
with sand, which saved paper, pens, and ink. Poor
Judy had evidently seen better days, but, with a
/ humble and contented spirit, she blessed God for the
j food and scanty raiment their labour afforded them.
Her only sorrow was the want of "idication" for the
children.
She would havetold us along story about her trials
and sufferings, before they had attained their pres-
ent comparative comfort and independence, but, as
we had a tedious scramble before us, through cedar
swamps, beaver-meadows, and piny ridges, the "ould
dhragoon" cut her short, and we straightway started
on our toilsome journey.
Simpson, in spite of a certain dash of melancholy
in his composition, was one of those happy fellows of
the "light heart and thin pair of breeches" school,
who, when they meet with difficulty or misfortune,
never stop to measure its dimensions, buthold in their
breath and run lightly over, as in crossing a bog, where
to stand still is to sink.
Off, then, we went, with the "ould dhragoon" skip-
ping and bounding on before us, over fallen trees and
mossy rocks; now ducking under the low, tangled
branches of the white cedar, then carefully piloting
us along rotten logs covered with green moss, to save
us from the discomfort of wet feet. All this time he
still kept one of his feet safely ensconced in the boot,
while the other seemed to luxuriate in the water, as
if there was something amphibious in his nature.
We soon reached the beaver-meadow, which ex-
384
THE «OULD DHRAGOON"
tended two or three miles ; sometimes contracting
in to a narrow gorge between the wooded heights, then
spreading out again into an ample field of verdure,
and presenting everywhere the same unvarying level
surface, surrounded with rising grounds, covered with
the dense unbroken forest, as if its surface had form-
erly been covered by the waters of a lake, which in
all probability has been the case at some not very re-
mote period. In many places the meadow was so
wet that it required a very large share of faith to sup-
port us in passing over its surface; but our friend, the
dragoon, soon brought us safe through all dangers to
a deep ditch, which he had dug to carry off the sup-
erfluous water from the part of the meadow which he
owned. When we had obtained firm footing on the
opposite side, we sat down to rest ourselves before
commencing the operation of "blazing," or marking
the trees with our axes, along the side-line of my lot.
Here the mystery of the boot was explained. Simp-
son very coolly took it ofTfrom the hitherto favoured
foot and drew it on the other.
He was not a bit ashamed of his poverty, and can-
didly owned that this was the only boot he possessed,
and he was desirous of giving each of his feet fair play.
Nearly the whole day was occupied in completing
our job, in which the " dhragoon " assisted us, with the
most hearty good-will, enlivening us with his inex-
haustible fund of good-humour and drollery. It was
nearly dark when we got back to his "shanty," where
the kind-hearted Judy was preparing a huge pot of
potatoes and other "combustibles," as Simpson called
the other eatables, for our entertainment.
385 2»
I ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Previous to starting on our surveying expedition,
we had observed Judy very earnestly giving some
important instructions to one of her little boys, on
whom she seemed to be most seriously impressing the
necessity of using the utmost diligence. The happy
contentment which now beamed in poor Judy's still
comely countenance bespoke the success of the mes-
senger. She could not "call up spirits from the vasty
deep" of the cellar, but she had procured some whis-
key from her next-door neighbour — some five or six
miles off; and there it stood somewhat ostentatiously
on the table in a "greybeard," with a "corn cob," or
ear of Indian corn stripped of its grain, for a cork,
smiling most benevolently on the family circle, and
looking a hundred welcomes to the strangers.
An indescribably enlivening influence seemed to
exude from every pore of that homely earthen vessel,
diffusing mirth and good-humour in all directions.
The old man jumped and danced about on the rough
floor of the "shanty"; and the children sat giggling
and nudging each other in a corner, casting a timid
look, from time to time, at their mother, for fear she
might check them for being "over bould."
" Is it crazy ye are intirely, ye ould omadhawn ! "
said Judy, whose notions of propriety were somewhat
shocked with the undignified levity of her partner;
"the likes of you I never see'd; ye are too foolidge
intirely. Have done now wid your diviltries, and set
the stools for the gintlemens, while I get the supper
for yees."
Our plentiful though homely meal was soon dis-
cussed, for hunger, like a good conscience, can laugh
386
THE "OULD DHRAGOON"
at luxury; and the "greybeard " made its appearance,
with the usual accompaniments of hot water and ma-
ple sugar, which Judy had scraped from the cake, and
placed in a saucer on the table before us.
The "ould dhragoon," despising his wife's admoni-
tions, gave way freely to his feelings, and knew no
bounds to his hilarity. He laughed and joked, and
sang snatches of old songs picked up in the course of
his service at home and abroad. At length Judy, who
looked on him as a "raal j^pn1?j" begged him to "sing
thegintlemens the songhe made when he first came to
the counthry." Of course we ardently seconded the
motion, and nothing loth, the old man, throwing him-
self back on his stool, andstretchingouthislongneck,
poured forth the following ditty, with which I shall
conclude my hasty sketch of the "ould dhragoon": —
Och! it's here I'm intirely continted,
In the wild woods of swate 'Mericay;
God's blessing on him that invinted
Big ships for our crossing the say!
Here praties grow bigger nor turnips;
And though cruel hard is our work,
In ould Ireland we'd nothing but praties,
But here we have praties and pork.
I live on the banks of a meadow,
Now see that my maning you take;
It bates all the bogs of ould Ireland —
Six months in the year it's a lake.
Bad luck to the beavers that dammed it,
I wish them all kilt for their pains;
For shure though the craters are clever,
Tis sartin they've drown'd my domains.
38?
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
I've built a log hut of the timber
That grows on my charmin' estate;
And an illigant root-house erected,
Just facing the front of my gate.
And I've made me an illigant pig-sty,
Well litter'd with straw and wid hay;
And it's there, free from noise of the chilther,
I sleep in the heat of the day.
It's there I'm intirely at aise, Sir,
And enjoy all the comforts of home;
I stretch out my legs as I plase, sir,
And dhrame of the pleasures to come.
Shure, it's pleasant to hear the frogs croakin',
When the sun's going down in the sky,
And my Judy sits quietly smokin'
While the praties are boil'd till they're dhry.
Och ! thin, if you love indepindence,
And have money your passage to pay,
You must quit the ould counthry intirely,
And start in the middle of May.
J. W. D. M.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
XVIII. DISAPPOINTED HOPES
Stern Disappointment, in thy iron grasp
The soul lies stricken. So the timid deer,
Who feels the foul fangs of the felon wolf
Clench'd in his throat, grown desperate for life,
Turns on his foes, and battles with the fate
That hems him in — and only yields in death.
THE SUMMER OF '35 WAS VERY WET; A
circumstance so unusual in Canada that I have seen
no season like it during my sojourn in the country.
Our wheat crop promised to be both excellent and
abundant ; and the clearing and seeding sixteen acres,
one way or another, had cost us more than fifty pounds ;
still we hoped to realize something handsome by the
sale of the produce; and, as far as appearances went,
all looked fair. The rain commenced about a week
before the crop was fit for the sickle, and from that
time until nearly the end of September was a mere
succession of thunder showers ; days of intense heat,
succeeded by floods of rain. Our fine crop shared the
fate of all other fine crops in the country ; it was tot-
ally spoiled ;^the wheat grew in the sheaf, and we could
scarcely save enough to supply us with bad sickly
bread; the rest was exchanged at the distillery for
whisky, which was the only produce which could be
obtained for it. The storekeepers would not look at
it, or give either money or goods for such a damaged
article.
My husband and I had worked hard in the field ;
it was the first time I had ever tried my hand at field-
labour, but our ready money was exhausted/and the
steam-boat stock had not paid us one farthing; we
could not hire, and there was no help for it. I had
a hard struggle with my pride before I would con-
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
sent to render the least assistance on the farm, but
reflection convinced me that I was wrong — that
Providence had placed me in a situation where I was
called upon to work— that it was not only my duty
to obey that call, but to exert myself to the utmost
to assist my husband and help to maintain my
family.
— A^povertv! thou art a hard taskmaster, but in
thy se^elinoEling school I have received more god-
like lessons, have learned more sublime truths, than
ever I acquired in the smooth highways of the
world!
_ The independent in soul can rise above the seem-
ing disgrace of poverlyTahd hoIcTfast their intejgrFty^
'in jjefiance oTtrie world I and its seTrlsh and^unwise_l
To themTruO^&EH^^
y will unflinchingly exert every faculty
of mind and body before they will submit to become
a burden to others.
The misfortunes that now crowded upon us were
the result of no misconduct or extravagance on our
part, but arose out of circumstances which we could
not avert nor control. Finding too late the error into
which we had fallen, in suffering ourselves to be
cajoled and plundered out of our property by inter-
ested speculators, we braced our minds to bear the
worst, and determined to meet our difficulties calm-
ly and firmly, nor surfer our spirits to sink under
calamities which energy and industry might eventu-
ally repair. Having once come to this resolution, we
cheerfully shared together the labours of the field. ^
One in heart and purpose, we dared remain true to
392
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
ourselves, true to our high destiny as immortal crea-
tures, in our conflict with temporal and physical wants.
(We found that manual toil, however distasteful to
those unaccustomed to it, was not after all such a
dreadful hardship; that the wilderness was not with-
out its rose, the hard face of poverty without its smile.
If we occasionally suffered severe pain, we as often
experienced great pleasure,and I have contemplated
a well-hoed ridge of potatoes on that bush farm with
as much delight as in years long past I had experi-
enced in examining a fine painting in some well-
appointed drawing-roomTl
I can now look back with calm thankfulness on
that long period of trial and exertion — with thank-
fulness that the dark clouds that hung over us, threat-
ening to blot us from existence, when they did burst
upon us, were full of blessings. When our situation
appeared perfectly desperate, then were we on the
threshold of a new state of things, which was born
out of that very distress.
In order more fully to illustrate the necessity of
a perfect and childlike reliance upon the mercies of
God — who, I most firmly believe, never deserts those
who have placed their trust in Him^IjvilLgive-ar
brief sketch of our lives during the years 1 836 and
:ill confidently expecting to realize an income,
howeve*-si»€fcU,from the steam-boat stock, we had in- ^
volved oursejyps rnnm'H^raK^yjn Aety \r\ order to gay__
our servants and obtain the common necessaries of .
life; al^c^^ge^wed^aIIarge sum! to two Englishmen /
••««"' • ' — » /
in Dummer, forbearing ten
393
lore acres upon the
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
farm. Our utter inability to meet these demands
weighed very heavily upon my husband's mind. All
superfluities in the way ofgroceries were now giv-
en up, and we were compelled to rest satisfied upon
the produce of the farm. Milk, bread, and potatoes
during the summer became our chief, and often, for
months,our only fare. As to tea and sugar, they were
luxuries we would not think of, although I missed
the tea very much ; we rang the changes upon pepper-
mint and sage, taking the one herb at our breakfast,
the other at our tea, until I found an excellent sub-
stitute for both in the root of the dandelion.
The first year we came to this country, I met with
an account of dandelion coffee, published in the New
York Albion, given by a Dr. Harrison, of Edinburgh,
who earnestly recommended it as an article of gen-
eral use.
"It possesses," he says, "all the fine flavour and
exhilarating properties of coffee, without any of its
deleterious effects. The plant being of a soporific
nature, the coffee made from it when drunk at night
produces a tendency to sleep, instead of exciting
wakefulness, and may be safely used as a cheap and
wholesome substitute for the Arabian berry, being
equal in substance and flavour to the best Mocha
coffee."
I was much struck with this paragraph at the time,
and for several years felt a great inclination to try
the Doctor's coffee; but something or other always
came in the way, and it was put off till another op-
portunity. During the fall of '35, 1 was assisting my
husband in^ajdng u^faTcToj? of potatoes in the field,
394
DISAPPOINTED HOPES_
and observing a vast number of fine tiandetion roots
among fKe~pbtatoes, it^blT)Uglilthe-4a^adeiion coffee
back tolnylHefnoTy; and I determined to try-3ome-
for our supper^. Without s>ayin^"anything to my hus-
band, I threw aside some of the roots, and when we
left work, collecting a sufficient quantity for the ex-
periment, I carefullyjjLashpirLtheroots quite clean,
without depriving them of the finebrown skin whicrT
covers them, and which contains the^aromatic flavour
which so nearly resembles coffee that it is difficult to
distinguish it from it while roasting.
I cut my roots intcLSjnall-fiieces. the size of a kid-
ney-bean, and roasted them on an iron baking-pan
in the stove-oven, until they were as^ brown and crisp
as coiffee! I then gr6und and transferred aT small
powderjojthe coffee-pot, pouiing
it scalding water, and boiling itTor a few minutes
briskly over the fire. Theresult was beyond my ex-
pectations. The cofifeej^yed excellent^far^sup-
erior tcrthe commoncoffee we procured at the stores.
vTo persons residing inThe'bu^Taltid^to'wrlonTtea
and coffee arevery expensive articles of luxury, the
knowledge oTtKls^ahtablc propprtyjna_plant scat-
tered so abundantly tnrougn their helds, would prove
highly beneficialFqr .years we usedLoootherarticle^
and nwJtmliaifn iends who frequentedtrie holise
gfadl^jidoptH the-Toot, and made me show them the
whole process of manufacturing it into coffee.
Experience ta^praSe^har^eTOoTof the dande-
lion is not so good when applied to this purpose in
the spring as it is in the fall. I tried it in the spring,
but the juice of the plant, having contributed to the
395
-&.
y^
^
^\
co*
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
production of leaves and flowers, was weak, and des-
titute of the fine bitter flavour so peculiar to coffee.
The time of gathering in the potato crop is the best
suited for collecting and drying the roots of the dan-
delion ; and as they always abound in the same hills,
both may be accomplished at the same time. Those
(^ _ who want to keep a quantity for winter use may wash
[ I And cut up the roots, and dry them on boards in the
'-'sun. They will keep for years, and can be roasted
when required.
Few of our colonists are acquainted with the many
uses to which this neglected but most valuable plant
may be applied. I will point out a few which have
come under my own observation, convinced as I am
that the time will come when this hardy weed, with
its golden flowers and curious seed-vessels, which
form a constant plaything to the little children roll-
ing about and luxuriating among the grass in the
sunny month of May, will be transplanted into our
gardens and tended with due care.
The dandelion planted in trenches, and blanched
to a beautiful cream-colour with straw, makes an ex-
cellent salad, quite equal to endive, and is more hardy
and requires less care.
In many parts of the United States, particularly
in new districts where vegetables are scarcest is used
early in the spring, and boiled with pork as a substi-
tute for cabbage. During our residence in the bush
we found it, in the early part of May, a great addition
to the dinner-table. In the township of Dummer, the
settlers boil the tops, and add hops to the liquor,
which they ferment, and from which they obtain ex-
396
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
cellentbeer. I have never tasted this/simple beverage,
but I have been told by those whc use it that it is
equal to the table-beer used at home.
Necessity has truly been termed the mother of \
invention, for I contrived to manufacture a variety /^^
of dishes almost out of nothing, while living in her ;, /
school. When entirely destitute of animal food, the v
different varieties of squirrels supplied us with pies,
stews, and roasts. Our barn stood at the top of the
hill near the bush, and in a trap set for such "small
deer," we often caught from ten to twelve a day.
The flesh of the black squirrel is equal to that of
the rabbit, and the red, and even the little chipmunk,
is palatable when nicely cooked. But from the lake,
during the summer, we derived the larger portion of
our food. The children called this piece of water
"Mamma's pantry"; and many a good meal has
the munificent Father given to his poor dependent
children from its well-stored depths. Moodie and I
used to rise by daybreak, and fish for an hour after
sunrise, when we returned, he to the field, and I to
dress the little ones, clean up the house, assist with
the milk, and prepare the breakfast.
Oh, how I enjoyed these excursions on the lake ; the „
very idea of our dinner depending upon our success
added double zest to our sport !
One morning we started as usual before sunrise;
a thick mist still hung like a fine veil upon the water
when we pushed off, and anchored at our accustomed
place. Just as the sun rose, and the haze parted and
drew up like a golden sheet of transparent gauze,
through which the dark woods loomed out like giants,
397
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
a noble buck dashed into the water, followed by four
Indian hounds.
We then discovered a canoe full of Indians, just
below the rapids, and another not many yards from
us, that had been concealed by the fog. It was a noble
sight, that gallant deer exerting all his energy, and
stemming the water with such matchless grace, his
branching horns held proudly aloft, his broad nostrils
distended, and his fine eye fixed intently upon the
opposite shore. Several rifle-balls whizzed past him,
the dogs followed hard upon his track, but my very
heart leaped for joy when, in spite of all his foes, his
glassy hoofs spurned the opposite bank and he plung-
ed headlong into the forest.
My beloved partner was most skilful in trolling for
bass and maskinonge. His line he generally fastened
to the paddle, and the motion of the oar gave a life-
like vibration to the queer-looking mice and dragon-
flies I used to manufacture from squirrel fur, or scar-
let and white cloth, to tempt the finny wanderers of
the wave.
When too busy himself to fish for our meals, little
Katie and I ventured out alone in the canoe, which
we anchored in any promising fishing spot by fasten-
ing a harrow tooth to a piece of rope, and letting it
drop from the side of the little vessel. By the time
she was five years old, my little mermaid could both
steer and paddle the light vessel,and catch small fish,
which were useful for soup.
During the winter of '36, we experienced many
privations. The ruffian squatter P , from Clear
Lake, drove from the barn a fine young bull we were
398
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
rearing, and for several weeks all trace of the animal
was lost. We had almost forgotten the existence of
poor Whiskey, when a neighbour called and told
Moodie that his yearling was at P 's and that he
would advise him to get it back as soon as possible.
Moodie had to take some wheat to Y 's mill,
and as the squatter lived only a mile farther, he called
at his house; and there, sure enough, he found the
lost animal. With the greatest difficulty he succeeded
in regaining his property ,but not without many threats
of vengeance from the parties who had stolen it. To
these he paid no regard ; but a few days after, six fat
hogs, on which we depended for all our winter store of
animal food, were driven into the lake and destroyed.
The death of these animals deprived us of three
barrels of pork, and half-starved us through the win-
ter. That winter of '36, how heavily it wore away!
The growfTflour, frosted potatoes, and scant quantity
of animal food rendered-trs^Jl weak, and the children
suffered much from the ague/ )
Onedayjust before th€-sff6wfell,Moodie had gone
to Peterborough for letters; our servant was sick in
bed with the ague, and I was nursing my little boy,
Dun bar, who was shaking with the cold fit of his mis-
erable fever, when Jacob put his honest, round, rosy
face in at the door.
"Give me the master's gun, ma'am; there's a big
buck feeding on the rice-bed near the island."
I took down the gun, saying, "Jacob, you have no
chance; there is but one charge of buck-shot in the
house."
" One chance is better nor none," said Jacob, as he
399
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
commenced loading the gun. " Who knows what may
happen to oie? Mayhap oie may chance to kill 'un;
and you and the measter and the wee bairns may
have zummat zavory for zupper yet."
Away walked Jacob with Moodie's " Manton " over
his shoulder. A few minutes after, I heard the report
of the gun, but never expected to see anything of the
game, when Jacob suddenly bounced into the room,
half-wild with delight.
"Thae beast iz dead az a door-nail. Zure how the
measter will laugh when he sees the fine buck that
oie a'zhot."
" And have you really shot him ? "
"Come and zee! 'Tis worth your while to walk
down to the landing to look at 'un/'
Jacob got a rope, and I followed him to the landing,
where, sure enough, lay a fine buck fastened in tow of
the canoe. Jacob soon secured him by the hind legs to
the rope he had brought; and, with our united efforts,
we at last succeeded in dragging ourprize home. All
the time he was engaged in taking off the skin, Jacob
was anticipating the feast that we were to have ; and
the good fellow chuckled with delight when he hung
the carcass quite close to the kitchen door, that his
"measter "might run against it when he came home at
night. This event actually took place. When Moodie
opened the door, he struck his head against the dead
deer.
"What have you got here?"
" Afinebuck,zur," said Jacob, bringing forward the
light, and holding it up in such a manner that all the
merits of the prize could be seen at a glance.
400
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
"A fine one, indeed! How did we come by
it?"
"It was zhot by oie," said Jacob, rubbing his hands
in a sort of ecstasy. "Thae beast iz the first oie ever
zhot in my life. He! he! he!"
"You shot that fine deer, Jacob? — and there was
only one charge in the gun! Well done; you must have
taken a good aim."
" Why, zur, oie took no aim at all. Oie just pointed
the gun at the deer, and zhut my oeys and let fly at 'un.
'Twas Providence kill'd 'un, not oie."
"I believe you," said Moodie; "Providence has
hitherto watched over us and kept us from actual
starvation."
The flesh of the deer, and the good broth that I was
able to obtain from it, greatly assisted in restoring our
sick to health ; but long before that severe winter ter-
minated we were again out of food. Mrs. had
given to Katie, in the fall, a very pretty little pig,
which she had named Spot. The animal was a great
favourite with Jacob and the children, and he always
received his food from their hands at the door, and
followed them all over the place like a dog. We had
a noble hound called Hector, between whom and the
pet pig there existed the most tender friendship. Spot
always shared with Hector the hollow log which serv-
ed him for a kennel, and we often laughed to see Hec-
tor lead Spot round the clearing by his ear. After
bearing the want of animal food until our souls sick-
ened at the bad potatoes and grown flour bread, we
began — that is, the elders of the family — to cast very
hungry eyes upon Spot; but no one liked to propose
401 20
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
having him killed. At last Jacob spoke his mind up-
on the subject.
" Oi Ve heard, zur, that the Jews never eat pork ; but
we Christians dooz, and are right glad ov the chance.
Now, zur, oi've been thinking that 'tis no manner ov
use our keeping that beast Spot. Ifheworazow,now
there might be zome zenze in the thing; and we all
feel weak fora morzel of meat. S'poze I kill him? He
won't make a bad piece of pSrk."
Moodie seconded the move; and, in spite of the
tears and prayers of Katie,her uncouth pet was sacri-
ficed to the general wants of the family ; but there were
two members of the house who disdained to eat a mor-
sel of the victim ; poor Katie and the dog Hector. At
the self-denial of the first I did not at all wonder, for
she was a child full of sensibility and warm affections,
but the attachment of the brute creature to his old
playmate filled us all with surprise. Jacob first drew
our attention to the strange fact.
"That dog," he said, as we were passing through the
kitchen while he was at dinner, "do teach uz Christians
a lesson how to treat our friends. Why, zur, he'll not
eata morzel of Spot. Oiehave tried and tempted him
in all manner ov ways, and he only do zneer and turn
up his nose when oie hould him a bit to taste." He
offered the animal a rib of the fresh pork as he finish-
ed speaking, and the dog turned away with an expres-
sion of aversion, and, on a repetition of the act, walk-
ed from the table.
Human affection could scarcely have surpassed the
love felt by this poor animal for his playfellow. His
attachment to Spot, that could overcome the pangs
402
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
of hunger — for,like the rest of us, he was half-starved
— must have been strong indeed.
Jacob's attachment to us, in its simplicity and fid-
elity, greatly resembled that of the dog; and some-
times, like the dog, he would push himself in where he
was not wanted, and gratuitously give his advice, and
make remarks which were not required.
Mr. K , from Cork, was asking Moodie many
questions about the partridges of the country; and,
among other things, he wanted to know by what token
you were able to discover their favourite haunts. Be-
fore Moodie could answer this last query a voice re-
sponded, through a large crack in the boarded wall
which separated us from the kitchen, " They always
bides where they's drum." This announcement was
received with a burst of laughter that greatly discon-
certed the natural philosopher in the kitchen.
On the 2 ist of May of thia.year ,. my secoad_son t
.DonaldjLwasixoni. The poor fellow came in hard tirrifes.
The cows had not calved, and our bill of fare, now
minus the deer and Spot, only consisted of bad pota-
toes and still worse bread. I was rendered so weak
by'want of proper nourishment that my dear husband,
for my sake, overcame his aversion to borrowing, and
procured a quarter of mutton from a friend. This,
with kindly presents from neighbours — often as bad-
ly off as ourselves — a loin of a young bear, and a bas-
ket containing a loaf of bread, some tea, some fresh
butter, and oatmeal, went far to save my life. ^
Shortly after my recovery, Jacob — the faithful,
good Jacob — was obliged to leave us, for we could no
longer afford to pay wages. What was owing to him
403
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
had to be settled by sacrificing our best cow, and a
great many valuable articles of clothing from my hus-
band's wardrobe. Nothing is more distressing than
being obliged to part with articles of dress which you
know that you cannot replace.. Almost all my clothes
hafLbeen appropriatedJixlhetpayiTreTrFuFwages, or
to obtain_garments for the^ chilolreiv^xeepting my
wedcfing dress, and the beautiful baby-linen which
had been made by the hands of dear and affectionate
friends for my first-born. These were now exchang-
ed for coarse, warm flannels, to shield her from the
cold.
Moodie and Jacob had chopped eight acres during
the winter, but these had to be burnt off and logged
up before we could put in a crop of wheat for the en-
suing fall. Hadwebeen able to retain this industrious,
kindlyJ£ttgfek4adT±hi£ would have been soon accom-
plished ; but his wages, at the rate of thirty pounds
per annum, were now utterly beyond our means.
Jacob had formed an attachmentto my pretty maid,
Mary Pine, and before going to the Southern States,
to join an uncle who resided in Louisville, an opulent
tradesman, who had promised to teach him his busi-
ness, Jacob thought it as well to declare himself. The
declaration took place on a log of wood near the back
door, and from my chamber window I could both
hear and see the parties, without being myself observ-
ed. Mary was seated very demurely at one end of
the log, twistingthe strings of her checked apron, and
the loving Jacob was busily whittling the other ex-
tremity of their rustic seat. There was a long silence.
Mary stole a look at Jacob, and he heaved a tremen-
404
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
dous sigh, something between a yawn and a groan.
" Meary," he said, " I must go."
"I know that afore," returned the girl.
"I hadzummattozaytoyoUjMeary. Do you think
you will miss oie?" (looking very affectionately, and
twitching nearer).
"What put that into your head, Jacob? " This was
said very demurely.
" Oie thowt, may be, Meary, that your feelings might
be zummat loike my own. I feel zore about the heart,
Meary, and it's all com' of parting with you. Don't
you feel queerish too?"
"Can't say that I do, Jacob. I shall soon see you
again" (pulling violently at her apron-string).
" Meary, oie'm afeard you don't feel loike oie."
" P'r'aps not — women can't feel like men. I'm sorry
that you are going, Jacob, for you have been very
kind and obliging, and I wish you well."
"Meary," cried Jacob, growing desperate at her
coyness, and getting quite close up to her, "will you
marry oie? Say yeez or noa? "
This was coming close to the point. Mary drew
farther from him, and turned her head away.
"Meary," said Jacob, seizing upon the hand that
held the apron-string, "do you think you can better
yoursel'? If not — why, oie'm your man. Now, do just
turn about your head and answer oie."
The girl turned round, and gave him a quick, shy
glance, then burst out into a simpering laugh.
"Meary, will you take oie?" (jogging her elbow).
" I will," cried the girl, jumping up from the log and
running into the house.
405
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" Well, that bargain's made," said the lover, rubbing
his hands; "and now oie'll go and bid measter and
missus good-buy."
