IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I to 121 |2.5 ■^ ^ 12.2 :!f ufi 12.0 1.25 III 1.4 III 1.6 .< 6" ► Photografiiic Sciences Corporation "A 23 WIST MAIN STREfT WEBSTER, N.Y. MSM (716)872-4503 K^ * i CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/iCIVIH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiquas Technical and Bibliofiraphic Notas/Notaa tachniquas at bibliographiquas Tha Instituta hat attamptad to obtain tha baat original copy availabia for filming. Foaturaa of this copy which may ba bibliographicaily uniqua, which may altar any of tha imagaa in tha reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur I I Covers damaged/ D D Couverture endommagAe Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurie et/ou pelliculAe Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque I I Coloured maps/ D D D n Cartes gicgraphiquas en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.a. autre que blaue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Relii avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La re liure serr6e peut causer de I'ombra ou de la distortion le long de la marge intirieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certainas pages blanches ajout6es lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte. mais, lorsqua cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 filmias. Additional comments:/ Commentaires supplAmentaires: L'Institut a microfilm* la mailleur exemplaire qu'il lui a At* possible de se procurer. Les details da cat exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du point de vua bibliographiqua. qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mAthoda normale de filmage sont indiquis cidessous. □ Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Tl to n o o This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est film* au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous. Pages damaged/ Pages endommagAes Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaur^as et/ou pelliculAes Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages ddcolordes, tachetdes ou piqudes Pages detached/ Pages ditachies Showthrough/ Transparence T» P< of fil Oi be th si( ot fir si< or I I Quality of print varies/ Quality inigale da I'impression Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du material suppl^mantaire I I Only edition available/ Seule Mition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been ref limed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalament ou partiallement obscurcies par un fauillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6t6 filmies A nouveau de fa9on A obtanir la mailleure image possible. Th sh Tl wl Ml dil en' be rig re( m( 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X y 12X 16X 20X :■■>.■'■' 24X 28X 32X ^ywf^ 'e Stalls IS du nodifier ir une ilmage IS The copy filmed here has been reproduced thank* to the generosity of: National Library of Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol ^^- (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol y (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'exemplaire film* fut reproduit grice it la gAnirositA de: BibliothAque nationale du Canada Las images suivantes ont 6tA reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetA de t'exemplaire film*, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de fiimage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimte sont filmis en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la derniAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont fiimis en commen^ant par la premiAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la derniire page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles sulvants apparaftra sur la derniAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole -^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre filmAs A des taux de reduction diffArents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichi, il est film« A partir de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n^cessaire. Les diagrammes sulvants illustrent la mithode. irrata to pelure, D 32X 1 2 3 1 t » 4 S 6 h C' m\ AND INTED B C■«* ...3''-' ' n i I fNTED BV JOHN LOVBLL, ST, NICHOLAS STRBBT. 1866. .'.■^■■''- i--':. L ^:.. n- % t'^^^P ^ 1. Trk Hi (2. Tbs Hk ADVKm . Loot Bi . ThxMii . NiOHT i rHKBUi Odb Fib Prisoili thbX Thb Bbl Babblbc INDEX. PAUI8. 1 1. Tnx MiLLKRITB FAKATIO ; OR, TBB MiDlTIOHT IXMXRSION 11 |2. Ths Hiohlandxkn'b Hunt; or, thk Talk or thb Black Hoo 28 ADTKNT0RBS WITH RKUOIOITB IMPOSTORS 84 ■#■' Lvov Briobtok, thk Lost Girl #. .v. 78 \. Thb MiDHioHT Strcoolb , 86 KiOHT Advbitturbs in a Uravb Yard. . ; 97 [. Thb RuBSBLTOWN Traobdt Ill Our First Attbmpt at Sugar Makiho 122 \. PrISOILLA POMINVILLB, THB CAPTIVBGIRL; OS, THB RAID OP THB Mohawks 129 Thb Bbll op Cauohnawaoa 149 Ramblbs in thb Backwoods; or, Lipb im thb Forbbt 168 Ai! \i • '. 1 tl v., V-rV. 'tf^fil l^n'riiJ v.> I :/*'.' ,:i n, ■01 J^MBU A^fa^' j'T u Hm'> l;*"'( '■'.' '-.iV.^ -^^/ J.« PRELIMINARY. *>..;■ ^Ai^: • >.■ 5. Canada, though comparatively a new country, is in itself replete with incidents and events, of which the most promi< nent have received an embodiment by the historic pen; nevertheless, there is surplus material sufficient to consti- tute innumerable volumes, — material, which if neglected to [be gathered, will, like the leaves of the forest, naturally decay, and eventually become converted into the oblivious [element of the past. Unlike many of the older countries, jCanada has but few literary pioneers and sons of song. Tet what a noble field there is for the native sons of genius gather therefrom the forest laurels of a past age, to idom the literature of their country, and to give it that mystical enchantment which antiquity alone is capable )f giving. Oh ! for a shade of Scott, Cooper or Irving, call up the Indian from his tomb, — the hero from the )attle-field, — the mariner from the deep ; to breathe upon their dry bones, — to embody them in nobler forms, and to ^ive to them a life and an immortality unknown before ! >, ye Canadians ! why will ye slumber in literary indolence md allow your noble rivers to roll on, year after year, I' unlettered and itntung ?" With the Indian their poetry iV PRELIMINARY. and romance exist only, and with him they die. One would naturally suppose thiit a country so varied and romantic in scenery, and so full of historic interest, would bo richly favourable to the production of poets and novelinte. But not so ; the flowers of literary genius do not seem to flourish here. The Parnassian laurel when soon, resembles only a rare exotic drooping in an un^^nial clime, and unwatered by i nectarean fountains of Helicon. Poets are exotics that our country does not produce : the " almighty dollar " is our immortal bard ; he is the Apollo of our mountains, lakes, and rivers, and the wandering minstrel with the golden harp. '" "• ' " ^'■ The colonies of ancient ages were the luxuriant gardens j of the muses: but those of the modern era appear to be destitute of the germs of poesy. Th^ prophetic mantle of the poetic minstrel has not fallen upon them ; the spirit of inspiration is apparently dead within their souls; and money and matter of /act are the only essential elements of their genius. Look at Canada, for instance, noted as she is for her agricultural and mineral resources, and commercial enterprise : how feeble have been her united | efforts to patronize her native genius of literature ; com- paratively nothing has been do te.* ^r * Canada is however largely indebted to John Lovell, Esq., otl Montreal, for his indefatigable spirit in aiding in its literary audi educational advancement. He is the most extensive Printer andl Publisher in the B. X. A. Provinces, and throughout them bisl i-: ' PRKMMINARY. io. One Tied and at, would novelists, t seem to roscmbleB lime, and in. Poets luce : the the Apollo wandering nt gardens era appear! * prophetic pon them ; ithin their ly essential tr instanoe, louroes, and her united! ;ure ; com- Where arc now her " Literary Garlands nnd Ma- jazincs?" Tlicy havo been literally starved to death; rhilst Brother Jonathan, in return for his goniu» of light literature, has fed luxuriantly upon her rich pas- tures, until at length, like a certain scriptural celebrity, le has ^^ waxed /at nnd kicked.^* Look to her authors! lYhero are they ? One after another they have darted forth upon the world like meteors; the most of them lave only flashed for a moment, lightened only their own Ihort course, and then sank again into obr>curity ; but if [ncouragcmcnt had been given them they might have become tarri/ suns of systems, instead of shooting stars. The poet Sangster is fretting over his peouniai^ loss of [tcrary labour, &o., and resolving to resign his pen. The Scottish spirit of McLaughlan was determined not yield to the vicissitudes of literary misfortune, and he 3ame the travelling salesman of his own books. The [ankees peddle the printed brain-work of other people, but sotchmen generally peddle their own. The genius of Heavysege still exists within his champion, it the £ndoric spirit has passed away, a:id '' Saul " is left jsupported. ri:: > •;; 'Hi^ hool Books, &c., are universally patronized, He is recognized a person of prodigious energy and enterprise. He is indeed veil, bsq., ^He friend and patron of native talent and literature — the encou- literary *" Hger of Home Manufactures, and the liberal supporter of every Printer an m.^^ cauge Jq which the temporal and spiritual welfare of the out them bisi bple is involved. I 8. PRKLIMIirARr. Cmil has not boon fkvonred with tho pntronAgo thnt h'lH "Sketch of Canadian History ".haa entitlcfl him to, par { ticularly among tho descendants of tho Dundasian Loyalists. who8o deeds ho has endeavoured to immortalise. And poor unfortunate Clement, the gifted child otl misfortune, ho found but little comfort in his " Canadiaii| Homes;" but he is now gone from the chilly storms of thi.' world's adversity, and I hope, is now basking in the eternalj sunshine of tho Celestial Home. The gifted pen of a Mrs. Moodie, whose whole life h characteristio of exemplary fortitude, has inscribed hcij genius upon the monument of fame in other lands ; whilst] the envious critics of Canada have done little more than t(\ chalk her name upon the blackboard of censure. Moi need we refer to her sister, Mrs. Trail, a^so a well know^ authoress, to see the literary /avour« of a Canadian public Not only in these, but in all, and ever3rwhere, ar shadowed forth the lineaments of a relentless advorsitj among the sons and daughters of genius. Like the wande^ ing Jews, they feel as if they were despised in the sight men, having no permanent resting place of abode, ad verifying in themselves that an author, like a prophet, " i| without honour in bis own country." What, may be asked, makes a nation intellectually greatj It is its authors. They give embodiment to the spirit the present, an existence to the past, a reality to the futurek and to the unborn millions of posterity an historic PRELIMINAIIT. liniortAlity of their country, it§ civil, roH«;iouH, literary luul )litical progresfl; itii horoci, ita institutioni*, rcflourcen, Ac, itil at length their spirits become the animated csAcncc of ke past; and when millionaires and unmerited distinction iuU have passed away into oblivion forever, they shall exist the deathless remembrance of future ages. In again presenting myself to the public, as an author, I ^c no apology. I neither court favour nor fear censure ; )r is praisc^ — that paltry perishable breath of mortals — any [ducement whatever. I have written for ray own amuse- mt, and from a desire to preserve events, which otherwise )uld have fallen into oblivion; and now I publish as a 3uns to facilitate my anticipated travels. The material )m which these Tales have been manufactured has been llected from personal, and other reliable sources; and hough some of them may appear to matter - of- fact iders as the flourishes of fiction, I can give no better sa of their reality than by comparing them with a living )n when clothed. They are embodied facts; but I |vo undertaken to dress and embellish a few of them such a manner as I thought most suitable to my own khion. ^s? With these preliminary remarks, I now introduce my iders to the " Canadian Summer Evening Tales." A. L. SPEDON. St. Jkan Chrtbobtoms, iTKAUQUAY Co., C.E., May, 1806. a2 i :' "TA^lilo '\- H, /' ■f > ■J.s^ t f '1 fj^. V5> TALE I. ""la THE MILLERITE FANATIC; OB, ,.^,:,. . .^ THE MIDNIGHT IMMERSTON. -ti' „u At length commission'd by the Prince of Fate, On wings of light the fiery chariot flies,— f^vit ; The Saints in white ascension robes await^ ^t v. And heavenward strain their wearied eyes, To hail the heavenly car that bears them to the skies. Theologt, like every other science, has had its false expositors; Religion, its quack professors; Devotioij, its fanatics and impostors. The Bible has been warped into innumerable shapes, and its vital blood wrung out upon the altars of a thousand creeds. Not in the cold formalities of the lips — nor within the shadows of the hypochondriac spirit — neither in the evanescent ebullitions of the heart- but in the immeasurable and immortal depths of the soul which has been stamped by the royal signet of heaven, is to be found — and there only — the real essential essence of devotional religion. Some twenty years ago a religious fanatic by the name of Miller, a resident of Vermont State, solemnly predicted 12 THE MILLEBITE FANATIC J M! ! i that on a certain day Christ was to appear in the sky, — the righteous and the righteous dead to be withdrawn from the earth, — the world and the wicked to be destroyed by fire, and that the Saints were then to return to earth in its purified state, and there live and reign with Christ a thousand years, &c. Such a prediction might have merited an excusal had not the day of dissolution been stated with certainty — a day that the Saviour himself informs us, is a scaled mystery, and known only to God himself. How daring, then, is that man who attempts to take the reins of government from the hand of God, and say unto him: " Lo 1 the harvest of the earth is ready, — the reapers are few, therefore, go to now and thrust thy sickle into the earth!" Incredible as the doctrine, as a whole, appeared to be, like all other religious novelties, it soon scattered its influence abroad, and gathered around it a host of enthu- siastic believers. Its agents were active in disseminating its vital power. In many parts of the United States and Canada, meetings were held nightly, and many people were converted and baptized. The Prophets and Apocalypse were dissected ; their ramifications traced and expounded — Chronology performed miracles upon the ram's horns and the iron teeth of the dragon ; and therefrom discovered, to a nicety, the data of dissolution. Antichrist was blown into atoms by the little horn of Belteshazzar. Satan was weighed in the balance and found wanting. The signboards of Time were hung upon the gate-posts of Eternity as typical of the coming crisis ; Death was represented upon a pale horse — Hell was following post-chaise at his heels ; ApoUyon was mustering his forces in the Valley of Armageddon. The m OR, THE MIDNIGi-V >1M£R8I0N. 18 dragon was wiping off the stars of heaven with his tail ; |hc Seventh Seal was opened; the last vial was being )ured out upon the earth ; time's clock was striking its )t hour; the bells of heaven's temples were pealing )rtb ; Michael, the Archangel, was lifting up the golden rumpet to his lips to waken up the sainted sleepers of le tomb, and proclaim to universal nature the death of *ime and the birth of Eternity. Such was the prelude of lat universal crisis. As the day of dissolution drew near, ccitement became rampant among believers. Many acted reckless of the world, and manual labor was almost sus- inded ; women became deranged, and some committed acts violence and even suicide ; men stared aghast, waiting \t the miraculous advent. Ascension robes were made, — itforms were erected — ministers, in flowing mantles, raded to and fro, crying aloud, " Woe, woe to the wicked labiters of the earth ; let us fear God and give glory to lim, for the hour of His judgment is come." , I A very credible story is related of a party of Millerites [ving mounted a high platform on the morning of the Last fty, to await the coming of the Messiah, and be in readiness I take wing. There stood the minister in his silken robes, rounded by his flock in flowing garments, all of whom re in wild confusion, giving praise and glory to King of kings. At length a distant oloud was seen in azure sky, apparently floating hitherward. Every irt was elated with celestial joy, and every eye gazed ivenward, expecting momentarily to behold the beatifio ion. So intense did the excitement become that many ^an to jump like maniacs, and yell like very demons, length a terrific crash was heard — a simultaneous shout the wild fanatics was given, and in one instant all 14 THE MILLIRITE FANATIC ; M i ' li ! I I': wore precipitated to the earth among the broken timbers of; the platform, and in the amazement of horror to find their immortal selves only a maimed mass of mortality, and Airther than ever from the celestial r^ons of the Newi Jemsalem. . > ,; i. •,<- But the story which I am about to reUte is not th fiction of an idle dream, nor tiie flying gossamer of gossip's tongue — it is therefore true — and my enthusiast! heroine is nothing more than a true specimen of thoi celestial beings who haunted the sun^y temples of the cloud and flourished during the palmy days of Millerism. /; At no great distance from the eastern extremity of tbi County of Huntingdon, C. E., lived a respectable farm by the name of Kennebec Kirtleworth. He was a man strong mental capacities, judicious in his actions, and nev< willing to embrace any novelty of the age until he hai proved its virtues. His religious faith was that of tl Episcopal church. His wife was, however, remarkabl] credulous, fond of the beautiful and romando, but at timi most sublimely ridiculous. She was a warm-hearted vot of the Wesleyan Methodists. Notwithstanding the di ference in their religious views, they lived in congCDii happiness and contentment. It happened, however, tl during the reign of Millerism, a Mr. Hutcheson, a Mi lerite agent, came into the neighbourhood to sell copii of " Miller's Second Advent," and if possible to establiB^'*®^ there a church of that faith. Mrs. Kirtleworth haviW^^^^^PtJ] read the works and attended the lectures on Milleri became at once a subject of its mesmeric influence ; oth also fell as victims to the faith. This produced quite revolution in other churches — ministers became enrasi and like a brave but defeated officer, they again and a^ is wakil ight dis one in " Bles ou appeJ OR, THE MIDNIOHT IMMERSION. 16 endeavoured to rally their fugitive soldiers around the han- ners of the Cross. They felt, as it were, the honours of their pulpits outraged — their holy sanctuaries defiled ; and in the strength of a devoted cause, they hurled anathemas upon the dbciples of the apostate church. * Our heroine at length hecame a reckless fanatic. She neglected her domestic duties— literally she cared nothing for the world ; to her it was only a fleeting shadow — its grandeur and beauty a misnomer of fiction ; terrestrial life a floating gossamer — and earthly happiness but the final cadence of expiring time. Eternal life and the glories of the celestial Advent were her only themes — her happi- ness — her life — her all. For these, and these alone, she had resolved to devote body and spirit during the sJwrt period of her earthly existence. Woman's influence over man may be strong indeed, but I Mr. Kirtleworth remained as impregnable to his wife's per- suasions as the adamant. At first he attempted to outreason her — but in return she was like the flint to the percussive steel — sparks flew and passion kindled, and poor Kennebec had to succumb in silence beneath the impassioned eloquence of her unruly tongue. Poor man : he beheld in jsorrow the increasing infatuation of his wife — the reckless- ness of his family — the disorder of his domestic afiairs — a Idisease without a remedy — and a d^radation without {redemption. He became at length dejected — the dreams of lis waking spirit tantalized him, and the visions of the light disturbed his soul ; and he felt, as it were, alone — lone in the world. " Bless my stars I Mr. Kirtleworth, how ill you look ; ^ou appear as if your stomach was possessed of a bad con- 16 THE MILLERITE FANATIC ; Ml i ;i science, and your face guilty or you having wronged the devil of his due last night," said neighbour Hallowell to him one morning. . ' ,t .*' - " Friend Hallowell, I suppose I look bad enough, but I assure you I feel worse; perhaps you are aware of the cause." '' Oh, nothing else but those infernal heretics, I suppose." " Well, they and my wife together." " Your wife ! Mr. Kirtleworth. Bless my soul ! has she transmogrified you into a Millerite at last ? — ha, ha ! — the thought of having to leave the world so soon is, as I see, all the trouble with you now — ha, ha, ha I Upon my soul, you arc only the shadow of Shukspeare, in sheep's clothing. , . ■ ., . The high-topt corn, the glorious pumpkins, The solemn cattle and the gorgeous horses. The barns and stables — yea your house itself, ' And all which it inherits, shall dissolve, '''-^'^> > And like the fiery car of Lucifer ,.. ^ ; ^ Leave not a Millerite behind. " Mr. Hallowell, you well know that I am no Millerite. I spurn them and their doctrines. But if you only knew what trouble I have with my wife and them, you would pity me." *' I have heard so, Mr. Kirtleworth, and laying all jokes aside, with my whole heart I really do pity you," said Hallowell, syiupathetically. The mind that is labouring under a load of troubles generally seeks for an opportunity and some kindred spirit or object worthy of confidence, in which to breathe the echoes of its sorrows, either real or imaginable. Such was the case with Mr. Kirtleworth. Mr. Hallowell, having OR, TH« MIDNIOnr IMMERSION. 17 liRtencd attentively to his neighbour's tale of sorrow, empha- tically cxclaifhed, " I can cure your wife, sir, and drive ^lillerism out of her head and heart in less than twenty- tour hours." Having acquainted Kirtleworth with the secret of tho )roposcd experiment, and obtained his asvsent and promise >f assistance, he depsirted in order to make the necessary irrangements. Hallowell went immediately to the parson )f the Episcopal Church, told him also the whole secret, and >btaincd from him his white surplice for the occasion — other iccessary articles were readily procured. Day passed away, and night had again closed its eyes ipon the world. Mr. and Mrs. Kirtleworth retired to bed. The calm solemn hour of midnight came, and with it same a knock upon the window of that chamber wherein khey slept. "Who's there and what do you want?" interrogated Mr. Kirtleworth. A sweet voice, tempered to the gentle softness of a jraph's tone, spoke forth, — " I am the Angel Gabriel, )mmissioned by the King of kings to visit this your earthly }nement, and take therefrom your beloved, sanctified and Adeemed spouse, Marion, and bear her aloft in her embodied tbrm to the celestial regions." "Glory I glory 1 AUeluiah!" shouted Marion. " You must take me also," said Kirtleworth. " Ungrateful sinner as thou art, sin-stained antl guilty is khy soul, thou hast spoken blasphemy against the celestial bhuroh, and lo I thy words are roistered in heaven j there- [bre thou can'st not go." " Uow often have I told thee, Kennebec, the truths this loly angel tells thee now, and with a woman's virtuous love 18 TUB MILLERITE FANATIC ; \m admonished thee ; but thou didst spurn my voice and laugliod my prayers with ridicule. Oh ! Kenpebec, repent I repent !" " Angelic lady, thou hast spoken well. Be silent now. Enrobe thyself in haste and I will bear thee, noble lady, from this wretched world of woe and wickedness." Mrs. Kirtleworth arose, put on her ascension robesJ pressed an angelic kiss upon the mortal lips of her husband — breathed a seraphic benediction upon his soul, — and went] out to meet the Angel Gabriel. What holy ecstasies fluttered around her spirit when shcl beheld the celestial messenger, — seated upon a miik-whitej steed — his raiment white as the virgin snows — a white! robe hung loosely around him — a white turban envelopedl his sacred head — a white vail covered the radiance of hisi face; a glorious whiteness enveloped all. i Without hesitation, she seated herself behind him upon the horse, and with tender arm clasped his etherial waistj OflF flew the charger with the celestial pair, — she gave one lingering look behind, but the old home soon vanbhed ii the darkness. . . ,; . . , '' Holy One I" she at length exclaimed, when shall w^ arrive at the New Jerusalem ?" , . • > ! " In one short hour," he said. ' ^ *' Do the celestial regions surpass in glorious reality the| representations of man's highest imaginings?" she then inquired. "Angelic lady," he replied, "no spirit embodied witlj mortality can form even the faintest conception of th^ sublimity, grandeur and magnificence of that glorious and h\ OR, THE MIDNIGHT IMMERSION. 19 voice andjKniortal kingdom. Not even I can tell thee in the feeble ic, repent l^&^guagc of mortals : — ' Heaven has a language of Its own To give embodiment to angels' thoughts ; With it alone could I the heavens describe, Where hills wf ether plume the radiant skies. Where fertile vales of light perennial bloom, Where crystal springs in living rivers run, Where bloom the fadeless flowers of Paradise And wings of countless angels fan the air, Too pure for aught but sainted souls to breathe. "Beautiful — poetically beautiful I" exclaimed Marion ^thusiastically. > Having gone about ivro miles tbej came to a small river it intersects that part of the country, and Gabriel reined his charger to a halt upon the brink. I" Angelic goddess !" said he, we have now arrived at it spot of earth where for the last time thou shalt set foot upon unhallowed ground ; but ere thou bidst adieu all sublunary things, I must baptize thee in the river |rdan, and thence wt shall ascend in the majesty of celestial immortal glory." ^^ I" That will be glorious ! — glorious !" shouted Marion. [Having dismounted, he tied his horse, and then led his i;clic lady down upon the immersion platform, that had m erected by the Millerites, — the very spot where Marion been previously immersed. He then drew with chalk lagio circle around where they stood, and with his jhanted wand, played a few fantastic cantrips over her. ien embracing her with fond arms, he gently dropped into the water, muttering at the same time some ^sterious paternoster. . 20 THB MILLERITE FANATIC ; i'" ! pill "AlcUuin! Alelluial Amen!" Bhoutcd Marion, and lii a garden lily she flouted on the streara. ' Then seizing hold of her somewhat roughly, he plungf^ her into the depths of the water, and shouting aloud in sort of a chant, "Oh ! that will be glorious— glorious!" " Oh, Gabriel! Gabriel!" exclaimed Marion as she ro^ upon the surface, " that is enough — enough!" " Thy skin is like the Ethiopian's, and thy colour as tJ leopard's," said he, " therefore thy body must bo olean^ of all its earth-impurities ere thou depart," and down plunged her again — again — and again, chanting at i\ chorus, " Oh ! this will be glorious — glorious." l'^ "Vile monster that thou artt darest thou insult thus ? — dost thou attempt to take my life ?" blubbered oJ the half-drowned Marion after having again drawn brcaij above the water. '*^-'M:- .\ . ' '. 1 • . , ■ ...: . •,, -">, ,;V^' %-.'^ .rh/ ! < ■ '■■■<- '■ .::-ri, ;..>, '■v> >-' :>, ' 'v., ;', ^r'-'' ■ ■' '■'' ,1' tj . .i^ :>. » 'r. ^.^.!.;= ■•■ .•: u.^s.J ,.,,, .*■;:,;„-, ■" _, *' \ '^^? : '.'' ' ,, ■•.■-•:.'^ :..;.' J a ., ^BOUT th ■ ■'■'';:,".• i : '.., ifi, • --.;.''■, 's^f' Settled in • „■„» .' •' ',-,;^ Hind in the *-'' ;■ ■■■• ' y-, ,hy Hnd warrio Hasily drui • ■ « Hdjoining ] '_ ,c!;f '^*'?'-' ft.E,and( ",■ , ' 'i ■■-■■■■■■" •„■-:::'■:-?■;/ , ' Wbr several ■">i - , -^ .->. ' i|cars of m ^'i.-'-. 1 They w "■■■%■■■ -' \ Hnd illiteru ■Btics. Tl ^. ,£U.,^ • Hupcrstitio '-■ ^f' ■ lian in th( TALE II. THK HKJHLANDMEN'S HUNT; OR, A TALE OF THE BLACK HOG. I'm nae a " Chew," old Tonald said ; ^ y ' I'se love the pork, but hate the swine ; An' if the diei pe in him's head, I'll chew him if he enters mine. , lBout the yoar 1814, a number of Highland emigrants ittled in the vicinity of Ghambly, C. E., on a tract of md in the seigniory of Sir John Johnston, the noted loyalist |nd warrior. Finding the soil to be somewhat low, and not isily drained, they removed to a newly-surveyed district, [djoining Beech Ridge, now in the county of Chateauguay, ). E , and constituted the " Scotch Settlement," which place, )r several jears, vvas known by the name of" Egypt," the viry sc vOient in which I unfortunately spent too many [cars of my life. They were a friendly and social people, but very simple |nd illiterate, and retained nearly all their national charactcr- Btics. They were Presbyterians, but full of bigotry and [upcrstition, believing more in the darhiess of witchcraft |hun in the light of reason and common scdhc. They were, I 24 THE IIIonLANDMEN's HUNT 1 ii I indeed, a singiilar people, and their eccentricities could furnish material for many a ludicrous story. The following is only a specimen : At Beech Rid^c lived an eccentric individual, by the \ name of John Gray. John was a Lowland Scotchman,! of largo, muscular growth. His habits were social, butj extremely coarse ; his actions were slow, but sure, and very eccentric at times ; he had a rusty kind of a voice, and as! a whole, I'ke the gnarled oak, he was of more value than beauty, and but little polished, either mentally or physically. Jenny, his wife, was oven more eccentric in her way.