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i i iuWlJWMWWfi ' WfWWWi 
 
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 ».,r 
 
LIFE IN THE WOODS 
 
 A TRUE STORY OF THE 
 CANADIAN BUSH 
 
 Bv CUNNINGHAM GEIKIE. D.D. '^M 
 
 I 
 
 
 ' My Native Lujd, Good-night ! 
 
 ■4 
 
 STBAHAN & CO. 
 
 56, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON 
 
 1873 
 
I 
 
 ^^"-^ 
 
 JOHN CHILDS AND EON, PKINTERS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Boy.dre.ms about travelling-Our ^<^-^^y ^'"'^'''"'^^l-ol 
 Canada-The first day on board-Cure for sea-sickness Our 
 Xe- Henry's adventure-We -counter -- 
 Light of the waves-The bottom of the ocean-A foss 1 sh P 
 -The fishing-grounds-see whales and -"^"B "/^"^^ 
 _Sea.birds-Lights in the sea-The great Gulf of S t L w 
 Jee-Thick ice-fogs-See land at last-Sa.hng up he^nver 
 —Land at Quebec 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 Ouebec-Wolfe-Montcalm's skull-Toronto-We set off for 
 ^he buslv-Mud-roads-A rough ride-Our log-house-How U 
 'r u t-Our barn-We get oxen and -^E ephan -d 
 Buckey^Unpacking our stores-What some of ou ne.gh- 
 bot lought'when they -e-Hot days-Bush cosmmes- 
 S«n.strokes-My sisters have to turn ->--'l;"-;';;P;'; 
 of the house-work 
 
 CHAPTER 111. 
 
 Clearing the land-David's bragging, and the end of it-Burning 
 r logieaps-Our logging bee-What prejudge ^n do 
 our fLes and crops nearly bumed-The -°^^- ^^^^ 
 Building a snake-fence-' Shingle ' pigs give us -- *~^^^ 
 •Breachy' horses and cattle VV- V^^ 
 
 
 jia 
 
<■«:-■ ■ ■» II 
 
 Cantents. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 We begin our preparations for sowing —Gadflies — MosquitoM 
 — Harrowing experiences — A huge fly — Santlflics — The 
 poison of insects and serpents — Winter wheat — The wonden 
 of plant-life— Our first 'sport'— Woodpeckers— ' Chitmunks' 
 ^Tlie blue jay— The blue bird— The flight of birds 
 
 . . PP- 56-7* 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Some family changes — Amusements — Cow-hunting — Our ' side, 
 line ' — The bush — Adventures with rattlesnakes — Carter- 
 makes — A frog's flight for life— Black squirrels . pp. 73—86 
 
 . • CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Spearing', fish — Ancient 'British canoes — Indian ones — A bargain 
 with an Indian — Henry's cold bath — Canadian thunder- 
 storms — Poor Yorick's death — Our glorious autumns— Thfe 
 change of the leaf- Sunsets— Indian summer — The fall rain« 
 and the roads — The first snow — Canadian cold — A winter 
 landscape — 'Ice-storms' — Snow crystals — The minute per- 
 fection of God's works— Deer-shooting — David's misfortune 
 — Useless cruelty — Shedding of the stag's horns pp. 87—124 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Wolves— My adventure with a bear — Courtenay's cow and thd 
 wolves— A fright in the woods by night — The river freezes — 
 Our winter fires— Cold, cold, cold 1— A winter's journey- 
 Sleighing- Winter mufflings— Accidents through intense cold 
 
 pp. 125-139 
 
Jflies — Mosquitoes 
 -Sandflies — The 
 icat — The wonders 
 ers — ' Chitmunks' 
 of birds 
 
 pp. S6— 7a 
 
 mting— Our 'side- 
 lesnakes — Garter- 
 rels . pp. 73—86 
 
 I ones — A bargain 
 lanadian thunder- 
 us autumns— Thfc 
 er — The fall rains 
 a cold — A winter 
 -The minute per- 
 )avid's misfortune 
 orns pp. 87 — 124 
 
 ay's cow and thd 
 he river freezes — 
 winter's journey— 
 ough intense cold 
 pp. 125-139 
 
 '■^■.:, 
 
 Contenis, ^ 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The aurora borealis— 'Jumpers' — Squaring timber — Rafts — 
 Camping out — A public .meeting — Winter fashions — My to<5 
 frozen— A long winter's walk— Hospitality — Nearly lost in 
 the woods pp. 140—155 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Involuntary racing — A backwoods parsonage— Grr./es in the 
 wilderness — Notions of equality — Arctic winters — RuflTed 
 grouse — Indian fishing in winter — A marriage — Our winter'/, 
 pork , pp. 156—1(1, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 « 
 Our neighbours— Insect plagues— Military officers' families m 
 
 the bush — An awkward mistake — Dr D nearly shot for a 
 
 bear — Major M Our candles — Fortunate escape from a 
 
 fatal accident . pp. 168 — 178 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 * Now Spring returns ' — Sugar-making — Bush psalmody — 
 Bush preaching — Worship under difficulties — A clerical Mrs 
 Partington — Biology — A ghost—' It slips good ' — Squatters 
 
 pp. 179—193 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Bush magistrates— Indian forest guides — Senses quickened by 
 necessity — Breaking up of the ice — Depth of the frost — A grave 
 Ln winter; — A ball — A holiday coat .... pp. 194 — 204 
 
 iiittr""-t«irniiirti"i '" 
 
 
viu 
 
 Contents. 
 
 U: 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 „„„, »»^P«*;-^7f«' S!1t^ ..,s_H« 
 Roosting places— The irogs n ^ ^ ^ pp. 205—217 . 
 
 squirrels 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 our sp.ng crops-Indian corn-Purnplcins-Melo.-Jruit^^ 
 Wild Flowers ..•.•••'* 
 
 .' ^ CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 -Henry exorcises an Indian's rifle . . . ■ VV ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 • Kr,1 Storv of a pet-Canada a good country 
 The humnnngW-Stoty of P ^^^^^^^^_^,^,,,, i,w 
 
 for poor -^-:^^^^''2Lo.^r waggon-driving-Henry 
 _Tortoises-The hay sea iii_Backwood 
 
 and I are nearly drowned - Henry falls ^^^ ^^^^^_^^, 
 
 doctors 
 
poem on the blue-bird- 
 
 pigeons-Their numbers- 
 
 frogs-Tree frogs-Flying 
 
 . . . . pp. 20S-2«7 
 
 XIV. 
 
 impkins-Melons-Fruits- 
 .... PP.2i8-«4 
 
 XV. 
 
 an the Indians be civilized! 
 alleged innocence of savage 
 the Jesuit missionary 
 
 pp. 225—25'; 
 
 . XVI. 
 
 s_Medals— An embassy— 
 e dead— Christian Indians— 
 iron-Stolidity of the Indians 
 fle . . . . PP- 258-276 
 
 5. XVII. 
 
 pet-Canada a good country 
 
 of misfortune-Statute labour 
 
 -Our waggon-driving— Henry 
 
 Henry falls ill-Backwood 
 
 .... pp. 277-293 
 
 Contents. ix 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 American men and women — Fireflies-rProfusion of insect life — 
 Grasshoppers — Frederick and David leave Canada — Soap- 
 making— Home-made candles — Recipe for washing quickly — 
 Writing letters — The parson for driver . . . pp. 296—310 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Americanisms— Our poultry — The wasps — Their nests — ' Bob's' 
 skill in killing them — Racoons — A hunt — Racoon cake— The 
 town of Busaco — Summer ' sailing ' — Boy drowned — French 
 settlers pp. 311— 324 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Apple-bees — Orchards— Gorgeous display of apple-blossom — 
 A meeting in the woods — The ague — Wild parsnips — Man lost 
 in the woods pp. 325 — 337 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A tornado — Bats — Deserted lots — American inquisitiveness — 
 An election agent pp. 338 — 346 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A journey to Niagara — River St Clair — Detroit — A slave's escape 
 — An American steamer — Description of the Falls of Niagara 
 — Fearful catastrophe pp. 347 — 363 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The suspension-bridge at Niagara— The whirlpool — The battle 
 of Lundy's Lane — Brock's monument — A soldier nearly 
 drowned pp. 364 — 371 
 
Contents. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 .. ,i,„ The exile's love of home-Thc coloured 
 
 people m C''"'^'l^-«^''=^ i^^_New England emigrants 
 
 cloth-A narrow road-A grummer 
 _A potato-pit-The winter's wood. . • PP ^' 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ^ t, r. Chances -Too-hard study-Educa- 
 Thoughts for the f"*"'^-^^""^!', . _^i„ter amusements- 
 
 tion in ^---^--^'^''''''''^Tt^'^^l^ on the farm 
 Ice.boats-V«y -Id >-Oa-spnn^ Chan^^^^ ^^^,^^^ 
 -Growth of Canada-The Amenca ^ ^p 3gg_4os 
 
 again 
 
tome— The coloured 
 
 le Mist— Home-spun 
 
 w England emigrants 
 
 . . pp. 372-387 
 
 LIFE IN THE WOODS. 
 
 '^ 
 
 i-hard study— Educa- 
 Winter amusements — 
 -Changes on the farm 
 climate-Old England 
 . . . PP- 388-40S 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Boy-dreams about travelling-Our family determines to go to 
 Canada-The first day on board-Cure for sea-sickness-Our 
 passengers-Henry's adventure-We encounter a storm- 
 Height of the waves— The bottom of the ocean-A fossil 
 ship-The fishing-grounds-See whales and icebergs-Por- 
 poises-Sea-birds-Lights in the sea-The great Gulf of St 
 Lawrence-Thick ice-fogs-See land at last-Sailing up the 
 river — Land at Quebec. 
 
 WONDER if ever there were a boy who 
 did not wish to travel ? I know I did, 
 and used to spend many an hour thinking 
 of all the wonderful things I should see, 
 and of what I would bring home when I returned. 
 Books of travel I devoured greedily— and v.ery good 
 reading for boys, as well as for grown men, I have 
 always thought them. I began with 'Robinson 
 Crusoe,' like most boys— for who has not read his 
 story? Burckhardt, the traveller, found a young Arab 
 reading a translation of it in the door of his father's 
 
 ■mmMumm* 
 
Dreams about Travelling- 
 
 tent in the desert. But I don't think I ever w.ohed to 
 be like him. or to roam in a wild romantic way, or go 
 to sea; as it is called, like many other boys I have 
 known, which is a fery different thing from havmg 
 harmless fancies, that one would like to see strange races 
 of men and strange countries. Some of my schoolmates, 
 .hom nothing would content but being ^^^lo^^'^" ^ 
 cured me of any thought of being one, if ever I had it, 
 by what I knew of their story when they came back. 
 One of them, James Roper, I did not see for some years 
 after he went off, but when I met him at last among the 
 h ps, he was so worn and broken down I hardly knew 
 2 ^gain, and he had got so many of the low forecastle 
 ways about him, that I could not bear his company 
 Another, Robert Simpson, went one voyage to Treb^ 
 
 zond but that cured him. He came back perfectly 
 zona, u ^^^ ^j^g 
 
 contented to stay at home, as 
 romance of sailoring, which had lured him away, a very 
 different thing from the reality. He had never counted 
 on being turned out of hisT^ed every other night or so 
 for something or other, as he was. or being clouted 
 with a wet swab by some sulky fellow, or having to 
 fetch and carry for the men. and do their bidding, or 
 to climb wet rigging in stormy weather, and get 
 drenched every now and then, without any chance of 
 changing his clothes ; not to speak of the difference 
 between his nice room at home and the close, crowded, 
 low-roofed forecastle, where he could hardly see for 
 tobacco-smoke, and where he had to eat and sleep with 
 
1 
 
 ling. 
 
 I ever wiohed to 
 intic way, or ' go 
 ;her boys I have 
 ng from having 
 , see strange races 
 'my schoolmates, 
 :ing sailors, early 
 ;, if ever I had it, 
 they came back. 
 see for some years 
 at last among the 
 3wn I hardly knew 
 f the low forecastle 
 jear his company. 
 e voyage to Trebi- 
 me back perfectly 
 he had found the 
 2d him away, a very 
 : had never counted 
 •y other night or so 
 5, or being clouted 
 ellow, or having to 
 do their bidding, or 
 weather, and get 
 thout any chance of 
 ik of the difference 
 d the close, crowded, 
 ould hardly see for 
 to eat and sleep with 
 
 The First Day on Board, 3 
 
 companions whom he would not have thought of 
 speaking to before he sailed. He came back quite 
 sobered down, and, after a time, went to study law, 
 and is now a barrister in good practice. 
 
 Yet I v/as very glad when I learned that we were 
 going to America. The great woods, and the sport 
 I would have with the deer and bears in them, and the 
 Indians, of whom I had read so often, and the curious 
 wildness there was in the thought of settling where 
 there were so few people, and living so differently 
 from anything I had known at home, quite captivated 
 me. I was glad when the day of sailing came, and 
 went on board our ship, the Ocean King, with as much 
 delight as if I had been going on a holiday trip. There 
 were eight of us altogether — five brothers and three 
 sisters (my father and mother were both dead), and I 
 had already one brother in America, while another 
 stayed behind to push his way in England. The anchor 
 once heaved, we were soon on our way down the 
 Mersey, and the night fell on us while we were still 
 exploring the wonders of the ship, and taking an 
 occasional peep over the side at the shore. When we 
 had got into the Channel, the wind having come round 
 to the south east, the captain resolved to go by the 
 northern route, passing the upper end of Ireland. All 
 we saw of it, however, was very little ; indeed, most of 
 us did not see it at all, for the first swell of the sea had 
 sent a good many to their berths, in all stages of sick- 
 ness. One old gentleman, a Scotchman, who had been 
 
 .4 
 
 ^^ 
 
*(■ 
 
 / ' 
 
 4 Cure for Sea-sickness, 
 
 boasting that he had a preventive that would keep hhn 
 clear of it, made us all laugh by his groans and 
 wretchedness ; for his specific had not only failed, but 
 had set him off amongst the first. He had been told 
 that if he took enough gingerbread and whisky, he 
 might face any sea, and he had followed the advice 
 faitlifuUy ; but as the whisky itself was fit to make him 
 sick, even on shore, you may judge how much it and the 
 gingerbread together helped him when the ship was 
 heaving and rolling under his feet. We boys did not fail, 
 of course, when we heard him lamenting that either the 
 one or the other had crossed his lips, to come over 
 their names pretty often in his hearing, and advise each 
 other to try some, every mention of the words bringing 
 out an additional shudder of disgust from the unfor- 
 tunate sufferer. My eldest sister had sent me, just 
 before coming on board, for some laudanum and 
 mustard, which she was to mix and apply some way 
 that was sure, she said, to keep her well ; but she got 
 sick so. instantly on the ship beginning to move that 
 she forgot them, and we had the mustard aftenvards at 
 dinner in America, and the laudanum wis a long time 
 in the house for medicine. For a few days everything 
 was unpleasant enough, but gradually all got right 
 again, and even the ladies ventured to reappear on 
 
 deck. 
 
 Of course, among a number of people gathered ui a 
 ship, you were sure to meet strange characters. A little 
 light man in a wig was soon the butt of the cabin, h'i 
 
 w 
 
 tl 
 k 
 
 g 
 b 
 t( 
 d 
 li 
 I 
 t 
 < 
 
 MaiMiiiiiii 
 
s. 
 
 ivould keep hhn 
 his groans and 
 only failed, but 
 : had been told 
 ind whisky, he 
 ived the advice 
 fit to make him 
 much it and the 
 :n the ship was 
 )oys did not fail, 
 g that either the 
 s, to come over 
 and advise each 
 ; words bringing 
 
 from the unfor- 
 d sent me, just 
 
 laudanum and 
 apply some way 
 ell ; but she got 
 ing to move that 
 ard aftenvards at 
 
 WIS a long time 
 r days everything 
 ly all got right 
 
 to reappear on 
 
 pie gathered in a 
 iracters. A little 
 of the cabin, h'i 
 
 Our Passengers. 5 
 
 would ask such silly questions, and say such outrageous 
 things. He was taking cheeses, and tea, and I don't 
 know what else, to America with him, for fear he would 
 get nothing to eat there ; and he was dreadfully alarmed 
 by one of th.. passengers, who had been over before, 
 telling him he would find cockroach pie the chief 
 dainty in Canada. I believe the cheeses he had with 
 him had come from America at first. He thought the 
 best thing to make money by ir Canada was to sow all 
 the country with mustard-seed, it 3'ielded such a great 
 crop, he said; and he seemed astonished at all the 
 table laughing at the thought of what could possibly be 
 done with it. There was another person in the cabin 
 —a stiff, conceited man, with a very r.trange head, the 
 whole face and brow running back from the chin, and 
 great standing-out ears. He was a distant relation of 
 some admiral, I believe ; but if he had been the admiral 
 himself, he could not have carried his head higher than 
 he did. Nobody was good enough for him. It seemed 
 a condescension in him to talk with any one. But he 
 soon lost all his greatness, notwithstanding his airs, b^ 
 his asking one* day when we were speaking about Italy, 
 •What river it was that ran north and south along the 
 coast ? ' in that country. We were speaking of a road, 
 and he thought it was about a river. Then he asked, 
 the same day, where the Danube was, and if it were a 
 large river ; and when some one spoke about Sicily, 
 and said that it had been held by the Carthaginians, he 
 wished to know if these people held it now. Boy as I 
 
 . JMilh-^«ifciT 1liiHlM»M 
 
Henry's Adventure. 
 
 was, I could not help seeing what a dreadful thing it 
 was to be so ignorant ; and I determined that I would 
 
 never be like Mr (I sha'n't tell his name), at any 
 
 rate, but would learn as much as ever I could. 
 
 I daresay we were troublesome enough to the captain 
 sometimes, but, if so, he took his revenge on one of 
 us after a time. One day we were playing with a rope 
 and pulley which was hooked high up in the rigging. 
 There was a large loop at the one end, and the other, 
 after passing through the block, hung down on the deck. 
 Henry had just put this loop over his shoulders and 
 fitted it nicely below his arms, when the captain chanced 
 to see him, and, in an instant, before he knew what he 
 was going to do, he had hauled him up ever so high, 
 with all the passengers looking at him and laughing at 
 the ridiculous figure he cut. It was some time before 
 he would let him down, and as he was a pretty .big lad, 
 and thought himself almost a man, he felt terribly 
 affronted. But he had nothing for it when he got 
 down but to hide in his berth till his pride got cooled 
 and till the laugh stopped. We were all careful enough 
 to keep out of Captain Morrison's way after that. 
 
 One way or other the days passed, very pleasantly 
 to us boys, whatever they were to older people. It 
 was beautiful when the weather was fine and the wind 
 right, to see how we glided through the green galleries 
 of the sea, which rose, crested with white, at each side. 
 One day and night we had, what we thought, a great 
 storm. The sails were nearly all struck, and I heard 
 
r 
 
 -e. 
 
 dreadful thing it 
 ned that I would 
 lis name), at any 
 I could. 
 
 gh to the captain 
 venge on one of 
 lying with a rope 
 p in the rigging, 
 d, and the other, 
 lown on the deck, 
 lis shoulders and 
 ; captain chanced 
 he knew what he 
 up ever so high, 
 1 and laughing at 
 some time before 
 s a pretty .big lad, 
 he felt terribly 
 it when he got 
 pride got cooled 
 all careful enough 
 y after that. 
 1 very pleasantly 
 ►Ider people. It 
 me and the wind 
 lie green galleries 
 hite, at each side, 
 thought, a great 
 uck, and I heard 
 
 We encounter a Storm. 7 
 
 the mate say that the two that were left did more 
 harm than good, because they only drove the ship 
 deeper into the water. When it grew nearly dark, I 
 crept up the cabin-stairs to look along the deck at the 
 waves ahead. I could see them rising like great black 
 mountains seamed with snow, and coming with an 
 awful motion towards us, making the ship climb a 
 huge hill, as it were, the one moment, and go down 
 so steeply the next, that you could not help being 
 afraid that it was sinking bodily into the depths of the 
 sea. The wind, meanwhile, roared through the ropes 
 and yards, and every little while there was a hollow 
 thump of some wave against the bows, followed by 
 the rush of water over the bulwarks. I had read the 
 account of the storm in Virgil, and am sure he must 
 have seen something like what I saw that night to 
 have written it. There is an ode in Horace to him 
 when he was on the point of setting out on a voyage. 
 Perhaps he saw it then. The description in the Bible 
 is, however, the grandest picture of a storm at sea : 
 ' The Lord commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, 
 which lifteth up the waves of the deep. They mount 
 up to heaven, they go down again to the depths : their 
 soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and 
 fro and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their 
 wit's end.' ' The Lord hath His way in the whirlwind 
 and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of His 
 feet.' Yet I have found since, that though the waves 
 appear so very high, they are much lower than we sup- 
 
r 
 
 % Height of the Waves. 
 
 pose, our notions of them being taken from looking 
 up at them from the hollow between two. Dr Scores- 
 by, a great authority, measured those of the Atlantic 
 in different weathers, and found that they seldom rise 
 above fifteen feet, a great storm only causing them 
 to rise to thirty-five, or, at most, forty feet, as the 
 height of the Atlantic storm-waves, which is very 
 different from ' running mountains high,' as we often 
 hear said. I could not help pitying the men who had 
 to go up to the yards and rigging in the terrible wind 
 and rain, with the ship heaving and rolling so dread- 
 fully, and work with the icy cold sheets and ropes. 
 Poor fellows ! it seems a wonder how they ever can hold 
 on. Indeed, they too often lose their hold, and then 
 there is no hope for them ; down they go, splash into 
 the wild sea, with such a scream of agony as no one 
 can ever forget after having heard it. My brother, on 
 crossing some years after, saw a man thus lost-a fine, 
 healthy Orkneyman, whom some sudden lurch of the 
 ship threw from the outside of the yard. Though it 
 was broad daylight, and though they would have done 
 anything to help him as they saw him rismg on the 
 wave, farther and further behind them, swimmmg 
 brave'ly, they were perfectly unable even to make an 
 effort the sea rolling so wildly, and the ship tearmg on 
 through the waves so swiftly. So they had, with hearts 
 like to break, to let him drown before their very eyes. 
 
 As we got further over we heard a great deal about 
 the Banks of Newfoundland, and, naturally enough, 
 
 MMiHMata 
 
 ^^,...^^',^,^^ ..^kJ^. 
 
mtUlm 
 
 a. from looking 
 ,-0. Dr Scores- 
 of the Atlantic 
 [ley seldom rise 
 r causing them 
 rty feet, as the 
 
 which is very 
 gh,' as we often 
 le men who had 
 he terrible wind 
 oiling so dread- 
 leets and ropes, 
 ley ever can hold 
 ■ hold, and then 
 y go, splash into 
 igony as no one 
 
 My brother, on 
 thus lost — a fine, 
 den lurch of the 
 ard. Though it 
 would have done 
 im rising on the 
 them, swimming 
 jven to make an 
 le ship tearing on 
 y had, with hearts 
 : their very eyes. 
 , great deal about 
 naturally enough, 
 
 T/ie Bottom of the Ocean. o 
 
 tliought the shores of that island were what was 
 meant ; but we found, when we reached them, that it 
 was only the name given to the shallower part of the 
 sea to the south of the coast. The soundings for the 
 electric telegraph have since shown that from Ireland 
 on the one side, and Newfoundland on the other, a 
 level table-land forms the floor of the ocean, at no 
 great depth, for some hundreds of miles, the space 
 between sinking suddenly on both sides into unflithom- 
 able abysses. What the depth of the Atlantic is at 
 the deepest is not known, but I remember seeing a 
 notice of a surveying ship, which had been able to 
 sink a line in the southern section of it to the wonder- 
 ful depth of seven miles, finding the bottom only with 
 that great length of rope. The banks are, no doubt, 
 formed in part from the material carried by the great 
 ocean current which flows up from the Gulf of Mexico, 
 washing the shores all the way; and then, passing 
 Newfoundland, reaches across even to the most north- 
 ern parts of Europe and the Arctic circle. If the 
 quantity of mud, and gravel, and sand deposited on 
 the Banks be great enough to bury some of the many 
 wrecks of ail sizes which go to the bottom there, what 
 a wonderful sight some future ages may have ! The 
 floor of the ocean has often, elsewhere, been gradually 
 or suddenly raised into dry land ; and if the Banks 
 should be so, and the wTecks be buried in them 
 before they had rotted away, geologists of those 
 days will perhaps be laying bare in some quarry. 
 
10 
 
 A Fossil Ship, 
 
 now far down in the sea, the outline of a fossil 
 ship, with all the things it Inul in it when it was 
 
 lost ! 
 
 We met a great many fishing-boats in this part, 
 some from Ncwfoun.lland, some from Nova Scotia, 
 others, again, from the northern coasts of the Umtecl 
 States, with not a few all the way from l-rancc. We 
 were becalmed one day close to some from the State 
 of Maine, and one of them very soon sent off a boat 
 to us with some as fine looking men in it as you could 
 well see, to barter fish with the captain for some pork. 
 For a piece or two of the sailor's mess-pork, which I 
 thought dreadful-looking, it was so yellow and fat, 
 they threw on board cpiitc a number of cod-fish and 
 some haddocks, giving us, I thought, by far the best 
 of the exchange. I am told that a great many of 
 these fishing-vessels are lost every year by storms, 
 and occasionally some are run down and sunk m a 
 moment by a ship passing over them. They are so 
 rash as to neglect hanging out lights in many cases, 
 and the weather is, moreover, often so very foggy, 
 that, even when they do, it is impossible to see them. 
 The ships, if going at all fast, sound fog-horns every 
 now and then on such days-that is, they should do 
 it— but I fear they sometimes forget. There is far 
 less humanity in some peoi>le than one would like to 
 see, even the chance of causing death itself seemmg 
 to give them no concern. I remember once going m 
 a steamer up the Bay of Fundy, over pirt of the same 
 
 I II ■|-'^-^-^''~-^-^-''^-*^ 
 
ine of a fossil 
 it when it was 
 
 its in this part, 
 n Nova Scotia, 
 s of tlic United 
 )m Irancc. We 
 ; from the State 
 I sent off a boat 
 n it as you could 
 n for some pork, 
 jss-pork, which I 
 yellow and fat, 
 of cod-fish and 
 , by far the best 
 a great many of 
 year by storms, 
 n and sunk in a 
 m. They are so 
 3 in many cases, 
 n so very foggy, 
 iible to see them. 
 d fog-horns every 
 s, they should do 
 ^ct. There is far 
 one would like to 
 ath itself seeming 
 ber once going in 
 r piirt of the same 
 
 "\ 
 
 Sec Whales and Icebergs. 
 
 II 
 
 groimd, when we struck a fishing-schooner in the dead 
 of the night ; but the captain only swore at it for being 
 in Iiis wiiy, and never stopped to sec if it were much 
 injured or not, though for anything he or any one 
 knew, it might be in a sinking state. Whether it be 
 thoughtlessness or p.ission at the time, or stony hard- 
 hcartcdness, it is an awfid thing to be unkind. Uncle 
 Toby, who put tiie tly out of the window rather than 
 kill it, makes -is love him for his tenderness even in 
 an instance ;• slight. ' 
 
 One day we saw two whales at a short distance from 
 the ship, but their huge black backs, and the spout 
 of water they made from their breathing-holes when 
 they were taking a fresh breath, was all we saw of 
 them. Some of the youngsters, however, made some 
 sport out of the sight by telling a jjoor simple woman, 
 who had got into the cabin, how they had read of a 
 ship that once struck on a great black island in ftie 
 middle of the sea and went down, and how the 
 sailors got off on the rock, and landed their prcv- 
 visions, and were making themselves comfortable, 
 when one of them unfortunately thought he would 
 kindle a fire to cook sometiing ; bui had hardly done 
 it before they discovered that they had got on the 
 back of a sleeping whale, which no .sooner felt the heat 
 burning it than it plunged down into the waves with 
 all on it ! It is a part of one of the boys' stories we 
 have all read, but the poor creature believed it, 
 listening to them with her eyes fixed on their faces, 
 

 Icebergs. 
 
 12 
 
 ana expressing her pity for the sailors who had made 
 
 the mistake. 
 
 We had two or three icebergs in sight when near 
 Newfoundland, and very beautiful they were. Only 
 think of great mountains of ice shining in the sun with 
 every colour that light can give, and cascades of 
 snowy-white water leaping down their sides into the 
 sea Those we saw were perhaps from eighty to a 
 hundred feet high, but they are sometimes even two 
 hundred ; and as there are eight feet of ice below the 
 water for every one above, this would make a two 
 hundred feet iceberg more than the third of a mile 
 from the bottom to the top. They are formed on the 
 shores of the icy seas in the north, by the alternate 
 melting and freezing of the edge of those ice-rivers 
 which we call glaciers, which get thrust out from the 
 land till they are undermined by the sea, and cracked 
 by'summer thaws, and then tumble into the waters, to 
 find their way wherever the currents may carry them. 
 Dr Kane and Captain M'Clintock both saw them m 
 the different stages of their growth ; and I don't know 
 a more interesting narrative than that of the ascent to 
 the top of the great frozen stream, on the shore of 
 Washington's Land, by the former, and his looking 
 away to the north, east, and south, over the vast, 
 broken, many-coloured continent of ice, which stretches 
 in awful depth and unbroken continuity over Green- 
 land. The icebergs often carry off from the shore a 
 vast quantity of stones and gravel, which gets frozen 
 
 
 luiiiwii <M-r^ 
 
sailors who had made 
 
 rgs in sight when near 
 ;iful they were. Only 
 shining in the sun with 
 give, and cascades of 
 ■n their sides into the 
 ihaps from eighty to a 
 e sometimes even two 
 [it feet of ice below the 
 lis would make a two 
 an the third of a mile 
 rhey are formed on the 
 north, by the alternate 
 :dge of those ice-rivers 
 ret thrust out from the 
 by the sea, and cracked 
 unble into the waters, to 
 irrents may carry them, 
 ntock both saw them in 
 owth ; and I don't know 
 lan that of the ascent to 
 stream, on the shore of 
 former, and his looking 
 i south, over the vast, 
 ent of ice, which stretches 
 1 continuity over Green- 
 rry off from the shore a 
 gravel, which gets frozen 
 
 Porpoises a7id Sea-birds. 
 
 13 
 
 into them. Dr Scoresby says he has seen one of 
 them carrying, he should thin^v, from fifty to a hundred 
 thousand tons of rock on it. It has, no doubt, been 
 m this way that most of the great blocks and boulders 
 of stone, different from any in their neighbourhood, 
 which lie scattered over many parts of the world, have 
 been taken to their present places.* 
 
 I must not forget the porpoises— great pig-like fish, 
 which once or twice mocked us by racing alongside, 
 darting a-head every now and then like arrows, as if 
 to show us how slow we were in comparison — nor the 
 birds, which never left us the whole way, and must 
 sleep on the water when they do sleep — nor the beauti- 
 ful lights which shone in the sea at night. We used 
 to sit at the stern looking at them for long together. 
 The ridges of the waves would sometimes seem all on 
 fire, and streaks and spots of light would follow 
 the ship with every mome it's progress. Sometimes, 
 as the water rushed round the stem and up from 
 beneath, they would glitter like a shower of stars or 
 diamonds, joining presently in a sheet of flame. Now 
 they would look like balls of glowing metal; then, 
 presently, they would pass like ribbons of light. 
 There was no end to the combinations or changes of 
 beauty ; the very water joined to heighten them by its 
 
 • What is kno-TP as the 'boulder clay,' however, seems 
 rather to be the imraine of ancient glaciers— that is, the wrecK 
 of broken i:ocks torn away by tliem in their passage through the 
 valleys, and now left bare by their having melted away. 
 
 ..aMitmmitimimii 
 
u 
 
 Lights in the Sea. 
 
 f i 
 
 ceaseless mingling of colours, from the whitest foam, 
 through every shade of green, to the dark mass of the 
 ocean around. These appearances come from the 
 presence of myriads of creatures of all sizes, chiefly the 
 different kinds of Sea-nettles,* some of which are so 
 small as to need a microscope to show their parts, 
 while others form large masses, and shine like the 
 suns of these watery constellations. They are lumin- 
 ous by a phosphoric light they are able to secrete ; 
 their brilliancy being thus jf the same kind as that 
 which smokes and burns in the dark from the skin of 
 fish, and makes the lights in so many different insects. 
 The phosphorus used in manufactures is obtained 
 from burned bones. I have often seen a similar light 
 in the back woods on the old half-rotteu stumps of 
 trees which had been cut down. The glow-worm of 
 England and the fire-fly of Canada are familiar ex- 
 amples of the same wonderful power of self-illumin- 
 ation. Indeed, few countries are without some 
 species of insect possessing this characteristic. One 
 can't help thinking how universal life is when they see 
 it as it IS shown in these sights at sea— millions on 
 millions of shining creatures in the path of a single 
 ship ; and the happiness which life gives us in our 
 youth makes us admire the kindness of God, who, by 
 making everything so full of it, has crowded the air, 
 and earth, and waters with so much enjoyment. 
 
 • The jelly-fish, or medusa, which we so often see on our 
 beaches, is a familiar example of the class. 
 
 :.^ ., .-^jl^^VJl-..', i ' »-,..i»„f, t«^ 
 
 J 
 
lie w'-iitest foam, 
 dark mass of the 
 come from the 
 I sizes, chiefly the 
 of which are so 
 show their parts, 
 I shine like the 
 They are lumin- 
 able to secrete ; 
 me kind as that 
 from the skin of 
 ^ different insects, 
 ures is obtained 
 ;en a similar light 
 r-rotteu stumps of 
 'he glow-worm of 
 I are familiar ex- 
 sr of self-illumin- 
 e without some 
 iracteristic. One 
 e is when they see 
 sea — millions on 
 e path of a single 
 e gives us in our 
 s of God, who, by 
 crowded the air, 
 enjoyment. 
 
 ; so often see on our 
 
 Thick Ice-fogs. it 
 
 Our sabbaths on board were not quite like those at 
 home ; but, as we had a clergyman with us, who was 
 going with his family to a chaplaincy in tjie Far West, 
 we had prayers and sermons in the forenoon, when 
 the weather permitted. But a good many of the 
 l)assengers were not very respectful to the day, and 
 some, who, I dare say, were very orderly on Sundays 
 at home, seemed to act as if to be on a voyage made 
 every day a week-day. 
 
 We were now in the great Gulf of St Lawrence, 
 which was called so because Cabot, who discovered 
 it, chanced to do so on the day set apart to that saint. 
 But we were some time in it before we saw land, and 
 there was more care taken about the position of the 
 ship than ever before, for fear we should, like so 
 many vessels, fall foul of the island of Anticosti, or 
 run on shore in a fog. We had had thick weather 
 occasionally from our approaching Newfoundland, and 
 it still prevailed now and then till we got near Quebec. 
 The icebergs coming down from the north, and the 
 different temperature of the air coming over them and 
 over the great frozen regions, cause these thick mists 
 by condensing the evaporation from the warmer sea 
 and preventing its rising into the air. We could 
 sometimes hardly see the length of the bowsprit before 
 us, and as the sun would be shut out for days 
 together, so that we could not find out our position, it 
 made every one anxious and half afraid. Many ships 
 are lost by being muffled in these thick clouds. They 
 
 mm 
 
. J 6 Sailing tip the River. 
 
 drive, at full speed, against icebergs or on sunken 
 rocks, or ashore on the wild coast, when they think 
 themselves safe in an open clear sea. I often won- 
 dered when crossing again, some years after, in a 
 great steamer, how we ever escaped. On we would 
 go in it, with the fog-bell ringing and horns blowmg, 
 to be sure, but in perfect blind ignorance of what lay 
 a few yards ahead. Other ships, icebergs, rocks, or 
 the iron shore, might be close at hand, yet on, on, up 
 and down went the great shafts, and beat, beat, went 
 the huge paddle-wheels— the ship trembling all over, 
 as if even it were half uneasy. It is a wonder, not 
 that so many, but that so few, ships should be lost, 
 covering the sea as they do at all seasons, like great 
 flocks of seafowl. 
 
 ' After a time the land became visible at last, first 
 on one side and then on the other, and the pilot was 
 taken on board— a curious looking man to most of us, 
 in his extraordinary mufflings, and with his broken 
 French-English. As we sailed up the river the views 
 on the banks became very pleasing. The white 
 houses, with their high roofs, like those we see in 
 pictures of Fiench chateaux, and the churches roofed 
 with tin, and as white underneath as the others, and 
 the line of fields of every shade, from the brown earth 
 to the dark green wheat, and the curious zigzag wooden 
 fences, and the solemn woods, every here and there 
 coming out at the back of the picture, like great grim 
 sentinels of the land, made it impossible to stay away 
 
 ■MMa 
 
J3 or on sunken 
 , when they think 
 ;a. I often won- 
 years after, in a 
 I. On we would 
 id horns blowing, 
 •ranee of what lay 
 icebergs, rocks, or 
 nd, yet on, on, up 
 d beat, beat, went 
 trembling all over, 
 is a wonder, not 
 )s should be lost, 
 seasons, like great 
 
 I'isible at last, first 
 r, and the pilot was 
 
 man to most of us, 
 d with his broken 
 
 the river the views 
 ising. The white 
 :e those we see in 
 the churches roofed 
 1 as the others, and 
 om the brown earth 
 irious zigzag wooden 
 very here and there 
 ture, like great grim 
 )ossible to stay away 
 
 Sailing 7ip the River. 
 
 i? 
 
 from the deck. Then there were the grand sunsets, 
 with the water like glass, and the shores reflected in 
 them far down into their depths, and the curtains of 
 gold and crimsp- in the west, where the sun sank out 
 of sight, and light changing into crimson, and 
 
 violet and green, by turns, as the twilight faded into 
 night. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Quebec-Wolfe-Montcalm'sskun-Toronlo-Wesetoffforthc 
 bush-Mud-roads-A rouyh ride-0«r log-house-How 
 ta, built-Our barn-We get oxen and cows-L ephant and 
 Buckeye-Unpacking our stores-What some of our ne.gh- 
 boars brought when they came-Hot days-Bush cos.un.es-- 
 Sun-strokes-My sisters have to turn salamandcrs-Our part 
 of the house-work. 
 
 lUR landing at Quebec was only for a very 
 short time, till some freight was delivered, 
 our vessel having to go up to Montreal 
 ■ before we left it. But we had stay 
 
 enough to let us climb the narrow streets of this the 
 oldest of Canadian cities, and to see some of its 
 sights The view from different points was unspeak- 
 ably grand to us after being so long pent up m a shtj. 
 Indeed, in itself, it is very fine. Cape Diamond and 
 he forlifications hanging high in the atr-tW great 
 basin below, like a sheet of the purest silver where a 
 'hundred sail of the line might nde - -f^^y-the 
 village spires and the fields of every s^ape. dotted 
 vith countless white cottages, the silver thread of the 
 River St Charles winding hither and thtther among 
 Lm. and. in the distance, shutting in this vaned 
 
to— We set off for the 
 log-house— How it 
 cows— Elephant and 
 some of our neigh- 
 s-Bush costumes— 
 lamanders— Our part 
 
 as only for a very 
 ght was delivered, 
 ;o up to Montreal 
 But we had stay 
 ;treets of this, the 
 ) see some of its 
 loints was unspeak- 
 ; pent up in a ship. 
 ;ape Diamond and 
 the air— the great 
 •est silver, where a 
 ide in safety— the 
 very shape, dotted 
 silver thread of the 
 and thither among 
 ting in this varied 
 
 Montcalm's Skull. . 19 
 
 loveliness, a range of lofty mountains, purple and 
 blue by turns, standing out against the sky in every 
 form of picturesque beauty, made altogether a glorious 
 panorama. 
 
 Of course, the great sight of sights to a Briton is the 
 field of battle on the Plains of Abraham, where Wolfe* 
 on the 13th September, 1759, won for us, at the price 
 of his own life, the magnificent colonies of what is now 
 British North America. Wolfe's body was taken to 
 England for burial, and now lies in the vault below the 
 parish church at Greenwich. That of Montcalm, the 
 French general, who, also, was killed in the battle, was 
 buried in the Ursuline Convent, where they showed us 
 a ghastly relic of him-his fleshless, eyeless skull, kept 
 now in a little glass case, as if it were a thing fit to be 
 exhibited. It was to me a horrible sight to look at the 
 grinning death's head, and think that it was once the 
 seat of the gallant spirit who died so nobly at his post. 
 His virtues, which all honour, are his fitting memorial 
 in every mind, and his appropriate monument is the 
 tomb erected by his victorious enemies — not this 
 parading h-'m in the dishonour and humiliation of the 
 grave. It is the spirit of which we speak when we talk 
 of a hero, and there is nothing in common with it and 
 the poor mouldering skull that once contained it. 
 
 Quebec is, as I have said, a beautiful place in sum- 
 mer, but it must be bad enough in winter. The snow 
 hes till well on in May, and it is so deep that, in the 
 country, everything but houses and trees and other high 
 
 :j>- • -^.vm-* 
 
 
■^ 
 
 Toro7tio. 
 
 objects are covered. The whole landscape is one un- 
 broken sheet of white, over which you may go in any 
 direction without meeting or seeing the smallest 
 obstacle. But people get used to anything ; and even 
 the terrible cold is so met and resisted by double 
 window-saslies, and fur caps, and gloves, and coats, 
 , that the inhabitants seem actually to enjoy it. 
 ' When we got to Toronto, we found that my brother 
 Robert, who was already in the country, had been 
 travelling in different directions to look out a place for 
 us, and had at length bought a farm in the township of 
 Bidport, on the banks of the River St Clair. We 
 therefore stayed no longer in Toronto than possible, 
 but it took us some time to get everything put right 
 after the voyage, and we were further detained by a 
 letter from my brother, telling us that the house on 
 the farm could not be got ready for us for a week 
 or two longer. We had thus plenty of time to look 
 about us, and strange enough everythmg seemed. 
 The town is very different now-a-days ; but, then, it was 
 a straggling collection of wooden houses of all sizes and 
 shapes, a large one next to a miserable one-storey shell, 
 placed with its end to the street. There were a few 
 brick houses, but only a few. The streets were like a 
 newly-ploughed field in rainy-weather, for mud, the 
 waggons often sinking almost to the axles in it. Tliere 
 was no gas, and the pavements were both few and bad. 
 It has come to be a fine place now, but to us it seemed 
 very wretched. While we were waiting, we laid in 
 

 Mtid- roads. 
 
 21 
 
 Iscjpe is one un- 
 )u may go in any 
 ig the smallest 
 ^tiling ; and even 
 sisted by double 
 loves, and coats, 
 enjoy it. 
 
 d that my brother 
 untry, had been 
 ok out a place for 
 in the township of 
 tcx St Clair. We 
 nto than possible, 
 /erything put right 
 tier detained by a 
 that the house on 
 or us for a week 
 ty of time to look 
 verything seemed. 
 ^s;but, then, itwas 
 luses of all sizes and 
 ble one-storey shell. 
 There were a few 
 ; streets were like a 
 ither, for mud, the 
 c axles in it. There 
 e both few and bad. 
 but to us it seemed 
 waiting, we laid in 
 
 ^\'^^atever provision we thought we would need for a 
 good while, everything being much cheaper in Toronto 
 tlian away in the bush. A month or less saw us moving, 
 my sisters going with Andrew and Henry by water, 
 while Frederic was left behind in an office ; Robert, 
 my Canadian brother, and I, going by land, to get some 
 business done up the country as we passed. The stage 
 in which we took our places was a huge affair, hung on 
 leatiier springs, with a broad shelf behind, supported 
 by straps from the upper corners, for the luggage. 
 There were three seats, the middle one movable, wliich 
 it needed to be, as it came exactly in the centre of the 
 door. The machine and its load were drawn by four 
 iiorses, rough enough, but of good bottom, as they say. 
 The first few miles were very pleasant, for they had 
 been macadamized, but after that, what travelling ! 
 The roads had not yet dried up after the spring rains 
 and thaws, and as they were only mud, and much 
 travelled, the most the horses could do was to pull us 
 througli at a walk. AVhen we came to a very deep 
 hole, we had to get out till the coach floundered through 
 it. Every here and there, where the water had over- 
 flowed from the bush and washed the road completely 
 away in its passage across it, the ground was strewn 
 with rails which had been taken from the nearest fences 
 to hoist out some wheels that had stuck fast. At some 
 places there had been a wholesale robbery of rails, 
 which had been thrown into a gap of this kind in tlie 
 road, till it was practicable for travellers or waggons. 
 
 W**- 
 
mmm 
 
 22 
 
 A Roiir/i Ride. 
 
 ,r' 
 
 After a time we had to bid adieu to the comforts of a 
 coach and betake ourselves to a great open waggon— 
 a mere strong box, set on four wheels, with pieces of 
 plank laid across the top for seats. In this affair— some 
 ten feet long and about four broad— we went through 
 some of the worst stages. But, beyond Hamilton, we 
 got back our coach again, and for a time went on 
 smoothly enough, till we reached a swamp, which had 
 to be crossed on a road made of trees cut into lengths 
 and laid side by side, tuoir ends resting on the trunks 
 of others placed lengthwise. You may think how 
 smooth it would be, with each log a different size from 
 the one next it— a great patriarch of the woods rising 
 high between 'babes' half its thickness. The whole 
 fabric had, moreover, sunk pretty nearly to the level of 
 the water, and the alder bushes every here and there 
 overhung the edges. As we reached it late at night, 
 and there was neither moon nor stars, and a yard too 
 much either way would have sent coach and all into 
 the water, men had to be got from the nearest house 
 to go at the horses' heads with lanterns, and the 
 passengers were politely requested to get out, and 
 stumble on behind as they could, except two ladies, 
 who were allowed to stay and be battered up and down 
 inside, instead of having to sprawl on in the dark with 
 us. This was my first experience of ' corduroy roads,' 
 but we had several more stretches of them before we 
 got to our journey's end. T have long ago learned all 
 the varieties of badness of which roads are capable, and 
 
 
A Rough Ride. 
 
 ^3 
 
 le comforts of a 
 
 open waggon — 
 Is, with pieces of 
 this affair — some 
 we went through 
 tid Hamilton, we 
 
 a time went on 
 wamp, which had 
 IS cut into lengths 
 :ing on the trunks 
 
 may think how 
 different size from 
 F the woods rising 
 ness. The whole 
 arly to the level of 
 ;ry here and there 
 ed it late at night, 
 re, and a yard too 
 coach and all into 
 
 the nearest house 
 lanterns, and the 
 
 to get out, and 
 except two ladies, 
 :tered up and down 
 )n in the dark with 
 f ' corduroy roads,' 
 of them before we 
 ong ago learned all 
 ids are capable, and 
 
 question whether 'corduroy' is entitled to the first 
 rank. TlicTe is a kind made of thick planks, laid side 
 by side, wliich, when they get old and broken, may 
 bid fair for the palm. I have seen a stout, elderly 
 lady, when the coach was at a good trot, bumped fairly 
 against the roof by a sudden hole and the shock 
 against tlie plank at the other side. But, indeed, 
 ' corduroy ' is dreadful. \Vhen we came to it I tried 
 everything to save my poor bones — sitting on my hands, 
 or raising my body on them — but it was of little use ; on 
 we went, thump, thump, thumping against one log after 
 another, and this, in the last part of our journey, with 
 the bare boards of an open waggon for seats once more. 
 It was bad enough in the coach with stuffed seats, but 
 it was awful on the hard wood. But we got through 
 without an actual upset or breakdown, which is more 
 than a friend of mine could say, for the coach in which 
 he was went into so deep a mud-hole at one part of the 
 road, that it fairly overturned, throwing the passengers 
 on the top of one another inside, and leaving them no 
 way of exit, when they came to themselves, but to crawl 
 out through the window. It was fine weather, how- 
 ever, and the leaves were making the woods beautiful, 
 and the birds had begun to flit about, so that the cheer- 
 fulness of nature kept us from thinking much of our 
 troubles. It took us three days to go a hundred and 
 fifty miles, and we stopped on the way besides for my 
 brother's business, so that the rest of our party had 
 reached our new home, by their route, before us. 
 
 WWO IIi lll I M 
 
•4 
 
 Our Log-house. 
 
 The look of the house whicli was to be our dwelling; 
 was novel enough to me, with my old ideas about 
 houses still in my head. It was built a little back 
 froi.i the river, far enough to give room for a garden 
 when we had time to make one ; and tlie trees had 
 been cut down from the water's edge to some distance 
 behind the house to make tilings a little more cheery, 
 an<l also to prevent the risk of any of them falling on 
 our establishment in a high winil. The house itself 
 had, in fact, been built of the logs procured by felling 
 these patriarchs of tlie forest, every one of which liad, as 
 usual on Canadian farms, been cut down. My brother 
 had left special instructions to spare some of the 
 smaller ones, but the ' chopper ' had understood him 
 exactly the wrong way, and had cut down those 
 pointed out with especial zeal as the objects of his 
 greatest dislike. Buildin;.: the house must have been 
 very heavy work, for it was made of great logs, the 
 whole thickness of the trees, piled one on another, a 
 story and a half high. The neighbours had made 
 what they call a • bee ' to help to ' raise ' it— that is, 
 they had coine without expecting wages, but with the 
 understanding that each would get back from us, when 
 he wanted it, as many days' labour as he had given. 
 They ronna^re a difficult business Uke that of getting up 
 the outside of a log-honse more easily than one would 
 think. First, the logs are cut into the proper lengths 
 for tlie sides and the ends ; then they are notched at 
 the end to make them keep together ; then au equal 
 

 ) be our dwcUiug 
 
 old ideas about 
 Liilt a little ba'.k 
 um for a garden 
 ul the trees had 
 to some distance 
 ttle more cheery, 
 f them falling on 
 
 The house itself 
 rocured by felling 
 e of which had, as 
 own. My broUier 
 are some of the 
 1 understood him 
 
 cut down those 
 he objects of his 
 ; must have been 
 of great logs, the 
 )ne on another, a 
 libours had made 
 
 raise' it— that is, 
 ages, but with the 
 jack from us, when 
 
 as he had given. 
 e that of getting up 
 iily than one would 
 ;he proper lengths 
 ley are notched at 
 erj then au equal 
 
 Hoxo it was Built. 
 
 n 
 
 number are put at the four sides to be ready, and i,!ie 
 first sta|,'c is over. 'I'lie next step is to get four laid 
 in the i)roper positions on the ground, and then to get 
 up the rest, layer by layer, on llie top of eadi other, 
 till the whole are in their places. It is a terrible strain 
 on the men, for there is nothing but sheer strength to 
 help them, except that they put poles from the top of 
 the last log raised, to the ground, and then, with 
 handspokcs, force another uj) the slope to its destined 
 position. I have known many men terribly wrenched 
 by the handspokc of some other one slipping and 
 letting the whole weight of one end come upon the 
 person next him. The logs at the front and back 
 were all fully twenty feet long, and some of them 
 eighteen inches thick, so that you may judge their , 
 weight. After the square frame had been thus piled \\\\ ' 
 windows and a door where cut with axes, a board at 
 tlie sides of each keeping the enils of the logs in their 
 places. You may wonder how this could be done, but 
 backwoodsmen are so skilful with the axe that it was 
 done very neatly. The sashes for the windows and 
 the ijlanking for different i)arts of the house were got 
 from a saw-mill some distance off, across the river, and 
 my brother put in the glass. Of course there were a 
 great many chinks between the logs, but these were 
 filled up, as well ac possible, with billets and chips of 
 wood, the whole being finally coated and made air- 
 tight with mortar. 'I'hus the logs looked as if built up 
 with lime, the great black trunks of -the trees alternat- 
 
 imtj i i'jw i niw 
 
 lAfBaMMMK 
 
 r"-^ 
 
a6 
 
 Oitr Los[-house. 
 
 ing with the grey belts between. The frame of the 
 roof was made of round poles, flattened un the top, on 
 which boards were put, and these again were covered 
 with shingles— a kind of wooden slate made of split 
 pine, which answers very well. 'I'he angles at the 
 ends were filled up with logs fitted to the length, and 
 fixed in their places by wooden pins driven through 
 the roof-pole at each corner. On the whole house 
 there were no nails used at all, except on the roof. 
 Wooden pins, and an auger to make holes, made every- 
 thing fast. Inside, it was an extraordinary place. The 
 floor was paved with pine slabs, the outer planks cut from 
 logs, with the round side down, and fixed by wooden 
 pins to sleepers made of thin young trees, cut the right 
 lengths. Overhead, a number of similar round poles, 
 about the thickness of a man's leg, supported the floor 
 of the upper story, which was to be my sisters' bed- 
 room. They had planks, however, instead of boards, 
 in honour of their sex, perhaps. They had to climb 
 to this paradise by an extraordinary ladder, made with 
 the never-failing axe and auger out of green, round 
 wood. I used always to think of Robinson Crusoe 
 getting into his fortification when I saw them going 
 
 up. 
 
 The chimney was a wonderful affair. It was large 
 
 enough to let you walk up most of the way, and could 
 hold, I can't tell how many logs, four or five feet long, 
 for a fire. It was built of mud, and when whitewashed 
 looked very well— at least we came to like it ; it was 
 
 ■'"mm 
 
 :>.J^ 
 
 kil 
 
nise. 
 
 n. The frame of the 
 lattened un the top, on 
 ;se again were covered 
 len slate made of split 
 1. Ihe angles at the 
 tted to the length, and 
 2n pins driven through 
 On the whole house 
 1, except on the roof, 
 nake holes, made every- 
 ;traordinary place. The 
 he outer planks cut from 
 1, and fixed by wooden 
 oung trees, cut the right 
 of similar round poles, 
 leg, supported the floor 
 5 to be my sisters' bed- 
 ^ever, instead of boards, 
 )s. They had to climb 
 linary ladder^ made with 
 ;er out of green, round 
 nk of Robinson Crusoe 
 when I saw them going 
 
 rful affair. It was large 
 )st of the way, and could 
 )gs, four or five feet long, 
 d, and when whitewashed 
 t came to like it ; it was 
 
 How it "jjas Built. 
 
 -m 
 
 so clean and cheerful in the winter-time. But we had 
 to pull it down some years after, and get one built of 
 brick, as it was always getting out of repair. A par- 
 tition was put up across the middle and then divided 
 again, and tliis made two bed-rooms for my brothers, 
 and left us our solitary room which was to serve for 
 kitchen, dining-room, and drawing-room, the outer 
 door opening into it. As to paint, it was out of the 
 question, but we had lime for whitewash, and what with 
 it and some newspapers which my brothers pasted up in 
 their bed-rooms, and a few pictures we brought from 
 home, we thought we were quite stylish. There was 
 no house any better, at any rate, in the neighbourl- ood, 
 and, I suppose, we judged by that. 
 
 To keep out the rain and the cold— for rats were 
 not known on the river for some years after— the 
 whole of the bottom log outside had to be banked up 
 after our arrival, the earth being dug up all round and 
 thrown against it. The miserable shanties in which 
 somf. settlers manage to live for a time are half buried 
 by this process, and the very wretched ones built by 
 labourers alongside publi- works while making, look 
 more like natural mounds than human habitations. I 
 have often thought it was a curious thing to see how 
 people, when in the same, or nearly the - '^\q, circum- 
 stances, fall upon similar plans, -in - / the Indians 
 in America, for instance, uted .,> -nnk a pit fo.- a house 
 and build it round with .;,-«■ putting a roof on the 
 walls, which reached oi'.v a li;tle above the ground. 
 