The poor fellow's eyes were full of tears, for the
children, who loved him very much, clung, crying,
about his knees. " God bless yees all," sobbed the kind-
hearted creature. " Doan't forget Jacob, for he'll neav-
er forget you. Good-buy !"
Then turning to Mary, he threw his arms round
her neck, and bestowed upon her fair cheek the most
audible kiss I ever heard.
"And doan't you forget me, Meary. In two years
oie will be back to marry you ; and may be oie may
come back a rich man."
Mary, who was an exceedingly pretty girl, shed
some tears at the parting; but in a few days she was
as gay as ever, and listening with great attention to
the praises bestowed upon her beauty by an old bach-
elor, who was her senior by five-and-twenty years.
But then he had a good farm, a saddle mare, and plenty
of stock, and was reputed to have saved money. The
saddle mare seemed to have great weight in old Ralph
T h's wooing; and I used laughingly to remind
JVIary xxf her "absent "toverTatRHjcg hcr-flottcuiiarry
Ralph T—
THE CANADIAN HUNTER'S SONG.
The northern lights are flashing,
On the rapids' restless flow;
And o'er the wild waves dashing,
Swift darts the light canoe.
406
DISAPPOINTED HOPES
The merry hunters come.
"What cheer?— what cheer?"—
" We've slain the deer!"
"Hurrah! — You're welcome home!"
The blithesome horn is sounding,
And the woodman's loud halloo;
And joyous steps are bounding
To meet the birch canoe.
" Hurrah! — The hunters come."
And the woods ring out
To their merry shout
As they drag the dun deer home!
The hearth is brightly burning,
The rustic board is spread;
To greet the sire returning.
The children leave their bed.
With laugh and shout they come —
That merry band —
To grasp his hand,
And bid him welcome home!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
^'
x
XIX. THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
There was a little man —
I'll sketch him if I can,
For he clung to mine and me
Like the old man of the sea;
And in spite of taunt and scoff
We could not pitch him off,
For the cross-grained, waspish elf
Cared for no one but himself.
BEFORE I DISMISS FOR EVER THE TROU-
bles and sorrows of 1836, 1 would fain introduce to
the notice of my readers some of the odd characters
with whom we became acquainted during that period.
The first that starts vividly to my recollection is the
picture of a short, stumpy, thickset man — a British
sailor, too — who came to stay one night under our
roof, and took quiet possession of his quarters for nine
months, and whom we were obliged to tolerate, from
the simple fact that we could not get rid of him.
During the fall, Moodie had met this individual
(whom I will call Mr. Malcolm) JnJJi£-mail=CQach,^
going up to Toronto. Amused with his eccentric and
blunt manners and finding him a shrewd, clever fellow
in conversation, Moodie told him that if ever he came
into his part of the world he should be glad to renew
their acquaintance. And so they parted, with mutual
goodwill, as men often part who have travelled a
long journey in good-fellowship together, without
thinking it probable they should ever meet again.
The sugar season had just commenced with the
spring thaw; Jacob had tapped a few trees in order
to obtain sap to make molasses for the children, when
his plans were frustrated by the illness of my hus-
band, who was again attacked with the ague. Towards
411
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the close of a wet, sloppy day, while Jacob was in the
wood, chopping, and our servant gone to my sister,
who was ill, to help to wash, as I was busy baking
bread for tea, my attention was aroused by a violent
knocking at the door, and the furious barking of our
dog, Hector. I ran to open it, when I found Hector's
teeth clenched in the trousers of a little, dark, thick-
set man, who said, in a gruff voice —
"Call off your dog. What the devil do you keep
such an infernal brute about the house for? Is it to
bite people who come to see you?"
Hector was the best-behaved, best-tempered ani-
mal in the world ; he might have been called a gentle-
manly dog. So little was there of the unmannerly
puppy in his behaviour, that I was perfectly aston-
ished at his ungracious conduct. I caught him by the
collar, and, not without some difficulty, succeeded in
dragging him off.
"Is Captain Moodie within?" said the stranger.
" He is, sir. But he is ill in bed — too ill to be seen."
"Tell him a friend" (he laid a strong stress upon
the last word), "a particular friend must speak to him."
I now turned my eyes to the face of the speaker
with some curiosity. I had taken him for a mechanic,
from his dirty, slovenly appearance ; and his physiog-
nomy was so unpleasant that I did not credit his
assertion that he was a friend of my husband, for I
was certain that no man who possessed such a for-
bidding aspect could be regarded by Moodie as a
friend. I was about to deliver his message, but the
moment I let go Hector's collar, the dog was at him
again.
412
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
"Don't strike him with your stick," I cried, throw-
ing my arms over the faithful creature. " He is a
powerful animal, and, if you provoke him, he will kill
you."
I at last succeeded in coaxing Hector into the
girl's room, where I shut him up, while the stranger
came into the kitchen, and walked to the fire to dry
his wet clothes.
I immediately went into the parlour, where Moodie
was lying upon a bed near the stove, to deliver the
stranger's message; but before I could say a word,
he dashed in after me, and, going up to the bed, held
out his broad, coarse hand, with, " How are you, Mr.
Moodie? You see I have accepted your kind invita-
tion sooner than either you or I expected. If you will
give me house-room for the night, I shall be obliged
to you."
This was said in a low, mysterious voice ; and Mood-
ie, who was struggling with the hot fit of his disorder,
and whose senses were not a little confused, stared
at him with a look of vague bewilderment. Thecoun-
tenance of the stranger grew dark.
"You cannot have forgotten me — my name is
Malcolm."
" Yes, yes; I remember you now," said the invalid,
holding out his burning, feverish hand. "To my
home, such as it is, you are welcome."
I stood by in wondering astonishment, looking
from one to the other, as I had no recollection of ever
hearing my husband mention the name of the stran-
ger; but as he had invited him to share our hospital-
ity, I did my best to make him welcome, though in
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
what manner he was to be accommodated puzzled me
not a little. I placed the arm-chair by the fire, and
told him that I would prepare tea for him as soon as
I could.
" It may be as well to tell you, Mrs. Moodie," said
he sulkily, for he was evidently displeased by my
husband's want of recognition on his first entrance,
"that I have had no dinner."
I sighed to myself, for I well knew that our larder
boasted of no dainties; and, from the animal expres-
sion of our guest's face, I rightly judged that he was
fond of good living.
By the time I had fried a rasher of salt pork, and
made a pot of dandelion coffee, the bread I had been
preparing was baked ; but grown flour will not make
Jight bread, and it was unusually heavy. For the first
-time I felt heartily ashamed of our humble fare. I was
sure that he for whom it was provided was not one
to pass it over in benevolent silence. " He might be
a gentleman," I thought, "but he does not look like
one;" and a confused idea of who he was, and where
Moodie had met with him, began to float through my
mind. I did not like the appearance of the man, but
I consoled myself that he was only to stay for one
night, and I could give up my bed for that one night,
and sleep on a bed on the flcor by m^sick_iuishand.
When I re-entered the parlour to cover the table, I
found Moodie fallen asleep, and Mr. Malcolm read-
ing. As I placed the tea-things on the table, he rais-
ed his head, and regarded me with a gloomy stare.
| He was a strange-looking creature; his features were
tolerably regular, his complexion dark, with a good
414
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
colour ; his very broad and round head was covered
with a perfect mass of close, black, curling hair, which,
in growth, texture, and hue, resembled the wiry, curly
hide of a water-dog. His eyes and mouth were both
well shaped, but gave, by their sinister expression, an
odious and doubtful meaning to the whole of his physi-
ognomy. The eyes were cold, insolent and cruel, and
as green as the eyes of a cat The mouth bespoke a
sullen, determined, and sneering disposition, as if it
belonged to one brutally obstinate, one who could not
by any gentle means be persuaded from his purpose.
Such a man, in a passion, would have been a terrible
wild beast; but the current of his feelings seemed to
flow in a deep, sluggish channel, rather than in a vio-
lent or impetuous one; and, like William Penn, when
he reconnoitred his unwelcome visitors through the
keyhole of the door, I looked at my strange guest, and
liked him not. Perhaps my distant and constrained
manner made him painfully aware of the fact, for I
am certain that, from that first hour of our acquaint-
ance, a deep-rooted antipathy existed between us,
which time seemed rather to strengthen than dimin-
ish.
He ate of his meal sparingly, and with evident dis-
gust; the only remarks which dropped from him
were —
"You make bad bread in the bush. Strange that
you can't keep your potatoes from the frost ! I should
have thought that you could have had things more
comfortable in the woods."
"We have been very unfortunate," I said, "since
we came to the woods. I am sorry that you should
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
be obliged to share the poverty of the land. It would
have given me much pleasure could 1 have set before
you a more comfortable meal."
"Oh, don't mention it. So that I get good pork and
potatoes I shall be contented."
What did these words imply? — an extension of his
visit? I hoped that I was mistaken; but before I could
lose any time in conjecture my husband awoke. The
fit had left him, and he rose and dressed himself, and
was soon chatting cheerfully with his guest.
Mr. Malcolm now informed him that he was hiding
from the sheriff of the N district's officers, and
that it would be conferring upon him a great favour
if he would allow him to remain at his house for a few
weeks.
"To tell you the truth, Malcolm," said Moodie," we
are so badly off that we can scarcely find food for our-
selves and the children. 1 1 is out of our power to make
you comfortable, or to keep an additional hand, with-
out he is willingto render somelittlehelpon the farm.
If you can do this, I will endeavour to get a few nec-
essaries on credit, to make your stay more agreeable."
To this proposition Malcolm readily assented, not
only because it released him from all sense of obliga-
tion, but because it gave him a privilege to grumble.
Finding that his stay might extend to an indefin-
ite period, I got Jacob to construct a rude bedstead
out of two large chests that had transported some of
our goods across the Atlantic, and which he put up in
a corner of the parlour. This I provided with a small
hair-mattress, and furnished with what bedding I
could spare. *
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
For the first fortnight of his sojourn, our guest did
nothing but lie upon that bed, and read, and smoke,
and drink whiskey-and-water from morning until
night. By degrees he let out part of his history; but
there was a mystery about him which he took good
care never to clear up. He was the son of an officer
in the navy, who had not only attained a very high
rank in the service, but, for his gallant conduct, had
been made a Knight-Companion of the Bath.
He had himself served his time as a midshipman
on board his father's flag-ship, but had left the navy
and accepted a commission in the Buenos-Ayrean
service during the political struggles in that province;
he had commanded a sort of privateer under the Gov-
ernment, to whom, by his own account, he had ren-
dered many very signal services. Why he left South
America and came to Canada he kept profound secret.
He had indulged in very vicious and dissipated cour-
ses since he came to the province, and by his own ac-
count had spent upwards of four thousand pounds,
in a manner not over creditable to himself. Finding
that his friends would answer his bills no longer, he
took possession of a grant of land obtained through
his father's interest, up in Harvey, a barren township
on the shores of Stony Lake ; and, after putting up
his shanty, and expending all his remaining means,
he found that he did not possess one acre out of the
whole four hundred that would yield a crop of pota-
toes. He was now considerably in debt, and the lands,
such as they were,had been seized, with all his effects,
by the sheriff, and a warrant was out for his own ap-
prehension, which he contrived to elude during his
417 20
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
sojourn with us. Money he had none; and, beyond
the dirty fearnought blue seaman's jacket which he
wore, a pair of trousers of the coarse cloth of the
country, an old black vest that had seen better days,
and two blue-checked shirts, clothes he had none.
He shaved but once a week, never combed his hair,
and never washed himself. A dirtier or more ^love^i-
<^Tycreature never before was dignified by the title of
a gentleman. He was, however, a man of good edu-
cation, of excellent abilities, and possessed a bitter,
sarcastic knowledge of the world ; but he was selfish
and unprincipled in the highest degree.
His shrewd observations and great conversational
powers had first attracted my husband's attention,
and, as men seldom show their bad qualities on a
journey, he thought him a blunt, good fellow, who had
travelled a great deal, and could render himself a very
agreeable companion by a graphic relation of his ad-
ventures. He could be all this, when he chose to re-
lax from his sullen, morose mood; and, much as I
disliked him, I have listened with interest for hours
to his droll descriptions of South American life and
manners.
Naturally indolent, and a constitutional grumbler,
it was with the greatest difficulty that Moodie could
get him to do anything beyond bringing a few pails
of water from the swamp for the use of the house, and
he has often passed me carrying water up from the
lake without offering to relieve me of the burden.
Mary, the betrothed of Jacob, called him a perfect
"beast"; but he, returning good for evil, considered
her a very pretty girl, and paid her so many uncouth
418
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
attentions that he roused the jealousy of honest Jake,
who vowed that he would give him a good " loomping "
if he only dared to lay a finger upon his sweetheart.
With Jacob to back her, Mary treated the "zea-bear,"
as Jacob termed him, with vast disdain, and was so
saucy to him that, forgetting his admiration, he de-
clared he would like to serve her as the Indians had
done a scolding woman in ^outhAmerica, They at-
tacked her house during the absence of her husband,
cut out her tongue, and nailed it to the door, by way
of knocker ; and he thought that all women who could
not keep a civil tongue in their head should be served
in the same manner.
" And what should be done to men who swear and
use ondacent language?" quoth Mary indignantly.
"Their tongues should be slit, and given to the dogs.
Faugh! You are such a nasty fellow that I don't think
Hector would eat your tongue."
" I'll kill that beast," muttered Malcolm, as he walk-
ed away.
I remonstrated with him on the impropriety of
bandying words with our servants. "You see," I said,
" the disrespect with which they treat you ; and if
they presume upon your familiarity, to speak to our
guest in this contemptuous manner, they will soon
extend the same conduct to us."
" But, Mrs. Moodie, you should reprove them."
" I cannot, sir, while you continue, by taking liber-
ties with the girl, and swearing at the man, to provoke
them to retaliation."
"Swearing! What harm is there in swearing? A
ailor cannot live without oaths."
19
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"But a gentleman might, Mr. Malcolm. I should
be sorry to consider you in any other light."
"Ah, you are such a prude — so methodistical —
you make no allowance for circumstances! Surely,
in the woods we may dispense with the hypocritical,
conventional forms of society, and speak and act as
we please."
"So you seem to think; but you see the result."
" I have never been used to the society of ladies,
and I cannot fashion my words to please them; and
I won't, that's more!" he muttered to himself as he
strode off to Moodie in the field. I wished from my
very heart that he was once more on the deck of his
piratical South American craft
One night he insisted on going out in the canoe to
spear maskinonge with Moodie. The evening turned
out very chill and foggy, and, before twelve, they re-
turned, with only one fish, and half frozen with cold.
Malcolm had got twinges of rheumatism, and he
fussed, and sulked, and swore, and quarrelled with
everybody and everything, until Moodie, who was
highly amused by his petulance, advised him to go to
his bed, and pray for the happy restoration of his tem-
per.
"Temper!' he cried; "I don't believe there's a good-
tempered person in the world. It's all hypocrisy! I
never had a good temper! My mother was an ill-tem-
pered woman, and ruled my father, who was a con-
foundedly severe, domineering man. I was born in an
ill-temper. I was an ill-tempered child ; I grew up an
ill-tempered man. I feel worse than ill-tempered now,
and when I die it will be in an ill-temper."
420
THE LITTLE \STUMPY MAN
"Well," quoth I, "Moodie has made you a tumbler
of hot punch, which may help to drive out the cold
and the ill-temper, and cure the rheumatism."
"Ay ; your husband's a good fellow, and worth two
of you, Mrs. Moodie. He makes some allowance for
the weakness of human nature, and can excuse even
my ill-temper."
I did not choose to bandy words with him, and the
next day the unfortunate creature was shaking with
the ague. A more untractable, outrageous, ^-patient
I never had the ill-fortune to nurse. During the cold
fit, he did nothing but swear at the cold, and wished
himself roasting ; and during the fever, he swore at
the heat, and wished that he was sitting, in no other
garment than his shirt, on the north side of an iceberg.
And when the fit at last left him, he got up, and ate
such quantities of fat pork, and drank so much whisk-
ey-punch, that you would have imagined he had just
arrived from a long journey, and had not tasted food
for a couple of days.
He would not believe that fishing in the cold night-
air upon the water had made him ill, but raved that it
was all my fault for having laid my baby down on his
bed while it was shaking with the ague.
Yet, if there were the least tenderness mixed up in
his iron nature, it was the affection he displayed for
that young child. Dunbar was just twenty months
old, with bright dark eyes, dimpled cheeks, and soft,
flowing golden hair, which fell round his infant face in
rich curls. The merry, confiding little creature formed
such a contrast to his own surly, unyielding temper,
that, perhaps, that very circumstance made the bond
421
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
of union between them. When in the house, the little
boy was seldom out of his arms, and whatever were
Malcolm's faults, he had none in the eyes of the child,
who used to cling around his neck and kiss his rough,
unshaven cheeks with the greatest fondness.
"If I could afford it, Moodie," he said one day to
my husband, " I should like to marry. I want some
one upon whon>-j-cagTg ffire^lSTTty^fjections." And
wanting that some one in the formoTa woman,
he contented himself with venting them upon the
child.
As the spring advanced, and after Jacob left us, he
seemed ashamed of sitting in the house doing nothing,
and therefore undertook to make us a garden, or "to
make garden," as the Canadians term preparing a few
vegetables for the season. I procured the necessary
seeds,and watched with no small surprise the industry
with which our strange visitor commenced operations.
He repaired the broken fence, dug the ground with
the greatest care, and laid it out with a skill and neat-
ness of which I had believed him perfectly incapable.
In less than three weeks, the whole plot presented a
very pleasing prospect, and he was really elated by
his success.
" At any rate," said he," we shall no longer be starved
on bad flour and potatoes. We shall have peas, and
beans, and beets, and carrots, and cabbage in abund-
ance, besides the plot I have reserved for cucumbers
and melons."
"Ah," thought I, "does he, indeed, mean to stay
with us until the melons are ripe?" and my heart died
within me, for he not only was a great additional ex-
422
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
pense, but he gave a great deal of additional trouble,
and entirely robbed us of all privacy, as our very par^_
lour was converted into a bedroom for his accommo-
dation; besides that, a man of his singularly-dirty
,,!iabits made a very disagreeable inmate.
The only redeeming point in his character, in my
eyes, was his love for Dunbar. I could not entirely
hate a man who was so fondly attached to my child.
To the two little girls he was very cross, and often
chased them from him with blows.
He had, too, an odious way of finding fault with
everything. I never could cook to please him ; and he
tried in the most malicious way to induce Moodie to
join in his complaints. All his schemes to make strife
between us, however, failed, and were generally visited
upon himself. In no way did he ever seek to render
me the least assistance. Shortly after Jacob left us, *
Mary Pine was offered higher wages by a family at
Peterborough, and for some time I was left with four
little children, and without a servant. Moodie always
milked the cows, because I never could overcome my
fear of cattle; and though I had occasionally milked
when there was no one else in the way, it was in fear
and trembling.
Moodie had to go down to Peterborough ; but be-
fore he went, he begged Malcolm to bring me what
water and wood I required, and to stand by the cattle
while I milked the cows, and he would himself be home
before night.
He started at six in the morning, and I got the pail
to go and milk. Malcolm was lying upon his bed,
reading.
423
k
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" Mr. Malcolm, will you be so kind as to go with me
to the fields for a few minutes while I milk?"
"Yes! "(then, with a sulky frown), "but 1 want to
finish what I am reading."
" I will not detain you long."
" Oh no ! I suppose about an hour. You are a shock-
id__
"neveT went near a cow until I came to this
country; and I have never been able to overcome my
fear of them."
"More-shame for you ! A farmer's wifej&ndjifraid of
a ^Dw! Why, these little child ren would laugh afyou?'
*"^ I did not reply, nor would I ask him again. I walked
slowly to the field, and my irrdigTmtio*n made me for-
get my fear. I hadjust ntttghej^mmcrn^aTKi with a
brimming pail was preparing to climb the fence and
return to the house, when a very wild ox we had came
running with headlong speed from the wood. All my
fears were alive again in a moment. I snatched up the
pail, and, instead of climbing the fence and getting to
the house, I ran with all the speed I could command
down the steep hill towards the lake shore; my feet
caught in a root of the many stumps in the path, and
I fell to the ground, my pail rolling many yards ahead
of me. S^eiydropofmy milk waa spilt upoa4heg*ass.
The ox passed on. I gatheregLmyself up and returned
home. Malcolm was vei^jfonp/of new milk, and he
came to meet me at the door.
"Hi! Hi!— Where's the milk?"
" No milk for the poor children to-day, "said I, show-
ing him the inside of the pail, with a sorrowful shake
of the head, for it was no small loss to them and me.
424
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
How the devil's that? S^ojoi
the cows. Come away, and I will keep off the bugga-
"I did milk them — no thanks to your kindness,
Mr. Malcolm— but—
"But what?"
"The ox frightened me, and I fell and spilt all the
" Whew ! Now don't go and tell your husband that
it was all my fault; if you had had a little patience,
I would have come when you asked me, but I don't
choose to be dictated to, and I won't be made a slave
by you or any one else."
"Then why do you stay, sir, where you consider
yourself so treated?" said I. "We are all obliged to
work to obtain bread ; we give you the best share —
surely the return we ask for it is but small."
"You make me feel my obligations to you when
you ask me to do anything ; if you left it to my better
feelings we should get on better."
"Perhaps you are right. I will never ask you to
• do anything for me in future."
"Oh, now, that's all mock-humility. In spite of
the tears in your eyes, you are as angry with me as
ever; but don't go to make mischief between me and
Moodie. If you'll say nothing about my refusing to
go with you, I'll milk the cows for you myself to-
night."
"And can you milk?" said I, with some curios-
ity.
"Milk! Yes; and if I were not so confoundedly
low-spirited and lazy, I could do a thousand other
425
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
things too. But now, don't say a word about it to
Moodie."
I made no promise; but my respect for him was
not increased by his cowardly fear of reproof from
Moodie, who treated him with a kindness and con-
sideration which he did not deserve.
The afternoon turned out very wet, and I was
sorry that I should be troubled with his company all
day in the house. I was making a shirt for Moodie
from some cotton that had been sent me from home,
and he placed himself by the side of the stove, just op-
posite, and continued to regard me for a long time
with his usual sullen stare. I really felt half afraid
of him.
"Don't you think me mad?" said he. "I have a
brother deranged ; he got a stroke of the sun in India,
and lost his senses in consequence; but sometimes I
think it runs in the family."
What answercould I give to this speech but mere
evasive commonplace!
"You won't say what you really think," he con-
tinued; "I know you hate me, and that makes me
dislike you. Now what would you say if I told you
I had committed a murder, and that it was the re-
collection of that circumstance that made me at times
so restless and unhappy?
I looked up in his face, not knowing what to be-
lieve.
"Tis fact," said he, nodding his head; and I hoped
that he would not go mad, like his brother, and kill me.
"Come, I'll tell you all about it; I know the world
would laugh at me for calling such an act murder \
426
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
and yet I have been such a miserable man ever since
that \feel\\. was.
"There was a noted leader among the rebel Buenos-
Ayreans, whom the government wanted much to get
hold of. He was a fine, dashing, handsome fellow;
I had often seen him, but we never came to close
quarters. One night I was lying wrapped up in my
poncho at the bottom of my boat, which was rocking
in the surf, waiting for two of my men, who were
gone on shore. There came to the shore this man
and one of his people, and they stood so near the
boat, which I suppose they thought empty, that I
could distinctly hear their conversation. I suppose
it was the devil who tempted me to put a bullet
through that man's heart. He was an enemy to the
flag under which 1 fought, but he was no enemy to
me — I had no right to become his executioner; but
still the desire to kill him, for the mere devilry of the
thing, came so strongly upon me that I no longer
tried to resist it. I rose slowly upon my knees; the
moon was shining very bright at the time, both he
and his companion were too earnestly engaged to see
me, and I deliberately shot him through the body.
He fell with a heavy groan back into the water ; but
I caught the last look he threw up to the moonlight
skies before his eyes glazed in death. Oh, that look !
— so full of despair and unutterable anguish; it haunts
me yet — it will haunt me for ever. I would not have
cared if I had killed him in strife — but in cold blood,
and he so unsuspicious of his doom ! Yes, it was mur-
der ; I know by this constant tugging at my heart that
it was murder. What do you say to it? "
427
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" I should think as you do, Mr. Malcolm. It is a
terrible thing to take away the life of a fellow-creature
without the least provocation."
" Ah ! I knew you would blame me; but he was an
enemy after all; I had a right to kill him; I was
hired by the government under whom I served to kill
him ; and who shall condemn me?"
" No one more than your own heart."
"It is not the heart, but the brain, that must de-
cide in questions of right and wrong," said he. "I
acted from impulse, and shot that man; had I reas-
oned upon it for five minutes, the man would be liv-
ing now. But what's done cannot be undone. Did
I ever show you the work I wrote upon South
America?"
"Are you an author," said I incredulously.
"To be sure I am. Murray offered me ;£ioo for
my manuscript, but I would not take it. Shall I read
to you some passages from it?"
I am sorry to say that his behaviour in the morn-
ing was uppermost in my thoughts, and I had no re-
pugnance in refusing.
"No, don't trouble yourself. I have the dinner to
cook, and the children to attend to, which will cause
a constant interruption ; you had better defer it to
some other time."
"I shan't ask you to listen to me again," said he,
with a look of offended vanity; but he went to his
trunk and brought out a large MS., written on fools-
cap, which he commenced reading to himself with
an air of great self-importance, glancing from time
to time at me, and smiling disdainfully. Oh, how
428
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
glad I was when the door opened, and the return of
Moodie broke up this painful tete-a-tete.
From the sublime to the ridiculous is but a step.
The very next day, Mr. Malcolm made his appear-
ance before me, wrapped in a great-coat belonging to
my husband, which literally came down to his heels.
At this strange apparition, I fell a-laughing.
"For God's sake, Mrs. Moodie, lend me a pair of
inexpressibles. I have met with an accident in cross-
ing the fence, and mine are torn to shreds — gone to
the devil entirely."
"Well, don't swear. I'll see what can be done for
you."
— I brought him a new pair of fine, drab-coloured
kersey-mere trousers that had never been worn. Al-
though he was eloquent in his thanks, I had no idea
that he meant to keep them for his sole individual use
from that day thenceforth. But after all, what was the
man to do? He had no trousers, and no money, and
he could not take to the woods. Certainly his loss
was not our gain. It was the old proverb reversed.
The season for putting in the potatoes had now
arrived. Malcolm volunteered to cut the sets, which
was easy work that could be done in the house, and
over which he could lounge and smoke; but Moodie
told him that he must take his share in the field, that
I had already sets enough saved to plant half an acre,
and would have more prepared by the time they were
required. With many growls and shrugs, he felt ob-
liged to comply; and he performed his part pretty
well, the execrations bestowed upon the mosquitoes
and black flies forming a sort of safety-valve to let
429
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
off the concentrated venom of his temper. When he
came in to dinner, he held out his hands to me.
"Look at these hands."
"They are blistered with the hoe."
"Look at my face."
" You are terribly disfigured by the black flies. But
Moodie suffers just as much, and says nothing."
"Bah! — The only consolation one feels for such
annoyances is to complain. Oh, the woods! — the
cursed woods! — how I wish I were out of them." The
day was very warm, but in the afternoon I was sur-
prised by a visit from an old maiden lady, a friend of
mine from C . She had walked up with a Mr.