| Order and taste had no place in the catalogue of her house- hold virtues ; she was always happy, and ever looking for- ward to be happier; she felt as contented in her fantastic] " Joseph " of medley patch-work, as the Queen of Sheba in her purple robes. And, although at variance with the laws! of taste, she was as likely to have potatoes, porridge, and pea-soup for supper as anything else. Their family were the living representatives of both parents, and, like the ironl ore, of more value than attraction. They were also happjl in their homespun, and knew but as little of the world a&\ the world knew of them. Their shanty was a rough build- f ing of round logs, ten feet by fifteen, earthen floor, barkl roof, and containing an orifice at the top to let the light in,| and the smoke out. During their first winter in the woods,! one corner of the hut was partitioned off for their cow, the! other was the domestic residence of a large sow. Even inl this apparently miserable abode, they lived happy, andl though they were destitute of the luxuries of higher lifeJ they knew not the rippled temper of being either whimsieall or fastidious in food and clothing. However, they hadl OB, A TALE OP THK BLACK HOQ. Ipromiscd themselves a glorious feast on the hog, of both roast and boil, during the spring work. Spring at length arrived, and the day name when the fattened hog was destined to yield up the gliost, and the 3vil spirit thereof, and become transformed into the nutri- tious element of human life — to lend vigour to the muscles )f John and family during their hard spring labour. But rhilst John was attempting to seize hold of the animal, ^t sprang suddenly from its stronghold and long confine- lent, carried away the shanty door from off its hinges, like the gates of Gaza, and gambolled around the door-yard in canton frolic, and was followed by John and family. The mimal, at length smelling the foul play, and believing its )ursuers to be in earnest, galloped off into the woods, and lever favoured them with even a transient visit. Late in autumn of the same year, one of the ** Egypt " [ighlanders was hunting in the woods in the vicinity of lorton Creek, and came in contact with a large sow, having numerous progeny, half-grown, feeding on beech-nuts, |ind as fat and fierce as the ancient boar? of the Scottish lills. They were none other than the swinish stock and Interest of John Gray. But Donald, believing them to be rild boars of the forest, attacked thom, and succeeded in dlling one of the litter. He carried his booty home iformed one of his neighbours thereof, a relative of his ^wn, whom he desired to accompany him to the place, in |rder to procure their winter stock of bacon. On the following morning, they equipped themselves in |he Highland costume of kilt and philibeg, bonnet and fathers, with dirk, musket, powder-flask, and flagons of peat-reek." Darting through the forest, they soon arrived |t the spot where Donald had seen the boars. They 26 THE niaOLANDMENS HUNT: m f ' traversed the woods for some time, keeping a sharp " look- out" for the ^^ 2)0 res, ^' but no ^^ 2)orc8 " were to be seen or! heard. At length, having taken a good swig of the bottle, they purposed to follow the bank of the Norton Creek, and] ascertain if any marks of the ^^ pores " were visible in the] mud. Whilst scrambling over a shelving rock on the bank! Duncan observed a black animal run into a large creviccj or burrow beneath the rock. " Oh, Tonald, mun, haste ye, come here ; Ise pe findingl the nest o' the pores, an' seed ano as plack as a craw,' 1 cried Duncan. ^ Donald hastened to the spot, examined the orifice, peeredj into the dark cavern, and imagined he heard the " pores snoring soundly asleep. " She's pe the ' pores ' nest for sure," exclaimed Donald] " Weel, Tonald," said Duncan, " Ise pe thinkin' mysell the poies pe in ped sleepin' as sound as a pat in the lum.'j " Noo, Tuncan," said Donald, " ye'U pe stan' at the holej wi' yer tirk, and mysel' 'ill gang in an' gie the tarn pores ploody prog o' my steel." Duncan stationed himself at the mouth of the den, dirlj in hand, ready to give a good prog to the first animal thai attempted to venture out. Donald crept quietly into i\\\ don. Groping around him, he caught hold of one in it lair, and gave it a mortal prog. Another was likewise dij posed of, and he continued to grope around for the othcrsj Meanwhile, Duncan stood ready for action, staring oblique! into the hole, and heard Donald engaged at his savairf work. \ " She's nae pe squeel," said he to himself, " she's pedded asleep i' her plankets." Ill; ih OR, A TALE OF THE BLACK HOO. 27 At this moment ho was suddenly aroused into action at llie sight of a black, shaggy animal behind him, carrying a lead pig in its mouth, and apparently about to rusli into []\o hole. Believing it to bo the sow-pig, or " sow'-^wre," is he termed it, he plunged his dagger into its side sis it Attempted to enter. Then, gripping firmly hold of its lii, with the Herculean strength of a Celtic hero, he [ndeavoured to drag back the monster from its stronghold. " I say, Tuncan, what pe stop the light?" cried Donald. *' Suppose the tail o' the sow-pore pe prake, ye'll pe verra 3on know what pe stop the light," exclaimed Duncan. " Haud on, Tuncan, then," cried Donald, " Ise pe seeing ^is eyes." ' ♦' Oh, Tonald, Tonald, haste ye, gie the sow-pore a prog the een. Pe hurry man, she's pe soon gaun frae me, [n* as sure as the teil, ye'er as teid as a herrin'," shouted )uncan, holding on with both hands to its short tail, [asping and grinning like a hag struggling in the grips of demon. At this instant, Donald plunged his dirk into one of the jcs which were flashing red-hot like a fire-ball. It was a icky prog for poor Donald. Immediately it let drop its Kctim, and backed out. Duncan instantly sprang on the [nimal and dealt one dig of his dirk into its head. No )oner done, than it bounded off into the woods, with >uncan straddled over its back, Gilpin-like, holding fast its ninne, and at every opportunity plunging his dirk ito its body, and yelling on Donald to follow up. Donald hastened out of the den, and with utter astonish- lent beheld, at a distance, the black animal scampering off Inough the brushwood, with Duncan mounted upon its 28 THE HianLANDMEN's HUNT; fi r ■ i i "i te: i H5 INii -■. ! back, his hat off, and his black, shaggy hair flapping about | his neck, shouting vociferously on Donald. The animal, from its burden and the loss of blood, soon| slackened its speed ; Donald bounded forward, and in shorty time the " sow-pore " was dispatched as their victim. " Pless my soul and pody, Tuncan," exclaimed Donald, " she's no po o* the same preed I kilt yesterday." " Weel," said Duncan, " May pe she'll pe the French j preed o' pores ; an' tho' she's pe as plack an' ugly as the| teil himsel, may pe she'll pe goot for the paeon." " Weel, weel," said Donald, " if she pinna rost, she's] may pe goot for the poll, tho' she's pe as teugh as the teil. "I Having carried back tho "sow-pore," they entered the] cave, being determined to root out the rest from their lairj but found nothing more than the two animals that Donaldl had killed, and the one that was brought by the sow-porc.l Leaving these within the cave, they tied the feet of thej sow-pore together. Attaching a pole thereto, they shoulderedl their black booty, and started homewards in triumph. As they moved along the rough forest road of Beecl Eidge, in the vicinity of John Gray's shanty, his wife,! Jenny, beheld, with surprise and horror, the two tall, black, boney Highlanders, in full costume, with blood-stained faces, marching with regular step, carrying the sow-pore between| them at shoulder height. Jenny had heard in Scotland many a wild story aboutl the savage Indians of America, how that many of theml went perfectly naked, others with only a blanket aboutl them, that they painted their faces with the blood of their] white victims, and had feathers growing out of their heads ;| that they carried hatchets, bow and arrows, and long knivosi to kill the white people with) and, worse than all) that thcjl III OR, A TALE OP THE BLACK HOO. 29 :inncd their victims alive, then roasted and ato them, and jrwards made tobacco-pouches out of their skins. What a host of horrors haunted the mind of poor Jenny fray at that moment. She had never before seen a High- inder in full costume, and when she beheld the two heroes 16 believed them to be none other than savage Indians irrying one of their white victims to their place of rendez- )us. Terrified and bewildered, almost frantic, she and le others of the family present, hurried off towards John, ^ho was working convenient to the shanty. " Oh, John, John, John," exclaimed Jenny, wringing 3r hands together in bewildered horror, " the Indians are wiing upon us to kill us a\ an^ they^ve a man carrying stween them that theyWegauntae Milan' eat, it may he at n shanty. Oh, John, what' II we do? what' II wedoV " The Indians I d'ye say ?" ejaculated John, starting up, Guid guide us, whaur aboots are they, Jenny?" " Oh, yonder ; yonder, they're commin\ an' as sure as lith, John, it's oor Geordie they hae ; I ken him by his ick coat, an they re gaun tae eat him at oor hoose. Oh, eaven preserve us a'. Bless my soul, we' II a' he deid men a few minutes. Oh, John, let us rin tae the wuds; rin. In, my wee hit haimies, rin — rin for yer life." " Rin, then," said John, wildly starting forth ; and lerewith, Jenny and her bairns, with the- exception of [eordie, their eldest son, who was absent at the time, fled ce a gang of furies to the woods, without ever looking ick to see whether John or the Indians were following. John, however, at once had recognised them to be High- Anders, and he hailed them as they approached. " What on airth are ye carrying thare, gentlemen f iterrogated John. . '-a I 30 THE niOHLANDMEN 8 HUNT ; ! !i • 1 1 " A sow-pore," said Donald. ** A what ?" intcrroj^atod John. "A sow-pore," repeated Donald, "that wo hac kilt foi the paeon." " A French sow-pore," added Duncan. "A soo-poreT exclaimed John, laughingly, "I never! heard o' sic a name gien cither to ony beast or body sin' I was born ; may be it'll be some idiom o' yer Gaelic gibber- ish nae doot, but I wad ca' it naethin' else but a mucklej bear." "^ pear, exclaimed Donald, **py cosh, I never seed a] pear a/ore." " Pless my soul" said Duncan, " aw' it pe a pear. 1\ thocht it pc a pore, an^ a sow-pore o' the French preed." The whole adventure was related to John, who suggested! at once that the hogs that Donald had seen might be hisj old sow and a litter. Consequently, it was agreed that] they should go in quest of the forest brood. Accordingly,! on the following morning, they returned to John's shantjj where Jenny, having been made aware of the facts, andl who the savage-looking foresters were, was also in rcadinessi to accompany John and them to the woods in search ol^ the old sow and its young ones. Jenny's hunting-dresjj consisted of many pieces, various colours, and varied tex-j tures, from the muslin white of her wedding garb, to thel woollen grey of the Canadian fewest; one stocking wasj black, the other white; a shoe and moccasin were fooll companions, whilst the head piece was the dimpled skeletoD| of John's wedding castor. Having arrived at the oave, they discovered that the animals which Donald had dirked were two cubs — thcl other, one of the litter which Bruin had designed for hcr| young ones. OR, A TALE OF THE BLACK IIOO. 81 In the course of an hour's research, the old sow and six )f her brood were discovered, and eventually shot. They rere shortly afterwards conveyed to John's shanty, where bach of the two Highlanders received one of the young I' pores" for his trouble. Thus were they all providentially )rovided with bacon and bear meat for the winter. But rhile Duncan lives he will never forget his ride on the bare )ack of the bear, and barely escaped with his life. Neither rill my readers, I hope, forget the story of the Hielan- ien's Hunt, and the Tale of the " Sow Pore." lDVENTI Enricl Wh03( Whof Whof His all But he Andfc Must c And ti [an withor [e may unf andom, anc lablj over\ redible thai ^ligion tha i^pocritc is assumes [om the pu fuths of re dn. In narrai Jttempt to i |od. My ( TALE III. .DVENTURES WITH RELIGIOUS IMPOSTORS. Enrich'd in soul, tho' poor in purse, is he ' Wliose spirit bears the genuine stnmp of heaven. Who for eternity, not time, lives well ; Who for his Saviour's sake would sacrifice His all, save but bis treasured wealth in Qod. But he who counterfeits religion's coin, And forges bills upon the bank of heaven Must cash at length his debit in hell's mint, And take the devil for his banker. [an without religion is like a ship at sea without rudder. [c may unfurl the safls of morality, still he is drifting at mdom, and subject to the Stygian storms that will inev- ibly overwhelm him. Unprofession, however, is more l-edible than hypocrisy. Better to bo without the garb of ^ligion than to be a wolf in sheep's olothing. But no rpocrite is more deserving of divine chastisement than he |hu assumes the capacity of a heayen-appointed agent, and [cm the pulpit, with polluted lips, attempts to preach the pths of revealed religion for the mere sake of pecuniary lin. In narrating the following events, I will by no means ttempt to insinuate evil against the anointed ministers of [od. My object is simply to expose the follies and iraposi- b2 34 ADVENTI RKS WITH 1:1 tious of men. — with wlioin I liavo bo»Mi ac<|u:untc(l, — win under tlu; l t preach the irospel. Abcjiit live and thirty years a^o, the Presbyterians »: Beeeh llid^e and adjoiniiii^ settlements, built a church, bn; had no stationed minister, until the year 1830, when th' Ucv. Thomas MclMierson became their pastor. Tli- church members were chiefly Highland and Lowlaii! Scotch. To supply their respective wants he administert'; the gospel in both the En^dish and Gaelic languages. Diir ing the years of iiis administration he had much to contcni with. The petty jealousies of a people so widely difterci in dialect and characteristics, began to ooze forth. Tii Gaelic people complained of his partiality to the Ijnglisl and desired that their sermons should be longer an') preached first, &c. The other party murmured in siniiht: tones — and contended that the English sermon shoii! always be first. The Highlanders argued, that as tli Gaelic was the older language, it was entitled to n due pn fercncc, and some of them even ventured so far back in tli ology of tongues as to say, that it was the most ancient of ;i dialects, having been handed down on fig leaves from Heave to our first parents, — that it was also the identical languap in which Moses and the prophets wrote, — and of whic the Hebrew, Greek, English, and all other like gibberis are only bastard tongues. Numerous, indeed, were the business meetings of tl: members, and various the church arrangements, but aftei all, nothing permanently satisfactory could be accomplishes Their public meetings were uncommonly eccentric ; bciii conducted without either law or ceremony. In diiferoui parts of the church kindred groups might be seen private; RELIGIOUS IMPOSTORS. 85 |ii;c!Htinjr nfFairs. Some consnrin«; the iiiinistor ami oldors -a few iixlrfinitely boisterous, — otljcrslauuhing, or H<]uirt- iir !i «lry joke, — wliilst the jrrami majority wore drivinj^ a >i^ toD^ue business at the one time, — t'r'.'<|Uc'ntIy a half lozcn of ineuibers Hpmikinj^ siinultaneously in both the Enerfcct iiiediuin of Hpiritual intelligence. At length un elderly and somewhat respectable like person made applica- tion. He stated that he had been for several years an itin- erant preacher among the settlers in the back woods — was skilled in physics — and capable of acting as a physician] to both the mortal and immortal parts of man. A meeting of the congregation was held. He was at | tirst objected to, on account of not having the Gaelic. " Gaelic! " he exclaimed, " give mo a Gaelic dictionary! and Bible, and I will preach in that language to you in six weeks." Consequently the majority, without consulting! the presbytery, agreed to engage him on trial for six months, A liberal sum, as a remuneration, was subscribed, and thcl liev. Dr. Crowder became the pastor of Beech Ridgcl church. How, when, or where, he had merited the titlcl of Doctor, I know not ; one thing, I think, is certain, that! ho had never received it from either the medical or minis-l terial brotherhood. The doctor's physical aspect was destitute of anything! very impressive. He was short in stature finely featured, of fair ruddy countenance— and, as a whole, presented a plump and '' well-to-live"-like appearance. His manner was generally abrupt — at times, eccentric, and assuming al sort of mental debility, but occasionally modified by a slightl sprinkling of home-made courtesy. His usual garb consistcdl of white corduroy breeches, with buttoned gaiters to his] knees, a lengthy swallow-tailed coat, a high-standing collar.| white neckerchief; and upon his cranium, in lofty maguifi- REI.miolfB fMK»?»TOE»l. ST ti'MCo, Hat n prodi^ioiw, broad-bri mined ca-stor hat ; the wbolo )f which ;;ttvc him a very funtiistic and aiti(|Uatt'«l appcir- mce. Flis only companitm w.is a I'avourilo na<;. lit; prc- lerrcd ridinjron liorf'oback, chiefly atwhort gallop, and then ic wouhl wallop up and down in the saddle like a ehurn Itaff, beating time to the tune of the " Horse-Heel Polka." [mmediatcly after his induction, he conimenoed his pasto- ral visits, and continued thom in endless rotation ns a sort )f " periKJtual motion," which, in accordance witli his penu- rious habits, were conducted upon the money-savin"; system, ^riie love of the "almighty dollar" appeared to be his rul- ing passion. Even the very sanctity of tlic pulpit was 3olluted by his devotion to the "golden idol." He was ipparcntly a most enthusiastic bigot to his creed — a tyrant to the Papal church —and a mortal enemy to the Irunkard. The habits and characteristics of all within the leighbourhood, he scrutinized — and the stranger lie met rith, even, upon the highway, could not escape his fangs, [f any appeared as ungenuine, he would hurl anathemas igainst them, — consequently ho created enemies to himself, md endangered his own person; nevertheless, he continued mdauntedly his Quixotic career of Religious Knight Errantry. He was a frequent visitor at my father's house, and for Bomc time, at first, a favourite of our family, but we, like )thcrs, soon found reason to lessen our esteem of him. I ^as then in my thirteenth year. Hitherto I had been impressed with a reverential awe for ministers, especially rhen brought within their sacred presence, and looked ipon them as beings of a supernatural order. Such were jiuy impressions towards the Rev. Dr. Crowder, notwith- standing his many eccentricities, until an incident occurred 1 38 ADVENirRES WITH sfj-ii' ir it which partially unveiled the mysteries of his nature, and rendered him a being of more tangible matciial than I had hith'Tto supposed. Previous to the hour of preaching he usually held Sab- bath School in the Church. The pupils sat within a double seated enclosure that extended through the centre the whole length of the building. Every Sabbath, at school closing, a collection for some indefinite purpose was gathered by his reverence — his own " immortal beaver" being the receptacle. But one day the hat was not in view at the accustomed moment ; but as soon as he had withdrawn to a convenient corner to count the coppers, it was hustled along from one pupil to another, until the young rascal who sat next to me, got hold of it, and, to crown the farce, placed it over my head. My antic appearance created quite a sensation and giggling among the scholars, which brought the Doctor at long gallop down the aisle, and before I had removed com- pletely the monstrous appendage, he drew his pugilistic han- dle and gave me a tremendous pulpit rap on the ear — then fastening his feelers around my forelock, and placing his thumb upon an eyelid as a fulcrum, he gave one prodigious jerk that nearly unroofed my cranium and smashed in my visual orb ; and then muttered some unhallowed jargon as he left, which I very indistinctly heard owing to deafness occasioned by the blow. Mortified and confounded T arose passionately, and fled homewards, escaping the notice of my parents j who, on their return from church, desired of me why I had not waited for the service. I related the whole affair, and assured them X would never enter the church as long as the old tyrant was alive. With plausible arguments they tried to idleviate my wounded feelings and reconcile my revenge RELKHOrs IMP(»STORS. 31) townrils the Doctor ; but I had too deep a sense of feeling and too hi,i;li a diutiity of temper t\i that moment to yield niidor the impulse of passion. Next Sabbath came. My irrit ition wa.s considerably cooled, but I felt no desire to either forget or forgive. I had resolved to stay at home ; my father, however, with love and gentleness of temper, addressed me for some time, and at length persuaded mo to go with him to church. I took my seat as formerly in the Sabbath School, and appeared as if nothing had occurred; but observed that every face assumed a more sanctified grovity than usual. When the mauiuioth hat was again brought into service I could not prevent my features from indulging in a smile. School having closed, he thrust his head into the hat, and mounted the rostrum, — the service signal was given, and the audience became seated. Up rose the mighty master of the pulpit, crowned with the unhal- lowed " head-piece," and every eye stared with astonishment at his ludicrous figure, which created a general smile. Hav- ing stretched himself up to an unusual altitude, he intro- duced his appearance with the following appropriate apology. " Fellow brethren,^^ said he, " during the week I was seized by a severe cold in my head, with which I am still troubled. To-day the air is somewhat chilly, and lest 1 should further render myself liable to its bad effect I pur- pose to jireach with my hat on; therefore I solicit an cxcusal,^' This produced an irrepressible smirking and general tittering. No one arising to negative his purpose, ho coinmenccd the service ; and although he had only one hat to cover all, his sermon that day had no less than four heads. A few days afterwards he rode up to our house. Hav- ing dismounted, be handed me his horse, with the injunction m 40 ADVENTURES WITH I ■ m: r^";i : , di ■^ 1:! to give it wator and hay. He entered the house, dinner being ready— and without much ceremony seated himself at the licad of the table, and commenced a furious onslaught upon the eatables. Having taken the horse to the barn yard and procured a switch, I applied it freely to the animal causing it to flourish a few evolutions. When having suflficiently aroused its latent energies into action, I directed its head towards the road, — let go the rein, and applied a sharp stroke to its hinder legs. Away flew the animal past the house and along the highway. Instantly I ran towards the door, exclaiming, " Doctor ! " " Doctor ! " '•' your horse has ran away from me." The Doctor, without waiting to masticate his last mouthful, rushed out of the house, hatless, and after the horse, at full speed, followed by the members of our family. " Let him run," said I to myself, " he will flee far and fast before I will stir a leg to follow up. He is getting paid back in his own coin." I then hastened into the room, took his hat, and placed it on the top of a long pole which I erected behind the house. The horse was arrested in its flight before it had gone far, and the pursuers soon returned. The Doctor's face showed unmistakable evidence of a hot pursuit. His eyes were literally standing out with bold relief — he was perspiring profusely, and pufl&ng like a pair of kitchen bellows. The other parties also showed symp- toms of pulsive action at fever heat. My non-appearance in the chase apparently rendered him suspicious of my treatment to his horse, as he refused to re-enter the house, and very authoritatively demanded his hat ; but neither hat nor hostler were to be seen. At length the venerable head-piece was discovered and taken down. He then mounted his horse, muttered a few harsh sentences, and abruptly departed. The Dc lair, for inicd by jntleman Istance of our nei lently cal [niversity kund scho like ma 10 frequei fas large a rer-ridged l>rm throuj jut, alas ! '. illish stre Mysterious lards the ii ilt thou ci -distilled ; )ison of tl fc-essence Ic of thy ' K-^rifice hui It nppeai L;eeh Hi 2rince ;• leech llidg RELIGIOUS IMPOSTORS. 41 ;, dinner inisclf at nslaught the barn ic animal ■gies into it go the Away highway. Ooctor!" !." The nouthful, horse, at J- (< Let ist before aid back took his I erected its flight returned, of a hot n\h. bold ce a pair ed symp- pearance IS of my le house, t neither ^'enerable He then CCS, and The Doctor, however, apparently soon overlooked the fair, for in a few days afterwards he returned, accora- inicd by a Mr. Simpson — a celebrated physician. This mtleman was well known to us, although he resided at a jstance of some fifteen miles. There being no doctor then our neighbourhood except Crowder, Simpson was fre- lently called upon. He was a graduate of the Edinburgh Iniversity — was a man of highly superior talents, — a pro- |und scholar, and an eminently qualified physician ; but J, like many others of the higher order of genius, indulged \o frequently in the rum bowl. His physical structure |as large and muscular, his full and expressive eyes were rer-ridged by one of the finest foreheads I ever saw. In krm throughout he was indeed a splendid specimen of man. |ut, alas ! he had recklessly precipitated himself into that }llish stream which circumnavigates the earth, and by its ksterious undercurrent, was huriedly floating down to- lards the inevitable cataract. Oh, mortol man ! how long |ilt thou continue to sip the infernal spirit-essence of sin -distilled from the blood of devils, — and drugged with the )ison of the reptile monster, — and therewith pollute the ri;-essence of thine own soul, and desecrate the human tem- ! of thy God, — to trample upon its fallen virtues and icrifice humanity upon the unnallowed altars of Belial ! Dash from thy lips the burning bowl, DraiL not again its virus blood. Whose hellish fires ignite the soul To burn whilst endless ages roll, Unless 'tis quench d by Heaven's own flood. It appears that Crowder had met in with Simpson at >occh llidge, and given him a special lecture upon intem- erance ; — an altercation ensued, whereupon Simpson ab- 42 ADVENTURES WITH 1'^ i If fl •^•li !.!! i.; it; I T i !• I. ruptly departed ; tho otlior, desirous of renewing the attack perchance, anticipating u possibility of converting him, followed, and overtook him in the vicinity of our house, No sooner had they entered than Crowder commenced a! furious onslaught upon drunkards, interspersing his remarks with personalities. Dr. Simpson was indeed slightly intoxi- cated, and for some time remained (|uiesccnt — apparentljj bearing all very good naturedly. But human nature is not of such elastic material and temper, as to always bend toj its extremities without breaking, — consequently Simpsonj began to show signs of retaliation. " I desire to know, sir, on what grounds you assume thej arrogance to implicate me with such dastard calumny." " On the grounds that you are a drunkard," ejaculated C.j " None of your impertinence, sir," said S. " I repeat the assertion; you are a drunkard, sir, and whenl I say so, I speak the truth," retorted C. " You speak the truth, sir," exclaimed S.; "my good sir,| your lips are strangers to its eloquence and virtues." '• But your lips are polluted with blasphemy," said C.l " Remember, sir, I am a minister j and I wish you tfl] reverence me as such." " You a minister, " exclaimed S. ; " Your style oi language and appearance, sir, indicate you to be nothing else than a bankrupt rumseller ; and to * raise the wind] again, have assumed the infernal art of quackery. I se you want to plume your nest with a feather from eveijl bird's wing, and after all you can only cry ' quack.' " " Woe unto him who raiseth up his voice against thfl anointed of the Lord," solemnly said C. ^ " Behold the Pharisee," exclaimed S. ; " a wolf in sheep'sj clothing." "^ ' " Behold the winebibber," shouted C.j "and woe unto hiiii| RELIGIOUS IMPOSTORS. 43 rho tarrieth at the wine cup — ' no exit by the door-way, followed by the doctor. My mother i and sister, also, rushed frantically out of the house, screeching at the top of their voice, as if they had seen an! earthquake ; even the very cat bristled up with terror and I bounded up the stairway to the garret, pursued by thej yelping masti£f. The doctor, on discovering the inability of his legs to | compete with the preacher at locomotion, gave up the chase. He then mounted his horse and rode off, but shortly after- wards returned to solicit pardon for his conduct. The preacher also departed as quick as possible, and| never afterwards troubled us by his presence. Next Sabbath, as usual, he appeared in the pulpit — his | nose presenting a certificate of his pugilistic ability. '•'Dearly beloved brethren," said he, addressing hi8| audience, " whilst on a pastoral tour during the last week, my horse fell and precipitated me to the earth. I must I acknowledge my gratitude to Providence that I was not killed on the spot; however, I escaped unhurt, with* the] exception of a slight contusion upon my nasal organ." Well might the moralist exclaim, " Behold the liar and I the hypocrite !" p.nd in the language of Burns, apostrophise] the impostor of the pulpit, thus : ! " ji f I " Even ministers they hae been ken'd In holy rapture ^' A rousing whid at limes to vend An' nail't wi' scripture." RELIGIOUS IMPOSTORh. 45 As a medical practitioner, Dr. Crov;dcr is un Jlcscrvinj:^ of \uy reputation. His chief remedy for all diseases was hotr rater — hence he was styled the " warm-water doctor." Inly a few cases came under his treatment ; one man was icarly scalded to death for rheumatism ; another lost his kair from an application of the hot liquid to cure head- ache ; and by its means also, he raised blisters and laid wellings. As a preacher he was below mediocrity. His prayers ^nd sermons were like strings of beads, being chiefly com- )scd of phrases of scripture strung together. He had k^cn formerly a school-teacher, but like the most of ancient pminies, had latterly become eccentric, and out of date. [cnce, of his own accord, he had assumed a clerical posi- [ion, and went about preaching, to make " money" — of 7hich he was particularly fond ; but nevertheless, had a Iccided antipathy to mativuoney. During his rounds, he brried with him a Gaelic bible and dictionary, but Gaelic (till remained an insoluble mystery to him. At the close of his half year, he was notified that his lervices were no longer desired ; consequently, this closed lis career at Beech Ridge — and ne departed in search of a lore favourable climate for the growth of money and /hristianity. The shepherd left bis hungry flock, Uegardless of uhcir danger, In hopes to find a finer stock Beside a well-fill'd manger. The golden calf is worship'd still By many a Christian Pagan, Even gospel clerks, in pulpit robes. Kneel down and worship Dagon. t'f'- 46 ADVENTTTRES WITII :([ , H i One year elapsed, and "Beech Ridge was again visited by one of those hungry wolves, clothed in sheep's garments, tliut prowl about, seeking whom they may devour. The ! person in question was a smart, intelligent, and apparently! pious young man, bearing the assumed cognomen of| Georgius Aristarchus Glendiuning. He presented a number of counterfeit credentials as to his superior ability and character, and consequently suc- ceeded in effecting an engagement to preach for six months, on trial. A liberal subscription was raised ; Bible classes, prayer meetings, and Sabbath schools were immediately established, and new vigour was iustilled into the very core of a dormant, and idmost extinguished Christianity. Old and young of both sexes became animated to enthusiasm, and a grand revival was apparent. The following questions and others from the Bible were given to the young, weekly, for solution : Who was King David's mother ? "Who was Moses' second wife ? Who sailed in the second ark ? What animal did Noah take into the ark but never took out? What patriarch deceived his father through the want of sight, and was deceived by his father-in-law for the want of light? Such novelties in devotional exercise excited general curiosity, and effected quite a revolution in the mysteries of the sacred volume, whose pages were throughly inves- tigated ; even old bibles on which the dust of years harmed that the preacher had lot been there ; he, however, followed in pursuit — traced uin to St. Martine — thence up the Chateauguay River. laving procured a warrant of arrest from Squire Brodie |f North Georgetown, accompanied by a bailiff, he followed further pursuit, and reached Durham Village at the leventh hour, having gone a distance of twenty-five miles. )bserving light in a hotel, they entered and made enquiry, u ii 48 ADVENTURES WITH and was informed by tho innkeeper tlmt a person answerin. the description j^ivcn was there. They were ininiediatchj usJicred into an adjoining room, where his holy reverence wiij seated in the midst of a half-dozen of merry topers, riotiiicj in the revelry of a Bacchanalian banquet, singing at ful chorus Burns' celebrated song — " Willie brcw'd a pock o! maut." Strange metamorphosis indeed. — Saturday niglitj and tho preacher rioting abroad, — an angel of saints con j verted at once into a fiend of spirits — a star, too, of the firsij magnitude, and the brightest in his constellation. Bull when at the altitude of his glory he was suddenly cclipscdl and his moonshine collapsed into shadow, and he couldj sing no longer — \ " Yon is the moon, I ken her horn, That's blinkin in the lift sae hie." He was instmtly apprehended and taken back to Squire! Brodie's ; and at the sulemn hour of night was arraigned at| the bar of justice. " Gentlemen," said he arising to address the court, "II am charged with the indictment of horse-stealing. I ami not guilty, nor can you prove that I am; I only borrowdl the horse, and although inevitable circumstances preventdl me from returning at the stated hour, that is no reason wlii I should be either apprehended or condemned. But, gentkj men, I tell you what I shall do, and it is more than thej law of justice can compel me to do: I shall, as a gentleman,! pay all expenses, and give my friend here five dollars for the! use of his horse, and a cypher for his trouble, on condition! that T be liberated and that he shall safely convey me back to! Beech llidgc, as I have important business to settle there:! and that he shall hereby promise to conceal, henceforth andl UEI,U>I<»i:s I.MI'OHTORS. V.) forever the events of this nii^'ht, which. iriii:i(U' piihlic, wouM .'comc ruinous to my reputation. Hut il'tliesc liberal con- Bidorations are rejected, I will allow the law to take itii tourrte, and challenj^c you to do your best." After a legal consideration of the ca.se, the proffered jrnis were accepted, and Qlendinning and Mr. 8. started )n their homeward journey. Sabbath morning had again dawned npon the earth — llic last Sabbath of the expiring year — a theme product'vo )f solemn thought. The solar orb was gleaming over the liiowy realm, apparently reluctant to approach the I'rozoa ?orld. Our family had just partaken of their morning leal, when Glendinning and Mr. S. drove up to our door ; ^he former entered — tlie latter continued his way home- ward. Wc had heard of the projected rumour occasioned )y his supposed runaway, '>tc., but believing all to be )f the stamp of falsehood, wo rejected them, and at the ^ime he entered, were preparing for church. " Well, my Christian friends," said he, " I suppose you ire aware that I have been accused of another evil." " I have heard," said my father, " that you had left your lodgings in a rather mysterious manner — but whut of the Uth?" " My Christian friends," said he, " yesterday I borrowed ihoisc from Mr. S. on purpose to visit a Mrs. Miekie, of St. Uartine, who was supposed to be dying, and to administer Spiritual consolation to her departing soul ; other business prolonged my stay — consequently, I was pursued as a robber, lunted down as a pirate, and now am brought as a sheep to \he slaughter. But the Lord knoweth my innocence. yiver me from mine enemies, God, and defend me from them who rise up against me." d \\ 50 ADVENTURES WITH II i Ilis plansiblo staN^niont nnd Cliri?tian-llko npponrnnc<'. nt onci! rocoimnciult'd him more fjivourably to us. Break- fii.st waH prepari-d for him, before and after which, he uddrcs.sod bin Maker with a most eloquent and appropriati: grace and benediction. 