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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, ii est film6 d partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n6cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. y errata td to nt ie pelure, 9on d n 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 .rf-* • \ DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES OF NOVA SCOTIA, IN PROijE AND VERSE NO y^Ar->SGOTl AN". ^ 5fbitatfb bg permission to JTabg glacHoniuil. HALIFAX, N, S. A. & W. MACKINLAY. 1864. F 7 178838 / /(^;^^— JVon^./By^-s Begistered according to Act of Parliament, in the Provincial Secretary's Office, on the Eighteenth day of November, in the year of our Lord One Thousand Eight Hundred and Sixty-four. ■»';■ "HALIFAX citizen" CALORIC POWER PRESS, CITT BUILSINO, SOUTH FERRT VHARP, HAUFAZ, W. S. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. rincial in the jT-four. Leaves Halifax, July 1860 — .. I Dartmouth 2r Lake Porter & Three Fathom Harbor (V Chezzetcook ; T Petpeswick ^J> The Musquodoboit River (Poetry) 14 Golu at Tangier IT CHAPTER 11. Musquodoboit 21 Grant 2B Statistics ~ 2T Fire in the Woods 2ft Portobello 3ft The Minister's Diary 34 Poetry 52 The Prince of Wales at Halifax S6 At Hantsport 64 CHAPTER IIL Prince's Lodge 65 Poetry 66 On the Railway 69 Shubenacadie 72 The Song of Fundy's Tide 73 Stewiacke ~ 75 Ode 78 Brookfield and Truro 79 Clifton 81 Black Rock 82 \ CJ- II CONTENTS. Statistics 85 C)hegcnois River 94 Folly and TiOndondcvry 97 Maitlniul 100 J^ocl Light House 102 Slate Quarry, Douglas 105 Demure 106 The Rain 107 CIIArTER IV. Onto Pictou 110 Song of tlie Leaves 117 Pictou 119 On a Missionary 119 TFrfion of Synods 121 New Glasgow 125 •Coal Mines 126 Statistics 131 Antigonishe. 133 CHAPTER V. Lonisburg 136 Poetry 140 HoDse Hunters 143 Address to a Moose 144 llcTieeMambertou 153 The Siege of Louisbnrg 158 CHAPTER VI. The Exile of Cobequid 169 The Village 161 The Abbe La Loutre 178 Up the River 180 TVlaypole Brook 184 Indian Council 187 Through the Lakes 190 The Attack 196 The Warrior's Burial 197 ■CONTENTS. Ill 'The Cobequid — on to Beau Sejour 190 The Neutrals 200 The oldest Towns 201 The Wedding 212 Depart for Minas 215 Acadians at Sclma 21 G At Noel 217 The Avon 218 Miaag 219 Pesaquid 221 Windsor 223 lleturu to Cobequid 226 The Vessels— Tlie Notice 227 The Church— The Speech 228 The Prisoners— The March 281 The Embarcntion— The Departure 233 The Deserted Village 22G Henri at Long Island 239 Appendix 243 PREFACE. Dawson has published in his Acadian Geology the com- position of the Nova Scotian Peninsula, and has exhibited her aiiaeral wealth to an admiring public. Haliburton has penned the History of Nova Scotia, and has given publicity to her annals ; and Beamish Murdoch is now engaged in preparing a history of the Province from authentic documents recently col* ieeted. The present work is neither a history of Nova Scotia nor an examination of its geological structure ; it is a picture in part of Nova Scotia, sketched from Nature, interaperced with some historical and personal allusions connected with the localities. The beauty and sublimity of the scenery, and the richness of .the historic lore have summoned forth the power of Auld .Scotia's Muse. Acadia resembling it in so many particulars must be as meet a muse for a poetic child as " Caledonia stern .and wild." Tl*e object of the work now presented to the generous con- ,«ideration of the public, is to direct the attention of the Touih ,of Nova Scotia to the beauties of their native land — to an appreciation of its merits — to the inspiring a love of country — not only from its being their Fatherland, but as adorned with the finest finishing which the pencil of nature could impart. Not unconscious of many defects in her work, a daughter of Acadia offers it to the public as an effort on her part to direct ilhe attention of our youths to the value of home. Halifax, 1864. Hi. ha lov ii.ll ha; inc 1 Url KllO' who •SOttl writ u ■ not j SKETCHES OE mVX SCOTIA. ClIAPTEl! l.('iiM> Jlulitux .luly IStiO — Durtniuiilh — l!liff/.»«'licoi)U — S(»urt»' of till' Mu!>f[vio(loVi()it — (ioM at 'I'aii^jici'. '■ In WcstminHtor Al.iboy rests tin; diiKt ol' kiiig.-^. [triiiceH and nobles ; but siostro])hised my friend, Mr. Andrew Urban, on leaving the city of 1 [alifax in 'luly, 18(>< >. to enioy a few days lishing in the Musquodoboit. '•' Why do not her sons make IS'ova Scotia better known: for instance, here is my friend, Mr. Urban. who knows the country, the people, (?ven the old settlers and Indians: who better fitted than he to \s rite a book ■.'"" I. asked. K Bookmakiim is not niv forte Besides it would lH)t p^y he iinsweret. 1. But there is the [ileasiir'', ^[r. Urban « H li II 2 SKETCHES or "'Oh," s;ii(l he, " the ploa.siiro oT bookmaking ib- an expensive hixurv. Think of the manv hours spent \n writing; and then the critics, &c., &c. I prefer tlie pleasure of a drive at early morn through the forest, the nuisio of hirds, and to gaze on such a picture as we are leaving hehind us. Whoa, whoa, Kosahella I " The wagon containing the fishing gear of Mr. Trban and his friend, drawn by a steed named llosabella, sto})ped, and we lookcil in the direction indicated by ^Ir. l'rl)an. The city was partially hidden iii fog: from the Dartmouth side it was rising in thin [)ale clouds, revealing the harbor, with its i.slands and numerous vessels. The steamer for England was leaving (hinard's Wharf. (Sloping to the waters are pretty suburban cut- tages, surrounded by gardens and fields. Above- these residences towers the Asylum for the Insane, a large and commodious edifice, standing in an ample enclosure, where the inmates find empk\yment and recreation. Th(^ view is bounded by McNab's Island, and the thick forest which clothes the hill, which rises gently from the harbor. Beside us lav the town of Dartmouth, the main street thronged with vehicles of every description, "'ontainintj meat, acu:^, Imttcr, v-^e tables, ilov.'crs J^' NOVA SCOTIA. hours I rough II sucli Whoa, of Mr. named reciion om the clouds, .mcrour^ lenving mi fot- Vbovf lindane, ill an JDyiULMlt ukI the li ri^oH main •iption. lilov.'crs and hcrb.s. for the green inarkcl ; milkwonHMi, ii. <;lean white a}>ron.^ and oUi lionnet.-^, rested their larGi-c tin cans on tlie street; Frendi '''iris (diattc'^ over their baskets, while colorod/o//j sliovcd through the crowd, with birch barks resting on their lieads. lillcd with strawV)err'es — all hasting to catcli th( tens show three distinct shades of green, while small i^pruces and lirs exhibit iive various shad(?s of color. Then succeed ai.-res ot x„, .„ NOVA SCOTIA. reply ompt- iinaiori m tn ovorii nice t" many Di'-war. them. !.s wet'' 'om tlu: 1 GUI OIU' s, witli twee II iern,<. )errie?^ li lice 111 ilicrry. on the om« a.- black wninu iistinct ixliibii I eves of land covered with heavy woods, wliilr in the 'back- ground, far far away, long ledges of grey rijck toncl! I he borders of cloud-land. Here is Lake Porter (eighteen miles from tin- I'ity), with an imj)08ing manse and unfinished kirk, an Episcopal <'hurch, and a few small farms nestlin*:; around its margin. It is a very <[uiet spot. The lake is a very pretty sheet of water, and forms the- Harbor of Lawrenceton. Although it boasts thf name of town, it is in fact but an agricultura'= distri(;t extending on the sea shoK; from Gole Harboi to Chezzettecook. Law^reuceton ( contains a large extent of marsh land, with some good u|)lands. <)riginally it w'as laid out in cwenty farms, eacl I'ontaining one thousand acres. One of these old homesteads, surrounded by shady trees, was tlio Inrth^Dlace ot the gallant Parker, oi Orimean memory. There is a fine Presbyterian, as well as a venerable Episcopal, church, in this town- ship. Three Fathom Harbor is a small spot of table hind lying between a steep hill and the oc(ian. It is scttled bv a few German families, who have turned this pretty and secluded spot into a very garden. Here also is a small neat Episcopalian churcli and school house. From a head, or mound, facing the sea, you have a line view of Jeddore Head, ar almost perpendicular cliff, as well as of some beauti Tal islands iind saudv beaches. .SKKTCJIES 01 A sliorL distance from Three Fathom Harbor we have a \\<:w of the lower part of Chezzettecook vilhigo and harl^or. The harbor is a broad sheet of water, dotted with little green islets, which hall' aide the while-sailed boats and vessels. Beyond these is the dee|» blue of the Atlantic, bearing on i.ts broad surface manv noble vessels, some home- ward; others outward bound. Further U[i the harbor are groups of people busy digging clams. They arc mostly lads and females. They turn up the soft mud with shovels, then pick the clams into baskets and carry them to the shore, wading through the soft ooze a distance of several rods. Further up are two Vvomen ditching- throwing the sods from their spades into a cart, which was drawn by a pair of oxen yoked by the horns. Now we meet groups of blaek-eyed maidens, knitting in hand, who, by their French speech and antique dresses, remind us that onee the lilies oi' France waved over Xova Seotia. The houses arc middling sized, with three windows in front, the interior usually divided into two rooms. Some of tlie French women are pretty. Their dress is a .short sac and striped homespun skirt, a wdiite oi- black kerchief on their heads. When out of doors, their long black hair is tied down with a band ; then ^t is turned back up over the crown of the head. ^ 4 NOVA SCOTIA. I forming a KtifV roll on tlio ibrelicad. Above this is tied a small ,"-5([uaro piece of cotton, covered \vitli manv-colored ribLons, feathers, or artificial flowers. The ends of the hair are plaited, and fastened with a l)it of ribbon. This head dres?^, kirtle and skirt, with Ijiiskins made of untanncd hide, is, doubtless, very like that worn when Do]\[onts lei't France, nearlv three centuries a^o. Noaring the chapel, we meet the children of tlu- village school. One black-eyed girl, with a white kerchief on her head, shewed us her slate, which contained her lesson neatlv written in French. Wo enter the chapel, which is a commodious building in the form of a cross, enclosed by a substantial white paling. Some very fine paintings — presents from France — adorn it. Several ao'od women were kneeling when wc entered, telling their beads very devoutly. In the rear of it is the village cemetery : and adjoining is the glebe, a very comfortal)le looking; residence. We climb the hill in rear of the chapel, which is the height of land between the harbor of Ghezzett- cook and Lake Porter, and are rewarded bv a ma<]!;nificent view of the villao;e and surroundini;" country. We counted five hundred l)uildings below us. On the eastern side of the harbor, which is skirted by pale green marshes, several small vessels .arc biiilding. On an island on this side a number s SKKTCHES OF of brick kilns also give employment to the villagers. The fishing hoats were coming in, laden with trea- sures of the deep ; while at the lower end of the Ohe/zettcook valley the Atlantic rolls its heavy swell, and will continue to roll till that day dawn- when there shall he no more sea. On the other hand you saw the smooth oxpnnse of Lake Porter. Here and there a tiny smoke wreath hetokcned a cottage near its margin. Above these, as far as the <'ye could reach, naught was visible l)ut the wild woods and the grey rocky barren which in the distance seemed to meet the sky. We regained the village, and were hospitably treated by a pretty Acadian i.-other, whose house was a model of neatness. Her children spoke French und English fluently. "Which way you come?" asked a man with whom we had entered into conversation. Having satisfied his curiosity, Mr. Urban enquired " where he was born?" " Here," was his reply ; '*' but my father l)orn at Minas, then settle here." '* So was mine," remarked Mr. Urban, as wc left l\im. " Perhaps my grandsire settled on the farm from which his had been ejected. In my earliei- years I have spent hours in listening to my grand- lather telling of the hardships of these poor people : not their sufferings en masse, but individual trials. NOVA SCOTIA. 9 at eft rm liei- id- lle: vis. I'heS'' Ac-adian French seem to mo now like people with whom I am acquainted." Mr. Urban liaving promised to tell me some ol' these tales at a future time, we took a last look at the Acadian village, and regained the highway. Travelling round the head of the dyke and a few detached dwellings, we wore going over a road <-anopied by the spreading branches of shady trees, over brookn gurgling round granite boulders. We pass lakes whore the white lily peeps through the green leaves, and waving masses of foliage throw their shadows on the water; pass long ledges of grey rock hidden by the wild rose and sweet ferns ; pass green mossy swamps, dotted with pale flowers, where moss-bearded old pines and hemlocks throw long sombre shadows. Anon, over some gravelly ridge, where, amid sapling birches, the trembling aspens quiver, and the air is fragrant with resinous aroma from leaves which shade the red-veined mottled pitcher plants, from whose brimming cups the birds drink the clear water. Now slowly up the long hill where robins love to congregate, from whose brow we can see the adamantine hills rise rliflf above cliff in solitary grandeur. Now pass we the 2Gth mile stone, and Petpeswick river and harbor greet our view. If water over grew weary, surely this little stream might, as it drives three saw mills, a carding and a shingling machine, 10 SKETCHES OF in less than ono-lialf mile ; but no — it goes dancinj^ and rippling over tlio road, to rest in the bosom ol a small lagoon which bears on lU h'urfaco many ;i wild fowl. But even here it is not allowed to rest. for a canny Scot lias dug a channel j'rom the lagcoii to Pctpcswick Harbor, and there ereclcd his mill-- and machinery, so that vessels are loaded out of the mills. From Viowlield, at the head of retpeswick, a tine viae is obtained of the clear sparkling waters which luve the ii;reen wood-crested islets dottinu' the liarbor, and the very pictures(|uo clearings and dwellings dottinG; its shores. A mile; from Petpeswick is the mouth of th*- Miisquodoboit. On the Itank of the stream, in the midst of spruces, is a small hotel, where we lodged. Not a patch of grass to be seen ; nothing but woods, I'ocks and tlie river, was visible from the hotel windoYs's. Several gentlemen- were engaged in angling in the 'iiiilldrtni and the pools in the vicinity of the bridge. Mr. lJrl)an caught a fine salmon. His friend havim' wearied in waitinir for a bite recrossed the bridge, and turned into a path which led up the river. It was covered with soft moss, which also extended up the north side of the trees. The air was fraG;rant with wild blossoms. The tinkle of a cowbell was audible above the sound of the waterfall . NOVA t^COTIA. 11 m tlic I-IiH also air of a rfall. A ic-w I'ocKs ii'oin this path a ledgo of rocks fell acrcss the stream, rising on the o[>])Osil(.* side ami forming a steep clitl'. The water rolKnl ovcv these ledge.- with a pleasant jocund sound. Making our way as uost we could througli the thicket, wc stooped under a windfall, and very unexpectedly stood hesido the palings of tlio village graveyard — a ju'ctty spot which had been chosen as the last resting place of this peo}iie. The green liank sloping to the river, whose broad smooth expanse v/as hero seen for .-;ome distan(?(\ Across the river, steep, l)are rocky terraces rose almost perpendicularly from the rivei'. On this side was seen the narrow valley, like a green strip, bounded by a granite hill, huge detached boulders lying among the waving grain. Two or three dwellin-i-s onlv were to be seen. No sound audible save a tinkle of the distant cowbell, and the wliish-whish of the river falls. Anon a splash and voices announce that a trout or salmon has been raised in th(^ churchyard pool. Mr. Urban soon joined us. Keniarking that he intended paying a visit to Eose Bank, we left tlu' river, and in a few minutes' ^v'alk round the hill we stood beside the village schoolhouse, which i,- situated on a hill covered with large granite boul- xlers, and sheltered by a thick urove. Near bv is the Presbvterian ehurch, — a well finish(\l buildini^. with a .square tower. It stands in a most romantic 12 SKKTCIIES OF -situation. " Church and school," romarked mv I'l'iond, "owe mncli to tho lihomlity of Mrs. \V. ot Rose Bank." Across the ro.'ul i.s a now and neatly linisheci Methodist (*h;ipol, which is a proof of the very u'reat liberality of the momhers of that body. Rose Bank — distant about a mile from the Preabytorian church — lies at the head of the narro^v I'iver valley. A pretty flower plot, bordered with evergreen, is around the door. The orchard is at the side and rear of the cottage, and extends to the river. Real Scotcii thistles and daisies nestle around the grey rock. Boulders covered with creeping plants and raspberry bushes lie around the enclosure. Across the river lie tall ranges of rock, the crevices being filled with evergreens, hucklo berry and pigeon berry bushes. The flat surface was covered with small trees, which denuded of their foliage by a recent fire, resembled the masts of a fleet shrouded in crape. While, on the other hand, rock stretched beyond rock, brake, fern, and hanging wood liendiug over them till they appeared crowned with the blue of the sky. A party proposed a walk to the lakes about a mile from Rose Bank. We crossed the bridge, which has a very fine gilded salmon suspended ovoi' i t . xVbove" the bridge is an establishment for sawing logs. The site of the lake is lonely and beautiful. NOVA SCOTIA. i:; Ic ed Icr ul. < )ii a little grocn islet is the ruins of an old hoiLso: a «pot where fancy whispers a hermit might choosf to dwell. A smooth expan.-^e ol' water, with innumerable lilies daueiuy on its margin, surrounded by precipici' upon precipice, until rockland and cloudland seem to meet, ami covered witli all the varied lights and -hadows which ferny rockside, leafy hill top, jutting points and lily covered coves, can create from sun and cloud at morning, noon and night, seem to meet and Jicntle on th»^ bosom of this quiet lake. We entered a skiiV, and wore rowed up the lake and into the river. Here the liills receded, and the valley widened into a broad grassy meadow, where the }»eople obtain hay for their stock. This meadow extends at irregular widths for several miles. At the falls the navigation is impeded by rocks. A thunder cloud appeared, threatening every .moment to pour its watery stores upon us. It happily pa.ssed over, and only a few drops of rain fell, its base hiding the cliffs beyond the lake. The setting sun shone very brightly for a few moments, lighting the Inky peaks of the cloud with a fringe of palest azure and gold, whilst a. very vivid rainbow was formed, spanning the arch as the beautiful bow of the promise. ''Where," enquired one of the party, "is thr source of the Miisquodoboit '?" J 4 SKKTCKKS OF Mr. l)rl»an, who liad foi* sonio tiiiu; boon Hiluiitly u;azing on tlio beauteous rainl)Ow, nuddcMily aske/l, Shall [ toll you ')'> u V <^y (1 do, was an-^wc rod 1 >V fir\Oi;ii voices. " I Hhall hav<.' time toj^jct tln'ough liclbro we roach the Klioro," lie .said, with a siuili! ; " so listoii to the source of the Musijuodohoit, oi- ('ho.^rp Wa^r,-, a? it was called by tht) Indian?.'' I \\\: \iis(^((>i)<)i;()iT. I''n»iii its liDiiu' ill tin' wood, WIkm'i- tin; old lioinlocks stOfMl I.onfT Ho'-'' ii^'o, as tlicy stiinil now--— 'IMicir wliitc anus cxli^nlcd, All inos.- y and bi'udrd, hofviiJi,' tlic, blast — tricklin;,' from liro\ Of tl ic (lark lliiity roc All untrodden by Hock, Thr ^"troaiu'.s lir.st inotiou sjcclcs tbc oooaii. rnki.sscd by tlio siiu .iileains, IJn.soen by the inooubeams, Through impervious Ibrost.s its way, Through tho uutuinn leaves .sproad Where the lost hunter's tread Starts the owl from the tree in the dav — Timid moose driidv their fill, Where the rill, round the hill, NN'ith gurgling motion seeks the oeean. I'Mdy jii"' round win idfall.v Melting up the snowballs Into crystal palaces of ieo ; Deep in the snowy glen, Where is hid the bear's den : Through tall pines, straight, limbless, which cnlicf^ NOVA SCOTIA. I^i • > u It Wind.-, !i.s they swiftly li\ I'o bear uj) to tho hky riif voice of it« motion Hockiii^' tht; oiiaii, l''roiii wildwood t-mcrgiiig, Over smooth rock surj^iii^', Tho river joyously moves iiK^iig Whoro the shiidowy ;^rain W'jivps over tho phiin, And you hoar tho ri'iipor's eiuiorfid soiij* : Iliippiiioss is ill it, \Vh(!rc tho Mus SKETCHES or In the suiiHhine glanciii;.'-, On, on it the Atlantic, and flow through narrow valley.< t.M the sea. In different places tall cliffs rise almost perpen^ dicularly from the edge of the valleys. The original vegetation having been destroyed by fire, thes'- .SKETCHES OF 17 lun.- Licli land ;ul- b> )cn- fuial granite terracos have become perfect gardens oi' flowering and fruit-bearing shriiV}^, (Assyria's king might liave envied them,) while the ])are summits, almost destitute of soil, are clothed with stunted spruces. Tall feathery brakes (Pteris Aquilinai and sweet ferns (Comptonia Asplenifolia) wave in valleys between the granite hills, through which a lucky sportsman may sometimes catch sight of a bear or a moose. Fine groups of hardwood trees grow on tluisr c'ranitc hills, and now .these orranite rocks have proved auriferous. Gold. — "Gold at Tangier," has run like an electric shock along the settlement. Every man {\hW to walk had gone from Musquodoboit ITarboi- to this Eldorado. So we learned on return inu from a two days' excursion up the river. Wc [procured a small specimen of the precious ore from an Indian. Gold, pale and pure I Gold it most certainly was, adhering firmly to its quartzite bod. Tangier, soon to be as well known as its ancient African namesake, is a strip of land lying between the Musquodoboit and a very small stream named Tangier River, which empties into the Atlantic cast of Ship Harbor. The rear of this block, and where the gold was first found, has since been called Moose Land. Enquiring at the hotel for particulars a.s to the 2 ^ J8 NOVA SCOTIA. 1 ' i ill t w iimoiuiL fomiil, Sm., \v»! wore flivot-tccl to the house of the comity .survi'yor, " who knew all about it." ^[r. Urban OOTrA. VJ tlio Lo tho after }yorV .;lift«, tlirougli s\v;imj)s rovcroil wiiii •■i;LiiI»('i'i'y vines and bake applo blop.-oni.^. \i, night Wf .-lo[)t -slept as only the weary can sleep — tlu; l)lu<' sky our coverlid. The second day at noon \\<\ ai'rived at Taniiiier. Several hundred rortune Imnters were on the ground Itefore \i.s. To outward a[)pf\irancc" they were a gay and ha})py party., with plenty of provisions, picks, pans, Szc., hur ;da^ ! a positive lack ot* the yellow dust. In tho words of a celel)ratod siaU'sniMti, ilu-n on ihe Lrround. " Xot ii;old i'nout;h to make a ihiudile ;" and he counselled the would-be minors to loave this new avocation, and return forthwitli t'» their respective ocoupations. IIow little i^o the wises! know of the future! " Wi know not what a ilay juay bring forth,"' is the word of Him " vclio 'tarving thotisands l>v voiceless loom- h:),'>e tliat o 2<» SKKTCIIKS 01 ■ tliey ur tli(,'ii' cliildren might yet ^oo this Kldoradu. At the (Irejit Exhibition, udmiriiig crowd.s from all (Hi.'U'tt'i's of the gloho liave examined .samples ol its quartz and sUxty rock veined with gold. Tiic son of our beloved Queen has gathered ore from it- mines. A nephew of the great Bonaparte, and his bride — the daughter of a regal line, uniting to the iiamo of Najtoleon the blood of nil the princely dynasties which have swayed sceptres over i'^urojtc, and the Isles — came to visit it. Capitalists from Europe and the neighboring Republic have found Nova Scoti.'i gold mines a most profitiddc invest mem. ' I n^i -•< NOVA Hi.nTlA. ■21 CHAPTKIl 11. V!u^<|iHp"l(il)(>it— Tlie (! rant-- First I'resbytcriiui Minister's (iruro — Fire in \\u\ Woods — l*ortol)ollo — Miiiisfct'.s hiiiry— IkOturn to lliililax — Tlie IJoyiil \ isitiH'. We started liorae wards with a party who [)roposC(l to travel througli the woods until they struck tho i-oad leading I'roni Guysboro' to Halifax. We spent the night in a Ibrest. The >izo and height of the pines would gladden a lumhererV^ lieart. Our friend, the surveyor, informed us that a ver}'' large tract of well wooded land lay hetweeii thi:-' gold district anre was a siory among lIic Indians that a hardwood grove somewhere In ihe vicinity remained ever arecn. l^einL!; in the neiurhborhood last [March, he s(Mit two men to look 9-> SKETCH MS oi' 1 1 m I for it. Alior an abseiu'e of two or llin'o (lavH tlioy I'cturjK.'d witli .some branches of tlie.^o evergreens, whicli, according to the .^tory,. never grow excei'i on t^oi! coiitainini'' crold." AVe roachcil the .scttJement earlv in llie dav, anil ji.t no(»n Faw our friend- into tlie coach or ro/'fr for Halifax. Wc par^se(l ihi'ough the line agricultural setth-- mciits of rpprr and Middle Mus(^uodoboit. This garden of Haliflix (so called) contains a large extent of river intervale, second only to tlie niarsli on th<' Bay of Fundy for gra.ss. It likewise licars fine (Tops of cereals. The uplands are also })roductive. The barns arc large,, and the farm houses substantial anS , v'ho is the oldest T'^. P, minister in the Province (except Mr. C. of Maitlaud). Mr. S. has travelled over more of Nova Scotia, and preacheeaking to us. "Did you ever hear of this minister?" said we, addressing Mr. Urban rather abruptly. " Often," answered my friend. 26 SKETCH K3 UK 'i i " llavo you any written account of hi.s life and labors V" "I tliiuk not," replied Mr, T/rban, ''or at least a veiy brief one. Perhaps you have Bomc thing amon^i; these pipers, which, by your leave we will examine ;«ftor we reach our hotel. I will tell vou what I iiave heard of him from those who know him. The\' said ho labored very diligently, performing long journeys on snow shoes, which men now travelling by turnpike or rail still call long. Then coming here in the decline of life to minister to a people who had left valuable properties in the Southern >States, and wdio had come to Nova Scotia for the wike of living under the British Government, where their children and their slaves' children enjoy the same civil and religious privileges. *' In the midst of these self-denying labors a little past the prime of life, and when the country, filliug rapidly with settlers, was crying loudly for laborers to break to them the bread of life, his Master, without a moment's warning, called him home. Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight." " The Trovince then must have been sparsely settled '.'" said we to Mr. Urban. " In 1781 the population was estimated at twelve thousand," said my friend. " In 1783,"' he added, ** as estimated by Governor Parr, twenty thousand emigrants arrived ; and now, only 77 years after- NOVA M'OTIA. ;. wards, this one county of IlalilUx contains 40,021 inhabitants — seventeen tliousand iiiorc than woiv in tlic wliolc Province near the close of the hist ^'cntury. "Halifax Countv has twentv-ibur itjaces of wor- ship,, one liundred and nineteen schoolliouses and school teachers, and iifty-.sevcn clergymen of variou- ilenoininations. It [>roduces 120,872 tons of hay. 34,208 l)ushels of .7t):!. T!ip iiuiulier fli'fire'I — ."),.")Sl: I 28 RKKTCHKS OK il tall, .stniiglit, find, ,-^o lar us 1 could judge, about !)'> foot in height. The top had bcon hrolccn olV, probably, in some galo of wind. Tim hard crackloil burk a})poart'd cntiro and uncharrcd. On rlosor (;xani- illation we I'ound a small eraek near tht; root, where ih(! insidious destroyer had crept, and, running up' ihe hollow inside, converted the stein into what ;ip])eared to be the tall ehimncjy of some ;^ubteiTanean factory. The air was dense from smoke, and the fire appeared to be spreading on each side of the road, destroying much valuable timber. Tires, ■from some cause, appear to slumber for several days, and then appearing again, as if endued with fresh vigor, do great damage. Tliey often run for a long difttanc'O on the ground, a ]>atch of blackened grass or a smokin*]: stumi* alone markini:; their progress. "When the last fire was on the ,-hore," said Mr.. Urban, " it crept for some days round the rocks,, nestling in the moss. After a time it seized fences, brush, etc., till gaining the edge of the woods, which was composed of windfalls, old, dry and charred rubbish, — this it eagerly seized, and most greedily devoured; then rising, it hurried on to whatever (:ame in its way. The leaves of hardwood saplings tremble, w41t, and fade at its approach, adhering in a crispy state to the limbs after the destroyer lias passed along. With a hissing noise it runs to \ NOVA SCOTIA. '>'.> :s^ ^g the toi" of firs ;uk1 .>^|»ruecH, its forky tongue of flame licking their neodlc-shajtod h-avos from thol)oughs; thence flying to the groon h' inlocks, running over them like a Mush, in many ( asos leaving their hark unmarked. ( )n, on sp(»d the flames, leaj)ing from those ledge's of roek higher and higher, till thoy seem to reach the cloudH. Aided by a strong wind of their own creation, they near the east bank of the Musijuodoltoit Uivei'. The narrow stri[» of clearing, only a few rods in breadth, was nc»t (lames. A boat lay at tht- bank to convey a man of nearly 1' skv, throuo-h which the fulil moon looked like blood, the his.^ing .e theriMU, shall be burned up.' " I entered the cottage. The old man's supper of corn cake and milk stood untasted by his bedsid<\ Thc tea table, with its half-linished meal, showed how ra[>idly the fire had come over the hill. No candle was required; the burning forest made the house (juite light. T found the man of four scoro and tifteen years sitting on the side of the bed, th<5 baby of a few' weeks (his great grand-child) sleeping in his cradle near him. Winter and spring they seem i: i ed to me. Arc you not afraid of the house being burnt. Miqui rec h I ii i »>- IKKTCIIKS OV t t ■ I f ' " ' Tlioy arc,' mouiiiiig the lumily. "They wnntcd (Tie to go away ; but T fear no danger : the hand whicli has guided me so Ion";- will not forsake ino now.' Still it is our duty to do all in our power,' 1 U I ['cplied. n I r\ dh to th die with .rue, said he, pointing to the eradle with ;i smile; ' I am minding him.' " 'Did you always live here? ' I en(|uired. "'No: r was horn in South Carolina, and am almost tlic only one remaining of a large party which came here at the revolutionary war. A\'i' were what they called refugees.' " ' Do you ever think of your birth}tlace and earlv home ■/ ' "'Of late years I think more about it. Noi being able to work for five and twenty years givi-s one a long time for thinking. I prefer eating coin cake to any other bread.' " lie laid down- on his bed, and asked mo to read to him a portion of Scripture. 'My eye sight is getting very dim,' said he, by way of apology. " Accordingly I read to him by a candelabra surpassed only l)y the one by which Nero fiddled. On the entrance of the family with the assurance that the fire was subdued I took my leave." "We for the last few miles had been travelliiii; through a very rocky region, since known as the Waverly Gold Field. Ih [111 NOV\ RCOTfA. 0'» 1 ( • I [oil* » It i-^ ilea. tiu'.e llvniL tli<- '' Ilor.' i.-^ rortobollo ! " said Mr. Urban. ''As our- horrso i.s woaricd, and all the 2corId will he. astir })ro})arinn; to meoL liis, lloyal nigline:-s, siij»posc wo stav hero, and 't u> hear what they liaye to say. Here is a cliair; pray h.> seated." J opened the roll aecordingiy. Tla- j'areel 'lontained an aiiidysi:-' of a number ot'sernious; undei' • •aeh licad some leadinn the sermon iid Ml Urban, ])ulIiniL' a lonu!; lic^ht cloud of smoke over Ids head, and watchinr:: it melt into thin air. a r The dates." was the laconic replv, somewhat 'hagrined by his apathetic manner. ct What are the pr: i\' reai i tl lem, ai( 1 Ih Urb; m, smiling. a r Three dated Amherst, 1799 : Amherst, llorton. or tL iw: .'• s :-ence and Windsor, 1781, 1782 and 178 three at Conomy, 1787 ; five at Musquodoboit, Gay Iliver and Sliubenacadio, rogpeotivcly dated 1792, 3 Si SKETCHES OK 1793 and 1794; and niriotoen other.-?, extending from this year, and ending September 25th, 1799." ''This hist date," observed Mr. Urban, " is in all probability the last he ever wrote, ;t.s he wa- drowned in the Miisquodoboit in the Inl! of 1799. "He ^va^• biibject to epileptic turnvS. f upAvards of one hundred books, with the n-mark that ' thcri.! arc a great number of my valuable books lent out to sundry persons, who, I am afraid, arc so ungratofid as not to return them. May 5th, 1787.' The diary is probably written a moiitli '■aidier. It begins as follows : ■■' ' The wind .shifted to the westward about 2 of the clock. It thun<-lered and rained. Some real .ippearanco of a thaw. Rose eaijy. ^Ir. Thompson set out for Partridge Island afoot with old Mr. lienison, who had staid all night. James ajid Betty Corbet went to sugaring. T\\>i two Corbots went down to the island with moose meat. The thaw continued all night — a very thick fog and very hazy weather. Mr. Thompson and John Corbet came up from Partridge Islands very much tired. Mr. NOVA SCOTIA. •M> Ol' nil ion Ir. tt.y uy V ! 'iliom|i,son ia'oiij^ht. mo ou'; yavlin f<»f cravats. 'I'hoinas Darning lia.d L;ivon nio tlir onicr lor lOs. on Mr. JLatcht'ord. I. It.li. — Rosi' early. It hail fViiZc ooii.->i(iorii,l)l'' hard last night. .l;im»'S Thornpsoii wont ba-ck to iho sugaring |ilacotly, ooino lioni- yc'storda.y. P>rought hon\c with them 32 Ihs Huga]-, Wrote tor Mr. Thonip.^on oii'' l.-tOM- :.;> Aridrcw:-:, another to Mr. ilarrinuton. rjtli. — Slt'i'l t'onilbrtrihly larft night. Mo-^v .'..hon-i;'- five. A littlo i'roKt last riight. A lino oloar day. .lann.'.s Thonijtson and r>ni[).son, llobin and John Oorbe't, went out. to ma.k<; hiiiugk;.^.. Tho ice goni- out ol' the lla.sin almost aiO)g!Uie.r. Waiting e\-fry tide !or th'; (.Vndxa's ho.:t lo t;ikc nio ovoi' to Morton. Ai'lei' 'linner went a 'j;uiir)i)iL:. l)Ut returned 'X<. 1 wont, seeing nothing. loth. — Had good rest th-* host night, and rtwv about live. The morning dark, and tho wind N. M ; v*»ry favorable for the Uorl-et's boat to oomo from Little Dyke, Waited witli impatit-ne.- until llvo\ but no aceount of the boat. They eanic Jiomo \\\)\\\ -sugaring, and brought about. 37 lbs. Mrw. Tli()inp.s<.iif made me a present of 10 lbs. for the children. 14th. — Ros(? about my usual time. Tho rnoraiug pleasant. Began to prepare for tho Sabbatli, anJ <'on tinned to ntudv till near twelve. Mv uneajsiucN-^.v 11 : I I* :;(■> .sKJ'rrcii !•',.>; ok ■il)OUl. tiio boii.l, W'hicli Ciuno iiilo Kast liivcr uboui 'jiie of i.lif clot-k. Fiiiislh-d my Jisoour.sc. Tli<^ boys i.'.t.iui' lioiiu^ IVdiii sugaring — Itroiiu^ht lionic rj,bout 17 n'>. -iiuit! came homo i'rom IIk; East [livci'. Ivccoivca froiri Jo^^li. Mar.'^li ilic lottor Im tho inistec'p. I.rjtii. — Slopl sounii, ;iii(j rost', nboul '», my usual hour. Aflt!]