Crowe, from Peterborough, a young, brisk-looking
farmer, in breeches and top-boots, just out from the
old country, who,naturally enough, thought he would
like to roost among the woods.
He was a little, lively, good-natured manny, with
a real Anglo-Saxon face, — rosy, high cheek-boned,
with full lips, and a turned-up nose; and, like most
little men, was a great talker, and very full of himself.
He had belonged to the secondary class of farmers,
and was very vulgar, both in person and manners. I
had just prepared tea for my visitors, when Malcolm
and Moodie returned from the field. There was no
affectation about the former. He was manly in his
person, and blunt even to rudeness, and I saw by the
quizzical look which he cast upon the spruce little
Crowe that he was quietly quizzing him from head to
heel. A neighbour had sent me a present of maple
molasses, and Mr. Crowe was so fearful of spilling
some of the rich syrup upon his drab shorts that he
430
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
spread a large pocket-handkerchief over his knees,
and tucked another under his chin. I felt very much
inclined to laugh, but restrained the inclination as
well as I could — and if the little creature would have
sat still, I could have quelled my rebellious propen-
sity altogether; but up he would jump at every word
I said to him, and make me a low, jerking bow, often
with his mouth quite full, and the treacherous mo-
lasses running over his chin.
Malcolm sat directly opposite to me and my vola-
tile next-door neighbour. He saw the intense diffi-
culty I had to keep my gravity, and was determined
to make me laugh out. So, coming slyly behind my
chair, he whispered in my ear, with the gravity of a
judge, "Mrs. Moodie, that must have been the very
chap who first jumped Jim Crowe."
This appeal obliged me to run from the table.
Moodiewas astonished at my rudeness; and Malcolm,
as he resumed his seat, made the matter worse by
saying,"! wonder what is the matter with Mrs. Moo-
die; she is certainly very hysterical this afternoon."
The potatoes were planted, and the season of straw-
berries, green-peas, and young potatoes had come,
but still Malcolm remained our constant guest. He
had grown so indolent, and gave himself so many airs,
that Moodie was heartily sick of his company, and
gave him many gentle hints to change his quarters;
but our guest was determined to take no hint. For
some reason best known to himself, perhaps out of
sheer contradiction, which formed one great element
in his character, he seemed obstinately bent upon re-
maining where he was.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Moodie was busy under-brushing for a fall fallow.
Malcolm spent much of his time in the garden, or
lounging about the house. I had baked an eel-pie for
dinner, which if prepared well is by no means an un-
savoury dish. Malcolm had cleaned some green-peas
and washed the first young potatoes we had drawn
that season, with his own hands, and he was reckon-
ing upon the feast he should have on the potatoes with
childish glee. The dinner at length was put upon the
table. The vegetables were remarkably fine, and the
pie looked very nice.
Moodie helped Malcolm, as he always did, very
largely, and the other covered his plate with a portion
of peas and potatoes,when,lo and behold ! my gentle-
man began making a^ very wry face at the pie.
"What an ijTfernapdish!" he cried, pushing away
his plate with an air of great disgust. "These eels
taste as if they had been stewed in oil. Moodie, you
should teach your wife to be a better cook."
The hot blood burnt upon Moodie's cheek. I saw
indignation blazing in his eye.
" If you don't like what is prepared for you, sir, you
may leave the table and my house, if you please. I
will put up with your ungentlemanly and ungrateful
conduct to Mrs. Moodie no longer."
Out stalked the offending party. I thought, to
sure, we had got rid of him; and though he deserved
what was said to him, I was sorry for him. Moodi(
took his dinner, quietly remarking, "I wonder he
could find it in his heart to leave those fine peas and
potatoes."
He then went back to his work in the bush, and
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
cleared away the dishes, and churned, for I wanted
butter for tea.
About four o'clock, Mr. Malcolm entered the room.
" Mrs. Moodie," said he, in a more cheerful voice than
usual, "where's the boss?"
"In the wood, under-brushing." I felt dreadfully
afraid that there would be blows between them.
"I hope, Mr. Malcolm, that you are not going to
him with any intention of a fresh quarrel?"
" Don't you think I have been punished enough by
losing my dinner?" said he, with a grin. "I don't
think we shall murder one another." He shouldered
his axe, and went whistling away.
After striving for a long while to stifle my foolish
fears, I took the baby in my arms, and little Dunbar
by the hand, and ran up to the bush where Moodie
was at work.
At first I only saw my husband, but the strokes
of an axe at a little distance soon guided my eyes to
the spot where Malcolm was working away as if for
dear life. Moodie smiled, and looked at me signifi-
cantly.
" How could the fellow stomach what I said to
him? Either great necessity or great meanness must
be the cause of his knocking under. I don't know
whether most to pity or despise him."
"Put up with it, dearest, for this once. Fie is not
happy, and must be greatly distressed."
Malcolm kept aloof, ever and anon casting a fur-
tive glance towards us; at last little Dunbar ran to
him, and held up his arms to be kissed. The strange
man snatched him to his bosom, and covered him with
433 2E
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
caresses. It might be love to the child that had quell-
ed his sullen spirit, or he might really have cherished
an affection for us deeper than his ugly temper would
allow him to show. At all events, he joined us at tea
as if nothing had happened, and we might truly say
that he had obtained a new lease of his long visit.
But what could not be effected by words or hints
of ours was brought about a few days after by the
silly observation of a child. He asked Katie to give
him a kiss, and he would give her some raspberries
he had gathered in the bush.
"I don't want them. Go away; I don't like you,
you little stumpy man \ "
His rage knew no bounds. He pushed the child
from him, and vowed that he would leave the house
that moment — that she could not have thought of such
an expression herself; she must have been taught it
by us. This was an entire misconception on his part;
but he would not be convinced that he was wrong.
Off he went, and Moodie called after him, " Malcolm,
as I am send ing to Peterborough to-morrow, the man
shall take in your trunk." He was too angry even
to turn and bid us good-bye; but we had not seen the
last of him yet.
Two months after, we were takingtea with a neigh-
bour, who lived a mile below us on the small lake.
Who should walk in but Mr. Malcolm? He greeted
us with great warmth for him, and, when we rose to
take leave, he rose and walked home by our side,
" Surely the little stumpy man is not returning to his
old quarters ? " I am still a babe in the affairs of men.
Human nature has more strange varieties than any
434
THE LITTLE STUMPY MAN
one menagerie can contain, and Malcolm was one of
the oddest of her odd species.
That night he slept in his old bed below the par-
' lour window, andjforthree months afterwards he stuck
to us like a beaver.
He seemed to have grown more kindly, or we had
got more used to his eccentricities, and let him have
his own way ; certainly he behaved himself much bet-
ter.
He neither scolded the children nor interfered with
the maid, nor quarrelled with me. He had greatly
discontinued his bad habit of swearing, and he talked
of himself and his future prospects with more hope
and self-respect. His father had promised to send
him a fresh supply of money, and he proposed to buy
of Moodie the clergy reserve, and that they should
farm the two places on shares. This offer was receiv-
ed with great joy, as an unlooked-for means of pay-
ing our debts and extricating ourselves from present
and overwhelm ing difficulties, and we looked upon the
little stumpy man in the light of a benefactor.
So matters continued until Christmas Eve, when
our visitor proposed walking into Peterborough in
order to give the children a treat of raisins to make
a Christmas pudding.
"We will be quite merry to-morrow," he said. " I
hope we shall eat many Christmas dinners together,
land continue good friends."
He started after breakfast, with the promise of com-
ingbackat night; butnightcame,theChristmas pass-
ed away, months and years fled away, but we never
aw the little stumpy man again !
35
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
He went away that day with a stranger in a waggon
from Peterborough, and never afterwards was seen in
that part of Canada. We afterwards learned that he
went to Texas, and it is thought that he was killed at
St. Antonio; but this is a mere conjecture. Whether
dead or living, I feel convinced that —
" We ne'er shall look upon his like again."
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE FIRE
i
CHAPTER TWENTY THE FIRE
Now, Fortune, do thy worst! For many years,
Thou, with relentless and unsparing hand,
Hast sternly pour'd on our devoted heads
The poison'd phials of thy fiercest wrath.
THE EARLY PART OF THE^WINTER OF
1837, a year never to be forgotten mt!ie~arilials uf
"Canadian hifetofyp^^ve^z^gvere. DurmgTKe month
of February, the thermometer often ranged fror%eigh-
teen to twentvrSje.y.en degrees below zero. Speaking
oPthe coldness of one particular day, a genuine brother
Jonathan remarked, with charming simplicity, that it
was thirty degrees below zero that morning, and it
would have been much colder if the thermometer had
been longer.
The morning of the seventh was so intensely cold /""""""
that pvprythincr liquid t*™<* ;" f^Q k^iic*. TV.Q
thafhad been drawn for the fire was green, and it ig-
nited too slowly to satisfy the shivering impatience of
women and children ; I vented mine in audibly grumb-
ling over the wretched fire, at which I in vain endeav-
oured to thaw frozen bread, and to dress crying child-
ren.
It so happened that an old friend, the maiden lady
before alluded to, had been staying with us for a few
days. She had left us for a visit to my sister, and as
some relatives of hers were about to return to Britain,
by the way of New York, and had offered to convey
letters to friends at home, I had been busy all the day
before preparing a packet for England.
It was my intention to walk to my sister's with this
packet, directly the important affair of breakfast had
been discussed ; but the extreme cold of the morning
439
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
had occasioned such delay, that it was late before the
breakfast-things were cleared away.
After dressing, I found the air so keen that I could
not venture out without some risk to my nose, and my
husband kindly volunteered to go in my stead.
I had hired a young Irish girl the day before. Her
friends were only just located in our vicinity, and she
had never seen a stove until she came to our house.
After Moodie left, I suffered the fire to die away in the
Franklin stove in the parlour, and went into the kit-
chen to prepare bread for the oven.
The girl, who was a good-natured creature, had
heard me complain bitterly of the cold and the impos-
sibility of getting_tjie_greeii wood Jto_hlirn, aricT she
{Bought that she would seeTf she cpulcLnet-make a
good fire for me and the children, against my work was
done. Without saying one word about her intention,
she slipped out through a door that opened from the
parlour into the garden, ran round to the woodyard,
, and, not knowing the
_
nature ofthe stove, filled it entirely with the light
wood.
Before I had the least idea of my danger, I was a-
roused from the completion of my task by* the crack-
ling and roaring of a large fire, and a suffocating smell
of burning soot. I looked up at the kitchen cooking-
stove. All was right there. _I knew _L-ha4-teft-na-fire_
in the parlour stove ; but not being able to account for
the smoke and smell of burning, I opened the door,
and, to my dismay, found thejstove red-hot, from the
front plate to the topmost pipe that let out theTsmoke
through the roof.
440
THE FIRE
My first impulse was to plunge a blanket, snatched
from the servant's bed, which stood in the kitchen, in-
to cold water. This I thrust into the stove, and upon
it I threw water, until all was cool below. I then ran
up to the loft, and, by exhausting all the water in the
house, even to that contained in the boilers upon the
fire, contrived to cool down the pipes which passed
through the loft. I then sent the girl out of doors to
look at the roof, which, as a very deep fall of snow had
taken place the day before, I hoped would be com-
pletely covered, and safe from all danger of fire.
She quickly returned, stamping, and tearing her
hair, and making a variety of uncouth outcries, from
which I gathered that the roof was in flames. ._
This was terrible ne^s^wjth my
no man in the house, and a mj.le_and a quarter Jrom
any other h'alTi la liui iv_Rran out to ascertain the extent
of the misfortune, and founcL.a.Iarge^ fire burning in
the roof between the two stovepipes. Thejjpatxtfihe
"fifes had meltecTo!fail"the snow, and a spark from the
burning pipehad already ignited the shingles. A lad-
der, which for several months had stood against the
house, had been moved two days before to the barn,
which was at the top of the hill near the road ; there
was no reaching the fire through that source. I got
out the dining-table, and tried to throw water upon
the roof by standing on a chair placed upon it, but I
only expended the little water that remained in the
boiler, without reaching the fire. The girl still contin-
ued weeping and lamenting.
"You must go for help," I said. " Run as fast as you
can to my sister's, and fetch your master."
441
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"And lave you, ma 'arm, and the childher alone wid
the burnin' house? "
" Yes, yes ! Don't stay one moment."
"I haveno shoes, ma'arm, and the snow is sodeep."
"Put on your master's boots; make haste, or we
shall be lost before help comes."
The girl put on the boots and started, shrieking
" Fire ! " the whole way. This was utterly useless, and
only impeded her progress byexhaustingher strength.
After she had vanished from the head of the clearing
into the wood, and I was left quite alone, with the
house burning over my head, I paused one moment
to reflect what had best be done.
The house was built of cedar logs ; in all probabil-
ity it wouldbe consumed before any help could arrive.
There was a brisk breeze blowing up from the frozen
lake, and the thermometer stood at eighteen degrees
below yfM-n
and there was a^jnucjh^danger to be
apprehended ^Ji^ni.th^6^>n^^Jjiejother. I n the be wil-
clerment of the moment, the direful extent of the cal-
amity never struck me; we wanted but this to put the
finishing stroke to our misfortunes, to be thrown nak-
ed, houseless, and penniless, upon the world. ^JVhat
skallf-sttve-fizsi?" was the thought just then upper-
most in my mind . Bedding and clothing appeared the
most essentially necessary,and, without another mo-
ment's pause, I set to work with a right good will to
drag all that I could from my burning home.
While little Agnes, D unbar, and baby Donald rilled
the air with their cries, Katie, as if fully conscious of
the importance of exertion, assisted me in carrying
442
\
THE FIRE
out sheets and blankets, and dragging trunks and
boxes some way up the hill, to be out of the way of
the burning brands when the roof should fall in.
How many anxious looks I gave to the head of the
clearing as the fire increased, and large pieces of burn-
ing pine began to fall through the boarded ceiling
about the lower rooms where we were at work. The
children I had kept under a large dresser in the kit-
chen, but it now appeared absolutely necessary to re-
move them to a place of safety. To expose the young,
tender things to the direful cold, was almost as bad
as leaving them to the mercy of the fire. At last I hit
upon a plan to keep them from freezing. I emptied
all the r1nfVipgj-mf pf a larg^ rWp rhf*gj- pf f]rpWPrc;
and draggeclthe empty drawers up the hill; these I
lined with blankets, and placed achild in each drawer,
covering it well over with the bedding, giving to little
Agnes the charge of the baby to hold between her
knees, and keep well covered until help should arrive.
Ah, how long it seemed coming!
The roorwas now burning like a brush-heap^and,
unconsciously, the chilcTand 1 were working under a
shelf upon which were deposited several pounds of
gunpowder, which had been procured for blasting a
"well, als^all our water had to be brought uphill from
the lake. Tjais_gunpowder was in a stone jar, secured
by a paper stopper; the shelf upon which it stood was
on fire, but it was utterly forgotten by me at the time,
and even afterwards, when my husband was working
on the burning loft over it.
I found that I should not be able to take many
more trips for goods. As I passed out of the parlour
443
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
for the last time, Katie looked up at her father's
flute, which was suspended upon two brackets, and
said —
"Oh, dear mamma! do save papa's flute; he will be
so sorry to lose it."
God bless the dear child for the thought! the flute
was saved ; and, as I succeeded in dragging out a heavy
chest of clothes, and looked up once more despair-
ingly to the road, I saw a man running at full speed.
It was my husband. Help was at hand, and my heart
uttered a deep thanksgiving as another and another
figure came upon the scene.
I had not felt the intense cold, although without
cap, or bonnet, or shawl, with my hands bare and ex-
posed to the bitter biting air. The intense excitement,
the anxiety to save all I could, had so totally diverted
my thoughts from myself, that I had felt nothing of
the danger to which I had been exposed; but now
that help was near, my knees trembled under me, I
felt giddy and faint, and dark shadows seemed danc-
ing before my eyes.
Thpj-nornpn|- my hngVfflnH and brother-in-law en-
teredthe-feeuse, the latter excIaiRrc;d== —
" Moodie, the house is gone ; save what you can of
your winter stores and furniture."
Mo^diejthoiigbt4ilferently. ^rom^and energetic
ipjdanger,and possessingadmirablepresence
and coolness when others yield to agitation and des-
pair, he sprang upon the burning loft and called for
water. Alas, there was none!
"Snow, snow;
Oh! it was bitter work filling those pails with frozen
444
THE FIRE
snow; but Mr. T and I worked at it as fast as we
were able. *T""~
The violence of the fire was greatly checked by
covering the boards of the loft with this snow. More
help had now arrived. Young B and S had
brought the ladder down with them from the barn , and
were already cuttingaway the burning roof, and fling-
ing the flaming brands into the deep snow.
"Mrs. Moodie, have you any pickled meat?"
"We have just STled one of our cows and salted it
for winter stores."
"Well, then, flinj^he beef into the snow, and let us
hav^ the brinj^^^-^
This was an admirable plan. Wherever the brine
wetted the shingles, the fire turned from it, and con-
centrated into one spot.
But ^ia^iioJL±iine--ta-w-a.tch .the brave workers on
the roof. I was fast yielding to tKe~efFecls uf over ex-
citement and fatigue, when my brother's team dashed
down the clearing, bringing my excellent old friend,
Miss B , and the servant-girl.
My brother sprang out, carried me back into the
house, and wrapgejij2ie-«p4TrofTre rof the4arge blankets
scattered aBout. In a few minutes I was seated with
the dear children in the sleigh, and on the way to a
place of warmth and safety.
Katie alone suffered from the intense cold. The
dear little creature's feet were severely frozen, but were
fortunately restored by her uncle discovering the fact
before she approached the fire, and rubbing them well
with snow.
In the mean while, the friends we had left so active-
445
> $
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
'
ly employed at the house, succeeded in getting the
fire under before it had destroyed the walls. The only
irred was to a poor dog thatMoodie
had called Snarleyowe. hie was struck by a burning
brand thrown from the houseTancFcrept under the barn
and died.
done to thebuilding^the loss
of our potatoes and two sacks oF flour, we had~escaped
in RffnRTTn^almijsljm^ fact^hpws~5ow
unioiywjth-
out bustlejmd confusion^or running in eachjpther's
wSyTTTerewere six menfwfruwithettt4he^id-^
er, succeededin saving a building, which, at firstsight,
years, when entirely burnt out in a disastrous fire that
consumed almost all wewereworth in the world, some
four hundred persons were present, with a fire-engine
to second their endeavours, yet all was lost. Every
person seemed in the way ; and though the fire was
discovered immediately after it took place, nothing
was done beyond saving some of the furniture.
Our party was too large to be billeted upon one
family. Mrs. T - took compassion upon Moodie,
myself, and the baby, while their uncle received the
three children to his hospitable home.
It was some weeks before Moodie succeeded in re-
pairing the roof, the intense cold preventing any one
from working in such an exposed situation.
The news of our fire travelled far and wide. I was
reported to have done prodigies and to have saved
the greater part of our household goods before help
arrived. Reduced to plain prose, these prodigies shrink
446
THE FIRE
into the simple and by no mean marvellous fact,
thatduringtheexcitement I dragged outchests which,
underordinary circumstances, I could not have mov-
ed; and that I was unconscious both of the ColcTarTd .
the danger to whicE I was exposed while working
under a burning roof, wlltc^
have buried both the children ancl myself under its
ruinsv
These eirarnrstances appeared far more alarming,
as all real danger does, after they were past. The fright
and over-exertion gave my health a shock from which
I did not recover for several months, and made me
so fearful of fire, that from that hour it haunts me
like a nightmare. Let the night be ever so serene, all
stoves must be shut up, and the hot embers cover-
eehwiffi ashes, beio"re""I dare retire to rest; and the
sight of a burning edifice, so common a spectacle in
large towns in this country, makes me really ill. This
feeling was greatly increased after a second fire,
when, for some torturing minutes, a lovely boy, since
drowned, was supposed to have perished in the burn-
ing house.
Our present fire led to a new train of circumstances^
for itwas the means of
Irish gentleman w-he-was staying at my brother's
House. John E was one of the best and gentlest
of human beings. His father, a captain in the army,
had died while his family were quite young, and had
left his widow with scarcely any means, beyond the
pension she received at her husband's death, to bring
up and educate a family of five children. A handsome,
showy woman, Mrs. E soon married again; and
447
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
the poor lads were thrown upon the world. The eld-
est, who had been educated for the Church, first came
to Canada in the hope of getting some professorship
Scxl in the college, or of opening a classical school. He
was a handsome, gentlemanly,>^^uH-educated young
man, but constitutionally irtcTofeat^—- a natural defect
which seemed common to"aTTthe males of the family,
and which was sufficiently indicated by their soft,
silky, fair hair and milky complexions. R had
the good sense to perceive that Canada was not the
country for him. He spent a week under our roof,
and we were much pleased with his elegant tastes
and pursuits; but my husband strongly advised him
to try and get a situation as a tutor in some family at
home. This he afterwards obtained. Hebecame tutor
and travelling companion totheyoungLord M ,
and has since got an excellent living.
John, who had followed his brother to Canada
withoutthemeansoftransportinghimself back again,
was forced to remain, and was working with Mr.
S for his board. He proposed to Moodie work-
ing his farm upon shares; and, as we were unable to
Xj hire a man, Moodie gladly closed with his offer; and,
during the time he remained with us, we had every
reason to be pleased with the arrangement.
It was always a humiliating feeling to our proud
minds, that hirelings should witness our dreadful
struggles with poverty,and the strange shifts we were
forced tomakein orderto obtain even food. But John
E had known and experienced all that we had
suffered, in his own person, and was willing to share
our home with all its privations. Warm-hearted, sin-
448
THE FIRE
cere, and truly affectionate — a gentleman in word,
thought, and deed — we found his society and cheer-
ful help a great comfort. Our odd meals became a
subject of merriment, and the peppermint and sage
tea drank with a better flavour when we had one who
sympathized in all our trials, and shared all our toils,
to partake of it with us.
The whole family soon became attached to our
young friend; and after the work of the day was over,
greatly we enjoyed an hour's fishing on the lake.
John E said that we had no right to murmur, as
long as we had health, a happy home, and plenty of
fresh fish, milk, and potatoes. Early in May js^ejre-
into our service. whoJoP
mo7rTaitrifuLaJuL.industnous I C- \ J
' "" " — ITT ^ -~~-~ ^-^__^' f 1 M
creature. And what with John E to assist my ' Uy ^
husband on the farm, and old Jenny to help me to v ^\
nurse the children and manage the house, our affairs,
if they were no better in a pecuniary point of view, at ,^
least presented a more pleasing aspect at home. We
were always cheerful, and sometimes contented and
even happy.
How great was the contrast between the character
of our new inmate and that of Mr. Malcolm ! The
sufferings of the past year had been greatly increased
by the intolerable nuisance of his company, while
many additional debts had been contracted in order
to obtain luxuries for him which we never dreamed
of purchasing for ourselves. Instead of increasing my
i domestic toils, John did all in his power to lessen
them ; and it always grieved him to see me iron a
shirt, or wash the least article of clothing for him.
449 2F
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"You have too much to do already; I cannot bear to
give you the least additional work," he would say.
And he generally expressed the greatest satisfaction
at my method of managing the house, and preparing
our simple fare. The little ones he treated with the
most affectionate kindness, and gathered the whole
flock about his knees the moment he came in to his
meals.
On awet day, when no work could be done abroad,
Moodie took up his flute, or read aloud to us, while
John and I sat down to work. The young emigrant,
early cast upon the world and his own resources, was
an excellent hand at the needle. He would make or
mend a shirt with the greatest precision and neatness,
and cut out and manufacture his canvas trousers and
loose summer-coats with as much adroitness as the
most experienced tailor, darn his socks, and mend
his boots and shoes, and often volunteered to assist
me in knitting the coarse yarn of the country into
socks forthe children, while he made them moccasins
from the dressed deer-skins that we obtained from the
Indians.
Scrupulously neat and clean in his person, the only
thing which seemed to ruffle his calm temper was the
dirty work of logging; he hated to come in from the
field with his person and clothes begrimed with char-
coal and smoke. Old Jenny used to laugh at him for
not being able to eat his meals without first washing
his hands and face.
"Och! my dear heart, yer too particular intirely;
we've no time in the woods to be clane." She would
say to him in answer to his request for soap and a
THE FIRE .
towel, "An' is it soap yer a-wantin'? I tell yer that
that same is not to the fore; bating the throuble of
makin', it's little soap that the misthress can get to
wash the clothes for us and the childher, without yer
wastin'it in makin' yer purty skin as white as aleddy's.
Do,darlint, go down to the lake and wash there; that
basin is big enough, anyhow." And John would laugh
and go down to the lake to wash, in order to appease
thewrath of the old woman. John had a great dislike
to cats, and even regarded with an evil eye, our old
pet cat, Peppermint, who had taken a great fancy to
share his bed and board.
"If I tolerate our own cat," he would say, "I will
not put up with such a nuisance as your friend Emilia
sends us in the shape of her ugly Tom. Why, where
in the world do you think I found that beast sleep-
ing last night?"
I expressed my ignorance.
" In our potato-pot Now, you will agree with me
that potatoes dressed with cat's hair is not a very
nice dish. The next time I catch Master Tom in the
potato-pot, I will kill him."
"John, you are not in earnest. Mrs. would
never forgive any injury done to Tom, who is a great
favourite."
"Let her keep him at home, then. Think of the
brute coming a mile through the woods to steal from
us all he can find, and then sleeping off the effects of
his depredations in the potato-pot."
I could not help laughing, but I begged John by
o means to annoy Emilia by hurting her cat.
The next day, while sitting in the parlour at work,
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
I heard a dreadful squall, and rushed to the rescue.
John was standing, with a flushed cheek, grasping a
large stick in his hand, and Tom was lying dead at
his feet.
"Oh, the poor cat!"
"Yes, I have killed him ; but I am sorry for it now.
What will Mrs. say?"
"She must not know it. I have told you the story
of the pig that Jacob killed. You had better bury it
with the pig."
John was really sorry for having yielded, in a fit of
passion, to do so cruel a thing; yet a few days after he
got into a fresh scrape with Mrs. 's animals.
The hens were laying up at the barn. John was
very fond of fresh eggs, but some strange dog came
daily and sucked the eggs. John had vowed to kill
the first dog he found in the act. Mr. had a very
fine bull-d og which he valued very highly; but with
Emilia, Chowder was an especial favourite. Bitterly
had she bemoaned the fate of Tom, and many were
the inquiries she made of us as to his sudden disap-
pearance.
One afternoon John ran into the room. " My dear
Mrs. Moodie, what is Mrs. 's dog like?"
" A large bull-dog, brindled black and white."
"Then, by Jove, I Ve shot him ! "
"John, John! you mean me to quarrel in earnest
with my friend. How could you do it? "
" Why, how the deuce should I know her dog from
another? I caught the big thief in the very act of de-
vouring the eggs from under your sitting hen, and I
shot him dead without another thought. But I will
452
THE FIRE
bury him, and she will never find it out a bit more
than she did who killed the cat."
Some time after this, Emilia returned from a visit
at P . The first thing she told me was the loss of
the dog. She was so vexed at it, she had had him ad-
vertised, offering a reward for his recovery.