8aid he to my father, " I have a sermon prepared for to- day's Hcrvice ; but I requcHt of you to furnish me with a text appropriate to my case, and I shall preach therefrom." My father gave him Psalm 34, verse 19. ''Many arc the afflictions of the righteous ; but the Lord delivcrcth him out of them all." He accompanied us to church, — obtained an interview with the elders present — after which, he mounted the roe- trum with pious steps, every eye gazing upon him. The incidents of the previous day had been widely circulated, but nothing evidently had been ascertained. lie then arose, with saint-like reverence, and gave a very feasible statement of the affair, accompanied by a most eloquent and ingenious defence. The first five verses of the 109th Psalm having been Bung, he offered up a very touching appeal to the court of heavenly justice. The given text was then read, and from | it he produced a sublimely eloquent and affecting ser- mon, which acted as a magnet upon the hearts of his audi- ence, even of those of the most hardened, and caused the I fountains of the soul to issue from the eyes of many a| sainted matron and maid. On the following day a meeting was held, to investigate! further into the incidents that had occurred — Mr. S. and fJlcndinniiig were present. In the coun^e of the proceod-j ings, the latter very abruptly accused the former of dupli- city — and want of prudence; whereupon Mr. S. unveiled the I RRLioiorfl iMPosTorw. &1 fnrtf* oftho myHtorious affair, and noconlindy tho Tnon»lK«n!, a.H with one voict? con(icuin(Ml the preachor jim an inip<>»tor — ;\n a hotel with him, to warm myself, before attempting to return. No sooner had wo entered, than he called for two glasses of liquor. He emptied the one, and handed me the other — I deolined, and although he discusited atgreat length the merits of the liquor, and repeatedly attempted to con- vince me of the necessity of drinking to keep out the cold, I sternly refused, even to taste thereof. It was then dark — the night was cold and somewhat stormy, and I was making ready to leave, when, with the siren voice of the serpent fiend, he solicited me to accompany him to the house of a Captain Wright, who resided, he said, only about a mile distant up the river. '' He is," said he, "a familiar friend of mine ; we will get tea there, and the horse fed, and then, my dear boy, you will be enabled to glide homeward at I post haste. It is early in the evening yet — the distance is not far — say that we go." I hesitated a few moments, butj at length yielded, and we started-r-following the river road, which, being somewhat good, we soon glided over a few I miles instead of one; and after all, never was fortunate enough to discover the captain's residence. I was at that time a stranger to the place and people. I made several inquiries of him respecting the nearness of the house; but through my simplicity, and the preacher's policy, I was deceived, and induced to drive so far — he ever and anon I remarking, as if in mockery of my ignorance, "only a little! further." Minister's miles are much longer than other! people's, said I to myself, and drove on a short distance fur- ther; when, feeling extremely cold, and believing myself to be imposed upon, I resolved to go no further, and pur- posed driving up to a house that stood on the bank of thej river, and get warmed. " Remain you here for a moment," said he, " and I wiBI RELIOIOUfl IMPOSTORS. §9 run up and mnkc inquiry. I know wc arc in the vicinity of the captain's house — therefore, there is no necessity of stopping twice." Reluctantly I assented. In a few minutes he returned, and informed me that the house was farther on — that the captain and family were absent on a visit — therefore, said he, we have no alternative but to return to St. Martine. I immediately turned my horse, Glendinning seated himself, and we began to retrace our course. " Now my dear little fellow," said he, in a tone of kindness, " I assure you, I feel sorry that I have given you so much trouble ; but I will amply reward your kindness." " But," continued he, " the night is so intensely cold, I am afraid you will get frost-bitten, — do creep under the robes and get warmed ; I shall drive, and in less than no time we will have reached the village." I was again simple enough to acquiesce with his request, and soon discovered, by the motion of the sleigh that the preacher was a fast driver, as well as a fait young man. Occasionally I poked out my head, and inquired if we were near the village : " Just at it," was the repeated reply. At length believing myself to be wretchedly befooled, and apparently going further into mysterious labyrinths, I resumed my seat, determined that should we not reach St. Martine in a few minutes, I would drive up to some house and make inquiry. But just at that moment I observed two men walking at a short distance before us. " Let us enquire of those men," said I, " where we are, and at what distance from St. Martine." " There is no neces- eity," he replied, '* I can see the village, — see there it is," —and therewith he applied the whip to the horse, and in an instant we were past them. Irritated almost to madness, 1 sprang forward and caught hold of the reins, that were I ;, 54 ADVENTURES WITH I- I still in his hands, and shouted to the men to come up. He, however, attempted to frustrate my efforts ; but very deter- minedly I held fast, and after a desperate attempt, succeed- ed in arresting the speed of the horse. ^ ^.,.. " Gentlemen," said I, as they bounded forward, " please tell me where we are, and what distance from St. Martine." " You are on the River Chateauguay, between north and south Georgetown, and seven miles from St. Martine," said one of them. " Eight miles," added the other. " Eight miles 1" said I, amazedly, " it cannot possibly be so; I thought we were nearly at the village." " My good fellows," said one of them, " if you continue in the direction you are going, you will never reach St. Martine, until you have gone directly around the world." " As fast as ye haebeen driving, I think ye'll hardly get roun' the night, but sma* wheels, like fast chaps, gang the fastest, sae ye'd better be gaun," exclaimed the other, in a rough tone of the Scotch dialect. I thought that either the men were tipsy, or that they believed us to be so — apparently the latter, as they left us abruptly, laughing in their sleeve at the idea of us going to St. Martine by going from it. . . Glendinning immediately shouted after them, and inquired, how near we were to Captain Wright's or Peter McArthur's. " You have passed Captain Wright's," said one, " but the first house before you is McArthur's." " Weel, ye'd better jist follow us, as we are gaun there; an' we'll sunesee what sort o' chaps ye are," said the other. " This is rather a mysterious affair," said Glendinning to me. " We came up the river from St. Martine, and then directed our course towards it ; howj in the name of good- m !|l: RELIGIOUS IMPOSTORS. ncss, then, can it be that we arc pfoing from it ; tlio men must be fooling us ; i think it better to drive on. 1 know wc arc near St. Martine." " I will go no further than the next house, until T know that we are going in the right direction," said T ; and resum- ing our course we soon arrived at the house. We entered, accompanied by the two young men. A number of young folks were present, apparently an evening party. Mr. McArthur — the master of the house — was playing a lively tune on the violin, and all appeared to be enjoying them- selves. He was a fine looking man of about sixty years of age, his grey locks were waving loosely around a head highly intellectual ; and his face, as an index, told that he was a perfect paragon oi ,r ' l lature and social intercourse. Mrs. McArthur was t .. —ingly a shrewd, active, and kind-hearted woman. Mr. McArthur came forward, and very politely received us as strangers. , i ■-■..- " Mr. McArthur, how are you ?" said Glen dinning, shak- ing hands with him, and affecting the highest politeness of etiquette. ^ ; " Well, my dear sir, you have the advantage in knowing me — but, really, I do not recognize you." "Why! my dear Mr. McArthur, I am Mr. Alonza Hallowdell, the identical person who had the honour of I calling upon you some three months ago, whilst in search i of a school in this district." " Oh ! it is you, Mr. Hallowdell ; I now recognize your I countenance ; but I assure you, that you have improved in I your appearance since. How have you succeeded in other j parts as teacher ?" j '^ ' "Oh, very well, sir; only the pay is somewhat indifferent. 66 ADVENTURES WITH i tl:-, f But the majority of the people in country districtfl have no» yet learned to appreciate the virtues of education and| the merits of the jhool teacher." ' ' •' " " True, Mr. Hallowdell; decidedly true, sir." ^ I observed that Mrs. McArthur eyed him very minutely, and at this instant she stepped forward and inquired if he| had taught school at Dewittville. "Well, ma'am, I did, a shor* time." he hesitatingljl dr!>wlcd out in an under tone. " Were you acquainted with my son, Peter McArthur, | who resides there?" " Not pers(mally, ma'am," he sharply replied. " Allow me the liberty of asking you if ever you ieceivedj a watch from him to repair?" "Never — madam — never!" ?^ " You are certainly mistaken, sir, — I saw you there, sir;! and now recognize you to be the identical person who receivedl my son's watch to repair it, and then ran off with it— audi the chain you have with you, sir, is the very one that waij then attached to the watch." " Madam, do you really mean to insult me impertinentljl with false accusations, and insinuate that I am a liar, athici] and a runaway ?" " I am personally acquainted with the circumstanca connected with the watch, and from what I have seen anj heard of your conduct and character, I believe you to nothing better than a liar, a swindler, and a vagabond." " Oh, Barbara ! Barbara 1 for fiOodness' sake silence yon tongue. exclaimed Mr. McArthur. " Give up the watch, sir, and the other watches anj jewellery you fan off with, and go home to your mistre and child," she exclaimed. ReLIGIOUS IMPOSTORS. 57 " By h , I will not stand such insolent impertinence, and be insulted in this manner by either man or wc:!,an," ejaculated the preacher, resuming a wrathful attitude. . " Hush, hush," said Mr. McArthur, intemipting him, ard, calming his own voice to a softness of melody, he began to sing cheerily- ««) *'^Bff»' 'U:^M. -iii^ Nev« ; mind what woman says, 1^ Woman has a loving heart, -f^'. Covers a' her wrang. Then never mind what she may say, She maun hae ber will. She'll rue it a' some ither day, ' An' gie ye then yer ain bit way, Be it gnid or ill. Press her syren ccral lips--' > > Flatter her wi' love ; Gentle zephyrs iben will blaw , As frae realms above. Touch the rosy lips again, Press them closer still, Then wi' sweet seraphic strains. Soul and heart will fill, But her wild an' random tongne, Be it loud or ill. Has. a charm for aald and young- Gin her cbarms are praised and sung, But she's woman still. ' i f *„! " Now, Mr. Hallowi? Jil," said McArthur, '* it in custom- iiry Tith us at New Year times to have some liquor to treat c2 68 ADVENTURES WITH our vif:Uors ^ith : will yoa tak a dram o' guid Scoicb whisky with tne ? " - .^. ., " Certainly, I will sir," said Glcndinning, assuming a brighter aspect. >» ; - •. i :? Meanwhile Mrs. cA^thur took me into another room to give nicsome refreshment; and there inquired of me "who I was," — " whence I came " — and " whither I was going." I told her the circumstances connected therewith. " Ah! the monster of iniquity that he is," she eiclaimed, and instantly called forward her husband, — to whom she related what I had told her. " ^et this boy's horse attended to," said she, " and he will remain over night with us, or assuredly that vagabond will impose further upon him, perhaps j murder him, and run oflF with his horse." Mr. Mc Arthur sympathized. ^ " Now, Barbara," said he, "I desire of you to keep silent I about the watch, and I assure you I will have the rascal in safe keeping before long." He then called forward a young man, a son of Squire Brodie, his next neighbour, andj inquired of him were his father at home. " He is not, sir," replied the young man. " Well, then, said I he, " go you and tell the bailiff and Sandy Williamson to come here immediately, as I desire to see them on pressing business; and when they have reached the house notify me, and I shall go out and consult with them for a few minutes! before they enter." j . uiu!.': a v.; .. - In accordance therewith, James Brodie immediately I departed. I returned to the other apartment, where a Scotch reel was being danced to the merry music of the violin in the hands of Glendhining, alias Hallowdell. It| was music indeed, such as the rustic ear is seldom greeted with ; rich variegated tones, full of inspiration and life, m- BILIGIOUS IMPOSTOIUi. leaped forth with vibratory motion, ns if some weird-like fingers were sporting fantastically upon the golden chorda of a fairy harp. " Well done," shouted McArthur, " that deficrves a jolly bumper." < - v Having emptied his glh^s, he requested McArthur to favor him with a tune so that he might try a few of his juvenile steps ; and, springing to the floor, he commenced to dance. By what name shall I term his motions ? not the common hop-stamp and shuffle of the rustic clod-hopper ; no, but it WfT the very poetry of motion, a "tripping on tho light, fantastic toe," accompanied by a variety of gestures and gyrations, that would have carried away in triumph the laurels of a Parisian dancing-master. " Well done," exclaimed McArthur, " C ^, indeed, deserves another dram." He was also loudly applauded by the company. ? ?<- .s ■ ,; >'■■ A song was then requested from him. Having cleared away the dusty cob-webs from the corners of his windpipe with another good swig of Bacchus, he sung most beau- tifully — " The Lass o' Gowrie " and several others, — which electrified the audience with a highly agreeable sensation. ■(,:?<':, /^^n^^' -v-,.' ,■•;'•'; - , :<. •)...'.■■: .,'•-. -v,--H He was, indeed, the magnet star of the evening — and the brightest Hesperus among encircling satellites. n r - Like the vane upon the summit cf the spire, he could vary his position to the current of whatever atmosphere of society he was in; and that night he was the glorious caterer of the fun and frolic. But even amid the flowers of revelry there may be a thorn. The poetry of the festive hour may be suddenly played out, and long, indeed, must that sentence be that has no period to its end. (■'« !?- ADVBNTVIIE8 WITD Glendinning was p^lorioiiRly entertaining his audience with bis Rupcrb mubtcrpioctj, in the shape of u grand melo- dramatic comedy, which Ironght out roars of laughter and luxuriant applause — when at that moment the door wafi opened, und Messrs. Williamson and bailiff entered, caufi- ing the glorious bubble of the festal carnival to collapse suddenly. Mr. McArthur had unobserredly gone out ai | purposed, and consulted as what was best to be done. ** I will act as constable," said the bailiff, and Mr. Williamson will assume the responsive authority and dignity I of a judge, and we'll give the villain the merits of a mock I trial, and then his choice to either give up the watch pr | take a swing on the end of the Lynch law. McArthur and Williamson agreed, however, to test him I by the virtue of the trial, and forthwith they prepared themselves to act. When they had entered, the bailiff, with a document in | hand, and well armed with pistol and bludgeon, and assum- ing the portly stride of a Sir John Falstaff, walked boldly I up to Glendinning, and in the name of Queen Victoria, arrested him as his lawful prisoner. Glendinning appeared, at first, to be petrified with sur- prise and horror ; but, regaining his strength, he attempted, but in vain, to extricate himself from the sturdy grip of the | bailiff. *^ I command you to sit down, sir," said Williamson, inj the gruff, surly tones of a portly squire. Glendinning therewith became seated before the solemn I presence of the assumed magistrate ; — and the court was opened. ** Sir," said the judge, "you are charged with being I guilty of theft — that of stealing a watch from Peter RKLI0I0U8 IMP08T0RB. 61 McArthur, of Dewitvillc — at least, obtaining it nndcr falso prctenccH, and then carrying it ofl' with you on leaving the place. Are you guilty, or not guilty, sir?" '• I am not guilty," Giendinning contemptuously replied; and continued, " your charge is false, absurdly false, and I can prove it to be so; — a gross imposition upon honesty and innocence ; a family compact formed for the selfish purpose of annihilating the dig ity of a gentleman of honour, and ruining his reputation as a public person- age: and with the consciousnees and confidence of my innocence, I repeat the assertion, I am not guilty." Mr. McArthur then gave marks of identification, and stated that he had bought the watch for his son — the chain attached thereto he had had in his possession for twenty vears ■'' '' sv"-'' t -^ i ■■:...:■.' ■<■. .'^ l ■*. ^ti'i, ' . The watch was then produced, and answered the descrip- tiongiven. v -''->- < .^ .^ ,. k:< ^ ,,,^.-.:v-:,r^_- .,.-, " Now, sir," said the judge, " so far, the case is against you. What do you now say in behalf of your innocence ?" " Gentlemen," said he, " to advance arguments in evi- dence of truth at this unseasonal moment, would be liko throwing stones into a puddle hole — they would at once become invisible upon the polluted surface of your minds ; and to advance them, will be voluntary on my part. But, as a mark of honour, and a plea in behalf of innocence, I will state the truth, and nothing but the uncovered truth. " Whilst teaching at Dewitville, I cleaned and repaired several time-pieces — a gratuiions favour on my part, Peter Mc Arthur's being one of them. He desired me to repair it, and keep it in my possession until I was certain it would run true with time. But, having occasion to leave home for a few weeks, I gave in pledge thereof a superior gold watch ilil ADVENTURSS WITH I !l of my own. I om now so far on my way homewards, and ansure you, my intention was to deliver up the watch, and, at my return, obtain my own." These were feasible statements, indeed, but not ofj sufficient merit to satisfy Mrs. McArthur. " We have heard your own statement," said the judge, " it may be true, or it may not ; it will therefore be necesaary to detain you under our jurisdiction until other evidence is produced." " Hang him at once," exclaimed the bailiff, '' he richly deserves it. Last Saturday night I arrested him for horse stealing, and in behalf of his plea for innocence, he obtained his liberty ; to-night lie is arrested for watch-stealing. I assure you, gentlemen, he is a dangerous character to be out of jail. In his very countenance I behold a villain of the deepest dye." " Sir," ejaculated Glendinning, " I was not aware before, that my countenance, like a mirror, had the quality of reflecting objects that are presented before it; therefore thc| villain you behold in my face must be that of yourself." " Silence, you impertinent scoundrel, or I will send you | to the shades of oblivion in a jiffey," retorted the bailiff, flourishing his cudgel. " Order, order," cried the judge. v - 1 » " Peace and justice," said McArthur. ** Tar and feather him ; ride him on a rail ; and then lynch him without mercy," exclaimed the bailiff', assuming a stern countenance of wrath and resolution. It produced an immediate effect. Glendinning, believiog himself to be in danger of savage treatment, and subjected to another tribunal and its unfavourable consequences, arose and very politely addressed the court, apologizing RELIGIOUS IMPOSTORS. 63 for his abrupt rcmnrlcs, occnsionnlly nppcalinR to the Bym- p:»thic8 of the judge, and finally wound up with tlu» follow- ini; propomtion — loukiug as crest-fallen us a culprit upon the galloWH stage : " GeDtli-men, as an humble petitioner at tbo door of mercy, I appeal to your sympathies for permission to enter therein — to lay upon the tablets of your hearts my inno- cence in the act with which I am charged. Restore me my liberty to-night, and I will place tbo watch into the hands of the judge, who will restore it to the lawful owner, on con- dition that mine will be returned likewise." This was universally agreed to ; but Mrs. McArthur suggested that he should be sent a season to tho Queen's boarding-school at Kingston. , y It was now tho hour of midnight — and the company were b^inning to depart. I resolved to go also, knowing that my parents would be waiting anxiously my return. Contrary to the wishes of my benefactors, I started on my long and perilous journey. The night was intensely cold — the wind had drifted the road badly, and tho snows were whirling in fearful eddies around me. At the hour of seven on the following morning I arrived home, exhausted, and almost perislied. My parents had sat up all night watching in deep solicitude my return, and almost frantic with the apprehension that I had either been foully dealt with, or had perished in the snows. «; i Before I take a final leave of my hero, it is necessary to relate a few additional incidents of his career previous to my adventure with him. His original name was George Augustus Leavenworth. He was a native of Great Britain, a scion of an illustrious family, and educated at the Dublin University. He was i (■ Il (V4 ADVRNTIJRBH WITH nnturnlly wild and ndvonturous ; and, to crown the ohivniry of his voluptuous spirit, niad 1^? i t^; rhi ^^ Glendinning gave his name to the innkeeper, as the Rev. Charles Sachcrfield, from Canada West, and desired a comibrtable room for himself and lady, ^3 they purposed to stay a lew days in town;. < n^ ' ^' ^m: nKLIOIOUS IMPOSTORS. 71 NiL'lit passed awny, morninj? came, and the varied life of the '.'ity r/aa again aroused into action. The hahittmty awoke from his peaceful slumber?, and the golden dreams of his happy spirit. Having partaken of breakfast, and swallowed a good bumper of brandy "cocktail," he began to look around for the Rev. gentljmen, in order to get his pay, and depart for home ; but neither the gentleman nor lady was to be f ind within the precincts of the building, nor had they occupied their room during that night — their travelling bag was also gone. This was enough. The poor habitant, conscious of being duped, and apprehensive of worse results, slipped out to the stable, harnessed his horse, and was about to sneak off, when the innkeeper sallied out, seized hold of the horse, and demanded the Frenchman to settle his bill. " Dat mauB promees to pay vous ; me got no munnah ; nor me got no bissness neider pour pay vous, massar." " You must pay, sir ; and I'll show you 'tis my business to make you settle your account." , , " Well, monsieur, me got no munnah, no freu, no credit, no nutting." " I don't care a d for that; I must, and will be paid." "Oh, monsieui^ me poor mans, monsieur, me poor Frensmans, but me promees for sure me pay vous t-e first time me come here, for sure, masser, mo pay vou." " I want none of your d peasoup excuses, or promises, " and, calling upon the hostler, a fat-blooded Englishman, 1 . ordered him to stable the horse immediately, jand keep a sharp " look out " to that Canuck Frenchman. *' Oh, monsieur, monsieur, ayez pitie de moi ; je suis Ihonn^te et vous paierai dix fois autant." 't^-^^i ■^^w 72 ADVENTURES WITH RELKilOUS IMPOSTORS. W .#. iill " You blasted Bcoundrcl that you are, I want none of your impertinence and Canuck lingo ; go hunt up youv dirty trash of hungry humbugs, hat you shouldered up n nie last evening. But, sir, I shill make you pay dear; yet, for your impostors, and your impositic sja upon n\o. ; fc > *■ ' }oVEY-HiLL, famed for its huckleberries, lake, and un- ^ithomcd gulf, is situated in the County of Huntingdon, J.E., and adjoins a portion of the frontier of York State. |t occupies a space of about five miles in length by three or )ur in breadth, and rises by gradation about 1100 ft. from lie level of the base : the summit thereof may be estimated It about 1300 ft. above the level of the River St. Law- DDce. The ascent on the north-east side, though rather }rupt, is, notwithstanding, easy of access, but on the east more gradual ; whilst on the west, it extenuates into a |(lge of high land, thai intersects the townships of Frank- and Hinchinbrooke. On its south-eastern side is a jnsiderable extent of fiat rock, chiefly covered with huckle- [ants, the fruit of which, hundreds of bushels are tikeu QQually to Montreal and sold. In the midst of this field rock is a small beautiful lake, easy of access ; a short stance therefrom is a long deep chasm, called the gulf, [e one side of which, is a steep embankment of shattered id shelving rock, whilst that of the other is a perpendi- D ;f.a i 74 LUCY HRIOIITON, ^ cular wall, assuming the most perfect mason work, ai;| rising to the height of over 200 feet from the water. Iti indeed, quite a natural curiosity, and hundreds of pet I retired to their native State, leaving their land and huuie-j steads to be confiscated, and become the property of Britbtj settlers. This effected a new change in the settlements the place. The early struggles of the forest pioneers woukl furnish sufficient material for many volumes of local histonj But my object at present is to confine my pen to the leroiD of this story. One of the early settlers was Gideon Brighton, a shrewd ingenious American. He had settled on the northern h of Covey-Hill, on a ^)iece of land, intersected by a smal stream — now the property of Mr. Adam Rae — and sborL]} afterwards erected thereon a grist and saw mill. Wiia the war of 1812 broke out many of the settlers fled bao to the States ; only the loyalists and those who had cunsiiij erable property remained, among whom was Gidca Brighton. The American soldiers invaded that parti country in 1813, made prisoners of those whom they covered to be American settlers, and burnt their houses I the ground, among whom was Mr. Brighton. They co verted his house and mills into ashes, robbed him of 1 cattle and provisions, &c., and carried him off as a prisoDtj of war. Mrs. Brighton and her five children were therein turned adrifl upon the world, homeless and destitute. B Brighton had a brother residing at Beech Ridge, a distaoej of ten miles. Thither she and her young family thread their way through the wild forest, and there found a ted porary home, untouched by the rude hand of the invade But Mrs. Brighton was not long destine' for this wori The sudden shock of reversed circumstances preyed t^ heavily upon her spirit, and in the course of u few iiionll ;. » THE LOST OIRL. 77 nho fliod, anfl was buried on her own fa mi, adjacent to the ruins of her former residence. Several othors were also fciit«rrcd there ; but at present, not a vestig<^ visible remains ho tell who they were, r\nd denote their restinrj place. One of the first settlers in Kdwardstown was an Ameri- can by the name of Wilson. His residence was adjacent "Walker's Hill." His wife, unlike the Yankee girls )f the present day, was a Htronj; burly bushwoniun, and luld chop a tree and build a log-heap, equal to the best )ushwhacker. In order that she might be enabled better assist her husband in his forest work, she hired Miss iucy, eldest daughter of Gideon Brighton, to take charge )f her young family. This was shortly after Mrs. Brighton lad removed to Beech Ridge. Lucy was a tall graceful girl, (n her thirteenth year, and not very favourably constituted JTor the stern labours of a shanty, and the rigid authority of icr mistreps. Poor Lucy had been born amid better cir- cumstances, — therefore she felt her present condition the ]ore keenly, and the more so, when, at the death of her lother, she became an orphan. She was naturally medita- hve— at times visited by a sort of melancholy — perchance [he reverie of her spirit over the departed image of her lother, and the unfortunate events of her young life. ' One morning, in the spring of 1814, Wilson and his wife epaired to their usual labours, leaving Lucy in chafrge of le family and housework. Noon came, and they returned dinner ; the children were all alonCj and no meal in eadiness. '■' '' ' ' * ^- ' ' Mrs. Wilson, having punished Lucy that morning, infer- ed therefrom that she had absconded to her uncle's at Jecch Ridge. Anticipating her return before long, no arch was made until the third day afterwards. Mrs. i'. n 'am 1 1 i" ■,^in 78 LITCY BRMIITON, Wilson had by this time almost fretted herself to death "ii account of her absence from the field. On Sabbath ni( ru- ing, Wilson walked over to Brighton's, but Lucy \\:\,\ neither been seen nor heard of. Mcascn^ors were ininn;- diatcly dispatched to every shanty in the ncij^hbourhood, but to no purpose. During all Monday the woods were traversed in search of her, but in vain. Suspicion, with malignant eye, had already rested upon the Wilsons as tlk perpetrators of a crime, almost too horrible to insinuate. Mrs. Wilson was a woman of fiery passion, and an inadver- tent blow in anger might have done the anticipated deed. The uncle's vengeance became at length aroused, and he swore that if no clue to the mystery was discovered within twenty-four hours, he would burn the Wilsons in their | lair, and scatter their ashes to the winds. Universal indig- nation became apparent, and threats of violence agaiustl them escaped the lips of others in their presenc«. The Wilsons, foreseeing their condition as extremely dangerous, evacuated their shanty during the night, and were never | afterwards heard of. Although the search for Lucy was continued for several | days, nothing further indicated the prospect of her discovery, and it was generally believed that she had fallen a victim | to her tyrannic mistress. At the close of the war, in the winter of 1815, Mr. Brigbl ton was liberated. Sad, indeed, must have been his feei-l logs, at his return, when he was informed of the unfortunatel events of his family. He, however, again constituted il home for himself and children at his former resideDce.1 Time rolled on, and twelve yc irs had winged themselvesi into the inevitable past, and the fate of Miss Lucy Briglitoo| was still a mystery. It happened, however, that in tli 1 TIIK LOAT OIRL. 70 lutmnn of 182C, tlmt iiu»tiiftraM<> yoar of the ^rcut fin' in lie i'orosts of Oanada, thnt Mr. Brighton wont witli snmo orii to a sinull grist mill, but lutoly crectod on tlu> (.'Ita- .ansition from a joyous slumber to a miscrabltl THE LOST (7IRL. 81 roMlity. Havinc; crept forth from hor dinir}' ooll, slic oyod the surrounding woods, and knew not whither to direct her steps. Before her lay the uninhabited and ahnost unbroken forest. Wild denizens of the woods might be lurking around her, ready to dog her footsteps, and the cold uncha- ritable world appeared to be scowling upon her. Having appeased hunger with some berries and wild-roots, she pro- ceeded in the direction, as she supposed, which led towards Beech Ridge, She had not gone very far when she came to a small river, over which she passed by a fallen tree. Hesitating a^moment to consider what course to pursue, she decided to follow the stream, which she supposed to be a tributary of the Norton Creek, and might lead her to some of the settlements. Continuing her steps by the river-bank, she made but slow progress, owing to the irregular course of the river, through marshy land. No prospect of an outlet appearing she attempted to recross the river to appa- rently higher ground, but was prevented therefrom by observing on the opposite side, a bear and two cubs, peering barefacedly through a clump of alder bushes. With horror she sprang back, and vented a terrific shriek that startled bruin and her twins to scamper oflf into the woods. She, however, considered it prudent to remain on her own side of the water. All that day she continued to follow the bank of the river through sedgy morasses woven with brushwood, and intersected by fallen trees, obtaining a scanty support, and little or no rest. Sbe at length sought a shelter for the night beneath the upturned roots of a fallen tree^. Her slumbers were, however, broken by the chorus of the wolves. She was indeed no stranger to the voices of those hungry monsters, for she had heard them almost nightly since her childhood ; but feeling a solitary d2 "31 82 LUCY BRIGHTON, l»: dread cnep over her spirit, she hid her face under the suspended fragments of turf, and nestled the more closely within the tendril bosom of the old root, and anointed her lips with the holy incense of prayer to God for protection. On the evening of the third day she came to where the river entered a larger one. Observing a road along the bank of the latter river, she follo-wed it about a mile without seeing further signs of a settlement. Overcome by exhaus- tion find sorrow, she scrambled upon a large stump by the way-side, and fell asleep. Night, dark night had again dropped its sable curtain over the sunless world, and the dense woods presented n dismal aspect. A stray zephyr, like a weird of the night, whispered among the green boughs, and the foliage murmured a doleful requiem over the sleep- ing lily of the forest. She had slept but a short time when she was suddenly aroused by the fierce barks of a dog. Observing at a short distance the dim figure of a man, she spoke, and it was a blessing indeed to her that she did speak, for the man sup- posing her to be a bear, was at that instant pointing his musket to shoot at her. Recognizing her to be a person, he stepped forward, and addressed her in French. She replied in English, a language he understood not. He, however, beckoned her to accompany him, to which she readily complied. At a short distance they came to a shanty which they entered. An old, respectable looking Freccli- man and his wife were sitting com.fortably smoking their pipes, before a large hearth, upon which a fire was blazing cheerily. They were waiting the return of their son, who had gone ofi" hunting that afternoon. He it was who had brought Lucy to their dwelling, the only game he had caught on that excursion. Her appearance THE LOST GIRL. 83 created quite a sensation among them. Her face and hands were bleeding from the scratches of the briars anci brush- wood, and the meagre garments that liung around her, were torn into shreds. She, however, received a hearty welcome and a happy home. They knew not whither she had come, or to whom she belonged, and henceforth she continued to remain with them, as their adopted daughter. The old gentleman, whose name was Louis Belanger, had belonged to the Canadian Voltigeurs, and had fought at the " Bat- tle OP THE Chateauquay." Being wounded he was discharged on pension, and with his wife and only surviving son, Frederick, a youth of seventeen years, had settled down in the forests of St. Martine. Lucy soon acquired a smattering of their language, and she daily felt an increase of happiness in her new home. Visions of the past, however, frequently threw their shadowi over her pensive fancy, and created a desire to behold her kindred relatives, from whom she was separated by an extensive forest, and knew not how or where to discover them. Those impressions, however, gradually receded with receding time, and she became the more strongly attached to her benefactors, more especially Frederick, upon whom she bestowed an affection of the purest gratitude. He in return also adored her with a heart sanctified by the virtues of love ; and when six years had come and gone, they were united as one in the hymeneal bonds. The old people at length died. In their stead had sprung u|) a group of healthy children. They were a poor but happy family. Time passed on, und fortune at length favoured them. Fre- derick having saved in a few years considerable money from lumbering, was enabled to commence store keeping, and obtain a share in a seigniorial ^rist-mill erected by him, ou • i 84 LUCY BRIGHTON, THE LOST OIRL. the Chateauguny River, and adjoining his own land. Such was the nucleus of the present village of St. Martino, and such were the circumstances of the IJelanger family when old Gideon Brighton found his long-lost daughter. Previon<5 to this period, Mr. Brighton's family had all mar- ried and left him ; he had sold his former property, and was living u olitary life on a small farm adjoining that of his brother's at Beech Ridge. This he subsequently disposed of, and loalized a new and a happy home with Frederick and Lucy, ot St. Martine. Poor old man, he did not live long to enjoy it — two years afterwards he died. Lucy, from an attack of typhoid fever, soon followed him, and botli were interred only a few rods distant from the site of the old shanty, which place now constitutes the present burying ground of the village. This was a severe shock to Frede- rick and his young family. Becoming fretful and discon- solate, he disposed of his property, and removed with his children to the vicinity of Montreal. True to the sacred honor of his departed wife, he never married again. His family grew up, recfived an excellent education, and merited a high respectabiliwy. His daughters became united to men of wealth and distinction, now constituting some of the noted Canadian families of the present time. His only son, naturally of a pious and meditative disposition, studied for the priesthood, and is now one of the ablest and most eminent Catholic clergymen in Lower Canada. With him, Frederick Belanger, husband of " Lucy Brighton, the Lost Girl," now lives, and enjoys in his old age, a Li/c of comfort, quietude, and religion. . • ' " TALE V. THE MIDNIGHT STRUGGLE. Beware of midnight thieves and cut-throat roughs ; Bar down your windows — barricade your doors ; Even when expected least, a felon's hand May find an ingress to your enshrined idols ; And from the balmy summit of a dream, Hurl down your carcass to death's dark abyss. The young dominie like other mortals is subject to the freaks and follies incidental to first love ; and even whilst he is flourishing in the one hand the birchen sceptre of scholastic authority, he may be holding in the other the Nimrodian bow and quiver of the arch-eyed Cupid. And, perchance, whilst teaching the young idea how to shoot, a gilded arrow may fly at random like a shooting star, and glance along the orbit of some passing Venus. King Solomon, in his maxims of discipline, certifies his capacity as a school-teacher, and he appears to have applied the rod freely, particularly to the fools and dunces of his school. •HK.ri-:;! : Lf . ui . ' i. Mentioning the name Solomon, I am reminded of one Solomon Culberry, a school-teacher in the district in which Iformerly resided, and wlio&e lovc-advcnturcs, during a portion of his scholastic career have furnished materials for the present story. '■• ' ' * . . • - At the time I refer to, Solomon was a tall, yawnic- 86 TUB MIDNIOIIT STUUGOLE. looking; youth of twenty summers — of British extraction. and the son of poor parents, settlers in a neighbouring district. lie had always felt himself too lazy or indisposed to work upon a farm. He had a literary taste, and an insatiable appetite for books. His ambition led him tn appr^.i.'iato the dignity of the clergy, and as he grew in years his desire for education and his antipathy to manual labour. iiiciu.wSed. At whatever time his parents desired him to vrk he was sure to be troubled with some spasmodic a;jtections of a bad stomach and its concomitant ills. His facl icito for mind improvement were scanty and of a Tciy indifferent sort; however, through self-exertion, he was capable of being a country dominie in his twentieth year. In rural districts at that time, education was at a low ebb, and inferior qualilications, as a teacher, passed off remarkably well. Initiated into the dignitarian Brother hood of the Ushers of the Birch-Rod, with an S. T. as a sort of aristocratic appendage to his name, he commenced a new era of his life with all the enthusiasm requisite to ensure success. Formerly he was considered as indolent and worthless, but now he became distinguished as an important member of society. But all men, from the days of Adam to the present age, have had some weak side, or | odd quality in their composition — so had F .lomon Culberry And its manifestations became suddenly apparent. A few months after his inauguration, a Miss EUiotsonl from another part of the country, paid a visit to some relatives in the neighbourhood. Hearing of the miraculous progress in the school of Dominie Culberry, she resolviij to become one of his pupils. How small a circumstaiia at an inadvertent moment, may disarrange or explode the speculative anticipations of our ambition ; and, perchance h'^? TU£ MIDNIUUT bTULUOL£. 