28 
 
 Our Log-house. 
 
 and antiquarians tell us that the early Scotch did the 
 very same. Then Xenophon, long ago, and Curzon, 
 in our day, tell us how they were often like to fall 
 through the roof of the houses in Armenia into the 
 middle of the family huddled up, with their oxen, 
 beneath, their dwellings being burrowed into the side 
 of a slope, and showing no signs of their presence 
 from above. But our house was not like this, I am 
 happy to say ; it was on the ground, not in it, and 
 was very warm for Canada, when the wind did not 
 come against the door, which was a very poor on ^f 
 inch-thick wood. The thickness of the logs kept c . 
 the cold wonderfully, though that is a very ambiguous 
 word for a Canadian house, which would need to be 
 made two logs thick to be warm without tremendous 
 fires— at least, in the open unsheltered country. 'I'he 
 houses made of what they call * clap-boards '—that is, 
 of narrow boards three-quarters of an inch thick, and 
 lathed and plastered inside— are very much colder; 
 indeed, they are, iri my opinion, awful, in any part of 
 them Miere a fire is not kept up all winter. 
 
 One thing struck me very much, that locks and 
 bolts seemed to be thought very useless things. Most 
 of the doors had only wooden latches, made with an 
 axe or a knife, and fastened at night by a wooden pin 
 stuck in above the bar. We got v.alei from the river 
 close at hand ; a plank run out into the stream form- 
 ing what they called ' a wharf,' to let us get depth 
 enough for our pitchers and pails. 
 

 cotch did the 
 , and Curzon, 
 ;n like to fall 
 lenia into the 
 h their oxen, 
 1 into the side 
 their presence 
 ike this, I am 
 not /// it, and 
 wind did not 
 ry poor on "^i 
 i logs kept c >. 
 /ery ambiguous 
 aid need to be 
 )ut tremendous 
 country, 'i'he 
 oards'— that is, 
 inch thick, and 
 much colder; 
 in any part of 
 liter. 
 
 lat locks and 
 s things. Most 
 I, made with an 
 y a wooden pin 
 1 from the river 
 le stream form- 
 ;t US get depth 
 
 We get Oxen and Cows. 
 
 29 
 
 Besides the house, my brother had got a bam built 
 not far from the house — of course a log one — on the 
 piece clear of trees. It was about the size of the 
 house, but the chinks between the logs were not so 
 carefully filled up as in it. The squirrels, indeed, soon 
 found this out, and were constantly running in and out 
 when we had any grain in it. The upf>er part was to 
 hold our hay, and half of the ground-floor was for our 
 other crops, the cows having the remainder for their 
 habitation. We bought a yoke of oxen — that is, two 
 — a few days after our arrival, and we began with two 
 cows, one of them a pretty fair milker, but the other, 
 which had been bought at an extra price, was chosen 
 by Robert for its fine red skin, and never had given 
 much milk, and never did. The oxen, great unwieldy 
 brutes, were pretty well broken ; but they were so dif- 
 ferent from anything we had ever seen for ploughing 
 or drawing a waggon, that we were all rather afraid of 
 their horns at first, and not very fond of having any- 
 thing to do with them. We had bought a plough and 
 harrows, and I don't know what else, before coming up, 
 •".nd h;id brought a great many things besides from 
 En;;!.i. ■ -''■ that we had a pretty fair beginning in farm 
 imrlenipn*' An ox-waggon was very soon added to 
 a pu"ch?ises — a rough affair as could be. It was 
 r jI!\ rg lut two planks for the bottom and one for each 
 side, ^vuh shoi' pieces at the ends, like the waggon- 
 stage, on the road fron. Toronto — a long box on four 
 wheels, about the height of a cart. The boards were 
 
u^ 
 
 30 
 
 Elephant and Buckeye. 
 
 quite loose, to let them rise and fall in going over the 
 roads when they were bad. The oxen were fastened 
 to this machine by a yoke, which is a heavy piece of 
 hard wood, with a hollow at each end for the back of 
 the necks of the oxen, and an iron ring in the middle, 
 on the under side, to slip over a pin at the end of the 
 waggon-pole, the oxen being secured to it by two thin 
 collars of .a toug!' wood called hickory, which were 
 ;'ist pieces bent to fit their deep n-^xks, the ends being 
 pushed up through two holes in che yokes at each side, 
 ^:,Z. fastened by pins at the top. There was no har- 
 ness of any kind, and no reins, a long wand serving to 
 guide them. I used at first to think it was a very 
 brave thing to put the yoke on them or take it off. 
 
 The namtd of our two were Elephant and Buckeye, 
 the one, as his name showed, a great creature, but as 
 lazy as he was huge ; the other, a much nicer beast, 
 somewhat smaller, and a far better worker. They 
 were both red and white, and so patient and quiet that 
 I used to be ashamed of myself when I got angry at 
 them for their solemn slowness and stupidity. Had 
 we been judges of cattle we might have got much 
 better ones for the money they cost us ; but my brother 
 Andrew, who bought them, had never had any more 
 to do with oxen till then than to help to eat them at 
 dinner. However, we never bought anything more 
 from the man who sold us them. 
 
 Our first concern when we had got fairly into the 
 house was to help to get the furniture and luggage 
 
 v^ 
 
going over the 
 1 were fastened 
 
 heavy piece of 
 for the back of 
 J in the middle, 
 
 the end of the 
 ) it by two thin 
 ry, which were 
 
 the ends being 
 :es at each side, 
 sre was no har- 
 vand serving to 
 t it was a very 
 r take it off. 
 t and Buckeye, 
 :reature, but as 
 ch nicer beast, 
 ivorker. They 
 t and quiet that 
 
 I got angry at 
 tupidity. Had 
 lave got much 
 but my brother 
 
 had any more 
 to eat them at 
 anything more 
 
 fairly into the 
 e aiid luggage 
 
 Unpacking our Stores. 
 
 31 
 
 brought from the wharf, two miles off, for we had to 
 leave everything except our bedding there on landing. 
 It was a great job to get all into the waggon, and then 
 to open it after reaching the house. The wharf was 
 a long wooden structure, built of logs driven into the 
 shallow bed of the river for perhaps a hundred yards 
 out to the deep water, and planked over. There was 
 a broad place at the end to turn a waggon, but so 
 much of it was heaped up with what they called ' cord- 
 wood '—that is, wood for fuel, cut four feet long— that 
 it took some management to get this done. A man 
 whom we had hired as servant of all work, at two 
 pounds and his board and lodging a-month, brought 
 down the waggon, and I shall never forget how we 
 laughed at his shouting and roaring all the way to the 
 oxen, as he walked at their heads with a long beach 
 wand in his hand. He never ceased bellowing at 
 them in rough, angry names, except to vary them by 
 orders, such as Haw ! Gee ! Woa ! Hup ! which were 
 very ridiculous when roared at their ears loud enough 
 to have let them know his wishes if they had been on 
 the other side of the river. Somehow, every one who 
 drives oxen in Canada seems to have got into the same 
 plan ; we ourselves, indeed, fell into it more than I 
 would have thought after a time. When we had begun 
 to move the luggage, what boxes on boxes had to be 
 lifted ! We all lent a hand, but it was hard work. 
 There was the piano, and the eight-day clock, in a 
 box like a coffin, and carpets, and a huge wardrobe, 
 
3^ 
 
 Unpacking our Stores. 
 
 packed full of I don't know what, large enough to 
 have done for a travelling show, and boxes of books, 
 and crockery, and tables, and a great carpenter's chest, 
 not to speak of barrels of oatmeal, and flour, and salt, 
 and one of split peas. I think the books were the 
 heaviest, except that awful wardrobe and the chest of 
 drawers, which were all packed full of something. 
 But they paid over and over for all the trouble and 
 weight, proving the greatest possible blessing. If we 
 had not brought them we would have turned half- 
 savages, I suppose, for there were none to buy nearer 
 than eighty or ninety miles, and, besides, we would 
 not have had money to buy them. We had a whole 
 set of Sir Walter Scott's charming stories, which did 
 us a world of good, both by helping us to spend the 
 winter evenings pleasantly, by the great amount of 
 instruction in history and antiquarian lore they con- 
 tained, and by showing my young sisters, especially, 
 that all the world were not like the rude people about 
 us. They got a taste for elegance and refinement from 
 them that kept them ladies in their feelings while they 
 had only the life of servants. 
 
 When we had got all the things into the house, the 
 next thing was to unpack them. A large pier-glass, 
 which would have been very useful, but rather out of 
 the way in such a house, was discovered to be shivered 
 to fragments ; and some crockery had found the shak- 
 ing on the journey too much for its powers of resist- 
 ance. That horrid wardrobe, which had sprained our 
 
large enough to 
 boxes of books, 
 carpenter's chest, 
 id flour, and salt, 
 i books were the 
 and the chest of 
 ill of something. 
 11 the trouble and 
 I blessing. If we 
 have turned half- 
 one to buy nearer 
 oesides, we would 
 We had a whole 
 stories, which did 
 ig us to spend the 
 ; great amount of 
 •ian lore they con- 
 sisters, especially, 
 rude people about 
 nd refinement from 
 feelings while they 
 
 into the house, the 
 A large pier-glass, 
 il, but rather out of 
 leered to be shivered 
 had found the shak- 
 its powers of resist- 
 ch had sprained our 
 
 What some of our Neighbours brought j,^ 
 
 backs to get on the waggon, would barely go in at the 
 door, and we were very much afraid at first, that, after 
 bringing it more than three thousand miles, we should 
 have to roof it over, cut holes in it, and make it a 
 hen-house. It was all but too large, like the picture 
 m the ' Vicar of Wakefield,' which would not go in at 
 any door when it was brought home. There was not 
 room for nearly all our furniture, and one end of my 
 •sisters' loft was packed like a broker's store-room with 
 part of It. My brother's being in America before had 
 however, saved us from bringing as outrageous things' 
 as some who afterwards settled in the neighbourhood 
 I remember one family who brought ever so many 
 huge heavy grates, not knowing that there was no coal 
 m Canada, and that they were useless. They would 
 mdeed, be able to get Ohio coal now. in the large; 
 owns ; but there was none then anywhere. The only 
 fuel burned all through the country parts, in fireplaces, 
 i. . still, great thick pieces of split logs, four feet long 
 One settler from Ireland had heard that there were a 
 great many rattlesnakes in Canada; and as he had 
 been a cavalry volunteer, and had the accoutrements, 
 he brought a brass helmet, a regulation sabre, buck! ' 
 skin breeches, and jack-boots with him. that he might 
 march safely through the jungle which he supposed l.e 
 hould find on his route. The young clerg^an who 
 af^rwards came out had a different fear. He thought 
 there might be no houses for him to sleep in at nights, 
 and brought out a hammock to swing up under the 
 
 3 
 
34 IVhat some of our Neighbours brought. 
 
 Irees. What he thought the people to whom he was 
 to preach lived in, I don't know ; perhaps he fancied 
 we cooked our dinners under the trees, and lived 
 without houses, like the Indians. In some countries, 
 hammocks are used in travelling through uninhabited 
 places, on account of the poisonous insects on the 
 ground and the thickness of .he vegetation ; but in 
 Canada such a thing is never heard of, houses being 
 always within reach in the parts at all settled ; and 
 travellers sleep on the ground when beyond the limits 
 of civilization. But to sleep in the open air at all 
 makes one such a figure before morning with mosquito- 
 bites, that nobody would try it a second time, if he 
 could help it. I was once on a journey up Lake 
 Huron, of which I shall speak by and by, where we 
 had to sleep a night on the ground, and, what with 
 ants running over us, and with the mosquitoes, we had 
 a most wretched time of it. A friend who was with 
 me had his nose so bitten that it was thicker above than 
 below, and looked exactly as if it had been turned up- 
 side down in the dark. 
 
 It took us some time to get everything fairly in 
 order, but it was all done after a while. We were all in 
 good health j everything before us was new ; and the 
 weather, though very warm, was often delightful in the 
 evenings. Through the day it was sometimes very 
 oppressive, and we had hot nights now and then that 
 were still worse. A sheet seemed as heavy as if it had 
 been a pair of blankets, and when we were sure the 
 
ours brought. 
 
 i to whom he was 
 erhaps he fancied 
 
 trees, and lived 
 n some countries, 
 ough uninhabited 
 us insects on the 
 regetation ; but in 
 i of, houses being 
 it all settled ; and 
 
 beyond the limits 
 he open air at all 
 ling with mosquito- 
 second time, if he 
 I journey up Lake 
 and by, where we 
 nd, and, what with 
 mosquitoes, we had 
 lend who was with 
 s thicker above than 
 iiad been turned up- 
 
 everything fairly in 
 [lile. We were all in 
 s was new ; and the 
 ften delightful in the 
 was sometimes very 
 s now and then that 
 
 as heavy as if it had 
 en we were sure the 
 
 Hot Days. - - 
 
 door was fast, we were glad to throw even it aside 
 We always took a long rest at noon till the sun got 
 somewhat cooler, but the heat was bad enough even 
 m the shade. I have known it pretty nearly, if not 
 quue, loo" some days in the house. I remember hear- 
 mg some old gentlemen once talking about it, and 
 telhng each other how they did to escape it : the one 
 declared that the coolest part of the house was below 
 the bed and the other, a very stout clergyman, said 
 he ound the only spot for study was in the cellar. 
 
 Captam W used to assert that it was often as hot 
 
 m Canada as in the West Indies. 
 
 My sisters never went with so little clothing before • 
 and, mdeed, it was astonishing how their circuniference' 
 collapsed under the influence of the sun. As to us 
 we thought only of coolness. Coarse straw hats, with 
 broad bnms costing about eightpence ap.ece, with a 
 handkerch^f ,„ the crown to keep the heat off the 
 head ; a sh.rt of blue cotton, wide trow,ers of dark 
 pnnted cahco, or, indeed, of anything thin, and boots 
 composed our dress. But this was elaborat^ compared 
 wuh that adopted by a gentleman who w^ LdinTa 
 bachelor life back in the bush some distance f^^^J 
 A fnend went to see him one day, and found him frv! 
 ing some bacon on a fire below a tree before his door • 
 -a potato-pot hanging by a chain over part of it from' 
 a bough-his o„,,dress being a shirt, boL. a hat,^ 
 
 thought of any one penetrating to his wilderness 
 
36 
 
 Biish Costumes. 
 
 habitation, and laughed as heartily at being caught 
 in such a plight as my friend did at catching him. For 
 my part, I thought I should be cooler still if I turned 
 up my shirt-sleeve ; but my arms got forthwith so tanned 
 and freckled, that even yet they are more useful than 
 beautiful. One day there chanced to be a torn place on 
 my shoulder, which I did not notice on going out. I 
 thought, after a time, that it was very hot, but took it 
 for granted it could not be helped. Wiien I came in 
 at tlinner, however, I was by no meahs agreeably 
 surprised when my sister Margaret called out to me, 
 'George, there's a great blister on your shoulder,' 
 wlxich sure enough there was. I took care to have 
 always a whole shirt after that. 
 
 We had hardly been a month on the river when we 
 heard that a man, fresh from England, who had been 
 at work for a neighbour, came into the house one after- 
 noon, saying he had a headache, and died, poor fellow, 
 in less than an hour. He had had a sun-stroke. Some- 
 times those who are thus seized fall down at once in a fit 
 of apoplexy, as was the case with Sir Charles Napier 
 in Scinde. I knew a singular instance of what the sun 
 sometimes does, in the case of a young man, a plumber 
 by trade, who had been working on a roof in one of 
 the towns on a hot day. He was struck down in an 
 instant, and was only saved from death by a fellow- 
 workman. For a time he lost his reason, but that 
 gradually came back. He lost the jiower of every part 
 of his body, however, except his head, nothing remain- 
 
at being caught 
 tchlng him. For 
 r still if I turned 
 irthwith so tanned 
 more useful than 
 be a torn place on 
 on going out. I 
 y hot, but took it 
 Wiien I came in 
 means agreeably 
 called out to me, 
 n your shoulder,' 
 took care to have 
 
 the river when we 
 ind, who had been 
 the house one after- 
 id died, poor fellow, 
 a sun-stroke. Some- 
 :lown at once in a fit 
 I Sir Charles Napier 
 ance of what the sun 
 Dung man, a plumber 
 
 on a roof in one of 
 ; stnick down in an 
 1 death by a fellow- 
 his reason, but that 
 e power of every part 
 lead, nothing remain- 
 
 Sun-stroi-cs. "^fc 
 
 ing ah've, you may say, but that. He could move or 
 control Ills eyes, moutli, and neck, but that war. all. He 
 had been a strong man, but he wasted away till his legs 
 and arms were not thicker than a child's. Yet he got 
 much better eventually, after being bedridden for 
 .several years, and when I last was at his house, could 
 creep about on two crutches. 
 
 I used to ])ity my sisters, who had to work over the 
 fire, cooking for us. It was bad enough for girls who 
 had just left a fashionable school in England, and were 
 quite young yet, to do work which hitherto they had 
 always had done for them, but to have to stoop over a 
 fire m scorching hot weather must have been very ex- 
 hausting. They had to bake in a large iron pot, set 
 upon embers, and covered with them over the lid ; and 
 the dinner had to be cooked on the logs in the kitchen 
 fireplace, until we thought of setting up a contrivance 
 made by laying a stout stick on two upright forked 
 ones, driven into the ground at each end of a fire 
 kindled outside, and hanging the pots from it. While 
 I think of it, what a source of annoyance the cookin- 
 on the logs in the fireplace was before we got a crane° 
 I remember we once had a large brass panfull of rasp- 
 berry jam, nicely poised, as we thought, on the burn- 
 ing logs, and just ready to be lifted off, when, lo ! some 
 of the firewood below gave way and down it went into 
 the ashes ! Baking was a hard art to learn. What 
 bread we had to eat at first ! We used to quote Hood's 
 lines — 
 
9l 
 
 Going to Mill. 
 
 • Who lias not heard of home-made liread— 
 That heavy comi)ound of putty and lead ?' 
 
 But practice, and a few lessons from a neighbour's 
 wife, made my sisters quite expert at it. We had 
 some trouble in getting flour, however, after our first 
 stock ran out. The mill was five miles off, and, as we 
 had only oxen, it was a tedious job getting to it and 
 back again. One of my brothers used to set off at five 
 in the morning, with his breakfast over, and was not 
 back again till nine or ten at night— that is, after we 
 had wheat of our own. It had to be ground while he 
 waited. But it was not all lost time, for the shoe- 
 maker's was near the mill, and we always made the 
 same journey do for both. In winter we were so -'^- 
 times badly off whe.i our flour ran short. On g 
 to the mill, we, at times, found the wheel frozen 
 and that the miller had no flour of his own to sell. I 
 have known us for a fortnight having to use potatoes 
 instead of bread, when our neighbours happened to be 
 as ill-provided as we, and could not lend us a ' baking.' 
 But baking was not all that was to be done in a 
 house like ours, with so many men in it. No servants 
 could be had, the girls round, even when their fathers 
 had been labourers in England, were quite above going 
 out to service, so that my sisters had their hands full. 
 We tried to help them as much as we could, bringing 
 in the wood for the fire, and carrying all the water from 
 the river. Indeed, I used to think it almost a pleasure 
 to fetch the water, the river was so beautifully clear. 
 
Our part of the Housework. 39 
 
 le bread— 
 tiul lead 7 ' 
 
 )m a neighbour's 
 at it. We had 
 k^tr, after our first 
 es off, and, as wc 
 getting to it and 
 1 to set off at five 
 ver, and was not 
 —that is, after we 
 ground while he 
 ne, for the shoe- 
 always made the 
 er we were so e- 
 lort. On g 
 heel frozen 
 s own to sell. I 
 to use potatoes 
 s happened to be 
 nd us a ' baking.' 
 I to be done in a 
 it. No servants 
 hen their fathers 
 luite above going 
 their hands full. 
 J could, bringing 
 dl the water from 
 ilmost a pleasure 
 beautifully clear. 
 
 Never was crystal more transparent. I was wont to 
 idle as well as work while thus employed, looking at 
 the beautiful stones and pebbles that lay at the bottom, 
 far beyond the end of the plank that served for our 
 ' wharf.' 
 
JlSi 
 
 40 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Clearing the land — David's bragging, and the end of it — Burning 
 the log-heaps -Our logging bee — What prejudice can do — Our 
 fences and crops nearly burned — The woods on fire — Building 
 a snake-fence — ' Shingle ' pigs give us sore trouble — ' Breachy ' 
 horses and cattle. 
 
 HE first thing that had to be done with the 
 land was to make a farm of it, by cutting 
 down and burning as many trees as we 
 could before the end of August, to have 
 some room for sowing wheat in the first or second week 
 of September. It was now well on in June, so that we 
 had very little time. However, by hiring two men to 
 chop (we didn't board or lodge them) and setting our 
 other hired men to help, and with the addition of what 
 my brothers Robert and David could do, we expected 
 to get a tolerably-sized field ready. Henry and I weie 
 too young to be of much use ; Henry, the elder, being 
 only about fifteen. As to Andrew, he could not bear 
 such work, and paid one of the men to work for him. 
 Yet both he and we had all quite enough to do, in the 
 lighter parts of the business. We had got axes in 
 Toronto, and our man fitted them into the crooked 
 handles which they use in Canada. A British axe, 
 
 MHI 
 
L III. 
 
 ;, and the end of it — Burning 
 What prejudice can do — Our 
 rhe woods on fire — Building 
 s us sore trouble — ' Breachy ' 
 
 had to be done with the 
 a ferm of it, by cutting 
 
 ig as many trees as we 
 end of August, to have 
 
 I the first or second week 
 
 II on in June, so that we 
 r, by hiring two men to 
 ;e them) and setting our 
 vith the addition of what 
 1 could do, we expected 
 ady. Henry and I wei e 
 
 Henry, the elder, being 
 irew, he could not bear 
 e men to work for him. 
 ite enough to do, in the 
 We had got axes in 
 them into the crooked 
 rnada. A British axe, 
 
 Clearing the Land. 
 
 41 
 
 with a long, thin blade, only set the men a laughing; 
 and, indeed, it chanced to be a very poor affair ; for one' 
 day the whole face of it flew off as Robert was making 
 a furious cut with it at a thistle. The Canadian axes 
 were shaped like wedges, and it was wonderful to see 
 how the men made the chips fly out of a tree with them. 
 We got up in the morning with the sun, and went out 
 to work till breakfast, the men whacking away with all 
 their might ; Nisbet, our own man, as we called him, 
 snorting at every stroke, as if that helped him, and my 
 two elder brothers using their axes as well as they 
 could. We, younger hands, had, for our part, to lop 
 off the branches when the trees were felled. My 
 brothers soon got to be very fair choppers, and could 
 finish a pretty thick tree sooner than you would sup- 
 pose. But it was hard work, for some of the trees • 
 were very large. One in particular, an elm, which the 
 two men attacked at the same time, was so broad 
 across the stump, after it was cut down, that Nisbet, 
 who was a fair-sized man, when he lay down across it, 
 with his head at the edge on one side, did not reach 
 with his feet to the other. But, thicker or thinner, all 
 came down as we advanced. The plan was to make, 
 first, a slanting stroke, and, then, another, straight in, 
 to cut off the chip thus made ; thus gradually reaching 
 the mid(«e, leaving a smootli, flat stump about three 
 feet high underneath, and a slope inwards above. The 
 one side done, they began the same process with the 
 other, hacking away chip after chip from the butt, till 
 
42 
 
 Clearing the Land. 
 
 there was not enough left to support the mass above. 
 Then came the signal of the approaching fall by a loud 
 crack of the thin strip that was left uncut ; on hear- 
 ing which, we looked up to see which way the 
 huge shaft was coming, and would take to our 
 heels out of its reach, if it threatened to fall in our 
 direction. It is wonderful, howev - how exactly a 
 skilful chopper can determine befo. and how a tree 
 shall come down. They sometimes manage, indeed, 
 to aim one so fairly at a smaller one, close at hand, as 
 to send it, also, to the ground with the blow. Accidents 
 rarely happen, though, sometimes, a poor man runs the 
 ^vTong way and gets killed. What a noise the great 
 monarchs of the forest made as they thundered down ! 
 It was like firing off a great cannon ; and right glad we 
 were when we had a good many such artillery to fire 
 off in a day. But it was often dreadfully hot work, 
 and my brothers seemed as if they should never drink 
 enough. I used to bring them a small pailful of water 
 at a time, and put it on the shady side of a stump, 
 covering it over with some green thing besides, to keep 
 it cool. The cows and oxen seemed to take as much 
 pleasure as ourselves in our progress, for no sooner 
 was a tree down than they would be among its branches, 
 munching off the tender ends as if they were great 
 delicacies in their eyes. It was harder to keep them 
 out of harm's way than ourselves, and many a time I 
 was half afraid a tree would be down on me before 
 I got them out of danger. ^ Indeed, we had one loss, 
 
d. 
 
 David's Bragging, and the end of it. 43 
 
 : the mass above, 
 ling fall by a loud 
 ; uncut J on hear- 
 
 which way the 
 luld take to our 
 ed to fall in our 
 
 ' how exactly a 
 and how a tree 
 3 manage, indeed, 
 , close at hand, as 
 £blow. Accidents 
 poor man runs the 
 
 a noise the great 
 ■ thundered down ! 
 ; and right glad we 
 ich artillery to fire 
 readfuUy hot work, 
 should never drink 
 aall pailful of water 
 y side of a stump, 
 ing besides, to keep 
 :d to take as much 
 ess, for no sooner 
 imong its branches, 
 if they were great 
 irder to keep them 
 and many a time I 
 down on me before 
 d, we had one loss, 
 
 though only a small one. We had been talking over- 
 night about cattle being killed, and David, who was 
 always a great brag, had told us that *he thought 
 it all stupidity; he didn't know how people killed 
 beasts ; he could chop for years and never hurt 
 anything, if there were ever so many cattle about. 
 Next morning, however, before breakfast, we were all 
 hard at work, and the oxen and cows were busy with 
 the twigs as usual, when a rine little calf we had got 
 with one of the cows wandered off in David's direction, 
 just as a tree he was at was about to fall ; and, ] )resently, 
 while he was all excitement about its going the right 
 way for himself, it was down smash on the poor calf, 
 which was, of course, gone in a moment We were 
 sorry for the unfortunate little creature, but we could 
 not help laughing amidst all at the face David put on. 
 ' It was very singular — very. He couldn't account for 
 it ; how could he think a calf would leave its mother ? ' 
 But he said no more about the stupidity of people who 
 killed oxen or cows while chopping. 
 
 Working hard every day, it was surprising what a 
 piece we soon felled. When we had got as much down 
 as we thought we could clear off in time for the wheat, 
 we gave the rest a respite for a while, and set to getting 
 rid of those we had already overthrown. The straightest 
 of them were selected for rails, with which to fence our 
 intended field ; all the others were to be remorselessly 
 burned, stock and branch. The first step towards this 
 had been taken already, by us lads having cut off the 
 
*^rT 
 
 Burning the Log-heaps. 
 
 mm 
 
 ill 
 
 branches from each tree as it was felled, and heaped 
 them together in different spots. The trunks of the 
 trees had next to be cut into pieces about ten feet long, 
 those intended for rails being left somewhat longer. I 
 wonder how often the axes rose and fell during these 
 weeks. Even my brothers began to be able to use 
 them more skilfully, their stumps beginning to look 
 smooth and clean cut, instead of being hacked in a 
 thousand ridges, as at first. How an English carpenter's 
 heart would have grieved over the destruction of so 
 much splendid wood ! The finest black walnut, and 
 oak, and maple, was slashed at from morning to night, 
 with no thought on our parts but to get it out of the 
 way as quickly as possible. 
 
 Everything was, at last, ready for the grand finishing 
 act, but that required the help of some neighbours, so 
 that we had to call another ' bee.' The logs had to be 
 rolled together and piled up for burning, which would 
 have taken us too long if left to ourselves alone. We 
 got a good woman from a farm not far off to come in 
 •to help my sisters in their preparations, for there is. 
 always a great deal of cooking on these occasions. 
 Salt beef and salt pork were to form the centre dishes 
 at the dinner, but there was to be a great array of pies 
 and tarts, for which we bought part of the fruit across 
 the river, and, of the rest, there were pumpkins, which 
 we got from settlers near at hand, and we had plums 
 enough, very good though wild, from trees in our own 
 bush. Tea, with cream to every one's taste, formed 
 
eaps. - 
 
 ielled. and heaped 
 The trunks of the 
 iboiit ten feet long, 
 iiewhat longer. I 
 1 fell during these 
 to be able to use 
 beginning to look 
 )eing hacked in a 
 English carpenter's 
 : destruction of so 
 black walnut, and 
 [ morning to night, 
 3 get it out of the 
 
 the grand finishing 
 me neighbours, so 
 The logs had to be 
 ning, which would 
 rselves alone. We 
 far off to come in 
 ations, for there is. 
 n these occasions. 
 1 the centre dishes 
 great array of pies 
 of the fruit across 
 •e pumpkins, which 
 and we had plums 
 n trees in our own 
 )ne's taste, formed 
 
 Our Logging Dee. 
 
 45 
 
 the principal beverage, though the most of the men 
 wanted to get whisky besides. But it almost always 
 leads to drunkenness and fighting, so that we did with- 
 out it. On the day appointed there was a very good 
 muster — perhaps twenty men altogether. They came 
 immediately after breakfast, and we took care to be 
 ready for them. 
 
 Our oxen were brought to the ground with their 
 yoke on, and a long chain fastened to the ring in it, 
 and two cf the men brought each another yoke, so 
 that we were noisy enough and had plenty of excite- 
 ment. Two men got it as their task to drive, others 
 fixed the chains round the logs, and drew them as 
 near each other as possible, in lots of about six or 
 seven, and the rest had to lift each lot, one log on 
 another, into piles. Henry and I were set to gather 
 the loose brush that was left, and throw it on the top 
 of the heaps, and thrust the dry rotten sticks lying 
 about into the holes between the logs, to help them 
 to bum. It was astonishing to see how the oxen 
 walked away with their loads. Standing as quiet as 
 if they could not move, except when their tails were 
 sent to do duty on some troublesome flies, their' faces 
 as solemnly stupid as possible, the first shout of the 
 driver made them lean instantly against their yoke 
 in a steady pull, which moved almost any log to which 
 they might be chained. Horses would have jumped 
 and tugged, and the log would have stuck where it 
 was, but the solid strain of the oxen, their two heads 
 
 mm 
 
 m»mtiimlfm6>imum» 
 
,1..^ 
 
 
 
 What Prejudice can do. 
 
 often together, and their bodies far apart, was irre- 
 sistible. Off they walked with huge cuts of trees, ten 
 feet long, as if they had been trifles. It was a wonder 
 how they could stand dragging such heavy weights 
 over the rough ground, with nothing but the thin 
 wooden collar round thtir necks, against which to 
 press. A horse needs a padded collar, but an ox 
 doesn't seem to suffer from the want of it. In Nova 
 Scotia, which I afterwards visited, and also in Lower 
 Canada, oxen are harnessed by the horns, and you 
 are only laughed at if you say that it seems cruel. I 
 believe if they were yoked by the tail in any country, 
 the people who i-ed them in that way would stand 
 up for its superiority to any other. Prejudice is a 
 wonderful thing for blinding men. I have heard of a 
 gentleman in the East Indies, who felt for the labourers 
 having to carry the earth from some public work they 
 were digging in baskets, on their shoulders, and got a 
 number of wheelbarrows made for them, showing them 
 himself how to use them, and how much better they 
 were than their own plan. But, next morning, when 
 he came to see how they were liking the new system, 
 what was his astonishment to find that they had 
 turned the barrows also into baskets, carrying them on 
 their shoulders, with a man at each handle and one at 
 the wheel ! 
 
 With a due rest for dinner and supper, an extra 
 time being taken in the middle of the day to escape 
 the heat, and with a wonderful consumption of eatables, 
 
do. ' 
 
 apart, was irre- 
 cuts of trees, ten 
 It was a wonder 
 h heavy weights 
 ng but the thin 
 against which to 
 :ollar, but an ox 
 ; of it. In Nova 
 nd also in Lower 
 B horns, and you 
 t seems cruel. I 
 lil in any country, 
 way would stand 
 •. Prejudice is a 
 I have heard of a 
 t for the labourers 
 public work they 
 oulders, and got a 
 lem, showing them 
 much better they 
 :xt morning, when 
 ig the new system, 
 id that they had 
 i, carrying them on 
 handle and one at 
 
 d supper, an extra 
 : the day to escape 
 mption of eatables, 
 
 Burning tlie Logs. 
 
 including beef and pork, pies, tarts, pickles, puddings, 
 cakes, tea, and other things, at each meal, we got 
 through the day to the satisfaction of all, and had now 
 only to get everything burned off. 
 
 The next day it was slightly windy, which was in 
 our favour, and, still better, the wind was blowing 
 away from our house and barn. The burning was 
 a.' thorough as we could have desired, but it was hot 
 wo;l-. We brought some wood embers from the house 
 and laid them on the top of one of the logs, on the 
 side next the wind. Then we piled chips and splinters 
 on them, which were soon -in flames, and from them 
 there soon was a grand blaze of the whole pile. Thus 
 we went on, from one to another, until they were 
 all a-fire. But the rolling the pieces together as they 
 burned away, and the stuffing odd ends into the hol- 
 lows to keep up the flame, was wild work. We ran 
 about all day, gathering up every bit of branch or dead 
 wood we could find, to get a clean sweep made of 
 everything at once. What we were like when all was 
 over, with our black faces and hands, and smudged 
 shirts and trowsers, may be easily fancied. But, after 
 all, one day was not enough to get rid of the whole. 
 It was days before we got everything burned, the last 
 pile being made up of the fragments of all the rest 
 that still remained. 
 
 We were fortunate in not having anything set on 
 fire which we wished to keep from being burned. I 
 have known of many cases where dried leaves and 
 
I) id! 
 
 t 
 
 in 
 
 ■ ^n 
 P 
 
 48 Our Fences and Crops nearly burned. 
 
 pieces of dead wood, and the thick root? of the grass, 
 and the coat of vegetable matter always found in the 
 soil of the forest, kindled, in spite of every effort to 
 prevent it, the fire running along, far and near, in the 
 ground, and setting everything it reached in a blaze. 
 I remember, some years after our arrival, Henry was 
 one day going some distance, and thought it would be 
 as well, before he started, to fire some brush heaps 
 that were standing in a field that was being cleared, 
 quite a distance back, along the side road ; but he 
 had hardly done so and set off, than my sisters, Mar- 
 garet and Eliza, who were alone in the house, noticed 
 that the fire had caught the ground, and was making 
 for the strip at the side of the road, in the direction of 
 the wheat field. It was leaping from one thing to 
 another, as the wind carried it, and had already put 
 the long fence next it, running along six or seven acres, 
 in great danger. If it had once kindled that, it might 
 have swept on towards the house and bam and burned 
 up everything we had ; but my sisters were too 
 thorough Canadians by this time to let it have its own 
 way. Off the two set to the burning bank, and began 
 to take down the fence rail by rail, and carry each 
 across the road, where the fire could not reach them. 
 Fortunately there was only stubble in the field, and 
 the black ploughed earth checked the fire, but it kept 
 running along the road, breaking out afresh after they 
 had thought it was donCj and keeping them fighting 
 with the rails the whole day, until Henry came back 
 
irly burned. 
 
 ootF of the grass, 
 ays found in the 
 of every effort to 
 r and near, in the 
 ached in a blaze, 
 rrival, Henry was 
 lought it would be 
 some brush heaps 
 'as being cleared, 
 ;ide road ; but he 
 ,n my sisters, Mar- 
 tha house, noticed 
 i, and was making 
 in the direction of 
 rom one thing to 
 d had already put 
 ; six or seven acres, 
 idled that, it might 
 d bam and burned 
 sisters were too 
 let it have its own 
 ig bank, and began 
 .il, and carry each 
 Id not reach them. 
 ; in the field, and 
 the fire, but it kept 
 ut afresh after they 
 ping them fighting 
 Henry came back 
 
 The Woods on Fire, 
 
 49 
 
 at night. A man who passed in a waggon when they 
 were in the worst of their trouble never offered them 
 any help, poor girls, but drove on, 'guessing' they 
 ' had a pretty tight job thar.' Thanks to their activity 
 there was no mischief done, except the taking down 
 the fence ; but it was a wonder it did not hurt my 
 sisters, as the rails are so heavy that men never lift 
 more than one at a time, or very seldom. * 
 
 Another instance occurred about the same time, but 
 on a larger scale. One day, on looking east from the 
 house, we noticed, about two miles off, great clouds of 
 smoke rising from the woods, and of course we were 
 instantly off to see what it was. We found that 
 ground-fire had got into a piece of the forest which 
 wc called the' Windfall,' a broad belt of huge pine trees, 
 which had been thrown down by some terrible whirl- 
 wind, I don't know how long before. Some of them 
 had already mouldered in parts; others had been 
 charred by some former burning, and would have 
 lasted for almost any length of time. They lay on 
 each other in the wildest and thickest confusion, 
 making a barricade that would have kept back an 
 army of giants, and reaching for miles, their great 
 branches rising in thousands, black and naked, into 
 the air. The fire had fairly caught them, and was 
 leaping and crackling from limb to limb and sending 
 up volumes of the densest smoke. It was a terrible 
 sight to see, and no one could tell how far it would 
 extend. We were afraid it would spread to the forest 
 
 4 ' 
 
5» 
 
 The Woods on Fire. 
 
 at each side, and it did catch many of the trees next 
 it, fixing on them, sometimes at the ground, sometimes 
 up among the branches, while, sometimes, the first 
 indication of their being on fire would be by the dead 
 part at the very top, nearly a hundred feet, I should 
 think, in some cases, from the earth, flaming out like 
 a star. At night the sight was grand in the extreme 
 — the blazing mass of prostrate trees in the Windfall, 
 and, at its edges, tongues of flame, running up the 
 huge trunks, or breaking out here and there on their 
 .sides. At one place a field came very near the path 
 of the conflagration, and it was feared that, though the 
 trees did not come close enough to set the fence on 
 fire by contact, it might be kindled by the burning 
 twigs and inflammable matter that covered the ground. 
 A plough was therefore brought, and several broad 
 furrows were run outside, that the ground-fire might 
 thus be stopped. The plan was effectual, and the 
 fence remained untouched ; but the fire among the 
 dead pines spread day after day, till it had burned up 
 everything before it, to an opening in the forest on 
 the other side, where it at last died out. 
 
 As soon as the log-piles had been fairly disposed of, 
 we had, for our next job, to get the rails put up round 
 the field thus cleared. They were made, from the logs 
 that had been saved for the purpose, by one of the 
 choppers, whom we retained. First,of all, he sank his 
 axe into one end of the log, and then he put an iron 
 or wooden wedge into the cleft he had made, and drove 
 
 , ^■,^^-..;...-..-^-^^i:^-..>.. .,ri-.^^,..,f..,.i 
 
IWM»i*li>Mi'tAit« i>att»"r«Thi<rni'" 
 
 r. . « 
 
 of the trees next 
 round, sometimes 
 letimes, the first 
 .1 be by the dcatl 
 :d feet, I should 
 , flaming out like 
 d in the extreme 
 i in the Windfall, 
 , running up the 
 id there on their 
 :ry near the path 
 J that, though the 
 
 set the fence on 
 I by the burning 
 vered the ground, 
 nd several broad 
 ground-fire might 
 effectual, and the 
 le fire among the 
 I it had burned up 
 in the forest on 
 out. 
 
 fairly disposed of, 
 rails put up round 
 lade, from the logs 
 )se, by one of the 
 ;^of all, he sank his 
 len he put an iron 
 d made, and drove 
 
 Building a Snakc-fcncc. 
 
 51 
 
 it home with a mallet. Then, into the crack made by 
 the first wedge, he put a second, and that made it split 
 -so far down that only another was generally needed to 
 send it in two. The same process was gone through 
 with the halves, and then with the parts, until the 
 whole log lay spilt into pieces, varying in thickness 
 from that of a man's leg to as much again, as they were 
 wanted light or heavy. You must remember that they 
 were twelve feet long. To make them into a fence, 
 you laid a line of them down on the ground in a zigzag, 
 like a row of very broad V's, the end of the second 
 resting on that of the first, and so on, round the 
 corners, till you came to within the length of a rail from 
 where you started. The vacant space was to be the 
 entrance to the field. Then five or six more were laid, 
 one on another, all round, in the same way — or rather, 
 were put up in short, complete portions, till all were 
 in their places. The ends, at each side of the entrance, 
 were next lifted and laid on pins put between two 
 upright posts at each side. To make a gate, we had a 
 second set of posts, with pins close to the others, and 
 on these pins rails were laid which could be taken out 
 when wanted, and served very well foi- a gate, but we 
 boys almost always went over the fence rather than go 
 round it. To keep all the rails in their places we had to 
 put up what they called ' stakes ' at each angle — that is, 
 we had to take shorter rails, sharpened a little at the 
 end, and push one hard into the ground on each side 
 of the fence, at every overlapping of the ends of the 
 
5S ' Shingle Pigs give us trouble. 
 
 rails, leaning them firmly against the top rail, so that they 
 crossed each other above. The last tiling was to lay a 
 light rail all round into the crosses thus made, so as to 
 ' lock • them, and to make the whole so high that no 
 beast could get over it. 
 
 We used to laugh about what we were told of the 
 pigs and cattle and iiorses getting through and over 
 fences ; but we soon found out that it was no laughing 
 matter. The pigs were our first enemies, for, though 
 we had made the lowest four rails very close, as we 
 thought, to keep them out, we found we had not quite 
 succeeded. There were some of a horrible breed, 
 which they called the ' sliingle pig,' as thin as a slate, 
 with long snouts, long coarse bristles, long legs, and a 
 belly like a greyhound— creatures about as different 
 from an English pig as can be imagined. They could 
 run like a horse, nothing would fatten them, and they 
 could squeeze themselves sideways through an opening 
 where you would have thought they could never have 
 got in. If any hollow in the ground gave them tlie 
 chance of getting below the rails, they were sure to find 
 it out, and the first thing you would see, perhaps, would 
 be a great gaunt skeleton of a sow, with six or eight 
 little ones, rpoting away in the heart of your field. With 
 old fences they made short work, for if tliere were a 
 piece low and rickctty diey would fairly push it over 
 with their horrid long noses, and enter with a triumphant 
 grunt. Although they might have sp.nred o< tccln 
 and left our first little field alono i not, but 
 
— ia<i 
 
 ; trouble. 
 
 Dprail,soth.it tlu-y 
 tiling was to lay a 
 uis made, so as to 
 e so high that no 
 
 ; were told of the 
 through and over 
 it was no laugiiing 
 icmies, for, though 
 i very close, as we 
 1 we had not quite 
 a horrible breed, 
 as thin as a slate, 
 :s, long legs, and a 
 about as different 
 ^ined. They could 
 ten them, and they 
 through an opening 
 y could never have 
 ind gave them the 
 ey were sure to find 
 see, perhaps, would 
 w, with six or eight 
 of your field. Widi 
 fur if tliere were a 
 fairly push it over 
 er with a triumphant 
 spared oi ieeliii, 
 5, ^ »# not, but 
 
 ' Shingle Pigs ' give us sofc trouble. 53 
 
 never rested snufHng round the fence, till they found 
 out a place or two l)elow it that had not been closely 
 enough staked, through wiiich tlicy scpieeycd them- 
 selves almost every day, until we found out wlu-re they 
 were and stopped them up. The brutes were so cun- 
 ning that they would never go in before you, but would 
 stand looking round the end of the fence with their 
 wicked eyes till you were gone. Robert thought at 
 first he could take revenge on them and whip them out 
 of such annoying habits, ami whenever the cry was 
 given that ' the pigs were in,' if he were within reach 
 he would rush for tiie wliip, and over the fence, to give 
 them the weight of it. Hut they were better at running 
 than he was, and though lie cut off the corners to try to 
 head them, I don't know that, in all the times he ran 
 himself out of breath, he ever did more than make 
 them wonder what his intention could be in giving 
 them such dreadful chases. We learned to be wiser 
 after a time, and by keeping down our ill nature and 
 driving them gently found they would make for the 
 place where they got in, and, by going out at it, discover 
 it to us. I only once saw a pig run down, and it 
 wasn't a ' shingle ' one. Neither Robert, nor any of 
 us — for we were all, by his orders, tearing after it in 
 different directions — could come near it ; but a man 
 we had at the time started off like an arrow in pursuit, 
 and very soon had it by the hind leg, lifting it by ^ 
 which, the same instant, to poor piggy's great astonish- 
 uient, he sent it with a great heave over the fence, 
 
54 ' Breachy ' Horses and Cattle. 
 
 down on the grass outside. It was a small one, of 
 course, else he could not have done ii. A gentleman 
 some miles above us used to be terribly annoyed by all 
 the pigs of the neighbourhood, as he declared, getting 
 round the end of his fence which ran into the river, 
 and thought he would cure matters by nmning it out a 
 rail farther. But they were not to be beaten, and 
 would come to the outside, and swim round his fancied 
 protection. He had to add a third length of rail before 
 he stopped them, and it succeeded only by the speed 
 of the current being too great for them to stem. 
 
 But pigs were not the only nuisance. Horses and 
 cattle were sometimes a dreadful trouble. A ' breachy ' 
 horse, or ox, or cow — that is, one given to leap fences 
 or break them down— is sure to lead all the others in 
 the neighbourhood into all kinds of mischief. The 
 gentleman who was so worried by the nautical powers 
 of the pigs, used to be half distracted by a black mare 
 which ran loose in his neighbourhood, and led the way 
 into his fields to a whole troop of horses, which, but 
 for her, would have been harmless enough. If a fence 
 were weak she would shove it over ; or if firm, unless 
 it were very high indeed, she would leap over it, gener- 
 ally knocking off rails enough in doing so to let the 
 others in. She took a fancy to a fine field of Indian 
 corn he had a little way from his house, and night 
 after night, when he had fairiy got into bed, he would 
 hear her crashing over the fence into it, followed by 
 all the rest. Of course he had to get up and dress 
 
and Cattle. 
 
 ' Breachy Horses and Cattle. e,^ 
 
 It was a small one, of 
 ; done ii. A gentleman 
 e terribly annoyed by all 
 1, as he declared, getting 
 hich ran into the river, 
 itters by running it out a 
 not to be beaten, and 
 1 swim round his fancied 
 ;hird length of rail before 
 ceded only by the speed 
 for them to stem. 
 ' nuisance. Horses and 
 'ul trouble. A ' breachy ' 
 one given to leap fences 
 to lead all the others in 
 kinds of mischief. The 
 d by the nautical powers 
 stracted by a black mare 
 jurhood, and led the way 
 lop of horses, which, but 
 nless enough. If a fence 
 t over ; or if firm, unless 
 .vould leap over it, gcner- 
 h in doing so to let the 
 to a fine field of Indian 
 im his house, and night 
 y got into bed, he would 
 ence into it, followed by 
 liad to get up and dress 
 
 himself, and then, after running about half an hour, 
 through dewy corn as high as his head, to get them 
 out again, he had to begin in the middle of the night 
 to rebuild his broken rampart. Only think of this, re- 
 peated night after night. I used to laugh at his nine 
 or ten feet high fence, which I had to climb every time 
 I went along the river-side to see him, but he always 
 put me off by saying — ' Ah, you haven't a black mare 
 down your way.' And I am happy to say we had not. 
 The cattle were no less accomplished in all forms of 
 field-breaking villany than the pigs and horses. We 
 had one brute of a cow, sometime after we came, that 
 used deliberately to hook off the rails with her horns, 
 xmtil they were low enough to let her get her forelegs 
 over, and then she leaned heavily on the rest until 
 they gave way before her, after which she would boldly 
 march in. She was an excellent milker, so that we did 
 all we could to cure her — sticking a board on her 
 horns, and hanging another over her eyes — but she hud 
 a decided taste for fen'-.e-breaking, and we had at last 
 to sentence her to death, and take our revenge by eat- 
 ing her up through the winter, after she had been fat- 
 tened. — - 
 
 n 
 
5<5 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 We begin our preparations for sowing— Gadflies— Mosquitoes- 
 Harrowing experiences— A huge lly— Sandflies— Tlie poison 
 of insects and serpents— Winter wheat— The wonders of plant- 
 life_Our first ' sport ' — Woodpeclcers— ' Chitmunks '— Tiic 
 blue jay— The blue bird— The flight of birds. 
 
 [HEN we had got our piece of ground all 
 cleared, except the great ugly stumps, 
 and had got our fence up, our next job 
 was to get everything ready for sowing. 
 First of all the ashes had to be scattered, a process 
 that liberally dusted our clothes and faces. Then we 
 brought up the oxen and fastened them by their chain 
 to the sharp end of a three-cornered harrow, and with 
 this we had to scratch the soil, as if just to call its 
 attention to what we wished at its hand. It was the 
 most solemnly slow work I ever saw, to get over the 
 ground with our yoke — so'emn to all but the driver, 
 but to him the very reverse The shouting and yell 
 ing on his part never stopped, as he had to get them 
 round this stump and clear of that one. But, if you 
 looked only at the oxen you forgot the noise in watch- 
 ing whether they moved at all or not. Elephant would 
 
Gadflies. 
 
 Vl 
 
 tdflics — Mosquitoes — 
 andflies— The poison 
 rhe wonders of plant- 
 — ' Chitmunks '— Tiic 
 lirds. 
 
 iece of ground all 
 reat ugly stumps, 
 ; up, our next job 
 ready for sowing. 
 :attered, a process 
 1 faces. Then we 
 lem by their chain 
 :1 harrow, and with 
 . if just to call its 
 hand. It was the 
 Lw, to get over the 
 all but the driver, 
 shouting and yel! 
 e had to get them 
 t one. But, if you 
 the noise in watch- 
 )t. Elephant would 
 
 lift his great leg into the air and keep it motionless for 
 a time, as if he were thinking whether he should ever 
 set it down again, and, of course. Buckeye could not 
 get on faster than his mate. I tried the harrowing a 
 little, but I confess I didn't like it. We were perse- 
 cuted by the gadflies, which lighted on the poor oxen 
 and kept them in constant excitement, as, indeed, they 
 well might. Wherever they get a chance they pierce 
 the skin on the back with a sharp tube, which shuts 
 up and draws out like a telescope, at the end of their 
 bodies, protruding an egg through it into the creature 
 attacked, and this egg, when hatched, produces a grub 
 which makes a sore lump round it and lives in it, till 
 it has attained its full size, when it comes out, lets it- 
 self fall to the ground and burrows in it, reappearing 
 al"ter a time as a winged gadfly to torment other cattle. ■ 
 Then there were the long tough roots running in every 
 direction round the stumps, and catching the teeth of 
 the harrow every little while, giving the necks of the 
 poor oxen uncommon jerks, and needing the harrow 
 to be lifted over them each time. There was another 
 trouble also, in the shape of the mosquitoes, which 
 worried driver and oxen alike. They are tiny crea- 
 tures, but they are nevertheless a great nuisance. In 
 the woods in summer, or near them, or, indeed, wher- 
 ever there is stagnant water, they are sure to sound 
 their 'airy trump.' The wonderful quickness of the 
 vibration of their wings makes a singing noise, which 
 proclaims at once the presence of even a single tor- 
 
58 
 
 Mosquitoes. 
 
 mentor. They rise in clouds from every pool, and 
 even from the rain-water barrels kept near houses, 
 where they may be seen in myriads, in their first shape 
 after leaving the egg, as little black creatures with 
 large heads, and tails perpetually in motion, sculling 
 themselves with great speed hither and thither, but 
 always tail foremost. A single night is sufficient to 
 change them from this state, and send them out as 
 full-blown mosquitoes, so that even if there be not one 
 in your room on going to bed, you may have the plea- 
 sure of hearing several before morning, if you are in 
 the habit of indulging in the luxury of washing in rain- 
 water, or, worse still, to find your nose, and cheeks, or 
 hands, ornamented by itchy lumps, which show that 
 the enemy has been at you, after all, while you slept. 
 In Canada they are not half an inch long, and, until 
 distended with blood, are so thin as to be nearly in- 
 visible. Their instrument of torture is a delicate 
 sucker, sticking down from the head and looking very 
 like a glass thread, the end of it furnished with sharp 
 edges which cut the skin. I have sometimes let one 
 take its will of the back of my hand, just to watch it. 
 Down it comes, almost too light to be felt, then out 
 goes the lancet, its sheath serving for a support by 
 bending up on the surface of the skin in proportion as 
 the sucker sinks. A sharp prick and the little vampire 
 is drinking your blood. A minute, and his thin, 
 shrivelled body begins to get fuller, until, very soon, 
 he is three times the mosquito he was when he began, 
 
Mosquitoes. 
 
 59 
 
 jm every pool, and 
 
 kept near houses, 
 s, in their first shape 
 lack creatures with 
 
 in motion, sculling 
 »er and thither, but 
 light is sufficient to 
 1 send them out as 
 1 if there be not one 
 1 may have the plea- 
 orning, if you are in 
 y of washing in rain- 
 nose, and cheeks, or 
 ps, which show that 
 
 all, while you slept, 
 inch long, and, until 
 1 as to be nearly in- 
 orture is a delicate 
 sad and looking very 
 furnished with sharp 
 /e sometimes let one 
 and, just to watch it. 
 t to be felt, then out 
 ng for a support by 
 
 skin in proportion as 
 and the little vampire 
 inute, and his thin, 
 Her, until, very soon, 
 ; was when he began, 
 
 and is quite red with his surfeit shining through his 
 sides. But, though he is done you are not, for some 
 poisonous secretion is instilled into the puncture, 
 which causes pain, inflammation, and swelling, long 
 after he is gone. We had a little smooth-haired 
 terrier which seemed to please their taste almost as 
 much as we ourselves did. When it got into the 
 woods, they would settle on the poor brute, in spite 
 of all its efforts, till it was almost black with them. 
 Horses and oxen get no rest from their attacks, and 
 between them and the horse-flies I have seen the sides 
 of the poor things running vnth blood. * Dey say 
 ebery ting has some use,' said a negro to me one day ; 
 ' I wonder what de mosqueeter's good for ? * So do I. 
 A clerg)'man who once visited us declared that he 
 thought they and all such pests were part of what is 
 meant in the Bible by the power of the devil ; but 
 whether he was right or not is beyond me to settle. 
 Perhaps they keep off fevers from animals by bleeding 
 them as they do. But you know what Socrates said, 
 that it was the highest attainment of wisdom to feel 
 tliat we know nothing, so that, even if we can't tell 
 why they are there, we may be sure, that, if we knew 
 as much as we might, we should find that they served 
 some wise purpose. At the same time I have often 
 been right glad to think that the little nuisances must 
 surely have short commons in the unsettled districts, 
 where there are no people nor cattle to torment. 
 The harrowing was also my first special introduction 
 
6o 
 
 A huge Fly. 
 
 to the horse-flies— great horrid creatures that they 
 are. They fastened on the oxen at every part, and 
 stuck the five knives with which their proboscis is 
 armed, deep into the flesh. They are as large as 
 honey-bees, so that you may judge how much they 
 torment their victims. I have seen them make a 
 horse's flanks red with the blood from their bites. 
 They were too numerous to be driven off by the long 
 tails of eitlier oxen or horses, and, to tell the truth, I 
 was half afraid to come ne.ar them lest they should 
 take a fancy to myself. It is common in travelling to 
 put leafy branches of maple or some other tree over 
 the horses' ears and head to protect them as far as 
 possible. 
 
 The largest fly I ever saw lighted on the fence close 
 to me, about this time. We had been frightened by 
 stories of things as big as your thumb, that soused 
 down on you before you knew it, but I never, before 
 or since, saw such a giant of a fly as this fellow. It 
 was just like a house-fly magnified a great many times, 
 how many I should not like to say. I took to my 
 heels in a moment for fear of instant death, and saw 
 no more of it. Whether it would have bitten me or 
 not I cannot tell, but I was not at all inclined to try 
 the experiment. 
 
 All this time we have left the oxen pulling away at 
 the harrow, but we must leave them a minute or two 
 longer till we get done with all the flies at once. There 
 is a little black speck called the sand-fly, which many 
 
Sand-Jlies. 
 