I, of course, was called upon to sympathize with
her, which I did with a very bad grace. "I did not
like the beast," I said; "he was cross and fierce, and
I was afraid to go up to her house while he was there."
"Yes; but to lose it so. It is so provoking; and
him such a valuable animal. I could not tell how
deeply she felt the loss. She would give four dollars
to find out who had stolen him."
How near she came to making the grand discovery
the sequel will show.
Instead of burying him with the murdered pig and
cat, John had scratched a shallow grave in the garden,
and concealed the dead brute.
After tea, Emilia requested to look at the garden;
and I, perfectly unconscious that it contained the re-
mains of the murdered Chowder, led the way. Mrs.
, whilst gathering a handful of fine green-peas,
suddenly stooped, and looking earnestly at the
ground, called to me —
"Come here, Susanna, and tell me what has been
buried here. It looks like the tail of a dog."
She might have added, " Of my dog." Murder, it
seems, will out. By some strange chance, the grave
(that covered the mortal remains of Chowder had been
disturbed, and the black tail of the dog was sticking
mt.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"What can it be?" said I, with an air of perfect
innocence. "Shall I call Jenny, and dig it up?"
"Oh no, my dear; it has a shocking smell, but it
does look very much like Chowder's tail."
"Impossible! How could it come among my
peas?"
" True. Besides, I saw Chowder, with my own eyes,
yesterday, following a team; and George C - hopes
to recover him for me."
"Indeed! I am glad to hear it. How these mos-
quitoes sting. Shall we go back to the house ? "
While we returned to the house, John, who had
overheard the whole conversation, hastily disinterred
the body of Chowder, and placed him in the same
mysterious grave with Tom and the pig.
Moodie and his friend finished logging-up the
eight acres which the former had cleared the previous
winter, besides putting in a crop of peas and po-
tatoes, and an acre of Indian corn, reserving the
fallow for fall wheat, while we had the promise of a
splendid crop of hay off tfejSr-oixtecn acrcc that -had
Haeen cleared in i8^4L We were_alljn high spirits.
and everything promised fair, until a very trifling
circumstance again occasioned us much anxiety and
trouble, and was the cause of pur losing most of our
fY ^^-Meodie was asked to attend a bee, which was called
to construct a corduroy-bridge over a very bad piece
of road. He and J. E - were obliged to go that
morning with wheat to the mill, but Moodie lent his
yoke of oxen for the work.
The driver selected for them at the bee was the
454
THE FIRE
brutal M y,a man noted for his ill-treatment of //
cattle, especially if the animals did not belong to him. ^rf
He gave one of the oxen such a severe blow over the
loins with a handspike that the creature came home
perfectly disabled, just as we wanted his services in
the hay-field and harvest.
Moodie had no money to purchase, or even to hire,
a mate for the other ox; but he and John hoped that
by careful attendance upon the injured animal he
might be restored to health in a few days. They con-
veyed him to a deserted clearing, a short distance
from the farm, where he would be safe from injury
from the rest of the cattle; and early every morning
we went in the canoe to carry poor Duke a warm
mash, and to watch the progress of his recovery.
Ah ! ye who revel in this world's wealth, how little
can you realize the importance which we, in our
poverty, attached to the life of this valuable animal !
Yes, it even became the subject of prayer, for the
bread for ourselves and our little ones depended
greatly upon his recovery. We were doomed to dis-
appointment. After nursing him with the greatest
attention and care for some weeks, the animal grew
daily worse, and suffered such intense agony, as he
lay groaning upon the ground, unable to rise, that
John shot him to put him out of pain.
Here, then, were we left without oxen to draw in
our hay, or secure our other crops. A neighbour, who
had an odd ox, kindly lent us the use of him when
he was not employed on his own farm; and John
and Moodie gave their own work for the occasional
loan of a yoke of oxen for a day. But with all these
455
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
drawbacks, and in spite of the assistance of old Jenny
and myself in the field, a great deal of the produce
was damaged before it could be secured. The whole
summer we had to labour under this disadvantage.
Our neighbours were all too busy to give us any help,
and their own teams were employed in saving their
crops. Fortunately, the few acres of wheat we had
to reap were close to the barn, and we carried the
sheaves thither by hand, old Jenny proving an inval-
uable help, both in the harvest and hay-field.
Still, with all these misfortunes, Providence watch-
ed over us in a signal manner. We were .ngver left
entirely without food. Like the widow's cruse of oil,
iJur rneahs7~tHougr?vsmall, were never suffered to
i ^ • f u '[ 1 cease entirely. ^We hajl-bee«--fui some-days with-
out meat, when Moodie came running in for his gun.
•"A" greaTshe-bear was in the wheat-field at the edge
of the wood, very busily employed in helping to har-
vest the crop. There was but one bullet, and a charge
or two of buckshot, in the house ; but Moodie started
to the wood with the single bullet in his gun, fol-
lowed by a little terrier dog that belonged to John
E . Old Jenny was busy at the wash-tub, but
the moment she saw her master running up the clear-
ing and knew the cause, she left herwork and, snatch-
ing up the carving-knife, ran after him, that in case
the bear should have the best of the fight, she would
be there to help "the masther." Finding her shoes
incommode her, she flung them off, in order to run
faster. A few minutes after came the report of the
gun, and I heard Moodie halloo to E , who was
cutting stakes for a fence in the wood.- I hardly
» 4S6
THE FIRE
thought it possible that he could have killed the bear,
but I ran to the door to listen. The children were
all excitement, which the sight of the black monster,
borne down the clearing upon two poles, increased to
the wildest demonstrations of joy. Moodie and John
were carrying the prize, and old Jenny, brandishing
her carving-knife, followed in the rear.
The rest of the evening was spent in skinning, and
cutting up, and salting the ugly creature, whose flesh
filled a barrel with excellent meat, in flavour resem-
bling beef, while the short grain and juicy nature of
the flesh gave to it the tenderness of mutton. This
was quite a Godsend, and lasted us until we were^/
able to kill two large fat hogs in the fall.
A few nights after, Moodie and I encountered the
mate of Mrs. Bruin, while returning from a visit to
Emilia, in the very depth of the wood.
We had been invited to meet our friend's father
and mother, who had come up on a short visit to the
woods ; and the evening passed away so pleasantly
that it was near midnight before the little party of
friends separated. The moon was down. The wood,
through which we had to return, was very dark, the
ground being low and swampy, and the trees thick
and tall. There was, in particular, one very ugly spot
where a small creek crossed the road. This creek
could only be passed by foot-passengers scrambling
over a fallen tree, which, in a dark night, was not very
easy to find.
I begged a torch of Mr. ; but no torch could
be found. Emilia laughed at my fears; still, knowing
what a coward I was in the bush of a night, she
457
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
found about an inch of candle, which was all that re-
mained from the evening's entertainment. This she
put into an old lanthorn.
"It will not ,last you long, but it will carry you
over the creek."
This was something gained, and off we set.
It was so dark in the bush, that our dim candle
looked like a solitary red spark in the intense sur-
rounding darkness, and scarcely served to show us
the path.
We went chatting along, talking over the news of
the evening, Hector running on before us, when I
saw a pair of eyes glare upon us from the edge of the
swamp, with the green, bright light emitted by the
eyes of a cat.
"Did you see those terrible eyes, Moodie?" and I
clung, trembling, to his arm.
"What eyes?" said he, feigning ignorance. "It's
too dark to see anything. The light is nearly gone,
and, if you don't quicken your pace and cross the
tree before it goes out, you will, perhaps, get your
feet wet by falling into the creek."
"Good Heavens! I saw them again; and do just
look at the dog."
Hector stopped suddenly, and, stretching himself
along the ground, his nose resting between his fore-
paws, began to whine and tremble. Presently he ran
back to us, and crept under our feet. The cracking
of branches and the heavy tread of some large ani-
mal sounded close beside us.
Moodie turned the open lanthorn in the direction
from whence the sounds came, and shouted as loud
458
I
THE FIRE
as he could, at the same time endeavouring to urge
forward the fear-stricken dog, whose cowardice was
only equalled by my own.
Just at that critical moment the wick of the candle
flickered a moment in the socket, and expired. We
were left, in perfect darkness, alone with the bear —
for such we supposed the animal to be.
My heart beat audibly; a cold perspiration was
streaming down my face, but I neither shrieked nor
attempted to run. I don't know how Moodie got me
over the creek. One of my feet slipped into the water,
but expecting, as I did every moment, to be devour-
ed by Master Bruin, that was a thing of no conse-
quence. My husband was laughing at my fears, and
every now and then he turned towards our compan-
ion, who continued following us at no great distance,
and gave him an encouraging s|k>ut. Glad enough
was I when I saw th^lejrj^0Pth^~ti^ht>vfrom our
little cabin window-shineout among the trees; and,
the moment I got within the clearing I ran, without
stopping, until I was safely within the house. John
was sitting up for us, nursing Donald. He listened
with great interest to our adventure with the bear,
and thought that Bruin was very good to let us es-
cape without one affectionate hug.
"Perhaps it would have been otherwise had he
known, Moodie, that you had not only killed his good
lady, but were dining sumptuously off her carcass
every day."
The bear was determined to have something in
return for the loss of his wife. Several nights after
this, our slumbers were disturbed about midnight by
459
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
an awful yell, and old Jenny shook violently at our
chamber door.
" Masther, masther, dear ! Get up wid you this mo-
ment, or the bear will desthroy the cattle intirely."
Half asleep, Moodie sprang from his bed, seized
his gun, and ran out. I threw my large cloak round
me, struck a light, and followed him to the door.
The moment the latter was unclosed, some calves
that we were rearing rushed into the kitchen, closely
followed by the larger beasts, who came bellowing
headlong down the hill, pursued by the bear.
It was a laughable scene, as shown by that paltry
tallow-candle. Moodie, in his night-shirt, taking aim
at something in the darkness, surrounded by the
terrified animals; old Jenny, with a large knife in her
hand, holding on to the white skirts of her master's
garment, making outcry loud enough to frighten a-
way all the wild beasts in the bush — herself almost
in a state of nudity.
"Och, masther, dear ! don't timpt the ill-condition-
ed crathur wid charging too near; think of the wife
andthechildher. Let me come at the rampaging baste
an' I'll stick the knife into the heart of him."
Moodie fired. The bear retreated up the clearing
with a low growl. Moodie and Jenny pursued him
some way, but it was too dark to discern any object
at a distance. I, for my part, stood at the open door,
laughing until the tears ran down my cheeks, at the
glaring eyes of the oxen, their ears erect, and their
tails carried gracefully on a level with their backs, as
they stared at me and the light in blank astonish-
ment. The noise of the gun had just roused John
460
THE FIRE
E from his slumbers. He was no less amused
than myself, until he saw that a fine yearling heifer
was bleeding, and found, upon examination, that the
poor animal, having been in the claws of the bear,
was dangerously, if not mortally hurt.
" I hope," he cried, " that the brute has not touched
my foal!" I pointed to the black face of the filly
peeping over the back of an elderly cow.
"You see, John, that Bruin preferred veal; there's
your * horsey,' as Dunbar calls her, safe, and laughing
at you."
Moodie and Jenny now returned from the pursuit
of the bear. E fastened all the cattle into the
back yard, close to the house. By daylight he and
Moodie started in chase of Bruin, whom they tracked
by his blood some way into the bush, but here he en-
tirely escaped their search.
THE BEARS OF CANADA.
Oh ! bear me frDHLthis_savag&4and of fears,
F or *tisjr\dee&j£Mfo&rttMe to mot
I'd ratKeFcope with vilest worldly cares,
Or writhe with cruel sickness of the sea.
Oh! bear me to my own bare land of hills,*
Where I'd be sure brave &zr^-legg'd lads to see —
Bear cakes, bare rocks, and whiskey stills,
And &?r£-legg'd nymphs, to smile once more on me.
I'd bear the heat, I'd bear the freezing air
Of equatorial realm or Arctic Sea,
I'd sit all bare at night, and watch the Northern Bear,
And bless my soul that he was far from me,
* The Orkney Isles,
46T
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
I'd bear the poor-rates, tithes, and all the ills
John Bull must bear (who takes them all, poor sinner!
As patients do when forced to gulp down pills,
And water-gruel drink in lieu of dinner).
I'd bear the bareness of all barren lands
Before I'd bear \h& bearishness of this;
Bare head, bare feet, bare legs, bare hands,
Bear everything, but want of social bliss.
But should I die in this drear land of bears^
Oh! ship me off, my friends, discharge the sable wearers,
For if you don't, in spite of priests and prayers,
The bears will come, and eat up corpse and bearers.
J. W. D. M.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE OUTBREAK
CHAPTER XXI. THE OUTBREAK
Can a corrupted stream pour through the land
Health-giving waters? Can the slave, who lures
His wretched followers with the hope of gain,
Feel in his bosom the immortal fire
That bound a Wallace to his country's cause,
And bade the Thracian shepherd cast away
Rome's galling yoke; while the astonished world —
Rapt into admiration at the deed —
Paused, ere she crush'd, with overwhelming force,
The man who fought to win a glorious grave?
THE LONG-PROTRACTED HARVEST WAS
at length brought to a close. Moodie had procured
another ox from Dummer, by giving a note at six
months' date for thepayment; and he and JohnE
were in the middle of sowing their fall crop of wheat,
when the latter received a letter from the old country,
which conveyed to him intelligence of the death of
his mother, and of a legacy of two hundred pounds.
It was necessary for him to return to claim the pro-
perty, and though we felt his loss severely, we could
not, without great selfishness, urge him to stay. John
had formed an attachment to a young lady in the
country, who, like himself, possessed no property.
Their engagement, which had existed several years,
had been dropped, from its utter hopelessness, by
mutual consent. Still the young people continued to
love each other, and to look forward to better days,
when their prospects might improve so far that E
would be able to purchase a bush-farm, and raise a
house, however lowly, to shelter his Mary.
He, like our friend Malcolm, had taken a fancy to
buy a part of our block of land which he could culti-
vate in partnership with Moodie, without being ob-
465 20
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
liged to hire, when the same barn, cattle, and imple-
ments would serve for both. Anxious to free himself
from the thraldom of debts which pressed him sore,
Moodie offered to part with two hundred acres at
less than they cost us, and the bargain was to be con-
sidered as concluded directly the money was forth-
coming.
It was a sorrowful day when our young friend left
\^ B us; he had been a constant inmate in the house for
nine months, and not one unpleasant word had ever
passed between us. He had rendered our sojourn in
the woods more tolerable by his society, and sweet-
ened our bitter lot by his friendship and sympathy.
We both regarded him as a brother, and parted with
him with sincere regret. As to old Jenny, she lifted
up her voice and wept, consigning him to the care
and protection of all the saints in the Irish calendar.
For several days after John left us, a deep gloom
pervaded the house. Our daily toil was performed
with less cheerfulness and alacrity; we missed him at
the evening board, and at the evening fire; and the
children asked each day, with increasing earnestness,
when dear E would return.
Moodie continued sowing his fall wheat. The task
was nearly completed, and the chill October days
were fast verging upon winter, when towards the even-
ing of one of them he contrived — I know not how —
to crawl down from the field at the head of the hill,
faint and pale, and in great pain. He had broken
the small bone of his leg. In dragging among the
stumps, the heavy machine (which is made in the form
of the letter V, and is supplied with large iron teeth)
466
THE OUTBREAK
had hitched upon a stump, and being swung off again
by the motion of the oxen, had come with great force
against his leg. At first he was struck down, and for
some time was unable to rise; but at length he con-
trived to unyoke the team, and crawled partly on his
hands and knees down the clearing.
What a sad, melancholy evening that was ! Fortune
seemed never tired of playing us some ugly trick.
The hope which had so long sustained me seemed
about to desert me altogether; when I saw him on -
whom we all depended for subsistence, and whose
kindly voice ever cheered us under the pressure of
calamity, smitten down helpless, all my courage and
faith in the goodness of the Divine Father seemed to
forsake me, and I wept long and bitterly.
The next morning I went in search of a messenger,
to send to Peterborough for the doctor; but though
I found and sent the messenger, the doctor never came.
Perhaps he did not like to incur the expense of a fati-
guing journey, with small chance of obtaining a suf-
ficient remuneration.
Our dear sufferer contrived, with assistance, to
bandage his leg ; and after the first week of rest had
expired, he amused himself with making a pair of
crutches, and in manufacturing Indian paddles for the
canoe, axe-handles, and yokes for the oxen. It was
wonderful with what serenity he bore this unexpect-
ed affliction.
Buried in the obscurity of those woods, we knew no- '
thing, heard nothing of the political state of the coun-
try, and were little aware of the revolution which was
about to work a great change for us and for Canada.
467
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
The weather continued remarkably mild. The first
great snow, which for years had ordinarily fallen be-
„ \ tween the loth and 1 5th of November, still kept off.
4 L- November passed on; and as all our firewood had to
J \Y^ kg chopped by old Jenny during the-hmrerress of my
husband, I was truly grateful to God for the continu-
ed mildness of the weather.
^ ^ i On the 4th of December — that great day of the out-
break— Moodie was determined to take advantage of
. the open state of the lake to carry a large grist up to
Y 's mill. I urged upon him the danger of a man
attempting to manage a canoe in rapid water who was
unable to stand without crutches; but Moodie saw
that the children would need bread, and he was anx-
ious to make the experiment.
Finding that I could not induce him to give up the
journey, I determined to go with him. Old Wittals,
who happened to come down that morning, assisted in
placing thebags of wheat in the little vessel, and help-
ed to place Moodie at the stern. With a sad, forebod-
ing spirit, I assisted to push off from the shore.
The air was raw and cold, but our sail was not with-
out its pleasure.
The lake was very full from the heavy rains, and the
canoe bounded over the waves with a free, springy
motion. A slight frost had hung every little bush and
spray along the shores with sparkling crystals. The
red pigeon-berries, shining through their coating of
ice, looked like cornelian beads set in silver, and strung
from bush to bush. We found the rapids at the entrance
of Bessikakoon Lake very hard to stem, and were so
often carried back by the force of the water, that, cold
468
THE OUTBREAK
as the air was, the great exertion which Moodie had to
make use of to attain the desired object brought the
perspiration out in big drops upon his forehead. His
long confinement to the house and low diet had rend-
ered him very weak.
The old miller received us in the most hearty and
hospitable manner, and complimented me upon my I yyvtvf/7
courage in venturing upon the water in such cold,
rough weather. Norah was married, but the kind Betty
provided us an excellent dinner, while we waited for J
the grist to be ground.
It was near four o'clock when we started on our re-
turn. If there had been danger in going up the stream,
there was morein coming down. The wind had chang-
ed, the air was frosty, keen, and biting, and Moodie's
paddle came up from every dip into the water loaded
with ice. For my part, I had only to sit still at the bot-
tom of the canoe, as we floated rapidly down with wind
and tide. At the landing we were met by old Jenny, ^
who had a long story to tell us, of which we could
make neither head nor tail — how some gentleman
had called during our absence, and left a large paper,
all about the Queen and the Yankees; that there was
war between Canada and the States; that Toronto
had been burnt, and the governor killed, and I know
not what other strange and monstrous statements.
After much fatigue, Moodie climbed the hill, and we fa
were once more safe by our own fireside. Here we
found the elucidation of Jenny's marvellous tales: a /
copy of the Queen's proclamation, calling upon all \
loyal gentlemen to join in putting down the unnatur-/
al rebellion.
469
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
A letter from my sister explained the nature of the
outbreak, and the astonishment with which the news
had been received by all the settlers in the bush. My
brother and my sister's husband had already gone off
to join some of the numerous bands of gentlemen who
were collecting from all quarters to march to the aid
of Toronto, which it was said was besieged by the
rebel force. She advised me not to suffer Moodie to
leave home in his present weak state ; but the spirit of
my husband was aroused, he instantly obeyed what
he considered the imperative call of duty, and told
me to prepare him a fewnecessaries,that he might be
ready to start early in the morning.
Little sleep visited our eyes that night. We talked
over the strange news for hours; our coming separa-
tion, and the probability that,if things were as bad as
they appeared to be, we might never meet again. Our
affairs were in such adesperate condition that Moodie
anticipated that any change must be for the better;
it was impossible for them to be worse. But the poor,
anxious wife thought only of a parting which to her
put a finishing stroke to all her misfortunes.
- Before the cold, snowy morning broke, we were all
stirring. The children, who had learned that their
father was preparing to leave them, were crying and
clinging round his knees. His heart was too deeply
affected to eat; the meal passed over in silence, and he
rose to go. I put on my hat and shawl to accompany
him through the wood as far as my sister Mrs. T 's.
Theday was like our destiny, cold,dark, and lowering.
I gave the dear in valid his crutches, and we commenc-
ed our sorrowful walk. Then old Jenny's lamentations
470
THE OUTBREAK
burst forth, as flinging her arms round my husband's
neck, she kissed and blessed him after the fashion of
her country.
"Och hone! och hone!" she cried, wringing her
hands, "masther dear, why will you lave the wife and
the childher? The poor crathur is breakin' her heart
intirely at partin' wid you. Shure an' the war is nothiri'
to you, that you must be goin' into danger, an' you
wid a broken leg. Och hone! och hone ! comeback to
your home — you will be kilt, and thin what will be-
come of the wife and the wee bairns?"
Her cries and lamentations followed us into the
wood. At my sister's, Moodie and I parted; and with
a heavy heart I retraced my steps through the wood.
For once I forgot all my fears. I never felt the cold.
Sad tears were flowing over my cheeks ; when I en- 'M^1
tered the house, hope seemed to have deserted me,and£#£)£
for upwards of an hour I lay upon the bed and wept. £,.££y
Poor Jenny did her best to comfort me, but all joy
had vanished with him who was my light of life.
Left in the most absolute uncertainty as to the real
state of public affairs, I could only conjecture what
might be the result of this sudden outbreak. Several
poor settlers called at the house during the day, on
their way down to Peterborough; but they brought
with them the most exaggerated accounts. There had
been a battle, they said, with the rebels, and the loy-
alists had been defeated; Toronto was besieged by
sixty thousand men, and all the men in the backwoods
were ordered to march instantly to the relief of the
city.
In the evening I received a note from Emilia, who
\
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
was at Peterborough, in which she informed me that
my husband had borrowed a horse of Mr. S , and
had joined a large party of two hundred volunteers,
who had left that morning for Toronto; that there had
been abattle with the insurgents ; that Colonel Moodie
had been killed, and the rebels had retreated; and that
she hoped my husband would return in a few days.
The honest backwoodsmen, perfectly ignorant of
the abuses that had led to the present position of
things, regarded the rebel s^w aJcLjpf monsters? for
whom no punishment was too severe, and obeyed the
call to arms with enthusiasm. The leader of the insur-
gents must have been astonished at the rapidity with
which a large force was collected, as if by magic, to re-
pel his designs. A great number of those volunteers
were half-pay officers, many of whom had fought in
the continental wars with the armies of Napoleon, and
would have been found a host in themselves. |[ must
own that my British spirit was fairly aroused, and, as
I could not aid in subduing the enemies of my beloved
1 country with my arm, I did what little I could to serve
the good cause with my pen. It may probably amuse
my readers to give them a specimen of these loyal
staves, which were widely circulated through the Col-
ony at the time:—
THE OATH OF THE CANADIAN VOLUNTEERS.
Huzza for England! — May she claim
Our fond devotion ever;
And, by the glory of her name,
Our brave forefathers' honest fame,
We swear — no foe shall sever
472
THE OUTBREAK
Her children from their parent's side;
Though parted by the wave,
In weal or woe, whate'er betide.
We swear to die, or save
Her honour from the rebel band
Whose crimes pollute our injured land!
Let the foe come — we will not shrink
To meet them if they dare;
Well must they fight, ere rashly think
To rend apart one sacred link
That binds our country fair
To that dear isle, from whence we sprung,
Which gave our fathers birth;
Whose glorious deeds her bards have sung;
The unrivall'd of the earth.
The highest privilege we claim,
To own her sway — to bear her name.
Then, courage^ loyal volunteers!
Goodwill
That thought will banislTsTavish fears,
That blessed consciousness still cheers
The soldier in the fight.
The stars for us shall never burn,
The stripes may frighten slaves,
The Briton's eye will proudly turn
Where Britain's standard waves.
Beneath its folds, if Heaven requires,
We'll die, as died of old our sires!
In a week, Moodie returned. TS"
had poured -into-Teronto that the number of friends
was likely to prove as disastrous as that of enemies,
on account of the want of supplies to maintain them
all. The companies from the back townships had been
remanded, and I received with delight my own again.
But this re-union did not last long. Several regiments
473
~
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
of militiawere formed to defend_the^olony, and -to
my WosBand was given the rank of captain in one of
thtrse"then staTToned in Toronto.
2oth of January 1838, he bade us a long ^
/ I was left with old Jenny and the children to
take care of the farm. It was a sad, dull time. I could
bear up against all trials with him to comfort and cheer
me, but his long-continued absence cast a gloom upon
my spirit not easily to be shaken off. Still his very ap-
pointment to this situation was a signal act of mercy.
From his full pay, he was enabled to liquidate many
pressing debts and to send home from time to time
sums of money to procure necessaries for me and the
little ones. These remittances were greatly wanted ;
but I demurred before laying them out for comforts
which we had been so long used to dispense with. It
seemed almost criminal to purchase any article of
luxury, such as tea and sugar, while a debt remained
unpaid.
The Y - y's were very pressing for the thirty
pounds that we owed them for the clearing; but they
had such a firm reliance upon the honour of my hus-
band, that, poor and pressed for money as we were,
they never sued us. I thought it would be a pleasing
surprise to Moodie, if, with the sums of money which
I occasionally received from him, I could diminish this
debt, which had always given him the greatest un-
easiness; and, my resolution once formed,! would not
allow any temptation to shake it.
The money was always transmitted to Dummer.
I only reserved the sum of two dollars a month, to
pay a little lad to chop wood for us. After a time, I
474
THE OUTBREAK
began to think the Y y's were gifted with second-
sight, for I never received a money-letter but the very . J
next day I was sure to see some of the family. ( . \\ ^
Just at this period I received a letter from a gentle-
man, requesting me to write for a magazine (the Lit-
erary Garland), just started in Montreal, with promise
to remunerate me for my labours. Such an applica-
tion was like a gleam of light springingup in thedark-
ness; it seemed to promise the dawning of a brighter
day. I had never been able to turn my thoughts to- V
wards literature during my sojourn inthebush. When J
the body is fatigued with labour, unwonted and beyond
its strength, the mind is in no condition for mental
occupation.
The year before, I had been requested by an Amer-
ican author, of great merit, to contribute to the North
American Review, published for several years in
Philadelphia ; and he promised to remunerate me in
proportion to the success of the work. I had contrived
to write several articles after the children were asleep,
though the expense even of the stationery and the
postage of the manuscripts was severely felt by one
so destitute of means ; but the hope of being the least
service to those dear to me cheered me to the task. I
never realized anything from that source; but I be-
lieve it was not the fault of the editor. Several other
American editors had written to me to furnish them
with articles, but I was unable to pay the postage of
heavy packets to the States, and they could not reach
their destination without being paid to the frontier.
