IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0 S>

I.I

1.25

211

\t tiS,

2A
2.0

1.8

111=

1-4 llllli.6

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques

1980

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

I I Covers damaged/

Couverture endommagde

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaur^e et/ou pellicul6e

r I Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

I I Coloured maps/

Cartes gdographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

□ Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Relid avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La reiiure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge intdrieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6t4 film6es.

L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a dt6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la methods normale de filmage
sont indiquds ci-dessous.

□ Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur

□ Pages damaged/
Pages endommag6es

□ Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restaur^es et/ou pelliculdes

D
D

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages d^colordes, tachetdes ou piqu^es

Pages detached/
Pages d6tach(§es

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of print varies/
Quality indgale de I'impression

Includes supplementary material/
Comprend du materiel supplementaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont M filmdes d nouveau de fa^on d
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl^mentaires;

r~7j This Item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

LlJ Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous.

10X

14X

18X

22X

26X

30X

T2X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

tails
du

>difier
une
nage

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.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall
contain the symbol -^ (meaning CONTINUED"),
or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever
applies.

Les images suivantes ont dt6 reproduites avec le
plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et
de la nettet^ de I'exemplaire filmd, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Un des symboies suivants apparattra sur la der-
nidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas:
le symbole — »- signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole
V signifie "FIN".

The original copy was borrowed from, and
filmed with, the kind consent of the following
institution:

National Library of Canada

L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grSce d la
gdnirositd de I'dtablissement prdteur
suivant :

Bibliothdque nationale du Canada

Maps or plates too large to be entirely included
in one exposure are filmed beginning in the
upper Inft hand corner, left to right and top to
bottom, as many frames as required. The
following diagrams illustrate the method:

Les cartas ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre
reproduites en un seul clich6 sont film^es d
partir de Tangle sup6rieure gauche, de gauche d
droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant
illustre la mdthode :

rrata
to

pelure,
n d

32X

^^..«_r — .--f— '

/^/.

AMONG THE FOREST TREES

OR,

HOW THE BUSHMAN FAMH.Y
GOT THEIR HOMES.

liElNi;

\ HOOK OK FACTS AND INCIDKNTS OF PIONF.F.R LIFE IN UPPER
CANADA. ARRAN(;F.D IN THlv FORM OF A STORY.

nv TIIF.

RF.V. JOSKPH H. HILTS,

Anther of " Kx,.orioii..cH of a Backwoods Preacher," etc.

TORONTO:

PRINTF.n FOK THE AUTHOR BY

fVILLIAM J3RIGGS, 78 & 80 KING STREET EAST.

1S88.

Entered, according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one
thousand elpht hiindred and eighty-eight, by Rkv. Joseph H. Hii.tm. in Ok
Office of the Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa.

jpcdtcatloii

TO THF DESCKNDANTS

OF TIIOSF. RRA\"F. MF.N AND WOMF.N WHO BRAVEl") THE DANCERS,

FACFH ruK Dill icri/riKs, endl'red the hardships

AND SCFKERED THE PRIVATIONS OF

PIONEER I. IKE IN THIS OPR NATIVE PROVINCE, THIS BOOK IS

RF.SPECTFl'Ll.Y DEDICATED.

AND THE AITHOR INDUI,(.ES I HE HOPE THAT

ITS PROniMTION AND I'ERITSAl, MAY BE THE MEANS OF CAUSING

HOIM WRITER AND READER MORE HIGHLY TO APPRECIATE

THE BOON SECURED TO THEM
BY THE NOBLE EFFORTS OF THE EARLY HOME BUILDERS

OF OUR COUNTRY. '' '

rji

iNTEODuanoN

DVERSE criticism has sounded the deatli-knell of
so many literary productions, that I felt many
misgivings when 1 sent out my tirst book, " Ex-
Iperiences of a Backwoods Preacher,'' to seek a, place in the
arena of Canadian literature. But the favorable comments
lof tiie Press, and the hearty commendations of hundreds of
[the readers of these " F]xperiencps," have encouraged me
[to try find produce a work that would be more worthy of
Ipublic favor than my tirst effort can claim to be.

Acting on the advir^e of persons of large experience in
the book trade, I have written "Among the Forest Trees,"
in the form of a story. The book is really a narrative of
facts and incidents, around wliich the imagination has been
:)ermitted to throw some of the draperies of fiction. But
bi'uth is none the less true because some fancy pictures are
found in its surroundings. A good piece of cloth is no less
.valuable because, by coloring, it is made beautiful. And
il though a man may be as good a man in an outfit made
j)f sail-cloth, or of an Indian blanket, as he would be if he
/ere dressed in the finest production of the weaver's and
|he tailor's art, yet no one will say that he would be just
Ls presentable in the one case as in the other. So facts may
become more impressive, when nicely clothed.

In writing the following pages, three things have been
[ept steadily in view. 1st. The facts and incidents must
e substantially true, 2nd. All the drapery and coloring

iNTODnrc^TioN.

must he in strict harmony with piuo nioralitv, and with the
dpiiiands of a sound religious sentiniont. 3rd. And the
wholo must ho illustrative of pioiK^er life, in its conditions
and surroundings, and calculated to show something of the
toils, privations, hardships, ditKculties and sorrows of the
early settlers.

Keeping within these limits, 1 believe that I have produced
a book that can with entire safety, and not without profit,
Ije put into the hands of either young or old, since there is
not one line from the beginning to the ending that will
excite bad passions or mislead the judgment. And while
this is true, there is much that will toucii the finer sensi-
bilities and sympathies of the i-eader.

It will be observed that the author has recorded the
narrations and conversations as though they were the
utterances of others. Hence the first pei'son is generally
left in the background.

This method was adopted, because by it a great variety
of characters could be brought on the scene, and a larger
diversity of style could be presented.

Another thing to which I would call the reader's atten-
tion is the fact that dates and localities have mostly been
left out of the text of the book. Where these are given
they are found in the explanatory notes. This plan was
adopted to atibrd greatei* facilities for grouping together
facts and incidents, that were separated by time and
distance, so as to give an aspect of unity to the whole
production.

The reader will also observe that the names of persons
and places are mostly taken from trees and shrubs and
plants and flowers, as these are found in the forest wilds.
It may be a mere fancy of mine ; but I thought that it
would add to the attractiveness of the book, if the names

found in i
treated of

John Hi

means a ti

lived, i woi

almost ul)ii

the questio

to say wh<

neigliborho(

tirst woman

Another

vai-ied char;

pages, there

tioned in th

if they are n

are not relijj

writing that

good, in hui

far as mysell

lip left to do

And now

the thousan(

came to thi

wonderful el

continue in t

on the part c

that the bra

unless some i

to the future

But vei'v fi

to gain from

pioneer life.

frontier soon

INTKOnurTION. Vll

found in it coinrirled, as far as possible, M'ith the subject
treatf^d of in its pa^es.

John iiusliinan is i\ ticrtitious name. But lie is by no
luciins a fictitious character. If you asked me wliere he
lived, i would answer, you mi^dit as well try to confine the
almost ubitjuitous John Smith to one locality, as to settle
the (jue.stion where John Bushman lives, or more properly'
to say where he don't live. Every township and every
neighborhood have, at some time, had their first man and
first woman, their John and Mary Bushman.

Another thing that is to be noted is this : among the
varied characters, and diversitied actions described in these
pages, there is not a wicked act, nor a vicious per.son men-
tioned in the whole book. All the actors are strictly moral
it' they are not pious, and all the actions are virtuous if they
are not religious. I have no sympathy with that style of
writing that gives more prominence to the bad than to the
good, in human character. Therefoi'e 1 resolved that, so
far as myself and my book are concerned, the devil shall
he left to do his own advertising.

And now as to why the book has been written. Since
the thousands of refugees, known as the U. E. Loyalists,
came to this country a little over a hundred years ago,
wonderful changes have been effected. And these will
continue in the future. Tn the race for ease and opulence,
on the part of the people of this country, there is danger
that the brave p'oneers and their works may be forgotten.
iniless some records of their noble deeds are handed down
to the future.

But very few persons had Vjetter facilities than the writer
to gain from personal experience a practical knowledge to
pioneer life. Both of my parents were born on the Niagara
frontier soon after the Loyalists came to this country. I

t f *

VUl

IMTKODUCTION.

wiis but tliret' yc.'irs old when my fatlii-r cut lii.s Wiiy to his
shiiuty throuj,'h seven inilpsof unbroken wilderness; and tivc
sevenths of my wlioh; life have been s])ent Jinio.;;^ pioneer
s(!ttlers. So tluit if a personal knowled<;e of the thin<,'.s
written al)Out be of any advantage, I have that knowledge.

One word n)ore. To those readers who, like myself, make
no claim to elassieal learning, 1 wish to say that I have
tried to pi-oduce a book that would at the same time both
please and instruct you. How far my ellbrt has been suc-
cessful can be decided only after you have read it.

To my scholarly readers, if I should be so fortunate as to
secure any such, I wish to say, Don't u.se a telescope in
searching for defects; you can see plenty of them with
the naked eye. And when you Hnd them, which no douht
you will, don't be too severe witli your criticisms. But
remember that the writer never saw the inside of a coUecp
in his life. Remember that he never attended a hi(jh school
until he went as a member of a school board to settle a
rumpus among the teachers. And remember that he never
had twelve months' tuition in any sort of school. His book-
learning has been picked up by snatches of time and while
other people slept. No, don't be too sevei-e in judging, nor
too quick in condemning. Please don't !

J. H. H.

Octohrr 7, 1S^8.

ClIAHTEIl

(/'oriiii
.■\t(

ChaI'IKK I

Ihwi
po-

Chai'tkh 1
Till- I)

!l I

ClI.M'TKK I

J oil II }l

S(ii

("HAI'TKK \

A 'I

C'UAi'TKK V

Treed
Cha

CHAnKH V
Tlie Ui

("llAPTKK V^:

VVillian
Poel

Chai'TER O

Migrate
a Cc

Chai'Ter X.

A Wife
plori

Chapter X]

Hcinloel
Motl

Chapter XI

The Thi
~Vo.

Chapter XI

Threshlr
Wild

TABLK OF CONTEiNTS.

lile
nor

Chapter I. —Found by Sohvkyoks

(Ndiiriiciiciiit; Life -Till' Littlt! Sluiiily Sylvan Lake Hiiiulay
MoriiinK Alone with Nature aiul with Ood.

Chaitick II. TiiK RoAh Makkks - - ...

UiHT and WolvcH Solilndti HousekeeiJinK Mr. Koot'.s I'ro-
po.sal 'I'he Travoy The TogKled Chain.

("llAl'TKH III. HoCSK-BlMLDI.NCi

The Dinner I'oe'ie Ktfusions A Ueniiniseonco— Wants to he
a I'oet A Surprise,

I'liAi'TKii IV.- A I'aktnkk FoUM)

John Makes a Discovery Asking Consent Conung Home -
.Squire Myrtle— -\ Glad Mother.

("iiAi'TKR V" —An Old-Timk. Wkddini!

lilunders -Practical Courting— A Wedding Sister Holsy
A Thrilling Tale-A l»lucky Hoy.

C'uAi'TKK VI. -Talk About Wolvks

Treed by Wolves -Good Luck Wolf Scalps and Bread
Chasing the Deer— The Last Jtace.

C MAin-KR VII.— Some Oral History

The United Empire Loyalists- Tho Gourley Trial A He-
fogged Jury— A Harsh Verdict— A Cruel Sentence.

ClIAHTKtt VIII.— PrePAKINO TO MoVE

William Hriars— lafe's Realities— Friendly Offerings— Betsy's
Poetry— The Old Man's Story Little Bright Eyes.

Chapter IX. — Homeward Bound

Migratory Waves— Moses Moosewood's Resolve— Picture of
a Court— Take a Gun Along— A Mother's Vision.

Chapter X.— Some White (tipsies

A Witch Story— Backwoods Welcome- Housekeeping— Ex-
ploring the Premises— Forest Aristoci'ats.

Chapter XI, — Clearing Land

Hemlock Compass — Poor Grip's Fate — Log Rolling — A
Mother-in-law's Question— Philosophers in Petticoats,

Chapter XII. — Sowing and Reaping

The Three-square Harrow— Tests of Character— Post OtHccs
—Forty Miles' Walk— A Letter- Plenty of News,

Chapter XIII, — Harvesting the Crop ....

Threshing-flooi-s- Skilful Housekeeper — Beavers— Gathering
Wild Fruit— Finding a Dutcliman— A Fawn.

■AOR

115

128

141

155

168

-#.'

OONTKNTS.

CHAiitB XIV.— Makv Kinds a Friend . . . .

Being Isolateil A Glad Siiriirinc Canadian Girls (^art
\Taking Dr. Ashgrovo rndorhriisliing.

OUAVTKK X\'. WiNTKK IN TIIK WoOD.s . . . .

Threeliing ('loaning White Gaps Ivatrina !VIixnd>H)
Droanis .Fohn Goes to .Mill Killing Veni.son.

Chapter XVI. — Vi.sitoks a.nd C;allkr.s . . . .

Familiar Faeus Harkvvoods I'olite Woman's IntuitioiiH—
Making .Sap-Troughs The Hig Ston -Trough.

Chapter X\'II. -Sr»MK-MAKiN<i

A Good Husiness— Sugaring-otl' .Moses Conies Home The
Iloot-(»\vl .\ .Sugaring I'arty Duteh I'h^asanlries.

Chapter XVill. More Setplers Comiscj ... -

Rapid Settlement-^ A Crowded House l.ost Children Harry
Hawthorn- Mr. Ht^eeh Shearing Sheep.

Chapter XIX. —And Still They Come . . . .

A True Woman- A Hear Kats a Hov A Hear in a Herr)
Hatch Mat I hew M ill wood.

Chapter XX. — A Neujhborhood ok Stranoeks -

Canadian Socicsty— Married I'nder a Tree- The First Baby-
Neighborly Kindness- Mean Spee\dalion.

Chapter XXL — Riveruend Mills

The Stolen Baby-White «quaw Children Killed— The First
Funeral— A Xeighborhood Sensation.

Chapter XXII.— A Boardino-Hou.se Wanted

A Cook Needed— Backwoods Society- Wolves at Work— The
Wolf Classitied— Uo is a Sniniking Coward.

Chapter XXIIL— A Backwoods Lyceum ....

The Old Mill-The Boy's Load The Bear and the Hunter-
No Toll Allowed -The Bear and the Mill Saw.

Chapter XXIV.— More Boardino-House Tales -
The Lost Girl— The Lost Woman Hoys and (J hosts.
Chapter XX\'.— More Glimp,se.s ok Bu.sh Like

A Tobacco-chewing Christian - A Strange Clock - A Big
Scare -A Race for F^ife— Plucky Canadians— Killed by
Indians.

Chapter XXVI. —The Mills Completed ....

The First Grist -The First I'reacher- The Meeting-house—
The Post OlHce— The Store Sylvanus Yardstick.

Chapter XXVIL— Home Old-Time Customs

Seeking Information— The Logging-Bee- Husking-Bees— Hod
Corn and Kissing The Spinning-Bee— How to Treat a
Dude.

Chapter XXVIIL— Twenty Years of Progress

Drawbacks and Discouragements— Cheap Butter and Eggs-
No Whiskey General Success -John's Dream Realized.

PAOK

181

I»4
207
221

•23:>

261
274

287
3O0

313
320

331)
354

360

AM(

Shaded
spread ovi
on t,he d
behind th
uninviting
betook the
before the:
. ;-#■

AMONG THE FOREST TREES

•23J

'24S

Chapter I.

•261

274

•287

300

313
I 326

1^54

FOUND BY SURVEYORS.

NUMBER of men were on their way to lay out
some townships in the unsurveyed parts of
Upper Canada. While passing through the
rear range of the surveyed townships one day about
noon, they came to a beautiful spring of water that
issued in streams of refreshing coolness out of a ledge
of rocks that arose on one side of a valley through
which ran a large creek, whose waters were making
their way to Lake Ontario.

Being weary and hungry, they stopped for dinner.

Shaded by the thick branches of the hemlock, which
spread over them like a protecting canopy, and resting
on the dried leaves that passing seasons had left
behind them, making a couch that was by no means
uninviting to weary limbs and jaded bodies, they
betook themselves to the task of demolishing the food
before them as only hungry backwoodsmen can do.

,t' '

AMONC; THE FOREST THEES.

They were too intent on taking their dinners to
spend any time in unnecessary talk.

The stillness that reigned around was only broken
by the murmuring sounds that came from the creek
that ran but a short distance from them, and the
gentle rippling of the spring that issued from rocks
just beside them.

While they were busily engaged in satisfying the
demands of appetite, they were startled by the sound
of an axe not far from where they were.

" What is that ? " came from two or three at once.
They all listened. Sure enough, there was distinctly
heard the blows of a man chopping. Every doubt was
soon removed by the falling of a tree in the direction
of the sound of the axe.

Although they were seven or eight miles from any
settlement, it was evident that some one was working
near by. They resolved to find out what he was
doing, and who he was. Accordingly they went to
the place. There they found a young man of about
twenty-one or two years of age, with his coat ott' and
his sleeves rolled up, swinging an axe with as much
dexterity as though he had been accustomed to that
sort of work all his life.

" What are you doing here ? " said one of the men,
after a few friendly words had been spoken.

" Commencing life in the backwoods," was his quick I
reply. " I have no house, as yet, to invite you into,
nor have I any chair to ofFer you. But both the!
house and the chair are on the list of thino-s that I
hope for in the not very distant future. - But, in the

meantii

and res

" Hoi

come fi'

" I h(

the vici

" Hov

" Two

from tl

bought t

" Is it

" Yes ;

two hun

"Do y

life ? " w{

" A ma

degrading

so," said i

liis vest p

" That

man. " £

costs to h(

you know

bored Ian*

it ofi" meai

more, and

so that ev

weeks of \

" Yes," r

hII of that.

hi the tov

FOUND BY SURVEYORS.

meantime, make yourselves as comfortable as possible,
and rest for awhile."

" How long have you been here, and where did you
come from ? " asked the foreman of the company

" I have been here just one week, and I came from
the vicinity of the " Falls."

" How much land have you here ? "
" Two hundred acres. One hundred I got as a ofrant
from the Government, and the other my father
bought and gave it to me."
" Is it all good land ? "

" Yes ; there is not an acre of useless land on the
two hundred acres."

" Do you think that you shall enjoy this sort of
life ? " was asked by one of the men.

" A man can enjoy almost any sort of life that is not
degrading nor sinful, if he makes up his mind to do
so," said the young man, as he took a small stone from
his vest pocket, and began to whet his axe v/ith it.

" That seems like sound philosophy," said the fore-
man. " But have you made an estimate of what it
costs to hew out a homestead in the wilderness ? Do
you know that to chop an acre of this heavily tim-
bered land means six days of hard work, and to clear
it ort' means three days more, and to fence it, two days
more, and another day to sow and harrow in the seed,
so that every acre you put into crop will cost two
weeks of hard work."

" Yes," replied the other, " my father has told me
all of that. He cleared up the farm he still lives on
in the township of Pelham. He says that , clearing

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

land is hard work. But he says, too, that not very
much can be honcdly j?ot in this world without hard
work."

" Are you married ? " This question was put by a
young man who had recently Vjeen " engaged," but
whose marriage had been deferred till the return of the
surveying party.

Young Bushman colored up, and in an emphatic
manner said, " No ; not yet. ' Build your cage before
you catch your bird,' is old advice ; but it is good, and
I intend to act upon it."

" Where do you sleep and take your meals ? " was
asked.

" I have a small wigwam or shanty not far away,
where, like Robinson Crusoe, ' I am monarch of all I
survey,' and where I live, much as that far-famed gen-
tleman did, only I have no man ' Friday ' to help while
away the time. Will you come and see it ? "

They consented to go. He led them over a lot of
fallen trees, and around some " brush-heaps," and soon
brought them to his shanty. It was made of poles
small enough for one man to handle. They were
notched together at the corners. The spaces between
them were tilled with moss. It was covered with
hemlock bark, such as is now sold by the cord at the
tanneries. The doorway was just wide enough for a
man to pass in and out, and a couple of cedar slabs an-
swered for a door. There was nothing very inviting |
about this little substitute for something better. But
plenty of men in this Canada of ours have lived for |
months in just such humble homes.

Buti]

wild-wo

Just i

clear spi

and it w

a frintre

right doi

in the di

their con

maple tr

their brai

fied the si

protectior

right a ni

toward th

All of
the enirac
a log in fi
lake, he b

" There,
!"isthefut

The tran
I so sudden,

FOUND BY SURVEYORS.

lOon

loles

ere

een

ith

the

)V a

an-

iBut

for

But in the surroundings were found such a scene of
wild-wood beauty as is seldom met with.

Just in front of the shanty was a miniature lake of
clear spring water. It was about an acre in extent,
and it was as round as a hoop. It was surrounded by
a fringe of beautiful spruce and cedar trees that grew
right down to the water's edge. On the opposite side,
in the distance, were a number of upland pines, raising
tlieir cone-like heads far above the forest of beech and
maple trees around them, that seemed to be lifting
their branches in homage to those giants that had de-
fied the storms of fifty decades, appealing to them for
protection against the woodman's axe. A little to the
riofht a nice brook tiowed out of the lake, and ran off
toward the creek before spoken of.

All of them agreed that it was a lovely spot. But
the engaged young man became poetical. Standing on
a log in front of the shanty, and pointing out over the
lake, he broke out in the following :

' ' What beauteous mirror here ia found
Set in a fringe of evergreen ;
On whose smooth surface may be seen
The tops of all the trees around.

Were I commissioned from above

To find some spot of earthly bliss,

I'd want no nicer place than this
To spend my days with one I love."

" There," said young Bushman, pointing to the lake,
is the future Mrs, Bushman's duck-pond."
The transition from the poetical to the practical was
[so sudden, that the whole company saw the incon-

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

gruity of sentiment as expressed by the two young
men, and indulged in a hearty laugh.

" My friend," said the foreman, " I wish, before
leaving you, to congratulate you on the beauties of
your home on the border of Syb an Lake, and I hope
that under the guiding hand of our kind and good
Father above, the coming years may bring to you all
the prosperity and happiness that your manly courage
and your fearless energy deserve."

" Thank you for your kindly and encouraging-
words," said the young man in a somewhat trembling
voice, " and if ever you come this way again don't for-
get Sylvan Lake. You will tind a welcome here at any
time.

They shook hands and parted, and young Bushman
was left alone.*

" That young fellow deserves to succeed," said the
foreman, as the party walked away. " He has got the
sort of stuff in him of which true manhood is made

up."

" Yes," said the poetic young man. " I wish that I
could face things with as much self-reliance as he
seems to do. But the bringing up, I suppose, makes
the difference."

" Bringing up," replied the foreman, " has a good

* In the Township of Elma was a man by the name of Twamley,
who for two mouths never saw a human face. One day he heard
some men talking. He ran after them and persuaded them to stop
with him for a day and night, and then they went on their way.
He told the writer that he never was so much pleased to see any one j
before. They were entire strangers to him.

FOUND BY SURVEYOUS.

)re
of

lood

leard
stop
/ay.
one

deal to rlo with the formation of character ; but no
kin<l of bringing up can make a real manly man out of
a milksop, any more than i, blacksmith can make a
good axe out of a piece of cast iron. To develop a
ma you must have manly qualities to work upon. A
sneak or a coward may become a good man and a sin-
cere Christian ; but to make up a brave, manly man,
you must have better material to work upon than the
kind of stuff that sneaks and cowards are made of. '

We will look into the shanty. In one corner is a flat
stone set up on its end, so that its sides touch two sides
of the wall, and its face forms the diagonal of the angle
of the corner. An opening at the top, for the smoke
to escape, answers for a chimney. Here the cooking
is done. In another corner is a lot of hemlock bouofhs
and some bedding. Here the sleeping is done. What-
ever may be said against this sort of couch, one thing-
can be said in its favor, gout and rheumatism seldom
torture the limbs that repose on a bed of hemlock.
In still another corner sits a very large basket,
which was lately bought from some Indians, and in
which Mr. Bushman keeps his supplies of provisions.
He may as well become reconciled to be called Mr., for
in time to come that will be a very familiar and a very
popular name.

But what is in the basket ? That is the question
now.

Well, here is a supply of good bread that was made
by the wife of the nearest settler, which is seven
miles distant. Then here is a lot of boiled ham, good
enough for a prince to eat, and a roll of butter (we

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

won't say anything about the butter, for fear of mak-
ing? a mistake). Here is salt, pepper, mustard, and a
lot of spices too numerous to mention.

But what have we here so carefully done up in this
clean white cloth ? Well, as sure as anything, here is
half a dozen speckled trout. They are the same kind
of lish that Dr. Wild says the Ashurites used to carry
to Jerusalem to sell on the market. These, no doubt,
are the product of Sylvan Lake.

We find the basket well filled, and we conclude that
a man in health would be a long while starving on
such substantial food, supplemented by such royal
dainties.

In the other corner we see a rifle and its accoutre-
ments, some fishing tackle and an axe, ready for use,
and held in reserve in case the other one should break.

A covered box sitting against the wall serves for a
dish cupboard. Four crotched stakes, driven into the
ground with the forked end upward, represent the
four posts of a table. Two small poles are used for
cross bars, and a couple of cedar slabs make the top,
and, altogether, make a substitute for a dining-room
table of the most fashionable class.

A couple of cedar blocks of convenient size and
length are the only chairs to be found in this unpreten-
tious home. But it is wonderful how men can adapt
themselves to their surroundings when strong motives
for doing so are present.

John Bushman was a man of a strong will, and
much decision of character, and one not easily turned
from his purpose at any time. But he now had a

powerfi
a home
those w
than lif(

We
Bushma

any

among t

sible to

tiee for

fair repr

Thene

bath. J(

day in a

it was po

had been 1

of the Si

habit witl

ciple as w

had joinec

life. If t

world th;

young Ch;

such objec

have not ^

Whenh

with the s

ing upon

speaking i

children si

bers.

FOUND BY SURVEYORS.

powerful motive actuating him, viz., a desire to have
a home of his own, and to secure a competence for
those who might become, in after years, dearer to him
than life itself.

We have been thus minute in the description of
Bushman's shanty for the reason that we shall find
many similar ones in filling out our story of life
among the forest trees, and we wish as much as pos-
sible to avoid repetition. We let this descrintion suf-
fice for the class of shanties of which this one is a
fair representative.

The next day after the surveyors left was the Sab-
bath. John Bushman resolved to observe the sacred
day in accordance with its requirements, as far as
it was possible to do so in his lonely situation. He
had been trained from childhood to respect the claims
of the Sabbath. But it was not simply the force of
habit with the young man, it was a matter of prin-
ciple as well. In early youth he had been converted,
had joined the Church, and pledged himself to a godly
life. If there is any grander object in this sinful
world than an intelligent, earnest, devoted, manly
young Christian gentleman, will those who have seen
such object please tell where it may be found, for we
have not yet seen it.

When he went out in the morning the air was vocal
with the song of birds, and sweet perfumes were float-
ing upon the morning breezes, that seemed to be
speaking in gentle whispers lest too soon nature's
I children should be awakened from their restful slum-
bers.

AMON(J THE FOUKST TREKS.

T.ie sun was already above the horizon, and it was
shooting its beams through tlie openings that here and
there were found in the fringe of evergreens that sur-
rounded Sylvan Lake. Wherever these golden sun-
beams fell upon the surface of the clear water, it
looked as if a large diamond had exploded, and scat-
tered its fragments in all directions, like drops of
melted gold, and making the lake appear like a great
overgrown mirror upon whose face a hundred lamps
were blazing.

To say that the young man enjoyed the scene
around him would be too tame an expression. He
was fairly entranced. Though his life had been spent
almost entirely on a farm, there was nothing of the
rustic about him. He had enough of the poetic ele-
ment in his composition to place him [n harmony with
the beautiful in nature or art. And although he was
not, perhaps, sufficiently schooled in metaphysical lore
to be able to explain why he was pleased, yet any one
that could have looked on his beaming face that morn-
ing could not for one moment doubt the fact that he
was highly gratified with what he saw around him.

He prepared and ate his breakfast in a thoughtful I
mood. After he put things to rights in the shanty he
took one of his block-seats out, and placing it under a
cedar, he sat down with his bpck against the tree and
commenced to read Dr. Blair's " Sermon on the Source!
of True Enjoyment." When he came to the question,
" Is the source of true enjoyment external, internal or
mixed ?" he closed the book and began to reflect. To
deny that things outside of himself were a source of

true enj
taste an(
presence

On th
enjoyme
evidence
' that bei
And this
So til at
which <a
religion
with Go(J

Such V
beautiful
he spent
forest trei

FOUND BY SURVEYORS.

true enjoyment would be to ignore the sensibility of
taste and all the aesthetie emotions awakened by the
presence of beautiful obj^ects of every kind.

On the other hand, to deny that there are sources of
enjoyment that are internal would be to dispute the
evidence of consciousness, " for," said he, " I know,
' tliat being justified by faith, I have peace with God.'
And this knowledge must be a source of enjoyment.
So that both around me and within me I find that
which gives enjoyment. I believe that it is true, that i
religion puts a person in harmony with nature and'
with God."

Such were the reflections of John Bushman on that
beautiful morrung, and in such a happy frame of mind
he spent his first Sabbath in his new home among the
forest trees.

CHAPTER II.

THE ROAD-MAKERS.

BOUT a month at'ter Jolin Bushman had com-
munce<l his work, lie started one morning for a
fresh supply of bread. This he did every
week. As he was leisurely following the blaze marks
on the trees he was somewhat surprised to hear loud
speaking, like some one driving oxen. He stopped
and listened. He heard men talking not far off. He
concluded to go to them, and see what they were
doinir. The iirst man he came to was an Irishman.
When he came up to the man he put down the axe
that he was awkwardly trying to handle, and looking
the young man in the face, he said, with a good honest
Irish brogue, " An' shure, sur, it's meself that's nearly
surprised out of me foive sinses, for by the life of
Paddy Maguire, I niver expected to foind a livin' sowl
in this wild wilderness. An' shure, an' would yez
moind to be after tellin' a body where ye're from, and
where ye're goin' ?"

Young Bushman was much amused by the quaint
manner in which the Irishman put the case.

He answered by saying in a pleasant way, " My
name is John Bushman. I live some four miles from

here, an(
supply
home to
pleased t
name ;

" Sure
name ; ai
to wear v
can grani
" And
" Maki
and setth
long life
'' Who
rods furtl
"The t
l)i'others.
That one
who staru
is the for
lit in this
Bushma
I ping, and
|few inhabi
They an
[words in a
I tongues fi
I taught to
After a :
I Mr. Root V
As he c

THE UOAD-MAKKKS.

here, and I am on iny way out to the settlement for a
supply of l)roa<l, as unfortunately I liave no one at
home to bake it for me. And 1 am both surprised and
pleased to meet you here. Now, I liave <^iven you my
name ; will you intrust me with yours ? "

"Sure that 1 will, sur. You are wilcoine to me poor
name ; and if, on a further ac(|uaintance, ycz are found
to wear well, yez shall be wilcome till any favor that I
can ijfrant yez. My name, sui*, is Harry Hawthorn."

" And what are you doinjij !* "

" Making a road, so that people may come in here
and settle up this part of Her Majesty's dominions ;
loni,^ life to her."

" Who are those other gentlemen that 1 see a few
rods further on ? " said Bushman.

" The two who are chopping at the big tree are
lnothers. Their names are John and George Brusky.
[That one piling brush is Peter Birch, and the man
who stands beside the oxen is Mister John Root. He
is the foreman or contractor, I belave, is what yez call
it in this country."

Bushman went on to where the two men were chop-
Iping, and introduced himself to them as one of the
few inhabitants of the newly surveyed townships.

They answered him very civilly. They spoke their
Kvoids in a way that showed that they inherited their
tongues from Yorkshire parents, or they had been
jtaught to speak by a Yorkshire family.

After a few words with them, he passed on to where
jMr. Root was feeding his oxen.

As he came up, Mr. Root said to him, " I presume

AMONfJ THE FOREST TREES.

you are hunting work, and I ?.m glad you have come,
for I am in want of men. Good choppers is what I
want, and I suppose you can chop, for if I am not
greatly mistaken you are a native of this province,
and they are generally pretty good with an axe.* How
much do you expect by the day, or do you want to
work by the month ? "

These words were spoken in such rapid s\iccession,
that there was no chance to correct the contractor's
mistake until he had finished his long paragraph of
questions. As soon as he could find a chance to speak,
Bushman said to him, " You are correct in supposing
me to be a native of this province, also in thinking
that I know something about chopping. But you are
mistaken in supposing that I am hunting work."

" 0," said the other, " I ask your pardon. I thought
you looked like a working-man. That led to the mis-
take."

" No harm is done," said the young man good na-
turedly. I am a working-man ; but I have recently]
commenced a job that will last me thirty or forty
years, if I live so long."

" What kind of a job have you that is likely to last]
so long ? " asked Mr. Root.

" I have started to make a home in the bush. Il
have two hundred acres of land, and I expect that IT
shall some day be able to drive the plough through
the most of it, if I am spared."

* This was true forty or fifty years ago more than it is at the pre-
sent time.

THE ROAD-MAKERS.

" That means a good many hard days' work, many
a blistered hand, and many a tired arm before your
task will be completed," said the other.

" What you say is true," said Bushman. " But I am
not afraid of work. And as to blistered hands and
tired limbs, time and use will do much towards miti-
gating that ditliculty. And the thought of haviuL; a
comfortable home is a strong motive for enduring
hardships. Besides all this, there are many homes in
this countrj^ that have been made in this way, and I
believe that I can do what so many others have done."

No; ,Mr. John Root was an American. He was of
German descent, but his ancestors' had lived in Penn-
sylvania for three or four generations, and as an
American he could appreciate a pushing, plucky man
wherever he met with him. He stepped up to young
Bushman, and said, " Give me your hand young man.
I like your way of looking at things. I am always
glad to meet with men of your stamp, men who have
got some vim and backbone in them. These are the
men who have made your country and mine what they
are socially, commercially and politically. Go ahead,
and may your fondest hopes be realized."

" Well," said the young man, " I hope that you, too,
may have success. But you spoke just now of want-
ing men. Have you much of this kind of work to
do ? "

" I have to clear out the road around two townships,
and to open one leading line through each of them.
That is not less than seventy-five miles of road. And
then there are all the swamps to be causewayed, and

AMONTJ THE I'OllEST TRKP:S.

the creeks and rivers to be brido^ed over. So, you see,
I need all the suitable men that I can get."

" Yes," said Bushman, "you have plenty of work for
all the men you will be likely to Hnd. My land is
riL;ht on this line, and only four miles further on. 1
shall be pleased to see you at my bachelor's hall on
the bank of Sylvan Lake at any time you can favor
me with a call."

Root thanked him for the invitation so kindly
o'iven, and the two parted, each one havin«f a good
opinion of the other.

Bushman got back with his weekly supply of bread
about noon. He was much pleased at the prospect of
havinir a road so soon. He had feared that it migrht
be years before he would have the advantages of a
good road. But the Provincial Government had
adopted the policy of opening out leading roads
through what was known as the " Queen's Bush "
and the " Huron Tract." This was one of the first
efforts in that direction. The adoption of this policy
has been a source of great convenience to the early
settlers in different parts of the province, and it has
also had nmch to do with the rapid filling up of the
back country.

But after all that the fostering hand of any Gov- 1
ernment can do to smooth the way for the pioneers,
yet they have much to contend with by way of toil- j
ing and suffering.

One day, not long after his interview with the road- 1
makers, as he was going out from dinner, he saw a
deer come bounding through the opening, and not far

THE ROAD-MAKERS.

behind it were two large wolves in full chase. Neither
the deer nor the wolves seemed to })ay any attention
to the man. He watched them until the deer ran into
tlie lake, as deer will do when chased by dogs or
wolves, it' they can find water to run into. They
seem to know, by some means, that wolves will not
follow them into the water.

Bushman went back to the shanty for his rifle.
When he returned the deer was swimming toward the
middle of the lake, and the wolves were crouching on
the o-round with tongues hanging out, and with gleam-
ing eyes and savage looks, watching the deer.

The young man was good with the ritle. It was but
[the work of a moment to lift the weapon to his shoul-
der, take aim, and send a VjuUet crashing through the
head of the largest wolf, it being the one that was
nearest to him. The wolf rolled over on its side,
I stretched itself out and was dead.

The other one sprang up, looked at its dying com-

Ipanion for an instant, and then started to run away.

But from the other barrel of the ritle a bullet was

sent through its heart, and it dropped dead a few rods

I from its mate.

It being in the early summer, neither the meat nor

Ithe skin of the deer was worth much, so it was left

lalone. But the reports of the gun frightened it so

that it left the water, and disappeared in the forest, on

|the other side of the lake.

Bushman saved the scalps of the two wolves, and
[when he went home he carried them as far as Hamil-
ton, and got the bounty for thera.
3

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

Livin<^ alone in tlic bush, and miles away from .any
neigh l)ors, like everything else, may be said to have
two sides — one bright and the other dark.

This sort of life has a pleasant side. There is per-
fect freedom of action. One is more completely his
own master here than he can be where his doings are
liable to aflect the rights and privileges of others. But
in the woods, alone, when no one but yourself is to be
affected by your acts, you can just do as you please.

There is the fresh, green beauty of the forest trees,
clad in their lovely vernal summer dresses —

Where nature M'hispers its delight,

Where sun and showers their influence spread.

Where wild-wood flowers their odors shed,
And nought but beauty meets the sight.

But while this mode of life has its independent
aspect, it also has a helpless aspect. There is its lone-
liness. To have no one to speak or to be spoken to
to cook and eat one's meals in silence ; to go to bed atj
night and get up in the morning ; to go to work with-
out a parting word, and to come in at noon and night I
with no words of encouragement, no look of apprecia-
tion, and no smile of welcome, is not the most pleasant
mode of existence that one might desire.

And to this must be added the fear of cutting; |
oneself, and other accidents to which choppers are par-
ticularly exposed. Or a man might be taken suddenly
ill, and die before any person would be aware that any-
thing was wrong with him. Some danger might arise!
from wild beasts, and in some localities the Indians]
have occasionally been troublesome in times past.

THE ROAD-MAKERS.

When all these, and other causes of uneasiness that
might bo mentioned, are summed up and estimated, we
can easily see that a man must have a good deal of
nerve, and no small amount of courage and self-con-
trol to enable him to face, for any length of time,
such a condition of things.

Youno: Bushman had nerve and courage and self-
control fully up to the average of men in civil life,
but he was no boaster. He added to these natural
traits an unbendino; determination to succeed, a con-
science void of offence, a mind at peace with (lod and
with all mankind, and an unswerving faith in the
Divine guidance and protection. He could be com-
paratively happy in any condition :

For worldly things small influence had

["ponhis faith or liope or love;
He Wc'vs content, and could be glad

To know he had a friend above.

As the summer months passed away the opening at
Sylvan Lake grew larger week by week. The young
backwoodsman found that by continual handling the
axe his hands got hard and his arm became strong, so
that he could chop all day without much weariness. By
the middle of August he found that he had chopped
twelve acres since the middle of May.

He now concluded to do something toward prepar-
itig a better residence. One evening, as he threw him-
self on his hemlock bed, a happy thought struck him;
and he was so carried away with the new idea that he
spoke it out aloud. Said he, " I will try and change
work M'ith Mr. Root, and get him to come with his men

AMONG THE FOREST TllEES.

and team, and help me to put up the body of a house.
Then I will go and help him on the road till he is
paid."

" Yes, my friend, I will do that, not only willingly,
but gladly," said Mr. Root from the outside of the
door, where he stood and heard young Bushman's
talk, while he supposed he was alone.

Mr. Root came in and sat down on one of the blocks.
Then he said, " We are working along by the side of
your land on the boundary, and on looking at my in-
structions I see that the road that I have to open
through the township is the concession that runs
along the end of your lots. 80, you see, we shall be
in this locality for a considerable length of time. Now,
I have two bridges to build not far from here. You
told me one day that you could do something at fram-
ing. I called in to-night to see if I could secure your
help. That is why I said 1 would gladly change work
with you."

" Well," said Bushman. " There could nothing suit
me better. I can help you at the bridges, or chop, or
drive oxen, whichever you like. I am very anxious
to put up a house this fall, for if I live till next
spring I shall have all that I can attend to in clearing
otf land."

Mr. Root answered : " I have twelve men now, and
next week four more are coming. That will be six-
teen, besides ourselves. That ought to be force enough
to put up a fair sized house, if the logs are not too
heavy."

" I can, without much trouble, find a sufficient nuni-

THE ROAD-MAKERR.

ber of nice cedars," said the young man. " I want to
make the house about 24 feet by 18, if we can raise
one as large as that."

" Never fear," said Root. " You cut your logs, and
make a ' travoy ' to haul them on, and we will get
them together. Then, if the men cannot raise all of
j them, I will show you a ' Yankee trick ' in the mat-
ter of ox-driving."

'But what do you mean by a 'travoy,' said Bushman,
[with a puzzled look, "I never saw the article that I
I know of."

Mr. Root said, " I don't know as I can describe it so
las to make you understand. But, did you ever see an
[old-fashioned three-square harrow ?"

" 0, yes, I have often worked with one of them."

" Well ; make a good strong three-square harrow, and

[leave out the teeth. Pin a good sized block of wood

on the top of it about two-thirds of the distance from

the point towards the heel. That will make a good

substitute for a ' travoy.' I will show you how to use

lit."

" I can easily do that," replied the young man. " But
[let me tell an anecdote about a three-square harrow."

" When I was a boy, my father had a pair of three
[year old steers. They were partly broken in to work.
lOne day I was sent to harrow in a patch of oats on a
Istumpy piece of new land. The chain that fastened
the steers to the harrow had a broken link, and it was
|too;<]jled together."

"What do you mean by being >ggled together?"
lasked Mr. Root.

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

■'l!:l

" Why ! Don't you know what a ' toggle ' is ?" said
the young man, laughing.

" No ; I do not," was the reply.

"Well; I will tell you. When we broke a link of|
our chain, and had not time to go away to a black-
smith's, we took the ends of the broken chain and put I
one link into another. We then took a piece of hard
wood and drove it into the link that passed through j
the other, thus fastening the chain solidly together."

"All right," said the American, "I understand now."

" As I was saying," replied Bushman, " the chain hadj
a break in it. While driving along among the stumps,
by some means the toggle fell out, and let the steers
away from the harrow. After some trouble I got
them around to their place again and went in between
them to fix the chain. Just then the steers made a!
start to run away. Before they got fairly under way,
I caught hold of the tops of the ox-bows, where they
projected through the yoke and held, on for life, think-
ing that if I lost my hold and fell between the steers I
the harrow would run over me and tear me to pieces.
But a few rods had been travelled over in this peril-
ous way, when the harrow caught firmly on a stump.j
and stopped the runaways."

" My father came up just then with a face as white!
as a sheet. He had seen the whole affair. He helped
me out of my unpleasant position, saying : ' My boy,
this is no place for you.' He took the steers in hand,!
and finished the job himself. Yes, Mr. Root, I have a!
right to know what an old fashioned three-square!
harrow is,"

THE KO AD-MAKE US.

" I say, Buslnnan," said Mr. Root, after a iiioinont's
silence, " I have an offer to make you. Now, by a
little managment I can arrange my plans so that we
can be in the vicinity during the coldest months in the
winter. We shall need a warmer place to stay in
ourselves, and a better stable for the oxen, than I could
artbrd to build for the short time that we should use
them. Now, my proposition is thi.s. We will turn in
and help you build your house. Then we will put up a
stable for the cattle, after which we will go to another
part of my job and work until the cold winter comes
on. Then we will come back here and stop till we
complete all that is within reach of this place."

"All right. That will suit me exactly. And after
the house and stable are done, I will go to work for
you to pay you for your time and trouble," was the
young man's answer.

" Very well," replied Mr. Root. " We will work it
out on that line."

And they did, to the entire satisfaction of all parties.
They were honest men, and between such there is sel-
dom any difficulty about business matters. In two
days' time the house-logs were cut, and on the ground
where the house was to be erected.

The spot was a nice one for a residence, it was be-
tween the lake and the line where the road was to be.
From the front door the future occupants would be
able to look up and down the prospective road, and
from the back there would be a splendid view of
Sylvan Lake.

Chapter III.

HOUSE-BUILDING.

to raise a log house of any great size re([uires some
mechanical contrivance, as well as considerable
force, either mechanical or otherwise ; and to
lay up the walls properly demands a good deal of
practice, and not a little skill.

To notch up a corner perfectly is a piece of work
that but few men can do. Either it will be " out of
plumb," or it will " bow in," or " bow out." Or maybe
the logs will " ride," that is, rest on each other, or they
will be too far apart, leaving too much of a " crack "
between them. The fact that so few men are able to
do a nice job on a corner, makes good cornermen an
important factor at log-raisings. Such men sometimes
go long distances. And there have been instances in
which cornermen have been hired to sfo into other
neighborhoods than their own to lay up corners.

When Bushman enquired among Mr. Root's men he
found that three of them claimed to be good corner-
men. He could do something at that work himself
so that he felt easy on that score. He then went to
Mr. Root and asked him if he had a large auger among
his tools.

HOUSK-BUILDING.

" What do you want with it ? " asked the American-

" I want to make some 'bull heads ' for the raisin<i^,''
replied Bushman.

" What are they, and what use do you make of
them ?" asked Hoot.

" Don't you know what a bull's head is for ? Why,
we use them, and bull's eyes, too, at loj:; raisini:,'. Were
you never at such a place ? " said Bushman.

" No ; nothing more than puttint^ up a shanty in the
Michigan lumber w^oods. But what are the things,
anyway ? I want to see them."

Bushman \nswered, " Now, I think of it, that you
caine from an old State where the log raising is one of
tlie old things that are looked back to as belonging to
the times of your great-grandfathers, and of course
you can't remember them."

Mr. Root said, " That is all true. But are you never
going to tell me what bull's heads and bull's eyes are
like ? "

" Yes, as soon as I can get you ready for the infor-
mation."

" I am ready now, and have been for some time."

" Not quite ready yet," said Bushman ; " did you
ever see a ' skid ? ' "

" Yes, I have cut and used scores of them in the
lumber woods," was the reply.

" 1 thought so. We use skids at log-raisings for the
same purpose, and the same way that they are used in
the lumbering woods, namely, to roll or slide logs on.
But one more (question, if you please : ])id you ever
see a man on crutches ? "

AMONG THE FOHKST TREES.

" Yes, more than once. But what earthly connec
tion can there be between a man on crutches and the
use of a l)uirs head at a lofj-raisiii^ ? "

" I will tell you, my imjuisitive friend," said Bush-
man. " I dare say you have noticed that the head of
the crutch, or, in other words, the part that is placed
under tlie arm in walkinfif, is shaped like a new moon
with the points of the horns cut oti". Tiiat piece is put
on a long start', or handle. Well, a bull's head is like
a great overgrown crutch, with a handle from ten to
twenty feet long, and the head large enough and stronj^
enough to bear the strain of six or eight men pushing
on it with all their strength at once."

" I see," said the other. " But after the thing is
made, how is it used ? "

" In raising, we roll the logs up on the skids as far
as we can reach with our hands. Then we put one or
two bull's heads under each end of it, and the men
take hold of the long handles and push against the log
and slide it along the skid to the place where they
want it. "

" I think I understand. But what is a bull's eye ?'
asked Mr. Root.

" We cut a long, slim beech, or hickory sapling about
the size of a chair post. We leave the top limbs all
on, and twist them together until they are like a rope
Bring the end around in a circle of about fifteen inches
diameter, fasten it securely to the main body of the
sapling. Then you have a hoop on the end of a long|
pole. Now, the man on the corner takes the pole in
his hand, then he slips the hoop on the end of the lo]

HOUSE-BUILDING.

an<l pulls with all his nii<^ht, to help the men who are
pu.shiii(,' the log up the skid. Sometimes ropes are
used. But the withes are cheaper pml handier."

" 1 think that I could make either a bull's head or a
iuli'seye now," said Mr. Root. " But in answer to the

Iqucstion you asked so long ago, I want to say, I have

I both a large and a small auger among my tools."
" All right," Bushman answered, " I want a two-inch

[auger to bore into the bull's head for the handles, and
I want an inch auger to bore into the handles to put
pins into for the men to take hold of when using the
articles."
In a few days the necessary preparations for the rais-

linnf were all finished. Mr. Root and his staff of road-
makers came according to the previous arrangement.
lUit the four extra men who were expected did not

I come in time for the raisinsr, so that the force was not
as strong as they had thought it would be. However,
they had fourteen men and a good yoke of oxen. This
was by no means a light team for the job, especially
as the logs to be handled were all cedar.

Bushman had made the best preparations in his
power for the comfort of the men, by providing plenty
of food and tea and coffee. His bachelor experiences
had developed him into a very passable cook.

No whiskey was found in the " bill of fare." There
were two reasons for this. The young man never
used it, and he was too conscientious to give to others
what he would not take himself. And besides this,
there was no place for many miles where it could be
obtained. It would have been a great gain to this

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

country, if whiskey had always been conspicuous by
its absence from the social life, and individual habits
of the people, in all the provinces of this young
Dominion. But the men were well satisfied with the
efforts made for their enjoyment.

As this was to be the first house of any respectable
size in two or three townships a great deal of care was
taken in laying the foundation and rearing the walls.
It must be exactly square. It must be entirely level,
and it must stand so that the sides and ends would
face the four cardinal points of the compass — East,
West, North, and South. And this would make it
correspond with the concessions and sidelines of the
township. And more than this, an example would be
set that all new comers might follow in building their
new homes.

But a lot of active, handy men would not be long in
laying the foundation and in getting the floor sleepers
in their places. By nine o'clock they had everything
ready to commence the raising.

Mr. Rorc superintended the work on the ground,
while Bushman himself gave directions to cornermen
in regard to t^^eir part of the work.

And now, kind reader, let us pause a little to watch
those men at their work. See with what readiness
they do as they are told by the foremen. Each seemed
to vie with the other in doing his part. And when the
word is given, see how every man seems to spring
with all his might, and how the log fairly seems to
jump along the skids toward the place where it is
wanted.

But do 3
are spokei
I He-o-heavt
Itliose wor(
great man^
levt'iy one
Ition of the
iquestion as
I think I
lis easily unc
is implied i
"heave," ev
Ion.

We have
laction. No
until they d:
land make {
impossible t
jacconiplishec
But if we
Iwill have th
Iprocess of r
Iwe are inte
[already, and
llunch or wh?
Wo will si
jhave no misf
It'or back woo
Ihospitality.

The men s
|inij two larg(

HOUSE-BUILDING.

But do you notice the peculiar kind of words that
are spoken. The only thing said is, " He-o-heave,
He-o-heave." Do you ask what is the meaning of
those words ? I cannot tell • you. I have been at a
great many raisings, and I have heard the words at
every one of them ; but I have never heard a defini-
tion of them by any one. In fact, I never heard a
l([uestion asked about the meaning of them.

I think I can give you an ecjuivalent for them, that

lis easily understood. " Prepare-lift," seems to be what

[is implied in the words " He-o-heave." At the word

"heave," every man does his best, and the work goes

ion.

We have here an illustration of the benefit of united

I action. Now, these men might lift, one at a time,

until they died, and they could not put up those logs,

and make a house of them. But what would be/*

impossible to do by individual effort can easily be

laccomplished by united and concentrated effort.

But if we do not make haste these busy workers
[will have the walls up while we are describing the
[process of raising them. How swift time flies when
Iwe are interested in anything. Here it is noon
lalready, and the men are preparing for their dinner or
[lunch or whatever it may be called.

We will sit down and share with them. We need
[have no misgivings as to our being welcome to do so,
[for backwoodsmen are noted for their unpretentious
[hospitality.

The men sat at an extempore table, made by plac-
ling two large logs so that poles could be laid across

AMONG THE FOREST TREES,

from one to the other. These were thickly covered
over with bed-quilts, and over all was spread a white
table cloth that had been borrowed from the nearest
neighbor. The dishes had been got from the road I
makers.

They sat on the ground in the same manner that]
tailors sometimes sit on the bench when sewing.

There was considerable mirth among the dinner-
party who partook of that first public meal ever!
enjoyed on the banks of Sylvan Lake.

After they had finished their dinners, some one pro-
posed to drink the health of the future mistress of thel
house they were raising. The idea took, and the tea-
cups were filled with the clear, pure water from the]
lake.

It was decided that Mr. Root should propose thej
toast, and John Bushman was to reply.

After a little hesitation, Mr. Root lifted his cup,andi
the rest followed his example. He looked around!
upon the beaming faces of the good-natured lot, andj
spoke as follows : —

" Here's to the lady who one clay will come
And, as the loved mistress of this rural liome.
Will preside like a genius that chases away
All the cobwebs and darkness ; and make people say,
\Vliat a splendid housekeeper John Bushman lias got,
^Vho can make Sylvan Lodge such a l)eautiful spot ;
May her heart long be lightened with music and song ;
May her path still be bright as the years pass along,
And as age creeps upon her may her life still be l)lest
With the love of a husband, the kindest and best ;
And at last when the work of this life is all done.
May she rest in the home where the Master has gone.'"

HOUSE-BUILDING.

As Mr. Root sat down, the whole company broke out
in a storm of applause. "Hurrah for Root! long life
to the Mistress of Sylvan Lodge ! " rang into the ears
)f John Bushman, who colored up and looked like a
liimn who is charged with some mean action. The cups
)f water were forgotten, and Bushman was called
for by half a dozen voices at once.

The young man stepped upon the end of one of the
logs used as supports for the table, and commenced by
raying :—

Gentlemen, for the first time in my life I find
lyself wishing that I was a poet, so that I might
I'eply to my friend in a proper way. But I shall have
ask you to listen to a short speech in prose, and it
lay be too prosy a speech.

'■ In reply to the kindly wishes so well expressed by
mr friend, and so heartily endorsed by you, all I wish
bo say is, I do indulge a hope that at no very distant day
sylvan Lake will reflect a fairer face than mine,
md that the house we are raising to-day may have
the presence of a mistress as well as that of a master,
md, gentlemen, if, in the future, any of you should
jc passing this way do not forget this place. And I
^ant you all to remember that the sun that lavishes
its warmth and light upon us, is not more free to kiss
uvay the dew-drops from the leaves that bend in the
lorning under their loads of liquid brightness, than
the hospitalities of Sylvan Lodge, as you have been
^leased to call this house, shall be free to anyone who
|s helping to raise this house to-day."
As he finished his short address he was loudly

AMONG thp: forest trees.

applauded by his comrades. Harry Hawthorn became
enthused, as the newspaper men say. He cried out at
the top of his voice, " Sucess till yez Maisther Bush-
man, and may your shaddy niver grow shorter, and
may your purse become longer and heavier; and may
your d-icent lady, Mrs. Bushman, grow purtier, and
swater timpered as the years go by,"

They now concluded to resume their work. But be-
fore they commenced an elderly man, named Adam
Switch, told the men that their mirthfulness brought
a sad recollection to his mind. Some one asked him
to what he referred.

He said, " A number of years ago — I think it was
before the Rebellion — I was at the raisintj of a I02
barn. The men all seemed to be carried away with
the spirit of miruh. Although there was not a drop of
intoxicating liquor about the place, they acted as if
all hands were tipsy.

" Everything went well until about the middle of
the afternoon. The barn was up ten or twelve feet
high. In putting up one of the long side-logs the
men got racing to see whose end would be ahead. In
their thoughtless haste one end was shoved so far
ahead that it slipped off the skid, and fell. In fallinr;
to the ground it struck the owner of the barn and
killed him instantly.* He left a wife and small family
to battle with life in a new country, as best they
could without him
day without solemn feelings.'

I never go to a raisii^g since that|

*In the Township of Wallace a man was killed in the same way|
in A.D. 1860, while at his own raising of a log barn.

.i,i:;it

HOUHE-IUTILDING.

By sundown the walls were up and the rafters on.
riien the men concluded that their task was done,
aid it was done, too, without Mr. Root having to
^how them a " Yankee trick by way of ox-driving."

Bushman was well pleased with the way in which
the work was done. And Mr. Root, after congratu-
lating him on the success of the day's eftbrts, said.
Inasmuch as all his men had agreed to come to a
I bee,' no charge would be made for the time spent at
the raising."

The young man was completely taken by surprise,
[e thanked them for their kindness, and hoped he
[night be yet able to make them ill a suitable return.

One of the men, a Mr. Beech, said to him, " So far
lis I am concerned, very likely you may have a chance
to do it before many months are gone. One of my
[easons for joining this party of roadmakers was the
mportanity it would give me to select a good lot of
^ind on which to settle.

" 1 am so well pleased with the looks of the land
bid timber about here that I have sent in an applica-
lion for the lot on the other side of the road from
ours. If I get it, which most likely I will, I expect
|o settle on it early next spring. So, you see, we are
ikely to become fellow-citizens of the new country,
Ind we may as well commence to be sociable and
jeighborly at once."

" 1 am glad to hear it," said Bushman ; " and I hope

lat you may never have cause to think of me in any
[ther character than that of a good neighbor and
Irubtv friend."

AMONG THE FOllKST TREES.

" Well, upon me sowl," broke in Harry Hawthorn.
"an', share, wonders will niver cease. It's meselfl
that's jist afther securin' the roight to build a shanty
fur meself, and a byre fur me cow on the lot over tliel
bound'ry, and jist furnenst the lot we are on thi«
blessed minute. Thin I will sind to ould Iieland, that)
I love so well, and bring out my Biddy and our chil-
der, and we will make ourselves a home, and may thcl
saints be good till all of us."

" I am delighted," said Bushman, " to hear that I aral
to have two such neighbors as Mr. Beech and Mr]
Hawthorn, and I hope that we shall do what we caul
for each other, so as to lighten the burdens of pioneerj
life."

" Shure, and we will do that same thing," repliedl
the Irishman. " But, if you plaze, do not call mei
Misther. Let me name be only Harry on wake days
and Harry Hawthorn on Sunday fur a change, t(j
match wid me Sunday clothes, you see."

They all laughed at the way that Harry presentee]
his wishes respecting the cognomen by which he woukj
have himself addressed by his neighbors.

" Will you allow me a place in your Backwoo(i!|
Society ? "

The question was asked by Mr. John Brushy. HI
was the most quiet and the most powerful man in thel
group. He stood six feet, and weighed two hundreJ
pounds. When he was roused, he was just the kind oil
man to be let alone by ordinary men. But he seldom
got roused, unless he had too much whiskey in hin
Then he was quarrelsome, and sometimes dangerou*|

HOUSK-BUILDINCi.

But he was the right man for the bush, and his friends
were always safe with him, and could trust him.

They all looked at the bi<;' man, and they saw that
lie was in earnest.

" Yes, cheerfully," said Bushman, in answer to his
([Uestion.

" Yes, wiiih all my heart," said Peter Beech.

" Yes, me too," said Harry ; " give us your sledge-
hammer of a hand, and long may we all live in peace
and harmony together."

" Well, I hope none of you will leave me till my
contract is tilled," said Mr. Root. " Then if I conclude
to stay in Canada, and in the meantime, if I find no
tiner tract of land, I will see if I can come across a
vacant lot hereabouts, and settle down in your neigh-
borhood. But at present we will talk about our plans
for the future," and turning to Bushman, he said,
" What do you calculate on doing next ? "

" I think I will go on and finish up the house first, and
then pay you back the work that I owe you. By that
time winter will be here. Then I will leave the house
to you and your men, and go home for a couple of
months, and come back in the spring."

" And bring a wife with you," broke in one of the
men.

" As to that, I don't know whether any one would
have me," he said, with a blush on his cheek.

" The first thing to be done will be to go out to

Mapleton, and bring in the glass and nails. That will

take about two trips. Then I shall have to get a

jfrow and drawing-knife, and cross-cut saw, to make

AxMONG THE FOREST TREES.

^ f

the shinrrles. I think I can borrow thoni from the
people where 1 ijjet my bread."

" How far is it to Mapleton ? " a.sked one of tliem.

" About twenty-two miles," was the answer.

" And what direction is it ? "

" There is only one way out from here yet, and that]
is the way we all came in on."

" What are you j,'oinj^ to do for lumber ? ''' was asked]
by James Brushy.

" I shall have to hew out timber for the floors, and]
split cedar slats for the sheeting," was the reply.

" Well," said Brushy, " can't we all who are intend- 1
ing to settle here put in together and buy a whip saw .'
I know how to use it, and in that way we can get I
on until somebody comes along to put up a saw-
mill."

The four men agreed to adopt the plan, and directed I
Bushman to order the saw through the storekeeper at
Mapleton.

Everything succeeded as they wished. The house!
was made as comfortable as such a one could be.
The stable was built for the cattle, the work was duly
paid back to Mr. Root, and by the middle of December
John Bushman started for home, having been absent]
since early in the last spring.

Chai^ter IV.

A PARTNER FOUND,

, rOHN BUSHMAN had been so absorbed since
^, cominfj to the backwoods that he had scarcely
thoutrht of the old home and its snrroundinors.
jHe believed that he was not forofotten there. He felt
confident that he was often carried to the Great Helper,
of the needy on the wings of a mother's prayers and a
father's faith. And he fully believed that in some
I mysterious way he was bene ti ted by those prayers.

But he had now been away from home for seven
Iraonths, and his life among the forest trees had been
jsuch a busy one, that attention to present duties had
jso fully occupied his mind that he may be truly said
|to have taken no thought for to-morrow.

But now, as he journeyed homeward on foot, for
[this was before the time of railroads, he had time to
Ithink. His first thouijhts were about the loved ones at
Ihomo. He had not heard from them since he left them
pn the spring. There were no post offices then in the
3ack country.

He woidd ask himself many questions as he walked
ilong. " Were they all alive and well or should he find
an empty seat, and if so, whose seat would it be ?

A MONO THK FORKST TREES.

Il'i:i

Would it bo baby Littio's / How sad it would be if
the little prattler should be ^one. Or wonld it be one
of the older members of the family?" -lust then a
startlintj thought crossed his mind : " What if mother
should be jjfone to come back no more ? " The very
thoui^ht made him almost sick. He felt a sinking at
his heart and a dizziness in his head. He never, till
that moment, realized the strength of his attachment
to his mother. But he tried to dismiss such unpleasant
thoughts and think of something not so gloomy.

He wondered if sister Betsy had accepted the otter of I
young William Briers to become his wife. He believed
that she was more than half inclined to do so before I
he left. But he was not certain, for Bet was such
a queer girl, that no one but mother could get any-
thing out of her. He said to himself, " I do wish she!
would have him, for Will is a good fellow; and 1 think @
more of him than any other youn man in the settle-
ment."