 61 
 
 reatures that tVsey 
 at every part, and 
 their proboscis is 
 y are as large as 
 e how much they 
 en them make a 
 
 from their bites, 
 ven off by the long 
 
 to tell the truth, I 
 n lest tliey should 
 ion in travelling to 
 ne other tree over 
 ect them as far as 
 
 1 on the fence close 
 
 been frightened by 
 
 humb, that soused 
 
 but I never, before 
 
 as this fellow. It 
 
 I great many times, 
 
 ay. I took to my 
 
 ant death, and saw 
 
 have bitten me or 
 
 all inclined to try 
 
 xen pulling away at 
 ;m a minute or two 
 lies at once. There 
 .nd-fly, which many 
 
 think even worse than the mosquito. It comes in 
 clouds, and is too small to ward off, and its bite causes 
 acute pain for hours after. But, notwithstanding gad- 
 flies, mos(iuitoes, horse-flies, and this last pest, the 
 sand-fly, we were better off than the South American 
 Indians of whom Humboldt speaks, who have to hide 
 all night three or four inches deep in the sand to keep 
 themselves from mosquitoes as large as bluebottles ; 
 and our cattle had nothing to contend with like such 
 a fly as the tzetse, which, Dr Livingstone tells us, is 
 found in swarms on the South African rivers, a bite of 
 wliich is certain death to any horse or ox. 
 
 How curious it is, by the way, that any poison 
 sliould be so powerful that the quantity left by the 
 bite of a fly should be able to kill a great strong horse 
 or an ox ; and how very wonderful it is, moreover, 
 tliat the fly's body should secrete such a frightful 
 poison, and that it should carry it about in it without 
 itself suffering any harm ! Dr Buckland, of the Life 
 Guards, was once poisoned by some of the venom of 
 a cobra di capello, a kind of serpent, getting below 
 his nail, into a scratch he had given himself with a 
 knife he had used in skinning a rat, which the serpent 
 had killed. And yet the serpent itself could have 
 whole glands full of it, without getting any hurt. But 
 if the cobra were to bite its own body it would die at 
 once. The scorpion can and does sting itself to 
 death, 
 
 ■\Vhen we had got our field harrowed over twice or 
 
iS" 
 
 %% 
 
 Winter Wheat. 
 
 thrice, till every part of it had been well scratched up, 
 and the ashes well mixed with the soil, our next step 
 was to sow it, after which came another harrowing, 
 and then we had only to wait till the harvest next July, 
 hoping we might be favoured with a good crop. That 
 a blade so slight as that of young wheat should be 
 able to stand the cold of the Canadian winter has 
 always seemed to me a great wonder. It grows up the 
 first year just like grass, and might be mistaken for it 
 even in the beginning of the following spring. The 
 snow which generally covers it during the long cold 
 season is a great protection to it, but it survives even 
 when it has been bare for long intervals together, though 
 never I believe, so strong, after such hardships suffered 
 in its infancy. The snow not only protects but, in its 
 melting, nourishes, the young plant, so that not to 
 have a good depth of it is a double evil. But, snow 
 or not snow, the soil is almost always frozen like a 
 rock, and yet the tender green blades live through it 
 all, unless some thaw during winter expose the roots, 
 and a subsequent frost seize them, in which case the 
 plant dies. Large patches in many fields are thus 
 destroyed in years when the snow is not deep enough. 
 What survives must have suspended its life while the 
 earth in which it grows is frozen. Yet, after being 
 thus asleep for months — indeed, more than asleep, 
 for every process of life must be stopped, the first 
 breath of spring brings back its vigour, and it wakes 
 as if it had been growing all the time. How wonder- 
 
 -^hhJL 
 
The Wonders of Plant-life. (tT, 
 
 well scratched up, 
 
 soil, our next step 
 
 mother harrowing, 
 
 harvest next July, 
 
 good crop. That 
 
 wheat should be 
 
 nadian winter has 
 
 r. It grows up the 
 
 be mistaken for it 
 
 wing spring. The 
 
 ring the long cold 
 
 )ut it survives even 
 
 lis together, though 
 
 , hardships suffered 
 
 protects but, in its 
 
 It, so that not to 
 
 e evil. But, snow 
 
 (vays frozen like a 
 
 des live through it 
 
 ■ expose the roots, 
 
 in which case the 
 
 ny fields are thus 
 
 5 not deep enough. 
 
 d its life while the 
 
 Yet, after being 
 
 more than asleep, 
 
 stopped, the first 
 
 gour, and it wakes 
 
 ne. How wonder- 
 
 ful are even the common facts of nature ! The life 
 of plants I liave always thought very much so. Our 
 life perishes if it be stopped for a very short time, but 
 the beautiful robe of flowers and verdure with which 
 tlie world is adorned is well nigh indestructible. 
 Most of you know the story of Pope's weeping willow : 
 the poet had received a present of a basket of figs 
 from the Levant, and when opening it, discovered 
 that part of tiie twigs of which it was made were 
 already budding, from some moisture that had 
 reached them, and this led him to plant one, which, 
 when it liad grown, became the stock whence all the 
 Babylonian willows in England have come. Then 
 we are told that seeds gatliered from beneath the 
 ashes at Pompeii, after being buried for eighteen hun- 
 dred years, have grown on being brought once more 
 to the light, and it has often been found that others 
 brought up from the bottom of wells, when they 
 were being dug, or from beneath accumulations of 
 sand, of unknown age, have only to be sown near the 
 surface to commence instantly to grow. It is said 
 that wheat found in the coffins of mummies in Egypt 
 lias sprung up freely when sown, but the proof of any 
 having done so is thought by others insufficient. Yet 
 there is nothing to make such a thing impossible, and 
 perhaps some future explorer like Dr Layard or Mr 
 Loftus, may come on grains older still, in Babylon or 
 Nineveh, and give Us bread from the wheat that 
 Nebuchadnezzar or Semiramis used to eat. Indeed, 
 

 64 
 
 Woodpeckers. 
 
 M. Michelct tells us tliat some seeds found in the in- 
 conceivably ancient Diluvial drift readily grew on 
 being sown. 
 
 During the busy weeks in which we were getting 
 our first field ready, we boys, though always out of 
 doors, were not always at work. Henry used to bring 
 out his gun widi him, to take a shot at anything he 
 could see, and though there were not very many 
 creatures round us, yet there were more when you 
 looked for tliem than you would otherwise have thought. 
 The woodpeckers were the strangest to us among them 
 all. They would come quite near us, running up and 
 down the trunks of the trees in every way, as flies run 
 over a window pane. 'I'here were three or four kinds : 
 one, the rarest, known by being parUy yellow ; another, 
 by the feathers on its back having a strange, hairy-like 
 look ; the third was a smaller bird, about six inches 
 long, but otherwise like its hairy relation ; the fourth, 
 and commonest, was the red-headed woodpecker. 
 This one gets its name from the beautiful crimson of 
 its head and neck, and the contrast of this bright 
 colour widi the black and white of its body and wings, 
 and with its black tail, makes it look very pretty.' 
 They would light on stumps or trees close to us, run- 
 ning round to the otlier side till we passed, if we came 
 very close, and then reappearing the next instant. 
 They kept up a constant tap, tap, tapping with their 
 heavy bills on the bark of any tree on which they 
 happened to alight, running up the trunk, and stopping 
 
amimimm 
 
 Woodpeckers, 
 
 H 
 
 ;ds found in the in- 
 t readily grew on 
 
 ch we were getting 
 jugli always out of 
 rlcnry used to bring 
 shot at anything he 
 :re not very many 
 ire more when you 
 erwise have thought, 
 it to us among them 
 us, running up and 
 'ery way, as flies run 
 three or four kinds : 
 rtly yellow ; another, 
 a strange, hairy-like 
 rd, about six inches 
 relation; the fourth, 
 leaded woodpecker, 
 beautiful crimson of 
 itrast of this bright 
 f its body and wings, 
 it look very pretty.' 
 rees close to us, run- 
 e passed, if we came 
 g the next instant, 
 p, tapping with their 
 tree on which they 
 e trank, and stopping 
 
 every minute with their tails resting on the bark to 
 supi)ort them, and hammering as if for the mere love 
 (if the noise. Every grub or insect they thus discov- 
 ered, was, in a moment, caught on their tongue, which 
 was thrust out for the purpose. Menry shot one of 
 them, after missing pretty often, for we were just be- 
 ginning shooting as well as everything else, and we 
 brought it to the house to let my sisters see it, and 
 to have another look at it ourselves. Being a bit of 
 an ornithologist, he pointed out to us how the toes 
 were four in number— two before and two behind— 
 and how they were spread out to give the creature as 
 firm a hold as possible of the surface on which it was 
 climbing, and how its tail was shaped like a wedge, and 
 the feathers very strong, to prop it up while at work. 
 Then there was the great heavy head and heavy bill, 
 with the long thin neck, putting me in mind of a 
 stone-breaker's hammer, with the thin handle and the 
 heavy top. But its tongue was, perhaps, the most 
 curious part of the whole. There were two long, 
 arched, tendon-like things, which reached from the 
 tongue round the skull, and passed quite over it 
 down to the root of the bill at the nostrils; and, 
 inside the wide circle thus made, a muscle, fixed at its 
 two ends, provided the means of thrusting out the 
 tongue with amazing swiftness and to a great length, 
 just as you may move forwards the top of a fishing-rod 
 in an instant by pulling the line which runs from the 
 tip to the reel. My brother Robert, who was of a 
 
66 
 
 C/iiiiiiHiih. 
 
 religious disposition, couUl not help telling us, when 
 we had seen all this, liuit he UioukIu it just another 
 proof of the wontlerfid wisdom and t^oodness of God 
 to see how everything was adapted to its particular end. 
 One little creature used to give us a great deal of 
 amusement and pleasure. It was what Nisbet called 
 a thitmunk, the right name of it being the ground- 
 squirrel. It was a sciuirrel in every respect, except 
 that, instead of the great bushy tail turned up over the 
 back, it had a rounded hairy one, which was short and^ 
 straight, and was only twitched up and down. Tlie 
 little things were to be seen every now and then 
 on any old log, that marked where a tree had fallen 
 long before. The moment we looked at them they 
 would stare at us with their great black eyes, and, if 
 we moved, they were into some hole in the log, or 
 over the back of it, and out of sight in an instant. 
 We all felt kindly disposed towards them, and never 
 tried to shoot them. I suppose they were looking for 
 nuts on the ground, as they feed largely on them, and 
 carry off a great many, as well as stores of other food, 
 in little cheek-pouches which they have, that they may 
 be provided for in winter. They do not make their 
 houses, like the other squirrels, in holes in the trees, 
 but dig burrows in the woods, under logs, or in hillocks 
 of earth, or at the roots of the trees, forming a wind- 
 ing passage down to it, and then making two or three 
 pantries, as I may call them, at the sides of their nest, 
 or sitting and sleeping-room, for their extra food. They 
 
 i?naw > ti ' f j m' i » mMw i , i^ ' iw ? 
 
The Blue Jay. 
 
 fi; 
 
 ;lp telling us, when 
 ight it just another 
 (I ^^ooilness of (lod 
 to its particular cnil. 
 e U8 a great deal of 
 what Nisbet called 
 : being the ground- 
 rery respect, except 
 1 turned up over the 
 which was short and 
 ip and down. Tlie' 
 very now and then 
 re a tree had fallen 
 joked at them they 
 it black eyes, and, if 
 hole in the log, or 
 sight in an instant, 
 .rds them, and never 
 they were looking for 
 largely on them, and 
 stores of other food, 
 y have, that they may 
 ;y do not make their 
 in holes in the trees, 
 der logs, or in hillocks 
 trees, forming a wind- 
 \ making two or three 
 he sides of their nest, 
 lieir extra food. They 
 
 do not often go up the trees, but if they be frightened 
 • and cannot get to their holes, tliey run up the trunks 
 and get from branch to branch with wonderful (piic k- 
 ness. S(jmetimes we tried to catcli one wlien it would 
 thus go up some small, low tree, of which there were 
 numbers on the edge of a stream two fields back on 
 our farm ; but it was always too iiuick for us, and 
 after making sure I had it, and climbing the tree to get 
 hold of it, it would be off in some magical way before 
 our eyes, let us do our best. Then, at other times, we 
 would try to catch one in an old log, but with no 
 better success. Henry would get to the one end and 
 I to the other, and make sure it couldn't get out. It 
 always did get out, however, and all we could do was 
 to admire its beautiful shape, with the squirrel head, 
 and a soft brown coat which was striped with black, ' 
 lengthwise, and its arch little tail, which was never still 
 a moment. 
 
 Some of the birds were the greatest beauties you 
 could imagine. We would see one fly into the woods 
 all crimson, or seemingly so, and perhaps, soon after, 
 another, which was like a living emerald. They were 
 small birds— not larger than a thrush— and not very 
 numerous ; but I cannot trust myself to give their true 
 names. The blue jay was one of the prettiest of all 
 the feathered folk that used to come and look at us. 
 What a bright, quick eye it has ! what a beautiful blue 
 crest to raise or let down as its pride or curiosity moves 
 it or passes away ! how exquisitely its wings are capped 
 
 , ^.■i^..i. , ^ ; i mWiW » , .^ ' IftWI W 
 
 'If' ' 'j-?rf*P^"*? 
 
 J 
 
o^^^. 
 
 68 
 
 T/ie Blue Bird. 
 
 with blue, and barred with black and white ! and its 
 back— could anything be finer than the tint of blue on ■ 
 it ? Its very tail would be ornament enough for any 
 one bird, with its elegant tapering shape, and its feathers 
 barred so charmingly with black and white. But we 
 got afterwards to have a kind of ill-will at the litde 
 urchins, when we came to have an orchard; for greater 
 thieves than they are, when the fancy takes them, it 
 would be hard to imagine. When breeding, tliey 
 generally kept pretty close to the woods ; but in Sep- 
 tember or October they would favour the gardens with 
 visits ! and then woe to any fruit within reach ! But 
 yet they ate so many caterpillars at times that I suppose 
 we should not have grudged them a cherry feast oc- 
 casionally. I am sure they must be great coxcombs, 
 small though they be, for they are not much larger 
 than a thrush, though tbe length of their tail makes 
 them seem larger : they carry their heads so pertly, like 
 to show themselves oif so well, and are so constandy 
 raising and letting down their beautiful crest, as if all 
 the time thinking how well they look. John James 
 Audubon, the ornithologist, got a nun jer of them, of 
 both sexes, alive, and trifd to carry them over to 
 England, to make us a present of the race, if it were 
 able to live in our climate ; but the poor things all 
 sickened and died on the way. 
 
 I must not forget the dear little blue bird, which 
 
 ■ comes all the way from the Far South as early as March, 
 
 ■ to stay the summer with us, no^ leaving till the middle 
 
• Bird. 
 
 lack and white ! and its 
 ;r than the tint of bhie on 
 )rnament enough for any 
 ring shape, and its feathers 
 )lack and white. But we 
 ind of ill-will at the little 
 .ve an orchard; for greater 
 the fancy takes them, it 
 ;. When breeding, they 
 to the woods ; but in Sep- 
 Id favour the gardens with 
 y fruit within reach ! But 
 liars at times that I suppose 
 :d them a cherry feast oc- 
 y must be great coxcombs, 
 they are not much larger 
 .ength of their tail makes 
 r their heads so pertly, like 
 well, and are so constandy 
 eir beautiful crest, as if all 
 11 they look. John James 
 , got a nun jer of them, of 
 1 to carry them over to 
 esent of the race, if it were 
 ;e ; but the poor things all 
 'ay. 
 
 dear litde blue bird, which 
 Far South as early as March, 
 , no^ leaving till the middle 
 
 The Blue Bird. 
 
 69 
 
 or end of November, when he seems to bid a melan- 
 . choly farewell to his friends, and returns to his winter 
 retreat. In the spnng and summer every place is en- 
 livened with his cheerful song ; but with the change of 
 the leaf in October it dies away into a single note, as 
 if he too felt sorry that the beautiful weather was 
 leaving. 
 
 The blue bird is to America very much, in summer, 
 what the robin is to us in England in winter— hopping 
 as familiarly as if it trusted every one, about the orchards 
 and the fences. Sometimes it builds in a hole in an 
 old apple-tree, for generation after generation ; but 
 very often it takes up its abode in little houses built 
 specially for it, and fixed on a high pole, or on the top 
 of some of the outhouses. We were sometimes amused . 
 to see its kindly ways while the hen was sitting on the 
 nest. The little husband would sit close by her, and 
 lighten her cares by singing his sweetest notes over and 
 over; and, when he chanced to have found some morsel 
 that he thought would please her— some insect or other 
 -he would fly with it to her, spread his wing over her, 
 and put it into her mouth. We used to take it for 
 granted that it was the same pair that built year after 
 year in the same spot, bu. I ae.er heard of anything 
 bemg done to prove it m any . ase. In that of other 
 birds, however, this atUc'vmeut to one spot has been 
 very clearly shown. I ..ave read somewhere of copper ' 
 rings having been fastened round the legs of swallows, 
 which were observed the year after to have returned,' 
 
70 
 
 The Flight of Birds. 
 
 •with this mark on them, to their former haunts. How 
 is it that these tiny creatures can keep a note in their . 
 head of so long a journey as they take each autumn, 
 and cross country after country straight to a place 
 thousands of miles distant ? A man could not do it 
 without all the helps he could get, I lose myself every 
 now and then in the streets of any new city I may 
 visit ; and as to making my way across a whole king- 
 dom witliout asking, I fear I would make only a very 
 zigzag progress. Some courier pigeons, which one of 
 the Arctic voyagers took to the Far Nortli, on being 
 let loose, made straight for the place to which they had 
 been accustomed in Ayrshire, in an incredil)ly short 
 time. Lithgow, the old traveller, tells us that one of 
 these birds will caiTy a letter from Bagdad to Aleppo, 
 which is thirty days' journey at the Eastern rate of 
 travel, in forty-eight hours, so that it could have had no 
 hesitation, but must have flown straight for its distant 
 home. They say that when on their long flights, they 
 and other birds, such as swallows, soar to a great height, 
 and skim round in circles for a time, as if surveying the 
 bearings of the land beneath them ; but what eyes they 
 must have to see clearly over such a landscape as must 
 open at so great an elevation ! and how little, after all, 
 can that help them on a journey of thousands of miles ! 
 Moore's beautiful verse speaks of the intentness witli 
 which the pigeon speeds to its goal, and how it keeps 
 so high up in the air : — 
 
 rauuMiiMJimlM I '~' 
 
^irds. 
 
 The Flight of Birds. 
 
 rmer haunts. How 
 keep a note in their . 
 ^ take each autumn, 
 straight to a place 
 nan could not do it 
 
 I lose myself every 
 any new city I may 
 across a wliole king- 
 Id make only a very 
 igeons, which one of 
 Kar Nortli, on being 
 ce to which they had 
 
 an incredii)ly short 
 , tells us that one of 
 1 Bagdad to Aleppo, 
 the Eastern rate of 
 it could have had no 
 raight for its distant 
 leir long flights, they 
 ioar to a great height, 
 le, as if surveying the 
 I ; but what eyes they 
 1 a landscape as must 
 id how little, after all, 
 )f thousands of miles ! 
 >f the intentness wit!i 
 aal, and how it keeps 
 
 ' The dove let loose in eastern skies, 
 
 Returning fondly home, 
 Ne'er stoops to earth her wings, nor flies 
 Where idler warblers roam.' 
 
 I have noticed that all birds, when on long flights, 
 seek the upper regions of the air : the ducks and swans, 
 that used to pass over us in the spring, on their way to 
 their breeding-places in the Arctic regions, were always 
 so high that they looked like strings of moving specks 
 in the sky. They always fly in a certain order, the 
 geese in single file, arranged like a great V, the two 
 sides of it stretching far away from each other, but the 
 birds which form the figure never losing their respective 
 places. Some of the ducks, on the other hand, kept in 
 wedge-shapeJ phalanxes, like the order in which 
 Hannibal disposed his troops at the Battle of Canna;; 
 Whether they fly so high to see better, or because the 
 air is thinner and gives them less resistance, or to be 
 out of the reach of danger, or to keep from any tempt- 
 ation to alight and loiter on their way, it would bo 
 hard to tell, but with all the help which their height can 
 give them, it has always been a great wonder to me how 
 they knew the road to take There must surely be 
 some senses in such creatures of which we do not know, 
 or those they have must be very much more acute than 
 ours. How does a bee find its way home for miles ? 
 And how does the little humming-bird — of which I shall 
 speak more hereafter — thread its w'ay, in its swift arrowy 
 
 M 
 
7« 
 
 The Flight of Birds. 
 
 flight, from Canada to the far South, and back again, 
 each year ? I am afraid we must all confess that we 
 cannot tell. Our knowledge, of which we are some- 
 times so proud, is a very poor affair after all. ^ 
 
 ■Bi 
 
, and back again, 
 all confess that we 
 lich we are some- 
 after all. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Some family changes— Amusements— Cow-himting— Our ' side-- 
 line ' — The bush — Adventures with rattlesnakes — Garter- 
 snakes— A frog's flight for life— Black squirrels. 
 
 HAVE talked so long about the farm, and 
 the beasts, and birds, tliat I had almost 
 forgotten to speak of some clianges 
 which took place in our family in the 
 first summer of our settlement. My eldest sister had, 
 it seems, found time in Toronto to get in love, in spite 
 of having to be mistress of such a household, and, of 
 course, nothing could keep her past the week fixed for 
 her marriage, wh'cii was to take place about two 
 months after her getting to the River. She must needs, 
 when the time drew near, get back to her beloved, 
 and had to look out her share of the furniture, &c., to 
 take with her, or rather to send off before. My. eldest 
 brother, Andrew, also, had cast many wry looks at the 
 thick logs, and at his blistered hands, and had groaned 
 through every very hot day, maintaining that there 
 would soon be nothing left of him but the bones, 
 ' Melting moments, girls,' he would say to my sisters ; 
 ' melting moments, as the sailor said under the line. 
 
74 
 
 Some Family Changes. 
 
 I can't stand this ; I shall go back to England.' So 
 he and my eldest sister made it up that he should take 
 her, and such of her chattels as were not sent on 
 before, to Toronto, and should leave us under the 
 charge of Robert. When the day came, we all went 
 down to the wharf with them, and after a rather 
 sorrowful parting, heard in due time of the marriage of 
 the one, and, a good while afterwards — for there were 
 no steamers in those days across the Atlantic — of the 
 safe return of the other to England. This was the first 
 break up of our household in America ; and it left us 
 for a time lonely enough, though there were still so 
 many of us together. We didn't care much for my 
 sister's leaving, for she would still be within reach, but 
 it was quite likely we should never see Andrew again. 
 I have always thought it was a very touching thing that 
 those who had grown up together should be separated, 
 after a few years, perhaps never to meet again. My 
 brother Robert made a very tender allusion to this at 
 worship that night, and moved us all by praying that 
 we might all of us lead' such Christian lives, through 
 God's grace, thai; we might meet again in the Great 
 Hereafter, if not in our earthly pilgrimage. He wound 
 up the service by repeating in his very striking way — 
 for he recited beautifully— .Burns' touching words : — 
 
 ' And when, at last, we reach that coast, 
 
 O'er life's rough ocean driven, 
 May we rejoice, no wanderer lost ; 
 A family in Heaven.' 
 
nges. 
 
 : to England.' So 
 
 that he should take 
 
 were not sent on 
 
 eave us under the 
 
 I came, we all went 
 
 md after a rather 
 
 t of the marriage of 
 
 rds — for there were 
 
 lie Atlantic — of the 
 
 This was the first 
 
 ;rica ; and it left us 
 
 there were still so 
 
 care much for my 
 
 be within reach, but 
 
 r see Andrew again. 
 
 ■ touching thing that 
 should be separated, 
 meet again. My 
 ;r allusion to this at 
 
 all by praying that 
 ristian lives, through 
 
 again in the Great 
 jrimage. He wound 
 
 very striking way — 
 touching words : — 
 
 that coast, 
 
 ■ lost ; 
 
 Anmsements. 
 
 75 
 
 After our wheat had been sown we had time to take 
 a little leisure, and wliat with fishing at the end of the 
 long wharf by day, and in the canoe, by torch-light, in 
 the evenings, or strolling through the woods with our 
 guns or rifles, or practising with the latter at a rough 
 target made by cutting a broad slice off a tree, from 
 which we dug out the bullets again to save the lead, the 
 autumn passed very pleasantly. Of course it was not 
 all play. There was plenty more forest to be cleared, 
 and we kept at that pretty steadily, though a half-holiday 
 or a whole one did not seem out of the way to us. 1, 
 as the youngest, had for my morning and eveqing's task 
 to go to the woods and bring home the cows to be 
 milked, and at times, the oxen, when we wanted them 
 for some kind of work. Tlie latter were left in the 
 woods for days together, viien we had nothing for 
 them to do, and when we did bring them in, we always 
 gave tliem a little salt at the barn-door to try to get 
 them into the habit of returning of their own accord. 
 Cattle and horses in Canada all need to be often 
 indulged with this luxury ; the distance from the sea 
 leaving hardly any of it in the air, or in the grass and 
 other vegetation. It was sometimes a pleasure to go 
 cow-hunting, as we called it, but sometimes quite the 
 reverse. I used to set oyt, with the dogs for com- 
 pany, straight up the blazed line at the side of our lot. 
 I mean, up a line along which the trees had been 
 marked by slices cut out of their sides, to show the 
 way to the lots at the back of ours. It was all open 
 
 i MiwivM'.WMw i iu'i 'w imi 
 
76 
 
 Cow-hunting. 
 
 for a little way back, for the post road passed up from 
 ^ the bank of the river along the side of our farm, for 
 five or six acres, and then turned at a right angle 
 parallel with the river again, and there was a piece of 
 . the side line cleared for some distance beyond the 
 turn. After this piece of civilization had been passed, 
 however, nature had it all to herself. The first twelve 
 or fifteen acres lay fine and high, and could almost 
 always be got over easily, but the ground dropped 
 down at that distance to the edge of a little stream, 
 and rose on the other side, to stretch away in a dead 
 level, for J know not how many miles. The streamlet, 
 which was sometimes much swollen after thaws or rain, 
 was crossed by a rough sort of bridge formed of the 
 cuts of young trees which rested on stouter supports of 
 the same kind, stretching from bank to bank. One of 
 the freshets, however, for a time destroyed this easy 
 communication, and left us no way of crossing till it 
 was repaired, but either by fording, or by venturing 
 over the trunk of a tree, which was felled so as to reach 
 across the gap and make an apology for a bridge. It 
 used at first to be a dreadful job to get over this 
 primitive pathway, but J got so expert that I could run 
 over it easily and safely enough. The dogs, however, 
 generally preferred the water, unless when it was deep. 
 Then there were pieces of swampy land, farther back, 
 over which a string of felled trees, one beyond the 
 other, offered, again, the only passage. These were 
 the worst to cross, for the wet had generally taken off 
 
Cow-hunting, 
 
 77 
 
 id passed up from 
 le of our farm, for 
 . at a right angle 
 icre was a piece of 
 tance beyond the 
 . had been passed, 
 The first twelve 
 and could almost 
 ; ground dropped 
 of a Httle stream, 
 ch away in a dead 
 ;s. The streamlet, 
 after thaws or rain, 
 :lge formed of the 
 stouter supports of 
 : to bank. One of 
 estroyed this easy 
 ' of crossing till it 
 5, or by venturing 
 elled so as to reach 
 y for a bridge. It 
 J to get over this 
 !rt that I could run 
 rhe dogs, however, 
 1 when it was deep, 
 land, farther back, 
 s, one beyond the 
 age. These were 
 generally taken off 
 
 the bark, and they often bent almost into the water 
 with your weight. One day, when I was making my 
 best attempt at getting over one of these safely, an old 
 settler on a lot two miles back made his appearance at 
 the farther side. 
 
 ' Bad roads, Mr Brown,' said I, accosting him, for 
 every one speaks to every one else in such a place as 
 that. 
 
 'Yes, Mr Stanley — bad roads, indeed; but it's 
 nothing to have only to walk out and in. What do 
 you think it must have been when I had to bring my 
 furniture back on a sleigh in summer-time ? We used 
 waggons on the dry places, and then got sleighs for the 
 swamps ; and, Mr Stanley, do you know, I'm sure two 
 or three times you hardly saw more of the oxen for a 
 minute than just the horns. We had all to go through 
 the water ourselves to get them to pull, and even then 
 they stuck fast with our load, and we had to take it off 
 and carry it on our backs the best way we could. You 
 don't know anything about it, Mr Stanley. I had to 
 carry a chest of drawers on my shoulders through all 
 this water, and every bit that we ate for a whole year, 
 till we got a crop, had to be brought from the front, 
 the same way, over these logs.' 
 
 No doubt he spoke the tiruth, but, notwithstanding 
 his gloomy recollections, it used to be grand fun to go 
 back, except when I could not find the cows, or when 
 they would not let themselves be driven home. The 
 dogs would be off after a squirrel every little while, 
 
7l 
 
 Cow-hunting. 
 
 though they never could catch one, or they would spla.sh 
 into the water with a thousand gambols to refresh them- 
 selves from the heat, and get quit of the mosquitoes. 
 Then there can be nothing more beautiful than the 
 woods themselves, when the leaves are in all their 
 bravery, and the ground is varied by a thousand forms 
 of verdure, wherever an opening lets in the sun. The 
 trees are not broad and umbrageous like those in the 
 parks of England. Their being crowded together 
 makes them grow far higher before the branches begin, 
 so that you have great high trunks on every side, like 
 innumerable pillars in some vast cathedral, and a high 
 open roof of green, far over head, the white and blue 
 of* the sky filling up the openings in the fretwork of 
 the leaves. There is always more or less undergrowth 
 to heighten the beauty of the scene, but not enough, 
 except in swampy places, to obscure the view, which is 
 only closed in the distance by the closer and closer 
 gathering of the trees as they recede. The thickness 
 of some of these monarchs of the forest, the fine shape 
 of others, and the vast height of nearly all ; the ex- 
 haustless charms of the great canopy of mingled leaves 
 and branches, and sky, and cloud above ; the piqtur- 
 esque vistas in the openings here and there around ; 
 the endless variety of shade, and form in the young 
 trees springing up at intervals ; the Bowers in one spot, 
 the rough fretting of fallen and mouldering trees, 
 bright with every tint of fungus, or red with decay, or 
 decked with mosses and lichens, in others, and the 
 
ir they would splash 
 ols to refresh them- 
 of the mosquitoes, 
 beautiful than the 
 2S are in all their 
 y a thousand forms 
 :s in the sun. The 
 s like those in the 
 crowded together 
 the branches begin, 
 
 1 on every side, like 
 Uhedral, and a high 
 
 the white and blue 
 
 in the fretwork of 
 
 or less undergrowth 
 
 le, but not enough, 
 
 ■e the view, which is 
 
 2 closer and closer 
 ;de. The thickness 
 forest, the fine shape 
 
 nearly all ; the ex- 
 )y of mingled leaves 
 [ above j the piqtur- 
 
 and there around ; 
 
 form in the young 
 ; flowers in one spot, 
 [ mouldering trees, 
 r red with decay, or 
 
 in others, and the 
 
 The Bush. 
 
 79 
 
 graceful oudine of broad beds of fern, contrasting 
 with the many-coloured carpet of leaves— made if 
 delightful to stroll along. The silence that reigns 
 heightens the pleasure and adds a calm solemnity. 
 The stroke of an axe can be heard for miles, and so 
 may the sound of a cow-bell, as I have sometimes 
 found to my sorrow. But it was only wlicn the cows 
 or oxen could be easily got that I was disposed to think 
 of the poetry of the journey. They always kept to- 
 gether, and I knew the sound of our bell at any distance ; 
 but sometimes I could not, by any listening, catch it, - 
 the wearer having perhai)s lain down to chew the cud, 
 and then, what a holloaing and getting up on fallen 
 trees to look for them, and wandering till I was fairly 
 tired. One of the oxen had for a time the honour of 
 bearing the bell, but I found, after a while, that he 
 added to my trouble in finding him and his friends, by 
 his cunning, and we transferred it to one of the cows. 
 The brute had a fixed dislike to going home, and had 
 learned that the tinkle of the bell was a sure prelude 
 to his being led off, to prevent which, he actually got 
 slirewd enough to hold his head, while resting, in so 
 still a way that he hardly made a sound. I have seen 
 him, when I had at last hunted him up, looking side- 
 ways at me with his great eyes, afraid for his life to 
 stir his head lest the horrid clapper should proclaim 
 his presence. When I did get them they were not 
 always willing to be driven, and would set off with their 
 heads and tails up, the oxen accompanying them, the 
 
 I 
 
8o Adventures loith Rattlesnakes. 
 
 bell making a hideous clangour, careering away over 
 every impcilinicnt, straight into the woods, in, perhaps, 
 the very opposite direction to that in which I wished 
 to lead them. Then for a race to head them, round 
 logs, over logs, through brush and below it, the dogs 
 dashing on ahead, where they thought I was going, 
 and looking back every minute, as if to wonder what 
 I was about. It was sometimes the work of hours to 
 get them home, and sometimes for days together we 
 could not find them at all. 
 
 'J'hcrc is little to fear from wild animals in the bush 
 in Canada. The deer were too frightened to trouble 
 us, and, though I have some stories to tell about bears 
 and wolves, they were so seldom seen that they did 
 not give us much alarm. But I was always afraid of 
 the rattlesnakes, especially in the long grass that grew in 
 some wet places. I never saw but one, however, and 
 that was once, years after, when I was riding up a narrow 
 road that had been cut through the woods. My horse 
 was at a walk, when, suddenly, it made a great spring 
 to one side, very nearly unseating me, and then stood 
 looking at a low bush and trembling in every limb 
 The next moment I heard the horrible rattle, and my 
 horse commenced a set of leaps from one side to the 
 other, backing all the while, and snorting wildly. I 
 could not get off, and as little could I get my horse 
 turned away, so great was his fear. Two men luckily 
 came up just at this time, and at once saw the cause 
 of the poor brute's alarm, which was soon ended by one 
 

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 Adventures with Rattlesnakes. 8i 
 
 of them making a dash at the snake with a thick stick, 
 and breaking its neck at a blow, Henry told us once 
 that he was chased by one which he had disturbed, and 
 I can easily credit it, for I have seen. smaller snakes 
 get very infuriated, and if one was alarmed, as in 
 Henry's case, it might readily glide after him for some 
 distance. However, it fared badly in the end, for a 
 stick ended its days abruptly. I was told one story that 
 I believe is true, though ridiculous enough, A good 
 man, busy mowing in his field, in the summer costume 
 of hat, shirt, and boots, found himself, to his honor, 
 face to face with a rattlesnake, which, on his instantly 
 throwing down his scythe and turning to flee, sprang at 
 his tails and fixed its fangs in them inextricably. The 
 next spring — the cold body of the snake struck against 
 his legs, making him certain he had been bitten. He 
 was a full mile from his house, but despair added 
 strength and speed. Away he flew — over logs, fences, 
 everything — the snake dashing against him with every 
 jump, till he reached his home, into which he rushed, 
 shouting, ' The snake, the snake ! I'm bitten, I'm 
 bitten 1 ' Of course they were all alarmed enough, but 
 when they came to examine, the tenor proved to be 
 the whole of the injury suffered, the snake's body having 
 been knocked to pieces on the way, the head only 
 remaining fixed in the spot at which it Itad originally 
 sprung. David and Henry were one day at work in 
 our field, where there were some bushes close to a 
 stump near the fence. The two were near each other 
 
 6 
 
8a Adventures'with Rattlesmkes. 
 
 when the former saw a number of young rattlesnakes 
 at Henry's side, and, as a good joke, for we laughed at 
 the danger, it ^emed so slight, cried out-' Henry ! 
 Henry ' look it the rattlesnakes !' at the same time 
 mounting the fence to the highest rail to enjoy Henry's 
 panic. But the young ones were not disposed to trouble 
 any one, so that he instantly saw that he had nothing 
 to fear ; whereas, on looking towards David, there was 
 quite enough to turn the laugh the other way. ' Look 
 at your feet, David !' followed in an instant, and you 
 way easily imagine how quickly the latter was down 
 the outer side of the fence, and away to a safe distance, 
 when, on doing as he was told, he saw the mother of 
 thfe brood poised below him for a spring, which, but 
 for Henry, she would have made the next moment. 
 
 Pigs have a wonderful power of killing snakes, their 
 hungry^stomachs tempting them to the attack for the 
 sake of eating their bodies. I don't know that they 
 ever set on rattlesnakes, but a friend of mine saw one 
 with the body of a great black snake, the thickness of 
 his wrist, and four or five feet long, lying over its back. 
 Monsieur Pig converting the whole into pork as fast as 
 he could, by vigorously swallowing joint after joint. 
 
 The garter-snake is the only creature of its kind 
 which is very common in Canada, and very beautiful 
 and harmless it is. But it is never seen without getting 
 killed unless it beat a very speedy retreat into some 
 log or pile of stones, or other shelter. The influence 
 of the story of the Fall in the Garden of Eden is fatal 
 
n 
 
 'lesnakes. 
 
 young rattlesnakes 
 e, for we laughed at 
 ried out—' Henry ! 
 ' at the same time 
 •ail to enjoy Henry's 
 ; disposed to trouble 
 :hathehad nothing 
 ■ds David, there was 
 
 other way. ' Look 
 
 an instant, and you 
 :he latter was down 
 ay to a safe distance, 
 \e saw the mother of 
 
 a spring, which, but 
 the next moment, 
 f killing snakes, their 
 o the attack for the 
 lon't know that they 
 end of mine saw one 
 lake, the thickness of 
 ig, lying over its back, 
 lie into pork as fast as 
 ig joint after joint. 
 
 creature of its kind 
 da, and very beautiful 
 ;r seen without getting 
 ledy retreat into some 
 belter. The influence 
 arden of Eden is fatal 
 
 a ^ssj?j^'ag{^!fr^-iv^t«!^'>^vsta6saRii^^ 
 
 Garter-snakes. 
 
 83 
 
 to the whole tribe of snakes, against every individual 
 «f which a merciless crusade is waged the moment one 
 is seen.. The garter-snake feeds on frogs and other 
 small creatures, as I chanced to see one day when 
 walking up the road. In a broad bed of what they 
 call tobacco-weed, a chase for life or death was being 
 made between a poor frog and one of these snakes. 
 The frog evidently knew it was in danger, for you never 
 saw such leaps as it would take to get away from its 
 enemy, falling into the weeds, after each, so as to be 
 hidden for a time, if it had only been able to keep so. 
 But the snake would raise itself upon a slight coil of its 
 tail, and from that height search every place with its 
 bright wicked eyes for his prey, and presently glide off 
 towards wherfe the poor frog lay panting. Then for 
 another leap, and another poising, to scan the field. I 
 don't know how it ended, for I had watched them till 
 they were a good way off. How the snake would ever 
 swallow it, if it caught it, is hard to imagine, for certainly 
 it was at least three times as thick as itself. But we 
 know that snakes can do wonderful things in that way. 
 Why, the cobra di capello, at the Zoological Gardens, 
 swallowed a great railway rug some time ago, and 
 managed to get it up again when it found it could 
 make nothing of it. It is a mercy our jaws do not 
 distend in such a fashion, for we would look very 
 horrible if we were in the habit of swallowing two large 
 loaves at a time, or of taking our soup with a spoon a 
 foot broad, which would,* however, be no worse than a 
 
Black Squirrels. 
 
 84 
 
 garter-snake swallowing a frog whole. It is amazing 
 how fierce some of t!.e small snakes are. I have seen 
 one of six or eight inches in length dart at a walking- 
 stick by which it had been disturbed with a force so 
 great as to be felt in your hand ,t the farther end. 
 Homer, in the Iliad, says that Menelaus was as brave 
 as a flv, which, though so small, darts once and again 
 in a man's face, and will not be driven away ; but he 
 might have had an additional comparison for his hero, 
 if he had seen a snake no thicker than a pencil 
 charging at a thick stick held in a man's hand. 
 
 We had very pleasant recreation now and then, 
 hunting black squirrels, which were capital eating. 
 They are much larger than either the gray or the red 
 ones, and taste very much like rabbits, from which, 
 indeed, it would be hard to distinguish them when 
 they are on the table. Both they and the gray squirrel 
 are very common, and are sometimes great pests to 
 the farmer, making sad havoc ^vith his Indian corn 
 while green, and with the young wheat. In Pennsyl- 
 vania this at one time came to such a pitch that a law 
 was passed, offering threepence ahead for every one 
 destroyed, which resulted, in 1749, i" ^8000 being 
 paid in one year as head-money for those killed. 
 Their great numbers sometimes develop strange in- 
 stincts, very different from those we might expect. 
 From scarcity of food, or some other unknown cause, 
 all the squirrels in a large district will at times take it 
 into their heads to make a regular migration to some 
 
 JH^ 
 
^ 
 
 rels. 
 
 vhole. It is amazing 
 kcs are. I have seen 
 gth dart at a walking- 
 urbed with a force so 
 id it the farther end. 
 lenelaus was as brave 
 
 darts once and again 
 : driven away ; but he 
 mparison for his hero, 
 thicker than a pencil 
 
 a man's hand. 
 :ation now and then, 
 
 were capital eating, 
 ler the gray or the red 
 I rabbits, from which, 
 listinguish them when 
 ey and the gray squirrel 
 netimes great pests to 
 ; with his Indian corn 
 g wheat. In Pennsyl- 
 such a pitch that a law 
 e a head for every one 
 1749, in 5^8000 being 
 loney for those killed, 
 es develop strange in- 
 lose we might expect, 
 e other unknown cause, 
 rict will at times take it 
 gular migration to some 
 
 Black Squirrels. 
 
 »5 
 
 other region. Scattered bodies are said to gather from 
 distant points, and marshal themselves into one great 
 host, which then sets out on its chosen march, allow- 
 ing nothing whatever — be it mountain or river — to stop 
 them. We ourselves had pr9of enough that nothing 
 in the shape of water, short of a lake, could do it. 
 Our neighbours agreed in telling us that, a few years 
 before we came, it had been a bad summer for nuts, 
 and that the squirrels of all shades had evidently seen 
 the perils of the approaching winter, and made up 
 their minds to emigrate to more favoured lands. 
 Whether they held meetings on the subject, and dis- 
 cussed the policy to be pursued, was not known ; but 
 If IS certain that squirreldom at large decided on a 
 united course of action. Having come to this de- 
 termination, they gathered, it appears, in immense 
 numbers, in the trees at the water's edge, where the 
 river was at least a mile broad, and had a current of 
 about two miles an hour, and, without hesitation, 
 launched off in thousands on the stream, straight for 
 the other side. Whether they all could swim so far, 
 no one, of course, could tell ; but vast numbers reached 
 the southern shore, and made for the woods, to seek 
 there the winter supplies which had been deficient in 
 the district they had left. How strange for little 
 creatures like them to contrive and carry out an 
 organized movement, which looked as complete and 
 deliberate as the migration of as many human beings 1 
 What led them to go to the south rather than to 
 
86 
 
 Black Squirrels. 
 
 the north? There were no woods ir sight on the 
 southern side, though there were forests enough in the 
 interior. I think we. can only come to the conclusion, 
 which cannot be easily confuted, that the lower creatures 
 have some faculties of which we have no idea what- 
 ever. • . 
 
 The black squirrels are very hardy. You may see 
 them in the woods, even in the middle of winter, 
 when their red or gray brethren, and the little 
 ground squirrels, are not to be seen. On bright 
 days, however, even these more delicate creatures 
 venture out, to see what the world is like, after 
 their long seclusion in their holes in the trees. 
 They must gather a large amount of food in the 
 summer and autumn to be sufficient to keep them 
 through the long months of cold and frost, and their 
 diligence in getting ready in time for the season when 
 their food is buried out of their reach is a capital 
 example to us. They carry things from great disUnces 
 to their nests, if food be rather scarce, or if they ftid 
 any delicacy worth laying up for a treat in winter. 
 When the wheat is ripe they come out in great numbers 
 to get a share of the ears, and run off widi as many as 
 tiiey can manage to steal. 
 
k. 
 
 87 
 
 is in sight on the 
 )rests enough in the 
 e to the conclusion, 
 ,t the lower creatures 
 have no idea what- 
 
 irdy. You may see 
 ; middle of winter, 
 en, and the little 
 seen. On bright 
 5 delicate creatures 
 world is like, after 
 H>les in the trees, 
 unt of food in the 
 uent to keep them 
 and frost, and their 
 for the season when 
 ir reach is a capital 
 > from great distances 
 carce, or if they fhid 
 or a treat in winter, 
 out in great numbers 
 1 off with as many as 
 
 V CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Spearing fish — Ancient British canoes — Indian ones — A bargain 
 with an Indian — Henry's cold bath — Canadian thunderstorms 
 — Poor Yorick's death — Our glorious autumns — The change 
 of the leaf— Sunsets— Indian summer— The fall rains and the 
 roads — The first snow — Canadian cold — A winter landscape — 
 ' Ice-storms'— Snow crystals— The minute perfection of God's 
 works— Deer-shooting — David's misfortune — Useless cruelty 
 — Shedding of the stag's bonis. 
 
 [FEARING fish by moonlight was a great 
 amusement with us in the beautiful 
 autumn evenings. We had bought a 
 canoe from an Indian for eight dollars, I 
 think — that is, about thirty-two shillings, and it formed 
 our boat on these occasions. Perhaps, however, 
 before speaking of ou»- adventures on the waters, I 
 had better describe this new purchase, and the scene 
 of its transference to our hands, wh'ch was as curious 
 as itself. It was made out of a long cut of a black 
 walnut-tree, which had been burned and hollowed* to 
 the required depth, breadth, and length, and had 
 then been shaped, outside, by an axe, to the model 
 proposed. They are generally quite light, but ours 
 was, to other canoes, what a ship's boat is to a skiff. 
 
 Man 
 
 wmtm 
 
38 Spearing Fish. 
 
 It must have taken a long time to finish, but time is 
 of no value to an Indian. Indeed, the longer any- 
 thing takes him the better, as it gives hm. at least 
 something to do, when, otherwise, he would hkely 
 have relapsed into total idleness. There .s no keel 
 on canoes, but only a round bottom, and the ends are 
 sharp and both alike. Of course, such a vesse has a 
 natural facihty at rolling, and needs only the shghtest 
 aid on your part to turn in the water hke a log, so 
 that safety depends very much on your bemg steady, 
 and not leaning, under any circumstances, to either 
 side In some parts of Canada they are made of the 
 ■tough, hght bark of the birch tree, which is sewed into 
 a ion sheet, and stretched over a light but strong 
 framework of the desired shape. Before usu.g it, the 
 barkSs thoroughly soaked in oil to make it waterproof 
 When finished, such a canoe is really elegant, nsmg 
 high into a wide circular form at the ends, winch are 
 „,ade very sharp to cut the water easily. I have seen 
 them beautifully finished, with differently coloured 
 porcupine quills worked into the edges, and fanaful 
 designs at the ends. They are so light that one 
 which will hold twenty men weighs only a few 
 hundred-weight, and can be easily carried by three or 
 foifr men. Then, they are so elastic that they yield 
 to blows which would break a canoe of wood. When 
 they do get an injury, it is amusing to see how easily 
 they are mended. You con darn them hke a stock- 
 ing or patch them like a shoe, using wire, however. 
 
•Jl. 
 
 spearing Fish. 
 
 89 
 
 ) finish, but time is 
 eed, the longer any- 
 t gives him at least 
 ise, he would likely 
 5. There is no keel 
 om, and the ends are 
 ;, such a vessel has a 
 eeds only the slightest 
 e water like a log, so 
 on your being steady, 
 ■cumstances, to either 
 I they are made of the 
 ;e, which is sewed into 
 ,er a light but strong 
 ;. Before using it, the 
 1 to make it waterproof. ^ 
 is really elegant, rising 
 at the ends, which are 
 :er easily, I have seen 
 th differently coloured 
 the edges, and fanciful 
 are so light that one 
 :n weighs only a few 
 asily carried by three or 
 3 elastic that they yield 
 canoe of wood. When 
 imsing to see how easily 
 darn them like a stock- 
 loe, using wire, however, 
 
 instead of thread, and making all tight by a coating of 
 the resinous matter got from the red pine. The 
 ingenuity that invented such a refinement on the 
 common canoe, as is shown in the birch-bark one, is 
 enough to redeem the character of the Indian from 
 tlie low estimate ,of his mechanical powers sometimes 
 heard. If we wonder at the contrast between such 
 vessels at their best and our beautiful boats and ships, 
 we must remember that our ancestors could boast of 
 nothing better than these Indians make to-day. In 
 both Scotland and England, canoes have been often 
 found in draining a lake, or in excavations near 
 streams, or near the sea-shore, where bogs or other 
 causes have covered the ancient surface of the ground. 
 One was dii-rovered some years since at the foot of 
 the Ochill hills, many feet under a bog, and not very 
 far from it there was found the skeleton of a small 
 whale, with the head of a harpoon sticking in its back- 
 bone. Others, found elsewhere, are preserved in 
 various public and private museums. It is striking to 
 think from such discoveries as these, and from what 
 we know of the boats of savage nations generally over 
 the world, how nearly men of all ages when placed in 
 the same position, when they are at similar stages of 
 civilization, resemble each other in their thoughts and 
 contrivances to meet the common wants of life. All 
 over the world hollow trees have been used for the 
 first steps of navigation, and the birch-bark cano? still 
 finds a representative in the coracle which the Welsh 
 
go Spearing Fish. 
 
 fisherman carries home on his back after using it, as 
 his ancestors have done for generation after generation, 
 while the Greenlander goes to sea in his hght kaiack 
 of seal-skin, as the polished inhabitant of Babylon, as 
 Herodotus tells us, used to float his goods down the 
 Great River in round boats made of skins stretched 
 on a frame of wicker-work. 
 
 Instead of oars, the cauoe is propelled by paddles, 
 which are short oars, with a broader blade. They 
 are held in both hands, sq that a single person has 
 only one to work instead of having one in each hand, 
 as with oars.'when alone in a boat. An Indian in a 
 canoe, if by himself, sits at the end, and strikes his 
 paddle into the water at each side alternately, every 
 now and then putting it out behind as a rudder, to 
 turn hi^^5elf in any particular direction. The one we 
 bought was, as I have said, far too heavy for com- 
 fortable use, and was sold to us, I believe, for that 
 reason. It was worse to paddle it empty than to 
 paddle a proper one full of people— at least we came 
 to think so j but we knew no better at first than to like 
 it for its massiveness, never thinking of the weight we 
 should have to push through the water. The price, 
 however, was not very great, though more than would 
 have got us a right one, had we known enough. The 
 Indian who sold it to us paddled up with it, with his 
 wife in it with him, one morning, his dress being a 
 dirty printed calico shirt, and a pair of cloth leggings ; 
 hers, the never-failing blanket, and leggings, like those 
 
 ^'•/t^titrnttitim 
 
 ^^..'^:^M&.i.Ai..r^,. 
 
 ■MMiHiailK 
 
k after using it, as 
 on after generation, 
 in liis light kaiack 
 tant of Babylon, as 
 lis goods down the 
 of skins stretched 
 
 jpelled by paddles, 
 ader blade. They 
 I single person has 
 ; one in each hand, 
 ,t. An Indian in a 
 nd, and strikes his 
 le alternately, every 
 ind as a rudder, to 
 ction. The one we 
 too heavy for com- 
 
 I believe, for that 
 e it empty than to 
 ; — at least we came 
 r at first than to like 
 ng of the weight we 
 
 water. The price, 
 gh more than would 
 tiown enough. The 
 
 up with it, with his 
 ;, his dress being a 
 ir of cloth leggings ; 
 I leggings, like those 
 
 mniamimt 
 
 ]) 
 
 Spearing Fisk. 
 
 9» 
 
 of her husband. They were both rather cHcrly, and 
 by no means attractive in appearance. Robert and 
 the rest of us happened to be near the fence at the 
 river-side at the time ; and as the Indian came up, he 
 saluted him, as is usual, with the wonis, * Bo' jour,' 
 a corruption of the phrase, • Bon jour,' indicating 
 curiously the extent of the old French dominion in 
 America — every Indian, in any part, understanding, 
 or, at least, acknowledging, it. A grunt on the part 
 of our visitor conveyed his return of the courtesy, 
 and was presently followed by, ♦ C'noo, sell, good — 
 you buy?' Robert, thus addressed, willingly eno ig.. 
 enterc^ ?"t( temptation, having determined, some imie 
 before, to buy one. Like everyone olse in Canada, 
 ..e seemed naturally to think that bad English makes 
 good Indian, and pursued the dialogue somewliat as 
 follows : — Robert — ' Good c'noo ? ' Indian, with a 
 grunt, 'Good,' making sundry signs with his hands, 
 to show how it skimmed the water, and how easily it 
 could be steered, both qualities being most sadly 
 deficient, as he must have known. Robert— 'What 
 for you ask ? ' Indian, holding up eight fingers, and 
 nodding towards them, ' dollar,' making, immediately 
 after, an imitation of smoking, to stand for an ad- 
 ditional value in tobacco. Robert — ' Why you sell ? ' 
 Indian— No answer, but a grunt, which might either 
 hide a wish to decline a difficult question, by pretend- 
 ing ignorance, or anything else we like to suppose." 
 Then followed more dumb-show, to let us know what 
 
^i^ 
 
 9* 
 
 Spearing Fish. 
 
 a treasure he was parting with. My brother found it 
 hopeless to get any information from him, nothing but 
 grunts and an odd word or two of EngHsh following 
 a number of inquiries. After a time the bargain was 
 struck, and having received the money and the 
 tobacco, he and his spouse departed, laughing in their 
 sleeve, I dare say, at their success in getting a canoe 
 well sold which needed two or three men to propel it 
 at a reasonable rate. 
 
 It was with this aflfair we used to go out on our 
 spearing expeditions. A cresset, like those used in 
 old times to hold watchmen's lights, and a spear with 
 three prongs and a long handle, were all the apparatus 
 required. The cresset was fixed in the bows of the 
 canoe, and a knot of pitch-pine kindled in it, threw a 
 bright light over and through the water. Only very 
 still nights would do, for if there was any ripple the 
 fish could not be seen. When it was perfectly calm 
 we filled our cresset, and setting it a-fire, one of us 
 would take his place near the light, spear in hand, 
 standing ready to use it ; and another seated himself 
 at the stern with a paddle, and, with the least possible 
 noise, pushed off along the shallow edge of the river. 
 The fish could be seen a number of feet down, resting 
 on the bottom j but in very deep water the spear 
 could not get down quickly enough, while the position 
 of the fish itself was changed so much by the refrac- 
 tion of the light, that it was very hard to hit it even if 
 we were not too slow. The stillness of the nights — the 
 
Fish, 
 
 I. My brother found it 
 n from him, nothing but 
 ,vo of English following 
 a time the bargain was 
 . the money and the 
 parted, laughing in their 
 :cess in getting a canoe 
 r three men to propel it 
 
 used to go out on our 
 iset, like those used in 
 
 lights, and a spear with 
 e, were all the apparatus 
 xed in the bows of the 
 le kindled in it, threw a 
 I the water. Only very 
 here was any ripple the 
 en it was perfectly calm 
 ting it a-fire, one of us 
 le light, spear in hand, 
 
 another seated himself 
 i, with the least possible 
 liallow edge of the river, 
 ber of feet down, resting 
 J deep water the spear 
 lOugh, while the position 
 
 so much by the refrac- 
 ery hard to hit it even if 
 illness of the nights — the 
 
 Spearing Fish. 
 