Thus, all chance of making anything in that way had
been abandoned. I wrote to Mr. L , and frankly
475
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
informed him how I was situated. In the most liberal
manner, he offered to pay the postage on all manu-
scripts to his office, and left me to name my own terms
of remuneration. This opened up a new era in my ex-
istence, and for many years I have found in this gen-
erous man, to whom I am still personally unknown,
a steady friend. I actually shed tears of joy over the
first twenty-dollar bill I received from Montreal It
Was my own; I had earned it with my own hand;
• ancHt seemed to my delighted fancy to form the nuc-
leus out of which a future independence for my fetmily
_jnight.anse.-JLno longer retired to bed when the lab-
ours of the day were over. I sat up and wrote by the
light of a strange sort of candle that Jenny called
"sluts," and which the old woman manufactured out
of pieces of old rags twisted together and dipped in
pork lard, and stuck in a bottle. They did not give a
bad light, but it took a great many of them to last
me for a few hours.
The faithful old creature regarded my writings
with a jealous eye.
" An', shure, it's killin' yerself that you are intirely.
You were thin enough before you took to the pen ;
scriblin' an' scrablin' when you should be in bed an'
asleep. What good will it be to your childher, dear
heart! if you die afore your time, by wastin' your
strength afther that fashion?"
Jenny never could conceive the use of books.
^ " Shure we can live and die widout them. It's only a
waste of time botherin' your brains wid the like of
them; but, thank goodness! the lard will soon be all
done, an' thin we shall hear you spakin'again, instead
>« 476
THE OUTBREAK
of sittin' there doubled up all night, destroying your
eyes wid porin' over the dirthy writin'."
As the sugar-making season drew near, Jenny con-
ceived the bold thought of making a good lump of
sugar, that the "childher" might have something to
"ate" with their bread during the summer. We had
no sugar-kettle, but a neighbour promised to lend us
his, and to give us twenty -eight troughs, on condition
that we gave him half the sugar we made.
The very first day a terrible accident happened to
us ; a large log fell upon the sugar-kettle — the bor-
rowed sugar-kettle — and cracked it, spilling all the
sap, and rendering the vessel, which had cost four
dollars, useless. We were all in dismay. Just at that
time Old Wittals happened to pass on his way to
Peterborough. He very good-na,turedly offered to get
the kettle repaired for us, which, he said, could be
easily done by a rivet and an iron hoop. But where
was the money to come from? I thought awhile.
Katie had a magnificent coral and bells, the gift of
her godfather ; I asked the dear child if she would
give it to buy another kettle for Mr. T . She said,
" I would give ten times as much to help mamma."
I wrote a little note to Emilia, who was still at her
father's ; and Mr. W , the storekeeper, sent us a
fine sugar-kettle back by Wittals, and also the other
mended, in exchange for the useless piece of finery.
We had now two kettles at work, to the joy of Jenny,
who declared that it was a lucky fairy who had broken
the old kettle.
While Jenny was engaged in boiling and gathering
the sap in the bush, I sugared off the syrup in the
477
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
house, an operation watched by the children with
intense interest. After standing all day over the hot
stove-fire, it was quite a refreshment to breathe the
pure air at night. Every evening I ran up to see Jenny
in the bush, singing and boiling down the sap in the
front of her little shanty. The old woman was in her
element, and afraid of nothing under the stars ; she
slept beside her kettles at night, and snapped her fin-
gers at the idea of the least danger. She was some-
times rather despotic in her treatment of her attend-
ant, Sol. One morning, in particular, she bestowed
upon the lad a severe cuffing.
I ran up the clearing to the rescue, when my ears
were assailed by the "boo-hooing" of the boy.
"What has happened? Why do you beat the child,
Jenny?"
" It's jist, thin, I that will bate him — the unlucky
omadhawn! Has not he spilt and spiled two buckets
of syrup, that I have been the live-long night bilin'?
Sorra wid him; I'd like to strip the skin off him, I
would ! Musha! but 'tis enough to vex a saint."
"Ah, Jenny!" blubbered the poor boy, "but you
have no mercy. You forget that I have but one eye,
and that I could not see the root which caught my
foot and threw me down."
" Faix ! an' 'tis a pity that you have the one eye,
when you don't know how to make a betther use of
it," muttered the angry dame, as she picked up the
pails, and pushing him on before her, beat a retreat
into the bush.
I was heartily sick of the sugar-making long before
the season was over; however, we were well paid for
478
THE OUTBREAK
our trouble. Besides one hundred and twelve pounds
of fine soft sugar, as good as Muscovado, we had six
gallons of molasses, and a keg containing six gallons
of excellent vinegar. There was no lack, this year, of
nice preserves and pickled cucumbers, dainties found
in every native Canadian establishment.
Besides gaining a little money with my pen, I prac-
tised a method of painting birds and butterflies upon
the white, velvety surface of the large fungi, that grow
plentifully upon the bark of the sugar-maple. These
had an attractive appearance, and my brother, who
was a captain in one of the provisional regiments,
sold a great many of them among the officers, with-
out saying by whom they were painted. One rich
lady in Peterborough, long since dead, ordered two
dozen to send as curiosities to England. These, at
one shilling each, enabled me to buy shoes for the
children, who, during our bad times, had been forced
to dispense with these necessary coverings. How of-
ten, during the winter season, have I wept over their
little chapped feet, literally washing them with my
tears ! But these days were to end ; Providence was
doing great things for us; and Hope raised at last
her drooping head, to regard with a brighter glance
the far-off future.
Slowly the winter rolled away; but he to whom
every thought turned was still distant from his hum-
ble home. The receipt of an occasional letter from
him was my only solace during his long absence, and
we were still too poor to indulge often in this luxury.
My poor Katie was as anxious as her mother to hear
from her father; and when I did get the long-looked -
479
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
for prize, she would kneel down before me, her little
elbows resting on my knees, her head thrown back,
and the tears trickling down her innocent cheeks,
eagerly drinking in every word.
The spring brought us plenty of work; wehad pota-
toes and corn to plant, and the garden to cultivate.
By lending my oxen for two days' work, I got Wittals,
who had no oxen, to drag me in a few acres of oats,
and to prepare the land for potatoes and corn. The
former I dropped into the earth, while Jenny covered
them up with the hoe.
• Our garden was well dug and plentifully manured,
the woman bringing the manure, which had lain for
several years at the barn door, down to the plot in a
large Indian basket placed upon a hand-sleigh. We
had soon every sort of vegetable sown, with plenty
of melons and cucumbers, and all our beds promised
a good return. There were large flights of ducks up-
on the lake every night and morning, but though we
had guns, we did not know how to use them. How-
ffVrr, T flmiijjlil W^pjan whirhj T flatterer! myself,
might prove successful; I got Sol to plant two stakes
in the shallow water near the rice beds, and to these
y ^ I attached a slender rope, made by braiding long
strips of the inner bark of the basswood together; to
these again I fastened, at regular intervals, about a
quarter of a yard of whipcord, headed by a strong
perch-hook. These hooks I baited with fish offal, leav-
ing them to float just under the water. Early next
morning, I saw a fine black duck fluttering upon the
line. The boy ran down with the paddles, but before
he could reach the spot, the captive got away, by
480
THE OUTBREAK
carrying the hook and line with him. At the next
stake he found upon the hooks a large eel and a catfish.
I had never before seen one of those whiskered,
toad-like natives of the Canadian waters (so common
to the Bay of Quinte, where they grow to a great
size), that I was really terrified at the sight of the hid-
eous beast, and told Sol to throw it away. In this I
was very foolish, for they are esteemed good eating
in many parts of Canada, but to me the sight of the
reptile-like thing is enough — it is uglier and far more
disgusting-looking than a toad.
When the trees came into leaf, and the meadows
were green and flushed with flowers, the poor children
used to talk constantly to me of their father's return;
their innocent prattlemademe very sad. Every even-
ing we walked into the wood, along the path that he
must come whenever he did return home, to meet
him; and, though it was a vain hope, and the walk
was taken just to amuse the little ones, I used to be
silly enough to feel deeply disappointed when we re-
turned alone. Donald, who was a mere baby when
his father left us, could just begin to put words to-
gether. "Who is papa?" "When will he come?"
"Will he come by the road?" "Will he come in a can-
oe?" The little creature's curiosity to see this un-
known father was really amusing; and oh! how I long-
ed to present the little fellow, with his rosy cheeks
and curling hair, to his father; he was so fair, so alto-
gether charming in my eyes. Emilia had called him
Cedric the Saxon ; and he well suited the name, with @f^ \
his frank, honest disposition, and large, loving, blue J
eyes.
48} 2H
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
June had commenced ; the weather was very warm,
and Mr. T had sent for the loan of old Jenny to
help him for a day with his potatoes. I had just pre-
pared dinner when the old woman came shrieking
like a mad thing down the clearing, and waving her
hands towards me. I could not imagine what had
happened.
"Ninny's mad!" whispered Dunbar; "she's the old
girl for making a noise."
"Joy! joy!" bawled out the old woman, now run-
ning breathlessly towards us. "The masther's come
— the masther's come!"
"Where?— where?"
"Jist above in the wood. Goodness gracious! I
have run to let you know — so fast — that my heart —
is like to — break."
Without stopping to comfort poor Jenny, off start-
ed the children and myself, at the very top of our
speed; but I soon found that I could not run — I was
too much agitated. I got to the head of the bush,
and sat down upon a fallen tree. The children sprang
forward like wild kids, all but Donald, who remained
with his old nurse. I covered my face with my hands,
my heart, too, was beating audibly, and now that he
was come, and was so near me, I scarcely could com-
mand strength to meet him. The sound of happy
young voices roused me up; the children were leading
him along in triumph, and he was bending down to
them, all smiles, but hot and tired with his long
journey. It was almost worth our separation, that
blissful meeting. In a few minutes he was at home,
and the children upon his knees. Katie stood silently
482
THE OUTBREAK
holding his hand, but Addie and Dunbar had a thou-
sand things to tell him. Donald was frightened at his
military dress, but he peeped at him from behind my
gown, until I caught and placed him in his father's
arms.
His leave of absence only extended to a fortnight.
It had taken him three days to come all the way from
Lake Erie, where his regiment was stationed at Point
Abino ; and the same time would be consumed in his
return. He could only remain with us eight days.
How soon they fled away ! H o w bitter was the thought
of parting with him again! He had brought money
to pay the Y y's. How surprised he was to find
their large debt more than half liquidated. How
gently did he chide me for depriving myself and the
children of the little comforts he had designed for
us, in order to make this sacrifice. But never was
self-denial more fully rewarded; I felt happy in hav-
ing contributed in the least to pay a just debt to
kind and worthy people. You must become poor v '\
yourself before you can fully appreciate the good 11 C I/
qualities of the poor — before you can sympathize
with them, and fully recognize them as your breth-
ren in the flesh. Their benevolence to each other, ex-
ercised amidst want and privation, as far surpasses
the munificence of the rich towards them, as the ex-
alted philanthropy of Christ and His disciples does
the Christianity of the present day. The rich
gives from his abundance; the poor man shares wit
I a distressed comrade his all.
One short, happy week too soon fled away, and
we were once more alone. In the fall, my husband
483
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
expected the regiment in which he held his commis-
sion would be reduced, which would again plunge us
into the same ^istressing4ip^erty.Often of a night
I revolved these things in my^rmTcTpand perplexed
myself with conjectures as to what in future was to
become of us. Although he had saved all he could
from his pay, it was impossible to pay several hun-
dreds of pounds of debt; and the steam-boat stock
still continued a dead letter. To remain much longer
in the woods was impossible, for the returns from the
farm scarcely fed us, and but for the clothing sent us
by our friends from home, whpjwerenqt aware-of our
real difficulties, we should have been badly off indeed.
I pondered over every plan that thought could de-
vise; at last, I prayed to the Almighty to direct me
as to what would be the best course for us to pursue.
A sweet assurance stole over me, and soothed my
} $ spirit, that God would provide for us, as He had
hitherto done — that a great deal of our distress arose
from want of faith. I was just sinking into a calm
sleep when the thought seemed whispered into my
soul, "Write to the Governor; tell him candidly all
you have suffered during your sojourn in this country,
and trust to God for the rest."
At first I paid little heed to this suggestion; but it
became so importunate that at last I determined to
act upon it as if it were a message sent from heaven.
I rose from my bed, struck a light, sat down, and
wrote a letter to the Lieutenant-Governor,Sir George
Arthur, a simple statement of facts, leaving it to his
benevolence to pardon the liberty I had taken in ad-
dressing him.
484
THE OUTBREAK
I asked of him to continue my husband in the
militia service, in the same regiment in which he now
held the rank of captain, which, by enabling him to
pay our debts, would rescue us from our present mis-
ery. Of the political character of Sir George Arthur
I knew nothing. I addressed him as a man and a
Christian; and I acknowledge, with the deepest and
most heartfelt gratitude,the generous kindness of his
conduct towards us.
Before the day dawned, my letter was ready for
the post. The first secret I ever had from my hus-
band was the writing of that letter; and, proud and
sensitive as he was, and averse to asking the least
favour of the great, I was dreadfully afraid that the
act I had just done would be displeasing to him; still,
I felt resolutely determined to send it. After giving
the children their breakfast, I walked down and read
it to my brother-in-law, who was not only much
pleased with its contents, but took it down himself
to the post-office.
Shortly after, I received a letter from my hus-
band, informing me that the regiment had been
reduced, and that he should be home in time to get
in the harvest. Most anxiously I awaited a reply
to my application from the Governor, but no reply
came.
The first week in August our dear Moodie came
home, and brought with him, to our no small joy, J.
E , who had just returned from Ireland. E
had been disappointed about the money, which was
subject to litigation; and, tired of waiting at home
until the tedious process of the law should terminate,
485
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
he had come back to the woods, and, before night,
was reinstated in his old quarters.
His presence made Jenny all alive; she dared him
at once to a trial of skill with her in the wheat-field,
which E prudently declined. He did not expect
to stay longer in Canada than the fall, but, whilst he
did stay, he was to consider our house his home.
That harvest was the happiest we ever spent in the
bush. We had enough of the common necessaries of
life. A spirit of peace and harmony pervaded our
little dwelling, for the most affectionate attachment
existed among its members. We were not troubled
.with servants, for the good old. Jjennyja[e7egarded as
an humble frierid,"and were freed, by that circum-
stance, from many of the cares and vexations of a
liy&hJlfej, Our evening excursions on the lake were
douBIyenjoyed after the labours of the day, and night
brought us calm and healthful repose.
The political struggles that convulsed the country
were scarcely echoed in the depths of those primeval
forests, though the expulsion of Mackenzie from
Navy Island, and the burning of the Caroline by
Captain Drew, had been discussed on the farthest
borders of civilization.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE WHIRLWIND
CHAPTER XXII. THE WHIRLWIND*
"Dark heavy clouds were gathering in the west,
Wrapping the forest in funereal gloom;
Onward they roll'd, and rear'd each livid crest,
Like Death's murk shadows frowning o'er earth's tomb.
From out the inky womb of that deep night
Burst livid flashes of electric flame.
Whirling and circling with terrific might,
In wild confusion on the tempest came.
Nature, awakening from her still repose,
Shudders responsive to the whirlwind's shock,
Feels at her mighty heart convulsive throes;
Her groaning forests to earth's centre rock."
S. S.
THE ipth OF AUGUST CAME, AND OUR
harvest was all safely housed. Business called Moodie
away for a few days to Cobourg. Jenny had gone to
Dummer to visit her friends, and J. E had taken
a grist of the new wheat, which he and Moodie had
threshed the day before, to the mill. I was conse-
quently left alone with the children, and had a double
portion of work to do. During their absence it was
my lot to witness the most awful storm I ever beheld,
and a vivid recollection of its terrors was permanent-
ly fixed upon my memory.
The weather had been intensely hot during the
three preceding days, although the sun was entirely
obscured by a bluish haze, which seemed to render
:he unusual heat of the atmosphere more oppressive.
t a breath of air stirred the vast forest, and the
waters of the lake assumed a leaden hue. After pass-
ng a sleepless night, I arose, a little after daybreak,
to superintend my domestic affairs. E took his
' For the poem that heads this chapter, I am indebted to my brother,
Mr. Sutherland, of Douro, C. W.
489
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
breakfast and went off to tb-e^yil^Jioping that the
rain would keejToff until after his return.
"It is no joke," he said, "being upon these lakes in
a small canoe, heavily laden, in a storm."
Before the sun rose, the heavens were covered with
hard-looking clouds of a deep blue and black cast,
fading away to white at their edges, and in form re-
sembling the long, rolling waves of a heavy sea — but
with this difference, that the clouds were perfectly
motionless, piled in long curved lines, one above the
other, and so remained until four o'clock in the after-
noon. The appearance of these clouds, as the sun rose
above the horizon, was the most splendid that can be
imagined, tinged up to the zenith with every shade
of saffron, gold, rose-colour, scarlet, and crimson, fad-
ing away into the deepest violet. Never did the
storm-fiend shake in the face of day a more gorge-
ous banner; and, pressed as I was for time, I stood
gazing like one entranced upon the magnificent pag-
eant.
As the day advanced, the same blue haze obscured
the sun, which frowned redly through his misty veil.
At ten o'clock the heat was suffocating, and I extin-
guished the fire in the cooking-stove, determined to
make our meals upon bread and milk rather than add
to the oppressive heat. The thermometer in the shade
ranged from ninety-six to ninety-eight degrees, and
I gave over my work and retired with the little ones
to the coolest part of the house. The young creatures
stretched themselves upon the floor, unable to jump
about or play; the dog lay panting in the shade; the
fowls half-buried themselves in the dust, with open
49°
THE WHIRLWIND
beaks and outstretched wings. All nature seemed to
droop beneath the scorching heat.
Unfortunately for me, a gentleman arrived about
one o'clock from Kingston, to transact some business
with my husband. He had not tasted food since six
o'clock, and I was obliged to kindle the fire to prepare
his dinner. It was one of the hardest tasks I ever per-
formed; I almost fainted with the heat, and most in-
hospitably rejoiced when his dinner was over and I
saw him depart. Shortly after, my friend Mrs. C
and her brother called in, on their way from Peter-
borough.
"How do you bear the heat?" asked Mrs. C .
"This is one of the hottest days I ever remember to
have experienced in this part of the province. I am
afraid that it will end in a hurricane, or what the Lower
Canadians term Torage."'
About four o'clock they rose to go. I urged them
to stay longer. "No," said Mrs. C , "the sooner
we get home the better. I think we can reach it before
the storm breaks."
I took Donald in my arms, and my eldest boy by the
hand, and walked with them to the brow of the hill,
thinking that the air would be cooler in the shade. In
this I was mistaken. The clouds over our heads hung
so low, and the heat was so great, that I was soon glad
to retrace my steps.
The moment I turned round to face the lake, I was
surprised at the change that had taken place in the
appearance of the heavens. The clouds, that had be-
fore lain so motionless, were now in rapid motion,
hurrying and chasing each other round the horizon.
491
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
It was a strangely awful sight. Before I felt a breath
of the mighty blast that had already burst on the other
side of the lake, branches of trees, leaves, and clouds
of dust were whirled across the lake, whose waters
rose in long sharp furrows, fringed with foam, as if
moved in their depths by some unseen but powerful
agent.
Panting with terror, I just reached the door of the
house as the hurricane swept up the hill,crushingand
overturning everything in its course. Spell-bound, I
stood at the open door with clasped hands, unable to
speak, rendered dumb and motionless by the terrible
grandeur of the scene, while little Donald, who could
not utter many intelligible words, crept to my feet,
appealing to me for protection, and his rosy cheeks
paled even to marble whiteness. The hurrying clouds
gavetothe heavens the appearance of a pointed dome,
round which the lightning played in broad ribbons
of fire. The roaring of the thunder, the rushing of
the blast, the impetuous downpouringof the rain, and
the crash of falling trees were perfectly deafening;
and in the midst of this uproar of the elements, old
Jenny burst in, drenched with wet, and half-dead with
fear.
"The Lord preserve us!" she cried, "this surely is
the day of judgment. Fifty trees fell across my very
path, between this an' the creek. Mrs. C just
reached her brother's clearing a few minutes before
a great oak fell on her very path. What thunder! —
what lightning! Misthress,dear! — it's turn'd so dark,
I can only jist see yer face."
Glad enough was I of her presence; for to be alone
492
THE WHIRLWIND
in the heart of the great forest, in a log hut, on such a
night, was not a pleasing prospect. People gain cour-
age by companionship, and in order to reassure each
other, struggle to conceal their fears.
"And where is Mr. E ?"
" I hope not on the lake. He went early this morn-
ing to get the wheat ground at the mill."
"Och, the crathur! He's surely drowned. What
boat could stan' such a scrimmage as this?"
I had my fears for poor John; but as the chance
that he had to wait at the mill till others were served
was more than probable, I tried to still my apprehen-
sions for his safety.
The storm soon passed over, after having levelled
several acres of wood near the house,and smitten down
in its progress two gigantic pines in the clearing, which
must have withstood the force of a thousand winters.
A few minutes after our household had retired to
rest, my first sleep was broken by the voice of J.
E , speaking to old Jenny in the kitchen. Hehad
been overtaken by the storm, but had run his canoe
ashore upon an island before its full fury burst, and
turned it over the flour ; while he had to brave the
terrors of the pitiless tempest — buffeted by the wind,
and drenched with torrents of rain. I got up and made
him a cup of tea, while Jenny prepared a rasher of
bacon and eggs for his supper.
Shortly after this, J. E bade a final adieu to
Canada, with his cousin C. W . He volunteered
into the Scots Greys, and we never saw him more;
but I have been told that he was so highly respected
by the officers of the regiment, that they subscribed
493
^\i r*~
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
for his commission; that he rose to the rank of lieu-
tenant; accompanied the regiment to India, and was
at the taking of Cabul; but from himself we never
heard again.
The 1 6th of October, my thir^ son wag N^n ; anH
a few days after, mj^Jiusband- was-appconjxid pay-
master to the militia regiments in the V. District,
Tfiis was Sir George Arthur's 'doings'." He returned
no answer to my application, but he did not forget
us.
As the time that Moodie might retain his situation
was very doubtful, he thought it advisable not to re-
move me and the family until he could secure some
permanent situation ; by so doing, he would have a
better opportunity of saving the greater part of his
income to-pay off his old debts.
*vThi5 winter of l83crwtt9-efte-QLaevere trial to me.
Hitherto I had enjoyed the yessiagjaHjiealthjJbut
the children and myself were now doomed to_
suffer from dangerous attacks of illness. All the lit-
tleffimgs had malignarrt scarleTlbver^and, for sev-
eral days, I thought it would please the Almighty to
take from me my two girls. This fever is so fatal to
children in Canada, that none of my neighbours dar-
ed approach the house. For three weeks Jenny and
I were never undressed; our whole time was taken
up in nursing the five little helpless creatures through
the successive stages of their alarming disease. I sent
for Dr. Taylor ; but he did not come, and I was ob-
liged to trust to the mercy of God, and my own judg-
ment and good nursing. Though I escaped the fever,
494
THE WHIRLWIND
mental anxiety and fatigue brought on other illness,
which, for nearly ten weeks, rendered me perfectly
helpless. When I was again able to creep from my
sick-bed, the baby was seized with an illness which
Dr. B pronounced mortal. Against all hope, he
recovered, but these severe mental trials rendered me
weak and nervous, and more anxious than ever to be
re-united to my husband. To add to these troubles,
my sister and her husband sold their farm, and re-
moved from our neighbourhood. Mr. had return-
ed to England, and had obtained a situation in the
Customs; and his wife, my friend Emilia, was keeping
a school in the village ; so that I felt more solitary
than ever, thus deprived of so many kind, sympath-
izing friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE WALK TO DUMMER
21
XXIII. THE WALK TO DUMMER
We trod a weary path, through silent woods,
Tangled and dark, unbroken by a sound
Of cheerful life. The melancholy shriek
Of hollow winds careering o'er the snow,
Or tossing into waves the green pine tops,
Making the ancient forest groan and sigh
Beneath their mocking voice, awoke alone
The solitary echoes of the place.
READER! HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF A
place situated in the forest-depths of this far western
wilderness, called Dummer?^ , Ten years ago, it might
not inaptly have been,.texmed " The last clearing in
the world." Nor to this day do Fknow of any in that>
irection which extends beyond it. Our bush-farm
was situated on the border-line of a^rteighbouring
towjoshipx_pjnly one degree leslTwITd, less ^uFoT the
world, or nearer to the habitations of civilization than
the far-famed " English Line," the boast and glory of
this terra mc<ygn%a.
TSiFplace, scPnamed by the emigrants who had
pitched their tents in that solitary wilderness, was a
long line of cleared land, extending upon either side
for some miles through the darkest and most inter-
minable forest. The English Line was inhabited
chiefly by Cornish miners, who, tired of burrowing
like moles underground, had determined to emigrate
to Canada, where they could breathe the fresh air of
Heaven, and obtain the necessaries of life upon the
jbosom of their mother earth. Strange as it may ap-
pear, these men made good farmers, and steady, in-
dustrious colonists, working as well above ground as
they had toiled in their early days beneath it. All
|3ur best servants came from Dummer; and although
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
they spoke a language difficult to be understood, and
were uncouth in their manners and appearance, they
were faithful and obedient, performing the tasks as-
signed to them with patient perseverance; good food
and kind treatment rendering them always cheerful
and contented.
My dear old Jenny, that most faithful and attached
of all humble domestic friends, came from Dummer,
and I was wont to regard it with complacency for her
sake. But Jenny was not English ; she was a generous,
warm-hearted daughter of the Green Isle — the Emer-
ald gem set in the silver of ocean. Yes, Jenny was
one of the poorest children of that impoverished but
glorious country where wit and talent seem indigen-
ous, springing up spontaneously in the rudest and
most uncultivated minds; showing what the land
could bring forth in its own strength, unaided by edu-
cation, and unfettered by the conventional rules of
society. Jenny was a striking instance of the worth,
noble self-denial, and devotion which are often met
with — and, alas ! but too often disregarded — in the
poor and ignorant natives of that deeply-injured and
much-abused land. A few words about my old favour-
ite may not prove uninteresting to my readers.
Jenny Buchanan, or as she called it, Bohanon, was
the daughter of a petty exciseman of Scotch extrac-
tion who, at the time of her birth, resided near the
old town of Inniskillen. Her mother died a few months
after she was born, and her father, within the twelve
months, married again. In the meanwhile the poor
orphan babe had been adopted by a kind neighbour,
the wife of a small farmer in the vicinity.
500
THE WALK TO DUMMER
In return for coarse food and scanty clothing, the
little Jenny became a servant-of-all-work. She fe
the pigs, herded the cattle, assisted in planting potc
toes, and digging peat from the bog, and was undis
puted mistress of the poultry -yard. As she grew u
to womanhood, the importance of her labours increai
ed. A better reaper in the harvest-field, or footer £
turf in the bog, could not be found in the district, 4
a woman more thoroughly acquainted with the man-
agement of cows and the rearing of young cattle; but
here poor Jenny's accomplishments terminated.