Thinking of his sister and her lover started a ne\v|
train of ideas. He thought of the house so recently
built, called by the men Sylvan Lodge. Who was|
to be its mistress in the days to come ?

John Bushman was by no means what is called a I
lady's man. He had never shown any particular]
partiality to any of the young women of his acquaint-
ance ; and, though he w^as on good terms with all of I
them, he would not acknowledge, even to himself, that
he had ever been in love with any of them. He|
flattered himself that he had not been touched by any
of the darts from the bow of the sly god. No, no; I

A PARTNER FOUND.

Cupifl had lost his arrows if any of tlieiii had been
shot at him. And he straightened himself up, and
stepped along with the feeling of perfect composure
and complete satisfaction on the score of his being an
entirely unpledged young man. But something told
him to look down into his heart, and when he had
(loiio so, he made a discovery that might upsco a man
of less self-control than he had.

Down deep in his heart he saw the picture of a face,
not a pretty one, perhaps, but it was a very attractive
one — not a dashing, saucy, bewitching face, but a
modest, thoughtful, honest one, and, moreover, he
seemed to hear a gentle voice softly whispering, " I am
here, John. You fancied that your heart was unoccu-
pied, but I am here ; I found it empty and crept into
it years ago, when we were only children, and I don't
want to be turned out now."

John knew the face. It was that of an old play-
mate and school-mate. When he came to realize the
state of the case he was not displeased, though he was
somewhat surprised. He said to himself, " I did not
know that the little witch was there, but when did
she get there, and how ? I don't remember ever show-
ing her any more attention than 1 gave to other girls,
and I am sure that she has not been more friendly to
me than the other young women ; in fact, I have
thought of late that she seemed cold and offish. But
no matter how she got there, I now see that she has
the strongest hold on my affections, and if J can get
her consent to go with me to my new country home,
little Mary Myrtle shall be the future mistress of
Sylvan Lodge."

AM<)\0 TflK FOHKST THEES.

Youn(( Buslunan was no bliistcror, and there was
not a particlt) of tho l)ia<;gait in liis composition ; hut
wlien he made up liis mind to do a thinr,^ lie called to I
his assistance a ir'ill that was tinbendinjif, and an ener^'y
that was most unyieldin^^ So, havinj^' settled in his
own mind the question as to who should be the chosen
one to brii:jhten his home with her presence, he resolved
to let the matter rest until he could have an oppor-
tunity to mention the thing to the younij lady herself,
and find out if her views and feelint^s harmonized with|
his.

After three days' travel, made doubly tiresome by I
the soreness of blistered feet, he came into the neij^h-
borhood of home. He looked in the direction of his
father's house and he could see the tops of the chim-
neys with the blue smoke curling up towards the calm
cerulean sky. He thought that smoke never seemed
so beautiful before. He almost fancied that it spread
itself out like loving arms to encircle him and give
him words of welcome.

The first person that he met was a blunt old York-
shireman, who lived on a farm adjoining his father's.

When the old man came up he took the young
man's hand with a grip that fairly made him wince, as
he said, " A Jock, beest this you ? How hast thee
been sin' ye left us last spring?"

" I have been well, Mr. Roanoak," said John, " but
how are they at home ? Do you know that I have not
heard from home since I went away last April ? "

" Well," answered the Englishman, " yc ur mother
be'ant very blissom sin' you went oil* to the woods to

MIII!lJto'»!M_

A I'AHTNEU FCUNI).

livo on bear's meat. The rest of tlieiii are hearty and
w.-ll."

After a few more words vvitli his ohl friend whom he
had known from his boyhood, John went on to the old
home, wliere so many liappy days to him had come and
i^'oiie.

As he came to the door he listened before j];oinjT in.
Ho heard his father askini,^ (Jod's blessing on their
food. They were just sitting down to tea.

Presently he heard his sist(!r say in a bantering sort
of way, " Mother, cheer up, for I believe that John is
on the way home. J have felt like it all day."

" 1 dreamed last night," said the mother, " that he
came honie tired and hungry, an<l asked n\e to give
him some dinner."

The father spoke and said: " He will be here before
many days. The winter must have set in back where
he is, and he promised to come home before Christmas
to help me butcher the pigs. If he is alive and well
he will soon be here, for John always was a truthful
boy"

John could wait no longer, but giving a rap on the
door, he opened it and went in, at the same time say-
ing, " Mother, where is my plate ? I'm as hungry as a
bear in the month of March."

We will gently close the door and retire, as it is not
seemly to intrude upon the privacy of family reunions.

The people in the neighborhood were all pleased
to see young Bushman looking so strong and healthy,
after his summer in the bush. He was a sfeneral
favorite among his acquaintances.

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

r ii

The old people liked John because they had always
found him truthful and honest, even from childhood.

The young people liked him because he never put on
any airs of superiority, or assumed any authority over
them ; and he always showed himself to be the sin-
cere friend of all his young companions and school-
mates. Their mode of expressing themselves was,
" We like John Bushman, because he always treats us
as his equals, and we can always trust him."

The children liked him because he always spoke
cheerfully and kindly to them, and he never passed
them on the road without letting them know that he
saw them. He seemed to understand the truism that
" kind words cost nothing," and he acted upon it. But
when kind words are bestowed upon children, they are
like precious seed scattered on a fertile soil, they yield
a rich harvest in calling out the affections, and in gain-
ing the confidence of the little ones.

John had to answer a great many questions in
regard to his lonely life among the forest trees. What
degree of success had attended his efforts ? Was he
going back in the spring ? Was the land and water
good ? How far off was his nearest neighbor ? What
was the soil and timber ? What were the prospects
of an early settlement of the country ? These and
many other questions he had to answer to the best of
his ability, which he did cheerfully and satisfactorily.

One evening as the family sat by the large fire that
was blazing in the old-fashioned Dutch fire-place,
John told about having killed the wolves; and he
showed them the bounty money that he got for the

A PARTNER FO'JND.

scalps in the village of Hamilton, as he was on his way
home.

" Are you not afraid, John, that the wolves will catch
you alone sometime without your gun, and tear you
to pieces i " asked his mother.

He answered, " I never go away from the house
without either the gun or the axe in my hand. Wolves
are great cowards, and will very seldom attack a man
in day time. It is only at night, when they can sneak
up behind in the darkness, that they are at all dan-
gerous to human kind."

" What <lid you do with the slvins of the wolves ?
Are they good for anything ? What color are they,
and how big are they ?" asked his sister.

"There Bet," said he, with a laugh, "that is just
like a girl. They want to know everything at once.
Here you have been shooting questions at me so fast
that I had no time to answer one of them ; and they
come so swiftly that a fellow has no chance to dodge
them. Please hold on a while, and give me time to
think."

" Humph ! you think everything is like shooting
since you shot the wolves," shouted Betsy, " but will
the great hunter condescend to answer my girlisJi
quedions ? "

" Most certainly, sister mine, if you will hold your
tongue and your temper for a few minutes.

" Firstly, then, I got my nearest neighbor, who is
soiiiething of a tanner, to dress them with the hair on,
and I spread them on my block seats for cushions; and
they are, in this way, both ornamental and useful.

AMONG THE FOREST TRKES.

" Your second question is answered in the first one.

" Thirdly, they are gray, with dark stripes running'
through them, making them a sort of V^rindle.

"Fourthly, a wolf is a good bit larger than a fox,
and son ething smaller than a bear. His .skin is just
big enough to cover him from nose to tail. Will that
do, Sis ? ''

" Well," said she, " I am wonderfully enlightened on
the subject. How should I know the size of a fox or
a bear, since I never saw either."

" A full-grown wolf," said John, " is as tall as a largo
dog, but he is not so heavy nor so strongly built. He
is more like a greyhound than anything else that 1
know of, unless it is another wolf. That is all that I
can say about him."

The father here spoke, <aying, " It is time to change
the subject for the present. We will have some more
talk about wolves at another time. But I think it
would be well to be on the look-out for a good,
stronor, resolute doGf for John to take with him to
the bush, when he goes back to his place next spring.
He will want a dog to guard his place, as 1 intend to
give him a yoke of oxen, a cow and half a dozen sheep
as soon as he can get anything to feed them."

" I am very thankful to you, father," said John,
" for your intended gift. And as for feed, I can get
that as soon as it is needed, for I have live or six acres
of splendid beaver-meadow on my lot, and T can cut
hay enough there to keep a number of cattle and
sheep."

" Squire Myrtle has got ju.st the sort of a dog that

you ougl
William.
At th(
and his
irgained|
noticed
;ind tritiiJ
(i\vn cone)
his secrel
Myrtle's ■
liu.sh.'

Durint
lioniestead
farms in t
a very lar
the greater

The tiel(
growth che
trees. But
especially <
garden. T
mer, and i
winter.

Nobody's
did his ; ai
nor with Ic
clear, cold
heard for t'
mill or froi

The you
greeting b}

A PAKTXEU KUUND.

you ought to have, John ;" so said his younger brother,
Willifun.

At the mention of that name the young man started
and his face Hushed up for moment. He soon
regained his equilibrium, and no one but his mother
noticed his perturbation. Her sharp eyes saw it,
and trifling as the incident was in itself, she drew her
own conclusion from it. She said to herself, " I have
his secret now. 'There is more than a dog at Squire
Myrtle's that he would like to take with him to the
bush."

During the Christmas week John paid a visit to the
homestead of Squire Myrtle. It was one of the oldest
farms in the vicinity of the Short Hills On it was
a very large orchard, mostly of seedling fruit. But
the greater part of it was of a good quality.

The fields were beautified by numerous second-
growth chestnut, shellbark hickory, and black-walnut
trees. But there were two things that Squire Myrtle
especially doted on. These were his horses and his
garden. The latter took up much of his time in sum-
mer, and the same may be said of the horses in
winter.

Nobody's garden produced better vegetables than
did his ; and nobody's team stepped off more lively,
nor with long-^r strides than the Squire's. And, on a
clear, cold night in winter, his sleigh-bells could be
heard for two miles or more, as he drove home from
mill or from market.

The young man was received with a warmth of
greeting by Mr. and Mrs. Myrtle that ought to have

AMONG THE FORKST TREES.

convinced him that he was a little more than a merely
welcome visitor.

After the usual enquiries as to the health of himself I
and family at home, he had many (juestions to answer
about the back country.

What were the prospects of success in farming andi
fruit growing? How far from lake navigation?
Were there any churches and schools within reach,
etc., etc.

He told them that his place was some thirty-five |
miles from Lake Ontario. The nearest church or
school, so far as he knew, was twenty miles, and the
nearest doctor or magistrate was twenty-five miles
from where he had located. " The soil is, I think,
good for grain and the hardier kinds of fruit. But it !
has not yet been tested by actual experiment," said he.

" Dear me, John, you have gone a long way back,
Could you not have found land to settle on without
going so far ?" said Mrs. Myrtle.

John answered, " It is, to be sure, a long way back
now, but it will not always be so. Some persons have
to be pioneers, and I am willing to take my place
among them. I believe that I can stand the roui^h
and tumble of bush life as well as others."

" I can remember," said the Squire, " when young
couples had to come all the way from Long Point on
Lake Erie to get married. There was only one
minister in all this part of the province that was
authorized to marry."

" Yes," said his wife, " and you know what a trip
we made on horseback when we got married. And I

%iiL

A PARTNER FOUND.

can never forget how old Mr. Greenhedge laughed
when we told where we came from and what we
wanted. It seems to me that I can see hitn yet, as he
pronounced the benediction on William Myrtle and
Polly Thorntree."

" Mr. and Mrs. Myrtle," said John, with a shaky
voice, " I have an important (juestion to ask you, and
I may as well do it now as to put it off till another
time. Are you both willing that I should try and
persuade your Mary to go with me to the bush as my
wite.

Tliey looked at each other for a moment. Then Mr.
Myrtle said, "John, I know you are truthful and
honest. You may iry, and all I say now is, success to
you." He did succeed. After John was gone, Mrs.
Myrtle said, " I am glad of this, for I know she likes
him."

Chaptkr v.

AN OLD-TIME WEDDING.

#\iyV LEVER men sometimes do silly things when theyj
undertake to hunt a wife. A man mav show
good judgment in all the ordinary affairs of life,
and yet he may act more like a lunatic than anything I
else when he goes courting.

The reason of this may be found in the false esti-
mate which men sometimes make of woman's charac-j
ter and position. If a man looks upon a woman as
being inferior to himself, he will likely assume an air
of superiority over her, that will set her against him,
and di'ive her from him.

And on the other hand, if he looks on her as an
angel, done up in skirts and corsets, he will act the
part of a cringing weakling, and in this way he calls
out contempt where he wishes to gain esteem, and pro-
vokes aversion where he hopes to awaken love.

If this man would counsel with his mother or his
sister they would tell him that a woman never can re-
spect what she despises, nor love what she stands in
dread of.

John Bushman was a sensible young man. He did
not estimate woman to be either better or worse than

AN OLD-TIME WEDDING.

limself. He simply treated her as his equal — noth-
Incj more, nothing less. As a natural consequence, he
lad the respect of his lady friends.

But there was one of the number that had a stronger
[eeling towards him than simple respect. This one
ms little Mary Myrtle, whose image John so unex-
pectedly discovered that day that he looked into his
leart when on his way home. We call her little, not
pecause she was so very small, but from a habit that
jearly every one got into when Mary was a child. It
ma done to distinguish her from an aunt of the same
iiame, who was a young woman when she was an in-
lant.

John had not as yet said anything to her about
becoming Mrs. Bushman, although, like an honest,
nanly man, he had asked her parents' consent to do

io.

Mrs. Myrtle said to Mary the next morning after
le interview recorded at the close of the last chapter,
[John Bushman asked your father and rae if he might
ry and persuade you to go with him to the bush as
[is wife. What do you think of that ?"

" Did you tell him he might ? " demurely asked the
[oung lady.

" What else could we tell him ? He is all ricrht him-
bU", and we cannot expect to keep you always. Will
|e have a very difficult task ?" said the mother, witii

mischievous twinkle in her eye.

" I do not think so," was the candid reply.

About a week after his visit to the Squire's, John

lade another call one afternoon. The old people were

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

both away to Fort George on some business in connec-
tion with the estate of Mrs. Myrtle's father, who liad
died recently, leaving his business all in the hands of
his dauirhter and son-in-law to settle.

Mary received him kindly enouf^h, but without
evincinfr any emotion. He tho>ight at first that shel
seemed a little cool and distant; but on second thou2;ht
he made up his mind that it was only his own fancy.
He was conscious that his feelinj^s towards her had
been fTjreatly intensified since his conversation with
her parents, so that now, if she failed to respond fully
to his warmth of manner, it was not because she was|
too fricjid in her deportment, but it was because he|
had been too sanguine in his expectations.

After conversing for some time on a variety of I
topics, they stood in silence for a while. They both
seemed to be a little embarrassed. Presently John
broke the silence by saying, "Mary, I came here to-
day to ask from you a great favor — such as men, as a
rule, only ask once in a life-time, and one which, if
granted, I hope you may never regret, and I pray that
I may never have occasion to seek the like again,
Mary, can you guess what that favor is ? But, stay:
I don't want you to guess it. I want to tell it to you |
in plain, honest English. Now, Mapy, we have known
each other from childhood. I know that you have tool
much modesty to be a coquette, and too much honesty
to be a flirt. And I trust that I have too much true I
manhood in me to court either a coquette or a flirt. I
intend, vso far as I know how, by the help of God, to
be a true man. I want a true woman. I believe that j
you are qne. Will you be my wife ?"

AN OLD-TIME WEDDING.

She looked for a moment into his honest face, and
then said :

" Your outspoken, truthful honesty entitles you to
expect the fullest candor from me. I will be just as
frank with you as you have been with me. I have
dreamed of this hour oftentimes in my sleep, and I
have sometimes thought of it in my wakeful mo-
ments. But I hardly allowed myself to hope that it
would ever come, and yet I could see no reason why it
min;lit not. I know that I love you, and I feel that I
can trust you. Yes, I will be your wife."

One long, loving kiss, which was fully reciprocated,
sealed the contract.

Just then they heard the noise of the Squire's lum-
ber waggon rattling over the frozen ground. They
looked out and saw him and his wife coming home
from the chief town of the district, and they won-
dered where the afternoon had gone to.

The young man bid his affianced good-bye, and
started for home. As he passed out at the bars he
met the old people, and accosted them in a friendly,
though somewhat timid manner. As he was passing
on, Mary's father said, in a loud tone of voice, so that
the girl, M^ho was standing in the door, could hear :

" I say, John, have you a very hard time in finding
[ some one to go with you to the bush ? "

" No, sir," replied John ; " the first (me that I asked
[has consented to go."

" I wonder," said Mrs. Myrtle, " if he and Mary are
j engaged ?"

" Very likely," was the only answer the Squire re-
I turned to his wife's query.

AMONG THK KOREST TREES.

"I am afraid, after all, that you are not just satis-
fied to let him have Mary," said she thouirhtfully.

" What objections can I have ? The yonn^ man is
all that I could wish.

"But the trouble with me is to get my feelings to I
• harmonize with my judgment. It seems to me that
in taking Mary from us, John will, in^ some way, do
me an injury."

"Well," answered she, "I remember overhearing; I
father talk like that to mother after we wei'o enrjajjed,
Your words sound just like echoes of what he said I
about you. Probably men do feel like that when some
one takes away one of their pets. You know, it has
been said that a man has three pets, viz. ; the youngest
child, the eldest daughter and the living wife."

" Well, I don't know how it is with other men, but I|
do know that my greatest pet is the living wife," sa
he, as he jumped out of the waggon and lifted her to I
the ground.

As John walked home that evening he felt that he I
was a highly favored man. The Myrtle family wa?
among the most respectable in the township, and Mary
was looked upon b; all her acquaintances as being one
of the best young women in the neighborhood.

That such a one should say that she loved him, am
she could trust him with her life's happiness was, he
thought, enough to make any young man imagine that
the hard rough frozen road was as smooth as a flag-
stone pavement.

As he walked along he fancied that he heard a soft|
voice singing in sweet and soothing cadence —

AN OLD-TIME WEDDING. 63

" John IJushinan , who will be your wife,
And walk with you the path of life,
' To help you in its toil antV strife?

Sweet Mary Myrtle.

John liushnian, if in coming years,
Your eyes should he hedimnied with tears.
Who then shall try to (juell jour fears ?
Sweet Mary Myrtle.

John Bushman, when life's dream is past,
And darkness gatliers round you fast,
Who will stand by you till the last?
Sweet Mary Myrtle."

Here the voice seemed to stop. The young man
listened for a while, but he heard no more. Then, as
he was musin(^ by himself, he began in a low modu-
lated voice to sing —

"John Busliman, whom do you intend.
To honor cherish and defend,
And live with until life shall end ?
Sweet Mary Myrtle. "

" John," said a voice, '' what is all this about Mary
Myrtle ? "

The young man was awakened from his reverie.
The speaker was his sister. She was coming out for
an armful of kindling just as he came into the wood-
shed, and she heard the concluding words of his little
song.

He stood and looked at her for a moment, and then
said —

" I say, Bet, how would you like to dress up white
kid gloves, and other things to match, and stand by
the side of a friend of mine, while she gets married ? "

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" You must be green, John, if you tliink that you
can fool me by talking,' about kid {gloves and white
dresses. What have they got to do witli tlie girl you
were just now speaking about ?" she asked.

" More than you think, little Sis. But never mind
now; go in and get the supper, for I am luingry. I
will tell you some other time," and the two went into
the house together.

After the supper was over, and they were sitting
around the cheerful fire, old Mr, Bushman said —

" John, I have traded off one of the spare horses for
a yoke of cattle for you to take with you to the bush ;
I might have given you a span of horses, but I know
from my own experience, as well as from what others
have told me, that, for the tirst few years in the new
country, oxen are handier than horses. They are
easier provided for, it costs less to keep them, there is
less danger that they will stray off, and they are easier
and more cheaply harnessed ; and, besides all this,
when they wear out you can turn them into beef."

" I am glad, father," said John, " that you are able
to help me in this way, and I am grateful to you for
being willing to do it. There are not many who go to
the bush under as favorable circumstances as I shall
be able to do through your generosity. I only hope
that I may some day be able to make some return for
all your kindness."

" The best return that you can make to your mother
and me is to live a sober, honest, Christian life," said
the father, with some signs of emotion; and "that you
can do with the help of the Lord."

"And b
the young

" Vou m
in compaii.'-
yet since ;
Tlioy had <
Independeri
country. '
doctrine is,
acted upon
find, and se:
of unbroke:
they could i
the wild V
mother's pe(
which was t
few articles
pack-horses.

"Where (
John.

" We cros
Rock is noM
Indians to b

" Were yo
let you all ir

" There wi
way to get
heavily, and

" Father,"
about that n

" Ves, qui

AN OM)-TIMK VVEDDIXd.

"And by the Lord's assi.stunce I will, father," said
the yonr)]!,' man.

" Yuii may well say tliat. You are hii^hly favored

in compaiison with others. It is not quite forty years

yet since your grandparents came to this country.

Tliey had good homes in Pennsylvania. The War of

Independence came on : they sided with the mother

countiy. The Americans were the victors. Their

doctrine is, ' to the victors belong the spoils.' They

acted upon it ; they took everything that they could

tind, and sent the Loyalists through hundreds of miles

of unbroken wilderness, to make their way as best

they could to where the British flag still floated over

the wild woods of Canada. My people and your

mother's people came through the State of New York

which was then mostly a wilderness. They brought a

few articles with them, such as could be carried on

pack-horses."

"Where did you first touch this country?" asked
John.

" We crossed the river at the place where Black
Rock is now. We swam the horses, and we got some
Indians to brinji us over in their bark canoes."

" Were you not afraid the canoes would tip over and
let you all into the water?" asked Betsy.

" There was no use being afraid — there was no other
way to get over. We did not load the crafts too
heavily, and we were good sailors," was the reply.

" Father," said John, " do you remember anything
about that revolutionary war ? "

" Yes, quite distinctly. You know 1 was near

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

seventeen years old when we came to this place. My
father belonffed to the 'Licfht Horse,' and he was away
from home most of the time. I remember he caini
home one day to see how we were getting aloni:
Some of the Americans found it out in some way
they resolved to take him prisoner. 1 remember my
mother came into the house with a frightened look
and said to father, ' The Yankees are after you.'

" The floor was made of wade boards, and not nailed I
down very securely ; mother took up a spade that
stood in the corner and pried up one o the boards,
saying, 'Here, Joe, get down under the lloor, it is your
only chance.'

" He did as she said, and she had only got the board
replaced when the parties were at the door.

"They came in without ceremony. Looking around
the room, one of them said to mother, in a rough
insulting way,

" 'Where is your husband?'

" ' He is not here,' she answered.

"' Was he not here this morning?' said he sternly.

" ' Yes; but he is not here now. Do you suppose that
he would be such a fool as to stay here till you come
after him ? He knew you were coming, and he dodged
you. That is all that I can tell you about him.'

" ' Look here, woman,' said he, lifting his gun in a
menacing way and stepping toward her ; ' you know
where he is ; now tell me, or, by the powers above, I
will run the bayonet through you.'

"I never will forget how mother looked just then,
Her Teutonic blood was up.

AN OLD-TIME WEDDING.

" She looked him fully in the face, as she said, ' You
think to scare me. do you? I will never tell j^ou where
he is. But you are a pretty man, are you not ? You
are a brave soldier, too, are you not, to threaten to kill
a woman, because .she refuses to betray Tier children's
father into the hands of a band of cat-tliroats ? '

" That is the sort of stutl' the women were made of,
who ffave to Canada and to Britain the ' United
Empire Loyalists.'

"One of his companions called to the man, saying,
' Come away, Bill ; don't touch her. But you are
playing a losing game.'

"At this, he struck the bayonet through the floor and
fired off his mu.sket, with a terrible oath, saying, 'If I

could only find the Tory, 1 would send an ounce

of lead through his heart.'

"They went away without further molesting any-
thing about the place.

" The bayonet and the contents of the gun passed
throiigh the floor within six inches of the man's head.*

" Another incident that I heard of," continued Mr.
Bushman, " was like this : A number of women and
children of the Loyalists were concealed in a cave
away in the woods, while the men were all away in
the war. One day a boy, about fifteen years of age,
was sent out to try and get some news about how
things were going on in the army. As he was return-
ing, he was discovered by a company of the rebel
scouts. They asked him where his people were con-

*This incident occurred with the writer's paternal great-grand-
parents.

AMONG THE FOKKST TRKES.

cealed. He refused to tell them. They threatened to]
shoot him if he did not do it, but he persistently
refused to comply. They then took and tied him to a
tree, six men were placed a dozen yards from him, and
ordered to prepare to shoot him. They pointed their
guns at him, and waited for the order to fire. The
leader approached the boy and said, ' Will you tell us
now where they are?' The boy answered, 'If I tell
you, and you find them, you will kill them. It is
better for one to die than for so many to die. / vjUI\
not tell y Oil ! You may shoot me if you will,' The
leader turned to his men and said, 'Hold on, boys.
Don't shoot. It is too bad that such a little hero
should be shot like a dog. Untie him and let him
go.' * Some ether time I will give .some more reminis-
cences of the early times of our country,"

The engagement between young John Bushman and
Mary Myrtle gave entire satisfaction to both families.
This was only what might be expected under the cir-
cumstances. The two families had been neighbors for
a number of years. They had together battled with the
hardships of pioneer life *' among the forest trees.
They were both Protestants, and attended the same
meetings. And although the Bushmans were of Ger-
man descent, and the Myrtles of English, yet five gen-
eration separated both families from their connection
with either country. They were just the kind of people
to commence to build up a distinct nationality — the

* That boy came to Canada after the war. He married an aunt
of the writer's mother, lived to be an old man, and died respected
by everyone.

AN OLD-TIME WEDDING.

riflit kind of seed from which to produce a national
tree of vi:^orous fjrow^th — a tree that should strike its
[root so deep and firm in the virgin soil of the northern
British territory, that the most bitter enemies of the
Empire could neither uproot nor break it down.

The winter was rapidly passing away. February
I was almost gone, and yet but little preparation for the
fippi'oaching wedding had been made. The time fixed
upon was the twenty-first of March, the time of the
vernal equinox, when, as people used to say, " the sun
crossed the line." John said that they selected that
day because they thought it would be a good time to
pass from the frigid, cloudy days of unmated winter,
into the bright spring sunshine of matrimonial summer.
Like thousands of others, he placed a higher value on
the ideal future than on the actual present.

One serious question was, who .should be got to per-
form the ceremony. The clergy of the Church of
England and the ministers of the old Kirk of Scotland
were the only reverend gentlemen in the Province
allowed to marry. It was some years after this before
Dissenters could legally marry people.

Magistrates did the marrying in many cases, and
under certain conditions. These conditions existed in
this case. Mary's father was a magistrate, and it was
desired, after much consultation, that he would officiate.
A notice was posted on the door of the only mill in
the township, stating that " John Bushman and Mary
Myrtle intended to enter the bonds of holy wedlock
on the twenty-first of the ensuing month of March, in
the house of William Myrtle, Esquire, at the hour of

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

eleven o'clock in the forenoon ;" and calling upon any
persons who had legal objections to offer to present
themselves at the time and place above-mentioned, or|
to " hold their peace forever after."

The approaching wedding became a thing of great!
interest in the neighborhood. The time came around
at last. Nearly everybody, old and young, for miled
around, were invited, and most of them came. The
house was full of people. John's sister Betsy, and her
affianced, William Briars, " stood up," to use the phrase
then in vogue. Squire Myrtle soon got through with
his part, and Mary changed the name of Myrtle for that
of Bushman,

One of the most striking features of an old-time j
wedding was its simplicity. There was no effort for
mere display. There were no costly gifts by those who
could ill afford it. No affected friendship where there
was concealed aversion. But a genial atmosphere of
friendship, and a healthy exercise of neighborly cour-
tesies, along with a generous provision for the satisfy-
incr of hunger and thirst, constituted the leading
features of the old-time weddings, such as prevailed
among the early settlers in the time of our grand-
fathers.

The congratulations were hearty and sincere. Mirth
and merriment pervaded the large assemblage, and
none seemed more joyous than the two elderly gentle-
men, one of wdiom had gained a son and the other one
a daughter, by the day's proceedings.

The two mothers-in-law took chings very coolly, and
kept themselves from an} thing like noisy demonstra-

Itioii. But
the fact th{
for a lif'e-lo
an early ho
hajtpiness a
was offeree
people disp(
and Mary .\

AX 0IJ)-T1ME WEDDINO.

tion. But it was easy to see that neither regretted
! the fact that their chibh-en had been yol^ed together
for a hfe-long work in the matrinionial harness. At
I an early hour of the evening, a short prayer for the
happiness and prosperity of the newly- wedded pair
was offered up by the oldest man in company ; the
people dispersed, and the nuptials of John Bushman
and Mary Myrtle were things of the past.

Chaf^tkr VI.

TALK ABOUT WOLVES.

WEEK or two after the wedding, as they were
__-i^X sittinsx around the fire one evenin<x, John saiil
to liis father :

" 1 think we were to have a talk about wolves some I
time. Now would be a good time, and I would like
to have a good wolf story to-night."

" Why so ? " inquired his sister, " Do you feel
decidedly wolfish since you are married ? If you do,
we will tell Squire Myrtle to shut Mary up somewhere,
so that she won't be devoured by a wolf."

" There, Bet," .said he, " that is just like you ; always
taking a fellow up, before he knows that he is down,
But you are wonderfully smart, since that Briar has
been scratching around our place."

" Oh ! for shame, John ; I would not be as mean as
you are for anything. Since you have the smooth,
sweet, pretty little Myrtle, I think you might allow
me to hold on to the Briar if I can. But don't lot us
be gabbling nonsense all the evening, and keep father
from the talk about wolves. But I hope he won't put
too many of them in, for if he does I shall dream about
them."

TALK ABOUT WOLVES,

" That is a sensible speech for you, Sis. Now we will
be as silent as a very sedate young man and his chat-
terbox of a sister can be expected to be," replied John.

" I heard that there were twenty-five or thirty of
them," said the father.

" ' Dear sakes,' as grandma used to say," said Betsy ;
" who can listen to a story with that many wolves in
it?"

" But the wolves were there all the same,'" replied
Mr. Bushman.

TREED BY WOLVES.

" The occurrences I am about to relate took place
about thirty miles from here, and only a few years
atn). A man who had a fjreat liking for the bush, and
who was a noted hunter, was tlie hero of the story.
He was a cabinet-maker by trade, and at the time he
had a sliop on the banks of the Twenty- Mile Creek.
Not far off was a dense forest of many miles in extent.
The forest, in many places, w^as thick with the alder
and other shrubs. This was the home of man}' wild
animals, especially the wolf.

" One day Mr. Scantling took his gun and ammuni-
tion, and started for a hunt. Before going into the
swamps of alder, he rubbed some oil of cumin on the
bottom of his shoes to attract the wolves. This device
proved to be such a complete success, that he got a
great deal more wolf than he intended.

" When he was between three and four miles from
home, he heard the wolves coming on his track, howl-
ing and yelping like a pack of hounds. He intended

AMONG THK FOREST TREES.

p!fiil

to get up into a tree, and then shoot the wolves at his
leisure.

"But lie had some difficulty in finding one of suit-
able size, with strong- branches neur enough to the
ground to answer liis purpose. At length he found
one. But the wolves were so near now, that he had
to use all his agility to get out of their reach before
they would be around the tree. In his hurry he
dropped his powder-flask, and there was no time to
spare to go back and get it.

" His rifle was an old-fashioned one, witli a sin^He
barrel that only carried one charge. It was loaded,
however. But one bullet seemed like a mere trifle in
such an emergency. The scent that Scantling had put
on his shoes not oidy drew a large number of wolves,
but it seemed also to set them all wild with excite-
ment. They would howl, and snarl and snap at each
other, and jump up, and try to climb the tree. In fact,
it made them act as if every wolf was forgetting hU
usual dignified sneakinrjness, and was actinof under
some sort of temporary delusion, that made him regard-
less of danger and of public opinion ; for each wolf
tried to be as hateful as possible to his fellows.

" One very large wolf sprang up several times, so
that its mouth was but a few' inches from Mr. Scant-
ling's feet. And when his jaws came together they
would snap as loud as the jaws of a steel trap. And
every time, when he found that he had missed his
prey, he would make the woods echo with his howls
of disappointed rage.

" After a short time Mr. Scantling said to himself,

I can sto
do it.'

" He lift
The brute
he got the
his head,
upon the g

" The re]
moment,
few rods,
seemed, if j-
saw their c(

" They e\
to the man
at it, and tl
whole of th
thirty wolvt
i.s .something
tremble, as i
the volume
the trees, it
back to the
that fell upc
a thou.sand <

"Mr. Seal
accustomed \
wards, that !
force to ke
inidst. It w
influence tha
and their tie
6

TALK ABOUT WOLVES.

I can stop that fellow's pranks, at least, and I will
do it.'

" He lifted the gun, and pointed it towards the wolf.
The l)rute made a rush at the muzzle of the ritle, when
he fjot the full contents of it in his mouth and throujjfh
his head. He ^a,ve a yell of balfled rage and fell dead
upon the ground. He literally met death half way.

"The report of the gun .startled the wolves for a
moment. Some of them scattered and ran otF for a
few rods. They .soon came back to the tree, and
seeiiie(l, if po.s.sible, more furious than ever when they
saw their companion lying dea<l upon the ground.

" They evidently attributed its death, in some way,
to the man in the tree. They would stand and look
at it, and then set up a terrible howl, in which the
whole of them would join ; and when twenty-five or
thirty wolves go in for a concert, the noise they make
is something frightful. The forest fairly .seemed to
tremble, as if swept by a hurricane of sound. And as
the volume of sound, in its outward progre.ss, struck
the trees, it was bn^ken into fragments, which came
back to the centre of the circle in succeeding echoes,
that fell upon the listener's ear like the screechings of
a thousand demons.

" Mr. Scantling was a man of nerve, and he was
accustomed to seeing wild animals. But he said after-
wards, that sometimes he had to call up all his will
force to keep from dropping right down in their
midst. It was hard to resist the strangely fascinating
influence that their terrible noise, their gaping mouths,
and their fierce, fiery eyes had upon him.

AMONO THE FOREST TREES.

" Sotnetitnes tlte wolves would try to gnaw the treejj
flown. Then they would lie down in a circlq aroundl
it, and watch their prisoner as sharply as a cat will[
watcli a mouse.

" And this was ke])t up from ten or eleven o'clocli|
on Monday mornino;, until sunrise on Wednesday!
morning. ' Two nights and two days, treed by wolves]
is what the people used to say when speaking of tliel
incident.

" As the sun began to .shine on Wednesday niornin.'
the whole pack sent up one most pitiful wail. Thecl
they set to work and tore their dead companion into!
shreds, and left its fragments .scattered on the ground]
After this was done the wolves, as if by common con-
sent, went oft' in different directions.* Mr. S. waited!
for an hour or two to see if the wolves would coniel
back. But nothing could be seen or heard of them
He came down from his place of forced retirement!
hunted up his powder, loaded his gun, and started foi|
home.

" When he got part way out of the woods he meta|
lot of his neighbors, who had been out all night hunt-
ing for him. His family had got very uneasy about I
him."

"Are you not afraid, John, to go back to the wild!
woods after hearing that story about wolves ?" asked]
his mother.

* This is a simple narrative of facts, as it occurred, some fiftyfin|
years ago, in the Township of Caistor. The man's name was Stocking [
The story is told, as it has been related to the writer, by per80Di|
who were conversant with all the facts of tlie case.

TALK AnorrT wolves.

" No, mother, I cannot say that I am," said .Fohn.
' I havo heard before what a wolf- den the aldfjr
s\vaini)s of Caistor used to be ; but I don't think they
are so thick there as tliey were at the time that
Fatlier's story refers to."

" Perliaps tliey are not," said tlio father, " but it is not
!onf( a,(,^o since a !nan found six young wolves in a hol-
low loi^. He took them home and kept them until
they would take milk like a dog. The old wolf came
to hunt up her family. He shot her, and then he
killed the young ones, and got the bounty money for
the scalps of all of them. This was in the same local-
ity of the other story."

" Why did he not keep some of the young ones for
dogs ? Would they not do as well as a dog to watch
the place, if they were trained to it ? " inquired Betsy.

"No amount of training could take the sneaking,
wolfish nature out of them," replied the father, " They
would be entirely too watchful for the interest of their
owners, if there were any sheep or calves about the
place."

"They are cowards as well as sneaks," remarked
John.

CHASED BY WOLVES.

" When I was coming home I heard of a man up in
Grimsby who was followed by a lot of wolves. Mr.
Hardwood had his wife and two or three children
with him on an ox-sled. He had a quarter of fresh
beef that he was taking to his home in the woods.
While thev were going through what is called the
Pepperage Swamp three wolves got after them. It was

AM()N(J IHK KOIIKST TKKKS.

bright moonlight, so that every movement could he,
.seen. The wolves evidently wanted the meat.

" iMr. Hardwoud gave the whip to hi.s wife, and told
her to hurry up the oxen while he would try and keep
the wolves ofl' the sled. He had with him a new i>xe-
handle, which had heen given him by a friend. Thi.sii,
used for a club. When the wolves came near lie woujiil
strike at them. Sometimes he hit tliem. Then thev
would jump back, and stand and howl as if they were
calling for reinforcements. In a short time they would
come on again, full cha.se. And when they were about
to jump on the sled a rap or two with the axe-handle
would put them to tiight again.

"The oxen, poor things, did not require any whip-
ping when they found what was after them. Thf^y did
their best to get out of danger. This chase continued
for a mile or more. Then a neiijjhbor'.H clearinnf was
reached, and the barking of a couple of dogs fright-
ened the wolves, .so that they ran otl' into the woods,
and were seen no more."

" John," said his sister, " your story is about as ro-
mantic as father s was."

" I don't think there is much romance in being
cha.sed by wolves, especially when there is a woman
and a lot of children in the case," said John

" Well, if it was not romantic, 1 don't know what
would be," she replied.

" I can't see where the romance comes in," was Johns
reply.

" Let me tell you where," said Betsy. " I fancy my-
belf vsittiug down on a lot of straw in in rougii bo?;

TALK AHOITT Wol-VES.

of nil old ox-slf'd. Around me, in the straw, three
lovely hiihes lie slccpinif, all nnconscious of the dan<j^or
that threatens them. Behind me, {tartly hidden by
the straw, is a quarter of a nohle steer, that had done
little else than to eat and drink, an<l jump and frisk all
its life. But a few short hours a^o if- took its last sup of
water, and its last hite of hay. Then the hard-hearted
luitchei' laid it low with his cruel hanuner, and with
his treacherous knife he took its precious life, and
ended all the strife by skinninf^ it.

" In front of me a f^ood -sized man sits on a board
that is laid across the top of the box for a seat. The
oxen are jofjging alonnj at the rate of about two miles
an hour. We enter the precincts of Pepperage Swamp.
I look up to see what has so increased the darkness.
Then I see the tall, slender trees standing, like two
walls, about sixty feet apart, a.s if they were placed as
sentinels to guard the ' Queen's highway,' said high-
way in this place consisting of a four-rod strip of black
muck and corduroy.

"The trees lift their weird-like forms high up in the
direction of the stars, breaking the moonlight into a
thousand fragments, that shoot like silvery arrows
through the small openings among the interlacing
branches.

" The man is talking to his oxen, saying, ' Come,
come ; hurry up. Hurry up, old boy.s, and get these
tender plants, the woman a!id children out of the
cold.'

"Just then we hear what sounds like the whining
of a dog. Then another, and another. We look back,

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

and away behind us, running towards us, through the
shadows, we dimly see three moving bodies, that seem
to be the size of rats. But they grow larger and
larger. Now they look like foxes. Now they are as
big as dogs. Now, dear ! what are they ?

" ' Wolves,' cries the man in front. " H.re, wife, yon
take this gad and lay it on to the oxen with all your
miirht, while I fjet into the hind enu of the sled and
keep off the wolves.' John, you have told the rest,"
said his sister.

" Well done, my girl," said the father.

" You have put some romance into tlie story, haven't
you, Bet ? I never knew you had such a vivid imagina-
tion. 1 am almost ashamed of the way 1 told my
story," was John's reply.*

" I hope," said Mrs. Bushman, "that John and Mary
may never have any such an experience as that in
their backwoods life."

" Don't fear, mother," said John. " If that Mr.
Hardv/ood and his wife could save their beef and their
children and themselves from the v Ves, I think
Mary and I will be able to take care of ourselves."

Before closing: this " talk about wolves," we may
venture to relate a few incidents of a later date. We
have said that the wolf is -> cringing sneak when he is
cornered. He has not half the grit in him that the
wild cat, or the ground-hog, or ven an old rat has,
Get any of these in a trap and they will tight till they

* The two incidents above related occurred many years ago ; oue
in Grimsby Towraliip and the other in Caistor. The parties con
cerned in them e'e all dead r.jw.

die. But n(
to be true,
first thing t
He will n(
possible reti
is no way o
i but he will
comini; ever
among the
sheep, as m
borne testin

Some yea
men set som
("ay or two,
see if there '
to one of th(
feet in the t
But as thej
seemed so g
minds, and c
He seemed t
foot still in j
of sympathy
friend, pitit
fondled it ar

It started
home to an
mistress the

The wolf

jii_

TALK ABOUT WOLVES.

die. But not so the wolf. It is said, and we believe it

to be true, that, if a wolf gets into a sheep-pen, the

first thing that he will do is to try to find a way out.

He will not touch a sheep until the question of

possible retreat is settled. And if he finds that there

is no way out, he will lie down and watcli the sheep,

i but he will not touch one of them. He quietly awaits

I coming events. But if he fintls that a safe retreat is

p among the possibilities, then woe betide the helpless

I sheep, as many a pen of slaughtered innocents has

|, borne testimony.

MISTAKEN TRAPPERS.

Some years ago, in one of our back townships, two
men set some traps near the edge of a swamp. In a
('ay or two, they went out, early in the morning, to
see if there was anything in the traps. As they came
to one of them they saw a wolf, with one of its front
feet in the trap. At first they thought it was a wolf.
But as they came nearer it looked so friendly, and
seemed so glad to see them that they changed their
minds, and concluded that it was somebody's gray dog.
He seemed to be in great pain, with the poor lacerated
foot still in the trap. The kind-hearted hunters, full
of sympathy for the sufferings of their newly-found
friend, pitied it and patted it on the head, and
fondled it and let it go.

It started off limping, as they supposed, to carry
home to an indignant master and a sympathizing
mistress the proof of its cruel treatment.

The wolf went about half a mile away, and then

■':^ii

.S2

AMONG THE FOREST TRKES.

found his way into a farmyard anionic the sheep and
cattle. A youth, who was at the barn, saw the wolf,
went to the house, jxot a jjun and shot hiui. [n a few
minutes after the two men came alon<(, and went into
the yard to see what the boy had killed. On examin-
ation they saw the foot that had very recently been
in the trap. Here was unmistakable evidence that
the dead wolf was their property half an hour aifo,
But they had kindly released it, and now it is tlk
property of the youth who killed it The bounty
and skin brouofht him some twenty dollars. For
months after this, if any one wished to hear word;
that were more stron;^ than elegant, all that lie iieod
to do was to ask one of these men what was the latest
news about the price of wolf -scalps.

WOLF-SCALPS AND BREAD.

An industrious Christian family was livinfj on a new
farm in a back settlement. Their resources were
limited. They depended on the f^rain that they raised,
not only for bread, but also for other household
supplies.

One summer the frost cut off nearly all their crops,
and left them in comparative destitution. They
managed by hard work and the strictest economy to
get through the winter without any re;il sufferinf;;
but by the first of June, they found them.selves out of
flour and out of money. No chance to get a supply
on credit either, for none of their acquaintances had
anything to spare, and but few of them had enough
for themselves. And jet it was two full months till

TALK AHOTT WOLVES.

3t'

harvest, and no bread in the house and nothiiiL; to buy
it with. This was a sad plight to be in.

But man's extreniity is often God's opportunity. At
all events, it seemed like it in this case.

One evening, towards sundown, Mr. Fernleaf started
out to hunt the cows, that were in the bush. He was
inakinu' his wav towards the sound of the bell, with a
heavy heart, as he thought of the dark prospects before
liiiii. He was crossing one of those peculiar spots,
described in backwoods language as a beaver-meadow.
Just then a large wolf ran across his path, and went
towards the woods a little distance off". He started
after it, makino- all the noise he could. The wolf ran
only a few rods in the woods, and then took refuge
in a hollow tree that had been broken oti' by the
wind. It made a very excellent place for a wolf or a
t'ux to hide in.

Mr. P^'ernleuf gathered up pieces of poles and chunks
of wood until he completely filled up the end of the
log, and made it impossible for the wolf to get out.
Then he went after his cows, leaving the wolf a close
prisoner for the night.

Next morning he took a neighbor, and a gun and a
?ouple of axes, and went to see how the prisoner was
LTettinsx on. Thev found evervthinc; as it was left the
night before.

Thev shot the wolf in the tree. In cutting the tree
so as to cfet at the dead one, thev found six living
wolves about the size of an ordinary cat. These they
killed. The seven scalps brought between seventy
and eighty dollars. This they divided between them,

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

and they had ample supplies till the harvest came in,
which, it' we remember rightly, was a good one.

As Mr, Fernleaf related the incident to us, sometime
after, a tear moistened his eye while he said, "I
have thought, and I still think, tl'."'»t God sent that
wolf across my path that day, as the easiest and best
way of fulfilling His promise, where He says, ' Thy
bread shall be given thee and thy water shall be sure.'"
Who will say that he was mistaken.

THE LAST RACE.

We have been told a great deal about the de.struc-
tion of deer by the wolves. When the snow in the
woods is from two to three feet deep and a heavy
crust on it, the deer has no chance for escape if the
wolves come across them in their hiding-places in
the upland thickets. They seem, as much as they can,
to keep away from the swamps, these being the lurk-
ing-places of the wolves.

But sometimes hunc^er drives the wolves out in search
of food. Then they go to the thickets to hunt the
deer. And when they are found the slaughter begina
The wolves can run on the crust. The deer cannot do
so, their small, sharp hoofs break the crust and
they go down; and besides this, the crust is nearly
as sharp as broken glass. It cuts the legs of the poor
struggling deer, so that in a short time they fall a
helpless prey to their ferocious enemy. Then the
wolves hold high carnival.

But when there is nothing to prevent the deer from
using its locomotive powers, the wolf has to earn his

venison be
breakfast i
ut' it.

Some yt'i
fur from E
are preeipi
buck, whic
only one ju
edge of the
killed on th
last race.

TALK ABOUT WOLVES.

venison before he eats it, and he frequently takes his
breakfast miles away from where he started in pursuit
of it.

Some years ago a chase of this kind occurred, not
fur from Elora, where the banks of the Grand River
are precipitous and hig-h. A wolf was after a large
buck, which was almost tired out, so the wolf was
only one jump behind him. When they came to the
L'llge of the precipice they both went over, and were
killed on the ice that covered the river. It was their
last race.

Chapter VII.

SOME ORAL HISTORY.

FEW ni<:^hts after tlie talk about the wolves,
John said to his father, " In that new country
to which I am goinof, and where I expect to
spend my days, I shall meet with people from different
countries. Some of them will, to a great extent, be
ignorant of the character and doings of the first settlers
on the Canadian frontier, and many who come from
the Old Country will have prejudices against the U. E.
Loyalists and their descendants. You know, according
to history, there were a large number in Britain who,
if they did not go so far as to justify the revoltint,'
Americans, did, at least, strongly sympathize with them.
Now, I would like to be as well prepared as possible
to meet those objections, whether they originate in
ignorance or prejudice. Can you relate some facts and
incidents in connection with the early settlement of
the Niagara District ? "

"Yes," replied the father; "I am glad to have an
opportunity to enlighten your mind on this subject,
and I trust that your loyalty will be strengthened by
a knowledjre of what vour immediate ancestors and

SOME ORAL HISTORY

' tf

their xurterinf;,^ t'ellow-su1»jects did and suffered to win
the title of United Empire Loyalists."

" But, father," said the young Canadiaji, " where and
liow (lid those people get the nanie of U. E. Loyalists ?
Did they take it to themselves, or did the Americans
(five it to them ? "

Answer, "Neither. The name was given, as a title,
by the PJritish Government, to those wdio stood by the
royal cause in the War of Independence. In the Treaty
of Paris it was stipulated that the American Congress
should use its influence, and exert its authority with
the State Governments, to have the Loyalists dealt with
as conijuered people, who had been faithful in their
alleiriiince to the Government that is overthrowui, are
always treated in civilized countries.

" But, if the Congress ever attempted to fulfil this
ensjarrement, their efforts were not successful. So far
as mitigating the punishment of the Loyalists was
concerned, if the Congress spoke, its voice was not
heard. Perhaps it was the clamor of Tom Paine, who
just then was screaming his anti-British and anti-
Christian bombast into the willing ears of the new
Republic, that made the words of the people's represen-
tatives fall uselessly upon ears that were dull to hear
the right.

" Whatever may have been the cause of it, one thing
is certain, that is this: The Loyalists could not have
been more cruelly treated, unless they had been mas-
sacred wdthout regard to age or sex. And there were
many cases in which death itself would have been less
cruel than the treatment to which the sufferers were,
subjected*

A MONO THK FOREST TREES.

"They were driven from their homes — and many of
them were tlie owners of good liomes. Tliey had their
property taken from tliem, and some liad \i\i'm
(^states." *

" But, father," in(|uired .lohn, " why could they m
have stayed where they were, instead of starting on
such long and tedious journeys, as some of tliem did
You said once that they travelled hundreds of inile>
through dense forests, having no roads but Indian
trails to follow."

" Your question, John," said the father, " is a naturail
one ; but there were two very potent reasons why tliel
Loyalists did not remain in the States. They couli
not stay if they would, and they would not stay if
they could. Every State passed laws against thern-
some more severe than others, it is true ; but not onel
of them proposed to deal either kindly or justly witti
them,

" And there were two reasons why these peoplt
would not stay in the States. They were Britisl|
in all their sympatides and in all their aspiration.^
The system of government, secured by the British Conl
stitution was, to them, the best in the world, and thej
would not voluntarily change it for any other. And
besides this, these people would not consent to stajl
and become mere serfs among those who had robbeJ
them of their property and driven them from thei|
homes."

* For proof that this is not an exaggeration of facts, see Rev. PrI
Ryeraon's "Loyalists of America," Vol. II., pages 177, 178

" How r
British tci
" About
vinces in
Islands, ar
" Ten th
and settle
Some weni
others sett
went north
and the to
" When
of Lincoln
" In or a
"Where
" Mostly
a number o
from Virgil
" Well," s
nnderstand;
seeing they
"They r(
order of thi
no intercou]
suffered ab(
themselves.'
"Why d
these peopl

*See Ryersf

Gregg's " Hist(

f See Ryersc

SOME ORAL HISTORY,

" How many of those peoj)le left the States to go to
British territory ? "

" About forty thousand came to the British pro-
vinces in 1784, and more went to Florichi, the Baliama
Islands, and British West Indies.*

" Ten thousand of the numher came to this Province,*!'
and settled along the frontier in different localities.
Some went as far west as Long Point, on Lake Erie,
others settled in the Niagara Peninsula, while others
went north of Lake Ontario, about where York County
and the town of York now is."

'■ When did the first settlers co)ne into the County
of Lincoln ? " asked John.

" In or about 1780," replied the father.

" Where did the first settlers come from ? "

"Mostly from Maryland and Pennsylvania; though
a number of families came from New York and some
from Virginia," was the answer.

" Well," said John, " there is one thing that I cannot
understand, Why were the Quakers interfered with,
seeing they are non-combatants ? "

"They refused to pledge themselves to the new
order of things. And they would not promise to hold
no intercourse with the Loyalists, hence some of them
suffered about as much persecution as the Loyalists
themselves."

" Why did not the British Government reward
these people for their sacrifices and sufferings, in a

*See Ryerson's " Loyalists," Vol. II., page 180, 187; also see Dr.
Gregg's " History of the Presbyterian Church in Canada,'' page 17,
tSee Ryeraon'a "Loyalists," Vol. IL, page 308-

AMONG THK I'OllKST TllKES.

more honoraV)le way tViaii to leave them to the morci-
less treatment of their hitter entmiies?" asked tlie
youn^ man.

" As sooji as the British Government hecame aware
of the fact> of this casr, tlicy actcil very lionnrahly hy
the Loyalists. Von mnst knijw that iMi^lishmen aiv
very much set in their ways, hut once they are cmii-
vinced that they ate wron^, or that they have inailca
iiiistake, there ai'e no people in the woild that wii.
acknowledi^e the wiohl; moi*e ^n*acefully or correct a
mistake more promptly or cheerfully. S > it was ii
tliis case.

" When the people of Enjjfland came fully to realb
the exposed condition in which the Treaty of Pai'h
left the Loyalists, all })arties agreed that the mistake
must at once be corrected as far as it was possible to
do so. The feeling on this subject may be gathered
from extracts from speeches of British statesmen aiul
others. Lord North, who was Premier during the
war, said : 'Now let me, sir, pause on a part ot' the
treaty which awakens human sensil)ility in a very
irresistible and lamentable deu;ree. I cannot but
lament the fate of those unhai)py men who, I conceive,
were in general objects of our gratitude and protei'-
tion. They have exposed their lives, endured an age
of hardships, deserted their interests, forfeited their
possessions, lost their coiniections and ruined their
families in our cause.'

" Mr. Wilberforce said, in the House of Connnoiis,
that ' when he considered the case of the Loyalists.
be corxfessed he felt himself conquered.'

"Lord iM
Loyalists Ik
ment of luil

"Mr. Bur

all hands, tl

(ioluded by

in our cause

" imd its hon(

"The Lor,
'fi lists, they i

rliis country

'.Mr. Shor

[i)t' tho.se unfc

taken of the
[over to a pov
Ion them for 1
land <T;overnm
"Sir Peter
|claimed the c
"Sir Willi,
Ithe treaty at
Ition to the L(
Inot but feel
Jmalice of the
llisgraceful. 1

any conditior
[They had fou:
jour cause, ar
Ithem protect!

"In the Ho

" f

SOME ORAL HISTORY.

ive.

I^ord Mulnrrave said : ' Tlio article respoctinr,' the
^ I.ovalistH lie never could rpj]fard but as a lastin<^ monu-
ment of ndfioval (l\srjrare!

"Mr. Burke said: ' At any rate it must be arjveed on
all hands, that a vast number of Loyalists had been
deluded hy this country, an<l had risked everythinj^
in our cause ; to such men the nation owed protection,
and its honor was pledpjed for their protection at all
\ hazards.'

The Lord Advocate said : ' With re^^ard to the Loy-
||alists, they merited every possible effort on the part of
this country.'

" .Mr, Sheridan, said : 'He execrated the treatment

iof those unfortunate men, who without the least notice

taken of their civil and religious rii^dits, were handed

lover to a power that would not fail to take vengeance

on them for their zeal and attachment to the reliirion

[and government of this country.'

'Sir Peter Burrill said: 'The fate of the Loyalists
[claimed the compassion of ever)' human breast.'

"Sir VVilliam Booth said: 'There was one part of
[the treaty at which his heart V)led, the article in rela-
tion to the Loyalists. Being himself a man, he could
inot but feel for men so cruelly abandoned to the
[malice of their enemies. It was scandalous. It was
disgraceful. Such an article as that ought scarcely on
[any condition to have been admitted on our part.
iThey had fought for us, and run every hazard to assist
lour cause, and when it most behoved us to afford
|them protection we deserted them.'

"In the House of Lords, Lord Wal.singham said : 'He
7

^>_ *>

v«>,

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

11=

U ill 1.6

WJ^

^f.

^/ J"^ 7

"^'4"^. '^i

(<>

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

I''l 'f

\i' i

1 1 ^ !'

could neither think nor speak cf the dishonor of leav-
mr these deservinr,' people to their fate with patience,'

" Lord Townsend said that, 'To desert men who had
constantly adhered to loyalty and attachment, was a
circumstance of such cruelty as had never before been
heard of.'

" Lord Stormont said that, * Britain was bound in
justice and honor, gratitude and affection, and by every
tie, to provide for and protect them.'

" Lord Sackville regarded the abandonment of the
Loyalists as a thing of so atrocious a kind, that the
sacrifice of these unhappy subjects must be answered
for in the sight of God and man.

" Lord Loughborougli said : ' The fifth article of the
treaty had excited a general and just indignation, and
that neither in ancient nor modern history had there
been so shameful a desertion of men, who had sacri-
ficed all to their duty, and to their reliance on British
faith.'

"At the close of this discussion, the Commons
passed a direct vote of censure against the Govern-
ment for neglecting to protect the Loyalists in the|
Treaty of Paris." *

"Father," said John, "I am very much pleased I
that you have told us so many things about the
Loyalists, and also about the way in which the home
Government took up their cause at the last. I never
knew that they had endured so much."

"The time will come," said the father, "when I

•See '* Loyalists of America," Vol. II. pp. 60 and 61, where th»|
extracts are found, and much more of the same kind.

SOME ORAL HISTORY.

people in this country will be as prourl to be able to
fracp their ancestry back to the United Empire
Loyalists as ever people in Encrland were to be able to
trace theirs back to the heroes of the Norman Con-
quest. These people formed the nucleus of a distinct
nationality, and one that will yet make itself
heard among the nations — a nationality that is
different from the American or the English type,
hut one that shall exhibit the best traits of both these
nation;^."

" The first settlers in this country must have ex-
peritmced many liardships here, after all the ill-treat-
inent they endured before they came here," said John.

" Yes," answered his father, " that is so. Now,
it seems like a big undertaking for you and others
to l;o to the New Purchase or to Talbot District
to settle. But light will be your trials as compared
with those of the first settlers of this district.

"If you get into any kind of trouble, tliere are
tho^^e who are able and willing to help you. They
had to help themselves or go without, no matter what
came in their way. If you need supplies, you can get
them. They had to supply them.selves or go without.
It' they were sick, they had to be their own doctor.
If they needed medicine, they went to nature's great
laboratory of herbs and roots and flowers to get it."

" Well," said John, " it must have been very difficult
to keep house at all in tho.se days, where there were
no mills, no stores, no blacksmiths, no shoemakers, no
tanners, no weavers, no tailors, no tinsmiths, nor
coopers. How could they manage to live ?"

AMONG THK FOREST TREES.

" Your questions are very natural ones, John," said
his father. " In a country where none of these are
found people have to do the best they can. They
must use what ingenuity they have to provide for
themselves. For instance, I can remember when I
was a young man, J often helped ray mother to grind
both wheat and Indian corn on the top of a large oak
stump,"

" On the top ot a stump ! Of all things, who would
ever think of doing that ? Why, how did you manage
it," broke in Betsy, who had come into the room in
time to hear a part of the conversation.

" I don't know who first thought of it, but I know
that it was a very common practice at one time. We
would scoop out a sort of butter tray in the top of the
stump with a hollow adze ; then we took a stone or a
piece of hardwood and, after fitting it to the dish, we
pounded the grain until we made it as fine as we could,
then we run the meal through a sieve. The finest
was made into johnny cake or bread, and the coarsest
into porridge or mush."

" I can remember, John," said his mother, " when
your wife's grandmother used to grind corn and
wheat in a large pepper mill, to make bread and mush
for a family of eight."

" Where did they get salt to put into their iiiusb
and other things, mother?" asked John.

" At first," she replied, " we found a great deal of
hardship in doing without salt ; but, after a while.
some friendly Indians showed our people where there
was a salt spring. We used to boil our own salt out

11 iV.

SOME ORAL HISTORY.

of tins water until the home Government sent out
salt fiom Liverpool."

" Father," said John, " how did these people keep
themselves in clothes and shoes ? "

"The most of them brourjht a pretty good supply
with them when they came. But for some years there
was a great deal of suffering, especially in the winter
time. But they soon got into the way of raising flax
and wool. The women became very expert in carding
and spinning, and weaving, and making up garments
for their families," was his answer.

"Did the women do the carding?" asked Betsy,
who was very much interested in the conversation.

" Yes ; they used hand cards. It was a slow and,
tedious work, but it had to be done. I tell you, Bet,
that with the vast range of work that these old women
had to do, and the heavy burdens they had to carry, it
is no wonder that they became stoop-shouldered and
hard-handed. The wonder is, that there was one bit
of feminine sweetness or womanly tenderness left in
them. They had to be housekeeper, cook, servant,
mistress, carder, spinner, weaver, tailor, dressmaker,
nurse, doctor, gardener, butter and cheese maker, and
i whitewasher, all in one."

" How did the men do their part of the work ? "
I asked John.

" Their jobs were just as various, and no less

I numerous, than the women's were. They had to raise

the tlax, and rot it, and crackle it, and swingle it, and

hatchel it for the women. They must raise the wool,

and shear the sheep ; they must chop and clear the

s^ff^^hi

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

Ifsllilj

land ; they looked after the cattle ; they must attend
to the sugar-bush in the spring ; they must be their
own tanner, and currier, and shoemaker, and carpenter,
and sleighmaker, and blacksmith. In a word, they
must be both boss and hired man. Jack and his master,
landlord and tenant, all in one, or, if they did not do
this, they would come in behind in the race."

" Father," said John, " you have not told me since
I came home how that Scotchman came off in his trial,
that was to come on in August, I think. Were you at
the trial ? "

" You refer to the agitator, Robert Gourley, I sup-
pose ? Yes, I heard the trial," was the answer.

" You see, I went to town on business, and when I
learned that the ' troublesome Scotchman ' was to be
tried that day, I went to hear the trial and see the
man who had made such a noise in the country. And
I am sure that I never pitied a man more than I did
poor Gourley that day.

" It did seem to me that the whole thing was a bur-
lesque on the sacred name of justice. There was the
prisoner, in a box, looking like a ghost more than like
a man.* There was the Chief-Justice, looking and
acting more like some despotic ruler than like a new
country judge. There sat the twelve men in the jury-
box, looking as though they wanted to do right, if
some one would only tell them what was right in this
case. They had the fate of the prisoner in their
hands, but they did not know what to do with it.

*See Dent's "Story of the Upper Canadian Rebellion," Vol. I.,
page 31 and following.

SOME ORAL HISTOHY.

" There were the lawyers, hoppinf; about like red
squirrels in the top of a chestnut tree, and trying to
look wise, as lawyers always try to do, but sometimes
they make sad failures.