87 ction. uriii.: 1(1 an iiiin tn 1 ycar> ij^bour. hiui to SBQodic 1 year, at a low ssed ofi Brother- T. Jisa' amcnced ' uisite to indolent ' ;d as an the days side, or | ulbcrry amidst the disorganized material, a superstructure may rear itself, that may give a new phase to our thoughts and actions. Such was the case with Solomon ; no sooner l>ad Miss Elliotson ent<;red the scholastic forum than the heart of poor Culberry sprang a leak, and stars began to sparkle before his eyes. He felt as it were the hand of some invisible power, fingering fantastically among the silken fibres of his soul, and producing a strange, weird-like music of scattered and enchanted sounds, like the murmuring cadence of an iEolian harp upon the moon-lit waters of the ^Egean sea. Miss Elliotson became at once the mistress of his soul, and the brightest jmpil of his eye ; she was young, beautiful, and frolicsome — the proper (jualities to awaken up the latent energies of a young man's heart, and cause him to look, as it were, through a magnifying-glass. School-teaching became daily a greater drudgery to him, except during the happy moments spent with his fair pupil, — herself forming the sum and substance of her class. His peculiar politeness and attention towards her produce \ a sort of dissatisfaction in school, as also among several of the parents ; and the gossips of the neighbourhood plied their vocal organs with sarcastic agility. But young Solomon soon found, like Solomon of old, that " all things under the sun arc only vanity and vexation of spirit." The gay, giddy scholar soon formed an intimate acquaintance with a young man who had lately come to the neighbourhood, and was acting in the capacity of a catechist to the people — there being no stationed minister there at that time. Their intercourse beoame glaringly familiar, and at length an elopement was the result, and poor Solomon Culberry was left to brood over, with despondent sorrow, the disappoint- ment of his early love. Heartless and disconsolate, he 88 TOF, MII>NinnT STRroOLE. fltrujwlcd throupjh the remainder of his fleholastic year, and then retired into liis former domestic obscurity. The following year a male teacher was recjuired in the Russeltown District, consequently Solomon was fortunato cnougli to obtain an engagement to teach there. The school-house wa.s pleasantly situated upon the side of the famous Covey-Hill, which forms a part of the frontiers of York State and Canada East. It was surrounded by a dense thicket, that might serve as a favourite elysium for the sylphs and muses of the mountain, — a fit haunt for the heartless lover in which to pour forth his solitary woes. Adjacent to the school-house, in a retired tpot, lived a respectable Scotch family, and with them, Solomon took up his local residence. But ere long he discovered the good graces of the fair Eliza, — youngest daughter of Vulcan Hammersmith, the person with whom he boarded. Old habits and propensities, although allowed to remain dormant for a length of time, are readily brought into action when any stimulant similar to that which gave them exisience is brought to bear upon them, particularly when the mind is in a passive state. Such was the case with the feelings of | our hero. More deeply than ever he soon became deeply submerged by the follies of a foolish heart; and young Eliza, in return, soon learned to reciprocate his love, with an affectionate heart. But her parents, seeing the mutual tendency of their familiar love, and having ascertained but i false and unfavourable accounts of Solomon's character, very prudently forbade further intercourse. Notwithstanding the rigid edict of the parents, the young couple continued] to love each other, and occasionally to hold a secret inter- view. At the end of the first month Solomon was dis-| missed from the house, and had to find other lodsinL'^. THE MinNIOIIT 8TRt70(jr,K. 3 Un '> >• Hiotographic Sdences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STREiT WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SS0 (7I«) •72-4503 ,..■.»:. )v y*jt*' :■■{-; yi'fwf ..■f- '"■•■ i^'-Si^J^ii/rt. '*i:W ■;t, f. ■) ,. iL'^^-'ivj :-i* ^i*^: ^ . 'Hi* '^^ :flt,*;*>^- ;■*■;' 3l,C/*y^: ^P:i(,iyW^'*-S; t * .?; Har Hov And Like Smil To J Attl The Grin Lan] ,; Blac 'And Witl Who Tor The] Witl Thei Plar /Thei And! , ii .-■}■' •;»>'?"£; .'.J."^' ■'*'■ A; ■-'i I'"'! .+'?'^:r^ TALE VI. ni^-4'i r: ••i> &■ NIGHT ADVENTURES IN A GRAVE YARD. Hark I His the voice of midnight's solemn hoar, How calmly sleep the toil-worn sons of day, And yon fair moon that gilded half our globe, Like some fair virgin to her curtained couch, Smiling, retires from the benighted world. To yonder hallowed shades of Golgotha— — The dark depository of dead men's bones. At this lone hour, and unperceivcd, crawls forth The grave-yard ruffian and the death-bed robber. Grim hoary spectres, skulls of murder'd men, Lank skeletons uprising from their cells, Black, grinning hags whose eyes like demon's glare, And grizzly hell-born monsters from the Pit, With all the furies of the ancient kennel, Who haunt at night these marbled solitudes. To riot on the husks of human carcases,— They fear not, but like bloodhoands track their prey With eagle eye, among the unletter'd dead. Then fastening on some newly turf-clad mound, Plunge to the hilt their ready implements, (Then drag their victim from its prison cell, And bearmg home their booty smirk with joy. tvf If there be one spot upon earth more hallowed than another, more frequently visited by celestial beings, and possessing greater claims upon Hying mortals and the departed spirits h fi- i 98 NIUIIT ADVENTURES I n ft of good and evil men, it is, assuredly, that place where the wicked are at rest and the weary ceane from their labours. These sacred gardens of the dead, however, have been too frequently visited by unhallowed feet; their store-houses have been unmercifully ransacked, and desecrated by sacri- legious ruffians, who have contemptuously outraged the divine authority, whose voice has emphatically commanded that the bodies of the dead shall rest in their graves until the resurrection. . The pecuniary inducements that have been frequently held forth by the Dr. Knozes of the Medical Bench for grave subjects have even tempted some inhuman wretches as Burke and Li are to traffic in dead stocky and procure their victims at the expense of life. As an instance of the rapacious gluttony of the grave- hunter, together, with adventures in a church-yard, and their alarming effects, I now present my readers with a grave subject which I intend to dissect for their special benefit. "'^^ ■ '"'■"'^'' ■•^'' ' ':-'"'^ "'^ It was customary with many of the first settlers in Canada to bury their dead upon their own farm, whilst others conjointly procured a small burying ground for their own convenience. Many of those places, scattered over the country, are still to be seen, whilst others are either trodden down to a level, or ploughed up by some reckless and irreverent possessor of the soil. As a district increased in the number of its inhabitants, and the reli- gious and scholastic wants of the people became a matter of consideration, common cemeteries, convenient for the neighbourhood, were formed in conjunction with either sohoolhouse or church. The burying ground of Beech Kidge is attached to the i^: - IN A GRAVE YARD. 99 the urs. >ecn ases ttcri- thc oded until ently lb for itches XKJur^ grave- 1, and with a lers in Yrhilst |nd for tattered lers are »y some district le reli- matter for the either to the Presbyterian Kirk of that place, both of which arc deserv- ing of special notice ; but for the present I will confine my observations to the former. -^ ,; Some nineteen years ago, a certain resident in the di»- triot of St. Remi was suspected of body snatching. His regular attendance at funerals, and the staunch smell from his waggon after a nocturnal visit to Montreal, suggested to a neighbour the idea of body-lifting. This person ob- served closely the actions of the supposed resurrectionist, and finally satisfied himself that his suspicion was well founded. These tidings coming to the ears of those who had relatives lately buried, induced them to search, and eventually they discovered that many of the graves were tcnantless. The sensation in the neighbourhood of Beech Ridge became intense, and a thousand horrifying rumours were afloat. A secret guard to protect the dead Tr as immediately or- ganized. Two different members were appointed to serve each night during the allotted period of watching every newly-interred corpse. Shortly after this occasion a re- spected member of the Kirk died. On the evening after the interment the first two of the body corps went on duty. It was about the middle of October ; the nights bein^ somewhat chilly, they stationed themselves within the I church, and with gun and dagger ready, kept a good look oat for the resurrectionists. No. 1st. of the body guard, was a canny Scot, of middle age, able-bodied, but possessed [of no extraordinary force of courage, and in case of a combat lat arms, might be readily induced to turn a posterior target Ito his opponent marksman. He was designated by the jname of Bauhals. No. 2ad was a tall coarse-grained brawny Highlander, i i^i 100 NI(}1IT ADVENTURES I ! "I of Boldicr-like appcnranoe, wcll-vorsod in military tacticM and the deeds of warriors, particularly those of the stamp of Fingal and Ouilliam More. He was knighted as a fellow of the ancient Bachelorhood, yet he had decidedly a happy turn for the fair sex. Playing the bag-pipes was his favourite amusement. His style of manners was mild and pleasant, except when aroused into energy by a reoitatioD of so ' heroic prodigy. His valor, however, assumed a higher c flouring than perhaps a closer examination would admit of ; existing rather as an ideal passion of the brain than a tangible ingredient of the heart. His propensity to ponder over and perpetuate the deeds of heroes procured for him the illustrious title of '* Lord Nelson." It hap^ pened that a young night " larker " from the eastern part of Beech Ridge had been up to Nortonvillo that evening, and was returning home at the eleventh hour, carrying over his shoulder a half dozen of stove pipes strung on a pole. A good bumper which he had taken at Magilston on his way home, had aroused the energies and grandeur of his soul and given him a glorious view of things in general. Being natu- rally of a daring mind and the more so on this occasion, he purposed to pay a visit to the grave-yard and test the merits of the body-gaurd. On reaching the gateway he walked boldly up the lane towards the Church, entered the burying ground and seated himself upon the grave sward. A con- fused sound like the fseble efforts of a long besieged army, issued through the kirk walls intermingled with strange weird like mutterings as of human tongues. Stooping over the grave and sticking his pole into the turf, he began to operate, by giving a vertical motion to the pipes, modifying the sound in imitation of the pick and shovel, — the darkness of the night disguised his assumed appearance. A quarter of nn hour dering I door an emitted been kin and thei flint-han were end Withii the grave wards tl hand and mortal be Neithei sort of nc was kept rendering " Stead Bauhols a "Dodi " Pan t] gang," sai " Deil t had failed, dune." " Fire t lated Nels< scuttle the Bauhals wooden pol explosion, stick, bat, ( I , it ' - IS IN A ORAVr. YARD. 101 I nnhmirclap8cd,and neither man nor misHilc appeared. Shoul- dering hi8 pipcH again ho quietly crept around to the Church door and peered through tho koyholo. By the glimmer emitted through tho orifice of tho stove in which a firo had been kindled, ho was enabled to discover tho kirk heroes and their actions. It appeared that tho gun being of tho old flint-hammer style had missed fire, and at thb moment they were endeavouring to ignite the powder by a Incifer match. Within one of the pews adjacent to the window opposite the grave, stood Nelson half bent pointing his musket to- wards tho dead-spot ; whilst poor Bauhals with match in hand and looking the very picture of horror, was doing his mortal best to fire the touohhole of the murderous charger. Neither of the two appeared to hold a steady hand, as a sort of nervous seesaw motion of the match and musket was kept a going until the former became extinguished, rendering every effort ineffectual. 's^S^ ^i^^ Ji sv ; jil ^ '' ISteady, poys, steady," sung out Nelson every time that Bauhals attempted to direct vitality to the fire-works. " Dod man, it'll nae gang aff ava," muttered Bauhals. " Pan the preeoh an' fizzle the cocker, an' the tarn pitch 'U gang," said Nelson. il^ < T-JWJf^ lU ■►•"v ■ '* Dod prosorye mo, hae thae resurrection men shot at yo^ Nelson ?" cried Bauhals, attempting to rise upon his beam- ends. r^" " Py cosh, Bauhals, I'm kilt as shure as daith," muttered Nelson in a death-like tone. i "■' ' This was enough for the young adventurist; he dashed homeward in glorious triumph, leaving his immortal heroes alono in the grand sublimity of their glory, to adjust, as best they could, the disorder of the prodigious and event- ful affair, ^ii i For several nights after this adventure nothing of an eventful nature transpired in either the kirk or kirkyard. It happened, however, that on a certain night another singular event occurred. One of the . appointed watchers was an Englishman, by the name of Bill Hope. He woh rather on odd character ; generally one of the most obliging and inoffensive men in the neighbourhood ; but he, like every other of his species, had his failings. He was addicted to the bottle occasionally, and whilst under its influence, was prone to idealize himself beyond his ordinary capacities. It also produced a wonderful effect upon his pugilistic .11 ill IN A ORAVP. YARD. lO.) propcnuiticfl. He was then willint; to flight any nnd ovory one; yet, after nil, never was unrortunatr fiuni'^li t«» fnul » foe or fifrht n battle in his life. On the eV(Miin«j; n^forre*! to, Bill, having naturatod hio stoniooh for the occartion, Htnrted off boldly to reBumo tho night watch. In the abHonco of hi;4 comrade who had gone in quest of another gun, ho crept quietly along to tho fenco in order to give a solitary poop across tho gravo-yard. The oyening was dark, and things in gonoral prosonted but a vory indistinct appearance. Through tho openings of tho fonco ho gazed, and lo I ho behold the aspect of a man apparently at work. The start- led emotions of his soul b^an to flutter as ho attempted to prepare for the work of death. Having crept to a closer and more convenient distance, he levelled his musket and fired ; bullets and buckshot flew, and oh, horrors ! — tho man fell by the side of tho grave as dead as a tomb- stone. Bill, like an affrighted hero, flew from the spot and sounded the alarm among the neighbours. Well do I remember hearing, on that eventful night, tho sound of the gun-shot ; and, I like many others, through curiosity, instantly paid a hurried visit to the graveyard, and behold with ludicrous amazement the cold and silent victim of the fatal gun. As a sequel to the event, I may here state, that in tho vicinity of the grave alluded to, stood a monumental slab, composed of wood, almost the only memorial of the dead in that place in those days. Some fifteen years it had withstood the wind and weather. Its base at the surface of the ground had become decayed ; and although it stood . as the representative of an earthly immortality, it was indeed tottering upon the tomb. Alas ! like all earthly things, it was doomed to perish — in the twinkling of a moment, m ■* 104 NiaBT ADVENTtTBES 1/ it fell, and great indeed was the fall thereof Now, my astonished readers, allow me in hallowed and reverential solemnity to inform you, that this distinguished monument was the identity of that man — the supposed resurrectionist — whom Bill Hope, in his freaks of a morbid imagination, had laid low in death. ; i^^.tt ' u u ^ . iv Bullets and buckshot flew with force, And his victim fell on the spot ; But instead of the resurrection man, 'Twr3 only the old wood slab he shot. m^' uii. 'i^QffJ A few weeks after this adventure, during the watching of another newly interred-corpse, another eventful but more serious affair occurred. As formerly, two of the members were on guard, one of whom was a Highland Scotchman — the other a Lowlander. The former had equipped himself with dirk and musket — the other with sword and rifle,— each having with him a bottle of the McRae whiskey, — in order to temper their spirits more keenly for their savage work, and keep off the ghosts and fairies that were wont to hover about the place. The dark interior of a country church at night is indeed a dreary, haunted looking place, especially to those who are watching the dead, — every moment expecting to hear the sound of the pick and shovel. Empty pews, tall gothic windows, and the grim visage of the high pulpit, only serve to render the scene more dismal. Imagination is at work. Phan- toms are conjured up. Skeletons and skulls are idealized ; and stories of haunted kirks and kirk-yards, flit over the memory. Only a few yards distant lie the dead — many of whom we have known — some our former friends and companions. We fancy we see and hear them as of 'HI ■ » ' ■■ ' tn A GRAVE YARD. 105 old. A thousand assooiations of the post, in life-like reality, spring up. More closely we hug the enchanted ^(i^ion to our soul, until, perhaps, we are aroused suddenly from our cherished reverie by the hollow tread of the grave- hunter. It is not then to be wondered at that Donald and Sandie had amply provided themselves on this occasion with the Hielanman*8 cure for aH ills. Having seated themselves in a convenient comer for a " look out," they b^an to discuss with liquid eloquence the intrinsic merits of the Black Prince. '< Weel, Donald, what are we ?»un to do, if the died- howkers come?" said Sandie after they had partaken heartily of the liquor. < '*' f usv? oj " Shoot them, py tam," exclaimed Donald roughly. ■■-^ " Whist mun, an 'dinna speak sae loud, or may be thay'U hear ye gin they're about the kirk-yaird," whispered Sandie. " Py cosh, Sandie," said Donald emphatically, " I'll roak my auld kun epak louder than mysel, or my name's no Tonald Mo I'll gie thae pitches and plaekards a guit prog o'my tirk as weel' an' sen them sprawlin' to the diel like a fished herrin'. But py my troth, Sandie, the diei's ay warm whan he sees a fire, saes hersel ay dry whan she talks o' the herrin. Haun' owre the pottle then, an we'll prime our ainsels wi' anither guit dram o' Heilan, poother afore the plack rascals begin to howke. " Slanta acket" said Donald, and the peat reek gurgled down his thropple. " Here sUae ye" muttered Sandie and down went the liquid, — and both smacked their lips as a complimentary token in appreciation of its virtue. The wearied hours of the night were rolling heavily To relieve their tedium the two watchers had I cy ■• 'hi :ilong. b2 106 NIQHT ADVENTURES h indulged freely in bottle No. 1st, and No. 2nd had been begun to. It was now midnight — that hour of all others the most dreary and death-like, — the hour when the queen of superstition with magic finger points towards the mjstic worlds, and with her enchanted wand calls up a myriad of aerial beings to people earth, — the hour when the prison doors of Limbo are opened wide, and its restless inhabitants pay their nocturnal visits to our world. Hades too, throws open its iron portals, and hosts of infernal imps rush out to enjoy, for one short hour, their nightly revelry. The spirits of Elysium also renew the vigour of their golden wings, and, in the light of celestial glory, fly towards earth. The aerial beings of the invisible faer} planet also fan our terrestrial atmosphere, and sport fantas- tically in all the fancy figures of fairy-land. Even the unfathomed caverns of the earth are emptied of their throngs, and the magic cauldrons of witchcraft and leger- demain emit their pernicious fumes upon our atmosphere. This very hour — this mysterious hour had come, and the dead hum of night with solemn stillness pressed deeply upon the soul. The weighty finger of Morpheus had slightly closed the eyelids of the two watchers. However, at that very important period, Donald awoke, and having brushed away the night-dew from his eyes and ears, he very distinctly heard the sound of the digger's implements at work. In reality they were there. The mufiied blow of tLti pick was heard, — the grufif sounds of the shovel grated liarshly through the gravel, and the rattling pebbles sent forth a hoarse murmur as they fell upon the ejected heap of earth. .:rV: % .. '-"^ -«.;:-•;.:*:( ^i.^^'W- " Bluss my soul, they's pe come for sure," exclaimed Donald in a deep undertone, startling wildly up. is ▲ OaAVS YARD. 107 d been I others 3 queen I ni;^stic myriad hen the restless Hades aal imps revelry, of their lory, fly ble faer} rtfantaa- Sven the of their ind leger- losphere. and the deeply Claimed " What's a' the maiter wi' ye Donald, mun ?" muttered SanJio, starting up also, and rubbing both eyes at once. " Whist, SandicI " whispered Donald sharply, ** As sure OS daith thac plaokards hae come, and I smells the corpse already." - .; " Guid gracious ; heaven preserve us ; what 'U become o' us then ? " excitedly muttered Sandie. f " Yer kun, yer kun," cried Donald, "poother, prime, and cocker, hand on trigger, shoother musket, follow Tonaldj" ■< -'-'* -" - .. " Now Sandie," said Donald when they had reached the door, " Afore ye gang oot ye maun stiflfen every feather i' yer breist, keep yer wind tight 'i yer pody — follow me roun to the dyke, an' as soon as ye hear me cry oot — " Ready Poy^i^ — jump the fence, point kun and shoot, — traw tagger — advance quickly, — ^yell like the very deev^l, — an' afore they've time to ken us, or cry " quarUTj" we'll shoot and tirk the ploody rascals." . > ^^ « . . / , Sandie nodded assent, and both having taken a good bumper, they crept out quietly towards the fence of the grave yard. A moment's pause. Sandie drew a long hollow sigh. Donald stared forward with eagle eye, com- pressing his lips. The sounds from the grave pit close by were distinctly heard ; — the eventful moment had arrived — a moment, perchance, pregnant with death, and when skill and valour were to be forcibly brought into action, and the thunderbolts of individual heroism to be hurled forth. wM I- ■' n V5**^ 108 NIQHT ADVENTURES ■ Wi l^^ " Prepare now," whispered Donald. — One second more, and the order " Ready Poys" was given. At that instant, like wild furies, both heroes scaled the fence — fired — belched forth a terrific war-cry, and sprang forward. No sooner done, than a pistol shot was fired upon them — and San die fell, and tumbled over upon his back in a hollow between two graves, and in death-like spasms roared out — " Donald, I'm shot; I'm shot; — heaven preserve me ; oh carry me hame tae my wife and weans," — and a deep, sepulchral groan escaped from his lips. Donald, however, rushed wildly forward at full leap like an infuriated demon, dirk and musket in hand, swearing and yelling like a demoniac cannibal ; but just as he was about to plunge his da^er into the buttocks of the hin- dermost fugitive as he sprang out of the grave, poor Donald himself in his blind hurry was instantly precipitated into the dark and fulsome pit that they had made, where for a few minutes he lay in a state of unconsciousness. Meanwhile, Sandie, more frightened than hurt, discovered to his surprise, that he was not shot, but had only stumbled over a grave, and fell. Having regained his footings, he began to look around for his fellow '' soldier-at-arms," but for some time no signs of him were either to be seen or heard. At length, at a short distance, the voice of poor Donald as if oozing from beneath the turf in muffled tones, cried out in a most pitiable tone. " Oigh ; oigh ; I'm kilt, I'm kilt, — shot and murdered py thae ploody rogues." ■ Sandie believing him to be shot, and apprehending self danger, should the murderers be lurking about, instantly scuddled out of the grave-yard in search of aid. In less than half an hour a dozen of the neighbours, with lanterns entered the hallowed grounds in quest of poor Donald, — but no sound of his voice was heard. -; -^ i \ IN A GRAVE YARD. 100 " Weel lads," said Sandie, as they approached the grave, *' as sure's daith, they've carried him off i' ' thair knappersacks, an' awa' tae the doctor's dicd-house wi-hiui, eh me I puir fallow! " "Py cosh, Sandie, is that yer nainsel," shouted a voice from the grim depths of the newly opened grave, and in an instant the black curly head of poor Donald arose in im- mortal vigour above the confines of the tomb, in which place he had lain quietly for some time, thinking the sounds that he indistinctly heard were those of the grave diggers returning. " Donald, mun, is that really yersel ? " said Sandie. " Kin Tonald binna died, 'tis nae ither than his ainsel- poth pody nnd soul o' Tonald Mc But whaur's the tam rascals that hae kilt me ? Oh, for guid sake, Sandie, help me oot afore I dee i' the tiel's plack hoose and pe perried alive." Donald was soon extracted from the yawning jaws of the pit — the only wound discovered upon his body was a slight contusion upon his forehead, occasioned by the fall, which shock and the accelerated exhilaration of the whiskey, had rendered him unable to extricate himself. Donald having arisen upon the surface of the earth, stretched himself up beyond his full stature, and in the air of heroic dignity, slapped his right hand across his breast, and exclaimed. " Tanks pe to goodness ; Donald Mc is nae kilt yet py the tam plackards." Nineteen years have since rolled away into the past, but Donald and Sandie, crowned with immortal laurels, still live as the '* heroes of the tomb," — and with that eventful and ever-to-be-rembered night, the robbers of the grave-yard closed their sacrilegious career in the burying-ground of Beech Hidgo. ilsS i*.r !> y -J 'Jf ■H ■ ;> . /r-.-;i) . f^. ■I '.';a i m #■ ■■^'A n V? nr /2 iifK/i «^-; •>*• •J,-'-' :r i'r •I'M •iJ.;*'!fi«?■i.^; iii- :rt ;<, /., :i. i« ;iW-rM/ j;-:! i.fi :^tvw: ■.*ii^: 'J?:' ^U.i Ir k:*!:?:^ ••/ .£^1! 'r^r>Cl*iihi' tv^t> •ft .■'l^-.'t.TJff •*/ yvii ^. M'itT O-'l' /:^^ f<>i -, w** '^■'"r J ■al iw: .i I *^A''r J'H it .i!'i<.: ^i ^,k! iiJ,*K'f «!'■>*♦:, i' ;>«ii. W/lV-' 7i«.S ■Kk- - -is •::!': ;^-"f.-:ii . i«>:;Al?': ^,/Jrti^ ->i^-: ■-fe..'jff.- I ff.-'^-' :•«:?■'• »:: 'i%^, fi^^k 4#. .^ .'I'' ;,j ,", V. ':.'l TALE VII. YTJkviHi ''^r- i u\f ■ it:\-\ .^ri...\ >}•*' I-jr. , THE RUSSELTOWN TRAGEDY. f'.}< ■it. a'rturu; Vile monster, wretch, incarnate fiend thou art ; Who for the sake of paltry gain robs life. Hazards thine own and damnifies thy soul. i From man, not Qod, thy hideous head mays't hide, But does not heal or justify thy crime, j., A-^i^i^y The crime of crimes, the hell of hells are thine ; At sight of thee men shudder, earth grows pale. Heaven stares aghast, and angels droop their wings '^' Tea, hell, even very hell grows hot with horror. Extending northward from the base of Covey Hill towards the village of Ghrysostom, is a tract of fertile and semewhat level land, of angular form, bounded in part by the English and Black rivers, and is known by the name of the Russeltown Flats. They were formerly covered by a dense forest of oak, and were early occupied by American squatters, who lived chiefly by hunting and lumbering. Connected with this place is a tragical event, which occurred in the year 1813. As few of the present settlers are aware of such, I feel an interest in giving publicity thereto. I have gleaned the incidents from the pioneers of the forest, the hoary patriarchs of the olden time, who are fast passing away from the earth, and with them many a tale and l^end of the past also pass away. A few years previous to this event, a family, by the name ,,.. ■n I -^ 112 THE RU8SELT0WN TRAGEDY. i. of Shearer settled on a farm adjacent to the Russeltown Corners. Their shanty stood only a few rods distant from where now stands the manse of the Bev. Wm. Masson, Presbyterian minister of that neighbourhood. Mr. Shearer, was, apparently, a peace-loving man, of respectable appear- ance, and extremely courteous ; but the keen observer of human nature could easily detect beneath the smooth sur- face of his features a treacherous undercurrent, oozing from the heart. His wife, though possessed of a favourable aspect was very deceitful and loquacious, and might be con- sidered a little too sweet to he wholesome. Their offiipring consisted of six sons and one daughter ; and like the oaks, among which they had grown up, they were but the ungrafted scions of a gnarled growth. ,;., ^ . . During the three years previous to 1813, an American packman by the name of Josiah Gill, occasionally visited the neighbourhood, at which times he generally made it convenient to stay over night with the Shearer family. He was a young man of excellent character and education, prepossessing in appearance, and commanding universal approbation. j A pedlar's visit in those days, when the country was young and sparsely settled, was a somewhat rare and impos- ing occurrence, and the swollen budget, when opened, created quite an excitement. Every layer had to be dis- placed, and everything unmasked, so that all the contents might be seen : and it was a glorious sight to the young ones, as they crowded around to get a peep at the curiosities. A pedlar in those early times wais looked upon as a person of considerable reputation. His facilities for collecting and carrying news, especially when there was neither paper nor post ofl&ce in the country — and bringing, as it were, a store- THE BUS8BLT0WN TRAGEDY. 113 house to their very doors, ever rendered him a welcome guest to the bosom of every family. Sylvania, eldest of Mr. Shearer's family, was a strong muscular girl of nineteen years. She had fonned quite an attachment for Josiah ; and her parents also felt desirous of kindling a match for their daughter, with so bright a spark. But Josiah's thoughts and feelings were otherwise disposed. Although of a mirth-making, story-telling nature, and oooasionally jocular with Sylvania, he had no idea of affecting a union with her. She was indeed too masculine and metal-tempered for him : her ideas were uncouthly barbarous : her tongue, though unpolished was keen-edged, and well adapted for cutting jokes and dissecting character ; her lips resembled those of a negro in all but colour. She had a pug nose pointing in the angle line of the 45th degree : eyes, iron-grey, inset and voluptuously expressive and peer- ing through sha^y fringes; cheek-bones ridged; fore- bead low and receding; hair, coarse and of butternut colour ; skin balsam hued ; form, of middle-size, muscular and as coarsely chiseled as a Laplander. Her manners were rude, at Umes extravagantly abrtpt — as laughing to raise a laugh, and talking for the purpose of making herself witty and others intelligent. Notwithstanding her natural eccentricities she was possessed of love; — not that senti- mental, heaven-inspired essence of the inner soul, whose life is sanctified by chastity of thought and action, — ^but the e£fervesence of a lasciviously impassioned heart, that manufactured its own feelings out of the excrescences of the blood, and never allowed its virtues to rise higher than the stomach. Such was the young lady who sought the heart and hand of Josiah Gill. Eastward a few miles from Covey Hill, lived, at that y m 114 THR RTIRflRLTOWN TRACJEDT. ! timo a rcflpectnbic fainily named Gilfillon. Idalinc was the youngest of tlie liousohold, tall, graceful, and naturally acconiplishcd ; twenty-two years of age, and of the very stamp and material congenial to the fancy and feelings of Josiah Gill. They had loved each other since their first interview ; theirs was a virtuous and happy love. Thrw years had ho traversed the winding pathways of the forest. Many a stormy day and trackless woods he had struggled through ; but he was now desirous of forming a permanent residence, and uniting to himself the beautiful Idaline Gilfillan as his wife. One evening, about the middle of December, 1813, Josiah Gill arrived at Mr Shearer's, with the intention of stayjnp: over night ; he had been on a tour through some of the lower settlements, and was returning homeward, on his last trip as a forest packman. He informed them that he had come to pay his farewell visit, as he purposed opening a store in his own district. They had lately heard of his intercourse and intended marriage with Idaline, and there- fore questioned him as to the truth thereof. " What everybody says must be true," said Josiah, smilingly : whereupon Sylvania belched forth a tirade of abuse against Idaline and the others of her family. Josiah, seeing the bad effect, waived the subject, and began to inform them of what news he had heard. The old dame, however, endeavoured occasionally to embellish the conver- sation with specimens of choice flattery, in favour of| Sylvatiia as a housekeeper, and what inestimable qualities she was possessed of. In the course of the evening, Mr. Shearer inquired of Josiah what success he had had on his tour ; the latter informed him that he had sold and collected to a considerable amount. THR RHSHRLTOWN TRAOIDY. 