Her usefulness was all abroad. Within the house
she made more dirt than she had the inclination or
the ability to clear away. She could neither read,
nor knit, nor sew; and although she called herself a
Protestant, and a Churchof England woman^sheknew
no more ofreligion. as revealed to man througlTthe —
Word of God/ttfan the savage who sinks to the grave
in ignoran.qg of a Redeemer. Hence she stoutly re-
si§ted~aITicIea of being a sinner, or of standing the
least chance of receiving hereafter the condemnation
of one.
" Och, shure thin," she would say, with simple earn-
estness of look and manner, almost irresistible. "God
will never throuble Himsel' about a poor, hard-work-
ng crathur like me, who never did any harm to the
manest of His makin'."
Onethingwas certain, that abenevolent Providence
lad "throubled Himsel'" about poor Jenny in times
)ast, for the warm heart of this neglected child of
aturecontained a stream of the richest benevolence,
|rhich, situated as she had been, could not have been
loi
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
derived from any other source. Honest, faithful, and
industrious, Jenny became a law unto herself, and
practically illustrated the golden rule of her blessed
Lord, "to do unto others as we would they should do
unto us." She thought it was impossible that her
poor services could ever repay the debt of gratitude
that she owed to the family who had brought her
up, although the obligation must have been entirely
on their side. To them she was greatly attached —
for them she toiled unceasingly; and when evil days
came, and they were not able to meet the rent-day,
or to occupy the farm, she determined to accompany
them in their emigration to Canada, and formed one
of the stout-hearted band that fixed its location in the
lonely and unexplored wilds now known as the town-
ship of Dummer.
During the first year of their settlement, the means
of obtaining the common necessaries of life became
so precarious, that, in order to assist her friends with
a little ready money, Jenny determined to hire out
into some wealthy house as a servant. When Luse
the term, wealth as applied to any h"gh-s.?ttkr, ^ is
(ScourSe^only comparatively ; but Jenny was anxious
to obtain a place with settlers who enjoyed a small
income independent of their forest means.
Her first speculation was a complete failure. For
five long, hopeless years she served a master from
whom she never received a farthing of her stipulated
wages. Still her attachment to the family was so strong
and had become so much the necessity of her life,
that the poor creature could not make up her mind
to leave them. The children whom she had received
502
THE WALK TO DUMMER
into her arms at their birth, and whom she had nursed
with maternal tenderness, were as dear to her as if
they had been her own ; she continued to work for
them although her clothes were worn to tatters, and
her own friends were too poor to replace them.
Her master, Captain N , a handsome, dashing
officer, who had served many years in India, still main-
tained the carriage and appearance of a gentleman,
in spite of his mental and moral degradation arising
from a constant state of intoxication ; he still pro-
mised to remunerate at some future day her faithful
services; and although all his neighbours well knew
that his means were exhausted, and that that day
would never come, yet Jenny, in the simplicity of her
faith, still toiled on, in the hope that the better day
he spoke of would soon arrive.
And now a few words respecting this master, which
I trust may serve as warning to others. Allured by
the bait that has been the ruin of so many of his class,
the offer of a large grant of land, Captain N had
been induced to form a settlement in this remote and
untried township, laying out much, if not all, of his
available means in building a log house, and clearing
a large extent of barren and stony land. To this un-
inviting home he conveyed a beautiful young wife,
'and a small and increasing family. The result may
ibe easily anticipated. The want of society — a dread-
jful want to a man of his previous habits — the total
absence of all the comforts and decencies of life, pro-
iduced inaction, apathy, and, at last, despondency,
which was only alleviated by a constant and immoder-
ate use of ardent spirits. As long as Captain N
5°3
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
retained his half-pay, he contrived to exist. In an
evil hour he parted with this, and quickly trod the
downhill path to ruin.
And here I would remark that it is always a rash
and hazardous step for any officer to part with his
half-pay, although it is almost every day done, and
generally followed by the same disastrous results. A
certain income, however small, in a country where
money is so hard to be procured, and where labourcan-
not be attained but at a very high pecuniary remuner-
ation, is invaluable to a gentleman unaccustomed to
agricultural employment; who, without this reserve
to pay his people, during the brief but expensive sea-
sons of seed-time and harvest, must either work him-
self or starve. I have known no instance in which such
sale has been attended with ultimate advantage ; but,
alas ! too many in which it has terminated in the most
distressing destitution. I These government grants of
land, to half-pay officers, have induced numbers of
this class to emigrate to the backwoods of Canada,
who are totally unfit for pioneers ;1put tempted by the
offer of finding HiemiaeTvfsmncInolde^s^oT what, on
, appear to them hne^estates^lhey resign a cer-
tainty, to waste their energies andjlie half^starved
and broken-hearted in the depths of the pk-iless wild.
If a gentleman so situated would give up all idea of
settling on his grant, but hire a good farm in a favour-
able situation — that is, not too far from a market —
and with his half-pay hire efficient labourers, of which
plenty are now to be had, to cultivate the land, with
common prudence and economy, he would soon ob-
ain a comfortable subsistence for his family. And if
5°4
THE WALK TO DUMMER
the males were brought up to share the burthen and
heat of the day, the expense of hired labour, as it year-
ly diminished, would add to the general means and
well-being of the whole, until the hired farm became
the real property of the industrious tenants. But the
love of show, the vain boast of appearing richer and
better dressed than our neighbours, too often involves
the emigrant's family in debt, from which they are sel-
dom able to extricate themselves without sacrificing
the means which would have secured their independ-
ence.
This, although a long digression, will not, I hope, be
without its use; and if this book is regarded not as
a work of amusement but one of practical experi-
ence, written for the benefit of others, it will not fail
to convey some useful hints to those who have con-
templated emigration to Canada, the best country in
the world for the industrious and well-principled man,
who really comes out to work, and to better his con-
dition by the labour of his hands ; but a gulf of ruin to
the vain and idle, who only set foot upon these shores
to accelerate their ruin.
But to return to Captain N . It was at this dis-
astrous period that Jenny entered his service. Had
her master adapted his habits and expenditure to his
altered circumstances, much misery might have been
spared, both to himself and his family. But he was
a proud man — too proud to work, or to receive with
kindness the offers of service tendered to him by his
half-civilized but well-meaning neighbours.
"Hang him!" cried an indignant English settler
(Captain N was an Irishman), whose offer of
505
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
drawing wood had been rejected with unmerited con-
tempt. "Wait a few years, and we shall see what his
pride will do for him. I am sorry for his poor wife and
children ; but for himself, I have no pity for him."
This man had been uselessly insulted, at the very
moment when he was anxious to perform a kind and
benevolent action ; when, like a true Englishman, his
heart was softened by witnessing the sufferings of a
young, delicate female and her infant family. Deeply
affronted by the captain's foolish conduct, he now
took a malignant pleasure in watching his arrogant
neighbour's progress to ruin.
The year after the sale of his commission, Captain
N found himself considerably in debt. " Never
mind, Ella," he said to his anxious wife; "the crops
will pay all."
The crops were a failure that year. Creditors press-
ed hard; the captain had no money to pay his work-
men, and he would not work himself. Disgusted with
his location, but unable to change it for a better ; with-
out friends in his own class (for he was the only gentle-
man then resident in the new township), to relieve the
monotony of his existence with their society, or to
afford him advice or assistance in his difficulties, the
fatal whiskey-bottle became his refuge from gloomy
thoughts.
/His-wffer^n amiable and devoted creature, well-
born, well-educated, and deserving of ahettef4otl did
all ir^^fjjower to wean him from the growin^vice* ;
But.'kja^Tme pleadings of an angel, in such circum-
stances/would have had little effect upon the mind of
such a man. He loved her as well as he could love
506
THE WALK TO DUMMER
anything, and he fancied that he loved his children,
while he was daily reducing them, by his favourite
vice, to beggary.
For awhile he confined his excesses to his own fire-
side, but this was only for as long a period as the sale
of his stock and land would supply him with the
means of criminal indulgence. After a time, all these
resources failed, and his large grant of eight hundred
acres of land had been converted into whiskey, except
the one hundred acres orrwhTcrT his hduse~"and barn
stood, embracing the small clearing from which the
family derived their scanty supply of wheat and pot-
atoes. For the sake of peace, his wife gave up all her
ornaments and household plate, and the best articles
of a once handsome and ample wardrobe, inj:he hope_
of hiding her sorrows from the world, and keeping
her husbandlflfKomer
The pride that had rendered him so obnoxious to
his humbler neighbours, yielded at length to the in-
oYdin ate graving for drink j-^he man who had held
himself so high above his honest and industrious
fellow-settlers, could now unblushingly enter their
cabins and beg for a drop of whiskey. The feeling of
shame oncefsu^3ued, tHere was no end to his audaci-
ous mendicity. His whole time was spent in wander-
ing about the country, calling upon every new set-
tler, in the hope of being asked to partake of the cov-
eted poison. He was even known to enter by the
window of an emigrant's cabin, during the absence
of the owner, and remain drinking in the house while
a drop of spirits could be found in the cupboard.
When driven forth by the angry owner of the hut, he
507
o\.
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
wandered on to the distant town of P , and lived
there in a low tavern, while his wife and children were
starving at home.
" He is the filthiest beast in the township," said the
afore-mentioned neighbour to me; "it would be a
good thing for his wife and children if his worthless
neck were broken in one of his drunken sprees."
This might be the melancholy fact, but it was not
the less dreadful on that account. The husband of an
affectionate wife — the father of a lovely family — and
his death to be a matter of rejoicing! — a blessing, in-
stead of being an affliction ! — an agony not to be
thought upon without the deepest sorrow.
Itwas at this melancholy period of her sad history,
that Mrs. N found, in Jenny Buchanan, a help
in her hour of need. The heart of the faithful crea-
ture bled for the misery which involved the wife of
her degraded master, and the children she so dearly
loved. Their want and destitution called all the
sympathies of her ardent nature into active opera-
tion; they were long indebted to her labour for every
morsel of food which they consumed. For them she '
sowed,she planted, she reaped. Every block ofwpocj
which shed a cheering warmth around their desolapfce^
\ home was cut from the forest by her own hands, and^
brought up a steep hill to the house upon her back.
For them she coaxed the neighbours, with whom
she was a general favourite, out of many a mess of ;
eggs for their especial benefit; while with her cheerful
songs, and hearty, hopeful disposition, she dispelled
much of the cramping despair which chilled the heart
of the unhappy mother in her deserted home.
508
THE WALK TO DUMMER
For several years did this great, poor woman keep
the wolf from the door of her beloved mistress, toil-
ing for her with the strength and energy of a man.
When was man ever so devoted, so devoid of all sel-
fishness, so attached to employers yet poorer than
herself, as this uneducated Irishwoman?
A period was at length put to her unrequited ser-
vices. In a fit of intoxication her master beat her
severely with the iron ramrod of his gun, and turned
her, with abusive language, from his doors. Oh, hard
return, for all her unpaid labours of love! She for-
gave this outrage for the sake of the helpless beings
who depended upon her care. He repeated the in-
jury, and the poor creature returned almost heart-
broken to her former home.
Thinking that his spite would subside in a few
days, Jenny made a third effort to enter his house in
her usual capacity; but Mrs N told her, with
many tears, that her presence would only enrage her
husband, who had threatened herself with the most
cruel treatment if she allowed the faithful servant
again to enter the house. Thus ended her five years'
service to the ungrateful master. Such was her re-
ward!
I heard of Jenny's worth and kindness from the
Englishman who had been so grievously affronted
by Captain N< , and sent for her to come to me.
She instantly accepted my offer, and returned with
my messenger. She had scarcely a garment to cover
her. I was obliged to find her a suit of clothes before
I could set her to work. The smiles and dimples of
my curly-headed, rosy little Donald, then a baby-boy
509
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
of fifteen months, consoled the old woman for her
separation from Ellie N - ; and the good-will with
which all the children (now four in number) regarded
the kind old body, soon endeared to her the new
home which Providence had assigned to her.
Her accounts of Mrs. N - , and her family, soon
deeply interested me in her fate; and Jenny never
went to visit her friends in Dummer without an inter-
change of good wishes passing between us.
^The year of the Canadian rebellion came, and
bought with it sof ro^~mto^^
Qld Jenny ^ andi^wgtglelr^Io^with the_Httl^ child-
ren, in the deptfisofthe dark forest, to help oui
4a-thl£besTway we could.^Men cofltcTnot be procured
•in thatthmty^settTed spot for love nor money, and I
now fully realized the extent of Jenny's usefulness.
Daily she yoked the oxen, and brought down from
the bush fuel to maintain our fires, which she felled
and chopped up with her own hands. She fed the
cattle, and kept all things snug about the doors, not
forgetting to load her master's two guns, "in case,"
as she said," the ribels should attack us in ourretrate."
The montterof November anTDemberf
had been unnaturally mild for this iron climate; but
the opening of the ensuing January brought a short
but severe spell of frost and snow. We felt very lone-
ly in our solitary dwelling, crouching round the
blazing fire, that scarcely chased the cold from our
miserable log-tenement, until this dreary period was
suddenly cheered by the unexpected presence of my
beloved friend, Emilia, who came to spend a week
with me in my forest home.
THE WALK TO DUMMER
She brought her own baby-boy with her, and an
ample supply of buffalo robes, not forgetting a treat
of baker's bread, and "sweeties" for the children.
Oh, dear Emilia! best and kindest of women, though
absent in your native land, long, long shall my heart
cherish with affectionate gratitude all your visits of
love, and turn to you as a sister, tried, and found
most faithful, in the dark hour of adversity, and
amidst the almost total neglect of those from whom
nature claimed a tenderer and holier sympathy.
Great was the joy of Jenny at this accession to our
family party ; and after Mrs. S was well warmed
and had partaken of tea — the only refreshment we
could offer her — we began to talk over the news of
the place.
"By the bye, Jenny," said she, turning to the old
servant, who was undressing the little boy by the fire,
"have you heard lately from poor Mrs. N ? We
have been told that she and the family are in a dread-
ful state of destitution. That worthless man has left
them for the States, and it is suppose^ that he has
joined Mackenzie's band of ruffians on Navy Island;
but whether this be true or false, he has deserted his
wife and children, taking his eldest son along with
him (who might have been of some service at home),
and leaving them without money or food."
" The good Lord ! What will become of the cra-
thurs? " responded Jenny, wiping her wrinkled cheek
with the back of her hard, brown hand. "An' thin
they have not a sowl to chop and draw them fire-
wood ; an' the weather so oncommon savare. Och,
hone! what has not that baste of a man to answer for?"
511
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"I heard," continued Mrs. S , "that they have
tasted no food but potatoes for the last nine months,
and scarcely enough of them to keep soul and body
together; that they have sold their last cow, and the
poor young lady and her second brother, a lad of
only twelve years old, bring all the wood for the fire
from the bush on a hand-sleigh."
"Oh dear! — oh dear!" sobbed Jenny; an' I not
there to hilp them ! An' poor Miss Mary, the tinder
thing! Oh, 'tis hard, terribly hard upon the crathurs,
an' they not used to the like."
"Can nothing be done for them?" said I.
" That is what we want to know," returned Emilia,
"and that was one of my reasons for coming up to
D . I wanted to consult you and Jenny upon the
/ subject. You, who are an officer's wife, and I, who
N am both an officer's wife and daughter, ought to de-
vise some plan of rescuing this unfortunate lady and
her family from her present forlorn situation.
The tears sprang to my eyes, and I thought, in
the bitterness of my heart, upon my own galling
poverty, that my pockets did not contain even a
single copper, and that I had scarcely garments
enough to shield me from the inclemency of the
weather. By unflinching industry, and taking my
part in the toil of the field, I had bread for myself
and family, and this was more than poor Mrs. N
possessed ; but it appeared impossible for me to be
of any assistance to the unhappy sufferer, and the
thought of my incapacity gave me severe pain. It
was only in moments like the present that I felt the
curse of poverty.
512
THE WALK TO DUMMER
"Well," continued my friend, "you see, Mrs.
Moodie, that the ladies of P - are all anxious to
do what they can for her; but they first want to learn
if the miserable circumstances in which she is said
to be placed are true. In short, my dear friend, they
want you and me to make a pilgrimage to Dummer,
to see the poor lady herself; and then they will be
guided by our report."
"Then let us lose no time in going upon our own
mission of mercy."
"Och, my dear heart, you will be lost in the
woods!" said old Jenny. "It is nine long miles to
the first clearing, and that through a lonely, blazed
path. After you are through the beaver-meadow,
there is not a single hut for you to rest or warm your-
selves. It is too much for the both of yees; you will
be frozen to death on the road."
"No fear," said my benevolent friend; "God will
take care of us, Jenny. It is on His errand we go; to
carry a message of hope to one about to perish."
"The Lord bless you for a darlint," cried the old
woman, devoutly kissing the velvet cheek of the
little fellow sleeping upon her lap.
purty child never know the want and sorrow that is
aroundher^ _ ™2 {/
Emilia" and I talked over the Dummer scheme
until we fell asleep. Many were the plans we pro-
posed for the immediate relief of the unfortunate /. .-''
family. Early the next morning, my brother-in-law,
Mr. T - , called upon my friend. The subject next
our heart was immediately introduced, and he was
called into the general council. His feelings, like
513 2K
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"I heard," continued Mrs. S , "that they have
tasted no food but potatoes for the last nine months,
and scarcely enough of them to keep soul and body
together; that they have sold their last cow, and the
poor young lady and her second brother, a lad of
only twelve years old, bring all the wood for the fire
from the bush on a hand-sleigh."
"Oh dear! — oh dear!" sobbed Jenny; an' I not
there to hilp them ! An' poor Miss Mary, the tinder
thing! Oh, 'tis hard, terribly hard upon the crathurs,
an' they not used to the like."
"Can nothing be done for them?" said I.
" That is what we want to know," returned Emilia,
"and that was one of my reasons for coming up to
D . I wanted to consult you and Jenny upon the
/ subject. You, who are an officer's wife, and I, who
x am both an officer's wife and daughter, ought to de-
vise some plan of rescuing this unfortunate lady and
her family from her present forlorn situation.
The tears sprang to my eyes, and I thought, in
the bitterness of my heart, upon my own galling
poverty, that my pockets did not contain even a
single copper, and that I had scarcely garments
enough to shield me from the inclemency of the
weather. By unflinching industry, and taking my
part in the toil of the field, I had bread for myself
and family, and this was more than poor Mrs. N
possessed ; but it appeared impossible for me to be
of any assistance to the unhappy sufferer, and the
thought of my incapacity gave me severe pain. It
was only in moments like the present that I felt the
curse of poverty.
512
THE WALK TO DUMMER
"Well," continued my friend, "you see, Mrs.
Moodie, that the ladies of P are all anxious to
do what they can for her; but they first want to learn
if the miserable circumstances in which she is said
to be placed are true. In short, my dear friend, they
want you and me to make a pilgrimage to Dummer,
to see the poor lady herself; and then they will be
guided by our report."
"Then let us lose no time in going upon our own
mission of mercy."
"Och, my dear heart, you will be lost in the
woods!" said old Jenny. "It is nine long miles to
the first clearing, and that through a lonely, blazed
path. After you are through the beaver-meadow,
there is not a single hut for you to rest or warm your-
selves. It is too much for the both of yees; you will
be frozen to death on the road."
"No fear," said my benevolent friend; "God will
take care of us, Jenny. It is on His errand we go; to
carry a message of hope to one about to perish."
"The Lord bless you for a darlint," cried the old
woman, devoutly kissing the velvet cheek of the
little fellow sleeping upon her lap. "
purty child never know the want and sorrow that is
aroundher.^ __ _ __
I talked over "the Dummer scheme
until we fell asleep. Many were the plans we pro-
posed for the immediate relief of the unfortunate
family. Early the next morning, my brother-in-law,
Mr. T - , called upon my friend. The subject next
our heart was immediately introduced, and he was
called into the general council. His feelings, like
513 2K
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
our own, were deeply interested; and he proposed
that we should each provide something from our
own small stores to satisfy the pressing wants of the
distressed family, while he promised to bring his
cutter the next morning, and take us through the
beaver-meadow, and to the edge of the great swamp,
which would shorten four miles, at least, of our long
and hazardous journey.
We joyfully acceded to his proposal, and set cheer-
fully to work to provide for the morrow. Jenny
baked a batch of her very best bread, and boiled a
large piece of beef, and Mr. T brought with
him, the next day, a fine cooked ham, in a sack, in-
to the bottom of which he stowed the beef and loaves,
besides some sugar and tea, which his own kind wife,
the author of The Backwoods of Canada^ had sent.
I had some misgivings as to the manner in which
these good things could be introduced to the poor
lady, who, I had heard, was reserved and proud.
"Oh, Jenny," I said, "how shall I be able to ask
her to accept provisions from strangers ? I am afraid
of wounding her feelings."
" Oh, darlint, never fear that! She isproud, I know;
but 'tis not a stiff pride, but jist enough to consale
her disthress from her ignorant English neighbours,
who think so manely of poor folk like her who were
once rich. She will be very thankful to you for your
kindness, for she has not experienced much of it from
the Dummer people in her throuble, though she may
have no words to tell you so. Say that old Jenny
sent the bread to dear wee Ellie, 'cause she knew
she would like a loaf of Jenny's bakin'."
THE WALK TO DUMMER
"But the meat?"
"Och, the mate, is it? May be, you'll think of
some excuse for the mate when you get there."
"I hope so; but I'm a sad coward with strangers,
and I have lived so long out of the world that I am
at a great loss what to do. I will try and put a good
face on the matter. Your name, Jenny, will be no
small help to me."
All was now ready. Kissing our little bairns who
crowded around us with eager and inquiring looks,
and charging Jenny for the hundredth time to take
especial care of them during our absence, we mounted
the cutter, and set off, under the care and protection of
Mr. T , who determined to accompany us on the
journey.
It was a black, cold day; no sun visible in the grey
dark sky; a keen, cutting wind, and hard frost. We
crouched close to each other.
" Good heavens, how cold it is! " whispered Emilia.
"What a day for such a journey!"
She had scarcely ceased speaking, when the cutter
went upon a stump which lay concealed under the
drifted snow; and we, together with the ruins of our
conveyance, were scattered around.
"A bad beginning," said my brother-in-law, with a
rueful aspect, as he surveyed the wreck of the cutter
from which we had promised ourselves so much bene-
fit. "There is no help for it but to return home."
"Oh no," said Mrs. S ; "bad beginnings make
good endings, you know. Let us go on ; it will be far
i better walking than riding such a dreadful day. My
feet are half-frozen already with sitting still."
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
"But, my dear madam," expostulated Mr. T ,
"consider the distance, the road, the dark, dull day,
and our imperfect knowledge of the path. I will get
the cutter mended to-morrow; and the day after we
may be able to proceed."
"Delays are dangerous," said the pertinacious Em-
ilia, who, woman -like, was determined to have her own
way. " Now, or never. While we wait for the broken
cutter, the broken-hearted Mrs. N may starve.
We can stop at Colonel C 's and warm ourselves,
and you can leave the cutter at his house until our re-
turn."
" It was upon your account that I proposed the de-
lay," said the good Mr. T , taking the sack, which
was no inconsiderable weight, upon his shoulder, and
driving his horse before him into neighbour W 's
stable. " Where you go, I am ready to follow."
When we arrived, Colonel C 's family were at
breakfast, of which they made us partake; and after
vainly endeavouring to dissuade us from what appear-
ed to them our Quixotic expedition, Mrs. C add-
ed a dozen fine white fish to the contents of the sack,
and sent her youngest son to help Mr. T along
with his burthen, and to bear us company on our des-
olate road.
Leaving the Colonel's hospitable house on our left
we again plunged into the woods, and after a few min-
utes' brisk walking, found ourselves upon the brow of
a steep bank that overlooked the beaver-meadow, con-
taining within its area several hundred acres.
There is no scenery in the bush that presents such
a novel appearance as those meadows or openings,
THE WALK TO DUMMER
surrounded, as they invariably are, by dark, intricate
forests, their high, rugged banks covered with the light,
airy tamarack and silver birch. In summer they look
like a lake of soft, rich verdure, hidden in the bosom
of the barren and howling waste. Lakes they certain-
ly have been, from which the waters have receded,
"ages, ages long ago"; and still the whole length of
these curious level valleys is traversed by a stream
of no inconsiderable dimensions.
The waters of the narrow, rapid creek, which flowed
through the meadow we were about to cross, were of
sparkling brightness, and icy cold. The frost-king had
no power to check their swift, dancing movements, or
stop their perpetual song. On they leaped, sparkling
and flashing beneath their ice-crowned banks, rejoic-
ing as they revelled on in their lonely course. In the
prime of the year, this is a wild and lovely spot, the
grass is of the richest green, and the flowers of the most
gorgeous dyes. The gayest butterflies float above them
upon painted wings, and the whip-poor-will pours forth
from the neighbouring woods, at the close of dewy eve,
his strange but sadly plaintive cry. Winter was now
upon the earth, and the once green meadow looked
like a small forest lake covered with snow.
The first step we made into it plunged us up to the
knees in the snow, which was drifted to a great height
in the open space. Mr. T and our young friend
C walked on ahead of us, in order to break a track
through the untrodden snow. We soon reached the
cold creek, but here a new difficulty presented itself.
It was too wide to jump across, and we could see no
other way of passing to the other side.
51?
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" There must be some sort of a bridge here about,"
said young C , "or how can the people from Dum-
mer pass constantly during the winter to and fro. I
will go along the bank, and halloo to you if I find one."
In a few minutes he gave the desired signal, and
on reaching the spot, we found a round, slippery log
flung across the stream by way of bridge. With some
trouble, and after various slips, we got safely on the
other side. To wet our feet would have been to ensure
their being frozen, and as it was, we were not without
serious apprehension on that score. After crossing the
bleak, snowy plain, we scrambled over another brook,
and entered the great swamp which occupied two
miles of our dreary road.
It would be vain to attempt giving any description
of this tangled maze of closely -interwoven cedars,
fallen trees, and loose-scattered masses of rock. It
seemed the fitting abode of wolves and bears and
every other unclean beast. The fire had run through
it during the summer, making the confusion doubly
confused. Now we stooped, half-doubled, to crawl
under fallen branches that hung over our path, then
again we had to clamber over prostrate trees of great
bulk, descending from which we plumped down into
holes in the snow, sinkingmid-leg into the rotten trunk
of some treacherous, decayed pine-tree. Before we
were half through the great swamp, we began to think
ourselves sad fools, and to wish that we were safe again
by our own firesides. But, then, a great object was in
view, — the relief of a distressed fellow-creature, and
like the " full of hope, misnamed forlorn," we deter-
mined to overcome every difficulty and toil on.
THE WALK TO DUMMER
It took us an hour at least to clear the great swamp,
from which we emerged into a fine wood, composed
chiefly of maple-trees. The sun had, during our im-
mersion in the dark shades of the swamp,burst through
his leaden shroud, and cast a cheery gleam along the
rugged boles of the lofty trees. The squirrel and chip-
munk occasionally bounded across our path; the daz-
zling snow which covered it reflected the branches
above us in an endless variety of dancing shadows.
Our spirits rose in proportion. Young C burst
out singing, and Emilia and I laughed and chatted as
we bounded along our narrow road. On, on for hours,
the same interminable forest stretched away to the
right and left, before and behind us.
" It is past twelve," said my brother T thought-
fully; "if we do not soon come to a clearing, we may
chance to spend the night in the forest."