" There sat the witnesses, looking as it' they would
like to retain the good opinion of the two convicting
luaijistrates, who sat there, enjoying the torture of
their victim with as little tenderness of feeling as a
cat enjoys the fruitless struggles of the poor little
squeaking prisoner that is held fast in its merciless
claws.

" When the jury brought in a verdict of guilty, the
judge asked the prisoner if he had anything to say.
He said something about British law and British gen-
erosity. But he soon learned, to his sorrow, that the
court had no ear for logical argument or pathetic
appeal. The judge ordered him to leave the country
in the short space of twenty-four hours, and to suffer
death as a felon if he ever dared to come back to
Upper Canada,"

" How could these U. E. Loyalists so soon forget the
cruelty to which they had been exposed, and the un-
feeling treatment the Americans had subjected them,
to only one generation back ? It seems to me, that in
their treatment of Gourley they were exhibiting the
same spirit and performing the same acts against
which they and their fathers had so loudly protested
during, and after, the Revolutionary War." This was
aaid by the young man with considerable warmth.

The father answered, "The Loyalists were not wholly
responsible for what was done. Two at least of Gour*

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

|i)

ley's persecutors were his own countrymen, namely,
Dickson, of Niagara, and the afterwards notorious
Dr. Strachan, of York. And I do not think the
Chief-Justice is a U. E. Loyalist, though I am not
certain as to that.

" And you know it sometimes happens that servants
become the hardest masters, and it often occurs that
persons who are elevated from the lower to the higher
positions in society become the most overbearing and
tyrannical. This is one of the ways in which the
rebound or strike-back that there is in human nature
manifests itself. You know it is easy for a coward to
be brave when there is no danger. And a weak man
may act like a strong one when he has a weak or
helpless victim to deal with. Bearing these facts in
mind, we can account for a great many things that
would otherwise be very difficult to understand.

"It seems that Gourley's enemies dare not face him
in court until they had tried, for seven months, what
the foul air of a pri.son cell, and the scanty sustenance
of prison fare could do towards taming the wild, rest-
less spirit of the clear-headed, vigorous Scotchman,
When they had the lion chained they could extract
his teeth at their leisure. It was a strange scene that
presented itself in our little town on the 20th day of
August, in the year 1819, for Robert Gourley had com-
mitted no crime either against the state or- any indi-
vidual in the state. "

Chapter VIII.

PREPARING TO MOVE.

". T^^OOK here, Bet," said John to his sister one day,

'I^ as they were alone together, " I wish that you
and Will Briars would hurry up and get mar-
ried before Mary and I move away to the bush, so
that vvt could be at the wedding."

" Who told you that Will Briars wanted me, and
what makes you think that I would have him if he
did? "said the girl, as she gave him a look that was
intended to demolish inquisitiveness.

" Now, Bet, none of your feminine artfulness, if
you please, for it would be lost on me," said the
brother with a laugh, " for I have the best of reasons
for believing that he wants you. He told me so him-
self. And equally good are my reasons for thinking
that you intend to have him, for mother told me so."

"Feminine artfulness; O dear!" .said Betsy, with a
look of feigned sadness. " Can it be that modest-
looking little Mrs. Bushman has been giving my poor
brother such severe lessons in ' feminine artfulne.ss '
that he has become a disbeliever in his own loving
sister's truthfulness and sincerity."

100

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" What is the matter with you, Bet? You look as
sorry as a patch of Vjeans on a frosty morning," said
he. " But come, now, let us begin to talk a little
sober sense."

"What kind of stuti' is sober sense?" said she,
demurely.

" O you incorrigible primp ; will you never get over
your old trick of trying to head a fellow off when he
is doing his best to come to a safe conclusion about
any matter."

" What weighty matter are you trying to conclude
now, brother mine ?" .said she, with provoking cool-
ness.

" I am wanting to find out if a certain couple with
whom I am acquainted are going to be married before
myself and wife will be obliged to flit to our cabin
home, on the banks of Sylvan Lake, among the forest
trees."

She answered :

" You want to know, then, if tlie pair
Will likely be made one
Before the time when you must tear
Yourself away from home ?

Now, I'll be honest, brother dear,

For Will and I have said,
We will not marry till one year

Has passed ; and then we'll wed,"

" Bravo ! Betsy. Why, you can be poetical as well
as pert, when you like, can't you ? " said the brother.
" And now, since you have broken silence on the sub-
ject, tell all about your plans, won't you, Sis ? " John

had been
wished to

" We art
to he niai
upon. Til
at It'fi.st, bt

" What
much /" a!

" Yourse
el.se,'' she r

"How 1
arrangemei

She ans
about the i
in the new
it. And tl
been char
made up
land in the
that he hj
wisely i"

" Yes ;
best thing
sort of nia
and not af
of the Lor
that help."
"Youdc
the miser,
no favors i
"Old Hi

PREPARING TO MOVE.

101

ha<l l«en in the habit of calling her " Sis," when he
wished to please her, ever since they were children.

" VV^e are engaged," said Betsy, " and we did intend
to be married this spring ; but no time was fixed
upon. This is all changed now, and it will be a year,
at least, before we will be married."

" What has changed your plans so soon and so
much I*'" asked John.

" Yourself has had more to do with it than any one
else,'' she replied.

"How have I been the means of changing your
arrangement ?" said he.

She answered, " When you came home and told
about the fine land and water and timber there is back
in the new country, Will was greatly taken up with
it. And the more he heard about it, the more he has
been charmed by your descriptions. He has fully
made up his mind to go out with you and take up
land in the bush, instead of settling on the fifty acres
that he has here. L»o you think that he is acting
wisely ?"

" Yes ; decidedly so," answered John. " It is the
best thing that he ever did. Will is just the right
sort of man for a new country — hardy and steady,
and not afraid of work. He will succeed by the help
of the Lord, and no one, you know, can do so without
that help."

" You don't believe in the doctrine of old Hickory,
the miser, do you ? He says, ' Help yourself, and ask
no favors from God or man.' "

" Old Hickory is a wicked old sinner, and as mean

102

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

as dirt, or he would not talk like that. But then, a
man that will rol) his own si.ster, and she a widow, is
bad enou<,di to do anythin<^," said John, with a ^'ood
deal of ener^fy.

Then, turning to his sister, he said, mirthfully,
" Won't you make a tine wife for a backwoodsman.
You are stronfj, and tough, and fearle.ss — exactly the
woman for the bush. I fancy that I can see you now
as you will look then, —

" With face begrimed with soot and ashos,

With hands ))e.smeared with smoke and rust ;
Witli eyes that Hooni as though their lashes
Wore lost in cloutls of charcoal dust."

" My, how smart we can be when we try, can't we,
Bub ? " said she. " And now let me try, —

" Say, how about your loving Mary ?
Will siie be like some little fairy,
With visage bright, and garments airy,
•'residing over Sylvan Lodge?

" Or, will ycni make the poor girl sorry
For having wed in such a hurry
A man who keeps her in a woiry

By lliiiging olulw she cannot dodge ?"

" How will that do, Johnnie, dear ?" said Betsy,
laughing.

" Now, let us drop the poetical and take up the
practical," said he.

" You say Will is going out with us ; I am glad of
that. If it has not been taken up since I came away,
the lot next to mine on one side is vacant. Would it

^j.

PREPARING TO MOVE.

103

not be a good th'mrr for Will to send in an application
for that lot at once ? Tliere will be a bi«r rush there
next smniner. I will «lo all that 1 can to helj) him
make a start, if he j(ocs, and he can make our house
his home till he jj^ets one of his own."

" Where do they rro to <^et the land ?" she asked.

" They f(o, or send, to the land otlice at Little York.
S(|niro Myrtle has had a <^ood deal to do with busine.ss .
of this kind; no doubt he will help Will in the
matter, if he asks him to do so. But if he wants to
fjet land near to mine, there is no time to be lost ; that
section will till up very rapidly. The line of road
that runs by my place will be a leading line of travel
between the front and rear settlements. And besides
this, the locality is so situated that it must, in the
nature of things, become the centre of a large settle-
ment in the near future. Two large and rapid
streams form a junction near the corner of my lot
and there are a number of tirst-class mill sites within
a short distance of the road. I expect .some day to
see a village, perhaps a town, on that spot."

"Well," said Betsy, "I think you had better tell
Will to see Squire Myrtle, and get him to .send in an
application at once ; I don't like to speak to him about
it my.self."

When dinner was over that day, John went to see
William Briars. He found him in the barn, threshing
oats with a flail. After a few commonplace words,
John said, " Will, I am told by one who ought to know,
that you are thinking of going to the bush with me.
Is that so?"

104

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" Yes ; I hav^e made up my mind to go to the new
country, and try my lot as a pioneer," said William.

" My father-in-law has had a good deal of experience
in connection with land operations," said John. *■ Sup-
pose we go and ask him to write away and see what
can he done for you ; I think you are entitled to om
hundred acres for services in the militia the last year
of the war."

" When I joined the Fldiikers,^^ said Will, " 1 vva^
told that I would have a claim for two hundred acres
— one hundred for head right, and another hundred
for ' Flanker ' right."

" yes ; you were a ' Flanker,' sure enough ; yon
are entitled to the two hundred acres ; I had not
thoujxht of that. You are all right. We will go right
off and see Squire Myrtle, and have him send in your
certificate and get a location ticket for the lot next to
mine."

The young men found the Squire at home, and told
him what they wanted. He took the matter in hand
for Will, and he succeeded so well, that by the time
that John and Mary were ready to move, the papers
came to hand, and William Briars was granted the
two hundred acre lot that joined John Bushman's two
hundred acres.

As the first of April was now here, and as the
middle of that month was the time set for starting to
the new home of John and Mary, V)oth their families
were making preparations for helping them in their
undertaking.

As has already been stated, old Mr. Bushman had

I I.

PREPARING TO MOVE.

105

procured a yoke of oxen for John. Beside.s these he
rrave him a cow and half a dozen sheep. But it was
understood that the sheep were to be left where they
were for a year, or until John could have a suitable
place for them, so as to save them from the wolves.

Mary's father gave her a covv and such an outfit as
would enable them to start housekeepino- in a new
settlement with a fair share of comfort.

As the time came near when they were to start for
their new home in the wilderness, the young people
seemed to realize the importance of the step they were
about to take. They were going to shoulder life's
burdens and face life's difficulties ; and that, too, in a
new country where, in the nature of things, many
privations would have to be endured, and many dis-
couragements would have to be met and overcome.

But neither John Bushman nor his young wife were
hot-house plants. They had both been brought up to
industry and economy. They had stood face to face
with life's realities all their days. Mary's mother was
a woman of good sense, and she had trained her
dautjhter for usefulness, rather than for helplessness,
and had taught her to understand that God's arrange-
ment is that " drowsiness shall clothe a man with
rags," and that " an idle soul " (whether man or woman)
"shall sufter hunger." The woman who, in those old-
fashioned times, was called a good hou.sekeeper, was
as proud of the title as her granddaughter i?s proud of
being called the belle of the town. But although
Mary was not much past twenty years of age, she
was a good housekeeper. She knew how to do her

106

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

own work, and she intended, while health permitted
her, to do it. She had no notion to flit over the
journey of life on the gaudy pinions of the short-
lived butterfly.

There are three kinds of women in relation to life's
duties and its burdens. There are those who help
their husbands ; there are those who hinder him by
making him spend his time in helping them ; and
there are those who are like a handful of clean chips
in a pot of soup — they do neither good nor harm.

Mary Bushman was among the first class, and, con-
vSequently, she was one of the best. Such a woman is
a blessing to any man. Such a woman is fit to adorn
life in a log hut or in a marble palace. Such a woman
was the wife of John Bushman. Happy is the man
who finds such a wife. " Her husband shall be known
in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the
land." Prov. xxxi. 28.

Johr, too, had been taught that work is respectable,
and that it is a part of God's arrangements concerning
men in the present state of existence. He learned to
view a life of honest industrv, based on Christian
principles, and wrought out on the line of duty as
[aid down in God's Word, as being the highest type of
noble manhood. And from a boy it had been his am-
bition to present to the world such a character. How
far he succeeded in doing so the future will tell.

Such were the two young people who, on a bright
morning about the middle of April, in one of the
years that compose the first quarter of this century,
started out from the parental domiciles to hew out a

home for
native Pr(
Tiiese c
honest con
the wildui
their chih
are found
successes.

Tiie nmf;
farms and
in all (liroc
past, or th(
have left b
large, an u
These pc
ance that
lor it is fre
ters of the
fields that 1
went befor
indolent, to
sweat- drop^
years of toi
inortuajred
'Speculation
would-be s]
that must cl
the rest of
wakefulness
One of til
in this year

I'REPARING TO MOVE.

107

home for themselves among the forest trees of their
native Province.

Tliese are but the counterparts of thousands of
honest couples who have, at different times, gone into
the wilderness and made homes for themselves and
their children. And to-day, all over this fair land,
are found the monuments of their toils and their
successes.

The magnificent homesteads, in the shape of splendid
farms and princely dwellings, that adorn the landscape
in all directions, are the outcome of the toils of the
past, or the rapidly parsing, generation. The-e people
have left behind them, for the good of the country at
large, an untarnished name and a \ irtuous example.

These people have left to their children an inherit-
ance that is often too lightly appreciated by them,
lor it is frequently the case that the sons and daugh-
ters of the hard-wrought pioneers refuse to work the
fields that have been cleared and fenced by those who
went before them. They become too proud, or too
indolent, to till the soil that has been enriched by the
sweat-drops of their parents. Farms, that cost long
years of toil to make them what thev are, are beinff
mortcjaged for means to engajje in some kind of
speculation that in a few years collapses, leaving the
would-be speculator penniless, and with the regrets
that must chase him, like a restless spirit, through all
the rest of his life, torturing him in his hours of
wakefulness, and troubling him in his nightly dreams.
One of the most jjloomv outlooks that can be seen
in this year of grace, 1888, is the fact that so many

108

AMOxNG THE FOREST IHEES.

1. ' ■ ' ^'i

t
1

i I

of the younger portion of our population are learning'
to look with contempt upon the agricultural part of
our national industries. They are too ready to
exchange the healthy exercise, and independent posi-
tion of the owner and cultivator of the soil, for the
doubtful chances of commercial life, or the uncertain
prospects of some towm or city enterprise. How few
there are who have common sense enough to know
when they are w^ell off in this world.

But it is time to return to the affairs of John Bush-
man and his friends.

About a week before the time for starting, a sort of
family consultation was held at Squire Myrtle's, when
final arrangements were made.

It was decided that Mr. Bushman and the Squire
should each of them take a load — the one of pro-
visions, and the other household stufi. William Briars
was to go along and drive the cows. John was to
borrow a waggon from Mr. Roanoke, the Yorkshire
neighbor, and with his oxen take a load of seed grain j
and potatoes. The waggon was to be sent back by
tying it behind his father's, on the return journey. I
Mary's mother insisted on going along to see what
sort of a place her daughter was to live in. The bad
roads and the Jong distance had no terrors for her
that were sufficient to make her give up the idea. So|
it was decided that she was to go.

The other mother would have been very willing to I
go, too, but she could not do so then. But she told
the young people that she would come and see thenij
when the sleighing came again.

PREPARING TO MOVE.

109

The time and manner of their exit being jBxed
upon, it only remained that the articles needed be
collected and ready at the time. There wa.s not much
troulile, however, in gathering up all that wa.s wanted,
or at least all that they could tind room for in the
loads.

The people, who had known John and Mary from
their infancy, were very much attached to both of
thciu, and now that they were going away, every-
hody .seemed di.sposed to .show them kindnes.s and to
do them favors.

One farmer gave John a couple of bags of seed
sprin?,' wheat ; another sent a lot of seed oats ; and
still another brought him half a bu.shel of millet to
sow. Mr. Blueberry, an old and highly respected
Quaker, brought one day a bag of pink-eye potatoes
to John, for seed, and after presenting them, he gave
him a small parcel, done up in a bit of grey cloth,
saying, " Here, my friend, I have brought thee a lot of
apple seeds to plant. If thee will put them in good
ground, and when they grow to be as tall as thyself,
set them out in an orchard, by the time thee has
children big enough to pick up apples, thee will have
plenty of apples for them. I have always liked thee,
John, and I have liked thy wife since she was a little
midget of a girl, and I hope she and thee will do well.
Fare thee well."

The old man's reference to children picking up
apples, awakened some new thoughts in John's mind.
He fancied himself some twenty years older. It was
in the fall of the year. He stood in the door of a nice

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

ill

frame house, lookinfjj through an orchard of well-
loaded I'ruit trees toward Sylvan Lake, on the clear
waters of which were playing flocks oi geese and
ducks. Among the trees, gathering apples, were bop
and girls, ranging from the pretty mis,, of eighteen,
down to the rollicking youngster of eight, all of them
working and playing by turns, but giving the lar2;e,«t
share of the time to playing.

" John," said a soft and pleasant voice behind. He
turned suddenly with a start ; he stood and looked in
a .sort of dreamy way at the speaker. It was Betsy.
" What have you been thinking about that is .so vin
interesting that you can't hear me call you to dinner.
Three times I called you, and then I had to comeafte
you. What is it, John ?" said his .si.ster.

"Never mind. Bet," .said he; "in about twenty
years from this I will tell you, if we are alive, and I
perhaps .show ^'ou, too, what I was thinking about;
but to-day I can't."

When John went to ask Mr. Roanoak for liisi
waggon, the ready and cheerful manner in which the
good-natured Englishman gave his con.sent would
make it seem as though he had been anxiously waitind
for an opportunity to oblige his young friend.

"Aye, Jock; tho bee.st welcome to tak the wagin,
and, mayhap, tho'lt need sumut else from among injl
fixins. If tho do, say what it mought be, Jock, and
tho'lt get it, if it beest anything but the old ooman.'

John thanked him for his kindness, and said he wouldl
not need anything besides the waggon. As he wasj
starting away, the other called him back and said,--

PREPARING TO MOVE.

Ill

"Jock, when tho coouis for the waj^in, fetch a sack
vvie thee, and I will till it up wic English bull's-eye
potatoes for seed. If tho'lt plant un on new land,
tho'lt <^ro\v them as big as turnips, and as mealy as
tlour.'"

The white English bull's-eyes were in vogue fifty
years ago.

As John walked homeward, after this interview, he
liej^'an to question himself as to the reason of all the
kindness that was being .shown him by his old neigh-
bors. John did not think of the many eyes that had
been watching him all these years, as he had passed
from infancy up to manhood. He did not know that
his character had been highly appreciated for some
years past. He did not know how often one had said
to another, in their friendly intercourse, " That boy of
neighbor Bushman's is a noble lad, so true,and honest,
and obedient." He had not yet learned that a truth-
ful, honest and thoughtful boy, brought up in any
community, is not only a comfort to his parents and
an honor to his friends, but he is also a blessing to the
neighborhood where he lives, by his example and his
influence over other boys.

John Bushman had been such a boy, and the people
j all remembered it to his credit now that he was leav-
|ing the oUl home for a new one.

But while the farmers around were showinof so
[much kindness to John, their women folks were
tqually forward in helping Mary. And their presents
were not, like many of the wedding gifts of to-day,
an unwilling offering at the shrine of fashion, rather
than the honest expression of sincere friendship.

112

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

■ il

: f i

' ' '

A number of articles of utility in housekeepintj
were given to Mary clurinj^ lier last week in the old
home. One old lady gave her a pair of beautiful
ducks, and another gave her a pair of beautiful geese
to swim, as they sai<^\ on Sylvan Lake, but not for
" fox feed."

An old playmate of hers brought her half a dozen
hens and a rooster, " to lay eggs for custard pies for
John and Mary, and to crow in the morning to wake
them up in time," as she said.

Besides all these, many dishes and napkins and
sheets and blankets were added to the store provided
by the two mothers of the departing couple. But the
most unexpected and most valuable of these presents
came from a quarter that surprised every one.

The night before their departure old Hickory, the
miser, came to bid them good-bye. Before leaving he
said to Mary, " May I call you once more by the
name that I used to do when vou were a little cfirl ? I
may not see you any more ; will you let me just this
once call you by the old, pretty name of long ago ? "

There seemed to be a pathetic ring in the old man's
voice that none could understand, and yet it touched
every heart.

Then, turning to the rest of the company, the old
. man said, " I will explain the reason for my strange
conduct, for I know you think it strange.

" Long years ago I had a loving and lovely wife
and one sweet little angel girl. They were everything
to me. O how near to my heart that woman and her
baby got. But the small-pox came and took them

PREPARING TO MOVE.

lis

both. With her little head Ij'ing on my arm, my baby
(lied at niojht, and my precious wife followed it the
next morning. The world to me, since then, has had
no charms ; and, as I turned from the grave that held
the remains of !ny wife and child, I made a vow that
nothing human should ever touch my heart again.

" I travelled far by sea and land ; I worked at what-
ever would pay the best ; I gathered wealth, I hardly
knew what for, but its acquisition gave a semblance of
rest to my weary heart.

" Nineteen years ago I was passing along the road
on a hot summer day; being thirsty, I came to this
same house to ask for a drink. As I came alonor the
path I saw a little girl playing with some pebbles;
when I saw the little one I stopped as if spellbound
to the spot. For a moment I fancied myself looking
down a vista, and seeing at the other end the identi-
cal child that thirty years before I had laid in the
grave with its mother in an Old England graveyard.
My first thought was, Can it be that, after all, the old
Hindoos are riji^ht about the transmigration of souls ?
Of the child before me, and my own long-lost darling,
it might with truth be said that sameness could go no
further without becoming identity.

" As I came up to her I said, Will you let me call
you ' my little bright eyes?'

" She looked at me for a moment, and said, in her
childish way, ' Oo may tall me what oo yikes, if oo
won't hurt yittle Mary.' The identical name, too, I
said to mvself. How strange it seems.

" Well, that little child got nearer my heart than

114

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

any human being had done in thirty y^nrs. It setiined
whimsical, but I could not help it; I resolved to settle
in this localit}', where this one little ray of light miirlit
occasionally shine upon niy darkened pathway." Then,
looking Mary in the face, he said to her, "May I call
you by the old, sweet name that I gave my darling so
long ngo ?"

"Yes, poor heart-sore old pilgrim, call me what you
like," she said, with tears in her eyes.

Putiing his hand in his pocket, he took out a num-
ber of shining gold oins. He placed them in Mary's
hand, as he said, " Here, little blight eyes, take these
as some slight compensation for the good you have
done to a lonelv, friendless man." Then turning to the
young husband, he said, " John Bushman, my little
bright eyes is an angel. Your little blight eyes is a
woman. See to it that you never, mver, nevtr use her
bailly. Good-bye, and may Heaven's blessings attend
you botli."

As the old man walked away. Mary said, with much
earnestness, " O, I am so sorry that I did not know of
this before; there are so many ways in which I might
have helped the poor oLl man."

f..

Chapter IX.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

'T^UREE distinct epochs have marlcecl the migra-
fX)^ tory movements of the people of this Province
hetv\een tlie closing years of the last century
and the last quarter of the present. The first one is
included between about 1780 and 1800, the second is
between about 181.3 and about 1830, and the third
reaches from about 1850 till 1875 or 1880.

The first wave of immigration that struck the fron-
tier of this Province was the U. E. Loyalists, when
they sought shelter, under the British flag, in the wil-
derness of Canada. The second was mostly composed
of the children of the first settlers. When the.se came
to be men and women they struck for the wilderness,
as their fathers and mothers had done in their day.
This wave rolled itself further inland than its prede-
cessor had done. The Talbot District, the New Pur-
chase, and the country north of the eastern settlements
constituted mostly the objective points during this
period. The third wave was made up of both
native and foreign elements. It spread itself over
the Huron tract, the Queen's bush, and the country
between the Georgian Bay and Ottawa.

116

A MONO THF, KDREST TREES.

Of the trials i-ndured, tho hardships underwent, the
privations sufiiTed, the difficulties overcome, the dis-
couraf];einents met with, and the wearisome toils of
many of those immi^rrants no one can form a correct
estimate, unless liis knowled<;e is the result of per-
sonal experience. If nil the facts settinnr forth tin
sutterinfi;s endured durin<jj, and as the result of, these
migrations, could lie written in a hook, there is iin
douht but it would i;»' one of the most absorbiiii:
volumes ever read.

John Bushman <,'()es to the woo Is with the second
of these miijrat/ions. He forms asoitof coimectiiii:
link between the Hr.st and third, and, to a certjiin
extent, his experi^.'nces are tlie countei-pjirt of both df
them. The position of the fathers was like that of
.soldiers that invade a hostile country, and tear u}) the
roads an<l break down all tiie brid<;es behind them, so
that there is no chance for retreat, nor for reinforce-
ments to follow. With them it is either conquer or
die — death or victory. The pioneers of this country
had no choice but to stand at their post and fight it out
The Yankees had robbed them of their property, and
driven them from their homes, so that they had no
place to retreat to, and they had no kind friends be-
hind them to send on needed supplies. With them it
was, either get for yourselves or go without. Do or
die. Produce or perish.

But with John Bushman and his associates it was
different. They had to face similar hardships, and do
the same hard work, in clearing up the land, in mak-
ing roads, in building school-houses, mills and churches,

HOMEWA^RD BOUND.

117

as wrll as homes for tliomsolvos. Rut they had bet-
tor tWilities than th»'ir fatliers had possessed in doing
thcst' tiiinrjs. Most of the pioneers of John's day had
I'lionds tliat wen' able and \villin<^ to lielp them in
case of an emer(r«>ncy, and if not, they couhl <;o to tlie
front for a few weeks, in hayinc; and liarvest, and
cam money to pureha.se wliat tiiey nee(h'd.

And this is etpially true coneerninL; the pioneers of
tlie later niii^ration. Many »in lionest backwoodsman
has i,fone to tiie front and earned tlie doUars needed to
tide him over some pressincr financial diiiiculty. And
whin tlie task was done he w«'nt to his rustic home
with a lii,dit step, thankful that he had the ability and
opporttniity to help himself. It is in this way that
many of the best homes of our land have been built
up The people who come after us will never fully
realize what the pioneers have done and suifered to
make this the banner Province of this wide Dominion;
and if the time should ever come when justice will be
done to the memory of these successive waves of ira-
inicfration, there is no doubt but the highest place will
be given to the sturdy men who first sent the sound
of the woodman's axe rinoring through the frontier
wilderness of Upper Canada.

The day before John was to start a young man by
the name of Moses Moosewood came to see him. He
said to him :

" I hear that Will Briars is going with you to the
Purchase. Is that so ? "

"Yes; he and I are intending to start in the morn-
ing. He will drive the cows, and I am to take a load

118

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

of .stuff with the oxen. The horse teams will come on
the day a,''ter, so that we will all reach the place about
the same time," was John's answer.

" Well, John," said Mo.se, as he was called by every-
body, " I have a great mind to get ready and go too.
You know I am old enough to strike out for myself.
Father has plenty of help without me ; besides, if 1 am
ever going to build up a home and have something of
my own, it is time that 1 began to lay the foundation.'

"That is all true," .said John; " l)ut, Mose, do you
want to know my honest opinion about your going :*"

"Yes, John, 1 do," he answered: " I know you have
not got a very high opinion of me, in a general way, but
I dare say it is as good as I deserve. But T would like
very much to know what you think of my chances in
the bush. You know I have a right to a hundred
acres of land whenever 1 choose to settle."

"Well, Mose," .'^aid he, "if you could be persuaded
to give up your wild, reckless ways, and keep your-
self out of mi.schicf, I don't know a young man that
would be more likely to succeed. You have in you
the stuti' that 'inen are made of ; but I am sorry to say
that it is terribly warped and twisted. If you could
get straightened out and keep straight, you could suc-
ceed anywhere."

" John," said the young man .solemnly, " I thank
you for your honest and friendly words. I have had
these thoughts myself before now. My mind is made
up ; time is too precious to be frittered away as I have
been doing. Life is worth too much to throw it away
on .senseless and useless pursuits. I am going to

HOMEWARD BOUND.

119

straid^htcn up. I am j^oing to turn over a new leaf. I
am ijoing to start out on anew line of life."

"Those are no])le resolves," said John, with great
earnestness; " I am more than pleased, I am delighted,
Moses, to hear you talk like this; but there is only one
way in which you can carry these good intentions to
a successful issue."

" What way is that?" inquired Moses.

"Go to the great Helper of the weak, and seek
strength and guidance from Him."

' I have done that already, and He has heard and
helped me. That is why 1 am here. I want to go
with you, John, that I may have the benefit of your
counsel and example. And another reason that I have
for going is, that I may get away from my evil asso-
ciations. What would you advise me to do ?"

" I would not like to persuade you in any way to do
what you might regret hereafter," John said. " But,
so far as I can see, no young man, who is able and
willing to work, can do any better than to go to the
new country and make a home for himself. And if
you do as you say you will, there is every prospect
that you can do well by gomg with us to the bush."

"Wbsther I fail or succeed, John, one thing is set-
tled, nnd that is, I am done with the old reckless life
that 1 have always lived," said Moses. " I am going
to be a man, the Lord helping me. I will go with you
and try my fortune in the woods. I only wish that
I nad gone with you last spring. I might have made
a commencement then, as you did, and now I would
have a place to go to."

120

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" Well, Moses, yon can't recall the past," said his
friend, " but you can improve the present. Take this
number of a lot to Scjuire Myrtle. Get him to write,
and tind if it is still vacant, and send in your naiiif
and certificate, showing that you are entitled to land.
If the lot is vacant you will get it. If it is taken up
you will be granted a lot in the immediate neighbor-
hood."

" How far is this lot from yours ?" he asked.

" Will Briars' lot is betw^een it and mine."

" That is not so far but that we can be neighbors. I
will go to see the Squire at once, and then make my
preparations to start with the teams."

" I think you had better wait until you get the lot
secured, for two reasons. You would not know where
to commence work, if you were there, until you get
your papers. And if you go without them there is no
telling how long you would have to wait for them, as
there is not a post-office within tw^enty-five or thirty
miles of the place," said Bushman.

" Well, can't you find something for me to do until
the papers come to hand? Why not hire me for a
month, and pay me by boarding me after I get my
papers ? "

" I would be very glad to do that. But how would
you get the papers ?" was the reply.

" When we come to the last post-office, as we are
going out, I will write back to the Squire and tell him
the name of it, and he can send the papers there, and
I will come and get them.* I would rather do that

*The writer can easily remember when there was no post-office
nearer than thirty-five miles from where the family lived.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

121

than to lose so much time in waiting for them," said
Moses.

" That is well thought of," said John. " We will
settle the matter in that way. You go to work for
me until you want to start for yourself. I will pay
you in board, and perhaps help you sometimes, if you
wish it."

" Now for another thing, John," said Moses ; " what
will 1 need to take with me to the bush ?"

" Well, the first thing is an axe or two — better take
two, in case one should break. You will want your
clothes, as a matter of course ; beyond these, you
would do well to let your mother give directions and
do the packing up, for, you know, she will think of
things that we could not. Remember there is no need
for superfluities in the backwoods. But if you have
a gun you had better take it along, and some ammuni-
tion, too, for there are plenty of things to shoot at ;
and, in fact, a man is hardly safe without a gun," said
John.

"What kinds of game are there ?" inquired Moses.
' Anything dangerous ? "

" There are martins, minks, muskrats, beavers, otters,
i'oxes, deer, moose, wolves, bears, and, if rumor may be
credited, panthers have been seen occasionally. These
are rather dangerous customers, more so than the bear
or the wolf. Besides, there are wildcats and racoons
in abundance, as well as squirrels of all kinds. Then
there are wild ducks of different descriptions, par-
tridges and blue pigeons in large numbers. Yes, Moses,
you will have use for a gun for many years to come if
you stay in that part of the country," John said.

122

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

Ill

" My stars, John, liut that is a long list. What
would hecome of a fellow if all of these should come
at him at once ? He could not climb a tree from the
panther, he could not hide from the bear, he could not
run from the wolf, and he coidd not dodge the wildcat
nor stand before the moose," was Modes' rejoindei'.

" I think," said John, " that you would be safer if
you met them all together than you would be to meet
one of them alone. They would get to fighting amon,'
themselves about which should have you, and which
was the best way of killing you. The bear would say,
let me hug him to death ; the panther would say, let
me claw him to death; the wolf would sav, let me bite
him to death; the wildcat would say, let me scratch
him to death ; and the moose would say, stand back, all
of you, and let me stamp him to death.

" Then they would go into court to settle the ques-
tions in dispute. Eloquent lawyers and astute judges!
would focalize their legal lore upon the subject. One
lawyer woidd put in a plea, another lawyer would put
in a counterplea. One learned judge would say it wasj
one way, another learned judge would say it wa.s an-
other way. Then all the learned judges would say]
that it was not any way. One attorney would move!
foi' an enlargement, another attorney would move tol
tighten things up by giving the screw another twist
one grave counsel would show cause, another gravd
counsel would show contra. One month a point woiil
be advanced a stage, another month a point would be|
put back a stage.

" Now, while the snapping and snarling pack ws

HOMEWARD BOUND.

123

settlins^ the matter, you could run away to a place of
safety, like a wise man ; or, if you were fool enough
to wait for the Hnal decision, you would likely die with
old af^e before you found out whether you were to be
killed by the bear or the panther, or the wildcat or the
wolf."

" Well done, John," said Moses, " I knew you were
something of a philosopher, but I did not know that
vou were a painter as well. That is a fine fancy
picture that you have given."

"It is not all fancy, my honest friend," said he.
"When I was a boy, two men got into a dispute about
the line between their farms. One wanted it moved
two rods one way, and the other wanted it moved two
rods the other way. They went into court, and lawed
each other for thirteen years, until the case went
through all the courts ; and Comfort v. Johnston, and
Johnston* versus Comfort, became like a by-word
among the lawyers all over the country. After they
had spent money enough in law to have purchased
either of the two farms, they settled the dispute by
one buying the other out."

" Well, I shall take a gun and a good supply of
ammunition with me, anyway," replied young Moose-
wood, " for I don't want to be killed by any of the
snarling brigade."

Among the necessary articles for life in the bush,
iwas the flint and steel, to be used in producing tire,

* Mr. Johnston was the writer's grandfather, anil the facts were
I as stated above.

124.

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

when, as was often the case, the fire on the hearth
went out. Iii>stea(l of striking a match, as we do
now, people would la}' a piece of punk on some gun-
powdt-r. Then thoy would produce a spark, either by
snapping the gun over it, or by striking a flint with
steel. When the powder ignited, it would set tire to
the punk. Wiili the help of a handful of tow, or
some diy kindling^!, our gjandniothers, in this way,
made the tire to do their cooking, and our grand-
fatliers could lieg or I orrow or steal, from under the
dinner- pot, tire eUMUgh to burn their brush-heaps or
log- heaps.

When Moses spoke of taking ammunition, John
was reminded that he had not yet provided for these
indispensable appendages to new country housekeep-
ing. He went and got a link of steel and a couple of
dozen flints to take with him.

The rest of the day \vas spent in getting things
together, and in loading up the waggon, as John and
Will Briars were to start the next morning at daylight.
The condition of things at the two homes can be
understood only by those who have had personal
experience in the matter. When the first permanent
break in the family circle is made, it seems to affect
the whole household. When the eldest son is going
away to commence for himself, it seems to throw a
shadow over the old home. For some years his father
has been leaning upon him more than he would be
willing to confess, and he has been guided by his
advice to a greater extent than he had been conscious
of. And now he feels as if some part of his strength

HOMEWARD BOUND.

125

was leaving him, as though part of himself was going

away.

The younger children have learned to look upon
their elder brother as a sort of over-shadowing pro-
tection. He has been to them at once a brother, a
friend, a counsellor, and a guide. And now he is
going away. How sad they look ! The smaller ones
speak in whispers and walk on tiptoe, as if they were
afraid to awaken the spirit of weeping that they seem
to think is sleeping in some corner of the room.

And who can describe the feelings of the mother, as
for the last time she puts his things in place, and that
place the box in which they are to be carried from her
sight and from her home, perhaps forever ?

How the deepest emotions of her soul will be
awakened, as memory reproduces some of the events
of the past. She will think of that night, so many
years ago, when she gained, by a painful experience,
such a knowledge of some of the mysteries of human
life as she never had before. She will think of the
time when the girl-mother first looked into the blue
depths of the dreamy eyes of her baby boy. She will
remember how, in the old times, she rocked the cradle
with her foot, while her hands plied the needle. Then
her mother-love would fly off down the coming years,
on the airy wings of fancy, painting beautiful pictures
of the future of her son. " And now," she says to
herself, " he is going from me a man — a married man.
Another has come, and though she has not crowded
me out of his affections, she has crowded h rself into
the warmest corner of his heart. But I do lot com-

:■' I

ii^ '

126

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

! ■ -^

plain. I don'fc blame Mary; I did the same myself;
and I hope that her married life may be as happy as
mine has been. I hope that John will be as good a
husband as he is a son." Unselfish woman ! unselfish
woman ! So it has been from the beginning ; so it
will be till the end.

The Myrtle home was no less agitated. When the
eldest girl goes out from the old home, she seems to
carry very much of the sunlight of that home with
her. The young children have learned to look upon
her as a kind of second mother to them. The older
children look to her for counsel, feeling that in her
they always have a sympathetic friend.

The mother has come to look upon her as a sort of
superfluous right hand, or as a second self. The father
has always looked on her as next to the mother in
importance to the household. And in the Myrtle
household all this was especially true. No daughter
ever filled all the positions above named better thin
Mary had done. She was leaving behind her four
brothers and three sisters, all younger than herself.
There was sadness in that home. The younger children
had got so accustomed to have Mary hear them say
their prayers, and put them to bed, that they thought
no one else could do it as well as she could. When
the last night came, poor Mary nearly broke down, a-^
the children gathered around her, and at her knee said
their evening prayers for the last time, perhaps, for-
ever. But she soon regained her composure, and went
on with her preparations for the events of to-morrow.

John and Will Briars were on the way, and were
one day's journey with the cattle.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

127

Next morning early, the two teams, with their loads,
starti'il. But early as it was, they were not to get
away without a surprise. As they came opposite the
school-house, where John and Mary used to go to
school and to meeting, they were hailed by a lot of
young women, with Lucy Briars at their head. They
were carrying a box, and when they came to the
Squire's team, they asked him to take the box and
put it where it would be entirely safe. They said, " We
have Lought a set of dishes, as a present for Mary,
and we want you to take good care that they are not
broken on the way." The Sc^uire promised to do as
they wished.

Mary thanked them very sincerely, and gave them a
standing promise, which she said should last a hundred
years, that if any of them, either married or single,
should ever visit at her home among the forest trees,
they should be treated to the very best that Sylvan
Lodge could furnish.

At noon the next day they overtook John and Will,
with the cattle. Then they all went on together,
making but slow progress over the new and rough
roads.

Chapter x.

SOME WHITE GIPSIES.

k T the close of the second day the movers found
themselves still nine miles from their journey's
end. A consultation was held as to what was
best to do. To go on in the darkness of the night,
made darker by the tops of the trees, many of which
were evergfreens, was a thini? not to be thoucjbt of,
Equally impracticable would be the idea of trying to
reach the only house on the road, which was all of
two miles ahead. There seemed to be no other way
than to become "gipsies " for one night, at least. They
decided to make a good fire, and draw the waggon up
around it, then tie the horses and cattle to trees, feed
them some hav, a number of bundles of which had
been secured at a farmhouse, ten or twelve miles back,
and get themselves some supper, and then put in the
night as best they could.

With people of energy, action is apt to follow deci-
sion. So it was in this case. Every one went to
work, and in a short time everything was arranged
for " the night in the woods," a term by which this
incident was designated in after years.

! ■ ! ' '

SOME WHITE GIPSIES.

129

Every one seemed disposed to do a reasonable share
toward making the occasion not only bearable, but
enjoyable as well.

Alter Mrs. Myrtle and Mary had cleared away the
tea things, and the two elder men had indulged in
their " after supper smoke," as, I am sorry to say, thoy
were in the habit uf doing, the whole company sat
down around the blazing tire. Some sat on logs, and
others sat down on the leaves, and leaned themselves
a*'ainst the trees. When all was quiet, William Briars
spoke and said, " Squire Myrtle, I don't remember that
1 ever heard you tell a story. Can you tell us some
incident in your past experience to help to pass away
the time i "

" Oh, as to that," said the Squire, " I am not much
good at story-telling. As a magistrate, I have to deal
with hard, stubborn facts so much that I have about
lost all relish for fiction of all kinds."

" We don't want fiction," said Will ; " I could furnish
enough for the whole company, if that were needed.
And as for romance, we need not go far for that. Our
position to-night is romantic enough for anybody.
But give us some of the hard facts. Squire, and we will
be thankful."

" About the funniest case that I ever had on my
hands," said Squire Myrtle, " was the case of a man
who was a firm believer in wntches. He came to me
with a complaint against one of his neighbors, and
said the neighbor was a wizard. He said, * The man is
in the habit of coming in the night ; he steals me out
of bed, takes me to the stable, puts a saddle and bridle

130

AMONO THE FOIIKST TREES.

:.|

on rne, turns ino into a horse, i^oes into the barn, tills
one of my own ba<,rs with wheat, puts it on my hack,
gets on top of it, ri(U'S away to the mill, leaves the
grist, and then rides me hack liome again.'

" When he first came, I thought he had gone out of
his mind, for I knew tlie man very well, and I always
looked on him to be a man of more than average intel-
ligence. I tried to put hifu off, but he still adhered to
his statement, and insisted on havijig a trial. To please
him, I appointed a time to hear the case, sent a sum-
mons to the accused party, and gave directions about
witnesses.

" In the meantime, I felt a good deal of curiosity to
know how this thing was going to end. I knew the
accused party to be a man of a low type intellectually
and socially. But T knew nothing against his morality,
How he would take it was a matter of some import-
ance. If he had been of a higher intellectual cast, he
would likely enjoy it as a joke. But how he would
feel and act must be seen when the time came.

" When the trial came on, all the parties were on
hand.

" The complainant testified positively to the state-
ments made in the charge. And no amount of cross-
examination could shake his testimony in the least.*

* This is no handessfctioii. Seventy or eighty years ago the belief
in witclies was very connnon. Even some intelligent people were
firm believers in the power of witolioraft. The writer knew an old
man who went to his grave with the Hrni eonvictior thai he had
often earriecl grists for witches, and been led oats iu a trough like a
horse.

I: :, ^

SOME WHITE GII'SIES.

131

" His wife te.stitiecl tluit on several occa.sion.s lier hus-
baii"! had «(()ne to bed at the usual time, all right
apinirently ; that on waking up in tlie night she found
him gone, and he could not be found ; that he would
come home about daylight, complain of being very
tired, go to shsep, and sleep till nearly noon.

"Two of the older children corroborated the state-
ment of their mother. So did a young man who made
his home at the place.

"The accused, as a matter of course, denied having
any knowledge of the att'air from iirst to last.

"Just at this juncture the miller, to whose null the
man-horse was said to have been driven, appeared on
the scene and recjuested to lie sworn. On being exam-
ined as a witness, he said : ' On hearing this morning
of this strange case, I felt it my duty to come here, as
I think I can throw some light on the subject. On
ditl'erent occasions, on going to the mill in the morn-
ing, I have found a bag of wheat standing just outside
the door, and having the name of the complainant
written on the bag with black ink. I do not know
who left it there. But I made up my mind that,
in some way, there was a mystery behind the affair,
and resolved to keep my own counsel, and await fur-
ther discoveries. Two or three times, when the owner
of the name on the bags has been to the mill with
other bags, I have been on the point of telling him
about them. But I felt sure that he could not clear
up the mystery. So I concluded to wait a little longer.
There are six bags of good wheat safely put away in
one corner of the mill. The owner can have them any
time he calls for them.'

132

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" The matter began to wear a serious aspect. The
evidence established two very important points. First,
the absence from home of the complainant ; and se-
condly, the fact that his bags were in some mysterious
manner conveyed to the mill in the night. The case
seemed to be getting more and more mystified. I
don't know how the matter might have ended, had it
not been that my wife had visitors that al'ternoon,
Two women came on a visit. They lived on the road
leading from the complainant's place to the mill. On
my wife's telling them that I hrad a case on hand that
afternoon, they naturally inquired what it was
about, and who were the parties. My wife toid them
what .she knew about it. Then one of them said, 'I
think that, perhaps, I might give some information
that would be of use.'

" My wife brou^lit the woman into the room saying,
' Here is an important witness for you.'

" I asked her two or three questions, and then told
her she must testify, which she did, as follows:

." 'My husband's brother lives on the lot next to ours,
He has been sick for more than a year. We are often
called in the night to go to him. On two, or perhaps
three occasions, we have met Mr. Crabtree going to-
wards the mill, with a bag full of some sort of grain
on his shoulder. He always seemed to be in a hurry,
We thought it was very strange, but knowing him to
be an honest man we said nothing about it.'

" Light now began to dawn on the minds of all pre-
sent. ' Sleep -ivalking,' was whispered from one to I
another, until the room was in a perfect buzz. Pre-

SOME WHITE GIPSIES.

133

sently some one started laughing. This went like a
contagion until the court became a scene of boisterous
merriment. The finishing touch was given to the pic-
ture by Mr. Crabtree running across to Mr. Thistle-
down and, taking his hand, asked him if he could ever
fortrive this ridiculous blunder.

" ' We will let this pass,' said Mr. Thistledown. ' I
thought you were acting more like a child than any-
thing else. But I believed that you were honest in your
fancies, and I hoped that you would find out your
mistake some time. I am glad that you are satisfied.'

'"Court is dismissed without costs, and verdict re-
served,' said I, as the two men went off together."

"Well, Squire," said Will, "that is an interesting
story, and we are thankful to you for telling it."

" This is a good place for witch stories," said Moses.
"With the moon shining down through the tree tops
making shadows, and the fire shining up through the
tree tops making shadows, we have such a combina-
tion and interlacing of shadows, as are very well
adapted to give hiding places to witches."

"I move for an adjournment," said Mrs. Myrtle,
who was somewhat wearied, and a good deal shaken
up by the long ride, over the rough roads, on a lumber

waggon.

" Carried unanimously," said the Squire, in response
to his wife's motion.

Will and Moses decided that they would stay up
and keep a good fire while the rest lay down to sleep
on some temporary beds, fixed under the waggons.

After Mr. Bushman had offered a prayer for divine

134

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

ili!

^■1

protection, they all retired for the night, except the
two young men. They faithfully fulfilled their
engagement.

Next morning the two young men had a good deal
to say about Squire Myrtle's nasal powers as a lirst-
class snorer, and John's ability as a nocturnal ox
driver. They claimed that the one could snore loud
enough to wake up a sleeping earthquake, and the
other could holla loud enough to frighten a young
tornado.

After a lunch had been enjoyed, and a prayer
offered by Mr. Myrtle, they hitched up the teams and
started.

In less than an hour they came to the house of
their nearest neighbor, it being seven miles from their
own place. Here John was warmly received by the
family where he had got his bread and butter the
year before.

On imjuiry they learned that Mr. Root and his men
were to move out of John's house either that day or
the next. They had already waited a week for John
to come, as they did not like to leave the place till he
was there.

On learning this, it was thought best for John to go
forward as fast as he could, and let Mose and Will
drive the cattle, and the whole party to follow as fast
as they could get on, over the new rough road.

John reached the place about ten o'clock, and was
just in time to met his old friends before a part of
them went away. They gave him a warm greeting,
Harry Hawthorn especially became almost boisterous
in his reception of an old friend.

SOME WHITE GIPSIES.

135

After the first salutations were over, the first ([iies-
tion asked of John was, " Where's your wife ?"

John answered, " She is coming on behind, along
with some other friends, with three waggon loads of
stuti"." At this intelligence, the men began to hurrah
for Mrs. Bushman, until the woods echoed in all direc-
tions, hurrah, hurrah.

Ur. Root here said, " Boys, I move that we don't
move a foot until Mrs. Bushman and her friends come
on. I want to see a living woman once more before
I m ten miles further into the bush."

" Shure, and oigh seconds that ; come, boys, we can
all afford to take a half a day, or so, for the sake of
welconiin' the leddy, who will be after presiding over
Sylvan Lodge," said the exuberant Harry.

" Let us give the lady a short address of welcome,
to the back\, oods," said Mr. Beach.

" I propose that our respected ' boss ' be appointed
to give Mrs. Bushman an address of welcome, when
she comes," said John Brushy.

"All right, boys," said Mr. Root; "we will see what
can be done."

Then turning to John, he said, " I have had two

reasons for staying here till you came. One is, I did

not want to go and leave the house alone ; another is,

I got a lot of hay and other things in by the sleighing,

[and I find that I have more than I shall need, and

^ want you to take it off' my hands."

"All right," said John; "what are the articles you
I want to dispose of?"

" There is about a ton of hay, and some hams of

136

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

•i«.

if"

pork, and some flour, and a few bushels of potatoes,"
was the answer.

" Very well," said John. " I will not only take them,
but I will be glad to get them, as I shall need them. I
have four head of cattle to feed, and 1 shall have two
men besides myself and wife to board, besides comers
and goers ; and if I am not much mistaken, there will
be plenty of the latter for the next year or two."

" Here are the waggons coming now, the first that
have ever been seen on this road," said Mr, Root.

As the teams came up, the men stood out in front of
the house, and gave three cheers for the first white
woman that ever stood in Rockland Township, as they
said.

Mary and her mother came forward, and were in-
troduced to the company by John. When all had gone
into the house, Mr. Root handed Mary the key of the
door, and said,

" Mrs. Bushman, by the appointment of the gentle-
men who have, with me, occupied this house during
the past winter, I now present to you the keys of Syl-
van Lodge. We are sorry that we could not present
it to you in a more tidy condition, but we have done
the best we could. And, in honor of my men, I wish
to say to you, that during our stay in this house I
have not heard a word said that might not have been
properly spoken in your presence. We look upon you
as the first white woman that ever came to reside ia
this township. You will feel lonesome, perhf s, at
fiirst, but let me say, you will not be long alone."

" Durinor the week that we have been waiting for

SOMK WHITE GIPSIES.

137

iiitle-
lurincr

I' Syl-

•esent

done

wish

isel

been

you

Ide in

lO-'t, at

Icy for

vour husband's return we have assisted Mr. Beach to
put up a house on the lot next to this, and within
three iii')nths he expects to have his family settled
there.

" Also, Mr. Hawthorn has sent home fumls to hnn<r
out his family. His lot is just over the boundary, and
he intends to settle there in two or three months.
I think that by the first of September you will
have a warm-hearted Irishwoman and a true-hearted
Englishwoman for near neighbors. And it is not
improbable that next summer I may bring to the
loeaHty the best American woman in the State of
Michigan, Mrs. Root. May you long live to be the pre-
I siding genius of Sylvan Lodge, and an angel of mercy
I in the settlement."

The whole company cheered Mr. Root as he sat
[down. " Mrs. Bushman " was called for.

Mary, covered with blushes, for the first time in her

t'e attempted to make a speech. She said: " Mr. Root,
[and gentlemen, I thank you sincerely for your kind
Iwishes, ami for the cheering information you have
Ifiiven me. And I want to say to all of you, that if at

' time any of you find the need of rest or refresh-
ments, don't pass by this place. The door of this
house will never be closed in the face of either the
liungry or- the weary."

"These are truly spoken words, brave little woman,"
laid John to his wife. " And I will stand by you in
llus thing, Mary, as long as we have a shelter over our
leads or a crumb on our table."

Trust in the Lord, and do good, and thou shalt

138

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt bo fed.'
This," said Mrs. Myrtle, " is an old promise, made cen-
turies ago, but thousands have proved it to be true.
You may do the same."

The wagr^ons were soon unloaded, and an invitation
to wait for some dinner gladly accepted by Mr. Root
and his men. After this was over the road-makers
took their leave, after extorting a promise from Mr.
Bushman and Scjuire Myrtle to make them a visit at
their shanty before returning to their homes.

After the men went away all parties wore busy in
examining the place. John's father and father-in-law
were greatly taken up with the land and timber.
They also gave John credit for the neat and tasty way
in which the house was built. In fact, they expressed
satisfaction with the appearance of everything they
saw.

Mary and her mother, with the help of Will Briars,
were not long in setting things up in the house. There
were no stoves to be put up in those days, but an old-
fashioned fireplace answered the same purpose. With
its lug-pole and trammel hooks, and flagstone heartli,
sooty chimney, and its bed of hot coals, on which sets
the old-time bake-kettle, with its big loaf of bread in
it, and its shovelful of coals on the top, seems to the
memory like a fading picture of the long ago. But
fading and fanciful as this picture may seem to the
housekeepers of to-day, it represents what was a do-
mestic reality two generations back in this Ontario of
ours in thousands of homes.

Mary's mother had provided the wide and shallow I

SOME WHITK GIPSIES.

139

bake-kettle, with its iron lid, and the long-handled
frying-pan as its accompaniment, these being among
the indisponsables in the backwoods.

When the things were all placed, the house was far
from being an uncomfortable one. It was divided into
three rooni.'a by rough board partitions. In one corner
wa.s the ladder, by which the " loft " or upper part of
the house was reached.

The " upstairs " of a log house is an in<lescribable
place. If the reader has ever seen the upper room of
a log house, no description of mine is needed. If he
has never seen it, no description could make him fully
appreciate the reality. It would pay him to travel
fifteen or twenty miles, climb up a ladder eight or ten
feet, and look around him. If he does this he will
soon see that the place, like a bachelor's hall,

Is a store-house of comical oddities.

Things that have never been neighbors before.

He will likely see all sorts of things, ranging from
a baby's cast-ofF shoe to a high-post bedstead, with
curtains of glazed cambric in bright colors.

Before night the premises had been pretty tho-
roui^hly explored. Mary and her mother were delighted
with the beautiful little lake, with its evergreen sur-
roundings. And right there and then John had to
give them a promise that he would not cut away the
pretty Canadian balsam trees that stood a little back
jfrom the water, and threw their cone-like shadows
I upon the mirror-like surface of the lake.

When the two fathers and John took a walk

140

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

r it

■I

around the lake, they all agreed that it would be
folly to cut down the trees of cedar, spruce and bal-
sam that so completely environed it.

" Thin them out, John," said his father, " by ciittinij
out the underbrush, and clean off the rubbish. Then
seed it down. In a year or two you will have one of
the finest retreats that could be desired for cattle in
the hot summer days."

" Don't think of cutting them down, John," said
the Squire, " not for years to come, at all events— not
until their increased size makes it dangerous to leave
them standing."

When they came around to the house again, Mary
said to John, " What are those tall trees away off
over the lake? They stand so high above the other
trees, that they seem to be looking down on all their
neighbors."

" Yes, little wife," said he laughing, " that is what
they are doing, I hope that you will never get so high
and lofty, that you will look down on any person of
good character. These trees are the aristocrats of the
forest. They are pines. The oak is stronger, the maple |
is hardier, and the cedar is more durable, but none |
of them can compare with the pine in height. These
trees are on my land, and are the tallest among a j
pinery of about fifteen acres."

Night came on and sent the company into the house,!
where they spent a couple of hours in friendly chat,
and retired, after prayers by Mr. Bushman. Will am
Moses slept up stairs and the rest below.

Chapter XI

CLEARING LAND.

JHE latter part of the month of April, in some
seasons, brings a spell of dry weather. This
was the case the sprinjr that John and his friends
went to the bush. The two fathers had made their
arrangements to stay a week with the young people,
and help to clear off a piece of land for spring wheat.
The first thing to be done was to burn the heaps of
brush that were thick and numerous all over John's
twelve acres of chopping, with the exception of a small
space by the house, which had been burnt in the fall.
The most of the chopping having been done while the
leaves were on the trees, the brush heaps were in good
condition for burning.

There is something that is awe-inspiring in seeing
a large fire anywhere ; but to one who, for the first
time, witnesses the burning of a large new fallow,
when everything is dry as tinder, there are thoughts
and feelings present that will not soon or ea.sily be
forgotten.

As he listens to the crackling of the flames, as
they consume whatever they fasten on, he will think

142

AMONG THE FORKST TREP:S.

of the time when, " the heavens being on fire, shall
be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with fervent
heat."

As he sees the smoke risinj^ in dark and whirlinf
columns, as it ascends towards the sky, he is reininded
of the " smoke that ascendeth for ever and ever."

As he watches the fire leaping up in cones of flame,
rising higher and higher, as the heat increases, until
it seems to send up its blazing tongues as if to kiss
the sun, he will think of a world on fire.

And as the heated air rises and the cool air rushes in,
from all directions, scattering the sparks and burning
leaves here and yonder, he will think of the whirlwind
of wrath, that will some day sweep all the enemies
of good into the destruction that awaits the ungodly
of every kind.

About eleven o'clock in the morning, the three
young men started out with lighted torches, made of
dry cedar, to set the brush on fire, ''he older men
and the women were to stay by the house, with pails
of water to put out any little fire that might kindle
too near the house or stable.

The progress of the young men could be followed
by the track of smoke and flame that they left behind
them, and in about twenty minutes the whole clearing
with the exception of the little space was in a solid
mass of smoke and flame. They all stood and looked
at the scene before them, until the heat sent the women
into the house. The men, blinded by the smoke,
covered with ashes and dust, and dripping with per-
spiration, battled back the fire when it came danger- 1

ously n

of the i

"Bui

no har

MoosL'W

"Boy

you lik(

We can'

both pk

house an

" Johr

Mrs. My

"No,

"It see

danger ir

I suppos

hundred ]

do if you

hear you

way horn

" Well,

do," said

in any sue

travel bei

in the wrc

tion to a

that to tl

Ontario, b

to take mj

^ we wou

"vhen we ff

CLEARING LAND.

143

ously near to the house, but in half an hour the hardest
of the tight was over.

" Burnt as bhick as your hat and nobody hurt and
no harm done," was tlie hiconic remark of Moses
Mooisewood at one o'clock p.m. that April day.

" Boys," said John to William and Moses, " would
you like to take a stroll and have a look at your lo'^s?
We can't well do any more here to-day." They were
both pleased with the proposal. They went into the
house and loaded two guns to take with them.

" John, are you not afraid of getting lost?" inquired
Mrs. Myrtle.

" No, mother, I cannot say that I am."

"It seems to me," .she answered, " that there is great
danofer in getting lost in such an unbroken wilderness.
I suppose that in some directions you might go a
hundred miles and not find a house. What would you
do if you got off* where you could not make anybody
hear you holla — and when you could not tell the
way home."

" Well, in that case I don't know what we would
do," said he, " but we are not going to place ourselves
in any such position ? But you ask, how far would we
travel before we would lind a house if we started
in the wrong direction ? That would be a hard ques-
tion to answer. The Indians and old hunters say
that to the north there are lakes as large as Lake
Ontario, but they are a long way off. I don't intend
to take my friends to hunt up these northern waters,
as we would find nothing better than fish and Indians
when we got to them."

144

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

"Have you a compass ? " asked Mrs. Myrtle.

" No, we don't need one," said John.

" How can you tell in what direction you are rroing
without a compass ?" .she a.sked.

" Wherever nature has planted a hemlock tree, there
it has planted a compass, and one too, that is not
affected by mineral deposits," answered John.

" How is that," incjuired John's father, who catiie in
just in time to hear the remark.

" Last summer," said he, " two Indians came along niie
day, and asked for somethin<]j to eat. After they had
taken what I gave them, one of them said: 'Me like to
gib white brother .some to pay my dinner. Me hab no
money, but me tell you someting. Did white brother
ever see hemlock compash ? Me guess not. Look at
that tree dere,' said the Indian, pointing to a large one
that is chopped down since. ' Look up-up to very
top. You see him lean over to east. Every one hem-
lock lean over to see sun rise, sun home of Great
Spirit,' said he.

" As they were starting away I asked thein their
names, and where they lived. The old one answered,
my name is Leaning Tree. My friend's name is Bend-
ing Limb. We live in Huron country,, at Saugeen
River."

'* There is a germ of pleasant thought
Here by the wildwood Indian taught.
That nature bows a reverent head
When morning sun comes from its bed."

" Well, John," said the Squire, " do you think there is
any truth in the Indian's notion about the hemlock ?"

OLEAUlNa LAND.

14')

"Decidedly there is truth in it," said John. "You
cant find a hemlock tree that the top branch don't
lean to the east, unless the top has been broken off.
And with this fact to start with, we can find any
point where we have hemlock timber to look to."

" How is it that we never heard of that before? We
have Indians in our vicinity, and we never hear any-
thing like that among them," was the remark of John's
father.

" I suppose," answered John, " tliat one reason is
because hemlock is not plentiful in that part of the
country, so that the Indians have some other method
of finding their way from point to point."

I have omitted to mention that two dogs had been
brou<,dit along with the company; the one was a large
mastiff', and the other a gray bull -dog, witli a mixture
of Scotch terrier. This dog was allowed to follow the
young men to the bush. He belonged to Mose.

They soon came to the corner of Will Briars' lot.
Here they saw the pretty little spring, by the side of
which the surveyors were taking their dinner when
they heard the sound of John's axe the year before.
Will and Mose were delighted with the place.

" Here," said Will, " I shall build my house, and
there will be no wells to dig."

" Yes," said Mose. " You can build your stable in
that low place down there by the big hemlock. Then
you can fix spouts to take the water as it pours out of
the rock, and carry it right into the stalls without
once having to lift it. Won't that be handy ? "

" Look, boys," said John. " See ; that big tree-top

146

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

leans to the east. Now we will go east about half a
mile, and see what the land is like. Then we will turn
south about half a mile. That will take us on the
lot that has been applied for by Mose. Then we will
turn west for half a mile, then north for half a mile,
and come back to the place of starting, as the docu-
ments say. Now let us see how nicely we can go
around a square by the help of the Indians' hemlock
compass."

" All right," said the other two. " You go on, and we
will follow."

" Well," said John, " I will go ahead, and let Mose
keep two rods behind me, and let Will keep two
rods behind him, on a straight line. We will start
east, and if I turn to the right or left Will must tell
me. In this way we can go almost as straight as a
staked line, if we are careful."

They started, and went on as fast as they could
walk. The dog kept taking little circles, and some-
times chasing a chipmunk to its hole, and at other
times treeing a red squirrel. He kept himself in mo-
tion till they came to the tirst turning point, according
to their reckoning. While they were getting their bear-
ing for the next start Will cried out,

" See that strange-looking thing there ?" pointing
with his finger. " What in the world is it ?"

On looking, John saw something moving on the
ground that seemed to be neither walking nor run-
ning, but it was waddling along a little faster than a
snail, but not quite as fast as a duck.