 93 
 
 beauty of the shining skies— the delicious mildness of 
 the autumnal evenings— the sleeping smoothness of 
 the great river— the play of light and shade from our 
 fire— the white sand of the bottom, with the forms of 
 the fish seen on it as if through coloured crystal— and 
 the excitement of darting at them every few yards, 
 made the whole delightful. At first we always missed, 
 by miscalculating the position of our intended booty ; 
 but, after going out a few times with John Courtenay, 
 a neighbour, and noticing how much he allowed for 
 the difference between the rtal and the apparent spot 
 for which to aim, we got the secret of the art, and 
 giadually managed to become pretty good marksipen. 
 There was an island in the river, at the upper end of 
 which a long tongue of shallow bottom reached up the 
 stream, and on this we found the best sport : black 
 bass, pike, herrings, white-fish, cat-fish, sun-fish, and I 
 don't know what else, used to fall victims on this our 
 best preserve. I liked almost as well to paddle as to 
 stand in the bows to spear the fish, for watching the 
 spearsman and looking down at the fish kept you in a 
 flash of pleasant excitement all the time. Not a word 
 was spoken in the canoe, but I used to think words 
 enough. ' There's a great sun-fish at the right hand, 
 let me steer for it; 'and silently the paddle would 
 move us towards it, my brother motioning me with his 
 hand either to liold back or turn more this way, or 
 that, as seemed necessary. ' I wonder if he'll get 
 him ! ' would rise in my mind, as the spear was slowly 
 
94 
 
 Hmry's Cold Bath. 
 
 poised. ' Will he dart off ? ' 'He moves a little— ah ! 
 there's a great pike j make a dart at him — ^whew, he's 
 gone ! ' and, sure enough, only the bare ground was 
 visible. Perhaps the next was a white-fish, and in a 
 moment a successful throw would transfix it, and then, 
 the next, it would be in the bottom of the canoe. But 
 it was not always plain sailing with us, for Henry was 
 so fierce in his thrusts at first, that, one night, when 
 he made sure of getting a fine bass he saw, he over- 
 balanced himself with a jerk, and went in along with 
 the spear, head over heels. The water was not deep 
 enough to do him any harm, but you may be sure we 
 did, not fish any more that night. Picking himself 
 up, the unfortunate wight vented his indignation on 
 the poor fish, which, by most extraordinary logic, he 
 blamed for his calamity. I couldn't for the world 
 help laiighing ; nor could Henry himself, when he 
 had got a little over his first feelings of astonishment 
 and mortification. 
 
 The quantity of fish that some can get in a night's 
 spearing is often wonderful. I have watched Cour- 
 tenay, on a night when fish were plenty, lifting them 
 from the water almost every minute, though very few 
 were larger than herrings, and he had only their backs 
 at which to aim. In some parts of Canada there was 
 higher game than in our waters — the salmon-trout, 
 which is often as large as our salmon, and the ' maske- 
 longe,' a corruption of the French words ' masque ' 
 and ' longue,' a kind of pike with a projecting snout, 
 
. . .»^li;ai>?!f ^>SW;:r-.y,^v;.>.j;,,jfa^^ ,,.,,,^,. 
 
 ith. 
 
 moves a little — ah ! 
 it him — ^whew, he's 
 ; bare ground was 
 vhite-fish, and in a 
 ransfix it, and then, 
 1 of the canoe. But 
 
 us, for Henry was 
 It, one night, when 
 ss he saw, he over- 
 went in along with 
 ivater was not deep 
 'ou may be sure we 
 t. Picking himself 
 his indignation on 
 •aordinary logic, he 
 dn't for the world 
 
 himself, when he 
 igs of astonishment 
 
 can get in a night's 
 ave watched Cour- 
 plenty, lifting them 
 te, though very few 
 ad only their backs 
 r Canada there was 
 —the salmon-trout, 
 m, and the ' maske- 
 h words ' masque ' 
 a projecting snout, 
 
 Canadian Thunderstorms. 95 
 
 whence its name — offering a prize of which we could 
 not boast. It must be hard work to get siich prey out 
 of the water, but the harder it is the more exciting is 
 the sport for those who are strong enough. The 
 Indians in some districts live to a great extent on the 
 fish they get in this way. 
 
 I had almost forgotten to speak of the thunder and 
 lightning which broke on the sultriness of our hottest 
 Slimmer weather. Rain is much less frequent in 
 Canada than in Britain, but when it does come, it 
 often comes in earnest. It used to rebound from the 
 ground for inches, and a very few minutes were suffi- 
 cient to make small torrents run down every slope in 
 tlie ground. When we afterwards had a garden in 
 front of the house, we found it was almost impossible 
 to keep the soil on it from the violence of the rains. 
 Indeed, we gave up the attempt on finding everything 
 we tried fail, and sowed it all with grass, to the great 
 delight of the calves, to whom it was made over as a 
 nursery. There is music, no doubt, in the sound of 
 rain, both in the light patter of a summer shower, and 
 in the big drops that dance on the ground ; but there 
 are differences in this as in other kinds. I have stood 
 sometimes below the green branches in the woods 
 when a thin cloud was dropping its wealth on them, 
 and have been charmed by the murmur. But the 
 heavy rain that came most frequently in the hot 
 weather, falling as if through some vast cullender, was 
 more solemn, and filled you with something like awe. 
 
 _.,J, [Hii, 
 
96 Canadian Thunderstorms. 
 
 It was often accompanied by thunder and lightning, 
 such as those who live in cooler climatLS seldom hear 
 or see. The amount of the electricity in the atmos- 
 phere of any country depends very much on the heat 
 of the weather. Captain Grahame, who had com- 
 manded a frigate on the East India station, told me 
 once, when on a short visit, that, in the Straits of 
 Malacca, he had to order the sails to be furled every 
 day at one o'clock, a thunderstorm coming on regu- 
 larly at that hour, accompanied with wind so terrible 
 that the canvas of the sliip would often have been 
 torn into ribbons, and knotted into hard lumps, if he 
 had not done so. Thunderstorms are not so exact 
 nor so frequent in Canada, but they came too often in 
 some years for my taste. I was startled out of my 
 sleep one night by a peal that must have burst within 
 a few ^ards of the house, the noise exceeding anything 
 I ever heard before or since. You don't know what 
 thunder is till a cloud is fired that way at your ear. 
 Our poor dog Yorick, which we had brought from 
 England with us, was so terrified at the violence of the 
 storms that broke over us once and again, that he used 
 to jump in through any open window, if the door were 
 shut, and hide himself under the bed till all was quiet. 
 He lost his life at last, poor brute, through his terror 
 at thunder, for one day when it had come on, the 
 windows and doors happening to be closed, he rushed 
 into the woods in his mortal fear, and coming on the 
 shanty of a settler, flew in and secreted himself below 
 
•storms. 
 
 nder and lightning, 
 imati-s seldom hear 
 tricity in the atmos- 
 \f much on the heat 
 ne, who had com- 
 dia station, told me 
 It, in the Straits of 
 s to be furled every 
 rm coming on regu- 
 ith wind so terrible 
 Id often have been 
 to hard lumps, if he 
 (IS are not so exact 
 ;y came too often in 
 startled out of my 
 St have burst within 
 5 exceeding anything 
 ou don't know what 
 :hat way at your ear. 
 J had brought from 
 It the violence of the 
 id again, that he used 
 dow, if the door were 
 bed till all was quiet, 
 te, through his terror 
 t had come on, the 
 be closed, he rushed 
 •, and coming on the 
 ;creted himself below 
 
 Canadian Thunderstorms. 
 
 97 
 
 his accustomed shelter, the bed. The owner of the 
 house, not knowing the facts of the case, naturally 
 enough took it for granted that the dog was mad, and 
 forthwith put an end to his troubles by shooting him. 
 It was a great grief to us all to lose so kind and 
 intelligent a creature, but we could hardly blame his 
 destroyer. 
 
 There is a wonderful sublimity sometimes in the 
 darkness and solemn hush of nature that goes before 
 one of these storms. It seems as if the pulse of all 
 things were stopped. The leaves tremble, though 
 there is not a breath of wind ; the birds either hide in 
 the forest, or fly low, in terror ; the waters look black, 
 and are ruffled over all their surface. It seems as if 
 all things around knew of the impending terrors. I 
 never was more awed in my life, I think, than at the 
 sight of the heavens and the accompanying suspense of 
 nature one afternoon, in the first summer we were on 
 the river. The tempest had not burst, but it lay in 
 the bosom of portentous clouds, of a strange, un- 
 earthly look and colour, that came down to within a 
 very short distance of the earth. Not a sound broke 
 the awful silence ; the wind, as well as all things else, 
 was still, and yet the storm-clouds moved steadily to 
 the south, apparently only a very few yards higher 
 than the trees. The darkness was like that of an 
 eclipse, and no one could have said at what instant 
 the prison of the lightnings and thunders would rend 
 above him and envelope him in its horrors. I could 
 
 7 
 
^8 Canadian Thunderstorms. 
 
 not, dared not stir, but stood where I was till the 
 great grey masses, through which it seemed as i I 
 Lid see the shimmer of the aerial fires, had saded 
 slowly over to the other side of the river, and the hght, 
 
 in part, returned. 
 
 The lightning used to leave cunous traces of its 
 visits in its effects on isolated trees all round There 
 was a huge pine in a field at the back of the house 
 
 that had been its sport more than once. Ihe great 
 top had been torn off, a^id the trunk was split mto 
 ribbons, which hung far down the sides. Many others 
 which I have seen in different parts had been ploughed 
 into deep furrows almost from top to bottom. Ihe 
 telegraph-posts, since they have been erected, have 
 been an especial attraction. I have seen fully a dozen 
 of thqn in one long stretch split up, and torn spirally, 
 through their whole length, by a flash which had slruck 
 the wire and run along it. That more people are not 
 killed by it seems wonderful; yet there are many 
 accidents of this kind, after all. In the first or second 
 year of our settlement a widow lady, living a few miles 
 up the river, was found dead in her bed killed in a 
 storm, and we afterwards heard of several others 
 perishing in the same way. 
 
 Hail often accompanies thunder and lightnmg m 
 Canada, and the pieces are sometimes of a size that 
 lets one sympathize with the Egyptians when Moses 
 sent down a similar visitation on them. I remember 
 reading of a hailstorm on the Black Sea in the midst 
 
 wmiUtitM 
 
torms. 
 
 ere I was till the 
 it seemed as if I 
 il fires, had sailed 
 river, and the light, 
 
 irious traces of its 
 s all round. There 
 back of the house 
 a cnce. The great 
 runk was split into 
 sides. Many others 
 :s had been ploughed 
 )p to bottom. The 
 been erected, have 
 ve seen fully a dozen 
 up, and torn spirally, 
 lash which had struck 
 more people are not 
 yet there are many 
 In the first or second 
 .dy, living a few miles 
 , her bed killed in a 
 rd of several others 
 
 der and lightning in 
 letimes of a size that 
 Egyptians when Moses 
 n them. I remember 
 ;lack Sea in the midst 
 
 Our Golden Autumns, 
 
 99 
 
 of hot weather, the pieces in which were, some of 
 them, a pound weight, threatening death to any one 
 they might strike. I never saw them such a size in 
 Canada, but used to think that it was bad enough to 
 have them an inch and a half long. They must be 
 formed by a cloud being whirled up, by some current 
 in the air, to such a height as freezes its contents even 
 in the heat of summer. 
 
 The weather in the fall was delightful — better, I 
 think, than in any other season of the year. Getting 
 its name from the beginning of the fall of the leaves, 
 this season lasts on till winter pushes it aside. Day 
 after day was bright and almost cloudless, and the 
 heat had passed into a balmy mildness, which made 
 the very feeling of being alive a pleasure. Every- 
 thing combined to make the landscape beautiful. The 
 great resplendent river, flowing so softly it seemed 
 scarce to move — its bosom a broad sheet of molten 
 silver, on which clouds, and sky, and white sails, and 
 even the farther banks, with the houses, and fields, 
 and woods, far back from the water, were painted as 
 in a magic mirror — was a beautiful sight, of which 
 we never tired ; like the swans in St Mary's Loch, 
 which, Wordsworth says, 'float double, swan and 
 shadow,' we had ships /« as well as on the waters; 
 and not a branch, nor twig, nor leaf of the great trees 
 nor of the bushes, nor a touch in the open landscape, 
 was awanting, as we paddled along the shores, or 
 looked across. 
 
lOO 
 
 Our Golden Autumns. 
 
 And what shall I say of the sunsets? Milton 
 says — 
 
 ' Now came still evening on, and twilight grey 
 Had in her sober livery all tlnhg'* clad.' 
 
 But this would not do for some of those autumn days. 
 The yellow light would fill earth, and air, and sky. 
 The trees, seen between you and the setting sun, were 
 shining amber, in trunk, and branch, and leaf; and 
 the windows of neighbours' houses were flammg 
 gold; while here and there branches on which the 
 sun shone at a different angle seemed light itself; 
 and in the distance the smoke rose purple, till, while 
 you gazed, the whole vision faded, and faded, through 
 every shade of green and violet, into the dark-blue of 
 
 the sta^s. , 
 
 By the beginning of September the first frosts had 
 touched the trees, and the change of colour in the 
 leaves at once set in. It is only when this has taken 
 place that the forests put on their greatest beauty; 
 though, indeed, a feeling of sadness was always asso- 
 ciated with these autumnal splendours, connected as 
 they are, like the last colours of the dolphin, with 
 thoughts of decay and death. With each day. after 
 the change had commenced, the beauty increased. 
 Each kind of tree-the oak, the elm, the beach, the 
 ash, the birch, the walnut, and, above all, the niaple 
 -had its own hue, and every hue was lovely. Then 
 there were the solemn pines, and tamaracks, and ce- 
 
mns. > 
 
 sunsets? Milton 
 
 twilight grey 
 Ti; clad.' 
 
 those autumn days. 
 , and air, and sky. 
 he setting sun, were 
 nch, and leaf; and 
 luses were flaming 
 iches on which the 
 seemed light itself; 
 se purple, till, while 
 , and faded, through 
 nto the dark-blue of 
 
 r the first frosts had 
 ge of colour in the 
 when this has taken 
 leir greatest beauty; 
 ess was always asso- 
 idours, connected as 
 of the dolphin, with 
 With each day, after 
 he beauty increased. 
 I elm, the beach, the 
 above all, the maple 
 .le was lovely. Then 
 id tamaracks, and ce- 
 
 The Change of the Leaf . lor 
 
 dars, setting off the charms of their gayer brethren by 
 their sober green, which at a distance looked almost 
 black. The maple-leaf, the first to colour, remained, 
 throughout, the most beautiful, in its golden yellow and 
 crimson. No wonder it has become to Canada what 
 the shamrock is to Ireland, or the rose and the thistle 
 to England and Scotland. The woods looked finest, 
 I think, when the tints are just beginning, and green, 
 yellow, and scarlet are mingled in every shade of 
 transition. But what sheets of golden flame they 
 became after a time ! Then every leaf had something 
 of its own in which it differed from all others. Yonder, 
 the colours blended together into pink of the brightest 
 tint ; then came a dash of lilac and blue, and, away 
 by itself, a clump rose, like an islet, of glowing red 
 gold. Lofty trees, and humble undergrowth, and 
 climbing creepers — all alike owned the magic influence, 
 and decked the landscape with every tint that can be 
 borrowed from the light, till the whole looked like the 
 scenery of some fairy tale. 
 
 The sunsets, as the year deepened into winter, grew, 
 I thought, if possible, more and more glorious. The 
 light sank behind mountains of gold and puqjle, and 
 shot up its splendours, from beyond, on every bar and 
 fleck of cloud, to the zenith. Then came the slow 
 advance of night, with the day retreating from before 
 it to the glorious gates of the west, at first in a flush of 
 crimson, then in a flood of amber, till at last, with a 
 lingering farewell, it left us in paler and paler green. 
 
 BM 
 
loa Indian Summer. 
 
 I have seen every tree turned into golc. as I looked 
 across the river, as the evening fell. Milman speaks 
 in one of his poems, of the 'golden air of heaven.' 
 Such sights as these sunsets make the image a reality, 
 and almost involuntarily lead one, as he gazes on the 
 wide glory that rests on all things, to think how 
 beautiful the better world must be if this one be so 
 
 lovely. 
 
 The Indian summer came with the end of October 
 and lasted about ten days, a good deal of rain having 
 fallen just before. While it lasted, it was deliciously 
 mild, like the finest April weather in England. A soft 
 mist hung over the whole panorama round us, mellow- 
 ing everything to a pecular spiritual beauty. The sun 
 rose, and travelled through the day, and set, behmd a 
 veil of hlze, through which it showed like a great crate 
 of glowing embers. As it rose, the haze reddened 
 higher and higher up the sky, till, at noon, the heavens 
 were like the hollow of a vast half-transparent rose, 
 shutting out the blue. It was like the dreamy days of 
 Thomson's 'Castle of Indolence,' where everythmg 
 invited to repose. You could look at the sun at any 
 hour and yet the view around was not destroyed, but 
 rathe, made more lovely. What the cause of this 
 phenomenon may be I have never been able to find 
 out One writer suggests one thing, and another 
 something else ; but it seems as if nobody knew the 
 true reason of it. If I might venture a guess, I would 
 say that perhaps it arises from the condensaUcn of the 
 
golfi as I looked 
 . Milman speaks 
 :n air of heaven.' 
 lie image a reality, 
 IS he gazes on the 
 gs, to think how 
 
 if this one be so 
 
 he end of October 
 ieal of rain having 
 , it was deliciously 
 I England. A soft 
 round us, mellow- 
 beauty. The sun 
 ', and set, behind a 
 :d like a great crate 
 the haze reddened 
 t noon, the heavens 
 ilf-transparent rose, 
 the dreamy days of 
 ' where everything 
 k at the sun at any 
 5 not destroyed, but 
 the cause of this 
 :r been able to find 
 thing, and another 
 if nobody knew the 
 ure a guess, I would 
 condensation of the 
 
 Indian Summer. 
 
 tO| 
 
 vapours of the earth by the first fiosts, while the 
 summer and autumn heats are yet great enough in the 
 soil to cause them to rise in abundance. 
 
 Both before and after the Indian summer the first 
 unmistakcabie heralds of winter visited us, in the 
 shape of morning hoar-frost, which melted away as the 
 day advanced. It was wonderfully beautiful to look at 
 it, in its effects on the infinitely-varied colours of the 
 leaves which still clung to the trees. Its silv^ dust, 
 powdered over the golden yellow of some, and the 
 bright-red, or dark-brown, or green of others, the 
 minutest outline of each preserved, looked charming 
 in the extreme. Then, not only the leaves, but the 
 trunks, nnd branches, and lightest sprays, were crusted 
 with the same snowy film, till, as far as the eye could 
 reach, it seemed as if some magical transformation had 
 happened in the night, and a mockery of nature had 
 been moulded in white. But what shall I say of the 
 scene when the sun came up in the east, to have his 
 look at it as well as we ? What rainbow tints of every 
 possible shade ! what diamond sparkling of millions of 
 crystals at once ! It was like the gardens of Aladdin, 
 with the trees bending under their wealth of rubies, 
 and sapphires, and all things precious. But the 
 spectacle was as short-lived as it was lovely. By noon, 
 the last trace was gone. 
 
 The autumnal rains are of great value to the farmers 
 and the country generally, by filling the wells and 
 natural reservoirs, so as to secure a plentiful supply of 
 
104 ^/'^ -^^^^ Rains and the Roads. 
 
 water for winter, and thus they were welcome enough 
 on this ground to most, though we, with the river at 
 hand, could have very well done without them. But, 
 in their effects on the roads, they were a cause of 
 grief to all alike. Except near towns, the roads all 
 through Canada were, in those days, what most of 
 them are, even yet, only mud ; and hence you may 
 judge their state after long-continued tropical rains. 
 All I Ivive said of our journey to the river in the early 
 summer might be repeated of each returning fall. 
 Men came to the house every day or two to borrow 
 an axe or an auger, to extemporize some repair of 
 their broken-down waggons or vehicles. One pitchy 
 night I came upon two who were intensely busy, by 
 the light of a lantern, mending a waggon, with the 
 help o» a saw, an auger, an axe, and a rope. Of 
 course, I stopped to offer assistance, but I had come 
 only in time to be too late, and was answered that my 
 help was not wanted. ' All's right— there's no use 
 making a fuss— Jirii, take back them things where you 
 got them, and let's go a-head.' As to thanks for my 
 offer, it would have been extravagant to expect them. 
 They had cobbled their vehicle, and, on Jim's return, 
 vere off into the darkness as coolly as if nothing had 
 happened. The dangers of the roads are a regular 
 part of the calculations of the back-country Canadians, 
 to encounter which they carry an axe, a wrench, and 
 a piece of rope, which are generally enough for the 
 rude wheelwright surgery required. • It is amusing to 
 
he Roads. 
 
 e welcome enoiif^h 
 e, with the river at 
 ■ithoiit them. Ikit, 
 yr were a cause of 
 )wns, the roads all 
 ays, what most of 
 1(1 hence you may 
 lucd tropical rains, 
 he river in the early 
 lach returning fall. 
 
 or two to borrow 
 ize some repair of 
 hides. One pitchy 
 : intensely busy, by 
 a waggon, with the 
 1, and a rope. Of 
 ce, but I had come 
 as answered that my 
 ,ht — there's no use 
 :m things where you 
 ^s to thanks for my 
 jant to expect them, 
 ind, on Jim's return, 
 lly as if nothing had 
 
 roads are a regular 
 c-country Canadians, 
 1 axe, a wrench, and 
 rally enough for the 
 d. • It is amusing to 
 
 The Fall Rains and the Roads. 105 
 
 hear wiin what i)crfect indifference they treat mis- 
 adventures which would totally disconcert an Old 
 Countryman. I remember a man whom 1 met patch- 
 ing up his light waggon— which is the name for a 
 four-wheeled gig— setting me laughing at his account 
 of his triumpiis over all the accidents of travel. ' I 
 never was stopped yet,' he went on to assure me. 
 ' Once I was in my buggy and the tire of one of the 
 wheels came off without my noticing ; I ran back some 
 miles to try if . ould get it, but I couldn't find it. 
 I3ut I guess 1 1... ver say die, so I took a rail and stuck 
 it in below the lame corner, and I tell you we made 
 the dust fly ! ' 
 
 A little brick church had been built about two miles 
 from us, some time before we came to the river, but 
 the mud was a sore hindrance to such of the congre- 
 gation as could not come by water. Any attempt at 
 week-night meetings of any kind was, of course, out of 
 the question. We were pretty nearly close prisoners 
 till the frost should come to relieve us. 
 
 As in many other cases, however, this first step 
 towards cure was almost worse than the disease. The 
 frost often came in bitter fierceness for some time 
 before any snow fell, and, then, who shall sing in sad 
 enough strains the state of the roads ? Imagine mile 
 after mile of mud, first poached into a long honey- 
 comb by the oxen and horses, and cut into longitu- 
 dinal holes by the wheels, then frozen, in this state, in 
 a night, into stone, I once had to ride nearly sixty 
 
 ««n 
 
 UHMIi* 
 
1 o6 The Fall Rains and the Roads. 
 
 miles over such a set of pitfalls. My brother, Frederic, 
 was -.-ith me, but he had slipped in the stable and 
 sprained his shoulder so that I had almost to lift him 
 into the saddle. He came with me to lead back my 
 horse at the sixty miles' end, where the roads per- 
 mitted the stage to run for my further journey. We 
 were two days on the way, and such days. The ther- 
 mometer was below zero, our breath froze on our eye- 
 lashes every minute, und the horses had long icicles 
 at their noses, and yet we< could only stumble on at a 
 slow walk, the horses picking their steps with the 
 greatest difficulty, and every now and then coming 
 down almost on their knees. Sometimes we got sc 
 cold we had to get off and walk with the bridles or 
 our arms ; and then there was the getting Frederi( 
 mounted again. I thought we should never get to th( 
 end of the first day's ride. It got dark long befor 
 we reached it, and we were afraid to sit any longer oi 
 the horses, so that we finished it by groping in th 
 pitchy darkness, as well as we could, for some miles. 
 The first snow fell in November, and lay, that yea 
 from that time until April. The climate has becom 
 much milder since, from the great extent of the clea 
 ings, I suppose, so that snow does not lie, now-a-day 
 as it did then, and does not begin for nearly a moni 
 later. I have often heard Canadians deploring i\ 
 change in this respect, as, indeed, they well may in tl 
 rougher parts of the country, for the winter snow, \ 
 filling up the holes in the roads and freezing the w 
 
and the Roads. 
 
 ills. My brother, Frederic, 
 slipped in the stable and 
 at I had almost to lift him 
 ; with me to lead back my 
 end, where the roads per- 
 r my further journey. We 
 and such days. The ther- 
 ur breath froze on our eye- 
 he horses had long icicles 
 could only stumble on at a 
 eking their steps with the 
 ery now and then coming 
 ;es. Sometimes we got so 
 id walk with the bridles on 
 e was the getting Frederic 
 it we should never get to the 
 ;. It got dark long before 
 e afraid to sit any longer on 
 lished it by groping in the 
 5 we could, for some miles, 
 lovember, and lay, that year, 
 , The climate has become 
 ;he great extent of the clear- 
 low does not lie, now-a-days, 
 lot begin for nearly a month 
 •d Canadians deploring the 
 , indeed, they well may in the 
 ntry, for the winter snow, by 
 2 roads and freezing the wet 
 
 The First Snow. 
 
 107 
 
 places, as well as by its smooth surface, enables them 
 to bring heavy loads of all kinds to market, from 
 places which are wholly shut up at other seasons, if 
 they had tiie leisure to employ in that way, at any 
 other, which they have not. The snow is consequently 
 as welcome in Canada as the summer is elsewhere, 
 and a deficiency of it is a heavy loss. When we first 
 settled, the quantity that fell was often very great, and 
 as none melted, except during the periodical thaw in 
 January, the accumulation became quite formidable 
 by spring. It was never so bad, however, by any 
 means, as aj Quebec, where the houses have flights of 
 steps up to the doors to let folks always get in and 
 out through the winter, the doors being put at high 
 snow-mark, if I may so speak. I have sometimes 
 seen the stumps quite hidden and the fences dv/arfed 
 to a very Lilliputian height ; but, of late years, there 
 have been some winters when there has hardly been 
 enough to cover the ground, and tlie wheat has in 
 many parts been killed, to a large extent, by the frost 
 and thaws, which it cannot stand when uncovered. 
 People in Britain often make great mistakes about the 
 appearance of Canada in winter, thinking, as I re- 
 member we did that we should have almost to get 
 down to our houses through the snow for months 
 together. The whole depth may often, now-a-days, 
 in the open country, be measured by inches, though 
 it still keeps up its 1 'Id glory in the bush, and lies for 
 months together, instead of melting off in a few day?. 
 
Canada in Winter. 
 
 io8 
 
 given by a very > respecting it by 
 
 I^ke Huron, as the epoin^^^ ^^ .^^^^^^^ 
 
 ,n Englishman to his n ends - ^^^^^^ 
 
 ntrd:'r::rre:;:--^^-^ 
 
 "'t ^heat or stung to death by mosquitoes, and, 
 ,p by the heat or g ^^ ^^^ ^^^^ 
 
 for the other fou , if y .^ ^.^^^^^ ^^ ^y 
 
 r 7 ? Tth ev^ thJs arrayed are bad enough, 
 the frost. All tne ev imagmation 
 
 .but the »ri,e.s humou, ,o,n=d « * h« . g 
 , to making an »«"8=o»s c^.ca.ur= « 
 
 pe*aps, say as "^^'^'^ ^ j remember travel- 
 
 .ith a nearer .approach^^^^^^^^ Wolverhampton to 
 
 U„g .ith one -J^; -^;';; .^ ^^^.^r, whose opinion 
 London on a very bad aay _ 
 
 of the English climate -. V^^-^^^^; ^^,,,,y, ,3 
 „ate-ifs only yellow fo^-' ^°^^ ,^ ...Jntful 
 true an EngUshman . ever Iwed^ m ^^^^^^ .^ .^ ^ 
 letters published m his Life, cons y ^^ 
 
 most extraordinary ^^rteVot^^ country in 
 others who abuse that of every ^^^ ^^^^.^^ 
 
 .hich they ^^--^.^° Hnd 1st always set the 
 just as we would like t, an ^ 
 
 bright side over ^g^^"^^ ;^^^, ^;^^-^ ^^^J^, some 
 think that, though Canada has U J^^ 
 seasons, and redeeming points m all. there P 
 
nter. 
 
 the towns and cities, 
 e Canadian climate 
 dead, Dr Dunlop, of 
 wme respecting it by 
 
 whom he informed, 
 • you were up to 'the 
 )u were either burned 
 1 by mosquitoes, and, 
 iged to get your nose 
 . have it bitten off by 
 rrayed are bad enough, 
 1 with his imagination 
 cature when he spoke 
 about England, would, 
 s climate, and, perhaps, 
 ;h. I remember travel- 
 rom Wolverhampton to 
 n winter, whose opinion 
 
 'cleemate, it's no clee- 
 .' Robert Southey, as 
 "lived, in the delightful 
 constantly abuses it in a 
 .d I suppose there are 
 
 every other country in 
 
 We can have nothing 
 
 md must always set the 
 
 le dark. For my part, I 
 
 has its charms at some 
 Its in all, there is no place 
 
 Climate in America. 
 
 109 
 
 like dear Old England, in spite of its fogs and 
 drizzle, and the colds they bring in their train. 
 
 The question often rises respecting the climate in 
 America, since it has grown so much milder in com- 
 paratively few years, whether it will ever grow any- 
 thing like our own in its range of cold and heat. 
 That many countries have changed greatly within 
 historical periods is certain. The climate of England, 
 in the days of the Norman conquest, is thought by 
 many to have been like that of Canada now. Horace 
 hints at ice and snow being no strangers at Rome in 
 the time of Augustus. Caesar led his army over the 
 frozen Rhone; and, as to Germany, the description 
 of its climate in Tacitus is fit to make one shiver. 
 But we have, unfortunately, an opportunity afforded 
 us by the case of New England, of seeing that two 
 hundred years' occupation of an American province, 
 though it may lessen the quantity of snow, has no 
 effect in tempering the severity of the cold in winter, 
 or abating the heat in summer. Connecticut and 
 Massachusetts are as cold as Canada, if not colder, 
 and yet they are long-settled countries. The great 
 icy continent to the north forbids the hope of Canada 
 ever being, in any strict sense of the term, temperate. 
 Even in the open prairies of Wisconsin and Iowa the 
 blasts that sweep from the awful Arctic deserts are 
 keen beyond the conception of those who never felt 
 them. It is the fact of Britain being an isiand that 
 has made the change in its case, the wind that blows 
 
 J 
 
A Winter Landscape. 
 
 tto 
 
 over the sea being always much cooler in summer 
 and warmer in winter than that which blows over 
 
 land. - , , 
 
 I have spoken of the beautiful effect of the hoar- 
 frost on the forest ; that of the snow is equally stnkuig 
 It is wonderful how much manages to get itself heaped 
 up on the broad branches of pines and cedars, and even 
 on the bare limbs and twigs of other trees, makmg 
 the landscape look most amazingly wmtry But I 
 don't think any one in Canada ever heard of such a 
 quantity lodging on them as to make such an occur- 
 rence as Mrs Mary Somerville quotes from some 
 traveller in her ' Physical Geography,' where she tells 
 us that the weight of it on the broad fronds of the 
 pine-trees is so great, that, when the wind rises and 
 swafs tliem to and fro, they often tumble agamst each 
 other with such force as to overthrow great numbers, 
 over large tracts of country. Such ' ice-storms, as she 
 calls them, I never heard of, nor did I ever meet with 
 any one who did. Indeed, I rather think them im- 
 possible, from the mere fact that, though the force with 
 which the first tree struck the second might be enough 
 to throw /•/ down, that of the second would be much 
 weaker on a third, and thus the destruction would 
 cease almost at once, instead of spreading far and wide. 
 It must be some curious and incorrect version of the 
 terrible tornadoes of summer which she has quoted. 
 
 The snow itself used to give me consUnt pleasure 
 in looking at it minutely. The beautiful shapes you 
 
 11 «• 
 
\scape. 
 
 \ cooler in summer 
 t which blows over 
 
 al effect of the hoar- 
 ow is equally striking. 
 2S to get itself heaped 
 ; and cedars, and even 
 ,f other trees, making 
 ;ingly wintry. But I 
 ever heard of such a 
 make such an occur- 
 e quotes from some 
 ■aphy,' where she tells 
 2 broad fronds of the 
 en the wind rises and 
 ;n tumble against each 
 ;rthrow great numbers, 
 ich ' ice-storms,' as she 
 ,r did I ever meet with 
 rather think them im- 
 ,t, though the force with 
 econd might be enough 
 second would be much 
 the destruction would 
 f spreading far and wide, 
 incorrect version of the 
 ivhich she has quoted, 
 e me constant pleasure 
 [le beautiful shapes you 
 
 Snow Crystals. 
 
 Ill 
 
 see in the kaleidoscope are not more wonderful than 
 those of the crystals of which it was made up. Stars, 
 crosses, diamonds, and I know not what other shapes, 
 as large almost as a shilling, shone round you in mil- 
 lions when the sun - ^nt his glittering light on them, 
 except in very co.v. ,ather, for then the snow was only 
 a dry powder. What a wonderful thing crystalliza- 
 tion is ! If you think of it for a moment you will be 
 amazed and awed, for it brings us as if face to face 
 with God. How is it that the particles of snow range 
 themselves in the most perfect forms, far more beau- 
 tifully than any jeweller could make the most costly 
 ornament? There is never an error— never anything 
 like a failure. Every atom of the dead, cold snow 
 lias a law impressed on it by God, by which it takes 
 its proper place in building up those fairy spangles 
 and jewels. Can anything be more exquisite than 
 the crystals we find in the rocks ? Yet they are built 
 up of atoms too small for even the microscope to 
 detect, and are always exactly the same shape in the 
 same kind of crystal. Philosophers think that the 
 particles of each kind of crystal have each the per- 
 fect shape which the whole crystal assumes; but if this 
 be so, it makes the matter still more wonderful, for 
 what shall we think of atoms, which no magnifying 
 power can make visible, being carved and pierced and 
 fretted into the most lovely shapes and patterns ? The 
 great power of God is, I think, shown even more 
 wonderfully in the smallest than in the largest of His 
 
1 1 a Minnie Perfection of God's Works. 
 
 works. The miracles of His creative skill are lavished 
 almost more profusely on its least than on its larger 
 productions, in animate as well as inanimate nature. 
 The crystalline lens of a cod's eye— that is, the central 
 hard part of it, which is a very little larger than a pea, 
 and is quite transparent — was long thought to have no 
 special wonders in its stnicture ; but the microscope 
 has shown latterly that what appeared a mere piece of 
 hard jelly is made up of five millions of distinct 
 fibres, which are locked iiito each other by sixty-two 
 thousand millions of teeth ! The grasshopper has 
 two hundred and seventy horny teeth, set in rows in 
 its gizzard. A quarto volume has been written on 
 the anatomy of the earth-worm. At Bilin, in Hun- 
 gary, there is a kind of stone which the great micro- 
 scopisf— or histologist, as the phrase sometimes is — 
 Dr Ehrenberg, has found to consist, nearly altogether, 
 of creatures so small that three hundred and thirty 
 millions of them make a piece only about twice the 
 size of one of the dice used in backgammon, and yet 
 each of these creatures is covered with a coat of mail 
 delicately carved all over. What can be more lovely 
 than the way in which the little feathers are laid on 
 a butterfly's wing in such charming spots and bars of 
 different colours ? I was looking soine time since at 
 a butterfly, which was of the most perfect azure blue 
 when you looked do\vn on it, but changed, when you 
 saw it sideways, from one shade to another, and asked 
 an entomologist how it was it had so many different 
 
God's Works. 
 
 ve skill are lavished 
 than on its larger 
 5 inanimate nature, 
 -that is, the central 
 e larger than a pea, 
 thought to have no 
 but the microscope 
 red a mere piece of 
 nillions of distinct 
 I other by sixty-two 
 he grasshopper has 
 eeth, set in rows in 
 as been written on 
 At Bilin, in Hun- 
 ch the great micro- 
 •ase sometimes is — 
 5t, nearly altogether, 
 hundred and thirty 
 )nly about twice the 
 ickgammon, and yet 
 with a coat of mail 
 can be more lovely 
 feathers are laid on 
 ig spots and bars of 
 ; some time since at 
 ;t perfect azure blue 
 t changed, v;hen you 
 o another, and asked 
 id so many different 
 
 Minufe Perfection of God's Works. 1 13 
 
 tints, taking nearly every colour by turns. It is by 
 the wonderful arrangement of the feathers, it seems, 
 all this is done, the way in which they are laid on 
 the wings being such as to break the rays of light 
 into all these colours, according to the angle at which 
 It is held to the eye. How wonderful the Being 
 whose very smallest works are so perfect ! 
 
 The snow in cold countries is very different in 
 appearance at different times, as I have already in- 
 timated. In comparatively mild weather it falls and 
 lies in large soft flakes ; but in very cold weather it 
 comes down almost in powder, and crackles below 
 the feet at each step. The first showers seldom lie the 
 au- being too warm as yet ; indeed, warm, comfort- 
 able days sometimes continue quite late. I re- 
 member one November when we were without fires 
 even in the middle of it, for some days together i 
 and n,. one extraordinary December, ploughs were' 
 actually going on Christmas-day; but this was as 
 great a wonder as a Canadian frost would be in 
 England. The first winter, enough fell in November 
 to cover all the stumps in our field, which we did 
 not see again for many weeks. The depth of the 
 snow must thus have been at least a yard. In the 
 woods, there was only a dead level of snow, instead of 
 the rough flooring of fallen logs and broken branches. 
 At first we could not stir through it for the depth 
 and had to make a path to the bam and to the road • 
 but after a time a thaw came for a day or so, and 
 
 8 
 
Deer-shooting. 
 
 114 
 
 some rain fell, and then the surface of the snow froze 
 so firmly that even the oxen could walk over it m 
 any direction without breaking through. 
 
 The falling of tlie snow was a great time for the 
 sportsmen of our household, for the deer were then 
 most easily killed, the snow, while soft, showing their 
 tracks, and also making them less timid, by forcmg 
 them to seek far and near for their food. Our rifles 
 were, consequently, put in the best order as soon as 
 the ground was white ; and each of us saw, m im- 
 agination, whole herds of stags which he had brought 
 down. Frederic, who had been left in Toronto, hav- 
 ing suffered in health by the confinement of his office, 
 had given it up, and had joined us some time before 
 this, so that there were now five of us, besides my 
 two' sisters. We had three rifles and one gun, the 
 rifle which David carried being an especially good 
 one. But he was the poorest shot of us all, and 
 Robert was too nervous to be sure of his aim ; but 
 Henry was as cool before a stag as if it had been 
 a rabbit. We were all in a state of great eagerness 
 to commence, and had already looked out white 
 clothes to put on over our ordinary suit, that we 
 might be more like the snow ; an extra supply of 
 bullets and powder had been put into our pouches 
 and flasks ; and we had pestered every one, for 
 weeks before, with every possible question as to what 
 we were to do when we set out. On the eventful 
 day my brothers, Robert, Henry, and David, got 
 
Deer-shooting. 
 
 "5 
 
 of the snow froze 
 d walk over it in 
 ugh. 
 
 great time for the 
 le deer were then 
 soft, showing their 
 5 timid, by forcing 
 r food. Our rifles 
 ;t order as soon as 
 of us saw, in ira- 
 ich he had brought 
 :ft in Toronto, hav- 
 lement of his office, 
 s some time before 
 
 of us, besides my 
 
 and one gun, the 
 an especially good 
 hot of us all, and 
 ire of his aim ; but 
 I as if it had been 
 : of great eagerness 
 
 looked out white 
 inary suit, that we 
 
 an extra supply of 
 It into our pouches 
 Ted every one, for 
 ! question as to what 
 t. On the eventful 
 iry, and David, got 
 
 their rifles on their shoulders immediately after 
 breakfast, and, having determined on taking each a 
 different road, struck into the woods as each thought 
 best. Shortly before dark we heard David's voice 
 in the clearing, and, soon after, Robert and Henry 
 made their appearance. We were all out in a 
 moment to see what they had got, but found them 
 by no means disposed to be talkative about their 
 adventures. We gradually learned, however, that 
 tliey had all had a hard day's trudge through the 
 rough wearisome woods, and that Robert had had 
 one good chance through the day, but was so flus- 
 tered when the deer sprang away through the trefes 
 that he could not raise his rifle in time, and had 
 fired rather at where it had been than at where it 
 was. David declared that he had walked forty 
 miles, he supposed, and had seen nothing, though if 
 he had only seen as much as a buck's tail he was 
 sure he would have brought it down. Henry said 
 that, do his best, he could not get near enough, what 
 with the wind and the crackling of something or 
 other. The fact was that they were raw hands, and 
 needed some training, and had had to suffer the 
 usual penalty of over-confidence, in reaping only 
 disappointment. They felt this indeed so much, that 
 it was some time before they would venture out 
 alone again, preferring to accompany an old hunter 
 who Uved near us, until they had caught the art 
 from him. Henry went out with an Indian, also, 
 
ii6 
 
 Deer-shooting, 
 
 once, and thus gradually became able to manage 
 by himself. He had the honour of killing the first 
 deer, and setting up the trophy of its horns. He had 
 walked for hours, thinking every liftle while he saw 
 something through the trees, but had been disap- 
 pointed, until towards midday, when, at last, he came 
 upon a couple browsing on the tender tips of the 
 brush, at a long distance from him. Then came the 
 hardest part of the day's work, to get within shot of 
 them without letting thtia hear or smell him. He 
 had to dodge from tree to tree, and would look out 
 every minute to see if they were still there. Several 
 times the buck pricked its ears, and looked all round 
 it, as if about to run off, making him almost hold his 
 breath with anxiety lest it should do so ; but, at last, 
 he gdt near enough, and taking a good aim at it from 
 behind a tree, drew the trigger. A spring forward, 
 and a visible momentary quiver, showed that he had 
 hit it ; but it did not immediately fall, but ran off 
 with the other through the woods. Instantly dashing 
 out to the spot where it had stood, Henry followed 
 its track, aided by the blood which every here and 
 there lay on the snow. He thought at first he would 
 come up with it in a few hundred yards, but it led 
 him a long weary chase of nearly two miles before he 
 got within sight of it. It had continued to run until 
 weakness from the loss of blood had overpowered it, 
 and it lay quite dead when Henry reached it. It was 
 too great a weight for him to think of carrying home 
 
i 
 
 e able to manage 
 of killing the first 
 
 its horns. He had 
 little while he saw 
 
 It had been disap- 
 
 len, at last, he came 
 tender tips of the 
 
 m. Then came the 
 
 get within shot of 
 or smell him. He 
 and would look out 
 still there. Several 
 
 ,nd looked all round 
 
 him almost hold his 
 
 do so ; but, at last, 
 
 1 good aim at it from 
 
 A spring forward, 
 showed that he had 
 ely fall, but ran off 
 s. Instantly dashing 
 ood, Henry followed 
 'hich every here and 
 ight at first he would 
 Ired yards, but it led 
 y two miles before he 
 ;ontinued to run until 
 I had overpowered it, 
 ry reached it. It was 
 link of carrying home 
 
>*!:: 
 
 .'', 
 
Dcer-sJiooting. n^ 
 
 himself, so that he determined to cut it up, arid hang 
 the pieces on the neighbouring branches till he could 
 come back next morning with some of us and fetch 
 them. Copying the example of the old hunter whom 
 he had made his model, he had taken a long knife 
 and a small axe with him; and, after cutting the 
 throat to let off what blood still remained, the creature 
 being still warm, he was not very long of stripping 
 It of its skin and hanging up its dismembered body, 
 for preservation from the wolves through the night. 
 This done, he made the best of his way home to tell 
 us his achievement. , , 
 
 Next day, we had a grand banquet on venisor- 
 steaks, fried with ham, and potatoes in abundance; 
 and a better dish I think I never tasted. Venison 
 pie, and soup, for days after, furnished quite a treat in 
 the house. . • > 
 
 A few days after this, while the winter was hardly 
 as yet fairly begun, David and Henry had gone out 
 to their work on the edge of the woods, when a deer, 
 feeding close to them, lifted up its head, and, looking 
 at them, turned slowly awav. They were back to 
 the house in a moment for their rifles, and sallied 
 forth after it, following its track to the edge of the 
 creek on our lot, where it had evidently rmssed on 
 the ice. David reached the bank fir^^- ; ,, i, naturally 
 enough, thinking that ice which f- ..re u^ x .arge deer 
 would bear him up, stepi-^^; on : to continue the 
 pursuit. But he had forgcae.-. ih^.^ the deer had 
 
 M 
 
ii8 
 
 Deer-shooting. 
 
 <■! 
 
 four legs, and thus pressed comparatively little on 
 any one part, whereas his whole weight was ou one- 
 spot, and he had only reached the middle when in he 
 went, in a moment, up to his middle in the freezing 
 water. The ducking was quite enough to cool his 
 ardour for that day, so that we had him back to 
 change his clothes as soon as he could get out of his 
 bath and reach the house. Henry got over .he 
 stream on a log, and followed the track Tor some dis- 
 tance farther, but gave up the chase on finding it 
 likely to be unavailing. 
 
 When we first came to live on the river, the d.-. 
 were very numerous. One day in the first winter 
 Robert saw a whole herd of them, of some eight or 
 ten, feeding close to the house, among our cattle, on 
 some browse which had been felled for them. Browse, 
 I may say, is the Canadian word for the tender twigs 
 of trees, which are so much liked by the oxen and 
 cows, and even by the horses, that we used to cut 
 down a number of trees, and leave them with the 
 branches on them, for the benefit of our four-footed 
 retainers. On seeing so grand a chance of bagging 
 two deer at a shot, Robert rushed in for his rifle at 
 once, but before he had got it loaded, although he 
 flustered through the process with incredible haste, 
 and had us all running to bring him powder, ball, 
 and wadding, the prey had scented danger, and were 
 
 gone. 
 
 We had quite an excitement one day by the cry 
 
Deer-shooting. 
 
 119 
 
 paratively little on 
 weight was on on',' 
 ; middle when in '.le 
 Idle in the freezing 
 enough to cool his 
 ! had him back to 
 could get out of his 
 [enry got over .he 
 ; track Tor some dis- 
 chase on finding it 
 
 I the river, the dv.er 
 ' in the first winter 
 :m, of some eight or 
 imong our cattle, on 
 jd for them. Browse, 
 for the tender twigs 
 :ed by the oxen and 
 that we used to cut 
 leave them with the 
 ;fit of our four-footed 
 . a chance of bagging 
 hed in for his rifle at 
 : loaded, although he 
 nth incredible haste, 
 ng him powder, ball, 
 ited danger, and were 
 
 t one day by the cry 
 
 that a stag was swimming across the river. On look- 
 ing up the stream, there he was, sure enough, with 
 his noble horns and his head out ot the water, doing 
 his best to reach the opposite shore. In a few 
 minutes we saw John Courtenay and his boys pad- 
 dling off in hot haste, in their canoe, in pursuit. 
 Every stroke flasheu in the light, and the little craft 
 skimmed the calm water like an arrow. They were 
 soon very close to the great creature, which flew 
 faster than ever, and then a bullet from Courtenay's 
 rifle ended the chase in a moment. The stag 
 was instantly seized to prevent its sinking, and 
 dragged off" to the shore by a rope tied round its 
 antlers. 
 
 Some people are cruel enough to kill deer in the 
 spring, when their young are with them, and even to 
 kill the young themselves, though they are worth 
 very little when got. One of the neighbours one 
 day wounded a fawn which was following its mother, 
 and as usual ran up to secure and kill it. But to 
 his astonishment, the maternal afl"ection of the doe 
 had so overcome its timidity, that, instead of fleeing 
 t'ne moment it heard the shot, it would not leave its 
 •,.'v r '•' "ding young one, but turned on him, and 
 made ch vigorous rushes towards him, again and 
 ag2 r. that it was only by making all kinds of noise 
 ;. o uld frighten her far enough back to let him get 
 hold of tl-j fawn at last. I wsh that instead of 
 merely runnmg at aim, the loving-hearted creature 
 
I20 
 
 Useless Cruelty. 
 
 .!• I 
 
 had given him a good hard butt with her head ; it 
 would have served him right for such cruelty. Taking 
 away life is only justifiable, I think, when there is 
 some other end than mere amusement in view. To 
 find happiness in destroying that of other living 
 beings is a very unworthy enjoyment, when one 
 comes to think of it. To go out, as I have seen both 
 inen and boys do, to shoot the sweet little singing 
 '< ■ ' ill the hedges, or the lark when he is flut- 
 i.eri Uown, after having filled' the rar with music, 
 or the ,ow-flying seagulls, as they sail heavily near 
 the shore, can only give a pleasure so long as those 
 who indulge in it do not reflect on its cruelty. I 
 remember, when a boy, being often very much struck 
 with this, bvii, mor; especially, once, when a boy shot 
 a male thrush, as it was bringing home a litde worm 
 for its young ones, which would very likely die when 
 their father was killed ; and, once, when a man shot a 
 seagull, which fell far out on the water, from which 
 it would often try in vain to rise, but where it would 
 have to float, helpless and in pain, till released by 
 death. 
 
 Continued persecution, by every one, at all seasons, 
 has nearly banished the deer from all the settled 
 parts of Canada, for years back. There are game 
 laws now, however, fixing a time, within which, to 
 destroy them is punishable, and it is to be hoped 
 they may do some good. But the rifle is of use only 
 for amusement in all the older districts, and if you 
 
Useless Cruelty. 
 
 •ftt^ 
 
 ler head; it 
 ;lty. Taking 
 hen there is 
 in view. To 
 other living 
 t, when one 
 Lve seen both 
 little singing 
 n he is flut- 
 • with music, 
 heavily near 
 ong as those 
 s cruelty. I 
 much struck 
 ;n a boy shot 
 a little worm 
 cely die when 
 a man shot a 
 ■, from which 
 here it would 
 
 I released by 
 
 at all seasons, 
 
 II the settled 
 2re are game 
 liin which, to 
 
 to be hoped 
 is of. use only 
 ts, and if you 
 
 want to get sport like that of old times you must go 
 to the frontier townships, where everything is yet 
 almost in a state of nature. 
 
 The Indians were harder on every kind of game, 
 and still are so, than even the white settlers. They 
 have long ago laid aside the bow and arrow of their 
 ancestors, in every part of Canada, and availed them- 
 selves of the more deadly power of firearms. As 
 they have nothing whatever to do most of their time, 
 and as the flesh of deer is, at once, food, and a means 
 of getting other things, by bartering it for them, and 
 as it suits their natural taste, they used to be, and 
 still are, what may be called hunters by profession. 
 One Indian and his son, who had built their wigwam 
 on our lot, in the first years of our settlement, killed 
 in one winter, in about three weeks, no fewer than 
 forty deer, but they spoiled everything for the rest 
 of the season, as those that escaped them became so 
 terrified that they fled to some other part. 
 
 The species of deer common in Canada is the Vir- 
 ginian, and, though not so large as some others, their 
 long, open ears, and graceful tails— longer than those 
 of some other kinds, and inclining to be bushy — ^give 
 them a very attractive appearance. The most curious 
 thing about them, as about other deer, was the growth 
 and casting of the stags' horns. It is not till the 
 spring of the second year that the first pa-r begin to 
 make their appearance, the first sign of their coming 
 being a swelling of the skin over the spots from 
 
 I ^v 
 
122 
 
 Shedding of the Stag's Horns. 
 
 which they are to rise. The antlers are now bud- 
 ding ; for on these spots are the footstalks from which 
 they are to spring, and the arteries are beginning to 
 deposit on them, particle by particle, with great ra- 
 pidity, the bony matter of which the horns are com- 
 posed. As the antlers grow, the skin still stretclies 
 over them, and continues to do so, till they have 
 reached their full size, and have become quite hard 
 and solid, and forms a beautiful velvet covering, 
 which is, in reality, underneath, nothing but a great 
 tissue of blood-vessels for supplying the necessary 
 circulation. l"he arteries which run up from the 
 V»nd, through it, are, meanwhile, so large, that they 
 make furrows on the soft horns underneath ; and it 
 is these JtJiat leave the deeper marks on the horns 
 when hard. When the antlers are full-grown they 
 look very curious while the velvet is still over them, 
 and are so tender that the deer can, as yet, make no 
 use of them. It must therefore be removed, but not 
 too suddenly, lest the quantity of blood flowing 
 through such an extent of skin should be turned to 
 the brain or some internal organ, and death be the 
 result. Danger is prevented, and the end at the 
 same time accomplished, by a rough ring of bone 
 being now deposited round the base of the horns 
 where they join the footstalk, notches being left in it, 
 through which the arteries still pass. Gradually, 
 however, these openings are contracted by fresh bone 
 being formed round their edges, till at length the 
 
■••s. 
 
 are now bud- 
 ks from which 
 ; beginning to 
 with great ra- 
 loms are com- 
 i still stretclies 
 till they have 
 )me quite hard 
 elvet covering, 
 ng but a great 
 
 the necessary 
 \ up from the 
 large, that they 
 ;meath ; and it 
 5 on the horns 
 full-grown they 
 still over them, 
 as yet, make no 
 moved, but not 
 
 blood flowing 
 id be turned to 
 id death be the 
 the end at the 
 ;h ring of bone 
 se of the horns 
 being left in it, 
 iss. Gradually, 
 ;d by fresh bone 
 11 at length the 
 
 Shedding of ihe Stag's Horns. 1 23 
 
 arteries are compressed as by a ligature, and the cir- 
 culation effectually stopped. The velvet now dies, 
 for want of the vital fluid, and peels off, the deer 
 helping to get it off by rubbing its horns against the 
 trees. It was by noticing this process of stopping 
 the arteries in the antlers of stags, that John Hunter, 
 the great anatomist, first conceived the plan of re- 
 ducing the great swellings of the arteries in human 
 beings which are called aneurisms, by tying them up 
 — a mode which, in certain cases, is found quite 
 effectual, fhe highest thoughts of genius are thus 
 frequently only new applications of principles and 
 modes of operation which God has established in the 
 humblest orders of nature, from tlie beginning of the 
 world. Indeed they are always so, for we cannot 
 create any absolutely new conception, but must be 
 contented to read and apply wisely the teachings 
 furnished by ail things around us. When the velvet 
 is gone, the horns are at last perfect, and the stag 
 bears them proudly, and uses them fiercely in his 
 battles with his rivals. But the cutting off the arte- 
 ries makes them no longer a part of the general Sys- 
 tem of the animal. The}* are, thenceforth, only held 
 on to the footstalks by their having grown from them, 
 and, hence, each spring, when a new pair begin to 
 swell up from beneath, the old ones are pushed off 
 and fall away, to make room for others. It is curious 
 to think that such great things as full-grown stags' 
 horns drop off and are renewed every year ; but so 
 
 i 
 
 
1 24 Shedding of the Stag's Horns. 
 
 it is. Beginning with the single horn of ihe first 
 season, they grow so much larger each season till the 
 seventh, when they reach their greatest size. But, 
 after all, is it any more wonderful that their horns 
 should grow once a-year, than that our hair should 
 grow all the time? And is a horn anything more 
 than hair stuck together ? 
 
 K ( 
 
125 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Wolves— My adventure virith a bear— Courtenny's cow and the 
 wolves— A fright in the woods by night— The river freezes 
 —Our winter fires— Cold, cold, cold !— A winter's journey 
 —Sleighing— Winter mufflings— Accidents through intense 
 cold. 
 