"Oh, I am dying with hunger," cried Emilia. "Do,
C , give us one or two of the cakes your mother
put into the bag for us to eat upon the road."
The ginger-cakes were instantly produced. But
where were the teeth to be found that could masticate
them? The cakes were frozen as hard as stones; this ^
was a great disappointment to us tired and hungry )
wights; but it only produced a hearty laugh. Over J
the logs we went again; for it was a perpetual step^
ping up and down, crossing the fallen trees that ob-
structed our path. At last we came to a spot where
two distinct blazed roads diverged.
"What are we to do now?" said Mr. T .
We stopped, and a general consultation was held,
and without one dissenting voice we took the branch
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
to the right, which, after pursuing for about half a
mile, led us to a log hut of the rudest description.
" lathis the road toDumrpjer ?" we asked a man, who
was chopping woocToutside the fence.
"I guess you are in Dummer," was the answer.
xMy heart leaped for joy,~forT' was dreadfully fati-
gued.
"Does this road lead through theEnglisjiLine?"
"That's another thing," returnecTthe woochnan.
" No, you turned off from the right path when you
cameuphere." Weall looked very blank at each other.
"You will have to go back, and keep the other road,
and that will lead you straight ttrttre"ErtgHsh Line."
"How many miles is it to Mrs. N 's?"
"Some four, or thereabouts," was the cheering re-
joinder. "'Tis one of the last clearings on the line. If
you are going back to Douro to-night, you must look
sharp."
Sadly and dejectedly we retraced our steps. There
are few trifling failures more bitter in our journey
through life than that of a tired traveller mistaking
his road. What effect must that tremendous failure
produce upon the human mind, when, at the end of
life's unretraceable journey, the traveller finds that he
has fallen upon the wrong track through every stage,
and instead of arriving at a land of blissful promise,
sinks for ever into the gulf of despair !
The distance we had trodden in the wrong path,
while led on by hope and anticipation, now seemed
to double in length, as with painful steps we toiled on
to reach the right road. This object once attained,
soon led us to the dwellings of men.
520
THE WALK TO DUMMER
Neat, comfortable log houses, surrounded by well-
fenced patches of clearing, arose on either side of
the forest road ; dogs flew out and barked at us, and
children ran shouting indoors to tell their respective
owners that strangers were passing their gates, a most
unusual circumstance, I should think.in that location.
A ser van t who had 1 i ved two years with my brother-
in-law, we knew must live somewhere in this neigh-
bourhood, at whose fireside we hoped not only to rest
and warm ourselves, but to obtain something to eat.
On going up to one of the cabins to inquire for Han-
nah J , we fortunately happened to light upon the
very person we sought. With many exclamations of
surprise, she ushered us into her neat and comfortable
log dwelling.
A blazing fire, composed of two huge logs, was roar-
ing up the wide chimney, and the savoury smell that
issued from a large pot of pea-soup was very agree-
able to our cold and hungry stomachs. But, alas, the
refreshment went no further! Hannah most politely
begged us to take seats by the fire, and warm and rest
ourselves; she even knelt down and assisted in rub-
bing our half-frozen hands, but she never once made
mention of the hot soup, or of the tea which was draw-
ing in a tin teapot upon the hearth-stone, or of a glass
of whiskey, which would have been thankfully accept-
ed by our male pilgrims.
Hannah was not an Irishwoman, no, nor a Scotch
lassie, or her very first request would have been for us
to take "a pickle of soup," or "a sup of thae warm
broths." The soup was no doubt cooking for Han-
nah's husband and two neighbours, who were chop-
521
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ping for him in the bush, and whose want of punct-
uality she feelingly lamented.
As we left her cottage and jogged on, Emilia whis-
pered, laughing, " I hope you are satisfied with your
good dinner? Was not, the pea-soup excellent? — and
that cup of nice hot tea! — I never relished anything
more in my life. I think we should never pass that
house without giving Hannah a call, and testifying our
gratitude for her good cheer."
Many times did we stop to inquire the way to Mrs.
N 's, before we ascended the steep, bleak hill up-
on which her house stood. At the door, Mr. T
deposited the sack of provisions, and he and young
C went across the road to the house of an English
settler (who, fortunately for them, proved more hos-
pitable than Hannah J ), to wait until our errand
was executed.
The house before which Emilia and I were stand-
ing had once been a tolerably comfortable log dwell-
ing. It was larger than such buildings generally are,
and was surrounded by dilapidated barns and stables,
which were not cheered by a solitary head of cattle.
A black pine-forest stretched away to the north of
the house, and terminated in a dismal, tangled cedar
swamp, the entrance to the house not having been
constructed to face the road.
The spirit that had borne me up during the journey
died within me. I was fearful that my visit would be
deemed an impertinent intrusion. I knew not in what
manner to introduce myself, and my embarrassment
had been greatly increased by Mrs. S declaring
that I must break the ice, for she had not courage to
522
THE WALK TO DUMMER
go in. I remonstrated, but she was firm. To hold any
longer parley was impossiole. We were standing on
the top of a bleak hill, with the thermometer many
degrees below zero, and exposed to the fiercest biting
ofthebitter,cuttingblast. With aheavy sigh, I knock-
ed slowly but decidedly at the crazy door. I saw the
curly head of a boy glance for a moment against the
broken window. There was a stir within, but no one an-
swered our summons. Emilia was rubbing her hands
together, and beating a rapid tattoo with her feet upon
the hard and glittering snow, to keep them from freez-
ing.
Again I appealed to the inhospitable door, with a
vehemence which seemed to say, "We are freezing,
good people; in mercy let us in!"
Again there was a stir, and a whispered sound of
voices, as if in consultation, from within; and after
waiting a few minutes longer — which, cold as we were,
seemed an age — the door was cautiously opened by
a handsome, dark-eyed lad of twelve years of age,
who was evidently the owner of the curly head that
had been sent to reconnoitre us through the window.
Carefully closing the door after him, he stepped out
upon the snow, and asked us coldly but respectfully
what we wanted. I told him that we were two ladies,
who had walked all the way from Douro to see his
mamma, and that we wished very much to speak to
her. The lad answered us, with the ease and courtesy
of a gentleman, that he did not know whether his
mamma could be seen by strangers, but he would go
in and see. So saying he abruptly left us, leaving be-
hind him an ugly skeleton of a dog, who, after ex-
523
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
pressing his disapprobation at our presence in the
most disagreeable and unequivocal manner, pounced
like a famished wolf upon the sack of good things
which lay at Emilia's feet, and our united efforts could
scarcely keep him off.
"A cold, doubtful reception this!" said my friend,
turning her back to the wind, and hiding her face in
her muff. "This is wonse than Hannah's liberality,
and the long weary walk."
I thought so too, and began to apprehend that our
walk had been in vain, when the lad again appeared,
and said that we might walk in, for his mother was
dressed.
Emilia, true to her determination, went no farther
than the passage. I n vain were all my entreating looks
and mute appeals to her benevolence and friendship;
I was forced to enter alone the apartment that con-
tained the distressed family.
I felt that I was treading upon sacred ground, for
a pitying angel hovers over the abode of suffering
virtue, and hallows all its woes. On a rude bench be-
fore the fire sat a lady, between thirty and forty years
of age, dressed in a thin, coloured muslin gown, the
most inappropriate garment for the rigour of the sea-
son, but, in all probability, the only decent one that
she retained. A subdued melancholy looked forth
from her large, dark, pensive eyes. She appeared
like one who, having discovered the full extent of her
misery, had proudly steeled her heart to bear it. Her
countenance was very pleasing and, in early life (but
she was still young), she must have been eminently
handsome. Near her, with her head bent down, and
524
THE WALK TO DUMMER
shaded by her thin, slender hand, her slight figure
scarcely covered by her scanty clothing, sat her eldest
daughter, a gentle sweet-looking girl, who held in her
arms a baby brother, whose destitution she endeav-
oured to conceal. It was a touching sight ; that suf-
fering girl, just stepping into womanhood, hiding
against her young bosom the nakedness of the little
creature she loved. Another fine boy, whose neatly-
patched clothes had not one piece of the original
stuff apparently left in them, stood behind his mother,
with dark, glistening eyes fastened upon me, as if a-
mused, and wondering who I was, and what business
I could have there. A pale and attenuated, but very
pretty, delicately-featured little girl was seated on a
low stool before the fire. This was old Jenny's dar-
ling, Ellie, or Eloise. A rude bedstead of home man-
ufacture, in a corner of the room, covered with a coarse
woollen quilt, contained two little boys, who had crept
into it to conceal their wants from the eyes of the
stranger. On the table lay a dozen peeled potatoes,
and a small pot was boiling on the fire, to receive this
their scanty and only daily meal. There was such an
air of patient and enduring suffering in the whole
group, that, as I gazed heart-stricken upon it, my
fortitude quite gave way, and I burst into tears.
Mrs. N first broke the painful silence, and,
rather proudly, asked me to whom she had the plea-
sure of speaking. I made a desperate effort to re-
gain my composure, and told her, but with much em-
barrassment, my name; adding that I was so well ac-
quainted with her and her children, through Jenny,
that I could not consider her as a stranger ; that I
525
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
hoped that, as I was the wife of an officer, and, like
her, a resident in the bush, and well acquainted with
all its trials and privations, she would look upon me
as a friend.
She seemed surprised and annoyed, and I found
no small difficulty in introducing the object of my
visit'; but the day was rapidly declining, and I knew
that not a moment was to be lost. At first she coldly
rejected all offers of service, and said that she was
contented, and wanted for nothing.
I appealed to the situation in which I beheld her-
self and her children, and implored her, for their sakes,
not to refuse help from friends who felt for her dis-
tress. Her maternal feelings triumphed over her as-
sumed indifference, and when she saw me weeping,
for I could no longer restrain my tears, her pride yield-
ed, and for some minutes not a word was spoken. I
heard the large tears, as they slowly fell from her
daughter's eyes, drop one by one upon her garments.
At last the poor girl sobbed out, "Dear mamma,
why conceal the truth? Yon-kflow^hat we are nearly
s^kedand starving."
Then came the sad tale of domestic woes : the ab-
sence of the husband and eldest son ; the uncertainty
as to where they were, or in what engaged ; the utter
want of means to procure the common necessaries of
life ; the salejDp&e-orrly I'ewaiiiittg-GojKjhat used to
provjdeJ±^L£hildr£nwith food. It had been sold for
t^elvejdjDllaj^ potatoes ;
the potatoes werejqgarly exhausted , and they wereal-
lowcm^edTo^soji^y^day^ But the six dollars she
haJretainedasltneir last resource/ Alas ijshe had sent
526
THE WALK TO DUMMER
the eldest boy the day before to P -- to get a letter
out of the post-office, which she hoped contained some
tidings of her husband and son. She was all anxiety
and expectation — but the child returned late at night
without the letter which they had longed for with such
feverish impatience. ThesixjjjcJUaraupon which they
had depended for a supply of food were in notes of the
Farmer's Bank^hicj^atjthat time would notpassjbr
money, and which theToguish ^uselras^r
^
Oh \ imagine, ye who revel in riches — who can dai-
ly throw away a large sum upon the merest toy — the
cruel disappointment, the bitter agony of this^poor
jjiother's heart, when she received this calamitous
news, InThetnldsLufher starving children. For the last
nine weeks they had lived upon a scanty supply of
potatoes; they had not tasted raised bread or animal
food for eighteen months.
" Ellie,"said I, anxious to introduce the sack, which
had lain like a nightmare upon my mind, " I havesome-
thing for you ; Jenny baked some loaves last night,
and sent them to you with her best love."
The eyes of all the children grew bright. " Youwill
find the sack with the bread in the passage," said I to
one of the boys. He rushed joyfully out, and returned
with Mrs. -- andthesack. Her bland and affection-
ate greeting restored us all to tranquillity.
The delighted boy opened the sack. The first thing
he produced was the ham.
" Oh," said I, "that is a ham that my sister sent to
Mrs. N -- ; 'tis of her own curing, and she thought
lat it might be acceptable."
7
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
Then came the white fish, nicely packed in a clean
cloth. " Mrs. C thought fish might be a treat to
Mrs.N , as she lived so far from the great lakes."
Then came Jenny's bread, which had already been in-
troduced. The beef, and tea, and sugar fell upon the
floor without any comment. The first scruples had
been overcome, and the day was ours.
"And now, ladies," said Mrs. N , with true hos-
pitality, "since you have brought refreshments with
you, permit me to cook something for your dinner."
The scene I had just witnessed had produced such
a choking sensation that all my hunger had vanished.
Before we could accept or refuse Mrs. N 's kind
offer, Mr. T arrived, to hurry us off.
It was two o'clock when we descended the hill in
front of the house, that led by a side-path round to the
road,and commenced our homeward route. I thought
the four miles of clearings would never be passed; and
the English Line appeared to have no end. At length
we entered once more the dark forest.
The setting sun gleamed along the ground; the
necessity of exerting our utmost speed, and getting
through the great swamp before darkness surrounded
us, was apparent to all. The men strove vigorously
for ward,for they had been refreshed with a substantial
dinner of potatoes and pork, washed down with a glass
of whiskey, at the cottage in which they had waited for
us ; but poor Emilia and I, faint, hungry, and foot-sore,
it was with the greatest difficulty we could keep up.
I thought of Rosalindas our march up and down th(
fallen logs recommenced, and often exclaimed witl
her, " 'Oh, Jupiter! how weary are my legs !'"
5'
THE WALK TO DUMMER
Night closed in just as we reached the beaver-mea-
dow. Here our ears were greeted with the sound of
well-known voices. James and Henry C had
brought the ox-sleigh to meet us at the edge of the
bush. Never was splendid equipage greeted with such
delight. Emilia and I, now fairly exhausted with fa-
tigue, scrambled into it, and lying down on the straw
which covered the bottom of the rude vehicle, we drew
the buffalo robes over our faces, and actually slept
soundly until we reached Colonel C 's hospitable
door.
An excellent supper of hot fish and fried venison
was smoking on the table, with other good cheer, to
which we did ample justice. I, for one, never was so
hungry in my life. We had fasted for twelve hours, an d
that on an intensely cold day, and had walked during
that period upwards of twenty miles. Never, never
shall I forget that weary walk to Dummer; but a
blessing followed it.
It was midnight when Emilia and I reached my
humble home; our good friends the oxen beingagain
put in requisition to carry us there. Emilia went im-
mediately to bed, from which she was unable to rise
for several days. In the meanwhile I wrote to Moodie
an account of the scene I had witnessed, and he raised
a subscription among the officers of the regiment for
:he poor lady and her children, which amounted to
forty dollars. Emilia lost no time in making a full re-
port to her friends at P ; and before a week pass-
ed away, Mrs. N and her family were removed
hither by several benevolent individuals in the place.
A neat cottage was hired for her; and, to the honour
29 2L
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
of Canada be it spoken, all who could afford a dona-
tion gave cheerfully. Farmers left at her door, pork,
beef, flour, and potatoes; the storekeepers sent groc-
eries, and goods to make clothes for the children ; the
shoemakers contributed boots for the boys; while the
ladies did all in their power to assist and comfort the
gentle creature thus thrown by Providence upon their
bounty.
While Mrs. N remained at P— — she did not
want for any comfort. Her children were clothed and
her rent paid by her benevotentfriends, and hex .house
snpptiTSrTiSfrh ThnfTailri many comforts from the same
source. Respected and beloved by all who knew her,
it would have been well had she never left the quiet
asylum where for several years she enjoyed tranquil-
lity and a respectable competence from her school;
but in an evil hour she followed her worthless husband
to the Southern States, and again sujferedall the woes
ancTcfiil-
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
OF A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS
L
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
OF A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS
The future flower lies folded in the bud, —
Its beauty, colour, fragrance, graceful form,
Carefully shrouded in that tiny cell;
Till time and circumstance, and sun and shower,
Expand the embryo blossom — and it bursts
Its narrow cerements, lifts its blushing head,
Rejoicing in the light and dew of heaven.
But if the canker-worm lies coil'd around
The heart o' the bud, the summer sun and dew
Visit in vain the sear'd and blighted flower.
DURING MY ILLNESS, A KIND NEIGH-
bour, who had not only frequently come to see me,
but had brought me many nourishing things made
by her own fair hands, took a great fancy to my
second daughter, who, lively and volatile, could not
be induced to remain quiet in the sick chamber. The
noise she made greatly retarded my recovery, and
Mrs. H took her home with her, as the only means
of obtaining for me necessary rest. During that win-
ter, and through the ensuing summer, I only receiv-
ed occasional visits from my little girl, who, fairly
established with her new friends, looked upon their
house as her home.
The removal of my sister rendered my separation
from my husband doubly lonely and irksome. Some-
times the desire to see and converse with him would
press so painfully on my heart that I would get up in
the night, strike a light, and sit down and write him
a long letter, and tell him all that was in my mind;
and when I had thus unburthened my spirit, the let-
ter was committed to the flames, and, after fervently
commending him to the care of the Great Father
533
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
of mankind,! would lay down my throbbing head on
my pillow beside our first-born son, and sleep tran-
quilly.
It is a strange fact that many of my husband's
letters to me were written at the very time when I
felt those irresistible impulses to hold communion
with him. Why should we be ashamed to admit
openly our belief in this mysterious intercourse be-
tween the spirits of those who are bound to each
other by the tender ties of friendship and affection,
when the experience of every day proves its truth?
Pro verbs, which are the wisdom of ages collected into
a few brief words, tell us in one pithy sentence that
"if we talk of the devil he is sure to appear." While
the name of a long-absent friend is in our mouth, the
next moment brings him into our presence. How can
this be, if mind did not meet mind, and the spirit had
not a prophetic consciousness of the vicinity of an-
other spirit, kindred with its own? This is an occur-
rence so common that I never met with any person
to whom it had not happened; few will admit it to
be a spiritual agency, but in no other way can they
satisfactorily explain its cause. If it were a mere coin-
cidence, or combination of ordinary circumstances, it
would not happen so often, and people would not be
led to speak of the long- absent always at the moment
when they are just about to present themselves be-
fore them. My husband was no believer in what he
termed my fanciful, speculative theories; yet at the
time when his youngest boy and myself lay danger-
ously ill, and hardly expected to live, I received from
him a letter, written in great haste, which commenc-
534
A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS
ed with this sentence: "Do write to me, dear S ,
when you receive this. I have felt very uneasy about
you for some days past, and am afraid that all is not
right at home."
Whence came this sudden fear? Why at that par-
ticular time did his thoughts turn so despondingly
towards those so dear to him? Why did the dark
cloud in his mind hang so heavily above his home?
The burden of my weary and distressed spirit had
reached him, and, without knowing of our sufferings
and danger, his own responded to the call.
The holy and mysterious nature of man is yet
hidden from himself; he is still a stranger to the
movements of that inner life, and knows little of its
capabilities and powers. A purer religion, a higher
standard of moral and intellectual training, may in
time reveal all this. Man still remains a half-reclaim-
ed savage; the leaven of Christianity is slowly and
surely working its way, but it has not yet changed
the whole lump, or transformed the deformed into
the beauteous child of God. Oh, for that glorious
day! It is coming. The dark clouds of humanity
are already tinged with the golden radiance of the
dawn, but the sun of righteousness has not yet arisen
upon the world with healing on his wings ; the light
of truth still struggles in the womb of darkness, and
man stumbles on to the fulfilment of his sublime and
mysterious destiny.
This spring I was not a little puzzled how to get
in the crops. I still continued so weak that I was
quite unable to assist in the field, and my good old
Jenny was sorely troubled with inflamed feet, which
535
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
required constant care. At this juncture, a neigh-
bouring settler, who had recently come among us,
offered to put in my small crop of peas, potatoes,
and oats, in all not comprising more than eight acres,
if I would lend him my oxen to log-up a large fal-
low of ten acres and put in his own crops. Trusting
to his fair dealing, I consented to this arrangement ;
but he took advantage of my isolated position, and
not only logged-up his fallow, but put in all his spring
crops before he sowed an acre of mine. The oxen
were worked down so low that they were almost un-
fit for use, and my crops were put in so late, and with
such little care, that they all proved a failure. I
should have felt this loss more severely had it hap-
pened in any previous year; but I had ceased to feel
that deep interest in the affairs of the farm from a
sort of conviction in my own mind that it would not
long remain my home.
Jenny and I did our best in the way of hoeing and
weeding; butno industry on our part could repair the
injury done to the seed by being sown out of season.
We therefore confined our attention to the garden,
which, as usual, was very productive, and with milk,
fresh butter, and eggs, supplied the simple wants of
our family. Emilia enlivened our solitude by her
company for several weeks during the summer, and
we had many pleasant excursions on the water to-
gether.
My knowledge of the use of the paddle, however,
was not entirely without its danger.
One very windy Sunday afternoon, a servant-girl,
who lived with my friend Mrs. C , came crying
536
A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS
to the house, and implored the use of my canoe and
paddles to cross the lake to see her dying father.
The request was instantly granted; but there was no
man upon the place to ferry her across, and she could
not manage the boat herself — in short, had never
been in a canoe in her life.
The girl was deeply distressed. She said that she
had got word that her father could scarcely live till
she could reach Smith-town; that if she went round
by the bridge, she must walk five miles, while if she
crossed the lake she could be home in half an hour.
I did not much like the angry swell upon the water,
but the poor creature was in such grief that I told
her, if she was not afraid of venturing with me, I
would try and put her over.
She expressed her thanks in the warmest terms,
accompanied by a shower of blessings; and I took
the paddles and went down to the landing. Jenny
was very averse to my tempting Providence, as she
termed it, and wished that I might get back as safe
as I went. However, the old woman launched the
canoe for me, pushed us from the shore, and away
we went The wind was in my favour, and I found so
little trouble in getting across that I began to laugh
at my own timidity. I put the girl on shore, and
endeavoured to shape my passage home. But this
I found was no easy task. The water was rough, and
the wind high, and the strong current, which runs
through that part of the lake to the Smith rapids,
was dead against me. In vain I laboured to cross
this current; it resisted all my efforts, and at each
repulse I was carried farther down to wards the rapids,
537
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
which were full of sunken rocks, and hard for the
strong arm of a man to stem — to the weak hand of
a woman their safe passage was impossible. I began
to feel rather uneasy at the awkward situation in
which I found myself placed, and for some time I
made desperate efforts to extricate myself by padd-
ling with all my might. I soon gave this up, and
contented myself by steering the canoe in the path
that it thought fit to pursue. After drifting down
with the current for some little space, until I came
opposite a small island, I put out all my strength to
gain the land. In this I fortunately succeeded, and
getting on shore, I contrived to drag the canoe so far
round the headland that I got her out of the current.
All now was smooth sailing, and I joyfully answered
old Jenny's yells from the landing, that I was safe,
and would join her in a few minutes.
This fortunate manoeuvre stood me in good stead
upon another occasion when crossing the lake, some
weeks after this, in company with a young female
friend, during a sudden storm.
Two Indian women, heavily laden with their packs
of dried venison, called at the house to borrow the
canoe, to join their encampment upon the other side.
It so happened that I wanted to send to the mill
that afternoon, and the boat could not be returned
in time without I went over with the Indian women
and brought it back. My young friend was delighted
at the idea of the frolic, and as she could both steer
and paddle, and the day was calm and bright, though
excessively warm, we both agreed to accompany the
squaws to the other side, and bring back the canoe.
538
A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS
Mrs. Muskrat had fallen in love with a fine fat
kitten, whom the children had called "Buttermilk,"
and she begged so hard for the little puss, that I
presented it to her, rather marvelling how she would
contrive to carry it so many miles through the woods,
and she loaded with such an enormous pack; when,
lo! the squaw took down the bundle, and in the heart
of the piles of dried venison she deposited the cat
in a small basket, giving it a thin slice of the meat
to console it for its close confinement. Puss received
the donation with piteous mews; it was evident that
mice and freedom were preferred by her to venison
and the honour of riding on a squaw's back.
The squaws paddled us quickly across, and we
laughed and chatted as we bounded over the blue
waves, until we were landed in a dark cedar swamp,
in the heart of which we found the Indian encamp-
ment.
A large party were lounging around the fire, super-
intending the drying of a quantity of venison which
was suspended on forked sticks. Besides the flesh of
the deer, a number of musk-rats were skinned, and
extended as if standing bolt upright before the fire,
warming their paws. The appearance they cut was
mostludicrous. My young friend pointed tothemusk-
rats, as she sank down, laughing, upon one of the
skins.
Old Snow-storm, who was present, imagined that
she wanted one of them to eat, and very gravely hand-
ed her the unsavoury beast, stick and all.
"Does the old man take me for a cannibal?" she
said. " I would as soon eat a child."
539
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
e many odd things
there was something that had the_ appearance of a
bull-frog. ,.___——-
"What can that be?" she said, directing my eyes
to the strange monster. " Surely they don't eatbull-.
This sally was received by a grunt of approbation
from Snow-storm; and, though Indians seldom forget
their dignity so far as to laugh, he for once laid aside
his stoical gravity, and, twirling the thing round with
a stick,-- bur^j; into a hearty peal.
"(Muckakee) Indian eat muckakegi — Ha! ha! Ind-
ianft&^stimttc&a&eel Frenchmans eat his hind legs;
they say the speckled beast much good. This no
muckakee\ — the liver of deer, dried — very nice — Ind-
ian eat him." ""*'
"I wish him much joy of the delicate morsel," said
the saucy girl, who was intent upon quizzing and ex-
amining everything in the camp.
We had remained the best part of an hour, when
Mrs. Muskrat laid hold of my hand, and leading me
through the bush to the shore, pointed up significant-
ly to a cloud, as dark as night, that hung loweringly
over the bush.
" Thunder in that cloud — get over the lake — quick,
before it breaks." Then motioning for us to jump in-
to the canoe, she threw in the paddles, and pushed us
from the shore.
We saw the necessity of haste, and both plied the
paddle with diligence to gain the opposite bank, or
at least the shelter of the island, before the cloud
poured down its fury upon us. We were just in the
540
A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS
middle of the current when the first peal of thunder
broke with startling nearness over our heads. The
storm frowned darkly upon the woods; the rain came
down in torrents; and there were we exposed to its
utmost fury in the middle of a current too strong for
us to stem.
"What shall we do? We shall be drowned!" said
my young friend, turning her pale, tearful face to-
wards me.
" Let the canoe float down the current till we get
close to the island, then run her into the land. I sav-
ed myself once before by this plan."
We did so, and were safe ; but there we had to re-
main, wet to our skins, until the wind and the rain a-
bated sufficiently for us to manage our little craft.
" How do you like being upon the lake in a storm
like this?" I whispered to my shivering, drippingcom-
panion.
"Very well in romance, but terribly dull in reality.
We cannot, however, call it a dry joke," continued
she, wringing the rain from her dress. " I wish we were
suspended over Old Snow-storm's fire with the bull-
frog, for I hate a shower-bath with my clothes on."
I took warning by this adventure never to cross
the lake again without a stronger arm than mine in
the canoe to steer me safely through the current.
I received much kind attention from my new neigh-
bour, the Rev. W. W , a truly excellent and pious
clergyman of the English Church. The good, white-
haired old man expressed the kindest sympathy in
all my trials, and strengthened me greatly with his
benevolent counsels and gentle charity. Mr. W
54i
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
was a true follower of Christ. His Christianity was
not confined to his own denomination ; and every
Sabbath his log cottage was filled with attentive aud-
itors, of all persuasions, who met together to listen
to the word of life delivered to them by a Christian
minister in the wilderness.