- hixiakfas-'L and family dutv, i)i\'[)arod !0].' nifiilini; IJi'u'an ahuut 1(>. Preached froin l\.om;iii-i Vfii 13: "Bui if ye ihnjugh the spii-ji iiiunify the dcrMlsof the flosh, yo shall liv." Josh. Marsh c^amt^ ii-om OononiA. The' hoat lliai is [.■ carry mo, home lit'.-; in the cri'i'k, and will t^o out ai high \v;tt(.'r, Dc'o volcnie. Sailed abiiuL IL o'clock at night; got down to Partridg.'* Island ak-oui 2 of the cl(M;k in the morning. KUh. — Landed and went, on sliore to (.'aiu. Orane'.s. — staid about two hours, tlaai oamt.- (hi board, w^oighed anchor, and'laii Basin of 1 '"7 II. :,}v- of NOVA f<(:OTIA. Mina.s. Th<' writing; is \ory line, ;\lth<)ii^li tli'- I taper is coar^-i'. " IIci'o arc othoi; |ia)frs," addi'd he, "t. May: l'\>rt La\vrnn('(\ Nov. 22, 1770. "'Tliis i.-^ a iii'ijioranilum of houHrhuM stufl'. Thr la.^t. iteiu i,-;— -' lioi to rorir^'t tlic \]r<\ voluint' oT /'ridcawr.' "' The ni'xi ['Mpoi- in ikjI^s of a vi.-^il to (lay'ri Jlivf.'v •Hid Sliui)on;icadio. <». Mooro lived a very .diorl tlistaiifO J'roiu whore tli'' new rref^hytcrlMn ehureh at Gay".-^ Kiv*a' now stands. '•This journal is dated Deer. 18Lh, 179l-'. '''Jiose caidy, and ])roceeded witli l^enjainin Woodworth and Hawthorn to the k5liiihen.T<;adio. reakfa.sted, dined and supped. 28th. — BrcakfaBtc 1 and dined. Thos. j<]lli«, won to Jons., came for me with a horse — made much of. The p<3ople greatly distressed about their fishery-- ?.he Wood worth's rather severe — but no help. 29th. — Hose as usual. After breakfast and v^'amily duty l^egan to llnish my preparation for the Sabbath. 30th. — After breakfast and t'a.mily duty proceeded •vo Mr. Williamson's. The people met paid great .*»ttention. Had a shoit lecture at Paul Wood- 'ithi i, 8011 ;tud Kxled ^reat- ood- NOVA SCOTIA. 39 worth's. Baptized hi.s daughtor by tlio namo of Eleanor Fletolior, and IVit Hay's by tbo name of Thos. 31.st. — Went from Mr. Thomas Woodworth's, 3onr., by way of Dickey's, homo. Oct aa far aa Mr. G. Mooro'.s after dark. Jan. Lst, — 93. — We^ii off for Mr. Kecn'.s uver the lake.*^. 2nd. — Set out for my own house by Captain Meagher's. Got homo by night. Found Fi.sher'*! pooph) hauUng wood. 3rd. — Mr. Dunbreak, Angus McDonald and bUick Dickson assist. 4th, 5th. — Some of the most remarkable mani- festations, not iU to be uttered. Prepared for th<^ Sabbath. 6th. — Preached .it Robison's. A small congre- gation. In the evening requested to go as far ay Nir. McDonald'.s and baptize Mr. Mclnnes's child, which I did by the name of Jennet. One to Xto- phel by the name Christophel. 7th. — Had at Mr. McDonald's a severe epileptic turn. After breakfast returned by the way of Mr. Fisher's home, and found the family as usual. 8th, 9th. — Mr. Johnston and Sam Breese came to repair the chimney, which they accomplished. nth, 12th.— Prepared for the Sabbath. Got i ''^i M 10 SKKTCllIkS OF I Scot Stewart to put tlus rornuina of my hay in tiK' hovel — a few hundreds. 13th. — Had meeting at Uobison's — a considcrablo congregation. A severe day of cold. Published the banuH of matrimony betwt.'cn Angus McDonald and Martha Fi-'her the last time. Mth. — Invited to the marriage (liort time Hfter tlieir son was .-ioUlod in it : thoy only had this son and a daimhU'i', Hin si.Mter married in tiie vear 1770, Mr. who way a ii<';u' ncijirlibor to hi.s wile's I'amily, and came to Novm JSeotia in the s with them. She died in 1820, and her husband sui'vived her a number of y«^ars. From this gentleman, with whom tome ol" the hap])iest years ol' njy life were spent, I obtained almost all the parliculars wtiich I know of Mr. M. and his labors." '' Where did he receive his education, " we en- quired. ** He was educated, or tinished his education, in Scotland, under the supervision of the General Associate (then also called Antiburgher) Synod of Scotland, and was by it appointed to the mission to Nova Scotia in 1765 (before the same Church had ministers in Philadelphia or New York.) But the demand for Mr. M.'s labors at home was urgent. A call from a congregation in the town of Lisburn was urged upon him. This call he declined, thus giving up the prospect of a life of comfort in Lisburn, a very pleasantly situated town on the Lagan, 6^' miles from Belfast (the celebrated Jeremy Taylor was Bishop there at the time,) and casting L *i. r and had But was NOVA SCOTIA. 4;: his lot in tli'? new world, to lac*' a mission.'iry'H toils 'ind reap liis rewards. **l!i 8(,'pt«jinlM'r !70l) In- \\:u< crdaincMl to proadi the (lo.spol l>y the rres;*vtei v ol' Newtown, Lima vady, and iinniediately sailed tur hi-< (jo.stination. [{>' landed in Halifax, an«l preaelie'd thero tor a time to the Protestant I)i.«Hrntin<.; eonitjreijiation wdiieh hat] l)i;en formed in ITalifax, [)rol»;ddy at the !iri?L settlein'-nt of the plac'. Whether their first mini.-»ter, Ile-v. Aaic^n Cleveland, w:is m (Jongretr:; lionalist or not in not known : but Mr. !Sy( /mb. who was |)afitur thert: in 17^"''^ was a ('(jiigregation- ali.st. How much rresbyieriaiiiBni in Nova, IScotia owes to Mr, Murdoch ! His unllinciiing a.' 14 SKIOTCITKS OF ')!' Mr. Coiiiiiigfj ill tlio St. Matthew or Mather of Halilax, then known a.-, the Protestant Dissenting The Governor, Lord William Moetiiv'-hou,- •imp .bell, inemocrs o r C oune il ;in( I )ersons o r all denomination-^ were present at this the first ordina- tion in th(! Provinc'e. Mr. Syeoinb of Halifax, and rhelps of Corriwallis, Congregationalists, Mr. Lyon of Onslow,* and ^\v. Murdoch of Horton, Presby- terians, takinu; part in the services, '' Therc^ i,s Vfjt cxttmt a very able paper by the Lev. Mr. i\Lirdoeh, eiiuivalent to the narrative of steps laken in a Scottish Ordination Service, in which the writer, setting forth the reasons for Mr. (Domingo's ordination, is Vt-ry careful that this Lunenburg pastor's case should not be made a precedent for uneducated p>ersons being thrust into the holy ministry. •'How his soul must hav(! lioen vexed whert Henry Allein applied for ordination. Often has his brolher-in-law spoken of his exhorting this father of the Xeiv Lighh- to give up his idle and iVmatical notions. One of Allein's converts standiuG; ui) at d' the close of a meeting, avowing that at the moment *Mr. I.ydu wn?? oi'liun»Hl by tho Prcsli^ ivry in N-jv,* .it-r.-M-y, ftrid s.'uf to Pictoa with settlers I'lom the States in 17R7.. Mut only four familief; '>f these, remaiiiiiie; in i'lc'ou, somo time aftHiwavds lie ^'.-Itleil iu Clnslow, whither had emij^rated thirty families from Ma?.'', in 176r l-.ev. Mr. MoKiriIo>'h was in thi> country, but only remained a shor;- finie, returned co b^.'otland, and enderl hie day-' in Paisley. N'OVA SOOT [A. 4^ t^ .rliis coiivci-sion Iho Son of God liu.i taken po^s(3SHioii of his imniorUil soul ; that, liis (aip was full U> overflowing. : caiM I it is i.otliing hut froth; oidy froth ! ' "Mr. Murdoch hiiloil net to warn ihoin in .-^easoji Mnd (^'U, of .season, against liiis flunuorous .-^oul- de.str(.»vin!j' di^lnsion .( 'I Hic j)ropht't .s;ivs. ' Wlien initjuity .-onics in liki- a lloo(l tl,- Lord vjll lift up id- .-landard against it." '' Ainhorst, settled hy Scr)tvh Irish ri-rshytoi-ians. 'dairned ,a share of Jii,^ hihors. 'In 1 7,S,S Dr. .McGregor visited tlieni f .] itn^ first time. r.;niarking,' says his biographer, 'that he liad (e no oi) niiles through the woods after f'aving (julehoster, witli -nly a, few liousi-s in tlio wlioh; distance.' But for a nnndjcr oi yc.'ars previous to this, Mr. Murdoch harl visited tlieni yearly. We liavo now before u.^ ^ome c.if these sermons, dated Amherst, Fort Law- rence and ISiew Brun.swick, L770 and 1781. Yet it -eems a little strange th;it this fact should have i)oen utterly ignon^d by the Inographer and Dr. McGregoi*. '"In 179a petitions/ says Dr. McGregor's biographer, 'wore sent from Chiginof^, Shubena- '•a.die. Noel nnd Kennetcook. 1 h;ul preached k'i SKKTfinHS OF H I lioforc at Chiginois; Mk; n^rst. vvcr*' now plac'-- situated on Uk.^. othcT side of llio Bay.' *' Now, indood, to Pr, ]\rc(ircgor th(;y doubtlo,s^ wero, nut not so to Mr. Mni'docli, wlio liad hojm }"*roac}]ing in th«'m iVom the lirno tlii-y wero lirnt sottkid, a?^ ho ,-^poa];s of Mr. Woodworth,. who lived at the Fort at tho junction of tho Stowiacko and Shuhenacadie, :i« his oKl friond. Ah the ntroams in those times wen- t.lio highways, trav^jllt.T.s were known to those who lived n(?ar th>' river. MentaJ anxiety was addeil to physical toil. These long journeys d<'taining hiin I'or many days, nay weeks, leaving a young wife, nurl tired in all the eleganei<,'s and relineme-nts of a city liouie, alone with a young iainily, exjiosed to the constant dread of an invasion from tlie revolted Yankees, then landing in front on the V)ay, and ho.stih' Indian?^ in the woods around t.hem. "Here lie, in the- '.'arx- of ih«! government com- manding a fast, April llth, 1777, infoi-med his congregation that thev wer^' under no obligation t'> observe it; thus, doubtless, being the lit'st minister in Nova Heotia wdio laid down the scriptural doctrine that the civil magistrate has no right to • •nforcG the ol)servanee of relioious fasts on his subjects. Tlie governm* nts of tho prea(^nt day ver}' properly recommend a, fast occasionally. But so zealous was the government of Nova Scotia in 1777 i Si NOVA SCOTIA, 1 to honor God by I'aytiug, that tlio ahcrifl foi'cibly removod a team iVom tho hold ot' an individual belonging to his Church, and threatened the man with tho henviost penalties of tho law for workimj on a fast dav. Instead of God bcinti: honored by such (lompulpory measures, no doubt his stern reply to those who enforced them was in the words of the prophet, • Who liath required this at your hand ? Is this the fast that I have chosen, saith the Lord?' '' After residing several years in llortou he lemovcd to Windsor, wh^rti ho remained for some time, preaching there and in the ,-u.irrounding stations. Several '/' •^•■egational clergymen being by this time setth > ihe western part of i\n:. Province, the spread of tho New Liglit doctrines, and the establishment of King's College, for ■.vhich object the Proyince gave in 1781) £iU. 8s. \0\(\. per annum, and .€500 to purcliase tiie land, (and tlK' British Parliament J^IOOO,) thus giving Episcopacy dominance in Windsor, and the extreme spiritual destitution of the settlers on the Shubenacadie and Musquodoboit, induced Mr. M. after some twenty years' residence in the Province to remove to Meagher's Grant. "The last ten or twelve years of his life was spent in watering the then weak plant of Presby- fcerianism on tho Musquodoboit, Shubenacadie, Gay's and Stowiacko rivers, till which, with the t8 .> KETCHES OK ! Iii growth of .sixty years, it has ox|»an(lod into many congregations, wealthy and inihiential. "Twenty years were spent principally in Horton and Windsor, but also ministering to immigrants a.^ they settled over the Province. His labors extended ov(3r some thirty-two or thirty-three years. '" These few leaves tell their own tale : they give us, as it v;ere, a glimpse of thf man and his labors. Other notices of him may yet eorao. up. His house was at Q]\r 1 irne destroyed by fire. anooks :uiil papers ^vel'e consumed. This sermon, 8ept. lloth, 1790, is in all likelihood the last ono he wrote. His name is now seldom mentioned; the v(>ry stone thatfdial nlTection placed over his grave has disapjteared. We know the trials, nay, the very i^rivations, of our missionaries in the far isle.s of the Pacilic ; but how few know the privations, the trials, of this the first Nova Scotiau missionary — his fatigues, his hardshi])-. No Boai'd to pay liis salary — no ^Society to supplement his stipend. " In ono of his journeys near Lake Egmont Ik; met a man to whom he had t^iven oflimce bv performing a marriage. The man accosted liim anQ;rilv, drew a heavv cudgel which he carried, and ainKid a blow at the minister's head. The danger was imminent. But a largo dog which followed the rufiian sprang between the minister and his miaster, and seized the latter l)y tho collar. Th<^ NOVA SCOTIA. 49 man shook off the dog, again aimed a blow at ^Ir. M., again to be prevented by his own dog. The man was astonished, and listened to a powerful rebuke from Mr. M., who was thus left at liberty to pursue his solitary way, no house within ten miles. " Allusion is made in these brief notes to his disorder. He has lallen in the middle of divine service and been carried out insensible. He had been subject to epileptic fits for a number of years. No doubt but one of these was the cause of his death, for when found in the river, his arm encir- cled the limb of a tree, and he was partly out of the water, life totally extinct. Amid privation aud toil he had spent his youth and his strength in preaching, and in teaching his own family and tiie children around him. Amid the tears of hiy family and his people he was carried to his grave. His work on earth was ended. He had labored alone. New congregations and new laborers were springing up around him, when he, in the solitude of the solemn forest and the ever-flowing river, might have, like Moses on Nebo, beheld with the eye of faith, in the coming years, the spread of that Church in Nova Scotia which sent him forth, her now long roll of ministers where he once stood her solo representative. Saw he or saw he not this 'pro- mised possession.' He, like him, heard the solemn li i it] 50 SKETCHES OF words, 'Tliou slialL sleep with thy fathers.' From miiiisterinsi; to ihe Church on earth, he in a moment was ushered inti the city of the living GoiL 'To (rod, tlie judge ol all, and to the s})irits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus.' *' Sweet, oh sweet ' is communion on earth ; wdiat is that to Heaven." COMMrXIUX, 'It ih f',ood for us to be hero.' No music Hoats, thi; l.earl to thrill, The preacher's voice was hushed and still. Xo rustle from the gath mxmI crowd — To^'cther sit the poor and proud. The calm of heaven aroui.d us drew — Foretastes of bliss forever ,rue. The sacred feast on earth begun ; Unseen among us sat the Sou. Bv faith, which pierced the other side, 'J'lie far off land was glorified. We felt the glow, divinely fair, — A glimpse of heaven without the glare. With us were earth, and doubt and gloom ; Beyond the veil the fair lands bloom, While dim, in far off vista seen, Death's dark deep river rolls between. Beyond the pilgrimage we trod We gazed upon the mounts of God. NOVA SCOTIA. Communing thus, our thoughts mnv oiio— Thoughts of the man before us gone. 8oon one by one to that bright shore Beckons our loved ones, gone before; We still cur throbbing hearts to hear Voices unheard by mortal ear. Sudden the pass was bridged with light, The eternal gates swung to our sifht; 51 view Our souls were melted with the And rose with faith to dwell there too. "Good night," said Mr. Urban; " pleasant dreams, and Monday we go to greet His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales on his arrival in Nova Scotia." I retired to my room, but not to sleep; or if to sleep, to dream. The wide wide ocean, and the dreary cold shores ; the deserted villages and the houseless wanderers; the now comers viewing the old homesteads, and the stealOiy savage marking their footsteps; the pale student, his footsteps bathed in the dews which fell chill in hr-famed lona, or by the Giant's Causeway, wandering through wide transatlantic forests, and breaking the ice in unknown rivers, now preaching the unsearchable riches of Christ in log cabiiLs, or teaching the little children the first steps to learning —all commingled together, and assumed shape in the following dream : 52 SKETCHES OF Away from childhood's happy home His wearied head did lean, AVhere yonder through the dark green spruce The village school is seen. The moaning damp winds through the trees In sighing tones did play : He heeded not, in dreamland fair Came scenes now far away. Alone, and not alone, for see Upon that sleeping face Smile chasing smile, for now in dreams His homestead he can trace. He sees his mother, as of yore He knelt beside her knee ; His aged ftither reads aloud The page he scarce can see ; A sister sings the psalm to him. The household voices blend In praise and prayer, and sweet good night Their parting steps attend. Now to the sparkling river's brink His dreaming fancies go, To watch the sportive salmon leap Where blushing mayflowers grow. 'Tis changed : in well known classic shades A stately college gleams. The goal where fame hangs out her wreath- His young ambition's dream. She smiles— he starts— the crown, the goal. All, all within his grasp ; But ah, at duty's sterner call, They wither near his clasp. ■ NOVA SCOTIA. See, pallor spreads his face, his lips Breathe the old plaint of woe, Then love expired ; 'twas founded not In friendship's sacred glow. A moment, and the shadows pass. The mists no longer dim, The dreamer sees once more the hand That points the path to him. 'Tis weary, steep and drear, afar From all the world holds grand ; He sees the path his Master trod — His footfalls in the sand. He follows on : each feature bears The royal seal of soul ; Unheeded, as he treads that path, All mundane sorrows roll. Look ! smiles now flit across his face, The Hereafter fair expands. The seed the common school has sown Bears fruit o'er all the lands. On Tiber's banks, in awful rage. No Papal bulls now roar At Bibles, for in every school They're read from shore to shore. He sees degraded Hindoos rise From superstition's night. And all Confucian lore grows dim When seen by Gospel light. Again along the green old Nile, From many tuneful throats. Upborne upon the wings of morn The song of Moses floats. 53 ! I ! 54 SKETCHES OF Boyond far SyoiuVs desert wall The snorting steam cars sweep To join those telegraphic bands Which girdle ocean's deep. And in their train the school — tho school — While onward is their cry, Till in each human being's hand The sacred book shall lie. Dream on, thoii humble teacher, Futurity oxphore, A mansion is prepared for you When time shall be no more ; A welcome and a crown bo given. For God the true, the just, Rewards in Heaven, with joys untold, The faithful to their trust. Monday morning the cannon announced that tho royal squadron was near the harbor. After break- fast we drove into the city. The weather was cloudy and sultry. We found evergreen arches and floral decorations waving over Halifax from the Citadel to the water's edge. Every vessel in the harbor shewed all her colors. Gay flags, banners and arches bore words of welcome. Indians in picturesque dresses, Highlanders in kilts, groups of country men and maidens who had come by sea and land ; for the mower threw down his scythe, the teacher dismissed his school, the NOVA SCOTIA. (JO 11 rtiiwycr .shut the mill, tlio joiner droppoJ his plane, the caulking mallet ceased to ring, the wheel, the loom and the anvil were mute. All classes crowded to honor the son and heir of their l)eloved Queen. As Iler }*[ajesty's steamer Hero, 91, followed by the Ariadne and Flying Fish, and several steamers and yachts from the city, crowded with ladies and gentlemen, came majestically up the harbor, battery after battery poured forth royal salutes of twenty- one guns as the royal lion standard of old England pa.^. ed them. A Ijrtjadsido from the lleet under Px,ear Admiral Milne announced that the ships of Ills Eoyal Highness had dropped anchor in the Chebucto Harbor. Near twelve o'clock silence reigned over the vast (irowds which filled the city, and lined every })lat- form and standing place in the Dockyard. x\ few minutes before noon a barbie with the royal standard at the bow was seen to leave tho Hero. Amid deafening cannon peals from ship, (ntadel and fort, cheers from tho crews which manned the yards of the ships, and shouts of welcome from the thousands on shore, Alljcrt P]dward, Prince of Wales, land(^d on the shore of Nova Scotia. The Admiral, the Governor, Bishops and Generals, Judges and Councillors, Mayor and Sherifl^ military and civil officers, and a host of I i 1' 50 SKETCHES OF Kpectator.s from all parts of the Province, received him in the dockyanL After the Pi'ince, accompanied by the Duke of Newcastle, Secretary of State for the Colonies, the Earl of St. Gcrmains, Lord Steward of Her Majesty's Iloii.sohold, Major-General the Hon. R. Bruce, Governor of the Prince, Major Tecsdale, U. A., and Capt. G. Gray, ;ind Dr. Aukland, had been welcomed by the Admiral, by whom the Governor and other distinguished individuals were prcpented to him, an address was read by the Recorder of the city, which welcomed him under the style and title of *' His Royal Highness Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, Prince of the United Kingdom, Duke of Saxony, Prince of Saxe Coburg and Gotha, Duke of Cornwall and Rotbsay, Earl of Dublin, Chester and Carrick, Baron of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles, Great Steward of Scotland, Knight of the Garter, &c., &c." After this address and a reply from the Prince had been read, the distinguished party mounted their horses and proceeded towards Government House. On the Prince's right rode His Excellency Earl Mulgrave, on his left the Duke of Newcastle. He was preceded by Major-General TroUope, oflficera of his staff and civic functionaries, and followed bv General Bruce, the Earl of St. Germ'iin's, and by NOVA SCOTIA. ivcd Judges, Mombcrs of Government, of l)otli Houses of ParliaiiKsnt, Sheriff, Gustos and Heads of Departments. This cortege, augmented by the various societies, companies and clubs, proceeded to Government House, through streets lined from the dockyard by the firemen in uniform, the clubs — the Caledonia, North British, Highland, Irish, St. George's, Car- penters and Temperance Societies — the Volunteers, Masons, Engineers, and the guard of honor formed by the 62nd and 63rd Regiments. When the royal stranger came to the Parade four thousand children rose and greeted him with a fiong of welcome. In the words of the National Anthem their infant voices were taking an oath of allegiance to maintain the British throne. This continent never before witnessed such a pageant as was then passing. The heir of an •empire, over which shines an unsetting sun, uncovered, listening to the children's song. In front of the youthful choir a masonic arch was erected, which told him that his grandfather, the Duke of Kent, laid the corner stone of th-.- Mason Lodge. In the rear of the arch stood tho monument which Nova Scotia had raised to her sons slain in the Crimea in defence of England's empire. The eye rests for a moment on the children in white ;ti, 58 SKETCHES OF dresses, the ladies in the balconies, the arches festooned with flowers and evergreens, the staff in brilliant uniforms, the clergy in black cloth, civilianB in many colored garbs, firemen in red shirts, Mic-Macs, Africans, but none of the squalid poverty which mark the old world cities. The gay silken banners of the trades, and the flags from ship, citadel and housetop, was a brilliant spectacle. On,, on the procession passes, and the portals of Govern- ment House close on the greatest of earth's princes- Memory turns to the sublime record of a Prince entering the capital ol a far off country, more than eighteen hundred years ago, of the multitudes, the spread garments and the strewn palms, many, many who that day cried crucify Him, crucify Him. Is not human nature the same still? Yes, truly; but the safeguard of Britain's Prince is now an open Bible, read and believed. An open, read Bible, has made Victoria's throne stable, when the thrones of other princes who have shut the blessed volume from the people have been overturned. The clouds, which all the morning were threat- ening rain, noAV about neon poured down their torrents. The streets were deserted; and in the evenino; the illuminations from the fleet were obscured by the dense fog which enveloped the harbor and city. July 31st. The sun rose in unclouded splendor;. 'i NOVA SCOTIA. 59 i chasing the fog from the city and the surrounding heights. We walked out early to view the decora- tions in the city before the pressure of the crowd in the streets. The arches, composed principally of evergreens, owing to the rain retained nearly all their freshness and beauty. This sort of arch seen by an P^nglishman for the iirst time has a pleasing and novel effect. We climb to the top of the citadel, which is a round hill rising nearly three hundred feet in height, directly in rear of the city. Fort George, constructed on the top of it, completely commands the city and harbor. The parapet is defended by thirty-two pounders, mounted on iron carriages. The works cover about six acres, and comprise a double line of massive a-ranito iorts. Thev are surrounded by a ditch sixty feet wide and twenty- five feet deep, which has only a single drawbridge for an entrance. In case of a siege the inhabitants of the city could find protection within these underground walls. At the base a line of earthworks protect every salient angle. The whole defences are said to mount about four hundred guns. Above our heads is the signal station, the place where all vessels arc signalled to the city from Sambro, ten miles below or south of the entrance to the harbor. The first station, five miles down the harbor, is at York Redoubt. Ten miles below tl 60 SKETCHES OF I ! i i York is Camperdown, and then Sambro Island. An- order is transmitted in two minutes from the lowest station to the citadel — a distance of twenty miles. From the fortifications on the citadel the eye involuntarily turns to the next stronghold, namely, George's Island, which is the principal defence of the harbor. Then Point Pleasant, besides each prominent point and island which commands both entrances, have round granite castles pierced for two tiers of guns built upon them, which yesterday poured forth powder and sound to welcome a prince, would to-morrow be equally as ready to pour shot and shell to sink an invader. From the slope of the citadel westward the streets run at right angles. They are about one-half a mile wide, by two long, north and south. Sixteen churches, besides various other public buildings, are distinctly seen from this elevation. To the east is a level plain or common. Here, near noon, was to be a grand review of the troops and volunteers by the Prince. The space between the hill and the ground allotted for the evolutions of the troops was fast filling up by thousands of civilians. The space allotted to the military was kept by a body of marines. Soon the roll of the drum announces the first arrival of the military. Column after column march with measured tread, and take their place il a NOVA SCOTIA. 61 sland. An- the lowest y miles. 1 the eye d, namely, defence of sides each ands both ierced for yesterday le a prince, pour shot the streets one-half a . Sixteen buildings, pn. Here, the troops e between evolutions )usands of itary was the first i: column heir place C t on the ground, followed by the volunteers in really pleasing style, their sober grey uniforms contrasting finely with the scarlet coated regulars. The streets from Government House to the Common are densely thronged with a crowd waiting to see His Royal Highness leave Government House. Soon the royal standard floating over it begins to lower. As the last folds sink together His Royal Highness, with a brilliant suite, issues through the gateway and gallops to the Common. A salvo of artillery salutes the Prince of Wales' standard ; the bands play the National Anthem ; the crowds cheer. Now they deepen ; the surging masses congregate around the centre occupied by the troops, where the Prince and a staff" of twenty mounted officers ride up and down the lines, greeted by a flourish of trumpets. The troops, regulars and volunteer, march past the Prince in slow and quick time, saluting and being saluted with lowered colors and presented arms. Again the trumpets sound. The troops plunge with a seemingly desperate energy into a battle — a mock battle, to be sure — which is soon over. Amid cheer and shout the troops depart. Many spectators look with pride to the volunteers as they march off" the ground, feeling that "a bold yeomanry i3 a country's pride." And the Prince and suite retire. The afternoon again finds the Common crowded I ^1 IfSl i iff r 62 SKETCHES QF by anxious pleasure seekers. '' The Prince ! Avliere is the Prince ? " is the oft-repeated question. The swaying crowd opens to a group of horsemen in plain clothes, and the Prince is for the moment unrecognized. " There they are ! That's the Prince ! " and the loyal crowds throng him closely. In a short time the royal party passed through the immense crowds, rode through the suburbs, and paid a visit to the grounds of Mr. Downs, and spent a time in viewing his collection of animals."^' In the evening His Boyal Highness attended a ball given in his honor at tiio Province Building. This ball was a brilliant affair. It was opened by His Pvoyal Highness a-ad the Countess of Mulgrave. If ever happiness deigned to dwell in a ball room, surely she might nestle here. The illuminations of Her Majesty's six ships reminded us of our youthful impressions made by Aladdin's wonderful lamp. In a moment ever}'' cross and spar v/as a line of fire, which showed the hulls, while a fiery rush of rockets rose above the blue lights held aloft by the sailors, and burst into sparkling fiery prince's feathers, and died far away above the darlv waters. Now the city blazes with quaint devices and words of welcome. The prettiest of many pretty spots was that of the space opposite i ■*See Appendix. NOVA SCOTIA. C3 ce ! where tion. The irsemeu in e moment 'hat's the im closely, irough the )urbs, and and spent attended a Building, opened by Mulgrave. ball room, six ships i made by ent every howed the above the burst into i far away lazes with e prettiest )e opposite ,]•■/ I .- i Government House;— the brio-ht lidits fallin*-- on the dark green foliage which overshadowed the stony lion erected in memory of Parker and Welsford. Aug. 1st. Kose with a bright sun and a refreshing breeze, very lavorable for the regatta which took ])lace on the noble harbor. This forenoon His Eoyal Highness held a levee, where numbers of persons from all parts of the <^ountry were presented to the distinguished stranger. In the afternoon he reviewed the regatta from the Nile, and then steamed up Bedford Basin to see the ruins of the residence of his grandfather Edward Duke of Kent. Crowds await in the dockyard his return. Everywhere his appearance is greeted by enthusiastic cheers. In the evening there is a grand procession of the Fire Brigade, their engines gaily decorated, and a most magnificent display of fireworks from the glacis of the citadel. Aug. 2. The longest visit to earth must end : so those loyal troops of strangers who flocked to do homage to their prince are fast departing to their homes. Train after, train has' departed to the country. A special train awaits His Eoyal Highness at Eichmond. He enters the car, followed by the Countess of Mulgrave, Lady Trollope, Earl Mul- grave, the x\dmiral, the General, the members of r* 64 SKETCHES OF his suite, and nicany others, accompanying him, the^ ships and forts firing a farewell salute. In one and a half hours the royal party arrive- in Windsor, the shire town of Hants County^ Here, as well as in every part of the Province, the- same hearty demonstrations of loyalty and affectioii await him. The royal party breakfast at the Clifton. Ad- dresses were presented, the crowds cheered, and the- royal party left for Hantsport. The town was most tastefully decorated ; arches, banners, and flags,, met the eye in every direction ; the platform of the- Clifton on which the Prince stood was covered by an awning of crimson damask, surmounted with the Prince's feather and motto " Ich Dien ; " the- balconies were filled with ladies and children ; a collossal arch, in Roman triumphal style, covered with evergreens, were among the most conspicuous-, objects. At Hantsport the royal party embark. Amid: the roars of artillery and deafening cheers the Prince leaves Nova Scotia. NO\'A SCOTr.\, 05 CHAPTEll TIL Uedfoi-(l — llailroad — Sluibeiiiu;u(li(;-( lay's llivor— \\l;at ilv. title Hiiys— Stewiacke Tndians— Truro— Blaek JJock— \-i,nv from the Hill— Onslow— Down tho shore— Across the ]J; — Maitland— Ships — (^larrie^-. IV 111 tho latter part of September :Slv. rrl.;ui and hi.s friend left Halifax by rail to see the ea.slcrii part of the rrovinco. Six miles from the city are tho rui)i,-^ of the Trinee's Lodge. This once imposing edifice ^7■,v■■ .erected by His Eoyal Hignoss Edward Duke ol Kent, who in 1798 had been appointed Command-i-- in-Chief of tho forces in British North Aineric;;. .Vt the head of Bedford IJasin lie established his headqtiarters. After the lapse of half a century, nature has reclaimed tho lawns and pleasure grounds; tho bowling green is crossed by the railway ; tho whistle f the en2;ines is the only music which now awakes ni: echoes in the old music house. A few Lombardy poplars and tumble down brick and timber cliok up what had 1 of the royal Scotia. )een an artificial lake, mark tho site residence, once the pride of Xova u Before entering," remarked i\Ir. Urban, ''th< I' I f^' ( i •:l hu i ' 00 SKETCHES OF I'Cgion wliere spruce nods to spruce, and each rook is like his brother, let us enjoy for a moment tlu- prospect which appears to me to be very lovely wliou ill the calm of a glorious autumn evening." 'I'he setting sun's fast fading ray Is ilasUing on Chebucto I>ay, Where white-sailed boats M'ith oars at rest Sit sv>an-like on the foamy crest : •Steamer and ship securely lide, While sunlit waves 1)reak on their side. Voii islet crowned with massive fort As sentry stands to guard the port : Delow McNab's fair isle is spread : 'i'he lighthouse glows from Sarabro's head. See Dartmouth and her placid lakes, Her hills of spruce and feathery brakes : What beauteous villas dot her shore, Where warbling birds sweet music pour From groves where every shade of green Worn by Acadia'd woods is seen. Halifax on the hill slope lies ; Nature and art her strength supplies : Battery and moat, forts great and small — Britannia's flag o'ershadows all. See window, dome, with cross and spire, Are glowing in the mimic fire. In vain the painter's art or dye — Nought imitates yon gorgeous sky. Daguerreing on calm Bedford's flood The colors of the autumn wood Which fringe the Basin's rocky side ; Beach, birch and fir lean o'er the tide (Each gnarled stem, each varied hue, Perfect as if on earth they grew,) That gurgles round the islet's crest, Where haughty D'Anville's bones do rest, 'Jf NOVA SCOTIA. 6: iicli I'ock nent tlu- •V lovclv ining. 1 : ; ? it. Hiding fVoiu anxious gftzer's view- Treasure and ship, cannon and crew ; Laving yon sylvan cool retreat, The Prince's Lodge— Prince Edward's seat. Hero all the grounds in days of yore .