When John sa a^ what it was he said to Mose, " Call

CLEARING LAND.

147

your clog, and hold him, for it will ruin him it" he gets
hold of that creature. It is a porcupine."

But it was too late The dog had got his eye on the
porcuphie, and in less time than it takes to write it he
had bold of it. For a couple of minutes it seemed as
thouirh the dog was shaking a basliet tilled with white
thornpins, and scattering them at such a rate that it
was dirficult to see the dog or his victim.

But the light was soon over, and the porcupine lay
dead, nearly torn to pieces by the ferocious dog. But
such a looking dog as was there to be seen is not often
found. His mouth and eyes, and face and neck, and
breast were thick with quills. In fact, lie looked as
though he had suddenly turned himself into a porcu-
pine, only the quills were stuck in the wrong way.
It was a sad sight to witness the sufferings of the poor
brute as he rolled on the ground, and tried to dig the
quills out of his mouth with his paws ; and in every
possible way he seemed to try to make them under-
stand his tortures, and to ask them to help him.

After a while John said to Mose, " You can do as you
hke, but if that was my dog I would put him out of his
misery as soon as possible. He never can get over this,
and the longer he lives the more will he suffer."

Mose said, " Boys, if either of you can put him out
of pain by shooting him, I wish you would do it, for I
confess I have not the heart to kill the poor brute,
after he has come with me so far from his good home."

John Bushman quietly lifted his rifle, and in two
minutes the dog lay dead beaide his victim and his
destroyer.

148

AMONri THE FOREST TREES.

The three formed into line and started south for
half a mile, as near as they could guess it. They then
turned west, and at the end of another half mile they
turned north.

"Now," said John, " we shall soon see how the old
Indian's hemlock compass works, and what kind of
surveyors we are."

" For my part," said Mose, " I have been more in-
terested in the land and timber than I have in survey
ing. I never saw finer timber than we have come
through since we started."

" John," said Will Briars, " how will we know when
we get back to the starting-place ? We did not leave
any mark."

" The spring is there," answered John, " and the big
hemlock will be a guide to the spring. We can't mis-
take them both."

" Is it not wonderful what a Bushman one summer
in the woods has made of John," said Will to Mose.

" Yes," said Mose ; " do you think that we can learn
as much in so .short a time ? "

" Boys," said John, " none of us need pretend great
ignorance of the woods. We can easily remember
when there was plenty of bush in Pelham, and other
townships around where we were raised. But goint;
into a new place, and into a strange wilderness, is like
going into wicked company. One wants to keep bis
thoughts about him, so as not to forget where he is."

They now started north to find the spring. After
walking nearly half a mile, they saw the large hem-
lock, a little out of their course. But the deviation!

was so
result
.so they
and tli(
They
not mill
after t
afterno(
fate of
backwo(
tragical!
blame b
were bot
any one.
out of sif
but in CO
" Well,
been awa
thinofs,
spikes, an
cold wate
be worth
" When
" In a t
the edge c
1 am \
' often tho
I of spring
I rocky ledg

" Well,

I f^tfier, " aii

two or thr

CLEARING LAND.

149

was so triflinj:^ that they were well satisfied with the
result of their experiment. It was now near sundown,
so they went home, and found that supper was ready,
and the people at the house were waiting for them.

They had an appetite for their supper, so there was
not much talking done by any of the young men till
lifter the eating was over. Then they related the
afternoon's adventures. Every one felt sorry for the
fate of poor Grip, as the dog was called. That his
backwoods life should terminate so suddenly and
tragically was sad indeed. But, as :io one was to
blame but Grip and the porcupine, and, since they
were both dead, there could be no reflections cast on
any one. So Grip, like many another hero, soon passed
out of sight and memory. Poor Grip ! he conquered,
but in conquering died.

" Well, boys," said Squire Myrtle, " since you have
been away Mr. Bushman and I have done two good
things. We have made half-a-dozen first-class hand-
spikes, and we have found a beautiful spring of clear,
cold water. The time will come when the spring will
be worth a good deal."

" Where is the spring ? " asked John, earnestly.

" In a thick clump of cedars, only a few feet from
the edge of the lake," answered the other.

" I am very glad to hear it," replied John ; " I have
often thought about water supply. But I had no idea
of springs about here, as the ground is so dry, with no
rocky ledges in it."

" Well, the spring is there, all right," said John's
I father, " and it is a good one. Water enough to supply
i two or three families."

150

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" Don't talk about springs," put in Mose, " till you
have seen Will's spring ; it comes out of the rock in a
stream the size of your arm, as clear as crystal, and as
cold as ice-water. It comes out about three feet from
the ground. By building his house in the right place,
he can carry the water in pipes to his kitchen, and
from there he can send it to his stable, and into the
troughs to his cattle, without either lifting the water
or takinof the animals out of the stall."

Next mornincj the five men went to work to clear
off ground for spring wheat. The two older men were
old hands at logging. The young men had not done
very much at it ; but they had some experience, and
were willing to learn.

John's oxen proved to be a good team for the work.
They seemed to know what had to be done, and how
to do it, and they would do their work without being
whipped up to it. The first day they logged and
" picked up " an acre or more. They fired the heaps
after night, before going to bed. Next morning the
heaps were well burned down. The operations of the
day before were repeated, another acre was logged off
and set fire to.

The next day was the Sabbath, and it was spent in
resting, and in religious worship and cohversation.

On Monday the two older men took a couple of
guns, and Rover, the big dog, and went to pay the
promised visit to Mr. Root and his men. The road was
cut out and logged to the place where the men were at
work, so there was no difficulty in finding their way.

They came back before sundown, bringing a lot of

partrif
shot tl
the Ian
did not
■ time th
"Joh
years t(
section
"Itl:
north o;
south oi
"Wh{
plenty c
Myrtle,
"Well
lot on p{
I could ]
by looki
last spri]
rear, I fe
some set
would m
the diffic
I will ha
had wait'
The yo
so the Sq
along vei
could not
By W
cleared.

CLEARINO LAND.

151

partridges, that Rover had started up, and the men had
shot them. They had a glowin-.^ account to give of
the land and timber where they had been. But they
did not see any signs of a house, or shanty, from the
time they left till they came back.

" John," said Mose, " You will be able to tell, in the
years to come, that you were the first settler in all this
section of country."

" I think," said John, " that I cut down the first tree
north of where Mr. Ashcraft lives, that is seven miles
south of this, you know."

" What made you come so far back, when there is
plenty of good land before you get to this ? " asked Mrs.
Myrtle, of John.

"Well," answered John, "you see, I picked out the
lot on paper, and the distance looked small on paper,
I could not tell which was settled, and which was not,
by looking at the surveyor's maps. But when I came
last spring, and found that my land was so far in the
rear, I felt a little like going back, and waiting till
some settlers would come in. But then I thought it
would not be manly. And I made up my mind to face
the difficulty, and I am glad now that I did so. Now
I will have a start sooner than I could have had if I
had waited for some one else to break the road."

The young men had made out a good day's work,
so the Squire said, and they felt that they could get
along very well without the older men. But they
could not do so much in a day.

By Wednesday night they had about five acres
cleared, all but hauling off the rail cuts. That one

152

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

man and a team could do, and John was to do it, and
Mose was to go and help Will commence on his lot, till
John got his wheat sowed. Then Will was to heln at
the logging again.

On Thursday morning the old people started home.
Mary and her mother parted without any very bois-
terous demonstrations. They both had a good supply
of fortitude and self-control, so that the parting was
not as sensational as it would have been between per-
sons of a more volatile nature. Though they had
never before been apart for one week, and now they
were parting for at least a year, neither of them gave
way to her feelings.

After old Mr. Bushman saw how the two women
deported themselves, he said to John, " There is good
stuff. There are two Christian philosophers done up in
\ women's clothes.

William Briars wrote a long letter to Betsy, and
put a large red wax seal on it, that made it look like
some of the iuiposing legal documents of the present
day. Thi& he handed, with great caution and with
strict injunctions to secrecy, into the hands of Mrs,
Myrtle, who promised him that nobody should see it
or hear from it until she could place it in Betsy's own
hands.

Squire Myrtle was to send the papers for the lot

when he got them, for Mose. He was to direct them

' to Greenbush post-ofRce, a new office opened since last

-fall. This would be only twenty miles away, Mose

said he could go and come in a day.

After receiving many loving messages to those at

CLEARING LAND.

153

home, from all the young people, the two teams started
homeward about eight o'clock in the morning of a
warm, bright April day. After they were out of sight
John said to the other young men :

" Now, boys, we're in for it, to sink or to swim, to
succeed or to fail, to live or to die. Boys, what this
neijijhborhood is to be in future years very largely
depends upon us. Shall it be a respectable, orderly,
well-doing neighborhood ; or shall it be the home of
rowdyism, and the birth-place of all kinds of mischief ?
Now let U.S, right here and now, solemnly pledge
ourselves to three things. First, we will always do
what we think is the right thing, by everybody ;
secondly, we will, both by precept and example,
discourage others from doing what is wrong; and.
thirdly, we will stand by each other, no matter who
else may come here, and no matter what may happen
in the settlement. If we do as I propose, we will be
a source of strength to each other, and a blessing to
the community."

" I am ready to do as you say John," said Mose, " I
know that I shall need help, and I am willing to do
what I can to help others."

" What do you say Will," asked John.

" As to that," said Will, " I am with you until the
end of my life, by the help of God."

"We will consider that matter signed, sealed and
delivered," John said, as he walked into the house to
see what Mary was doing.

He found her standing at the table washing up the
breakfast dishes.

154

AMON(i TMK FDHKST TRKES.

He turned her face up, and kissed her, and said,
" Are you sorry, Mary, that you took the situation of
a pioneer's wife ? "

" No, John," she answered ; " I did it voluntarily,
because I wanted to be where you are, I expect to be
lonesome for a time; but under the great guiding hand
it will all come right in time. I like to be a pioneer's
wife, John; I certainly do.

Chapter XII.

rar

SOWING AND REAPING.

(^Y the first of May John had the ground ready

for his spring wheat and oats. He had brought

with him some tools, a thing that every man

going into the bush ought to do. If necessity is not

the mother of invention, it certainly is a mighty

stimulant to the inventor. At the dictation of

necessity men not only adapt themselves to new

modes of living, but they frequently become experts

at new methods of securing a livelihood. Mechanics

becorae farmers, and farmers are turned into mechanics,

and both become something else, as circumstances

change.

And a man that can not, or will not try to comply

th these demands of new country life, should never

bink of being a pioneer. If he does, the chances

gainst his success are fully nine to one ; and it is a

oral certainty that he will have a desptsrate hard

lime of it at best. A man that can't make a handle

nd hang an axe, or grind and hang a scythe, had

etter allow some one else to do the pioneering, and

ait till the country is supplied with the various

ad*:smen before he goes to live in it.
II

156

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

I I

People who have no ingenuity about them have no
business in the backwoods, not even as hunters, lest
they get lost and are never heard of more, or are
found only in a condition to be buried.

But John Bushman was not one of this sort. Hv
had energy and ingenuity. And althougli lie lia^l
spent his boyhood and youth on his father's farm, he
had got a good many mechanical ideas, and about
home he was called " handy," whatever that means.

He went to work and made himself a three stjuaiv
harrow, or drag, as it was often called in those (lay.>.
But he made one .slight mistake in putting in tlie
teeth. Instead of putting them in straight, or slantiiiif
them back a little, he .slanted them forward a little.
And it was wonderful how that harrow would tear up
the ground. But it was also marvellous liow it
would hold on to a stump or a root when it caught
fast to them.

John was well pleased with his work, and he made
that harrow do service for two or three years. He
said he could afford to stop and lift it when it got fast,
because it did such good work when it was moving.

Next morning, after breakfast, John said to Wiili
and Mose, "Boys, I want you and Mary to come outj
and see me sow some wheat."

" What for ? " inquired they.

" Because in after years, when this cotnitry is all
cleared up, and everything is changed, I want you toj
be able to say, that you saw the first handful of grain!
sown in this township. It will be something for vodI
to tell your children of, you know,"

vour
niarri
"W
renier
about
"W
Marv,
for tiftn
" Wi
" Yes
and see
John
stakes,
ground i
measure
seed \vi
ward.

After

and Mo,'

" Yes,

Then

here, my

lively, or

that We >

at every

always t(

The,se, vo

"Yes,t

very safel

one. But

SOWING AND REAPING.

157

e umw

:s. He

.■ot fast,

ving.

to Will

line out

IV is all!

you tOl

lot" grain]
for yoiil

" Children, indeed," said Will. " Yes, John, I like
vour .su^^gestion. But is it not wonderful how soon
married folks learn to talk like fathers and mothers ?"

" We were children not long ago," said Mose, " and I
remember how 1 always liked to hear my mother tell
about things that happened when she was a girl."

" Well, come on,"' said John. " But, hold a moment.
Mary, I want a couple of pieces of cloth of some kind
for flags, so that I can go straight, and sow even."

" Will white towels do ?" she inquired.

" Yes, anything that I can tie on the end of a stake,
and see it across the Held," said he.

John took the cloths and fastened them to two
stakes, one of which he placed at each end of the
ground to be sowed. Then he began to march with a
measured step across the ground, and scattered the
seed wheat broadcast as he went backward and for-
ward.

After he had gone a few rounds Mary said to Will
and Mose, " He looks like a farmer already, don't he?"

" Yes, he does," said they.

Then turning to Moses, Will Briars said, " Look
here, my friend, we have got to hustle things pretty
lively, or John will leave us so far behind in the race
that we will forget that we started with him. He goes
at everything in a systematic way, and he seems
always to do his best at everything he undertakes.
The,se, you know, are the men that come out ahea'^ "

"Yes, that is true," said the other. "And we n./
very safely take him for a pattern in more ways than
one. But is it not time we were going to work ? "

158

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" Don't get too proud of your farmer, Mary," they
said to her as they went off to their work.

By this time John had got ready to start the harrow.
He had often driven a team to harrow on his father's
farm, but this was the first time that he had his own
team hitched to his own harrow, and putting his own
grain into his own ground.

He started to work, and as the harrow teeth tore up
the fresh, black soil, John thouL'ht that he had never
seen finer land. And as he walked along behind the
oxen, and watched his work, with an occasional glance
at Mary, who sat in the door looking at him at his
work, John took a sort of mental inventory of his
possessions. First, and foremost, there was his young
and prudent wife, next came his two hundred acres of
good land, then his cattle and other property, then his
health and dexterity, then his kind friends. "All
these," he said to himself, " with an approving con-
science, and the assurance of Divine favor, ought to
make any man happy."

He worked away with a light heart, and by the
time the other men came home from their work he
hao one bushel of wheat nicely harrowed in. The
next day was Sabbath, and it was spent much the
same as was the last one, only there was less variety
in the exercises, as there were not so many to take
part in them. But it was a day of rest and refresh-
ment to all of them.

As the evening came on, and as they sat around the
fire, Moses said to the rest of them, " Do you know
that since I changed my course of life I have more

SOWING AND HEAPING.

159

r-al enjoyment in one day than I had in a whole year
before. I used to think that, for a young person, a
religious life was like a winter's fog, both dark and
freezing. But I never knew what heart sunshine was
until 1 gave my heart to the Master."

" I believe you, Moses," said John. " I have had the
same kind of experience, and can testify that what
you say is true."

" liut, John," replied he, " you never had one part of
my experience — I mean the wild, reckless, sinful past.
You never used to do such things as I and many
others did."

" Outwardly I might not have appeared so bad, but,
you know, sin has its headquarters in the heart. My
heart, Mose, might be as bad as yours, and yet, being
ditierently constituted, and being under different influ-
ences, the evil in me might not show itself to the
world to the same extent. And this, too, not by any
desire on my part to deceive the world, but by the
force of circumstances which threw around me power-
ful restraints."

" Do you think, John," broke in Will Briars, " that
we can't tell what a man is by what he does, unless
we know him fully ?"

" Not in all cases, though we can in some. If we
see a man committing wilful and deliberate sin, we
need not be told that he is a sinful man, ' for by their
fruits ye shall know them.' But if we see a correct
outward deportment, we cannot always tell whether
this deportment springs from a principle of right, in-
fluencing the actor, or whether the action may not be

160

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

the result of some other cause. We give the actor credit
for the outward act, but the hidden motives we must
leave to be .searched out by a wisdom higher and
deeper than our own."

On Monday morning, after breakfast, Mary said to
Will and Mose:

" How much coaxing will it take to get you two to
stay and help me to-day ?"

" What do you want done ? " asked they.

" I want a nice hen-house built for my chick ';ns and
ducks. The hens are laying, and unless they are shut
in for a while, I am afraid they will steal oft' in the
woods, and the eggs will he lost, and perhaps the foxes
or some other chicken-eaters will take the hens," was
her ansv/er,

" I wonder if Rover could catch a fox ? I would like
to see him after one," said Mose.

" I hardly think he could catch a fox in the woods,"
answered John; " but if he had it in an open field he
might."

" Chasing foxes won't answer my question or build
my hen-pen," said Mary good naturedly.

" The mistress of Sylvan Lodge has only to issue
her mandate to ensure attention and obedience on the
part of her dependents," said Mose with a laugh.

" Don't make fun of me, Mose. You are not my
dependents," Mary said.

" Yes we are, too," said he ; " for if you should turn
against us, who would cook our victuals, wash our
clothes, make up our beds, and keep us out of mis-
chief ?"

'•' .1

SOWING AND REAPING.

161

" My ! but that is a long, long list of questions to
ask, and so soon after eating your breakfast, too. I
don't see how you could think of them all at once,"
she answered. " But, seriously, I want the hen-pen
huilt."

'And you shall have it," Will Briars said; "only
tell us where you want it to stand, and give the size
and description of it."

" For instructions in this I must refer you to John.
He knows better than I do where to place it," said
Mary.

Before John went to his harrowing, he hauled up a
lot of poles for the hen-pen, and by night the young
men had the job completed, to the entire satisfaction
of all concerned.

By the end of the week John had four acres of
wheat, and one acre of oats, and a half an acre of
millet, sowed and nicely harrowed in. Will and Mose,
too, bad got about ten acres underbrushed and an acre
cho))pevl.

The next thing in order now, was to split the rails,
and fence the fields of grain, to keep the cattle from it.
This is an important part of the work on a bush
farm. The rails are made from any kind of timber
that can be split into pieces of suitable length, and
small enough to be handled by one man. Cedar and
pine are, perhaps, the best timber for rails. But vari-
ous other timber is used, such as oak, either black or
white, black or white ash, beech, elm, basswood,
hickory, chestnut, and sometimes the knotty hemlock is
made into rails.

162

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

John and Mose went to rail-splitting and fence-
making. They found it pretty hard work at first.
But they soon got used to it, and then it was like any
other work, after one gets accustomed to it.

About two weeks were spent in fencing, and by that
time a good fence surrounded the sowed land, along
with an acre for potatoes and vegetables of various
kinds. By this time, too, the grain was nicely up, and
beginning to look green, giving the place quite a farm-
like aspect, and driving away the look of wild loneli-
ness that is found in connection with a house standing
alone in a burnt piece of ground among the stumps.

Mary had got her ducks and geese so used to her
that they would come at her call. She would let them
out for a swim on thj lake an hour or two in the
middle of the day. Then .she would call them up and
feed them, and shut them in, for fear of foxes.

The woods now began to show signs of summer, in
the unfolding leaves, and the opening blossoms.
Various wild wood flowers began to show their beauty,
and numerous forest plants sprung up from their cold
wintry beds and, shaking off their covering of autumn
leaves, that kind nature spread over them in the fall,
they once more began to spread their leaves and add
beauty and attraction to the scene, as their predeces-
sors had done for a thousand generations.

"John, what are these ? " said Will, one evening, as
he threw down on the table a handful of some kind of
plants, or rather of different kinds of plants.

Looking them over carefully, and after smelling
some of them, John answered : " These are adder-

leeks :
butter
leek.s-
them-
taste ti
ourselv
Thi.s." .<
leaf, '
base.

SOWING AND REAPING.

163

tongues, or some call them deer-tongues. These are
leeks; they arc the best things to spoil milk and
butter that grow in the woods. If the cows eat the
leeks — and they are sure to do so, if they can find
them — the milk and butter will have such a ' leeky '
taste that it can be used only after eating the leeks
ourselves. That seems to take the bad taste away.
This," said he, picking up a plant with a large, round
leaf. " is called Adam and Eve. And here is cow cab-
bage. And this strange looking plant is the skunk
cabbage."

" How many more kinds of cabbage can you find in
the woods ? " inquired Mose.

" About as many as you can find cabbage eaters in
the clearing," said John.

One morning soon after these plants had been ex-
amined, on going into the yard, John found that an
addition had been made to his stock, in the shape of a
line heifer calf.

"Now," said Mary, when John told her, "I shall
.soon have some milk, and when Cherry follows the
example of old Brindle, we can make our own butter,
and raise the calves, too."

"Well, Mary," said he, jokingly, "If that is not
counting the chickens before they are hatched, it is
making butter before the cream is soured."

" Never you mind, John, the cream will be here, and
the butter too, in due time."

By this time the planting was all done, and the
grain was looking well, and everything seemed to be
prospering with these people in the wilderness.

164

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" John," said Moses one night, before he retired, " I
have a mind to go out to the post-office to-morrow, and
see if those papers have come. Yoii know it's over a
month since they were sent for. They ought to be on
hand by this time ; don't you think so ? "

" All right," said John. " But you will need to start
early to go there and back in one day."

" If Mary will put up something for me to take
along to eat, I will start as soon as it is light, and take
my breakfast as I walk along."

" Certainly, I will give you something to take along
with you. But you are not to go before you have
breakfast, I will see to that," Mary replied.

" Now, I don't wish to give you any bother, Mary,
said he, " and I will do first-rate on a lunch for one
day."

" Whether you can or not, you won't get the chance
to try to-morrow, if I am alive and well in the
morning."

" Better let her have her way, Mose," said John,
" for I suppose she is like other women in that. I
once heard an old man say that —

' When she will, she will, and you may depend on it ;
And when she won't, she won't, and tliat's the end on it.'

And he said that all women are that way."

" Well, I shall not contend with her about the

breakfast," said Mose. That would be too much like

a man quarrelling with his own bread and butter. "
" In the morning, by sunrise, Mosbs was on his way

to Greenbush post-office. But not before he had his|

SOWING AND REAPING.

165

breakfast, and a good one, too ; for Mary said that
"when a man is jGjoing to walk all day, he needs some-
thing substantial to start on."

When John went to the yard that morning he found
another calf among the stock ; a heifer, like the other.

" Now," said Mary, " I shall not have time to feel
lonesome. With two cows to milk, and two calves to
feed, and with chickens, and ducks, and goslings to
take care of, and butter-making, and bread-baking,
and cooking, and washing, and scrubbing, surely I can
employ myself so that I will not feel lonely."

When Will came in at evening, he said he had news
to tell them, and on being asked what it was, he said :
" This afternoon a man came to me, who says he has
the lot right opposite mine, on the other side of the
boundary. He has commenced working on it, and
he has a temporary little shanty up already. He
did not know that he would have neighbors so near
him till he heard me chopping, and came to see who it
was. He was greatly pleased when he found that he
was so near the oldest settler in the township."

" Well, I am thinking that he will be the pioneer in
the township of Oakland, for that is where he is.
Where did he come from, and did he tell you his
name ? " said John.

" He comes from the township of Ashdown, and his
name is Woodbine. He is a man about thirty years
old, and he has a wife and two children. He is a fine
looking man, and he is a Lowland Scotchman. But he
came ten years ago to this country."

" I am glad to hear of such men coming into the

166

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

neighborhood. They will help to build up the place,"
replied John.

It was now getting dark, and Mose had not yet
returned.

" I wonder where Mose is by this time," said Will.

" That would be a little hard to tell, especially since
we have had no experience as to the length of time it
takes to go over the road he has to walk over," was
John's answer.

" I can answer your question," said Mary. " He is
just now between the stable and the house. I see him
through the window."

By this time Mose came in and sat down, saying,
" Boys, but I am tired and hungry."

" We don't doubt that, Mose. Forty miles of walk-
ing, over a rough road, is enough to tire anybody.
But pull off your boots, and put on these slippers,"
said John, as he reached and took a pair of slippers
from a shelf, and gave them to Mose.

" Mary," said Mose, " what can you do for me now I
You did grandly this morning."

" Your supper is all ready for you. I put it beside
the fire, in the bake-kettle, to keep it warm till you
came home. I will have it on the table by the time
you get yourself washed and ready for it," she said.

While Mose was eating his supper, John and Will
went out to fix things up for the night. After they
had gone, Mose took out of his side pocket a large
letter, and, holding it up, said to Mary, " Look here,
what I found in the office for William Briars. I think
it is from Betsy."

He pu

the other

" Well,

" Plent

right, so

glad of i

makes m(

"What

is it 1 "

"No, n(

Take it tl

Will to(

at the sea

"How r

up along f

we came h

"Perhaj

" Well, ;;

" Is that

" There

craft's, anc

and talked

young me

married m

" How fi

"About

" Well, t

settler risrh

"lam

John.
"Here,)

letter, and

-X

SOWING AND REAPING.

167

He put it back, and by the time he finished his meal
the others came in.

" Well, Mose," said John, " what is the news ? "

" Plenty of news," said he ; "1 got my papers all
right, so that I now know what I am to do. I am
cflad of that. But that is not the only thing that
makes me glad."

" What is that ? Got a letter from home, or what
is it ? "

" No, not for myself ; but here. Will, is one for you.
Talce it thankfully, and read it joyfully."

Will took the letter, looked at the handwriting and
at the seal, and then put it in his pocket.

"How many shanties do you think have been put
up along this road, between here and Greenbush, since
we came here," said Mose, turning to John.

" Perhaps four or five," answered John.

" Well, you may more than double that," said he.

" Is that so ? " enquired John and Will, both at once.

"There are four shanties between here and Ash-
craft's, and five between there and Greenbush. I saw
and talked with six of the owners. Four of them are
young men like myself and Will. The others are
raarried men."

" How far from this is the nearest one ? " asked Will.

" About two miles, I should judge."

" Well, then, you did not find them all. There is a
settler right across the line from me."

" I am glad that people are coming in so fast," said
John.

"Here, Will, take this candle, and go and read your
letter, and let us have the news," said Mary.

Chaptbr XIII.

HARVESTING THE CROP.

""^i^'^^HAT are you going to do with your <:^rain
when it is ready for harvesting ? " said
Will Briars to John one morning as they
were walking along the path that led through the
wheat.

" I hardly know," said John. " I have been think-
ing a good deal about it lately. One thing is certain,
that is, I cannot put up a barn this summer. I have
too much else to do."

" Could you not make a temporary floor, and thresh
the grain out of doors, the way we have often threshed
peas and buckwheat."

" I have thought of that myself, but how am I to
get the plank ? "

" Did you not tell me that the lumber for your
house was made with a whip-saw here on the ground?"
asked Will.

" Yes, we made the boards for the floors, and all the
rest, except the sheeting, with the whip-saw. But Mr,
Beach, who helped me do it, and who understands the
work, is not here ; and if he was here I don't suppose

HARVI'.STING THK CHOP.

169

all the

Jut Mr.

ids the

luppose

that I could get him, he will be so busy with his own
work." John said.

" Look here, John ; let us try it ourselves. I believe
that I can soon learn to handle one end of the saw.
You know we shall want boards more or less all the
time. Some men can make money by cutting lumber
with this kind of saw. Suppose that we start a two-
man saw-mill, John. We will commence with some
boards to make you a threshing-floor."

"All right, Will. We will go to work to-morrow,
and got up some «mall-sized logs, and then try our
skill and ability at saw-milling. We can use the old
saw-pit, which Mr. Beach says is a good one. And the
plank will be all the better for lying in the sun to
dry for a few weeks," said John.

Where there is a will there is generally a way, and
prompt action is one of the elements of success. John
Biishinan was a full believer in these maxims, and he
acted on that belief.

At it the two went next morning. They went to
[the pinery and cut a number of logs of suitable size,
and hauled them to the saw-pit. Then they com-
menced the sawing. Moses insisted on being taken
[into the milling enterprise, and they willingly gave
Ihim a chance. Will and Mose were a little awkward
jat first. It was a little hard for a while, and they got
[very tired ; but they stuck to it, and at the end of
fibout eight days they had plank enough to make a
floor twenty feet square, with a board to put up edge-
pvay,s all around it, to keep the grain from flying off
jii'l wastinfif.

170

AMONG THE B'OREST TREES,

After their task was completed they were congratu-
lating each other on their success. Mary listened to
them for a while. Then she said : " That agrees with
my father's philosophy of success in this world."

" What was it, Mary ? " asked John.

"I have often heard him say that difficulties disap-
peared before a determined will," replied she. " And,
sometimes to encourage the boys, he would tell them
that

' ' A resolute will is better than skill
For turning a mill or climbing a hill,
Or facing an ill or paying a bill,
Or handling a drill or cnm-sing a rill,
Or swallowing a pill or warming a chill,
Or opening a till or driving a quill.
For where there's a will there's a way ahead still."

"Bravo, Mary," said Will Briars. "That is well
done ; and I don't know which deserves the greatest
compliments, your father's poetry or your memory.
But I think that I am the one that has a right to feel
myself honored by being the subject of seven full
lines of poetry. The whole of it, you know, is about
a resolute Will. That is me. But 1 am going to try
and deserve the name, and then it will be no pre-
sumption to claim it."

The season was passing rapidly away — at least it I
seemed so to the busy settlers in the vicinity of Syl-
van Lake.

Mary was kept from idleness and moodiness ini
looking after her cows and calves, and fowls, a
her beds of onions and lettuce, beets and parsnips,

II AUVKS'l'INd TIIK CltOP.

J71

is well

crreatest
lemory.

It to feel
•en full
.s about
a to trv

no pre-

least H I
of Syl-

[ness in!
rls, ani|

and other j^aivlen produco, that tlie ohl-titne hulies
mostly liad the care of. Busith's all this out-of-door
work, she had to bake and cook, and vva.sh and mend,
starch and iron for liersidf and the tlii'ee coarser sam-
ples of Iniinanity, who had placed their personal com-
fort in her keeping. More than this, she had sonic
quilts to make, and the yarn to spin and double and
twist for the socks and stockings for the whole of
them.

It was well for Mary now that she had been trained
by an industrious, economical mother, who under.stood
all about these things, and had thoroiighlj' taught her
daujjhter to do the same.

It was well for John Bushman that his wife was
not one of the affected, selfish, useless butterflies of
fashion so often met with in modern society — that she
was not one of the extravagant, thoughtless, wasteful,
peevish, self-seeking, domineering creatures that so
often hang like a dead weight upon a husband's ener-
gies, and drag him down at last to financial, if not to
moral, ruin. John Bushman fully appreciated his wife,
as from day to day he noticed how skilfully and cheer-
fully she went about her work. He felt that if they
missed the road to success, the fault would not be hers.
Of such a woman it is said in Proverbs, " Her husband
is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the eld-
ers of the land." A man's succe.ss in life very largely
depends on his wife. But how far John Bushman suc-
jceeded will be shown in future chapters.

William Briars and Moses Moosewood were working
[ every day on their lots, and were getting nice begin-
12

172

AMONfi TTTF FOREST TREES.

nings on them. John commenced his haying — tliat is,
he het^an cuttinf; the " Beaver Meadow " grass for liny.
By tlie time the wheat began to ripen he liad five or
six tons of liay ready to stack. He made a rouvl to
the meadow, antl on a temporary jumper lie and Muse
hauled the hay, and stacked it beside the stable.

But perhaps some of my readers may ask, ' What
is a b(uaver meadow, any way ? "

The little amphibious rodent called the beaver is
the agent by which the beaver meadows are produccl.
He tirst selects a place along some creek, where, by
makinir a dam across the stream, the backwater will
overflow a section of the land. Here he lays his
plan with as much precision as a skilful engineer

Havinir laid out his work, he commences to build
the dam. The form of it is an arc of a circle, vvitli
the bow up stream. This he does by collecting wood
and leaves and mud. He uses his teeth for an axe
to cut the timber. With his paws he puts every-
thing in its place. He uses his broad, flat tail for a
cart to carry the mud to where he wants it ; and for
a trowel to place it in position, and as a mallet to
pound it into a solid mass.

As the dam grows higher the water spreads out over
the land, and when it is done sometimes a number of
acres are flooded, and looks like a large mill-pond. The
little builder puts his dam there to stay, so that no
spring floods break it up. In course of time all the
timber on the flooded tract dies, and after a lapse of
years it all decays, and entirely disappears. When
the beaver falls a victim to the trapper and hunter hi^j

up with
This beir:
Water, cov
the fruit
^^'^■^ put ]

'^erlia])j i
BieadoH-s wer
'«" the date (
''"It arrow-he

HARVESTING TflE CROP.

173

home is left to fall in ruin.s. The dain, for want of
repairs, in time gives way, anil tho water runs of!' the
riojilt'd land, and leaves it as level as a Hoor. In a
few years this is covered with an abundant crop oH
tall, wild grass, that does very well as a substitute for
ha}'; when it is cut and properly cured. Tiie (!arly set-
tlers avail themselves of this spontaneous hay crop
until they can raise that which is of a better quality.*
This is the kind of hay that John and Mo.se stacked
up by the stable, to have it on hand for the stock in
winter.

And there is another operation that must not be
overlooked. That is the gathering of wild fruit, and
preparing it for winter use. Around John's beaver
meadow there grew a large number of wild plum
trees. The.se were laden with fruit. Some of them,
when ripe, were red, some yellow, and some almost a
purple. These plums are by no means a despisable
fruit when they are ripe, but they don't ripen till
August and September. One way of keeping these
plmns was to sink a tight barrel or other vessel into
the ground where it would be kept cool. Then fill it
up with plums while they were still a little green.
This being done, fill the barrel up with clear, cold
water, cover it up, and let it stand till winter, when
the fruit will come out nearly as fresh as when it
was put in. Another method of keeping them was

'Perhapi it wjuld be as difficult to fix the time when those
Imeadows were commenced by the little builders, as it would be to
jtell the date of the kitchen middens of Europe, or tlie mounds and
Hiut arrow-heads of America;

174

AMONf} THE KOHEST TIJKES.

by the oM way of preserving in sugar ; still another
was by the drying process.

But there whs other wild fruit to be got.

One day, while Will and Mose were out in sef^ich of
a swarm of bees that they saw pass over, they caiiic
to a large berry patch. It was on a her. dock ridcro
that had at some time l)een burnt over. This wa>
covered with a variety of berries. There were straw-
berries, raspberries — two kinds of thetn — and the larjje
blackberries. These the men would go and pick at
odd times, and Mary would exert her skill in prepar-
ing them for present and future use. By the time the
berries were gone they had laid in a good winter's
store.

By this time the wheat began to show its ripeninf;
hue, and admonished its o.vner that the harvest wa^

coming near.

One evening, as Mose came in from his work,
passing through the field, he found some heads of ripe
wheat. Holding up one of them, he said :

"See here, John ; your wheat will do ^ cut nex!|
week. What are you going to do for a cradle to cutj
it with?"

"That is a (piestion that should have been answereJ
before this; but. I have been s ) much enyafjed since 1
came here that 1 fory-ot all about it. I shall have to
try and make some kind of a thin- myself. I haveii|
scythe and other irons needed," he answered.

" Well," s lid Moses, " you know my father inake>j
cradles, and 1 know something about it myself. HI
you like, I will help you."'

troot

^'asglad
"le and

^'fiy, and

" We 1

John.

^^ be neij

''e steppt

HARVESTINfJ THE CROP.

175

"All r'lLjht," said John. " Wo will try what wc can
(lo to-inorrow."

Next inornini,' they went to the woods and got some
(rood white ash timber of the shape they wanted. By
njifht tliey had a very good grain cradle ready for use.

While they were linnting the tiniher for tlie cradle
they heard the scjund of a couple of axes at the back
end of John's lots. They had not heard of any one
bein<' on that line, so they concluchid next morning to
i,'o and see who was tliere, and what they v. ere doing.
They took the guns and old Rover, and started on a
trip of <liscovery. When they came to the place they
found three men working on the corner of the lot that
butted on John's rear hundred. The one was an
elderly man, tlie others were liis sons. They were
Dutclnuen. Tliei" name was Crautmaker. They
came from Hamburgh Township. They were a
strong, hardy-looking lot of men.

When John and Mose came up to them they were
chopping down a large rock-elm tree. The two young
men were Canadian born, and were good choppers.
The old man was not so good ; but for all that he
could handle an axe well enough to do a fair day's
work.

"Goot morning, shentlemens," said the old man. "I
vas glail to tind some von in dish packwoods pesides
ine and Shon and Shal o. How far you comes dish
'lay, and vhere you lives ?"

"We live just across one concession from here," said
John, " My land reaches to the line here, so we are
to 'oe neighbors. I am glad to see ycu all," he said, as
he stepped up to shake hands with them.

170

AMOXO THE FOREST TREE?

The younnj men could talk either Dutch or EuLflish,
aud Mose was not a little amused to hear them answer
their father in l^utch, when he would (|uestion them
in that languas^e, and at the same time carry on a con-
versation in Enoflish.

After they had talked a while about the land, and
the prospects of the settlement, the old man broke in
upon their conversation with this question to John and
Mose :

"Say, mine vrends, are you gristians ?"

John was the first to answer. He said, " I am happy
and thankful to be able to say that I am an humble
follower of the meek and cventle Saviour."

" I, too," said Mose, with some feeling, " am tryint;
to live the life of a Christian."

" I am very much glad vor that," said the old man.

" Well," said John, " we have a small religious ser-
vice at our place every Sabbath in the forenoon. If
you would come over and take part with us we would
be very much pleased to have you do so."

" How can we find your place, Mr. Bushman V asked
Jacob, the younger of the old man's sons.

" You can't miss the way if you follow the open
road. It goes right past my place, and mine is the
first and only house," John answered.

" How soon do you expect to move your family in
here, Mr. Crautmaker ?" inquired Moses Moosewood.

" Shust so soon as we can put up one pig house. So
that mit the downstairs and the upstairs we can f^ot
rooms vor nine beoples — mine frow and myself and
our seven shildren," was his answer.

HARVESTINfi THE CROP.

177

John Bushman said to the old man, " Mr. Craut-
inaker, I have a good yoke of oxen ; if you need
them to haul logs for your house, you can have them.
I suppose these young men can drive oxen ? "
■ •' Yes,'Vsaid the eldest. We have always been used
to oxen as well as hor.«es. We have a pair of oxen at
the old home ; but till we get them here we shall be
much obliged for a little accommodation in a neigh-
borly way."

"All right. When you want them let me know,"
said Bushman.

" When we want them one of us will take your
place, and have you come with the oxen," said Jake
Crautniaker.

" Come across to our little meeting next Sunday, at
10 a.m.," said John Bushman.

As the two men went back, by way of the beaver
meadow, the dog commenced to bark fiercely, a little
ahead of them, as they were pressing their way
throutfh a thicket of small cedars. In a minute more
they heard a cry, not unlike that of a lamb in dis-
tress. Coming nearer, they saw that old Rover had
caught a .spotted fawn. He was laying on it, and
holding it down. He seemed inclined to play with it,
but the deer was struggling to get away.

"Don't hurt it, Rover," John said, and the dog
seemed to understand what was said to him. He
would fondle with the young and helpless little thing,
and lick it with his soft tongue, and tried, in every
^ ly, to impress upon it the fact that he had no fero-
cious or cruel feeling towards it. But not until John

178

AMONf! THE FORKST TUEKS.

took it from the dotif and lifted it in liis arms did the
little prisoner stop its cries and its efforts to escape.
But it seemed to feel that it had found a friend and
protector when it nestled down (piietly in the man's
arms. That fawn grew very tame, and it became a
fine larfje deer, and ran with the cattle in the woods
They tied a white ribbon around its neck, so that it
could be distinguished from others. More than one
wild deer fell a victim to John Bushman's ritle while
trying to cultivate the acquaintance of this pet.
When they came home Mary was greatly pleased with
the pretty fawn. She had never seen anything like
it. With its great brown, pleading eyes, with its
smooth, spotted skin and tiny little feet and legs, it
altogether presented a picture of innocence and beauty
that seemed to appeal to the gentle and tender feelings
of her sympathetic heart. It soon became so much
attached to Mary that it would follow her around like
a dcg. For several years Rover and the deer were
Mary's escort from place to place, and they became
great friends to each other. Rover would have fouc^ht
for that deer as long as he could stand. They named
the deer Rambler.

The wheat harvest was now at hand. The crop was
excellent, as was all of John's grain that season.

John changed work with Mose, and got him to help
take off the harvest. Cradling heavy wheat among
the stumps is no child's play, as any one will say who
has ever tried it, but tlu^y were both good cradlers,
took turns at it, so that neither of them had to weary
himself at it.

li :

HAIiVESTlNO THE CROP.

179

Wlien the wheat was fit to stack, John got Harry
Hawthorn to come and stack and thatch it for him.
Harry had been working on hi.s lot for the past month,
Mary had made his bread and furnished him with
butter. Wlien John asked him if he couhi thatch a
stack of wheat, his answer was,

" Sliure and its meself that can do it, Misther Bush-
man. Many a great stack of grain I have thatched
in Quid Ireland, and they were afther bein' done so
nately that niver a dhrop of rain could get intil them
at all at all. Though I say it meself, as shouldn't say
it, perhaps, no one can do a betther job at thatching
than your humble Irish frind can do."

This glowing language of Harry's was no vain
boasting. His work proved that the men who could
equal him at building and thatching a stack of grain
were few and far between.

Harry was expecting his wife in this country by
the fall, but he had changed his mind about bringing
her to the bush before the next spring. He concluded
to do some chopping, and put up a small house that
season, and not move in until the next spring.

But Mr. Beach was expecting to move his family on
the lot beside John's in the course of two or three
weeks. He was busily engaged in building a house ;
Moses and Will were helping him some of the time.
Things began to look like civilized life. With a set-
tler on every lot that joined on Bushman's, he felt that
his isolation was a thint; of the past.

Between helping the incoming settlers to saw their
lumber, and make their shingles, and raise their hou:5es,

ISO

AMONG THE FOPK8T TREES.

.lohn find Will and Mose were kept on the move all
the fall. People were coining in on all sides of them.
Not less than ten or twelve families were settling
within three miles of John Bushman, besides Will
and Mose. John and Mary, heinpjthe first settlers, and
having become pretty well established in their new
home, had plenty of chances to exercise their hospi-
tality towards their prospective neighbors. But they
acted on the motto expressed by Mary, the first dav
she stood in her backwoods home : " Never to shut
the door in the face of hunger or weariness."

But by this time John's other grain was ready to
harvest. This time he went at it alone, as Will and
Mose were both away helping a man to put up a
house on a lot two miles farther in the woods.

But John got along with the job of cutting his oats
and millet, and he found the latter was about as high
as his head, and some of the heads were eight or ten
inches long.* By the middle of September he had all
his grain nicely harvested and stacked, Harry Haw-
thorn again being the artist.

*This grain .seems to liave [)asse(l out of use in this country. Sixty
or seventy years ago it was raised to feetl fowls and pigs mostly.

u ■

Chaptbr XIV.

MARY FINDS A FRIEND.

"PJROM the latter part of April till the middle of
ifi September, Mary had been as completely isolatd
from companionship with her sex, as thouofh
she had been the only woman in the world. Her con-
nection with womankind had been only by memory.
The last female face she had looked upon was when,
throutrh tears, she looked into the sad face of her mother
on the morning that her parents and John's father
started for their frontier homes.

To say that she was not lonesome would not be true.
But to say that she was discontented or unhappy would
be equally untrue. There are longings, however, that
can only be satisfied by association with those of one's
own sex and age. Old men enjoy the society of old
men, old women like to talk with old women. Young
men and youag women are the same. Mary had felt
the want of company, but she had made no com-
plaint; she solaced herself by the thought that a
change, in this respect, could not be very long delayed.
But nearly five months had elapsed since she had seen
one of her own sex. And John and his companions

182

AMONG THE FOllEST TREES.

had freciuently spoken to each other aVjout it. They
admired the quiet and uncomplainini^ manner in which
Mary had borne the deprivation. They had said
nothing about it to her for fear of harrowing up her
feelings.

On the morning of the second Sabbath of Septemher,
about nine o'clock, a rap at the door gave notice that
some one wanted admittance. Mary was iiearest to
and she hastened to open the door. When she did so
she found herself face to face with a strange y<mng
man. But a few feet behind him stood a young and
beautiful woman.

For a moment Mary stood as if confounded. Tlien,
rushing past the man, she threw her arms around the
woman's neck and kissed her, over and over, as fonJly
as thoufjh she had found a long-lost sister. The
strange woman, at first, seemed to be somewhat con-
fused. But when Mary got a little calm, she said,
" O, I am so glad to see you, I have not seen a woman's
face before for five long months. Don't think me
rude, for really I was so rejoiced to see you that I
hardly knew what I was doing, I could not help it."
The strangers came into the house and sat down, being
made welcome by John.

The man then said, " I hope we shall not be intruders.
We heard from Mr. Crautmaker that you are in the
habit of having religious service here on Sabbath
mornings; my wife and I concluded to come across
and see if we could join with you. My name is
Richard Greenleaf. We are going to settle on the lot
that corners with your back hundred. We are, at

MARY FINDS A KIIIKNI).

183

'onm

being

Iruders,

in the

tb))ath

across

lame is

the lot

lare, at

present, staying in Mr. Crautniaker's shanty till we
can fjet up one of our own."

" We are pleased, I am sure, to make your acquaint-
ance, Mr. and Mrs. Greenleaf," said Jolm. " And as
for taking part in our little meeting, as we call it, you
are not only welcome to join us, but we shall be very
much pleased to have you do so."

By this time Mr. Crautmaker and his sons came in,
and Mr. Woodbine came to join in the exercises. The
presence of the Ma.ster was in the midst of the little
company in that humVde backwoods dwelling on that
autumn Sabbath morning. For the first time in his
life, iMoses Moosewood led the meeting. He and all
present were refreshed and strengthened.

After the services were over, Mary said to her new-
found friend :

" You and your husband mu.st take dinner with us
to-day. I cannot be put oft' in this matter. I have
never seen a woman at my table since my mother left
me, and you must stay for dinner."

"I am willing, if Richard is," said Mrs. Greenleaf.

Mary stepped across the room to where John and
Mr. Greenleaf were, and asked the latter if he would
consent to the arrauijement that she and his wife were
laakinix.

" Any arrangement that you make with Martha I
will consent to," said he ; " she is to have her way half
of the time, and this is one of her days to rule, so you
see it will be all right."

Going back to the woman, Mary said, " You are to
stay, and I am so glad that you are, I hope it will

184

AMONfJ THK FORKST THKKS.

often be your day to rule when you come hore to
niectini;."

" Ah to rulinfif," said Martlia, " I never heard of anv
arrani,'cment until now. I tlon't want to inlu. But
I will tell Richard about it .soinetiines, to keep him in
mind of what he said to vou."

Mary soon had the dinner on the table. She never
did much cookinij: on the Sabbath. Evervthiii<: that
could be done on Saturday was done, so as to avoid, ib
far as possible, the necessity for work on the day of
rest.

When the dinner was over, the two women walked
out around the place. Mrs. Greenleaf was very much
pleased with what she saw. The pretty lake, and its
border of evergreens, and the ducks and geese swim-
ming on it (and there was quite a tlock of them now),
gave the place a homelike aspect not often seen on a
new farm. Then the calves and other cattle, and the
stacks of oats and wheat were things of interest iu
tlie eyes of farmers' daughters, as both of those young
women were.

" I am pleased to find so nice a home and so large a
clearing in this back place; I did not expect anythiiii;
like this," said Martha.

" When my husband came here one year ago last
April, there was not a tree cut down within seven
miles of here, and there were only two houses within
twenty udles or more. Now I am told there are ten
or twelve houses and shanties on a territory of three
miles square," remarked Mrs. Bushman.

"Did Mr. Bushman come in here alone ?"

MAUV I'INDS A FHIEXl).

IHo

Wiilkeil
y much

now),
1 on a
lau(l the
rest in
young

arge a
vthlni:

luo last

n seven

within

are ten

jf three

" Yes, he came all alone, and did all this chopping
ami i^'ot up this house last year. He fjot the men that
oju'IkmI out these two roads to help him raise the
house, or he could never have put it up then," answered
Mary.

" Well," said Martha, " we expected to be the first
settler except Mr. Crautmaker. This road that goes
from here over past our place is p.irtly cut out for
twenty miles. We came in on that road and we had
left the last house fifteen miles behind us when we
Ciiine to our lot, which is just on the other side of* the
road from Mr. Crautmaker's."

" Were you ac(|uainted with that family before you
came here ? " asked Mary.

"(), yes, well acquainted; I was born and brought
up within siuht of the farm thev have lived on for ten
year.s. They are an honest, industrious and prosperous
family. The old people are a little awkward in their
mode of expressing themselves, but they are all right
at heart," said Martha.

'' I thought as much by what I have seen of the old
man and the boys," said Mary.

These two women were about the same age, and not
unlike in personal appearance. They were a little
lielovv the medium size, for that day, but they would
be fully up to the average of our times in size. Their
personal appearance was as near faultless as the gen-
erality of young women can claim to be. Their com-
plexion may be described as a mixture of the blonde
[and brunette. In Mary the blonde met the brunette a
I little more than half way. And in Martha the bru-

1 , i,

i^>

s.nd

% «>o.%

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

s ^ iiii^

\ «* IIIIIM

1.6

1.4

^-^^

.^-

18()

AMONTi THE KOIIEST I REES.

nette predominated a little over the blonde. This
made a couple of shades of difference in their com-
plexion. But this difference was not sufficiently marked
to necessitate much divergence, either in the features,
or the color of eyes or hair. This complexion was
quite often met with in Canadian girls of the last gen-
eration.

Mary's hair was a shade lighter than brown, and a
little darker than blonde. Her eyes were of that clear,
deep, expressive blue that indicates kindness of heart,
without softness, and firmness of character without
unreasoning stubbornness.

Martha's eyes were of a dark br.jwn, almost black.
Her hair was the color of her eyes. The hair of both
was somewhat inclined to curl, a fact that sometimes
gave them some trouble to keep their heads in a pre-
sentable condition.

These two women presented a fair type of the
average girl of Upper Canada sixty years ago. A close
observer might have said of the two, that they were
not likely to fade prematurely for want of .sun-
light and exercise, nor to fret themselves into an early
grave, or into a peevish, sickly or unhappy old age.

The acquaintance and friendship of these two women
lasted long, and, as the years rolled on and the bur-
dens of life increased, and the cares of life multiplied,
their attachment for each other seemed to grow
stronger. And it may be said, by way of anticipation,
that the high moral tone that characterized that neigh-
borhood, in after years, was greatly augmented by the
influence and example of these two young women, who

MARY FINDS A FRIKND

187

were the pioneer white women in a large tract of
country.*

The month of September that year was a dry one.
About the middle of the month John said to Will and
Mose one morning, " Boys, can you stay and help me
to-day ? "

" Yes, if you want us. But what are you going to
do ? " they said in concert.

" Two things," said he. " I want to make a cart, for

one thing, and I want to burn off the stubble, for

another thing. It is dry now, and it will burn well."

" How are you going to make a cart, and why do

you want it just now ? " asked Will.

" I want the cart to go to mill, and we will make it
of elm logs, sawed short, for wheels, and an ironwood
pole for an axle-tree," was John's answer.

"All right," said the boys ; " go ahead, and we will
follow your directions."

They took the cross-cut saw, and went to the fallow,
to a large water-elm, and from that they cut two sec-
tions of six inches, measured lengthwise of the tree.
Through the centre of these they made holes large
enough for the arms of the axle. Then they fitted the
pole and put it in, and made a tongue to it, and fixed
a box on it. Now they had what was called, in back-
woods parlance, " a pair of trucks." This made a very
good substitute for a two-wheeled cart, while it lasted.

*The writer hail the privilege, years ago, to preach in two different
townships, in the houses of the pioneer white women. In both oases
success lias attended the labors of the families of those who found
room in their shanty for preaching.
13

18S

A MONO THE FOREST TREES.

r'l
|i

The water-elm will not check in the sun, like Jianler
wood, and it will not split like the harder and firmer
rock elm.

About eleven o'clock they suspended the work of
cart-building, and went to see about burning the
stubble. The wind was blowing away from the house
and stacks, but they went to work and carricnl up a
few pails of water, so as to have it handy in case of

emergency.

After dinner they started the fire, thinking that it
would take the afternoon to burn the field over. But
when they saw the flames jump from place to place
before the wind, they became frightened. But now it
was too late to stop it. On and on it went, as fast as
a man could walk. In ten minutes the whole field
looked like a solid mass of smoke and flame. And in
ten minutes more the smoke and flame was nearly
gone, and the ground was as black as a full-blooded
African's face, and danger from the fire was all past,

" That is quick work, boys," said Mose, as with his
foot he commenced to scrape over the ground.

" Yes," said John, " that is turned black sooner than
I expected to see it. But, though it has been a short
job, it is decidedly a good one."

" I say, John," said Will, " why would not this do
for fall wheat ? After this burn it will be just as clean
as a piece of ground can be. And it can't be exhausted
by only one crop."

" If I can find a bag or two of fall wheat, I will do
so, when I go to Mapleton to mill. And I will sow it j
on the best part of this ground, and see how it will do. j

MARY FINDS A FRIEND.

189

I have heard that if you can get a good burn, the
second crop may be as good as the first."

The next morning John hitched up to his new cart,
and started for Mapleton for some flour and wheat for
seed. He could not take time then to fi.K a floor and
thresh some of his own wheat, .so he concluded to buy
some tiour for the time being.

Will said to him before he started, "You will need
to keep that go-gig well greased, or it will make such
>\ squealing along the road that you will frighten all
the horses out of the fields, and all the sheep out of
the pastures, as if a pack of wolves were coming."

" 0, yes," said John, " I forgot to grease it. Mary,
can you let me have some butter or tallow to grease
my waggon ? "

Tho grease was soon provided by Mary, and with a
little help from Will and Mose the axles were soon
well lubricated.

Having got everything ready John started for the
two days' trip. His oxen walked oflT with the trucks
as proudly as though they had a hundred-dollar wag-
gon behind them. He reached Mapleton in time to do
his business before dark. He got the flour at the only
mill in the village. He was also fortunate enouf'h to
find a bafj and a half of nice clean fall wheat. He
took some oat sheaves along to feed the team.

The miller made John stay all night with him, say-
ing that after coming all that distance he and his
oxen deserved to be well taken care of for the night,
and so they were. The miller and his genial wife
gave John a good supper and a good bed. He was

190

AMONG THE FORKST TREES.

much pleased to make the acquaintance of Mr. White-
wood, the miller, and his kind-hearted wife.

Next morning he started home with his flour-bags
of flour and three bushels of seed wheat. The load
impeded the progress of the oxen, so that it was after
sundown when he arrived at Sylvan Lake.

John had a good deal to tell about the changes that
had taken place since they came into the bush ; but
the most important thing of all was a letter for Mary
and one each for Will and Mose. He found them in
Greenbush P. O., where they had been for a month.
Mary's letter was from Betsy Bushman. It was a gene-
ral family letter, speaking of the aflfairs of both fami-
lies. And since neither the writer nor the reader has
any right to meddle with other people's private affairs,
we will leave the owners of these letters to do as they
think best with them.

John told of new settlers along the line from there
to Mapleton. A number of .shanties v\rere built, and
others were in course of erection. Three or four good-
sized houses were raised, but not yet finished. People
were preparing, in considerable numbers, to move in
on the following spring. Young men were makinjr a
start for themselves. Men with families were making
homes for them, and all were hopeful and cheerful.

Among the single men was a medical doctor, who
had concluded to try his fortune in the bush. He was
Dr. Ashgrove. John stopped to feed his oxen and eat
his own cold dinner just in front of the doctor's:
shanty. He found a man of about thirty years of j
age, with a sharp, piercing black eye and a determined j

MARY FINDS A FRIEND.

191

look. On asking the man how he liked bush life, he
answered,

" I have not been here loner enough yet to get used
to it. But I am trying hard to believe that I shall
like it after I get my sinews and muscles seasoned to
the hard work, and my hands toughened to the axe-
handle. Look at them now, stranger," said the doctor,
a.s he held out his blistered hands for John to exam-
ine.

" Your hands are very sore, my friend. I think you
have not been accustomed to hard work," .said John.

'• That is so," said the doctor, " I have never done
a dozen hard days' work in my life. My father was
an English gentleman. He gave me a medical educa-
tion. He died at last, after having lost his property
in an unfortunate speculation, leaving me to my own
resources. I came to this country to seek my fortune.
That fortune I have found here in the shape of two
hundred acres of good bush land. I don't like the
medical profession, and will not practise it, so I am
going to be a farmer."

" Well," said Bushman, "it is a big undertaking for
a man who has no practical knowledge of life in a
new country, but patience and perseverance will secure
the same success to you that it has done to many
in this land."

" What others have done under the same circum-
stances I can do. At- any rate, I am going to try."*

*A Doctor Neely, when the writer was a boy, settled on a lot in
Erin Township under circumstances similar to those above de-
acrib'ed. He lived there some years, then sold out and left the set-
tUnient,

192

AMONO THE FOREST TREES.

The fall wheat that John brought from Mapleton
was sown and nicely harrowed in the same week that
he got it. The potatoes were dug out, and they proved
to be an excellent crop both as to([uantity and (juality.

They now had more than enough of produce for
their next year's supplies. This was considered to be
a very good beginning for John and Mary.

Arrangements were now to be made for next year's
operations. John got Will and Mose and Harry Haw-
thorn to help him to log off the rest of the twelve
acres' chopping, so that it might be ready for the next
spring's sowing. Harry was a little anxious to help
Bushman for two reasons. He wanted to get a little
practice at that kind of work, and he wanted John's
help with his oxen to clear off a spot around his
shanty, so that it might have a sort of home-like ap-
pearance when "Biddy and the children" should come
the next spring. Harry was somewhat awkward at
first, but being willing to be taught, and quick to
learn, he soon got to be a very fair hand at the work.

It did not take many days to do the job. Then all
hands went to help Harry clear off the spot around
the shanty, to make it ready for the coming of Harry "s
wife and children.

By this time old Mr. Crautmaker was ready to move
his family into their new home. He left the boys to
work on the place, and he went to bring in the rest of
the family. The month of October was a beautiful
month, and the settlers improved it by making pre-
paration for the approaching winter. None of them
had as yet spent a winter there, and many conjee-

MAllY FINDS A FRIENIX

193

tures were indulged in and expressed with regard to
wliat winter in the backwoods would be like.

Among the various kinds of work at this time* of
the year was " underbrushing," and every man who
intended to stay on his lot through the winter was
eno;aged in this work, because it was not possible,
when the snow was on the ground, to cut the under-
growth and saplings close enough to the ground to
make it practicable to harrow in the grain. Whatever
was intended to be chopped through the winter must
be underbrushed in the fall.

John Bushman h&d measured off' six acres to be
chopped through the winter. This, along with thresh-
ing his grain, and doing the many nameless chorea
always to be found on a new place, was a prett}' large
calculation for one man. Will and Mose were going
out to the old settlement for the winter, so that John
and Mary expected to be alone. John was generally
moderate in his expectations, and cautious and careful
in laying his plans, and what he set out to do he, as a
rule, accomplished.

As winter approached, those who were intending to
go away made arrangements for doing so. And those
who expected to stay tried to make the best prepara-
tions they could to meet the rigors of winter among
the forest trees. Mr. Beach had got his house ready
for use. But, like Harry, he had deferred moving into
it until the next spring, having been offered a good
winter's work at fair wages elsewhere. Will Briars
had not put up a house, as it was settled that he and
Betsy could stay with John and Mary until one could
be built next spring.

■ f;

Chaptkr XV.

WINTER IN THE WOODS.

!HE month of November came and went without
much change in the new settlement. The
weather was growing colder. The nights were
getting longer, while the days were gradually shrink-

ing.

John had prepared his threshing-floor, and made
himself a flail to thresh the grain and a " fan " to clean
it with. The " fan " was made something on this wise:
Some thin, light boards, or pieces of split cedar, were
jointed together, then cut into the shape of a horse-
shoe, only the two ends were not brought so near
together. Then a piece of some light, bendable timber
was dressed to the thickness of about half an in^b,
and six or seven inches wide. This was bent around
the bottom, and nailed securely, leaving what would
correspond with the heel of the horse-shoe open,
Handles were fastened to the sides of this. The oper-
ator put a lot of uncleaned grain on the bottom of the
fan. Then taking hold of the handles, he placed the
round end of the machine against his waistbands, and
commenced to waft the outer end up and down, sone-

11 1

VVINTEH IN THE WOODS.

195

thing as a woman wafts her apron to frighten the
chickens out of the garden. It is surprising the
amount of grain that an expert at the business could
clean up in a day.

The Hail was made of two sticks. One of these was
about the size of an ordinary hoe handle, and was
called the staff The other was about three feet long,
and somewhat heavier than the staff, and was called
the swingel. These were tied together at one end, and
the grain was spread on a floor and pounded out of
the straw with this implement.

The great difficulty with this kind of threshing and
cleaning was the " white caps." These were simply
grains of wheat that broke off from the straw but did
not come out of the chaff. And getting out the
" white caps " was an important item in grain cleaning
before the days of machine threshing. These white
caps were generally spread on the floor and threshed
over again. But after all, they would often show up
in the wheat that the backwoodsmen carried to mill
or to market.

Another one of the necessities of the new settler is
a sleigh or sled, for various purposes. Bushman
needed an ox-sled, and the question was how could he
get one. There was not a sleigh-raaker within forty
or fifty miles of him, so far as he knew. The only
way that seemed open to him was by doing as bush-
men so often have to do, viz., make the article or go
without it. A consultation with Will and Mose re-
sulted in a decision to go at it and make a sled. They
went to the woods and found a white oak tree, with a

190

AM()N(i THE FUUEST TREES.

root turned in the shape of the runners. Tliey cut
the tree at the; roots, and worked out the runners, so
that by sawing them in two lengthwise they had a
pair. They did this with the whip-saw.

John brouglit with him some tools, as every man
ought to do who goes to the baclvwoods. As it was in
making the cart, so now in making the sled, they suc-
ceeded better and sooner than they expected, and
produced a very fair sample of a strong wood-shod
sled, good enougli for anybody, as Mose remarked
when it was done.

The first of December was here. The ground was
covered with snow. Will and Mose were to start, in
a day or two, for the old homes. Among them they
had threshed out a grist to take to the mill. John
was to take the grist and go with them as far as
Mapleton.