 1, 
 
 li 
 
 jHE wolves used to favour us by howling at 
 nights, close at hand, till the sound 
 made one miserable. We had five sheep 
 destroyed in the barn-yard on one of 
 these occasions, nothing being done to them beyond 
 tearing the throats open and drinking the Mood. 
 Perhaps the wolves had been disturbed at their feast 
 I never heard of any one being killed by them, but 
 they sometimes put benighted travellers in danger. 
 One night, Henry was coming home from a neighbour's, 
 in the bright moonlight, and had almost reached our 
 clearing, when, to his horror, he heard the cry of some 
 wolves behind him, and, feeling sure they wished to 
 make their supper at his expense, he made off, with 
 the fastest heels he could, to a tree that stood by itself, 
 and was easily climbed. Into this he got just in time 
 to save himself, for the wolves were already at the foot 
 of it, whtn he had made good his seat across a bough. 
 
126 
 
 Wolves. 
 
 The night was fearfully cold, and he mast soon 
 have frozen to death had he not, providentially, been 
 80 near the house. As it was, his loud whisding for 
 the dogs, and his shouts, were, fortunately, heard, and- 
 some of us sallying out, he was delivered from his 
 perilous position. Wolves are much scarcer now, 
 however, 1 am thankful to say, owing in part, no 
 doubt, to a reward of two sovereigns which is offered 
 by Government for every head brought in. In the 
 regions north of Canada they 'seem to abound, and 
 even on the shores of the Arctic Ocean they are 
 found in great numbers. Sir John Franklin, m one 
 of his earlier journeys, often came upon the remains 
 of deer which had been hemmed in by them and 
 driven over precipices. 'Whilst the deer are qmedy 
 grazing,' slys he, 'the wolves assemble m great 
 numbers, and, forming a deep crescent, creep slowly 
 towards the herd, so as not to alarm them much at 
 first; but when they perceive that they have fairly 
 hemmed in the unsuspecting creatures, and cut off 
 their retreat across the plain, they move more 
 quickly, and with hideous yells terrify their prey 
 and urge them to flight by the only open way, which 
 is towards the precipice, appearing to know that 
 when the herd is at full speed it is easily driven over 
 the cliffs, the rear-most urging on those that are 
 before. The wolves then descend at leisure and 
 feed on the mangled catcasses.' 
 
 There were some bears in the woods, l^it they 
 
; mast soon 
 lentially, been 
 I whistling for 
 \y, heard, and • 
 ered from his 
 
 scarcer now, 
 g in part, no 
 hich is offered 
 lit in. In the 
 abound, and 
 cean they are 
 anklin, in one 
 3n the remains 
 
 by them and 
 icer are quierty 
 Tible in great 
 t, creep slowly 
 
 them much at 
 ley have fairly 
 ;s, and cut off 
 y move more 
 ■rify their prey 
 jpen way, which 
 
 to know that 
 isily driven over 
 
 those that are 
 
 at leisure and 
 
 voods, \^t they 
 
 Courtcnays Cow and the Wolves. 127 
 
 (lid not trouble us. My sister Margaret and I were 
 the only two of our family who had an adventure 
 with one, and that ended in a fright. It was in the 
 summer-time, and we had strolled out into the woods 
 to amuse ourselves with picking the wild berries, and 
 gathering flowers. I had climbed to the top of the 
 upturned root of a tree, the earth on which was 
 thick with fruit, and my sister was at a short dis- 
 tance behind. Having just got up, I chanced to 
 turn round and look down, when, lo ! there stood a 
 hear busy at the raspberries, which he seemed to 
 like as much as we did. You may be certain that 
 the first sight of it was enough. I sprang down in 
 an instant, and, shouting to my sister that there was a 
 bear behind the tree, we, both, made off homewards 
 with a speed which astonished even ourselves. The 
 poor biaite never offered to disturb us, though he 
 might have made a meal of either of us had he 
 chosen, for I don't think we could have run had we 
 seen him really after us. 
 
 I had forgotten a story about the wolves which 
 happened a year or two after our first settling. John 
 Courtenay had a cow which fell sick, and was lying 
 in the field, after night, in the winter-time, very likely 
 without any one missing it, or, if they missed it, 
 without their knowing where to find it in the dark. 
 The wolves, however, did not overlook it, for, next 
 morning, poor Cowslip was found killed by them, and 
 its carcass having been left, the family not liking to use 
 
 
128 A Fright in the Woods by Night. 
 
 it under the circumstances, they held high carnival 
 over it, nii^ht after night, till the bones were p.ckcd 
 clean This happened quite close to the house. 
 
 But if there were not many bears and wolves to 
 be snn, ^ve were not the less afraid they wov, d 
 pounce on us. when, by any chance we should 
 happen to be coming through the woods after dark 
 I remember a young friend and myself bcn,g half 
 frightened in this way one summer evenmg when 
 there chanced to be no moon, and we had to walk 
 home, through the great gloomy forest, when U was 
 pitch dark. Befc-e starting, we were furnished with 
 a number of long slips of the bark of the hickory- 
 tree, which is very infiammable, and, havmg each 
 lighted ooe, we sallied out on our journey. I shall 
 > never forget the wild look of everything m th 
 flickering light, the circle of darkness closn^g .n 
 round us at a very short distance. B«t on we went, 
 along the winding path, hither and thither among 
 the trees. Suddenly an unearthly sound broke from 
 one side, a sort of screech, which was repeated again 
 and again. We took it for granted some bear and 
 her young ones were at hand. but. where, it seemed 
 i„.possible for us to discover. How could we run 
 in such darkness over such a path, with lights to 
 carry? Both of us stood still to hsten. Agam 
 clme the 'hoo. hoo. hoo;' and I assure you U 
 sounded very loud i'n the still forest. But, though 
 terrible to me, 1 noticed that, when distmctly caught. 
 
' Night. 
 
 I high carnival 
 ;s were picked 
 he house, 
 and wolves to 
 .id they wonld 
 ce, we should 
 )ods after dark, 
 ^self being half 
 • evening when 
 we had to walk 
 ist, when it was 
 ; furnished with 
 
 of the hickory- 
 id, having each 
 lourney. I shall 
 ■erything in th 
 :ness closing ui 
 Bat on we went, 
 1 thither, among 
 ound broke from 
 as repeated again 
 d some bear and 
 where, it seemed 
 ow could we run 
 th, with lights to 
 to listen. Again 
 
 I assure you it 
 rest. But, though 
 1 distinctly caught, 
 
 Tl' 
 
 The River Freezes. 
 
 129 
 
 it ceased to alarm my comrade, 'It's only a great 
 owl up in the tree there— what's the use of being 
 frightened ? ' he broke out ; yet he had been as much 
 so as myself, the moment before. However, we now 
 made up for our panic by a hearty laugh, and went 
 on in quietness to the house. 
 
 Towards the end of December the river froze. 
 This was, in great part, caused by large blocks of 
 ice floating down from Lake Superior, and getting 
 caught on the banks, as they went past, by the ice 
 already formed there. For one to touch another, 
 was to make them adhere for the rest of the winter, 
 and, thus, in a very short time after it hau begun, 
 the whole surface was as solid as a stone. We Iiad 
 now to cut a hole every morning with the axe, 
 through the ice, to let the cattle drink, and to get 
 water for the house, and cold work it was. The 
 cattle came down themselves, but when, a year or 
 two afterwards, we got horses they had to be led 
 twice a day. It was very often my task to take 
 them. Riding was out of the question, from the 
 steepness of the bank, and the way in which their 
 feet balled with the snow, so I used to sally out for 
 them in a thick great-coat, with the ears of my cap 
 carefully tied down, to prevent frostbites; a thick 
 worsted cravat round my neck, and thick mitts on 
 my hands. The floor of the stable was, invariably, 
 a sheet of ice, and over this I had to get out the two 
 horses, letting the one out o\er the icy slope fiX the 
 
\^* ' 
 
 130 Our Winter Fires, 
 
 door, and then holding the halter till the second one 
 had slid past me, when, having closed the door, with 
 hands like the snow, from having had to loosen the 
 halters, I. went down with them. -WTien the wind 
 was from the north they were white in a step or 
 two, with their breath frozen on their chests and 
 sides, the cold making it like smoke as it left their 
 nostrils. Of course they were in no hurry, and 
 would put their ails to the wind and drink a 
 minute, and then lift up their heads and look round 
 them at their leisure, as if it were June. By the 
 time they were done, their mouths and chins were 
 often coated with ice, long icicles hanging from the 
 hair all round. Right glad was I when at last I had 
 them fairly back again, and had knocked out the 
 balls of^snow from their shoes, to let them stand 
 
 firm. 
 
 The cold did not last all the time, else we could 
 never have endured it. There would be two or 
 three days of hard frost, and then it would come 
 milder for two or three more: but the mildest, 
 except when it was a thaw, in January, were very 
 much colder than any that are common in England, 
 and as to the coldest, what shall I say they were 
 like? The sky was i:s bright and clear as can be 
 imagined, the snow crackled under foot, and the 
 wind, when there was any, cut the skin like a razor. 
 Indoors, the fire in the kitchen was enough to heat a 
 large kail in a more temperate cUmate. It was never 
 
Fires, 
 
 ter till the second one 
 T closed the door, with 
 ving had to loosen the 
 ;hem. "S\'hen the wind 
 ere white in a step or 
 n on their chests and 
 e smoke as it left their 
 ere in no hurry, and 
 he wind and drink a 
 r heads and look round 
 it were June. By the 
 mouths and chins were 
 icicles hanging from the 
 vas I when at last I had 
 I had knocked out the 
 loes, to let them stand 
 
 the time, else we could 
 rhere would be two or 
 ind then it would come 
 more: but the mildest, 
 (V, in January, were very 
 
 are common in England, 
 lat shall I say they were 
 ght and clear as can be 
 led under foot, and the 
 
 cut the skin like a razor, 
 chen was enough to heat a 
 ate cUmate. It was never 
 
 Cold, cold, cold ! joj 
 
 allowed to go out, the last thing at night being to 
 roll a huge back-log, as they called it, into the fire- 
 place, with hand-spokes, two of us sometimes having 
 to help to get it into its place. It was simply a cu" 
 of a tree, about four feet long, and of various thick- 
 nesses. The two dog-irons having been drawn out. 
 and the embers heaped close to this giant, a number 
 of thinner logs, whole and in parts, were then laid 
 above them, and the fire was 'gathered' for the 
 night. By day, what with another huge back-log to 
 replace the one burned up in the night, and a great 
 bank of other smaller 'sticks' in front and over it, 
 I think there was often half a cartload blazing at a 
 time. In fact, the only measure of the quantity was 
 the size of the huge chimney, for the wood cost 
 nothing except the trouble of cutting and bringing it 
 to the house. It was grand to sit at night before the 
 roaring mountain of fire and forget the cold outside • 
 but It was a frightful thing to dress in the morning,' 
 m the bitter cold of the bed-rooms, with the windows 
 thick with frost, and the water frozen solid at your side. 
 If you touched a tumbler of water with your tooth- 
 brush it would often freeze in . moment, and the 
 M-ater in the basin sometimes froze round the edges 
 while we were washing. The tears would come out of 
 our eyes, and freeze on our cheeks as they rolled 
 down. The towels were regularly frozen like a board, 
 If they had been at all damp. Water, brought in over- 
 night in buckets, and put as close to the fire as 
 
I3» 
 
 Cold, cold, cold! 
 
 possible, had to be broken with an axe in the uioming. 
 The bread, for long after we went to the river, till we 
 got a new house, was like a stone for hardness, and 
 sparkled with the ice in it. The milk froze on the way 
 from the barn to the house, and even while they were 
 milking. If you went out, your eyelashes froze 
 together every moment with your breath on tb'rn, and 
 my brothers' whiskers were always white w irozen 
 breath when they came in. Beef and everything of the 
 kind, were frozen solid for months together, and, when 
 a piece was wanted, it had to be sawn off and put in 
 cold water overnight to thaw it, or hung up in the house. 
 I have known beef that had been on for hours taken out 
 almost raw, from not having been thawed beforehand. 
 One of the coldest nights I remember happened once 
 when I was from home. I was to sleep at the house 
 of a magistrate in the village, and had gone with a 
 minister who was travelling for the British and Foreign 
 Bible Society to attend a meeting he had appointed. 
 It was held in a wooden schoolhouse, with three 
 windows on each side, and a single storey high. There 
 was a stove at the end nearest the door which opened 
 into the room ; the pipe of it was carried up to near 
 the roof, and then led along the room to a chimney at 
 the opposite end. The audience consisted of seven or 
 eight men and boys, though the night was magnificent, 
 the stars hanging from the dark blue like sparkling 
 globes of light. The cold, in fact, was so intense.that 
 nobody would venture out. When I got in, I found 
 
ii 
 
 the i Homing. 
 
 river, till we 
 ardness, and 
 :e on the way 
 ile they were 
 clashes froze 
 on tb'"™, and 
 i \\ I'rozen 
 rytbing of the 
 cr, and, when 
 iff and put in 
 ) in the house. 
 )urs taken out 
 d beforehand, 
 lappened once 
 p at the house 
 i gone with a 
 ;h and Foreign 
 lad appointed* 
 se, with three 
 lyhigh. There 
 
 which opened 
 ried up to near 
 J a chimney at 
 ted of seven or 
 as magnificent, 
 
 like sparkling 
 
 so intense. that 
 got in, I found 
 
 Co/d, cold, cold ! 
 
 ^11 
 
 the congregation huddled round the stove, which one 
 of them, seated in front of it, was assiduously stuffing 
 with wood, as often as the smallest chance offered of 
 his being able to add to its contents. The stove itself 
 was as red as the fire in^de of it, and the pipe, for 
 more than a yard up, was the same j but our backs 
 were wretchedly cold, notwithstanding, though we sat 
 within a few inches of the glowing iron. As to the 
 windows, the rime on them never thought of melting, 
 but lay thick and hard as ever. How the unfortunate 
 speaker bore his place at the master's desk at the fai 
 end I know not. He had only one arm, indeed, but 
 the hand of the other was kept deeply bedded in his 
 pocket all the time. We were both to sleep at the 
 same house, and therefore returned together, and 
 after supper were shown into a double-bedded room 
 with a painted floor, and a great stove in the middle. 
 A delightful roar up the pipe promised comfort for 
 the night, but alas ! in a few minutes it died away, 
 the fire having been made of chips instead of sub- 
 stantial billets. Next morning on waking, looking 
 over to Mr Thompson, I expressed a hope that he had 
 rested well through the night. 
 
 ' Rested ! ' said he ; 'I thawed a piece my own 
 size last night when I first got in, and have lain in it 
 all night as if it had been my coffin. I daren't put 
 out my leg or my hand ; it was like ice up to my 
 body.' 
 
 One winter I had a dreadful journey of about two 
 
 ,--«**'' 
 
1 34 A Winter's Journey. 
 
 hundred miles. We started m the stage, wlach was 
 a^ oper. rough waggon, at seven o'clock at n.ght. h 
 roadfnot as yet permitting sle.ghs. It was m the 
 first week of January. I had on two g^eat-co^^s but 
 there were no buffalo robes to lay over the knee 
 hofgh the stage should have provided them Al 
 hat dreadful dark night I had to sit there, wh.le the 
 Les stumbled on at a wal^nd f-aggon bum d 
 on the frozen clod, most dreadfully. T^e second 
 day's ride was much better, that part of the road 
 big smoother; but the next day and n.ght-what 
 shall 1 say of them? I began in a covered slagh, 
 some time in the forenoon, the distance bang sev^ty 
 niiles. There was another person m U besides my- 
 self. Off <fre started at z. good pace, but suA was 
 the" roughness of the road, up one wave of frozen 
 earth and snow, and do., another, that both of^us 
 were thoroughly sea-sick in a short time Each took 
 possession of a window, and getting the head m again 
 was out of the question till the sickness fairly spent 
 itself. Meanwhile, there was a large high wooden 
 box in the sleigh between us, and we had to keep a 
 hand a-piece on it, lest it should take us at un«s 
 and make a descent on our legs or backs. After a 
 time, the covered sleigh was exchanged ^r an open 
 one-a great heavy farmer's affair, a mere long box 
 upon runners. To ad^ to our troubles, they put a 
 great black horse, as one of the two- to draw us 
 which was so wild and fierce that I have always 
 
», wliich was 
 at night, the 
 t was in the 
 eat-coats, but 
 :r the knees, 
 d them. AH 
 ere, while the 
 ggon bumped 
 
 The second 
 
 of the road 
 3 night— what 
 overed sleigh, 
 being seventy 
 it besides my- 
 
 but sucJh was 
 vave of frozen 
 hat both of us 
 ,e. Each took 
 e head in again 
 less fairly spent 
 e high wooden 
 had to keep a 
 us at unawares, 
 backs. After a 
 ed for an open 
 
 mere long box 
 )les, they put a 
 ;wo to draw us, 
 
 I have always 
 
 Sleighing. 
 
 ns 
 
 thought it must have been mad. It was now dark 
 night, and there were again no buffalo robes, and 
 the thermometer far below zero. How we stood it 
 I know not. My feet were like ice, and incessant 
 motion of both them and my arms seemed all that 
 could keep me from freezing. But away the blfck 
 wretch tore, the driver pulling him back as he could, 
 but in vain. At last, at two or three in the morning, 
 bang went the sleigh against some stump, or huge 
 lump of frozen mud, and — broke down. 'You'll have 
 to get out, gentlemen,' said the driver. 'You had 
 better walk on lo the; first house, and I'll go before 
 you and borrow a sleigh.' Here then we were, turned 
 out to stumble over a chaos of holes and hillocks for 
 nearly two miles, in darkness, and in such a night ! 
 I don't know how long we were, but' we reached a 
 wayside inn at last, where the driver borrowed what 
 he could get to carry us and the mails to the journey's 
 end, and having gone back for the bags and his 
 parcels, and that horrid box, to where he had left the 
 broken vehicle at the roadside, he reappeared after a 
 time, and we finished our journey, tired and cold 
 enough, a little before daylight. 
 
 The amount of suffering from the cold, seldom, 
 however, reaches any painful extent; indeed, you 
 will hear people say, on every hand, that they posi- 
 tively like it, except when it is stormy, or when the 
 wind blows very keenly. Nor does it hinder work 
 of any kind, where there is exercise enough. You 
 
136 
 
 Winter Mtifflings. 
 
 may see men chopping in the forest in terrib'iy cold 
 days, with their jackets off, the swinging of the arms 
 making them disagreeably hot in spite of the weather. 
 Sleighing is, moreover, the great winter amusement 
 of the Canadian, who seems never so pleased as when 
 driving fast in a ' cutter,' with the jingling bells on 
 the horse's neck making music as it goes. But, for 
 my part, 1 could never bear sitting with my face to 
 the wind, while I was dragged through it at the rate 
 of ten miles an hour, with the Ihermometer below 
 zero. All the mufflings you can put on won't protect 
 the cheeks or the eyes, and the hands get intolerably 
 cold holding the reins. Indeed, the precautions taken 
 by those who have much travelling about in winter 
 show that, to those less fully prepared, there milBt be 
 suffering as well as enjoyment. Our doctor's outfit 
 for his winter practice used to amuse me. He had, 
 first, a huge otter fur cap, with ears ; next, over his 
 great-coat, the skin of a buffalo made into a coat, 
 with the hairy side out, and reaching to his feet ; his 
 feet were cased in mocassins, which came over his 
 boots and tied round the ankles ; a pair of great hose 
 reached up his thighs ; his hands were muffled in 
 huge fur gauntlets reaching half-way to his elbow ; 
 and when he took his seat in his sleigh with all this 
 wrapping, he sat down on a buffalo-skin spread over 
 the seat, and stretching down over the bottom, while 
 another was tucked in over him, his feet resting on 
 the lower edge of it to keep out every breath of air ; 
 
errib'iy cold 
 of the arms 
 the weather, 
 amusement 
 sed as when 
 ng bells on 
 :s. But, for 
 my face to 
 at the rate 
 neter below 
 on't protect 
 t intolerably 
 utions taken 
 It in winter 
 ;re milBt be 
 ictor's outfit 
 e. He had, 
 xt, over his 
 into a coat, 
 his feet ; his 
 le over his 
 f great hose 
 muffled in 
 his elbow ; 
 ivith all this 
 spread over 
 ottom, while 
 t resting on 
 reath of air; 
 
 Accidents through Intense Cold. 137 
 
 and, in addition, he always had hot bricks put inside 
 on starting, and re-heated them every short while. 
 No wonder he used to say that he felt quite comfort- 
 able. He had clothes and furs enough on him for 
 Greenland. In spite of all this, however, I remember 
 his driving back, home, m great haste one day, with 
 his wife and child, and found that the face of the 
 infant had been partially frozen in a ride of four or 
 hve miles. Cases of death from the excessive cold 
 are not infrequent. A drunken man, falling on the 
 road, is certain to die if not speedily found. A poor 
 Indian was frozen to death on the river in this way 
 a short time after we came. But even the most 
 sober people are sometimes destroyed by the awful 
 intensity of the cold. I knew a young widow who 
 had lost her husband in this way. He had gone to 
 town in his sleigh, one Christmas, on business, and 
 was returning, when he felt very cold, and turned 
 aside to heat himself at a farm-house. Poor fellow ! 
 he was already so frozen that he died shortly after 
 coming to the fire. This last winter, a farmer and 
 his daughter were driving in from the country to 
 Toronto, and, naturally enough, said little to each 
 other, not caring to expose dieir faces; but when 
 they had reached the city and should have alighted, 
 to her horror the daughter found that her father was 
 stone dead, frozen at her side by the way. At 
 Christmas there are a great many shooting-matches, 
 at which whoever kills most pigeons, let loose from a 
 
138 Accidents through Intense Cold. • 
 
 trap, at a certain distance, wins a turkey. I was one 
 day riding past one of these, and noticed a group of 
 spectators standing round, but thought no more of it, 
 till, next morning, I learned' that, when the match was 
 done and the people dispersed, a boy was seen who 
 continued to stand still on the vacant ground, and, on 
 going up to him, it was found that he had been frozen 
 stiff", and was stone dead. A minister once told me 
 that he had been benighted on a lonely road in the 
 depth of the winter and could get on no further, and, 
 for a time, hardly knew what to do. At last he re- 
 solved to take out his horse, and, after tying its two 
 fore legs together, let it seek what it could for itself 
 till morning, while he himself commenced walking 
 round a gre^t tree that was near, and continued doing 
 so, without resting, till the next morning. Had he 
 sat down, he would have fallen asleep ; and if he had 
 slept, he would certainly have died. My brother 
 Henry, who, after a time, turned to the study of me- 
 dicine, and has risen to be a professor in one of the 
 colleges, took me one day to the hospital with him, 
 and, turning into one of the wards, walked up to the 
 bed of a young man. Lifting up the bottom of the 
 clothes, he told me to look ; and,— what a sight ! 
 Both the feet had been frozen off" at the ancle, 
 and the red stumps were slowly healing. A poor 
 man called, once, begging, whose fingers were all 
 gone. He had walked 'some miles withput gloves, 
 and had known nothing about how to manage frozen 
 
Zold. 
 
 r. I was one 
 id a group of 
 
 more of it, 
 he match was 
 ivas seen who 
 3und, and, on 
 d been frozen 
 ance told me 
 y road in the 
 
 1 further, and, 
 \t last he re- 
 • tying its two 
 ould for itself 
 meed walking 
 ntinued doing 
 ing. Had he 
 and if he had 
 
 My brother 
 ; study of me- 
 
 in one of the 
 )ital with him, 
 Iked up to the 
 bottom of the 
 what a sight ! 
 
 at the ancle, 
 ling. A poor 
 igers were all 
 vithout gloves, 
 manage frozen 
 
 Accidents through Intatse Cold. 
 
 ^39 
 
 limbs ; his fingers had fro/en, had been neglected, and 
 had mortified, till at last such as did not drop off were 
 pulled out, he told me, with pincers, being utterly rotten 
 at the joints. I know a young man, a law student, 
 whose fingers are mere bone and skin : he was snow- 
 balling, and paid the penalty in the virtual destruction 
 of his hands. A curious case happened some years 
 ago, resulting in the recovery of two thousand pounds 
 of damages from the mail company. The stage from 
 Montreal, westwanl, broke through an air-hole on the 
 St Lawrence, when driving over the ice, and all the 
 passengers were immersed in the river, one of them 
 getting both his hands so frozen that he lost them 
 entirely. They were both taken off at the wrists. 
 The money was a poor consolation for such a ca- 
 lamity. I have known of a gentleman losing both 
 hands by taking off his fur gloves to get better con- 
 trol over a runaway horse. He got it stopped, but 
 his hands were lost in the doing it. 
 
 The ire of the river used to give us abundant room 
 for skating, where it was smootli enough. Near the 
 towns every one skates, even the ladies, of late years, 
 doing their best at it. But the ice, with us, was often 
 too rough for this graceful and healthy exercise, 30 
 that it was less practised than it otlierwise would have 
 been. 
 
I40 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The aurora borcalis-' Jumpers '-Squaring' timber-Rafts- 
 Cam ing out-A public meeting-Winter fash.o„s-My toe 
 ir^l^-A long winler-s walk-Hospitality-Nearly lo.t tu 
 the woods. 
 
 SHE grandeur of the aurora borealis, in the 
 cold weather, particularly struck us. At 
 times the whole heavens would be irradi- 
 
 ated by it— shafts of light stretching from 
 
 every side\o the zenith, or clouds of brightness, of 
 the softest rose, shooting, from every pomt of the 
 horizon, high overhead. It was like the Hmdoo 
 legend of Indra's palace, which Southey describes so 
 beautifully: 
 
 « Even we on earth at intervals descry 
 
 Gleams of the glory, streaks of flowing light. 
 Openings of Heaven, and streams that flash at night 
 
 In fitful splendour, through the northern sky." 
 
 Curse o/Kehama, vii. 72. 
 
 The fondness of almost every one for sleigh-riding 
 was ludicrously shown in the contrivances invented 
 ia some cases to get 'the enjoyment of the luxury. 
 The richer settlers, of course, had very comfortable 
 
' ytimpers^ 
 
 141 
 
 timber— Rafts- 
 fashions— My toe 
 —Nearly lost in 
 
 borealis, in the 
 struck us. At 
 vould be irradi- 
 stretching from 
 if brightness, of 
 y point of the 
 ie the Hindoo 
 hey describes so 
 
 ig light, 
 ,t flash at night 
 11 sky.' 
 •.hamat vii. 72. 
 
 : for sleigh-riding 
 ivances invented 
 It of the luxury, 
 krery comfortable 
 
 vehicles, with nice light runners, and abundance of 
 skins of various kinds, to adorn them, and make them 
 warm ; but every one was not so fortunate, and yet 
 all were determined that ride they would. ' Have 
 you anything to go in?' I have heard asked, once 
 and again, with the answer, ' No, but I guess we can 
 rig up a jumper pretty soon.' This ' jumper,' when 
 it made its appearance, if it were of the most prim- 
 itive type, consisted simply of two long poles, with 
 the bark on them, the one end to drag on the 
 ground, and the other to serve for shafts for the 
 horse; a cross-bar here and there behind, let into 
 them through auger-holes, serving to keep them 
 together. An old box, fixed on roughly above, served 
 for a body to the carriage ; and, then, off they went, 
 scraping along the snow in a wonderful way. Instead 
 of buffalo-robes, if they had none, a coloured bed- 
 quilt, wrapped round them, served to keep them warm. 
 An old wood-sleigh, with a box on it, was something 
 more aristocratic; but anything that would merely 
 hold them was made to pass muster. With plenty 
 of trees at hand, and an axe and auger, a backwoods- 
 man never thinks himself unprovided while the snow 
 continues. ; 
 
 It is in the winter that the great work of cutting 
 and squaring timber, in the forests, for export to 
 Europe, is done. Millions of acres, covered with 
 the noblest trees, invite the industry of the wealthier 
 merchants by the promise of liberal profit, along 
 
1^2 Squaring Timber. 
 
 the whole edge of Canada, towards the north, from 
 the Ottawa to Lake Huron. What the .luantity 
 of timber this vast region contains must be, may 
 be estimated in some measure from the report of 
 the Crown Land Commissioner, a few years smcc, 
 which says that, in the Ottawa district alone, tiiere 
 is enough to answer every demand for the next six 
 hundred years, if they continue felling it at the 
 present rate. There is no fear, assuredly, of wood 
 running short in Canada for many a day. The rafts 
 brought down from Lake Huron alone are won- 
 derful-thousands on thousands of immense trees, 
 scpared so as to lie closely together, each long 
 enough, apixirently, to be a mast for a large vessel. 
 1 have looked over the wilderness of the forest from 
 two points— the one, the limestone ridge that runs 
 from Niagara northward— the other, from the top of 
 the sand-hills on the edge of Lake Huron-and no 
 words can tell the solemn grandeur of the prospect in 
 cither case. Far as the eye could reach there was 
 nothing to be seen but woods— woods— woods— a 
 great sea of verdure, with a billowy roll, as the trees 
 varied in height, or the lights and shadows played 
 on them. It is said that the open desert impresses 
 the traveller with a sense of its sublimity that is 
 almost overpowering— the awful loneliness, the vast, 
 naked, and apparendy boundless sweep of the hori- 
 zon on every side, relieved by no life or motion, 
 - or even variety of' outline, subduing all alike but 
 
ds the north, from 
 Vhat the iiuantily 
 ins must be, may 
 rom the report of 
 a few years since, 
 li strict alone, tliere 
 id for the next six 
 felling it at the 
 assuredly, of wood 
 ^ a day. The rafts 
 )n alone are won- 
 
 of immense trees, 
 ogether, each long 
 t for a large vessel. 
 s of the forest from 
 one ridge that runs 
 ler, from the top of 
 ike Huron — and no 
 iir of the prospect in 
 uld reach there was 
 — woods — woods — a 
 >wy roll, as the trees 
 and shadows played 
 pen desert impresses 
 its sublimity that is 
 
 loneliness, the vast, 
 s sweep of the hori- 
 r no life or motion, 
 ling all alike But 
 
 Squaring Timber, 
 
 »43 
 
 (jucstion if the siglit of an American forest be not 
 equally sublime. The veil cast by the trees over 
 the landscape they adorn ; the dim wonder what 
 may live beneath them, what waters flow, what lakes 
 sparkle ; the consciousness that you look on nature 
 in her jwn unprofaned retreats; that before a white 
 man ha^ seen these shores the summer had already 
 waked thij wondrous spectacle of life and beauty, 
 year after year, for ages; the thoughts of mystery 
 prompted by such 'a boundless deep immensity of 
 shade;' the sense of vastness, inseparable from the 
 thought that the circle of your horizon, which so 
 overpowers you, sweeps on, in equal grandeur, over 
 boundless regions— all these and other thoughts fill 
 the mind with awe and tenderness. 
 
 The district in which, chiefly, 'lumber men,' 
 strictly so called, ply their vocation, is on the Upper 
 Ottawa, where vast tracts of pine and other trees are 
 leased from Government by merchants in Quebec, 
 Montreal, and elsewhere. For these gloomy regions 
 vast numbers of lumberers set out from Kingston and 
 Ottawa in the autumn, taking with them their 
 winter's provision of pork, flour, &c. ; and building 
 'shanties' for themselves— that is, rough huts, to 
 live in through the long winter— as soon as they, 
 reach their limits. Intensely severe as the cold i?, 
 they do not care for it. Sleeping at nights with their 
 feet to the fire, and 'roughing' it by day as no 
 labourers would think of doing in England, they 
 
 _J 
 
144 
 
 Rafts. 
 
 keep up the highest spi' ts and the most vigorous 
 health. To fell and squaie the trees is only part of 
 their labour; they must also drag them over the 
 snow to the river, by oxen, and join them into rafts 
 after getting them to it. To form these, a large 
 number of logs are laid closely, side by side, and 
 lashed together by long, thin, supple rods tied round 
 pins driven into them, *and further secured by 
 transverse poles pinned down on them ; and they are 
 then floated as rafts towards the St Lawrence, which 
 they gradually reach, after passing, by means of con. 
 trivances called ' slides,' over the rough places, where 
 the channel is broken into rapids. As they go down, 
 poling or sailing, or shooting the slides, their course is 
 enlivened by the songs and shouts of the crew, and 
 very exciting it is to see and hear them. Once in 
 the broad, smooth water, several smaller rafts are 
 often joined together, and everything carefully pr'jpar- 
 ed for finally setting out for the lower ports. Even 
 from their starting, they are often rigged out with 
 short masts and sails, and houses are built on them, 
 in which the crew take up their abode during the 
 voyage. When they are larger, quite a number of 
 sails are raised, so that they form , very striking ob- 
 jects, when slowly gliding down the river, a rude 
 steering-apparatus behind guiding the vast con- 
 struction.* 
 
 * On the upper lakes, the crew often take their wives and 
 children, with their poultry, &c., on the rafts with them. 
 
 1 
 
and the most vigorous 
 
 the trees is only part of 
 
 drag them over the 
 
 nd join them into rafts 
 
 'o form these, a large 
 
 sely, side by side, and 
 
 supple rods tied round 
 
 d further secured by 
 
 on them ; and they are 
 
 the St Lawrence, which 
 
 5sing, by means of con. 
 
 the rough places, where 
 
 )ids. As they go down, 
 
 the slides, their course is 
 
 shouts of the crew, and 
 
 d hear them. Once in 
 
 sveral smaller rafts are 
 
 srything carefully pr'jpar- 
 
 the lower ports. Even 
 
 often rigged out with 
 
 )uses are built on them, 
 
 their abode during the 
 
 ger, quite a number of 
 
 form , very striking ob- 
 
 down the river, a rude 
 
 juiding the vast con- 
 
 V often take their wives and 
 in the rafts with them. 
 
 Camping out. 
 
 ^\S 
 
 
 It is wonderful how men stand the exposure of the 
 winter in the forests as they do. Indeed, a fine 
 young fellow, a friend of mine, a surveyor, told me 
 that he liked nothing better than to go oflF to the 
 depths of the wilderness in the fall, and * camp out ' 
 amidst the snows, night after night, till the spring 
 thaws and the growth of the leaves forced an inter- 
 mission of the work of his profession. An adventure 
 that happened to a party who had, on one occasion, 
 to travel some distance along a river-bed, in winter, 
 is only a sample of what is continually met with 
 beyond the settled parts of the country. There were 
 seven or eight of them in all, including two half- 
 breeds, whom they had employed, partly as guides, 
 and partly to draw their slight luggage on hand- 
 sleighs over the ice. The whole party had to wear 
 snow-shoes to keep them from sinking into the soft 
 snow, which had drifted, in many places, to a great 
 depth ; and this itself, except to experienced hands, 
 is at once very exhausting and painful. The snow- 
 shoe is simply a large cval frame of light wood, 
 crossed with a netting, on vhich the foot rests, and 
 to which it is strapped, thi extent of surface thus 
 presented enabling the wearer to pass safely over 
 drifts, in which, otherwise, he would at once sink. 
 Starting at the first break of the dawn, they plodded 
 on as well as they could, the ankles and knees of some 
 of them getting more and more painful at every step 
 with the weight of the great snow-shoes underneath. 
 
 10 ,•■;;-.. , 
 
 
 I 
 
 ji*.-' 
 
146 
 
 Camping out. 
 
 It was no use attempting to pick their steps in such 
 a depth of snow, so that they had to take iheir chance 
 of getting on some unsafe part of the ice at any 
 moment. Meanwhile, the sky got darker and more 
 lowering, until, at last, it broke into a snow-storm so 
 heavy that they could hardly see one another at a 
 few yards' distance. The wind, which was very 
 strong, blew directly in their faces, and how.ed 
 .ndl 'through the trees on eacl.s.de,wlndn^ 
 drift in thick clouds in every direction. Still th y 
 held on as well as they could, in moody silence, till, 
 at last, it was evident to all that they must give up 
 the struggle, and make as good an e-ampmen as 
 they could, for the night, where they were Ti^n n 
 aside, therefore, into the forest, where a dark stretch 
 of pineWs promised protection, they P/o'^^^^ed to 
 get ready their resting-place. With the help o the. 
 axes, a maple was soon felled, and large pieces o bark 
 from the fallen trees around, formed shovels by 
 ^vhich a square spot of ground was cleared of the 
 Lw A L was the next great subject of mterest, 
 and 'this they obtained by rubbing some of the, 
 fibrous bark of the white cedar to powder and lay- 
 ing over it first thin peelings of birch-bark, aiid 
 then the bark itself, a match sufficmg to set the pile 
 in a blaze, and the whole forest offering fuel. Pmng 
 10. on log into a grand heap, the trees around were 
 so^n lighted up witl> a glow that shone far and near. 
 • To protect themselves from the snow, which was 
 
r steps in such 
 ake their chance 
 
 the ice at any 
 arker and more 
 a snow-storm so 
 ne another at a 
 which was very 
 es, and howled 
 ide, whirUng the 
 ;tion. Still they 
 loody silence, till, 
 ley must give up 
 1 encampment as 
 y were. Turning 
 :re a dark stretch 
 hey proceeded to 
 
 the help of their 
 rge pieces of bark, 
 ■med shovels, by 
 as cleared of the 
 subject of interest, 
 ing some of the 
 , powder, and lay- 
 jf birch-bark, and 
 ing to set the pile 
 ffering fuel. Piling 
 
 trees around were 
 shone far and near. 
 
 snow, which was 
 
 A Public Meeting. 147 
 
 still falling, a quantity of spruce-boughs were next 
 laid overhead on the rampart of snow which had been 
 banked up round them to the height of nearly five 
 feet, the cold of the day being so great that the fierce 
 fire blazing close at hand made no impression on it 
 whatever. Slices of salt pork, toasted on a stick at 
 the fire, having been got ready by some, and broth, 
 cooked in a saucepan, by others, they now took their 
 comfort as best they could in a primitive supper, logs 
 round the fire serving for seats. After this came 
 their tobacco-pipes and a long smoke, and then each 
 of the party lay down with his feet to the fire, and 
 slept, covered with snow, till daylight next morning. 
 This is the life led, 'week after week, by those 
 whose avocations call them to frequent the forests 
 dunng winter; nor are the comforts of some of the 
 poorer settlers in new districts, while they live in 
 'shanties,' at their first coming, much greater, nor 
 their exposure much less. 
 
 A public meeting, held in the next tOTOship, gave 
 us an opportunity of seeing the population of a wide 
 district in all the variety of winter costume. We 
 went in a neighbour's sleigh, drawn by a couple of 
 rough horses, whose harness, tied here and there with 
 rope, and unprovided with anything to keep the 
 traces from failing down, or the sleigh from running 
 on the horses' heels, looked as unsafe as possible. 
 But Canadian horses know how to act under such 
 circumstances, as if they had studied them, and had 
 
148 
 
 A Public Meeting. 
 
 contrived the best plan for avoiding unpleasant results. 
 They never walked down any descent, but, on conring 
 to any gully, dashed down the icy slope at a hard 
 gallop, and, flying across the logs which formed a 
 bridge at the bottom, tore up the opposite ascent, till 
 forced to abate their speed by the weight of the ve- 
 hicle. Then came the driver's part to urge' them up 
 the rest of the acclivity by every form of threatenmg 
 and persuasion in the vocabulary of his craft; and 
 the obstacle once surmounted, off we were again at a 
 smart trot. It was rather mild weather, however, 
 for comfortable sleighing, the snow in deep places 
 being little better than slush, through which it was 
 heavy and slow work to drag us. At others, the 
 ground was well-nigh bare, and then the iron-shod 
 ninners of the sleigh gave us most unpleasant music 
 as they grated on the stones and gravel. As to 
 shaking and jumbling, there was enough of both, as 
 often as we struck on a lump of frozen snow, or some 
 other obstruction ; but, at last, we got to our journey's 
 end. The village was already thronged by numbers 
 who had come from all parts, for it was a political 
 meeting, and all Canadians are politicians. Such 
 costumes as some exhibited are surely to be seen no- 
 where else. One man, I noticed, had a suit made of 
 drugget carpeting, with a large flower on a bright- 
 green ground for pattern, one of the compartments 
 of it reaching from his collar far down his back. 
 Blanket coats of various colours, tied round the waist 
 
pleasant results. 
 , but, on conring 
 ;lope at a hard 
 (vhich formed a 
 )osite ascent, till 
 weight of the ve- 
 ;o urge' them up 
 n of threatenmg 
 ; his craft; and 
 ; were again at a 
 sather, however, 
 in deep places 
 gh which it was 
 At others, the 
 m the iron-shod 
 unpleasant music 
 I gravel. As to 
 ough of both, as 
 en snow, or some 
 t to our journey's 
 iged by numbers 
 it was a political 
 loliticians. Such 
 ely to be seen no- 
 id a suit made of 
 wer on a bright- 
 he compartments 
 r down his back. 
 :d round the waist 
 
 A Public Meeting. 149 
 
 with a red sash, buflfalo coats, fur caps of all sizes 
 and shapes, mocassins, or coarse Wellingtons, with 
 the trowser-legs tucked into them, mitts, gloves, and 
 fur gauntlets, added variety to the picture. Almost 
 every one was smoking at some time or other. The 
 sleighs were ranged, some under the shed of the vil- 
 lage tavern, others along the sides of the street, the 
 horses looking like nondescript animals, from the 
 skins and coverlets thrown over them to protect them 
 from the cold. The 'bar' of the tavern was the 
 great attraction to many, and its great blazing fire, 
 on which a cartload of wood glowed with exhilarating 
 heat, to others. Every one on entering, after des- 
 perate stamping and scraping to get the snow from 
 the feet, and careful brushing of the legs with a broom, 
 to leave as little as possible for melting, made straight 
 to it, holding up each foot by turns to get it dried, as 
 far as might be. There was no pretence at showing 
 deference to any one ; a labourer had no hesitation 
 in taking the only vacant seat, though his employer 
 were left standing. 'Treating' and being 'treated' 
 went on with great spirit at the bar, mutual strangers 
 asking each other to drink as readily as if they had 
 I^een old friends. Wine-glasses were not to be seen, 
 but, instead, tumblers were set out, and ' a glass ' was 
 left to mean what any one chose to pour into them. 
 One old man I saw put his hand in a knowing way 
 round his tumbler, to hide his filling it to the brim ; 
 but he proved to be a confirmed and hopeless drunk- 
 
 •k 
 
 I' 
 
i";© 
 
 My Toe Frozen. 
 
 ard, who had already mined himself and his family, 
 and was able to get drunk only at the expense of 
 others. 
 
 We stayed for a time to listen to the speeches, 
 which were delivered from a small balcony before 
 the window of the tavern, but were very uninteresting 
 to me, at least, though the crowd stood patiently in 
 the snow to hear them. I confess I was glad when 
 our party thought they had heard enough, and turned 
 their sleigh homewards once more. 
 
 I had the misfortune to get one of my great toes 
 frozen in the second or third winter. We were 
 working at the edge of the woods, repairing a fence 
 which had been blown down. The snow was pretty 
 deep, and I had been among it some hours, and did 
 not feel c?ilder than usual, my feet bemg every day as 
 cold as lead, whenever I was not moving actively 
 about. I had had my full measure of stamping and 
 jumping to try to keep up the circulation, and had 
 no suspicion of anything extra, till, on coming home, 
 having taken ofif my stockings to heat myself better, 
 to my consternation, the great toe of my left foot was 
 as white as wax— the sure sign that it was frozen. 
 Heat being of all things the most dangerous in 
 such circumstances, I had at once to get as far as 
 possible from the fire, while some one brought me 
 a large basin of snow, with which I kept rubbing 
 the poor stiff member /or at least an hour before it 
 came to its right hue. But what shall I say of the 
 
ind his family, 
 the expense of 
 
 the speeches, 
 balcony before 
 ry uninteresting 
 od patiently in 
 was glad when 
 igh, and turned 
 
 f my great toes 
 Iter. We were 
 ^pairing a fence 
 mow was pretty 
 ; hours, and did 
 ing every day as 
 moving actively 
 f stamping and 
 ilation, and had 
 \ coming home, 
 Lt myself better, 
 my left foot was 
 t it was frozen. 
 it dangerous in 
 to get as far as 
 jne brought me 
 I kept rubbing 
 1 hour before it 
 lall I say of the 
 
 Hospitality, iti 
 
 pain of returning circulation? Freezing is nothing, 
 but thawing is agony. It must be dreadful indeed 
 where the injury has been extensive. Even to this 
 day, notwithstanding all my rubbing, there is still 
 a tender spot in the corner of my boot on cold days. 
 It was a mercy I noticed it in time, for had I put 
 . my feet to the fire without first thawing it, I might 
 have had serious trouble, and have lost it, after great 
 suffering. A gentleman I knew, who got his feet 
 frozen in 1813, in marching with his regiment from 
 Halifax, in Nova Scotia, to Niagara— a wonderful 
 achievement in the depth of winter, through an unin- 
 habited wilderness buried in snow— never perfectly 
 recovered the use of them, and walked lame to the 
 day of his death. 
 
 In our early days in Canada, the sacred duty of 
 hospitality was observed with a delightful readiness 
 and freeness. A person who had not the means of 
 paying might have travelled from one end of the 
 country to another, without requiring money, and he 
 would everywhere have found a cheerful welcome. 
 The fact was that the sight of a strange face was a 
 positive relief from the monotony of everyday life, 
 and the news brought by each visitor was felt to be 
 as pleasant to hear, as the entertainment could be for 
 him to receive. But selfish thoughts did not, after 
 all, dnn the beautiful open-handedness of backwoods 
 hospitality. No thought of any question or doubt 
 rose m the matter-to come to the door was to rest 
 
 Va. 
 
1^1 Hospitality. 
 
 for the night, and share the best of the house. I 
 was once on my way westward to the St Clair, from 
 London, Canada West, just in the interval between 
 the freezing of the roads and the fall of the snow. 
 The stage could not run, nor was travelling by any 
 kind of vehicle practicable ; indeed, none could have 
 survived the battering it would have got, had it 
 been brought out. As I could not wait doing nothing 
 for an indefinite time, till snow made sleighing pos- 
 sible, which I was told by the'stage proprietor ' might 
 be a week, might be a fortnight,' I determined to 
 walk the sixty miles as best I could. 
 
 But such roads ! As to walking, it was impossible ; 
 I had rather to leap from one hillock of frozen mud 
 to another, now. in the middle, now at each side, by 
 turns. There was a little snow, which only made my 
 difficulties greater, clogging the feet, and covering up 
 holes. For yards together, the road had been washed 
 away by the rains, and its whole surface was dotted 
 with innumerable little frozen lakes, where the water 
 had lodged in the huge cups and craters of mud which 
 joined each other in one long network the whole way. 
 It was a dreadful scramble, in which daylight was 
 absolutely necessary to save broken legs. No man 
 could have got over it in the dark. In the early 
 afternoon, I reached a tavern at the road-side and had 
 dinner, but as I was told that there was another, seven 
 miles ahead, I thought I could reach it before night, 
 and thus get so much nearer my journey's end. But 
 
the house. I 
 St Clair, from 
 terval between 
 
 of the snow, 
 veiling by any 
 me could have 
 e got, had it 
 ; doing nothing 
 
 sleighing pos- 
 oprietor ' might 
 
 determined to 
 
 vas impossible ; 
 ; of frozen mud 
 at each side, by 
 li only made my 
 md covering up 
 lad been washed 
 •face was dotted 
 where the water 
 ;rs of mud which 
 k the whole way. 
 ch daylight was 
 legs. No man 
 k. In the early 
 oad-side and had 
 as another, seven 
 h it before night, 
 irney's end. But 
 
 Hospitality. xty 
 
 I had reckoned beyond my powers, and darkness fell 
 while I was as yet far from my goal. Luckily, a 
 little log-house at a distance showed itself near the 
 road by the light through its windows. Stumbling 
 towards it as I best could, I told them how I was 
 benighted, and asked if I could get shelter till 
 morning. 
 
 'Come in, sir,' said the honest proprietor, 'an' 
 ye're welcome.' He proved to be a decent shoe- 
 maker ; a young man, with a tidy young woman for 
 his wife; and as I entered, he beckoned me to be 
 seated, while he continued at his work on an old shoe, 
 by the help of a candle before him. 
 ' Bad roads,* said I. 
 
 ' Oh, very,' answered my host. ' I never puts any 
 man away from my door ; nobody could get to the 
 tavern over sich roads as them. Take your coat off, 
 and make yourself comfortable.' 
 
 I did as I was told, and chatted with the couple 
 about all the ordinary topics of backwoods conversa- 
 tion—the price of land— the last crops— how long he 
 had been there, and so on, till tea, or as they called 
 it, supper; for Canadians generally take only three 
 meals a day. And a right hearty meal I made, 
 from a display of abundance of snowy bread, excel- 
 lent butter, ham in large slices, and as much tea 
 as there might be water in the kettle, for tea is the .- 
 weak point in bush fare. When bed-time came, I found 
 there was only one bed in the house, and could not • 
 
154 Nearly Lost in the Woods, 
 
 imagine how they were to do with me ; but this was 
 soon solved by their dragging the feather-bed off, 
 and bringing it out wiiere I was, from the inner 
 room, and spreading it on the floor opposite the 
 fire. Nothing would induce them to keep it to them- 
 selves and give me anything else ; I was their guest, and 
 they would have me entertained as well as they could. 
 Next morning, a famous breakfast was got ready, and 
 I was again made to sit down with them. But not 
 a word would the honest fellow hear about money. 
 ' He would never be the worse for giving a bed and 
 a meal to a traveller, and I was very welcome.' So 
 I had to thank them very sincerely and bid them 
 good-day, with their consciousness of having done a 
 kindness as their only reward. On this second day's 
 journey, l had the most awkward mishap that ever 
 befell me in the woods. I was all but lost in them, 
 and that just as the sun was about to set. The roads 
 were so frightful that I could hardly get on, and 
 hence, when the landlord of one of the wi;yside 
 taverns told me I would save some miles by cutting 
 through the bush at a point he indicated, I was very 
 glad to follow his advice. But trees are all very 
 much alike, and by the time I got to where he told 
 me to leave the road, I must have become confused ; 
 for when I did leave it, not a sign of any track 
 showed itself, far or near. I thought I could find it, 
 however, and pushed qn, as I fancied, in the direction 
 . that had been pointed out to me. But, still, no road 
 
wds, 
 
 le ; but this was 
 feather-bed off, 
 from the inner 
 )r opposite the 
 keep it to them- 
 i their guest, and 
 11 as they could, 
 got ready, and 
 them. But not 
 r about money, 
 iving a bed and 
 y welcome.' So 
 ' and bid them 
 f having done a 
 [his second day's 
 iiishap that ever 
 ut lost in them, 
 set. The roads 
 dly get on, and 
 of the wi;yside 
 miles by cutting 
 ated, I was very 
 ;es are al' very 
 to where he told 
 ecome confused ; 
 ;n of any track 
 t I could find it, 
 , in the direction 
 But, still, no road 
 
 Nearly Lost in the Woods. \t^^ 
 
 made its appearance, and, finally, in turning round to 
 look for it, I forgot which way to set myself, on again 
 starting. In fact I was lost, fairly lost. 1 had got 
 into a wide cedar-swamp, the water in which was 
 only slightly frozen, so that I had to leap from the 
 root of one tree to that of another. Not a sound 
 was to be heard, nor a living creature to be seen. 
 Only trees, trees, trees, black and unearthly in the 
 lessening light. I hardly knew what to do. If forced 
 to stay there all night, I might— indeed, I would likely 
 —be frozen to death : but how to get out ? That I 
 ultimately did, I know, but by no wisdom of mine. 
 There was absolutely nothing to guide me. My 
 deliverance was the merciful result of having by 
 chance stnick a slight track, which I forthwith fol- 
 lowed, emerging, at last, not, as I had hoped, some 
 miles ahead, but a long way behind where I had 
 entered. 
 
 I 
 
156 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Involuntary racing-A backwoo.ls parsonage-Crave, in the 
 wiMenJss - Notions of c.uali.y - Arct.c -"U- - lU ^ u 
 grouse-Indian fisliing in winter- A ma.r.age-Our wmter » 
 jiorlc. 
 
 |MONG our occasional visitors, we had, 
 ' one year, at one time, no fewer than 
 tlirec ministers, who chanced to be on 
 some Home Missionary Society business 
 in our quarter, and very nice company they were 
 Some of their stories of the adventures that befell 
 them in their journeys amused us greatly. One was 
 a stout, hearty Irishman, the two others Englishmen ; 
 and what with the excitement of fresh scenes every 
 day, and the healthy open air, of which they had 
 perhaps too much, they were all in high spirits. At 
 one part they had crossed a tract of very rolling 
 land, where the road was all up one slope and down 
 another, and this, as everything happened at the 
 time to be one great sheet of ice, was no pleasant 
 variety to their enjoyments. There was too little 
 snow for sleighing, and, yet, to ride down these 
 treacherous descents in a wheeled conveyance was 
 
Involuntary Racing. 
 
 157 
 
 • -Grave* in the 
 winters — Uuffed 
 jge— Our winter'i 
 
 iitors, \vc had, 
 no fewer than 
 need to be on 
 society business 
 lany they were, 
 iires that befell 
 eatly. One was 
 ;rs Enghshmen ; 
 sh scenes every 
 ivhich tliey had 
 high spirits. At 
 of very rolHng 
 slope and down 
 lappened at the 
 was no pleasant 
 re was too little 
 ide down these 
 conveyance was 
 
 impossible. At the top of an extra long one they had 
 therefore determined, not only to get out, but to 
 take the horses out, one of them leading them down, 
 while the other two brc^ight down the vehicle. It 
 was a large, double-seated affair, with four wheels, 
 and a pole for two horses ; and it was thought that 
 the best plan to get it down safely was for one of the 
 two to go to the tongue of the pole, in front, while 
 the other held back behind. Everything thus ar- 
 ranged, at a given signal the first movement over 
 the edge of the slope was made, and all went well 
 enough for a few steps, liut the worthy man be- 
 hind soon felt that he had no power whatever, with 
 such slippery footing, to retard the quickening speed 
 of the wheels, while the stout Irishman, who chanced 
 to be at the front, felt, no less surely, that he could 
 neither let his pole go, nor keep it from driving him 
 forward at a rate to which he was wholly unaccus- 
 tomed. 'Stop it. Brooks— I'll be killed I— it'll be 
 over me 1 ' 'I can't stop it,' passed and repassed 
 in a moment, and, at last, poor Mr Brooks's feet 
 having gone from under him, the whole affair was 
 consigned to his Irish friend, whom the increasing 
 momentum of his charge was making fly down the 
 hill at a most unclerical rate. ' I'll be killed ! I'm 
 sure it'll be over me ! ' was heard to rise from him 
 as he dashed away into the hollow beneath. His two 
 friends not only could do nothing to help him, but 
 could not move for laughing, mixed with anxfety. 
 
158 A Backwoods Parsonage. 
 
 till at last the sufferer managed to find relief when 
 he had been carried a considerable way up the next 
 slope. 
 
 One of the three wore a* contrivance over his fur 
 cap in travelling which, so far as I have noticed, was 
 unique. It was made of brown Berlin wool, much 
 in the shape of one of the helmets of the Knights 
 Templars, in the Temple Church, the only opening 
 being for part of the face, while what you' might 
 call its tails hung down over, his shoulders. He 
 looked very much like one of the men in the dress 
 for going down in a diving-bell when it was on him, 
 his head standing out like a huge ball from his 
 shoulders. Their entertainment was, it appeared, 
 sometimes strange enough. One gave an account of 
 a night he Hiad spent in a backwoods parsonage, 
 where the mice had run over his pillow all night, 
 the only furniture in his room, besides the bed, being 
 some pieces of bacon and a bit cf cheese. He had 
 had the only spare room in the house, in fact, which, 
 in the absence of guests,, served as a store-room. 
 Nor was this the wor:-,t ; though it was in the depth 
 of winter, he could see the stars through chinks of 
 the roof as he lay, and snow having; come on in 
 the night, he found it lying deep on his coverlet 
 when he awoke. What some clergymen suffer in 
 the poorer districts must, indeed, be terrible. A 
 touching thing about the, one who could offer only 
 sucii poor accommodation to a friend, was his point- 
 
 
rsonage. 
 
 to find relief when 
 ible way up the next 
 
 :rivance over his fur 
 I have noticed, was 
 , BerHn wool, much 
 nets of the Knights 
 ;h, the only opening 
 ile what you' might 
 his shoulders. He 
 le men in the dress 
 when it was on him, 
 huge ball from his 
 t was, it appeared, 
 gave an account of 
 ickwoods parsonage, 
 lis pillow all night, 
 sides the bed, being 
 cf cheese. He had 
 lOuse, in fact, which, 
 2d as a store-room, 
 it was in the depth 
 s through chinks of 
 havinf; come on in 
 eep on his coverlet 
 clergymen suffer in 
 led, be terrible. A 
 'ho could offer only 
 riend, was his point- 
 
 Notions of Eqtiality. 
 