115 J, Josiah f Btayin;; le of the a his last it he had pening a d of bis d there- "Well, Joe, I think you hnd hotter hriTo mo to help you to carry your purse home," exclaimed Sylvanin, jokin^My. " Oh, perhaps, ho has already engaged Ida Giltillan," Hnccringly ejaculated dame Shearer. " Then that will he Gill and Qill-fillan & Co.," said Josiah. ^ •' You'll soon get tired of her company, the dirty slovenly thing that she is," contemptuously exclaimed Sylvania. " That may and may not be the case," replied Josiah. At this instant a neighbour entered the shanty tvhich gave a new phase to the conversation. At length Josiah retired to bed : — his intentions were to visit Gilfillan's on the fol- lowing day, and complete the arrangements for his wedding —and in the reverie of bright thoughts, happy anticipa- tions, and expanding prospects, he began to slumber, and ere long was a sojourner in the land of dreams. Moraing came and day passed away. It is now evening : and my readers, I solicit you to accompany me to the interior of another shanty, only a few miles distant. Layers of round logs, interlined with moss, form the walls of the build- ing. Slabs of basswood compose the roof and floor. One part of the interior is partitioned oflF for a family bed-room, the other serves as kitchen, parlour, and dining-hall, and contains a window of four lights and a large uncouth fire- place : its furniture consists of home-manufactured table, 8tools, &c., a deer's antlers fastened to the wall serve as a clothes' hook, near by are suspended a gun and powder horn. Seated before the hearth on which a fire is blazing cheerily, are a man and woman of middle age, the one is mending a mocassin, the other darning a stocking, whilst a favourite kitten sits purring upon her lap. A young man is repairing his snow-shoes — his faithful dog is seated near .'f! ■I 116 THK RURHELTOWN TRAOIDY. I I by, watching with eager eye every motion, apparently nnti cipating another Htag-hunt. Two young females are fK'iiU'il at a table Howing a dresH, the texture of which is superior to that commonly worn in the forest. One of them is ap- parently absorbed in thought yet restless, as if imprcHscd with solicitude for her expected lover. As the evening ad- vanoos more impatient become her feelings ; a dosen timen has she opened the door and peered over the oloaranoe, but he comes not, neither is his voice heard among the wailings of the toll pines. Even after the others of the family In ^ retired to rest she sat for hours by the side of the old hearth gazing upon the glowing embers, peopling them with the living forms of her own creation, and waiting for the arrival of her expected suitor. All was gloom— over the briglu affections of her heart melancholy was darkly foreboding. The very woods around, enveloped in their shrouds of snow, seemed more ghastly uad grim-like, whilst the cold winds of a bleak December harped a requiem among the boughs. Bestless and di8appointc4 she at length retired to bed to seek the balm of slumber with which to soothe her troubled soul. This young, beautiful and accomplished maiden of the forest was none other than Idaline Gilfillan. Josiah had promised to be with her that evening at the furthest ; but days and nights in endless succession passed away, and he came not. She suspected no unfaitL.uiDti^:^o^ his part; but felt apprehensive that he had lost } ^h way ih! periE>] in the woods or fallen a victim to the wolves. One evening about three weeks afterwards, an elderly and ,i>TT^9what respectable like person made his appearance at (xi'^iilar'". shant^. Although a stranger ho was apparently aor^ui iuted wi'h the proposed union of Josiah and Idaline. He rii^.tantly recognized the intended bride by the descrip* THR RURRELTOWW TRAOEDY. 117 a t tion pivcn him. Flaving taken a h' ""'od viow if the houac and houMuhold ho inquired if thrv were n< uainted with • peraon by the name of Josiah Gill, Aic., &o. Mr. GilfiUan, not knowing the oharaotor of the poraon or his business, replied to his quettiooa ia a literal manner withuui any remarks. "T .T" i!\o father of Josiah Gill," said the stranger. *' 'ui-i' i; tL last three weeks I have waited in vain the re: :tt 'Cmy son, and having heard no intelligence of him I booamo apprehensive; consequently, I have been com- pellod to go in searoli of him." By the manner and appearance of the stranger, at first, IJoline was forcibly impressed. Her feelings oscillated betwixt hope and fear, a crimson flush for a moment played fantastically upon her features, and was succeeded by a yoUow paleness ; and when the stranger had revealed him- self, stranger feelings pervaded her soul ; the warm upris- ings of her heart were chilled by a nervous tremor which produced feelings akin to death. i)^i'.::r.^'iT--^^^ Early next morning Messrs. Gill and Gilfillan started off in quest of Josiah. They found no further trace of him after the night referred to. But Mr. Shearer informed them that Josiah had left his shanty on the morning of the 17th of December — that he had gone by the lumber-road, in the direction of Hemmingford, and anything further of him iie knew not. "*^'^^ ^-'^^ .is"«i3?Kr n^^^ " Perhaps he has strayed from the pathway, and perished in the woods," added Mrs. Shearer. Notwithstanding the kindness and feasible-like policy of the Shearer family, thi^y however felt suspicious that Josiah had been foully dealt with. Mr. Gill recognized several articles in their possession that Josiah had when he left liomc : but these alone were not of sufficient evidence. Tc !^1 118 THE RU8SELT0WN THAGEDY. if !1 search for his body, amid the depths of winter was in all probability useless. Even had he been murdered his body no doubt was obscurely concealed beneath the snow, and every mark of the foul deed obliterated. , » \. ; n They, however, entertained a slight hope that he may have gone to some more distant settlements to dispose of his remaining goods, and would eventually return. Should he not, they were determined that a thorough research would be made whenever the snow had disappeared. It became the general opinion among the neighbours that Josiah had been murdered by the Shearers, and at length they were tantalized without mercy. Ghost storiw of the murdered pedlar were set afloat. Strange apparitions were seen nightly about the place, and strangled cries of ** murder, murder," were heard. . v * i Mr. Shearer, apprehending the danger of remaining longer in the place, removed his family and effects during the night ; and for some time afterwards their destination was unknown. ^sn ' Winter at length departed from the forest, and spring was again ushered in, and Mr. Gill visited once more the shanty of Gilfijlan ; Josiah had not returned, neither had further intelligence of him been received. The excitement was renewed, and after a few hours' research by the inhabi- tants, his body was discovered under a brush pile, only a short distance from the shanty which had been inhabited by the Shearer family. Stains of blood were found on the wall of the room wherein he had slept ; and previous indi- cations also augmented the evidence that he had beca murdered by the Shearers. The starthng realities of so hideous a crime produced an alarming treraour throughout the neighbourhood. Universal indignation gainst the Shearers became rampant, and Mr. Gill was at length ui-gd ■HMW- THE RU88ELT0WN TRAGEDY. 119 spring )re the ler had Iteraent linhabi- only a labited on the Ls iudi- Id been Is of so ^ughout ist the ui-gcd to pursuo and prosecute the perpetrators of so brutal an outrage. Subsequently, he and Mr. Gilfillan departed for Montreal, called upon Henry Forbes, thu person who had purchased Mr. Shearer's property, and by him were inform- ed that the family had gone to reside with a relative in the vicinity of Kingston, C.W. Thither, Messrs. Gill and Gilfillan directed their course. Having procured a warrant of arrest, and, accompanied by a constable, they pursued in search, and finally succeeded in ferreting out the Shearers, a few miles north of the city. They were inhabiting a miserable shanty, immured among the woods, the objects of squalid poverty and degradation. They were soon ap- prised of the bailiff's errand, and though apparently much alarmed, they stoutly pleaded in the name of God their innocence of the crime. Mr. Shearer only was apprehend- ed : he was taken before a magistrate's court, but was sub- sequently seut to prison to await his trial at the criminal assize. - " '■' "^--'' '■" '"■''■ '■"^'- ' '""' "-" '•"'' • " ' ■ The following morning disclosed an eventful scone. His I body WIS found lifeless in the cell — his throat lacerated from ear to ear. And the following paragraph pencilled upon paper was lying on his couch beside him : > " Heaven knows that I am guilty ! Hell is yawning for \m ! I will rather precipitate myself thither by my own \nnd than be forced- thereinto by a cruel Jury and a grin- h>ng hangman ! Gillf forgive me, no longer will thy spirit "rment me unless thou art in hell also ! Oh, the accursal ' t' of gold ! the demon of my own and thy destruction. kt I icill willingly sacrifice my life to pay thine. leaven forgive the deed I I die. Henry Shearer. June l5lh, 1814. l-V 120 THE RU8SELT0WN TRAGEDY. Thus died the murderer by his own hands — and may the following lines be engraven upon the coffin-lids of such degraded and infernal monsters in human shape : Ignoble lives deserve inglorious deaths ; But he who whets his sword upon men's bones, And GUIs the cord by which life hangs to time, * Then thrusts his dagger in the face of Deity, And madly thus precipitates himself ^ :> Into the surging whirlpool of his own blood. The hell of hells is his — a hell that lies .. , Unfathom'd depths beneath the hell of devils. A few additional words are all that is necessary to com pletc the outlines of my history of the Shearer family. A few years previous to these events, Jacob Powley, a brother of Mrs. Shearer, settled on a farm a few miles north of Kingston. Being an old bachelor and becoming some- what disabled he had written to the Shearers during their re- sidence at Russeltown, desiring them to remove thither, pro- mising to grant them possession of his land for the mere trifle of supporting him as one of their own family. Thither they had all gone, subsequent to the murder, and in Powley's j old hovel, were living when discovered by their pursuers. The overwhelming reality of Shearer's crime and deatli I produced so powerful a shock upon the shattered nerves of old Jacob Powley, that he died shortly afterwards. He [ was interred in an old burying-ground adjacent to the| Kingston cemetery, three miles north of the city. A rudei stone was erected over his remains, and in letters of an uncouthly form, contains the following eccentric epitaph. The stone still stands as a sentinel of the dead. Three years ago I visited the spot, and copied the inscription. Asl a literary specimen of epitaphiau curiosities, I submit it to| the perusal of my readers. ' and may Is of such C8, ne, THE EU8SKLT0WN TRAGEDY. INSCRIPTION. 121 s. ll try to com amily. Powlcy, a miles north ning some- ing their re- hither, pro- 3 mere trifle 'hither tlicy n Powley's ir pursuers. 5 and death ;d nerves of| wards. He cent to the ;y. A rude I etters of aii| xic epitaph, ead. Thrcel cription. As submit it to Here lays the body of Jacob Powley, who gave much sods/action until the last period when he sat in his chair Facing the door on the 21sf d(iy of June, 2 o'clock after- noon, year 1814. He lay down His Hed without a strug- gle or a groan to sleep in silence being age I 69 yrs. 8 mts. and 7 dys. Shortly after these events the Shearer family removed to another part of the country ; but whatever place or position they chanced to occupy, their conscience and their character would be branded with the bloody stamp of an eteniiil infamy. The horrid fate of Josiah Gill preyed heavily upon the mind of Idaline. Like the foliage of a tree whose roots have been lacerated and laid bare, her vernal charms began to droop, and continued to wither in the sunshine of nature ; and ere yon moon had six times filled its circle, she passed away from the turmoils and sorrows of this life. She was buried by the side of her departed lover, on a little eminence among the trees, which place formed the nucleus of the present burying-ground of Russeltown Flats. A wooden tablet, that has long since disappeared, was erected by the Gill and GilfiUan families, as a memorial of them, and bearing the following inscription : Here lie the bodies of Josiah Gill, aged 2Qf and Idaline GUfillan, 22 years — espoused lovers, whose deaths were premature, but their lives and loves are etemcd. On wedded wings their spirits soar Above the confines of the dead: Eternity's their marriage tour, And Heaven is now their nuptial bed. P ' ^."■: "hit . m 122 THE RUSSELTOWN TRAGEDY. I Under these beautifully expressive lines, some reckless and unfeeling poetaster sometime afterwards pencilled the following inappropriate apostrophe : r-,. Here on his back without his pack Now rests the mnrder'd pedlar, Qill ; Be told falsehoods about his goods, And tho' he's dead he lieth still. Fifty-two years have passed away since that eventful tragedy. The inhabitants of that age have disappeared from the place ; and a new race has arisen instead thereof, few of whom have been made familiar with those events. Nevertheless, they are true, and though they belong to a past age they can never be conjured up but with feelings of regret, horror, and detestation. .. , , i I ,< .- ■-•• ^■'■u. ).'i h- ■'■.: -:■-' '■ ■' = if ■ -t . < •If'.'*' ?i«J '\: TALE VIII. OUR FIRST ATTEMPT AT SUGAR MAKING. Insatiate man ! for thj capacious maw, Thy perjured tastes and pamper'd appetites, And wants luxurious, old nature groans : The maple bleeds, and earth's rich veins are sapp'd. The sugar-season of Canada, though short, is generally pleasant — it being that period when winter relaxes its stern- ness, and gradually diffuses its ingredients into the genial elements of Spring. The very idea of locating one's self for a while among the woods, surrounded by the opening beauties of the year, is of itself sufficient to diffuse inspi- ration and enjoyment within the feelings that have been for months subjected to the sternness and sterility of win- ter. Every day enhances the vernal prospect, and lends a livelier relish to the mind. The snow is rapidly disap- pearing beneath the genial touch of the sun and southern breezes. Crows are fluttering among the dense branches of the tall hemlock, and loudly announcing their arrival ; whilst others of the birds of passage are seen and heard among the trees. The partridge is flapping his exultant wings, causing the air to vibrate like distant thunder ; and the newly awakened bee is buzzing past, exercising his little wings, and, perchance, in search of some tiny bud or flower. The squirrely in joyous activity, is figuring off 1-^ 124 OUR FIRST ATTEMPT h if fantastic feat«. ind twittering an exulting solo ; whilst the little chipmunk, awakened from his winter dreams, is also revelling in the feast of universal jubilee. Sugar-making, although sometimes laborious, and per- haps injurious to health, is often characteristic of many singular incidents and amusements. Many a little evening party is collected around the cabin fire to participate in the sweets and enjoyments of a "melting off," — many a spicy jest and jocular song and story divert the social youths, and, perchance, many a hymeneal match has been lighted by sparks from the altar of affection during those merry- making feasts of sugar-making. , ' Of the many incidents and night gatherings I have wit- nessed, much might be written, but for the present I will only indulge my pen in a narration of the following events which have given a lasting impression to my memory ; and therefore I will now introduce my readers to OUR FIRST ATTEMPT AT SUGAR-MAKING. Many years ago we located ourselves upon a bush farm, on which was an excellent sugary. My father, unaccus- tomed to bush labour, never ventured to try sugar-making until a year or two afterwards, when ho was persuaded by a son of one of our neighbours, and who agreed to super- intend the work on condition that the products would be equally divided. Having got every requisite thing in readi- ness, we tapped our trees, and commenced tlie operation of boiling, &c. Sugar-making being quite a novelty to r.s, our whole family spent the first day in the woods, a part of which time John, our partner, endeavoured to interest our minds with a wild and extravagant collection of wolf I AT SUGAR MAKINO. 125 it the I also I pcr- many rening in the L spicy rouths, lighted merry- ive wit- t I will r events •y ; and sh farm, unaccusr making laded by to super- would be in rcadi- jration of ,y to vs, ds, a part interest n of wolf i and bear stories, and Highlond witch-legends, etc., so that as evening approached we all felt somewhat apprehensive of our condition, lest some voracious bear — or rather bug- bear — would make a barefaced appearance amongst us. John was rather an eccentric fellow, and possessed of an extraordinary fund of marvellous legends and forest ad- ventures, with an excellent faculty of giving to them an extravagant expression. He was also noted for playing tricks, and oftentimes his poor old father was made the sub- ject of his foul propensity. The following are specimens : One hot day the old man suspended a keg of butter into the well to cool. The young rascal, unperceived, cut the rope, and down went the butter through ten feet of water. The father, suspecting him to be the perpetrator, imme- diately attempted to apply a dose of Solomon's birch-wood remedy to his son's back, but the young rascal escaped into the garret by a ricketty ladder, followed by his father, who, whilst attempting to get up, received the contents of a box of flour over his head. Emboldened by increased anger, though half blinded and suffocated, he resumed the attempt; but on placing his fingers over the ceiling boards, the wild scamp dealt him an iron rap across the knuckles, causing the old man to relinquish his hold and retreat as the van- quished hero. At another time his father sent him to the pasture to bring home the old nag, on which he intended to ride a few miles. John having prepared a small pack- age of powder, concealed it within the tail of the horse. As soon as the old fellow had mounted the saddle, John, on pretence of adjusting the tail, lighted the fuse, and away cantered the old horse, whilst the young blackguard stood watching with eager eye the expected upshot. The horse and rider had gone but a short distance when, bang I went i ! 1. V- ■U 126 OUa FIRST ATTEMPT i^ the terrific explosion, and up went the hinder lieels of the animal, followed by a convulsive bound forward, giving the old fellow a spasmodic hoist from the saddle, and nearly precipitating him to the ground. Away went the horse and rider, Gilpin-like, at the rate of " two-forty " along the road, and in the twinkling of a few seconds were out of sight, leaving a cloud of smoke as the only vestige of the strange phenomenon. Notwithstanding these outrageous freaks of John's char- acter, he was possessed of some excellent qualities ; his kindness was liberally served out to those whom he con- sidered as his friends, and as he grew in years he learned to grow wiser and better. \ John's wolf and bear stories in the sugar-bush, that day, as I said, had a tendency to alarm us; therefore we endeavoured to sugar oflF before nightfall, but were disap- pointed. Having, however, reduced the liquid to the quan- tity of three pailsful, we started for home, intending to "melt it off " there. No sooner had we entered the house and set down the pails, than John's m \stiff stepped boldly forward to smell their contents. This gave ours an occa- sion to call him to account, consequently a furious caiiiue combat ensued. The tremendous onslaught aroused the voracious energies of our old tom-cat, who sprang into the fiercest part of the action and fought like a Bengalian tiger. My father and John jumped forward to separate the trio- combatants ; but during the heat and hurry of the affray, tables, stools and chairs were precipitated, and the weaker part of our family thrown into convulsive frenzy. One pailful of the saccharineous liquid was overset and the reeking element scattered over the floor ; and worse than all, poor John got one of his hands lacerated to ihe bone by the grii the cou rcinaini fire so ai it for so ing off u contents agreed t< my fathe family w prayer, a: dreaded i peared to lengthy, a was fast a phcus beg a dreamy sciousness ofthestai apparently upon the s Finally he way down, I made a des I unable to J and ears ii his sufferin lightning h kicking anc I vent to a s( than the wo Ivulsivegest !m AT STKIAR MAKING. 127 learly horse ig the )ut of of the the grinders of the ferocious mastiffs. Having subdued tliu combatants und adjusted the disorder, we placed tlic remaining syrup into a pot and hung it over the chimney fire so as to convert the liquid into sugar. Having boiled it for some time wo considered it prudent to postpone sugar- ing off until morning, and therefore, placed the pot and its contents under a ladder that led up to the garret. John agreed to remain over night ; but before our retiring to bed, my father, as usual, commenced the devotional exercises of family worship. Praise and reading were followed by prayer, and we all knelt around the old hearth. I always dreaded this part of the service, as my father's prayers ap- peared to me to be extremely tedious and unnecessarily lengthy, und frequently before he was midway through I was fast asleep. This night, as usual, the finger of Mor- pheus began to steal over my eyelids, mesmerizing me into a dreamy slumber ; but I was suddenly startled into con- sciousness by the caterwauling of our old cat at the head of the stairway, whither he had fled after the battle ; he was apparently anxious to retrace his way, but was deliberating upon the safety of the long steps of the ricketty old ladder. Finally ho attempted to descend, and whilst groping his way down, unfortunately slipped over the second bar, and made a desperate struggle to retain his hold ; but poor tom, unable to regain his position, fell, and plunged over head and ears into the pot of scalding syrup, and gave vent to I his sufferings by a hideous death-like yell. Quicker than j lightning he sprang out, and ran to and fro over the room, [kicking and stamping like an infuriated fiend, and giving vent to a series of unearthly yells, louder and more terrific than the woful wails of the Tartarean furies. The wild con- vulsive gestures and cries of the infuriated animal acted like f mm p ) I 128 OUB ?IR8T ATTEMPT AT 8U0AB MAKING. magic on my risibiliiieH, and John and I burst into unrc- strainable fits of laughter. My father appeared to become perfectly bewildered in his devotions, but after a momen- tary pause resumed, and prayed louder and more emphati- cally than ever. St. Paul says that the prayers of a righteous man availeth much ; but whatever virtue there was in my father's prayer it produced no effect upon mc on that occasion ; for, John and I, unable to maintain our equanimity, gave louder and longer bursts to our convul- sive risibilities. My mother, who was near to me, after smoothing off the wrinkles of laughter from her own coun- tenance, turned round with saint-like visage and ^^ave me a rigid rebuke ; but finding it to prove ineffectual she liau recourse to another expedient ; so clinching hold of the tongs, she brought, with the whole force of her arm, their metal weight over my back, causing me to roar and bellow like an outrageous maniac, end overwhelming the voice of prayer. My father being completely confounded by such a series of singular events, and fearing to proceed further, lest a more frightful or fatal calamity might befal, endeavored to stammer out u few unmeaning sentences, and abruptly wound up his ejaculations with a short amen. Thus ended our devotional exercises for the night, and OUR FIRST ATTEMPT AT SUOAR-MAKINO. • f- PRIS( \ Canada, tl of its barba events, man of its early had venture forests — the the sr> vago b war-wiioop, 'Its dark rec warriors, an( I its forests Wbarous d( TALE IX. PRISCILLA POMINVILLE, THE CAPTIVE GIRL ; OB, THE RAID OF THE MOHAWKS. The hoary saint aa a martyr stood, Bound fast to an ancient oak, Praising his God 'midst the burning wood, And volumes of flame and smoke, Whilst the wild men joined in the festal dance, And shouted his death-doom'd knell. Like the chorus of flends o'er a sin-gilt soul As it enters the gates of hell. Ai Canada, though barren of ancient history and the vestiges of its barbarous ages, is in itself replete with incidents and events, many of which occurred during the bloody struggles of its early settlement. But ere the foot of the white man had ventured upon its soil, ages had rolled over its dense forests — the solitary haunts of the uncivilized Indian, and the spvago brute. Its mountains had echoed to the Indian war-whoop, and its intervals to the chant of savage revelry. Its dark recesses had been traversed by hordes of painted warriors, and its rivers, rippled only by the bark canoe ; its forests had enregistered upon their leaves volumes of barbarous deeds, too dark indeed to be lighted up by the 92 1:J0 PBI8CILLA POMINVILLE, TUB CAPTIVl CJIIIL , h torch of civilisation ; and, Btnr-likc, they vanislicd with the darknoM at the aj) >roach of an cnlighUincd ago. Tho Indian tribes inhabiting Canada at the tiino of \u discovery, were chiefly those of the Algoncjuin, Huron, ami IrofjuoiiJ. The former occupied the northern shore of tlic St. Lawrence, cast from Montreal ; tho Ilurons cxteiidtM] westward to the Great Lakes ; the Iro({uois were distribute)] over a vast territory bordering on the southern shores of Lakes Eric, Ontario, and the river St. Lawrence. The origin and early history of these tribes are somewliat obscure. It appears, however, that tho Iroquois ami Hurons were kindred tribes, and belonged ori<;inally to a formidable confederacy. The Iroquois, on their arrival in tho country, settled in tho vicinity of Hochelaga; sul sequently, they became subject to the Algonquins. Be- coming numerous in the course of time, they made an eflfort to establish their independence, but were defeated. They then fled to tho southern shore of tho St. Lawrence, and eventually became a most powerful nation, and a forui- dable and inveterate enemy to the Algonquins and Hurons. During the early part of tho seventeenth century, the French made an effort to establish a colony in Canada. As a means to facilitate their progress in the discovery und settlement of the country, they entered into friendly rela. tion with tho Algonquins a..d Hurons, and by so doing rendered themselves open to the aggressions of the Iroquois, who were still hostile to those tribes. As a means to intro- duce Christianity and education among the Indians, France sent out a number of Jesuits and nuns. In 1G35 a collegcj for that purpose was erecte(t at Quebec. In 1642 a settle ment was formed on the present site of the city of Montreal, at which place in the same year the Jesuits founded tii OR, THE RAID OF THE MOHAWKH. 131 Ilotrl Diou, n m^ininiiry for tho youthn of U>th tho Fronrh and the ImlinnH. In IGIt tliu IroijUois conctTtod a bnlil whcmc, by which thoy hojHjJ to oxtrnninato tho Fronoh and Hubdue tho aUiod tribcH. Tlicy distributed theni-clvcs into several bunda over the eountry, and on u given day were to make a general attaek upon their eneuiien. l{ut tlieir dewign being dincovered, they wire foiled in tho attempt, notwithstanding which, numbers of tho French wore killed. In 1G48-9 they committed a series of terrible niassacros upon the Ilurons, routed tbem completely, and eventually forced them to flee for shelter to the upper lakes. Tlie Iroquois having so fur succcHsfully executed their design, renewed their aggressions against the French. Fierce hostilities ensued. Several treaties at diGcrent periods were subsequently formed, but failed to estab- lish permanent peace. At length the Ennlish, having tiiken possession of a part of the country south of the St. Lawrence, ingratiated themselves with the Iroquois. This tended to produce greater enmity in tho minds of the French, who, having failed to subdue the Iroquois, had recourse to a perfidious strategcm. Under pretext of desir- ing a treaty with them, they decoyed a number of their counsel chiefs to Quebec, and there seized and sent them to France as slaves. The Iroquois, in retaliation, com- mitted a series of deadly ravages upon the French. The most frightful of these occurred in the neighbourhood of Montreal. Suddenly, one night in August of 1689, the Mohawks, a tribe of the .Iroquois, attacked the village of Lachine, massacred all its inhabitants, and left it only a heap of smouldering ruins. Encouraged by success, they invaded Montreal, and having destroyed numbers of its population and pillaged the town, they withdrew, carrying with them, ''i 132 PRISCILLA POMINVILLE, TOE CAPTIVE OIRL ; f:^ 1 1 08 captives, to the number of sixty-five, the Jesuits, nuns, and pupils of the Hotel Dieu. Having re-crossed the Ht. Lawrence above Lachine, they continued their course west- ward up the stream, until they came to the outlet of the Chateauguay river. There they encamped for the ni«:ht, built a fire, and held their usual " Santanago," or Grand Feast of Victory. Still thirsting with revenge for blood, more especially that of the religious order, whom they considered to be their worst enemies, they inflicted a series of tortures upon five of their captives by thrusting pointed sticks into their eyes and noses, cutting oflF their ears, and then scalping them. Their victims were then bound to a tree, fagots were piled around them, and set on fire, followed by the " Tianago," or circle dance, which they continued, accompanied by chorus and shouts of triumph, until their victims were consumed. Then, gathering up the ashes and charred remains, they threw them into the river, oflfering the " Casago," or prayer of gratitude to the " Good Spirit." Next morning they resumed their route by way of the Chateauguay, and on the evening of that day arrived at the junction of the " Powaska," now known as the English River, where they also encamped, burned other five of their captives, and scattered their ashes into the water. On the following day they ascended this stream, and at the mouth of the "Sieska" (East River,) now Norton Creek, they sacrificed one of the nuns to their earthly demigods. Three miles further up, they came to the outlet of the " Nuka," or Black River, where now stands the village of Chrysostom. Hero they were met by a band of the " OneydcBs," one of their kindred tribes, who, on hearing of the premeditated attack upon Montreal by the Mohawks, were on their way thifhe of the so in a Oneyd kindre< iSantan of the comraer in the I: festal br ments. by two s — the g "Sanask water, with woo from the fathers, a upon the prayer to praise, the then marc carrying a and singin whilst a s( warriors, p chorus. [ I producing ' mimicry, a terrific yolli The verj »iad reveir} OB, THE RAID OP THE MOHAWKS. 133 nuns, he St. 1 wcst- of the night, Grand blood, n they i series pointed irs, and )und to followed itinued, til their le ashes le river, B " Good thither to render them assistance. Elated with the news of tlic successful exploits, but more especially the sight of so many captives, and 500 scalps of their enemies, the Oneydocs, with more than usual alacrity, joined with their kindred tribe in the wild revelry of another triumphal Santanago. Having pitched their encampment by the side of the river where it glided rapidly over a flat rock, they commenced their grand carnival by an insatiable indulgence in the liquor and viands of their pillage, interspersing their festal banquet by a recital of their adventures and achieve- ments. They erected there a rude altar of stones, adjoined by two smaller ones. They dedicated the one to " Manitou " — the great Spirit of Life — the two others in honour of "Sanaska" and " Soraso " — the demi-deities of fire and water. Each of these altars had a cavity, which they filled with wood. The" Powows," or chief-priests, then selected from the captives one of the most patriarchial Jesuit fathers, and two of the eldest nuns, bound and placed them upon the altar for a burnt sacrifice. Having offered up a prayer to each of the three deities, and chanted a song of praise, they kindled the dry fagots. They and the Sachems then marched in procession around the blazing altars, each carrying a pole, to which were attached a number of scalps, and singing the " Pascalapa," or song of the " dead-march," whilst a second party, consisting of the eldest and noted warriors, performed the Tianago, and responding with full chorus. The others joined in the promiscuous dance, producing all sorts of grotesque gestures, grimaces and mimicry, and causing the very woods to ring with their terrific yells. ..... .