But in their hurry and bustle to get things in shape
for the movement, they had entirely overlooked one
matter of considerable importance, at least one of the
group thought so. What was Mary to do while John
was gone ? Moses was the first to speak of it, by ask-
ing Mary what she would do while John would be
away. She answered, " I hardly know ; but I suppose
that I and Rover can get along in some way for two
days and a night."

•' I don't think," said John, " that you and Rover
are to be put to the test. Not, at all events, if I can
help it. I know what it means to be alone in the
house, with woods all around you."

" Look here, John," said Will, " how would it be for

girl

WINTER IN THE WOODS.

197

f cut
rs, so
lad a

' man
was in
y sue-
i, and
J -shod
narked

nd wa8
tart, in
111 they
. John
i far as

n shape
ced one
of the
le John
by ask-
ould be
suppose
for two

Rover
f I can
in the

Mose and I to go over to Mr. Orautniaker's and see if
one of the girls would come and stay with Mary till
you come back. It is too bad to go and leave the poor
('irl here all alone."

" Bad or not, it is not going to be done," said John.
" But your proposal is a good one ; go ahead, and come
hack as soon as you can, and if the girl will come,
brin<,' her along with you."

They started, and it did not take them long to reach
the place, as it was only one concession, or about
thrte-quarters of a mile to go. They found the family
busily engaged in putting things to rights about the
house. They had never seen any of the family except
the old man and the two eldest boys. The rest of the
family consisted of the old lady and two young wo-
men, and two boys, and a girl younger than they were.
They were very kindly received at Mr. Crautmaker's.
After a little talk on different subjects they told what
they were after, and how important it was that they
should receive a favorable answer.

The old man was the first to speak. He said, in
his broken way, " I say, vife, ve must acgomodate
Meister and Meistres Pushman. Dey vill miakes us
goot nibors, and ve must meets them half of de vay.
Katriiia must go and stay shust so long as Meistres
Pushman tells her to."

" Dat ish all right, mine old man," said the old lady ;
' ve vill do shust as you say, for you know dees beoples
best. Katrina may go and stay till she comes home

again.

fit be for I ^^ half an hour two young men and one young

198

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

woman might have been seen going through the
woods, in the direction of John Bushman's. The girl
was in the neighborhood of twenty years old. She
was the picture of blooming health, about medium
size, with a fair complexion, and of a vivacious tem-
perament, and yet exhibiting a maidenly modesty of
deportment that made her, on the whole, a person of
more than ordinary attractiveness. It is not to be
wondered at if the young men were somewhat
interested in their travelling companion that after-
noon. When they came to Bushman's, Will told John
and Mary that it was his opinion that Moses Moose-
wood was hopelessly smitten by the rustic charms of
the unassuming Katrina Crautmaker. Whether this
were so or not time will tell. Btlt one thing may be
said without pretending to read the future, and that
is, the dreams that Mose had during the winter were
of a strangely mixed character.

Sometimes, in his dreams, he would fancy that ht
was loading bags of grain on the sled, and as fast as
he put them out of his arms, by some strange freak
every one of them became a Katrina Crautmaker
Then again he would fancy that the oxen were before
the sled and Katrina and he were on it and going
down a steep hill. At other times the sled and oxen
would be absent, while he and Katrina would be car-
rying bags of grain up a steep hill. And to finish up i
with, he would sometimes dream that oxen, sled, bags
of grain and Katrina, all in one struggling mass of
living helplessness, were thrown over a tremendous|
precipice and were all killed and dashed to pieces!

WINTER IN THE WOODS.

199

;h the

he ^'irl

I She

nedium

IS tem-

esty of

jrson of

)t to be

iinewhat

it at'ter-

3ld John

s Moose-
harms of

ther this
may be
and that
ter were

that ht
ts fast as
icre freak
),utmaker
ire before
Ind going
ind oxen
be car-
I finish up
aed, bags
mass of
jmendous
Ito pieces.

Yes, Moses Moosewood's dreams were strangely mixed
up that winter. Can any one guess the reason of it ?

Mary and the young girl were mutually drawn to
each other. Thoroughly honest natures do attract
one another by an instinctive or intuitive knowledge
of each other's character. These women were both
thoroui^hly honest. They became friends at once.

During the night some more snow f^U, so that now
the sled would slip along nicely. In the morning be-
fore they started Mary gave John two of the gold
pieces that old Hickory gave her, along with a list of
articles to fetch from the store. This was the first
time she had sent to the store since she came to the
bush.*

They started about daylight. Will and Mose were
(:;oing home after an absence of seven months. They
expected to stay away till April or May. Will ex-
pected to bring Betsy Briars back with him ; Moses
expected to come alone.

A (Treat change had been wrought in the character
and liabits of Moses since the time that he came to see
John Bushman about going with him to the bush.
Before that he was a wild, reckless, fearless and wicked
young man, ready for any kind of mischief that came
in his way. But now he was the same cheerful,
buoyant young man; but his vivacity and cheerfulness
were of a different type. Now he could be happy and

* The writer can well remember the time when the families who
settled in the locality of Ballinafad, in Erin Township, had to go all
of twenty-five miles to get to either a mill or a store, or a magistrate
or a doctor.

200

AMONG THE FORKST TREES.

joyful as the result of having made his peace with
God.

Before they parted, John cautioned Moses against
allowing himself to be influenced by old companions
and old associations, so as to forget that he no longer
belonged to the thoughtless and giddy multitude, who
seek only the things of the present life, and give little
or no thought to the great beyond.

When the men got as far as Greenbiish post office
they found two letters. One was for Moses Moose-
wood, from his mother. The other was from John's
father, telling him that, as soon as there would be
good sleighing, he and Mrs. Bushman would make
them a visit. He was intending to bring the sheep
with them, and some other things, one of which would
be a barrel of apples.

Will and Mose left John at the mill at Mapleton,
They bid him good-bye, and went on toward their
destination. John found the mill so nearly empty
that his grist could be ground that night. As on the
former occasion, the miller insisted on John stopping
over night at his place. In the morning John got his
things at the store for Mary, and putting all on the
sled he started for home. But before doing this he
wrote to his father, and put the letter in the office at
Mapleton. In the letter he asked his mother to fetch
some dried apples, and cherries, and peaches, if .she|
could. He told his father to trade two of the sheep.
or sell them, and in their stead to bring along twol
sugar kettles, as he intended to try the making of
maple sugar in the spring.

WINTKIl IN THE WOODS.

201

st office
1 Moose-
1 John's
vould be
lid make
he sheep
ch wouhi

While John was away, Mary and her new friend
(rot along very nicely. They got acquainted, and the
friendship here connnenced was designed to last, be-
cause it was founded on mutual respect. In their
conversation Mary found out that Katrina was en-
tirely free from love's entanglements, and that both
her heart and hand were disengaged.

" How did you like the looks of the young men who
went away with my husband ? " asked Mary of Ka-
trina.

"I think they are civil, nice young men," was her
answei'. Then, after a moment, she said, "I suppo.se
they will both be married men when they come back
in the spring ?"

" William Briars will likely be married before he
conies back to my husband's sister, but Moses, I think,
has no expectations at present in that direction. I am
coniident that he is not engaged, and I don't think that
he ever paid much attention to any of the girls of his
acquaintance."

" Have you known him long ? " she asked.

"Yes; ever since we were children. We came from
the same neighborhood," said Mary.

The conversation here dropped, as neither of the two
had any reason for continuing it.

John had taken his ritie with him, a thing that
[back woodsmen very frequently do, and some of them
[always do, when they go into the bush.

John 1^ tired walking, so he got on the top of the
bags on the sled to ride aways, and rest his limbs, as
Ithe snow was a little heavy to walk through.

202

AMONG THK FOIIKST TREES.

He had not been long in this position when he saw
a drove of deer coming toward him. He spoke to the
oxen and stopped them. Then he got his rifle from
where he had laid it in safety down at the side of the
box. By the time this was done the deer were within
some fifty yards of him. To lift the gun and take aim
at the foremost and largest of the deer was but the
work of a moment. At the crack of the rifle the deer
dropped, shot through the heart. The rest of the flock
ran away a few rods, and then turned and stood look-
ing at the sled and oxen, as though they had never
seen anything like it before.

John looked at them, as they stood in a row facing
him. Then he said to himself, " The meat need not be
wasted, if I do kill another one."

So saying, he took aim at the largest deer, and tired,
At first he thought he had mis.sed it, by the way it ran
off*. But on going to where it had stood, he found
large spots of blood on the snow. He followed its
track for some thirty or forty rods, and there he found
the deer dying.

He said to himself, " That is not badly done. Two
nice deer inside of ten minutes."

He opened them, and took out the oflTals, and then
put them on top of the bags. By the time he got home
it was dark.

He found Mary and Katrina waiting for him, with
the supper on the table, all ready. When he drove up
to the door they came out. But when thej^^ saw two
pairs of pronged horns pointing at them, they ran back
into the doorway.

WIXTEH IN THE WOODS.

203

e saw
to the
I from
of the
within
ke aim
)ut the
he (leer
lie flock
)d look-
d never

w facing
>d not be

ind tired,

ay it ran

e found

owed its

he found

le.

Two

I and then
1 got home

nm, witii
drove up
saw two '
ran hack

Mary said, " For tlie hindsakc, John, what have you
£Tot on that load that looks so frii:;htful ? "

" Only some venison that came in my way, and I
broui^lit it aloncT," was John's answer.

To put away and care for the oxen, and eat his
supper, and dress the deer, kept John busy till bed-
time, with all the help that Mary and Rover could
mve him.

The venison was in crood order, the deer being fat,
and thoir meat tender. Mr. Crautmaker's and Mr.
Greenleaf's families each got a piece of the venison.

Mary was well pleased with the purchases that John
had made for her at the store.

When he gave her the odd change that was left,
John said, " Mary, you never told me the amount of
that handful of gold coins that Old Hickory gave you."

"Did I not, John ? Well, it must be because you
never asked me, then. I will t'^ll you now. There
were twelve guineas and two half-eagles."

"That was a good gift for the old man to make to
a stransjer," said John.

" Well," said Mary, '' 1 was not more surprised at the
old man's gift, than by the romantic way in which it
came about."

"Mary, I would like you to tell the old man's story
to Katrina."

" I have no objection," said she ; so, commencing at
her first meeting the old man, she told all she knew
ahout him up to the time that he gave her the gold.

When Mary ceased speaking, Katrina, with consid-
erable earnestness in her manner. Onsked. " Do you
14

204

AMONG 'I HE FOUEST THKES,

'1 !

know his real name ? for, of course, Old Hickory is
only a nickname."

" I never heard any other name for him," she an-
swered.

"You say his wife died in England ? "

"Yes, so he said. Both wife and child died there."

" Well," said Katrina, " what I am going to tell you,
please don't mention to any one else, but there Is a
strange coincidence between your story and a piece of
family history that comes near to me and mine. My
father has been twice married. His first wife was an
English woman. My brother John is her son. She
had a brother who lost a wife and little girl, with
small-pox, before she and my father were married.
That brother went away, and the family lost all traces
of him, thirty years ago. Who knows but Old Hickory
may be my brother's uncle ? "

" Since you speak of it, I remember the old man said
his wife and child died with small-pox," Mary said.

" If he is my brother's relative his name would be
William Hedge," said Katrina.

" Well, at all events, the coincidence is a striking
one. We will try and find out what his name is.
Perhaps Mr. Bushman will be able to tell us when he
comes here," Mary said.

John came in from looking after the cattle in time
to hear what Katrina said about the name.

He said, " It seems to me that I have heard the old
man called Mr. Hedge, years ago, when I was a boy."

" I think the same," said Mary. " It seems like a
dream to me that I have heard that name given him.

WINTER IN THE WOODS.

205

lid be

in time

the old
a boy."
; like a

But I can't be certain. However, we will let the
matter rest until father Bushman comes."

Next morning John put the oxen to the sled to take
Katrina home, as there was no track across since the
last sDow. Mary was to go, too. She had not seen
any of Katrina's people but the old man and the two
young men. *

They shut everything up, and locked up the house,
leaving Rover to watch the place till they came back.

" What would Rover do, if some one should come
while you are away ? " asked Katrina.

" He would not harm him, if he kept his hands to
himself. But it would be a little risky if a stranger
should meddle with anything about the place. The
old dog knows his place, and he will keep it, and he
expects every one else to do the same."

John put a quarter of a deer on the sled for the
two families on the other concession, as Mary intended
to call on Martha Greenleaf before coming home.

Before he started, John brought out the rifle and
put it on the side of the box where he had fixed a
place for it. Mary said, " Are you going to take the
gun along, John ? "

" Yes, Mary," said he. " This country is too new yet
to undertake to carry fresh meat through the woods
without something to defend it with."

'■ Are you afraid of Indians, Mr. Bushman ? " asked
Katrina.

" No, not Indians. But the bears and wolves might
take it into their heads to try my venison. They
are sharp-scented and saucy.

206

AMONG TliK FOREST TREKS.

They started and got along all right, and were at
Mr. Crautinaker's })y ten o'clock. Mary was mucli
pleased with the old-t'a.shioned hospitality of this plain
and honest family. She spent a ])art of the day very
pleasantly.

John's venison was a great treat to thein. In the
afternoon John and Mary went to Mr. Greenleafs.
He and Martha were very much pleased with the
quarter of the deer. They had their little shanty
nicely fitted up ; Martha seemed to have " a place for
everything and everything in its place." Richard
Greenleaf l)ad mn..^ ^ ">. commencement toward choppinff
a fallow. lie said to John, " Man, but this is a dif-
ferent thing from tending cattle, and driving the old
folks to church, and going to mill and to market. This
is the hardest work that ever I did."

"No doubt of that," answered John. " But there is
one thing that you and I should not forget — what we
are doing now, our fathers had to do. They labored
under greater disadvantages than we do. But they
succeeded, and we will do the same, if we do our part
as manfully as they did theirs."

" That is so," said Richard ; " ] know my father and
mother worked very hard, to make the good home
they now liave."

Martha and Mary made arrangements to spend the
Christinas together at John's house, and then the
oxen were once more put in motion with their heads
turned homewards, and in half an hour John and
Mar}" sat comfortably at their own fireside.

CHAPn^ER XVI.

VISITORS AND CALLERS.

NE brijjfht and cold inoonlifrht iiijjht in the last
^^_^ week in January, about eight o'clock, John and
Mary were sitting by a good tire in the room,
that answered to the name of kitchen, dining-room,
sitting-room, parlor and drawing-room, or in fact, any
kind of room but bedroom. While sitting by a good
tire in this very accommodating room, they thought
they heard the tinkling of sleigh bells.

" What is that r said Mary.

" It sounds like bells. I will go out and see if I
can hear anything out of doors," John said. But
before he had time to reach it, they heard a sleigh
drive up to the door and people talking. The next
inument Betsy, closely followed by her mother, walked
into the room.

After kissing Mary and glancing around the room,
Bet said, " John, you go out and take care of the horses,
and let father come in to the tire. He is nearly frozen
by coming to this awful cold country."

" Why, Betsy, how you talk ; father has not com-
plained of the cold," said the mother.

208

AMON(} THE FOREST TRKKS.

" No, mother, he don't complain ; you know, he
never complains. But I am in a hurry for him to come
in and see what a cozy little nest his first-born son
has got himself settled down into," said she, looking at
John and laughing.

" Never mind about the nest, Bet. If you find the
bird all right. Your turn will come if you only
have patience to wait for it," said John, as he went
out of the door, just in time to escape the big ball
that Bet had made by rolling up her shawl to throw
at him.

" What a wild girl you are, Betsy," said her mother.

" Never mind, mother. It is so long since I saw him,
that I am dying for an old-fashioned frolic with John.
I almost wish that we were children again," she
answered.

Mr. Bushman brought a heavy load of things. Be-
tween sheep, and sugar-kettles, and apples, ' and pork,
and dried fruit, and grass-seed, and a lot of things
sent to Mary by her mother, he had as much as his
horses could get along with.

After the team was put away and the sleigh was
unloaded, the rest of the evening was spent in telling
what had taken place about the old home, and the new
one, since they last met.

John's father was well pleased with what John told
him about his crops. He also commended John's
course about sowing the fall wheat. That was just
the place to sow the Timothy seed that he had brought
with him. And the sheep would need a pasture field,
and that was the quickest way to get it.

VISITOKS AND CAM-EIIS.

209

iW, he
)Corae
rn son
:in<^ at

nd the
u only
le went
H2 ball
) throw

mother.
taw hira,
tb John,
lin," «he

,gs.

Be-

lcI pork,
if things
Ih as his

|eio"h waa

in telling

the new

[ohn tokl
}cl John's
was just
brougM
Itare fieW.

" What will you do with your sheep until you get a
pasture field for them ?" asked Betsy of her brother.

He answered, " I will keep them shut up in a pen
and feed them on beaver-meadow hay and green
leaves or anything that they will eat, until the grass
(HOWS in the meadow. Then I will cut grass and feed
them. For this first year I nmst do the best I can
with them. After that I can have a suitable place for
tiiem."

" Mary, can you card and spin ?" inquired Mrs. Bush-
man.

" Yes. Mother taught me how to do both," she
replied.

" There is a Scotchman settling on the lot opposite
to Will Briar's lot, who is a weaver, and he is going
to bring his loom with him when he moves in here.
We will be able to get weaving done near home,"
said John.

" Scotchman, your granny," said Bet. " Have you
forgotten already, that you have a sister who can
weave ? "

" 0, dear me. Now I have done it," said John, in a
half whining tone. " I have passed by the prospective

Mrs. B 's, and gone to a Scotch weaver to get some

cloth made. But let it pass this time, sister dear, and
the next will be brought to you."

" Well, of all things, but you are the provoking
tease. I won't touch your nasty old yarn," she said,
pretending to be out of temper. Then turning to
Mary, she said, " For your sake, Mary, I will do your
weaving when everything.is in readiness."

210

AM()N(i THE FOREST lUEES.

" No matter for whose sake it is done, so lon^j as it
is well done," said John.

Next morninjL^, wlien Mrs. Bushman and Betsy could
look around and see the place they were doUglited
with it. The lake and the evergreens that surrounded
it, with the white snow everywhere showing itself
among the leaves and branches, made a picture of
rural beauty not often seen. But when the sun got
up, so that its rays struck tin; water at an angle of
about forty-five or tifty degrees, the beauty of the
scene was greatly increased. The sun-light, as it
touched the rippling surface of the water, seemed to
plant luminous centres all over, and from those cen-
tres there went out, in all directions, what looked
like streams of yellow light, and these, falling upon
the snow, partly hidden among the evergreen branches,
gave it the appearance of lumps of amber, so that the
mingling of light and shade, and the mixing of so
many different shades of color, gave to the lake a
stamp of beauty seldom met with anywhere. After
they had been looking at the scene before them, Mrs.
Bushman turned to John, and said, " It would be worth
a trip from our place to this, if it was only to see that
one sight ; it is so charming."

"I am glad you like it mother," said John. "I
often think of the bright world beyond the storms of
life, when I look at Sylvan Lake in its gayest dress."

" John," you have made a good hit by coming to the
bush just when you did," said Mr. Bushman next day,
looking around the place.

" I think so, too, father," John answered.

VISITORS AND CALLEKS,

211

r as it

f could
,i<:hte(l
juruled
; itself
Lure of
lUIl got
in<j;le of
r ut* tlie
:,, as it
L'lued to
ose cen-
, looked

" Yes, there is no doubfc of it. I see that some
twelve or Hfteen settlers liave made beginnings along
the road this side of Mapleton since we were here last
spring'," was the father's answer.

When they went into the house, Jolin said, "Mother,
would you like a ride on an ox-sled?"

" Well, John, it would not be the first one, for I can
remember when we liad to ride on the ox-sled or
walk, " she answered.

" Well, then, for the sake of old a.ssociations, you
ought to have such a ride. F propose to take you all
on a visit to our only neighbors, Mr.Crautmaker's and
Mr. (heenleaf s. We have plenty of prospective neigh-
bors, but as yet we have not many real neighbors.
What do you all say ? Will you go ? "

" We might as well get acquainted with the people
around here," said Mr. Bushman ; "and I think we had
better (fo."

" All right, then ; that is settled," said John.

'Will you let me and Rover keep house?" put In
Betsy. "I am afraid of those big Dutchmen over
there."

" Now, Bet, none of your nonsense. Do you think
that because Will Briars has been soft enough to try
and captivate you, therefore no other young man can
be where you are without trying to catch you ? " said
John.

" Well, if you are not the mo.st impudent biped
that I know of, my name ain't Betsy. But, listen:

" I know a man who feels so big
Because he has a ulever wife

212 AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

To cook hia meat and clean his knife,
That he is saucy as a \ng.

But if I had tliat woman's lot
rd tell him ])lumply to his face
That lie must learn to keep his place,

Or I would smash the dinner pot. "

" There, now, you have got my opinion about you,"
Betsy said, as she waved her hand toward the door,
as an intimation that he should get the sled and oxen
ready.

"Well, of all things.. Betsy," said her mother.

" Mother," said John, " I like it. Mary is so st.'.I
can't get any nonsense from her, and you know Bet |
and I were always bantering each other. And yet wt
never had a quarrel, or anything like it in our lives' I

"I was only joking," said Betsy. "I want to see
Katrina, for I am pretty sure that Mose is more thanj
half in love with her already."

" Katrina is a nice girl," put in Mary.

All was ready in a short time, and away throu^M
the woods they started. As on the former occasioD,]
John took his rifle along. They went to Mr. Craiitj
maker's first, and spent a pleasant time with thatj
family.

During the conversation, John a.sked his father if hej
knew the name of the old man who was called Old}
Hickory.

" Yes," said Mr. Bushman. "I was a witness totliej
deed when he bought the farm where he lives. HiJ
name is William Hedge. Why, what made you thinlj
of him now ?' he asked.

VISITORS AND CALLKRS.

213

bout you,"

the door,

1 and oxen

iher.

i so st',1
know Bet

knd yet we
our lives."

ant to see

1 more than

Mr, Crautraaker spoke, and said : " I once had a
brother-in-law by that name, my first wife's brother.
He lost his wife and only child by small-pox over
thirty years ago. He seemed all broken up, and went
off no one knew where, and the familv lost all trace
of him."

"VVliat age would this man be, and how long have
you known him ?"*

"About twenty-two years, I think, and he is about
seventy years of age, I should say. We have not been
much ac([uainted with him, as he always kept out of
society," was answered.

" I have a portrait of mother, and I will let you see
if there is any resemblance to the old man in it," said
John Crautniaker, who had been a very intense listener
to the conversation.

The portrait was examined by Mr. and Mrs. Bush-
man. They both thought that they saw a striking
resemblance, making allowance for difference in age
and sex.

"See here," said Mr. Bushman to the young man.
"If you will let me take that picture with me, I will
show it to the old man, and see if he will recognize it."

"I will willingly do it if you will give yourself the
trouble to go and show it to him, and let me know
what he says about it," said he.

"I will gladly do that, and let you know the result.
When William Briars and Moses Moosewood come

*Iu thiij couvcrsatiou we havci translated the old mau'a broken
[words into fair English.

214

AMONG THK FOREST TREES.

back in the sprinj^, I will send the picture to you by
then),'" Mr. Bushman said.

After this arrangement was made the visitinuf-partv
left,and went across to Richard Greenleafs. Here they
were warmly received by Martha, who had often heard
Mary speak of them. After spendinj^ a pleasant after-
noon with this interesting young couple, the party
went home, in time to attend to the chores.

When they came within sight of the place, they
heard Rover barking fiercely. They hurried on to see]
what was the matter, for he never barketl like that
unless there was some cause for it.

When they got around to the stable, they saw that!
Rover had a man treed on the hen-house, and was
barking at him. The man looked frifrhtened when he|
saw them come into the yard.

John called the dog off, and then went up to the
man, and asked him what he was doing there.

"I am here," said the man, "by the order of yourl
policeman that, it seems, you left to take care of the!
place. I made a mistake. But he would not take any
explanations. He has kept me here for four or tivej
hours."

" What did you do ?" inquired John.

" I will tell you," said the man. " I am on my \nf
to a settlement some twenty-five or thirty mik^s fron
here. I was told that a new road had been cutthrouglj
the country, and it is the shortest and best way tog(|
to where I am going. When I came this far I fell
hungry, and I thought that I would go in and see if
could get something to eat. I went to the house anj

VISITORS AND CALLERS.

215

ire.

ler of your

1 care

lot take any]
tour or t

cut tbroug
jt way to I
far I fel|
land see i
le house aff

found no one there. The clog watched me very closely,
hilt he did not molest me. I thought that I would
look into the stable, and .see what was there. That is
where I made the mistake. I had only put my hand
on the stable door, when the dog took hold of me, and
to get away from him I got upon the hen-pen, where
be has kept me till now."

"Well, my man," said John, " I am sorry that you
have been detained by the dog. But 1 can't blame the
(log for doing as he did. You can't go on any further
tnniirht, so come in and content vourself till morninfj.
We will give you your supper, ami bed, and breakfast,
as a sort of compromise for your forced detention by
the dog."

All right; I shall be thankful for your kindness,"
said he, as he walked toward the house, the dog keep-
ing close to him.

Next morning, after breakfast, the strange man
started on his journey, as he said, to the next settle-
ment, saying that when he came Imck he hoped to be
able to make some suitable return for their kindness.
When he had gone away, Mary said, " I am not at
[all anxious for his return, or for remuneration. I don't
'ike the looks of him, and I would not trust him."
"I agree with you, Mary," said Mrs. Bu.shman,
about that man. I would be afraid to trust him.
nd yet I could hardly tell why. He seemed civil
nough. But I feel that I would be unsafe if I put
onfidonce in him so far as in any way to put myself
n his power."
'That is a little strange," said John. "That you

216

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

should both have the same opinion about him is what
I can't understand, and yet you may be right."

" I would almost be willing to vouch for it, that they
are right," said John's father.

" On what grounds, father ? " asked John.

" On the ground that women are seldom, if ever,
wrong in the estimate they form of the character of a
strange man," he said.

" Are they better judges than men are on this sub-
ject ? " inquired John.

" Yes, decidedly so ; only in their case it is not judg-
ment, but it is instinct, or intuition, that governs their
conclusions."

" I don't think that I understand your meaning, "
said John.

" Probably not. But I will explain. We get all the
information we can about a man, and we mentally
take his measure. After we have gained all the facts
that we can in regard to the man, we base our judg-
ment on the ascertained qualities of the man, and form
our estimate of him accordingly. But with women
the process is entirely different. When a true woman i
comes into the presence of a strange man, if she w
note the first impression that arises in her mind, and I
governs herself by that, she will seldom, if ever, make
a mistake in estimating men."

" Well, I never heard of that before," said he.

" I suppose not. I don't know that we ever had anyl
talk on the subject before. But Mary's remarks abouti
that man brought the matter up. One thing I doj
know; in my own experience I have, on different!

VISITORS AND CALLERS.

217

get all the
mentally
the facts
our judg-
,, and form
th women
■ue woman
if she will
mind, and
iver, make

he.

er had any
arks about

hing I tlo
different

occasions, been saved from loss through taking your
mother's advice about strangers, even when she had no
other reason to give for lier fears than simply, ' 1 don't
like the looks of him.' And, on the other hand, in
some cases where I have acted on my own judgment,
and gone against her advice, I have found, in every
instance, that her estimate of the person was the
correct one."

"Good for you, father Bushman," said Mary. " That
will count one for my side, won't it ? "
" I suppose it will," he answered.
' Father," said John, " how do you account for what
you say is a fact about women's reading of men's
character ? "

I suppose we may say it arises from the law of
compensation that is said to run throughout animated
nature. By this law the balance or equilibrium of
creation is kept up. Where there may be weakness
land inferiority in some respects, there is always a
compensating strength and superiority in some other
[respect.

" For instance, those creatures that are easily de-
itroyed have the power of rapid increase. So that,
ilhough they are individually weak, they are numer-
ically strong. On the other hand, the strong and fero-
iious animals increase slowly, so that, though they are
individually Sorong, they are numerically weak. Com-
lare the power of increase of the lion and the tiger
ith that of rabbits and rats, and you see where this
fompensation comes in.
"Take another illustration. You tell about Moses'

218

AMONG THE FOIU>;sT TREKS

dog and the porcupine. Now, tlie little porcupine
could not run as fast as the dog, nor could it resist his
strength. But nature, or rather the God of nature,
coTnpen.sated the porcupine by surrounding it with a
coat of mail, made up of a thousand barbed arrows,
any one of which might kill the dog if it pierced him
in a vital part. While the dog was swifter and stringer
than the porcupine, he had no such weapon for self-
defence as the weaker and slower creature had.

"Now for the answer to your (juestion. A man
relies for self-protection on the force of his will, the
clearness of his intellect, and the strength of his arm.
But woman was not made to fight, nor to defend
herself by acts of prowess. Her strength is found in
the correctness of her intuitions, the quickness of her
instincts, and the strength of her moral perceptions.
With these in their normal condition, she is com-
paratively safe. But when these are overpowered
she becomes like a ship on a strong sea without a
rudder or a pilot, driven before the gale and as likely
to be dashed upon the rocks or among the breakers,
as to reach the safe and quiet haven." Mr. Bushman
spoke truly.

And Milton does no violence to nature, when he
makes Mother Eve trample on her own instinctive
feeling, and lay a suicidal hand upon her intuitions ,
and moral perceptions, by parleying with the devil.
before she yielded to temptation. "And that the I
woman who parleys with t'^mptation is lost," has been
true from the days of Eve, till the year of grace 1888.
And I will venture to repeat Mr. Bushman's statement

VISITORS AND rAIJ-ERS.

219

and endorse it, that if a woman will be guided by
her first impressions in regard to a strange man, she
never need to be deceived by that man.

"Father," said John, "will you show me how to
make a sap trough before you start for home ? Sugar-
making will soon be here, and I want to have every-
thing ready when it commences."

"Don't you know how to make a sap-trough ?" said
the father.

" No ; I never saw one made. I have seen them
after they were done, but I never .saw any of them
made."

"Well, we will go this afternoon, and see what we
can do. You have some nice pine trees out behind the
lake, that are just the thing to make them of," said
Mr. Bushman.

They made .some thirty troughs that afternoon, and
John learned how to do it so well, that by the time
the sap began to run he had about two hundred
troughs made and put in place at the roots of the trees
in what he intended for the "sap-bush."

The next morning after the sap-troughs were made
Mr. Bushman said to John, " What arrangements have
you for storing the sap that you get, until you can
boil it?"

" I have no arrangements as yet," said he.

"Do you know how to make a store-trough ?"

" No ; I don't think I do. How do they make them ?
Could you help me to i 'ake one ?" snid John.

"Yes. We will go a it riglit away, for you know

I must start home after one day more."
15

220

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

They went to the pinery and selected a tree of the
riofht size, which was about thirty inches across. They
felled it, and after takinpj off a few feet of the hutt-
end for fear of " shakes," they measured up some
thirty feet as the length from end to end. Tliey left
about two feet at each end that they did not din;
out. The rest of the log they dug out with axes and
carpenter's adze, until they had a shell tliat would
hold some sixty or seventy pails of sap. They got
done at sundown. Mr. Bushman said, " There, John,
you have a store-trough good enough for old King
George himself, if he were here."

" Yes, father ; " said John, " I am very much obliged
to you for helping me to make it. If I need any more,
I think now that I can manage to make tliem myself."

The time appointed for Mr. Bushman and his wife
and daughter to start for home came round, and as
punctuality characterized the Bushman family, they
started next day for home.

John jibed Betsy a little, telling her to be sure and
come back before the berries were all gone, so that
there would be nothing but briars left. She told him
to mind his business and they started for home.

o{ thfi
They

p some
ley left
not dig
CCS an<l
, would
ey c;ot
e, John,
Id King

Chapter XVII.

SUGAR- MAKING.

j->.

:l2)K0PLE who never had experience in the work of
'1$ making maple sugar can form but a very vague
idea of what it really means. The work is so
mixed up with what is pleasant and exhilarating that
a great deal of it seems, betimes, more like play than
work. It is true that some things that have to be
done are hard to do. The carrying of the sap by hand,
when the snow is deep and covered with crust that
will almost bear up a man, and then let him down
witli his load of sweet water and perhaps spill it all, is
not among the easiest or pleasantest kind of employ-
ment. This is not only tiresome, but it also tries one's
temper sometimes pretty severely.

Then there is wood-chopping, which is hard work,

and working around the fire and in the smoke is by no

means like play. But after all is said that can be .said

about the hardships of sugar-making, there is more of

I pleasure than pain in it, more profit than loss, and

j more sweet than bitter ; on the side of its advantages

ffiay be counted first, the saving of expense in buying

your year's supply of this saccharine necessity in

I household furnishing. And the feeling of independ-

222

AMONO THE FOREST TREES.

ence that a good supply of sugar gives to the house-
keeper, who knows that she can't be taken short for
sweetness, while she has a lot of cakes of sugar stowed
away in some safe place, is among the advantages of
the business.

And the pleasure of making our own supply of any
thing seems to enhance its value. And another ad-
vantage is in the business itself after it has been
started. The expense of starting is something, but it is
not like an annual outlay. Once the business is fitted
up, it will last foi- years without additional expense.
There is no seeding nor feeding to be done in connec-
tion with a sap-bush, so that after the work of tapping
the trees and boiling the sap is paid for, the rest is
clear profits in sugar, molasses and vinegar.

About the last week in March John tapped his trees.
The first run of sap is said to be the sweetest and
best for making sugar. For three days and nights
the sugar maples in John's sap-bush seemed to have
entered into a conspiracy to try and drown him out.
The troughs were tilled and emptied, until no room
could be found to store any more sap. His kettles,
including Mary's dinner-pot and bake-kettle, would
hold about fifteen pails and boil. Although he had
kept the kettles going for two days and a night,
the sap was accumulating on his hands. The store-
trough was full and all the sap-troughs were nearly so.
"Seventy pails of vsap in the store-trough and notj
less than a hundred pails in the sap-troughs," said I
John to Mary, when she came to bring him something |
to eat.

. : II

'ii:
„iii

SUOAR-MAKINO.

223

house-
ort for
stowed
.ages of

' of any
ther ad-
las been
, but it is
i is fitted
expense.
n connec-
i tapping
[le rest is

I bis trees,

etest and

,nd nigbts

to bave

him out.

no room

IS kettles,

tie, would

;h be had

I a nigbt,

Tbe store-

! nearly so,

■h and not

Ighs," sa

" I never thoufrht that sugar-making was like this.
You must be just about tired out already. Here you
have been working for two days and a night without
rest or sleep," Mary said.

" The old adage, you know, says you must ' Make
hay while tbe sun shines,' .said John ; " but it may
be changed in this case to ' make sugar while the
sap runs.' And that is what we are doing. It is hard
work while it runs like this, but this run is about over.
The wind has got into the north, and there will be
no sap running to-morrow ; and I am glad of it, for it
will take me all of three days to clear off what is on
hand now."

" When will you ' sugar off,' John? I am all expecta-
tion about that," said Mary.

" Ju.st as soon as I can take one of the large kettles
out of the row, without allowing the sap to run to
waste," he answered.

"Do you know how to do it all right?" said Mary, as
thouofh she felt a little doubtful.

" I am not over confident that I shall have complete
success at first. I often saw it done when I was a boy;
but it is some years since I saw any sugaring-ofF done,"
was John's answer.

" Martha Greenleaf wants to see you sugar off some-
time before the season is over," said Mary.

"All right," said John, "she shall have a chance to

do so. After I get some experience in the business we

will invite all of our backline neighbours, Greenleafs

i and Crautmakers, some afternoon, to come over and

[help sugar off. We will have a sort of backwoods jol-

I lification.

224

AMONCJ THE FOREST TIIKES.

Mary insisted on staying in the bush that nii,'ht with
Joliii. Slie had spent part of each day in the cainj), na
they had the little shanty that was built for teinporury
shelter. And while John was gathering sap and chop-
ping wood, she kept up the fire under the kettles. The
camp was some fifty rods from the house. Rover nnd
Rambler (the deer) had already found the road to
the camp.

That night Mary carried out some blankets and a
pillow, and spread them on hemlock brush for John to
get some sleep, while she attended to the kettles,
Rover was to keep her company. The deer was shut
up every night in a place fixed for it in one corner of
the sheep pen.

John gathered up a lot of wood in front of the fire,
so that Mary would not need to go into the dark at all.
Then he laid down and soon fell asleep. Mary felt a
little timid when at first John's heavy breathing told
her that he was sleeping. But she consoled herself
with the fact that John was near at hand, and was
easily awakened in case of danger.

The stillness of the night was only broken by the
gentle whispering of a slight breeze, as it spent its
little force among the leafless branches of the trees,
and the hissing and splashing of the boiling and foam-
ing kettles on the fire.

Mary watched and worked by turns, as occasion
required, until sometime past midnight, and John slept
on. She sat down on a block of wood, and leaned
against the side of the shanty where she could watch
the smoke of the fire ascend among the tree tops in

SUGAII-MAKING.

225

nt with
imp, ii.>5
\|)Oiary
1(1 chop-
es. The
ivei* anil
road to

its anil a

John to

kettles.

was shut

corner of

I the fire,
,rk at all.

|ary felt a
\\m^ told
;d herself
., and Nvas

ill by the

spent its

Ithe trees,

md foam-

occa:iion
John slept

id leaned
luld watcb

3e tops in

curlin<' clouds of blue and yellow, as the lijifht of the
fires sent streaming arrows after them, painting them
in such chani^^eful hues.

Mary j^'ot a little dozy while sitting here, but
presently her eye caught sight of an object that
instantly Imni.slied all sleepiness from her. Among
the siiadows of a large tree, and in a deep .shade of
one of its limbs she .saw what seemed to be two balls
of fire shining out of the darkness. They looked to
her as if they were the size of tea-saucers. She stood
and looked at the strange sight, wondering what it
could he.

" Who-hoo, who-hoo, who-hoo-o-ooo-ah-o-ah-awe,"
came from between the balls of fire, and a bunch of
gray feathers on the limb began to move like a pillow
shaking itself to pieces.

Mary .sprang up, and went to wake up her husband,
hut just as she got him partly awake, the sound came
again from the bunch of feathers.

" Who-hoo, who-hoo, who-hoo-o-o-oo-ah-o-ah-awe."

' I'll soon tell you who we are, if I can see you, my
jolly friend," said John, as he rose to his feet and
reached for his gun.

"Dear me, John, what is it ?" asked Mary.

"It's only an owl," said he; " see how his eyes are
shining in the dark. Keep quiet. Rover."

" Who-hoo, who-hoo, who — " Just here a bullet
from John's rifle went between the eyes of the bird of
darkness, and it never again frightened a woman, nor
picked up a belated chicken. It dropped to the
ground dead. " Go and fetch it, Rover," John said to

226

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

the dog, and the next minute the sharp, bright eyes
and the bunch of gray feathers were lying at Mary's
feet.

Now all sleepiness was gone, and for the rest of the
night, they all — that is John and Mary, and Rover-
kept watch and attended to the fires.

Ar John had piedicted, before morning the sap
stopped running, and a heavy frost set in, which pre-
vented any more sap that week.

By the next night John had all his sap in syrup or
into the store trough, so that he intended to sugar off
a small batch that evening. He fixed a place separate
from the boiling place, where he could swing one of
the large kettles by itself, while the others were kept
full of sap, and kept boiling all night. Of course
Mary was to be present at the sugaring oflT.

They put in syrup enough to make a nice cake of
sugar, and tried that first. John had heard old men
say that the quicker you can get the syrup into sugar
the better after it begins to boil, and is thoroughly
skimm.ed.

They watched that kettle as few kettles are
watched, until the sugar would harden up if it was
dropped on snow or put into cold water. When they
got it hard enough to suit them they took it from the
fire and commenced the cooling process. This con-
sisted in stirring it awhile, and then letting it stand
awhile, until it was gritty. Then continuous stirring
until it was cold enough to take out of the pot was
said to improve the color and the grain of the sugar.
John's first efiort proved to be a success. The two

SUGAR-MAKING.

227

tit eyes
Mary's

t of the
Rover—

the sap
licli pre-

syrup or
sugar off
■ separate
ng one of
ivere kept
[)i course

cake of
old men
into sugar
loroughly

les are
it was
Then tliey
from the
rhis con-
stand
stirring
pot was
sugar.
The two

cakes of sugar were of the best quality, and the quan-
tity was about double what he expected from the
amount of syrup he put into the kettle.

Next day they sugared off two batches, and boiled
all the sap on hand, so that they had everything in
shape tor another run of sap. They put away the
remaining syrup till Monday, and put things in order
for the next day, which was Sundaj'.

As John came in from doing the chores that Satur-
day night, he said to Mary, "For once in my life, at all
events, I am tired."

" No wonder, John," she answered. " You have had
a very hard week's work. Between working all day
and all night, and going v/ithout sleep, I don't wonder
that you are tired."

" Well, to be sure, Mary," said he, " we have had a
hard week, but it has been a paying one. By the time
we get all done off we must have over one hundred
and fifty pounds of sugar."

" Yes, and then look at the quality of it. That is a
great deal in my estimation ; for with burnt or very
dark sugar it is impossible to do good cooking. How
mother would praise your sugar if she were here,"
Mary said.

"I am glad you think so, Mary," said John, " and I
wish your mother was here to praise my sugar, for
she can't well praise my work and not speak well of
m. And I heard an old man once say, ' Blessed is the
man whose mother-in-law speaketh well of him.' And
I should feel myself highly complimented to be well
spoken of by a woman with a^ much good sense as

228

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

Mrs. Myrtle," said John. " But, Mary, why don't you
say our sugar? You did your share of the work, I am
sure ; and it' there is any credit to be given, you must
come in for a share."

" Well, you know, what is mine is yours," she said.

"That is all right enough ; but it works both ways,
like spelling the word madam — it amounts to the same
thing whichever way you take it. What is mine is
yours, as well as the reverse," John said.

" I am satisfied either way, so long as we have the
thing between us," was her answer.

The Sabbath morninfj came in, brijjht and clear and
beautiful, just the kind of a morning to fill the birds
with music and brutes with gladness, and the heart of
man with feelings of devotion.

The usual relio-ious services were held, and anions:
the few worshippers none were more joyful than John
himself. The order of holdinrj their meeting was
entirely free from cast-iron rules or mere formality.
Some of the men would give out a hymn, and after
singing it, some one would lead in prayer. Then a
chapter in the Bible would be read by one person
sometimes, and in rotation at other times. Then any
one who wished to do so might speak a few words by
way of commenting on the lesson read, or in relation
of religious experience, or by way of exhortation.
There was no restraint and no compulsion in those
humble Sabbath services in that humble Christian
community. And yet, who would say that the want
of stateliness or form would be any bar to the spiritu-
ality of worship, or to its acceptability to God, or the
beneficial effects upon the worshippers.

SUGAR-MAKING.

•229

Wlien the services were over, and after a few words
of friendly greetin^js, the little congregation dispersed,
all of them realizing the truth of the prophetic state-
ment, " That they who wait upon the Lord shall renew
their strength."

During the night the wind changed, and the weather
became warmer. On Monday morning the sap started
to run again. But the flow was not so rapid as the
week before. John was able to keep up with the
work that week without much trouble.

At breakfast he told Mary that he would go to the
back line and invite the two families to come that
afternoon and help to sugar ofi' the rest of the syrup.
They all accepted the invitation gladly, as they were
not making anything more than some molasses that
tirst spring in the bush.

John and Mary got everything in readiness for the
afternoon's treat. Mary got a lot of clean snow to
make tafi'y, and John made a number of wooden pad-
dles to be used as spoons in eating sugar. Having no
sap to boil that day, he did not kindle a fire till after
dinner.

By the time the neighbors came he had the two
large kettles over the fire, with a lot of syrup in each,
as he had more than he cared to risk in one alone. He
had the kettles boiling when the company, led by
Mary, came to the camp.

"Coot tay, Meester Bushman. Dis ish werry kind
of you to go vor us to gome and eat up your shoogar.
Datlsh a vact."

"Never mind, Mr. Crautmaker," said Mary. "If

230

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

we had not wanted you all to come we would not
have asked you to do so. We will have one back-
woods neighborly gathering around the sugar-pot this
afternoon. So let us all feel at liberty to help our-
selves, p.nd help each other as much as we can. Sugar
is plenty, and more coming, you see;" and pointing to
a large tree near by, she said, " If any of you would
like a drink of sweet water, there is plenty of it in
those troughs around there."

The company made the time pass as pleasantly and
rapidly as any company could be expected to do, until
the syrup began to act like to sugar, by foaming up to
the top of the kettles. John stood with his stirring-
stick in hand in order to keep the sugar from running
over. Mary, with a long-handled spoon, was dipping
sugar out of the pot and pouring it on snow or in cold
water to make taffy for those who wanted to try how
much pulling apart their jaws could do when their
teeth were fastened together with the sticky stuff.

" Look here, boys," said John, "just see how this
boils up and acts as though it was trying to jump out
of the kettles. Can any of you tell me why this is
like an angry, scolding woman ?"

" I don't know," said one and another, until it was
evident that the answer was not likely to be given.

" Well," said John, " I will tell you why they are
alike. Because in both cases it is foaming sweetness!'

" Veil," said Mr. Crautn ker, " vedder it ish voam-
ing sweetness or voaming sourness, de boilin' shoogar
and de scholdin' vife makes von pig fuss zometime."

" There now, old man, don't you be tellin' tales out

SUGAR-MAKING.

231

lid not
; back-
pot this
ilp our-
Sugar
nting to
u would
of it in

,ntly and
do, until
m^ up to
stirring-
i running
a dipping
3r in cold
) try bow
ben their
stuff,
ihow this
ump out
,y this is

of the house," said Mrs. Crautmaker, as she threw a
lidit snowball across the fire and hit the old man on

the nose.

"There now, shust see that. Shiminy, but ish this
not the best proofs in dis world dat vot I said apout
de scholdin' vife makes a pig fuss is shust as true as
anytinf^s ?" retorted the old man.

" Well, after all," said Richard Greenleaf, " it takes
the old folks to get up the fun."

" Yes," said John Bushman, " my wife would have
to try a half a dozen times before she could hit me on
the nose like that."

" Well, well," said the old lady, " his nose is so big
that you can't miss it if you throw in the direction he
is in."

"I gives it up. My vife always has de best of de
bargain ven we gits play in' off jokes on one annoder,"
sai<l the old man.

By sundown the sugar was all done and in the
moulds. The visitors were all gone, and John and
Mary wee quietly taking their suppers, after the most
sociable day that had ever been spent among their
neighbors.

The night after the sugaring-ofF party John found a
pair of lambs in the pen among the sheep. Here was
an additional care for him. But, as he said to Mary,
it was a profitable care. Nothing about a farm will
give larger or quicker returns than sheep when they
are properly looked after.

John's flock doubled itself the first year. To be
sure, it took considerable care and attention to keep
them in safety from the foxes and wolves.

232

AMONG THE FOREST TRRES.

Sugar-making was progressing nicely with the Bnsh-
mans. At the end of the third week they had over
three hundred pounds of good sugar.

" Now," said John, " we will make a good lot of
molasses, and then some vinegar."

John had bought a barrel for vinegar and a large
keg for molasses the last time he was at Mapleton to
mill, so that he could put away the year's supply of
both.

The next run of sap supplied the material for the
molasses and vinegar. After this was all disposed of
the sap ran still.

John said to Mary, " I can't spend any more time
with it. My spring's work is at hand, and between
doing that and making preparation to build a barn I
have a big lot of work before me for the summer. I
think I will go and tell those people on the back line
that they may have the bush now if they like to take
it. They might make some good sugar yet. The buds
are not started enough to spoil the sap for it."

" That would be a great deal better than lettino; the
sap waste," Mary answered.

"I will go right away and it them know," said he;
and he did.

They were glad to have the chance. They agreed
that each family should do half the work and share
equally in whatever was made. They made some very
good sugar, besides filling a vinegar barrel that the
Crautraakers had brought with them to the bush.
This is only another instance of the kindly feelings
that new country neighbors have for each other.

SUOAI^-MAKINO.

233

3 Bush-
id over

I lot of

a large
ileton to
apply of

for the
jposed of

I ore time

between

a barn 1

iner. I

back line

to take

'he buds

Dtins the

said he ;

;y agreed

,nd share

ome very

that the

I he bush,
feelings
ler.

One evenincf, as John and Mary were sitting at the
supper table, a rap came on the door, and before they
had time to go and invite the person in, Moses Moose-
wood opened the door and walked in.

" Home once more," said Mose, as he gave one hand
to John and one to Mary, " and I am glad of it, I assure
you."

"We did not expect you just yet, Mose, but we are
glad to see you ; for, to tell the truth, we were begin-
ning to think the time long for your return," John
an.swercd.

" You did not think it longer than I did myself, for
I got as homesick as I could be," said Mose.

" 1 know what was the matter with you, Mose," put
in Mary. " There was no girl out there whose name
begins with Katrina."

"Now, Mary, that is not fair. What do 1 know
about your Katrina ? I never spoke a dozen words to
her in my life," said Mose.

"That is no reason why you may not speak a good
many words to her in the future. But we will let all
that pass now," she said ; " and come now and get some
supper."

' Without much coaxing I will do that, for I am
hungry as I can well be," said Mo-^^e.

"How are all the folks out on the front?" John
inquired.

"All well and hearty. Your folks are busy prepar-
ing for the wedding, which is to come off one week
I from to-day."

" Why did you not wait for it ? " asked Mary.

234

AMONTJ TJIF FOREST TREES.

" I would like to be there, ami Will tried hard to
keep me. But it will be three weeks yet before they
will be ready to move, and I wanted to be here as
soon as I could, to get in some grain and prepare for
house-building."

Chaptbr XVIII.

MORE SETTLERS COMING.

r>-

'^HE rapidity with which some localities fill up,
Vxi after settlement has once begun, is truly aston-
ishing to those who are not acquainted with the
causes that lead to such results. Among tliese many
causes there are four that predominate.

These are, familv connections, national distinctions
religious predilections, and local advantages.

It is often the case that families settle in the same
locality, and give it the family name. For instance,
we have known a large settlement named after the
Merrit family, and a Kennedy's settlement, and a
Minifies settlement, a Fennel's settlement, and almost
any number of settlements named after certain families
among the early residents of the place.

Then it is often the case that national distinctions
have a good deal to do with giving an impetus to
settlement in certain localities. Perhaps no other
class are so much inclined to be influenced by this
consideration as the Germans are, hence you will
tind Dutch settlements here and there all over the
country.

ifi

200

AMdNT! Till-; FOHEST TUEES.

The Higlilatid Scotcli are a <^ood deal influencod by
this, too, so tliat Scotch .settlements arc not at all an
nncommon thing in the country. Other nationalities
sometimes have more or less to do in the direction (if
settlers in the selection of a location.*

Religious preferences .sometimes have a good deal to
do with .settlement. Roman Catholics would not .settle
among Protestants, if they could just as easily .settle
amonsf their co-religionists. Nor would Protestants
.settle amono: Catholics as readily as among those of
the Protestant faith. And there have been instance.s
where coercion was used to prevent the one sect from
settling among the other.

It has been .said that, when the town.ship of Wallace
was settling, certain Protestants took it upon them-
selves to prevent any Catholic from .settling on land
in th it township. Some of those guardians of tho
Protestant religion were afterwards known in political
circles as " Tom ''"evj/itson's Lamhs " — a lot of men who
feared nobody, and did not care to be interfered with
by anybody.

And even among Protestants there is a denomina-
tional feeling that has its influence, to a greater or le.ss
extent. A good staunch Presbyterian would go a few
lots farther back, if by so doing he could get beside
another good staunch Presbyterian. And so with a

* The townaliip of Esquesing, where the writer was broii>^lit up.
was once divided up into tlie ".Scotch Block," tlie *' Irisli iJlock,
and the " Oanadian Block." And rough times there used to l>i'
auion^j some of the representatives of these lilocks. IJnt these dif
ferencee are dying out tliere.

MORE SETTI.KRS COMINO.

r.\i

ncod by
it all an
onalities
sction of

id (lealto
not settle
iily settle
•otestanls
tliose of
instances
sect from

:,{ Wallace
)on tliem-
cT on laml
ms of tho
in political
If men ^^•llO
Ifert'd with

Idenonuna-
iter or less
Id go a fe\v
l(Tet besiile

Ir5

I so

with a

l,r.)U-Ut "V.
hrisb I'l^i^l''
le use.l to !»■
lut these X\\

Methodist or an Episcopalian, and more especially so
will a Baptist or a Disciple.

Rut far stronger than any of these is tlie attraction
of !i choice locality. Good land, good vvatiT, and a
situation that, from its suiroundinos, must, in the
nature of things, become in time an imj)ortant
a;fricnltural and commercial centre, constitute an
attraction that will draw a good cla>s of settlers, and
secure a rapid development. Sueli was the condition
of thinixs around where Jolm Bushman had chosen his
home.

There were no strong family attractions and no
mvat national feelinjj, for the few settlers already
there were of different nationalities, and the three
families there represented three different sections of
the Protestant Church, so that local advantages was
the only thing to draw people to the vicinity of Sj'lvfin
Lake. But these advantages were of no triflini; char-
acter. Riofht at the corners of four of the best town-
ships in the Province, and where two lines of road
that nmst become leading thoroughfares crossed And
onlv a short distance from the crossing of the
roads a rapid stream, with high banks, ran across the
one road, and on a few rods farther, it made a bend
and ran across the other road. Tiiis would furnish
three or four first-class mill privileges, within a (piarter
of a mile. Not many localities could pre.sent stronger
inducements to the intending settlei- than this could.

But while we are talking of the excellences of the
place, three waggons have come into John Bushman's
clearing, and are moving toward the house. And, let

28H

AM()N(J THE KOIIEST THEES,

US see, one, two. three, and tliree are six, and four uro
ten, and two are twelve, and tliree are Hftei-n. There
arc lifteen persons, big and little, in and anjund tliuse

wai;<i[(jns.

The men are Williani Briars and his fathrr, ainl
Harry Hawthorn, and two strangers who are <lriviii;;
two of the teams, that are hauling the waggons. The
women are, Mrs. Betsy Briars, Mrs. Sarah Beech, ami
Mrs, Bi-idijet Hawthorn. Three of the children are
claimed by Mrs. Hawthorn, and four of them call Mrs.
Beech theii' mother.

John and Mary were just getting ready for sup})er,
wlien they hear<l the noise of the waggons, and went
out to see who and what it was. When they t'aiue
and found all the.se people, and teams, and waggons in
the yard, they were completely taken by surprise,
They expected Will and Betsy some time soon, but
thi'y had not heard a woni from the other two families
since the men went away in the fall.

" Don't beafther being frightened, Misther Bushman,
though our number is purty Inrge, our intentions are
(|Uoite paisal)le, and our falins towards you ami

the missis are of the most kindlv natur', and so thev

)>
are.

These were the words of Harry, as he came forward
to shake hands with John and Mary.

"No, no, Harry, we are not at all frightened; but
are somewhat surprised and very much pleased to see
you all," said John.

By this time the women and children had .scrambled
out of the waggons, and were coming forward to
where John and Mary were.

MORK SETTr,KRS COMINO.

2S9

i)\\y iiro
ul thost'

(Irivin;^
US. Thi'
secli, ami
drt'ii iW)

11 Mrs,

r supper,
and went
hey came

surprise,
soon, but
() faniiUes

Bushman,
Intions arc
you antl
id so they

t'orvvanl

hened; but
Ised to see

I scrambled
)rward to

" Now, ladies, jest bo aisy a little till f toll Misthcr
)Uh1 Mistress Rnshinnn who yez an'," said Harry

Tlii'ii |)ointiiit^ to Hrid^ct, he said : "'i'his is my own
wife, and these are our childer, ' and then turnint; to
Mrs. Beech, he said : "This lady, wid the yellow hair-
is oui- neis^hhour that is to be, Mrs. Beech, and these
are her childer." Then turninijj to Betsy he said :

This is a lady that I only met a few hours since, and
.she has not told me her name yet. You'll nade to be
afther t'oindin it out for yourself."

"iMury," .said John, "you take the women and
chihlren into the hon.se, while we see to the hor.se.s."

Mr. Briars .said to John, " We will tie my horses to
the fence, and j^ive them plenty of straw to lie on, and
plenty of feed, and they will do for one ni<;ht. Those
other horses are to start home to-morrow, and they
will need a good night's rest. If you can find a good
place for them, do .so."

" We will do the best we can for the teams," John
said.

The two men were surprised to find such hospitality
in the wild woods, and they told John so.

"Where is Mr. Beech?" John asked one of the men.

" He is coming on behind with a yoke of oxen and a
cart, with a cow tied to the back end of the cart. He
don't expect to get farther than Mr. Ashcraft's to-
night," was the answer.

They went into the house, where they found Mary
and Mrs. Briars busily engaged in preparing supper
for the crowd. John's house had never had so many
people in it at one time before, but in the bush people

240

AMONf! THE KORKST TREKS.

are not over-t'astidions about little inconveniences.
They were crowded, to be sure, but then they will be
neighbors, and they should learn to be acconimodatirii^r;
and no better place to learn this could l)e found than
stayint( in one house for awhile together.

The night had to be got througli in some way. The
new cotneis could not be allowed to go into tlieir
shanties that night. There had not been any tire in
them during the winter, and they woukl be as cold as
the North Pole, is what \Eary said about them. No,
they must not think of going out of John Bushiiifin'.s
house that night. " But what about the sleeping."

"I well attend to that," said Mary, ''if you will get
some (luilts out of some of the waijfjons. We will
make a ' shake-down ' for the men, and send the
women and children upstairs. In cases of necessity
we nnist do the best that we can."

Will and Betsy went and brought in a lot of ([uilts
and blaidvets out of their watjcrons, and in a little
while the arrangements were made for the night.

" Now," said John, " since the little folks are all
comfortably put away for the night, we may indulge
in a little friendly chat. Will, where did you fall in
with these other people/"

" Do you remember where two roads come together,
about two miles the other side of Mapleton?" asked
Will.

" Yes, I recollect the place," John answered.

" Well, just as we came to that place, we met the
team that has Harry's things coming from the other
way. We all drove on to Mapleton, and there we

M()I?E SKTTr.KUS COMINC.

241

t'otind ^^r. Bet)cli and his company put up for the night.
We were all ):aken by surprise, but we concluded to
come the rest of the way together."

" Mr. Beech, you say, is coming on behind."

" Yes. He has a heavy load on a two-wheeled cart,
and the cow that he is bringing is heavy and goes
slowly. I think he said that he had been four days
on the road, and last night was the first that he and
his family staid at tlie same place since he started."

"(ruing to the bush is no child's play," said one of
the teamsters, whose name was Elmsley.

" You're right there, neighbor," said the other team-
ster, whose nau.e was Ashtop.

" Have you two gentlemen had experience in bush
life i" asked Mr. Briars.

"I have had some experience in that line. In the
township where I live I was the first settler in it,"
replied Mr. Elmsley.

"I, too," said Mr. Ashtop, " have had something to
lio with life in the woods. I was not the tirst man in
my township, but I was the second, and my wife was
the first white woman that ever stood in the township.
Our first baby was said to be the first white child
horn in the township, and we rocked it in a piece of a
hollow basswood tree, for a cradle. Yes, my friends, I
know something about the life of pioneers. '

"And how did you like that sort of life?" inquired
John Bushman.

" Had to like it," was the laconic answer of Mr.
Elmsley.

"That is about the way to put it," said Mr. Ashtop.

242

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

1: I '\

"How long since you went into the bush?" inquired
Mr. Briars.

" About twonty-one years," answered Ebiisley.

"Three and twenty years," said Mr. Ashtop.

" I suppose you have both made out well ?" said John
Bushman.

" I have done fairlv well," one said.

" I do not complain," said the other.

" How far apart do you live ? " asked Will.

" We have not talked the matter over. We never met
before last night, hence we are not much acquainted,"
said Mr. Elmsley. Then, turning to the other, he said:
" What township do you come from ? "

" The township of Pineridge," said he.

" I live in the township of Oakvalley. There is one
township between us, that i.s Spruceland," said Mr.
Elmsley.

" We will be from twenty -live to thirty miles apart,"
replied Mr. Ashtop.

" No doubt," said Mr. Briars, " but vou have seen
some strange things, and some very trying things."

" That is true," said Mr. Ashtop.

" I move that the company ask one of these gentle-
men to relate to us some incident or anecdote in con-
nection with the early settlement in their localities."

" I have no objection to do so," Mr. Ashtop replied.
He then spoke to the following effect :

" The saddest thing that has taken place in my set-
tlement was the loss of a lot of children. They went
out to look for wildwood flowers in the early summer.
There were three children, two girls and one boy. The

MORE SETTLERS COMING.

243

one ffirl was about thirteen years old, and the other
seven. The boy was nine. They belonojed to two
ilitt'erent families. The older one belon;r,'ed to one
t'amilv, and the two younger ones to another. Thev
went out to the l)ush a little after dinner. The bush
was only a short distance from the houses. The chil-
dren often did the same thinijj. They had not many
ways to amuse themselves, and their mothers allowed
them to roam around the fields, and in the mh^c of the
bush, always cautioninsf them never to o-o out of sicjht
of the fences or the buildings.

"They did not come in by tea-time, and when in-
quiries were maile, no one had seen them since early
in the afternoon. Uneasiness now began to be felt on
account of them. Then it was said that possibly they
might have gone to fetch the cows, whose large bell
could Just be heard in the distance. The cows were
sent for, but no traces of the children could be seen.

"Now the little settlement was all alarmed. In all
ilirections search was made, but to no purpose. As
night was coming on, all the little ones, too small to
join in the hunt, were taken to one house, and a couple
of old ladies undertook to keep them, while the fathers
and mothers w^ent to hunt for the lost ones. All niixht
long, with torches and with tallow candles, in old-
fashioned tin lanterns, the hunt went on. Over the
lulls and valleys ; along the creeks, and among swamps;
around the little lakes, and in the marshy places, the
hunt was continued. With the blowing of horns, and
the tiring of guns, and calling one to another, by a
score or more of voices, the hunt went on.

244

AMONCJ THE FOREST THEES.

" Perhaps no sadder company of people ever looked
into each other's faces than those were who met at the
house where tlie children had gone from, at sunrise in
the morning, after the all-night's fruitless hunt. But
few words were spoken. They (|uietly dispersed to
their homes, after agreeing to meet again at one o'clock
to renew the hunt.