 '59 
 
 ing to a little mound in the few feet of enclosure 
 be 'ore his door, and saying that his only son, an 
 infant, was buried there. The way in which graves 
 are scattered up and do^-n Canada is, indeed, one of 
 the most afTecting sights, as one passes. Churchyards 
 are, of course, only found where population has 
 gathered to tome extent, and, hence, all who die in 
 the first periods of settlement used to be buried on 
 their own farms. Very often, in riding through old 
 parts of the country, a litde paling in the side of a field 
 tells the story of some lonely grave. The Moslems 
 who feel themselves about to die in the desert pass 
 away with a parting prayer that the Resurrection 
 Angel may not forget their lonely resting-places at 
 the last day. I have often thought that these patri- 
 archs of the woods might have closed their life with 
 the same petition. 
 
 One of our visitors told us an amusing story of 
 the notions of equality that everywhere .availed. 
 He had been visiting an old Canadian township, with 
 his wife and a young lady, their friend, and found, 
 when night came, that there was only one bed unoc- 
 cupied which was appropriated to himself and his 
 wife. Their friend was, therefore, led away to an- 
 other room in which there were two beds— one for 
 the host and his wife, the other hr the servant, and 
 to this she was pointed, wifh d<e information that if 
 she lay close she could fin.-' room at the girl's back. 
 Not altogether relishing diis arrangement, she made 
 
 
i6o 
 
 Arctic Winters. 
 
 t:'\ 
 
 some excuse for returning 'to the "parlour," where 
 she sat for a time, only coming to her slcepmg-place 
 when she could not help it. But that she should 
 ever have hesitated in the matter seemed to all, alike, 
 unaccountable, and, our visitor assured us, had so 
 impressed their minds, that, a good while after, he 
 learned that they still talked of it, and spoke of her 
 pride as marking unusual depravity. 
 
 In later years I was happy to make the acquaint- 
 ance in one of the Canadian towns, of Captain 
 L who had commanded one of the expeditions 
 
 in search of Sir John Franklin, and, in many con- 
 versations with him, learned particulars of winter 
 life in the more northern part of the American con- 
 tinent, which, in comparison, make that of Canada 
 even inViting. To think of undressing, for eight 
 months of the year, in these fearful regions, is out of 
 the question. The dress, frozen stiff through the 
 day, is thawed into soaking wetness by the heat of a 
 snow-house at night, in which each sits as close to 
 his neighbour as is possible, with no light but that 
 of a miserable lamp, and imprisoned on every side 
 by the heaped-up blocks of snow. In Canada, we 
 can always get ourselves dried, whatever the weather ; 
 but there, all alike, when not on board ship, are 
 wet, month after month, each night through the 
 mnter. Happening one day to hear a boy whist- 
 ling the negro song, ' Old Uncle Ned,' the capti^in 
 stopped me with the question, ' Where do you think 
 
parlour," where 
 :r skeping-place 
 :hat she should 
 ned to all, alike, 
 red us, had so 
 1 while after, he 
 nd spoke of her 
 
 .ke the acquaint- 
 ,vns, of Captain 
 f the expeditions 
 id, in many con- 
 culars of winter 
 e American con- 
 that of Canada 
 essing, for eight 
 regions, is out of 
 stiff through the 
 ; by the heat of a 
 1 sits as close to 
 no light but that 
 ,ed on every side 
 , In Canada, we 
 tever the weather ; 
 board ship, are 
 light through the 
 dear a boy whist- 
 Ned,' the capti^in 
 'here do you think 
 
 Ruffed Grouse. 
 
 I first heard that song?' Of course I told him I 
 could not tell. ' It was on a terrible night, in Prince 
 Regent's Inlet, when we were crossing, it. The 
 snow was falling very heavily, and the storm roaring 
 through the hammocks, and I had called a halt 
 behind a great piece of ice which offered a shelter. I 
 thought we had better build a snow-house behind 
 it and take refuge for the night. The men squatted 
 down in this, I in their midst, all of us huddled 
 together as close as possible, and, to keep up their 
 spirits through the dismal hours, they began singing 
 one thing after another, and that among the rest.' 
 This was worse than the jncampments of surveyors 
 bad though they be. 
 
 There was not a great deal of sport to be had, if 
 >"' exclude the d;>T, m our neighbourhood. When 
 wc .ent out with our guns, the snow was generally 
 marked by a good many squirrel tracks, and the 
 woodpeckers were still to be seen, but game, properly 
 so called, was not abundant. 'I'here was some how- 
 ever, and we managed to get oui proportion now and 
 then for our table. One day, in passing a tree, I 
 heard a sound something like that of a grouse rising, 
 and on turning, to my astonishment, found it came 
 from a bird like our partridges, which had lighted on 
 a bough close at hand. A moment, and it was in a 
 fair way for contributing to our dinner. These birds 
 are in Canada called partridges, but their proper name 
 is the ruffed grouse. When sprung, it flies with 
 
 II 
 
 1 
 
 
 If 
 
 Mil 
 
l62 
 
 Ruffed Grouse. 
 
 great vigour and with a loud whirring noise, sweeping 
 to a considerable distance through the woods before 
 it alights. The cock has a singular power of making 
 a drumming noise with his wings, which, when heard 
 in the silence of the woods, has a strange effect. 
 Standing on an old fallen log, and inflating its whole 
 body as a turkey-cock does, strutting and wheeling 
 about with great stateliness, he presently begins to 
 strike with his stiffened wings in short and quick 
 strokes, which become more and more rapid until 
 they run into each other, making the sound to which 
 I allude. It is no doubt the way in which he pays 
 his addresses to his mate, or calls her from a distance. 
 They always perch in trees, delighting in the thick 
 shade of the spruce or the pine, and are perfect 
 models oi- stupidity, letting you get every advantage 
 in your efforts to shoot them. I have known one sit, 
 .vithout attempting to stir, while a dog was getting 
 frantic in his appeals at the tree foot that you should 
 come and kill it. If your gun snap you may take 
 your time, and, if necessary, may draw your charge 
 and reload, without your victim moving. He will 
 stand and gape at you during the whole process, even 
 if your dog be barking and tearing a few yards below 
 him. It is even said that you may bag a whole covey 
 of them if you shoot the lowest first and go upwards. 
 I myself have seen my brother, on coming on some 
 of them when without his gun, run home perhaps half 
 a mile for it, and find them still sitting where they were. 
 
loise, sweeping 
 : woods before 
 war of making 
 :h, when heard 
 strange effect, 
 ating its whole 
 and wheeling 
 jntly begins to 
 ort and quick 
 ore rapid until 
 jound to which 
 which he pays 
 rom a distance, 
 ig in the thick 
 nd are perfect 
 ivery advantage 
 ! known one sit, 
 log was getting 
 that you should 
 ) you may take 
 aw your charge 
 jving. He will 
 le process, even 
 few yards below 
 g a whole covey 
 ind go upwards. 
 :oming on some 
 )me perhaps half 
 where they were, 
 
 Indian Fishing in Winter, 163 
 
 when he came back, as if waiting to be shot. They 
 are delicious eating, and so tender is their skin that 
 you must not think of carrying them by the head, 
 which would be sure to come off with the weight of 
 the body. 
 
 One day, walking down the ice of the river, a 
 curious appearance presented itself at some distance 
 before me, like a brown heap, or mound, thrown up on 
 the white surface. Making my way towards it, when 
 about a hundred yards off I thought I saw it move a 
 little, and, halting for a moment, perceived that it 
 really did so. I was half inclined to go home for my 
 gun to make myself safe, when suddenly the head and 
 shoulders of an Indian, raised from the edge of the 
 buffalo skin, for such it was, dissipated any alarm. 
 Going up to him, I found he was employed in fishing, 
 and partly for protection, partly to keep the fish from 
 being alarmed, had completely covered himself u-ith the 
 hide which had so attracted my attention. He had 
 cut a hole through the two-feet-thick ice about a foot 
 square, and sat with a bait hanging from one hand, 
 while in the other he held a short spear to transfix any 
 deluded victim which it might tempt to its destruction. 
 The bait was an artificial fish of white wood, with 
 leaden eyes and tin fins, and about eight or nine 
 inches in length. He seemed rather annoyed at my 
 disturbing him; but on my giving him a small bail of 
 twine I happened to have with me we became good 
 enough friends, and after a few minutes I left him. 
 
i64 
 
 A Marriage. 
 
 There was a marriage on the river the first winter we 
 were there, which in some respects amused us. The 
 bride was an elegant girl, of genteel manners; and 
 the bridegroom was a well-educated and very re- 
 spectable young man ; but that either of them should 
 have thought of marrying in such a state of poverty as 
 was common to both was a thing to be thought of only 
 in Canada. The bridegroom's wealth was, I believe, 
 limited to some twenty pounds, and the bride brought 
 for her portion fifty acres of land and some stock, 
 which a relative gave her as a dowry. But money she 
 had none, and even the shoes in which she went to be 
 married, as I afterwards learned, had been borrowed 
 from a married sister. Their future home was simply 
 a dilapidated log-house, which stood with its gable to 
 the roadsicfe, perhaps eight feet by eighteen, forming 
 two apartments, an addition, which had once been in- 
 tended to be made, so as to join the end next the road 
 at right angles, but remained unfinished, being shut off 
 by a door of thin deal, which, alone, kept the wind out 
 at that comer. We crossed the ice to the American 
 side to have the ceremony performed, after which 
 there was a grand dinner, with true Canadian abund- 
 ance, in her patron's house, in which, up to that time, 
 she had had her home. Their own shanty not being 
 as yet habitable, the young couple remained there till 
 it was repaired, so as to let them move to it. But no. 
 money could be spent on the mansion ; whatever was 
 to be done had to be done by the kind aid of amateurs, 
 
Primitive Furniture. 
 
 165 
 
 first winter we 
 ised us. The 
 nanners; and 
 and very re- 
 f them should 
 I of poverty as 
 lought of only 
 ras, I believe, 
 bride brought 
 I some stock, 
 Jut money she 
 ihe went to be 
 leen borrowed 
 me was simply 
 :h its gable to 
 hfeen, forming 
 once been in- 
 next the road 
 , being shut off 
 )t the wind out 
 the American 
 d, after which 
 madian abund- 
 p to that time, 
 mty not being 
 ained there till 
 to it. But no. 
 ; whatever was 
 lid of amateurs, 
 
 if any Canadians deserve that name, whatever they 
 may have to undertake. The chimney had to be re- 
 built of mud, the walls caulked and filled up with mud, 
 some panes of glass put in the two little windows, a 
 wooden latch to be fitted to the thin deal that formed 
 the outer door, and the whole had to be white-washed, 
 after which all was pronounced ready. The furniture 
 was as primitive as the house. A few dishes on a rude 
 shelf, a pot or two, a few wooden chairs and a table, 
 set off the one end ; while, in the other, an apology 
 for a carpet, and a iew better things — the faint traces 
 of richer days in their fathers' houses — made up their 
 parlour ; a wooden bench on the one side, ingeniously 
 disguised as a sofa, reminding you of the couplet in 
 Goldsmith's description of the village ale-house, where 
 was seen 
 
 ' The chest, contrived a double debt to pay — 
 A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day.' 
 
 The produce of the fifty acres, which were mostly 
 cleared, but which, having been the farm of an old 
 French settler, were well nigh worn out for a time, 
 and had wretched fences, was to be tlie support of 
 the young housekeepers, though, less tlian a year 
 before, the husband had been a student in one of the 
 universities in Scotland To have seen him when 
 fairly installed in his agricultural honours, in a, 
 wretched straw hat, blue shirt, cotton trowserd, and 
 heavy coarse boots, with a long blue beech rod in 
 
i6d 
 
 Our Winters Pork. 
 
 fiis hand, shouting to his oxen, it would hardly have 
 occurred to an old countryman that he was anything 
 but a labourer. I am thankful to say, however, that 
 he ultimately escaped from the misery in which his 
 imprudent marriage threatened to involve him, by 
 getting into a pretty good mercantile situation, in 
 which, I hope, he is now comfortably settled. I 
 should have said, that, having no money with which to 
 hire labour, all the work on his farm had to be done 
 by his own hands, without aify aid. The trifle he 
 had at first melted like snow, the two having set out 
 with it to make a wedding-trip, in a sleigh, to a town 
 seventy miles off, from which they returned with little 
 but the empty purse. 
 
 A little Ijefore Christmas a great time came on— 
 the high solemnity of the annual pig-killing for the 
 winter. It was bad enough for the poor swine, no 
 doubt, but the human details were, in some resiiects, 
 sufficiently ludicrous. The first year we got a man to 
 do the killing, and a woman to manage the rest; 
 and, between them, with a razor-blade fixed into a 
 piece of wood for a scraper, they won our admiration 
 by their skill. I mention it only for an illustra- 
 tion it afforded of the misery to which the poor 
 Indians are often reduced in the winter. A band of 
 them made their appearance almost as soon as we had 
 begun, and hung round, for the sake of the entrails 
 and other offal, till all Was over. Of course we gave 
 them good pieces, but tiiey were hungry enough to 
 
Sufferings of the Indians. 167 
 
 hardly have 
 was anything 
 however, that 
 in which his 
 )lve him, by 
 
 situation, in 
 y settled. I 
 with which to 
 d to be done 
 The trifle he 
 aving set out 
 gb, to a town 
 led with little 
 
 ic came on — ■ 
 tilling for the 
 3or swine, no 
 ome resijects, 
 ; got a man to 
 age the rest; 
 ; fixed into a 
 )ur admiration 
 jr an illustra- 
 lich the poOT 
 re. A band of 
 oon as we had 
 of the entrails 
 ourse we gave 
 gry enough to 
 
 have needed the whole, could we have spared it. As 
 soon as anything was thrown aside, there was a scram- 
 ble of both men and women for it. Each, as soon as 
 he had secured his share, twisted it round any piece 
 of stick that lay near, and, after thrusting it for a 
 minute into the fire, where the water was heating for 
 scalding the pigs, devoured it greedily, filthy and 
 loathsome as it was. They must often be in great 
 want in the cold weather, when game is scarce. I 
 was coming from the bush one morning when I saw 
 an Indian tugging with all his might at something 
 that lay in the middle of the road. On nearer ap- 
 proach, it proved to be one of our pigs which had 
 died of some disease during the night. The poor 
 fellow had put his foot on its side, and was pulling 
 with all his strength at the hind-leg to try to tear off 
 the ham, but a pig's skin is very tough, and though 
 he pulled at it till he had crossed and recrossed the 
 road several times, he had to give up the battle at 
 last, and leave it as he found it. A friend of mine 
 who was lost in the woods for several days, and, in the 
 end, owed his deliverance to his falling in with a few 
 wigwams, told me that the Indians informed him 
 that they were sometimes for three days together with- 
 out food. 
 
 IB|a*W»«'*!»V«S-0"3JVV»-rfi 
 
i68 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Our neighbours— Insect plagues— Military officers' families in 
 
 the bush— An awkward mistake— Dr D nearly shot for 
 
 a bear— Major M —Our candles— Fortunate escape 
 
 from a fatal accident. 
 
 |E used to have delightful evenings some- 
 times when neighbouring settlers came to 
 our house, or when we went to their 
 houses. Scanty though the population 
 was, we had lighted on a section of the country which 
 had attracted a number of educated and intelligent 
 men, who, with their families, made capital society. 
 
 Down the river we had Captain G , but he was 
 
 little respected by reason of his irregular habits, 
 which, however, might be partly accounted for by the 
 effect on his brain of a fierce slash on the head which 
 he had got at the storming of Ciudad Rodrigo. Then, 
 
 above us, we had, about three miles off, Mr R , 
 
 an English gentleman-farmer, who had found his way 
 to the backwoods, after losing much money from 
 one cause or another. He was one of the church- 
 wardens, and leader of the choir in the Episcopal 
 chapel, as it was called, for there is no Church estab- 
 
Insect Plagues. 
 
 itfp 
 
 flicers' families in 
 — nearly shot for 
 -Fortunate escape 
 
 evenings some- 
 settlers came to 
 
 went to their 
 the population 
 e country which 
 
 and intelligent 
 capital society. 
 — , but he was 
 rregular habits, 
 mted for by the 
 
 the head which 
 Rodrigo. Then, 
 
 off, Mr R , 
 
 i found his way 
 ch money from 
 
 of the church- 
 i the Episcopal 
 ,0 Church estab- 
 
 lishment in Canada ; a man, moreover, of much gen- 
 eral information, a good shot, and, what was better, 
 a good Christian. He had always plenty of fresh 
 London newspapers of the stiff Tory class, but 
 acceptable to all alike in such a place as St Clair. 
 His house was at the foot of a steep bank, and* as 
 
 there were only liimself and Mrs R to occupy 
 
 it, its size was not so striking as its neatness. A 
 broad verandah ran along the side of it next the 
 river, its green colour contrasting very pleasantly 
 with the whiteness of the logs of the house. There 
 were three apartments within; one a sitting-room, 
 the other two bed-rooms, one of which was always at 
 the disposal of a visitor. Over the mantelpiece hung 
 a gun and a rifle, and on it stood, as its special orna- 
 ment, a silver cup given by one of the English 
 Cabinet Ministers as the prize in a shooting-match in 
 
 B shire, and won by Mr R . There was only 
 
 one drawback to a visit to him, at least in summer, 
 and that was the certainty of your getting more than 
 you bargained for in the insect way when you went 
 into the barn to put up your horse. Fleas are wonder- 
 fully plentiful throughout Canada, but some parts are 
 worse that others. A sandy soil seemed to breed 
 them, as the mud of the Nile was once thought to 
 
 breed worms, and Mr R 's bam stood on a spot 
 
 which the fleas themselves might have selected as a 
 favourable site for a colony. Under the shelter of 
 his sheds they multiplied to a wonderful extent. So 
 
 •"'•"'-'^••'-"liiiiiiiiiriiii 
 
1 7© 
 
 Insect Plagues. 
 
 incurable was the evil that it had come to be thought 
 only a source of merriment. 
 
 ' Ah, you've been at the barn, have you ? ha, ha ! ' 
 was all the pity you could get for any remark on the 
 plentifulness of insect life in these quarters. 'It 
 isn't half so bad,' he added one day, ' as the preacher 
 over the river who sat down at the doorstep of the 
 chapel to look over his notes before service, and had 
 hardly got into the pulpit before he found that u 
 whole swarm of ants had got up his trousers. You 
 may think how his hands went below the bookboard 
 on each side of him, but it wouldn't do. He had to 
 tell the congregation that he felt suddenly indisposed, 
 and would be back in a few moments, which he took 
 advantage^ of to turn the infested garment inside out 
 behind the chapel, and after having freed them of his 
 tormentors, went up to his post again, and got through 
 in peace.' 
 
 ' I don't think he was much worse off,' struck in 
 a friend, * than the ladies are with the grasshoppers. 
 The horrid creatures, with their great hooky legs, 
 and their jumping six feet at a time, make dreadful 
 work when they take a notion of springing, just as 
 folks are passing over them. I've seen them myself 
 through a thin muslin dress making their way hither 
 and thither in service-time, and there they must stay 
 till all is over.' 
 
 But I am forgetting the list of our river friends. 
 There were, besides Mr B , four or five miles 
 
 

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 IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
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 23 WEST MAIN STXiET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. M.-iSO 
 
 (716) 872-4S03 
 
 4^ 
 
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CIHM/ICMH 
 
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 Series. 
 
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 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
Officers* Fcwnilies in the Bush. 171 
 
 above us, Captain W , who had been flag-iieute- 
 
 nant of a frigate off St Helena while Bonaparte was 
 a captive there, and had managed to preserve a lock 
 
 of his soft, light-brown hair ; and Mr L , brother 
 
 of one of our most eminent English judges, and 
 himself once a midshipman under Captain Marryatt ; 
 
 and Post-Captain V , and the clergyman — the 
 
 farthest only ten miles off. There were, of course, 
 plenty of others, but they were of a very different 
 class — French Canadians, agricultural labourers turned 
 farmers, and the like, with very little to attract in their 
 society. 
 
 The number of genteel families who had betaken 
 themselves to Canada was, in those days, astonishing. 
 The fact of the Governors being then mostly mili- 
 tary men, who offered inducements to their old com- 
 panions in arms who had not risen so high in rank 
 as they, led to crov-ds of that class burying them- 
 selves in the wood.i all over the province. I dare 
 say they did well enough in a few instances, but in 
 very many cases the experiment only brought misery 
 upon themselves and their families. Brought up in 
 ease, and unaccustomed to work with their hands, 
 it was not to be expected that they could readily 
 turn mere labourers, which, to be a farmer in Canada, 
 is absolutely necessary. I was once benighted about 
 forty miles from* home, and found shelter for the night 
 in a log-house on the roadside, where I shared 
 a bed on tlie floor with two labourers, the man of 
 
1 72 Officer i Families in the Bush. 
 
 the house and his wife sleeping at the ether end of 
 the room. After breakfast the next morning, in 
 grand style, with cakes, ' apple sauce ' in platefuls, 
 bread white as snow, meat, butter, cream, cheese, 
 fritters, and colourless green tea of the very worst 
 description, I asked them if they could get any con- 
 veyance to take me home, as the roads were very 
 heavy for travelling on foot, from the- depth of the 
 snow, and its slipperiness in the beaten track. They 
 themselves, however, had none, but I was directed 
 
 to Captain L 's, close at hand, where I was told 
 
 I might find one. The house stood on a rising 
 ground, which was perfectly bare, all the trees hav- 
 ing been cut down for many acres round. There 
 was not even the pretence of garden before the doors, 
 nor any enclosure, but the great shapeless old log- 
 house stood, in all its naked roughness, alone. Mrs 
 L , I found, was an elderly lady of elegant man- 
 ners, and had seen a great deal of the world, having 
 been abroad with her husband's regiment in the 
 Mediterranean and elsewhere. She had met Sir 
 Walter Scott at Malta, and was full of gossip about 
 • him and society generally in England and elsewhere. 
 Her dress struck me on entering. It had once been 
 a superb satin, but that was very many years before. 
 There was hardly anything to be called furniture in 
 the house, a few old wooden chairs, supplemented by 
 some blocks of wood, mere cuts of trees, serving for 
 seats, a great deal toble, and a 'grand piano ! ' which, 
 
Bush. 
 
 he ether end of 
 xt morning, in 
 :e' in platefuls, 
 cream, cheese, 
 the very worst 
 lid get any con- 
 roads were very 
 le- depth of the 
 en track. They 
 ; I was directed 
 ?here I was told 
 od on a rising 
 1 the trees hav- 
 round. There 
 before the doors, 
 apeless old log- 
 sss, alone. Mrs 
 ■ of elegant man- 
 he world, having 
 regiment in the 
 e had met Sir 
 of gossip about 
 d and elsewhere. 
 It had once been 
 lany years before. 
 iUed furniture in 
 supplemented by 
 trees, serving for 
 id piano ! ' which, 
 
 Officers' Families in the Bush. 173 
 
 — told me, they bought at Vienna, forming 
 all that could be seen. The very dog-irons on which 
 their fire rested were broken. Overhead, I heard 
 feet pattering on the loose open boards which formed 
 the floor of some apartments, and was presently in- 
 formed that * the dressing-room ' of the Misses I- 
 
 was above, and that they would soon be down. 
 Not ar\ inch of carpet, nor any ornament on the walls, 
 nor anything, in fact, to take off the forlorn look of 
 emptiness, was in the place; but the stateliness of 
 language and manner on the part of the hostess was 
 the same as if it had been a palace. After a time, a 
 lad, the youngest of the household, made his appear- 
 ance, and was informed of my wish to get on to 
 Bidport as quickly as possible. He was introduced 
 as having been bom in Corfu, and as speaking Greek 
 as fluently as English ; but the poor fellow had a 
 bad chance of ever making much use of his lin- 
 guistic acquirements in such a place. The horse 
 having to be caught, and a jumper to be ' fixed,' I 
 had a long rest before setting out, and, in the mean 
 time, the sound of the axe, and of wooden pins 
 being driven home, intimated that ^the vehicle was 
 
 being manufactured. Captain L , it appeared, 
 
 had come there in the idea that the country would 
 soon be filled up, and that, in some magical way, the 
 soil, covered though it was with trees, would yield 
 him a living at once plentiful and easily procured. 
 But years had passed on, the money got for his 
 
1. 
 
 iv 
 
 1 74 Oncers' Families in the Bush. 
 
 commission was spent, and the township round him 
 was still almost a wilderness. From one step to 
 another the family sank into the deepest want, until 
 
 Mrs L was at last forced to try to get food, by 
 
 making up the wreck of her former finery into caps 
 and such like for the wives of the boors around, and 
 hawking them about, till she could sell them for flour 
 or potatoes. It could not have been expected that 
 the captain could work like a labourer — he was 
 totally unfit for it, and would have died over his task, 
 or, at best, could have made no living ; and, except 
 the stripling who was to drive me, the family con- 
 sisted only of daughters. One of these, however, 
 shortly after my visit, actually managed to make an 
 excellent marriage even in that horrible place; but 
 there was a dash of the ludicrous even in the court- 
 ship, from the pinching and straits to which their 
 poverty subjected them. The suitor had not as yet 
 declared himself, and the fact of his being a gentie- 
 man by birth and education made his frequent visits 
 only «o much the more embarassing. One day he 
 had come in the forenoon, and stayed so long, that 
 it was clear he had no intention of leaving before 
 dinner, while there was literally nothing in the house 
 but a few potatoes, which they could not of course 
 
 offer him. What was to be done ? Mrs L 
 
 and the fair one, her eldest daughter, retired to a 
 comer of the room to consult, and, lest anything 
 should be overheard, they spoke in Italian, which 
 
 
 .>i^ 
 
-.O^.-t^^i^^M-...^ 
 
 ? Bush. 
 
 rnship round him 
 om one step to 
 !epest want, until 
 ' to get food, by 
 r finery into caps 
 joors around, and 
 sell them for flour 
 ;en expected that 
 labourer — he was 
 iied over his task, 
 ring ; and, except 
 ;, the family con- 
 these, however, 
 aged to make an 
 orrible place; but 
 even in the coun- 
 ts to which their 
 or had not as yet 
 lis being a gentle- 
 his frequent visits 
 ng. One day he 
 ayed so long, that 
 of leaving before 
 thing in the house 
 uld not of course 
 
 me ? Mrs L 
 
 ;hter, retired to a 
 ind, lest anything 
 in Italian, which 
 
 An Awkward Mistake. 
 
 ^1S 
 
 they never dreamed of the suitor understanding. To 
 his unspeakable amusement, the whole perplexity of 
 the case forthwith proceeded to unfold itself in 
 foreign syllables. 'The nasty fellow, what in the 
 world won't he go away for?' says the daughter; 
 'look at him there, sitting like a fool when people 
 are in such trouble. He ought to know that we have 
 nothing in the pantry but a few horrid potatoes.' 
 And so forth. This was quite enough for the visitor. 
 He suddenly recollected that he had another call to 
 make, and their difficulty about him was over in a 
 minute. But the maniage came off notwithstanding, 
 and a handsome couple they made. 
 
 After a fime the sleigh was ready, such as it was — a 
 rough box, on rough runners, close to the ground, with 
 a piece of plank for a seat, and a bed-quilt for a 
 mapper; and late that night I got home, a half- 
 sovereign and his expenses making the poor young 
 fellow right glad I had chanced to come his way. 
 
 One day I was much diverted by an incident 
 
 narrated to me by Mr B . 'You know,' said 
 
 he, ' Dr D , from Toronto, was riding along in a 
 
 sleigh yesterday on some business or other. You are 
 aware he is very short and stout, and he had on a 
 buffalo coat, and a great fur cap. Well, down goes 
 his horse, its feet balled with the snow, I suppose ; 
 and there it lay, helpless, on its side, under the shafts. 
 It was pretty near old John Thompson's, the Scotch- 
 man. Out gets the doctor to help his poor horse by 
 
176 
 
 Marriages in the Bush. 
 
 unbuckling its straps and so on, and, being very short- 
 sighted, he had to get down his face almost on it. 
 Just at this time, Mrs Thompson chanced to come to 
 the door, and there was Uiis apparition in the distance, 
 in the middle of the road. She instantly made up her 
 mind what it was. " Eh, John, John, bring your gun ; 
 here's a bear devoorin' a horse ! " But they didn't 
 shoot the doctor after all, for the old man found out in 
 time who it was.' 
 
 But I have to say a little more about some of the 
 marriages in our neighbourhood, or not far from it. 
 You may easily suppose that it is not every one who 
 
 is so lucky as iMiss L , of whom I have spoken. 
 
 Those of both sexes who made poor matches were 
 much more numerous in those early days. There was 
 
 Kate S , the daughter of a captain in the army, 
 
 an elegant girl, who, for want, I suppose, of any other 
 suitor, married a great coarse clown, whom her father, 
 had he been living then, would hardly have taken to 
 work for them. When he died, she married another, 
 his fellow, and ended, on his dying, by taking, as her 
 third husband, a working tailor, with three or four 
 
 children. There was Major M , who had come 
 
 to the country about the same time as Captain L ; 
 
 nothing could be more wretched than the appearance 
 of his house on the road-side, with the great trees 
 almost close to it, himself an elderly man, and his 
 only children two daughters. I remember passing on 
 horseback one frightful morning, when the roads were 
 
ish. 
 
 aeing very short- 
 :e almost on it. 
 need to come to 
 1 in the distance, 
 tly made up her 
 bring your gun ; 
 But they didn't 
 nan found out in 
 
 3ut some of the 
 not far from it. 
 )t every one who 
 1 I have spoken, 
 or matches were 
 lays. There was 
 ain in the army, 
 ose, of any other 
 whom her father, 
 ly have taken to 
 married another, 
 by taking, as her 
 th three or four 
 -, who had come 
 
 3 Captain L ; 
 
 n the appearance 
 1 the great trees 
 rly man, and his 
 ;mber passing on 
 n the roads were 
 
 Scarcity of Candles. 
 
 ^11 
 
 at the worst, and finding him on the top of a prostrate 
 log, trying to cut off enough for his fire. His daughter 
 finally married a small tradesman in a neighbouring 
 town ; and the major thankfully went to close his days 
 with his son-in-law, in far greater comfort than he had 
 known for a long time. Young fellows married girls 
 whom their mothers would hardly have taken for serv- 
 ants in England ; partly, I suppose, because there were 
 not in some parts many to choose from, and partly, no 
 doubt, because their position as farm-labourers, which 
 they had really come to be, had lowered their tastes. 
 I remember seeing a young man come out of a village 
 tavern with a short black pipe in his mouth, a long 
 beech rod in his hand, and a blue blouse, surmounted 
 by a wretched straw hat, for his dress, his whole ap- 
 pearance no better than that of any labourer round. 
 He was driving an ox-waggon, but, before starting, a 
 lady at my side in the stage, which had stopped at the 
 tavern, accosted him, and they entered freely into con- 
 versation together. He turned out to be a son of 
 
 Colonel , who lived in a wretched log-hut not far 
 
 distant. He told his friend that he hoped to get a 
 good berth that summer as purser on one of the small 
 lake steamers; and I hope he succeeded. Mean- 
 while, he was mixing with the herd of ' bush-whackers,' 
 as Canadians say, at the tavern fire, himself almost 
 one of them. 
 
 We had one drawback in the long winter nights — 
 there was often a great scarcity of candles. One was 
 
 12 
 
178 
 
 Air-holes in the Ice. 
 
 lighted at supper, but it was put out immediately after 
 the meal; and we had to sit at the light of the fire, 
 which we made as bright as possible by a supply of 
 resinous pine, from time to time. We sometimes had 
 enough of candles, indeed, but I think we were more 
 often without them. Some lard in a saucer, with a 
 piece of rag for a wick, was one of our plans m ad- 
 dition to the pine, when we wished to see our way to 
 
 our beds. 
 
 There was very nearly a fatal accident down the 
 river one day, occasioned by a sleigh, and the folks m 
 it with the horses as well, breaking through an air- 
 hole in the ice, that is, a spot at which the air im- 
 prisoned below the ice had found its escape, leaving 
 the surf-ace only very slightly frozen. How they 
 got out I hardly know, but the ice round the hole was 
 quite strong ; and after one of the party had clambered 
 upon it he managed to fish out the rest, who had 
 clung to the sleigh. Even the horses were saved ; but 
 the method taken with them seemed to me as hazardous 
 as it was strange : ropes were passed round their necks 
 ■ as quickly as possible, and when by ,this means they 
 were half choked, they floated so high that they were 
 got out with comparative ease. 
 
 ^ 
 
e. 
 
 nmediately after 
 ight of the fire, 
 by a supply of 
 sometimes had 
 k we were more 
 \ saucer, with a 
 our plans in ad- 
 ) see our way to 
 
 ;ident down the 
 and the folks in 
 through an air- 
 hich the air im- 
 s escape, leaving 
 ;n. How they 
 und the hole was 
 ty had clambered 
 le rest, who had 
 1 were saved ; but 
 3 me as hazardous 
 round their necks 
 ,this means they 
 jh that they were 
 
 179 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 'Now Spring returns '—Sugar-making-Bush psalmody -Bush 
 preaching— Worship under difficulties — A clerical Mrs 
 Partington— Biology— A ghost— 'It slips good '—Squatters. 
 
 |Y the middle of March the sun had begun, 
 in the very open places, to show some 
 power, especially in the little spots shelter- 
 ed from the cold by the woods, where his 
 beams found an entrance to the soil. Here and there, 
 traces of the bare earth began to reappear, and the 
 green points of the succulent plants were preparing to 
 burst out into their first leaves ; the buds, too, on 
 some of the trees, were distinctly visible, but there 
 was a long time still before us between these first 
 promises of spring and their actual realization. The 
 last snowfall came in the middle of April, and, between 
 that time and the first of May, the weather could 
 hardly be said to be settled into spring. But already, 
 towards the third week of March, the birds had made 
 up their minds to come back to us, in expectation of 
 the opening leaf. Flocks of blue jays, in their beauti- 
 ful plumage, blue set off with white and black, flitted 
 from the top of one of the lower trees to another, 
 
 mtim 
 
i8o Sugar-making. 
 
 chattering incessantly. Everything had been desolate 
 around us for long, and nt)w to see such signs of 
 returning warmth and verdure was unspeakably de- 
 lightful. 
 
 With the first opening of spring, and while yet the 
 snow lay thick in the fields and the woods, the 
 season of maple sugar- making commenced. It 
 seemed extraordinary to me for a long time that 
 sugar should be got in quantities fronv a great forest 
 tree, the modest sugar-cane having been always in 
 my mind the only source of it- except, indeed, the 
 sugar-beet, by the growth of which Napoleon tried 
 to make France furnish her own sugar, instead of 
 having to buy English colonial sugar from any of 
 the European ports. But a great quantity is made, 
 in Canada and the United States, from the maple, 
 both for sale and home use, a vast amount being 
 eaten by the native-bom Canadians as a sweetmeat, 
 just as we eat candy j and very little else is known 
 in many parts of the backwoods for household pur- 
 poses. The best days for sugai-making are the 
 bright ones, after frosty nights, the sap running then 
 most freely. The first thing we had to do with our 
 'bush,' which is the name given to the maples pre- 
 served for sugar-making, was to see that each tree 
 was provided with a trough, which we made out of 
 pine, or some other soft wood, by cutting a log mto 
 lengths of perhaps two feet, then splitting each in 
 two, and hollowing the flat side so that it would 
 
 ■iMMiliMfaiaiMM 
 
 ■MWMMMidiWMi 
 
id been desolate 
 e such signs of 
 unspeakably de- 
 
 ind while yet the 
 the woods, the 
 ommenccd. It 
 
 long time that 
 om a great forest 
 
 been always in 
 cept, indeed, the 
 . Napoleon tried 
 sugar, instead of 
 gar from any of 
 quantity is made, 
 
 from the maple, 
 ist amount being 
 5 as a sweetmeat, 
 de else is known 
 )r household pur- 
 r-making are the 
 sap running then 
 id to do with our 
 3 the maples pre- 
 lee that each tree 
 1 we made out of 
 cutting a log into 
 I splitting each in 
 
 so that it would 
 
 Suj^ar-mal'in^. 
 
 !8l 
 
 mmiitmtmiiA'- 
 
 Iiold about a bucketful of sap. We next took narrow 
 pieces of wood about a foot long, and made spouts 
 of them with a gouge, after wliicl) we made a cut in 
 each tree with the axe, tlirec or four inches long and 
 an inch deep, in a slanting direction, adding another 
 straight cut at the lower end of it with the gouge, 
 that there might be no leaking, and sinking a hole for 
 a spout, where they met ; the gouge that cut the spouts 
 making the hole into which they were thrust. Below 
 these spouts the troughs were set to collect the sap, 
 wliich was carried as often as they were nearly full 
 to another, of enormous dimensions, close to the fire. 
 These colossal ^rou hs are simply huge trunks of 
 trees hollowed out for the purpose ; ours woulu have 
 held fifi . arrels. The emptying into this was made 
 every morning and evening until a large quantity 
 had been gathered, and then the boiling began in 
 large 'kettles,' as they are called, made for the 
 purpose, and suspended over the blazing fire from a 
 stout pole, resting on two forked branches thrust into 
 the earth at each side. The sap once in the kettles 
 has a hard time of it : the fires are kept up in royal 
 brightness for days together, not being allowed to die 
 out even during the night 
 
 It was a very pleasant time with us, though it was 
 hard work, and what with the white snow, the great 
 solemn trees, the wild figures dancing hither and 
 thither, and our loud merriment, it was very striking 
 when the evenings had set m. One of the kettles 
 
1-2 
 
 Sugar-making. 
 
 was chosen for 'sugaring off,' and had especially 
 assiduous watching. Not a moment's rest could its 
 unfortunate contents get from the incessant boiling 
 we kept up ; fresh sap being' added as often as it 
 seemed to be getting too dry. In its rage, the sap 
 would every now and then make desperate efforts to 
 boil over ; but we were on the watch for this also, 
 and as soon as it manifested any intention of the 
 kind, we rubbed round the inside of the kettle with a 
 piece of pork-fat, beyond the limits of which it would 
 no more pass than if it had been inside some magic 
 circle. My sisters were as busy as we at every part of 
 the process, and their poor dresses showed abundant 
 and lasting memorials of their labours, in the rents 
 made in them by the bushes. What we were all like, 
 from head to foot, after a time, may be more easily 
 conceived than described. Our smudged faces, and 
 sugary, sloppy clothes, made us all laugh at one 
 another. 
 
 As the sap grew thicker with the incessant boiling, 
 another element was added to our amusement in the 
 stickiness of everything we handled, if we leaned 
 against a log at hand we were fast bound ; and the 
 pots, pans, ladles, buckets, axe-handles, troughs— 
 everything we touched, indeed, seemed to part from 
 us only with regret. We were fortunate in having 
 no young children amongst us, as they would, of 
 course, have been in the thick of the fray, and have 
 become half-crystallized before all was over. The 
 
» 
 
 md had especially 
 ent's rest could its 
 e incessant boiling 
 ded as often as it 
 :n its rage, the sap 
 desperate efforts to 
 vatch for this also, 
 ny intention of the 
 3f the ketde with a 
 s of which it would 
 n inside some magic 
 3 we at every part of 
 ;s showed abundant 
 ibours, in the rents 
 hat we were all like, 
 may be more easily 
 smudged faces, and 
 3 all laugh at one 
 
 he incessant boiling, 
 r amusement in the 
 idled, if we leaned 
 ist bound ; and the 
 ^-handles, troughs — 
 eemed to part from 
 fortunate in having 
 , as they would, of 
 if the fray, and have 
 all was over. The 
 
 Sugar-making. 
 
 183 
 
 'clearing off' was managed by pouring in beaten 
 eggs when the sap was beginning to get thick. This 
 served to bring all the impurities at once to the top, so 
 that we could readily skim theip off. Several ingenious 
 ways had been told us of knowing when the process 
 was complete. One was by boring small holes in a 
 flat piece of wood, and blowing on it after dipping it 
 into the syrup ; the sugar going through the holes in 
 long bubbles, if it were boiled enough. Another 
 plan was to put a little on the snow, when, if it got 
 stiff, it was time to pour all out. Everything that 
 would hold it was then, forthwith, put into requi- 
 sition, after having been well greased to keep the 
 sugar from sticking, and, presently, we had cakes, 
 loaves, lumps, blocks, every shape, in fact, of rich 
 brown-coloured sugar of our own making. Some, 
 which we wanted to crystallize, was put into a barrd, 
 and stirred while cooling, which effectually answered 
 the purpose. Small holes bored in the bottoni made 
 the sugar thus obtained whiter than the rest, by al- 
 lowing the molasses mingled with it to drain off. We 
 kept some sap for vinegar, which we made by simply 
 boiling three or four pailfuls until reduced to one, 
 and corking this up in a keg for a time. 
 
 "For the first and second years the poorer settlers 
 have a dreadful job of it in the sugar bush, from not 
 having had sufficient time to fence it in from the 
 cattle, which from their intrusion are a constant 
 annoyance. They poke their great noses into every- 
 
1 84 
 
 Sugar-making. 
 
 thing, and one taste of the sap is very much to them 
 what they say the taste of blood is to a tiger, in 
 stimulating their thirst for more. In they come, 
 braving all risks for a sip of their much-loved nectar ; 
 out go the spouts from the trees, over go the buckets 
 of sap, and, worse than all, if the brutes succeed in 
 drinking any quantity, they are very often seriously, 
 if not mortally injured, their indulgence acting on 
 them very much as clover does, blowing out their 
 stomachs and even bursting them. Another annoy- 
 ance at first, is the not having had time to cut out the 
 'under brush,' so as to make it possible to take a 
 sleigh with barrels on it, from tree to tree, to collect 
 the sap, with the help of oxen, and, hence, having to 
 carry bucket by bucket to the 'kettles,' often from 
 a considerable distance, which is no trifling task, over 
 vet snow, and rough ground, thick with every ob- 
 struction. We were fortunate in this respect, having 
 been warned in time, so that everything was as light 
 as such work can be. 
 
 • The sugaring-off day was rather a festivity with 'us, 
 as we followed the custom of a good many of our 
 neighbours, and invited some young folks to come to a 
 carnival on the warm sugar, which is very nice, though 
 I should not care to eat as much at a time as some of 
 our visitors did. The quantity of sap which a single 
 tree yields is astonishing. I think some gave not less 
 than fifty gallons, and the loss of it seemed to do them 
 good rather than harm. The older and stronger tlie 
 
Bush Psalmody. 
 
 185 
 
 mudi to them 
 to a tiger, in 
 I they come, 
 loved nectar ; 
 the buckets 
 ;es succeed in 
 ften seriously, 
 nee acting on 
 ing out their 
 nother annoy- 
 to cut out the 
 ible to take a 
 tree, to collect 
 nee, having to 
 ;s,' often from 
 tling task, over 
 v'ith every ob- 
 respect, having 
 ig was as light 
 
 itivity with us, 
 . many of our 
 ;s to come to a 
 ry nice, though 
 ime as some of 
 which a single 
 e gave not less 
 [led to do them 
 d stronger tlie 
 
 trees the better the sap, and the more abundant — a 
 peculiarity which it would be well for each of us to be 
 able to have said of his own life as it advanced. The 
 Indians must have been acquainted with the property 
 of the maple for ages ; stone sugar-making utensils, of 
 their manufacture, comprising stone troughs and long 
 stone spouts, hollowed out and pointed for sticking 
 into the trees, having often been found in some dis- 
 tricts. The few who still survive keep up the habits 
 of their ancestors in this, as in other respects^ numbers 
 of them offering sugar which they have made, for 
 barter, each spring. 
 
 Happening to be back in the bush one Sunday, I 
 stopped to hear the Pr^byterian minister preach ; he 
 being expected to come there that afternoon. A log 
 schoolhouse was made to serve for a chapel — a dark, 
 wretched affair, into which, gradually, about seventy 
 or eighty people managed to cram themselves. The 
 singing was conducted by an old German, whose 
 notions of music were certainly far behind those of his 
 countrymen generally. The number of grace notes he 
 threw in was astounding; but the people joined as 
 well as they could, using their powerful lungs with so 
 much vigour, and in such bad time and tune, as to be 
 irresistibly ludicrous. As to keeping abreast of each 
 other through a verse or a line, it seemed never to 
 occur to them. A great fellow would roar himself out 
 of breath, with his face up to the ceiling and his 
 mouth open, like a hen drinking, and then stop, make 
 
1 86 Worship under Difficulties. 
 
 a swallow to recover himself, or, perhaps, spit on the 
 floor, and begin again where he left off, in total disre- 
 gard of the fact that the others were half a line ahead. 
 Who can chronicle the number of ' repeats ' of each 
 line, or portion of one ? And as to the articulation of 
 the words, who could have guessed their meaning from 
 the uncouth sounds he heard? The windows were 
 very small ;'and, when filled with people, the place 
 was too dark for print to be legible, so that, notwith- 
 standing the excessive cold, the minister had to stand 
 outside the door through the whole service. About 
 the middle of the sermon a brief iiuerruption took 
 place, from a freak on the part of the stove, which stood 
 in the middle of the room, and was of the common 
 kind, with the sides held together by a raised edge on 
 the top and bottom. As usual in all Canadian churches 
 and meetings, some one was stuffing this contrivance 
 full of wood while the sermon was going on, when, in 
 a moment, the top got a trifle too much lifted up, and 
 down came stove-pipe, stove, fire and wood, in one 
 grand rumble, to the ground. As the floor chanced 
 to be made only of roughly-smoothed planks, with 
 great gaps between each, and the carpenters' shavings 
 and other inflammable matter were clearly visible be- 
 low, the danger of the whole structure catching fire 
 was great; but the congregation were equal to the 
 emergency. A number of men were out in a moment, 
 to return, the next, with great armfuls of snow, which 
 they heaped on the burning mound in such profusion 
 
 
 •MaMMMMB 
 
"^ 
 
 Ities. 
 
 ips, spit on the 
 ', in total disre- 
 If a line ahead. 
 :peats ' of each 
 2 articulation of 
 r meaning from 
 windows were 
 )ple, the place 
 
 that, notwith- 
 ;r had to stand 
 ervice. About 
 .erruption took 
 ve, which stood 
 jf the common 
 raised edge on 
 ladian churches 
 his contrivance 
 ng on, when, in 
 li lifted up, and 
 
 1 wood, in one 
 ; floor chanced 
 d planks, with 
 enters' shavings 
 early visible he- 
 re catching fire 
 e equal to the 
 ut in a moment, 
 of snow, which 
 such profusion 
 
 Worship under Difficulties. 1 87 
 
 that every spark of fire was extinguished in a few 
 minutes. The bottom of the stove was then prepared 
 again for the reception of the sides, the top was once 
 more fitted on, the stove-pipes put in their place, the 
 rubbish thrust into its proper abode inside, and, by the 
 help of a few whittlings made on the spot, a fresh fire 
 was roaring in a very short time, enabling the minister 
 to conclude in peace and comfort. 
 
 I have seen strange incidents in backwoods wor- 
 ship. One church happened to be built on rather 
 high posts, leaving an open space of from two to 
 three feet below, between the floor and the ground. 
 Into this shady retreat a flock of sheep, headed by 
 the bell-wether, had made its entrance one Sunday 
 morning while we were at worship overhead, and 
 presently tinkle, tinkle, tinkle went the bell, now in 
 single sounds, and then, when the wearer perhaps 
 shook some fly off its ears, in a rapid volley. No- 
 body stirred. The clergyman alone seemed incom- 
 moded; but no one thought he was particularly so 
 till, all at once, he stopped, came down from the 
 pulpit, went out and drove off" the intruders, after 
 which he recommenced as if nothing had occurred. 
 At another place, at the communion, to my astonish- 
 ntent, instead of the ordinary service, a black bottle 
 and two tiimblers were brought out, with all due 
 solemnity, as substitutes. 
 
 We had a sample of the strength of female intellect, 
 one winter, in an old woman, who visited the next 
 
 i 
 
1 88 A Clo'ical Mrs Partington. 
 
 village to preach on the Prophecies, and drew the 
 whole of the humbler population of the neighbour- 
 hood to hear her. Grammar, of course, was utterly 
 disregarded ; she knew the obscurer books of Scrip- 
 ture by heart, nnd having a tongue more than 
 usually voluble, .-nd an assurance that nothing could 
 abash, she did her best to enlighten the crowd 
 on no mean topics. Using her left arm as a 
 chronological measure, she started with Daniel, at 
 the elbow, and reached the consummation of all 
 things at her finger-ends, which she figuratively 
 called ' the jumping off place.' Some of her similes, 
 as reported through the township, amused me exceed- 
 ingly as samples of what was just suited to please 
 the majority of her hearers. 'There's no more 
 grace, sir, in your heart than there's blood in a 
 turnip,' was her apostrophe to some imaginary sinner. 
 ' Them sinners ' she added—' them hardened sinners, 
 needs to be done to as you do to a old black tobaky 
 pipe—throw 'em into the fire, and burn 'em— then 
 they'll be wite.' Such wandering luminaries are, 
 for the most part, importations from the States, where 
 they abound almost beyond belief Another of 
 these learned expositors visited us for the purpose 
 of giving lectures on ' Biology,' by which he meant 
 the effects produced on his patients by looking at 
 large wooden buttons which he carried with him; 
 a continued stare at them for a time making the 
 .parties become, as he averred, completely subject, 
 
rion. 
 
 Biology. 
 
 189 
 
 and drew the 
 the neighbour- 
 se, was utterly 
 jooks of Scrip- 
 ae more than 
 nothing could 
 ten the crowd 
 eft arm as a 
 n\\\ Daniel, at 
 nmation of all 
 he figuratively 
 of her similes, 
 sed me exceed- 
 iited to please 
 ere's no more 
 :'s blood in a 
 naginary sinner, 
 rdened sinners, 
 d black, tobaky 
 3urn 'em — then 
 luminaries are, 
 le States, where 
 ". xVnother of 
 "or the purpoie 
 ■hich he meant 
 ; by looking at 
 ried with him; 
 ne making the 
 pletely subject, 
 
 even in their thoughts, to his will. He would tell 
 one he was a pig, and all manner of swinish sounds 
 and actions followed. Another was assured he 
 could not rise from his seat, and forthwith appeared 
 glued to the spot, despite his most violent efforts 
 to get up. Whether there was any actual truth 
 in the exhibition, through the power of some subtle 
 mesmeric laws of which we know little I cannot 
 say. Some thought there was ; others, that the 
 whole was a joke of some young fellows who wished 
 to create fun at the expense of the audiences. But 
 the exhibitor himself was a real curiosity in his 
 utter illiterateness and matchless assurance. He had 
 seen somebody else exhibiting in this way, and, like 
 a shrewd Yankee, thought he might make a little 
 money by doing the same. I wished to gain some 
 information from him on the subject if he had any 
 to give, and waited, after the crowd had separated, 
 to ask him about it ; but all I could get from him 
 was the frank acknowledgment that ' this here pro- 
 fession was not the one he follered ; he had jist 
 been a-coming to Canedy after some lumber — he 
 dealt in lumber, he did — and calc'lated that he might 
 as well's no make his expenses by a few licturs.' I 
 almost laughed outright at this candid avowal, and 
 left him. ^ 
 
 One day, Louis de Blanc, an old Canadian voyageur, 
 who had left his arduous avocation and settled near 
 our place long before we came, amused me by a story 
 
 
190 
 
 A Ghost. 
 
 of an apparition he had seen the night before in pass- 
 ing the graveyard at the Httle Cathohc chapel on the 
 roadside, two miles above us. It was a little plot of 
 ground, neatly fenced round with wooden pickets, 
 with the wild flowers growing rank and high among 
 the few lonely graves, — some tall black crosses here 
 and there out-topping them. 'You know Michel 
 Cauchon died last week ; well, he always had a spite 
 at me ; and, sure enough, last night about twelve 
 o'clock, as I was passing the churchyard, didn't I see 
 his ghost running across the road in the shape of a 
 rabbit. Ah 1 how I sweated as I ran home ! I never 
 stopped till I got over my fence and safe in bed.' 
 The poor rabbit that had caused the panic would, no 
 doubt, have been astonished, could it have learned 
 the terror it had inspired. 
 
 It was most astonishing to see what kind of food 
 some of these old Canadians relished — at least, it was 
 so to me. One day having gone over to Le Blanc's 
 on some errand, I found his son Louis, a boy of 
 twelve or fourteen, with the handle of a frj'ing-pan in 
 one hand and a spoon in the other, drinking down 
 mouthful after mouthful of the melted fat left after fry- 
 ing pork, and, on my silently looking at him, was met 
 by a delighted smile and a smack of his lips, accom- 
 panied by a rapturous assurance of, ' Ah ! it slips 
 good.' Fat, however, is only another name for carbon, 
 or, it may be said, charcoal, and carbon is needed in 
 large quantities to maintain an adequate amount of 
 
' // slips good! 
 
 191 
 
 before in pass- 
 c chapel on the 
 > a little plot of 
 fooden pickets, 
 nd high among 
 :k crosses here 
 know Michel 
 k^ays had a spite 
 It about twelve 
 ird, didn't I see 
 the shape of a 
 home ! I never 
 d safe in bed.' 
 panic would, no 
 it have learned 
 
 at kind of food 
 — at least, it was 
 :r to Le Blanc's 
 Louis, a boy of 
 F a frj'ing-pan in 
 , drinking down 
 fat left after fry- 
 at him, was met 
 his lips, accom- 
 f, 'Ah! it slips 
 name for carbon, 
 on is needed in 
 i^uate amount of 
 
 animal heat in the inhabitants of cold climates, and to 
 this must be attributed their craving for grossly fat food. 
 Captain Cochrane, in his ' Pedestrian Tour to Behring's 
 Straits,' shows us that poor Louis Le Blanc was in this 
 respect far outdone by the Siberian tribes living near 
 the Arctic Ocean, who relished nothing more than a 
 tallow candle, and would prolong the enjoyment of 
 one by pulling the wick, once and again, through their 
 half-closed teeth, that no particle of the grease might 
 
 be lost. Indeed, my friend Captain L told me 
 
 that, in the Arctic regions, his men had acquired a 
 similar rehsh for ' moulds ' and ' dips,' and could eat a 
 candle as if it had been sugar-stick. The Esquimaux, 
 as we all know, live on the nauseous blubber of the 
 whale, cutting it off in long strips, which, Sydney 
 Smith facetiously avers, they hold over them by the 
 one hand and guide down by the other, till full to the 
 mouth, when they cut it off at the lips. The qumiity 
 of butcher's meat eaten by every one during winter in 
 Canada is astonishing. Even the bush people, who 
 when living in England hardly ever saw it, eat it vora- 
 ciously three times a-day, with a liberal allowance of 
 grease each time. What oceans of mutton-oil I have 
 seen floating round chops, in some of their houses ! 
 H9W often have I declined the offer of three or four 
 table-spoonfuls of pork-oil, as ' gravy ' or ' sauce ' to the 
 perk itself! Yet it 'slips good,' apparently, with the 
 country population generally. The quantity of butter 
 these good folks consume is no less Uberal. On the 
 
tgn, 
 
 Sqnaiiers. 
 
 table of a poor log-house they never think of putting 
 down a lump weighing less than a pound, at which 
 every one hacks as he likes with his own knife. But 
 they need it all, and it is a mercy they have it, to help 
 them to withstand the effects of extreme cold and hard 
 work. The poorer classes in towns, who have no land 
 on which to raise animal food, and little money with 
 whicli to buy it, must suffer very severely. 
 