He had been a very fine preacher, and, though con-
siderably turned of seventy, his voice was still excel-
lent, and his manner solemn and impressive.
His only son, a young man of twenty-eight years
of age, had received a serious injury in the brain by
falling upon a turf-spade from a loft window when a
child, and his intellect had remained stationary from
that time. Poor Harry was an innocent child ; he lov-
ed his parents with the simplicity of a child, and all
who spoke kindly to him he regarded as friends. Like
most persons of his cast of mind, his predilection for
pet animals was a prominent instinct. He was always
followed by two dogs, whom he regarded with espe-
cial favour. The moment he caught your eye, he look-
ed down admiringly upon his four-footed attendants,
patting their sleek necks, and murmuring, "Nice
dogs — nice dogs." Harry had singled out myself and
my little ones as great favourites. He would ga-
ther flowers for the girls, and catch butterflies for the
boys; while to me he always gave the title of "dear
aunt."
It so happened that one fine morning I wanted to
walk a couple of miles through the bush, to spend the
day with Mrs. C ; but the woods were full of the
cattle belonging to the neighbouring settlers, and of
these I was terribly afraid. Whilst I was dressing the
542
A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS
little girls to accompany me, Harry W came in
with a message from his mother. "Oh," thought I,
"here is Harry W . He will walk with us through
the bush, and defend us from the cattle."
The proposition was made, and Harry was not a
little proud of being invited to join our party. We
had accomplished half the distance without seeing a
single hoof, and I was beginning to congratulate my-
self upon our unusual luck, when a large red ox, mad-
dened by the stings of the gad-flies, came headlong
through the bush, tossing up the withered leaves and
dried moss with his horns, and making directly to-
ward us. I screamed to my champion for help; but
where was he? — running like a frightened chipmunk
along the fallen timber, shouting to my eldest girl
at the top of his voice —
" Run , Katty, run !— The bull, the bull ! Run,Katty !
— The bull, the bull !" — leaving us poor creatures far
behind in the chase.
The bull, who cared not one fig for us, did not even
stop to give us a passing stare, and was soon lost amon g
the trees; while our valiant knight never stopped to
see what had become of us, but made the best of his
way home. So much for taking an innocent for a
guard.
The next month most of the militia regiments were
disbanded. My husband's services were no longer re-
quired at B , and he once more returned to help
to gather in our scanty harvest. Many of the old
debts were paid off by his hard-saved pay; and though
all hope of continuing in the militia service was at an
end, our condition was so much improved that we
543
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
looked less to the dark than to the sunny side of the
landscape. _t —
^The~potatocrop was gathered in, and I had collect-
ed my store of dandelion-roots for our winter supply
of coffee, when oneday brought a letterto my husband
from the Governor's secretary, offering him the situa-
tion of sheriff of the V district. Though perfectly
unacquainted with the difficulties and responsibilities
of such an important office, my husband looked upon
it as a gift sent from heaven to remove us from the
\ sorrows and poverty with which we were surrounded
\ in the woods.
more he bade us farewell ; but it was to go
and make ready a home for us, that we should no more
be separated from each other.
Heartily did I return thanks to God that night for
all His mercies to us; and Sir George Arthur was not
forgotten in those prayers.
From B , my husband wrote to me to make
what haste I could in disposing of our crops, house-
hold furniture, stock, and farming implements; and
to prepare myself and the children to join him on the
first fall of snow that would make the roads practic-
able for sleighing. To facilitate this object, he sent
me a box of clothing to make up for myself and the
children.
Forjsevea-years I had lived out of the world en-
tir0y^jnyjperson had been rendered coarse by hard
— work-and expeittpi^alrielweather. I looked double
the age I really was, and my hair was already thickly
sp^n]ded_Jw4th^csy^ I chiflgTo my solitude. I did
not like to be dragged from it to mingle in gay scenes,
544
A CHANGE IN OUR PROSPECTS
in a busy town, and with gaily dressed people. I was
no longerfitjorthe world • I had lost all relish for the
ir-suits and leas^rpg whirlvarf* cr. P^^nffai to its
votaries; I was contented
My dear Emilia rejoiced, like a uereri, in my
changed prospects, and came up to help me to cut
clothes for the children, and to assist me in preparing
them for the journey.
I succeeded in selling off our goods and chattels
much better than I expected. My old friend, Mr.
W -- , who was a newcomer, became the principal
purchaser, and when Christmas arrived I had not one
article left upoja^my^aIi3Fs3vTr4b&-bedding, which
it was necessary to take'wifh us.
2M
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
XXV.
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
Adieu! — Adieu! — when quivering lips refuse
The bitter pangs of parting to declare;
And the full bosom feels that it must lose
Friends who were wont its inmost thoughts to share;
When hands are tightly clasp' d, 'mid struggling sighs
And streaming tears, those whisper'd accents rise,
Leaving to God the objects of our care
In that short, simple, comprehensive prayer —
ADIEU!
NEVER DID EAGER BRITISH CHILDREN
look for the first violets aiioVprimroses of spring with
more im patielrce^harnn^ baby boys and girnf^atcTT-
edrday~aFter day, for the first snowflakes that were
to form the road to conveylhemjpj^jr_a^sjeji^father.
"Winter ne^r^eans-to-xameTWs"year. It will
never snow again!" exclaimed my eldest boy, turn-
ing from the window on Christmas Day, with the most
rueful aspect that ever greeted the broad, gay beams
of the glorious sun. It was like a spring day. The
little lakein front of the window glittered likeamirror
of silver, set in its dark frame of pine woods.
I, too, was wearying for the snow, and was tempt-
ed to think that ;i^"dMjnotTnnTe7as_e.arly as usual,
in order to disappoint us. But I kept this to myself,
andcomfortedtheexpectingchild with the oft-repeat-
ed assertion that it would certainly snow upon the
morrow.
But the morrow came and passed away, and many
other morrows, and the same mild, open weather pre-
vailed. The last night of the old year was ushered
in with furious storms of wind and snow; the rafters
of our log cabin shook beneath the violence of the
gale, which swept up from the lake like a lion roar-
549
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
ing for his prey, driving the snowflakes through every
open crevice, of which there were not a few, and pow-
deringthe floor until it rivalled in whiteness theground
without.
" Oh, what a dreadful night ! " we cried, as we hudd-
led, shivering, around the old broken stove. "A person
abroad in the woods to-night would be frozen. Flesh
and blood could not long stand this cutting wind."
"It reminds me of a laughable extempore ditty,"
said I to my young friend, A. C , who was stay-
ing with me, "composed by my husband during the
first very cold night we spent in Canada" —
***"" Oh, the cold of Canada nobody knows^
The fire burns our shoes_withput warming our toes;
Oh, dear, what shall we do?
&.thin, gjiH nnr_nnsf>«; arf> blue —
Our noses are blue, and our blankets are thin,
It's at zero without, and we're freezing within!
(Chorus} — Oh, dear, what shall we do?
"But, joking apart, my dear A , we ought to
be very thankful that we are not'tra veiling this night
" But to-morrow," said my eldest boy, lifting up his
curly head from my lap. "It will be fine to-morrow,
and we shall see dear papa again."
In this hope he lay down on his little bed upon the
floor, and was soon fast asleep; perhaps dreaming of
that eagerly-anticipated journey, and of meeting his
beloved father.
f Sleep was^ a stranger tp_ jny^-eyes. The tempest
raged so furiously~wifh~6ut that I was fearful the roof
would be carried off the house, or that the chimney
55°
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
would take fire. The night was far advanced when
old Jenny and myself retired to bed.
My boy's words were prophetic 5that was the last
night I ever spent in the bush — in the dear forest
home which I had loved in spite of all the hardships
which we had endured since we pitched our tent in
the backwoods. It was the birthplace of my three
boys, the school of high resolve and energetic action
in which we had learned to meet calmly, and success-
fully to battle with the ills of life. Nor did I leave it
. without many regretful tears, to mingle once more
with a world to whose usages, during my long soli-
tude, I had become almost a stranger, and to whose
praise or blame I felt alike indifferent. £~~
When the day dawned, the whole forest scenery
lay glittering in a mantle of dazzling white; the sun
shone brightly, the heavens were intensely blue, but
the cold was so severe that every article of food had
to be thawed before we could get our breakfast. The
very blankets that covered us during the night were
stiff with our frozen breath. " I hope the sleighs won't
come to-day," I cried; "we should be fnozen^onjhe
long journey."
---About noorrtwo sleighs turned into our clearing.
Old Jenny ran screaming into the room, " The masther
has sent for us at last! The sleighs are come! Fine
large sleighs, and illigant teams of horses! Och, and
it's a cowld day for the wee things to lave the bush."
The snow had been a week in advance of us at
B , and my husband had sent up the teams to re-
move us. The children jumped about, and laughed
aloud for joy. Old Jenny did not know whether to
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
laugh or cry,but she set about helping me to pack up
trunks and bedding as fast as our cold hands would
permit
In the midst of the confusion, my brother arrived,
like a good genius, to our assistance, declaring his
determination to take us down to B himself in
his large lumber-sleigh. This was indeed joyful news.
In less than three hours he despatched the hired
sleighs with their loads, and we all stood together in
the empty house, striving to warm our hands over
the embers of the expiring fire.
How cold and desolate every object appeared!
The small windows,haifblocTcedTip witlTsTrowjsearee-
ly allowed a glimpse of the declining sun to cheer us
with his serene aspect. In spite of the cold, several
kind friends had waded through the deep snow to
say, "God bless you ! — Good-bye" ; while a group of
silent Indians stood together, gazing upon our pro-
ceedings with an earnestness which showed that
they were not uninterested in the scene. As we passed
out to the sleigh, they pressed forward, and silently
held out their hands, while the squaws kissed me and
the little ones with tearful eyes. They had been true
friends to us in our dire necessity, and I returned
their mute farewell from my very heart.
Mr. S spranginto thesleigh. Oneof our party
was missing. "Jenny!" shouted my brother, at the
top of his voice, " it is too cold to keep your mistress
and the little children waiting."
"Och, shure, thin, it is I that am coming!" returned
the old body, as she issued from the house.
Shouts of laughter greeted her appearance. The
552
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
figure she cut upon that memorable day I shall never
forget. Mybrotherdropped the reins upon the horses'
necks, and fairly roared. Jenny was about to com-
mence her journey to the front in three hats. Was it
to protect her from the cold? Oh no; Jenny was not
afraid of the cold ! She could have eaten her break-
fast on the north side of an iceberg, and always dis-
pensed with shoes, during the most severe of our
Canadian winters. It was to protect these precious
articles from. injury.
Our good neighbour, Mrs. W , had presented
her with an old sky-bluedrawn-silk bonnet, as a part-
ing benediction. This, by way of distinction, for she
never had possessed such an article of luxury as a
silk bonnet in her life, Jenny had placed over the
coarse calico cap, with its full furbelow of the same yel-
low, ill-washed, homely material, next to her head;
over this, as second in degree, a sun-burnt straw hat,
with faded pink ribbons, just showed its broken rim
and tawdry trimmings ; and, to crown all, and serve
as a guard to the rest, a really serviceable grey-beaver
bonnet, once mine, towered up as high as the cele-
brated crown in which brother Peter figures in Swift's
Tale of a Tub.
" Mercy, J enny ! Why, old woman, you don't mean
to go with us that figure ! "
"Och, my dear heart! I've no band-box to kape
the cowld from desthroying my illigant bonnets," re-
turned Jenny, laying her hand upon the side of the
sleigh.
f^Go back, Jenny; go back," cried my brother.
"For God's sake take all that tomfoolery from off
553
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
« your head. We shall be the laughing-stock of every
village we pass through/^_J
"Och, shure, now, Mr. S , who'd think of look-
ing at an owld crathur like me! It's only yersel' that
would notice the like."
"All the world, everybody would look at you,
Jenny. I believe that you put on those hats to draw
the attention of all the young fellows that we shall
happen to meet on the road. Ha, Jenny ! "
With an air of offended dignity, the old woman re-
turned to the house to re-arrange her toilet, and pro-
vide for the safety of her "illigant bonnets," one of
which she suspended to the strings of her cloak, while
she carried the third dangling in her hand ; and no
persuasion of mine would induce her to put them out
of sight.
Many painful and conflicting emotions agitated
my mind, but found no utterance in words, as we
entered the forest path, and I looked my last upon
that humble home consecrated by the memory of a
thousand sorrows. Every object had become endear-
ed to me during my long eyjje from ciyilized life. I
loved the lonely lake'," with its magnificent belt of
dark pines sighing in the breeze; the cedar swamp,
thesummer home of my dark Indian friends; my own
dear little garden, with its rugged snake-fence which
I had helped Jenny to place with my own hands, and
which I had assisted the faithful woman in cultivat-
ing for the last three years, where I had so often
braved the tormenting mosquitoes, black flies, and
intense heat, to provide vegetables for the use of the
family. Even the cows, that had given a break fast for
554
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
the last time to my children, were now regarded with
mournful affection. A poor labourer stood in the
doorway of the deserted house, holding my noble
water-dog, Rover, in a string. The poor fellow gave
a joyous bark as my eyes fell upon him.
"James J , take care of my dog."
"Never fear, ma'am, he shall bide with me as long
as he lives."
"He and the Indians at least feel grieved for our
departure," I thought. Love is so scarce in this world
that we ought to prize it, however lowly the source
from whence it flows.
We accomplished only twelve miles of our journey
that night. The road lay through the bush, and along
the banks of the grand, rushing, foaming Otonabee
river, the wildest and most beautiful of forest streams.
We slept at the house of kind friends, and early in
the morning resumed our long journey, but minus
one of our party. Our old favourite cat, Peppermint,
had made her escape from the basket in which she
had been confined, and had scampered off, to the
great grief of the children.
As we passed Mrs. H 's house, we called for
dear Addie. Mr. H brought her in his arms to the
gate, well wrapped up in a large fur cape and a warm
woollen shawl.
"You are robbing me of my dear little girl," he
said. " Mrs. H is absent; she told me not to part
with her if you should call; but I could not detain
her without your consent. Now that you have seen
her, allow me to keep her for a few months longer?"
Addie was in the sleigh. I put my arm about her.
555
, ]
i~ 0*
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
I felt I had my child again, and I secretly rejoiced in
the possession of my own. I sincerely thanked him
for his kindness, and Mr. S drove on.
At Mr. R 's, we found a parcel from dear Emilia,
containing a plum-cake and other good things for
the children. Her kindness never flagged.
We crossed the bridge over the Otonabee, in the
rising town of Peterborough, at eight o'clock in the
morning. Winter had now set in fairly. The children
were glad to huddle together in the bottom of the
sleigh, under the buffalo skins and blankets; all but
x my eldest boy, who, just turned of five years old, was
" enchanted with all he heard and saw, and continued
to stand up and gaze around him. Born injhe forest,
which he had never quitted before, the sight of a town
x was such a novelty that he could find no words where-
with to express his astomshm_ent.
"Are the houses come to see one another?" he
asked. " How did they all meet here?"
The question greatly amused his uncle, who took
some pains to explain the difference between town
and country. During the day, we got rid of old Jenny
and her bonnets, whom we found a very refractory
travelling companion, as wilful, and far more difficult
to manage than a young child. Fortunately, we over-
took the sleighs with the furniture, and Mr. S-
transferred Jenny to the care of one of the drivers; an
arrangement that proved satisfactory to all parties.
We had been most fortunate in obtaining comfort-
able lodgings for the night. The evening had clos
in so intensely cold that although we were only twc
miles from C , Addie was so much affected by il
51
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
that the child lay sick and pale in my arms, and,
when spoken to, seemed scarcely conscious of our
presence.
My brother jumped from the front seat, and came
round to look at her. "That child is ill with the cold ;
we must stop somewhere to warm her, or she will
hardly hold out till we get to the inn at C ."
We were just entering the little village of A ,
in the vicinity of the court-house, and we stopped at
a pretty green cottage, and asked permission to warm
the children. A stout, middle-aged woman came to
the sleigh, and in the kindest manner requested us to
alight.
"I think I know that voice," I said. "Surely it can-
not be Mrs. S , who once kept the hotel at
C ?"
" Mrs. Moodie, you are welcome," said the excellent
woman, bestowing upon me a most friendly embrace;
"you and your children. I am heartily glad to see
you again after so many years. God bless you all ! "
Nothingcould exceed thekindness and hospitality
of this generous woman; she would not hear of our
leaving her that night, and, directing my brother to
put up his horses in her stable, she made up an excel-
lent fire in a large bedroom, and helped me to undress
the little ones who were already asleep, and to warm
and feed the rest before putting them to bed.
This meeting gave me real pleasure. In their sta-
tion of life, I seldom have found a more worthy couple
than this American and his wife; and, having wit-
nessed so many of their acts of kindness, both to our-
selves and others, I entertained for them a sincere
557
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
respect and affection, and truly rejoiced that Provid-
ence had once more led me to the shelter of their roof.
Mr. S was absent, but I found little Mary —
the sweet child who used to listen with such delight
to Moodie's flute — grown up into a beautiful girl;
and the baby that was, a fine child of eight years old.
The next morning was so intensely cold that my
brother would not resume the journey until past ten
o'clock, and even then it was a hazardous experi-
ment.
Wehad not proceeded four miles before the horses
were covered with icicles. Our hair was frozen as
white as old Time's solitary forelock, our eyelids stiff,
and every limb aching with cold.
"This will never do," said my brother, turning to
me, "the children will freeze. I never felt the cold
more severe than this."
"Where can we stop?" said I ; "we are miles frorn
C , and I see no prospect of the weather becom-
ing milder."
"Yes, yes; I know, by the very intensity of the cold,
that a change is at hand. We seldom have more than
three very severe days running, and this is the third.
At all events, it is much warmer at night in this coun-
try than during the day; the wind drops, and the frost
is more bearable. I know a worthy farmer who lives
about a mile ahead ; he will give us house-room for
a few hours; and we will resume our journey in the
evening. The moon is at full ; and it will be easier to
wrap the children up,and keep them warm when they
are asleep. Shall we stop at Old Woodruff's?"
"With all my heart." My teeth were chattering with
558
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
the cold, and the children were crying over their ach-
ing fingers at the bottom of the sleigh.
A few minutes' ride brought us to a large farm-
house, surrounded by commodious sheds and barns.
A fine orchard opposite, and a yard well stocked with
fat cattle and sheep, sleek geese, and plethoric-look-
ing swine, gave promise of a land of abundance and
comfort. My brother ran into the house to see if the
owner was at home, and presently returned, accom-
panied by the staunch Canadian yeoman and his
daughter, who gave us a truly hearty welcome, and
assisted in removing the children from the sleigh
to the cheerful fire that made all bright and cosy
within.
Our host was a shrewd, humorous-looking York-
shireman. His red, weather-beaten face, and tall, ath-
letic figure, bent as it was with hard labour, gave in-
dications of great personal strength; and a certain
knowing twinkle in his small, clear grey eyes, which
had been acquired by long dealing with the world,
with a quiet, sarcastic smile that lurked round the
corners of his large mouth, gave you the idea of a man
who could not easily be deceived by his fellows; one
who, though no rogue himself, was quick in detecting
the roguery of others. His manners were frank and
easy, and he was such a hospitable entertainer that
you felt at home with him in a minute.
" Well, how are you, Mr. S ?" cried the farmer,
shaking my brother heartily by the hand. "Toiling
in the bush still, eh?"
"Just in the same place."
"And the wife and children?"
559
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
" Hearty. Some half-dozen have been added to the
flock since you were our way."
"So much the better — so much the better. The
more the merrier, Mr. S ; children are riches in
this country."
"I know not how that may be; I find it hard to
clothe and feed mine."
"Wait till they grow up; they will be brave helps
to you then. The price of labour — the price of labour,
Mr. S , is the destruction of the farmer."
" It does not seem to trouble you much, Woodruff,"
said my brother, glancing round the well-furnished
apartment.
"My son and S doit all," cried the old man.
" Of course the girls help in busy times, and take care
of the dairy, and we hire occasionally; but small as
the sum is which is expended in wages during seed-
time and harvest, I feel it, I can tell you."
"You are married again, Woodruff?"
"No, sir," said the farmer, with a peculiar smile,
"not yet;" which seemed to imply the probability of
such an event. "That tall gal is my eldest daughter;
she manages the house, and an excellent housekeeper
she is. But I cannot keep her for ever." With a know-
ing wink, ^pais will think of getting married, and sel-
dom consult the wishes of their parents upon the
subject when once they have taken the notion into
their heads.j But 'tis natural, Mr. S , it is natural ;
we did jusfthe same when we were young."
My brother looked laughingly towards the fine,
handsomeyoung woman, as she placed upon the table
hot water, whiskey, and a huge plate of plum-cake,
560
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
which did not lack a companion, stored with the finest
apples which the orchard could produce.
The young girl looked down, and blushed.
"Oh, I see how it is, Woodruff! You will soon lose
your daughter. I wonder that you have kept her so
long. But who are these youngladies?" he continued,
as three girls very demurely entered the room.
"The two youngest are my darters, by my last wife,
who, I fear, mean soon to follow the bad example of
their sister. The other lady" said the old man, with a
reverential air, " is a particular friend of my eldest
darter's."
My brother laughed slily, and the old man's cheek
took a deeper glow as he stooped forward to mix the
punch.
"You said that these two young ladies, Woodruff,
were by your last wife. Pray how manyjyjyes have
you had?"
" Qf*ry three. It is impossible, they say in my coun-
try, to-have loolnuch of a good thing."
"So I suppose you think," said my brother, glanc-
ing first at the old man and then towards Miss Smith.
" Three wives ! You have been a fortunate man, Wood-
ruff, to survive them all."
"Ay, have I not, Mr. S ? but to tell you the
truth, I have been both lucky and unlucky in the wife
way," and then he told us the history of his several
ventures in matrimony, with which I shall not trouble
my readers.
When he had concluded, the weather was somewhat
milder,the sleigh was ordered to the door, and we pro-
ceeded on our journey, resting for thenight at a small
561 2N
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
village about twenty miles from B , rejoicing that
the long distance, which separated us from the hus-
band and father, was diminished to a few miles, and
that, with the blessing of Providence, we should meet
on the morrow.
About noon we reached the distant town, and were
met at the inn by him whom one and all so ardently
longed to see. He conducted us to a pretty, neat
cottage, which he had prepared for our reception, and
where we found old Jenny already arrived. With great
pride the old woman conducted me over the premises,
and showed me the furniture "the masther" had
bought; especially recommendingto my noticea china
tea-service, which she considered the most wonderful
acquisition of the whole.
" Och ! who would have thought, a year ago, misth-
ress dear, that we should be living in a mansion like
this, and ating off raal chaney? It is but yesterday
that we were hoeing praties in the field."
"Yes, Jenny, God has been very good to us, and I
hope that we shall never learn to regard with indiffer-
ence the many benefits which we have received at
His hands."
Reader! it is not my intention to trouble you with
the sequel of our history. IJiave given yog a jaithful
pjCtUI£~-o£-a-4ife4a- tVip harkwocuis n£-C^«aHa and I
leave^ou to draw from it y^ur_owrLconclusions. To
the poor, indusHlous~worlang man it presents many
advantages; to the poor gentleman, none\ The for-
mer works hard, puts up with coarse, scanty fare, and
submits, with a good grace, to hardships that would
kill a domesticated animal at home. Thus hejjecomes
562
ADIEU TO THE WOODS
independent, inasmuch as the land that he has clear-
ed ^misjiim_in the ..coJ3iniQn_jnecessaries of life ; but
it seldom, if ever, in remote situations, accomplishes
more than this. The gentleman can neither work so
hardjive so coarsely, nor end^re^so_mariy privations
asjfcpoorer but more^rtunatejidghbo^^JLInac^ \'^l ^
customed to mamjaHabolIr^ his^services in the field
are"npt oLa_nature to secure-for Mm^pmjELtablejre- -^Yk. lu
turn. The^jask is aaw--tQ4iir[L_Re"lcnows not_how to \
perform it well; and, conscious of his deficiency, he p
s. expends his littte4tteaHs la, hiring jabourT which his
bush-farm can neverrepay. DirBcultiesjncrease,debts
grow upon him, he struggles in vain to extricate hinT-
self,and finally sees his family sink into hopeless ruin.
If these sketches should prove the means^pf de-
terring one family from sinking their property, and
---shtipwrecking_all JtheiFhopes. by^gbing to reside in
the backwoods of Canada, I shall consider rnyself
amply^epaid for revealing the~secrets of the prison-
house, and feel that I have not^piled and suffered in
the wilderness in vain.
BOOKPLATE OF J. W. DUNBAR MOODIE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE MAPLE-TREE
CHAPTER XXVI. THE MAPLE-TREE
A CANADIAN SONG
HAIL TO THE PRIDE OF THE FOREST
—hail
To the maple, tall and green;
It yields a treasure which ne'er shall fail
While leaves on its boughs are seen.
When the moon shines bright,
On the wintry night,
And silvers the frozen snow;
And echo dwells
On the jingling bells
As the sleighs dart to and fro;
Then it brightens the mirth
Of the social hearth
With its red and cheery glow.
Afar, 'mid the bosky forest shades,
It lifts its tall head on high;
When the crimson-tinted evening fades
From the glowing saffron sky;
When the sun's last beams
Light up woods and streams,
And brighten the gloom below;
And the deer springs by
With his flashing eye,
And the shy, swift-footed doe;
And the sad winds chide
In the branches wide,
With a tender plaint of woe.
The Indian leans on its ragged trunk,
With the bow in his red right-hand,
And mourns that his race, like a stream, has sunk
From the glorious forest land.
But, blythe and free,
The maple-tree,
Still tosses to sun and air
Its thousand arms,
While in countless swarms
567
ROUGHING IT IN THE BUSH
The wild bee revels there;
But soon not a trace
Of the red man's race
Shall be found in the landscape fair.
When the snows of winter are melting fast,
And the sap begins to rise,
And the biting breath of the frozen blast
Yields to the spring's soft sighs,
Then away to the wood,
For the maple, good,
Shall unlock its honied store;
And boys and girls,
With their sunny curls,
Bring their vessels brimming o'er
With the luscious flood
Of the brave tree's blood,
Into cauldrons deep to pour.
The blaze from the sugar-bush gleams red;
Far down in the forest dark,
A ruddy glow on the tree is shed,
That lights up the rugged bark;
And with merry shout,
The busy rout
Watch the sap as it bubbles high;
And they talk of the cheer
Of the coming year,
And the jest and the song pass by;
And brave tales of old
Round the fire are told,
That kindle youth's beaming eye.
Hurrah! for the sturdy maple-tree],,
Long may its green branches Wave;
In native strength sublime and free,
Meet emblem for the brave.
May the nation's peace
With its growth increase,
568
THE MAPLE-TREE
And its worth be widely spread ;
For it lifts not in vain
To the sun and rain
Its tall, majestic head.
May it grace our spjl,
ArW rewaTTo^FS^
Till the nation's heaffis dead.
PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SUPS FROM THIS POCKET
UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY
F Moodie, Susanna^ (Strickland)
5505 Roughing it in the bush.
M86
1913
cop. 6
I
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