\n English landscape training bore. And art concealing art was found By lavish hand all scattered round ; Then here in rich profusion grew The hawthorn hedge and spreading yew : Rare flowers, the pride of Britain's soil, Ptewarded hero the gardener's toil. Then at the princely mansion's gate An armed retinue did wait On gallant gay and lady fair, While martial music filled the air. « But naught remains ot hall or bower Save the small round music tower. Whose Gothic dome and golden ball The long lost princely days recall. Now spruce and fir and hemlock throw Their shadows thick, and thistles grow On paths and lawn ; but round the hill Are rock-hewn step and gurgling rill Which lead to the grey rocking stone So nicely poised by hand unknown. Moss chokes the grots, yet quaint and d((>i», And evegreens and mayflcwers creep 'Mid pigeon-berries ruby red. Where timid rabbits make their bed, .'Vnd playful squirrels leap o'er head. The murmuring brook, now spreading wide, Through broken cisterns swift do glide, Delivering, as it did of yore, To Bedford's M'ave its tribute store. We enter the railway carriage, and are whirled round Bedford Basin, past Sackville—lose sight of f\ ; !■ ii; i 1 1 \ Hi ll (58 SK ETC J IKS OF tliG city — over bridges — now past the lakes and the ice store.^. " Windsor Junction," says the conductor, as the train stops for a moment, and we see the divonnnu; hne of rails laid over rocks. "All oji board." And we move on — on through hemlock forcftts and rocky barrens. l*ast lakes, sparkling in the sunbeams, and reflecting the huge granite cliffs which rise from their margin, sometimes grey, cold and bare, sometimes clothed with hnnging wood, a duck or a loon winging its solitnry way to the distant beyond. How silent the forest! You might travel foi miles and hear only the sound of your own footfalls, the la]:)ping of the water on the shingle of the lake sides, or the sound of the wind through the trees. Only for the rails and the cars you would think that here man had forgotten his prerogative to be a fellow-worker with his Maker in the rear: no- and adorning the fitting and the beautiful. Now we pass p]lmsdale and the down train from Truro. Here the Nine Mil(3 River delivers its tribute waters to the Shubenacadio. In passing the eye catches sight of a narrow vale, elm trees, brick kilns, potteries, and two small churches. ''To our left," remarked Mr. Urban, "extends the Settlement of the Nine Mile River, which is an excellent farming district."* * Since well kuown for its .^oM fields. Kenl'rew ami Oklliam arp near Elmsdale .Station. m iti & ^^ NOVA SCOTIA. rv. "That river,'* lie added, " i.5 the Shubenacadio," pointing to a lazy stream Ijctween two clover banks. " The French had settled on this river. These old willows were always planted around their dwellings," pointing to a couple of old trees on our right, as the train stopped, and we steppetl on to the platform at the Shubenacadie Station, and walked to view a long narrow valley watered by this same stream, now grown lazier, muddier and broader. It was rather a pretty place this small village on the Shubenacadie. ''Let us," said my friend, "s[)end a day here, and drive up the Colchester side of the river." We readilv consented. We strolled up the hill to our right, and from it had a fine view of the surrounding neighborhood. The upland rises gently from the level marsh through which the sluggish river is winding its sinuous course. On our left is the station from wdiich the train has just departed, crossing a very high tubular iron bridge over the river. Here are also the inns, post office, steam mills, and a Catholic chapel, surmounted by tower and cross. On the right of the railway is a Presbyterian church and burial ground standing oh a spot of table land between the hill and the intervale, eiiclosed by neat white palings. Some twenty years ago this spot was ■i 1 i In i ' 1 it t fl I f i'' 1 if 70 SKKTCIIES OF <;hoHCii for itH (|uiet .seoliision. Now it is in tlio centre of a rising village. Over the river which divides Hants Iroin Col- chester is the residence of F. E. P., p]sq., memher of P. P. for Eastern Colchester, who is a practical farmer, as his excellent farm gives ample proofs. We cross the bridge and keep the road up the river. On its margin are several neat t^ottages, and the manse, finely sheltered by trees. The farm houses are all built on the sloping uplands, surrounded by larms, divided by substantial zigzag fences. In a few minutes we crossed the St. Andrew, a small stream bordered with intervales, and emptying into the Shubenacadie. From St. Andrew our way lay through a l)arren .swamp covered with tangled furze and alder bushes. Soon a turn in the road brought again to view a magnificent expanse of hay land several hundred acres in extent, unbroken except by a point of upland touching the river. At this })oint, on the Maypole Brook, the stream is fringed by trees. Here the roads curving round the uplands lead the traveller to Gay's River and its Settlement. Leavino: the new level road for the sake of the view, we climb the hills on the old one, and have a line expanse of country spread out before us. Colchester, Halifax and Hants Counties here join each other, and the valleys of the Gay's and Sliu- . NOVA SCOTIA. 1 n til n Col- cmbor actiual proofs. 1 river, iid tin"! housos clen nature's domains. A mile from the Shubenaoadie the road skirts (iay's River, which here is a broad clear stream, rolling ]tleasantly along the bottom of a ravine. There is very little intervale on Gay's River above the mills. On the old Cobe([uid road the settlement extends several miles. The farms are upland. The buildings comprise mills for sawing, carding, &c., stores, an Episcopal and Presbyterian church. The site of the latter is very pretty. The enclosure i"^ divided by gravelled walks, and planted with trees, which ill a few years will add to its present beauty. For luiles around the eye catches glimpses of clearings and houses. The country appears to be hilly. In the vicinity of Gay's River the rocky land, extending from the Atlantic, merges into arable soil, rich in copper and minerals, which may yet |)rove profitable investments.''' ■•••Since tli« above was writton ;^oId has been discovereil abuui tliice miles Irom G ly's River, on land originally granted to (i. ('auipbell, llsi[ , and now owned by ^Fes.srs. Gay and others. For the nmount ol i:apital expended, the returns liave been very ronumerativo. — F/xtraxt of LctUr, Jnhj, 1801. (1 1T(^ 'ill 4 ^ SKKTCJIJIS OF if' i':;ii i ! iw Next morning we resume our .seat in tlic cars. Wo cross the Sliubenacadie, wliicli, rising in a chain of hikes near Dartmouth, forms a chain — a link — • ujirdlinG; the Province from the seaboard to the AtLantic, and receiving the waters of the Bhick Brook, Gay's Eiver, St. Andrew's and Stcwiacko rivers, Green's and Pitch Brook from the east, with Nine Mihj and Five Mile rivers to the west. For some two hundred years after the French settled the Provino* it was the only highway. A for' erected by them gives a name to the point at the mouth of the Stewiacke. A short distance above, on the opposite side from the fort, still retains the name of Mass House, corrupted into Mes-^- Ilou-^c. Here is an old French cemetery. '^ Does this river run two ways at the same time,'" (jxclaimed a traveller. '"' Here is drift wood tioatimi.' upward in the centre of the stream, and near the bank its course is downward." "That is the tide," replied Mr. Urban; "the tide Vvhich gives to those intervales and marshes aituated on the Bay of Minas and Cobecpiid their unrivalled superiority as grass-bearing lands, some of them having been cultivated for two hundred and llfty years. This Bay was navigated by i)eans in the year ()ueen Elizabeth died. Euro[) ^' Perhaps," added Mr. Urban, addressing hi,'- friend, "you wotild like to hear what the tide says ?' NOVA SCOTIA. ! carri. . cliaiii link- to the Black wiacke 2 east , 3 west. French av. A »oint at .istancc retain^ Mes-^ time,'' ioatina icuir the "til- narslic- 1 their Is, some Hundred ted hv mg hii- 1 ' rtci ays 9" THE SOXG OF FUXDVS TIDK. Mj sanguine wave's wild upward I'ciar Is liooraing first, on Fundy's slioro : O'er fiats and sedges next do glide The bass and trebles of my tide ; The shoals dissolved form turbid wavt->. 'J'he rising torrent upward raves : Through channel, creek and cstu'ry. J 'ash surging, whirling, foaming sea; liolls through DeMont's old Uoval Port : Fills the Laquille of Pontricourt, Where France, to claim a new-found wurlil Of yore her fleur-dedis unfurled. From Cape D'Or I washed a gem Which decks the IJourbou's diadem ; J'ast Granville, where the golden wheal First grew, the farmer's eyes to greet : There, on the rock, Dumonts did fix The date sixteen hundred and six. Next past Cape Split and Blomidom T'ho centre bore snow-white does run. Fills Minas's Trappean shore, Which garners here the watery si ore. Where nineteen tribute rivers flow T'hrough rich .prairies, 1 come and go : I diush salt spray the willows o'er. Which, pensile, fringe my oo/.y shore, Grieving (naught else was left to grieve) The uureturned, who forced, did leave Their native soil, those rich prairies, Captives where freedom was not free. And in my wake the sea-fog flies- Shadowy as ghost it seems to rise, Hovering o'er old Acadian mounds, Batteaux and dykes, dim floating rou-id, Jjike spirits of the exiled dead Ilevisiting their old homestead. m'\> m ; ?f - 1 )S''^ (•!• ! ?li 74 SKETCHES OF 'i; .:! I'ut for to SCO tho tide arij^ht, Stand on the bank at full moonlight Whei'e Shubenacadie deep breaks (The offspring of five placid lakes) Through intervales, and ceaseless rolls 'I'he fine red sand in shelving shoals. Six times ten feet rise o'er Black Rock, Which all my eddying surges mock, Hathing AVhite Rock and Anthony's Nose, Thence pitching jiast Fort Ellis goes. Uiding, like demons on the wind, The crashing drift-wreck there yoM find Ivounding the points, the trembling chokes Catch, sink, then rise crashing unbroke. Headlong ])lunging in mad career. Battering the dykes and railway pier, In strong mid current upward run, And both the counter currents shun, I'lnriching the soil in marsh and fen, Moistening the grass, unseen by men. When at high water mark I stand, AVater around where late was land : A shadowy awe steals o'er the mind — Why did the watery waste unbind ? Why does it not this line o'erflow? My Maker said, " Xo farther go ! "' My obedient waves at once obey, And backward turn without (hday. Like them your daily task fulfil. Turning your steps to do His will. i •i " This is the Stcwiacko," sad mv friend, "which flows lliroiigh a pictures(i[iTO valley a distance oi some thirty miles. Shady trees on the baidcs oi" the stream, bordered by level intervale, recall to the traveller a little of English scenery." NOVA SCOTIA. iii n wliicli ancG ol a ol" the to tllG 1^ The line agricultural vale of the Stcwiucke is one of the lovely spots in Nova Scotia. It is inland. The uplands are undulating, rising very gradually l»y the river intervale, and are hroken hy numbers of brooks, and a large extent of meadows, enabling the farmers to rear their stock at a small outlay. To the east is a large barren famed for cranberries. Tn the surrounding country may be seen mills and manufactories for carding, spinning, weaving, &c., and for grinding grain. The cropy are in a measure gathered and thrashed by machinery. Substantial farm houses, large barns, granaries, as well as several churches and schoolhouscs attest the wealth and intelligence of these Stewiacke farmers. The venerable Dr. , Theological Professor of the Presbyterian College, resides in Stewiacke. The river is narrow. It, as well as the other rivers on the Bay, abounds in salmon, shad, smelts and eels. " Salmon spearing was a 1'avorite pastime with the Indians and early French," remarked Mr. Urban. '' On a dark night, the darker the better for the purpose, a canoe containing two persons, one provided with' a spear affixed to a long handle, and a roll of birch bark for flambeaux, proceeded above the pools where the salmon love to play. The spearman stood in the canoe, his companion i, I ■*: i^i! Iff it; ff"'' 'r ■li! )i i . ! 1 ' 1 m i; S! iif if: ^I'^i ,'( 1 ill: li i:'! M VG SKETCHES OF li'uidcd it, a flamino; torch of bircli bark beinp; affixed to the side. Thus e(|uippcd, they noiselessly glided down the stream, the glaring light attracting the fish to the surlacc. On its appearance the spearman throws his dart, and pierces it through. On the precision of his aim depends his success, a clever and experienced hand oiten capturing ten or a dozen large salmon in a night. The deep lurid <2;larc of the birch bark torch — the dark water — the fantastic shapes assumed l)y the foliage on the then densely wooded banks — the midnight silence, nnbroken except by the splashing of a wounded fish — made salmon s])earing exciting as well as remu- nerative. The Indian's light canoe was particularly adapted to this sport. This valley was a favorite hunting ground of the Indians. Here the fleet carriboo and the statelv niooso came down from the uplands to slake their thirst in the stream. On these brooks and gullies the beaver loved to build his dam. Much of the brook intervale was formed by those animals choking the streams. Foxes, bears and otters were very abundant in these woods. '' Have many traditions or tales been preserved of the Indians? " we asked Mr. Urban. ''None; or at least very few," was the reply. " On the Stewiacke the last raid of the Mohawk was made in Nova Scotia,' he added. li -■?: s V tl li 1 I I I » r nr- i i ' i i rtimiilmiiilimUiaSimmm»*a NOVA SCOTT A. < / being :racting QCO tli(' lirougli. iccess, ;i f ten 01' 3p lurid ter — the the then silence, ided fish IS remu- ticularly id of the- 3 stately ike their li gullies of the animals ers were ireserv ed eply. Mohawk V t "Lid they commit many depredations?" w>: asked. ' " When Wilmot, as the first settlers called this district, was settled only ])y a t'ow families, an Indian was eucampod on the river side near where the Presbyterian Church in the Middle Settlement ]iow stands. lie was a fine, tall dignified man, his. countenance grave, his step firm and elastic, lie was on iricndly terms with his now neighbors- One mornino; ho came to the nearest dwelling;, his features stilF and rifnd. " ' My child,' said he, "' lost— stolon 1 ' " ' By white man ? ' "' No, by Mohawk ; Mohawk the enemy of th<' Mic-Mac' " ' Never .Mohawk came from Canada to steal vour child.' For the alarm havino; been iriven, th-' white men all came to assist Nustus in his search. 'Wo will find your child, alive or dead.' " xVftor several days' fruitless search in wood and stream thoy returned to their homes. No tidings were ever heard of the ('hild. AVhether stolen or woh by the Mohawk was iiever known." ''Is it not a pity that Nova Scoti.i possesses so very -'"^w records of the Indians ? '' " Yes," said my friend, " it is sad, very saa. It the early Indians' records had been preserved much light might probably \\n,YQ. b^con thrown on tnca as A , i (' ■ If i;; '■' ii 11 m 78 SKETCHES OF .* a people. The iacility they showed in adopting the religion, dress, &c., of the French, prove how susceptible the race ^va.s to kindness. The fine old men, the Pauls and others, are gone, giving place to an inferior generation. The blue coat and leggings are replaced by some farmer's cast off grey homespun suit." 1 1 \i II.; :i( I 'iiii ODK. <')ri Eastern lauds whose suu.s have set A twilight dimness lingers }-et ; Mythology, wild, dim, remote. Does like an ignus fatuus Hoat, Shedding a vague, uncertain light Kound hieroglyphics — stars in night — These lithographs exhumed, they cry Loud from the dead to those who die. Aborigines! stern history throws I'pon your pastimes and your woes Xo light — no light ! Your fires are out : A stranger race their watchword shout I'pon your ancient hills ; your plains Are laden now with golden grain. Where carriboo and moose did bound The railway spans that hu;iting ground, And telegraphic wires are through The floods where skimmed your bark canoe. Your children, by our vice debased, Arc nearly from the earth erased. While the true path from earth to Heaven Is dimly to their vision given 5 Flying in civilization's van, Your vacant plains the white men scan; Reversing all the dread command, They covet, take your native land. t o i.i ting tlie fine old ig place oat and off grey woe oti i ■ NOVA SCOTIA. 71^ III vain to tbem docs scripture l)rin^' The tale that moved Israel's kinleasant, as we roll over the road in a doul)le wagon, drawm by a span of horses. W<' pass th(' old churchyard down the Boy, near the marshes — pass an chl Indian l)urial ground on l^avage Island — pass highly cultivated farms with houses \vhicli I'emiiid 3'ou of subarljan villas — pass numerous herds of cattle and (locks of sheep feeding in tlio Itroad green marshes. " Here is Old Barns," said D. Denjiie, Es(|uiro, as we ascended a steep hill, and viewed a lovely ])rospect bounded by the broad Bay of Cober|iTid. " "Where? " was our (pierie, as our eye wandered from one fine-looking homestead to the next one. The houses were surrounded by gardens and orchards, the fields were divided by good fences, the bains and stables large, and no old barns as "wo could detect. * '^ Oh ! " said I). Deiinie, Esrjuirc, smiling, " tho name, I mean." " It is not very euphonious/' observed Captain W iM ntain? heavy After I) party outh ol Kiss tlio irrillCB — u]ncro[i:- T in tlif* s(|uiro, lovely mtlere*.! cxt ovx\ ens ami I i'encoB; ns as -wo e. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. 1.0 I.I 1^ ^ m ^ ti^ 12.0 m 1.25 „ ,.4 1 ,.6 ,^ 6" ► HiDtographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)S72-4S03 ' ^m. °>A. ^V «> r/. 84 SKETCHES OF of the beavei's dam. There, enveloped in his airy, hazy shroud of fog, at evening, morn or midnight, withdrawing his footfalls as silently as he came. Youth may have vowed enduring love by the constancy suggested by its unchanging returns. This attribute of constancy or unchangeableness, which man as a race so much admires and rever- ences, because it is so opposed to his own nature, and so impossible of attainment — that very immutability may have attracted the worship of nations ; and in the unstoried ages altar fires may have burned at high water mark, and the smoke of incense may have mingled with the mists which came with the tide, as warrior after warrior in his light birch bark was lifted from the (^arth, and floated swdftly on the tide to revisit old, or explore new hunting grounds. As the years roll on pale faces gaze on the coming waters, while the cross, the memento of that day Avhen the darkened sun refused to shine upon the face of nature, is held up to Heaven, as day by day the strangers see the waves rise higher and higher. These pass, and in the coming years cultivation opens new scenes — the struggle of the conquered and the conquerors My reverie was interrupted by the appearance of our friends. We started on our return to the village, the Captain and Mr. Urban discussing the NOVA SCOTIA. 85 future of Xova Scotia — the timber and the fisheries, the mineral and agricultural resources. "This one County," remarked Mr. Urban, "which was without inhabitants one hundred years ago, now contains (per present census) 20,045 souls, with 50 places of worship and 102 schoolhouses, 33 grist and 123 saw mills, 15 carding and 19 shingle mills, 3 fulling mills, 5 tanneries, 1 shoe factory, 1 saw and planing mill, 1 iron foundry, 3 lathe mills and 1 plaster mill. The estimated value of the real and personal property is $5,060,000, and 24 paupers only to maintain in the County." "What quantity of marsh is in the County? " I enquired. " 5,803 acres of salt and dyked marsh, 10,640 acres of cultivated intervale, and 61,583 of cultivated uplands, producing 33,101 tons of hay and 27,360 Inishels of wheat, 8,968 bushels of barley, 3,508 bushels of rye, 192,976 bushels of oats, 38,511 bushels of buckwheat, 198 bushels of Indian corn, 2,431 bushels of peas and beans, 358,001 bushels of potatoes, 48,310 bushels of turnips, and 900 bushels of timothy seed : ;ilso, apples and plums. 8,789 cows supply us with butter and cheese ; 27,494 sheep give employment to 1,227 hand looms, which rranufacture 120,810 yards of cloth. Our maple trees yield 26,578 lbs. of sugar. We have bricks, grindstones, gypsum, coal and iron from our soil ; • 111 I m V: 86 SKETCHES OF and our streams and bays supply cod, mackerel, shad, herrings, alewives and salmon ; while flax can be cultivated to any extent, and " "Hold, hold, I beg of you," exclaimed Mr. Dennie; "don't go into the hemp and shipping capabilities of this fine County of Colchester. A truce to statistics. There is Savage Island, and its pages of unwritten history. How different its appearance to-night — with the sheep lying quietly on its green slope, and the long shadows sweeping over the closely mown marshes — to that which it presented to the men who broke the virgin sod to admit the first sleeper to the bosom of his mother earth." We viewed the island to which our attention was directed. The level marsh for some distance below it is unbroken. From this smooth expanse rises the gentle slope of Savage Island. To the bay it has a steep, nearly perpendicular front, which the winds and the waves are continually wearing away. Silvery birches and evergreen spruces shade this side, and seem to protect and watch over this spot, so lonely, so lovely, and so neglected. It contains about ten acres. For its very poetic name it is indebted to an early Irish proprietor. It possesses peculiar attractions for those who, like my friend, are fond of cherishing the reminis- cences of early provincial history. It was the burial wm NOVA SCOTIA. 87 place of the French, who first owned these fertile nicarshes. After their expulsion it was used hy the Indians and Roman Catholics. Neither cross nor broken arch now adorns it. A single sculptured stone, with a Latin inscription, attests the once consecrated ground. It is now the haunt of the pleasure seeker, or the student of medicine, who, from its sandy side, picks up a relic of departed humanity. No Indian who hoped that his tribe would not neglect their annual visit to his grave when he had sought the spirit land : no lonely exile, who desired to rest near the ocean, so that after death some kindly hand from the land of his fathers might plani a cross upon his grave, yet dreaded the stormy winds, the raging waves, anc^ the rock-bound Atlantic coast: no man in the weakness of his human nature, who dreads the overcrowded city cemetery, or the yet more fearful uncoflined gory battlefield trench, but who would wish rather to lie where the spring birds might warble, and the summer's sun might shine ; where the wild flowers might bloom, and the quiet beauties of a glad pastoral land be above and around him — we know of no spot so congenial to such a frame of mind as the old burying ground of Savage Island. At the head of ship navigation, scarcely a mile above Savage Island, the main road through British t I 11" 88 SKETCHES OF North America crosses Cobc(|Liid Bay, wliicli i.s licro spanuncd l)y a new, elegant and substantial bridge. Between the bridge and Truro Courthouse, a. distance of two miles, is another upland island. It, also, is a spot of groat natural beauty, the burial ground and the site of the Presbyterian Meeting House, bounded by a creek and shelterediby trees. This place is an ol)ject of veneration to the descend- ants of the first settlers of Truro. Their fathers after only eight day's residence in this new and adopted country chose it for the stated ■worship of God, and built a church on it. It excites a melancholy interest from the fact that a past generation, as well as the early fathers, and many, very many, of the present one, are reposing in peace beneath its green sod. Some of the old tomb-stones are so moss-covered that tlie inscriptions arc scarcely legible, while the graves are completely concealed by wild rose and floAvering shrubs. It is a matter of regret to the visitor that the old church should have been removed. The sight of the place where the wise and the good of bygone generations preached and prayed, awes and solemnizes the mind. But the old meeting house is gone : broken timber, stone and mortar mark its site. Lower Truro, below the old church, is a continu- ation froin the Old Barns of fine farms, with good NOVA SCOTIA. 89 li^. uses and barns, situated ou the undulating uplands wliicli rise gently from the marshes. The farms, judging from their surroundings, are in a high state of cultivation. From the old church to the court- house S(|uare are several fine residences ; thence the town is built on a strip of table land, about, so far as I can judge, one-(|uarter of a mile in width, and three-fourths of a mile in length. It is laid out in two parallel streets, running cast and west, named, in honor of the royal visit, Queen and Prince streets. The S([uare is surrounded by the court- house, public offices, and several fine iiotels and stores. To the right is the road leading to Halifax. Going to the east, up Prince-street, you pass neat two storey dwellings, the Normal College and Model Schools, with flower garden enclosed with wdiitc palings; in the rear, the play grounds and model farm, enclosed by green spruce hedges. Nearly opposite, on your left hand, in the centre of a green square, stands the Presbyterian Church — a fine building with a tall belfry and deep-toned bell. The College of the Presbyterian Church of X. S. — a stately edifice, w'ith a silvery cupola — is on Queen-street, nearly opposite the church. Its situation is very pleasant, overlooking the green intervales which are bounded by the uplands of Onslow and North Pbiver, the sinuous course of the Salmon Eiver being marked by the elms and ashes m^ J' if I I 90 SKETCHES OF on its margin. In the square adjoining the Pres- byterian church stands the Episcopal church, a very well proportioned building with a spire and bell. A short distance brings you to the Methodist chapel, shaded by old willow trees. The space on your right, between the Normal College property and the old mill stream, has been taken up by the railway station. The railway offices, several new and spacious hotels, new streets and dwellings have been, or are being erected in this neighborhood. Prince-street extends for some two or three miles as a road for the inhabitants who have built on the edge of the uplands eastward from the village. Crossing from Prince to Queen-street, at the head of the table land, we pass the old Academy, not so well known in the political world as the far-famed Pictou Academy, yet many youth have gone from its halls who by their talents and enterprise have done much to make their native land known and respected. The Baptist chapel is on the corner of Queen-street, leading over the Salmon River bridge ; in the rear of the chapel is the Old Mills. Across the river the street over the intervale is shaded by umbrageous willows, which extend to the Hill. There the early settlers built their court- house, and kept their public offices and records, which modern taste has removed across the river. Here, also, overlooking the smooth intervale, is the NOVA SCOTIA. 91 homestead of the late Honorable S. G. W. Archibald, Master of the Rolls, whose urbane manners and brilliant talents will be long remembered by his countrymen. On the rising uplands the situation of some cottages is one of great boauty. A shady, gravelly walk loads to the residence of the Rev. , the pastor of the Presbyterian Church. Creepers and grape vines climb over the sides of the dwelling. The garden extends to the river bank, which here is a steep cliff of red sandstone, at the foot of which the broad shallow stream of the Salmon ripples pleasantly along the edge of the narrow valley, where the sheep and kine enjoy abundant pasturage. Opposite are the residences of the Rev. Dr. Forrester, Superintendent of Education, and of the Hon. A. G. Archiba,ld, M. P. P. for the County. In the woods, in rear of his grounds, is a very fine cascade, formed by a narrow woodland stream tumbling over a ledge of rock. Its mossy banks are the favorite resort of the village youth in search of may flowers and ever- greens. The settlements of Harmony and Greenfield are on the uplands a few miles from the river. Thus climb the hill o'er Truro's vale, When summer woos the wandering gale ; Where to review each well known scene Fair fancy's footsteps oft hath been : il f 92 .SKETCHES OF Tho hawtlioni lioil/^'o, tlic palo blue IjcII, The willow o'er the holy well, The woods which clothe tho uplfiiicl's crest, Tho cuscade tumbling IVoiii its breast, Broad trees which shade the bridge's street, Wliere feathered choirs the daybreak greet, The spot with wild rose clustering, where The Fathers raised the house of prayer ; There spruce and alder shadows sweep — Those Fathers and their children sleep ; The village nestling by tho river. Where aged elms and ashes quiver; The azure smoke-cloud from the train, JJarting along the woody plain ; The l)abbling brook around the hill, Which once did turn the noisy mill ; Church steeples pointing to the sky. Asking the careless gazer. Why? Here learning plumes her callow wing, And youth and hope "exulting sing :'■' And rural sights at evening's close AVith childhood's shouts here mingling rose ; Large creaking wains of new-made hay ; Cows lowing on their homeward way ; The turkey's brood ; the j)laintivc lamb, Fold-parted from its bleating dam ; The swallow twittering on the eaves ; The farmer whistling 'mong his sheaves ; "While cheerful maids, in garments gay, Woo the soft breeze at close of day ; And as the day embraces night, Stars peeping through the pale twilight, The Onslow hills loom from the blue, And o'erfraught Folly bounds the view; The Salmon River's silver thread Through rich alluvium on is led, ^lingling, near Savage's lone isle, Its waters brought from woodlands wild With Fundy's rough and turbid waves, NOVA SCOTIA. 03 To spread arouml thoso nameless i^ravos. How mournfully the tide does sound, Laving that island burial ground — All that this race did oCtliom know, Was — that they slept thoro long ago ! i Tho road to Onslow is round tlio head of this marsh. Tho uplands on North Piivcr have a rolling, hilly aspect, stretching away over tho country like waves of tho sea after a storm. Onslow is a township ; but as yet, it is only a succession of line farms, extending from tho Ixiy to the limits of the township on the Chigonois River. This river has its source in a lake near the summit of tho Cobequid Hills. The lake is several miles in circumference, and its situation is romantic. A large rock rises boldly in tho centre, around which its clear waters, unrufUed by any wind, iloat in unbroken stillness. The wild and precipitous heights which environ it are clothed with trees of great beauty, the hanging branches, covered with drooping foliage, shadowing the lichens which chase and chequer the rocks with purple and silver. At some distance below the lake is a very beautiful cascade, formed by the river tumbling over a preci- pitous ledge of rock forty feet in height. The stream above the fall is about thirty-five feet in breadth. The headlong fury of the rushing waters, the leaves on the trees tossing to and fro in sympathy n II i lis 94 SKETCHES OF ' ! 'il M with the wild water, wliich now steals quietly down the gorge, kissing the banks, and seemingly glad to enjoy the shade and solitude of the trees and flowcis which overhang them, conspire to raise the mind from the contemplation of Nature to Nature's God. About four miles from its mouth it meets the tide. Sometimes its course is between steep rugged banks, having a sombre and gloomy appearance, anon through finely sheltered but small intervales. Near the mouth is a fine i)iece of recently formed marsh, (for within the memory of the oldest inhabi- tant, the river extended from its present channel to a pretty upland knoll in the Fort Belcher marsh,) the steep wooded side of this knoll being at one time the boundary of the stream. On this knoll was found a small lot of French coin, probably hidden bv some exile. The fort was on the nearest upland knoll to the mouth of the Chigonois. In those days undoubtedly it was a bold headland. The wear and tear of time and tide have crumbled it away. A hole, not unlike an old well, is shown as the site of the fort, which once boasted a defence oi two cannon and a complement of twelve men. On a line from the fort, and forming a triangle with it, stood two block houses, used as stores. A small sized time-eaten cannon ball was lately ploughed up near the fort. An old dyke, yet in a good state of preservation, kept out the sea from a NOVA SCOTIA. 95 I;" marsh once cultivated by the French, but now a swamp. Alter crossing the Chigonois bridge, and ascending the opposite hill, the road lies for a short distance through a barren, then emerges suddenly. The- traveller obtains a view of the bay and country beyond. Keeping on the left hand, or old road, you have a view of a good farming settlement. Many of the buildings are new, neatly finished and painted. " This," remarked !Mr. Urban, " is Upper London- derry, or Masstown : so called from the old French Mass House, one hundred feet in length, by forty in breadth, being situated somewhere in this vicinity." "Do you knov.'" the spot, Mr. Urban?" " Somewhere near those old willows," he answered, pointing to some decayed, gnarled trunks which leaned over what had once been a narrow ravine, but in the course of years had been filled level with debris from the ploughed fields. "The precise locality it is not easy now to determine, from the ruthless destruction by fire of the property and buildings of the Acadians." The remains of their roads, bridges and dykes are being fast obliterated. An old burying place is sometimes found by the farmer or roadmaker. In 1761, when the first English settlers came, five 1 I i^ n. (i'r m ■lilf 96 SKETCHES OF hundred acres of mavsli were still enclosed l)y their dykes. The |)Oorcst upland on the bay seems to bo around their chief settlments ; though, perhaps^ they chose the sites where the smallest amount of dyke would enclose the hxrgest extent of marsh. At Debert, a few miles from Chiginois, is the Ferry. A boat plies, Tuesdays and Fridays, between hero and Maitland, on the opposite side of the bay. Before reaching the Folly, or Fawleigh, according to the modern orthography, we again come on to the highway, or telegraph line. The Debort, fed by springs and rivulets, as Avell as the Folly, Great Village, rortaupiquc and Bass rivers, rise in the Cobetpiid, which is a range of hills extending in an. east and west direction for nearly ninety miles, presenting consecutive ridges of well wooded and fertile land. At the junction of the harder with the softer strata, the streams often form very pretty cascades. Where the road crosses the Debert marsh the river is strikingly romantic. A small narrow strip of very green marsh, from which the luanks on both sides rise very abruptly, covered with overhanging treeS; the river rolls along in a tortuous, zigzag course, while the jagged, steep, fretted banks show that once the narrow stream, edged with green, had been a wild, raving mountain torrent, which, 1 ' *'. (iH'-Dtl icir ■6 to it of 1. ; the lie of V cling on to :t, fed Great in tlio in ap. NOVA SCOTIA. 