 There were a few ' squatters ' along the river here 
 and there— that is, men who had settled on spots of 
 the wilderness without having bought them, or having 
 acquired any legal rights, but were content to use them 
 while undisturbed in possession, and to leave their 
 clearings when owners came forward. They are 
 always, in such cases, allowed the value of their im- 
 provements, and as, meanwhile, they live entirely rent 
 free, their position is far from wholly disadvantageous. 
 In the early days of the colony, indeed, there was no 
 other plan. The few first comers could hardly be any- 
 thing but squatters, as the country was all alike an un- 
 cleared wilderness, and there was no inducement to 
 pay money for any one spot, had they possessed the 
 means. Some of the French families in our neigh- 
 bourhood had been settled on the same farm for 
 generations, and had at last actually bought their 
 homesteads at the nominal price demanded by govern- 
 ment ; but the squatters were not yet extinct, though 
 they might at one time have had their choice of the 
 richest soil at something like fourpence an acre. A 
 
Squatters. 
 
 think of putting 
 pound, at which 
 own knife. But 
 y have it, to help 
 ne cold and hard 
 vho have no land 
 little money with 
 ;rely. 
 
 )g the river here 
 ttled on spots of 
 t them, or having 
 ntent to use them 
 id to leave their 
 ard. They are 
 alue of their im- 
 live entirely rent 
 disadvantageous. 
 ;ed, there was no 
 ild hardly be any- 
 as all alike an un- 
 lO inducement to 
 ley possessed the 
 ies in our neigh- 
 e same farm for 
 illy bought their 
 landed bygovern- 
 et extinct, though 
 leir choice of the 
 ence an acre. A 
 
 193 
 
 friend of mine told me that within a period of about 
 thirty years he had seen land sold again and again at 
 no higher price. On the same lot as that which 
 boasted the Catholic chapel, one — a lonely survivor of 
 the class— had taken up his abode, many years before 
 our time, building a log-house for himself on the 
 smallest possible scale, a few yards from the river. 
 How he could live in such a place seemed strange. 
 It was not more than some ten or twelve feet in length 
 and the upper part of it was used as his bam. Here, 
 all alone, poor Papineau had lived — no one I ever 
 met could tell how long. There was no house in sight ; 
 no one ever seemed to go near him, nor did he ever 
 visit any neighbour. He was his own cook, house- 
 keeper, washerwoman, farm-labourer, everything. I 
 often wish I had tried to find out more about him. 
 We used, when we passed along the river edge, to see 
 him mowing his patch of hay for his cow, or weeding 
 his plot of tobacco, for he grew what he required for 
 his own use of this as of other things ; and he was 
 ahvays the same silent, harmless hermit of the woods. 
 It was a strange kind of life to lead. How different 
 from that of a Londoner, or the life of the inhabitant 
 of any large community ! Yet he must surely have 
 beerf contented, otherwise he would have left it and 
 gone where he could have found some society. 
 
 13 
 
 
194 
 
 ! 
 
 . 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Bush mnRistrntcs-In.lian f..rest Bui.les-Scnscs quicUenc.l by 
 neccssily-MrcaluuK »P "f H"-" ice-Depth of the frost-A grave- 
 in winter— A ball-A holiday coat. 
 
 |r,N those days our local dignitaries were as 
 primitive as the country itself. On the 
 river, indeed, the magistrates were men 
 of education, but in the bush the majority 
 possessed no ciuaiifications for acting the part of jus- 
 tices. One of them had the misfortune one winter to 
 have a favourite dog killed by some mischievous 
 person, and feeling excessively indignant at the loss, 
 boldly announced that he was prepared to pay a 
 reward to any party who would give such information 
 respecting the offender as should lead to his convic- 
 tion The wording and spelling of this proclamation 
 weie alike remarkable. It ran thus; 'Whereas sum 
 nutrishus vilain or vilains has killed my dog Seesur, I 
 er2by ofer a reward of five dolars to any one that will 
 mak none the ofender or ofenders.' He never got 
 any benefit from his efforts, but the document, in his 
 own handwriting, hung for a long time on the wall of 
 
;nscs quickened tiy 
 )f the frost —A grave 
 
 gnitaries were as 
 yr itself. On the 
 stratcs were men 
 bush the majority 
 T the part of jus- 
 ime one winter to 
 ome mischievous 
 ;nant at the loss, 
 epared to pay a 
 
 such information 
 ad to his convic- 
 
 this proclamation 
 s: 'Whereas sum 
 
 my dog Seesur, I 
 I any one that will 
 I.' He never got 
 e document, in his 
 ime on the wall of 
 
 Indian Forest Guides. 195 
 
 the next tavern, wliere all could sec it, and not a few 
 laugh at its peculiarities. 
 
 I was much struck by an instance, which a lony 
 journey, about this time, through the woods, gave, ol 
 the wonderful faculty possessed by the Indians' in 
 going straight from point to point across the thickest 
 forest, where there is apparently nothing to direct 
 their course. Having occasion to return nearly 
 trt-enty miles from a back township to which the road.s 
 had not yet been opened, and not liking to take the 
 circuit necessary if I desired to find others, I thought 
 myself fortunate in mcefi. ' with an Indian, who for a 
 small reward offered to f, • mc home by the nearest 
 route. When I asked him how he guided himself, he 
 could say very little, but hinted in his broken English 
 about one side of the trees being rougher than the 
 other, though I could detect little or no difference on 
 most of them. If it had been in Nova Scotia, I 
 could have imderstood his reasoning, for there the 
 side of the trees towards the north is generally hung 
 with a long grey beard of moss, from the constant 
 moisture of the climate ; but in Canada it would take 
 very sharp eyes to tell which was the northern and 
 wnich the other sides from any outward sign, They 
 must have something more to guide them, I think, 
 though what it is I cannot conceive. The senses 
 become wonderfully acute when called into extra- 
 ordinary service. I have read of prisoners in dark 
 dungeons who got at last to be able to see the spiders 
 
 ■■ 
 
196 Senses quickened by Necessity. 
 
 moving about in their webs in the comers of their 
 cells ; and blind people often attain such a .vonderful 
 delicacy of touch as to be able to detect things by 
 differences so slight as to be imperceptible by others. 
 The facility with which they read the books prepared 
 for them with raised letters, by simply passing their 
 fingers over the surfaces, is well known. The sailor 
 can discern the appearance of distant land, or the 
 Arab the approach of a camel over the desert, when 
 others would suspect neither. An Indian can smell 
 the fire of a ' camp,' as they call the place where a 
 party rests for the night, when a European can detect 
 nothing. There may, therefore, be something which 
 can be noticed on the trees, by those who pass their 
 whole lives among them, which others are unable to 
 discover. The Indians derive a great advantage from 
 the skill they possess in tracking the footsteps of men 
 or animp.ls over all sorts of ground and among dry 
 leaves. This faculty they are enabled to acquire 
 owing to the fact that the forests in North America 
 are generally open enough underneath to offer easy 
 passage ; and moreover, that the soil is little more on 
 the surface than a carpet of rotten wood and decaying 
 leaves, which easily receives the impression of foot- 
 steps, and retains it for a length of time. The moss 
 on the fallen trees is another great help in tracking 
 the course of either man or beast through the forest ; 
 for neither the one nor the other can well make their 
 way over them without rubbing off portions here and 
 
 mmm 
 
Necessity. 
 
 the comers of their 
 tain such a vonderful 
 ; to detect things by 
 iperceptiblc by others. 
 :1 the books prepared 
 r simply passing their 
 11 known. The sailor 
 ■ distant land, or the 
 over the desert, when 
 An Indian can smell 
 ;all the place where a 
 L European can detect 
 :, be something which 
 J those who pass their 
 1 others are unable to 
 1 great advantage from 
 g the footsteps of men 
 round and among dry 
 e enabled to acquire 
 ests in North America 
 derneath to offer easy 
 le soil is little more on 
 ten wood and decaying 
 the impression of foot- 
 th of time. The moss 
 great help in tracking 
 :ast through the forest; 
 ler can well make their 
 ; off portions here and 
 
 Breaking up of the Ice. 197 
 
 there. Nor is the mere fact of the passage in a par- 
 ticular direction all that an Indian can detect from the 
 traces on the soil or vegetation. They reason acutely 
 from tilings wliich others would overlook, and some- 
 times surprise one as much by the minute and yet 
 correct conclusions they draw respecting what they 
 liave not seen, as the Arab did the Cadi of Bagdad 
 when he described a camel and its load which had 
 passed, and whose track he had seen; maintaining 
 that tlie camel was lame of a foot— because he had 
 noticed a difference in the length of the steps ; that 
 it wanted a tooth, because the herbage it had cropped 
 had a piece left in the middle of each bite ; and, also, 
 tliat the load consisted of honey on one side and ghee 
 on the other, because he had noticed drops of each 
 on the path as he went along. My Indian made no 
 hesitation at any part of our journey, keeping as 
 straight as possible, and yet he was forced perpetually 
 to wind and turn round trees standing directly in our 
 path, and to vault over fallen logs, which he did with 
 a skill that I in vain tried to imitate. 
 
 About the beginning of April the ic^ in th. river 
 was getting very watery, the strength of the sun 
 melting the surface till it lay covered with pools in 
 every direction. Yet people persisted in crossing,' 
 long after I should have thought it dangerous in the 
 extreme. It seemed as if it would hold together for 
 a long time yet, but the heat was silently doing its 
 work on it, and bringing the hour of its final disap- 
 
 i 
 
198 
 
 Breaking up of the Ice. 
 
 pearance every moment nearer. It had become a 
 wearisome sight when looked at day after day for 
 months, and we all longed for tlie open river once 
 more. At last, about the sixteenth of the month, on 
 rising in the morning, to our delight, the whole sur- 
 face of the ice was seen to be broken to pieces. A 
 strong wind which had been blowing through the 
 night had caused such a motion in the water as to 
 split up into fragments the now-weakened sheet that 
 bound it. It was a wonderfully beautiful sight to look 
 at the bright blue water sparkling once more in the 
 light, as if in restless gladness after its long imprison- 
 ment, the richness of its colour contrasting strikingly 
 with the whiteness of the ice which flo ited in snowy 
 floes to the south. At first there was only the broken 
 covering of the river, but, very soon, immense quan- 
 tities of ice came sailing down from the Upper I-akes, 
 jammed together one piece on another, in immense 
 heaps, in every variety of confusion, the upturned 
 edges fringed with prismatic colours. I found that 
 the preparation for this grand upbreaking had been 
 much more complete than I had > suspected, from 
 looking at it from a distance ; the whole of what 
 had appeared quite solid having been so affected by 
 the sun that, whichever way you looked at it, long 
 rows of air-bubbles showed themselves through it, 
 showing that there was litde power left in it to resist 
 any outward force. The final rupture, though appar- 
 ently so sudden, had been in fact steadily progressing, 
 
> 
 
 ce. 
 
 had become a 
 y after day for 
 )pen river once 
 ■ the month, on 
 , the whole sur- 
 n to pieces. A 
 ng through the 
 the water as to 
 ;ened sheet that 
 iful sight to look 
 [ice more in tlie 
 ts long imprison- 
 rasting strikingly 
 loited in snowy 
 only the broken 
 , immense quan- 
 lie Upper I-akes, 
 her, in immense 
 n, the upturned 
 i. I found that 
 laking had been 
 I suspected, from 
 J whole of what 
 ;n so afifected by 
 ooked at it, long 
 ;lves through it, 
 eft in it to resist 
 re, though appar- 
 ;adily progressing, 
 
 Depth of the Frost. 
 
 199 
 
 until, at last, the night's storm had been sufficient to 
 sweep away in an hour what had previously stood 
 the wildest rage of winter. I have often, since, thought 
 that it gave a very good illustration of the gradually 
 increasing influence of all efforts for good, and of 
 their certain ultimate triumph — each day's faithful 
 work doing so much towards it, though the progress 
 may for long be imperceptible, until at last, when we 
 hardly expect it, the opposing forces give way, as it 
 were, at once, and forthwith leave only a scattered 
 and retreating wreck behind. Gradual preparation, 
 and apparendy sudden results, are the law in all 
 things. The Reformation, though accomplished as if 
 at a blow, had been silently made possible througii 
 long previous generations ; and when the idolaters in 
 Tahiti tlirew away their hideous gods, the salutary 
 change was only effected by the long-continued labours 
 of fliithful missionaries for many years before — labours, 
 which, to many, must, at the time, have seemed fruit- 
 less and vain. 
 
 The depth to which the frost had penetrated the 
 ground was amazing. I had already seen proof of 
 its being pretty deep, on the occasion of a grave 
 ha\ing to be dug in a little spot of ground attached 
 to a chapel at some distance from us, for the burial 
 of a poor neighbour's wife who had died. The 
 ground was deeply covered with snow, which had to 
 be cleared away before they could begin to dig the 
 grave, and the soil was then found to be so hard that 
 
 I 
 
200 
 
 A Grave in Winter. 
 
 it had to be broken up with pickaxes. Even in that 
 earlier part of the winter the frost was ner'ily two 
 feet deep, and it was a touching thing to see the frozen 
 lumps of earth which had to be thrown down on the 
 coflin. Anything like beating the grave smooth, or 
 shaping it into the humble mound which is so familiar 
 to us at home, as the token of a form like our own 
 lying beneath, was impossible; there could only be 
 a rough approach to it till spring should come to 
 loosen the iron-bound earth. Strangely enough, 
 there were two funerals from the same household 
 within the same month, and the two graves were 
 made side by side. The mother had died just as she 
 was alx)ut to start for the house of her daughter-in- 
 law who was ailing, a hundred and twenty miles off, 
 and the object of her beautiful tenderness had herself 
 died before the same month had expired, leaving it 
 as her last wish that she should be laid beside her 
 friend who had departed so lately. It was now the 
 depth of winter— the Arctic cold made everything 
 like rock— the sleighing was at its best, and thus the 
 journey was made comparatively easy. Laying the 
 coffin in a long sleigh and covering it with straw, 
 and taking a woman with him to carry a young 
 infant to his friends to nurse, the husband set out 
 with his ghastly load. There was no fear of delaying 
 the burial too long, for the corpse was frozen stiff, 
 and might have been kept above-ground for weeks 
 without the risk of its thawing. When 1 used to 
 
Even in that 
 vas ner-ily two 
 > see the fro/cn 
 m down on the 
 ive smooth, or 
 h is so famiUar 
 1 hke our own 
 
 could only be 
 ihould come to 
 mgely enough, 
 ame household 
 'O graves were 
 lied just as she 
 her daughter-in- 
 iventy miles off, 
 ness had herself 
 lired, leaving it 
 laid beside her 
 It was now the 
 lade everything 
 St, and thus the 
 >y. Laying the 
 g it with Straw, 
 
 carry a young 
 lusband set out 
 fear of delaying 
 was frozen stiff, 
 :ound for weeks 
 Vhen 1 used to 
 
A >LKNK IN Ul K MKSl \V1MI,K 
 
 i\it;i- 2.11. 
 
/',/V'' -""• 
 
Depth of the Frost. 
 
 201 
 
 pass aftenvards in summer time, the two graves, 
 which were the first in the burial-ground, wore a 
 more cheerful aspect than they had done at first j the 
 long beautiful grass waving softly over them, and 
 wild flowers, borne thither by the winds or by birds, 
 mingling their rich colours with the shades of green 
 around. 
 
 I think the soil must eventually have been frozen 
 at least a yard down, if we may judge by its effects. 
 Great gate-posts were heaved up by the expansion of 
 the earth, when the thaw turned the ice into water ; 
 for, though ice is lighter than water, it forms a solid 
 mass, whereas the swelling moisture pushes the par- 
 ticles of earth apart. I have seen houses and walls 
 cracked from top to bottom, and fences thrown down, 
 from the same cause j indeed, it is one of the regu- 
 •larly recurring troubles of a Canadian farmer's year. 
 If anything is to stand permanently, the foundations 
 must be sunk below the reach of the frost. It is 
 very much better, however, in Canada than in the 
 icy wilderness to the north of it. Round Hudson's 
 Bay the soil never thaws completely, so that] if you 
 thrust a pole into the earth in the warm season, you 
 may feel the frozen ground a few feet beneath. It is 
 wonderful that any vegetation can grow under such 
 circumstances, but the heat of the sun is so great 
 that, even over the everlasting ice-bed, some crops 
 can be raised in the short fiery summer. Indeed, 
 even on the edge of the great Arctic Ocean, along 
 
 1 
 
202 
 
 A Ball. 
 
 the coasts of Siberia, and on some spots of the 
 
 American sliorc, the earth, brought down by rivers 
 
 and strewn by their floods over the hills of ice, is 
 
 bright with vegetation for a sliort part of each year 
 
 — in this respect not unlike stony and cold natures 
 
 which have yet, over their unmelting hardness, an 
 
 efflorescence of good — the skin of virtue spread, as 
 
 old Thomas Fuller says, like a mask over the face of 
 
 vice. ' 
 
 During the winter a great ball was given across the 
 
 river, in a large barn, which had been cleared for 
 
 the purpose, the price of the tickets being fixed at a 
 
 dollar, which included an abundant supper. It was 
 
 intimated, however, that those who had no money 
 
 might pay in 'dicker' — a Yankee word for barter; 
 
 a bundle of shingles, a certain number of eggs, or so 
 
 much weight of butter, being held equivalent to the 
 
 money, and securing a ticket. I was not present 
 
 myself, never having much approved of these mixed 
 
 parties, but the young folks round were in a great 
 
 state of excitement about it, some of them coming as 
 
 far as fifteen miles to attend it. They went past in 
 
 sleigh loads, dashing over the ice on the river as if it 
 
 had been solid ground. The girls were, of course, in 
 
 the height of fashion, as they understood it ; some 
 
 of them exposing themselves in ridiculously light 
 
 clothing for the terrible season of the year, in the 
 
 belief, no doubt, that it made them look the nicer. 
 
 Fashions in those days did not travel fast, and what 
 
A Holiday Coai. 
 
 203 
 
 spots of the 
 
 )wn by rivers 
 
 liills of ice, is 
 
 of each year 
 
 cold natures 
 
 hardness, an 
 
 tue spread, as 
 
 ?er the face of 
 
 ^en across the 
 ;n cleared for 
 :ing fixed at a 
 pper. It was 
 id no money 
 rd for barter; 
 of eggs, or so 
 ivalent to the 
 3 not present 
 )f these mixed 
 ;re in a great 
 lem coming as 
 J went past in 
 e river as if it 
 !, of course, in 
 tood it ; some 
 Iculously light 
 t year, in the 
 3ok the nicer, 
 fast, and what 
 
 was in its full glory on the river had been well nigh 
 forgotten where it took its rise, like the famous Steen- 
 kirk stock, of which Adtlison says that it took eleven 
 years to travel from London to Newcastle. The 
 taste shown was often very praiseworthy, but some- 
 times, it must be admitted, a little out of the way. 
 I have seen girls with checked or figured white 
 muslin dresses, wearing a black petticoat underneath 
 to show off the beauties of the pattern ; and I knew 
 of one case where a young woman, who was en- 
 grossed in the awful business of buying her wedding 
 dress, could get nothing to please her until she 
 chanced to see, hanging up, a great white window 
 curtain, with birds and flowers all over it, which she 
 instantly pronounced to be the very thing she wanted, 
 and took home in triumph ! There was one gen- 
 tleman's coat on the river which might have formed 
 a curiosity in a museum, as a relic of days gone by. 
 The collar stood up round the ears in such a great 
 roll that the shoulders and head seemed set on each 
 other, and, as to the tails, they crossed each other 
 like a marten's wings, somewhere about the knees. 
 But it was in a good state of preservation, and, for 
 aught I know, may be the holiday pride of its owner 
 to this hour. 
 
 It took a week or two for the last fragments of ice 
 to disappear from the river, fresh floes coming down 
 day after day from the lakes beyond, where spring 
 sets in, later. As they floated past I often used to 
 
 iMMMteMMi^MlUtf''-' 
 
1 1' 
 
 204 
 
 lF//y Ice pats. 
 
 think wliat a nicrcy it was tliat, while water gets 
 heavier as it yrows cold, until it comes to the freexing- 
 point, it becomes lighter the moment it begins to 
 freeze, and thus rises to the surface, to form ice there, 
 instead of at the boUom. If it continued to get 
 lieavier after it froze, or if it continued as heavy after, 
 as it was immeiliaCely before, the rivers and lakes 
 would sjieedily become solid masses of ice, which 
 could by no i)ossiIjility be melted. The arrangement 
 by which this is avoided, is a remarkable illustration 
 of the* Divine wisdom, and a striking proof of tlie 
 contrivance and design which is in all God's works. 
 
 ii 
 
M5 
 
 e water gets 
 llic freezing- 
 it begins to 
 brni ice there, 
 iniieil to get 
 IS heavy after, 
 .T!) and lakes 
 of ice, which 
 ; arrangement 
 )le illustration 
 proof of tile 
 od's works. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Willi Iccks— Spring birds— Wilson's poem on the bluchird — 
 Downy woodi)eckLTs~rassen(;er piguons— Their mimhers — 
 Koostint' placca-The frogs— Bull frogs— Tree frogs— Flying 
 scjuirrels. 
 
 |Y the first of May the fields were beginning 
 to put on their spring beauty. But in 
 Canada, where vegetation, once fairly 
 started, makes a wonderfully rapid pro- 
 gress, it is not like that of England, where .spring 
 comes down, as the poet tells us — 
 
 ' Veiled in a shower ol shadowing roses,' 
 and a long interval occurs between the first indications 
 of returning warmth, and the fuller proof of it in the 
 rejoicing green of the woods and earth. The wild 
 leeks in the bush seemed to awaken from their winter's 
 sleep earlier than most other things, as we found to 
 our cost, by the cows eating them and spoiling their 
 milk and butter, by the strong disagreeable taste. In 
 fact, both were abominable for weeks together, until 
 other attractions in vaccine diet had superseded those 
 of the leeks. It was delightful to look at the runnels 
 of crystal water wimpling down the furrows as the sua 
 
 -,■;•; 
 ■;4,i 
 
Mw*, , 
 
 206 
 
 Spring Birds. 
 
 grew strong ; the tender grass beneath, and at each 
 side, showing through the quivering flow hke u frame 
 of emerald. The great buds of the chestnuts and 
 those of other trees grew daily larger, and shone in the 
 thick waterproof-coatings with which they had been 
 protected through the winter. Small green snakes, 
 too, began to glide about after their long torpidity ; the 
 wild fowl reappeared in long flights high overhead, 011 
 their way to their breeding-places in the far north ; ihe 
 reed-sparrows in their rich black plumage, with scarlet 
 shoulders fading off to yellow ; die robin, resembling 
 his English namesake only in the name, as he belongs 
 to the family of thrushes in Canada j the squixrdS 
 in their beautiful coats, with their great bushy taib 
 and large eyes, stirring in every direction through the 
 trees, and every little while proclaiming their presence 
 by a sound which I can only compare to the whirr of 
 a broken watch-spring ; the frogs beginning to send up 
 their thousand croaks from every standing pool — all 
 things, indeed, in the animal and vegetable world 
 showing signs of joy, heralded the flovvery summer 
 that was advancing towards us. 
 
 The darling little blue-bird, the herald of spring, 
 had already come to gladden us while the snow was 
 yet on the ground, flitting about the burn and the 
 fence-posts, and, after we had an orchard, about the 
 apple-trees, of which it chiefly consisted. About the 
 middle of March he and his mate might be seen visit- 
 ing the bo.K in the garden, where he had kept house 
 
VWit,, 
 
 :ncath, and at each 
 ng flow like .'•. frame 
 f the chestnuts and 
 ;er, and shone in the 
 lich they had been 
 small green snakes, 
 ir long torpid it) ; the 
 ts high overhead, on 
 n the far north ; ihe 
 liimage, with scarlet 
 le robin, resembling 
 name, as he belongs 
 inada ; the squircfdS 
 ir great bushy tails 
 irection through the 
 iming their presence 
 ipare to the whirr of 
 jeginning to send up 
 f standing pool — all 
 nd vegetable world 
 he flowery summer 
 
 J' 
 e herald of spring, 
 
 while the snow was 
 ; the burn and the 
 I orchard, about the 
 insisted. About the 
 might be seen visit- 
 he had kept house 
 
 Wilsons Poem on the Blue-bird. 207 
 
 the year before, or, in places where the orchards were 
 old, looking at the hole in the apple-tree where his 
 family had lived in preceding summers. He had come 
 to be ready for the first appearance of the insects on 
 wliich chiefly he feeds, and, by killing whole myriads 
 of which, he proves himself one of the best friends of 
 the farmer. Thero is a poem of Alexander Wilson, 
 the American ornithologist, about the blue-bird,* which 
 tells the whole story of a Canadian spring so admirably, 
 and is so little known, that I cannot resist the pleasure 
 of quoting part of it. 
 
 ' When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, 
 
 Green meadows and brown furrowed fields re-appearing. 
 The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore, 
 
 And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steeering ; 
 When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing. 
 
 When glow the retl maples, so fresh and so pleasing, 
 Oh, then comes the blue-bird, the herald of spring, 
 
 And hails with his warblings the charms of the season. , 
 
 ' Then loud-piping frogs make the marshes to ring, 
 
 Then warm glows the sunshine, and fine i, the weather ; 
 The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring. 
 
 And spice-wood and sassafras budding together. 
 O then to your gardens, ye house- wives, repair, 
 
 Your walks border up, sow and plant at vour leisure. 
 The blue-bird will chant from his box such an air 
 
 That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure. 
 
 ' He flits through the orchard, he visits eac*- tree, 
 
 The red-flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossoms : 
 lie snaps up destroyers wherever they be, 
 And seizes the caitifls that lurk in their bosoms ; 
 
-am .■>"ililfilfti1^'ih''.'M'li/ ili,f.n^V;i^iS0t. . 
 
 208 
 
 Downy Woodpeckers, 
 
 He drags the vile grub from the com he devours, 
 The worms from their beds, where they riot and welter j 
 
 His song and his services freely are ours. 
 And all that he asks is, in summer, a shelter. 
 
 ' The ploughman is pleased when he gleans in his train, 
 
 Now searching the furrows, now mounting to cheer him ; 
 The gardener delights in his sweet, simple strain. 
 
 And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him ; i 
 
 The slow ling' ring schoolboys forget they'll be chid, 
 
 While gazing intent as he warbles before 'em 
 In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red, i 
 
 That each little wanderer seems to adore hira.' 
 
 The mention of the blue-bird's activity in destroy- 
 ing insects brings to my mind my old friends, the 
 woodpeckers, once more. In John Courtenay's 
 orchard, which was an old one, several of these birds 
 built every season, hovering about the place the whole 
 year, as they are among the very few Canadian birds 
 that do not migrate. He showed me, one day, the 
 nest of one of the species called ' Downy,' in an old 
 apple-tree. A hole had been cut in the body of the 
 tree, as round as if it had been marked out by a 
 carpenter's compasses, about six or eight inches deep 
 in a slanting direction, and then ten or twelve more 
 perpendicularly, the top of it only large enough to 
 let the parents in ajid out, but the bottom apparently 
 quite roomy for the young family. As far as I could 
 see, it was as smooth as a man could have made it, 
 and I was assured that it was the same in every part. 
 It appears that these birds are , as cunning as they 
 
 
Bl 
 
 ■ ito . ivy_^^ ii> 
 
 ackers. 
 
 he devours, 
 they riot and welter ; 
 urs, 
 , a shelter. 
 
 leans in his train, 
 ounting to cheer him ; 
 mple strain, 
 nd to hear him ; 
 ;hey'll be chid, 
 )efore 'em 
 
 red, ; 
 
 adore him.' 
 
 s activity in destroy- 
 my old friends, the 
 John Courtenay's 
 ;everal of these birds 
 t the place the whole 
 y few Canadian birds 
 ;d me, one day, the 
 d ' Downy,' in an old 
 t in the body of the 
 sn marked out by a 
 or eight inches deep 
 i ten or twelve more 
 nly large enough to 
 le bottom apparently 
 y. As far as I could 
 could have made it, 
 ; same in every part, 
 as cunning as they 
 
 Downy Woodpeckers. 
 
 209 
 
 are clever at this art, the two old ones regularly carry- 
 ing out all the chips as they are made, and strew- 
 ing them about at a considerable distance from the 
 nest, so as to prevent suspicion of its presence. Six 
 pure Avhite eggs, laid on the smooth bottom of their 
 curious abode, mark the number of each year's 
 family, the female bird sitting closely on them while 
 llicy are being hatched, her husband, meanwhile, 
 busying himself in supplying her with choice grubs, 
 that she may want for nothing in her voluntary im- 
 prisonment. The little woodpeckers make their 
 first appearance about the middle of June, when one 
 may see them climbing the bark of the tree as well 
 as they can, as if practising before they finally set 
 rat in life for themselves. I had often wondered at 
 tlii appearance of the bark in nvany of the apple and 
 ] ^ar-trees, which seemed as if some one had fired 
 charges of shot into them ; but it was long before I 
 knew the real cause. It appears that it is the work 
 of the woodpeckers, and many farmers consequently 
 think the poor birds highly injurious to their or- 
 chards. But there are no real grounds for such an 
 opinion, for no mischief is done by these punctures, 
 numerous though they be. I have always remarked 
 that the trees which were perforated most seemed 
 most thriving, no doubt because the birds had 
 destroyed the ••: v.'.cts which otherwise would have 
 injured then, "he u. umn and winter is tlie great 
 time for tbri- opor3ti:>iiS, and it is precisely the time 
 
 14 
 
210 
 
 Downy Woodpeckers. 
 
 when the preservation of the fruit, in the coming 
 summer, can be best secured. Curious as it may 
 seem that such a riddHng of the bark can be bene- 
 ficial to the tree, it evidently is so. From the ground 
 to where the branches fork off there is often hardly 
 an inch of the bark which does not bear the mark 
 of some gnibhunt, and sometimes eight or ten of 
 them might be covered by a penny. Farmers, how- 
 ever, rarely philosophize, and no wonder that in 
 t>>is case they regard as prejudicial what is really a 
 b 'fit But, on the othc. hand, they are correct 
 eui.. . .V ' -c the habits of some of the woodpeckers, 
 for g. - n tl-.ieves than the red-headed ones, at some 
 seasons, can hardly be found. The little rascals 
 devour fruit of all kinds as it ripens, completely 
 stripping the trees, if permitted. In fact, they have 
 a liking for all good things, they are sure to piok the 
 finest strawberries from your beds, and have no less 
 relish for apples, peaches, cherries, plums, and pears ; 
 Indian corn, also, is a favourite dish with them, 
 while it is still milky. Nor do these little plagues 
 keep to vegetable diet exclusively; the eggs in the 
 nests of small birds are never passed by in their 
 search for delicacies. One can't wonder, therefore, that, 
 with such plundering propensities, they should lose 
 their lives pretty often. 
 
 The flocks of pigeons that come in the ear r spring 
 are wonderful. They fly together in bodies of 
 many thousands, perching, as close as they can settle, 
 
 ( 
 
rs. 
 
 Passenger Pigeons. 
 
 Ill 
 
 t, in the coming 
 irious as it may 
 ark can be bene- 
 From the ground 
 e is often hardly 
 3t bear the mark 
 eight or ten of 
 r. Farmers, how- 
 wonder that in 
 I what is really a 
 they are correct 
 the woodpeckers, 
 ded ones, at some 
 The little rascals 
 ipens, completely 
 In fact, they have 
 e sure to piok the 
 and have no less 
 plums, and pears ; 
 dish with them, 
 lese little plagues 
 ; the eggs in the 
 issed by in their 
 der, therefore, that, 
 they should lose 
 
 in the ear r spring 
 her in bodies of 
 : as they can settle, 
 
 on the trees when they alight, or covering the ground 
 over large spaces when feeding. The first tidings of 
 their approach is the signal for every available gun to 
 be brouglU into requisition, at once to procure a sup- 
 ply of fresh food, and to protect the crops on the 
 fields, which the pigeons would utterly destroy if they 
 were allowed. It is singular how little sense, or per- 
 haps fear, such usually timid birds have when col- 
 lected together in numbers. I have heard of one man 
 who was out shooting them, and had crept close 
 to one flock, when their leaders took a fancy to fly 
 directly over him, almost close to the ground, to his 
 no small terror. Thousands brushed past him so close 
 as to make him alarmed for his eyes ; and the stream 
 still kept pouring on after he had discharged his bar- 
 rels right and left into it, until nothing remained but 
 to throw himself on his face till the whole had flown 
 over him. They do not, however, come to any part of 
 Canada with which I am acquainted in such amazing 
 numbers as are said by Wilson and Audubon to visit 
 the Western United States. The latter naturalist left 
 iiis house at Henderson, on the Ohio, in the autumn 
 of 1813, on his way to Louisville, and on passing the 
 Barrens, a few miles beyond Hardensburgh, observed 
 the pigeons flying from north-east to south-west in 
 such numbers, that he thought he would try to calcu- 
 late how many there really were. Dismounting, and 
 seating himself on a knoll, he began making a dot in 
 his note-book for every flock that passed, but in a 
 
 i^i^k. 
 
212 
 
 Their Numbers. 
 
 ' 
 
 short time had to give up the attempt, as he had 
 already put down a hundred and sixty-three in twenty- 
 one minutej, and they still poured on in countless 
 multitudes. The air was literally filled with pigeons ; 
 the light of noon-day was obscured as if by an eclipse, 
 and the continued buzz of wings produced an inclina- 
 tion to drowsiness. When he reached Louisville, a 
 distance of fifty-five miles, the pigeons were still pass- 
 ing in unabated numbeis, and continued to do so for 
 three days in succession. He calculated that, if two 
 pigeons were allowed for each square yard, the num- 
 ber in a single flock— and that not a large one, ex- 
 .ding one mile in breadth and a hundred and eighty 
 in length— could not be less than one billion, one 
 hundred and fifteen millions, one hundred and tliirty- 
 ■;x tl . .:id! The food required for such a count- 
 less host passes our power to realize clearly, for, at half 
 a pint a day, which is hardly as much as a pigeon 
 consumes, they would eat, in a single day, eight 
 millions, seven hundred and twelve thousand bushels. 
 To get such supplies from cultivated fields would, of 
 course, be impossible, and it is fortunate that they 
 hardly ever attempt it, their principal support being 
 the vast quantities of beech-mast which the unlimited 
 expanse of unbroken forest supplies. 
 
 A curious fact respecting them is that they have 
 fixed roosting-places, from which no disturbance ap- 
 pears able to drive them, and to these they resort 
 night by night, however far they may have to fly to 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 MintiiH>i»<i>Mrt«1 
 
Roosliiig-placcs. 
 
 213 
 
 mpt, as he had 
 '-three in twenty- 
 
 on in countless 
 ed with pigeons ; 
 i if by an edipse, 
 duced an incHna- 
 led Louisville, a 
 IS were still pass- 
 ued to do SO for 
 lated that, if two 
 e yard, the num- 
 
 a large one, ex- 
 mdred and eighty 
 
 one billion, one 
 ndred and tliirty- 
 or such a count- 
 clearly, for, at half 
 nuch as a pigeon 
 single day, eight 
 ;housand bushels, 
 d fields would, of 
 irtunate that they 
 lal support being 
 lich the unlimited 
 
 is that they have 
 o disturbance ap- 
 these they resort 
 lay have to fly to 
 
 obtain food on the returning day. One of them in 
 Kentucky, was repeatedly visited by Audubon, who 
 found that it was about forty miles in length by three 
 in breadth. A fortnight after the pigeons had chosen 
 it for the season, he found that a great number of per- 
 sons with horses and waggons, guns and ammunition, 
 had already established themselves on its borders. 
 Herds of hogs had been driven up to fatten on a por- 
 tion of those which might be killed. Some of the 
 visitors were busy plucking and salting what had been 
 already procured, huge piles of them lying on each 
 side of their seats. Many trees two feet in diameter 
 were broken oft' at no great distance from the ground 
 by the weight of the multitudes that had lighted on 
 them ; and huge branches had given way, as if the 
 forest had been swept by a tornado. As the hour of 
 their arrival approached, every preparation was made 
 to receive them : iron pots, containing sulphur, torches 
 of pine-knots, poles, and guns, being got ready for use 
 the moment they came. Shortly after sunset the cry 
 arose that they were come at last. The noise they 
 made, though yet distant, was like that of a hard gale 
 at sea, when it passes through the rigging of a closely- 
 reefed vessel. Thousands were soon knocked down 
 by the polemen ; the birds continued to pour in ; the 
 fires were lighted ; and a magnificent as well as won- 
 derful and almost terrifying sight presented itself. 
 The pigeons, arriving by thousands, alighted every- 
 where, one above another, uiltil solid masses as large 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 if 
 
 
 
 
 
214 
 
 Roosting-places. 
 
 as hogsheads were formed on the branches all round. 
 Here and there the perches gave way, and tailing on 
 the ground with a crash, destroyed hundreds of the 
 birds beneath, forcing down the dense groups with 
 which every spot was loaded. The pigeons were 
 constantly coming, and it was past midnight before he 
 perceived a decrease in their number. Before daylight 
 they had begun again to move off, and by sunrise all 
 were gone. This is Audubon's account. I myself 
 have killed thirteen at a shot, fired at a venture into a 
 flock ; and my sister Margaret killed two one day by 
 simply throwing up a stick she liad in her hand as 
 they swept past at a point where we had told her to 
 stand, in order to frighten them into *'^c open ground, 
 that we might have a better chance of shooting them. 
 I have seen bagfuls of them that had been killed 
 by no nore formidable weapons than poles swung right 
 and left at them as they flew close pxast. The rate at 
 which they fly is wonderful, and has been computed 
 at about a mile a minute, at which rate they keep 
 on for hours together, darting fonvard with rapid 
 beats of their wings very much as our ordinary 
 pigeons do. 
 
 The frogs were as great a source of amusement 
 to us as the pigeons were of excitement. AVherever 
 there was a spot of water, thence, by night and day, 
 came their chorus, the double bass of the bull-frogs 
 striking in every now and then amidst the inde- 
 scribable piping of the multitudes of their smaller 
 
 n 
 
 im 
 
Bull Frogs. 
 
 ai5 
 
 anches all round, 
 ly, and falling on 
 
 hundreds of the 
 ense groups with 
 he pigeons were 
 ;)idnight before he 
 :. Before daylight 
 md by sunrise all 
 ccount. I myself 
 it a venture into a 
 i two one day by 
 d in her hand as 
 ; had told her to 
 i *'^c open ground, 
 of shooting them. 
 
 had been killed 
 1 poles swung right 
 >ast. The rate at 
 is been computed 
 ch rate they keep 
 invard with rapid 
 
 as our ordinary 
 
 rce of amusement 
 ement. AVherever 
 by night and day, 
 s of the bull-frogs 
 amidst the inde- 
 :s of their smaller 
 
 brethren. It is very diffic Jt to catch a sight of these 
 bassoon performers, as they spring into the water at 
 the slightest approach of danger ; yet you may now 
 and then come on them basking at the side of a pond 
 or streamlet, their great goggle eyes and black skin 
 making them look very grotesque. They are great 
 thieves in their own proper element, many a duckling 
 vanibliing from its mother's side by a sudden snap of 
 some one of these solemn gentlemen below. They are 
 a hungry race, always ready apparently for what they 
 can get, and making short work with small fishes, all 
 kinds of small reptiles, and even, I believe, the lesser 
 kinds of snakes, when they can get them. These 
 fellows are the giants of the frog tribes, and portly 
 gentlemen withal, some of them weighing very nearly 
 a pound. The shrill croak of the other frogs is like 
 nothing else that I ever heard : it is a sort of trill of 
 two or three notes, as if coming through water, and it 
 rises from so many throats at once that it may be said 
 never for a moment to cease. There is a kind of 
 frog which lives on the branches of trees, catching the 
 insects on the leaves — a beautiful little creature, of so 
 nicely shaded a green that it is almost impossible to 
 detect it even when you are close to it. Henry and 
 I were one day at work in the early summer near a 
 young maple, in the back part of the farm, and could 
 hardly keep up conversation for the hissing trill of a 
 number of them on it; but though the tree was so 
 near us we could not, by all our looking, discover any 
 
 w^ms^^^:iwmmmmmmmmm!sm''y?^^'Tmsm-' 
 
 ^J^ 
 
ai6 
 
 Tree Frogs. 
 
 of the invisible minstrels. At last the thing became 
 so hulicrous that we detciminecl, if possilile, to gt-t a 
 sight of one ; and as the lower brandies began at 
 about our own height, one of us went to the one side, 
 and the other to the other, to watch. Trill — trill — 
 bubble — bubble — bubble — rose all around us, but no 
 other signs of the warblers. We looked and laughed, 
 laughed and looked again ; the sound was within a 
 yard of us, yet nothing could be seen. When almost 
 giving up, however, I chanced to look exactly on the 
 spot where one was making his little throat swell to 
 get out another set of notes, and the rise and fall of 
 its breast at once discovered its presence. Henry 
 was at my side in a moment, and we could both see it 
 plainly enough of course, >vhen our eyes had once 
 fairly distinguished it from the green around. It con- 
 tinued to sit unmoved on its leaf, and we did not dis- 
 turb it. 
 
 One morning we came upon a beautiful little 
 creature which had been killed by some means, and 
 lay in the yard near the barn. It was evidently a 
 squirrel, but differed from the ordinary species in 
 one curious particular. Instead of having its legs 
 free like those of other squirrels, a long stretch of fur 
 extended from the front to the back legs so as to form 
 something like wings when spread out. It was a flying 
 squirrel, a kind not so common as the others, and 
 coming out mostly by night. These extraordinary 
 appendages at their sides are used by them to sustain 
 
Flying ^(juirrch. 
 
 217 
 
 he thing became 
 iossil)lc, to get a 
 mclics began at 
 t to the one side, 
 h. Trill— trill- 
 round us, but no 
 ked and laughed, 
 nd was within a 
 n. When almost 
 )k exactly on the 
 e throat swell to 
 le rise and fall of 
 resence. Henry 
 could both see it 
 r eyes had once 
 around. It con- 
 d we did not dis- 
 
 i beautiful little 
 some means, and 
 was evidently a 
 linary species in 
 having its legs 
 ong stretch of fur 
 legs so as to form 
 t. It was a flying 
 ; the others, and 
 ;se extraordinary 
 \j them to sustain 
 
 them in enormous leaps which they make from branch 
 to branch, or from one tree to another. Trusting to 
 them they dart hither and thither with wonderful 
 swiftness ; indeed, it is hard for tlie eye to follow their 
 movements. What most struck me in this unusual 
 development was the evident approach it maile 
 towards the characteristic of birds, being as it were a 
 link between the form of an ordinary quadruped and 
 that of a bat, and standing in the same relation to the 
 wing rf the latter as that docs to the wing of a bird. 
 It is singular how one class of creatures merges into 
 .another in every department of animal life. Indeed, 
 it is puzzling at times to distinguish between vegetable 
 and animal structures where the confines of the two 
 kingdoms join, as the word zoophyte, which really 
 means ' a living plant,' sufliciently shows. Then there 
 is a caterpillar in New Zealand out of whose back, at "^ 
 a certain stage of its growth, springs a kind of fungus, 
 which gradually drinks up the whole juices of the 
 insect and destroys it; but this is not so much an 
 approximation of two different orders as an accidental 
 union. There are, however, many cases of interlink- 
 ing in the different ' families ' into which life is divided, 
 the study of which is exceedingly curious and interest- 
 ing. 
 
 I 
 
 ^. 
 
 I 
 
2l8 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Our spring crops— Indian corn— rumpkins— Melons— 
 ?>uils— Wild Flowers. 
 
 |HE first thing we thought of when the 
 spring had fairly set in was to get spring 
 wheat, potatoes, Indian corn, pumpkins, 
 oats, and other 'crops into tlie ground. 
 Our potatoes were managed in a very primitive way, 
 in a patch of newly-cleared ground, the surface of 
 which, with a good deal more, we had to burn off 
 before it could be tilled. A. heavy hoe was the only 
 implement used, a stroke oi two with it sufficing to 
 make a hole for the potato cuttings, and two or three 
 more to drag the earth over them, so as to form a 
 ' hill.' These we made at about eighteen inches apart, 
 putting three or four pumpkin seeds in every third 
 hill of the alternate rows. The Indian corn was 
 planted in the same way, iii hills more than a yard 
 apart, pumpkin seeds being put in with it also. It is 
 my favourite of albthe beautiful plants of Canada. A 
 field of it, when at its finest, is, I think, as charming a 
 sight as could well invite the eye. Rising higher than 
 the height of a man, its great jointed stems are crested 
 
 kd^ 
 
 ,....i. 
 
V. 
 
 inpkins— Melons — 
 rs. 
 
 )uglit of when the 
 in was to get spring 
 an corn, pumijkins, 
 )s into tlie ground, 
 very primitive way, 
 ind, the surface of 
 ve had to burn o(T 
 \iy hoc was the only 
 • with it sufficing to 
 gs, and two or three 
 m, so as to form a 
 ighteen inches apart, 
 ;eeds in every third 
 e Indian corn was 
 5 more than a yard 
 1 with it also. It is 
 ants of Canada. A 
 think, as charming a 
 Rising higher than 
 ed stems are crested 
 
 Pumpkins. 
 
 219 
 
 at the top by a long waving plume of purple, while 
 from tiic upper end of each head of the grain there 
 waves a long tassel resembling [)alc green silk. It is 
 grown to a large extent in Canada, but it is most culti- 
 vated in the Western United States, many farmers on 
 the prairies there growing a great tnany acres of it. It 
 IS used in many ways. When still unripe it is full of 
 delicious milky juice, which makes it a delicacy <or the 
 table when boiled. The ripe corn makes excellent 
 meal for cakes, &c., and is the best food for pigs or 
 poultry, while the stalks make excellent fodder for 
 cattle. The poor Indians grow a little corn when 
 tliey grow nothing else. You may see the long string* 
 of ears plaited t(.)gether by the tough wrappings round 
 each, and hung along poles round their wigwams to 
 dry for winter use. They have been in possession of 
 it no one can tell how long. When the May Flower 
 anchored, with the Pilgrim Fathers, at Plymouth Bay, 
 in Massachusetts, in 1620, they found hoards of it 
 buried for safety in the woods around, the Indians 
 having taken this plan to conceal it from them. 
 
 The size of the pumpkins is sometimes enonnous. 
 I have known them so large that one would fill a 
 wheelbarrow, and used often to think of a piece of 
 rhyme I learned when a boy, in which it was pointed 
 out what a mercy it was that they grew on the ground 
 rather than aloft, acorns being quite heavy enough 
 in windy weather.* They are used in great quantities 
 
 * Le Gland et Ja Citrouille : FiMa de La Fontaine, B. ix. 4. 
 
 t 
 
 % 
 
 _ 
 
220 
 
 Melons. 
 
 for ' pumpkin pie,' as the Canadians call it-i prepara- 
 tion of sweetened pumpkin spread over paste. They 
 use them in this way not oiJy while fresh, but cut a 
 great many into thin slices and dry them, that they 
 may have this dessert in winter as well as summer. 
 ^I'hcy are excellent food for pigs and cattle when 
 broken into managerble pieces for them. I don't 
 think anything grew with us better than beets and 
 carrots, the latter especially. A farmer in our neigh- 
 bourhood, who was partial to their growth for the sake 
 of his horses and cattle beat us, however, in the 
 quantity raised on a given space, having actually 
 gathered at the rate of thirteen hundred bushels per 
 acre of carrots. We had a carrot show some years 
 after in the neighbouring township, at which this fact 
 was stated, and its accuracy fairly established by the 
 fact of others having gathered at the rate of as many 
 as eleven hundred bushels per acre. I remember the 
 meeting chiefly from the assertion of an Irishman pre- 
 sent, who would not allow that anything in Canada 
 could surpass its counterpart in his native island, and 
 maintained that these carrots were certainly very good, 
 but that they were nothing to one which was grown 
 near Cork, which was no less than eight feet nine 
 inches in length 1 • _ 
 
 A variety of melons formed one of the novelties 
 we grew after the first season. We had nothing to 
 do but put them in the ground and keep them free 
 from weeds, when they began to ' run '—as they did, 
 
Fruits. 
 
 aai 
 
 lians call it— i prepara- 
 2ad over paste. They 
 while fresh, but cut a 
 d dry them, that they 
 er as well as summer, 
 pigs and cattle when 
 ;s for thein. I don't 
 better than beets and 
 A farmer in our neigh- 
 heir growth for tlie sake 
 It us, however, in the 
 space, having actually 
 m hundred bushels per 
 ;arrot show some years 
 iship, at which this fact 
 "airly established by the 
 [ at the rate of as many 
 : acre. I remember the 
 tion of an Irishman pre- 
 liat anything in Canada 
 in his native island, and 
 were certainly very good, 
 o one which was grown 
 ;ss than eight feet nine 
 
 :d one of the novelties 
 ,n. We had nothing to 
 and and keep them free 
 ti to * run '—as they did, 
 
 far and near, over the ground. It was an easy way 
 to get a luxury, for some of them are very delicious, 
 and all are very refreshing in the sultry heat of 
 summer. They grow in every part of Canada in 
 great luxuriance, and without anything like a pre- 
 paration of the soil. Indeed, I once saw a great 
 fellow of an Indian planting some, which would 
 doubdess grow well enough, with his toes — pushing 
 aside earth enough to receive the seeds, and then, 
 with another motion of his foot, covering them up. 
 Cucumbers grew in surprising numbers from a very 
 small quantity of seed, and we had a castor-oil plant 
 and some plants of red pepper before our doors. We 
 had not very much time at first to attend to a vege- 
 table garden, and therefore contented ourselves with 
 a limited range of that kind of comforts, but it was 
 not the fault of the soil or climate, for in no place of 
 which I know do the various bounties of the garden 
 grow more freely than in Canada. Cabbages, cauli- 
 flower, brocoli, peas, l-rench beans, spinach, onions, 
 turnips, carrots, parsnips, radishes, lettuces, beet, 
 asparagus, celery, rhubarb, tomatoes, cucumbers, and 
 I know not what else, need only to be sown or 
 planted to yield a most bountiful return. 
 
 As to fruits, we had, for years, to buy all we used, 
 or to gather it in the woods, but it w.-^s very cheap 
 when bought, and easily procured when gathered. 
 Apples of a size and flavour almost peculiar to 
 America, pears, plums, cherries, raspberries, currants, 
 
 
222 
 
 Fruits. 
 
 and strawberries grow everywhere in amazinj^ abund- 
 ance. Peaches of the sunniest beauty and most 
 deUcate flavoi\r are at times in some districts almost 
 as plentiful as potatoes ; but we never managed to 
 get any from our orchard, want of knowledge on our 
 part having spoiled our first trees, which we never 
 afterwards exchanged for others. But on the Niagara 
 River I have known them sell for a shilling a bushel, 
 and every labourer you met would be devouring 
 them by the half-dozen. A gentleman within ;: 
 miles of us took a fancy to cultivate grapes a„ jx- 
 tensively as he could in the open air, and succeeded 
 so well that he told me before I left that he had sold 
 a year's crop for about a hundred pounds. If we 
 had had as much shrewdness as we ought to have 
 had, we should have begun the culture of fruit 
 rather than of ntere farm produce, and I feel sure it 
 would have paid us far better. But people coming 
 fresh to a country take a long time to learn what is 
 best for them to do, and when they have learned, 
 have too often no sufficient means of turning to it, 
 or, perhaps, no leisure, while many, through disap- 
 pointed hopes, lose their spirit and energy. 
 
 The wild fruits we found to be as various as the 
 cultivated kinds, and some of them were very good. 
 The wild cherries were abundant in our bush, and 
 did excellently for preserves. Gooseberries, small, 
 with a rough prickly skin and of a poor flavour, were 
 
Wild Flowers, 
 
 223 
 
 in amazinti abund- 
 beauty and most 
 ne districts almost 
 never managed to 
 knowledge on our 
 i, which we never 
 But on the Niagara 
 a shilling a bushel, 
 uld be devouring 
 ;man within ;• 
 vate grapes a„ jx- 
 air, and succeeded 
 ft that he had sold 
 d pounds. If we 
 we ought to have 
 e culture of fruit 
 and I feel sure it 
 iut people coming 
 le to learn what is 
 they have learned, 
 s of turning to it, 
 ny, through disap- 
 energy. 
 
 : as various as the 
 
 n were very good. 
 
 in our bush, and 
 
 ooseberries, small, 
 
 poor flavour, were 
 
 often brought by the Indians to barter for pork or 
 flour. Raspberries and strawberries covered the open 
 places at the roadsides, and along the banks of 
 'creeks;' and whortleberries and blue berries, black 
 and red currants, juniper berries, plums, and hazel 
 nuts, were never far distant. We used to gather large 
 quantities ourselves, and the Indians were constantly 
 coming with pailfuls in the season. It is one of the 
 beneficent arrangements of Providence that, in 3 
 climate so exceedingly hot in summer, there should 
 be such a profusion of fruits and vegetables within 
 the reach of all, adding not only to comfort but dif- 
 fusing enjoyment, and exerting, also, a salutary influ- 
 ence upon h>,'alth. 
 
 What shall I say of the wild flowers which burst 
 out as the year advanced? In open places, the 
 woods were well-nigh carpeted with them, and clear- 
 ings that had, for whatever reason, been for a time 
 abandoned, soon showed like gardens with their 
 varied colours. The scarlet lobelia, the blue lupin, 
 gentian, columbine, violets in countless variety, honey- 
 suckles flinging their fragrant flowers in long tresses 
 from the trees, campanula, harebell, balsams, asters, 
 calceolarias, the snowy lily of the valley, and clouds 
 of wild roses, are only a few from the list. Varieties 
 of mint, with beautiful flowers, adorned the sides of 
 streams or the open meadows, and, resting in a float- 
 ing meadow of its own green leaves, on the still water 
 
 1 1 
 
 J S 
 
€ 
 
 224 
 
 The ' Bitter Sivect! 
 
 of the river bends, or of the creeks, whole stretches 
 of the great white water-hly rose and fell with every 
 gentle uudulation. 
 
 There was a berry, also, the ' bitter sweet,' which 
 was, in the later part of the year, as pretty as any 
 flower. At the end of each of the delicate twigs on 
 which it grew, it hung in clusters, which, while un- 
 ripe, were of the richest orange ; but, after a time, this 
 covering opened into four golden points and showed, 
 in the centre, a bright scarlet berry. 
 
 iii L il W WMJ Wl 
 
1 
 
 •/; 
 
 225 
 
 , whole stretches 
 d fell with every 
 
 ;ter sweet,' which 
 as pretty as any 
 delicate twigs on 
 which, while un- 
 , after a time, this 
 ints and showed, 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The Indians— Wigwams— Dress — Can the Indians be civilized ? 
 —Their past decay as a race— Alleged innocence of savage 
 life — Narrative of Father Jogiies, the Jesuit missionary. 
 