*.r,.. . ,. ; -4 u The very thought of such barbarous cruelties, and such mad revelry of human monsters, rendered even more awful m m n .1 I 134 PRISCILLA POMINVILLE, THE CAPTIVE GIRL; by their painted faces and feathered heads, causes a thrill of horror within the soul. What a contrast of counti-y is now presented to us — a country over whose surface then an interminable wilderness had for ages cast its deep and solemn shade, where, amid the gloom that gathered over it, might have been seen the Indians at their war-dance, or, perhaps, flames curling round some expiring captive, or wild beasts mangling their prey. We now see smiling fields and cheerful villages in the place of dismal forests; instead of beasts of prey we see grazing herds ; instead of the burning fagot, we witness the worship of Jesus Christ; and instead of the appalling war-whoop, we listen to the songs of David. In the words of Scripture, the wilderness has indeed begun to blossom as the rose, and the desert is becoming vocal with the praises of God. . ^ The Indians having prolonged their carnival to a late hour of the night, retired to rest, wearied and intoxicated, leaving their prisoners lying bound upon the cold earth. When sleep had closed the eyelids of the red men, one of the Jesuits succeeded in slipping the bands from his hands, and giving liberty to the other captives. Unperceived, they withdrew into the woods, and effected an immediate escape. At early dawn the " sogo " was sounded through every wigwam, ani ere long, eight hundred warriors were in hot pursuit, scouring the woods in every direction. Only one Jesuit, five nuns, and fifteen pupils were dis- covered, and taken back. One of the Indians was, how- ever, killed in the struggle of the re-capture. Then com- 1 menoed a series of tortures of the most appalling and cruel character. Some of the captives were literally flayed alive; others were suspended by the heels over a slow fire, and pointed sticks thrust into their bodies. The Jesuit was] scalp and i Hev him, the s[ buriaJ him u from j cavity of ash ''Wm revive Having his wea prayer 1 the end the bod OB, THE RAID OF THE MOHAWKS. 135 .7 is then ) and er it, se, or, re, or niling )rests; iead of ;3hrist; to the dernesa lesert is to a late jxicated, Id earth. n, one of is hands, srceived, imediate tbrougb fiors were lirection. [were dis- ras, hov- 'hen com- and cruel! lyed alive;! fire, audi esuit was scalped, his skin was lacerated and perforated by hot irons, and a solution of salt and vinegar thrown into the wounds. He was then bound to an oak tree, a fire was kindled about him, and in the agonies of a cruel death, he expired amid the savage howls of the infuriated fiends. Then began the burial rites of the Indian who was slain. Having placed him upon a bier covered with turf, the chief priest removed from his face the stains of the blood and paint, filled every cavity of his body with moss, and then sprinkled a solution of ashes and water over him, uttering in solemn tones: "Wasconaka wahoo socohaaca" (ashes and water will revive thy spirit, and animate thy body in Elysium.) Having wrapped the corpse in furs, and fastened thereto his weapons, and the scalps he had taken in battle, a short prayer by the chief priest was o£fered up to Manitou ; at the end of which the other priests or chiefs, standing round the body holding torch lights, chanted, with doleful voice, the " hoolahoo," or mourning requiem. The chief priests then cried, with aloud voice: "Soohoo; sohaca, sosto, soca, soohoo hoo," which was responded to by the whole company of mourners, in loud chorus, crying, " Soo- hoo, soohoo, soohoo," whereupon four of the chiefs, as bearers, lifted the bier and marched off towards the grave, followed by the other chiefs and company, carrying cedar torches, and howling in doleful and most lamentable tones. On the point at the junction of the Black and English Rivers, his grave was dug; it was only about three feet deep ; pieces of wood covered its bottom, over which was a layer of moss. Into this shallow cavity the body of the great warrior was deposited, the ehief priest uttering with solemn intonations: " Manitou Allalooka" (Spirit of Life receive this body). A covering of moss was then placed ■'"iSJU! 1 % 136 PRISCILLA POMINVILLE, THE CAPTIVE OIRL ; over the corpse, then layers of oak leaves and turf; a flat stone was then placed over the mound, bearing the rode likeness of the turtle, the totem, or insignia of the Mohawks. The chief priest then wound up the funeral service by repeating in solemn tones, the last tribute to the dead, thus : " Sascasago corasga camoraskanaka, hoola coragyakn, yah ;" which, being interpreted, reads thus : " Though dead, we love thee; thou goest to prepare a hunting ground for us; remember us to our friends there; may the good spirit favour thee; we wish thee success; fare- well. Amen." *The whole assembly then, as with one voice, and their faces sun-ward, shouted three times the words — " AUak, alia, oyaka yak." The burial ceremonies being then closed, the whole party returned to their wig- wams, to again riot in the revelry of a licentious feast, and indulge in the fire*water, that essence of iniquity, and the great curse and life-destroyer of humanity, not only of the Indian, but of myriads of the white men, whose duty it is, and whose object it should be, to promote virtue and felicity, by rearing upon the ruins of their discarded vices the superstructure of a real religion, whose author is the Lord Jesus. I may here add that the rites of burial among the Indians varied but little throughout the Continent. Among some tribes, however, the dead were buried in a sitting posture, with their faces towards the east, or were placed on a high scaifold, either sitting or lying, and wrapped in skins. The religious notions of the Indians consisted of traditions, " mingled with macy superstitions. Like the ancient Greeks, Romans, Persians, Hindoos, &c., they believed in the exist- ence of two Gods — the good and the evil spirit. They worshipped both, and of both formed images to which tiiey paid I varioa anythi and ca: I i flat ade I by ead, aka, augb iting may fare- i one IS the lonies r "wig- it, and nd the of the y it is, elicity, jes the ,e Lord ndians ig some posture, 1 a high skins, aditions, Greeks, he exist- They iohtljey OR, THE RAID OP THE MOnAWKS. 137 paid religious homage. Besides these, they worshipped various other deities, cuch as fire, water, thunder, &c.— anything which they conceived to be superior to themselves, and capable of doing them injury. 3p ^ n^ nS Mg *n On the night which the captives took flight, Priscilla Porainville, a French girl of fourteen years of age, was the only one who denied herself the means of venturing an escape. However, some of the Indians desired to destroy her also, but the chief sachem was po-^^essed of sufl&cient honour and humanity as to preserve her life, and she became his slave, or servant of his household. On the morning after the burial, the two tribes separated, and the Mohawks pursued their course towards Lake Champlain. and continued up the lake, thence by Lake George to the Hudson River, and finally landed at their hunting grounds on the Mohawk, where their wives and families had remained. It was, indeed, a long and perilous journey for the captive girl. How singularly impressive must have been her feelings and reflections; how fervent her desires to be restored to her parental home and all that were near and dear to her; and how passing strange to her the sudden transition of her circumstances. Taken from the religious cloisters of a convent, she had become the inmate of a wigwam, a companion of savages, and the beholder of the brutal deeds of men more savage and less honourable than the bestial denizens of the forest. Shortly after this eventful raid of the Mohawks, Count Frontenac, a brave and enterprising oflBcer, was reinstated as Governor of Canada. Inflamed with resentment against the Iroquois for their brutal outrages, and irritated against the English for their encroachments and treacherous hos- m 11 •yi« 1 "f ; M 1 U^ ? |tu|/ ! ll» * 'd ■^ ' S r ^ S !f ^J *'- : i 8 1 !i ^ ■ ■ i aff I: 138 PRISCILLA POMINVILLE, THE CAPTIVE OIRL j tilitics, he fitted out three expeditions in the dead of wint<>r uguin.st the Indians and colonists inhabiting Maine, New Ilanip.shirc, and New York. The party destined against the latter place penetrated their way southward throu^'h the extensive and almost impenetrable forest; and in the dead of night in February, 1G90, fell upon Schenectady, a village on the Mohawk River, inhabited chiefly by white settlers ; houses were broken open and set on fire, men and women were dragged from their beds, and, with their sleeping infants, were inhumanly murdered. Sixty per- sons perished in the massacre, thirty were made prisoners ; whilst the rest of the inhabitants, mostly naked, fled through the deep snow, either suffering extremely, or perishing iu the cold. One of the thirty prisoners was Priscilla Pomin- ville. She had been purchased from the chief shortly after her arrival at the Mohawk, by an English gentleman, a peltry trader of Schenectady, and from him she had received the kindest treatment ; but on that fatal night ho and his household were massacred. Priscilla, however, providen- tially escaped a similar fate. When the deadly weapon, streaming with the blood of her benefactors, was about to descend upon her, in the language of her country, she exclaimed, " Oh, ne rn'otez pas la vie, et je serai voire esclave" (Oh, save my life, and I will be thy slave,) and she was saved. But it was not her beauty, her entreaties, nor her tender years, but it was her language, the identical language of those lawless desperadoes, her very country- men, that saved her. Blood-thirsty as they were, and boiling with revenge, at the sound of their native tongue, even among their enemies, their heart instantly responded with a thrill of kindred sympathy, and the hand that was uplifted to strike the fatal blow became paralysed, and she was saved. FAak imirden slio felt who had other th as "^'reat by the v< she was taken up the cnera That English soldiers w nately th( of the Hi 3Iohawk e and at tli Mohawk.4 consumed I against En I and the tre The terr I the Mohaw toe had ceaj [that bloody I whoop was Ihundred am l^royed, thirt Jfere, howevi I'lie lionour o] prativejy fei p the Frem ^ II '.* OR, THE RAID OF THE MOHAWKS. 13!? dntor , New igainst Klatcd as she was wlien «i;o lijul «Hscovorctber. Hi! ymen, vrei sufficient t| erefore, stj Lrriors vei ed, she fle reaching ToUowcd tl ^0 appro3y a fierce was their iuse in the Ruthvcn had just bolted; findin;^ it thus closed, they lifted on end a heavy stick of tiinbor that lay before the hoi -le, and let it full apjainst the door, causing it to fly in pieces ; but just at this moment as the savai^es were about to bound forward with their bloody hatchets, Mr. Ruthvcn fired upon them with a heavy charge of ball and buckshot. Two of them immediately fell ; the third however attempted to plunge his hatchet into the brains of Mr .Ruthvcn, but at that instant he received a blow from the butt end of his opponent's musket that sent him reeling to tho floor, and left him wallowing in his own blood. Mr. Ruthven immediately removed his wife and child with Priscilla to a place of temporary security near by ; and, mountii.q his horse, he galloped off to give the alarm to a company of soldiers stationed at Fort Hunter at a distance of four miles ; such a ride was not only a hurried but a dangerous one. He was seen by several of the Indians, chased, and fired at several times, but escaped all, and landed at the fort in safety. The soldiers were immediately in order and on the quick march , but during this brief interim no less than fifty-seven of the inhabitants were butchered and their buildings set on fire. The Indians, feeling somew>at apprehensive, withdrew hastily, carrying with them a number of female prisoners, among whom were Mrs. Ruthven and Priscilla, who, under these distress- ing circumstances, began their march with the other captives into the wilderness. The air was keen, and their path led alternately through snow and deep mud, and their savage conductors delighted rather in the infliction of [torment than the alleviation of distress. The company had [proceeded but a short distance when an Indian, thinking Itbc child an incumbrance, took it from Priscilla's arm, and 144 I'RIHCILLA I'OMINVILLE, THE CAPTIVE OIRL; i violently terminated itn life by (ItiHliiii^ out itn brninH u{M)n a tree. Such of tlio other captiveH as bej^an to bo weary and incapable of proceeding, the IndianH killed with their tomahawks. Feeble us MrH. lluthven was, both hIic and PriHcilla sustained with wonderful energy the fatigue and misery attending a journey of one hundred and Bfty niiios, but they were somewhat more fortunate than a few of the otliurs, as, on account of their beauty, one of the chiefs liad olaiiiicd them as his property, consequently they received a milder treatment. On arriving at the place of their destination they found the wigwam of ' Powinwicgah^^ their master, to boinhabitot by a squaw and seven children. Three months were tin j confined within the dingy precincts of this prison — whose walls were cscutcheoncd only with hairy scalps, and whose furniture were the bloody vestiges and weapons of death The jealousy of the squaw subjected them to harsh treat- ment in the absence of the chief; during which times she acted in the capacity of a lady and they her servants; they had to bring her in wood and water, dress and conk the venison, and also attend to whatever she dc.sind them; and the smallest delinquency on their part m;i attended by a punishment with the " Flogah," or rawi hide scorpion of seven tails. Although miserable andj disconsolate, they however affected cheerfulness and con- tentment ; for had they shown dissatisfaction and resent- ment, the tomahawk would have soon supplied a remedy t( their ills. But over this brief but wretched period of theii lives, as a respect for their honour and virtue, I will drai the veil of silence — although forbidden to interchange nioi words than were necessary in their duties of the hou?( hold, they however hinted a determination to attempt theil «'vapo 'o leav It liapp tiio b<^ tribe, in it'ft theil attack, i cantons ( Mrs. Ku Indians ] the wigTi pursued morning ( ffuido ecu: I>ay after route, sup] they could I-ake they Iroquois t: i'angaage, a rest of the and suffer! "Jind to km former resi merablo per daring a pej •rrival, neitl tJie latter h ifere also ii I'^oved to piOGd, to rec wd ere two OB, THF. HAII» nF TIIF. MOIIAWKH. iir) ^ uixl iheir Q and le and iniK'8, of the »f« bad icWcd a y found i\iabltct crc tilt y — wbosc id whose of death •ah trcat- iimes she icrvants ; and conk I dcsintl I (•ocapc as noon as a fiivourfUdo opportunity should occur. To leave wan c.isy hut to efTtu-t a nalo CMcapt! wan difficult. It happonrd, however, that in the nnuitii of July or al»out the bcj;inninf^ of Aueust, that the warriors of the Huron tribe, in obedience to the ordorwof tin.* (iovcrnor of Canada, lofl their wigwams and families, in order to niu.stcr for an attack, in conjunction with the Frcoch, U[x)n sonic of the cantons of the Iroquois. This was an auspicious event for Mrs. Uuthvcn and I'riscilla. On the third ni<;ltt after the Indians had ^nc, they stCi.lihily effected their escajHi from the wigwam, and plunging into the dense wilderness, pursued their course southward, and on the following morning entered upon Lake Champluin, wliioii served as a fipiide course during a considerable part of their journey. Day after day they continued their difficult and perilous route, supporting themselves on such fruits and herbs as they could gather from the woods. Near tiio liead of the Lake they were met by aom« friendly Indians of the Iroquois tribe, and as Priscilla understood some of their language, at her request they acted as guides during' the rest of the way. I will not attempt to describe the hardship and sufferings they endured ; but it is gratifying to the mind to know that they eventually got safely back to their former residence, after having been exporfed to the innu- merable perils of their j jurney and the elements ■ : nature, daring a period of no less than nineteen days. On their I arrival, neither the shanty, nor its inmates were to be seen ; the latter had been destroyed by the Indians, and they were also informed that Mr. Ruthven and family had removed to Boston. After a brief stay in the neighbour- hood, to recruit their exhausted energies, they departed, [and ere two weeks had elapsed Mrs. Kuthvcn and Priscilla o \^ 14(1 PRISCILLA POMINVILLE, THB CAPTIVE OIRL ; were restored t4) the bosom of that dejected and disconsolate family. Their appearance, however, produced a singular reversion of feelings, and from the depths of their hearts were conjured up sympathies and emotions, too mysterious and intense for pen to describe or language to give embodi- ment to. Their wonderful adventures were made public. Subsequently they received at the hand of the General Court, a handsome consideration for their extraordinary su£fering and conduct. Two years afterwards Priscilla became united to Ranaldo Stewart, a son of a wealthy trader in Boston : he and Priscilla shortly afterwards paid a visit to Canada, with the hope of discovering her parents and relatives. Few indeed of her friends were alivt; nearly all had been killed during the years of the terrible massacres. Her parents however, had survived ; the frequent losses they had suffered effected a change in circumstances : in the depths of extreme poverty they were dragging out a miserable existence, rendered even more so by the untimely fate of so many of their family and friends. They were immediately conveyed to Boston, and were provided with a comfortable and happy home. As an equal partner, Ranaldo was taken into business with his father. Nor was Mr. Ruth- ven forgotten : at a high salary he became an agent of their establishment, in the peltry department ; success attended them, and ere many years had come and gone they amassed a considerable fortune. Subsequently Mr. Stewart, sen., retired from the business in favour of Ranaldo. For many years afterwards the firm was known as Stewart, Ruthven i &Co. ■ ■ It is unnecessary to follow the heroes and heroines of my I story any further, but be it known, that by the earthly tendency of human nature, they all died : be it also known IRL ; iconsolatc I singular sir hearts lysterious e embodi- le public. General lordinary Priscilla \ wealthy ards paid r parents re alivt; e terrible I frequent nstances : ing out a untimely hey were jd with a , Ranaldo Ir. Ruth- t of their attended ^amassed art, sen., For many Buthven 168 of m; B eorthl; so kno^n] <">• TIIE RAID OP xnr u«„ THE MOnAWKS. 14- thatthe family „f „,„„, »u(hward, and in the cour.,11 !^ "' "'"'"^^ f«'>hcv <}e wealthiest and mol dlului l"" ')" """"*" t-"" M«nj, of their deseendants tett , 1?"'"" "' ^''■K-i- 7 f""'. »me of whom dra^ST '' "' "■« S"""-- the late Union War ^JT^.. ""'^ "«"»« part i„ "^^ brave., .« -idtVLtr''""^''/--'- '^" -^a„d«d^,.^,„,5%^o^e.a.^ Tecumseh. The Iroqu a part of Ci Ooeidas, ( During the national rii France, th alliance wit barbarous ] French and j pered, and directed tow and its coloi and securing on friendly i pus trading Uwrenoe an TALE X. ' THE BELL OF CAUGHNAWAGA. Old bell, since firet thy voice wa3 heard, Thrice fifty years have roll'd, But what a tale of tragic ills Thy brazen lips hath toll d. T'ly history written is with blood, Thy tongue with death resounds ; ^L thousand Mohawk warriors rest Within thy hallowed grounds. The Iroquois or Six-Nation-Indians who formerly inhabited a part of Canada and York State, consisted of the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, Senecas, and Tuscaroras. During the colonial struggles of the French and English for national right and supremacy in both Acadia and New France, these tribes, for the most part, sustained their alliance with the British. In 1666, after many years of barbarous hostilities, a treaty was entered into by the French and Iroquois ; during which time the colonies pros- pered, and the attention of the government was wholly directed towards developing the resources of the country, and its colonization. Desirous of extending the fur trade and securing an exclusive right, they endeavoured to keep j on friendly terms with the Iroquois ; and opened numer- ous trading depots along the southern shores of the St. Lawrence and Lake Ontario, so as to carry on a successful Ml -";,i .fi 150 THE BELL OP CAUGHNAWAOA. h trade with them and divert its channel from the Anglo- coif lal-market. One of the principal depots was established at Oaughnawaga, on the south bank of the river, opposite Lachine, and at the head of the Sault St. Louis or Lachine rapids, nine miles west from Montreal. During thuso jears of peace and prosperity the Jesuits sought to establish Christianity among the Iroquois, and with some were suc- cessful. Every inuucement was held forth and every expedient tried, so as to secure their faith and fidelity to t/he Church and government. Father Nicholas, a Jesuit, having succeeded in converting a considerable number of the Mohawks, established them at Caughnawaga, in the year 1671, which place is still occu- pied by their descendants. The situation of the village is one of the most magnificent on the shores of the St. Lawrence, and the village itself is one of the most romantic in the country. In 1684,. the treaty between the French and Iroquois, through some mismanagement of De la Barre, the Governor, was broken up. The Iroquois in general manifested dissat- isfaction, and, with the exception of those under the care of Father Nicholas, at Caughnawaga, they became again enemies to the French. T his tribe, however, continued firm in their faith and fidelity, and lived happy under the parental administration of their kind and religious pastor. Thirteen years he had then laboured among them, and seventeen more passed away, and time was beginning to show decay both upon him and the old chapel in which he had so long officiatcid. He had no inclination whatever to discomfort his little flock by any large demands upon their pecuniary means; yet his desire was, that ere he should die, he might be the witness to a nobler edifice, ereoted to the living G year 17( When 1 then req of being: therefore hearers tl tv^ a chur to collect to purcha ceivable a skins wen in France, the bell w{ which was It happ( England . involved in Queen An treaty of hostile occi destined po Sable Islai Salem, whei and sold foi Ml was bo cut River, church whi( ' liams, one ^'eeks and ! his little flo I arrival of th THE BELL OP CAUOHNAWAOA. 151 living God. His desires were however gratified ; for in the year 1701, the present church of that village was erected. When the steeple and belfry were finished all that was then requisite to complete the edifice and make it worthy of being consecrated to God, was a bell. Father Nicholas, therefore, in one of his orations explained to hi3 simple hearers that a bell was as necessary in the belfry as a priest tv^ a church, and a church to them, and he exhorted them to collect furs and skins in sufficient number, to enable them to purchase a bell. The Indians were moved with incon- ceivable ardour to fulfil this religious duty, anl ten ballots of skins were promptly made up, and sent to Havre de Grace, in France, and soon the worthy pastor received tidings that the beU was bought and put on board the Grand Monarque^ which was to sail in a few days for Quebec. It happened however that shortly previous to this date England and her North American Colonies became involved in another war with France, &o., commonly called Queen Annj's War, which lasted from 1702 until the treaty of Utrecht, in 1713 ; and in consequence of that hostile occurrence, the Grand Monarque never reached hei destined port. She was seized by an English cruisci near Sable Island, and taken to New Brunswick ; — thence to Salem, where uhe ship and cargo were condemned as a prize, and sold for the profit of those who had captured her. The \vA\ was bought for the town of Deerfield on the Connecti- cut River, where the inhabitants had just completed a church which was to be occupied by the Rev. John Wil- liams, one of the most popular preachers of that age. Weeks and months passed away, and Father Nicholas and his little flock waited and watched with deep anxiety the arrival of the bell. At length Nicholas received a letter 'P K* 152 THE BELL OF CAUOHNAWAOA. M from Quebi vj stating that the vessel and cargo had been seized and sold, and that the bell was purchapcd for the Pro- testni Church of Decrficld. He immediately distributed the r. . 8. ..nd assembled his community within the Church. He told them of the unfortunate situation of the bell, retained, as he said, in purgatory in the hands of heretics; and, observed to them, how praiseworthy it would be to them to go and take it away. The lecture was in its nature BS full of inspiration and feelings as that of the hermit Vetu. The Indians deplored together the misfortune of their bell, which had not yet been baptized. They had no very clear idea of the bell itself, but they knew that Father f^icholae preached and said mass in Church, and they believed that it was for some analogous use in the belfry. They were dis- consolate in their misfortune. Night after night they met, and consulted with each other. All were melancholy, and inflamed with a holy enthusiasm ; many fasted and prayed) and even submitted themselves to severe penance to obtain the deliverance of the bell from the purgatory of the her- etics. At length the day of deliverance drew nigh. The Marquis de Vaudreuil, Governor of Canada, resolved to send an expedition against the British colonies of Massa- chusetts and New Hampshire, under the command of the infamous Hertel de Rouville. One of the priests of the Jesuits' College immediately dispatched a courier to Father Nicholas to inform him of the projected expedition, with the injunction to embrace the opportunity as a means to procure the bell. "^ '''■ • •* > ' The Indians were again assembled within the church; the courier was placed in the midst of the congregation, and Father Nicholas, in a solemn discourse, held him up to the veneration of the Indians as a heavenly messenger of h'lppy ne rations of them to j( the discou Each r thcmscJvefl fuii/ detei I thereby re( winter whc Chambly. Father 1 I surmountec and childrei (sang a sacrt I for the occ I striking up hi TnE BILL OF CAHOnNAWAOA. 153 )■ cizcd Pro- buted lurch. 5 bell, •etics; be to oature iVetu. ir bell, y clear licholsis i that it ere dis- leymet, oly, and prayed) 3 obtain the ber- The »lved to Massa- of the J of the Father on, with oieaQS to church; legation, limupto senger of happy news. He urged them to form a part of the prepa- rations of war which were making at Quebec, and pressed them to join themselves to the e:cpedition. At the end of the discourse the auditory rose, and chouted the war-cry. Each retireu to his home; and commenced to paint themselves with the most terrible ooiours of battle, being fauy determined to join de Rouville's expedition, and thereby recover their lost bell. It was in the depth of winter when they dq)arted to joId the French troops at Chambly. - ' ^ : t v .: Father Nicholas marched at their head with a great flag, I surmounted by a cross ; and as they departed, their wives I &Qd children, in imitation of the departure of the Crusaders, sang a sacred hymn which Father 1 uolas had taught them I for the occasion ; and was responded to by the Indians striking up in {\ill chorus as they marched ofP. {English Version.) The' the night sinks in gloom, the day-light will come. And the shades will retire in the morning ; The bright King of Day will then march away While the Earth in his robes he's adorning. We heed not the shades of our foes that pervede, For the Day-Siw of Bethlehem's before us ; And the bright King oi Heaven hath a guide to us given, And the Saints are rejoicing in chorus. Chorw. ■/ . Then we're a-marcbing, marching, marching on, Marching along to our foes that's before us ; Marching along with the bell-going song. And marching, marching along with full chorus. ^ a2 M in; ■1 ■ %^ i >« 154 THE DELL OF CAUOnNAWAQA. Through an empire of wood orcr motintain and flood > Our pathway may lead as to danger, But our cross-flag on high shall cur Earth-foe defy, Tho' we march thro' the land of the stranger. Heaven's temples will ring with their bell-pealing ding At the sight of the Saint-Virgin-Mother As she smiles on our face with a mild, sinless grace, And claims each of us as her true-sainted brother. Choru$, Then we're a-marching, marching, marching on, Marching along with our loved Akaraga, | Marching along for our church-stolen bell, The bell of our dear Caughnawaga. (>>»■■> Father Nicholas, seated in his cariole, continued at thel head of his followers, and after a day's incredible fatigue,] they all landed safely at Chambly, where the French soldiers had just arrived. Next day the whole army, con] sisting of 600 men, resumed their journey, headed by D^ Eouville and Father Nicholas, in their carioles. Haying entered upon Lake Champlain, they continued their course, on the ice up the Lake, about 100 miles] where they rested for two days, so as to make arrangement necessary to penetrate the forests which separated then from the inhabited parts of Massachusetts. Here thcj left their horses, &c., under charge of a small guard unti their return. Before leaving this place De Bouville lej Father Nicholas to conduct his own division, and place himself at the head of his own men, and with compass hand, directed their course towards Deerfield. The FrcDi] soldiers suffered severely from fatigue and cold, during tl long and perilous journey, in the depths of wintei through an almost interminable wilderness. Nothing thj gd at thel 8 fatigue,] 3 Frencli irmy, conj ded by Bd THE BILL OF OAUOnNAWAOA. 155 they had endnrcd before was to be oompared to the fatigues which day after day with indefatigable ardour they endured ; nevertheless, many of them, owing to the length of the journey and the continued obstacles they met with, b<^an to murmur and regret. The patience of Father Nicholas and his devoted band, and the murmurs of the French, offered the most striking contrast. The habit of travelling in the woods prevented the Indians from many inconve- niences to which the French were subjected. Animated by a religious zeal, their continued silence had something of the sublime and grand in the greatest severity ; not even a single murmur escaped their lips — which called forth the admiration of their companions in arms. No symptoms of fatigue, regret, or fear, averted their determination. Their imagination was excited by the idea of the unhappy cap- tivity of their bell, and this was their only thought during the long and tiresome journey. Some time before the expedition had arrived at its des- tination Father Nicholas became sick, occasioned by the fatigue incident to this crusade: — footnsore and wearied from ihe travels of the forest, he was often obliged to linger behind, and his former ruddy glow of health had disappeared under the wan, pale visage of the invalid. Nevertheless, he realized that he was engaged in a holy cause ; he recollected what the saints and martyrs of other times had endured, I sarroundod by and in view of churches and spires, and he anticipaitjd the ^lory that would result to him through all ages, if he could but accomplish the object in whi h he was I engaged. On the evening of the 29th of February, 1704, after a Itoilsome march of over two hundred miles, the expedition arrived in the vicinity of Deerfield, without being dis- i V 111 156 THE BILL OP CAUOnNAWAOA. ■si;?. covered. Do Rouvillc ordered hifi men to halt, and to repose and refresh themsGlvcs until midnight, and at that hour to attack the Tillage. Father Nicholas was also od hand with his little band of fierce warriors. As the surface of the snow was frozen over, and crackled under each step, De Rouville, with remarkable sagacity, in order to deceive the English garrison, gave orders, that in going to the assault, the troops were to make frequent pauses as they advanced in separate lines. By this ingeni- ous precaution he deceived the sentinels in the garrison. They believed that the noise occasioned by the advancing troops was caused by the wind blowing on the branches, of the trees which were loaded with ice. At length they dis- covered their mistake — the alarm was given, and a terrible battle took place in the streets : the French fought with their usual valour, and the Indians with that calmness characteristic to them. Finally the garrison was dispersed, forty-seven of tho inhabitants were killed, one hundred taken prisoners, and the town, with the exception of the church, was consumed to ashes. One of the number taken as captives was the Rev. Mr. Williams. Awakened by the noise of the attack, he immediately prepared himself for self-defence, and at the first Indian that approached he snapped his pistol, but it missed fire. He was then seized, disarmed, bound, and kept standing in his night clothes m the intense cold nearly an hour, whilst his house was being plundered. Two of his children, together with a black female servant, were butchered before his t^yes. The savages, at length suffered his wife and five children to put | on their clothes, after which he was allowed to dress, and prepare for a long and melancholy march. Having completed their work of destruction, the Indiaui< asscml him to bestow tion to betwixl the ot] Arrivin soldier t tho nig loud an< as the led and awe; bu the joyoi they begs maniacs i derfuliy Father JN universal Early o; and placec packed on ^nd then the Indian his soldiers slaughter a The firet i>eerfieid,tl] day succeed with the re< ^ecent]y bor ' 'ler husband ii THE BILL OP CArailNAWAQA. 157 icklcd ity, in bat in equent ingeni- irrison. rancing ichesof iey di8- terrible rht vith lalmnesg ispersed, bundled of the ler taken jd by the iself for jcbed he seized, iotbes in [as being a black The m to pnt I I, and assembled in a body around Father Nicholas, and prayed him to conduct them to the bell, upon which they might bestow their homage. Having offered up a grateful benedic- tion to Qod, he started off towards the church, walking betwixt the bearers of the cross and flag, and followed by the others, all of whom were ehantiog the Te-Deum. Arriving at the holy edifice, De Rouville ordered a French soldier to toll the bell ; the sound of which in the silence of the night, and in the midst of the deep forest, rose loud and sonorous, and was to the ears of the Indians the voice of a divine oracle. At first they tremb- as led and were filled with astonishmont aud reverential awe ; but at length they became so intensely excited with the joyous gratitude of having discovered their bell, that they began to yell, dance, jump and sing like a host of maniacs in their revelry. The French soldiers were won- derfully amused at their ludicrous motions, and even Father Nicholas and De Rouville joined heartily in the universal jocularity and laughter. Early on the following morning the bell was taken down and placed upon a sled ; the pillage of the town was also packed on sleighs, to which the captives were harnessed, !