97 and Hofter ades. di tlie V s n JC both tingmg zigzag s show Iw reen, hich, tearing its way to the bay, had enabled the tides to form this pretty s[)ot of green alhivium. About a mile from the Debert you come suddenly upon the Fawleigh which also flows through a very narrow valley, between high, picturesrpie and most fantas- tically shaped banks, water- worn, rent and jagged, covered with trees and bushes. This river has its rise in a lake which is said to abound in most excellent trout. The Debert and FawleiLi;h run into the same estuary. In the neighborhood, where the Folly rises, are situated the Acadian Iron Mines, famed for the unrivalled quality of its ore. The foundry alone is worth ten thousand pounds. Nearly one thousand hands find employment about them. A small vessel is kept constantly employed carrying the ore to St. John for shipment to Britain. Crossino; the brido-e we enter the vil]ai]i;e, which is a single street extending for perhaps half, or three-fourths of a mile, along the upland on the margin of the marsh. The buildings are pretty, and the situation pleasing. At the end of the street stands a Presbyterian church — a largo building of the olden time. To the left the road leads down the stream to the shipyard, where several vessels are annually built by enterprising companies. A school house, hotel, post oJSce, and several well filled stores, were noticed as we drove slowly through the village, and turned ! 1 if 1^4 m 98 SKETCHES OF to our i'iiilit on tlio road to Great Villa(>;o, or LoiuloiiJurry, three miles distant. This, also, wa^ a village of one street, but lont^'er and more com- pactlv huilt than the Follv. Jud^inLC from the number and si/e of the .stores and ehurchcs, the .surrounding country must be wealthy and populous. Below the viUage several vessels were on the stocks. Two or tiirue had discharged their cargoes, and wore awaiting the tide and a pilot to return to the sea. We must confess the %ight to a strangjer is novel of the spars of two or three vessels nieeting his gaze, as the eye moves over a smooth green marsh, the hulls hidden liy the banks, while he •could easily touch the opposite side of the stream with a trout pole. But, alas I for the diciples of Isaac Walton, trout poles are useless in muddy water. The hotel is pleasant and comfortable, one room containing a large number of very fine house plants, and several cages of singing birds, the little cap- tives singing very sweetly among their native flowers. A large church and schoolhouse were on the corner, wdiere we turned to the left, or Economy road. (The road to the right is leading to the Acadian Mines, which time did not permit us to visit, while in front W'as the main road to New Brunswick.) Ascending a gentle eminence near the residence of the Rev. Mr. Wylie the view wa»s NOVA SCOTIA. 99 ge, ov com- Lies, the oes, aiu\ •u to ihv :aiiger i^ luectinu; itli green wliile he he stream Uciples of a muddy ouc room LsG plants, little cap- nr native ^e were on |i- Economy lliicT to the trmit us to xd to New lence near [e view wa»s very beautiful. There wa.s the rivor of the Great Village .seeking its sinuous course to the hay. The village at our feet — the busy husbandman in the adjoining fields and marshes — the sound of the caulking mallet, and the gleam of a sail, as the vessels prepared to drop down with the ebb tide — the sparkling waters of the bay, and the dark shores of the other side ; in the l^ackground the wooded range oi' the Cobequid, sparsely dotted with white buildings and irregular clearings. Further eastward, on the high ground l)etween the Great Village and Folly rivers, the smoke from the iron mines winds its way among the hills. The furnace and buildings of the Acadian Mine are situated on the west branch of the former river. Mr. Urban spoke in glowing terms of the grandeur of some of the mountain ravines, and the " falls " on some of them — one river tumbling over a quartzitc ridge upwards of fifty feet in height, while a small brook on its eastern side falls from a much greater elevation. To the westward, on the Economy river, is a fall on a grander and more elevated scale, and of much greater magnitude. "Now," said Mr. Urban, "as 'time and tide for no man bide,' let us haste to the Point, and secure, if possible, a passage over the bay in this tide." Half reluctantly withdrawing our gaze from the landscape we were soon passing through woods and at 100 SKETCHES OF If*: I Ni'ii well cultivated farms, the houses only short distances apart. Then up a short sandy hill, then a sudden turn to the left, and here is the bay at Spencer's Point. A vessel is on the stocks, while one laden with flour, &c., for the merchants of Great Village, is lying high and dry on the flat discharging cargo, which is being hauled to the village by horses. The very gently advancing waves come steadily near and nearer to the shore. A strong current fills the creek. Four stalwart men drag the boat to the bank, passengers and rowers step in, a gentle shove, and she glides through the soft ooze into the water, the sail is shook out and filled with a gentle breeze, which freshens as we recede from the shore. The tide is very smooth. We cross the Cobequid Bay — here about six miles broad — and are landed alongsids of the wharf at Salma in less than an hour. Here we are met by the busy and active A. A. McDougall, or The Captain, as the boatmen call him, who is engaged in superintending the loading of a large barque with plaster, bound to Eichmond, while two others are lying near the wharf to await their turn to load. The Captain accompanied us to the quarries. Here one of the, men had dug out a stone bearing the impress of a fish, which he showed to his companions ; and not being a Hugh Miller, he broke it up and threw it into the heap. Wat mai mai in hanj agail stances sudden pencer's e laden Village, g cargo, 'ses. steadily current the boat , a gentle 3 into tlie 1 a gentle the shore. Cobequid re landed than an tive A. A. itmen call le loading Achmond, ■f to await ipanied us ,d dug out which he ,g a Hugh the heap. NOVA SCOTIA. 101 A rail is laid from them to tho shore, near which is a large shed for storing the gypsum ; and the plaster is drawn on the iron rails by horses. The quarries are at the head of Salma Marsh. The uplands, sloping gently from the marsh, are well tilled. A neat stone house (the residence of E. Smith, Esq., a gentlemen who nearly half a century ago was member of Assembly for Hants) stands on the brow of the hill. It is finely sur- rounded with fruit and shade trees. Adjoining this is a very neat Methodist chapel, with spire and bell : opposite is a small oratory. This, as well as the chapel, is finely sheltered by trees. Across the road, and out to Salter's Head, the farms are very excellent. The Head — a patch of red sandstone, rises in a perpendicular cliff from the water's edge. Its sides are worn by the ceaseless action of the tides into many-shaped holes and cavities, revealing a rich field for the student of geology. Several large eagles were hovering over their nest in the tall trees which overhung the water. We leave for a drive to Noel. The road com- mands a fine and varied prospect of hill, dale, marsh and sloping woody hills; the broad bay in front; Economy Point stretching as if to join hands with Noel ; Moose Island, like a dark block against Economy Point; whilst the brick kilns, i lllii; I: ':! !!f: ¥ ii' r ■-i ! '11 t i I! ip ' li^'l iSl .i!'i| 1*1 102 SKETCHES OF which look liko a vc;-sel, lie apparently midway in the hay. Northward are tlio rich slopes of the Goboquid. Long stretches of dark woods clothe the uneven nndulating top of the range which seem to meet and mingle with the sky, while a light fleecy (doud, its base slightly tinged by the sepia shaded woods, floats lightly above. This cloud is a mass of vapor from the St. Lawrence, which is, by an air line, about twenty miles north of the bay. From f^alma to Noel is a succession of ccood farms, Noel is a small village at the head of Noel Bay. A church, schoolhouse, mills and good plaster in the vicinity — which is spoken oft* as being very valuable. One of these rural homesteads has sent out one of its inmates a missionary to Aneiteum. A short drive from Noel brou.ght us to Burntcoat. We drove to the liQ;hthouso situated on Burntcoat Head, Basin of Minas, and received a hearty welcome from the superintendent. The buildings are situated on a spot of land which every season the wear of the tide threatens to maka an island. The banks are worn into all sorts of holes and strangely shaped cavities. The lantern is erected on a square tower attached to the main building, and shews a plain white light about 75 feet above high water level. It is visible from all points of npproach except the road. The Basin here is about four miles in width. From the tower vou obtain a dings oason land, and reeled Iding, above nts of about tain a NOVA SCOTIA. 103 fine view of Capo Blomidon, distant about twriity- riix and a half miles. ludcod tlio views wliich greet the traveller from many spots on eitlior sidi' of the bay are of a most grand and striking cliaracbu". Hero is the Bay of Cobcijuid — the rocky cliain of the Five Islands on i\\o ono side, and Ti^nyeap ' on the other. From tlio narro\V(>st plaoi', near tlx' B. 0. Head, it (^xpamls into the broad and bonutiful Basin of Minns, termiinitod by the lofty pi'omon- torics of Blomidon aivl Cap^^ i^i>lit. The lirn.id estuary of the Avon opening np to tlu^ .-outli — lli<^ little islets noai the shore — a .-ail or t\vo visibl'> on the horizoii — the |uvtty inlets of Walton ;ir.'l Cheverie, Tcnycajpe and the settlemends on eachsii]..- of the shore. "For grandeur and beauty of eoast st.'cnery," remarked Mr. Urban, ''' }.lin;ts Chaniiel and Ba..-in are not surpassed by any part of the coa^-^t of Xorth America. Sometimes," he atbh^l, '•' when Vv'c ]iav<' a succession of foL!;'j;v davs, and the morninir sun breaks forth, rolliii'j; the masses of liijht ha/.e whi(di has shrouded the bay into whit.' (iceey cohimns to join the wind-bound argu.-ies of eloudland whidi hover over Blomidon and Ca})e Split, revealing the islands an 1 the southern slope of the Cobe(iuid, the effect is one of fairy lanib" Bidding "good-bye" to our friends, we returnetl to Maitland, two miles above Salma. \m. 104 SKETCHES OF i ' 1 1 iilSil This village, at the nioutli of the Shubenacadie, is a busy thriving place, doing a good business with the United States, employing a large number of vessels nnd seamen in the coasting trade. Gypsum is supplied from the white rock a few miles up the river. Pitch Brook and Salma are the principal loading; <2:rounds. In the village are two Presbyterian Churches, one venerable from age, (where the Rev. Mr. Crowe, the Father of the Presbyterian Church, preaches,) the other new and commodious, and an Episcopal church, whpse small diamond-shaped panes of stained glass have a novel and pleasing effect. Here are two routes to Windsor; one by the shore [>ast Walton and Cheverie ; the other across the Gore through Newport to Windsor, distant about sixty miles. The Gore and Rawdon are hilly districts, rising between the estuaries of the Avon and the Shube- nacadie. "Suppose," said a shrewd observer of the political horizon of the American Republic to one of the exporters; "suppose war comes in the United States, where will be your trade ? " "Ruined," was the answer; "completely ruined, and Maitland will be deserted." Well, war came, as every body knows. In June, 1864, we again were landed from a boat at Salma lit tical )f the nited June, Salma NOVA SCOTIA. 105 Creek — wharf no longer. We met the irrepressible Captain. On enquiry for the railroad, wo learned that the " on to Eichmond " for plaster had been stopped the first year of the war. A fine-looking clipper ship, iron-kneed and copper-fastened, nearly finished, was on the stocks — making the fourth which the Captain had built in two years. A company in Salma was engaged in building their second vessel on the creek. In a distance of about fifteen miles along the shore twenty vessels are building; one in the shipyard of W. Lawrence, Esq., M. r. P. for Hants, of about two hundred feet keel. Since the plaster trade failed about forty vessels have been launched in Maitland and the neighboring shore, several measuring about one thousand tons. The coasting trade is ended. Maitland sea captains and ships are beginning to be known in all foreign ports. At the Gore the Douglas slate quarry has been opened through the exertions of an enterprising Scotsman, G. Lang, Esq., a builder and sculptor, to whose skill Halifax is indebted for some of her most substantial buildings and monuments. This roofing slate is of a very superior quality, similar to Welsh slate, but finer in texture, and of larger dimensions. Slabs smooth as ice, and measuring forty-five feet in length by thirty-two in breadth, and varying from one-sixteenth and fi , n ■it (J ! :i r i i ir i) m VM lOCi SKETCH KS OF jnc-Gi'j;litli of an incli in tliicknoss to four iiK^lios, o 1 ire iJCinL!; rained. PioecH of inucli (j;roator Icimtli o will bo ()l)taino(l when the (juarry is fully o[)Gnc(l, for tlio lonL:;oBt pieces hiivo now to 1>g cut across. Tlio slate stands nearly V'.U'tieal, ^vitll a slight inclination to the southward. This (juarry is said to 1)0 inexhaustible. A steatn engine is beino: lU'cctcd at it. As any amount of this valuable building material can be sold in the neighboring States 'ind Provinces, and as it is ordy a moderate distance from shijinKuit at Maitland, and from the railway, its exportation in a few years must be very remunerative. Slates must soon supersede shingles for roofs of barns in tlie farming; districts. A quarry of blue lias lime has been opened by the same crentleman, which for build in it; o unrivalled, Ijcini!', in fact, an hvdraul purposes cemen IS t. This lime is on the Shubenacadie, near the railway station. Biddimi; adieu to ]\Iaitland we crossed the Shubc- nadie, landing at the Black Pvock, and a drive of twelve miles brought r:s to Truro — this ni^ht not in an hotel, V)ut with our fri<'nds at Demcure. SouKjbodv — ]\rrs. Stowe, if I remeniber aright — savs that "in the shadowv past our friends ii;row bright; that their im[)erfections fade avv-ay, and their sxentler virtues alone remain. B e it so. Yet we prefer the liv m: 1 uTsent, with ah its 1 lit— and so. . its NOVA SCOT FA. 107 imporfuetions, boforo any shadowy ideal. Again, the old cozy Hoat liy the pleasant wood lire, surrounded l)y familiar faces and voices — familiar, though unheard through Iouli; veai's ; the old iilaco at table, though a stranger occupies the high chair, all the other dear little ones surround the board, only grown graver and taller. Little tongues which (^ould just lis}) *'Tho Lord is my Shepherd " now recite in our ear st;aizas in the oriii-inal from Homer and Virgil. Little fingers which we left adjusting a doll's dra[)ery now sweep boldly over the keys of the piano, melting the soul by the sweetness or sadness of the s' rains. Then worshi}) — real family worship. All the inmates of the household join in the singing, and the children arc taught that the great practical part of a musical training is to enable them iit home to raise a !J!;rateful song of praise to God. Scripture reading, verse about, and prayer closes the hour set apart for devotion. After this conversation — conversation such as strangers never knov/ — and — and we leave in the morning for Pictoii, if the rain, which at present is falling so heavily, does not prevent us. THE RAJX. Hear the rain .centlv fallin;/ On our liomo, Day.s of youth sweet recalling 111 that lioiiie, .ib i I ,1). & ■]• m m 'M f ml 108 SKETCHES OF .«f H::? When with brothers wild as we, There wo played, in childhood's glee. In the brook now rushing free Past our home. Then the mill, slowly turning, Near our home ; The full brook, restraint .spurninf.'. Free did roara, Hasting onward to deliver Surplus water to the river, Where the leafy poplars (inivcr Round our home. There wo sailed our tiny boats Made at home, Rafted loads of logs on ftoats Brought from home. Till the master on the hill. Whistling gaily past the mill, Truant hearts with fear did thrill. Far from home. Drop by drop the rain distils From its home ; Sparkling rain the clover fills In their homo ; Sadly sounding on the leave. Lying low, like unbound sheaves — Drop by drop the trees do grieve Dead leaves home. Fast to-night the rain does fall ! Friends long home In the rain drops seem to call From that home. Here we lie in death's ^ 'ng sleep. Where the tears like rain, you weep, Can't recall us from the deep Grave our home. NOVA SCOTIA. As the see J upon tho plain — Its old home — Huricd lies by earth and rain In its hoiiiP When tho reign of winter's o'er, Wakes to life with summer's store, So we'll bloom on Heaven's shore With God, home. Kvcry heart has secret graves Deep at homo ; Sympathy with none it craves In that home : liuried love and hopes of youth, Links of friendship, severed truth, Fall like rain ; sad tears of ruth Hide that home. But though darkness deep doth roll Round that home, Light divine shall grief control — Rule that home ; Memory's home flash with light ; All her treasures, fair and bright. Shall radiant glow : no darkest night In heaven's home. 109 I i ,i , •i: ■ i.r m •''if, ilii 110 SKF/rCHES OF ::i" i-'-. 'H'liil Mm :i 1. CHAPTER IV. Oil to Pictou — rnioii of Synods — New Glasgow — Coal Minos — A'.ti"-onish — On a Missionary. A clear October morning in tlie coach on the road to Pictou. ''That gentleman is the Sheritt' of Colchester," observed Mr. Urban, pointing to a handsome travelling carriage and pair of horses which passed the coach on the hill. '' He is Lieutenant-Colonel of Militia, and is head of the family of the late Jotham Blanchard, of whom Sabine in his biogra- phical sketches of the Loyalists of the Revolution says — ' Was born at Dunstable, New Hampshire, settled in Nova Scotia, carried on an extensive business in lumber, and was active in exploring the country, and in procuring grants of land to settle his fellow loyalists. He was a colonel in the militia, and died in 1800.' " Up, up hill, with the valley of the Salmon River to our right, and to our left the forest primeval. Ten miles. We again cross the Salmon River. Its banks are lovely and romantic, fringed with narrow strips of intervale, thence rising abruptly, show seams of coal. The. country has a sharper outline ; and as we travel towards *o g^ Ill; the NOVA SCOTIA. rictou, WQ have ai^cain the rolli Ui hill V siir 111 face, varicil l>v more deiiniteness in the ranjjre oi' hill-^. Xo\v w'Q climl) ]\[ount Thoiii, the highest peak of the Col)e<|ui(l, yet less than one-fourth of a mile in height, vv-hiLst Mounts Ephraim and Dalhousie rise close to us. Do not smile, oh, my friend I even though you have been to California, crossed the Ptockv Mountains, saw the itfaks of the Andes or the "snow-crested Alps," when some patronising traveller assures vou "this is nn aicfid niountint;' to cross." Then an old man whom you su]i[iose to he sleeping starts up to tell you how he hris travelled from home to Halifax, leading his horse round the stumps in the road. Traveller I\o. 1 rejoins sarcas- tically, "You should have gone to the States." No. 2 positively asserts that he never knew any who went from Nova Scotia to the United States do much good. Better, far better, for them to have remained at home. " When we left Scotland," added he, " many families from the North went to the Southern States and Canada, and did very well. Others went to the Northern States after taking a look at Nova Scotia, and in twenty years' time would have been better off if they had remained in it." " How did those make out who staid in Nova Scotia?" enquired Mr. Urban. T \% , it I: :l 'I 'i i'i il 1 ' 1 ' K ni i,' ^K 1 P \ li 1 l|:i I. \\ 'i 4\: 112 SKETCHES OF a Well," said lie, " I will state a few facts, and itli and several sons daughters came out in the same ship with me. The sons bought woodland, cleared and improved it. To-day they have a comfortable independence. The daughters married, and settled in the woods, prepared and spun their flax and Vv^ool, milked their cows, and made their butter and cheese, and now enjoy a green old age, surrounded by the comforts and elegancies of life. Another man purchased, before ho left Scotland, land in Prince Edward Island ; but after living there one winter came here with a very little money and a very large family. All of them now own good properties, while more than one of his grand -children are among the ministers and doctors in Nova Scotia. Talk of emi- gration ! This is as good a country as is under the sun for emigrants, if they only be of the right stamp — men and women willing to work, and not willing to expend more than they earn on dress and drink." "When the speaker left the coach we enquired of Mr. Urban if he knew him. " Who ? Uncle Kobert ? He is one of nature's noblemen. He emigrated from Scotland some fifty years ago, married and settled on an upland farm in the wild woods. With no aid but a strong arm he cleared a field, built a log house, and planted an orchard around it. ;; li NOVA SCOTIA. 113 Iture s fifty farm arm led an Log houses ! ere ye pass forever from the land, is there no friendly hand to twine a wreathe around your memory ? The sight of you to the voluntary exile who had travelled for miles without seeing a clearing or meeting a human being, thrilled his bosom with feelings now unknown. As he espies the smoke curling above the snow-wreaths new vigor seems imparted to his benumbed limbs ; his chilled fingers grasp the string which lifts the wooden latch. Within what a kindly welcome is given to him ! The round logs aglow in the huge fire-place are stirred, aiid a stream of sparks fill up the chimney, concealing the wooden crane and bake-kettle, its lid covered with glowing embers. The white sanded floor, the home-made high-backed ashen chairs, the dresser, with its rows of pewter plates and horn spoons, and a few articles of delf from the old country, on the top shelf the well- worn books. The coals are drawn from between the flat stones which serve for andirons ; the ash cake, carefully swept with a wing, is broken, and placed on the well-scrubbed board, a piece by each bowl of milk. Nature's wants, few and simple, are easily supplied. After supper the father makes shoes for his family, or mends his farming implements. The mother plies her spinning wheel or knitting needles, while the children read by flrelight. By firelight 8 'm Si ^iSii m 114 SKETCHES OF .Mm mm the whole family read, verse about, chapters from the bible, and repeat their catechism and scripture lessons. Then family worship by firelight, after which the coals are raked against the backlog, and wood and chips laid around to dry for the morning fire. Such a house was his ; — a tall lilac bush in front of it, luxuriant hops hung in graceful festoons from poles against the eaves. But he has outlived the loghouse and its surroundings. A modern mansion stands on its site. Broad acres of smoothly ploughed fields surround it. Large barns have taken the place of the log hovels. Once surrounded by thick woods, he now enjoys one of the finest views in the country, a few miles from a railway station. " "Was there not a danger of these early settlers losing their way in the woods? " " They travelled by blaze," replied Mr. Urban. " By blaze ! How is that done ? " we asked Mr. Urban. *' Travellers by blaze take a chip oiF each side of the trees along the line of their path, the chip off each side enabling a person coming from either direction to see the line of way. Seeing a tree blazed or chipped, and looking ahead, he sees the next, and so onward. The ravines hold snow often till near midsummer ; swamps are always wet. The blaze often leads through thick bushes, over or ti ■ ■'.,'■ ■* i ■■'■4' J3 nther tree the often The er or NOVA SCOTIA, 115 round windfalls, and compels you to spring from hummock to hummock over boggy places; now climbing steep ascents, anon crossing fordless streams on a single tree, which some pioneer has felled for his own convenience. This is summer travel by blaze. "In winter the snow always used to be thfefe' feet deep in the woods (often six or seven), so the snow-shoe was used, which was formed from a strip of ash bent in an oval, the ends joined and bound together into a point. It was about two feet in length by one in breadth. Thongs of untanned moose hide were interlaced across it, like the cane seat of a chair. This broad surface under the feet prevented sinking in firm snow ; but in soft it clogged; and on hard crust it slipped. Peculiar tact was required for walking on the shoes. The whole foot required to be lifted at a wide distance from the other, the toe as high as the heel. The practice once acquired, is an easy and expert mode of walking. Moccasins must be worn with snow- shoes. "When you," added Mr. Urban, "hear people talk of travelling through the woods and sleeping in camps, carrying grists on their shoulders to mills twenty miles distant, my friend ! please remember that this is the modern history of the Province; the ancient dates from the time when the first <¥■ ii 116 SKETCHES OF James sat on the British throne. But here is West River and Salt Springs, and our first view of Pictou County." We had travelled for some miles through the .forest, the trees close together, with a thick growth 'of underbrush. Cradlehills abounded, formed by •the roots of windfalls carrying up much of the soil lin which they grew. The surface of the country •appeared irregular, intersected by deep ravines, whose steep rugged sides form hills which often slope into low boggy valleys. The trees were comparatively small, and of second growth. How lovely this vale of the West River ! How graceful those elms which dot, border and fringe the landscape. Here are birds hopping on the fences which surround the grounds where the Rev. Principal Ross, of Dalhousie College, formerly resided, or flitting over the green sward among the golden-tinted elm leaves. How numerous the brooklets which steal quietly along through the lOvely elm trees, and arc lost in the wide-spreading intervales. Behind us the mountains, where the original forests remain, branching luxuriantly over the stre'.i,ms and lakes, extending in most stately grandeur along the plains, and stretching proudly to the summit of the hills. The frosty nights have transformed their verdure into every possible shade and tint of brilliant scarlet, rich violet, blue. NOVA SCOTIA. 117 How ringc the ilev. ncierly tlic the the ading the over tately oudly > have shade blue, :e brown, crimson and glittering yellow. It is impos- sible to exaggerate the autumn beauty of the hardwood forests, promiscuously mingled with the pine and the fir tribes : their eflFulgent grandeur is incomparable. This beauty the forest often retains through the Indian summer, which, Mr. Urban assures me, extends through the greatest part of November. SOXG OF THE LEAVES. While morning beams tint drop-s of rain On yonder mountain's brow, Gay autumn gorgeous decks the plain — The leaves are singing now. We are coming, old winter, to sleep on your breast ; Flowers all gone, and summer birds we too would rest -, We have donned the bright hues which in summer we won,. Like the saints ohining brightest life's journey near done : They do long to be clothed in new robes clear and bright ; We are waiting for your nuptial robes of pure white. There, sleeping in snow, assimilated to earth, In spring's fairest flowers again we will have birth, Or close hoarded by time, deep deep in t\ e cold ground, After ages elapse, iu rocks we may be found. In the Indian summer we our gala days keep, E'er December's cold blast o'er our dwelling place sweep. Then oaks in bright scarlet, red or yellow are drest; Birches, elms, beeches, are there in pale yellow vest-,, In orange the moose wood, sumach scarlet give her, While in pale golden leaf the tall poplars shiver. •' :'(^ ' ■ ■>, M itiii 118 SKETCHES OF ;S4 Some ashes are yellow, some wear deep purple hue ; Trailing vines cherry color exposes to view. Here are shrubs vermillio.i ; the dogwoods are dyed lake ; The maples a gay show of all colors do make. White maples are scarlet, sugar maples are gold, Birdeye trunks leaves of pink, yellow and green unfold ; In deep purple are some, others wear the old green, Dark brown are the alders, the ferns russet are seen. Pine, spruce, fir and hemlocks, all retain their green shade, Like spectators watching the change autumn has made. ' As Mr. Urban ended these remarks we had left Durham and "West River, and were nearing the town of Pictou and the sparkling waters of the Gulf ■of St. Lawrence. Pictou Harbor is a beautiful and capacious basin, receiving the waters of the East, West and Middle rivers of Pictou County. On the East River is New Glasgow and the coal mines, connected to the harbor by a railway. A fleet of coal vessels lies at the loading ground. Freestone of excellent quality is abundant a few miles from the harbor. On the north side of the harbor, about three miles from its mouth, on a hill gently sloping to the water's edoie. lies the town of Pictou. Some of the buildings are very handsome. Many dwelling houses are of stone. The courthouse is new and elegant. Near to it is the famous old Pictou Academy, where Dr. McCulloch labored, and (all NOVA SCOTIA. 119 at ity things considered) did more to promote education in Nova Scotia tlum any one man who has ever lived in it. Dr. McCuUoch started the idea of an Academy. Ho prayed lor it and begged for it. He fought for it, and taught in it, until, in despite of all opposition, he produced scholars who, as preachers of the gospel, lawyers, and educators of youth, boldly take their stand among the first in the Province. He likewise did more to advance Presbyterianism in Nova Scotia than any one since his day. Near the Academy is a dwelling house which excites our most lively interest. From its portals a gentle maiden has gone forth to the far isles ot the Pacific to carry the wondrous story of a dying Redeemer to the benighted heathen. Gone ! She is gone from all the gentle endearments of home and society — gone, alas ! never more to return. The place which once knew her shall know her no more for ever. ON A MISSIONARY'S DEATH AT ANEITEUM. MRS. MATRESON, WIFE OF REV. MK. MATHESON, i 50 MIECI OF REV. MR. QEDDIE. !;., •1 ■• -V:'' '■■ Mid prayers and tears from her home in the North, The brave herald of truth in weakness went forth, To work for her Lord, and to clear for the eyes Of humanity blind a path to the skies. The tropic winds sigh through the banana tree, The gorgeous flowers close, the sua sinks in the sea y«;^ m\ ml iflii S 1 i \i 11 :•;#■ l*i 120 SKETCHES OF The wan sufTorer watched the last fading ray, As a servant does wait till called away. " To Jesus I'm going," — her husband bowed low ; Sustain him, oh Father, Thou bads't her to go. Nay ! stricken band gather not round her to weep, 'Tis Jesus who giveth his loved ones sleep. No more round her seat Tanna's women shall stand ; No more shall she weep for her babe in their land ; No more shall she start from her couch in affright. As flames seize her home in the shadows of night ; No more tossed on the waves which dash on the reef; Nor compassed by dangers which stagger belief, Aneiteum is hallowed her ashes to keep : Mourners rejoice when His loved ones sleep. Dark isles of the sea, thy coral-raised soil Is dear to our hearts — our dead rest from their toil, — The moonlight falls softly on your sin-tainted shore ; Zephyrs stray gently where your cannibals roar; I'he dew droppeth mutely on valley and hill. And soft clouds float lovingly over you still ; More gently than zephyr, moon, clond or the dew, The breath of the Spirit shall come upon you. This sowing in sorrow, in joy you will reap ; — Believers rejoice when your loved ones sleep. On October 4th the gloomy clouds gave place to a fine sunshiny morning. Carriages were seen approaching the town of Pictou from the various roads. The streets were thronged by people in NOVA SCOTIA. 121 Ito lus in holiday garb, all wending their way to Patterson's Hill, where a tent had been erected capable of containing 3000 persons. Over this tent floated the bright blue banner (which had so often gathered auld Scotia's Presbyterians beneath its folds), with the legend, in white letters, " For Christ's Crown and Covenant." Beneath this waved a pure whito flag, bearing the motto, " That they all may bo one." The Free Church and Presbyterian Church of Kova Scotia had selected this spot on which to commemorate their proposed union under the style and title of the Presbyterian Church of the Lower Provinces. The site was appropriate, because here, in July 18th, 1786, Dr. McGregor preached his first sermon. Yet neither he nor Rev. Mr. Murdoch, who had been preaching about twenty years in tho' country, became members of the little Presbytery of three ministers constituted that year. The church bells ring joyous peals. From Knox's Church, led by the Moderator, Rev. Mr. Forbes, supported by the Clerk of Synod, and Rev. Professor King and Rev. Dr. Forrester, and thirty-two Free- Church ministers, representing sixty-six churches, walk up to the tents. These are followed by the elders, probationers, licentiates and students. A few minutes later the Synod of the Presbyterian Church of Nova Scotia, lieaded by the Moderator,. 1 'h' 1.' i .-n !£.y ;' ; i • ' I" •ii< S'-* 122 SKETCHES OF f i';ii'' Eev. Mr. Murdoch, A. B., and Clerk, Kov. P. G. McGregor, and the Professors Revs. Dra. Smith and Ross, and followed by forty-four ministers, representing seventy-seven Churches, and a mem- bership of 7650, issue from Prince Street Church, enter and take their seats on a raised platform opposite their brethren. The Moderators and Clerks occupy scats at the table. Upwards of •one hundred members, lay and clerical, compose this ecclesiastical assemblage. The legal forms are gone through. The two parties are declared one. Beholfl how good a thing it is, And how becoming well, Together, such as brethren are, In unity to dwell, has been sung by the assembled three thousand voices. Prayers in English and Gaelic have been offered to God, and the mighty multitude have dispersed to meet again in the evening. The Moderator, Rev. Professor King, addresses the Synod. Rev. W. McCulloch, and others, each occupy fifteen minutes in speeches. A soiree and more speeches close the evening. "We retired among the multitude of upwards of three thousand spectators. We love to contemplate those Pauls and Barna- ■bases who in days gone by, and in other lands, had thi say, the Chi of and NOVA SCOTIA. 