" As the word of the lost children spread from hoii.se
to house in adjoining neighborhoods, the settlers be-
came deeply interested, and every one .seemed to make
the case his own. By one o'clock that day men were
there from ten or a dozen miles away. And before
the week was out men came forty or fifty mile.s to
hunt for tbose children. Days and weeks were .spent
in the fruitless search. But no trace of the lost chil-
dreji was ever seen.*

" The country to the north and west, for a hundred
miles or more, wa^ an unbroken wilderness. Not a
white .settler in all that large country at the time."

The listeners were greatly interested by the relation
of this sad incident. When Mr. Ashtop ceased speak-
ing, Mr. Briars said, " It is possible that the chililren
were carried off by Indians, and taken into the Hud-
son Bay country."

* At Homing's Mills, in the township of Melancthon, ahdut tin-
year IS27 or -8, tiirce childi'on, as above stated, wont ont into tlii'
woods, and were never fonnd. Men went fifty miles to hel|) to hunt
theui. I'lie writer's father, along with others, walked forty miles,
and was gone a week, trying to find them. It is probable that they
got into the great swamps of Melancthon and Proton, and perished
with hanger and fright.

MORK SKTTF.KHS COMING.

24o

looketl
3t at the
.niisc in
\t. Bat
ersed to
e o'clock

Dui house
:,tlei's be-
[ to make
tiien were
ml before
■ miles to
vGve spent
i lost chil-

huudreil
IS. Not a
time."
lie relation
lecl speak-
,e chiltli'en

the Hud-

i,, aliout tlK'

lout into tlH'

help to hunt

forty mile*.

Lie that tliey

lunl iievislKHl

'• At tir.st," replied Mr. Ashtop, " tliis was the con-
chi-iioii tliat was generally arrived at. But no Indians
hail been around the locality, and they could have no
motive for stealinoj the children, if they were in the
vicinity. They were on very friendly terms with the
whites all throui^h the country. It is so long now,
since the occurrence, and nothini; has ever been heard
of any of the children, that the idea of Indians having
stolen them is about given up."

"Could it he that they were devoured hy wild
licasts r' asked John Bushmar\

" Hardly. That ([uestion was pretty thoroughly
canvassed at the time. But as not the slightest trace
ijf anything could he found, it was generally believed
that whatever had befallen the children, they were not
lateii up by animals," was Mr. Ashto[)'s answer.

"Well, Mister," said Will Briars, "what is your
opinion now about the children's fate r'

" My opinion is not very decided," said he ; " but I
incline to the belief that the children got into .some
of the numerous thick cedar swamps that are in the
vicinity, or else they wandered otl" into the almost
iiiterininalile swamp that commences not ,r from the
place they started from. Here they might get into
some ([uagmire, and go down into the yielding quick-
sands and disappear from sight forever."

" What a fate that would be," said Mary, with a
shudder.

"Sad, indeed," .said the narrator. " The families left
the vicinity shortly after the loss of their children.
And who can wonder that they did."

246

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" But cotild they not <^et out of the quicksand bct'ore
they went down ?" inquired Mose.s.

" If tliey got into one of those miry places tliat are
found in some of the swfuups, and if they stood still
for a few moments until they began to sink they conld
never get out without help. And if they tried to do
so every ettbrt that they made to lift one foot out
would send the other foot deeper into the yielding
sand. So that if they struggled to free themselves the
faster they would sink. Strong men have perished in
this way."

Next morning the loads were taken to the shanties
and unloaded, and the teamsters started home. Moses
Moosewood went to help Harry and Bridget to put
things to rights at their place. John and Mary went to
assist Mrs. Beech, as Mr. Beech had not got along yet.
By noon each family was able to cook their own din-
ner at home.

Mr. Beech came aboat eleven o'clock, and was
pleased to find his wife and children already at home
in their backwoods residence. He said that the hotel
man at Mapleton told him that not less than twenty
families had staid overnight at his place in the last
two weeks, who were moving into the country to the
places prepared the fall before. So, said he, we can't
be long in an isolated state for want of neighbors.

Bridget Hawthorn was the most surprised at her
surroundings, of any of them. She had no experience
at all with life in the bush. Everything was so
difierent from anything she had ever seen. And the
children were so restless and full of frolic, that between

MORE SETTLERS COM INT;.

247

tliat are
00(1 still
ley coiiM
2(1 to <\o
foot out
yielding
;elves the
irished in

trying to look cheerful, just to please Harry; getting-
everything in order in and around the shanty, and
keeping an eye on the little gipsies, as she called thetn,
poor Bridget had all that she could attend to for a while.
But like other pe<jple, who try t(; do so, she soon
liecaine reconciled to her new surroundings.

Mr. Briars was well satisfied with Will's stdection of
a place to settle. He stayed about a week, helping
hira at his house, and using his team to harrow in
some spring wheat. Then he started for home. It
had heen arranjjjed that Mr. Bushman would come and
bring a load of stuff for Will and Betsy, as soon as
their house was ready to move into, or as .soon as he
mit throuijh with the spring seeding.

After he was gone, things went on in the usual
ijuiet and orderly way at Sylvan Lake.

John got along with his work, and when the hurry
was a little over, he went and helped the others with
his team. So that, among them, they all got their
seeding and planting done in good time. .h)hn had
finished his six acres chopping, and was now ready to
start at getting out the logs and making the shingles
ftjr a barn. When the time for shearing the sheep
came, John and Will had ([uite a time in doing that
little job. The water in the lake was too cold to
wash them in, and the water in Bceca's (.'reek, as
they called it, was not deep enough. They sheared
them without being washed, and then washed the
wool afterwards, and spread it in the sun to dry.

CHAPTKR XIX.

AND STILL THEY COME.

*■ ' 4|,cA O not holloa until yon are out of the wooJs,"

(^^^ means, I suppose, keep your months shut

until the woods are taken out of your way,

or until you get through it, and come out on the

other side.

Well, the people about Sylvan Lake would havo to
go a long way to go through the woods that shut them
in on the north and west and east. And they were
not likely to undertake the task.

They could find places to bathe in and tu drown
their surplus kittens without going to the far-ofl
waters of Lake Huron or the Georgian Bay. They
could find cool, shady places to rest themselves when
wearied, without seeking repose where the Indian
dogs chase the chipmunk and squirrel among the
shadowy recesses and caverns of the limestone
mountain that frowns upon the marshy (juagmires,
that breed musquitoes and French luxuries in tiie
shape of green-frogs, around Owen Sound. And if
they wanted to get a supply of the hunter's or the
fisher's productions, they did not need to go on &

AND STI1,I, THEY COMK.

240

e wools,"
iths jshut

our way,

Lit Oil the

d luwt^ to
shut them
they were

I to drown
Ihe far-off
.y. They
Ivcs when
lie liuUan
Imong the
1 limestone
luagunres,
les in the
And if
's or the
go on a

whoh? week'.s journey to where they could catch the
speckled trout in tlie lazy waters of the slu<j,<^i.sh Tees-
water creek, or .steal the red-deer and the lahhit from
the Indians along tlie sloping banks of the Saugeerr
river.

Those people must acce])t the other alternative.
They must wait until the woods di>ap])ear before they
holloa — that is, if they do as the proverb advises them.

But the prospect of an early realization of a thing
so desirable was made very much brighter between
the first of April and tlie Hrst of September, in the
year one thousand eight hundred and something. Set-
tlers came pouring in from all directions. During
June, July and August, John Bushman and hi.s wife
entertained more or less people in their house, not less
than four nights in a week on an averafje.

One morning, after an unusal number had staid
overnight, and Mary had almost covered the floor with
shake-downs, John said to her, " Are you not getting
tired of this thing, Mary ?"

"Well, John," said she, "you know there are differ-
ent ways of looking at a thing Now, if this was a
matter of speculation, and a mere question of money,
1 should soon be tired of it. But it is not a matter of
money — it is a question of duty, arising no le.ss
from the claims of humanity than from the teaching
and dictates of Cliristianity."

"lam glad that you take that view of it, Mar>',"
said John. "No money could tempt me to see you
put about as you are sometimes. But people come
here tired and worn out, by long and tedious journeys,

2."iO

AMONC THE KOIJKST TREKS.

and niiiny of them women and children. They ask for
shelter. They will be content with anything-, only
give them shelter. 1 could not ri;fuse them; I would
rather take a blaid<et and o'o out and .sleep by the
side of the ha}st!iek, than to refuse tliem .shelter."

" How ;^lad we would have been to find a shelter
that ni<>ht that we staid in the woods when we were
moving in here. I shall never forget that night," .she
said. " 1 knew that mother was very tired, and 1 would
have given anything, or done anything if 1 could only
have secured for her a good supper an<] a ccjmfortiihle
bed. But it could not be got. I then and there made
up my mind that hospitality should characterize our
home." And, coloring a little, she continued, " If we
over have any children I want them to be able to say,
when we are gone, that the door of their home was
never shut in the face of weariness or hunger."

John stooped and kissed her, saying, " God blevs
you, Mary. You have the heart of a true woman;
such a woman is a jew^el in the home of any man."

Amonii' the new comers was Mr. Angus Woodbine,
the Scotchman spoken of in a former chapter. He
brought with him a wife and a lot of children. Thev
'vent into the shant}' that he built the previous .sea-
son, but the team that brought them was taken to
John Bushman's for the nitjht, alons: with the man j
that owned it. He was an elderly man, and a native,
of the Province. He had himself settled in the busli
some thirty years back, and had experienced .soiiiej
strange vici.s.situdes.

As they were sitting around a table, on which sat aj

AND STILI, THKY POME.

251

ask for
v^, only

1 woulil
) by the
ber."
a shelter

we were
i<fl\t " she
d I woulil
;oul>l only
mt'ortable
here niailo
;tcri/e our
a, " If Nvc
,ble to say,

home \va»

;er."

God hle^s
.e woman;

ly man.
Woodbine,

lapter. He
ren. They
evious sea-
taken to
1 the man
^d a native
n the busb
:nced some I

Iwhich sat al

couple of lighted candies, Moses a.sked tlic stranger for
some incidents of backwoods life in the localit}' from
which lie came.

"Well, I have no objection to com|»ly with your
rf(iuest, so far as 1 am able," sai<l the man. " Settle-
ments did not form as rapidly fortj' or fifty years ago
lis they do at the present time. Sometimes it would
1k' years l)efore all tlie land in a locality would be
taken up ; and sometimes settlers would commence on
a lot, and make a little clearing, and then go away ;
some for one reason, and some for another. These
vacate*! clearings w^ould become berry patches in a
few years, and the briars would grow so tall and
thick that they would furnish lurking places for
various wild animals, and the black beai- was no un-
eoiunioii occupant of the prickly recesses.

" One of these l)erry patches was not far from
where I live. There were two neighbor women who
u.sed to go there to pick berries. One afternoon they
went; one of them had with her two children, one
about three years old, and the other a few months.
They picked berries till about sundown, then they
started to their homes, onl}^ half a mile distant.

"In going through a small strip of bush that was
Itetween the berry patch and the clearing they were
attacked by a large black bear. One of the women
ih'opped her berries and ran as fast as she could,
leaving the other, with her two little ones, to the
cruel ferocity of the bear.

"The mother took both hildren in her arms and
Wed to run, but the bear would head her off every
17

252

AMONO THK FOREST TPKES.

time. At last, as if lie was tired of this, he inado n,
dash and took the little hoy out of liis mother's arms,
and ran off in tlu; jLjreat swamp, tliat eovered neurly
half of a township.

" The screams of the woman was heard by two iiif^n
who were working on the hack end of the farina.
They ran as fast as possible to tlie place, htnnrr sure
that soinethinf^ terrible was taking place. On coiiiin;.'
up to the woman they found her frantic with fri<,'ht
and grief. The only thing she could say was, ' 0, the
bear has got my child ; the bear has got my child.'

" They could get no information from lier as to
which direction the bear had gone. She seemed to
pay no attention to their questions — she seemed to
have no other words of utterance but the cry, ' The
bear has got ray child.'*

" The one woman ran screaming across the fields
toward her home. Her husband and the husband of
the other woman came to her. She told them as well
as she could the story of meeting the bear. They ran
with all their might to the place. When they came
up the other two men were still trying to learn from
the poor heart-broken mother which direction the bear
had gone.

" When she saw her husband she ran up to him, and
pointed towards the swamp, saying, ' The cruel bear

*An occurrence of this (lesuri))tioii took place in the townshii) of
Greenock, in the county of Bruce, only a few years ago. Two
women went out picking harries. A hear attacked them, and
took a child and ran off in the swamp, so that this story is not
fiction, hut fact.

l..,J

AXn ST.r-I, THEY COMF.

253

umdo a
•'s arms,
I m.-arly

two int'i\
1' t'ann^.
inng sure
n coiuin;:
til t'rii;l»t
s, ' 0, the
chiM.'
her as to
seeuKMl to
seemed to

cry,

The

the tiohU

uisband of

;in as well

They ran

ithey came

learn from

)n the bear

[io him, and
I cruel bear

[u townshiv <'f

1-9 ago. T«o

ta them, aii*^

story is iw^

has f,'ot our boy,' and fell faintinj,^ to the ground with
her infant in her arms. She soon rallied, and was
tenderly taken to her home. For some weeks she
trembled on the borders of insanity, and it was feared
lu'r reason would take its llight forever.

"One of th(! men wlio first w^nt to lier said, some
inontbs after the sad event, that the woman's cry,
The bear has got my boy,' had been ringing in
his ears ever since. There was such a burden of real
hopeless despair and unutterable anguish, and such
ii wail of crushinof, heart-rendin*; woe in that one
short sentence, that he hoped he might never hear the
like of it again.

"By ten o'clock next juorning not less than fifty
men, with guns, were scouring that swamp in all
flirections. But no trace of the bear or its victim
could be found. A gloom rested on that community
for months after this tragic event."

Moses thanked the stranger for telling the story;
although, as he said, it was one that nervous people
would be better not to hear.

"I can give you another story about the bear in a
berry patch that is a complete contrast to that," said
the man.

" Let us hear it, please," said Mary, who was wish-
ing for something to change the current of her feel-

inrr.s.

"On a new farm, in one of the back townships,

jthere lived an English family. They had only been

a short time in this country. There was a large patch

jof thimble-berries on the rear of the farm. One day

254

A MONO THE FOREST TREES.

tlie woman* and some children went to pick berries,
The bushes were loaded with fine ripe and beautiful
fruit.

" After a while the woman heard the bushes rustle
as if something was violently shaking them. She
thouii^ht that possibly the cattle had j^ot into the field,
and that some of them were amono^ the bushes. She
went to where she could see what it was that dis-
turbed the bushes.

" Wlien she i^ot there she saw a large black bear eat-
ing berries. He was resting on his haunches, and
with his fore-])aws he brought the bushes together,
and ate the berries off them, as a cow eats the twicrs
off trees or shrubs. The woman stood and watched
hiuj for a few minutes. The bear once turned his
head and looked at her for a moment, and then went
on with eating as though h'^ was perfectly satisfied
with his surroundings. She said to him, 'Ah, Bruin,
you like berries too, it seems, as well as I do; widl, 1
will make a bargain with you, Bruio. If you leave
me alone, I will leave you alone.' And she went and
called the children, and left the bear in f 'ill posses.sion
of the field."

"Well, Mr. Spicewood," said John, "that woman
either had an unusual amount of nerve or she was
ignorant of the cliaracter of the bear. Which do von
think it was ? "

" Some of both," answered he. " She had a ,i,'ond
deal of nerve — or perhaps courage would be the better

*This was a Mrs. Sewel, who lived in the township of Euphrasia,
county of Grey.

AND STILL THEY COME.

•255

berries,
eautifiil

;s rustle
in. She
the fiel.i,
les. She
bhat (Up-
bear eat-
cbes, and
togothor,
the twi^s
1 watchefl
urned liis
ithen went
satisfied
Ah, Bruin.
o; well, 1
yon leave
went and
ssion

at woman
)r she wa>^
ich do y

(rood

lad a

the bettor

bf EapUras.a,

term in this connection. She knew enough about the
bear to be cautious about going too near to him, but
>he had never heard much of his strength or fero-
city."

The next nionnng Mr. Spicevvood took his leave.
He was well ]jleased with the unpretending hospitable
way in which he had been entertained by John and
Mar\'. They were ecjually pleased with their guest.

About the middle of tlie forenoon Mrs. Cireenleaf
and Ivatrina Crautmaker were coming to John's for
a short call. They saw a man who askeil the distance
to the next settlement north. They could not tell
him anything about it. He said he had got a grant of
land to put up a mill, and he was trying to tind his
way to it. He came in on the road from the east, and
from what he had been told he thought he oui^ht to
be somewhere near the place.

They asked him if he knew the name of any one in
the vicinity of his land. He said he had the name of
one man. He was the first settler, and his name was
John Bushman.

"0," said they, "we are ac«|uainted with him. We
are iKiw going to his place. This is his land on our
leit-liand side. You made a mistake about the settle-
ment l)eing to the north. It is west. We are only
half a mile fiom Mr. Bushman's now."

" Well," said the man, " my mistake came about in
this way. My land is north of this road, and 1 natur-
ally supposed that the settlement in whicli it lay
would be to the north also."

When they had gone a little further they came in

256

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

siojht of John's house and Sylvan Lake ; the stranf^er
stopped and look(3d around, and asked the women to
whom this pretty place belonged.

They told him that this was Mr. Bushman's.

" This," said he, " is one ot* the most beautiful spots
for a new place that I have yet seen. What a lovely
landscape picture might be drawn right from where
we stand. That charming little lake, with its border
of evergreen trees, the sloping tield with the house
standing in the middle of it. Then the tall forest
trees in the distance, standing like faithful sentinels tn
guard the sacredness of this happy rural home.'"

The women were amused by his enthusiasm, anl
pleased with his earnest manner. He made friends of
them at once.

They all went on together. Mary was busy with
her work, John was at work preparing for the hayinff
Mose Moosewood was just hitching up John's oxentui
go to the woods for a load of shingle bolts, as he hai
aixreed to make the shingles to cover the barn that
John intended to build.

The stranger went to John and told him wdmt liti
wanted. Ho said :

"My name is Matthew Millwood. I came t'ronil
the township of Creekland. I have secured from
Government a mill privilege, and from what I have|
been told it can't be very far from here."

" What number of lot, and in what township is yourj
privilege," John inquired.

" Lot one and concession one in the township ofj
Riverbend," said the man.

AND STILL THEY COMEi.

257

"My lot is the corner lot of the township of Rock-
land," said John, " your property corners on to mine.
There are four townships that corner each other
there." Then pointing north, he said : " The lot over
the line there belongs to Mr. Beech. About the
middle of his lands two good-sized creeks form a junc-
tion. A little distance from that there is a good water
privilege. Then going on a little farther the stream
passes over on your lot, about fifty rods from the
corner. The river comes around with a bend and
describes a quadrant of about twenty acres, or so,
and then it goes across into the land belonging to Mr.
Hawthorn. Here it comes around with another bend,
and cuts off about forty acres from Hawthorn's lot.
Then it crosses the boundary again, and comes into
my lot forty rods from the south side of it ; making
one more turn, it describes another quadrant off ray
lot of some eiijht or ten acres, then it runs through
the two lots south on an almost straight line. Beyond
I have not traced it, so that I can't say about it."

" I am very much obliged for all this information,"
said the stranger ; " I think that I understand the lay
of the locality now as well as if I had hired a sur-
veyor to draw out a map of it for me."

" Tiiere is no map that can equal actual observa-
tion," was John's reply. " You observe that in its
windings the creek touches four townships in the dis-
tance of a lot and a half, and in that distance there
are at the least six or seven good water privileges."

" What is the names of the other two townships
that corner here V asked the stranger.

258

AMONG THE FOREST TREKS.

" The one north of this is Limeridge, and the other
is Ash down."

" Would you have time to go and show me the
place, and give me your opinion as to where would be
the best place to build a grist and saw mill ? "

•' Most willingly ; but it is nearing dinner-time, and
we will wait until after dinner, and then go," John
answered.

They went into the house, where John introduced
Mr. Millwood to Mary and the other women, as a pro-
spective neiglibor of more than ordinary importance."

Mrs, Green leaf asked John if he knew how far off
the gentleman's property was.

" Yes," said he, " it is right here at the cross roads."

" Richard has often said that lot would not be loiii:
vacant, for there is such good water privileges on it,"
she answered.

After the dinner was over the two men went to
look at the property. Mr. Millwood was delighted
with the situation of the place, and the excellent water
privilege he found right near the road. " But," .said
he, " it is about as near as possible what my partner
described it to be."

" You have a partner, then, it seems ? " said John
Bu.shman. •«,

" Yes, there are two of us. We have four hundred
acres here in a block. It is a grant from the Govern-
ment. We have bound ourselves to erect, within twu
years, a grist and saw mill, and keep them running for
ten years."

" That is a good thing for this section of the coun-

AND STILL THEY COME.

259

the other

w me the

would be

•-time, and
<To," John

introduced
1, as a pro-
portance."
10 w far otl'

Dss roads."
lot be long
rres on it,

;n went to
deli^L!;liteil
llent water
But," said
ny partner

said John

ir hundred
Ihe Govern-
Iwithin two

running for

the coun-

try, and, in the long run, it will be a good inve.stment
for you," John said.

" That is what Mr. Root said," he replied.

" What ! is John Root the partner you speak of ? "
asked John, with considerable earnestness.

" Yes, he is the man. Do you know him ^ "

" Why, yes : he and his men helped me to build my
home."

" tie is my partner, and more than that, he is my
brother-in-law. His wife and mine are sisters."

" Why, I certainly took you for a Canadian."

'So I am, but I got my wife in the States, for all
that."

"All this is a pleasant .surprise to me, and I hope
you may have grand success in the enterprise," was
John's answer.

When they came to the crcssing of the roads, Mr.
ihllwood said that he wanted to go by the way of
.Mapleton, and he intended to get as far as Ashcroft's
that night. He bade John good-bye, saying that he
would hear more from them by the middle of August,
as they intended to have the sawmill ready for opera-
tion by the next spring.

When John went to the hou.se, and told the rest of
them what he had learned from the stranger, they
were as much surprised and pleased as he was.

And the settlers were all delighted at the prospect
of havinir a sfrist and saw mill so soon.

John and Mary were especially pleased that Mr.
Root was one of the men who were to own and run
the mills. They decided to defer the building of a

260

AMONG THE FOIIKST TREES.

barn till the next summer, and then to build a frame
one. Will Briar.s threw up his hat and shouted
" Hurrah for Riverbend Mills and the men who build
them."

Moses Moosewood was now a regular visitor to Mr.
Crautmaker's. He and Katrina had got to be very
friendly, to say the least of it. The old gentleman
would say, sometimes : "Dot young Moosewood ish
werry sweet on mine Katrina, und I does not be sure
certain dot she ish not a leetle sweet on him. But I
vas young vonce mineself, and so vas de old vooinan,
so I cand say too much apout 'em, don't you see."

I suppose the young folks would call that straight,
good sense, expressed in crooked language.

That seemed to be the old man's views, at all events,
and we are not going to say that he was very far
astray.

The old lady would give him a punch in the rib^s,
and say, " Well, well, my old man, you can think
straight, if you can't talk straight."

Will Briars and Betsy were ready to go into their
new home, as soon as Mr. Bushman should come with
Betsy's things. He was expected in a few days, and
until he came the young people were, as a Frenchman
would say, on the qui vive.

John and Mary were kept busy in looking after
their stock and other things about the place.

CHAJr^TKR X:K.

A NEIGHBORHOOD OF STRANGERS.

( )W that the lot at the bend of the river was
pi taken up, every lot that in any way touched
John Bushman's lot was taken up, and had
some one on it, or was to be occupied in a short time.
So that John's isolated condition was already a thing
of the past. At the east end of his lot, and butting
ai,'ainst it, was the Crautmaker family. These were
an industrious and well-doing class of people ; a trifle
awkward in some things, perhaps, but, on the whole,
a vciy safe and respectable acquisition in any settle-
ment. On the north of these, and cornering John's
lot at its north-east angle, was the Greenleaf's home.
Richard Greenleaf and his wife were an intelligent
and well-brought-up couple, who had been trained to
industry and economy from childhood. They had got
married and come right off to the bush on what now
would be called their wedding trip. Read if you like
between the lines, that few wedding trips last as long
or prove as successful as theirs did. Martha Green -
leaf was the lirst white woman in her township.
Then at the south-east corner of John's lot was a

262

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

family of Gaelic people, by the name of McWithy.
They had only been a few days on their lot. They
came in from the east, and lived in a tent made of
blankets until they got up a shanty. They are a
hardy-Iookinf( family, made up of father and mother
and a number of children. Some of the children are
nearly men and women. They are more accustomed
to backwoods life than those who come here directly
from the Old Country. They lived a few years in the
country before they came to settle here.

On the lot that is the east hundred acres of the one
that Mr. Beech is on, there is a single man, a Nova
Scotian, his name Timberline. He is a nice, steady
3'ouno; man. But he seems to be very bashful, espe-
cially when there are any young women around.* On
the whole, however, he is a promising settler.

Mr. Beech and his family we have already heard
about. They are English people, of the industrious
and well-doing class.

Then on the west John has for a neighbor the Irish
family, Mr. Hawthorn and Bridget. They are a hard-
working couple, and for a real, genuine, free-hearted,
unbounded hospitality you can't beat them anywhere:
in fact, Harry would take the shoes otf his feet and
give them to one who needed them.*|- And Bridgit
would take the handkerchief off her head and give it
to a bareheaded woman.

*He inust (lifter very much from his comitrynian, Charles Tapper,
who is said to have been a rather fast young man among the women.

t We have known this to be done in actual life. 'I'here is no doubt |
but that Irish hospitality is hard to surpass anywhere.

A NEIGHBORHOOD OF STRANOERS.

203

McWithy.
lot. They
t made of
[■hey are a
,nd mother
lildren are
accustomed
jre directly
years in the

i of the one
an, a Nova
nice, steady
isbt'ul, espe-
•ound.* On
ier.

ready heard
industrious

)or the Irish
are a hard-
•ee-hearted,

1 anywhere;

lis feet and I

^nd Bridget 1
and give it

Jharles Tapper,
nig the woiuen.
here is uo doubt j

•e.

Then, as we have ah'eady learned, the lot that
touched tlie north-west anf^le of John's lot was to be
occupied by Messrs. Millwood and Root; and at the
south-west anf(le is the lot occupied by Mr. Woodbine
and family. They are Lowland Sc(;tch, and they are
not lunch accustomed to life on a farm, havinr^ been
liviiii,' in one of the manufacturinfif towns in Scotland,

But Mr. Woodbine is, j^erhaps, the best read and
most intelliojent man, on general subjects, among the
settlers around the four coi'ners.

On the south side of Bushman's is Will Briars' lot
of two hundred acres, running across the concession.

Now, if we should divide this little community into
distinct nationalities, we would find one family of
Irish : two of Scotch : one of English : two Cana(iian,
of English descent ; two (Janadian, of German d(!scent ;
one Nova Scotian ; one American, of German descent ;
and one Canadian, of Irish descent. And taking Moses
Moose wood into the number, we have one man who is
a Canadian, of Scotch descent. Then, if we go one
lot north of Mr. Beech, we find a Mr. Baptiste Shele-
l)ean, who is a Frenchman, from Lower Canada.

This is a fair sample of the mixed origin of the
race of people who are making this Canada of ours
what it is, and in whose hands is the destiny of this
Dominion.

This reminds us of a statement that has been attri-
buted to the late John Hilliard Cameron, which is as
follows :

"If you take the cool, shrewd, calculating head of
I a canny Scotchman, the stern, unbending will of the

264

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

German, the warm heart and ready wit of an Irish-
man, tlie vivacity and activit}- of the Frenchman, and
put all of these into the rohii.st, healthy frame of an
Englishman, you then have a Canadian."

Being a Canadian myself, I shall not say anything,'
about the correctness of this portraiture, but cvcrv
one must draw his own conclusions in regard to it.

And if we classify them religiously, we will find a
diversity equally as great.

Mr. Beech and Mr. Timberline hold to the Church
of England; Bushman, Briars, and Greenleaf hold
to the Methodist ; Harry Hawthorn and Shelehean
are Jloman Catholics; Crautmaker is a Lutheran;
McWithy and Mr. Millwood are of the Baptist faith;
while Mr. Woodbine, Moses Moosewood an<l Mr. hoot
are Presbyterians.

This is a great variety for such a small comnumity.
And here we have an exhibition of the mixture that
enters into the religious life of this country. Whether
this is an advantage or not must be determined hy
wiser heads than mine.

Moses Moosewood and Katrina Crautmaker decided
to get married at once, as he had got his house ready
to occupy, and he had no notion of trj'ing the
Bachelor's hall arrangement. The old people gave
their consent, and the only difficulty was to tind some
one to marry them. There were few clergymen in
the country who could marry, as the law then stood.
And so far as they could learn there was not a qualified
minister within fifty miles of them.

Their only chance seemed to be to go and find a

A NETOHMoTaTOOD OF STRANf JKRS.

26')

an Irish-
man, aivl
me of an

anything,'
Dut every
\ to it.
all find a

le Clinrch
ileaf hold
SheleV)efin
Lutheran :
)tist faith;
i Mr. Uoot

omnninity.
Iixturo that
Whether
trmined 1)Y

leer decided
lOUse ready
itrvino- the
|eople gave
find some
ii-i^yinen in
Ithen stood.
a qualified

land tind a

mafjdstrate, who could marry under certain condition.s.
They resolved to do so. But tlicre wore no horses to
ride, and to go with oxen and cart would not be
pleasant over the rough roads. So they decided to go
on foot. They were to go to Mapleton. 1'hey per-
suaded young Mr. Timl)erline, and Katrinas sister
Fretzina, to go with them, as they w^ere the only
unmarried people in the settlement who could l)e got
to go.

They started off' eaidy one morning in the month of
July, and they found about the hottest day's walk
diat any of them ever had. But love and perseverance
will take people through almost anything. They
arrived in good time at tho little hamlet, and went to
the only public-house, and put up. On making
inquiry, they learned that the only magistrate in the
place was away fr,)m home, and would not return
until evening.

There was nothing for it but to wait. When the
Squire, as he was called, came home he was sent for.
When he came and found what was wanted, and
that the contracting parties lived in another district,
a serious difficulty presented itself. The power of the
magistrate did not extend bey^ond the limits of their
own district.

Here was a dilemma. What could be done to meet

the emergency? Some one suggests that they wait

till morning, and then all go back as i'ar as the first

I house in the district where the young people lived,

land be married there.

But Squire Redwood said that he would be quite

.['111-

20(5

AMONfi TIIK KOUKST THKKS.

willin/T to do tliat ; but ho had an ensfacjomont for the
forenoon that couM not he put olK lie was very
sorry, hut really he could not lielp hinisolf. What
could !)(• done?

After a vvliile a 'lappy tlioiiijlit sti'uck the S(|nir('.

He said, " Now, look here, it is only one concession
to the distriet line. It is early yet; wv. can tuko a
lantern and ij^o over the line, and have the matter all
settled in a couple of houi's. What say you all V

They all consented and went, and the S()uire per-
formed the ceremony under a large heech tree.* The
romance of the thin<j[ seemed to set the whole party
in a .spirit of merriment. Even the 8f(uire forgot his
official dignity so far that he not only kis.sed the
bride, but he also became poetic. He took Mose liy
the hand, and congratulate i him in verse in the
following manner :

" ^'()^lllg mail, I think you aro repaid
[''or all the time you were delayed,
.Siiiee, 'mid tlie shadows of the night,
Vou got your wife by candle light ;
In year.s to come, whene'ei' you .see
The green lea\'e8 on the .smooth lieceh tree,
Think of the joyful night, when I
Mail-' one f)f two. Now, say '(lood-bye I'"

And the Squire went laughing to his home.

The next morning the four young people in good

* A young couple in the township of Caledon, sent thirty iiiib
to a magistrate to oome and marry them. When he got there he
found that they were in another distriet. He took them over iuto
Erin, and married them under a large elm ti-ee. Another couple |
walked from Kincardine to Goderich, thirty miles, to get married.

A NKKilll'.oinioOI) OK STUAN'iiKHS.

267

b for the
vas very

I What

Sijuirc.
louct'ssion
m take a

1 natter all
1 all ?"
(|nire por-
ree.* n,
bole piutv
5 fovo;ot his
kissed the
k Mose liy
rse in tho

l(H',

tne.

ble in gooi

it thirty milf*

got there lie

Iheni over inw

niother eouple

get niavr

ied.

time .started for tludr liomo. Hut not before tlie people
of the handet luid called to congratulate tlio eneri^etic
couple, and to pay their liotel bill as a mark of respect
to thr pluck and cnisryy that converted the root of a
tree into a hymeneal altar. The landlady settled for
the entertainment of the bride.

The party <;ot homo before dark, and met a lot of
the n('i;;hbors at Mr. Crautmaker's, who were invited
to come to a sort of cond)ination sup])er. After a
good supper, <;otten up in the old-fa.«hioned style of
that day, the party broke up, and each one went to his
home.

The sly invitation to brin*^ a present implied in the
weddint^^-cards of our day had not yet come in vogue.
Whether society has <.'ained or lost, bv the introduction
of such a custom, it is not for me to say.

A few days aftei- thr weddiny, Mr. Bushman came
with Betsy Briar's outtit for houstikeepino-. Will had
evervthinir ready. But tliey had been waiting: until
their thino-.s came.

They were j^lad when their suspense was put to an
end hy the appearance of Mr. Bushman with a load of
such a variety and such dimensions as would have
supplied the material for the. jrossips to work upon
lor a week or more, had there been any j^ossips in the
locality. But they had not got there yet. New settle-
ments always have plenty of hard work. Gossips
/lon't like hard work ; therefore gossips don't like new
pettlements. And for that reason the Sylvan Lake
I "ettlement was destitute of gossips;
Hilt. ti ortiitia b*ali ho Mr. Bushmflbn'i* Iqadi. H» hft'i

2 (is

AMONT; TlIK FOIiKST TiiKr':s.

Betsy's t'nrnitiire, and a lot of dried fruit and rjjrocories,
siicli as tea, allspice and pepper (both beino- unjjf round),
some salcratus and root ginger, a pepper-mill, a hi^
and a little spimiinijj-wheel, a reel and a long-duuidled
fryin<j;-pan. Along with other things too numerous to
mention, these mad* up the list of Betsy's articles.

There were some things for John. There were a few
yards of home-uiade full-cloth that mother sent, and
some indigo for Mary to color her stocking yarn, and
somt! flannel for a winter "frock" or "gown," for
Mary, sent by Mrs. Myrtle. And, al)Ove all, he brought
two long-nosed, lop-eared pigs for John, to start a
(lrov(i of porkers, and a supply of bear-feed from.

When John lifted the two-bushel basket out of tlio
waggon, and found the pigs in it, he started to laiij^di.
His father asked him what he was laughing at. He
answered, " I shall become a man of note in this tor;n-
ship : I cut down the first tree, I put up the first
shanty, I chopped and cleared the first field, I built
the first house, I brought in the first cattle, the first
sheep, the first f( ""ds, and now I have the first pigs,
And, besides all tti..-., ray wife was the first woman in
the township."

" You will be the oldest inhabitant, in years to
come no doubt. But be sure that in all thing's you
prove yourself to be deserving of whatever distinction
circumstar :es may give you. Try to be the bestj
man in the township, as well as the first."

" My desire is to be a good man, and to do my besl
to make this a model township, socially and morally,
G,s it is a good one in other respects."

A XElfiHHORHOOn OF STUANCJKRS.

2u9

rocevios,
(jrronnd),
ill, a l)i<;
•-luintllcd
i\crous to
tides,
ere a few

sent, and
yarn, and
jown," for
le bron;j;ht

to start a

from.

out of the
,^X to langb.

ug at. He
ithis to^'n-

ip the tirst

leld, I b«i^^
Ae, the fivst
3 first pigS'
woman 111

lin yeavs to
ihmcfA you
It distinction
Ibe the iiest

,10 my ^'es'
ind morally.

William Briars and Be t.sy moved into their house in
a day or two. They found that lit'o in a new conntry
was anytliini^ hut chihh'en's play. But like thousands
of other couples in this country they resolved to
endare present dithculties and (h^privations, in view of
prospective comforts tind independence in the connng
years.

On the last day of the eij]fhth month of th(^ year
eighteen hundred and a decimal fraction, the tirst
white baby, in the township of Rockland, made its
appearance at John Bushman's house. From the
emphatic manner in which it declared its ritfht to be
heard in that house, it became evident, from the first,
that it had come to stay.

A serious question now forced itself on the attention
of John and Mary. What were they to d<:> with the
self-assertinu little stranijer ?

They remembered the old nursery song about
.lacky and Jenny going through the rye, and finding
a " little boy with one black eye." And after talking
the matter over, Jenny proposed that the best thing
that they could do was to raise the little foundling
together as other folks do." The conclusion that
John and Mary came to was this : If Jacky and Jenny
could bother with a little one-eyed boy, they might
ti'v to rai.se a little blue-eyed, two-eyed iiirl. So they
said we will do the best we can and keep the little
angel visitor. Mary said the only thing that troubled
her was that the little thing wcmid not be Hati>lied to
I stay alone very long. But it would, perhaps, be calling
[tor company in the course of a year or two.

270

AMONCJ THE FOKEKT TIIKES.

'Vhv.n .lolin answorod, " Never cross a hridire \intil
yoii come to it," is ijfood advice, ai»d " Never meet
trouble lialf-way, " is e(|nally nrood.

" We must leave some (luestioiis to the future, you
know, and this is one of them."

A new bal)y makes more or less of a sensation any-
where. But in a back settlement the first baby is a
wonderful thin^. Everybody came to see Mrs. Hush-
man's baby.

And .so anxious was evc^ryone to try and be of some
use to the bal)y, that Marv sometimes was nearlv at a
loss what to do. One would bring a few spriufs of
sajxo for colic, another would brinix a handful of .satiVon
for j'ellow jaundice. While still arnjther camo with
half an armful of blackberry briar root to make an
infusion for the diarrhd^a, now called cholera infantum.
Old Mr. Crautn)aker came at last with a lot of a ])lfuit
called gold-thread, to cure baby of sprew, or yellow-
mouth, in case it should take a notion to try its
stren<j:th against ihat baby-torturini; disease.

Fretzina (Jrautmaker was so afi'aid that the new
baby would make its escape, and go Vuick among the
Indians, r)r somewhere else, that she came to help
Mary take care of it for two oi* thi je weeks, until it
would become sutliciently tamed down, so that one
could manage it. But it was not long before al
came right. Things went on as usual, and the " baby
became an iniiuential mend)er of the family.

Moses Moosewood and his young wife moved into
their home in the month of October, when the leave:*
on the forest trees were turning^ their color, ad

A NEKJHBOltllOOD OF STKANfJKRS.

271

(re until
/er meet

ture, you

i'nm any-
baby is a
Lrs. Bush-

)e of some

\early at a

- sprii^^ '^^
.lofsartVon

cauu' vvitli
() inal<e an
infantum,
of a pUnit
or yellow-
to try its

it the neNV
ivnong the
ne to help
ks, vintil it
o that one
before all
tbe"l>fihy"

inixin<:f the difrercnt sliades of f^reen and yellow and
brown and i-ed in such charming combinations that
the tops of the trees had the appearance of ^reatover-
(H'ovvn, beautiful chromos seen at a distance.

As has ali'eady been stated, the Catfisli lliver ran
throuuh their lot. "J'heir house was on the hi'j'hest
part of their farm, and stood so that tVom the door
was presented a good view down the \alley of the
river foi' a mile or more, to wdiere it mad(; a tuin to-
ward the east. This valley was not \'e;ry wide, nor
the sides very abrn[)t. A gentle slope, of a slightly
concave character, gave to the valley the appearance
of having been scooped out at some titne for a big
waterino' trou<i[h for antediluvian monsters to slake
their thirst, and, perhaps, wash the alluvial mud from
their gigantic proportions.

Looking down this valley from the door of the
house a view of surpa.ssing beauty was to be seen,
and the owners of the house fully enjoyed the scene.
They were both well pleased with their new home.
ilose had got a nice stack of spring wheat, and a
<,'ood-sized field of fall wheat sown. Besides, he had
plenty of potatoes, and some other things that he
raised that year. On the whole the prospects of
.Moses and Katrina were by no means discouraging.

This fall a number of new settlers came into the
neighborhood. Some of them moved their families
right in at the first, and found shelter among those
already settled until they could put up shanties for
themselves.

Others came and built a house or a shanty, and

272

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

tlien waited till the next .spring before brin<^ino- in
their family. And others, like John Bushman and his
two friends Will and Mose, came in single, and com-
menced to build up a home before they ha<l a help-
meet.

Between all these settlers, in such varied circum-
stances, the land was very rapidly taken up. Some-
times a man would take up a lot for speculation. He
would do a little work on it and then sell out his claiiu
to some greater speculator than himself, or to some
one that wanted a house, and would rather pay for
improvements than make them.

But the meanest kind of speculation that has ever
been seen in this country, or in any other country,
was carried on by men of means, who managed, by
one dodge or another, to get hold of large tracts of
land, and then leave it unoccupied for the toils and
struggles of other people to make it valuable.*

The man who would get fat and rich out of the toil
and sweat and sutl'ering of the backwoods settler
would be just as honest — a great deal more manly— if
he would take his life in one hand and a pistol in the
other and go on the road as a highwayman. In that
case he would give his victim a little chance to defend
his rights, but in the other case he throttles him at a
distance, holds him at arm's length while he picks his
pockets, and robs his children of their rights.

*One country mission where the writer travelled, in going to up
pointnients, we had to pass every wee'c a block of twelve huiicheJ
acres, that had been bought for one dollar and fifty cents per acre.
The owner never paid a dollar for benefiting the place, and yet at
the time spoken of he held his land at $12 per acre.

A NEI(Jlll5<JRilOOD OF STllANCJKUS.

27:3

vj.\\vj: in
I and his
,nd coiii-
il a hclp-

[ circuin-
I. Some-
Lion. He
bis claim
' to some
r pay for

b has ever
r country,
maged, by
s tracts of
toils and

le*

ot* the toil
ds settler
manly— if
stol in the
In that
to defend
him at a
e picks his

We are aware that this is stroni; lan<4ua<;e, but we
have seen so much of the effects of this kind of greed
that it is hard to speak of it with any degree of
patience.

It was a wise thing for the Provincial Pailiament
to authorize the municipalities to place a high tax on
these lands, so as to reach the consciences of their
owners through their pockets. This is the only direct
road to the conscience and judgment of some men.

But it would have been a wiser thing if the Gov-
ernment had passed a hiw that no one should be
allowed to hold any more land than he could occupy,
or than he needed for his own use, and for his family.
Then the making of roads and the building of scliool-
houses, and the supporting of schools would nc^t have
heen retarded, as has been the case in many localities.

But it takes the growing experience and accumu-
lated wisdom of three or four fjenerations to learn
how to manage affairs in a new country, and Ontario
is no exception.

^ -^h
'^J^^

chaptkh :x:xi.

'■<L^_^S>~

RIVERBEND MILLS.

_N the first of October, as the sun was ^oing down,
a man in nudillo life knocked at the door of
John Bushman's house. John was out doinr; up
the chores for the ni^lit. On going to the door Mary
met a stranger that she had never seen before. He
announced himself as a civil engineer who had been
sent to superintend the building of a mill-dam across
the Catfish River for Messrs. Root and Millwood, who
were to erect mills at the foui corners. Mary invited
him to be seated, and she went out and told John that
a straniier had come.

When John came into the house he was a little sur-
prised to see a man who had a familiar look, but he
could not call to mind where or when he had seen or
met him before. The man soon solved the problem by
saying, as he reached out his hand, " You have made
great changes here since I saw you a little over two
years ago."

John remembered the man, and he turned to Mary,
saying, " This is the surveyor you have heard ine
speak about, who, with his men, found me here in the
woods seven miles from a house."

HlVKIiKKNh MILLS.

275

ing down,
le door of
; doing up
oor Mary
fore. He
Viad been
WW across
v^ood, who
y invited
ohn that

little sur-
)k, but he
,d seen or
■obleni by
ave made
over two

to Mary,

Iieard nie

Then turninij^ to the man, he said: 'Yon will stop
with us to-ni<,dit, so sit down and make yourself at
home."

"Well," said he, "the fact is, I came here by the
directions of Mr. Root, and I will gladly accept your
invitation for the night."

"That, then, is settled," .said John. "Now, what
have you been doing since I saw you ? "

"Since I left you here, that day, I and my helpers
have outlined a number of townships — enough to
make two large counties. Besides this, w'e were pro-
speeting for a while on Munitoulin, or Spirit Island;
we found plenty of Indians there, but we found very
few white people."

Supper was now ready, and they took that custom-
ary meal in a social and friendly way. After all was
over and as they sat around the tire, John said to the
guest : " Now tell us .some of your experiences in the
l)Ush, especially on Spirit Island, for no doubt you
have met with some strange adventures since you
went back there," John said.

'■ My experiences have been somewhat varied, but
on the whole they have been rather of an exciting
kind; others, however, within the range of my
acquaintance have had some very thrilling experiences,
some of an amusing character, and some were very sad
md heartrending in the extreme," was Mr. Rush-
I valley's reply.

'Did you say there are women on the island?" in-
I quired Mary.

"Yes," said he; "and I will tell you a little story

27G

AMONG THE F(JKI':ST THEJilS.

,' \

about !i wonuiii and liur baby on one of the ixlanda in
the ()eor;L(ian Bay. Her husband was a trader with
tlie Indians. On one occasion he took his wife and
baby witli hiui to an island called Mindimoina, or Old
Woman's Island.

" The woman had a baby about four months old—
a little boy. When she landed on the island the In-
dians came around her to look at the ' white papoo.st;.
While she was enL;a<.,^ed she laid the baby out of lifi
arms on some beddinc;. In a few moments she came
to take it up again, but imagine her feelings, if yuu
can, when she discovered that there was no baby in
sight. There were in the company a lot of white men
and anotlier woman, but no one had seen the baby
carried ofl"; but it was quite clear that the squaws had
stolen it. The men proposed to go in pursuit of the
Indians, and take the little one from them, but the
trader, who was best acfjuainted with Indian character,
told them not to attempt it, for, said he, the Indiaiibj
will fight for their own squaws, and we would all get|
into trouble. And he said to the mother : ' Don't y(
be at all alarmed about your baby, they will l)e back I
in a couple of hours with it all right. When they come
don't let them know that you had any fears about it,
Allow them to think that you trusted them, and yo
will make fritnds of them for yourself and bal y tori
all time to come.'

" Well, the time seemed long for that mother. How|
could she wait till they would bring back the baby!
What if the trader should be mistaken ? What if tlif
Indi;.ns >hould go away to the great North-Westl

UIVEUIJKNI) Mir-LS.

277

country? She had heard of sucli thini,% and to
think tliat her l)eautit'ul white boy sliould take the
place of a little Indian boy in some far-oft* wi^^wani
was more than the youni;- niotlier could do without
tVelin^^s of great sadness.

"But after about three hours of anxious waiting
she saw a procession of squaws and Indian childi'en
coming to the camp. As they came near she saw her
li;il)y carefully lield in the motherly arms (;f an old
Mjuaw. The other Indian women and papooses were
ill i;ri'at glee, and were laughing and jabbering like a
lit of delighted children.

"When they came up to the mother, she could not
<h anything but laugh at the comical appearance of
hi'r baby; the squaws had fixed it up in complete
Imiian fashion from head to foot. All kinds of orna-
mentation, with the exception of tattooing, had been
practised on Mrs. Cherriwood's baljy. In fact, it was
ri((i,a^d out like a miniature Indian chief, and the 'belt
of peace,' or strip of wampum, adorned its waist.

"Tilt. Indians nanied the baby after the celebrated
Indian chief, Tecumseh — a name that the boy went by
until he died in early manhood.* The Indians became
very much attached to the boy and his mother to
whom they gave the name of Feta oshahoa coqua,
which means, ' The good cook under the mountain.'

"I should have stated that when the squaws
brought the baby back to its mother, they brought a
j shawl full of presents for the two. Some were made

*TIie l)oy's family name was Dem})sey. He and his father died
I J tars ago. His mother and brother and sister still live.

27H

AMONO THK FOKEST TUEKS.

of beads and soino of nriass and wood, in various forms,
and all of them intended for use or ornament.

" At another time this same woman was {,'oin^f on u
trading round with lu^r husband. A storm drove them
on an island and broke tlieir boat. After the storm
was over the men took the remains of the boat and
went for assistance, leavini^ the woman and child
alone, with one week's provisions, 'i'hey expected to
be jTone two or three days, but another storm came on
and drov(! them far out of their course, and it was tit-
teen days before they could <^et Vjack to the island
where tliey left the woman and child.

" On the ei<^hth day an Indian came to the shanty
and aslvcd for something to eat. Mrs. Cherriwood
told him that she had nothing to give him — that she
had nothing for herself and baby, and she did not
know what she would do if her husband did not come
home that day.

"The Indian scanned her features closely for a
moment, and then turned and went away saying.
' Umph, umph, white squaw and papoose no starve.'
She understood him to mean that she was not so
badly off as she pretended to be, and she thought that
he had gone away offended, and she felt sorry that she
had been misunderstood by him, but in this she wa.s
her.self fhistaken. The Indian had understood her,
and had fully realized her situation.

" After the lapse of about three hours the Indian
came back, and brought his wife with him. They had j
a lot of provisions with them, consisting of corn, and
venison, and fish, and potatoes, and some rough-look-

RIVKUHKNI) MII.I-S.

279

in<'' maple sugar, to sweeten the Hpiceuwod or henilork
tea with.

"Wlien they came in tlie man said, as he pointed to
the liaskets, ' Me told uiii white s(|ua\v and white
papoose no starve. Me t'ftch my simaw, me fetch din-
ner, supper, bi'eakt'ast ; me fetch everything but vj'ni-
iri(jonst'.* We stay with white man's squaw and
papo(jse till he come home.'

"They stayed seven days, and supplied her with
food and fuel in ahundancc until the men returned.
When Mr. Cherriwood ottered to pay Jumping-fox for
his services, he would take no pay, hut he accepted a
present. H(^ said, ' White squaw good to Indians; we
will he good to her.' "

When Mr. Rushvalley ended his story, Mary wanted
to know how Ion*; Mrs. Cherriwood had lived amoufj
the Indians.

"About eleven or twelve years," he said.

"And were the Indians always civil to her ^ " Mary
imiuired.

"Yes, invariably so," he answere<l. "In conversa-
tion with Mr.s. Cherriwood,! asked her if she had ever
heen molested in any way by an Indian. She said
that she had never known of a case where a white
woman had been insulted l)y an Indian. They were
always civil and courteous, according to their ideas of
courtesy. ' In fact,' she said, ' I would rather meet
half-a-dozen drunken Indians than one drunken white
man.' "

^\}^i' ■

'This ia iaid to be an Indian word that, means fire>water, ot

I *hiiiiey>

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

s. -<° . "^^

i.O

I.I

1.25

fj^ illM

^ ii£ IIIIIM

1.8

U Hi 1.6

c^-

280

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

John Bushman remarked that, while the Indians
showed so much respect for white women, it was a
shame and disgrace that so many white men showed
so little respect to the Indian women.

"That is true," said Mr. Rushvalley ; "whatever
may be said of the ferocity of the Indian when he is
on the war path, in ordinary life there seems to be a
manly instinct and nobility of nature about him that
raises him above the petty meanness of the man who
can offer insulifor injury to lonely women or helpless
children."

" Well," said Mary, " if that is true, it seems a pity
that some white men could not have a red skin put on
them, and an Indian's heart put into them."

" That is a fact," said John Bushman. " With all
our blowing about the superiority of our white race
over the Indian, some of the self-lauding and much
praised-up race get down to actions so low and mean
that even the red skin of an Indian would blush with
shame were he by any chance to be caught in the same
acts. And some white men will do things so wicked,
that if an Indian should do the same his conscience
would torture him by night and by day, until he would
confess his wrong, and make all possible restitution."

"It seems to me that you are severe on the delin-
quent whites, Mr. Bushman," said Mr. Rushvalley.

" So I am," answered John ; " and the reason is, 1 1
hate contemptible meanness wherever I see it. Ki
men will not be Christians, they ought to be manly, at
least."

"That is so," replied Mr. Rushvalley; "but thei

RIVERBEND MILLS.

281

highest type of manhood can only be developed in
connection with Christian teachin<T and undor Chris-
tian influence."

" Worldly men can hardly be expected to endorse
that sentiment," said John.

"They do endorse it, though, notwithstanding pre-
tendeil scepticism on the subject," said Mr. Rushvalley.
"How do you make that out ?" asked John.
"In two ways," said Mr. Rush valley. "For, first, if (
anyone professing to be a Christian is in anythingv
found to be untrue or dishonest, there is a great out- 1
cry raised about it. This goes to show that more is^
expected from the Christian than from worldlings.
And no higher tribute can be paid to Christianity than
the admission, by worldly men, that Christians are
supposed to stand on higher ground, and to be influ-
enced by loftier motives than others. And although ,
there may be now and then a false professor, the com-
mon sense of men teaches them that the counterfeit
always implies a genuine article, for no one would be
such a fool as to counterfeit a sham.

"And another reason for what I say is found in the
fact that whenever a worldly man must find some
friend in whom to place implicit confidence, and in
whose hands he must commit important trusts, he will,
in nine cases out of ten, select a tried and faithful
Christian. All this, it seems to me, indicates that true
Christianity is at a premium, even among those who
profess least respect for Christians."

The next day after Mr. Rush valley came to River-
I bend, he and John went over the Root and Millwood

282

AMONf; THK FOllEST TREES.

lots, to see where would be the best place to locate the
mills.

After goinf; over a great part of the land, the sur-
veyor said it was one of the best places for a grist and
saw mill that he had seen. He located the place for
the mill-dam so that the buildings could stand near
the line between the townships of Riverbend and
Ashdown.

As they were passing the four corners on their way
back to Bushman's, Mr. Rush valley said to John,
" There will be a town here some day. 1 have never
seen a better site for a town than there is right here,
where these four townships join corners. I would not
be at all surprised if, before twenty years are past,
this would be the centre of a county."

" More unlikely things have come to pass," John
answered.

" How soon will the work be commenced?" inquired
John.

" Just as soon as Mr. Root can finish a bridije that
he is building over a large creek in one of the town-
ships that borders on Lake Huron, It may be one
week, or it may be two, before he will get here with
his men. But when he does come he will make things
move with a rush, as he is a thorough American. He
will either make or break, every time," replied he.

•' That is the kind of men to build up a new coun-
try," replied John. " Sometimes, though, they help the
countr}'^ more than they benefit themselves. But, after
all, they are driving the world's machinery and lead-
ing the nation's «nterpri««B. They *rn fchp mH« *h»M

RIVERBEND MILLS.

283

, the sur-
i grist and
place for
itand near
rbend and

, their way
I to John,
have never
right here,
[ would not
•s are past,

pass," John

I?" inquired

bridge that
,f the town-
nay be one
j;t here with
Imake things
^erican. He
)Ued he.
new coun-
ley help the
But, after
ly and lead-

are driving back the wild beasts and wild savages,
and turning the wilderness into cultivated fields and
stately homesteads."

"0, Misther Bushman, an' will yez plase to be
afther comin' till our place ?" called out Harry Haw-
thorn's hired man, as he came running after the two
men.

" Why, what in the world is the matter, Billy ?"
said John, as the man came up to them. "You seem
terribly frightened. What has happened at your
place?"

' Shure, sur, Harry and meself wer' choppin' out in
the foller, and the two swate childer was playin'
among the brush piles, an' we did not see them. An'
would yez belave it, sur, they both got buried beneath
a stump, an' so they did. Will yez an' the gintleman
come wid me ?"

"How could the children get under a stump ? Are
you not mistaken, Billy ?" said John.

"No, no; Mr. Bushman, I am not. Shure an' with
me own ears I heard the screams of the little darlins
whin the stump went on thetn. No ; I only wish
that I could be mistaken."

Bushman and his companion made all possible haste
to the place of the accident.

When they came there a most harrowing sight pre-
sented itself to them. There sat Harry, with his chin
resting on his knees, completely broken down with
his sorrow. Beside him, on the ground, lay his wife,
in a paroxysm of grief. Her pitiful moaning was
19

284

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

enough to touch the most insensible, and to melt the
coldest heart.

Her only cry was, " Me babes, me babes. Och, me
poor innocent babes."

When John, who could scarcely command himself
to speak, asked Harry what had happened, he could
only point to the stump and, between his sobs, say,
" The little dears are under there."

William, or Billy as he was usually called, was the
only one that could give any information on the
matter. With the help of what he said, John soon
understood the facts of the case, which were as
follows :

An elm tree, some two feet across, had been turned
up by the roots in a recent gale. As is frequently the
case with that kind of timber, a large amount of earth
clung to the roots, thus making a big hollow under
the overhanging roots, some of which still held on to
the ground, and formed a sort of canopy or covering.
Under this the children were playing, it seems, while
their father and his man were chopping up the fallen |
tree.

Harry was cutting the tree off some three feet from|
the ground. For want of experience in the matter,,
he did not understand the danger that his children
were in. When he severed the connection between
the stump and the tree, the weight of earth, andl
the spring of the unbroken and elastic roots, causedj
the stump to rise to an upright position, and
up the hole, burying the poor children under al
couple of tons of earth and wood. One pitiful!

RIVERBEND MILLS.

285

scream was all that was heard of them, then every-
thing was still.*

The alarm was given to all the neighbors, and men
turned out to help in getting the bodies of the children
out of the place. But it was only after the roots had
been cut away and two yoke of oxen hitched to it
that the stump could be removed. Then the earth
was carefully lifted until the crushed and broken
remains of the poor children were found lying close
together, with their playthings still clenched in their
hands. Strong arms and ready hands tenderly
removed the mangled little forms, and laid them on
a pile of leaves, hastily scraped together for a couch.

Around those lifeless children strong men were
standing. But every face was wet with tears. Brave
hearts were there, but not one heart so hard as to be
unmoved by the sad and touching scene that was
there witnes.sed.

Poor Bridget had been led to the house by the
sympathizing women. But at times her cries could
be heard. Harry still sat upon the ground crushed
by the weight of sorrow that had fallen upon his
household. When the children were laid on the
impromptu bed provided for them, he got up and
stood over them, with the great tear drops falling
from his manly face upon the pale upturned faces of
his two dead babies. At last he broke the silence,
saying :

'Instances of this kind have occurred in different parts of Canada.
.\nd even men have sometimes been buried in the same way. So
that this is no mere fancy picture, but it represents facts.

?'l

286

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" Oh me babes, me babes, me poor dear babes ! Was
it for this that I brought yez away from the green
fields of dear Ould Ireland ? Was it for this that ine-
self and your poor mother have wrought so hard,
and lived so cheap to try and get a house for yezV

With slow and solemn steps the little morsels of
mangled mortality were carried to the house from
which they had so lately come full of life and childish
glee.

Two days after the accident the first funeral pro-
cession that was ever seen in the Riverbend settle-
ment moved silently from the house of Harry and
Bridget Hawthorn to a grave on the banks of Catfish
River, near where it crossed over the boundary of
Harry's land and went on to John Bushman's.

A sudden and unexpected death, in any community,
brings into view some of the grandest elements of our
human brotherhood, as nothing else can do it. Though
neither priest nor parson could be had, yet these
children were not buried without religious service.
Protestant and Catholic forgot their differences as
they .stood around this open grave and joined in the
service, while Mr. WoodVjine read from John Bush-
man's " Book of Discipline " the ritual of the funeral
service as it was used by the Methodist Church of
that day. The death of the Hawthorn children was
an event long remembered in the settlement.

Chapter XXII.

A BOARDING-HOUSE WANTED.

'iPWO weeks from the day that Harry Hawthorn's
hJ|h children were buried Mr. Root and his men came
to Sylvan Lake, or, as the place was now more
frequently called, Riverbend. There were ten of them,
including the two proprietors. They brought a strong
force, for a new country, because the conditions on
which they obtained the property enjoined upon them
to build on a somewhat extensive scale. So, between
carpenters, millwrights and laborers, the number of
men brought was not any too large.

When this addition was made to the population of
the place a question of importance presented itself,
Where could all these men find board and lodjrino' ?
There were not spare beds enough in the whole settle-
ment to lodge them. They might be fed ; but where
could they sleep ? that was the (juestion.

Mr. Root and his partner could be accommodated at
John Bushman's, two of the others might be crowded in
at William Briars'. Beyond this there was not a house
in the whole community where boarders could be taken
with any prospect of being made moderately com-

288

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

fortable. Here was a difficulty, and how was it to be
met ? Tlie nights were too cool to sleep out of doors
on the <i;round.

"Why not build a house at once to live in?" said
Bushman to the two proprietors.

"Could it be done without throwinij us too much
behind with the work on the mills ?" inquired Mr
Root.

" Set all hands to work, and get what help you can
from the neifrhbors, and you can have a good-sized lo!:^
cabin leady to live in within a week, and among us all
we can arrange some way for the men for that length
of time."

" That would be quick work, and I only wi.^h it
could be done," .said Millwood.

" It can be done," said John. " There is no reason
why yon may not have a house of your own, on your
own lot in one week, if things are properly managed."

" Well, let us hear your plan," said Root.

" Set two men to work with the whipsaw, send two
more to cut shingle bolts, and put two more to make
shingle.s. Let two more cut and haul half a dozen
saw-logs for the lumber. Set the rest at clearing a
place for the house and cutting the logs and getting
everything ready. When everything is done the neigh-
bors will come and help to raise it. In the meantime
one of yourselves can take a team and go out for nails
and glas.s."

" I think," said Mr. Root to his companion, " that
Bushman's plan is feasible. At all events, I believe
wo would do well to try it."

A BOARDING-HOUSE WANTED.

289

19 it to be
■j of doors

in ? said

too much
juired Mr.

Ip you can
il-sized lo?
nonjT us all
ihat length

ily wish it

i no reason
irn, on vour
managed."

V, send two
e to make
ilf a dozen
clearing a
nd getting
the neigh-
raeantime
)ut for nails

nion, " that
ts, I believe

"All right. It look.s to me like a sensible proposi-
tion ; and if we succeed, which I feel confident we
shall do, it will help us out of our difficulty," said the
other.

" But if none of our men can handle the whipsaw
or make the shingles, what will we do ?" said Mill-
wood.

" In that ca;-»e," said John, " I and William Briars
will .saw your lumber, and you can get Moses Moose-
wood and one of the Crautmaker boys to make your
shingles."