«nd then b^an the return march of Father Nicholas and the Indians through the dense forests. De Rouville and bis soldiers also departed on another route in quest of more slaughter and devastation. The first night after the departure of the Indians from Dcerfield, they murdered Mr. Williams's servant : and, on the day succeeding, finding Mrs. Williams unable to keep pace with the rest, plunged a hatchet into her head. She had recently borne an infant, and was not yet recovered ; but licr husband was not permitted to assist her. He, himself V i ^ ir)8 THB nCLL OF nAUQIINAWAOA. was lamo, bound, iniinlted as a heretic, threatened nml nearly faiiiiHhcd ; but what were personal sufiurings liku these, and even greater than these, to the sight of a wife, under circumstonoes so tender, inhumanlj butchered before his eyes. Before the journey ended, his remaining children and thirty-seven others shared the melancholy fate of Mrs. Williams. - "*• It is impossible to give a true idea of the toils and suffer- ings of the captives during this journey. Harnessed to sleds like oxen, and goaded on by savages, day after day they struggled onwards, slowly, but incessantly ; and subject to all the brutal insults of bigoted barbarity. Father Niohol$» had the power to alleviate their su£feringB, but he considered them only as heretics and justly deserving of both temporal and eternal punishment. Such of them as became wcukly or morose, were relieved from their misery by being infliclod with greater torture so as to cause death. The company at length arrived at Lake Ghamplain, where the guard in charge of the horses had been left. Here they rested for two days, during which time the grand feast of triumphal victory was held. Notwithstanding their principles of Christianity their savage natures were not appeased until Father Nicholas had allowed them to sacri- fice two of the captives as burnt offerings to the Great God and the Patriarchal Saints, who had led them through the wilderness in safety, and caused them to be successful, and given to them the victory. »> - 'V *'^- - All being in readiness to march. Father Nicholas invested the head chief with the command of the army, and having i comfortably seated himself in his cariole with his staff of chiefs, he departed homewards in haste, so as to herald] their success and the approach of the great bell. ■^- |t ;l|;tt Till niLL OK CAt'OHNAWAOA. 159 i like wife, Before ildron ' Mrs. Buffcr- to sleds y they bjcct to UohoU» isidered temporal J wcukly inflicled At length thcloTipwishrd-formnUon Imnpc nnd itn prnnd cort(^RC mndo their nppcorancc ncnr tho Tillnj^ of Cnuph- nnwRf^a. The old nien, woracn nnd children, headed by Father Nicholas, marched forth to welcome and do homago to their long-chcrishcd idol ; for they had been informed of its power and marvellous qualities, and they considered its arrival as one of the greatest events that would mark the course of time. At the sight of the brazen image, like the children of Bclteshazzar, they fell prostrate upon tho earth, and the prayerful muttcrings of a thousanf* lips, Uko the rippling of rapid waters, were heard ascending as tho inoenso of tho heart. One by one thoy at length arose and followed it to the ohuroh; and having strewed artif. -^1 flowers around it, and placed a crown ofbead-workupoi iU head, they knelt around it and prayed, and then as with one voice the women and children chanted tho " ToEcano- quam," or reception hymn, which is as follows : (English version.) Spirit of life whose home is the sun, And whose hunting-ground is the sky, And the moon and the stars that we see Are tho wigwams of those who die The clouds are the smoke of thy chimney, The " north-lights" the flame of thy fires, "When thou mak'st a feast for t'ly hunters. As each of thy victims expires. i , The thunder's the wrath of thy voice The lightning's the flash of thine eye; And whenever thine anger has gene Thou hang'st up thy bow in tfc* skr nil "'w: I 160 THE BILL OF CAUOHNAWAQA. Spirit of heaven I great chief of thy tribes i We offer our homage to thee ; Thou hast slaughter'd our foes, and redeem'd Our bell from captivity free. . i x- Great bell ! we will worship thee now : Thy tongue will soon gladden our ear ; For thee we will hunt the wild bear— The beaver, the fox and the deer. Holy Mary, thy lips will anoint. Each saint will a tribute bestow ; : r ■ And Tagus, Maniton and Sonog u- -yr, Will make thee as pure as the snow. ^ St. Nicholas will give thee baptism Ere thou hast ascended on high f And forever whether dead or alive • We'll worship thee king of our sky I ; . Toscan conaco sahongah onag, Topaso useno onaga ; Sospango tiega tosoporag Tecumbas basag Oaughnawaga. On the following day Oaughnawaga witnessed one of the grandest sights it ever beheld. At early dawn preparations for hoisting up the bell were being made, and when com- pleted the christening took plaoe. Several Jesuits, nuns, and notable persons from Montreal were present. The Indians were painted in various forms and colours, and decorated with plumage, bead-work and robes curiously interwoven, and of a costly nature. The bell having been thoroughly cleansed, and gaudily embellished, the baptismal font was brought forward ; god-fathers and mothers were chosen, and after numerous '' Pater-nosters," " Ave-Maries," and mystical oracles were consulted and performed, holy TDE BBLL OF CAUaHNAWAQA. 161 water was sprinkled over the bell, by Father Nicholas ; the others all kncelinf^ in profound silence, and the sanctified idol received thcnamoof " Bona-Benedictum-Bellona;" after which the priest uttered with a deep emphatic tone: Domintts vobiscum inperpetuumpro bona publico; lau* deu memoria in etema. Amen. Then the vast assembly rose, and with one yoice chanted the Te Deum ; at the close of which Father Nicholas exclaimed vox popuU, vox dei. Amen. Then upwards soared the great bell on cable wings and took its place in the genua loci of the temple, the St. Nicholas Church of Caughnawaga ; and ere long, its I mighty tongue was heard lashing against its brazen lips, and louder and more sonorous rose the deep-mouthed Tolnme of sound ; and as if influenced by a magic spell, the audience in response, and with a mighty voice, sent up a deafening shout, which caused the very air to tremble as it floated over the deep forests, away far into the distance, and over the rippled bosom of the rapids, and mingled its intonations with the murmurs of the icy waters. Long ailer the ceremonies had been performed, groups of Indians night be seen standing before the church statue-like, and Iffith upturned faces, gazing upon the mysterious oracle ; pd in the mid-evening calm, whilst the hum of the rapids liweetened by the distance, might be heard the buzzing of h multitude of voices, rejoicing at the restoration of their fdolbell. 'ii rrp .i.■i.:^\^,,'•^:,; --.JiyS-'J^T ^,.6-ni;fU^ ^IW''." J' ^ But what became of the captives, during this religious festival ? may now be asked. x: v i ;? During the journey forty-two of them were inhumanly ntchered, sixty arrived at Caughnawaga, and these would ave suffered the same penalty with them had it not been bat their services were required ; and even, were it not >)r the interference of several French gentlemen, they *\ m :■ -v 162 THE BELL OF CAUaONAWAOA. would have been sacrificed on that day of the feast, as a hecatomb to the Holy Bell. They were, however, kept in custody during that day's proceedings, and afterwards delivered up to the Governor at Montreal, where, during two years, they were imprisoned, at the end of which time, those who survived were liberated. The Rev. Mr. Williams was among the number; and though he had, in a sense, sufifered a hundred deaths od the journey, and in prison, he was providentially delivered ; and at length he returned to Deerfield, where, after twelve years' labour in the gospel, he departed from this world to be united with his beloved wife and children in the celestial kingdom. The hardships that Father Nicholas had endured during his long journey through the forest, preyed heavily upoo his weakened constitution, and after three months' gradual decay he died, and was buried in priestly honours, in thej burying ground of the village. One hundred and sixty two years have passed away since those ever memorabl events ; and many changes of both a national and physical character have variegated the country. The descendan of those Indians inhabit the ancient village of Caughnawaj and pursue the avocations of their ancestors, and thougl possessing large grants of land, they cannot be induced t labou as agriculturists upon the soil. ., - • The St. Nicholas church, with its tinned spire glitterinAjmg f^^ ^t in the sunshine as of old, still stands as a memorial of its- ^j^^ij. venerable patriarch. The ancient bell, around whic Even at cluster so many mysterious weird-like events, still occupie juntries and its wonted place in the belfry, and at the ordinary bourse chness reso morning, noon, and evening, it mingles its clear and sonoi lousauds in ous voice with the rippling murmurs of the rapid waters c ,e outer wor the majestic St. Lawrence. * - RAMBL] I Hard To for Closec Where In 3oir Where Their i Their ( Whilst Whatl To the pi ush life is perienced pulation of ly struggle lered forth li. i 'i I" iitumt*^ »wvii>i»(,» I8t, as a TALE XI. at day 'a Jovernor prisoned, iberated. er ; and ! leaths on I elivered ; j er twelve! ; world to e celestial ed duringl ivily upon! is' graduall irs, in tbel and sixty-| memorable d physical To the pioneer and settler of the forest, a history of escendanwmsii life is but a repetition of what they have actually ghnawagalxperienced : nevertheless, there are two-thirds of the ad thougl&opulation of Canada who know but little or nothing of the induced tiLrly struggles, privations, and sufferings of those who wan- ' lered forth into the dense wilderness, and there planted a ;litterin*ome for themselves and offspring; and framed the nucleus orial of itlf their own destiny, and that of a now expansive colony, md whic| Even at present, whilst the inhabitants of the older RAMBLES TN THE BACKWOODS, OR LIFE IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. Hard is the lot of those who daily toil j To force a living from the forest soil ; Closed in the depths of nature's rugged wild, Where penury frowns, but fortune never smiled ; In some rude hut that bears the name of home, Where hunters range and howling monsters roam ; Their wants increasing, which increase their care. Their comforts small and coarse indeed their fare,— Whilst haggard want despairs with fretful sigh, What hope had falsely promised to supply. gl ill occupii iry bourse and souoi d waters c le outer world, who are dragging forth a miserable eitist- untries and towns are in full possession of and enjoying the chness, resources, and facilities of the country, there are ousands in the backwoods, unknown and unobserved by JAi H ^ 104 RAMBLK8 IN THE BACKWOODS; cncc in siruggliDg with tho vicissitudes and everts inci dental to forest life. To j^ive merely the outlines of sutli a liistory wou:.' occupy more ppace than the nature of my story will adi iit of. Even the years of my own experience in the hackwoodis of Canada could furnish material for a volume in itself; but my design is simply to give a brief sketch of a few days' rambles in the forest. During the winter of 1S62, I travelled through a consid- erable part of Canada West, frequently visiting some of the more northern localities, among which were the backwoods of Tudor, and adjoining townships. ' From the town of Belleville I proceeded northward, by stage, to Madoc, a distance of twenty-five miles, at which place I arrived about two o'clock p.m. This village is pleasantly situated, and is the principal place of businc^^s for the inhabitants of the back country. At the " I'ull Moon Hotel " I met in with Mr. Poison, a set+ler from the Hastings Road, township of Tudor, with whom I waa slightly acquainted, and with him started that afternoon on my journey into the backwoods. Deep snows covered the face of the country, the roads were considerably drifted ; but having a horse and sleigh we were enabled to jog along with considerable speed. Having gone but a short distance we overtook a settler, who was seated upon an ox, in Asiatic fashion — the whole assuming an oxygon appear anoe, — and moving forward at the rate of two and a ball knots per hour. The pendulum-like swing of the rider'sj head and body indicated either a limber vertebrae, or rocking gait of the ox. Mr. Poison attempted to pass them, the rider at the same instant, with a club, struck the ox oi the side of the head tv give space. The blow, acoompani* by an incidental thrust of the sleigh shafts against its p< tcrioi-8, ei and bear of Polsor trasted wi became a] Poison ga Faster an ^ iding o: like a Scol ferate; bu deadening The ox at for ite owi I digious 8id( stop that pi ills head an 'bank, leavin pike a pair I their owner jges of the si [also effected pUow from one leg, and m effort to < few joints, pasmodic w fesired effect illy injurec 7 *^ho snow pysteriously "■^d so sudc a few mil ,4i OR, LIPR IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 105 yard, by it which ilbgc 18 businc^is te " Full from the n I watj afternoon 3 covered y drifted; jog along •t distance tn ox, in appear md a hali ibe rider'al sbrse, or Ipass them the ox ieoiupani Bst its t>< tcriora, cauned the animal to stArt off like a prairie bonaj)UH, and bear its rider on with accelerated Hpocd. The f«]»irit of Poison's nap^, conscious of its own dif^nity, when con- trasted with the presumption of only a scampering inferior, became also aroused, and as a farce to the romantic ride, Poison gave rein, und the horse followed in close contact. Faster and more furious flew the animals, the rider still V Iding on with death-like grip, walloping up and down like a Scotch Baillie, and occasionally attempting to voci- ferate ; but every effort of his lungs was frustrated by the deadening thumps to which his posteriors were subjected. The ox at length finding the speed of the horse too great for ite own velocity, and also dangerous, made one pro- digious side-plunge into the snow, which effected a sudden 8top that precipitated the rider forward, like an arrow, and his head and body were instantaneously thrust into a snow bank, leaving nothing visible of the man but his two legs, like a pair of Canadian cabbage plants, dangling above their owner with heroic vigor, as the only memorial vesti- ges of the suddenly entombed hero. At this juncture we also effected a halt, ar d sprang forward to extricate the poor {fellow from his critical position. Poison seized hold of the e 1^, and myself the other, and simultaneously we made a effort to extract the body. The first pull only cracked few joints, the second produced a sraotherd grunt and a asmodio wriggle of the carcase, but the third had the iesired effect of hoisting him to the surface. Though not lly injured, he had suffered from suffocation produced y the snow and the rush of blood to the brain, and was lysteriously bewildered on having found himself trans- d so suddenly to an inverted column. In the course a few minutes he was enabled to assume his naturai 16C RAMHLE8 IN THE BACKWOODS ; '^ position ; and havini^ driven the ox to the front we thne got into the sU i^ll and continued our journey. Mr Mark- ham — such wiu^ the man's name — relatt J to a;: a few of his iroubieB. he was apparently the object t.f poverty, and (l serving of our sympathy. His oluthefl triginuliy hui I ' of coarse Ganadi;ui gray, but wert conto.'^ oonsiderablj out of both shape and color -y patch work. A pair of old moccasins coveited his feet, — a Scotch lx>iunet, his heau His face waa the indux of fori) armua} revolutions, fead the winkled iiiterpreicr of anxiety attd toil. He , '..ted that hi.-; yok'.; of oxen, on which he chieiiy depended as the means of snpport, had been seized for debt by a merchant at Mndoc He himself had attended the sale of them diat day. The price of the first ox having realized the desired | amount, he had the happy privilege of getting the other, and at the time we came up to hiiti he was homeward | bound. Eight miles northward from Madoo, and within two of| entering the wilderness of Tudor, is situated " Fox'i Tavern," a sort of resting place for the weary pilgrims ofl the forest. Here we halted for a few minutes to warm ourj selves and procure some refreshments. The building it was a sort of mongrel breed between the settler's shanty anil the common log-house of the farmer ; a part of its interioj was partitioned off as a bar-room. A few rusty bottle filled with whiskey, stood upon a dusty shelf, on whici were also several glasses, some tobacco, pipes, &c. Mi Fox, the proprietor of this indispensable establishmenj was a tall, yellow tough-skinned muscular man of sixty yea — apparently shrewd, — with considerable bare-facednes under a fox-like aspect, and possessed of sufficient policy I veil his penurious character ; and as a whole, presenting! true specimen of the Dutch- Yankee-Canadian. ' I OR, LIFE IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 167 c throe Mark- 1^? of hiS and i A V .' Having n^alcd ourflelvcs, we departed, it being then (liirlc, and Roon we entered upon the Uastingu' Road, which intersects the Township of Tudor, and continues northward to the Madawaska, a distance of over 50 miles. This road was opened a few years ago by the Canadian Government^ and shortly afterwards the most of the land dr of olu 1 bordering upon it was taken possession of by settlers ; never- \is heau i theless, the oountry is, and for many years will likely con- ^ &iu\ the Itinue a dense wilderness, unless other circumstances occur, ted that I with other means, to assist in its development. ,he means I Having entered the woodland, I began to experience a Tchant at ■ renewal of romantic feelings, — feelings akin to those of my :,bem t^at I earlier years that I lived in the Canadian forest. The he desired I road before us appeared as a streak of white across a dark tbe otheT,lsurface. On either side, tall trees, thickly interspersed bomeward|with brushwood, stood as the walls of a formidable embat- tlement. The surface of the land appeared to be gently lin two oflandulating. At intervals we passed over apparently stony d " Fox'slridges, and again through swamps, where the green boughs nlgrims oflof the young cedars, like festoons, hung as garniture to \7arm ourltelieve the sterner aspect of the back ground. A small ilding itselAlearance, however, occasionally presented itself by the shanty anAoad-side, in front of which a rough shanty might be seen, its interioAie humble residence of some forest adventurist — it may be sty bottlewhat of some young man desirous of establishing a home for ^ on whicAimself and his intended help-mate : perhaps, in that other &c. Mflhanty, live some newly united pair, who, like the Siamese bablishmenArins^ have but a unity of thought and. action, and from the f sixty yea«ecessity of their nature are, as one, determined to struggle e-facedneslQ together. But, perchance, in yonder hut dwells in soli- lent policy mry obscurity a pair further advanced in matrimonial ex- presentinglerience, and perhaps the possessors of a large family and tl 108 RAMBLEH IN THE BACK>f OODS ; little moAnB. Empty oofforH and a hun^^ honmhold aro no dcnirablo ncqui8ition ^hcn a man in nut of cvcrythin.: but debt, and credit w every day becoming sparer and nion repulsive ; and with pencil in hand only drawing out the sharp outlines of his skeleton. <^v •> .«ww ;,, Whilst thus musing upon forest life, my attention was attracted by another of its characteristics, in that of a team of oxen yoked to a sled upon which were seated a young man and maiden. In passing them I observed that their attire consisted of the coarsest homespun. No seat or sides were attached to the rough sled ; both sat closely t(^ther on a bundle of pease straw, the driver having one of his brawny arms around the waist of the fair danisol, whilst he held in the other an extended rod, with which he was steering his favorite bullocks. They were apparently lovers taking a pleasant ride. They appeared however to feel happy, and perhaps intended ere long to bo happier. Perchance there was more true love and real happiness within the bosoms of that rustic couple, situated as they were, than is upon the polished surface of hearts,! trained to all the niceties of etiquette, and the shapes and] shades of fashion and fashionable life ; more comfort, per- haps, on the bundle of coarse straw, than upon the down; softness of a silken cushion ; and more ease and enjoymeDl upon tlie rough carcase of a buil-sled. drawn by oxen, thai within gilded chariots glittering in their splendor, aoi wheeled onward with cheerful velocity by sprightly steedsj and accompanied by a retinue of attendants. Having arrived at the residence of Mr. Poison, w( entered, and Markham and I were introduced by him his wife and family, — from whom we received a heart] wckome. Supper was immediately prepared and eaten j and M night, t Mr. (laup^htc appearc( pearancc during ] toms of although They hoi had endi energies i But thou their nei! selves aflc Their sha coraparati prised but! its main a half doz( Though ri me so che( back-log, .' curling flai The solitai the hearth which, eve power to when he hf name of he tions of th( 'ide the sp OR, LIFK IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 109 loUl aro ryihin'-' nd niori' out tlic tioD was hat of a seated a rved that No seat it closely aving one r danisol, od, with Chey were r appeared long to be and real I e, situated of hearts,! ibapes andl ifort, perj Ithe down] enjoyment ixen, than >ndor, an^ Ltly steedsJ »olson, w jby lum a heart; ind eatenl and Markhani, nlihouprh repeatedly urged to stay over night, started homeward — a further di«tance of five milcH. Mr. Polson'H family consisted of six sons, and one (laughter, sixteen years of age, and the oldest — all of whom appeared to be healthy and happy. Their mother, in ap- ]>earance, was an excellent woman. She had suffered much during her bush life, and her constitution showed symp- toms of debility. Her husband was, however, robust, although he had toiled many a hard day in the woods. They had lived there seven years, during which time they had endured many hardships, and also devoted their best energies to suppress poverty and outlive their difficulties. But though comparatively more comfortable than many of their neighbours, they were still struggling to keep them- selves afloat, upon the surface of life's common condition. Their shanty, though roughly constructed, was a large and comparatively respectable one. Its whole interior com- prised but one room, that served for all necessary purposes ; its main features consisted of a bed, table, three shelves, a half dozen of spindle-legged-stools, and a huge fire-place. Though rudely built, no part of the interior appeared to me so cheerful and inviting as the blazing hearth ; a huge back-log, and the wood around it, rolled out volumes of curling flames that sent forth enlivening heat and radiance. The solitary voice of the cricket, the constant inhabiter of the hearth, was chirping its nocturnsil devotions— all of which, even amidst poverty in the rudest hut, have power to transmit enchantment to the toil-worn settler when he has returned from his daily labours. The very name of hearth kindles within my soul a thousand associa- jtions of the past. Around the sanctified altar of the fire- side the spirit-breathings- of the heart liavo been poured H V 170 RAMItl.KH IN TIIK HACKWOOHS; forth, hap}*} i icoslinvi^siiiilodintlic radiaticeoCitHhoninHjoyH and sorrows have betfi oxpn'ssi'd, talcs told and Honj^H suii^', and hoylu'otl hiiili its airy castles, and knew not, nor even dreamt of the sterner realities of time. And still do I love the hearth of my old home, because around it T spent the happy evenings of my younc; life, ere the family circle was broken, or I had felt the chilliii<< intluence of the ungcninl world ; its very name conjures up within my memory the forms of many, now dead, who were wont to meet there in sweet companionship ; and oven though it bo dumb to others, it has a voice that reverberates in the caverns of my soul. JJut hearths arc fast becoming unfashionable in Canada, t pecially among those who have risen a little above their former condition. By such they are considered only as vul"ar vestiges of rude life, unsightly to the eyes of good society, and tit only for shantimaids and bushwhackers, and instead thereof the black, metallic stove, hoalth-destroyinij^ as it is, rules supremely as fire-king. The stove is assuredly worthy of bi/mg praised for its cooking conveniences and comfort-giving-qualities — for without it, it would be almost impossible to out-live the severity of a Canadian winter ; but to do away with the fireplace, because it looks un- sightly and unfashionable, is the result of only a tasteless, vitiated pride, which cannot be too severely reprimanded. Having continued our conversation until midnight, we retired to rest. Contrary to my wishes my kind friends gave me their bed, the only one in the house: they and their family huddled together upon the floor, and covered themselves with rugs, deer skins, &c. I slept soundly that night, and even prolonged my slumbers beyond my ordi- nary hour of rising. At the tin I awoke, Mr. Poison was out feediu!^ his cattle, and his wife had gone to a neighbor's OB, LIPK IN THK CANADIAN PORF.8T. 171 even [ love \i the genial ry the lerc in mb to cms of able in e above ed only of good :ers, and atroyin'^ Bsuredly IOCS and o almost winter , ►oks nn- astclefis, landed, light, we friends t,hey and covered [ndly that ray ordi- dson was lei^bbor's house to borrow pome diphcfl for the broakfjist out-fit. Their dau^litcr wa« attending to a roast of veni.son on the heartli, around which were seated tlio youiirror ones watch- ing with vviHtful eyes the process of cook infr, and apparently caj^er to ;ret a taste of the savory meat. Without delay I attcnipted to rise, and discovered that n)y pants were sub- p«jnded over a high, rickety stake-lc^rgcd stool that stood before the bed. Wishing to be as modest and polite as possible, 1 stretfjhed over my arm, druw in my pantaloons, and thrust myself into them in a hurry, during which time, I kept my eyes directed towards the maiden, who being aware of my getting up, was possessed of as much politeness and good sense as not to turn round, or budge a muscle to either the right or the left, but continued pound- ing potatoes in a pot with amazing rapidity. I then slipped myself over the bed, picked up my stockings from the floor, and in order to put them on, and carry out my programme of politeness, I wheeled myself " right-about- face " towards the bed, and seated myself on the rickety spidcr-legged-stool. In the process, however, of drawing one of my stockings on, I gave it rather a sudden jerk, which displaced the stool, and also one of the loose slabs of which the floor was composed. But before I had time to either suspect danger or avoid the consequence, the ^^vo hinder legs of the seat slipped through the crevice ; nto tine cellar, throwing me back upon the floor, and leaving my legs suspended on high in regular Yankee fashion, at which moment Mr. Poison entered, apparently amazed by the first impression of my critical and eccentric position, and no doubt imagining that I had embraced the opportunity of his absence to perform some gymnastic feats and back- haaded-somersets, for either the beneiit of my own health, i! m n RAMfiLEH IN TIIK BACKWOOPM J or the nmiiscinont of his family. At this juncture, aiiri not until then, I buheUl with blunhin^ nHtoiiishniont tliat I hml connnittcd a most inipolitc and ci^TegiouH error upon mywclf by having entered my pantaloons on tlic wrong side, causing them to nssumu a portlN-liko appearance in front, not unlike those of Dr. Warren h notable '• Turned Head." Instantaneously I sprang up and into bed ; and having adjusted my error, I arose ; but was sufficiently cautious in placing further confidence in either the big stool or the bad floor. Such an incident was possessed of sufficient acidity as to have worked up every youngster of the shanty into bubbling cfFcrvcscence. Such, however, was not the case ; keeping their scats, they placed their hands over their faces and 8uppres.sod their smirking. It was, indeed, a laughable farce — I was every moment ready to burst from the internal pressure of my risibilities ; but having at length regained sufficient gravity, I moved forward, took my seat at the breakfast table, and the impressions of my incident were, for the time being, forgotten amidst the interesting characteristics of conversation. During the night and that day also, considerable snow fell and drifted; rendering the roads nearly impassable. However, about two o'clock in the afternoon, contrary to the wishes of the Poison family, I departed, being desirous of reaching, that evening, the house of an old acquaintance, with whom I intended to remain a few days. -'' Having provided myself with snow-shoes, I soon arrived at the Jordan, now Millbridge, three miles distant, where a small river of the same name intersects the road. This place consisted of two houses, in which liquor, provisions, &c., were sold, — a cooper and blacksmith's shop, ka.^ I entered <»iic of the houses to make inquiries respecting i (he r Th,. i Kinncd represc ler'fi II room, bottles, matori;i »i«ting ( '■:■* 1; Also, bell thickset. and appai of senmalX veloped se\ nalian blaj whilst an( a corner, c| Jungs had bubbJinir i'\ on. MFK IN THK CANADIAN KOIlEsT. ]TA , uiid hat 1 up8, popiHT, razors, aqua-vltfl?, Spectacles, soap, soda, sulphur, scales, ,,..... , Teas, et-cotera, incognita; Also, behind the counter stood the proprietor, a short, thickset, concoity sort of a fellow, ■Mi With bullet head, and metal eyes, Which scarce tho light could ent<>r ; ' ■ ."'■(tl Black bristling beard, brown chubby faco, ! ,.,.»? ,.....,., i. . With pug-nose in tho centre ! and apparently a keen scenter after cents, and tho indicator of sensuality, rather than intellectual sense or a largely de- veloped sensorium. He and three brandy-colored baccha- nalian blackguards were j)laying at cards over the counter, whilst another of the same species was lying doubled up in a corner, considerably spiritualized, and snoring us if his lungs had crept up into his nose, and were blowing up the bubbling fumes of BacchuK into his bruins. Several pairs i' H'l RAMBLEB IN THK BACKWOODS; of snow-shoes, J^uns, &c., in another corner, told plainly that the parties were on a hunting expedition. Tliey had the appearance and manners of fast young men, and were apparently well posted up in the devil's dictionary and the sin-tax slang of the bar-room. Several notices were posted upon the wall — the following is a spec^inen : PUPLIK NOTIS. I will sell at Bill Gordon's shanty, munda 1st, his stole kunsistin of 1 bully gud kow, 1 ox-jumpcr with tung, 1 pottash kittle, 1 ox-yok and chane, and uther artckals tu numras tomenshin. Kundishins. — kash on the spot; dis- count 10 pursent; credit — gud nots, six months tym. Jordan, Febrary 21, 1862. Bob Neilson, Oxeneer. In answer to my inquiries about the road, Mr. Golly- wabbles, the proprietor, stated the utter impossibility of me reaching there that evening, as thb track through the woods was snowed up ; and being so late in the afternoon it was dangerous to hazard myself in defiance of the storm, and perhaps be devoured by wolves. However, as a pre- ventive to danger, he urged me to remain under his hospi- table roof for the night, as he had " tip-top" a<5commodatioD for travellers, at low fare, and a superior lot of newly im- ported liquors of the beat brands, bearing tlie stamp of Ex- celsior, such as Cognac -cocktail, Henpenella, lloostersnack, Cluckenhouiony, Bird'; -eye-brandies, and Barley -essences; also the best Havana Cigars, such as Fumigators, Friii;!- dores, Ariels, Asteroids, Curly-blues, Nicotians, Helvoca- noes, Luciferrans, &c. . , ...,,.. •. OR, LIFE IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 175 I told him I would consider the matter, ami then seated myself. He resumed his attention to pluy off the game with one of the gamblers. " By Jerusalem, and that's game !" ejaculated his opponent at length, throwing down the last card, with a thump, upon the counter. I vsuy, old fellow, down with your Henpenellas and Fumigators, as quick as winkum." " Bully on your head !" exclaimed Nuttlebags. " A damnable good play ! " cried Snookerjack. "' Yes, sir-ee, by jinkum I" said Bottleshins, the first speaker, and winner, then turning round ho directed his eyes to the man in the corner, and exclaimed — " I say. Jack Bowley, you bloody rogue, get up and get your bitters." . : " Turn out you bloated blubberhoad and get yourself sobered on a glass of the etherial essence of rattlesnake bladders !" said Snooker Jack. " Copperhead alligators, you mean !" added Nuttlebags. " Liver-cod-oil," said Golly wabbles. " I say, Jack," resumed Bottleshins, " get up, Polly Jenkins is here, and she wants to see you." Startled at the name, and the music of the glasses, Eowley attempted to get up, and blubbering out broken sentences of unmean- ing jargon, stumbled back to the floor again at full I length, and began to curse the others for disturbing him. " Turn in, friend," said Bottleshins to me, " and have a bumper of the oxygenated essence of cod-nigger-oil, it is sweeter than the milk of a jack-ass, purer than the distilla- tions of a jack-apo's gizzaid, and universally celebrated [for its homoeopathic virtues, and may be applied internally, I externally, and eternally." ' ■■-'■ J-i'* " And'infernally too," added Snookerjack. ..v| 17 And Captain Noah got so "tight,"' -f^ He was not fit to steer. King Solomon, with all his wives, ' _\ ' Indulged in good champagne, ■ ■ <■ - And never doiin'd the water pledge, '^ • • Tho' he himself did rei^n. , , I Wo are tho jollv Bafchns-cobd, &c. n2 XI II ! 178 UAMUL£8 IN T1I£ BACKW00D8 ; King Ikltoshaz^ar made a ^'9pree'^ .