123 taken different ways, " bocausd of the contention," meet in tliia western world to find that contention will not forward the cause of th<'ir Lord. Therefore this grand Union — this Unio i which is a matter for rejoicing. But in the midst of this rejoicing were it not well to recall what Christ has given ua as the real grounds of such joy and union, namely, that our names are written in heaven, not that we belong to this or that particular denomination. In the days of our fathers, and our fathers' fathers, intellectual harmonv was made the basis of Church fellowship. Separation or ejection followed on any difference of opinion about confessions, catechisms, or articles of faith. We, in common with our fathers lay much stress on accuracy of doctine ; but the chief stress should be laid on the conviction deep implanted in the heart of man that his relation to God is an individual matter — a personal respon- sibility ; a relation of the heart and not of the head. Not what a man may learn from the most logical creeds is religion, or that a thorough knowledge of them implies a right to Church member= itli Mr. Urban and company a largo party, we go on board the steamer George McKenzie, en, rouPi for New Glasgow and the coal mines. Most of the party were going to be present at the Ter-centenary Celebration to be held at New Glasgow in memory of the three hundredth anniversary of the Scottish Reformation. In a few minutes we ran up to the loading ground. Here the first Railway in Nova Scotia was laid by the Mining Company, to transport their coal from the mines to Pictou harbor. Land- ing from the steamer we ran up to New Glasgow by rail. * This pretty village, 10 miles east of Pictou, is a busy, thriving place. Shipbuilding is carried on by several wealthy firms. The numbers of Macs which cover the signs over the stores; four goodly-sized Presbyterian Church- es, as w^ell as the name of the village, mark the Fatherland — " Mother country" we should say — of these New Glasgow people. We were most cordially received at the hospitable mansion of Pt. McGregor, Esq., eldest son of the late Dr. McGregor ; spent a sociable time with W. Lippencott, Esq. ; visited the shipyard of Capt. McKenzie, M.P.P., (" from which," observed Mr. Urban, " I at one time counted eleven vessels on the stocks,") and other objects of interest in the vi- r i'{i Sirl m if li i:'M^ 126 SKETCHES OF : I ii • till : cinity. Our guide, (for which please accept our thanks,) led us to the top of the hill above the town. From this eminence we saw the beauties of the sur- rounding country ; the wooded crests of the ridges extending from Eraser's Mountain, east of the East River, to Green Hill and the "West Eiver, beyond which is Rogers Hill and Mount Dalhousie. All this is fine agricultural land, also affording rich fields for the miner and geologist. On one of the streams from this hilly district is quarried the grey freestone so highly prized, for architectural pur- poses. Many fine buildings in the large cities of the American Republic are being built of it. The durability, quality, and color of blocks and flags are excellent : and the vale of the East River which is so remarkable for the enormous thickness of its coal measures which form the Albion Mines coal-field, around the pits of which is clustered a population of some 2000 souls, who are supported by their produce. The Mines are about two miles above this vil- lage, which rises gradually from each bank of the river. The chief stores, public buildings, and ship- yards are on the left hand ; the railroad on the right bank of the river, which is spanned by a draw-bridge. Well cultivated farms extend to the borders of Colchester. Pictou county stands un- rivalled in the manufacture of its woollen goods* NOVA SCOTIA. 127- vil- the ship- the and likewise in the quantity and quality of its oats, and meal. The coal-fields have been so often described that to mention them again would be unnecessary, — suffice it to say, the column raised from the Albion Mines for the Great Exhibition was seen by thou- sands, and it made Nova Scotia known, not only in England, but among the nations. The main seam is 37| feet in vertical thickness. Coal and coal mines. What a boundless field for thought clusters round that one word coal — coal which is here deeper than in any other part of the^ world. Almost the first thought of the initiated, at least^ is given to them who pass their lives under ground. Young and old, or from youth to agp passed in a mine far from the blessed light of the sun and the comforts of home ; and then the deaths, accidents from combustion and non-combustible materials, from gases which support life, and from those which destroy it. "Why," says a man of the world to a devoted missionary, " why send men to the heathen,, they only die." " Tell me," said this veteran in his. Master's employ, " where men do not die." " Man," says a celebrated writer, " is immortal till his work is done." No matter if that work is to be done in the depths of a coal mine, or in the bustle of a crowded city, at home, surrounded hyr ill k t'ifa > i r}{' i^m 128 SKETCHES OP friends, or in the far off lands — the abodes of horrid cruelty, afar from friends and home. As we would far rather contemplate the distance to the sun to be illimitable, and feel a sort of regret or lowering, as it were, when we hear of the exact distance of it, so, when we hear coal fields spoken of as the equivalent of so many days labor, and the exact time which it required them to grow and con- solidate, we almost regret the old view — viz., That they were always there. What has coal done for those placos where it has been found in far loss quantities than in Nova Scotia. Look at England 200 or 300 years ago — only a few, comparatively speaking. The region around her coal fields, Birmingham, for instance, was like that of Pictou 50 years ago — an almost unbroken forest. On the discovery of coal came iron smelters ; gradually they congregated, im- proving and extending their smelting and manu- facturing till they have risen into a mighty city, the country around being filled with stately towns and busy villages. And if this has been done in Britain by a bed of coal perhaps not larger, certain- ly not deeper than this in Pictou, what may we not expect Pictou may be in the coming years. When Nature, like a provident parent, has stored up ages of sunshine in acres of coal, till her creature man came of age to enjoy it. By its means, if he cannot con- NOVA SCOTIA. 129 4 ^- J trol the winds, or he can be independant of them. He can, by the same means, raise the inexhaustible supplies of iron — smelt, refine, purify, and convert it into either the instrument of conveying his thoughts at lightning speed to the ends of the earth, or into one by which to store them up for the use of the coming minds. Chemistry has enabled him to evolve the colors which beautified and adorned the coal vegetation of the by -gone ages. A spark enables him to emit the power in this blazing fuel — viz. : the ancient car- boniferous sunshine embodied in the coal, and to bask in its rays, and his clothing is dyed in the very hues upon which it used to shine. Who can tell in the coming years, when the coal- fields of Britain are exhausted, if not before the time when the sword shall be beaten into pruning- hooks, that Nova Scotia may not supply the world with those weapons of destruction and death. Babylon and Assyria have become heaps, and the time may be coming when, coal being exhausted in those J. laces where it has been long used, men may come to this New World for their railroad iron and their pens, their swords and their watch-springs ; then, where the forest has so long upturned its face to the sun, a stately city will extend her borders. Luxuriant country seats, the abodes of |wealth and opulence, may be steadily growing up, till that 9 ^^ M'".u i< ^ '1^^ 1 jfri 130 SKETCHES OF Angel shall stand, One foot on sea, and one on solid land — And swear by Him that liveth for ever and ever> ** That time ahall be no longer." We may indulge in the poetry of day dreams. What Nova Scotia was like during the growth and formation of the coal ; what it was like after the coal had consolidated ; how long it remained in a wilderness till it was claimed by the red man ; how many ages he had existed as a race ; what it will be in the coming ages when its vast resources in iron and gold, in coal, gypsum, &c., shall be all fully developed. Will it ever become like unto Egypt and Babylon, is only known to him who from an- cient days declareth the things not yet come, — to whom a thousand years is as one day, and one day as a thousand years. Between New Glasgow and the Mines stood the old church where the late Rev. Dr. M':»Gregor preached in the latter period of his life ; his dwell- ing-house and lands were purchased by the Mining Company. " This county," raid Mr. Urban, in reply to a question by one of the party, " is about forty miles long, lying on the southern shore of Northumber- land Strait, and twenty broad. It abounds in coal, gjrpsum, freestone, limestone, and iron ore. It con- tains 653 acres of dyke, and 727 acres of salt very! limeJ NOVA SCOTIA. 131 to a miles Imber- coal, [t con- Lf salt marsh ; 5445 acres of cultivated intervale ; 109,751 acres of cultivated uplands, which produce 83,467 bushels of wheat, 429,062 bushels of other grain, 27,494 tons of hay, 9,827 bushels of apples, and 762 bushels of plums. Their dairies give 471,486 lbs. of butter, and 73,918 lbs. of cheese. They make 164,184 yards of cloth, and keep 6,163 horses. The forests, besides Jumber and timber, produce 30,705 lbs. of maple sugar. It gives employment to six fulling mills, one axe factory, tliree iron. foundries, one wooden factory, one cabinet factory,, 12 tanneries, one coal oil factory, one steam bakery, one cloth factory, and owns 141 vessels. The- inhabitants numbering 28,785, of whom 29 arc clergymen, and 85 school teachers, now occupy the county which, in 1786, Dr. McGregor found nearly a moral as well as a natural wilderness. The first settlers, in 1765, found it an unbroken wilderness, for the French liad not extended their settlements into this region. Now the country is well culti- vated ; fine farms and villages cover the landscape ; near one of the latter (Springville) is the residence of the Hon. John Holmes, fv gentleman who, for a long number of years, has borne a prominent part in the public afiairs of the Province. Leaving the coal-fields Mr. Urban told us of a very singular fissure on McLeunan's Brook. Two limestone rocks leaning against each other form the- !3 !) h I nr 132 roof of tlu SKETCHES OF cave, which is about 100 feet long and very irregular in width ; the floor is a few feet lower than the entrance, and along it a small stream of pure water silently glides. The roof in the interior resembles that of a house, but is beautifully illumi- nated by numerous stalactites suspended from it. We passed through Merigomish, sixteen milea •eastward from the mines, and extending onwards 'to Sydney county. This district is watered by iSuthorland's, French and Barney's rivers emptying into the harbor of Merigomish. The former of these only twenty miles from its source to the harbor, has a very fine fall upon it, which is formed by a hill. The woodland torrent, augmented by the spring and autumn rains, has, above the fall, worn this hill into steep, precipitous banks. The waters have a nearly perpendicular descent of about sixty feet, falling with a deafening noise into a deep black cauldron, where they surge, boil, and foam in ever eddying whirlpools. Above this is another fall of smaller dimensions. Below the falls the river widens, having broader extents of intervales on its course. Above them the country is rocky, the stream flows rapidly along over rocks, very small strips of intervale in places skirting it. This is one of the many picturesque and beautiful ' places in our Province such as painters and po©ts in NOVA SCOTIA. 133 11' '^i.; IS tiful Its in other countries love to contemplate. Here is the muBic of nature combined with her sculpture and painting. ■ The forests dressed in their gorgeous autumnal hues, give a beauty to the landscape unequalled by- summer's flowery forms. Squirrels are leaping in the branches ; rabbits start from the roadside, gaze at you for a moment, then skip across the road, reminding you of Cowper's hares. Huge gnarled trees with extended, mossy arms covered with pink and scarlet loaves, struggled fiercely with the wind, or, like Olympic wrestlers, throwing aside their covering defy the fierce blast. Anon the heavy clouds break, and a gleam of bright October sun falls on the road, dancing on the parti- colored leaves. Now past a startling precipice, anon over a clear stream, we passed a thrifty settle- ment ; on, onward, with here and there a glimpse of mountain scenery, hard and soft wood forests With glittering lakes, and here is Antigonish and St. George's Bay. Antigonish, an Indian word signifying " River of fish," is the county town of Sydney, " although in 1789," says an old chronicle, '"there were only four or five houses from Cheda- bucto Bay to Antigonish ; one inhabitant on the •Nova Scotia side of the Gut of Canso, and not one on! the Cape Breton side. In 1788 there was one house at Ship Harbor; from Pictou westward at ! '1^ t ' 134 SKETCHES OF \-M '■• II River John, four or five ; at Tutamagouche one or two ; a few at Wallace ; one at Bay Verte, and five at Miramichi." Such at that time were the germs of those fine counties. Sydney now contains 14,871 inhabitants. The estimated value of real estate under cultivation is $923,690. The town is situated about a mile above the head of the navigation on the Antigonish river, on a spot of table land elevated a few feet above the streams by which it is environed. On a hill of moderate elevation stands the Court House. This is one of the prettiest towns on the Eastern section of Nova Scotia, the view embracing the Adjacent intervales, mountains of the Gulf shore, the harbor, and St. George's Say. In Sydney county there are 29 places of worship, -sixteen of which belong to the Roman Catholics. Here is situated the College of St. Francis Xavier. In this town resided the late Rishop Fraser, well known for his suavity of manner and unaffected piety. Here, also, the late Rev. Mr. Trotter labored for a long period of years. The residence of Dr. McDonald and the early home of his devoted daughter, the wife of the Rev. John Geddie, the first missionary to Anneiteum, is in Antigonish. Mrs. G., in company with her husband, went from Nova Scotia to labor among the heathen, and has persevered in bringing many thousands of nude NOVA SCOTIA. 135 savages into the way of peace and civilization ; she and her family being the first Nova Scotiana who sought and remained on those isles of the Pacific. Twelve miles westward from Cape George is the Arisaig pier, whence the Rev. D. Honeyman ob- tained the geological specimens known in the scien- tific world as the Honeymani. This county abounds in fine natural scenery. Lochaber Glen, between the south and west branches of the Antigonish, opens on a beautiful sheet of water. College Lake, whose banks, unbroken by rock or precipice, rise abruptly from the water's edge ; the water, pure as spring- water, deep and warm, presents its limpid waves to the winter's sun long after three smaller lakes on the same stream are frozen. The high lands between the north and south branches of the Pomquet afford a fine view of the valleys bounded by the highlands. The Antigonish Mountain pre- sents extensive and magnificent views of parts of Northumberland Strait, Cape Breton, P. E. Island, the Pictou hills, and Mount Tom. L'l ■r:\ M '" 136 SKETCHES OF CHAPTER V. Louisburg — Moose-hunters — Moose Idyls— Dend of Savngc Island — Heiiee Mambertou — Siege of Louisburg. We embark on board a small vessel for a run to Cape Breton. How sublime the scenery on the Strait of Canseau or Do Fronsac. This Strait, separating Nova Scotia from Cape Breton, is 18 miles long by one broad, and twenty ^ithoms deep, and unites the Atlantic and St. Law- rence about half-way. Cape Porcupine rises on the Nova Scotia side full five hundred feet above the level of the sea. Now in sight of the broad Atlantic; now past St. Peter's, where only three-fourths of a mile of land separates Bras d'Or or the Arm of Gold from the sea; on, on sped our gallant barque, till the wind freshened ; sail was taken in, and all hands made ready for the squall ; timbers creaked — the little cralt rose and fell, every wave seemed ready to go over her. The man at the lookout exclaimed, A light ! Bun for Louisburg, cried our Captain. We flew before the wind ; and dropped anchor in the once far-famed harbor of Louisburg. Next morning the sun shone in unclouded splen- dor ; wo landed, and stood on the site of that city, n NOVA SCOTIA. 137 on which Louis had expended so much treasure, — at the capture of which all Britain rejoiced, and all Europe was alarmed : the key of the St. Lawrence, How the white, thundering surges boom in the wave- worn chasms and champ at the foot of the rocks. How the " yesty waves" beat and dash on the broken walls of cut stone, as if struggling to escape from the dense bank of fog which sweeps along the verge of the horizon. How the panting steam from the marsh in the rear, covered with yellow-lily leaves, rises t^ meet the sun, and hides the dark fir woods. A spacious amphitheatre sur- rounded by a scarcely distinguishable moat, encloses the grass grown mounds. A few disjointed arches and broken casemates mark the site of the walls, while mounds of greater elevation show where the- citadel stood which the wall and ditch once sur- rounded. "We fancy we enter the great gate and walk up the main street. But a few broken, rusty implements of siege and defence are the only relics- of the once proud fortress. A century ago here mirth and revelry had their abode. Upon these- walls the ensign of France — the Lilys of the Bour-- bon, once floated to the evening breeze. Her fleets rode securely in the harbor. From the Atlantic to Lake Superior, — from the Lakes down the Father of waters to the Gulf of Mexico, they claimed con- trol. They courted the sons of the forest. Wheii 1: •■ ■ r *i v*||n 138 SKETCHES OF the Colonies of Britain clamored for more privileges — another word for self-government, the dependen- cies of France asked for more means of protection. Hence Louisburg, the key of French America, an almost impregnable fortress, arose. But fortifications, churches, convents, hospitals, houses, men, women, youth and age, all, all have passed away, the green turf covers the spot where they stood. The remains of sunken frigates are yet seen in the harbor, and yon rocky cliffs look at the sheep quietly cropping the herbage on the glacis, as they looked on the busy crowds that once throng- ed to and fro, or as some long, priestly procession swept by, kneeled to do it homage; or as they looked when the cannonade of the men who had left the despotism of the old world to enjoy mental free- dom in the new, broke on the stillness of the morn, and the echo told astonished Europe that mind would not allow despotism to rear her material bulwarks on the new continent. Mental freedom, her exponents — fishermen and mechanics, lived in this western world, not behind granite walls, but in the strength of that sublime declaration made on the hill side of Samaria, that " God is a spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." What is it that makes us love to gaze on old ruins, or on the place where they stood ? It can- NOVA SCOTIA. 139 '^i ri not be their antiquity alone, for the rocks which surround Louiahurg are older than these grass grown mounds. But the partridge hiding her brood beneath an old rusty piece of iron, or a robin whistling his morning hymn to Him the Giver of all good, on the site of an old fort, wakes emotions in the mind, which the partridge hiding under the rock, or the robin whistling on it, could never have excited ; yet they are older. It is because we know that here human hands once reared their homes — that human tears of joy and sorrow wetted the hearth-stones — that here all that agitate our breasts agitated a people that have now gone, gone forever, — that like them, in a few short years, the place which now knows us will know us no more forever, — like them we will be forgotten. If man's love sanctifies a place, no doubt I now gaze on sacred ground ; for the love of many, a short century ago, was clustered around this spot. Here on the site where their houses stood, and their altar fires burned, prone on earth, I loved to linger from daylight and sunshine till sunset and moonlight had hallowed them with softer rays, and in these softer rays I seemed to see the flitting shadows of bye-gone memories. These crumbled gates and unrecognized streets seemed to my fancy again peopled with busy oc- cupants, and these forgotten graves aeemed to have ■ '^^IrM 140 SKETCHES OF pi f:::3 . '» m ■ I 1 :^f f i^i w sad mourners sighing over tliem. Then I thought of one graveyard with the soft light of the moon falling upon it, — of the sod which forever hid one loved and loving face from my aching eyes. If I could but look on that brow as oft I had looked on it, or hear that voice as once I heard it ; but no — no, it is hushed to mortal ears, gone, silent for- ever. ON SEEING A GRAVE. Within this lowly new made grave he lies, — Chiseled by nature's sculpture is the stone ; No amaranthine leaf or bud half blown, Elaborately wrought upon it rise. Buttercup and meadow-sweet fondly bend O'er it, laden with sparkling dew-drops, send On the lone sleeper here, Drop by drop, nature's tear ; And nestling lovingly all around the grave, White clovers bloom, and slender grass stalks wave. A hero and a conqueror heie lies. Although the lowly stone records no name — Heralded by the trumpet tongue of fame ; Baptised in blood, and orphans' tears and sighs. His was the conquest over passion's reign, He bound them fast and led the captive train ; His everlasting fame: His an undying name Resristered in Heaven, he waits in earth The resurrection morn to give it birth. At his voice no slaves trembling fled in fears, Nor armies marched to music's stirring strains, Sprinkling with blood and gore the fair champaigns — Entailing misery on the coming years. B 8 tori as ii lovo( stilk resu: shall NOVA SCOTIA. 141 Crowds never waited with their loud applause, Nor Senates listened when he gav« them laws ; But faithful to his tru»t, — Unto his neighbors just. This was the victory which he sought and won : For this his master spoke the great " Well done." The " ills of life"— a formidable band, Hovering above like swallows ere they light, He watched intense, and marshalled the wild flight ; With patient spirit and with potent wand — With darts he from his master's quiver drew, He overcame the demoniac crew, But fought them not alone. With an un uttered groan. His eye was fixed upon the Shining One, — Prayer nerved his heart, his arm faith's shield had on. Sleep, much loved '•■■• sleep, now I must leave This hallowed spot ; ■ . jied yet sad I go ; Thy warfare's done, — mine but begun, — 1 know The panoply of God all may receive. The Pioneer who led thy way will fill Ravines, and angry waves of trouble still. Till on that radiant shore We meet — Earth's battle o'er. Cheered by this liiought, I tread lire's weary way, Fighting, till death shall lead to brighter day. But the dead of the long gone centuries — the un- storied, the unknown dead — in the Eastern, as well as in the Western world, will, with all the eince loved and lost, awake to life at the voice of him who stilled the mourners at Bethany with, " I am the resurrection and the life ; him that believeth on me shall never die." ^ 11 '; h> iril "I -I t . ■\.k fi^mi :H' I mm:) fiftt: 1; as H H!l 142 SKETCHES OF At that voice shall start to life the oppressor and the oppressed — the Lewises and the Georges — the beseigers and the beseiged, — the men who sub- dued kingdoms and the men who, unsubdued, as- serted freedom and equality, the world's new war cry. The heroic Wolfe, and his friend the patriotic Barre, again seemed to stand on yon wave washed rock ; the former soon to pass away in the arms of victory and death, while St. Stephens echoes, and this Western world re-echoes the words of the lat- ter, and this continent yet rings from end to end the stirring names of the " Sons of Liberty." I might have doubted, — you may tell me it was the creaking of a wind-tossed tree, the moaning of the sea, or whatever you please to believe it, — yet, Oh my|friend, thine was the voice, clear, rich, and full, in which I heard distinctly recited that famous speech of Barre's, which he delivered before that august body the British House of Commons, — the body which for centuries had shone on the world as the Star of Freedom. '''They planted by your care ?" so the speech ran. " No ! Your oppression planted them in America. They nourished by your indulgence ! They'grew by your neglect of them. Your behavior has caused the blood of these Sons of Liberty to recoil within them. They protected by your arms ! They have nobly taken up arms in your defence — for defence of a country whose fron- tier int€ whi are whc bur Mo( thei T^ selv fron roui hun 1 NOVA SCOTIA. 143 tier was drenched in blood." Here the speech was interrupted by a hand rudely laid upon my shoulder, while a familiar voice exclaimed : " How now, what are you doing sleeping here ; and a party approach whose merry laughter makes the rocks of old Louis- burg resound. We find ourselves fairly taken by a party of Moose-hunters, who have engaged our skiff to land them in Nova Scotia. Wo join the party, and in a day or two find our- selves on the southern slope of the hills extending from Cape Porcupine towards the Atlantic, sur- rounded by all the accompaniments of a Moose- hunter's life. Go build the camp, and light the fire, And spread the evening meal ; Now pass the pipes, — the moments ftteal, The hunter's joyous life we feel|; Shall thoughts of home our tales inspire, — Home, home beyond the wave. Said Captain Sahib, pleasantly : " Or life in India's jungle deep," Where lions roar and panthers creep. " Or hold," cried Doctor Dermott, " keep Those tales for hotels," presently Acadia's tales I crave. Pray Dennie,tell — thou know'st this river,—- Who Louisburg dismantled so, Who lived and loved there long ago — Indian, neutral, witch, you know Their Idyls, ere they go forever. As waiis on memory's seOr ■< '^ I I 144 SKETCHES OF The Doctor, late from Orkney's Isle, Stop't whistling to his hound ; The hunters glad to rest awhile, Laj stretched upon the ground. For moose that day they'd wandered wide, O'er mountain, rock and fall, — Had struck a track at eventide. And heard an answering call. The pine knots blazed clear and bright, The Indian's snore was steady ; Come, Dennie, tell a tale to-night, To listen all are ready. " How can I tell a witchcraft tale ; The fearful days are past. When witches pestered every gale. And judges stood aghast. I'll sing ray country's fertile plains, When railroads were unknown : Her noble streams and noble swains, In Idyls shall be shown. ADDRESS TO A MOOSE. First, an address to the moose I will bring, — Theme not unworthy a hunter to sing. Hail ! beautiful creature, so stately and bright, Is danger behind, that thou art it flight ; The chasms of mountains thou clearest at a bound, Thy antlers recumbent, feet spurn the ground. Why is it that thus thou fliest o'er the vale ? With nostrils expanded thou scentest the gale. Hail I Lord of the forest. Hail ! King of the wood. Majestic thy form, as listening you stood, Through the mists of the morning stretching thy gaze To the far hill-tops, enreloped in haze ; Headlong thou boundest to call of thy mate — NOVA SCOTIA. 145 ■ The hunter's false note thy footsteps awtiit. Far up the steep hill like a bird thou hast flown — A vision enchanted — earth claims thee her own ; Kyes peering out from a mountain of mist, Dyed as a rainbow by morning sun kissed. .Bright apparition, descend as a ghost, And hie to the vale Irian's footstep ne'er crossed ; "There weary with travel, I see thee recline, Secure in its strength — proud fortress of thine. Constructed by nature, surrounded by hills ; (Thy sentinel, the echoe, outposts that fills. . A breath of the gale, with sounds of alarm — Nature's own picquets — to guard thee from harm. Fit resting place this, for noble like thee ; "Magnificent palace, home for the free ; Small lakes reflecting the blue of the skies, Nourisliing saplings, which round them arise. Thy food in the wild here nature doth keep, Fortress impregnable, — safely then sleep ; Obedient to nature, forth thou must go, Seeking companions through the trackless snow. Fly ! King of the wood, the hunters are nigh : Terrible the glare which leaps from thine eye, Thine antlers laid low, defying afar, Thy mien is terrific — prepared foi war. Lo! they double, they turn — fast, fast, they pursue, Over hill, rock and crag, known but to you ; Faster and faster, — thy path's growing dim. Thine eyeballs dilated, with gory drops swim : On, onward they press, the summit to gain, With fear-winged feet thou speed'st o'er the plain. Rush, rush for the lake, the moose is at bay. He falleth, he riseth, a moment's delay, A leap and a bound, a plunge, — he is lost. His foes gain the shore, the flood he has cros't ; Go seek the far forest, pathless and dim, Far distant from man — untrodden by him. .After this Address to the 10 Moose, we listened to i 1,,' t m h.i : ■'Vi'" 1 ;. -m •m M0, h .1 it 'I I 146 SKETCHES OF boar one call. The night was ftiarfuU y dark ; clouds in heavy masses rolled along to settle in one indes- cribable black mass; the wind came and went in fitful gusts, anon rising to a gale ; the largest trees bent, as if in terror, from the blast, which detatch- ing some heavy branch, raised it al)Ove the trees to fall with a heavy, crushing crash, while on the hill above the lake, by the margin of which we were encamped, the creaking of the smaller pines, mingling with the crashing of the uprooted trees, made the scene one of terrific ejrandeur and sublimity, as the vivid flashes of lightning revealed for a moment the havoc of the despoiler, while the the thunder echoed and reverberated along the hills. The rain fell in heavy drops, threatening every moment to penetrate our thin roof. The dogs started up, whined, then settled themselves comfortably before the fire for another nap. The hunters lighted fresh cigars and called upon the story-teller for the Dead of Savage Island. Who were they ? " My country's muse," rap't Denny cries, " On thee I call, bestow thy prize, The gift of song. Heroic deeds inspire a muse, Acadia calls, and these she strews Thy path along. From Inkerraan, at Aluia's flood, From Kara, at Lucknow drenched in blood, She trophies bore. NOVA SCOTIA. 147 Where arts triumphant rears her t'auie, Her arti/^ans a nicLe retain, Which fame drapes o'er. Turn we from these, turn to the sod, Where rests the dust called home by (Jod — The father's dead ; " These,'' said the muse, " ne'er sought my crown. Posthumous fame be their renown : Their path, oh tread." Go \o\\ fur fame, <;o witi a name, Secure time's wedge can't sever ; When fails the sea, that work will be Forever and forever. The j>oor outcast, stunned by the blast, A waif on misery's river, Succoured by thee, thou blest shall be,, Forever atid forever. When there will be no restless sea, No earth where hearts shall shiver,. No day, no night, no sun to light, Forever and forever. The days you live their impress giv«>. On high the scrolls deliver; The scrolls will be, no end they'll see^ For ever and forever. Call loud ye waves from restless ocean. Ye surged, wailed ages too and fro. By Savage Isle nvarked man's coramotioii. As round your hollow moaniugs flow. Who were these dead ? no lithograph ; Life's mysteries o'er of joy and pain. Of loves and hopes. Hewn like the chatf Borne by the wind from winnowed grain. I i. 3 ■hil ilii ^i'- '^•ti' rii ;i ;, ■ ' ''^^ •¥'' ' '''''tl ^m i||A' I ■^ Hi I 148 SKETCHES OF 'I he turbid surges answer me, Like snow in Spring they disappear, As moaning river sinks in sea, They sank from earth ; — their tale oh hear^- DEAD ON SAVAGE ISLAND. In days gone by — the days of old, The Lord of Bearne, (a Baron bold,) liOrd Castine left the Pyrenees, (Where orange groves perfume the breeze,) For L'Acadie ; there wed a rnaid — A sachem's heir — the chief was made Of the Abenakis, who, west Of Micmac's tribe, did warlike rest : Friends of the French in Canada, They would not Governor Phipps obey, Who ruled in Britain's name from shore Atlantic, to Niagara's roar. So ten times twenty Castine bid. To join the French at Pemaquid, Which on the far Penobscot lay ; They razed the fort like trampled clay, Micmacs, Caatine and Villebon, Victorious steer unto St. John ; There re-embark the Indian band. Upon their shores at home to land. Church, who King William's standard bore,- Sir William Phipps bade to restore To Britain's lawful rule the land. All Villibon's attempts withstand, To float the Bourbon Lilies where The British Lion spread bis lair. When Chuich, who watched with eagle eye,- Saw Villibon defenceless lie,-^ Darted like falcon on his prey. And twenty vessels bore away ; The rest escaped his fury, steer I 1 NOVA SCOTIA. Up Funday's shore and landed here ; A holy grave the wounded found, All human dust is sacred ground. On consecrated ground they tread — Here Fathera Beart and Massey led A holy tram. A pix uplifted in the van, And relict never seen by man This side the main. Three times around the cros* was bore, (Before Sir Kirk or Claude LaTour Held patent name ; Before the Mayflower's pilgrim band Had raised a fane on Plymouth strand, Or Popham came.) This Isle was consecrate by prayer, Their kindred dead to bury here No priest forbid. I'he convert Indian here to rest, With bows and arrows on his breast. Securely hid. Now to Beau Basin Church has sailed — The stoutest hearts within it quailed — In two short days he laid it low, To the wild woods pursued the foe. French, Indians, fled in wild dismay, Homes, flocks, and grain, the English prey. To Savage Isle, with stealthy tread. The Micmas bore their warriors dead ; Here was the Indian rendezvous. And here their Chief — brave Mambertou — The lovely Renee, Bourgeoise bore. From father's arms all stiff in gore. By treachery slain, his child to shield, He firm refused to take the field. He Phipp's proclamation shewed^ 140 \ ij 1 ■ i'lli 150 SKETCHES OF 1^ 1. To liritHin hirt alltij^iiiuce ow«h1 ; With hoiiHvbrowod ale luid daintios sIdhmI, He welcomed Church unto his board,— His stores, his hou-*<', said Church could chiiin, l>ut still refused to stain his nanu;. When naked to aid i.i hunting down 'I'he French who tied the burning town. IJourgeoise had seen proud Church depart, Had folded Henee to bis heart, Had striven by many a fond caress, To soothe the fears that did oppress His child ; of that fair land had told. Where peace forever does unfold Her wings ; Bourgeoise from Breta^ne carue, Uenee, sole heir to wealth and name. His sire had Hed from fierce Navarre, When he on Hugenots made war ; In Renee's ear he pours their tale Of faith and hope, — when speech did fail, For lo ! a shout and sudden light Broke on the stillness of the night. He shrieks, a bullet pierced his head, — They fell, the living and the dead, And by the blazing chapel's light. The Micniac found them in that night, And bore them to this sacred isle ; Here Bourgeoise rests, unstained by guile. When Ryeswick peace to nations gave, Renee bent o'er her father's grave — No home, no friends, (still woes pursue,) She gave her hand to Mambertou. Now smiling peace eight years had spread Her blessings, when war's stealthy tread Chiegnecto's plains 'gain drenched in gore, And all war's horrid fruitage bore 5 Renee like Rachel weeping lies, Her children slain before her eyes. Now Mambertou guides through the wood Unto Quebec, Casting, where good M>'I NOVA SCOTIA. (lovcriior Wiidrieul bid.'