"That is very kind of you, I am sure," replied Mr.
Root, and we will not forget your generous offer,
whether we have to accept of it or not. If any of
our men can do the work we will set them to do it ;
but if they cannot do it, we shall be very much pleased
to get the help you kindly suggest."

Next day work was commenced, and in seven days
the house was ready for occupancy.

After the house was finished, Mr. Root said to John
and Mary, as they sat at the supper table, " I do not
know where we are going to find a cook. Neither
ourselves nor any of our men know anything about
cooking."

" I think," said John, " that I can tell you of one
who, if you can get him, would just suit yeu."

" Who is it, and where does he live ?" a.sked Mr.
Root.

" It is young Mr. Timberline, who lives only one lot
from here. I have heard him tell of cooking in a
lumber shanty down in Nova Scotia. He has no one

290

AMON(i THE FOREST TREES.

but himself to look after, and no cattle or horses to
care for. So I think it (jiiite likely that he mijijbt be
willing to hire out for a while. And if he will do so,
I am very sure that he will suit you as a cook," was
John's answer.

" Would you mind goin«( with me to see him T said
Mr. Root.

" Not at all. We can go this evening, as it is good
moonlight, and we will tind him in the house," was
John's answer.

They found Mr. Tiniberline at home, and after a
short conversation the subject of their visit was intro-
duced. At the first the young man hesitated, but
after a little urging by John Bushman, he agreed to
go and try it for one month, and if everything was
satisfactory, then he would stay longer. He was to
commence the next day.

As they were going along, on the way home, Mr.
Root said to John, " It seems that you are always
equal to the emergency, Bushman, no matter what
that may be. Here you have helped us out of another
difficulty that we could not see our way through. Do
you never find yourself in a fix that you can't get out
of?"

" Sometimes ; but not often, and for two reasons. I
never commence a thing until I think that I see my
way through it. And I never give up to defeat until
I am compelled to <lo so. The result is that I gene-
rally succeed in what I undertake to do," was John's
reply.

The work on the mills now was started in earnest.

■

A BOAUDINO-HOUHE WANTED.

291

horses to
miffbt. be
vill do so,
ook," was

Lm ?" said

it is good
ouse," was

id after a
was intro-
itated, but
agreed to
ything was
fie was to

tiome, Mr.
are always
Eitter what
of another
ough. Do
n't get out

reasons. 1
I see my
efeat until
at I gene-
was John's

in earnest.

Some were workinjif at the <lain, while others were
getting out timber and framing it for the saw-mill,
which was to be built first, so they would be able to
cut their own lumber for the grist-mill.

The saw-mills of that time were very simple in
their mechani.sm. Two or three wheels, an upright
sav/, fixed in a scjuare frame, that moved up and
down with every stroke of the saw, driven by a
crank and pitman, along with a carriage for the logs,
made up about the sum total of the machinery of an
old-time saw-mill. The fast-running circular saws
were not known in this country at the time of which
we are writing.

Everything went on smoothly with the work, and
the saw-raill was ready for operation by the time the
snow came in sufficient quantity to make sleighing.
And the work on the grist-mill was in a forward state
before the winter set in.

Everything was going well with the settlement at
River bend, and the people were prospering, and as
comfortable as people in a new country could be.
Everybody was everybody's friend, and nobody was
anybody's enemy. The people were all hard at work,
to do the best in their power to get an honest living,
and to provide themselves with homes of their own.
Those of them that were not devoutly pious, were
strictly honest, truthful and sober. In fact, so far as
character goes, the Riverbend settlement might very
properly be called a model community. Up till the
time of which we speak nothing had occurred to divide
public opinion, or to interfere with the fraternal feel-

292

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

ings of the various families vvhicli composed the neigh-
borhood.

But in this respect • nearly all now settlements are
more or less alike. If you w',nt to find real, genuine,
honest friendship, go among the people in the back-
woods. There you may see society in its every-day
attire, where there is no starchy stiffness, nor wilted
limberness. There are no strained relations between
leading families. There are no instances of empty
nothingness trj'ing to assume the aspect and act the
part of solid something. There the cheek of beauty
depends not on the painter's brush for the harmonies
of color, and the hard-handed toilers in the forest and
fields do not long for official dignity to push them up
into the elevated region of real manhood. There
things are, as a rule, what they appear to be. There
genuine manhood and womanhood are-appreciated for
all they are worth, and rascality and fraud are at a
wonderful discount.

But, dear me, where am I wandering to ? I am not
writing a satire on frauds and shams, nor an eulogy
on truth and honesty ; but simply speaking of the
process of developing life and its appliances among the
forest trees and in the new settlements.

Mr. Timberline proved himself to be a good cook
and a very passable housekeeper, so that Messrs. Root
& Co. were well pleased with their boarding-house
venture. In fact, the boarding-house soon became the |
most noted place in the settlement in some respects,
There were more people in it, and its inmates repre-
sented such a great diversity of talent, and such a I

A BOARDING-HOUSE WANTED.

293

the neigh-

ments ate
J, genuine,

the back-

every-day
nor wilted
ns between
5 of empty
md act tlie
c of beauty
3 havmonies
le forest and
ish them up
ood. There
) be. There
)reciated for
lud are at a

? I am not
|)r an eulogy

pikins o^" ^^^*^
3s amonj? the

a good cook

Messrs. Root
Lrding-house
|n became the

3me respects.

[mates repre-
and such &

variety of trades, that the associations of the place
became very interesting indeed to a student of
character.

The names of some of the more prominent of the
boarders, were, in themselves, a subject of amusement
to anyone who heard them for the first time. And
some of them were very expressive, and others were
siifrirestive. For instance —

Joseph Chipmaker, was the name of the "boss"
carpenter. There is nothing in the name that is
either euphonious or musical. But once the name was
heard in connection with the man, and in his presence,
it cnuld not be easily forgotten. Whenever one who
had become familiar with the name and the man it be-
longed to, saw a chip in the workshop or on the wood-
pile, he at once would think of about one hundred
and seventy pounds of masculine humanity ; with a
large head covered with brown curly hair ; a broad,
good-natured face, a little inclined to ruddiness ; an
expansive forehead, that a judge might covet ; a clear,
blue eye, with now and then a shade of sternness in it,
and a mouth that became the index to eitlier sweet-
ness of temper or fixedness of purpose just as it
received its expression from the present state of its
ownor's mind.

Another one of the men worthy of notice was Mr.

Sledgeswinger, the stonemason. His name is a little

more musical than that of his neighbor, Chipmaker,

but no more suggestive. He was a larse raw-boned

j man in middle life. His manner was more pleasing

than his appearance. His features were coarse and

294

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

m
If

stiff, his hands were hard and bony. But his heart
was softer than either his features or his hands would
seem to indicate. On the whole, we are safe in setting
it down that Mr. Sledgeswinger was an amiable and
kind-hearted man without a tinge of malice or mean-
ness in his composition.

Then there was Jack Pivot, the machinist, who must
not be left unnoticed. He was a little red-headed man.
He had an eye like an eagle, and he was as smart as a
steel trap. He would not weigh over a hundred and
thirty pounds. But there was not a man in the
company that could jump as far, or run as fast, as
Little Jack, as they called him. This little man had
one peculiarity. Though he was generally pleasant
and good-natured, yet when he was laying out his
work he was as explosive as dynamite. Whoever was
so thoughtless as to ask Jack any question when he
was busy with his drawings, would tind the little
fellow as prickly as a chestnut burr in the month of I
October, and as ready to fight as a Scotch terrier that
has been robbed of his dinner. But on the whole. Little j
Jack was not a bad sort of a man to get along with.
He was like a great many other men, he wanted to bej
left alone at certain times and under some circum-|
stances.

There was also Mr. Dusticoat, the miller, who, in his I
way, was an honorable and useful individual. He was
of a peculiar build. He might be called a big littlej
man, without involving any contradiction. He was!
not more than five feet eight inches in perpendicularj
altitude. But his greatest diameter was about forty-

A BOARDING-HOUSE WANTED.

295

b his heart
Einds would
e in setting
raiable and
e or mean-

t, who must
leaded man.
,s smart as a
lundred and
man in the
1 as fast, as
tie man had
illy pleasant
,ying out his
Whoever was
ion when he

d the little
,he month of '
terrier that

whole, Little |

along with.

[wanted to be]

^ome circum-

jr, who, in his

bal. He was

a big little

)n. He was

)erpendiculM

about forty-

four inches, and his ponderosity a little over two
hundred pounds avordupois.

Handling many bags, and lifting many heavy loads
had given him great strength of back and arms, ^o
that as an elevator of weighty parcels, he was about
as good as a two horse-power engine. Talking long
and loud with many people, amid the clatter of
machinery, had developed a very coarse, heavy, deep
voice that, with proper training, might have furnished
bass enough for a whole cathedral choir without any
help.

Mr. Dusticoat was a little inclined to braggadocio ;
but whenever he became somewhat animated in self-
laudation, some of the others would put up the little
machinist to take the wind out of his conceit, which
would generally take Jack about two minutes and a
balf, when the miller would quietly subside into his
normal condition, which was by no means a dangerous
or disagreeable one.

One more character is worthy of note among Root
&Co.'s employees, that was Mr. Springboard, the saw-
yer. He was a tall, slim man, of about thirty years
of age. He stood six feet high and weighed about a
hundred and fifty pounds. The men nicknamed him
Sawgate, because of the manner in which he would

ive himself up and down when he was walking,
which motion was not altogether unlike that of the
I slow-up-and-down motion of an old-time upright saw.

This man was the literary character of the company.
1 He made short speeches and quoted poetry. Ho was
fond of discussion and argument. He strengthened

296

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

his position by lofi^ical syllogisms, and adorned his dis-
couiSG with flowers of rhetoric ; and when he failed to
con' i nee an opponent by his logic, or to charm hiin by
his ihetoric, he would bury him under a mountain of
facts and historical quotations. Mr. Springboard was
an interesting element in the little backwoods com-
munity of which he formed a part. More of this
further on.

One day when Mr. Root came into his dinner he
startled the company a little by asking them if they
had heard the news. They all looked at him, and
" No " came from half a dozen places at once.

" The wolves have been at work last night, and this
morning Mr. Beech finds one of his cows dead and halt
eaten up, and John Bushman finds nine of his sheep
killed and partly devoured. For the first time since
he got them, they were left out of the pen last nij^ht,
and this morning he found them dead in the field."

"There must have been a great number of theinj
to make such destruction, and eat up so much of what
they killed," said one of the men.

" A hungry wolf is something like a hungry snake, I
he can swallow nearly his own weight in food when
he gets a chance," said Root.

" A wolf," said Mr. Springboard, " is one of the car-
nivora, or flesh-eating animals, and it belongs to tliej
genus canis, and is therefore a half-brother to the|
dog."

" I wonder if that is the reason that the old dog atj
Bushman's had nothing to say while his half-brother

A BOARDINO-HOUrsE WANTED.

297

were destroying his master's sheep," said Mr. Dusti-
coat.

" Mrs. Briars expected to be alone last night, as
William went to Mapleton with a grist, and did not
know as he would get home. She came towards even-
inij and took old Rover home with her for the night.
The old dog is in no way to be charged with neglect-
ing his duty in the matter," said Mr. Root.

" It seems more like conspiracy on the part of his
master," said Mr. Pivot. " First he sent away the
sheep's protector, and then expo.sed them to unneces-
sary danger by not shutting them in the pen as has
been his custom. But there is no mistake, it is a
heavy loss for both Mr. Bushman and Mr. Beech. I
thought the wolves had left this part of the country
since so many settlers have come in."

" The wolves are not so easily got out of the way,"
said Mr. Root ; " they have only been away on the track
of the deer. When a place begins to settle up, the deer
go further back into the forest, and the wolves follow
ihem up.

" As long as a wolf can get a supply of veni.son and
rabbit meat, and other wild game, he will not be so
troublesome among the sheep and cattle of the settler-s.
He is a natural coward. And i^ is only after hunger
has got the better of his fears that he will take the
risk of seeking his dinner within hearing of the wood-
man's axe or where he can get the smell of gun-
powder."

" The wolf is not only a coward, but he is a sneak,"
put in Mr. Springboard. " He has not enough honesty

298

AMONG THE FORKST TREES.

in his composition to look a game rooster in the ej^e.
He always hunts in darkness, and never faces any-
thing if he can come behind it. If a man was fjot up
on the plan of the wolf he mi;,'ht do for a spy or a
detective, but he would never do for a policeman or a
soldier.

" Gerard, the French hunter, says the lion is a coward
until either hunger or anger prompts him to be brave.
And the Rev. Walter Ingles, a returned missionary,
says of the lion in Africa, that if you meet him in the
day time just act as if you are hunting for him, and
are glad to find him, and he will sneak off like a
whipped cur. But both of these men agree that if
the lion becomes roused in any way he will f' je any-
thing," said Mr. Springboard,

" Well," said one of the men, " if the lion is a coward,
what right has he to be called the king of beasts ?"

"As to that," answered Mr. Springboard, " lie is only
like other animals. He is less cowardly than others,
and can claim the crown of royalty on that ground,
for no animal is entirely free froui fear. Perhaps the
bull-dog comes the nearest to being destitute of that
thing called fear, of any animal that we know of."

" He don't know enough to be afraid," put in Little
Jack, " for of all the great variety of dogs, the bull-
dog, it seems to me, is the most stupid and senseless of
the whole family."

" The buU-doji is good to hang on when he takes
hold of anything," said Mr. Dusticoat.

"He is like some men in that," said Mr. Root.
" There are men who will get hold of an idea, and

A BOARDINC-HOUSE WANTED.

299

whether it b« right or wrong they will hold to it. And
even though they should suffer for it they, hull-dog
like, will stick to it till the end of life."

" Is it for the hang-on that is in him that the
typical Englishman is called John Bull?" inquired
Little Jack.

" The (juestion/' said Mr. Dusticoat, who felt called
upon to defend everything English, even to the froth
on a mug of beer —

" I say the question is a persona! insult to every
Englishman, and I want Mr. Pivot to take it back at
once."

" Don't make a fool of yourself, Dusty," replied
Little Jack. " You know as well as any of us that the
term ' John Bull ' has been used for generations past
to represent the dogged stubbornness of Englishmen.
I think it is something to be proud of instead of a
thing to get mad about. I never hear the term used
but I wi.sh myself an Englishman. On a hundred
battlefields John Bull has shown his right to the
title."

"AH right. Jack. That will do, I am satisfied," said
Dusticoat.

Chapter XXI 1 1.

A BACKWOODS LYCEUM.

Yj S soon as tilings were got into good shape in the
k^iL boarding-house, the men formed themselves
into a literary associn>ion for mutual enter-
tainment, and to pass away the long winter evenings,

They adopted rules and regulations, the same as
institutions of greater pretensions.

Among the rules was one which required each man
to furnish something for the amusement or edification
of the rest.

Every one was left to his own option as to what his
part should be. He might relate something of his
personal experiences. He might relate some incidents
in the experience of others. He might recite, give a
reading, or make a speech. And if he could do none
of these, he would be let off by singing a song. If he
failed to do any of these he was subjected to a fine of
one shilling, which was equal to twelve and a half
cents. This was placed in the hands of Mr. Root to
be held in trust until the breaking up of the associa-
tion, when it was to be disposed of by a majority of
the members of the fraternity.

A BACKWOODS LYCEUM.

301

The time limit was somewhat elastic. It ranged
from two minutes to half-an-hour. An exercise of one
hundred and twenty seconds would not i)e called too
short ; and one fifteen times as long would not be con-
demned for its length.

Another of the rules was that everything pre-
sented should be connected with backwoods life, and
should illustrate the condition of things among the
pioneer settlers.

Mr. Millwood, being the most (juiet and thoughtful
man in the company, was made President of the
association. His duty was to preside over the exercises,
and pass his opinion on the efforts of those who took
part in the entertainments.

The names of all the men were put on a paper, and
their turn came in the same order in which their
names were on the list.

Whenever one of them was called by the President
he was expected to provide something for the next
meeting. And if he did not wish to do so he forth-
with handed over the fine, and then the next name on
the list was called.

The first name on the roll was " Little Jack," as the
men called Mr. Pivot, the machinist. He promptly
responded, and stepped to the middle of the floor to
commence his remarks. He made a formal bow to the
company, then said :

" Since we are all here working on a mill, I know
of no subject that would be more appropriate than a
little talk about a primitive backwoods grist-mill.
And it is no mere fancy picture that I shall give you.

302

AMONG THE FOREST TREES,

■;!;'■

But I will try to describe a real workintr mill, whero
thousands of liushels of wheat have been eonverte<l
into bran and Hour. The locality selected for the
erection of the mill was on a beautiful stream of clear,
cool, spring water. Here the speckled trout had dis-
ported themselves without interruption for unnumbered
generations, until the .sound of the woodman's axe
might have warned them of coming changes, had they
intelligence enough to take the warning. This stream
ran through a deep glen at the foot of a mountain of
considerable height. It was a very rapid running
stream. In order to get sufficient ' head ' a dam was
built across the stream some forty rods up the creek
from where the mill was to stand. From the dam
the water was carried in an elevated mill-race tnade
of hewed timber, to where it poured on an overshot
wheel about twenty feet in diameter.

" This mill was remarkable for three things, viz., the
smallness of the log building, the enormous size of the
water-wheel, and the rude simplicity of its machinery.

" The building was about twenty-four feet square
The wheel was placed on the outside of the structure
and on the end of a large shaft which passed through
the wall into the building. On this same shaft was
constructed a wheel nearly as large as the water-
wheel. A row of cogs was tixed on the side of this
wheel, so as to fit into an upright pinion. In the
upper end of the shaft of the pinion was an iron
gudgeon. On the end of this was a simple piece of
bent iron, on which the weight of the upper mill-stone
rested and in the turning of this pinion the motion of

A BACKWOODS LYCEUM.

303

the Htone was producefl. This was all the machinery
there was, so far as the frrindinj; process was con-
cerned.

" The hoitini:; operation was equally primitive in
design and execution. Tiie mill -.stones were a couple
ot'rou«]fh, hard Hat rocks found in the vicinity of the
mill, and got into shape by much pounding and
patient labor. But simple though it was, thousands
of bushels of wheat was ground in that little, unpre-
tentious, back country mill. And many a loaf of good
wholesome bread was made from this tlour by our
grandmothers and their daughters, and baked in the
old-time bake kettles, as they were partly hidden in
heaps of coals that glowed and crackled in the roomy
•ecesses of old Dutch fireplaces. In those days of
primitive methods and plain habits people were easily
satisfied, and the sum total of human comfort was
equally as great as in our day of greater preten.sions."
And with another bow, Mr. Pivot took his seat.

" Jack, you have done well. That story is nicely
told, and the beauty of it is its truthfulness. I have
seen that same mill, or one exactly like it, myself."*

" Our mill," said Mr. Root, " is to be on a larger
scale than that one, and it will cost a fifood deal more.
But there will come a time when it, too, will be con-
sidered out of date, and have to give place to more
extensive structures, and more complicated machinery,
for mills, as well as other things, will have to keep
pace with the progress of society."

* Sixty years ago it could be seen in what was called Thompson's
Hollow, in Euqueaing.

■I

304

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" 1 think," sai(i the President, " that Little Jack has
made a good start, and I hope that all who attempt to
speak will be as concise, and yet as explicit, as he has
been.

" Mr. Dusticoat's name comes next on the list," con-
tinued the President.

Dusticoat was called for by three or four at once.

When he came forward, Mr. Dusticoat looked a little
Hushed, and seemed somewhat confused. He was not
used to speechmaking. But he was willing to do the
best he could. He commenced by saying : " I think
that I, at one time, worked in the same mill that Mr.
Pivot spoke of. At all events, the description that he
gave would just suit a mill that I run for a number of
y^ars, when I was a young man. I used to see some
rather striking things there. I will tell you of some
of them.

" To get to the mill, people had to come down the
mountain. To get anything like a reasonable grade
the road skirted along the side of the mountain for a
long distance. In the winter time, the water issuing
from one or two springy places would run over the
road and freeze, leaving the track sometimes very
slippery.

" One day as I stood in the mill door I saw a man
with a yoke of oxen and a sled coming down the hill.
When he came to one of the icy places his oxen began
to slip, and soon fell down on the ice. The sled slid
around until it got ahead of the oxen, with the tail
end down hill, towards the mill. By some means it
got loose from the oxen, and came tearing down the

A HACK WOODS LYCKUM.

305

iiines very

hill, wrong end tirst, and never ^^topp(M^ until it butted
up against the side of the mill. Meanwhile the owner
stood and looked at his retreating property until he
saw the bags of wheat safely <lep()sited beside the mill
door.

" He was a little man, by the name of Buck berry,
and he was a terrible man to swear. When he came
and found that his grist was all right, he said he wa.s
sorry he had wasted so much breath and .said so many
bad words for nothing. He took a couple of pails of
ashes and sprinkled them around the oxen, and then
got them ort' the ice. Luckily, nothing was injured."*

Mr. Du.sticoat continued: "I remember one ilay a
number of men came to the mill with new wheat,
right after harvest. Some had woodshod sleds, drawn
by oxen. One or two had a bag on the back of a
horse, others carried their grist on their shoulders.
Among these was a man and a bo}', who had come
between three and four miles. Each of tliem had a
heavy load of wheat ; in fact, the boy was so small that
some of the men were surprised by the size of his
load. They placed the lad on the scales and found
that he weighed just sixty pounds. Then they put
hi.s load of wheat on the scales, and found it to be of
the .same weight as the boy. The little fellow had
carried a load as heavy as him.self all that distance
over a very rough and hilly road.-j-

* This is a real occurrence that happened at Tliompson's mill, in

Ks(|uesing.

tThat boy was Malcolm McLaughlan. Me is still living, though
lie is an ol<l man now. and he has seen many ciianges since then.

306

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" Boys in those days found plenty of exercise in the
ordinary affairs of life. They did not need athletic
sports to develop bone and muscle. But many of
those boys were broken down before they came to be
men by overwork and hardships.

" One day," continued Mr. Dusticoat, " there came to
the mill a man with a baof of wheat to grind. He was
a large, bony man. with a peculiar expressiion of coun-
tenance. He spoke like a man of some degree of
culture. He had never been to the mill before, hence
more notice was taken of him. He said he lived about
four mil')s away, and this was his first bag of wheat
threshed from his first crop. This man was living
alone in a little shanty built in the middle of a four
hundred acre block of land that belonjied to him. He
had neither chick nor child. Not a hoof nor feather
could be seen about his home.

" We talked on difierent subjects, and 1 found my
customer to be pretty well read on various subjects.
He was rather fiuent, and spoke with a slight brogue,
just enough to tell what country he came from. After
his grist had been in the hopper a few minutes, I took
the toll-box and dipped it into tne wheat in order to
take the usual toll.

" In a moment the man had hold of my arm, and in
a loud voice he demanded to know what I was going
to.do.

" I explained to him that I was simply taking toll
for grinding his grist.

'" Well,' said he, ' it seems to me that, after carrying
it four long miles on my back, it is too bad for me to

A BACKWOODS LYCEUM.

807

•cise in the
id athletic
t many of
came to be

ere came to
d. He was
on of coun-
i degree of
ifore, henco

lived about
or of wheat

was living
,e of a four
to him. He

nor feather

found my
[lis subjects,
jght brogue,
rom. After
lutes, I took
lin order to

|arin, and in
was going

I taking toll

ber carrying
li for me to

lose part of it for toll. I will not fetch any more
wheat to your mill.'

" It did no good to tell him that everybody had to
give toll. He persisted in his resolution, and lived on
boiled wheat and roasted potatoes for some years.
Then he married and raised a family. He is dead

now. *

" Well," said Mr. Springboard, " that was a strange
way for a man to live. He must have had something
else besic'> boiled wheat and roasted potatoes."

Mr. Dusticoat replied : " He had salt, and sometimes
a little butter or meat, but that was not often. In the
spring he would make some maple sugar and molasses.
He used hemlock for tea. He worked around a good
deal among the neighbors, and after people got to
know him they trusted him, and many a pail of milk
and other things he carried home to his lonely little
shanty. He would not clear off his land like other
people. He said the time would come when the tim-
ber would be worth more than the land."-f-

"The next name on the list is Mr. Springboard,"
said the President. " We will wait for his contribution
to our entertainment until our next meeting."

" Which will be to-morrow evening," put in Little
Jack.

*His uame and location could be given, but that is not necessary
to make the truth of the narrative plainer. He never could be per-
suaded that tolls and taxes are not robbery.

tHe lived to see his prediction fulfilled to the letter. He died sud-
denly, and left to his family four hund'ed acres of bush within easy
distance of two or three rising towns.

308

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

To this all agreed, and the company dispersca tor
the night.

When the evening meal was over next night, the
men gathered around the glowing tire that blazed and
sparkled on the tiagstone hearth, and sent a yellow
light on everything in the house, giving to the men a
peculiar shade of color, which had the appearance of
a compound of three-parts satfron and one-part car-
mine. Seen in that peculiar light they looked like a
strong, hardy lot of customers.

" Now for the talk," said Little Jack. Mr. Spring-
board said he was ready to commence if the rest were
ready to hear him.

" My stories will not be very long, nor very inter-
esting, perhaps," said Mr. Springboard, " but they will
be connected with new country life. They will be
about the black bears."

" All right, then," said the President. " Let us hear
something about bruin."

" I will tell them to you just as I heard them, with-
out vouching for their truthfulness ; but 1 believe
them to be true myself, and you can please yourselves
about it.

" One day a man was running a saw-mill in a lonely
place. There was no one but himself around. He
was cutting up some pine logs to till a bill for lumber.
The old upright saw was rattling away, and makiii;^
more noise than progress. The thing was becoming
monotonous.

" The man looked out of the end of the mill, and
there, coming right towards him, was a large bear,

A BACKWOODS LYCEUM.

309

per3i.a tor

niiiVit, the
blazed and
t a yellow
the men a
pearance of
le-part cai-
^ked lil'ie a

Mr. Sprint,'-
lie rest were

• very inter-
)ut they will
hey will be

' Let us hear

them, with-
out 1 believe
U yourselves

walking up the skid-way, where the logs were drawn
up into the mill. The man was scared, and climbed
up on one of the beams, where he could watch the
turn of events in safety. The bear walked into the
mill with as much assurance as thousfh the whole
thing belonged to him. He jumped on the end of the
loiT that was on the carriajje, and sat down on his
haunches like a dog to watch the movements of the
saw-gate. He seemed to become very much interested
in his surroundings. But every stroke of the saw was
bringing him nearer to danger, as the carriage was
drawn along by the machinery.

" He seemed to be completely absorbed in contem-
plation, until at last the points of the saw-teeth
touched him on the end of his nose. He seemed to
take that as an insult and a challenije for battle.
With a cry of pain and rage he threw his fore-paws
around the saw to give it the usual bearish hug. The
contest between bear's teeth and saw teeth was a des-
perate one for a minute ; but steel was harder than
bone. In a short time poor bruin was cut in two, one
piece falling on each side of the log.

II in a lonely

laround. He

for lumber.

and makiiifi;

las becoming

bhe mill, and
large bear,

' While seeking to investigate
A saw-mill's work one day,
Poor, honest bruin, met his fate
In an unseemly way. "

" This is what the sawyer wrote on a piece of board
with charcoal, and nailed it up to one of the posts of
the mill.

" I have another bear story to tell you," said Mr.

810

AMONG THE PUREST TREES.

Spring-board, " and, if you don't object, I will tell it
now. Two men went out hunting in the beginning
of winter, when the first fall of snow covered the
ground. They were brothers. When they reached
the hunting ground they went but a short distance
before they came on the track of a bear. They saw
that it was freshly made, and resolved to follow it up
and see where the animal had gone.

" They soon came to where the bear had gone into
a thick cedar swamp. Being well acquainted with
the locality, they knew that the swamp was not a
large one. They arranged that one of them should
keep on the track of the bear, while the other would
go around the edge of the swamp, and see if he could
find where the animal had come out. And if either
of them came across the object of their search he was
to let the other know by firing his gun or by calling.

" The man followed the tracks into the swamp. It
was difficult, in some places, to get through the thick
growth of underwood that intercepted his way. But
pushing along the best way he could, he came at
length to where the bear had clambered over a fallen
tree that lay up some feet from the ground. Mr. Bush,
being an active man, placed his hand on the top of the
log, and sprang over to the other siile.

" When he came over he lit right on the top of the
bear which was lying flat on its side in the snow. Be-
fore he had time to do anything the bear had him in
its embrace. His gun was of no use to him now. His
only means of defence was a hunter's knife that he
carried in his belt.

A BACKWOODS LYCKUM.

311

will tell it
beginninfT

covered the
ey reached
)rt distance
They saw
'ollow it up

d ffone into
tainted with
) was not a
them should
other would
e it' he could
^nd \i either
earch he was
• by calling.
3 swamp. It
crh the thick
is way. B^^
he came at
over a fallen
Mr. Bush,
he top of the

le top of the

le snow. Be-

Ir had him in

lim now. Hi'*

tnife that he

"Calling loudly for his brother, he began to plunge
the knife into the bear whenever and wherever he
could get a chance. The fight was a fearful one. The
claws and teeth of the bear were rapidly tearing the
tlesh from the man's bones. The long knife in the
hands of the courageous hunter was just as rapidly
letting the life's blood from the emptying veins of
the infuriated brute.

" When the other man came up neither Bush nor the
bear could stand on their feet, but lying side by side
on the blood-covered snow they were tiercely, though
feebly, carrying on the conflict. The brother put the
muzzle of his rifle to the bear's ear and sent the whole
charge into its head. This ended the fight. Help was
procured and the wounded man was carried to the
house of a settler, and medical assistance secured. Here
he lay for weeks before he could be taken to his home
in the adjoining township.*

" One more short tale and I am done with bears,"
said Mr. Springboard. " In the month of March, in a
back township, a man was chopping up a fallen hollow
tree. All of a sudden his axe went through the thin
shell and struck into something that i^&ye a terrific
growd. He was startled to hear something crawling
(ilong the inside of the log on which he was standing.
Presently a large bear came out of the end of the log
in a perfect fury, but it was blind. The axe had cut
right into its eyes and put them both out. The first
thing that the bear touched was a tree. This it em-

* An incident like this ocoui*i'ec1 sonle yeai's i*,go in the township
It U&i'af raxa to «. man named Howe from Erin townshipi

312

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

braced and attacked most ferociously, and tried to
tear it to pieces. The man went to the house, got his
rifle and ended the bear's sufferings by sending a bul-
let tliroujjh its heart."

" Well done, Mr. Springboard," said the Presidt>nt.
" It' all our little entertainments can equal the two
last ones, our evenings won't be wasted."

id tried to
luse, got his
iding a bul-

e President.
m\ the two

CHAPTER XXIV.
MORE BOARDING-HOUSE TALES.

fWO or three evenings after the conversation re-
ported in the last chapter, as the men were sit-
ting around a good tire, some one proposed that
Mr. Rushvalle}', the surveyor, be invited to take the
floor to fulHl the conditions of the compact which re-
quired each one to take his turn in entertaining the
company, as his name stood next on the list.

Mr. Rushvalley came forward promptly, and said :
"I will take up none of your time in needless prelim-
inaries, but I will forewarn you that the incidents
that I am about to relate, as illustrating some of the
trials of pioneer life, are sad and touching in a high
degree, and I shall give them as they were told to me
by those who weie acquainted with the facts, so that
there need be no doubt as to the truthfulness of the
narratives.

" To one of the back townships, some few years after
the- city of Hamilton became a village, and before the
city of Guelph was ever thought of, there came from
the old country three immigrants. There were two
brothers and a sister — all of them ere single. The

314

AMONG THK KoUEST TREKS.

IF'

sister was older than her Itrothers, an<l she was their
housekeeper.

"Theyouni^ men secured each of them a hundred
acres of good land and started life in the bush. Kvery
thing went well with them for some time. They built
a shanty on each one's lot ; a part of the time they
worked separately, and at other times they worked
together.

" Meanwhile the sister managed both shanties, Koiiii:
from the one to the other, as often as she found it
necessary, and at any time most convenient for her-
self. She had provided herself with a bed in each
shanty, so that she could stay at either place as long
as she liked. Sometimes she would be a couple of
days at one place, and then as long a time at the
other.

" One morning she started to go from one place to
the other. By some means she got out of the path
that led through a piece of wood from shanty to
shanty. The brother to whose place she started did
not know she was coming, and the one from tlie place
she left did not know that she had failed to reach her
destination. Conse(iuently she was not missed until
the next morning. She had been in the woods twenty-
four liours before her brothers found out that she was
lost.

" The first thing that the young men did was to
start in opposite directions among the scattered
settlers, to find out if any per-son had seen their lost
sister.

" In going along the only public road in that locality

MORE BOARDING-HOUSE TALES.

315

was their

a Immlvetl
ish. Every

They built

time they
ley worked

mties, o-oinj;
he found it
ent for her-
bed in each
dace as lonj,'
a couple of
time at the

one phice to
of the path
in shanty to
started did
om the phice
to reach her
missed until
voods twenty-
, that she was

11 did was to
the scattered
.een their lost

n that locality

one of the brothers saw a woman's track in the soft
tjfround. From the size and shape of the track, as well
as from some particular marks, he knew his sister had
been there, and she was going right away from home
and into the dense unbroken forest.

" Now they became very much alarmed. It was
evident that the lost one had got bewildered, so that
she did not know which way she was going. Neigh-
hors were few and far between, but through the ener-
getic efforts of the brothers, with the kindly help of
others, every house within a radius of ten miles was
visited in hopes of gaining some intelligence of the lost
"irl, but no tidings of her could be got. Those who know
anything about the fraternity of feeling that always
exists in new settlements, need not be toltl of the
excitement that ran from house to house, as the news
was carried by lleet-footed messengers to the people.
Every family was made sad, and a cloud seemed to
settle over ever}'' home.

" 'Go and help to lind her, William/ said the young
wife of the latest settler to her husband, as the sad
intelligence was conveyed to their shanty.

"'Why, Sarah,' said he, 'how can I go and leave
you here all start alone ? Beside that, if I go now I
could not come home to-night.'

" ' Never mind, 1 -am not afraid to stay in such a
case. Only think. The poor girl, already two days
and two nijihts in the woods alone. I would be a
most selfish creature if I should refuse to let you go
and help to find her. Old Turk will stay with me.
You go and stay till she is found, if it takes a week.'

:j I (J

AM()N(i THE FOllFST THEKS.

" We need not say tluit William wont. Nor neod I
say that tlu; yuuniij wife .siuii)ly spoke the scjntiinents
of all the women in the settlement. ^

"Over hills and throu<^di the valleys, among the
swamps and aloni:j the creeks, all day the hunt went
on, hut no trace of the missinnj woman could he fcjuiid.
The track in the mud, when^ she crossed the road, was
the only thing that gave an intimation of the direc-
tion she had gone.

"As night was coming on the weary and disheart-
ened hunters came in in groups of twos and threes
until the shanty from which she had gone sixty hours
before was surrounded by forty or tifty men. Disap-
pointment and sorrow was visible on every face. For
a while tlu; men talked among themselves in under-
tones. Then an elderly man addressed the company
as follows :

" ' My friends, this is a sad day for all of us, but we
must neither relinquish our efforts nor abandon hope.
The lost girl is somewhere, and she must be found.
Dead or alive we must find her. Now I have a propo-
sition to make, and I w^ant your opinion upon it.

" ' Some tw^elve or fourteen miles up the river there
is a camp of Indians. As my home is in that direc-
tion, I propose to start at break of day for tlie camp,
and, if possible, I will hring one or more of them here
by nine o'clock to-morrow, and see if they cannot
help us in the hunt.'

" The companj'' at once fell in with the arrangement.
By the time mentioned the man came, and with him
came an elderly Indian, who was called Stooping

MOllK M(»Alll)IN(J-ll()l SK TALKS.

:U7

; arrangeine

Kai;;le. Tlic track in the iiind was shown to the In-
dian. He got down and examined it very closely;
then lie rose up, and said to those around:

"'Three snns since uni was here, l»ut red man will
find the white squaw.'

" He looked carefully around, cxannninnf the size of

the track and the len,L,^th of the steps that could ]>e

very plainly seen in the soft unround. Then he started

slowl)^ to move in the same direction that the track

seemed to point. Three or four men went with lum ;

the rest went oft' in otlier directions to join in the

search. For a mile or more the Indian kept on

nearly a straif]jht line. Then he took a short turn,

and went on a short distance, thtm aruther turn.

Where the white num could see no trace he seemed

to follow the tj-ack with the instinct of a bloodhound.

After a while he said, ' White scjuaw much afraid.

Dark. Um couldn't see to go. Here um lay and sleep,'

he said, as he pointed to an upturned tree, hy the side

of which could be seen dim impressions on the leaves,

as if something had pressed them down. All the

afternoon the Indian kept the trail. But the track

liecame very crooked. It frecjuentlj' came around in

a circle, crossing and recrossing itself. Then short

turns and acute angles marked its course. Still he

kept on until they came to where the Indian said

another night had been spent by the lost one. This

was under the branches of a newly-fallen tree. Here

the Indian picked up some thorn-apples that had been

leff, ; and as he did so he said, ' White squaw been eat

these. Um much hungry.'

318

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" Not far from this night came upon them. They
had with them the means of kindling a tiro. They
gathered a lot of dry brush and sticks, and prepared
for a night in the woods. They had some food with
them, and after partaking of some of that they
lay down to sleep, and it was _ not long before they
were lost to all earthly cares and anxieties until the
Hun was up next morning.

" They got up and started on th(^ trail again. Tho
Indian walked a few steps in advance of the others.
Every now and then he would speak to the men. At
length he stopped, and said, ' Poor white s(]uaw, no
gone long way from here. She much tired, and umch
hungry, and much afraid. She no far oti dis place.'

"They went forward a few hundred yards, and there,
with her back against a large tree, they found the
poor girl ' dead.' Cold and hunger and fright and
exhaustion had been too much for her powers of en-
durance. She had apparently been dead for several
hours.*

" Word was immediately sent to those who had
remained behind. Preparations were soon made for
conveying the body to the home of one of the bro-
thers. The next day was the funeral, and a sad and
touching one it was."

" That is a sad narrative," said the President.

" Yes, indeed," said two or three of the men.

" I have a shorter one, but I think it is a sadder

*This incident was related to the v/riter by an old man who was a
boy at the time, and who, along with hia father, assisted in the hunt
for the lost young woman.

MORE HOARnTNfi-HOrSE TALES.

319

in. They
r»\ They

prepared
food with
ihat they
ut'ore th*!y

until the

orain

The
the others.
i men. At

squaw, no
., and much
iis place.'
3, and there,
r found the

fright and
»wers of en-
for several

ie who had
)n made for
of the bro-
l a sad and

dent,
men.
is a sadder

mail who was a
8ted in tlu- ^uu.t

one," said Rushvalley. " Will you hear it now, or
wait till my turn comes a^ain ?"

" Oh, let us have it now," chimed in half a dozen at
at once.

" All right. I will make it as short as I can," was
his answer.

" In one of the back townships there lived a man
and his wife and two small children. They had been
there two or three years. Their nearest neighbors
lived half a mile distant, and through the woods. One
day, when the man was going out from dinner, his
wife said, ' I wish you would take the children out
with you, and let them stay with 3^ou till I call for
them. I want to go to Mrs. Raspberry's on an errand.
I will be back in a couple of hours.'

" ' All right ; I will take care of them, and mind
you don't get lost in going through the bush,' he
answered.

" ' I will be careful not to get off the path,' she said.
They little thought that these were to be the last
words that would ever pass between them in this
world.

" He went to his work and took the children with
him. The afternoon passed away, and tea-time came.
But the woman did not call for the children. The
man took them to the house, expecting to iind their
mother there. But to his surprif^e and disappointment
there was nothing to be seen of her about the house.
She had not returned.

'' Full of fearful forebodings, the man took one child
in his arms and the other by the hand and started to

320

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

meet his wife. He hastened on until he came to the
house that she started to ffo to. But on askiu"
for his wife, he was told that she had not been there.
He now became <^reatly alarmed.

" It was quite clear she had missed the way. But in
what direction had she gone i* The path by which slie
was expected to go passed near the border of a large,
thick swamp, through which a very heavy stream ran.
Being more than a mile wide, and five or six miles
long, this swamp would be a terrible place to be lost
in — especially for one who was not in a state of health
to bear up under a heavy pressure of anxiety, or to
stand a great amount of fatigue, or to endure much
very wearisome toil.

" Mr. Sum^icrside and Mr. Raspberry at once started
out to hunt for the lost woman, leaving the cliildien
with Mrs. Raspberry.

" They went among the few neighbors who were
within reach. But no one had seen or heard anything
of the absent woman.

" Night came on, and not the slightest trace of her
could be f oui d.

" By torchlight and lantern light the hunt was kept
up until morning. But the search v/as a fruitless one.

"As the news spread out over an ever-wideniiijj
circle, the numbers engaged in the hunt steadily
increased until all the men on a territory of ten or
twelve miles square were scouring the woods in all
directions in search of the lost woman. The excite-
ment became intense as two days and two nights
passed off without a single trace of the missing one.

MORE BOAKDIXG-llorsE I'ALES.

321

me to the
on asking
been there.

ly. But in
J which she
ol! a hu-f^e,
stream ran.
)r six miles
ce to be lost
bte oi health
ixiety, or to
ndure much

, once started
the chihlien

rs who were
ard anything

trace of her

lunt was kept
b fruitless one.
■ver-widenini;
hunt steadily
ory of ten or
woods in all
The excite-
d two nights
uiiasing one.

" Every man and woman .seenietl to be in a torture
about their lost neiglibor. Every woman seemed to
be saying to herself, ' I may be the next one to be
lost.' Every man seemed to try to realize how he
would feel, if it was his wife that was in the swamp,
e.Kposed to the bears and wolves, or perhaps to fall
into the river and be drowned. No one thouirht of
work or business until the fate of the lost wife and
inother .should be known.

" On the third day, in the densest part of the swamp,
and some distance from her home, the lifeless body of
the poor woman was found leaning against a fallen
cedar, with the feet in a pool of water, and a dead
infant wrapped in part of her garments and folded in
her arms." '■^^

" Well, Mr. Rush valley," said the President, " you
have told us two very touching stories. And if you
should live to tell them to your children's children
they will listen to you with as much attention as we
have to-night, for such stories never grow out of
date."

" That is so," said Mr. Root, " and it will be well if,
in the coming years, the people of this country respect
the memory of the toiling, suffering pioneers, and duly
appreciate the comfortable homes left to them by
those heroic men and women."
" I think," said Mr. Ru.shvalley, " that I have talked

* An incident of this kintl occurretl in the township of Euphrasia,
oouiity of (xrey, a number of years ago. The name could be given,
but surviving friends might not wish it. .So it is withheld, as in
other cases.

322

AMONG THE F()J{EST TREES.

lone enoucfh for this time. Let us go to bed, or else
let some one else talk for awhile."

"I am for going to bed," said Dustieoat.
" Airreed," said two or three others.
" Before we adjourn," said the President, " I want
to say that Mr. Chipmaker is the next on tlie roll ; so
to-morrow evening, if all be well, we will hear from
him."

Next evening, as the men were sitting around a
good blazing fire, Little Jack Pivot called out, " Now
for the man that makes the chips." " Hear, hear,"
said Dustieoat.

Mr. Chipmaker commenced by saying, " I have no
apologies to make, and no excuses to offer. But I wish
to say that my talk will be very fragmentary. I
shall just relate some incidents that are small in them-
selves, but when put together they help to give
variety to our entertainments.

" Not long since, in conversation with an old man, he
related to me an incident in his boy life, that may be
worth repeating. His mother was a widow. He was
the eldest boy. They had to go several miles to a
blacksmith. In those days it was necessary, in some
cases, to shoe the oxen as well as the horses. One
time John was sent to get the oxen shod. He started
before daylight. Most of the distance was woods. In
the middle of the darkest part of a thick pinery he
had to pass a place where a man had been killed by a
falling tree.

" The place was said to be haunted by the ghost of
the victim of the accident. John never once thought

MORK BOARDING-HOUSE TALES.

323

jd, or else

b, " I want

,1)8 roll ; so

hear from

r around a
out, "Now
[ear, hear,"

" I have no
But I wish
mentary. I
lall in them-
elp to give

I old man, he
that may be
)W. He was

miles to a
lary, in some
horses. One

He started
,s woods. In
ck pinery be
n killed by a

the ghost of
■Dnce thought

of the haunted locality until he got within a few rods

of the spot. Then it came into his mind about the

ofhost. He became very nervous. In fact, he grot into

a perfect panic. What to do he did not know. To

turn around and go back he thought would be too

babyish. And to go forward among the weird

shadows of the pine trees that the full moon threw

out in all directions over the snow -covered ground,

seemed to him very much like walking right into a

whole regiment of the very ugliest and meanest kind

of ghosts. Finally he stopped the oxen and scrambled

up on the back of Old Buck. He said, in telling me

the incident, if you have never tried it you cannot

believe how independent a boy can feel when he is on

the broad back of a good old ox. I snapped my

fingers at the ghostly shadows, cracked my whip at

the oxen, and went on, trying to whistle to the tune

of ' See, the conquering hero comes.' "

" Very good," said the President. " What is your
next story to be T'

" About another boy that had trouble with a ghost.
But not in the same way," said Mr. Chipmaker.

" In a very new settlement there were two shanties
about half a mile apart. Nearly all the distance be-
tween them was solid bush. In going from one to the
other the path led through a small ravine shaded by
a clump of hemlock trees. In the night this was a
very dark place.

" One summer this ' gully ' got the name of being
haunted. Difterent people who had occasion to pass
that way after night-fall, reported that strange,

824

AMONG THE FOItEST TllEKS.

unearthly sounds were to be heard right in the
densest of the darkness. And two or three men, who
mustered courage to look around, said that they had
seen the dim outline ot some large object, but not
with sufficient distinctness to say much about its size
or color.

" Now the boy that I am to tell about had heard
these reports. In fact, the neighborhood was full of
stories about the. haunted gully.

" On one occasion, Joe, as the lad was called, went
for his mother on an errand to the next neiohbor's.
And, as a matter of course, he had to pass the haunted
gully. But lie expected to return before night. No
one had seen or heard anything in the day time.

" Joe got with another boy, and forgot how fast the
sun was jjoing down. The first shades of nifjht came
on, and he had not, as yet, done his errand. But now
he made all the haste he could. But in spite of all he
could do, it was quite dark when he started for home.
He walked on with a tirm step, and whistled to keep
his courage up, until he got into the darkest part of
the gully. He heard a noise. He stopped and listened.
He heard a sound that seemed like a compound of
snarling dog and crying baby. He looked, and by the
root of a large tree he saw a dark object that to him
looked as big as a cow.

" Now, Joe was one of those boys tha* have a good
deal of fight in them and who are not good to .scare.
The temper of the boy got roused. He hunted round
till he found a stone the size of a goose-eirsf. Then
he crept as near to the object as he felt safe in doing.

MORE HOARDrNG-HOUSE TALES.

325

Then poising the stone and taking the best aim he
could he let it lly with all his might. A perfect
storm of grunts and squeals told Joe that he had hit
the mark. And a large, black hog, that belonged to a
man in the settlement, ran off snorting into the woods,
it being a great deal more frightened than Joe was.
It was said that some of the men who had l)een
scared by tha ghost, looked a little sheepish when they
learned that the problem of the haunted gully had
been solved by a boy."

" I like stories that come out like that," said Dusti-
coat.

" Nine-tenths of the wonderful stories of ghosts
could be as easily unravelled as that, if those who see
or hear them could keep cool heads and steady nerves,
so as to investigate as determinedly as the boy did,"'
said Mr. Root.

" Joe miii'ht have made a mistake if it had be^n a
bear," put in Little Jack.

" Yes," said Mr. Chipmaker. " But it was not a
bear. It was only an overgrown hog. So Joe made
no mistake. It was the other people that made the
mistake about the ghost in the haunted gully."

Chapter XXV.

MORE GLIMPSES OF BUSH LIFE.

"l^^^^T'HO is to do the talking to-niffht?" asked

Little Jack.

" Mr. Greenbush is the next name on the
list. But as I forgot to give him notice of the fact at
the proper time, I hardly think it would be fair to
ask him," said the President.

"What say you, Mr. Greenbush ?"

" Well, sir, so far as I am concerned it makes but
little difference about the notice. I am not much of a
talker, at best. But the little that I have to say can
be said one time as well as another," was his reply.

" Bravo," said Little Jack, " that is the kind of stuff
that orators and soldiers are made of. Ready, always
ready."

Mr. Greenbush commenced by saying, " I do not, by
any means, intend to make light of religion or religious
worship, in relating the following incident, which
occurred in one of the back townships : —

" The Methodists were having a fellowship meeting.
As was often the case in these meetings, religious
fever ran high, and many of the participants in the

MORE GLIMPSES OF BUSH LIFE.

327

IFE.

ht?" asked

name on the
►£ the fact at
Id be fair to

it makes but
ot much of a
e to say can
lis reply,
kind of stuff
eady, always

I do not, by
11 or religious
ident, which

jhip meeting.

igS,

pants i

religious
the

service became somewhat demonstrative in their
expressions and actions.

" After awhile there was a sort of short interval in
the speaking. Near the door there sat a tall, sharp-
featured, rawboned man with a piercing black eye,
and a very prominent nose. He deliberately rose to
his feet, commencing to speak as soon as he began to
get up, and at the same time he took a large quid of
well-chewed tobacco from his mouth, and placing it in
his hand started for the stove, which stood in the
middle of the room. He spoke with some difficulty
until he emptied his hand and his mouth into the fire.
Then he said with emphasis, ' Brethering and sisters, I
am glad to tell you what has been done for poor
unworthy me. When the Lord saved me, there was
no patchwork about it, glory be to His holy name.

" ' I used to lie, and swear and cheat, and get drunk
and fight. My, how I would fight. I wouldn't steal,
for I thought that was mean. I wouldn't backbite
my neighbors, for I thought that was cowardly. But
I would do almost anything else that was bad. But
the Lord took me in hand. He turned me upside
down and inside out. He converted me all through
and through. Now, you can take my word and you
can trust me. Now, a child can lead me. Now, I do
not swear nor get drunk. Yes, bless the Lord, I am
converted and I know it.'

" The man went back to his seat, while ' Amen, bless
the Lord,' could be heard in several places.

" I thought to myself that it was a pity that his
mouth was not converted too, so that it would not

828

AMONC THE FOllKST TREKS.

hold sucli a pond of tobacco juice for Ids tongue to
swim in."

" No doubt but tlie man was sincere," said tlie
President, " but as the lin'ht that sldnes on the patli of
(hitv increases, it is likely tlie jiood brother will see
the propriety of letting the tobacco go along with the
lying, and the swearing, and the whiskey <lriidving,
and the fighting. The path of the just shines brighter
and brighter unto the ])erfect day."

" My next story will be about a strange time-pieco,
or rather a novel way of keeping account of the days
of the week.

" A Inan went some miles into the woods and com-
menced life alone. He put up his shanty and l)egan
to clear off' his land. Having no one to talk with, his
time passed without much change in the mode of
spending it. What he did one day he did the next,
so that the exercise of each day was only a repetition
of the one that went before it. Beinff his own cook,
and having a good supply of provisions on hand, he
had but little intercourse with the outside world. He
had been some time in the bush. He thought one
day that he would go out to the settlement and see
how thinijfs were goinrj on in the neighborhood. He
thought it was Sunday ; but when he came out to the
house of his nearest neisfhbour, he found them at work
as on ordinary days. He was surprised at this. He
went into the field and asked the man if he and his
family did not keep the Sabbath. ' Yes, to be sure
we do,' said he, ' but this is Monday.'

" ' You don't mean that, do you ? ' said the other.

MOIIK (iT.lMl'SKS OF JJUSll LIKE.

329

" ' Yes, of course, I mean it. Yesterday was the
Sabbatli.'

"' Well, if I have not made a j^reat mistake, you may
cull me a J)utchinan,' said he. ' Here I have been
working all day yesterday, sujiposinff that it was Sat-
urday. And I have been tloing tlu' same for at least
three Sabbaths. J liavc lost track of the week. But
it won't be so anv more, I will see to that.'

" The man went away to a ston; and bon<j;ht seven
plates of different sizes. He took them home, and
named them for the seven days of the week. The
largest one he called Sunday, the next largest he called
Monday, and so on down to the smallest one, which he
called Saturday. He put them in a pile. He would
use one plate each day, and next day he would take
another. When he got to the little one he knew that
it was Saturday. Then he would take the large one
next day, wdiieh he knew was Sunday. In this simj)le
way he could always tell the day of the week, and he
no more worked on Sunday."

Mr. Greenbush continued, " If I was going to give a
name to my next little story, I should call it, 'A Big
Scare in a Berry Patch.' It was like this: A man
started one day to go to a neighbor's house some two
miles from his home. In going he passed a very hirge
patch of black thimbleberries. It was at the time
when these were ripe. The bushes were bending under
their load of tempting fruit. Mr. Toothsome went into
the field to help himself. The bushes were tall and
close toorether. Mr. Toothsome had not been there
long before lie heard a rustling among the briars. He

330

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

concluded that he was not the only berry-picker in the
field. Being curious to know who or what was there,
he pushed his way through the thick bushes toward
the noise. Presently he found himself face to face
with a large black bear. For one or two minutes they
eyed each other closely, both being surprised at the
unexpected meeting. Then the bear raised himself
up on his hind feet and prepared to give his inter-
viewer the usual bearish hug.

" Mr. Toothsome was not just ready to have his
bones crushed in so rough a mill as a bear's mouth.
He turned and ran with the fleetness of a race-horse.
The bear, being unwilling to be cheated out of a
wrestle, and not unwilling to try a race, he started in
pursuit as fast as his four black footlifters could carry
him. Mr. Toothsome headed towards the neighbor's
house, to which he had started to go. For a mile or
more the race kept on, until the loud barking of a
dog told bruin that he was coming dangerously near
to where another bear had got into serious trouble
through taking too much liberty with the pigs. He
seemed to think that life, to him, was worth more
than a dinner, and he turned and ran in another direc-
tion. Mr. Toothsome got his friend to load his gun
and go with him on his homeward trip. In the soft
ground they could see the track of the man and the
bear. Each of them had covered more than his length
at every jump. When asked why he did not climb a
tree, he answered, ' The old robber was so close upon
me that I had no time to do so.' "

MORE OI.T.MPSKS OF HHSH LIFE.

381

" That reminds mo," said the Pre.siilent, " of a young
man that was cliased by wolves."

"Tell us about it," said Mr. Greonbush, " and while
you are doin;^ so I will try ami think of some other
incident of life in the backwoods."

" Well," said the President, " it was ctistomarv tlien.
as it is now, and I suppose will always be, "or young
men sometimes to go courting. Not that tliey went
where lawyers talk, and juries get befogged, and judges
({ive doubtful decisions. Young men can learn mis-
clii'.'f fast enough without visiting such places. But,
in plain English, they went to see the girls.

" Well, the young man of whom I speak had spent
a part of the night with a sweetheart. Some time
(lurinrj the ' wee sma Jiouo'S ' that the Scotchmen talk
about, he concluded to start for home.

' But a question now presented itself to his mind.
To go by the road would be about six miles, but to go
across lots he was within one and one-half miles of
home. Part of the way was clearing, and the rest of
the way was thick hemlock woods. But there was
a footpath through the bush. The full moon was
shining very brightly, and out in the clearing it was
almost as light as day. The 3'oung man decided to
go the nearest way.

" When he got to the woods he found it darker
than he had expected to find it. In the middle of the
woods he had to cross a large beaver-meadow.

" When he got nearly over that he heard a rustling
iu the tall grass. On looking around, he saw four or
five wolves within a dozen yards of' where he stood,

.70

?,n2

AM()\(i TMK FOHKST 'IFIKKS.

To take in tlie situation was luit tlio work of a Tnoniont.
It was to bu a race for lifo. But liow many clianons
to lose in tlic race, A sprain of tlio ankle, a stiiU of
tile toe, or a hrusli to strike liini in the eye, would lie
a very serious atfaii- in a rice like tliis. Pjut there
was no time to speculate as to tlie chance of failure.
Prompu action was tlie only thinj^ that eould meet th(>
case.

" He started for the clearinj^'s at a rate of s])ee(i
that would tlo credit to a trottinij-horse. The wolves
were willing to try tlieir speed and join in the race.
They were three or four rods behind at the start, but
slowly and steadily they lessened the distance. On and
on the young man w^ent, feeling that every bound
strengthened hi.s cause, and gave increasing hope of
reaching home uneaten by the ferocious pack that
thirsted for his blood.

" Presently he glanced his eye to the right. There
he saw a wolf, among the streaks of moonlight, within
thirty feet of him. He looked to the left, and there
he saw another, about the same distance from him.
Now, it was evident that the wolves were closing in
around him. He felt that a very short time would
decide whether or not he was to become wolf-meat.

*■ A few rods more and he would be to the fence.
But could he get to it and get over it before the
brutes would have hold of him? Just then it occurred
to him that two large dogs were within call. He
called loudly for the dogs, as he ran. They heard him,
and responded to his call by coming with all speed to
Uie rescue.

MORK (SMMPSKS OF lU'SH MFE.

a.-^.s

X moinont.
V chancos

a stn\> nf
would lit'
lint tluMc
of failure.
(I meet tin-

■e of s])oe(l
rh(» wolves
n the race,
[e start, but
ce. On and
very hound
ing hope of
5 pack that

trht. There
ght, within
, and there
e from him.
e closing in
time would
volf-meat.
to the fence,
t before tlip
n it occurred
in call. He
sy heard him,
all speed to

" He came to tlio fence at last, and, ])lacing his liand
on the top rail, he houndcMl over jiisf, as a wolf was on
ciich sido of liiin, and anotlier Ixdiind 1dm, and onlv a

fi'W feet from him.

"The dogs l)arked tlirough ilu; fenc; at tlie wolves,
l)Ut tliey wore not willing to go in among them. The
wolves gave a howl of disappointment and ran ofl'
into the forest; and tlie young man concluded tliat in
future, so far as tliat road was concerned, lie woidd
act in harmony witli the old saying, that ' 'I'he farthest
way round is the surest way home.' "

"Thank you, Mr. President, for that interesting
story. It has given me time to think," said Mr.
Groenbu.sh, " and it is a hetter one than I could tell.

"I will tell now of a woman who killed a wihl-cat
with a water-pail.

"One of the families in a new settlement had a lot
of hens that roosted up in the loft of tlie barn. Some-
thinix, n-t length, bejjan to steal the hens from their
perch at night. For some time this went on, until
more than half the flock had disajipeared. No one
ever jjot sijxht of the thief. Whether it was owd or
hawk, or something else, no one c luld tell. At differ-
ent times the owner of the barn had got up in the
ninrht and gone out, when he thou<xht that he heard a
noise among the chickens; but he could not find any-
thing.

" One day the mistress of the house took a large
wooden pail and went to a spring, some little distance
from the house, to get some water. She was followed
hy a medium-sized dog — a mixture of hull-dog and

334

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

Scotch terrier — a mixture of canine nature tlint is
very hard to scare, and not easy to conquer.

" As the woman was i^oing along .she .saw, lying in
the path before her, what she at first took to bu a
wolf. But on further inspection she concluded that it
was not larue enuuuh for a wolf. But she had but
little time to speculate as to what it was that was
intercepting her way.

" The do,' had got his eye on it, and determined to
test the fighting qualities of the stranger. In a
moment the two were in a life or death struggle. Tlie
woman watched them for a moment. She soon saw
that with all his pluck and activity, her dog was
getting the worst of it. He evidently had got more
than his match. She resolved to become a participant
in the contest. She had in her hand a heavy wooden
pail, with an iron hoop around the bottom of it, such
as coopers used to make. With this for a weapon,
she went to the rescue of her dog. Swinging the pail
above her head, she brought it down with all force
upon the head of the wil<l-cat. With the blow she
broke in his skull, and left him dead upon the groun<.h
The dog was badly scratched up. The cat was a very
biii one — enoui^h to whip almost anv doi;. But there
was no more hen-stealing after the woman killed the
big wild-cat with a water-pail.

"Now, Mr. President, I think tint I have done my
share for to-ni^dlt," .said Greenbush.

" Who comes next on the list ?" inquired Little Jack.

" Mr. Hoot comes next, and is the hist one on the
roll," said the President.

MOHE (JLIMPSES OF MUSH F.IFK.

335

ger.

re that is

', iyi"g >"

)k to 1)0 a
Jed that it
le had Vmt
s that was

.erniined to
In a

riie
[le soon saw
er dog was
id got more
I participant
;avy wooden
,1 of it, such
a weapon,
inff the pail
th all force
le blow she
the ground-
t was a very
But there
.n killed the

bve done my

1 Little Jack,
one on the

" Mr. Root will he on hand to-morrow night, if all
be well."

Next evening, after the supper table was set away,
the men gathered around the tire to listen to what
" Boss Root," as tlR\y called him, had to say.

Mr. Root commenced by savin'j; : 'You all know
that I have not always lived in Canada. But I was
in Canada at one time when I would have been glad
to be out of it ; and when the tiuie came for uie to
leave it, I soon made tracks for home. 1 refer now to
the tiiue of the war. At the battle of Lundy's Lane
I witnessed an exhibition (f pluck that lifted the
Canadian militia to a high place in my estimation.

"I was in a regiment of Auiericans, who were com-
manded by Colonel Scott (now General Scott).

" As we came around a small rise of ground, we
came upon a company of (Canadians that seemed to
be cut off from the rest of the Canadian forces. They
were huddled together as if they were con.sulting
what to do. Colonel Scott called to them to surrender.
The answer that came from tliem was a .short, em-
phatic ' Nflvcr !' Then the colonel asked for an otticer
to step forward for a parle5^ 'i'hey said, ' We have no
officers left.'

" ' Where are vour officers ?' inquired Colonel Scott.

"'They are among the killed, wounded, and mass-
ing,' said the men.

'" Well,' said the colonel, 'you see you are not half
as numerous as we are, and you are without officers.
Don't you think it would be better to surrender than
to be .shot like doffs ?'

330

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

" ' We won't surrender, and we won't be shot like
dogs,' they answered.

"' Wliat are you goin^ to do, then ;*' inquired the
colonel*

"'We are <:oins>' to do what we have been doin<>- —
tight tlie Yankees,' was their reply.