-, < ;;,; For all his lords of state ; , . ; Dariuri forood tla* wiitor jilodge, . v . And thereby scal'd their fate. Had Herod took his morninf,' " coo" Of wormwood ster laere were demanded on every lot not contiguous to the Ilas- Itings road, the greater part of which lands was unfit for [cultivation, and adapted by nature only for the wild hunter land his game ; however, many of those who had been too liitn in applying for free grants, ftincied this also a fiwourable opportunity, and became settlers. But experience is a pood schoolteacher, though frequently a very hnrd master. Having selected their respective lota, they built their [liinties and begin the laborious task of gathering a scanty lubsistence from the rugged woods; and frcquenfly a year 180 KAMHLEH IN THE BACKWOODS; ■/:,• or two passed before anything; in the shape of snatenancc could be extracted from the soil. Persons possessed of oik; or two hundred dollars were, in nine amm out of ten, not worth a cent at the end of two years. The delay and unavoidable outlay, with small returns, ultimately absorbed the whole means, and eventually )nany of them were forced to sell their farms for a paltry sum, and leave the forest to others as unfortunate as themselves. Those who had little in the shape of money to begin with, dragged along a miserable existence for a short time, and many of them were at length compelled to sell their right of inheritance — like Esau of old — for a something to ^ \ti&iy the starving demands of human necessity, or perhaps iheir property was taken from them as payment of some trifling debt. Some of the first settlers, however, have been enabled so far to weather the storm of adversity, but are still suflfering from many hardships and inconveniences. In t.ic summer of 1858, I paid my first visit to Tudor, I again visited it in the winter of 18G2, and also in the fall of 18G3 ; during which times, I became familiar with the circumstances of the forest settlers ; and on my two last visits, observed that many, indeed, had left, and others stepped into their places, to keep the wheel of circumstances revolving. In comparison with the rapid progress of Western Canada, Tudor has not improved in comparative ratio. The reasons forsui t are visible, and wholly indepen- dent of the people. In the first place, the greater part of the land is rocky, extremely rugged, and interspersed with un- drainablc swamps. Again, the Hastings road, though made by the government, is inac jquate to th^. necessities of the people. During nearly two-thirds of the year it is in such a wretched condition as to render travel with safety almost nnpo.«i.si! Heilovili and aln situated and fifty bringing the price for bartei low, all the peopli nocessaric holders to that the ii and build even the r of the bad being dest circuitous nience. Tl: roads, und death-blow condition, and destitt life, and in a Siberian per acre is instaimerit. until paid. I poor by \m\ land in this I oppressed 'lid retain t OR, LIFE IN THE rANADIAN FOREST. 181 nance of «nit' sn, not ,y and sorbed forced (rest to id little nlonp a )f them tancc — starving property ig debt, ubled so suffering 9 Tudor, in the iar with my two id others mstances 3gres3 of iparative indepen- art of the with un- , thouiih L^ssities of is in fcucli Ity ahuusi impo.i proportion to their means ; and in this manner are many of the settlers hara.«vscd and oppressed in their effort to extract a scanty livelihood Lnd retain their property. «•• 182 RAMItLEB IN THE BACKWOODS; I But why should there have been so unjust a distribution of udvantnjxcs ? Why cut a road through the Icnj^th of several townnhij)s, and i^ive free ^rant« of all lots bordering; on said road, and exact a price from the back lands, which are destitute of roads, and farther from common access to mill and market? Such an inconsistent system in the dis- posal of wild lands, is injurious in the extreme. Instead of opening the resources to aid in the general development of the country, it has a tendency to deter improvement. Why lavish extravagant sums in support of wealthy insti- tutions, railways, &c., and from the veins of a toiling and industrious people, drink the life-blood to the very dregs,? Oh ! ye governmental disp'^is.'.crs of the forests ! why will ye tamper with the interests of the people for a compara- tively paltry trifle towards the provincial revenue ? If you desire to increase immigration, to promote the growth and strength of the Provinces, the development of their resources, and tlieir rapid advancement and general welfare^ unlock the portals of the great forests, and invite the in- habitants of every clime, creed, and kingdom, to come and establish for themselves free and unfettered homes in the backwoods of Canada. Open roads, erect mills, school and meeting houses, send in teachers and missionaries, centralize the settlements, and do away with skeleton- road- system, all length and no breadth, and in ten years the increase of wealth and population, — the social and moral condition of the people, and the physical development of the country, will be augmented tenfold, and eventually contribute a no small amount to the general revenue. A new feature, however, in the physical resources of Tudor, may become essential to the interests of the place, namely, the discovery of lead and silver. But the extent and intrinsic value of those mines have yet to be tested. As I ha lain somcwl 1 1 will brief Ifith. Whi land during Jifternoon, i jjtorin comp J»'«y i He, or Ihc little wi Bashes of tl pill, a tree OR, LIPK IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 183 g and Ircgs? ly will aipara- Ifyou th and ' their veltare^ the in- e and in the school )naries, |)n-road- lars the moral jment of intually yVLQ. A Tudor, |namely, iut and As I have made inyHclf the "hero " of thi*« ftory, and jin somewhat connected with the discovery of those mines, I will briefly mention u few particulars in connection there- with. Whilst on a visit to Tudor, in the sunnner of 1858, snd durinf^ my return from public worship on a sabbath kftornoon, in company with otiiers, a tremendous thunder ftorni compelled us to secure shelter in a shanty by tlio f;iy : Me, one mile south of the Jordan. As I stood by [the little window of the buildin 1 Tlow return to my rainblcH. Hiivin^' rtMiitiiiuMl a f«w dius with my friends, the llill.««lalojt, juiJ Hj>ont a very au'roo.i lo visit, I departed, with the iiit«iitioii ofconliiiuiii^ my journey northward, so aw to gratify my romantic reel- ing , and ascertain the condition of ^'^inhabitants ntill further back in the woods. Ret irj o the Jordan, I resumed my route by the Uasttu^ i 4 I had ^onc but ab( it two miles, md had just pa of those little hovels that at intervals present themselves by the way side, when I heard a voice from behind calling upon me by name. Started at the sound thereof, I wlu^eled suddenly about, :md beheld Mr. Markham. In accordance with his request I entered his shanty, and was introduced to his wife aud family, all of whom were happy to have the oppor- tunity to express their gratitude for a few necessary articles I had presented Mr. Markham with on the night of his ox- adventure. Theirs was a small, low built shanty, ',\r Without a chimney or a floor, Encased with moas, and rooft with bark ; Having one window and one door. It thu3 resembled Noah's Ark. The furniture, if such it may be called, would stagger de- scription by its oddity ; and were it not the anticipated prospects of the future, the whole of their possessions were scarcely worth living for. In compliance with their friendly wishes, I stayed and partook of dinner, which consisted of venison, potatoes, and birch-root tea. During several yeai-s bread is a scarce article in the back woods, owing to the great distance at which mills are situated. The deer contributes greatly towards the necessities of the early settlers. Its flesh is a nutritious element in the shape of > }' f M t i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /, ^o ^ 1.0 I.I IA£|28 |2.5 |40 2.0 U 1.25 1.4 III 1.6 .4 6" - ► Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 V r<\^ <^ ^:\ ^5<\ m «- ,led w) subs com oof— the fl e, 18 ;: ' . . ^y^g Creditors. In logging, the settler requires his neighbors to a diffici ^^^ ^^°*' ^^^ which he must return an equivalent. If he *4%| n^ > 194 RAMBLES IN TUK BACKWOODS; I in without oxod, he must cither hire them or give work lor their service. Few settlers, if uuy, have a cow durini: their two first years in the woods, as neither huy nor pus- ture is provided. Just fancy the condition uf a hulf-chuj. hungry household, especiully u family of small children, without milk and butter, frequently without bread and other u ssaries. Doer meat is cheap and plentiful ; but venison, with few accompaniments, soon becomes dry and unpalatable ; horse tlesh comparatively would be a greater dainty. This reminds me of an incident which occurred in that neighbourhood the summer previous to my travels. As a teamster from Mudoc was crossing u small bridge, hih horses startled, and they and the load were precipitated into the creek beneath. One horse was killed by the fall : the other was only slightly injured. 'J'he driver instantly rode off to the York Branch to procure assistance and hire a team to carry the load to its destination. At his return he found that his dead horse had disappeared ; not even u vestige remained. Indications that the animal had been dragged off were, however, visible ; he followed the trail, which led to a shanty a quarter of a mile distant, and there, with startled astonishment, beheld the reeking and unsheathed carcass quartered up, over which two hungry- looking Dutchmen were quai rolling and fermenting their Holland wrath for a bloody contest ; — and for what ? may be asked. Simply because the man who had discovered the booty would not acquiesce with the otherj whose oxen had drawn it, to give him one half of the " internals'' in addition to his share of the carcass. The inhabitants of that township and adjoining ones comprise a variety of creeds and nationalities. A number of German Dutch are sprinkled throughout. The circumstances of the people Ujii^ OR, LIFE IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 105 liHVc a tendency to ninko thorn friendly with one another ; but, on the whole, nowi.sc conducive to tiie j^rowth of intelligence and religion. Habbuth la generally a day of visiting and wandering about. Schoolhou.seH arc few, indeed ; and churches are nowhere to be Been ; ministers are like meteors— their occasional light generally vanishes with themselves. A short time previous to n»y travels a murder was committed in the vicinity of the York Branch. Two neighbours, respectively named Munroe and Klward, <|uarrclled, and during the contest that ensued the former was killed. Elward and his wife were apprehended, found guilty by a jury, and both were executed at Belleville. Having arrived at the York Branch, as I said, I took lodgings for the night in the " Deer-Hom-Tavern" — a large, common shanty, whose appearance was destitute of attraction. Had the immortal Cowpcr beheld it and the surrounding country, during a " Winter Walk" through the deep snows of a Canadian forest, he might have been induced to blot out — " Ob, for a lodge in some vast wilderness. Some boundless contiguity of shade." .. \ii Its interior consisted of a bar-room, kitchen, and bedchamber — the furniture was chiefly home-made. A few dingy bottles, glasses and jars, stood rank and file upon a shelf ; also, .some pipes, matches, and basswood leaf tobacco. In a corner stood a liquor barrel, bearing the following inscrip- tion in uncouthly half painted letters: — ^ ■■"■ \i' . ■•'?' h:} -:.;.Miy;:.' . w# ■\iixk*M' " The Brands op Brandy." Feeling myself extremely cold on entering, and my atten- i I3 I 'M 19C RAMBLES IN THE BACKWOODS; :^: tion being attracted towards thebnrri'l, T ordered a glaKHof hot punch of the " Brnnds." In^teud of j»ij ping to con- sult my taste or the merits of the liquid, I drank it instantly. But, of all the liquors I ever tasted, this decoction sur passed thora all. It seemed to me, as it were, the esseuci of lightning acidized by the buttermilk of Jupiter. Like a cobbler's rasp, it scraped down the jagged corners of niv throat, suspending respiration, and leaving a (sensation in my stomach as if I had swallowed a fire-brand. Thefuuus flurried up towards my brain like the giish of steam from a kettle spout — all of which seemed to indicate that tb - ** brands" were in reality the essence of Hell's tire-brands." " Thatd' grand guid liquor, sir," said the innkeeper — a small grizzly, pox-indented, sprucy Scotchman. " It tastes OS if it were the essence of fire and brimstone,' said I. '' Faith an' a betther fire ye could'nt have in your stom- ach, sir ; an' sure an' mcself always keeps a good sup of it wid-in me to keep out the cowld," exclaimed Mrs. Josey. the innkeeper's wife, — a thick-set, brandy-colored, fleshy- caroas'd daughter of the Green Isle. " Its strong enough," said I. " By garrah sur an' it ish sthrong ; an' its mesilf that knows it too ; troth an' its knock'd me down a hunther times, sure ; the devil abether supye'd git in iny kuntbra excipt in the owld ' Sod ' sure," exclaimed Mrs. Josie. " Guid wife, yer mistaken," interposed Mr. J., " the guid Scotch whiskey, peat reek, is far afore it." " By crackie, an' it ish not sur, an* ye need'nt be afther telling me so, sur ; the divil a sup o' liquor is in yer kim- ! tS-A OR, LIFE IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 197 tlim but Scotch brose ; but arrnh bcgar an* it« nicsclf that's l)cen nfther tasting many a good sup in the owKl kun- thra, gad bless its fowl." At this moment two lumbermen entered, carrying :i liquor jar, and ordered Mr. Josio to give them one gallon of the " Brands, " and a treat for all present ; several hurley bushwhackers liad also entered. " By jingo, that's the real stuff," ejaculated one, having emptied his glass. " Bully good liquor," exclaimed another. " Tip-top," " first best," &c., cried several others, smacking their lips, after having gulped down their glass- full. ,., • " Aizellent, sirs; most decidedly aizcUent," exclaimed the innkeeper. ** By the holy sowl of owld St. Abraham, an' yer afther spakin the truth, bless yer sowls, an' yer the dacentest boys I've ever seen since I last sat my brogs on the owld sod. And arrah my good sir," continued she, directing her attention to me, '' an plaize an' what part o' the kunthra are ye after belonging to ?" "Lower Canada," said I. - \ " An' sure an' is Lower Kinnedy a betther kunthra than the Apper Pravidence ?" she interrogated. ^ »^ ' "The country is good enough, madam: but there are too many bullfrogs and frogeaters in it." ' >■' '^ " Arrah magrah astorah, an' have the people nothing to ate but the dam'd frogs ; sure, an' have they nare a small sup o' the crathur at all, at all." " Nothing but pork, pea-soup, and nigger water," said I. 'm M 'I, 108 RAMBLES IN THE BACKWOODS; I I fe.' K ■ f " Arrah gaskccn me sowl ! blast their filthy gizzards, ivery mother's son ov cm, the dirty graisy blaggards that they arc, — exipt yer honor sir." A universal outburst of roaring laughter, as a farce, followed in grand chorus. The lumbermen, on leaving, requested me to visit their lumber-hhunty on the following day. I promised to do so. At a late hour the house was emptied of its loufers and brandy luggers, and I retired to rest. It was in vain to seek repose earlier, on account of the stir and din of the wild convivialists, in tlxeir boisterous mirth. Wrapped iii deer-skins and wolf pelts, I enjoyed a comfortable night's rest. Next day I departed for the lumber shanty, a few miles distant, where I arrived at noon ; and by the two men spoken of was introduced to the whole squad, con- sisting of about thirty men. "With them I partook of din- ner, and during the afternoon remained with the cook, a fat-blooded Dutchman. In the evening the men returned from their labours, and in accordance with their request I staid until the following day. The foreman was an intel- ligent American, the others were Scotch, Dutch and Irish, apparently a happy and good-hearted class of fellows. The shanty was large and commodious. In the centre of the interior was a fireplace or kahoose, formed by four logs of about eight feet long, being placed so as to form a square, the interior of which was filled with stones and earth ; a large hole in the roof of the shanty allowed the smoke to escape. Two rows of poles running parallel with the walls formed the basis of the beds, over them layers of cedar boughs were placed. Two pairs of blankets were allowed to every two shantymen. A squared log on each OR, LIFE IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 199 'i -f a izzards, ds that I farce. dt their do so. ers and vain to 1 of the pped iii J night's ^, a few the two lad, con- c of din- ) cook, a ■eturned equest I m intel- id Irish, fellows, sentre of bur log? form a ines and )wed the Uel with 01 layer? :ets were on each side of the shanty was placed before the beds, and served as a seat, tables, &c. The cook is generally the first to arrive in the morning, to make preparations for breakfast ; the teamsters rise next and so on ; and about six a. m. the whole squad take breakfast ; and thence proceed to Iheir day labors in the bush. If at too great a distance, at noon they partake of luncheon in the woods. At dark they return to the shanty. Each one then receives his can of strong tea, with plenty of fat pork and bread; and having straddled themselves over their log tables, without ceremony, or the forms of etiquette, they commence with right good earnest to supply their inner wants. No varieties or luxurious danties are provided for the rough shantyman ; his appetite does not crave for such. His regimen is chiefly bread, fat pork and tea, three times per diem. Such a meal to the dyspep- tic, or nervous person, would appear to be productive of fatal consequences. Such immense quantities of pork or tea taken separately would undoubtedly injure the stom- ach ; but when both are partaken of together, their influ- ence is modified. However, the shantyman is apparently contented with his meals when he gets enough, and envies not the wealthy invalid with his table groaning under its foi^ign luxuries. After supper, a somewhat complicated scene presented itself. Some were busily engaged mending their mits, moccasins, or pantaloons : a few playing at cards ; others encircling some pioneer of the forest, who is relating some adventure of shanty life ; in the midst of another group, was heard some love ditty, or shantyman's song, whilst amidst the din and confusion, a rough curse occasionally was heard giving emphasis to action. During that evening several songs were sung, among which were the following two : I ^ -y i i V 200 RAMBLES IN THE BACKWOODS; THE WOODMAN'S HOME. Around my cot in the forest wilds Are mystical charms for me, The sprightly deer are a gambolling there, And birds are on every tree. The wild flowers spring thro* the withered leaves, Like stars in the azure sky ; ; , ,. >>! . And every bough has its leafy gems, '^ The haunts of the insect fly. ..f, .;) v-.^ ,.f.., ,."»<« Chorus. ?.'■!' ik s • ■; 4- It is in the lowly shanty home ■ The spirit of man is free, . j^^ . A woodman's life in the forest wilds Is the happiest one for me. The Queen may smile in her Windsor-tower, But still she has sorrow to sigh; The happy heart and the peaceftil mind, Not pelf or position can buy. The man of wealth, with his wants supplied, Is not so happy and free ; He lives on the cream of the nectar milk,— Such only is froth to me. It is in the lowly shanty home, Ac. The nobleman struts in his velvet robes, And scores of attendants wait ; I worship not such a Pagan god, i^- Nor envy his golden state. 'Tis not in the palace or splendid hall. Nor yet in the princely dome. Where I would seek for the joys of life, Or a substitute for home ; But tis' in the lowly shanty home, &c, 'Tis gold that haunts the spirit of man ^^ '' And makes hun a slave to himself; '. \. And the miser lives in his sordid cell, And starves out his soul with pelf. \ . ^ Wealth is the dust of the grave refined, ' And pleasure's the life-day shroud ; Whilst fame is the stone to the favorite dead Upraised by the babbling crowd. 'I '^- OR, LIFE Itt THE CANADIAN FOREST. 201 Chorus. But give roe health and a humble fare, Whilst life's own spirit is free. And I will ask for no other state Than a wild-wood home for me. The following was beautifully sung by one of the dis- affected sons of Erin ; it is an embodiment of pathetic feeling, brooding over the national wrongs to which Ire- land has been subjected, and smells strongly of Fenianism : In Erin's Isle, sure I was born, Where good St. Patrick trod. An' rear'd the shamrock and black-thorn And blessed its darlin sod ; His heavenly smile o'er Erin's isle. Was like a balm of light ; He made shillalahs for our boys, An' larn'd them how to fight. ' - :,....,..,., >.-- Chorus. '—■'-}' . -' -•' -'^^' ■-r> In Erin's isle, — the quain ov earth. Sure I meself was born. Where bowld St. Patrick rared himself The shamrock and the thorn. Then owld John Bull, the cursed fool, Began to stale our " right," So wid our owld shillalah bowld, We show'd him how to fight. His bulldogs and his bloodhounds came From Albion's hungry shore. They tore the flag ov Erin's isle, An' lapp'd our father's gore. In Erin's isle, the quain ov earth, &c, '" 'fA •■i ■ f v.. ■\?^- St. Patrick's crown he soon puU'd down An' placed it on his prince, An' wid a rod and iron gad , ; . He bates us ivir since ; Which forced the sons ov Erin's isle To find a foreign home; An' I mesilf from all me friends Was thus compell'd to roam. -^--''P' In Erin's isle, the qaain ov earthy &c. 202 RAMBLES IN THE BACKWOODS; ?! ^■' To Quabec town, sure I was bound, An' safely landed there, An' hire'd racsilf to Mr, Jinks, His timber-logs to square. ' Now in the woods ov Kinneday, Mesilf is in exile, But while I live I'll curse John Bull, An' bless owld Erin's isle. In Erin's isle, the quain ov earth, &c. Next day I returned to the York Branch, and there incidentally met with Mr. Boswell, a person who formerly resided in Lower Canada, and with whom I was slightly acquainted. Like many others he had been induced to remove into those outlandish regions. He resided in a back settlement, two miles from the York Branch. We felt happy in meeting with each other, and, at his request, I accompanied him to his shanty ; still happier was hi? wife to meet with one who had come within twenty miles of her former residence. She was a woman of a strong nervous temperament, and had almost fretted herself to death on account of their miserable condition. They who- ever were resolved to sacrifice their farm and improvements rather than prolong a wretched existence in the bush. Our interview was indeed a happy one. Next day being Saturday, agreeably to their desires, I resolved to remain until Monday. On Saturday evening, Boswell's eldest son and I visited a neighbour's shanty, distant three-fourths of a mile. About ten o'clock we departed on our return. The road was merely a foot-path through the deep snow. About mid-way it was intersected by another path. We had scarcely passed the junction of these roads, when our ears were saluted by a series of terrific howls, at a short distance from us, apparently on the other path. " The wolves! the wolves!" ejaculated the young man. We halted for a few moments to listen. Mr. Boswell's dog and OR, L!PE IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 203 nnotheronc that had accompanied us, pricked up their ears, and drew closely towards us, apparently alarmed. Another scries of yelps followed by a full chorus of a dozen voices, told plainly that wolves in reality were approaching. " Shall we climb a tree or run homeward," said I, " Oh ! run for our lives," he exclaimed, "run, run!" and forthwith I started at full speed, and was followed by young Boswell and the two mastiffs. It was difficult to keep on the path- way ; nevertheless, our legs did good service to our bodies until I made a mis-step, and fell at full length. The young man and the two dogs, unable to arrest speed in time, came tumbling over me with the force of an avalanche. Feeling at that instant the sharp claws of the two dogs about my neck as they rolled over, I fancied the wolves had taken the first grasp of me. Oh, horrors ! My blood curdled within my veins ; I roared out vociferously with stentorian lungs, and started to my feet again, and ran, following up with full speed. Another terrific chorus of the wolves was heard, apparently on. our track and following rapidly in pursuit. With more than natural force we sped forward, and finally effected our escape. Just as we arrived at the shanty, the wolves entered the clearance; but came no further, and for some time afterwards they continued to belch forth their terrific howls like a horde of infuriated fiends from the hellish kennel. No animal is the cause of greater terror to the settler than the wolf. They are universally found in the Canadian forests. Like the dog, they are possessed of a great deal of sagacity. They frequently go in bands, particularly when in quest of prey. Their movements are conducted with regularity. One of the strongest and most coura- geous acts as leader, and is generally the first to attack. When prowling among the woods at night, he leads his m 204 RAMBLES IN THE BACKWOODS ; !? 'M % company onward, occasionally giving a few loud yelps, which are followed by a general chorus of hideous howls. A single wolf, or even two, alone, will seldom attack a man, but instead thereof, will howl tremendously, and ere there is time to escape perhaps a dozen or twenty others are about him. They are fond of venison ; and when having scented a deer, pursue it with untiring eagerness, like the hound. When in hot chase they seldom turn from the object of pursuit to attack man, or any animal that may happen to be near. Whilst devouring their booty, frequently a serious quarrel among themselves takes place. In extreme cases of hunger, they have been known to destroy and eat the most worthless of their numbers. Many settlers have been deceived at first by their yelps, in fancying them to be a pack of hounds. An Englishman with his family, having newly settled in the woods, was one morning saluted by a series of barks, which he believed, no doubt, proceeded from a pack of hounds after a stag. With rifle in hand he hur- ried forth, accompained by his wife and family, armed with domestic weapons. At that moment a stag bounded past, closely and eagerly pursued by the supposed hounds. Excitedly he fired after the deer, and one of the hounds instantly wheePd' over, and with a terrific howl fell dead to the earth, whilst the deer and its ravenous pursuers sped onward. Oh, horrors I what a serious and unintentional error he had committed ? shot, as he supposed, a favorite hound of some '' landed gentleman." Instead of bearing off his booty with unbounded joy, he hurried it out of sight, expecting every moment to behold some knight«d lord of the forest and his hunting party in pursuit of the stag. In the evening one of his neighbours entered his shanty, and during the course of conversation intimated the eager chase of a party of wolves after a deer that morning. " Wolves ! OR, LIFC IN THE CANADIAN FOREST. 205 In (1 yelps, ,8 howls, k a nmn, e there is ire about g scented e hound, object of Happen to r a serious •erne cases d eat the have been 3m to be a ily, having luted by a eeded from nd he hur- irmed with mded past, d hounds, the hounds fell dead to suers sped intentional a favorite of bearing )ut of sight, t«d lord of le stag. In shanty, and eager chase "Wolves'. wolves ! " exclaimed the Englishman, startled with horrified astonishment. " Wolves ! Dost thee say so, friend ? By George, I tak'd cm tae bo ounds hafter a stag, and hi hae hacciden tally hendcd one hof em has dead's han hass. with is 'ead coot hof." Even after several years the settler is frequently annoyed by the wolves ; and occasionally during the night, a por- tion, or all of his sheep may be destroyed. A settler dis- covered a simple method of entrapping the wolf and pre- serving his flock. He enclosed his sheep by a high fence of large poles, placed closely together, forming a square ; each row inclining further inward, and the whole so formed that the wolf found an easy ingress over the top ; but when once in, could neither return through nor over the fence. The wolf finding itself thus secured, let go its victim and became harmless, which arose, no doubt, from a conscious- ness of imprisonment, a sense of danger, and an apprehen- sion of consequences. Even a cat when placed into a deep barrel among live mice, like the wolf, loses its destructive propensity for the time being ; and the mice may sport about without the fear of danger or destruction. Night pa»(sed away, and Sabbath came; and with it came a dreariness over the devotional spirit. On every side were the tall dense woods, assuming a chilling and sombre aspect. These were the pillars of the forest temple — the temple of the Eternal God. Untouched for ages, they had grown up. Under their covert, the Indian per- chance had worshipped his heathen deity. Sabbath in the woods is not a day that is generally hallowed as it should be. No church bell, with its solemn tones, is heard. No crowds of worshippers are seen congr^ating. No church rears its steeple towards the skies ; and ministers are but rare exotics. Man, naturally a social being, seeks society 206 BAMBLIS IN THE BACKWOODS) If luid intercourse with his fellow-men ; and tlie settler, when destitute of religious privileges, too frequently spends his Subbaths in visiting his neighbours; consequently the better feelings of the spirit are soon defaced, and at lengtli he fancies himself a being under less restriction, and in a sense, farther from the eye of God. - Public worship was a rare occurrence in that neighbour- hood ; but during that Sabbath it was announced that a minister was to preach in the evening at the York Branch. We resolved to go. Mr. Boswell yoked his steers to a rough sled, on which a half dozen of us piled as best we could. He himself stood in front, and, with rod in hand, steered the uncouthly caravan. Our course was a circu- itous one through the woods. My feelings at the time, if not devotional, were truly romantic, and during the whole way 1 kept a good look out for the " wolves." Having ar- rived at the shanty appropriated to the occasion, we entered and took our seats. A goodly number was present, and others continued to pour in, until the interior became actu- ally blocked up. Good gracious ! what a strange medley of bushwhackers ! Old and young maidens, matrons and children were there also — all of whom were clothed in their Sunday best. A coarse covering and the relic of a finer garb might be seen together on the same person. Deer- skin jackets and wolverine top-coats, fox-fur hats, &c., also formed a part of the fashionable attire of the foresters At length his Reverence entered and seated himself at the upper end of the shanty. He was a short, plumpy, respec- table-looking elderly gentleman. His appearance, even its first impression, appeared familiarly to my mind. Cer- tainly I had seen the man before, but when or where no distinct idea could be remexubered until he arose and spoke. Quick as the lightning the ideas of a former period of my OR, LIFE IN TUE OANAHIAN FOREST. 207 life flitshed ocross my mind, and I instantly recognised in him the identical person who was formerly known by me us the Kev. Doctor Crowder, once our minister at Beech Ridge . * Twenty years had passed away since our last interview. Alas! what changes, even to myself, had occurred during that interval. I was at that time but a reckless, wayward boy, dreaming only in the sunshine of my own heart ; unconscious of the world's woes, and blind to the eventful ills incidental to human life. Strange me- tamorphosis of time, indeed. *' Reflection made me pause with tears, * Upon the footprints of those years, t , That in the paths of life were placed ' Too deeply sunk to be effaced. The minister having read the 23rd Psalm, requested that some one present would conduct the singing. Silence for a few seconds ensued. He again solicited, whereupon a rough, burly bushwhacker arose and struck up tune on the alto-key-note of the solo-treble-organ-bass, and a variety of windpipes, tempered to every tone, responded therewith, and sent forth a loud swelling volume of devotional praise. One line was sung, and the next was being commenced, when the " precentor" ran off the track, and instanta- neously stopped his wind-oi^an, which produced a harsh flourish of rickety crotchets and double semi-quavers among the singers, who, on discovering that their leader was non- plussed, stopped also, one after another as soon as possible, and a deathlike silence ensued. The precentor again at- tempted to proceed with the tune, but failed, and then sat down. A tall, ghastly, hollow-bosomed woman arose and struck up the tune of " Auld Lang Syne," and succeeded wonderfully well. One after another the company joined in • See Tale 3. 208 RAMBLES IN THE BACKWOODS. r p. \ chorus ; a musical medley ?ras the result, and, ajfier a pru digious effort of the audience, the music part of the service was remarkably performed. When the servicea were con- cluded I availed myself of an interview with the minister, who was in reality the very Dr. Growder alluded to. He had entirely forgotten me ; but a few incidents of the past which I suggested were sufficient to refresh his memory. He expressed himself most extremely happy to meet with mo, and I promised to cull upon him the follow- ing day. Next morning I bade farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Boswell and family, and walked over to the York Branch ; but the minister had just gone to visit a sick person in tLi' neighbourhood. Consequently, I lost the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the additional circumstances of his life. Finding it impossible to procure a horse-convey- ance, and not wishing to prolong my stay, I began my return route on foot, but was shortly afterwards (jvertaken by a teamster, from the lumber shanty^ on his way to Madoc for provisions. He requested me to ride along with him, with which I readily complied ; and, having a good team, we glided rapidly along, and reached the Jordan that evening, where we remained over night, and arrived at Madoc on the following day. I proceeded thence to Belleville, and on the second day afterwards landed safely at my " local residence," at the village of St. John Chry- sostom. County of Chateauguay, Canada East. NoTB TO MT Rbadebs :— Siuce the numtuoript of this work was for- warded to the printer, I have been informed hj a correspondent at Brantford, that the Rer. David Famdem, who was arrested as a Fenian. and lodged in the Jail of that plaoe, is the identical Georgios Aristarchus Glendinning, who figures so largely in Tale 8d of this work. A. L. S. \\ THE END. ils^'' k^\ pru- 'vicf cou- Bter, Ht past nory. meet [)Uow- Mrs. anch ; in iU' xity oi ices of onvey- ;an my ^riaken jyay to along iving a Jordan rived at mce to safely Chry- \1 vraa for- indent at a Fenian ' ristarchus ,. L.8.