* the Iwftiii, lest Mritaiii iieutrnl hearts should gain. To t»>ll the PrioHtfl most kind to be, Stiivt' to nwiintiiiii th«»Ir loyaUy. **Tu teach," else orul tiilt's have liod, " Hy British hands iho Saviour died. The Knglish kill in ambuscades, Ijit Indians scalp them in the glades.'' The savage woke in Manibertou, Ho homeward hastes to raise his crew ; On British heads the vengeance wreak, Surprised them at the bloody creek. 'Mid alders where the rivulet glides, IJetlccts the willow in its tide, Which pendant grew ; Kmblem ot i)eace, it saw the strife That human passion woke to life. When the wild crew Tracked British soldiers on the plain : Their valour here alas was vain Against the dart. Around this creek in wild-wood shade, An ambushed force secure arrayed By savage art And Gallic skill, the victims lure ; They twang the bow with aim secure, — Some fall, some fly ; The rallying cry — how vain the call. The British sink beneath the Gaul ; The blushing blood-stained brook for shame As Bloody Creek preserve their fame. He drove full fifty prisoners here. And torture's horrid weapons lecir. Death like a friend does all teltase, lu Savage Isle they rest in peace. Again timid peace upreared her head, 151 Li\ 4 1 f ; 1 4 i, 1 ■<■•:< ■ i Wl ■15 ^1 1 Iff pf'.f ■ '■* n '' 1'*' g 152 SKETCHES OF I :• it Hill (But rankling hate still inly bled,) Acadia's plains aud mountain gorge Was ceded by France to First King George. Her father's fields and woods to view One moru came Renee Mambertou, And prattling by her mother's side, A little daughter, but her pride — Her warrior sons, lay low in dust ; Her Micmac Chief, by British curs't, Had joined the French at Cape Breton, From Louisburg did sally soon, Crossing the passage De Fronsac, Crossing thick woods without a track. With horrid whoops and fiendish calls, On Canseau's fishing village falls, — Full twenty thousand pounds destroy, And many scalps, with demon joy, To Louisburg they bear away. Then hasten on a new foray: Seventeen fishing vessels seize, Drive here their men and bind to trees, Around them raise the loud pow-wow ; Hate rests on every Micmac brow, Mambertou gives the fatal nod, Their life-blood flowed along this sod. With wailings low my tidal waves, Sighed like a mourner iound their graves. The Chief, who ruled in Britain's name. Fearing the French wree most to blame, Our Governor, wrote St. Ovidee, At Louisburg he should be free In time of peace from war's alarms. "Your neutral French do all the harms." Replied the French St. Ovidee, " Indians are independent, free ; My jurisdiction and control Extends not o'er one neutral soul." Grown bold by this, their deeds renew — NOVA SCOTIA. 163 The Abenakis and Micmac crew, By Mambertou and Castine led, Annapolis surprised ; their dead, With scalps from child and woman torn — A horrid booty 1 here was borne. Tall silvery birch grew from their graves, Which time has dropped into my waves. Next, Castine hastes to Norrigiwoak, The Indians courage all awoke. Their allies join. A fierce array Was closed around in deadly fray By Englishmen. A fearful yell The stillness broke, Mambertou fell. On widely rolled the ensanguined floodj The Kennebec was tinged with blood ; Here Father Pere Ralle was slain. The chiefless tribes their home regain ; To Savage Isle with honors due, They bore the lifeless Mambertou. A hundred hills repeat the fires, Enkindled when a chief expires. By those who annually repair With filial love to visit there. !h iMi Now Renee, daughter of .he chief, Grew like a lovely forest leaf, — Hidden like her own mayflower, She blushing smiled in wooland bower, A happy thoughtful forest child ; Ofl wandering on the sacred isle, Ofl wondering for a reason why The teardrop filled her mother's eye. Rich was that mother, for her sire Her youthful mind did deep inspire With learning's store ; the Micmac tribe Looked on her fair pale face with pride. The black fox skins with Silver grey. And beaver furs before her lay In heaps : and fields in fiax and grain 11 Nr • li m m 14^ 154 SKETCHEa OF Were lier's, upon Cobequid's plain. Yon aged elm perchance might tell What changes have passed o'er this dell, A sapling green it only saw The Indian's form or sly crow's caw, Now bursting from its parent earth, The smooth ploughed hills to corn gives birth. Through glades where Indian drew his bow, Does commerce on the railway go ; The brawling brooks from distant hills. Are trained now to turn the mills. Where the Cobequid village lay. Do flocks through clover meadows stray, And graceful villas dot the land Where erst their low-roofed cots did stand — When rough spruce logs did form the wall, Divided into room and hall By boards and bark ; with tough white clay Each crack and seam inserted lay ; The chimney stone — the resinous fire — The sanded floor— and no desire For foreign luxury or art E'er lurking sought within a heart That round those rustic hearthstones drew A dwelling-place unchanged and tiue. Unchanged each rustic maiden wore The hood and kirtle, as of yore ; 'Twas worn in those fair lands afar, Ruled by Margaret of Navarre. When she set forth to wed her son — The heir of France, and first Bourbon, Whose bridal woke the vesper chime, On Bartholomew's ill fated time. Their customs, dress, and speech retain ; Here father Jerome did remain, At once the priest and judge for all ; But seldom strife did here befall. Like one large family they live- Acadian— Indian, no poor to give NOVA SCOTIA. With niggard band the scanty dole Wrung from some rich, unchristian soul. Now many village swains confes't Strange feeling'^ glowing in their breast. When Renee pas't, her merry eye Seemed like a sunbeam floatirg by, Above the grain, where each ripe head Seemed turned to gold, till it is fled, ' Her face, where thought and ease combined, Bespoke an intellectual mind, — Yet unwoke, calm as the seas. Unruffled by the evening breeze. The night-hawk screams, the stars are out, ITie sheep around in quiet lies ; The moon with solemn face moves on, And listless droop the bright fire-flies ; When sleep from Ilenee's eyes has flown, And sad uneasy thoughts arise. She steals from out her mother's cot. And hastens to this island's brink, (When girl and woman's age did meet.) She sat beside the stream to think Of life and death. Where is the soul Such streams of thought so deep did drink. Beneath the alder's tasselled boughs. Her tear-wet cheek she sadly pressed, When lo ! a shadow on the waves. Disturbed the current in her breast, A haggard form before her stood : Some food, he asked, and place to re^t. Sad Renee bent her eagle eye A moment on the stranger's face ; On his pale features middle age And deep emotions found a place. His form was slight, — the will to do, The soul to die, you there could trace. 155 PI: Wi i i: .1 156 SKETCHES OF So Renee guides the stranger's way To where her mother's dwelling lay ; He said : "from Jersey's shore I came, With two friends roved in quest of game. We fell upon an Indian trail, Was captive made when strength did fail j My captors struck me down for dead, And left me to be scalped, — I fled. For weeks by thirst anc' fear oppressed, I wished for death — to be at rest : Saw yonder stream — a welcome sight, And sought for shelter here to-night." On Renee's brow spread shades of care, While hex good mother did prepare A couch. Father Jerome's good will Supplies to him a doctor's skill. From simple herbs he healing drew, 'Tis found in all that drinks the dew. Slow coming to his cheek and eye Returning health you can descry ; Renee's instructor was meanwhile, And the long wintry hours beguile In pouring in her willing ear The lore she fondly loved to hear. Swift flew the Mceks — as on they passed Each one seemed shorter than the last. In colleges was spent his youth, — There searched in wisdom's page for truth ; He recitation's cadence strung, While truths divine came from his tongue. On the stone hearth the large logs glow. While wildly drifts the blinding snow ; Cranny and crag fills with the roar Of winds, over the mountains hoar. Rushing they ring — a God swept lyre, — Then onward they leap, and higher The howl, till they sink in the tide, There crashing and lapping the aide Of the ice-cakes ; rising once more. NOVA SCOTIA. Gurgling, hissing, champ on the shore. Tossing on sedge-beds — there sighing, The storm indignant comes flying. On, on, in the darkness it lifts Tiny snow-flakes, and softly drifts Round cottages, under the doors, Down wide chimneys, orer the floors. O'er Bourgeoise's books there lying low, The resinous pines bright fitful glow Shows Renee's half inverted eye, From task unto the teacher fly, As he in accents soft and low. Explains the book so she may know ; Then singing some old solemn chime. Or ballad of the olden time He seemed to Renee, listening near, A being from a heavenly sphere ; Or sitting on the rustic seat, Beside the bower where spruces tieet With ash, which late her leaves unfold, Which, if frost-aipped, will turn to gold ; Watched swallows build their nests in spring, Or listened while the robins sing, While bees and butterflies rejoice — Less sweet their song than seemed his voice } Oft sitting there, the silver haze Envelopes all the river's maze, And airy, spreads o'er marsh and tree. Behind its folds the full moon see, While slowly in the far between, One after one, soft stars are seen. He told of history and war. And other scenes transpired afar : Of cities built in days of yore — Of tyrants drenching lands in gore — Of superstition's iron reigu — Of freedom soon her rights to gain ; Of Brainerd's zeal, and Whitefield's worth, Of Nicodemup, and that birth 157 FT ; 1, i ■I '.' ^ ii: 1 fl m 11 . i .+' ■VT ,i i^ ^M> lill H 1 ! ' H^^^^U' '1 1 B 1 158 SKETCHES OF Revealed by him of Galilee, Who stilled the winds and calmed the sea ; Spoke of the hallowed name of friend, And that bright land where sorrows end, Till lowering night called them away ; Thus passed the hours of setting day. To Savage Isle, one fair May morn, A light bark skiff was upward borne ; To bless the graves the Priest attends, — This duty o'er, their steps he bends. To mark the sod beneath which lie Those who left Louisburg to die ; Said Renee then, " I fain would know What drove them here. Who was the foe ?" LOUISBURG. Proud Louisburg ! The stone built pile— The pride of France, — Cape Breton Isle, Secure contain. Of its first siege you fain would hear, Sit on this sod and lend your ear : I can explain. THE SIEGE OF LOUISBURG. Night came : o'er mountain, rock and wave. Its lengthening shadows twilight gave, And wilder seemed their form, Where Louisburg, in strong array. Looked stronger in the dying day, Daring, like oak, the storm. The silken Bourbon banner gay, Now drooping, caught the fading ray, The Bourbon lilies close ; The jentinels paced the fortress wall, And ready, waiting for a call, The soldiers snatched repose. One side was by the land enclosed, NOVA SCOTIA. But round the rest the ocean rose In billows wild and strong ; Here icebergs from the northern shore, Meeting the Gulf stream, angry roar The rocky beach along. The flanking walls, with bastion deep, Two and a half long miles did sweep, Six feet and thirty high ; Around this rampart ran a moat, Where baseless forms in distance float, But nearer search defy, Two hundred yards enclosed by dyke, With arrowy pickets and sharp pike, And wedged ravelin. With strong battery and bastion crowned, Where bomb and cannon fiercely frowned— Chevaux-de-frise bar in. The granite towers, the drawbridge wide, The citadel, and by its side Fair stood St. Jean De Dieu, The arsenal, the barrack squares, The magazine, the streets broad, fair — Looked on Atlantic blue. Here organs roll, here church bells chime, Here incense smokes at vesper time, Here friar and the nun — Pale woman weak, and manhood strong — Full fifteen thousand in the throng. Enclosed by wflll and gun. Six weeks had nearly come and gone Since here, before this fortress strong, New En,f;land'8 volunteers In battle siege had straitly lay, Now waited for the coming day To storm the wall and piers. 159 1, i -^ 111 m.\ •I ,f ' ! •: ♦ ■ T i 160 SKETCHES OF At eve for success each man prayed, Aud almost deemed it a Croisade ; Their motto Whitefield gave — " Nil desperandum, Christ' duce." This motto 'gainst the fleur de lis, Upon their banners wave. His «xe the Iconoclast drew By chaplain Moody, sound and true, On in the van they trod ; — New England's bands by Pepperell led, Whose pilgrim sires for freedom fled, Still spurned a tyrant rod. Three thousand plumes Massachusetts wave, Connecticut three hundred gave From village, farm and glen, While ten times ten, thrice over told. New Hampshire sent of yeomen bold, With sloops and vessels ten. Night after night heard oozy tramp, As one by one across the swamp Their heavy guns they drew ; In working as but works the man Who future good or ill does plan The hours of darkness flew. And coming with that coming day, *' As morning's mitts did roll away," The war storm's leaden hail. At mom the French their dwellings fire, Within the walls they*hll retire. And strongest hearts did fail. For deeply wreathed in sable smoke. With deafening peals the cannons woke — Echoes each mountain peak. New Hampshire lads with huzzas reach, NOVA SCOTIA. Hi By Vau<,'hau led, Uio rooky beach Which bound Comorin's creek. And coming as the scorching breeze, When fire runs through the hoary tree.s They seize the Lighthouse Point. Now flying with a demon yell, The Indian route the carnage swell, Writhe every nerve and joint, Then poured like melted lava down The Provincials on the leagured town, And deadlier grew the fight. They sink, they rise, thoy press, retreat. The rustic masses upward beat. Stop on by step, the way. While bugle notes above the din Now close and closer urges in The fierce ensanguined fray. liOuder, more awful than before, Above the deadly cannon's roar, Above the trumpet's call. And pausing in their work of death, PJach for an instant holds his breath, As round the fragments fall ; — For when the breeze had lifted there The cloud of smoke that filled the air. And hid the mountains hoar, Beseiged and beseigers know A gallant ship was lying low. In fragments near the shore. Atlantic's surging waters blue Bubbled and hissed above the crew Exploded in the port ; England, exulting, boasts the day. When Warren took the ships away From De LaMaison Forte. 12 'f <"': '■t^t tiX t-i : 1 ! :i 1^2 SKETCHES OF Night to the fighting brought relief: Six hundred men the Micmae chief— Acadia's native pride— With neutral bands from Minas fair, Beau Sejour and Cheignccto there, With French fought side by side, And side by side in death they lie, But noon, on lance upborne on high. Beholds a Hag of truce From Pepperell to Duchambon, Saying, " Your ships have Warren won— llesistanco is no use."' Then Duchambon gave up up the fort, The citadel, and all in port Of Louisburg the strong. Forgotten, near Atlantic's wave. Sleeping in death, repose the brave Who earned the victor's song. " But were you there !" exclaimed the maid. " I Vaughan am,'" he faintly said. To France Aix-la-chapelle From Britain gave Cape Breton fair, To balance power in Europe, where Hungary's kingdom lell. With quivering lip enquired Renee, If Louisburg restored be. Why did the people fall ; Savage Isle filled with the dead- Wife, mother, orphan's hearts have bled,— War, war has blighted all — My childhood's home by it made drear. And Renee turned to hide a tear, And culled a pale Mayflower. Acadia's emblem then did blow, Blooming as now before the snow Had left the woodland bowers. My childhood's home, that magic name NOVA SCOTIA. The slumbering firos tlid \\\v to fiann? In Horace Vaughan's soul. A moss grown tree his arm (MitwiueiJ, Sad sighing to the graves :iih1 wind These words which luockod coiitrul : Home, home, my cliildhood's lioii.e how doar- Thy well known woods and hills appesu* ; The liimbs are frisking on tin; it-a — The brawling brook is dancing free, The setting sun's last lingering ray Is smiling on the flowers of May ; But dearer far that old elm tree, fn youth onp spoke of love by thee, Beneath thy shade lovo, fame how soon, Hope pictured fair, fair as the moon, Whose silvery light the gusty blast. Which broke the branch and headlong east The robin's nest upon the sand, Blew out. and hid on the smooth strand The loved name which I had traced — The rain and tide that name effaced. Thou'rt witness yet, elm tree, that fame Grew bright; that I to crown that name A wreath might win. I toiled, ah I now The wreath is won, but where art thou? Gone, gone, ah me, years this lone heart The impress kept thou didst impart, Friends, fame — all, all that should rejoice, To me was vain : I missed thy voice. A sail ! a sail ! exclaimed Renee ; And starting from his reverie, With hasty step he reached the shore ; The boatman threw beyond the tide A packet ; and from Rcnee's side He darted past to seize the prize — On news from home to feast his eyes, U'hX IV 111; :*. ' \(, 111, 'I hi: Hi ir,/l SKETCHES OF While sIk', oppressed with coinin;^' woe, Did slowly to the uplands go, There sauntering in the wilU)w'a shiidc lie joined her and his reading staid ; Said. " with this tide niunt liustc away 'I'o meet nir friends far down the bay.'" He was her friend, as such would know The reason of his speechless woe, She L^ave the ea\jse. .* "-x- ■;<■ * * lie feels its truth and knows its claim. But scarce the sympathy can blanio Which hade him wake the dormant power Of intellect. Did man e'er shower His pity on a woman's head And not have love returned instead : As well lift up the the tender vine, And wonder why it would entwine Its tendrils for support. He said : '< We'll meet again !" The boat has s{trca.l Her sails. While he befon; the wind Was borne, sick Renee lay, h^r miml All dark with crushing grief— o'er wrought. All woe begone. She rose a.ul sougiit The lakes and unfrequented vales, The echoes sobbing with her wails. Methought these echoes reached the glade, And these, or such, the words they said : 'Tis morn : and morning used to bring Joy, health and pleasure on its wing ; Blight flowers, how rich each well known hu. Are blushing in the morning dew. And from the rivers course the haze Is stealing to ray curious gaze, Disclosing scenes of beauty rare, — But I am sad, thou art not there. Tis noon : and with the noon has come Silence, where late was morning's hum. NOVA SCOTTA. My mid-day walk is past the hill, Where roses wild ihe valleys fill, Across the stream, how fresh the breeze Which kiss those lofty, leafy trees ; Thy cominj? step I cannot hear, And I atn sad, thou art not near. 'Tis ere : o'er earth the settinpf sun liis gorgeous golden curtain tiung. And weary labor now may rest [iike sobbing child on mother's breast. Kach insect, bird and flower doth raise. In beauty bright, a hymn of praise ; Ye charm me not, nor night nor day Can give me ease, he is away. Night spreads her curtain from afar, And draws it down by a bright star. White fleecy clouds float all around, And fire flies sparkle on the ground, While on eacu vagrant zephyr heard The murmur of the stream like bird Singing some wild and wondrous lay, — Still, still I'm sad, thou art away. I sick in sleep : low, sweet and clear. Thy much loved voice I seem to hear ; And in a dream, how glad I feel. Thy sympathetic tones do steal Unquiet thoughts, and o'er my soul A halchyon spirit seems to roll, Thy promise sounds so clear and plain : We'll meet again, we'll meet again. September saw the harvest end. While rainbow tints so soft did blend With summer juices. The cold dew Sparkled on leaves — all their green hue Now changed to purple, crimson and gold. In his glory Solomon of old H>f) \ ,'! •il'i '' 'I 11 H' 166 SKETCHES OF Was not arrayed like one of these Gorgeous and grand old forest trees. Passenger birds from northern bay, Like desert couriers hasted away To Southern plains. ■lit m I'i li ii 11 The ripe fruits fall, The birds of song are silent all — Except the redbreast — in leafless trees Chants summer's requiem ere he leaves ; The howling winds, now rushing strong, In fury sweeps the forest long, And knotty pines, now bending low. So fiercely wrestles with the foe. Like David, lay their covering by. Unclothed, the giant winds defy. ilenee sat mute, but on a book, With placid brow she oft did look. Like traveller by some limpid spring. With crystal goblet dip't to bring The cooling wave to his parched tongue, But arops the c •;» on which had hung His hopes of life ; dismayed does lie The healing waters rushing by ; Must die — with dreadful thirst oppressed, Yet stoops and his parched lips do rest Upon the floods, and drinks, drinks, drinks, So Renee Mambertou on brink Of hopes gone like a broken cup, Docs stoop, her sorrows gather up And lays them all on him who bade The weary, heavy-laden, sad, To come to him for rest. She came And drank from the great source, the same A satisfying draught of love ; One human hand she asked above The rest, to take her hand and guide Her on life's rugged road. Replied The Word divine, " The way am T." m, I NOVA SCOTIA. 167 One human heart wilt Thou deny — My Father, oh my Faiher —one Loved human voice, in orison With mine to mingle, must it be, Oh Saviour mine, denied to me — [t must, it must, Thy will be done, 1 rest on Thee, — the victory's won. Thy human heart remembers yet A human woe ; thy face was wet With tears on earth, and Lazarus, dead. To Mary's arms recalled, and read In all the workings of the human mind, Thou sees't I cling to Thee. I blind Do take Thee for my guide. Wandering From thy fold my heedless step bring liack, thou Shepherd wilt ; to Thee I look In dark affliction's gloom — forsook By earthly friend — foi' Thou art light — In Thee all things must bring delight. All that Thou biddest me do I will, For Thou art strength — I know Thou still Wilt strengthen me 5 like John I rest (For Thou art near) upon thy breast. And resting thus, bear life's sorrow, Safe wake in the undawned to-morrow. Unquestioning where the path may lead, To do Thy work I'll seek indeed. Thus Renee felt a heavenly light — Not like that which obscured the sight Of Paul — but light which shewed to eyes Fixed heavenward, the baffling, earthly prize Of earthly love, forever must Fail human hearts, 'tis dust, dust, dust ; And faith and hope in the bright now, In trust and strength shone on her brow — Shone like the face of Blomedon On a calm morn, when the bright sun Bids the dark sea fog strike his tent And hasten heavenward. Unbent, ; (I I ! * ( It lll )l * f.ifl ii : ii 1^ tin 1;. U If 168 SKETCHES OF With nioistoncd brow and firm above, Karth looks to Heaven, so Renee's love IJnshroudsd n'^w by earthly things, Of joy and praise a tribute brings, To Him — the source of love. She pas't I'rom earth to heaven ; she was the last, Ijast of her race which claimed a grave On Savage Isle by Funday's wave. The moose-hunters thanked the story-teller, and <;iu[uired how Kenee was the last of her race. ■' Oh," replied Mr. Urban, " the Acadians were all expelled from the Province." Perhaps as we have a fresh log to add to oiu- fire, some one will give us the story of the Exiles of C'obequid. The hunters unanimously voted that Mr. Urban was to tell us of the exile, which we reserve for .•mother chapter. im NOVA SCOTIA. 169 ii-^i.i CHAPTER VI. ELANDINE, OR TPIE EXILE OF COBEQUID. Towards the close of the Spring of 1765, a few years after the treaty of Aix-la-chapelle had given peace to France and Britain, — when the aristocratic circles of St. James were attracted by the faces which Sir Joshua Reynolds had transferred to canvass, — when the future Admiral Collingwood was playing on the banks of the Tyne, and the noble Countess of Buchan was imbuing the mind of the future Lord Erskine with the doctrines of the shorter Catechism, — when Black was studying chemical affinity, and Hume was compiling his history of England, — while Dr. Hunter was pre- paring the lectures which made his name famous, and Burke studying his Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, — senators listening in breathless silence to the eloquence of Lord Chatham, — while Watt was watching the condensation of the steam which he had cauglit alternately in a spoon and a cup from the teakettle, — e'er Adam Smith had enquired into the wealth of nations, — and while Clive was laying the foundation of the British Indian Empire , and Washington was settling on the distant and *ti i i: 1 ^i| Biff' i" If' ll m ^^Hh^Hs i 3ii»wlMaBl 170 SKETCHES OF pathless Ohio and Monagahela, the boundaries of the British American Empire, the Acadian farmers ill a little village on the Bay of Cobequid were busily employed in finishing a new dyke which would exclude the tide from a large flat which they wished to bring under cultivation. Some of the men were gathering up the implements of husbandry, others were looking at the smoothing of the last sods till joined by their companions ; they all departed homewards singing an old song, which had been sung by their forefathers in Provence or Normandy. These villagers were industrious and economical, descended from the people who had taken possession of the Bay of Funday in 1603, they most assuredly could call this country their home. A writer of Western scenes, in the Acadian Magazine in 1827, says of the scenery on the Bay of Funday — Delicious spot — Thy beauties fixed the bold adventurous band Wbo first found shelter on Cabotian strand ; De Mont — Acadia's Cecrops, to thy shore, The lily standard of old Gallia bore, With social arts o'er stormy ocean came, Bright be his laurels, endless be his fame. As the beauties of the country tempted lae adventurous Frenchman to settle in Annapolis, so the fertility of the shores led their descendants, in NOVA SCOTIA. 171 the course of one hundred and fifty years, to take possession of, and cultivate patches of soil on all the tributary estuaries and streams of Funday. On a little spot of table land on the estuary of the Chigonois, very near to the centre of the village, stood two maidens watching a little boat which was coming rapidly upward with the tide ; the men from the dyke paused in their song as they came Uj^^ to the spot where the maidens were standing ; the cows from the difterent pasture were being driven home by the bareheaded and shoeless lads, the sonorous cow bells blending with the tinkle of the sheep bells coming from the more distant woodland pastures. In a little time the party is joined by the good Abbe Morlott, the pastor of the village. The boat approaches the shore and Henri Lapierre, Abbe Morlott's nephew, and his companions are warmly welcomed by the crowd. The strangers soon find themselves seated at the supper-table, which is plentifully supplied by the nieces of the Abbe Blaudine Jjapierre and Rose Morlofi. Fresh fish, potatoes, eggs, and milk, regaled the hungry boatmen The elder of these was well known to the Abbe as an agent of the Canadiin bishop, to whose see the Cobequid village belonged, the other was introduced as a lawyer from Massachusetts, whom "■% 172 SKETCHES OF the Indians had mado prisoner, but had been given up to the agent. After supper the strangers had time to look around the house, which was made of logs, divided into two rooms, the larger of these was occupied by the family as dining room and kitchen ; the large stone chimney was in one end of the house, at one end of it was a bed, at the other a ladder which led to the attic. The upper part of the chimney was made of small sticks to form a square, this was covered inside and outside with mud from the bank of the river mixed with chopped straw, after the manner of bricks made in Pharoah's time; with this cement the cracks in the walls were filled. A bed was provided for ttie strangers in the inner room. A bed, brown flaxen sheets, linsey woolsey quilt, and a lamp suspended from the ceiling, were luxuries to which Ingersoll had been long a stranger. After they retire, the maidens tell Henri how much they longed for his return, and of the fearful murders which the Indians had committed, "the strange English are scarcely safe my dear brother," added Blandine. " The Souriquois are wild for revenge," observed her brother. " Did you hear of poor Mrs. Wilson ?" asked Rose, '' What about her," said Henri. NOVA SCOTIA. 173 Ilor liusband and .son wore liotli in the woods. — two Indians came into the house and asked when *ho expected them. '' To-morrow night," was her ivply. The Indians inanner startled h-^-*-, so she watched all night, but no one came. Next night a gentle t;ip came to the door, and — " Mother, lei me in." Mrs. Wilson's quick ear detected the Indian in the voice; she bade liim put his ear to the crack of the door and she would whisper some- thing to him ; she discharged the rifle, and the savage foil heavily against the door. When her liusband rcitunied, he found his wife in a swoon, and the dead Indian in the doorway. After Henri and his uncle had retired, Blandino and Rose sat for some time watching the full moon which rose slowly, marking a glittering pathway over the waters of the bay, while the willows on the shore seemed to grow larger in the silver light until they were enshrouded in the airy covering oi" fog which completely hid all tlie marsh, swamp and river around the village at the 1 )ase of the Cobequid hills in his Britannic Majesty's Province of Nova Scotia. At breakfast, again the family meet. " Here comes Pierre Barteau and Basil Bonang. to pay their respects to you," said Father Morlot. " It is well," answered the Frenchman, glancing from Henri to Ina;ersoll. :i?fi 174 SKETCHES OK l! 1. t Henri understood the look. '' Blandino," said he addressing his sister, "could you not she^v this sick man your garden." " A walk to La Breu would improve hi.^ appetite," added her uncle. In a short time the laughing Acadian maidens, knitting in hand, followed by IngersoU — for so he bade them call him — sauntered from the garden up the hill, and seated themselves on a mossy windfall, enjoyed one of the many pleasant views in Acadia. The hill was one of those steep, sandy headlands, nearly opposite the mouth of the Shubenacadie, which the tides and winter ice have, in the lapse of a century, greatly reduced by washing the loose sand into the water. In front was the sparkling bay, a high calm tide flowing into the green grass outside the dykes on the opposite shore ; little clusters of log houses were on the knolls by the marshes, where the Messrs. Loughheads, Christies, Crowes, Kents, M. McCurdy, and James Archibald have now such nicely cultivated farms; here (now Clifton) the Acadian and his friend the Indian hunted the beaver and the muskrat, — here the boys fished for eels or idly basked in the noontide sun, — the girls, bareheaded, tawny and ragged, sought among stumps and wind- falls for flowers and berries. Six or more houses were grouped by a brook on NOVA SCOTIA. 175 ;i spot of upland ; one fence surrounded the whole, apple trees were planted close to the buildings, and willows on the banks and brooks. Below this was the mouth of the Shubenacadie — a broad river, between two dark, woody hills. Below the point where IngersoU stood extended the village of Cobequid, of which the Abbo Morlot was the pastor. His parish extended to the place where J, Wier, Esq., now resides, and included all the settlements on the Shubenacadie and what is now called Onslow and Truro. The fine marshes now owned by Messrs. King, W. Dickson, and M. McCurdy, were then owned and settled by a busy people, who had dyked and drained, planted and sown nearly all the Onslow marsh. The village church, a long, narrow building, was near the glebe. Around the church was a cemetery enclosed by a rustic paling. Hard by was the smithy, where the agricultural implement were made or mended. Mills were near, both for sawing logs and grinding the grain. Neither stores nor inns were to be seen. None were required. Every family manufactured its own clothing, cider and wine, — every house was open to the stranger. The course of the rivers was marked by strips of dark green intervales, until lost in the alder and ■K 170 SKETCHES OF cranberry sw)imp«, tho abode of beavers, muskratn, and wild fowl. . Scollop-like patches of cleared uplands were around the houses. Outside these patches was a ring of land which had been chopped, burned, but only partially cleared and rolled. The piles of charred logs and decaying rubbish were covered by a creeping vine, — huge windfalls were shaded by raspberry bushes, while strawberry vines, purple weeds, grass, and young bushes grew luxuriantly in the open spaces, affording excellent pasturage for the sheep and young cattle excluded from the more cultivated fields. Beyond this — away, aAvay to the north, far over the summits of the Oobequ'd hills, lay the unbroken forest, where the moose, carribou, bear and fox were undisturbed except by the stealthy tread of the red man. The houses were all built in the same style — made of logs hewn on the inside, the ends notched to fit closely, and roofed with split shingles or bark. The chimney of unhewn stone, usually was in the middle of the house, which was divided into two apartments by a rough partition. A shelf contained the pewter and wooden dishes. A rude loom, wheel, reel, a few chairs and benches of domestic manufacture, completed the furniture. The garret was the sleeping place for the younger members of I'rao'r; and s] Ghikli their '. A r li JO Id NOVA S''0'riA. 1 1 • tlio i';uiiily ; the > ■iiiors (h"ii[»i''"d> in tho rooms. * built vi.!i"v near the 1 i'^n< w 1 1 : 111' liiv ;iii' lilt wus iiiiwli' into st;irl loiiij: stockiii 's an ;1 nut; uni-'ii l)iisl ivins ami. chip hats, l.iisily -'ngagt'l in iv'jKiiiiiiu tho roads aiui^ - swaliow.s wi re husv cari'vinu mud tu laiild and i< [)air their nests — l)ol;-o'-liiic(jhi sung -I'oltins hopped on the Iol; fenec, unmindful cu" tho piuximity ti[' the 1 artv tl 10 ruai Ind e was -av wi th 11 i.iwrrs — tiic ail' rau'rant ironi lo.-soms. W olilcll W<'V ^ureadinj; and sprinkling linen, spi-.^ad on the gra-s to I. leach. Child ren \vt ■ro '•having Inilterilies aiid farh other — their h; i[)py VOICES I'lngmg u ,-ith A aint smilo hi'oke over Inuersoir- laro a< 1 U.' (pii'-k eye took in the seone hefore him. ]li' -va.^ young, but captivity and siidvuess had mad-; his lino features puL- and haggard . J Te was a w.'llr.ln ,tcci lawyor in easy (ar«-um>lanc months a pri.-oner in C uiar 13 *i; a ■->. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I UitTA |2.5 ■^ 1^ 1112.2 !!f ui ill- 2.0 us IU& — 1 — 111^ -< 6" ► Photographic Sciences Corporalion 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. M580 (716) S72-4S03 ■^ o IL A 178 SKETCHE.S OF I As they sat on the hill ho liad ihw. to note the dress and looks of the cousins. Blandine Lapierre was a tall girl of some twenty- three summers, with raven hair, red cheeks, and large, flashing black eyes. Rose was slight, fair- skinned with flaxen hair and a mild blue eye ; she was an English girl whom the good father had bouo;ht from the Indians when she was onlv four years of age. Meanwhile, the party in the house eagerly en- quired of Henri, who was one of the Acadian deputies to the Government at Halifax, and had been to consult De la Jonquere, Governor of Canada, about the oath of allegiance, " What arc our orders." " The orders of France are to be at peace," replied Henri. " La Loutre will give you the particulars." At this moment the Abbe La Loutre finished reading a letter which had been brought in by "Pierre. Educated in Paris, La Loutre was one ol the most accomplished and energetic of the society of Jesus. This pre-eminently fitted him for his mission to America. When the Earl of Albemarle, British Ambassador to the Court of St. Germains, had represented tv the King of France the outrages which were committ-ed by the French and Indians on his NOVA SCOTIA. 179 the hif< Britannic Majesty's subjects in America, the French Cabinet returned a favorable answer to his re- jnonstrance, and sent circulars to the Governors of Canada and Louisburg for them to restrain these depredations, but despatched La Loutre to see how they should be executed. " Mon Dieu !" ho exclaimed, dropping the letter from his hand, '* these three hundred men may ruin us. I must go to Beau Sejour without delay." Telling Henri in a few words that a fleet of forty t- vessels lay before Chiegnecto, that Beau Sejour and Barge Verte were closely besieged, he told Henri to row him up the Shubenacadio to meet the Indian Council which was there assembled to await his orders. Among the common people La Loutre passed for an agent of the British Government, whose duty it was to see that they had provided the necessary meat and fuel for the forts. Meeting a group of men he asked in an authoritative tone if they had provided the ad- ditional contingent of men to work on the forts. " Our Father Morlot will arrange the matter with you," replied the man in an humble tone, " wc will do as he desires us." " Very well," but no delay, no setting of prices. Hark ye, sirrah ! take what the commander at the fort pleases to give." % ;'ll Ii; W 180 SKETCHES 07 Emljarking in a rude boat La Loutre was rowed to the mouth of the Shubonacadie to await the next tide ; here ho visited the Indians encamped on those knolls and slopes which are now occupied by the gardens and d.velling-houscs of Dr. Brown, A* M. Cochran, Eyq., and the Parsonage, From the uplands of Mr. Whidden and J. Putnam, Esq., to the residence of Captain William Douglass, was a broad mud tiat. Whore the shipyards and stores of the Messrs. Frieze and Sydney Smith now stand *,iu Maitland, then lay a licet of Indian canoes which the rising tide gently lifted from the mud and bore majestically up the river. As La Loutre was seated in the canoe he might have noticed the line growth o^ heavy timber which clothed the banks of the strearp. ; he also might have seen that the rocks at tlio mouth of the :ivej' were a black, laminated, crystalline limestone^ unfossillifibrous, capped with gypsum and marls, having a southwesterly dip. Further up the stream he passed marly sandstones with reddish, fibrous gypsum veins. The river at its mouth was a mile in width, the tides rising fifty, and sometimes seventy feet, bearing them on at the rate of .seven or eight miles an hour. The precipitous banks, moulded by the waters into all sorts of fantastical shapes, were fringed and overhung with trees of great beauty. As he still further ascended the frol coi stol abi of glii NOVA SCOTIA. 181 river scores of eaccles were lioverinf:; over the cliff of grey and brownish red sandstone where their eyries had been built ages betore the white man ascended the stream. Nearly opposite this a snowy gypsum rock rose fully one hundred feet in per- pendicuhxr height. It was of a curved form, the base was limestone and hard plaster, fossil shells were very abundant in it, and a few fossil plants were to be seen at the eagle's nest. Onward swept the slight swift canoes to where the little, brawling, live mile river, falling through a narrow ravine, its steep percipitous banks in places overhanging and shading the stream, lell into a broad cove, which is now turned into fine marsh. The traveller of the present day, after descending the Five Mile Eiver hill, and ascending the opposite one, pausing for a moment near the nev/ two-storey house of W. McDougall, Esq., cannot fail to be pleased at the romantic view here presented, — the fairy dell at his left — the smooth expanse of marsh — the broken, uneven ground below the saw-mills, from which the tame stream seeks its tortuous course to the tide, — the pretty white cottages and stone houses ; thence the eye rests on the very abrupt rising uplands across the marsh — the beauty of the foliage — ^the broad muddy river, and the glimpses of the Colchester side seen round the % III , i^'fi' 182 SKETCHES OF iii point, is now very pretty ; how much more wild and romantic it must have appeared before man had marred its pristine beauty. On the Five Mile River are beds of shells and grey sandstone compressed into all sorts of shapes ; these beds La Loutre passed. Did he enquire why what had been once soft mud, deposited as a pail of turbid water deposits its sediment, had assumed the hard'and brittle character it now exhibited ? What power had formed these beds so fantastically ? or passed he them as many pass them now and not know that they were ever disturbed. At the point above the river, a coral and shell cliff, nearly fifty feet in thickness, reminded them of St. Anthony's pitutary member, and as two marly cheeks rest lovingly against it, modern boatmeii call the clifi' Anthony's Nose. On the left hand, near this, were houses marked by clumps of willows and apple trees. Little, half- clad children watched the travellers, whilst the men leaned on their spades and gazed listlessly at the passing canoes. Now sandstone and lime on the right bank, and gypsum on the left, walled in the stream, birch and maple trees overhang the bank, no marsh — only mud flats were to be seen at different places; soon they reach the Stewiacke which flowed through a fine valley from the east. KOVA SCOTIA. 183 In the long gone ages this valley had been a finely sheltered bay, where the coral tribes reared their mausoleums in peace and security ; now it was a good hunting ground, the uncultivated intervales agreeably diversified by gravelly ridges which jutted into the soft alluvium. On one of the dry ridges on the estate of the late Mr. Pollock, and near the house of Mr. Daniell, Lower Stewiacke, was the principal camping ground of the Indians, — hero iliey built their canoes, prepared their fure, and speared the salmon. From this place a large number of canoes, filled with Indian warriors, joined the voyagers. Opposite the fort the now excellent farm of Mr. Ellis was a steep cliflf, covered with huge forest trees ; the marsh was then a red mud flat. From this point the stream narrowed ; broad strips of marsh lay between the water and the wooded uplands. On the right hand was a hallowed spot where the ashes of the Acadians and Indians had long reposed side by side in peace ; around it was a little cluster of Acadian farmers ; the mass houee was very small ; here they stop a moment — ihh chiefs and La Loutre land, perf^jii thieir devotion's and hasten upwards to the meeting place of the council. Now they pass the St. Andrew, whicti had been once the centre of a broad expanse oT water, the channel through which the tides of 'I <\ "1 n l!'ni« •1 I t 184 SKETCHES OF V unday had deposited tho sediment which the lod Idd moaern goui aiggcr wasiics irom iiis cradle wtien in *i;carch of gold among the slate and conglomerates i^ear the old Halifax road, some three or more miles from the presmt How of the tide. At the carrying point they disembark, and carry the canoes over an isthmus throe rods in width, thus saving a detour of a mile. Since this time the waters have cut a passage through the narrow neck of land, the old river filling up with drift wood. The flats and marshes had given place to intervales ; magnificent elrn and ash trees grew near the water ; a thick undergrowth of alders and gall bushes, mixed with the chokeberi^ and wild cranberry, grew nearer the uplands. . From the carrying point to the uplands beyond •the Maypole brook, Epgay and Gay's river was the iiaunts of the wild fowl — the duck and the goose swam in stately grandeur round hummocks covered with oranberrv vines. On the upland points, covered with pines, oaks, and maples, were to be found the lairs of all those animals prized by the red man for either flesh or fur. The council ground lay near the mouth of the Maypole Brook, where the main road . of the present day skirts the jBhubenacadie. . Some thirty years ago, when the plough first !iiirned the sod where tho road is now made, a large NOVA SCOTIA. 185 circular patch of ashes. mixed with the remains of bones and .shells was turned up, the depth of the deposit and its distance under the surface proving that hero the Indian had encamped perhaps for centuries, and although from all these intervales the last cranberry vine has disappeared before the mower's scythe, still the old Indian loves to linger Spring and Fall around the traditionary hunting ground, seeking a stray musquash up the meadows, or, leaning on his gun, apathy and wonder blended in his countenance, gazing at the threshing machine surrounded by the busy farmers. One of these — Louis Paul — a chief without a nation, stood on the brow of a hill which overlooked this river valley. It was one of these lovely October evenings, warm and calm, when the white, silky films of the ■gossamer float slowly on the air. The Indian stood perfectly still as if unconscious of our approach. On accosting him, he started, raised his arm and pointed to the village and the intervales. " Do you see that ?" he said very slowly. . " Yes ! is it not lovely," was our answer. The prospect w^as one worthy of admiration; — behind us was the rolling upland with its light and dark shadows; the rainbow hued foliage, gilded by the setting sun ;^ the white farm-houses with every window " afire " — the river — the intervales — the cattle and the sheep ; no sound broke the stillness, in •*'■■■ !«' 186 SKETCHES OF &I !:■! except the ruatle of the dropping leaf and the faint and yet fainter whistle of the trains. " That country was once ours. You took our hunting grounds and leave us nothing. No use to hunt — no game. All gone ; and Indian must soon follow." He turned as he spoke, and disappeared in the forest. Poor Louis ! sad representative of your tribe, which one hundred years ago was one of the most powerful and warlike of those who assembled at the order of the emissary of the all powerful Louis, King of France, who, when he came to the Maypole Brook, found the braves assembled from the Musquodoboit, the Gays, Stewiacke, St. Andrews, and the Cobequid, as well as from the Dartmouth Lakes. The council fire was kindled near the tree from which the place derived its name. In a semi- circle sat the old men around the fire, outside of them the young men, and at an equal distance behind these the youths. Near them on the ground lay a large pile of scalps. La Loutre was received in silence. He seated himself opposite the chief, and produced a large golden crucifix, the badge of his authority. He pointed to the pile of scalps and counted five gold pieces for each one that they laid down. The Indians signify their pleasure by a fiendish yell and dance round the council fire. La I V NOVA SCOTIA. 187 La Silence being restored, the chiefs arrange with Loutrc for an immediate attack on the defenceless village of Dartmouth. A war party is to ascend the river and lakes and be ready to attack the place by the next night, whilst another party is to join their brethren at Pesiquid for an attack on the distant and feeble settlement of Merligni&h. " The neutrals," said the Frenchman, addressing the chiefs, " will assist you with provisions, which you will find stored on the rivers, and, so far as they can, with men. You restore the prisoners, but for all the scalps I will pay you in gold." The chiefs, in order of seniority, replied to this address. They recounted the deeds of the departed braves, as well as the prowess of the living, to incite themselves to new and more daring deeds. Then La Loutre praised their daring in the name of his master the King of France, recalled to their minds the extent of their own and his dominions. " From Louisburg and Canada to the sources of the great St. Lawrence; thence to the Mississippi, down the father of waters to the Gulf of Mexico is all occupied by the French; we will confine the heretics to a strip on the ocean, whence they will be driven into the waters." The council ended, they dance and prepare for the expedition. (' " m :1| I 188 aKKTCTIES OP '|!| s Tho encampment lay a short distance below the Maypole Brook, l)y the edge of a sprin;:^ which flowed into the river. Here somo of tho women were busy sowing new and repairing old birch bark canoes. In this primitive shipyard neither broad axe nor caulking mallet was required. The frame- work was made of split ash shaped with a knife and moulded by hand; this was covered l>y sheets of white birch bark, sewed round tho woodwork with the tough rootlets of trees. Rude and simple as this canoe may appear, the swiftest^ and most approved blockade-runner is constructed on the model of an Indian canoe. Tho wigwams were formed of poles stuck into the ground and secured at the top by a withe ; this circular enclosure was covered with birch bark, — a blanket or skin covered the aperture which served for a door, — the centre was occupied by the fire, the struggling smoke finding its way out at the top. Boughs were laid around the fire ; these served the family lor scats. Dogs snored around the camps; papooses lay sleeping in their cradles strapped to their mother's backs, their brown faces upturned to the sun. One mother sat apart nursing a dying babe, she had prepared a tiny carrying belt, a little pail and paddle, to aid her child in the spirit land. Sad, sad mark of degradation ; — her hope of a future for .a dying daughter went not beyond the badges of ' 1- >' NOVA SCOTIA. 180* her domestic .scrvitudo. How much woman owes to tlio gOHp(3l — not only her liopo3 of a happy hereafter hut her position and happinesH here. The gospel and tlio gospel alone, lifts her from a state of servitude and places her on an 'equality with num. Beside the spring some women were preparing the feast for the comjrref^ated warriors. Over the fire were suspended cauldrons containing a savory stew of porcupine, cariboo, and duck ; salmon were roasting before the fires — a piece of ash some two feet in length was split and the fish inserted wedge fashion into it and crossed by other splits,, and th(!! end planted firmly into the earth at a convenient distance from the fire. After the repast the warriors proceeded up the river to the Grand Lake. For some distance from the encampment the intervales of Messrs. Frame and McHeffey were covered with magnificent elm and ash trees, mixed with clumps of alders. The stream abounded with various kinds of fine fish, which went up to th& lakes to deposit their spawn. Now was the season for the migration of the eel — a column of them, the breadth of a man's hand, swam up each bank close to the shore, each individual appeared nearly of the same length and size — about as long as a darning- needle and a very little thicker ; when the advance 190 SKETCHES OP on tho line of march (so to speak) came to a brook, creek, or river, the portion allotted to tho tributary turned up it without breaking the main column, each one appearing to know its appointed place. On the higher parts of the intervales the Indians cultivated maize and potatoes around the maples which afforded them their supplies of sugar. The warriors from the vicinity of the Musquodoboit go up the Gays river, which is also the highway to the Atlantic. The party for Dartmouth reach the head of the tides, some distance above the new bridge on the Shubenacadie near the railroad ; here the banks of the river again become precipitous, iibounding in plaister pits ; steep limestone rocLs give place to slate quartz and granite, which extend around the lakes and on to the Atlantic coast. The whole length of the Province is l)ounded by this dreary, rocky country, with patches of bog and barren, offering few inducements to the agri- culturist, yet in a great part of it producing hard and soft wood forests, — the oak being the peculiar ornament of the western Atlantic shore, as the aspen is of the eastern districts; and the lakes, their steep, bold, rocky, percipitous sides clothed with feathery junipers, or the pines and hemlocks. When all the country between the Cobequid and Rawdon hills was an arm of the sea, its bays perhaps swarming with life — scaly monsters of a ''•--fc. •((.«**»*», »; NOVA SCOTIA. 191 pre-Adamic period stalking among the vegetation which covered its shoals and beaches ; then some mighty convulsion of nature, which caused the pillars oi' earth to shake, threw up from her foundations these rocks inlaid with golden ore, and scattered them abroad upon the surface of the land, and formed this magnificent chain of lakes, like a bracelet of sparkling gems enchased in quartzite and gold, mementoes of the once unbroken sheet of water which had stretched from the Atlanti(.^ to the great Funday bay. They pass through th(i Grand Lake which is about nine miles long by one broad. This sheet of water is one of great beauty, ledge upon ledge of rock stretched in places far away from the edge of the water; in others it rose, a seemingly unbroken mass, to tlie height of several hundred feet, and clothed to the summit with larch and spruce ; in other places its steep, adamantine sides were smooth and bare, loose boulders lying on the summits of the very steepest clifts. From the Grand Lake the river leads into four smaller ones, but this country all around is thickly studded with those glittering sheets of water varied only by the character of the surroundings, some of them being edged with green swampy borders, innumerable lilies floating and dancing on the margin. Now they have reached the last of the Shuben- r it i si 192 SKETCHl'.S OK acadie lake.s, the lioad of tho wator wliiolj Hows to the bay. The party draw out tho canoes — the portage i.s very narrow — and drop them into the waters which ran southward into the Atlantic through the Dartmouth Lakes. Tho region around these lakes is verv d(^solate, the water cahn and untroubled, rcdects the lowering sumniits above: a fine wild verdur*.' liere and there creeps up the precipic 's, some of them look like a huge tempest- tossed wave of tho ocean suddenlv arrested and frozen into eternal granite. Further on, the water murmurs u;'.'ntle measures as it <]rlides onward to the next lake, from which recedes a long, liigh mural precipice crowned witli trees. On the other side is to bo seen round smooth (;ohmins of granite, denying vegetation a resting spot; horrid chasms and ravines yawning l»etween the shar}) wedge like peaks scattered liere and there. Tlie extent, dreariness, solitude and grandeur of the country between the lakes and the Ardoise hills fills the mind witli awe, tho stillness and desolation, un- broken except by tlio voice of the wild fowl or the crackling of the underwood as some denizen of the forest seeks the lake to quench its tliirst. And the plains, if ]»lains they can be called, which bear the marks of such tearing in pieces, sucli a breaking up; rocks sliarp, razor-like — rocks rounded, water-worn — rocks of every size and form jt^-^-mitif,.*-. NOVA SCOTIA. 193 cover them, as if toHsed over those thuudei'-split and shaggy peaks as a luckless Viowl of sugar is off a table. On one of these valleys rises a liuge round rocli^ its base divided by a largo fissure, in which a tiny seed had become rooted — thence extending upward, a goodly sized bush spread its branches over the summit, suggesting the image of a successful (Competitor at the olympic games transformed in to- solid rock, his head wreathed with a (n-own oi everlasting laurel. The Indians hide their canoes on the margin at" the last lake, now called the first lake, and steal out to reconnoitre the little town of Dartmouth. Dartmouth had been settleLl in IToO, and in five years some of the houses and gardens near the water's edge were very comfortable, but the whole of the little town was surrounded by thick woods. Very soon after dark all the lights were extinguished except two, and the foe watched impatiently for the town to sleep. In that cottage where the upper light is seen, a little child lay dying. Ail day she has wrestled with the strong arm of death. At eve she sank into a slumber ; on awakening, she said : " Ma, ma, pleaie read my chapter — the -story of the meek sufferer at Gethsemane, from the garden and cross to the empty tomb," and the 14 A\ mi !'• ,i£i:!l 194 SKETCHES OF f^ risen Saviour had often cheered Jessie in a long and weary sickness. "Oh pa, ma, why do you weep?" asked the dying child, as she looked from one tear bathed face to the other. " Jessie, who said * suffer little children to come to me,' " they asked her. " It was Jesus, I know it was Jesus," replied the dying child, '•' and I am going, I am going to Him." Again she slumbered for some time — started up and exclaimed : '*' Music, oh listen ?" turning her head as if to catch a glimpse of the singer, Jessie's gentle spirit returned to Him who gave it. Friends looked wistfully, oh how wistfully, on that face, smiling and beautiful in death, and ask " Is she gone?" Tear-dimmed eyes gaze on these calm features and this cold clay ; and is this all ? She has lived her little life through swiftly, and has passed to the presence of the mighty — dead — a voice has called, she heard it and is gone. Dead — yea, rather blessed. " I heard," said the lone watcher in Patmos, " a voice saying unto me write, blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." This voice Jessie heard and obeyed. The deep sobs which could not be restrained — the bitter weeping round that lifeless dust — the low wail of a mother's agony, which God heard on his great white throne, and answered with the words of everlasting life. "get Ki kettl cake breac flask, sleep the , ,.«..»«•'- .,«» •i.MJJLjh.*.. * NOVA SCOTIA. 195 ing life; that great hope and trust which a Saducean or heathen mother never knew — " I am the resurrec- tion and the life, him that believeth on me shall never die." Nearer the water's edge, the Indians watched the other light, where the fisherman's family gathered round the fire-place; the resinous logs threw a broad flickering light over the stone hearth and around the room. Nets, lines, hooks, &c., the implements of their craft, were hung on the walls, while wet clothing hung round the fire. The family- consisted of the fisherman and his wife, five sons and one daughter-in-law, her little boy, and a sailor. On an old table some of them were playing cards by the light of a burning rag floating in a saucer of oil. The mother, with a smile on her rather masculine countenance, sat in the corner listening to her grandson repeating the oaths which sailor Bill was teaching the lisping boy. " Kit," says the mother to her daughter-in-law, " get a bit to eat and drink." Kit obeyed, and lifting the cover of an iron bake- kettle which hung over the fire, she took out a thick cake and placed it on the table. The men ate the bread, and after draining the contents of a black flask, sank down on the bench and floor to sleep — a sleep too deep to be broken by the stealthy tread of the Indians, who creep up when the light is 196 SKETCHES OP M extinguished. Kit, who had awakened to give her boy a drink, saw them pass the door of her room, awoke her husband — ^jumped through the casement, and ran to the house where they were watching the dead. Several of the neighbors wore with the mourners ; these, seizing some firearms, run for the fisherman's house, but too late to save the hapless inmates ; the house is in flames and two of the men scalped. The party fire, one of the Indians is killed, the village aroused, but the foe escape to their canoes, yet without plunder, and with the dead Indian. Thus Jessie's death saved the village. While the braves of the Micmacs, faithful to the rites of their fathers, hasten through the lakes to celebrate the funeral ceremonies of their departed brother. With all speed they go to the mouth of the Shubenacadie ; thence up to the head of the bay to the island burial ground ; here they meet a number of the Abenakis who stay to honor the dead, for he was a chief. The body, dressed as a warrior, painted red and black, a belt of snakeskin rings in his ears — a red ribbon supported a large tin gorget, a present from the King of France, on his breast — a pipe at his lips, and a scalping knife in his hand, and at his side a large, well-filled wooden bowl; thus was the warrior seated on the green hill side. A speech, reciting the deeds of the dead man, was chanted ; the death dances and chants began — the r '•«<*«' «6, •% Fr-«^i-»C' ^*-" tt-'M.MMUkJt^ NOVA SCOTIA. 197 hum of human voices mingle with the sounds of rude music. Thus, surrounded with what pleased him when alive, and well provided with food, he was placed in his last resting-place under the sod. The Abenakis, intoxicated by strong drink received from Louisburg, excite the most angry passions of the Micmacs, by reciting the sorrows they had suffered from English perfidy and English power. All night long the woods rang with their shouts. The Souriquois were wild with dance, song, and revelry. When the Indian council broke up the Rev. Father La Loutre returned to the Cobequid. The natural or salt marshes, covered with sedge {carex hava) and goose tongue, attracted his attention. At the river where he landed (now the Folly,) he remarked a submerged forest, which the accumulated mud of a century has hidden from the modern boatman. Stopping at this village for refreshments and a guide, both awaiting him by the ready forethought of Henri La Pierre wh^ere met him, they started by the shortest route for Beau Sejour. The portage between a stream emptying into Minas Basin and a river discharging its waters into Cumberland Basin, is very narrow; the guides brought him to the source of the latter. Soon the river becomes navigable, the Indians procure a . :;!«■ I mH !!!;• 198 SKETCHES or k canoe, launch it, and paddle swiftly down the river and across the head of the basin. La Loutre's eye kindled with pleasure as it rested on the gentle slopes of the densely wooded uplands, and the broad extent of the marshes covered with grass and samphire; these exceeded anything which he had as yet seen in the new world — upwards of sixteen thousand acres of this rich alluvium fringing Chiegnecto and Beau Sejour Basins. It was low tide as the light canoe glided over the smooth water ; his attention was attracted to a submarine forest like the one he had noticed on the Cobequid river, but of far greater extent ; the stumps appeared to be firmly rooted into a reddish sand like the upland of the hill. To the astonishment of the Jesuit he at once saw that the alluvium rested on an old upland forest, upwards of one thousand acres of table land turned into a submarine forest and supporting this prolific grass-growing plain. " Mon Dieu !" he mentally exclaimed, " this is a most wonderful land, — what a discovery I have made this morning, — how it will astonish the college at Paris." Shoving the canoe to the nearest stump he proceeded to examine it more closely, but this was not so easy a task as it at first appeared to be, for when leaning over the edge of the canoe it came near upsetting, so desiring a man to jump into the .;■' ■kH^.m- kMMJ ik p -. * NOVA SCOTIl. water and steady the canoe he grasped the stump and found the rootlets of it were entire and covered with bark, thus proving beyond the possibility of a doubt, that this was the place of its growth. He sailed up the La Planche to learn that the French had been defeated on the Missiguashe; Beau Sejour and Baie Verte were in possession oi the English; the garrisons with three hundred Acadians made prisoners. La Loutre's first step was to seek an interview with the Acadian prisoners. He presented himself to the guard, and in polite English informed him that he had been sent to see a dying man. He passed into the barn in which they were confined, and instructed the neutrals to say that the French had compelled them to bear arms in their defence against their own will. He then sought an interview with the leaders of the expedition, Colonels Moncton and Winslow. Before them he pleaded the cause of the prisoners so faithfully aind yet ao fearlessly, that Winslow permitted the Acadians to return to their homes. He sent the French people to Louisburg and garrisoned the forti with English men. He named Beau Sejour, Cum- berland, in honor of the Duke, and Baie Verte lie named Moncton, in honor of his friend the gallaoi Colonel Moncton. In a very few days the French and Acadiaa ; I'l iii.f 200 SKETCH r;s of j^riaonors left the forts aii«l the whole country *»Gomed to he tranqiiilisod. The Father La Loutre repaired to Louishurg to corL-iult with the Governor of that fortress on the [n'ospects of France. Winslow and Moncton re- jj»aired to Halifax by water to assist at a meeting of <-ouncil presided over by His Excellency Sir C. Lawrence, the Governor of Nova Scotia. This town, the English capital of Nova Scotia, Jiad been founded by Cornwallis in the Summer of 1749, and in six years time contained perhaps five •liundred houses. The Governor and six councillors •combining both the Legislature and Judicial Authority were absolute in all cases. At this council board a different policy from that they had {jursued towards the Acadians was, day after day, debated. But before we notice the effects of this minute of council, it will be necessary to look for a moment to the circumstances which led to it. These neutral Acadian French, so called neutral from professing to take no part in French and English quarrels, should have lived in peace, but instead of being preserved from injury by holding this character, they suffered from it ; for, while fCiistrusted by the English, their unsuspicious •character made them the ready tools of the crafty and designing French statesmen and others, by iisrhom they were in turn abused, hated, and robbed, ..,m0t*'m^ *inm-M. I m' NOVA SCOTIA. 201 -completely without protection from either party. The penin.sular region which they occupied, rich in ocean and river fisheries, in fine harbors, in the interior large tracts of alluvial lands, the peninsula, as well as the adjoining continent, adapted to the chase and fur trade, had become very dear to this people, who could here look back on tlieir forefathers graves for generations. Here the Britons had settled, built their houses and planted their trees sixteen years before the Pilgrim Fathers set foot on Plymouth Rock. (The oldest town in North America is in Florida, where the Spaniards settled in 1565. DeMonts is aaid to have landed in Nova Stbtia in 1603 or 1604, and the English came to James Town in 1605. 'Quebec was settled in 1608 by the French, and the Dutch settled on the Hudson in 1610. In 1620 the Puritans landed in Massachusetts. In 1631 the French colonized the Penobscot, and British Catho- lics the Cheseapeake in 1634. The Hugenots came to Carolina in 1661, and the French settled in the Sault and Kaskaskia about the year 1670. In 1682 the Quakers founded Philadelphia. New 'Orleans was settled in 1717 by Frenchmen, and the Merrimac by Irish Presbyterians in 1729. Georgia was settled by emigrants under Oglethorpe as late ^ 1732.) tChus to America, three thousand miles from his 'n4 I'llt! 202 8KK .£ES OF home came the Hollander ami the Knglishman, tlio Frenchman and tlie Spaniard, the Protestant carrying with him the memory of an Alva aftd a Bartholomew -eve, — the stately forest trees around his new home reminding the Catholic of those majestic cohmins — the nol)le Cathedrals, the almoBi imperishable works of art — the accumulated piety of centuries — all broken, trodden to the earth by the Protestants. And with the growth of their respective English and French settlements, sectional jealousies, as well as religious bigotry, had engendered and kindled the warfare. The children of the Pilgrims were taught to abhor l*o|Hsh cruelties and superstition.*?, — their infant blood curdled as they turned the New England Primer to see John Rogers burnt at the stake in Smithfield, and the picture of his wife with nine small children, and one at the breast, formed the theme of their childish conversations, while the Roman Catholic Missionaries quietly taught the faith of their church and the hatred of the English among the Abenakis and Micmacs, a& they watched the tides rise on the banks of the Shubenacadie and Sissiboo, or trapped the fox on the slopes of the Cobequid and the sources of the Musquodoboit and St. Marv. Old New England Primer, other children than those of the Puritans have admired, joxm lovely I NOVA SCOTIA. 203 frontispicco — have boon hushed to sleep with your sweet cradle hymn — have learned your alphabetical texts and your proverbs — have imagined the flames around poor John Rogers to grow redder, while the hatred which the sight of him engendered might have lasted. I know not how long, — it did last however, until I learned that the Catholics of Maryland extended liberty ol conscience to all within the bounds of the State, (they being the first on the American continent to set the glorious example,) while the Puritans of New England persecuted Roger Williams when printing and teaching the Primer. The treaty of Utrecht in 1713, ceded Acadia to Britain ; yet the Acadians were hardly conscious of a change of Sovereigns — the language, religion, and usages of their ancestors were stamped on their souls. In 1730 the Acadians had taken an oath of fealty and submission to the King of England as Sovereign of Acadia. They were promised in- dulgence in the exercise of their religion, and exemption from bearing arms against the French or Indians. Their religion made them part of the diocese of Quebec. In 1749 Governor Cornwallis wished to tender, unconditionally, the oath of allegiance to them. Rather than take the oath, one thousand signed a letter asking for leave to sell their lands and effects and leave the Peninsula. fik ( 204 SKETCHES OF ■This proposal was made by the French Embassador to the Secretary of State at St. James ; but as this would only tend to strengthen the hands of the enemies of King George this request was peremptorily refused. They were known as French neutrals. One express condition of the treaty of Utrecht was, if they continued in the country over a year they became subjects of Great Britain. But for nearly forty years after the peace they systematically opposed all attempts of the British Government to interfere with them. Neutrals in name, they were in deed, active enemies of Great Britain. To become subjects they must take the oaths required of subjects. It can be no question but the refusal to take such oaths invalidated their titles to the lands which they occupied. The very simplicity and gentleness of character, and the doubts which existed respecting titles, were taken advantage of by crafty priests and designing statesmen. The Abbe, Missionary and Curate of Missagouche, now Fort Lawrence, formed the plan, (and sure of his influence over his people and fellow-priests, aided by the Court of France,) to entice the Acadians from their homes, and plant them on the frontiers as a hedge against the English, or else raise them at home as hornets among them. I f ^ , . . .Ml&^-.aM*)f^iiM<|»■*^-^' NOVA SCOTIA. 