"Colonel Scott turned to some of his orficers to ask
for advice. Just then we saw a lot of British red-coats
coming in (luick tiuie on our flank. We had enough to
do to take care of ourselves then. I don't know what
became of the men that had no officers, or whether
they did any more fighting or not that day.

" But the conclusion that we all came to was this, It
is going to be hard work to conquer such men as thtse,
And we did not contjuer them very much," said Mr,
Root, with characteristic honesty.

" Well, that story is well told, if it is by an Ameri-
can," said the President. " But you know the Ameri-
cans, as a rule, are brave men, and such can appreciate
bravery, even though it be found in an enemy."

"That is true," said Dusticoat, "there are no braver
men in the world than Hinorlismen. And there is no
country in the world where bravery is more honored
than it is in Hingland."

" You mean Hingland without the htdtch, don't you
Mr. Dusty ?" said Little Jack.

" Look 'ee here," said Dusticoat, testily, " if 'ee was
as big as I am 'ee would get some of the himpudeiice
shaken out on 'im. '

* A number of yeara ago an old man who had been in the Ameri-
can army during the war, and was in the battle of Lundy'a Lana,
related this incident to the writer. He was in .Scott'a regiment.

MORK GLIMI'SKS OF UUSH LIFE.

3137

)e shot like

TK|uireil the

)ecn doing—

Hcers to ask
;ish red-coats
lad enougii to
t know what
s, or whether

ay.

:o was this, It
men as thtse.
ich," said Mr.

y an Ameri-
)W the Ameri-
an appreciate

nemy."
are no braver
nd there is no
more honored

iteli, don't you

ly, " it' 'ee Nva^i
le himpudence

)eeu iu the Auieri
of Lundy'9 Lane,
jott'a i-egiineut.

" Never mind, he is more funny than impudent,"
said the President. " Now for a stoiy from Mr. Root."

" I will tell of a sad alfair that took place during the
war, and in which a man was killed, and his young
wife made a widow.

" A young farmer, who was a Mennonito, and hence
a non-combatant, was JivinLT witli his wife on a farm

along one of the most public roads in the country.
One day he left his home to go and carry a part of a
pig to his sister, who lived a dozen miles from his
place. He was on a very iine horse, and one that was
([uick and active.

" He went on all right for a number of nules. Then
he was met by a company of Indians. They were of
the Canadian Indians, and were under arms under the
British. They were only half-civilized, and they made
but little difference between friends and foe?, so far
as robbery and plunder were concerned.

" They stopped him and took hold of his horse.
Then they tried to take the meat from him. To this
he objected, and held on to the article with a deter-
mined grasp. The Indians kept him thus for some
time. A woman, standing in the door of her liousci
saw the whole transaction.

" Knowing the man, she called to him iu the Ger-
man tongue, which he understood, and advised hiin to
let them have the meat.

" But he still refused to do so.*

* This occurrence took place along the road leailinj{ from Hamil-
ton to (Jrimsby, near where Winona Station now ia. The man lived
near the place now called Jordan. Hia name was Overholt, His
wife was a sister to the writer's fatlier. His daughter is Mrs. Samuel
Bricker,,of Port Klgin, Ont.

338

AMONG THE FOHKST TREES.

" After a while they seemed to give up. They let go
of the horse and stepped back. They talked a little
in their own language. He could not understand them.
Then the head Indian motioned to the man to go on.
He put spurs to his horse and it bounded away with
all its might. But he had not gone more than half-a-
dozen jumps when eleven bullets brought the retreat-
in<; horseman dead to the jrround.

" The Indians took not only the meat, but the horse
also. They went away, and left their victim lying in
the road where he had fallen."

"These Indians were dangerous customers at any-
time," said the President; " but in the war-time they
paid but little regard to the rights of property or tlie
value of life."

" Is it not a very wrong thing for Christian nations
to employ such savages in civilized warfare ?" asked
one of the men.

" It seems like it," said the President. " But we
must not forget that there is no Ciiristianity in war.
That can originate only in the savage part of man's
nature. These Indians being in a state of savagery,
war is almost their normal condition. And the
difference between killing men on the battle-tield or
killing them off the battle-field is so small that the eye
of Christianity can't detect it, and the Gospel never
describes it."

?liey let gto
ed a little
tand thein.
L to go on.
away with
han halt'-a-
tbe rt'treat-

CHAJ-Tb:K XXVI.

it the horse
,iin lying in

lers at any-
ir-tinie they
perty or the

ttian nations
are?" asked

" But Nve
nity in war.
irt of man's
f savagery,
And the
ttle-tield or
that the eye
iospel never

THE MILLS COMPLETED

N the tir.st day of May the Hr.st gri.st was
ground alrthe Riverbend Mills. This was an
event of considerable importance in the settle-
ment. As a matter of course, there would be some
questioning as to whose grist should be ground first.

By common consent it was decided that the first
grinding ought to be done for John Bushman. He
was the first man in the settlement. He cleared the
first land, built the first hou.se, brought in the first
woman, and his was the fir>t baVjy. He brought in
the first sheep and cattle and pigs and poultry.

On the morning of the appointed day John Bush-
man brought several bags of good, clean wheat to the
mil) Everybody was on the tiptoe of expectation to
know how the thing was going to work. Root and
Millwood, the owners, were anxious to know whether
or not their enterprise was going to be a success. The
carpenter was anxious to know if the frame was shaky
or not. The millwrijjht wanted to find out if the
machinery was going to behave itself in a becoming
manner. The people would like to know if the River-

340

AMC)N(} THE FOHKST TUEES.

bend Mill was going to give them good flour. Dusti-
coat, the miller, was ready and anxious to tost the
grinding and bolting (jualities of the new mill. Ho
was here and there, and everywhere, as nearly at the
same time as it was possible for a short-limbed, short-
breathed and heavy-bodied man to be. His only
trouble seemed to be one of a national character.

He said, " If I honly 'ad some good Hinglish boltin'
cloth, I've no hexpectation but I could turn hout as
good a sample of flour as hanybody would want to
see.

But with what he had on hand he hustled up, and
after an hour or two of waiting, the spectators had the
satisfaction of seeing the great under-shot water-
wheel begin to move, and to hear the clatter of
machinery and the hum of the mill-stones, as faster
and faster went the wheel and ([uicker and ([uicker
whirled the stones. When the broken wheat began
to run down the short pipe leading into the bolting
chamber, anci then, as the tine white flour began to
dust ch rough the bolting cloth into the flour box, the
enthusiasm of the crowd grew boisterous, and they
swung their hats and hurrahed until the woods were
made to echo for a mile around.

The v/ork done by the new mill was entirely
satisfactory to all concerned. They said one to
another, as they saw the flour piling up in the box,
" No more twenty miles of wearisome travel to get a
bag of wheat ground. We have a mill of our own
now ; it will seem more like living within the bounds
of civilization." Every one was pleased with the way

THE MILLS COMPLETED.

341

lur. Diisti-
to tost the
f mill. Ho
Mirly at the
nbud, shoit-
His (Uily
racter.
lo-lish boltin'
urn iiout as
uhl want to

stled up, and
itora had the
-shot water-
le clatter of
les, as faster

and ( quicker
wheat be^^an
the bolthig
)ur bej^au to

our box, the
us, and they
e woods were

was entirely
said one to
p in the box,
avel to get a
1 of our own
,n the bounds
with the way

the mil), under the effective management of Mr.
Dusticoat, did its work.

Tliree years had now passed since John Bushman
struck the first blow toward clearing away the forest
trees. But, short as the time was, a great deal had
been done in the way of settlement. There were but
few vacant lots in a radius of five or six miles-
Nearly every lot had some sort of a residence on it,
owned by an actual or prospective settler. The people
were industrious and energetic. The soil was pro-
ductive, and their crops were generally good. It is
true that the roads were not of much account,
excepting the ones opened out by the Government ;
but this was looked upon as only a temporary
inconvenience.

Up to this time there had been no religious teacher
among the settlers, except themselves. Regularly the
Sabbath services had been kept up in John Bushman's
house. Bushman and Mr. Woodbine and Moses Moose-
wood had mostly been the leaders in the movement.
And while these unpretending Christian men had
been liumbly trying to encourage others in the right
way, they had been steadily growing stronger and
better themselves, as is always the case in matters
of religious duty. The more they did the more they
could do. They became very successful leaders of the
people's devotion.

About a month after the completion of the mills, a
Methodist minister made his advent into the settle-
ment. He had been told out at Mapleton of the
settlement at Riverbend, and he came in on foot to

342

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

make the place a visit. He came to inquire into the
religious condition of the people, and preach to them
if they wished it.

His first call was at Mr. Woodbine's. That i^entle-
man stronorly advised him to come in and take up an
appointment in the place. He went with the Rev.
Mr. Goodhope to see John Bushman, and to get his
opinion about the preaching appointment. Bu.shman
and the minister were drawn to each other at onci'.
They were congenial spirits, and from the start they
became fast friends. It was arranged for Mr. Good-
hope to make his home at Bushman's, and to visit
around among the people until the Sabbath, and then
preach to them. When the word went through the
settlement that there was to be preaching on the
Sabbath, it caused quite a flutter, and elicited con-
siderable comment as to what kind of a congregation
the man would have to start with.

When Sabbath morning came the people began at
an early hour to come from the east and west and
north and south. By ten o'clock the house was filled,
mostly with women and children, while scores of men
stood in the yard outside. It was quite clear that
the house was far too small to accommodate the
crowd that had gathered to hear the first sermon
ever preached in the four townships that at River-
bend joined corners.

After consultation, it was decided to arrange some
seats in the grove on the border of Sylvan Lake.
This was not hard to do, for Bushman had a lot of
planks and square timber near by. Twenty-fiv^> or

THE MILLS COMPLETED.

343

3 into the
h to thcn\

lat i^entle-
,ake up an
I the Rev.
to get his
Bushman
ler at once,
start they
• Mr. Good-
md to visit
ih, and then
through the
ling on the
elicited con-
:on2re£'ation

)le began at
id west and
se was tilled,
jores of men
,e clear that
imodate the
first sermon
at at River-

,rrange some
iylvan Lake.
had a lot of
srenty-fiv'i or

thirty active, energetic and willing men were only a
short time in arranging seats for all the people. An
impromptu pulpit was provided by running John's
ox-sled near the edge of the lake, where the speaker
could face the audience who were sittinjr on the
ascending slope of ground that arose from the lake.

The preacher was visibl}- afiected as he stood before
that company of hardy, honest men and women, who
had not heard a gospel sermon since they left their
homes in the older settlements, and came to the
wilderness, to share the hardships and privations of
pioneers.

Mr. Goodhope commenced the service by giving out
the hymn which begins with —

"Jesus the naino high over all
111 liell or earth or sky,
Angels and men before it fall
And devils fear and tiy."

According to the cust )m of the times, the preacher
read the hymn over first. Then he read two lines at
a time, and when these were sung he read two lines
more, and so on to the end. This method of reading
and singing made it sometimes difficult to keep the
tune, but it helped the people who had no books to
remember the words. But every one got accustomed
to it, and perhaps there wen^ not any more break-
downs in the singing than thore are now. liut that
system would not match in with modern choir
performances.

After singing and prayer the preacher held up
before the people a small Bible, and, pointing with

344

AMONO THE FOREST TREES.

his finpfer to the lake behind him, said: "The cool,
oloar and beautiful water that sparkles and f^listens
on the smooth surface of Sylvan Lake is not so pure
and so refreshinj^ as is the blessed Gospel that I find
in this book. The honey that the busy bee is gather-
inir this niorninn: from the June flowers is not so
sweet to the taste as the blessed influences of the
Gospel is to the hungering and thirsting soul." Then
lifting his eyes upward, he said, " The bright sun-
beams that dart through the interstices of the leafy
canopy spread over us, and falling, like drops of
melted gold, on the leafy carpet spread out under our
feet, are not so bright as are the rays of truth that
beam into the mind and heart of man from the teach-
ings of this book."

"Now," said the preacher, "listen to the text:
' Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest.'

"Listen: When man turned his back upon his God,
and sinned his way out of Eden, God wrote one word
in flaming characters across the vaulted sky, so that
the universe might read, and all might know, that
undying love still yearned over His wandering, way-
ward child. That jrd was Come ! That word has
come floating down the centuries. It has been heard
in the crashing of the thunderstorm, and it has been
heard in the gentle summer evening breeze. In accents
sweeter than a mother's lullaby, it has fallen upon the
ear and echoed in the heart of the sailor, as his
trembling boat has been tossed like a plaything upon
the foamy crest of the billows of the deep. That

TFTE MII-LS f'OMPl.KTKD.

34')

word has fallen like a lioavonly benediction u{)on the
worn-out and .starvinnf traveller, as ho ]ai<l himself
flown to die alone on the i)nrnin<^ sands of an African
desert, or gavM! himself up to the cruel teeth (jf the
monsters of the iuncrles in India.

"When God (jave to the world a revelation of His
will, the invitation, in some form or other, was placed
in every book and on almost every page. And when
the last book has been almost finished, lest some one
somewhere woidd never hear the invitation, He seemed
to recapitulate and focalize all that had been said
before, and in one grand invitation, made just as the
l)Ook was closed, the all-loving Father calls in this
wise : ' The Spirit and the Bride say, Come. And let
liim that is athirst come. And let him that heareth
say. Come. And whosoever will, let him come.'" After
a powerful and affectionate appeal to all to come to
Jesus and find rest, the preacher closed the sermon.
Then he gave an opportunity for any one to speak if
they wished to do so. Some half-a-dozen spoke ; some
of them were clear in their religious experience, others
were hopeful and determined to press on to higher
states of grace.

Harry Hawthorn and his wife were among the
most earnest listeners that morning. A cloud had
\mn^ over their domestic life for some month.s. Their
hearts had been strangers to gladness since the day
that their two children were crushed to death.

That morning, as they listened to the invitation to
come with their burdens and their sorrow -to come
with all their cares and anxieties, — to come with all

340

AMONG THK FOREST TREES.

their wants and woes, ami cast all upon Jesus, they
responded to the call by simply trustinj^ in His Word,
and their weary hearts found rest.

They went home from that service, hand in hand,
with buoyant steps and j^laddeiK'd liearts. h^verythin^r
seemed changed. lAUt wc«'e a ditlerent aspect. I'Ik;
future, which looked dark and (gloomy before, looked
bright and cheerful now. Tht'y felt that now they
could face life's trials, and endure its hardships, as
they had never done before. And as the years rolled
on, there were no more earnest and devoted Christians
than Harry and Biddy Hawthorn, in the Sylvan Lake

congregation.

One thing was made apparent l)y the events of that
Sabbath service. John Bushman's house had become
too small to accommodate the settlement for a place
of worship, when a general rally was made. Some-
thing would have to be done, or the reli<jious interest
of the neighl)orhood would not be promoted in pro-
portion to its progress in other deparLments.

Before dismissing the congregation, Mr. Goodhope
asked the people whether or no they wanted him to
give them regular fortnightly preaching, saying that
if they did he could arrange to do so.

The first one to speak was Harry Hawthorn. He got
up, and with tears in his eyes, he said, " Indade we
do, sur. Your words this morning have fallen loiko
the gintle dews of Heaven upon me heart, and upon
me poor wife's heart, and, 1 belave, upon everybody's
heart. Yes, sur, we wants yez till come again, and
till kape on coming."

THK MII.I.S COMI'I-KIKI).

;J47

lesus, tbey
His Wonl,

,1 ill han<l,
Kverythin^r
<pect. Tlu-
l"ore, looked
t now they
ardsliip^, as

years

rolled

d Christians
Sylvan Lake

vents of that
> had become
for a place
atle. Some-
ious interest
)ted in pro-
its.
r. Goodhope

anted him to
, saying that

lorn. He got
" Indade we
e fallen loike
art, and upon
11 everybody's
ne again, and

His words, spoken in such carnestnoss, seemed to
stir the whole audience. And when Mi-. Millwood
asked an expression of sentiment by a show of hands,
everybody's hand went up. A more unainmons vote

was never given.

A meeting was called for consultation, to be held in
the boarding-house at the mill, on 'I'uesday, at one
o'clock p.m.

Mr. Root now arose to his feet, and said to the
minister, " I always want a fair understanding at the
start. I and others would be pleased to know about
what amount you would expect us to pay you for
preaching for us once in two weeks ?"

" In answer to the question," >aid tlie preacher, " I
wish to say my terms are these : When I come to visit
you, treat me kindly ; when I preach, come to hear
me; seek the Lord, and help me what you can finan-
cially. I set no priae on my services. Always bear
in mind that I seek not to get your money, but I
want to help you to save your souls."

" On those terms," said Mr. Root, " come on, and we
will do the best we can for you, while you do what
you can for us," To this they all assented, and the
matter was settled in that way.

When Tuesday came, a considerable portion oli the
men came together. This was the first pul)lic meeting
for business ever held in the place. The meeting was
organized by the appointment of John Bushman as
chairman, and Mr, Woodbine as secretary.

After due discussion, it was resolved to put up a
moderate-sized building, that would serve the double
23

348

AMONG THE FOREST TREES,

purpose of school-house and church — since the in-
creasinsf number of growing children would make
a school-house a necessity in the near future.

The next question to decide was, "Shall the house
be built of 1ol;s, or shall it be a frame?" On this
there seemed to be but one opinion. If they were
able to do it, let it bo frame by all means. Men never
know what they can do till they try. And it is hard
to stick a lot of active, energetic men, when they are
thrown upon their ingenuity and their n^3ttle.

After careful inquii-y it was found that a suitable
frame building could be put up without any outlay of
money, except what would buy the nails and glass,
and trimmings for the door. They were to make a
bee and cut and haul logs to the mill, and Root and
Millwood would saw the lumber. Old Mr. Cr.iut-
maker ottered to kiln-dry the board.s. William Briars
and Moses Moosewood agreed to make the shingles.
Everybody was ready and willing to do liis part.
John Bushman was appointed to oversee the whole
job. The lime was burned on a big log-heap in
Harry Hawthorn's fallow. Everything went on
smoothly, so mucli so that by the time the autumn
leaves bt'gan to fall the house was ready for use ; and
in the years that succeeded each other the benefits
of that early effort by the first settlers at Sylvan
Lake were fell, and the influence that went from that
little humble house of worship is still felt, and many
of the children of those pioneers remember with
grateful and reverential feelings the little frame
building at the four corners where they leceived the

THE MILLS COMPLETED.

349

first lessons in f^ocular learning, and where the first
relio^ious impressions were made on their younii" minds.

When the meeting-house was completed, and regular
Sabbath services established, the next question that
was brought forward by the leading spirits of the
community was in connection with the securini*' of a
post-ofl[ice. To go some twenty miles to mail a letter,
or to get one, was too much of a burden to be longer
borne if a remedy could be secured. A ))etition was
circulated asking for a post-ofiice to be established,
and that it be called " lliverbend Post-Otlice," and also
that it be located at the mills, and Mr. Root to be the
postmaster. Three months after the agitation started
the post-ofiice was an accomplished fact, and the
people felt the benefit of it at once.

Shortly after the establishment of the pust-otfice
there came to the mill one da}' a stranger. He
introduced him.self to Messrs. Root and Millwood as
intending to settle at Riverbend if suitable encourage-
ment was given. His name, he said, was Sylvaniis
Yardstick. He contemplated starting a general store
at some point in the back country. He hail come to
consult with them aliout the matter of locating at
Riverbend. He said he could bring in a couple of
thousand dollars worth of goods, and have them all
paid for when he got them, and still have another
thousand of reserve capital behin<l the amount of
goods.

After a little consultation, Mr. Root said, " We will
do what we can to help you if we have some guarantee
that you are the right sort of a man to help to build

350

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

up a new place. We expect to have a village here
some day. We have not got a mean or shabby
settler in the neighborhood. Perhaps I am the
roughest man among the inhabitants at present, and
I want to have no one here worse than I am. How
does that meet your views <" "

" All right," said he, " but I have no written recom-
mendations. I could get tliem if I saw fit to try, but
I don't intend to try. My face, my manners and my
tongue must carry me through this world, or I won't
go through it. But if I settle here and do not
conduct myself in a respectable and neighborly way,
you may put me on a pole some night, and carry me
out and dump mo into the mill-pond. Will that do ? "

" Yes, that will do," was answered.

"This locality has greatly changed in four years,"
said the stranfjer. .

" Were you ever here before ^ " was asked.

" 1 am not sure. Nearly four years ago I was with
some others going to the rear to .survey out some new
townships. We must have; passed near by this place,
but it was all wilderness then ; but as I came up the
road from towards Mapleton it seemed to me that the
ground had a familiar look, and I felt that I must
have been over it before. Who lives in the lot that
corners on this one — the place where the new frame
barn is?" in([uired Mr. Yardstick.

" That is the home of the Hrst settler. His name is
John Bushman," was the reply.

" Bushman, Bushman," said he, as if talking to
himself ; " that surely is the name of the young man

THE MTLLS COMPLETED.

351

lao'e here
r shabby
am the
esent, and
tm. How

ben recom-
to try, but
jrs and my
or I won't
ind do not
iborly way,
d carry me
1 that do ? "

our years,"

id.

I was with
t some new
r this place,

ame up the
me that the

hat I must

ihe lot that
new frame

His name is

talking to
young man

that we found in the woods one day." Then, turning
to Mr. Root, he said, " Has this Bushman got a
beautiful little lake on his place ^"

" Yes, and it is surrounded with a fringe of ever-
greens. He calls it Sylvan Lake," said Mr. Root.

" Do you know how it got that name { "

" Yes, Bushman says the name was given to it by a
poetic young man, who came along one day with a
surveying party, shortly after he first came to the
bush."

'Well, I am that young man. How is Bushman
getting along ? Is he married yet ? "

" He is doing well in every way. Yes, he has a
wife, and she is a good one. They have two line
children. Bushman is one of the best men that I
have ever met with. He is a good man every way.
The moral tone of the neighborhood is largely to be
attributed to the intluence of Bushman and his wife."

" That agrees with what Mr. Rushvalley said on the
day that we left him alone in the woods. He said to
the rest of us, ' That young man has the stufi' in him
to make a first-class man.' And it seems that he has
fulfilled the predictioxi."

Just as the stranger finished the last sentence,
Bushman came in to where they were. Mr. Root said
to him, " Here is a friend of yours. Look at him and
see if you can make out when or where you saw him."

John looked at the man for a moment with one of
his sharp, good-natured looks. Then he said, " I have
seen that face before, but where or when I cannot
now recall,"

352

AMONG THE FOllEST TREES.

" Well," said the stranger, " you only saw me for a
short time, and under circumstances not the most
favorable for making a lasting acquaintance. Do you
remember the surveying party that came across you
in the woods one day ^ "

"O, yes; I see it all now. You are the poet who
gave Sylvan Lake its name, and made some lines of
poetry about it. I am happy to meet you again,"
said John.

" My name is Sylvanus Yardstick. I already know
your name, Mr. Bushman. I am very much pleased
to meet you again, and to find that you are still living
at Sylvan Lake,"

" I did not know that you were giving the lake a
part of your own name, but now I see you did so.
You remember that I told you that day, that if you
ever found yourself in this vicinity, there would be a
welcome for you at Sylvan Lake. I am happy now
to renew that invitation with emphasis, since I have
one to help me to make you welcome. I want you to
make 'Sylvan Lodge' your homo while you remain
amongst us."

" I am very thankful for your kind otter ; but, in
the meantime, I want to talk a little about business.
The fact of the matter is this : I am looking for a
place to start a general store, and I came here to make
inquiries, and to see what I can do in the way of
lindini; a lot to build on, and in getting information
as to the prospects of success in siieh an enterprise."

" That is just the thing that is needed here. A
well-conducted little store could hardly fail to bo sue-

THE MILLS COMI'LETED.

353

cesst'ul. Commence on a small scale, and enlarf:fe the
business as the necessities of the place increase ; and,
as for a lot to build on, [ will give you a lot at a
nominal sum, on one condition, that is, there must be
a clause in the title that the place shall never be used
as a place to keep, make, or sell whiskey, or other
intoxicating liquors."

" All right, I will agree to that. Rut it is an
unusual condition," said he.

"Yes; we all know that. But the owners of the
four corners are determined that the cominfj villajre
shall be a sober one. Now, come home with me, and
we can talk over the thing to-morrow with some of
the neighbors."

In three months from this the store was in full
operation, with every prospect of being successful.
And in three months more, by the request of the mill-
owners, the post-office was removed to the store. Mr,
Yardstick was in ecstasies over his prospects, so much
so, that he once more became poetical, and wrote the
following, and posted it up in the store :

TRIBUTE TO JOHN BUSHMAN.

'* How well I remember the day that we foimd him,
Alone ill the forest, with nobody near ;
His strong arm was felling the trees all around him,
The sound of his axe was refreshing to hoar.

*• But now, wife and children, and home and contentment,
Are his to enjoy as the years pass away ;
And at his prosperity none feel resentment.
But all wish him happiness every day."

Bushman demurred. But the poet would have his
way.

Chaptbr XXVII.

SOME OLD-TIME CUSTOMS.

SAY, Will, did you ever attend a logging-bee ?"
" No ; I never saw anything of the kind."
" Well, 1 never saw one, either. But I have
heard mother say that grandfather used to come home
from louffinff-bees with an awful black shirt, when
she was a girl. The coal-dust was something terrible,
and to wash the clothes that had been worn at one of
those places was something that tried the strength
and patience of the women beyond anything."

This talk was between James Ballpitcher and
William Batter, as they were coming home from a
game of lacrosse, between a company of Indians and
a club of high-school boys, the Indians having come
out a little ahead.

"Well," said James, "my uncle, Peter Pinetop, is at
our house on a visit. He lives in a part of the coun-
try whore logging-bees are a common thing. You
come across the fields to-night, and we will ask him
to srive us full information about them."

" That would be a good idea," said William. " We
younix Canadians are almost in danger of losinof sight

SOME OI,D-TTME CUSTOMS.

355

[S.

iff-bee ?"
ind."

it I have
>me home
irt, when
r terrible,
at one of
strength

tier and
from a
lans and
ing come

top, is at
ihe coun-
You
ask him

ns-

hing sight

of the customs and manners of our forefathers.
Things have so changed that we know but little,
practically, of what the pioneers of this country had
to do, and how they did their work. There are a
number of things tiiat we need to be posted upon, and
I am going to get all the information I can. And I
know of no better or safer way than to ask the old
people to tell us."

" Yes," replied James ; " we must get the old folks
to talk more on these subjects. They will soon be
gone, and when it is too late we will wish that we
had oftener uot them to tell of the earlier times. I
have heard .some of the old people speak of husking-
bees, and spinning-bees, that used to be common when
they were young. These things are not heard of now,
you know. In fact, Will, I believe that many of us
young people in this country have a better knowledge
of what the Spartans and old Romans did in their
day, than we have of what our ancestors did in this
land seventy-tive or a hundred years ago. Will you
come this evening, and we will begin our efforts to
get information on these subjects ?"

" Yes, James, I will come, for I agree with you that
we are not so well informed on matters of everyday
I life among our ancestors in this country as we ought
I to be. I could tell more about Rome, in the time of
[the Ctwsars, than I can tell about my native country
at the time that my grandfatiier was a boy," answered
I William.

That evening, as the family were comfortably sitting
|iD the "living room " of James' pleasant home, he said

{

3oG

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

to his uncle Peter, " Will you tell us, uncle, what a
loi;'j:in£f-bee is like ? We have never seen such thinfifs,
and we would like to hear a little about them."'

"Well,' said the uncle, "it" you would come out
where I live, in the latter end of June or in the
month of September, I could show you a log(,dng-bee
in all its peculiar aspects. In fact, I could introduce you
to one in a way that you could not easily forget it.
But I will try and describe to you a large and lively
loLjginji-bee."

" First of all, I want you to imagine a twelve-acre
fallow, that was chopped in June of one year, anil
burnt over in June or July of the next summer. All
the leaves were on the brush, and everything was as
dry as tinder, so that the ground and the logs and
everything was burnt over as black as a pot.

"The owner of that fallow concluded to make a
rousing bee to get the logs rolled into heaps, so that he
can burn them. The first thinn: to do is to select a
day. Then he goes around among his neighbors, ask-
ing everybody that can handle a handspike to come and
help him. Those who have oxen arc invited to bring
them. When he has the promise of eight or ten yokes
of oxen, and sixty or seventy men, he begins to make
his preparations for the bee. His wife instructs him
who to ask among the women, to come and help her
with the cooking. And sometimes a ' quilting-bee '
will be attached to a logging-bee. In that case a large
number of women will be invited to come.

"Then handspikes must be made. Or sometimes
two or three men will club together and make a lot

SOME OLD-TIME CUSTOMS.

357

of them and keep them over from one year to another.
This saves the trouble of making new ones every time
they are needed. Next, provision has to bo made to
furnish dinner and tea for all of these men. This
involves a ijfood deal of cookinc: and bakinjx before-
hand, as well as on the day of the bee.

" On the day appointed, the men and teams begin
to gather about eight o'clock in the morning, and
as they come they are shown the way to the fallow.
As soon as there are enough men to 'man' a team,
they start in at one corner of the field, and, taking a
strip about four rods in width, they go to the other
end. This is called a 'through.' Sometimes these
' throughs ' are staked off" so that every gang will do
an equal amount of work, then there is no chance for
dodging, or ' yankying,' as it is sometimes called.

" Generally by ten o'clock the men and teams are
all at work. Four, and sometimes five, men, besides
the driver, are following a team. And a busy scene
presents itself to the beholder, when the whole of the
teams and men are doing their best, as they always
do, to get through before the rest. And in this
friendly contest a great deal depends on the skill of
the driver in planning the log-heaps and handling his
team. A wide-awake man, with a smart, wiry pair of
cattle, and a good lot of men, will get over a large
piece of ground in a day."

" I should think the coal-dust and ashes would make
the men very thirsty," said Will Batter.

" To provide for this, a man and a boy are appointed
to carry water, and sometimes a stronger liquid with

358

AMONG THK FOREST TREES.

it, SO that the men do not sulier as much from thirst
as one would think.

" While the men arc at their work in the field, the
women are e(|ually busy at the house. Two or three
are peelintif potatoes. A coui)le more are making a
larjj^e kettle full of pot-pie. Some others are preparing
long tables and putting the dishes on them. These
dishes have been brought from half-a-dozen or more
of the neighboring houses. But luckily their owners
are there to take care of them, so that the mixing up
of the delf of half the families in the neighborhood
causes no confusion or entails no loss.

" When the hour for dinner comes around, the
busy log-rollers throw down their handspikes and
start for the house. The owners of the teams look
after them by feeding and watering them, so that they
may be fit for the afternoon's work.

" The men have been long enough among the coal
dust and ashes to get their clothes and hands and
faces pretty well besmutted by their work. They are
rather a dark-looking lot for white men. And if the
women say anything to them about their black faces,
they are pretty certain to have their own faces
blackened by some of the men rubbing their hands
over them. Then for a few minutes it seems as though
a general row between the men and the women was
imminent. But everything passes otf in good nature,
and nothing takes place that is of a more serious
character than the washing of a few faces that had
not been in the fallow among the logs.

" To clean up sixty or seventy smutty faces and

SOME OrJ)-TIME CUSTOMS.

359

mixing up

twice as many smutty hands, is no tritlinf^ matter. A
good <leal of water and no small amount of soap is
required to do it. And it is necessary to have a
number of wash-dishes to supply so many. Wash-
tubs, pails, sugar kettles and sap-troughs are called
into recpiisition for this service sometimes.

" The tables are usually spread in the yard. To
seat so many men at once would be entirely beyond
the capacity of the houses found in the new country.
When the men get down to the table, the clatter of
dishes, the talking and laughing, and the women ask-
ing one and another to have more bread, or meat,
tea, or some other thing, keep things rather lively for
a while.

" There is always an hour for ' noon,' when the men
are supposed to rest themselves. The older ones do
so ; but for the younger ones, the noon-hour is
frequently the most tiresome hour of the day. Be-
tween running, and jumping, and jdaying ball, the
boys manage to keep on the move, while they fancy
themselves to be resting. But that is nothing strange.
People often work harder at play than they do at
anything else.

■' The afternoon is spent as the forenoon was, and
when supper time comes, the same hands and faces
have to be cleaned up again, and the clothes that were
black at noon are blacker from a longer contact with
coal dust and ashes."

"Thank you, uncle, for your description of a log-
ging bee. I think that I should like to go to one if
it were not for the dirt," said James.

360

AMONG THE FOHKST THEES.

" I could tell of a great many logf^ing-bees that I
have attciidod ; but the one I have de.scribod is a lair
sample oF them all, ' replied Mr. Pinetop.

' Grandfather, were you ever at a husking-bee when
you wure young," said Will Batter to his maternal
grandparent one evening, as the family were sittiii;;
around the fire, and when James Ballpitchor had
called to spend an hour or two.

" Well, I should think so," replied the old gentle-
man.

" 1 tell you, boys, when 1 was of your age husking-
bees were as common as ball-playing is now, and if
you will promise not to get mad about it, I will tell
you something more in reuard to husking-bees and
ball-playing."

" What is that ? " inquired William.

"Do you all promise? I mean you youngsters," said
the grandfather.

" Yes, yes, yes," rang out until all the young folks
had responded to the old man's question.

"Well," said he, "the husking-bee was a useful
institution. People helped their neighbor, and by
their co-operation did in two or three hours what
would have taken him days, and perhaps w^eeks, to do
alone.

" And the husking-bee was a pleasant institution.
People, while they did the work, could also be
sociable. And the young people of the settlement
came together, and got better acquainted with each
other, and, no doubt, many a wedding was the result
of going to the husking-bee.

SOMK ()I,|)-TIMK (U'STOMS.

Mfil

"The luisUing-bt'o had no (JeinoralizinjT tendency.
All present were invited, and those who W(>nt felt
that the ])ersons that they would meet with were
people of res])ectal>ility at least. You can't say so
much in favor of the match games, now becoming so
common."

"Do you think that it is wrong to play a game of
hall?" inquired James Ballpiteher.

"Not nece.ssarily," replied the old man: "but when!
men turn from the usol'ul walks of life, and become/
hall-playeis by j)rofes.sion, they lay them.selves liable/
to the charge of being useless members of society.!
Their avocation adds nothing to the wealth of the
community, and they place themselves on the list
with loafers and gamblers. But ball-playing is
not the only innocent amusement that has been
switched off on the down-grade track that leads
to ruin. Sculling boats, and driving horses, and other
harmless and useful things have been turned by bad
men into the means of getting money without giving
any equivalent for it, which is simply gambling. But
I am not lecturing on gambling now, so we will drop
that subject/,"

" How were those husking-bees managed?"' inquired
a young lady present.

'• The thing was simple enough," replied the old
gentleman. " We will suppose that a farmer has four
or five acres of corn to husk. He cuts it, and hauls it
to some convenient spot, and puts it into stooks.
Then he goes, or sends .someone, through the neighbor-
hood and invites all of the young folks, and a good

362 AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

many of the older ones, to come on a certain moon-
light night, and help him husk his corn. When tlie
time comes the company seat themselves >n the grass
and in groups among the corn. Then commences one
of the most lively times to be seen iii any community.
The rattling of the corn, the talking and laughing,
and sometimes the singing, of the busy workers,
altogether make up such a jumble of the useful and
joyful, and the playful and cheerful, and the gleeful,
as can be found only among a lot of industrious and
good-natured people, where everybody is trying to
amuse and please everybody. Jokes, and puns, and
snatches of song, and gibes, and repartees, and ears of
corn, all seem to be Hying about in such sweet
confusion that it is not much to be wondered at it'
now and then a voung man got so bewildered that he
would kiss the wrong rnv\ when he found an ear of
red corn."

"Excuse me, grandpa," said Will, "but I don't I
understand what kissing had to d. 'ith red ears of]
corn, or what they had to do with kissing."

"There was a rule among the young folks," said the
old man, " that when an unmarried man found an ear of
red corn, he must kis,'-, any unmarried woman that
happened to be sitting nearest to him, and if a young
woman found one, she nmst be kissed by her nearest
unmarried neighbor."

" Well, I should not think that was a very arbitrary
rule," said Tames.

"The yvung people did not seem to think that it
,7as, or they would not have obeyed it so strictly asiyore

SOME OLD-TIME CUSTOMS.

363

ain moon-
When the
1 the grass
mences one
lominunity.
1 laughing,
y workers,
: useful and
the gleeful,
Lstrious and
s trying to
(1 puns, and
. and ears of

they generally did. But sonietiuics there would be a
Httle backwardness, when the wrong young man, or
some other fellow's girl, happened to be the nearest
neighbor. In such cases the girl would object a
little, but not enough to give much trouble in carrying
out the rule.

" After the work was done outside, everybody went
to tlie house, where there was a good supper for all.
After this had been disposed of the con)pany enjoyed
themselves as only honest working-people can do,
until they got ready to go home. This was frequently
at an early hour a.m.'"
" Thank you for what you have said to us about
such sweet ■ the husking," said William; "I will know after this
ndered at if ■ what is meaji.. when mention is made of this old-time
ered that he I institution."

id an ear of I " Grandma," said Miss Rosebush, " were you ever at
a spinning-bee ? "

This question was put to an old lady who had

faced the storms of eighty winters, and sweated

under the suns of as many summers. The old woman

ks" said thelwas sitting in a corner busily engaged knitting a pair

nd an ear of lof socks for one of her great-grandchildren.

Iwoman that! "0, yes, I used to go to spinning-bees when I wa.s

if a young lyoung like you, but that was more than sixty years

her nearest lagone, you know; and her eyes seemed to l)rigliten as

memory called up from the graves of more than three

rv arbitrary Bscore of years some of the pictures of the past ; and the

iface of the old pilgrim for a moment appeared to look

hink that itjjjyounger, as if touched by the same sunbeams that of

) strictly asiyore danced upon her girlish head.

l,ut I don't I
ved ears of '

364

AMONG THE FOREST TREES.

"Yes, my dear, 1 remember the spinning-bee. I
went to one with your grandpa before we were
married, and I remember liow carefully he helped
me over the mud-holes, for you know the best of our
roads had mud-holes in those day-:, and when we
came to a creek that was not bridged over, he put the
bottom of his pantaloons into the tops of his long
boots, and pickt^d me up and carried me right over as
if I had been a child, and me not less than a hundred
and forty-five or tifty pounds. The fact is, our
courtin' began in earnest at that spinning-bee."

" Well, grandma, how did they get up a spinning-
bee ? Did every one take a wheel, or how ?" inquired
Miss Rosebu.sh.

" Well," said the old woman, " 1 will tell you how it
was done in the part of the country that we lived in.
When a woman had tlax to spin, and could not do it I
all herself, she would make a bee. The way to do
this was on this wise : She w^ould put the flax up in
half-pound parcels. These she handed round amond
her centlemen friends. Whoever took one of these|
parcels of flax was to get it spu i, and at an appoints
time he was expected tc bring the yarn home. Hej
was to bring the spinner with him to an entertain-
ment.

" When a married man took Hax he got his wife to
spin it. Young men got their sisters to do it some]
times. But they got some other girl to do it oft«'ner
just to show, you know, that they thought somethind
of other folks' sister, as well as of their own. Somel
times a young man had to hunt all over the settleinenj

SOME or.D-TFME CUSTOMS.

365

to find a fdrl to spin his varn. Then everybody would
laua'h at him. Others could set halt'-a-dozen bundlen
of flax spun, if they wanted to. The spinning-bee
was a good way for young men to find out how much
they were thought of by the girls.

" There used to be bashful young men when I was
young. I don't know how true it is, but I am told
that there are no bashful young peoj)le now like there
used to be. The basliful young men would sometimes
swap sisters in this way : John would get his sister to
spin for William, and William would get his sister to
spin for John. This plan worked very well."

" What would we think now if a young man was to
be seen going around with a liundle of flax under his
arm, hunting for someone to spin it T' in(|uired Miss
Rosebush.

" As to that," replied the old lady, " 1 suppose he
> way to <lol would be called a clown, or something worse. But if
e flax up ii^l one of your modern dudes had tiptoed his way into a
ound among! company of people when I was young, the girls w^ould
one of these! have fed him on sweetened bread and water, with a
an appointo'll little paregoric in it: then they would have parted
\ home, lie! his hair in the middle, and tied a ruffle around his neck,
11 entertain-1 and put him to bed, while they sent for his mother to
come and take him home." Here the old woman had
lot bis wife t(!come to a point where lier knitting must be narrowed
do it sonie-itwo stitches at a time. They all knew that then
lo it otU'nei'Ifjrandma did not want to be bothered, so the conver-
Iht sometliuiasation dropped,
own. Somej"
he settlenienj

lor-bee.

we were
he helped
,est of our

when we
be put the
)f his long
crht over as
^ a hundred
■act is, onr

bee.

a spinning-
V?" inquired

11 you how it
we lived in.
lid not do it

(

CHARTKK x:kviii.

TWENTY YEARS OF PROGRESS.

'i"pO say that uninterruiDted prosperity had attended
-^ the efforts of John Bushman and his fellow-
pioneers, would be to go beyond what is strictly
true. There had been many drawbacks. Sometimes the
crops would be light from the eti'ects of drought. Some-
times the sunnner frost would partly ruin some of
their prospects. Sometimes the rust w^ould strike the
wheat, or the blight and mildew would injure their
other grains. Sometimes accidents would happen to
their stock. Cattle would get killed by the fall of a
tree, or die with some disease. The pigs would go too
far into the woods hunting the beechnuts, and thej
bears would Hnd them and eat them. And the sheep I
would be left out at night, and the wolves woukl
destroy them. The hawks and owls would carry otf'
the chickens., and the foxes would steal the geese amlj
ducks.

And besides all this, they had to contend with sick-
ness in their families, the same as the inhabitants otj
older localities, and in the case of sickness among
them, they had to be their own doctors. No medicalj

TWENTY VKAIIS OK P1?()(JHKSS.

867

lESS.

lad attended
his I'ellow-
,at is strictly
oinetimes the
ught. Soiue-
uin some of
lid strike the
injure their
il happen to
the fall of a
would go too
uts, and the I
.d the sheep
olves wouUl
tld carry otll
[he geese anJI

id with sick-
Inhabitants of
Ikness among
No medical

man was within reach, so that the peo]de were obliged
to exercise their ingcnuit}- and their judgment, and
do the best they could for themselves and for each
other.* And it would surprise the people of the
present day could they hear some of these old-fash-
ioned doctors prescribing' for the sick. For a cathartic,
they would give a tea made of butternut bark. If
the children were troubled with worms, they would
be given the ashes of dried wormwood, mixed with
maple syrup. If any one needed an emetic, they
would give him lobelia tea. If a child had colic, it
was doctored with sage or thyme ten, in which milk
and sugar ])layed an impottant part. For a sprain,
the application of wormw^ood, steeped in hot vniegar,
was the best mode of treament. If baby got the
sprew, or other sore mouth, it was cured by using a
wash made by steeping gold-thread in water. If a
healing and drawing salve was needed, they took
hitter-sweet bark, balm of gilead buds, a plant called
life-everlasting, and pine turpentine, fried up in
mutton tallow. If anybody caught cold, they would
sweat him over ;i lot of hendock boughs steeped in
hot water.

For almost every cojnplaint tliat backwoods flesh
was lieir to, somebody in the neiohborhood would
think of a remedy, and it was wonderful what success
attended the use of these simple cures. The absence
of all kinds of luxurious living and dissipation mnong
the people, taken in connection with their industrious

* The writer can easily renieinber when there was no doctor nor
iii;ij;istratp within tliirty niilcs of his parents' baekwooils hf)nie.

3()8

A\U>N(i THK FOREST TKEKS.

and frui^al habits, gave them an inherent power to
throw oft' disease that others do not enjoy. The hiw
of compensation came in here, ft' these people wero
destitute of miidieal assistance, they did not often
need such help.

But other ditHcnltics had to be encountered. The
want of a market for their surplus f,a-ain and other
produce was a serious drawback to them.

Imagine a man wlio clears his land, sows his seed,
harvests the wheat, threshes it out with a flail, cleans
it with a hand-fan, carries it from twenty to fifty
miles with an o.\. team, and tlien sells it for less than
tifty cents a bushel, and you liave an idea of what
many a man has done in the good Province of Ontario.

Think of a woman who makes hei' butter and, alonj^
with her eggs, carries it on her arm ten or twelve
miles to tlie store, and sells the butter for a York six-
pence, or si.K and one-fourth cents per pound, and the
eggs at the rate of four dozen for a quarter of a
doUai', and you will have an idea of what the mothers
and grandmothers of some of our aristocratic families
have done. Tons of maple sugar, made by these early
settlers, have been sold for six cents per pound. And
these prices wei'e not paid in money. Store goods, at
high prices, was the excliange given tor the produce of
the farm, the <lairy, the sugar-bush, and the poultry
yard, [f men could get money to pay their taxes, and a
small amount for pocket money, they had to be con-
tented or take the difference out in fruitless grumbling;.

They knew that in this struggle circumstances were
airainst them, and it take.s a strong arm to control

TWENTY YEARS OV PROGRESS.

360

circumstances. They accepted of the inevitable, and
bravely wrestled with their toilsome lot. And through
all these hardships and discouragements these hardy
pioneers worked t^eir way to competence, and some of
them to wealth.

In the space of two years after tlie erection of the
mills not less than twelve families came to reside at
Riverbend, and each family built a house to live in.
There were no tenement houses there to be rented.
Then there was the meeting-house, the store, the mills,
and a blacksmith's shop — all of these together gave the
place (juite the appearance of a village. The land at
the four corners was all cleared, but the stumps re-
mained to tell the new-comer how thickly timbered
the land had been.

John Bushman's buildings and those of Mr. Beech,
as well as Harry Hawthorn's shanty and stable, could
all be seen from the corners. These all added their
quota to the general appearance of the landscape. And
there is a sort of charm around a back-country village
that larger towns and cities do not possess. The charm
of freshness and the contrast between the neat, new
buildings and their surroundings, can only be found
among the forest trees or in the stumpy field. Where
the houses seem to spring up like the mushroom, and
occupy the ground recently covered by trees of the
forest, there the effects of the backwoodsmnn's energy
and pluck shows itself in the most striking and
emphatic manner. The rapi<l development of seme of
our back-country towns has been a source of wonder-
ment to visitors of all descriptions. Nowhere, perhaps,

370 AM(»N(; 'IHK FOHKST TRKES

except in the United States, liave villa;:^es and towns
and cities had such hurried i^rovvtli.

The most eccentric {)erson aljout Riverhend was
Mr. Sylvanus Yardstick, the merchant-poet. He was
subject to gi'cat depressions of s})irit, followed by
wonderful ebullition.^ of feelinir. He would sometimes
be entirely disheartened, then again he would be as
cheerful as a sunbeam and buoyant as the fleecy
clouds that lloat upon the cv<'.nin!Lj zephyrs in the
month of June.

Whenever one of his cheerful spells came over him,
he would mount his Pegasus, and fly off into the
regions of poesy. On such occasions, whatever object
had last made an impression on his mind, would give
direction to his thoughts and stamp itself upon his
verse.

On one occasion, a couple of bis lady customers, who
lived eio-ht or ten mi!es distant, came to the store.
One of them had a basket of eggs, and the other had
a crock of butter. The women were tired, and Syl-
vanus had been very busy all the morning, and he
was somewhat jaded and felt a little peevish. When
he told the women that, since their last vi>it, buttei'
had gone down one cent per pound and eggs two
cents per dozen, they were sorely displeased. One of
them let her ton-'ue loose on him, and said some very
tantalizing words about grinding the face of the poor
and growing lich on the hard work of other people.

When she stopped, Sylvanus started. He had just
got to the middle of a ver}^ unsoothing sentence when
John Bushman came in at the door. Feeling ashamed

rWENTV VKAI{S OV PROGRESS.

871

mfl towns

:V)en(l was
. He was
llowed by
sometimes
3ul(l be as
the Heccy
yrs in the

e over him,
[f into the
:ever o\>)ect
would give
If upon his

omevs, who
the store.
|e other had
[d, and Syl-
|ng, and he
ish. When
\->\i, butter
1 egi^^'s two
d. One of
some very
)t' the poor
r people,
e had just
Itence when
ig ashamed

of what he had been sayinLr. Sylvanus tnnu>d to
Bushman, and said, '" 'JMicsc women have V)een alnisino;
me because I can't n'ivc them moie ^or thcii' butter and
(>oos than they are woi'tli in the ()Utsi<l(' market."

"Tut, tut, S3dvanus," said Jolm, "surely you wouM
not (|uairel witli good custoi.iers al)Out a few cents."

Both parties seemed mollified, and tlier<' was no
more contention about prices. But after tlie vvonien
were gone the poetic spirit came upon Mr. Yardstick,
and he got off the following, and posted it up wdiere
(n'erybody might see it: —

" Tlie uoiiiuu tlioy Ciinii; witli their eggs and their l)iittor.
And will not 1)0 contenteil until they are sold ;
But sometimes they set me all into a flutter,

When they get out of teni])pr and turn to and scold.

" I hate to l)e scolded--! don't know \\ lio likes it.
[t is worse than a whipping the little ones say;
E'en a dog will get angry if anyone strikes it.
So T loose my temper and ugly tilings say.

" But still I am inospering, and trathe gets lietter
As peoj)le grow rieher and ablei' to pay :
My tongue in tlu! future I will keep in a fettej'.
And try to grow pleasanter (svery day."

It is now live years since John Bushman cut the
first tree on his place. During these years many
changes have taken place. And we have seen the
early settlers overcome one ditliculty after another, so
that now the necessaries of life and some of its
luxuries are within their reach.

While it would be pleasant to keep in the company
of such a fine lot of people as those are in and about

372 AMuNCi THE FCJUKST TUKES.

Riverbend, wo must, for want of spaci; to record tht'ir
doini^s, leave them to themselves for a number of 3'ears.
But we shall make tliem a short visit at a proper time
in the future. And in the meantime we will solace
ourselves with the hope that their future may be less
toilsome than the past has been, and no less successful.
CherishiiiL; this hope we bid these peoj)le good-bye for
fifteen years, and commend them to the protection and
n;uidance of Him "whose eye never slumbers, and
whose tender mercies are over all Mis works."

VISIT To ()IJ)-TIME FIUENDS.

An old-fashioned staj^e-coach, drawn by four spirited
horses, was slowly moving toward the north from the
town of Mapleton. It was crowded with passengers.
The nmd was very deep, and in places very sticky.
This was why the horses were going so slowly. As i,>s
often the case in this world of change and contin-
gencies, they could not help themselves.

As the stage started out from the Half-way House,
an elderly lady asked the driver the name of the next
stopping-place. He answered, " Our next stop will be
at the town of Riverbend, ten miles aheail. There we
stop for supper and change of horses."

" What sort of hotel accounnodation can be found
there?" inquired a rather dandyish-looking young man,
as he pulled out of his side pocket an old English
bull's-eye watch, and held it up so tliat everyone
could see it

" The accommodation is all right, if you can do with-
out whiskey," said the driver.

TVVKNTV VKAKS OF IMtnfJHKss.

•syn

;(n-(l their
r of years,
■opor tim»^
vill solace
ay be less
iueccsst'iil.
3d-bye for
ection antl
ihers, and

(ur spiritcil
ii from the
passengers,
ery sticky,
vly. As is
11(1 contin-

ay House,
if the next
|top will be
There we

be fount!
I'oung man.
lid English

everyone

in do with-

" What ! is there no liquor to be got there .'' " asked
the somewhat astonished passenger.

" Plenty of licpiid or li(pior, ii" that suits you better.
But there is no wet groeerie.s — nothing that will make
'Inmk conic, only what is kept in the drug-st(ire for
liiedicine," was the answer.

" Well," said the dandy, "it must bi; a ilogged, dull,
• lok'ful, domain of dunces."

" You were never more mi.stakcn in your life, my
friend. It is the most go-ahead town in all the country;
and a more wide-awakt; and energt'tie lot of people
are not to be found anyvvluiri'," said the driver.

'■ Has there never been any liipior sold there,:'" in-
quired one of the passengers.

" Not legally. There may have been a little .sold
slyly, but none openly."

"That is a singular circumstance, surely," .said the
man with the big watch.*

When the stage came to the town and drew up at
one of the temperance hotels, the passengers were
politely invited to enter. Two neatly furnished
sitting- room.s — one for ladies and one for gentlemen —
were nicely warmed and lighted for the comfort of the
L-uests, until the rino-ino- of the bell called them to the
dining-room.

When they entered this room some of the passengers
expressed their surprise at the ample spread before
them. They had not expectetl to see such a display

* It is said tliat tlio t'ouii(U'r of the village of Parry 8ounil, started
it oil Prohibition principles, iiiid up till this time no licen.se to sell
iiitoxifaiit.-> lias l)('en ''ranted.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

>«

,<'- w^..

:/>

fc
^

1.0

I.I

Ifi^ IIIIIM

1^ 1^ 12.2

ii^

2.0

1.8

11-25 IIIIII.4 IIIIII.6

L'?-

374

AMON'.J THE FOREST TREES.

of table t'nrnishinfTs, and such a variety of wholesome
and well cooked food as they now saw ready to satisfy
tlioir wants, both of hunger and thirst.

One of the men who came in on the stajxe was John
Brushy, who the reader will remember as one of tho
men in Mr, Root's company of road-makers. As he
took his seat at the table he said to the landlord.
" Great chanjjes have been effected here in twenty
years."

" Yes, that is true no doubt. But I don't know
much about what this place was like twenty years ajijo.
1 have been here only five years," said the host.

" I was here twenty years ago. I helped to open out
this road, and I helped to raise the first house in the
vicinity. We found a plucky young fellow in the
woods all alone, and we helped him to build a house
on his lot near a pretty little lake. I don't remember
his name. I have often thought that I would like to
know how he succeeded. He was a brave, determined
young man, and deserved success," said Mr. Brushy.

"He lias .succeeded grandly," said the host. "His
name is John Bushman. He has one of the finest
farms in the county. And he is one of the best men
that I have ever met with."

" Who owns the mills here ^ " inquires some one.

" The mills belong to Mes.srs. Root & Millwood," wa^
answered.

" I wonder," said Mr. Bru.shy, " if that could be the
John Root that had the contract of opening out thi?
road,"

" The identical John Root that opened out the road,"

TWENTY VEAHS OF PROGRESS.

375

vholesome

! was Jolin
one of the
rs. As ho
e landlord
in twenty

lon't know
f years Ou^o.
host,
to open out
3use in the
low in the
ild a house
remember

uld like to

determined

. Brushy.

lost. " His
the finest

best men

Ime one.
[wood," was

iould be the
ins out this

it the road,"

answered Mr. Redfern, the host. " He is a» American
by birth. But he has been in this country so long
that he has become pretty thoroughly Canadianized."

" And who owns the lots on the other three
corners!'" asked Mr. Bru.shy.

"John Bushman owns the farm where the biu
store is on, and the one opposite to it l)elongs to
Mr. Beech. The lot on this side belongs to Harry
Hawthorn," was the answer.

" Beech and Hawthorn were the names of two men
who worke(l with Root when I was with him. How
are they getting along ? " said Brushy.

" They are both doing well ; but one would hardly
believe that Harry is doing the best of the two. He
is, however," said the host.

" Who keeps the large store on the corner^" inquired
a white-haired old man, who had also come in on the
stage.

" The store belongs to Mr. Sylvanus Yardstick."

" Yardstick, Yardstick. Where have I heard that
name ? It sounds familiar to me, and yet I fail to
remember where or when I knew its owner. Do you
know anything about his antecedents f " asked the
stranger.

" Not much, but I have heard him say that his first
visit to this place was with a party of surveyors, who
passed through here some twenty years ago, and found
John Bushman alone in the woods, seven or ei<;ht
miles from any house."

"I have it all now," broke in the stranger. "I was
one of the party. The surveyor's name was Rush-

876

AMONfJ THE KOHEST TltEES.

Mil
'1

valley. The man we have been speakinijj of was one
of tlie company. He was a little eccentric soinetimes.
Ho had a turn for poetry, if he ^ot exciterl about
anythir)<^. I reniemlter how he looked as he svvunif
his arm and reeled off" poetry, when he stood on the
border of the pretty little lake, near to which the
younof man Bushujan was at work."

" Ke makes poetry yet, sometimes," replied Mr.
Redfern. " He has a lot of his productions posted i-p
in and around the store and the post-office ; but, aftei"
all, he is a very honest and oood man."

" And will you tell us where your home is now ^ "
asked the landlord of John Brushy.

" My home is some seventy miles from here, on the
shores of Lake Huron. There are but few white
people there, but I believe the Government is intend-
ing to open up the country by making leading roads,
and otherwise encouraging people to settle up that
splendid tract of country," he answered.

We now turn our attention to some of the homes
of the first settlers around Riverbend.

Mr. John Root is a magistrate, and one of three
commissioners who riianage the affairs of the town-
ship — exercising the power of a civil court and the
prerogatives of a municipal council.

Harrv Hawthorn has a fine home and an interesting
family growing up around him ; but there is one
spectre that has haunted both him and his wife ever
since the loss of their two little ones so long ago.
Whenever either of them sees an upturned tree, the
sight is too much for them, and it sets them weeping.

f was one
sometimes,
ted about
he swurifj
od on the
vvliich the

'plied Mr.
posted i.p
but, aftei'

is now ? "

ere, on the
few white
is intend-
ing roads,
e up that

;he homes

of three
the town-
and the

nterestinu;

re is one
wife ever
lonjj ago.
tree, the
weeping.

TWKNTY VKARS OF IMUHiHESS.

377

Some wounds arc; hard to heal, and this is of that
character.

Mr. Woodbine is an ohl man now. His family
is off Ins hands. He is livint; with his asfed wife
in peace and comfort. Their eldest son fills the
office of collector of taxes in their town.ship.

Tile McWithys, by honest industry and strict
economy, have made tiiemselves a good home, and are
in a fair way to become wealthy.

Old Mr. Crautmaker has been dead four or five
years. The children are all married. The old lady
lives on the old place with John, whose wife is a sister
to Mrs. Greenleaf.

Richard Greenleaf has succeeded in makinjj a sfood
home for himself and his family. Five children
gather around his table and share his affections.
Mrs. Greenleaf and Mary Bushman are the two
leading spirits in all good works and charities. Many
blessings are invoked upon the heads of these unpre-
tendinof, self-consecrated women.

Mr. Timberline. years ago, married Fretzina Craut-
maker. They are living in comfort, if not in affluence.
Three children help to keep the stillness of the place
from making them lonesome.

Moses and Katrina Moosewood have a fine home.
They work hard. They are careful not to allow more
than two years to pass without the addition of a new
name to the somewhat lengthy family record.

William and Betsy Briars have on the whole the
most convenient arrangements in the settlement. The
spring that issues out of the rock has been utilized in

378

AMONfl THK h'OllEST TKEES.

such an effectual way tliat water is carried from it in
pipes into tlie kitclien, and to the waterinfj troujijh.s
of the .stables. William is the larj^est stock-raiser in
the .settlement, and it is .said that hi.s wife makes and
sell.s more butter than any other woman in the four
townships.

As John Bushman was the first one to appear on
the scene of our description.s, he shall bo the last one
to disappear at the close of our story.

He and Mary have made many warm and true
friends, by their kind hospitality and their neighborly
helpfulness. They are loved and honored by every-
body, both old and young. Both of them begin to
show that life's meridian has been reached. Here and
there a white hair could be detected by a close observer,
where it seemed to be trying to hide itself among its
more youthful associates. But their step is just as
elastic and their energies are just as unflagging as ever.

When the first baby made their home a visit, and
let them know that it had come to stay, it will be
remembered that Mary told John that she was afraid
it would not be satisfied to remain alone. Her con-
jecture has been proved to be correct. Not only has
the baby found one playmate, but another and another
has come along, until no less than seven playmates of
different ages can be seen about the Bushman home, or
Sylvan Lodge, as it is sometimes called.

But the log-house has disappeared, and its successor
is a nice, tasty brick one.

The seeds that the old Quaker gave to John the day
before he and Mary started for their backwoods home,

-/•

from it in
(f trou^jhs
v-raiser in
nakus and
I the four

appear on
e last one

and true
leighborly
by every-
i begin to
Here and
'i observer,
among its
is just as
ig as ever,
visit, and
it will be
iras afraid
Her con-
only has
(1 another
y mates of
home, or

successor

n the day
ods home,

TWENTY YEAKS OF PROGRESS.

379

were all planted an<l carefully tended. The result is
a good orchard lor himself, and a large number of trees
furnished to hi^ in-i-hbors.

One day in October Mrs Briars was in John's hou>e,
talking- with Mury ; John came and lookeil in at the
door, and said, '■ Come here, Bet, I want to show you
.something. "

She came out into the yard to see what it was that
he had for her to look at. He pointed to the orchard,
where two young girls and two boys were picking up
apples under Ihu iree.s

He said, "Do you remember the day that Mr.
Blueberry gave me the apple seeds?"

"Yes; he told you to plant them and take care of
them, and if you did so, by the time you had children
big enough to gather fruit, there would be plenty of
fruit for them to gatlier,' she said.

"And that day you came out and found me in a
deep study, and asked me what I was dreaming about.
Do you remember it ? "

" Yes, and you said, ' I see a picture. I cannot tell
you now what it is like. But if we are both alive in
about twenty years, I hope I will be able to show you
the reality,'" .she answered.

"Well," s«dd John, "there is the realization of
my dream. Those youngsters gathering fruit. In
imagination I saw them then; in reality I .see them
now."

"Well do I remember," .said she, "that morning in
April wdien, with your axe on your shoulder, and your
little bundle done up in a cotton handkerchief, you
25

Tf-rrr

S30

AMONG THE FOREST TREKS.

shook hands with us at lionie and started off alone, to
make a liome for yourself in the wilderness. We all
stood at the gate and watched you till you pfot over
the hill and we could see you no more. We all felt
badly. But mother took it hardt-r than the rest of us.
She went into the house to hide her tears.

" When we all went in, father said to her, * We have
always tried to teach our bf»3' majdiness and self-
reliance. Now we should not complain at his first
grand oxhildtion of those qualities that wc have so
often extolled in his presence.'

'" 1 know it,' said mother, ' but it is hard for me to
get my feelinj^s to harmonize with our teachings in
this respect. I am so much afraid he will get hope-
cssly lost in his wanderings among the forest trees.' '

-^ •^:^^>§<Cii5^^o^^^^^°

T alone, to
J. Wc all
[ rroi over
/e all felt
rest of us.

* We have

anil self-

t his first

c have so

:^ •> .r ^-/

/-''

- rl

7 f

sj--^^

(

for me to

achinjis in

get hope-

wt trees.' "