206 The all-powerful parish priests usurped all authority in secular and military as well as spiritual matters over the simple and confiding Acadiane. They made their records, regulated their success- sions, and settled thesr disputes, neither pormitting appeal to magistrates, nor suffering taxes to be paid to them ; their paramount object being to aid Canada and extirpate the British, The Acadians prospered ; their houses were built in clusters, (for the French and German nations ever favored Feudalism and monarchial institutions, settling in villages, while the sentiment of individu- ality is the parent ot republicanism, impatient of restraint and leaning only on its scilf-directing mind, was ever pointing to emigration and the discovery of new territories,) and on the edges of marshes of exuberant fertility, '' from which a great amount of social labor," so says their historian, the Abbe Keynal, " had excluded the tide." These were covered with flocks of sheep and herds of cattle ; wheat yielded thirty or forty fold ; flax was abundant ; cloth, linen and woollen, was manufactured by their wives and daughters. From Louisbnrg they had their supplies of foreign luxuries in return for wheat and flax. Their morals were pure. As a general thing they all married young. Before a marriage the community gathered and built them a house. They all lived as members f m '■' m f 'i 206 SKETCHES OF of one great family, happy in neutrality and in|tlie plenty drawn from their native land. This is the pleasant picture drawn by the good Abbe. But an impartial testimony proves that a little more than one-tenth of the marsh on Minas Basin had been dyked ; they had on the South side of Cobequid many acres of dyked marsh and about 400 acres of upland cultivated, and 200 more acres cleared of intervale, while on the opposite side about forty acres of upland were cleared and nearly all the Onslow marsh. The Cobequid village below was largely improved, though only a small extent of upland had been cleared. The transport of wheat and flax to Louisburg must have been limited, on account of the difficulty of transit, but scalps torn from English men and women were more portable and worth five Louis-d'-ors each. They freely intermarried with the Abenakis and Micmacs. Their houses, (however poetical they might be made,) must have been rude and rough, and the inmates, with some few exceptions, poor, wretched, dirty and degraded, their minds unculti- vated, yet harmless and moral, deeply attached to their religion because it was their fathers'. They were mere machines in the hands of others; numbering in 1755 about seventeen thousand souls. The enthusiasm of the men who guided this people was fanned into a flame when they found I it a ^'.MCM^jh/ j» « ' -^-^" ' "'t . ^•^ ' M iM mni^t^^ NOVA SCOTIA. 207 that Britain was taking active measures to colonise Acadia. That Heretics from that land which had disfranchised Catholics should settle in their beloved peninsula, perhaps overwhelm its ancient people, was a thought too galling to be borne. The loss of their own power was inevitable if the colonists were permitted to secure a permanent residence. Thus the infant settlements of Halifax, Windsor, and Annapolis were objects of their deepest ire. The British Government perhaps regarded colo- nies of their own countrymen as sources of emolument, and colonists as an inferior caste ; this feeling was made use of in fomenting discords. They told the neutrals that their public and private papers, deeds and records, their pictures and their altars would be taken from them. " If," said they, addressing the people from their pulpits, ^' your land or your labor, your timber or your food, be required for the public service, you must give it and expect no payment in return ; refuse, and you will be shot, and your houses burned over vour little ones." "Better, immeasurably better," they added, '' surrender your meadows to the sea, your houses to the flames, and the graves of your ancestors to the ploughshare, than take the oath of allegiance at the peril of your souls to the British Government." The Abbe La Loutre claimed all the Acadians *l , . ■ Jii t j'n' 208 SKETCHES OF as French subjects, and the Indians as allies, anrt' narrowed Acadia to the strip between Cape St.. Mary and Cape Canseau. At Paris, in 1750, the British claimed all the land east of the Penobscot,,, and South of the St. Lawrence, as Acadie. Governor Cornwallis would offer ' no optioD between unconditional allegiance and the confisca- tion of all their property, for the highest judicial authority in the I'rovince had pronounced themi. confirmed rebels and recusants. The answer of the implacable Micmac Chief'- instigated by La Loutre, to Governor CornwalliS;^ was : " The ground on which you liieep is mine^ I sprung out of it as the grass does, I was born on it from sire to son, — it is mine forever." His horrid atrocities compelled Cornwallis to offer ten guineas for Indian scalps. Such were the disorders which undefined European boundaries produced in America, — such was the- state of feeling between the old and the new settlers of the Acadian Peninsula, when events ovei" which they had no control, hastened the settlement of the question of submission or non-submission tc- the British Government. Peace between France and England existed under- ratified treaties. But France had so encroached on^ ancient boundaries that before 1755 the English- man had fled from every cabin, in the rich valleya? *«..N»ii«d»rf«j»«»'"«»»''*'r„.:atN-'i«M^^ I NOVA SCOTIA. 209 of the St. Lawrence and the Ohio. She had her iorts^on each side of the hikes at Detroit, Mackinaw, at Kaskaskia and New Orleans. She owned the three principal routes which connected tlie valleys of the Mississippi and St. Lawrence. The French claimed and seemed to possess twenty twenty-fifths of the American continent, Spai.D four twenty-fifths, and England the remaining one,, Shtt had divided the land intoseignories ; quitrents wero small, the laboring classes were tenants and vassals ; few of them could write or read. " There was '* says a celebrated historian, '' neither school nor printing-press in French America." In 1755 Britain resolved to repel these en- croachments, and by occupation make good her interpretation of the Acadian boundaries. The Isthmus separating the waters of Funday and St. Lawrence, scarcely fifteen miles wide, formed the natural boundary between Now France and Acadia. On it the French built two forts, one at the mouth of the Gaspereaux on the Gulf, in lat. 46° North, and the other on the Bay of Funday. In these forts the commanders of them were ignorant of the designs of either government, until an English fleet anchored in the bay and called on the forts to surrender. Captain Eous then sailed to St. John and took possession of the region east of St. Croix^ and annexed it to England. 15 ny I" Si % m 210 SKETCHES OF In July 1755, the news arrived at Halifax of General Braddock's defeat and death, and the council then convened, resolved that for the safety of British power in America " it had become a stern necessity to remove the French Acadians and distribute them among the other English Colonies on the continent." It was haying time at Cobequid. Father Morlot and Ingersoll were walking from the marsh, where they had been assisting to make a hay-stack on the edge of the upland. Blandine and Eose were returning from the field with a pail of raspberries, when they met Henri and were joined by his uncle and Ingersoll. Henri had always called Eose sister, but even a casual observer might detect in the blush which overspread her face as Blandine said, pointing in the direction of a new building, " come, see our brother Henri's house?" that a more than sisterly affection lay beneath those blushes. Eose at the moment discovered a little gosling which had strayed from its comrades, and ran to restore the wanderer. Gh, Love ! pure and true, thou art ever thus. Hidden away in a true woman's breast, as the partridge hides her young from every passer-by; the loved one known only to herself. Or as the bird which hides her nest in the grass, makes a i I ^'^"TZ-.-'i^ NOVA SCOTIA. 211 IS. le le a ; feint of going to it, only to turn the seeker farther from it, — so woman may jest and laugh about a lover, but let her only love, and the object of it is never mentioned by her. If he should chance to be the subject of her companion's remarks, she will be a silent listener. We always doubt the love of a woman who talks about her lover or his aflfairs. The party proceeded to the house, which had been newly finished and contained a few articles of furniture. Henri and Kose were to be married in a week. That week was a busy one to Blandine and her neighbors. Tables of sufficient extent to accommo- date all the villagers were spread, — wooden bowls, spoons and platters, supplied the place of china and crystal ; foaming kegs of home-brewed beer were prepared — piles of bread — baskets of berries, butter and eggs — meat and vegetables ; large cauldrons of soup, made of fall geese, bubbled over the fires. Garlands of flowers were appropriate decorations. Flowers, fresh flowers — man in all ages and climes loves flowers ; they are wreathed around the marriage altar and the tomb, — their perpetual renewing beauty whisper of resurrection and of hope. Fond as all the Acadians were of flowers, Eose and Blandine were their most ardent lovers. They crathered them to festoon the church and to deck i.i :! W Ml ! H'- 11 m^ 212 SKETCHES OF the dancers' bower. The crimson tipped petals of the Mayflower were faded, but the trailing vines hnnsc like streamers from tlio I'aftoiv. Acadia's wildwoods and marshes lent their beauties to deck the bower — the lily and wild rose, meadow-sweet and chrysanthemum, beside many others, were made into wreaths or tied into bouquets. On the first of August, a little l)cfoi'o noon, the bridal procession appeared at the chapel door, — a long line of young girls with white kerchiefs on their heads, striped skirt and sack, led the way — next, matrons, followed by the men in knit frocks, their ruddy cheeks and broad foreheads shaded by hats plaited from the brown top on the marshes, breeches fastened at the knee, stockings and moccasins completed the dress. They enter the chapel ; the bridal party advance and kneel before the altar to receive from the cure the holy sacrament of matrimony. Silence pervaded the church, which was filled by the crowd. The long, narrow building was poorly lighted and seated ; over the altar was a picture of the Madonna, by the side of it the Saviour crowned with thorns — he the man of sorrows who wept over the devoted city ; was not the same compassionate eye looking down on this devoted plain in the New World — on this plain soon to be swept with a like destruction — and strengthening the heart of the humble + rusting ^•^4^mmiiltifiUl^ ' NOVA SCOTIA. 213 worshipper. The ceremony over, tliey leave the church to receive the congratuhitions of their friends. Dinner over, healths and toasts drank in foaming cups of home-brewed ale, the young folks repair to the greensward ibr a dance. In the tastefully decorated arbour sat l)lind Jean discoursing his liveliest music from an old violin. The old men sang songs or stretched themselves on the grass, watched the long shadows which betokened the coming twilight or join the laugh which ever and anon came from the merry dancers ; while songs beguiled the time where a group of matrons and babies sat apart from the dancers. While the party was thus employed, Ingersoll sought the chapel. As he stood on the step watching the full moon rise he heard a low, soft strain of music, he saw through the half open door Blandine kneeling before the picture of the Virgin. It was an old hymn of St. Bernard which she vas singing. JESUS DULCIS MEMORIA. Jesus, thy memory sweet — Joy of our hearts most dear, When thou our souls greet. Nought thus our souls can cheer. There is no sweeter sound More pleasing to the ear — No thought more grateful found Then that of Jesus dear. i 214 SKETCHES OF The entrance of IngersoU interrupted the singing, she joined him at the door, and they looked at the apparently happy party of dancers. " Why did you leave them ? " he asked the maiden. " I sometimes prefer being alone," replied Blandine, "or staying with them," pointing to the pictures, " I love to sing to them the songs my mother used to sing." " Will you let me hear you sing ?" he asked her. " I can sing ' Come to Me,' " she replied. Man lost in doubt, ye seek in vain, The oracles are dumb, Finite to scan the infinite All powerless must become. To you I call in worldly lore, Sore travelled, yet unblest, From eaith-born fancies come to me. Come, I will give you rest. Ye earnest man, who seeks in creeds The beautiful and true. Disputing still in jarring schools, I cry aloud to you ; Your disputes leave, leave error's maze, Her chains your souls oppress. My freed-man be, come, come to me. Come, I will give you rest. Affliction's sons, a countless throng. Who'll catalogue each woe, Each pang which rends your bosom now, I felt it long ago. *.A*«w»r, NOVA SCOTIA. 215 Departed joys may not come back, Their memory shall he blessed, Each burden shall he borne by me, Come, I will give you rest. As she finished the Hnes the Rev. Father La Loutre and the cure approached in search of Ingorsoll to accompany the former on his visit to Pesaquid and the large villages of Minas ; from the latter place he could obtain a passage to Boston. Bidding Blandine and her good uncle a hasty farewell, they, with the turn of the tide, sailed down the bay, the agent's business being to visit all the neutrals in Acadia. Below the mouth of the Shubenacadie they turned round a bold headland, on the smooth, steep side of which the spray was dashing. This head, formed of the inner zone which lines the Bay of Funday as the mud zone girdles it from the water's edge to the uplands, here runs out into a steep cliff. As the canoe came round the point the uplands receded very gently on the left ; to the right they rose abruptly, being clothed with a splendid growth of hard and soft-wood. They sail up to the head of the marsh on the estate of Mr. Smith. Here, on a spot of table- land, was a small settlement of Acadians; here he found the women busy pulling and spreading flax. On these new intervales flax grew to the height of r;i I .; 216 SKETCHES OF throe und four feet, its petals slowly unfolding to the noonday sun and closing before evening, rivalled the blue of the summer sky. It was pulled up l)y root and spread in rows on a level field, each stalk not intei'fering with its neighbor that each might receive an ecjual portion of sun and dew. After the 4a])se of a few weeks the flax was gathered in small bundles and the Reed chopped off it, and the t)undles spread around a fire to dry. A break made of two wooden bars an inch thick, the upper wm»«**--- NOVA SCOTIA. 221 return. A.s the little skiff passed near the shore the soft peal for the Angelas falls upon the ear like music from the better land, and the people repair to the churches to otler thanks, adoration and praise before commencing the labors of the harvest day. Hundreds of busy farmers are seen repairing to the fields and marshes ; passing these we will accompany La Loutre to Pesaquid, or Windsor, as it was called by the English. Here the Avon wanders through a fertile valley and discharges its waters into the eastuary. This vaHcy is enclosed by picturesque hills which rise boldly from the marsh on the right bank; on the left is an undulating table-land, broken by abrupt cliffs of snowy gypsum. The valley, about eight miles in length, extended to the forks of the river, wiuch rises in those lovely hills wb'ch embosom the valley on the south, ami are the water-shetl between the Atlantic and the bay. From the riikii^^ I NOVA SCOTIA. 22S from Halifax is whizzing and blowing off its steam. The streets are nicely shaded with trees. Here are most excellent farms and extensive orchards ; here are the homesteads of many men well-known in and beyond the Province. An Episcopal church, a most venerable edifice, enclosed by a stone- wall and shaded by trees, stands about a mile from the town. A short distance opposite on a pretty ridge stands Windsor college, and near it a new, elegant, and ' substantial edifice, designed for a library and museum, it is in the Norman style, built of native freestone ; in the gable, over the large window, is a fine niche in which is placed in bold relief a group of statuary representing ^Eneas carrying his father Anchises from the burning city. The old man's right arm rests on his son's shoulder, — his left encircles his household gods ; his little boy clutches at his garments as if in terror of being left behind, whilst his wife, Creuse, is seen in a keeeling attitude. The sculptorhas chosen the moment when jEneas is made by the Poet to say — My hand shall lead our little son, and yon, My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue. King's College is a wooden building, Grecian in style ; it is the oldest University in British America. The boys \vhom La Loutre saw playing among the buttercups on the hills and hollows, passed into 1; ' : m 224 SKETCHES OF history a fraction — lost among the expatriated Acadians. Boys of another race have phiyed here whom history is proud to record as the Heroes of Kars and Luck now. In the museum are treasured the swords of Gen. Inglis and Sir Fen wick \ Williams. On the opposite side of the river, Falmouth with its white houses, whilst all around the ornamented 'ground, the trim fences and shaded avenues tell their tales of wealth, taste, and superior culture. "Home, liornp, the theme of waking, sleeping dreams, We sigh to see our native, long-loved streams." If the man who claimed Nova Scotia only as the place of his birth, the broad Atlantic rolling' between him and his fatherland, can sigh to revisit his native streams, how the Acadians must have loved the land which for 150 years had been their cherished home, for we must remember what the- Nile is to the Egyptian — the sea to the Greek — - this Bay was to the Acadians. "If a plough proper in a field arable" be the- noblest escutcheon, this honor belongs to the early French Acadian fathers, bold, loyal, good-hearted men, among the foremost in discovery, civilization,, and commerce, many of these devoted men by their- labors honoring the name of Jesus which they bore. From gull to gulf, from Atlantic to Pacific they '4Bmthmibmt»,4i NOVA SCOTIA. had founded mi.y,sions, carried tlio storv of the Cross, and a new life (at least) of civilization bef^an in the Indian, — and this was done long l)efore a Protestant preacher had made the lea«t eifort to christianize them. Throughout North America the Indian belief in manitous or s])irits iidiabitino- animals and protecting or cursing inen was uni- versal ; the power Oi' life or deatli was hckl by the medicine man ; human sacrifices were genera' ; . other horrid vices also prevailed. They displaced' (or endeavored to do so) a superstition destitute of mercy, morality, or remorse,— neither mental nor social culture being possible under its dominion. Every Missionary set out with the resolution to learn the native language ; many, very many of those devoted men lived and died with the natives after having spent from thirty to fifty y<'ars in the forest. The Catholics of Maryland in 1(349 granted freedom of worship " to all who believed in Jesus Christ," thus advancing the career of civilization by recognizing the rightful equality of all Christian sects. Thus the Episcopalian driven from Puritan New England, or the Puritan driven from Episcopal Virginia here met to worship as l:e saw fit, none making him afraid. These facts may have passed before a Jesuit looking on an Indian encampment or an Acadian 16 22G SKETCHES 07 villagG, l)ut the night of a Fort Edward commanding it must hav(! stirred in his bosom the most ran- corous of human passions, when he remembered that all the new charters which William and Marv granted in the Colonies (in room of the old ones) allowed lil)erty of conscience " to all Christian?* except Papists," and that Catholics were disfran- chised under British rule, and the penal codes increased. Maddened by this review we can see him seek the Indian wigwam and inciting the men who murder the defenceless settlers in Dartmouth and Lunenburg, or organizing more powerful bands to defend Canada and Louisburg, thus to secure an asylum for the expatriated Catholics. As he passes down the rapid streams on his perilous errand, the unexplored banks might echo the songs of the '' Acadian boatmen," but the modern refrain would be more applicable — The despot's heel is on thy shore Marylftnd, my Maryland, Hia torch is at thy temple door, Maryland, my Maryland. Let us return to Cobequid. On the second day of September 1755, the people of the village were all assisting Henri Lapierre in stumping and clearing a piece ot intervale. With the afternoon tide three vessels were seen coming up the bay ; two prepared to anchor — one :^^M NOVA SCOTIA. 227 opposite tho village, and the other at Lower Cobequid, whilst the third one ran further up tho shore. Curiosity was rife. Who were they ? and whither were they going ? This was still heightened by tho appearance of the cure, who informed then\ hatthe following notice wa=? p3ste 1 oa th-i door of the church : To the inhabitants of the village of Cobequid, and the shores, as v.ell ancient as young men and lads, ordering them all to repair to the church the next day at three p.m., and hear what he had to say. (Signed) ,IOHN WINSLOW. Meanwhile the sailors landed, and were freely supplied with milk, eggs, and anything they wanted, by the farmers. Small parties of soldiers landed, chatted with the people, examined their farms, or strolled to the uplands in search of a partridge, and in the afternoon joined the people as they repaired to the church. The women had milked the cows, and prepared supper, but no one came from the church. Rose came to her uncle's, alarmed at Henri's absence. " Supper," said Blandine, " is ready, they soon must be here." The moon rose, and the sisters stole out and ran to the church which they found surrounded by- soldiers, who answered their inquiries by pointing their bayonets and ordering [ih.em to go home. y T L li ii 228 SKETCHES OF They met many of tho women from the houses nearest tho church all anxious and sad at tho detention of their friends. At daybreak Blandino read the following notice which was stuck on tho fence opposite tho house : ('oni;(iiii), Ith Sept., IV^.^. All ofHicers, .soldior.s, and .sciiineu omployod in His Majosty's service, as well as all his .^Jubjects, of what denomination soevei", arc hereby notified that all cattle, vi/., horses, horned cattle, sheep, goats, hogs, and poultry of ovary kind, that was this day supposed to be vested in the French inhabitants of this Province, have become forfeited to his Afajesty, whose jiroperty they now are; and every person, of what doncniination soever, is to take care not to hurt, destroy, or kill, any of any kind, nor to rob orchards or gardens, or to make waste of any thing dead or alive in these districts, without special order given at my camp, tlie day and place to be published throughout the camp and at the villaf,'c where the vessels lie. JOHN WTNSLOW. Lieut.-Col. Commanding, Blandine was speechless with terror, — death staring them in the face, Henri and her uncle both absent. Meanwhile the people in the church, to the number of three hundred, were addressed by the Captain commanding the troops, who stood on a bench in the centre of the house surrounded by his officers. Genti.kmen : I have received from His Excellency Governor Lawrence, the King's Commission, which I have in my hand ; and by his orders you are convened together to manifest to you His the the NOVA SCOTIA. 220 Majest)'d final resolutions to the French inhubitanta of this his Provincp of Nova Scotin, wlio, for almost half a century, have had more indulgence granted them than any of his subjects in any part of his dominions ; what use you liave made of it you yourselves best know. Tho part of duty I am now upon, though necessary, is very disagreeable to my natural make and temper, as 1 know it must be grievous to you, who are of the same species ; but it is not my business to animadvert but to obey such orders as I rcceivft, and therefore without hesitation shall deliver to you bin Majesty's orders and instructions, namely : 'J'hat your lands and tenements, cattle of all kinds, and live stock of all sorts, are forfeited to the Crown, with all your other eftpcts, saving your money and your household goods, and you yourselves to be removed from the Province. Thus it is peremptorily Ilis Majesty's orders, that (he whole French inhabitants of these districts be removed, and I am, through His Majesty's goodness directed to allow yoti liberty to carry ofTyour money and household goods, as many as you can, without discommoding the vessels you go in. I shall do every- thing in my power that .ill these goods be secured to you, and that you are not molestrd in carrying them off; also, that whole families shall go in the same vessel, and make this remove, which 1 am sensible must give you a great deal of trouble, as easy as His Majesty's service will admit ; and hope that in whatever part of the world you may fall, you may be faithful subjects, a peaceable and happy people, f must also inform you that it is TTis Majesty's pleasure that you remain in security under the inspection and direction of the troops that 1 have the honor to command ; 1 therefore, in the King's name, declare you all his prisoners. Three hundred men and boys found themselves close prisoners in their own church ; some of the boys screamed aloud, some attempted to force the door, but were overawed by the muskets of their guards. Henri Lapicrre, Bonang, and some others 1^ 230 SKETCHES OF wero too angry and 8urprise«>ii— ii>ni)nir*«h^f*5SSSS NOVA SCOTIA. 239 hundred aud thirty women, and five hundred au ^ seventy unmarried maidens, were kneeling on each aide of the way leading from the chapel to the shore, which was distant a mile. One long wail of bitter woe rent the morning as the sad procession passed along and entered the five vessels which immediately made sail and passed Blomedon, the wretched passengers totally unaware of their desti- nation. Next day the women and children were embarked, and these forlorn ones, separated from their fathers and husbands, presented a most melancholy and desolate picture, too sad to contemplate. As the soldiers were apprehensive that some men might have escaped, they burned, on the lovely banks of the Gasperaux alone, six hundred and eighty-six buildings, eleven mills, and the church. Cattle to the number of nearly eight thousand, and upwards of twelve thousand other animals — horses, sheep and hogs, roamed through the fertile Pre without an owner to claim them. This garden of Nova Scotia had not been opened up as it now is by cultivation, on the edges of the rivers they had improved the marsh and pastured their flocks in the Grand Prair, the undulating hills now richly cultivated, waving with grain and dotted with orchards, were then covered with the *' forest primeval, the bearded pines and the 240 SKETCHES OF hemlocks." Then, as now, the river Gasperaux, steals from a little lake near to the sources of the LaHavc, empties into a larger lake of its own name, flows through many a mile of hill and hollow, amid scenery of a wild grandeur and surpassing beauty, between two lofty and almost perpendicular hills it rushes through a chasm-like bed in the heart of the mountain; in this Alpine spot the sinuosities of the stream is such that from the brow of the hill it appears like a point. A zig-zag foot- path, known to the Indian, winds down this precipitous steep ; here many of the wretched Acadians fled and remained till the soldiers were withdrawn. This spot, then clothed with trees did not present the indescribable beauties which it now does. The river pursued its course, the mountains and hills receded from it, resting from its previous hasty journey in a placid stream, its tortuous course was through quiet, rich, lowlying meadows, till it met the returning tide from the Avon, where the marsh and upland met, gall bushes and alders with bulrushes grew to the height of several feet, stagnant pools were around the hummocks over which thousands of congregated midges dart and dance. Beyond the marsh and meadows is a lofty and extended mountain chain, from which the many rivers which empty into the Basin appear to have- NOVA SCO i I A. 241 burst, leaving a deep chasm, the chain terra ina'',cd by the cloud-capped summit of the lofty cape. Smouldering ruins, enclosed by rows of currant and gooseberry bushes, by apple-trees and clumps of the never failing willows, were seen through the gloom and foggy, smoky atmosphere. Beyond lay smiling in the sunlight the wide expanse of the waters of the Basin and the Isles and blue highlands which bound the opposite shore of Minas. This was the view which these Acadian exiles looked on with tearful eyes as the darkly wooded isles and highlands receded from their view. Here Mr. Urban paused in his story, remarking that the night was wearing late. "What became of Kose and Henri ?" said Dr, Dermott. " Their fortunes must be left for another evening's amusement," replied Mr. Urban. In vain the hunters begged him to continue his story. He was inexorable. " At least you might give us a synopsis of it." "Oh," said he, " it includes some of the trials of the Acadians in the other Provinces whither they were dispersed, Blandine and Rose being again taken prisoners at the surrender of Louisburg to the British in 17 — and the return and settlement of a remnant of them in Nova Scotia. Next morning Mr. Urban and his friend M. 242 SKETCHES OF Nouvelle Ecossoi were called to bid a hasty adieu to the Moose-hunters, and also to you my country men and women through whose support this volume is now given to the public. . y itmim. APPENDIX. In a work for the public it would be invidious to notice the Pioneer of any denomination as such. Whilst the biographies of many men who labored here have been written by their particular secta, thus becoming part of our country's history, this man who came so early to the country and toiled thirty- three years in it, has been unmeutioned. The Rev. James Murdoch was born at Gillie Gordon, Donegal, Ireland, in 1746, and was educated in the University of Edinburgh. He was appointed, along with Messrs. France and Cowen, on a mission to Nova Scotia by the General Associate Synod of Scotland in 17()5 ; at the same time he received a call from Lisburne. Messrs. F, and C. declined the mission. Other demands being made for Mr Murdoch to labor at home, we find by the original copy of the Minute of Synod now beside us, that the Presbytery of Newtown Limavady, were enjoined by Synod " to forward all his trials for ordination with a view o said appointment and mission." These trials having been passed on the 2nd inst., at Aghadowie, a j)?'o ?'e nata meeting was held at Rye, Sept. 11th, by Rev. Robert Reed, Moderator, where he was ordained for " the Province of Nova Scotia, or any other part of the American Continent where God in his providence shall call him ;" and sailed for N. S. September 1766. His destination was Amherst, but landing in Halifax, the more central situation of Horton was chosen by him, where he obtained a grant of land. From this centre of the Province he visited the Scotch-Irish settlers scattered over it, who al I claimed him for their Minister, as he undoubtedly was the first Presbyterian Minister who came to the Province and remained it. In 1768 we find Mr. M.'stating that Mr. Comingo's ordination was a dernier resort, as no ministers could be obtained from . > '^"fm U APPENDIX. Britain or New ICiigland. About this timo Mr. Lyons left tho Province. 'J'hat Mr. M. visited tho preaching stations extending from Fort Lawrence and inelnding the settlers on tho Basin.s of Cuinberlund and Minas regularly every year nntil other Ministers came to share the labors, is proved by his own nuuuiHcripta. He is said to have been an effective and ac- complished preacher, a meek, humble, pious nuui, firm in his adherence to Prcsbyterianism, with a kindliness of disposition which prompted him to give rather than to amass property. His library, judging l)y the present list, which does not include those " lent," must have been very valuable, embracing all the current literature of the day, as well as tho works of the school- men. An old French soldier, who had served under the First Napoleon, was presented with the St. Helena Modal in the Poor-house in Halifax, N. S., Feb, 18G0. — Halifax paper. Lone, sitting at the poor-house gate, Bent under fourscore years, From stranger's hand his bread to take, A son of Franco appears. A boy he played on vine-clad hills Which skirt the sunny Rhone ; In youth a conscript's place he fills Where war's fierce eagles shone. He saw the mad ungoverned crew Dead Louis bear away. Their hands in Queenly blood imbue Like demons in their play ; Saw Europe's crowns the game of war. Napoleon glory's hope. E'er Josephine, his guiding star, Fell from his horoscope. A wanderer next on British soil, The victor gone ; the crowd 1 1 All— APPENDIX. On Waterloo all sunk to rest; A Bourbon ruled St. Cloud. As he reviews the scenes of yore He hears a martial tread, And through the poor-house gates there pour A brilliant cavalcade. With Medal from Napoleon Third, For years of service done, French words his inmost soul have stirred — " Thus France rewards her son." And turning from their proffered hand, French sound:, still fill his ear, He sought his room, a proud old man, To hide the falling tear. HI ■««■'•'** ff^*WI ERRATA Page 33, for 1799, read, 1789; page 58, after cried, read HoBanna to the Son of David again cried ; page 82, for countg, read county ; page 91, last line, for hath, read have. --'- •?"«««i^¥«^Sffiy T^~ 'j'" ■ ^3