 EFORE coming to America we had read 
 a great deal about the Indians, and were 
 most anxious to see them. I remember 
 asking a lady from Canada if she was 
 not afraid of them, and was astonished when she 
 smiled at the question. Our minds had been filled in 
 childhood with stories about the Mohawks, and Hu- 
 rons, and other savage nations ; how they rushed on 
 the houses of settlers at the dead of night, and, after 
 burning their houses, killed and scalped the men, and 
 drove the women and children into captivity in the 
 woods. Their painted faces, wild feathered dresses, 
 and terrible war-cry had become quite familiar to our 
 heated fancies ; and we were by no means sure we 
 should not have to endure too close an acquaintance 
 with them when we became settlers in their country. 
 The terrible story on which Campbell's beautiful 
 poem, 'Gertrude of Wyoming,' is founded, was re- 
 garded as a sample of what we had to fear in our day 
 
 15 
 
 b 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
226 
 
 Indian Wigwams. 
 
 in Canada. Moreover, the romantic accounts ci In- 
 dian warriors in the novels of Cooper, and in the 
 writings of travellers, helped to increase both our 
 curiosity and dread, and we were all most anxious to 
 see the representatives of the red men in our own 
 settlement, notwithstanding our extravagant fear of 
 them. We were not long left to think what they 
 were like, however ; for it so happened that liere 
 was an Indian settlement on land reserved for them 
 along the river a few miles above us, and odd families 
 ever and anon pitched their wigwams in the bush 
 close to us. The first time they did so, we all went 
 out eager to see them at once, but never were 
 ridiculous high-flown notions doomed to meet a more 
 thorough disappointment. They were encamped on 
 the sloping bank of the creek, lOr it was beautiful 
 summer weather, two or three wig^vams rising under 
 the shade of a fine oak which stretched high over- 
 head. The wigwams themselves were simply sheets 
 of the bark of the birch and bass-trees, laid against 
 a slight framework of poles inside, and sloping in- 
 wards like a cone, with a hole at the top. An open 
 space served for an entrance, a loose sheet of bark, 
 at the side, standing ready to do duty as a door, 
 if required. I have seen them of different shapes, 
 but they are generally round, though a few show the 
 fancy of their owners by resembling the sloping roof 
 of a house laid on the ground, with the entry at one 
 end. Bark is the common material; but in the 
 
 mmummm 
 
 mmmm 
 
Indian Wigwams. 
 
 227 
 
 counts ci In- 
 , and in the 
 ise both our 
 ist anxious to 
 1 in our own 
 agant fear of 
 [ik what they 
 sd that Iiere 
 •ved for them 
 d odd families 
 
 in the bush 
 0, we all went 
 t never were 
 } meet a more 
 encamped on 
 
 was beautiful 
 i rising under 
 ed high over- 
 
 simply sheets 
 ;s, laid against 
 id sloping in- 
 op. An open 
 sheet of bark, 
 ity as a door, 
 fferent shapes, 
 I few show the 
 le sloping roof 
 le entry at one 
 I ; but in the 
 
 woods on the St Clair river I once saw a family en- 
 sconced below some yards of white cotton, stretched 
 over two or three rods ; and near Halifax, in Nova 
 Scotia, in winter, I noticed some wigwams made of 
 loose broken outside slabs of logs, which the inmates 
 had laboriously got together. In this last miserable 
 hovel, by the way, in the midst of deep snow, with 
 the wind whistling through it in every direction, and 
 the thermometer below zero, lay a sick squaw and a 
 young infant, on some straw and old blankets, to get 
 well the best way she could. What she must have 
 suffered from the cold can hardly be conceived. No 
 wonder so many die of consumption. 
 
 In the group at the wigwams, as we drew near, we 
 could see there were both men, women, and children 
 —the men and women ornamented with great flat 
 silver earrings, and all, including the children, bare- 
 headed. Their hair was of jet black, and quite 
 straight, and the men had neither beards nor whis- 
 kers. Both sexes wore their hair long, some of them 
 plaiting it up in various ways. Their colour was 
 like that of a brown dried leaf, their cheek-bones 
 high and wide apart; their mouths generally large, 
 and their eyes smaller than ours; and we noticed 
 that they all had good teeth. This is not, however, 
 an invariable characteristic, for sometimes they 
 suffer from their decay, like Europeans, and the 
 doctor once told me how an Indian had waited for 
 him at the side of the road, and, when he came up, 
 
 ^ 1*. 
 
 / ' 
 
 y^ 
 
228 
 
 Indian Dress. 
 
 had made signs of pain from toothache, and uf his 
 wish that the tooth should be removed, which Was 
 forthwith done, the sufferer departing in great glee at the 
 thought of his deliverance. ' The next day,' the doctor 
 added, ' the poor fellow showed his gratitude by wait- 
 ing for me at the same place with a fine stone pipe- 
 head, which he had just cut, and which he handed to 
 me with a grunt of goodwill as I. came up.' The dress 
 of the women consisted of a cotton jacket, a short 
 petticoat of cloth, with leggings of cloth underneath, 
 which fitted tightly. Those who were doing nothing 
 had a blanket loosely thrown over them, though it was 
 then hot enough to do without almost any clothing. 
 The dress of the men varied, from the merest mockery 
 of clothing to the full suit of a cotton shirt and a pair 
 of 'long leather or cloth leggings. One of them, a great 
 strapping, man, gave my sisters a great fright, shordy 
 after, by walking into the house as noiselessly as a cat, 
 and stalking up to the fire for a light to his pipe, with 
 nothing on him but a cotton shirt. Pulling out a piece 
 of burning wood and kindling his pipe, he sat do\vn on 
 a chair beside them to enjoy a smoke, without ever 
 saying a word, and went off, when he had finished, 
 with equal silence. The little children were naked 
 either altogether, or with the exception of a piece of 
 cotton round their loins ; and the babies, of which 
 there are always some in every Indian encampment, 
 peered out with their bright black beads of eyes from 
 papooses, either hung up on a forked pole or resting 
 
Indian Babies. 
 
 229 
 
 le, and uf his 
 J, which >Vas 
 eat glee at the 
 ly,' the doctor 
 itude by wait- 
 le stone pipe- 
 he handed to 
 0.' The dress 
 icket, a short 
 1 underneath, 
 doing nothing 
 though it was 
 any clothing, 
 erest mockery 
 lirt and a pair 
 f them, a great 
 
 fright, shortly 
 lessly as a cat, 
 his pipe, with 
 ing out a piece 
 le sat down on 
 , without ever 
 
 had finished, 
 n were naked 
 
 of a piece of 
 bies, of which 
 
 encampment, 
 is of eyes from 
 )ole or resting 
 
 against a tree. These * papooses ' were quite a novelty 
 to us. They were simply a tlat board a little longer 
 tlian the infant, with a bow of hickory bent in an arch 
 over the upper end, to protect the head, and some 
 strings at the sides to tie the little creature safely. 
 There it lay or stood, with abundant wrappings round 
 it, but with its legs and arms in hopeless confinement, 
 its little eyes and thin trembling lips alone telling the 
 story of its tender age. To lift it was like taking hold 
 of a fiddle, only you could hardly hurt it so easily as 
 you might the instrument. Not a cry was to be heard, 
 for Indian babies seen! always good, and nobody was 
 uselessly occupied in taking care of them, for, where 
 they were, no injury could come near them. I should 
 not myself like to be tied up in such a way, but it 
 seems to do famously with them. One of the women 
 had her child at her back, inside her blanket, its little 
 brown face and black eyes peering over her shoulder. 
 Another was putting some sticks under a pot, hung 
 from a pole, which rested on the forks of two others ; 
 and one or two were enjoying a gossip on the grass. 
 The men, of course, were doing nothing, while the 
 boys were amusing themselves with their bows and 
 arrows, in the use of which they are very expert. We 
 had been told that they could hit almost anything, and 
 resolved to try them with some coppers, which were 
 certainly very small objects to strike in the air ; but 
 the little fellows were wonderful archers. Each half- 
 penny got its quietus the moment it left our fingers, 
 
230 
 
 Indian Habits. 
 
 and they even hit a sixpence which Henry, in a lit of 
 generosity, threw up. Birds must have a very snlall 
 chance of escape when they get within range of their 
 arrows. It brought to my mind the little Balearic 
 islanders, who in old times could not get their dinners 
 till they had hit them from the top of a high pole with 
 their slings, and country boys I had seen in England, 
 whom long practice had taught to throw stones so 
 exactly that they could hit almost anything. Indeed, 
 there seems to be nothing that we may not learn 
 if we only try long enough, and with sufficient earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 It used to astonish me to see the Indians on the 
 ' Reserve ' living in bark wigv anv close to comfortable 
 log-houses erected for them b> Government, but which 
 they would not take as a gift. I used to think it a 
 striking proof of the difficulty of breaking off the habits 
 formed in uncivilized life, and so indeed it is ; but 
 the poor Indians have more sense in what seems mad- 
 ness than I at first supposed. It appears they feel 
 persuaded that living one part of the year in the 
 warmth and comfort of a log-house makes them un- 
 able to bear the exposure during the rest, when they 
 are away in the woods on their hunting expeditions. 
 But why they should not give up these wandering 
 habits, which force such hardships on them, and repay 
 them so badly after all, is wonderful, and must be 
 attributed to the inveterate force of habit. It seems 
 to be very hard to get wildness out of the blood when 
 
y, in a lit of 
 a very sn^all 
 range of their 
 ittle Balearic 
 their dinners 
 igh pole with 
 in England, 
 ow stones so 
 ing. Indeed, 
 lay not learn 
 cient earnest- 
 
 idians on the 
 ;o comfortable 
 :nt, but which 
 to think it a 
 off the habits 
 ed it is ; but 
 it seems mad- 
 ears they feel 
 year in the 
 ikes them un- 
 ;st, when they 
 g expeditions. 
 ;se wandering 
 em, and repay 
 and must be 
 bit. It seems 
 le blood when 
 
 Can the Indians be Civilized ? aj i 
 
 once fairly in it. It takes generations in most cases to 
 make such men civilized. Lord Dartmouth once 
 founded a college for Indians in Massachusetts, when 
 it was a British province, and some of them were col- 
 lected and taught English and the classics, with the 
 other branches of a liberal education ; but it wus 
 found, after they had finished their studies, that they 
 were still Indians, and that, as soon as they had a 
 chance, they threw away their books and English 
 clothes, to run off again to the woods and wander 
 about in clothes of skins, and live in wigwams. It is 
 the same with the aborigines of Australia. The mis- 
 sionaries and their wives have tried to get them taught 
 the simple rudiments of English life — the boys to work 
 and the girls to sew — but it has been found that, after 
 a time, they always got like caged birds beating against 
 their prison, and that they could not be kept from dart- 
 ing off again to the wilderness. The New Zealander 
 stands, so far as I know, a solitary and wonderful ex- 
 ception to this rule, the sons of men who were cannibals 
 having already adopted civilization to so great an ex- 
 tent as to be their own shipbuilders, sailors, captains, 
 clerks^ schoolmasters, and farmers. 
 
 It seems almost the necessary result of civilized 
 and uncivilized people living together in the same 
 country that the latter, as the weaker, should fade 
 away before their rivals, if they do not thoroughly 
 adopt their habits. The aboriginal inhabitants of 
 the Sandwich Islands are rapidly approaching ex- 
 
 
 
233 Their past Decay as a Race. 
 
 tinction in spite of all cfTorts to secure their perira- 
 nence. 'I'he vices of civili/uuion have corrupted liie 
 very blood of the race till they seem hopelessly 
 liuling away. 'I'iie natives of New Holland are 
 vanishing in tiie same way, though not, perhaps, 
 from the same immediate causes. The ('aribs of the 
 \Vest In<lies, who were so fierce and joiverfui in tiie 
 days of Columbus and his successors, are :.ow ex- 
 tirict. It is much the same with the Red .Man of 
 America. 'J"he wliole continent was theirs from 
 north to south, and from east to west, but now they 
 are only to be found crowded into corners of our 
 diflcn-nt provinces, a poor and miserable remnant, 
 or as fugitives in remote prairies and forests, for they 
 have been nearly banished altogether from the settled 
 territories of the States. It is a curious fixct, also, 
 that this is not the first time widely-spread races of 
 their colour have been swept away from the same 
 vast surface. Remains of former populations, which 
 have perished before those who themselves are now 
 perishing, are to be found in many parts, as in the 
 huge burial mounds of Ohio, and the ruined cities of 
 Guatemala and Yucatan. Canada has no\v settle- 
 ments of Indians in various places, but they are, 
 altogether, few in number. One is on Manitoulin 
 Island, near the northern shore of Lake Huron, 
 where a clergyman of the Church of England, Mr 
 Peter Jacobs, himself an Indian, ministers as a 
 zealous and efficient missionary ; another, at the 
 

 re their perira- 
 
 corrupted the 
 
 em hopelessly 
 
 llollaiul arc 
 
 not, i)erhaps, 
 
 ("aribs of the 
 
 ; cvverfiii in the 
 
 , are :io\v ex- 
 
 ; Red Man of 
 
 s theirs from 
 
 , but now they 
 
 corners of our 
 
 rable remnant, 
 
 orests, for they 
 
 rem the settled 
 
 ious fact, also, 
 
 ipread races of 
 
 from the same 
 
 ulations, which 
 
 ielves are now 
 
 arts, as in the 
 
 ruined cities of 
 
 is no\v setde- 
 
 but they are, 
 
 on Manitoulin 
 
 Lake Huron, 
 
 England, Mr 
 
 ninisters as a 
 
 nother, at the 
 
 Indian Decay as a Race. 233 
 
 Iliad of River St. Clair, stretches down the bank for 
 fuur or five miles, the picture of neglect and aversion 
 to work, in the midst of improvement at each side ; 
 one on Walpole Island, down the river, where the 
 missionary is one of tlie most earnest and laborious I 
 have had the i)leasure of knowing ; one on the banks 
 of the River Thames, mider the charge of the Mo- 
 ravian l)relliren— the wreck of tribes who left the 
 States in the war, last century — forming, with another 
 settlement on the Grand River, near Brantford, the 
 representatives of those who, in Lord Chatham's day, 
 brought down that great orator's terrible denuncia- 
 tion of the ' calling into civilized alliance the wild 
 and inhuman inhabitants of the woods, and dele- 
 gating to the tomahawk and the scalping-knife of 
 the merciless savage the rights of disputed property.' 
 There are some others to the north and east of 
 Toronto, but their numbers altogether an^ but the 
 shadow of what they were once. Old Courtenay, 
 speaking to me one day about those on the River St. 
 Clair, where he had lived from his childhood, shook 
 his head as a wandering, miserable family passed by 
 on their wretched ponies, and said, feelingly, 'Poor 
 things ! they'll soon follow the rest. I remember 
 when there were a hundred on the river for twenty 
 there are now. They all go at the lungs. Lying 
 out in the wet brings on the terrible cough, and 
 they're gone.' The Indian Agent for the west of the 
 province told me, however, when in England, lately, 
 
234 Indian Decay as a Race. 
 
 that they were keeping up their numbers now ; but I 
 can hardly see how it is possible, if they do not take 
 more rare of themselves. The ver . mocassins they 
 wear for shoes are fit, in my opinion, to kill any one 
 — me-e coverings of deer leather, which soak up water 
 like blotting paper, and keep them as if perpetually 
 standing in a pool. Then they get spirits from the 
 storekeepers, in spite of every effort on the part of 
 Government to prevent it, and they often suffer such 
 privations for want of food as must tell fearfully on 
 their health. I have often watched them passing on 
 ponies or a-foot ; if the former, the squaws sitting 
 cross-legged on the bare backs, like men, with their 
 children round them, and guiding theii animals by a 
 rope halter ; the men carrying only a gun, if they were 
 rich enough to have one : and I have thought of the 
 contrast between their present state and the story of 
 their numbers and fierceness, as handed down in the 
 old French narratives of two hundred years ago ; how 
 they kept the French in perpetual fear, burning their 
 houses and even their towns ; how the woods swarmed, 
 in different parts, with their different independent 
 nations— the Hurons, the A'gonquins, the Iroquois, 
 the Ojibbeways— and how, in later years, they played 
 so terrible a part in the French and American wars 
 with Great Britain. , They seem like snow in summer, 
 when only a patch lies here aiid there, awaiting speedy 
 disappearance, of all that covered hill and valley in 
 its season. Some tribes, indeed, have passed away 
 
 1 
 
 
 ■ 
 
Race. 
 
 Alleged Innoccfue of Savage Life. 235 
 
 numbers now ; but I 
 , if they do not take 
 fcren mocassins they 
 lioii, to kill any one 
 which soak up water 
 lem as if perpetually 
 
 get spirits from the 
 ffort on the part of 
 ;hey often suffer such 
 nust tell fearfully on 
 hed them passing on 
 r, the squaws sitting 
 
 like men, with their 
 ng theii animals by a 
 ly a gun, if they were 
 : have thought of the 
 state and the story of 
 1 handed down in the 
 idred years ago ; how 
 ual fear, burning their 
 w the woods swarmed, 
 different independent 
 nquins, the Iroquois, 
 .ter years, they played 
 \ and American wars 
 I like snow in summer, 
 there, awaiting speedy 
 red hill and valley in 
 :d, have passed away 
 
 altogether since the first landing of Europeans on the 
 continent. Those at Nonantum, in Massachusetts, 
 for whom the great missionary, John Eliot, translated 
 tlie Bible two hundred years ago, are all gone, so that 
 tlie Book which once spoke to them of the world to 
 come, and a copy of which still survives in the museum 
 at Boston, now lies open without a living creature who 
 can read it. The Mandans, a great tribe in the 
 western prairies — the only tribe, indeed, of whom I 
 have heard, among the Indians of the present day, as 
 building regular fortified and pennanent villages and 
 towns, have been £ntirely swept off within the last 
 tliirty years by the small-pox, which was brought 
 among them by some poor trader. 
 
 It is a striking contradiction to what we sometimes 
 hear of the happy innocence of sav-age life that the 
 Indians, when they had all the country to themselves, 
 were continually at war with one another. The 
 Mohawks, who lived in the northern part of the 
 United States, seem especially to have been given to 
 strife, often leaving their own side of the great lakes 
 to make desolating inroads into Canada, until their 
 name became such a word of terro.- that the very 
 mention of it spread alarm in an encampment. Even 
 at this day, I have been assured that tc raise the cry 
 of ' the Mohawks are coming,' would strike a delirium 
 of panic through a whole settlement. They seem to 
 think they are still somewhere not far off, and may re- 
 appear at any moment But though the Mohawks 
 
 \ 
 
1^6 
 
 The Mohawks. 
 
 may have left so blood-stained a memory of themselves, 
 it may be safely said that there was hardlv one tribe 
 better than another. The pages of the old chroniclers 
 are red with the continual record of their universal 
 conflicts. At the same time, it is curious, as showing 
 how widely-spread the terrors of the Mohawk name 
 came to be, that the dissolute young men of Addison's 
 day, who were wont to find pleasure in acts of violence 
 and terror in the streets of London by night, called 
 themselves ' Mohocks.' The French appear to have 
 themselves been in part to blame for their sufferings 
 from the Indians, from the wars they excited between 
 rival nations, and the readiness with which they 
 furnished their allies with the means of destruction. 
 The passions thus kindled too often recoiled upon 
 themselves. Their traders had no scruples in supplying 
 to any extent the three great cravings of an Indian- 
 rum, tobacco, and scalping-knives— the first of which 
 led, in innumerable cases, to the too ready use of the 
 last. A scalping-knife, by the way, is an ugly weapon, 
 with a curved blade like an old-fashioned razor, but 
 sharp at the point, and was used to cut off the skin 
 from the top of a dead enemy's head, with the hair on 
 it, to preserve as a proof of their warlike exploits. The 
 number of scalps any warrior possessed being hailed as 
 the measure of his renown in his tribe, the desire for 
 them became as much a passion with an Indian, as the 
 wish for the Victoria Cross with a British soldier, and 
 raised an almost ungovernable excitement in their 
 
A Narrow Escape. 
 
 "-n 
 
 ry of themselves, 
 hardlv one tribe 
 
 2 old chroniclers 
 f their universal 
 ious, as showing 
 
 Mohawk name 
 nen of Addison's 
 n acts of violence 
 
 by night, called 
 1 appear to have 
 )r their sufferings 
 
 excited between 
 vith which they 
 
 3 of destruction, 
 n recoiled upon 
 ;ples in supplying 
 s of an Indian — 
 he first of which 
 ) ready use of the 
 i an ugly weapon, 
 hioned razor, but 
 
 cut off the skin 
 , with the hair on 
 ike exploits. The 
 ed being hailed as 
 ibe, the desire for 
 
 1 an Indian, as die 
 ritish soldier, and 
 ;itement in their 
 
 breasts when an opportunity for gratifying it offered 
 itself. A story is told of a British officer who was 
 travelling many years ago in America, with an Indian 
 for his guide, waking suddenly one morning and finding 
 him standing over him in a state of frenzy, his features 
 working in the conflict of oveq>owering passions like 
 those of one possessed, his knife in his hand, ready, if 
 the evil spirit triumphed, to destroy his master for the 
 sake of his scalp. The officer's waking happily broke 
 the spell, and the Indian flung himself at the feet of 
 his intended victim, told him his temptation, and 
 rejoiced that he had escaped. He had seen him play- 
 ing with his long, soft hair, he said, and could not keep 
 from thinking what a nice scalp it would furnish, till 
 he had all but murdered hira to get it.* 
 
 That the very name of 'Indian' should have 
 filled the heart of all who heard it in old times with 
 horror is not to be wondered at However miserable 
 they may be now, in great part through their con- 
 stant wars among themselves, they were frightfully 
 cruel and bloodthirsty savages when their nations 
 and tribes were numerous. We have little idea from 
 anything Canada now offers, as to their manners and 
 habits, or their character, in the days of their fierce 
 power; but it cannot be said that this is owing to 
 their being civilized or to their having become more 
 
 * The ancient Scylhians, also, scalped their enemies. (Hero- 
 dotus, Bk. iv. 64.) The Indians are only Scythians or Tartars 
 who have fallen from the pastoral to the hunting life. 
 
 : 
 
238 Narrative of Father Jogiies. 
 
 humane. They are still as wld, to a large extent, 
 as the wild beasts of the woods, in all their habits — 
 still wanderers — still idle and thrifdess— still without 
 any arts — and still without anything hke national 
 progress. It rises only from their being a crushed 
 and dispirited remnant, who have lost the bold- 
 ness of their ancestors, and are fairly cowed and 
 broken by a sense of their weakness. Out of the 
 reach of civilization they are still the same as ever ; 
 and what that was in the days when they were the 
 lords of Canada we may judge from the accounts left 
 by the French missionaries, who then lived among 
 them. The following narrative, which I translate 
 from its quaint old French, has not, I believe, been 
 printed before in English, and takes us most vividly 
 back to those bygone times.* As a Protestant, I do 
 not agree with everything that it contains, but you 
 can remember that it is the narrative of a Jesuit 
 priest. 
 
 Father Jogues was of a good family of the town 
 of Orleans, in France, and was sent to Canada by the 
 general of his order in 1636. He went up to the 
 country of the Hurons the same year, and stayed 
 there till June, 1642, when he was sent to Quebec 
 on the affairs of the 'great and laborious mission' 
 among that people. Father Lallemant, at that time 
 superior of the mission, sent for him, and proposed 
 
 * ' Relations des Jesuites dans la Nouvelle France.' Quebec, 
 1853. 
 
 -%^^ 
 
I large extent, 
 their habits — 
 5— still without 
 ; like national 
 eing a crushed 
 lost the bold- 
 rly cowed and 
 ;s. Out of the 
 same as ever; 
 they were the 
 be accounts left 
 ;n lived among 
 ich I translate 
 I believe, been 
 us most vividly 
 Protestant, I do 
 ntaius, but you 
 ve of a Jesuit 
 
 ily of the town 
 ) Canada by the 
 went up to the 
 ear, and stayed 
 sent to Quebec 
 lorious mission' 
 mt, at that time 
 I, and proposed 
 
 France.' Quebec, 
 
 N urinative of Father J agues. 239 
 
 the voyage, which was a terrible task, owing to the 
 difficulty of the roads, and very dangerous from the 
 risk of ambuscades of the Iroquois, who massacred 
 every year a number of the Indians allied with the 
 French. He proceeds to say — 
 
 'The proposition being made to me, I embraced 
 it with all my heart. Behold us, then, on the way, 
 and in dangers of every kind. We had to disembark 
 forty times, and forty times to carry our canoes, and 
 ' all our baggage past the currents and rapids which 
 we met in a voyaye of about three hundred leagues ; 
 and although the savages who conducted us were very 
 expert, we could not avoid the frequent upsetting of 
 our canoes, accompanied with great danger to our 
 lives, and the loss of our little luggage. At last, 
 twenty-three days after our departure from the Hurons, 
 we arrived, very weary, at Three Rivers, whence we 
 descended to Quebec. Our business being completed 
 in a fortnight, we kept the feast of St Ignatius ; and 
 the next day, the ist of August, 1642, left Three 
 Rivers to retrace our steps to the country whence we 
 had come. The first day was favourable to us ; the 
 second, we fell into the hands of the Iroquois. We 
 were forty in number, divided among different canoes ; 
 and that which carried the advance guard having dis- 
 covered, on the banks of the great river, some tracks 
 of men's feet newly impressed on the sand and clay, 
 made it known. When we had landed, some said they 
 
 mw n " ». *f * ~^''^'^**- 
 
240 Narrative of Father J ogues. 
 
 were traces of an enemy, others were sure they were the 
 footmarks of Algonquins, our allies. In this conten- 
 tion of opinion Eustache Ahatsistari, to whom all the 
 others deferred on account of his deeds of arms and 
 his bravery, cried out— "Whether they are friends 
 or enemies does not matter ; I see by their tracks 
 that they are not more in number than ourselves; 
 let us advance, and fear nothing." 
 
 •We had hardly gone on a half league when the 
 enemy, hidden in the grass and brush, rose with a 
 loud cry, discharging on our canoes a perfect hail of 
 bullets. The noise of their arquebuses so terrified a 
 part of our Hurons that they abandoned their canoes, 
 and their arms, and all their goods, to save themselves 
 by flight into the depths of the woods. This volley 
 ilid us little harm ; no one lost his life. One Huron 
 only had his hand pierced by a ball, and our canoes 
 were broken in several places. There were four 
 Frenchmen of us, one of whom, being in the rear- 
 guard, saved himself with the Hurons, who fled before 
 approaching the enemy. Eight or ten Christian 
 catechumens joined us, and having got them to offer a 
 short prayer, they made head courageously against the 
 enemy, and though they were thirty men against a 
 dozen or fourteen, our people sustained their attack 
 valiantly. But perceiving that another band of forty 
 Iroquois, who were in ambush on the other side of 
 the river, were crossing to fall on them, they lost 
 heart, and like those who had been less engageil, they 
 
; they were the 
 [n this conten 
 I whom all the 
 ; of arms and 
 ly are friends 
 )y their tracks 
 han ourselves ; 
 
 igue when the 
 h, rose with a 
 L perfect hail of 
 ;s so terrified a 
 ;d their canoes, 
 save themselves 
 Is. This volley 
 e. One Huron 
 and our canoes 
 here were four 
 ng in the rear- 
 who fled before 
 
 ten Christian 
 t them to ofter a 
 )usly against the 
 
 men against a 
 led their attack 
 er band of forty 
 le other side of 
 them, they lost 
 ss engageil, they 
 
 Narrative of Father Jogues. 241 
 
 fled, abandoning their comrades in the melee. One 
 Frenchman — Ren^ Goupil — since dead, being no 
 longer supported by those who followed him, was 
 taken, with some Hurons who had proved the most 
 courageous. I saw this disaster from a place which 
 effectually concealed me from the enemy, the thickets 
 and reeds furnishing a perfect screen, but the thought 
 of thus turning it to account never entered my mind. 
 Could I, I said to myself, leave our French, and these 
 good neophyte, and these poor catechumens, without 
 giving them the helps with which the true Church 
 of God has entrusted me? Flight seemed to me 
 horrible. It is necessary, said I to myself, that my 
 body should suffer the fire of this world to deliver 
 these poor soals from the flames of Hell — it is neces- 
 sary that it should die a momentary death to procure 
 them life eternal. 
 
 * My conclusion being thus taken without any great 
 struggle in my mind, I called one of the Iroquois who 
 was left behind to guard the prisoners. He, seeing 
 me, was at first afraid to approach, fearing an ambush. 
 "Approach," said I, "fear nothing; conduct me to 
 the French and Hurons you hold captive." He 
 advances, and having seized me, adds me to the 
 number of those who, in a worldly point of view, 
 would be regarded as utterly wretched. Meanwhile, 
 those who were chasing the fugitives led back some of 
 them, and I confessed and made Christians of those 
 \\ho were not so. At last they led back that brave 
 
 16 
 
2421 Narrative of Father Jogues. 
 
 chief, Eustache, who cried out on seeing me, that he 
 had sworn to live and die with me. Anolher French- 
 man, named William Couture, seeing the Hurons take 
 to flight, saved himself, like them, in the forest ; but 
 remorse having seized him at the thought of abandon- 
 ing his friends, and the fear of being thought a 
 coward tormenting him, he turned to come back. 
 Just then five Iroquois came upon him, one of whom 
 aimed at him but without effect, his piece having 
 snapped, on which the Frenchman instantly shot him 
 dead. His musket was no sooner discharged than 
 the four were on him in a moment, and having 
 stripped him perfecdy naked, well nigh murdered him 
 with their clubs, pulled out his nails with their teeth, 
 pounding the bleeding tips to cause greater agony ; 
 and, finally, after stabbing him with a knife in one 
 hand, led him to us in a sad plight, bound fast. On 
 my seeing him I ran from my guards and fell on his 
 neck, but the Iroquois seeing us thus tenderly affected, 
 though at first astonished, looked on in silence, till, all 
 at once, thinking, perhaps, I was praising him for 
 having killed one of their number, they ran at me 
 with blows of their fists, with clubs, and with the 
 stocks of their arquebuses, felling me to the ground 
 half dead. When I began to breathe again, those who, 
 hitherto, had not injured me, came up and tore out 
 the nails of my fingers with their teeth, and then bit, 
 one after another, the ends of the two forefingers thus 
 stripped of their nails, causing me great pain— grinding 
 
 I 
 
^gues. 
 
 (ig me, that he 
 nolher French- 
 le Hurons take 
 the forest; but 
 ;ht of abandon- 
 ing thought a 
 to come back. 
 1, one of whom 
 s piece having 
 itantly shot him 
 lischarged than 
 nt, and having 
 h murdered him 
 vith their teeth, 
 
 greater agony ; 
 
 a knife in one 
 >ound fast. On 
 ; and fell on his 
 ;enderly affected, 
 n silence, till, all 
 praising him for 
 they ran at me 
 5, and with the 
 e to the ground 
 again, those who, 
 up and tore out 
 th, and then bit, 
 3 forefingers thus 
 It pain — grinding 
 
 Narrative of Father Jogiies. 243 
 
 and cranching them to pieces, indeed, as if they had 
 been pounded between two stones, so that frag- 
 ments of the bones came out. The/ L. 'ated the good 
 Renc^ Goupil in the same way, but they did no harm 
 for the time to Hurons, so enraged were they at the 
 French for not accepting peace on their terms the year 
 before. 
 
 ' All being at last assembled, and their scouts having 
 returned from chasing the fugitives, the barbarians 
 divided their booty among themselves, rejoicing with 
 loud cries. While they were thus engaged I revisited 
 all the captives, baptizing those who had not been so 
 before, and encouraging the poor creatures, assuring 
 them that their reward would far surpass their tortures. 
 I perceived after making this round that we were 
 twenty-two in number, not counting three Hurons 
 killed on the spot. 
 
 'Behold us, then, being led into a country truly 
 strange to us. It is true that, during the thirteen days 
 we were on this journey, I suffered almost insupport- 
 able bodily torments and mortal anguish of spirit; 
 iiunger, burning heat— besides the imprecations and 
 threats of these leopards in human shape— and in 
 addition to these miseries, the pain of our wounds, 
 which, for want of dressing, rotted till they bred 
 worms, caused us much distress ; but all these things 
 seemed light to me, in comparison with my internal 
 suffering at the sight of our first and most ardent 
 Christians among the Hurons in such circumstances. 
 
244 Narmtive of Father Jogiies. 
 
 I had thought they would be pillars of the new-bom 
 Church, and I saw them become victims of these 
 bloodthirsty savages. 
 
 ' A week after our departure from the banks of the 
 St I>awrence, we met two hundred Iroquois in eager 
 search for Frenchmen, or their Indian allies, wherever 
 they could meet them. Unhappily, it is a belief 
 among these barbarians, that those who are going to 
 war are prosperous in proportion as they are cruel to 
 their enemies ; and, I assure you, they made us feel 
 tiie effect of this unfortunate opinion. Having per- 
 ceived us they first thanked the sun for having caused 
 us to fall into their hands, and those of their country- 
 men, and then fired a salute in honour of their 
 victory. This done, they went into the woods, to 
 seek for clubs or thorns, as their fancy led them ; 
 then, thus armed, they formed a lane, a hundred on 
 each side, and made us pass, naked, down this bitter 
 path of anguish, each one trying who could strike 
 oftenest and hardest. As I had to pass last, I was 
 the most exposed to their rage, but I had hardly 
 got half through, before I fell under the weight of 
 this hail of reiterated blows ; nor did I try to rise ; 
 partly, indeed, because I wished to die on the spot. 
 Seeing me down, they threw themselves oh me, and 
 God alone knows the length of time I endured this, 
 and the number of blows which were inllicted on my 
 body, but sufferings borne for His glory are full of 
 joy and honour ! The savages, seeing I had fallen, 
 
ygues. 
 
 Namitivc of Father yogtics. 245 
 
 )f the new-bom 
 ctiins of these 
 
 le banks of the 
 oquois in eager 
 
 allies, wherever 
 it is a belief 
 ho are going to 
 :hey are cruel to 
 ;y made us feel 
 1. Having per- 
 )r having caused 
 )f their country- 
 iionour of their 
 ) the woods, to 
 ancy led them ; 
 e, a hundred on 
 
 down this bitter 
 ^ho could strike 
 I pass last, I was 
 ut I had hardly 
 cr the weight of 
 lid I try to rise ; 
 die on the spot. 
 Ives oh me, and 
 le I endured this, 
 e inflicted on my 
 
 glory are full of 
 nng I had fallen, 
 
 not by chance, but that I wished to die, took a cruel 
 compassion on me, lifting me up, in the intention of 
 keeping me so that I should reach their country alive, 
 and then led me, all bleeding, to an open knoll, 
 AVhcn I had come to myself they made me descend, 
 tormented me in a thousand ways, made me the butt 
 of their taunts, and recommenced beating me, letting 
 off another hail of blows on my head, neck, and 
 body. They then burneil one finger, and cranched 
 another with their teeth, and pressed and twisted 
 those which were already mangled, with the rage of 
 demons. They tore my wounds open with their nails, 
 and when my strength failed they put fire to my arms 
 and thighs. My companions were treated pretty 
 nearly like myself One of the barbarians, advancing 
 with a great knife, seized my nose in his left hand 
 to cut it off, but, though he attempted this twice, he 
 was hindered in some way from completing his 
 design. Had he done it, they would at last have 
 killed me, for they always murder those who are much 
 mutilated. 
 
 ' Having so far satisfied their bloodthirstiness on our 
 poor frames, these savages departed to pursue their 
 route, while we continued ours. 
 
 ' On the tenth day, we reached a place where it was 
 necessary to quit the water-side and travel by land. 
 This journey, which was about four days long, was 
 very painful, he who was appointed to guard me* not 
 being able to cany all his plunder, and giving me a 
 
246 Narrative of Father 7 ('S^t^^' 
 
 part to carry on my Kick, all flayed as it was. Wc 
 ate nothing for three days but a little wild fruit, which 
 we pulled in passing. The heat of the sun at the 
 height of the summer, and our wounds, weakened us 
 much, so that we had to walk behind the others, and 
 they being much scattered, I told Rend he should try 
 to save himself; but he would not leave me, though 
 he could easily have got off. I, myself, could not 
 think of forsaking my poor little flock. On the eve 
 of the Assumption we reached a small stream, a 
 quarter of a league from Uie first town of the Iroquois, 
 where we found the banks lined, on both sides with a 
 number of men armed with clubs, which they used on 
 us with their wonted ferocity. There were only two 
 of my nails remaining, and these they wrenched off 
 with their teeth, tearing away the flesh underneath, 
 and baring it to the very bones with their nails, which 
 they let grow very long. 
 
 'After they had thus satisfied their cruelty, they 
 led us in triumph into this first village, all the young 
 people being ranged in rows outside the gates, armed, 
 some with sticks, others with iron ramrods, which 
 they get from the Dutch.* They made us march-a 
 Frenchman at the head, another in the middle, of the 
 Hurons, and myself the last. We were made to fol- 
 low one another at equal distances, and, that our tor- 
 mentors might be the better able to beat us at their 
 • Protobly the Dutch settlers in what is now the western part 
 of New York State. 
 
ygues. 
 
 as it was. Wc 
 vild fruit, whii h 
 the sun at the 
 Is, weakened us 
 the others, ami 
 nd he should try 
 ;ave me, though 
 yself, could not 
 ;k. On the eve 
 small stream, a 
 I of the Iroquois, 
 )oth sides with a 
 lich they used on 
 e were only two 
 ley wrenched off 
 lesh underneath, 
 their nails, which 
 
 eir cruelty, they 
 je, all the young 
 the gates, armed, 
 ramrods, which 
 lade us march — a 
 he middle, of the 
 vere made to fol- 
 and, that our tor- 
 ) beat us at their 
 now the western part 
 
 Narrative of Father Jogiies. -247 
 
 case, some Iroquois threw themselves into our line to 
 keep us from running off, or avoiding any blows. I was 
 naked, with the exception of a shirt, like a criminal, 
 .ind the others were entirely naked, except poor RentJ 
 (ioupil, to whom they showed the same favour as to 
 me. We were hardly able to reach the stage pre- 
 l)ared for us in the middle of the village, so fearfully 
 beaten were we; our bodies livid and our faces 
 bloody. Nothing white remained visible of Rene's 
 face but his eyes, he was so disfigured. When mounted 
 on the stage we had a short respite, except from 
 their violent words, which did not hurt us, but it 
 was soon over. A chief cried out that they must 
 " fondle the Frenchman," which was no sooner said 
 tlian done— a wretch, leaping on the scaffold and 
 giving each of us three great blows with a stick, 
 but not touching the Hurons. Meanwhile, the others 
 who were standing clo.se to us, drawing their knives, 
 treated me as the chief— that is, used me worst— the 
 deference paid me by the Hurons having procured me 
 this sad honour. An old man took my left hand, and 
 ordered an Algonquin woman to cut off one of my 
 fingers, which she did, after some reluctance, when 
 she saw she would be forced to obey,— cutting off my 
 left thumb. They did this to the others also. I 
 picked up my thumb from the scaffold, but one of my 
 French companions told me that if they saw me with 
 it they would make me eat it, and swallow it raw, and 
 that I had better tlirow it away, which I did. They 
 
248 Narrative of Father J agues. 
 
 used an oyster-shell to cut the thumbs of the others, 
 to give them more pain. The blood flowing so that 
 we were like to faint, an Iroquois tore off a piece of 
 my shirt and tied up the wounds, and this -.vas all the 
 bandage or dressing we got. When evening came we 
 were brought down to be led to the wigwams to be 
 made sport for the children. They gave us a little 
 boiled Indian corn for food, and made us lie down on 
 a piece of bark, tying our arms and legs to four stakes 
 fixed in the ground, like a St Andrew's cross. The 
 children, emulating tiie cruelty of their parents, threw 
 burning embers on our stomachs, taking pleasure in 
 seeing our flesh scorch and roast. What hideous 
 nights ! To be fixed in one painful position, unable 
 to turn or move, incessantly attacked by swarms of 
 vermin, with our bodies smarting from recent wounds, 
 and from the suffering caused by older ones in a state 
 of putrefaction, with the scantiest food to keep up 
 what life was left ; of a truth these torments were 
 terrible, but God is great ! At sunrise, for three fol- 
 lowing days, they led us back to the scaffold, the 
 nights being passed as I have described.' 
 
 Thus far we have given the father's own words, a"d 
 must condense what remains to be told : — 
 
 After the three days were over the victims were 
 led to two other villages, and exposed naked, under 
 a burning sun, witifi their wounds untended, to the 
 
ither Jogues. 
 
 Nc.rrative of Father Jogues. 249 
 
 e thumbs of the others, 
 e blood flowing so that 
 [uois tore off a piece of 
 nds, and this -.vas all the 
 
 When evening came we 
 d to the wigwams to be 
 . They gave us a little 
 md made us He down on 
 IS and legs to four stakes 
 5t Andrew's cross. The 
 :y of their parents, threw 
 lachs, taking pleasure in 
 d roast. What hideous 
 
 painful position, unable 
 r attacked by swarms of 
 ting from recent wounds, 
 I by older ones in a state 
 antiest food to keep up 
 uth these torments were 
 At sunrise, for three fol- 
 )ack to the scaffold, the 
 t described.' 
 
 e father's own words, a"d 
 to be told : — 
 
 :e over the victims were 
 nd exposed naked, under 
 A'ounds untended, to the 
 
 same miseries as they had passed through in the first. 
 At the second, an Indian, perceiving that poor Cou- 
 ture ht. 1 not yet lost a finger, though his hands 
 were all torn to pieces, made him cut off his own 
 forefinger with a blunt knife, pnd when he could not 
 sever it entirely the savage took and twisted it, and 
 pulled it away by main force, dragging out a sinew 
 a palm in length, the poor arm swelling instantly 
 with the agony. At the third village, a new torture 
 was added, by hanging poor Jogues by his arms, so 
 high that his feet did not touch the ground ; his en- 
 treaty to be released only making them tie him the 
 tighter, till a strange Indian, apparently of his own 
 accord, mercifully cut him down. At last some 
 temporary suspension of his sufferings approached. 
 Fresh prisoners arrived, and a council determined that 
 the French should be spared, in order to secure 
 advantages from their countrymen. Their hands being 
 useless from mutilation, they had to be fed like infants, 
 but some of the women, true to the kindly nature of 
 their sex, took pity on their sufferings, and did what 
 they could to relieve them. Meanwhile, Couture was 
 sent to another village, and Pere Jogues and Rene 
 remained together. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, of the three, only Couture 
 could reckon upon the preservation of his life. It 
 was the custom with these savages, thp when a pri- 
 soner was handed over to some particular Indian, to 
 supply a blank in his household, --n.used by the death 
 
250 Narrative of Father Jogues. 
 
 of any of its members in battle, he was forthwith 
 adopted as one of the tribe, and was thenceforth safe ; 
 Init as long as he was not thus bestowed, he might be 
 killed, at the caprice of any one, without the least 
 warning. Of the three, only Couture had been thus 
 guaranteed security of life; the two others felt that 
 their existence still hung by a hair. Nor was this 
 long without being put to a sad proof, for Rend — full 
 of zeal for what he thought would benefit the souls of 
 tlie young Indians — being in the habit of making on 
 them the sign of the cross, had taken a child's hand 
 before making the sign on its brow, when an old man, 
 seeing him, turned to its father, and told him he 
 should kill that dog, for he was doing to his boy what 
 the Dutch had told them would not only do no good, 
 but would do harm. The advice was speedily acted 
 on ; two blows of an axe on his heaci, as the two were 
 returning from prayer outside the village, stretched 
 the martyr lifeless, and poor Rent's body was then 
 dragged to the bed of a rivulet, from which a heavy 
 storm washed it, through the night, so that his com- 
 panion could never again find it. This was in Sep- 
 tember, 1642, two months after their leaving Three 
 Rivers. The position of Father Jogues after tlMS 
 murder may easily be imagined. His life, he tells 
 us, was as uncertain as the stay of a bird on a branch, 
 from which it may fly at any moment. But the good 
 man had devotion sufficient to bear him up, amidst all 
 evil and danger. His mind, kept ui constant excite- 
 
er y agues. 
 
 tie, he was forthwith 
 was thenceforth safe j 
 )estowed, he might be 
 ne, without the least 
 )uture had been thus 
 ; two others felt that 
 
 hair. Nor was this 
 proof, for Rend — full 
 Id benefit the souls of 
 e habit of making on 
 \ taken a child's hand 
 ow, when an old man, 
 ler, and told him he 
 doing to his boy what 
 not only do no good, 
 ce was speedily acted 
 
 head, as the two were 
 the village, stretched 
 lens's body was then 
 t, from which a heavy 
 ight, so that his com- 
 it. This was in Sep- 
 r their leaving Three 
 ler Jogues after tliis 
 :d. His life, he tells 
 of a bird on a branch, 
 iment. But the good 
 )ear him up, amidst all 
 ept in constant excite- 
 
 Narrative of Father Jogius. 251 
 
 ment, found support in comforting dreams thait soothed 
 his slumbers. In these visions he would see. sx. times, 
 the village in which he lived, and in which he had 
 suffered so much, changed to a scene of surpassing 
 glory, with the words [of Scripture, written over its 
 gates, ' They shall praise Thy name ; ' and at other 
 times his thoughts in sleep would be brightened by 
 the belief that the agonies he had endured were sent 
 by his Father in Heaven to fit him for eternal joy, so 
 that, he tells us, he would often say of them when he 
 woke, ' Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' 
 
 At the beginning of winter he was, at last, given to 
 a family as their slave, to attend them in the chase, to 
 which they went off thirty leagues, staying two months 
 at it. Cold though it then was, his only clothing all 
 this time was a shirt and a poor pair of drawers, with 
 leggi; -s, «nd ragged shoes of soft leather. The 
 thickcU to>e his skin, and his feet were cut by the 
 stones, clods, and sharp edges of ice. Finding him 
 useless :n hunting, they set him to woman's work, 
 requiring him to gather and bring in logs for the fire. 
 Half naked, chapped and hacked in every part by 
 the cold, this was a change he rejoiced in, as it gave 
 him the great advantage of privacy, which, he tells us, 
 he employed for eight and ten hours together in 
 prayer, before a rude cross which he had set up. But 
 his masters having found out how he spent his time, 
 broke his cross, felled trees close to him to terrify 
 him, and when he returned to the wigwam wth his 
 
 lam 
 
 laraAfl 
 
 vanmsk 
 
 ■ij 
 
 timn 
 
25 a Narrative of Father Jogues. 
 
 load, played him a tliousand cruel tricks, to get him 
 to desist. One would level his bow at him, as if about 
 to shoot him ; another would swing his axe over his 
 head, and tell him he must quit his charms. They 
 declared that his sorceries spoiled their hunting ; and 
 at last conceived such a horror of him, that they 
 thought his touch pollution, and would not let him 
 use anything in the wigwams. Had he been willing 
 to join them in their ways, it would have fared 
 differently with him ; but, starving as he had been, 
 he refused to partake of the venison which they had 
 in abundance, because they offered to the spirit of 
 the chase all that they took. As soon as he knew of 
 oiis, he told them plainly he could not eat what had 
 been devoted to the devil ; and fell back on his boiled 
 Indian corn. 
 
 Having learned that some old people were about 
 to return to the village, Jogues asked permission to 
 go thither with them. They sent him, therefore, 
 but without a tinder-box and without shoes, though 
 the snow was now very deep on the ground, it being 
 in December. Moreover, they made him carry a 
 huge burden of smoked meat for the thirty leagues 
 of journey they had to take, weak and wretched 
 though he was. At one place, crossing a deep rivulet, 
 over a felled tree, a squaw, who had an infant and a 
 heavy load on her back, and was in poor health, 
 slipped off and fell into the stream; on which 
 Jogues, seeing that her burden was making her sink, 
 
ues. 
 
 Narrative of Father yogties. 253 
 
 3, to get him 
 Ti, as if about 
 axe over his 
 arms. They 
 lunting ; and 
 n, that they 
 not let him 
 been wilHng 
 have fared 
 le had been, 
 jch they had 
 the spirit of 
 s he knew of 
 eat what had 
 on his boiled 
 
 : were about 
 lermission to 
 n, therefore, 
 lioes, though 
 jnd, it being 
 liim carry a 
 liirty leagues 
 id wretched 
 deep rivulet, 
 infant and a 
 poor health, 
 ; on which 
 ng her sink, 
 
 threw off his own, and plunged in, and cutting away 
 the thongs, carried her to the bank, where the prompt 
 kindling of a fire by the Indians alone saved the 
 three from being frozen to death. The httle child 
 being very ill, he tells us ' he baptized it forthwith ; 
 and in truth,' he adds, ' sent it to Paradise, as it died 
 two days after.' However we may differ from him 
 as to the efficacy of his act, we cannot withhold our 
 admiration of the noble spirit that made him cling 
 to what he thought a work of duty and love, even in 
 his greatest trials. 
 
 He had hardly reached the village when he was 
 sent back again with a sack of corn, so heavy, that 
 what with weakness and the slipperiness of the 
 ground, he lost his way, and found himself back again 
 in the camp before he knew where he was. This 
 misadventure was a new cause of suffering for him. 
 Every ill name that could be thought of was given 
 him, and, what was much worse, he was put into a 
 wigwam with the same man who had torn out his 
 nails, and who was now Ij'ing in the utmost filth and 
 wretchedness, through the effects of some putrid 
 disease. For fifteen days he had to serve as a slave 
 amidst these horrors, until his owners,, returning from 
 the chase, took him to their own dwelling. 
 
 During the winter, he managed, at great risk, to 
 visit the different villages of the Indians, to encourage 
 the Huron captives. His patience, meanwhile, was 
 gaining hun the respect even of such monsters as 
 
254 Narrative of Father J agues. 
 
 these. The mother of his host seemed touched 
 by his bearing, and this was increased by his kind- 
 ness to one who had been among his most terrible 
 enemies, but who was' now lying covered with sores. 
 Jogues visited him frequently, consoled him in his 
 illness, and often went to seek berries for him to re- 
 fresh him. About March he was taken by his hosts 
 to their fishing-ground — a deliverance from the noise 
 of the village which was delightful to him, though he 
 still liad the same work of collecting and bringing 
 in wood for the fire. He was now treated com- 
 paratively kindly, but even here he was in danger. 
 A war-party had been gone for six months, and not 
 having been heard of, were thought to have been 
 destroyed, and this was, by at least one, who had a 
 relative with it, attributed to the enchantments of the 
 missionary. But, providentially, the day before he 
 was to have been killed, the warriors arrived, bringing 
 twenty prisoners, in torturing whom Jogues was for- 
 gotten. They forthwith began public rejoicings; 
 scorching, roasting, and at last, eating these poor 
 victims. ' I think,' says Joguet>, ' that the devils in 
 hell must do something the same, at the coming of 
 souls condemned to their flames.' 
 
 At the end of April, a Sokokiois chief made his 
 appearance in the Iroquois country, charged with 
 presents, which he came to offer for the ransom of 
 the missionary, who was known among the tribes by 
 the name of Ondesson. The presents, he said, came 
 
 i^ttK 
 
Hes. 
 
 Narrative of Father J agues. 255 
 
 ed touched 
 by his kind- 
 nost terrible 
 I with sores. 
 
 him in his 
 r him to re- 
 by his hosts 
 im the noise 
 1, though he 
 nd bringing 
 reated com- 
 i in danger, 
 ths, and not 
 > have been 
 , who had a 
 iients of the 
 yr before he 
 ^ed, bringing 
 :ues was for- 
 
 rejoicings ; 
 
 these poor 
 ;he devils in 
 e coming of 
 
 ef made his 
 harged with 
 e ransom of 
 he tribes by 
 le said, came 
 
 from the French, and he had a letter from the 
 governor for Ondesson. This embassy raised the 
 credit of Jogues, and got him, for the time, some 
 pity ; but they took the presents, and kept him still 
 in captivity. At last, having been sent, in 1643, to 
 a fishery, which was near a station of the Dutch, he 
 was rescued from the clutches of his tormentors by 
 their head man, who, however, having left shortly 
 after, handed him to the care of a subordinate, at 
 whose hands he suffered extremely from hunger and 
 thirst, and from the fear of falling again into the 
 power of the Iroquois. After a time, he was taken 
 down the Hudson to what was then the settlement of 
 Manhattan, but is now the city of New York, and 
 from thence sailed to France, by way of England. 
 On the 15th January, 1644, he returned to the college 
 of his order, at Rennes. In the spring of 1645, he 
 was ready, once more, to return to Canada, and 
 sailed from Rochelle to Montreal ; and peace having 
 been made in the interval with the Iroquois, he was 
 chosen as the pioneer of a new mission among them. 
 On the 16th May, 1646, in company with French 
 officials, he set out on a preliminary journey, to make 
 the necessary preparations, and to ratify the peace, 
 returning to Three Rivers in the end of June. 
 
 Resolved to lose no time, now that the way was 
 clear, in organizing his mission, though with a pre- 
 sentiment that it would end in his death, he proceeded, 
 three weeks after, once more on his way to the scene 
 
 %:. 
 
^. — 
 
 256 Narrative of Father y agues. 
 
 of his former suflferings, in company with a young 
 Frenchman, in a canoe, taking with him some 
 Hurons as guides. But he went only to meet the 
 death he had foreboded. He had hardly reached 
 the Iroquois country when he and his companion 
 were attacked, plundered, stripped naked, and sub- 
 jected to the same menaces and blows which he had 
 experienced before. A letter from the Dutch traders, 
 some time after, related how their captors, on the 
 very day of their arrival, told them they would Ije 
 killed, adding, that they might be of good cheer, 
 for they would not burn them, but would simply cut 
 off their heads, and stick them on the palisades of 
 the village, to letj other Frenchmen, whom they ex- 
 pected to take, see them on their coming. The 
 immediate cause of their murder was, that the 
 Indians insisted that Jogues had left the devil 
 among some luggage he had given them to keep 
 for him, and that their crop of Indian com had 
 thus been spoiled. On the i8th October, 1646, the 
 end of his sufferings came at last. Having been 
 called from his wigwam to the public lodge on that 
 evening, to supper, an Indian, standing behind the 
 door, split his skull, and that of his companion, with 
 an axe ; and on the morrow, the gate of the village 
 was garnished with their disfigured heads. Only one 
 division of the nation, however— that with which 
 he lived, whose distinguishing sign or title was that 
 of the Bear — seems to have been privy to their 
 
mes. 
 
 with a young 
 :h him some 
 ,r to meet the 
 ardly reached 
 lis companion 
 ked, and sub- 
 which he had 
 Dutch traders, 
 iptors, on the 
 ley would Ije 
 f good cheer, 
 aid simply cut 
 le palisades of 
 vhom they ex- 
 coming. The 
 ivas, that the 
 eft the devil 
 hem to keep 
 lian corn had 
 iber, 1646, the 
 Having been 
 lodge on that 
 ag behind the 
 )mpanion, with 
 of the village 
 ds. Only one 
 it with which 
 ' title was that 
 privy to their 
 
 Narrative of Father J agues. 25 7 
 
 murder. The other two— the divisions of the Wolf 
 and the Tortoise— resented the massacre, as if com- 
 mitted on two members of their own tribes. 
 
 And thus we take leave of the Jesuit martyr and 
 his remarkable story. 
 
 It-»"&*rai.j 
 
 J7 
 
* — 
 
 258 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The medicine-man -Painted faces-Medals-An cmbassy- 
 KcliKious notions-Feast of the dead-Christian Indians- 
 Visit to the Indians on Lake Huron-Stolidity of the Indians 
 Henry exorcises an Indian's rifle. 
 
 [HE great man among all tribes of Indians 
 that are not very greatly changed 'is the 
 medicine-man— a kind of sorcerer who 
 acts at once as priest and physician. 
 Arrayed in a strange dress of bear.-skins, or painted 
 leather, with his head hidden in the scalp of some 
 animal, or decorated with an extraordinary crest of 
 feathers, this dignitary still reigns with more power 
 than the chiefs in the outlying portions of British 
 America. Their modes of treatment are strange 
 enough. A poor infant in one of the settlements lay 
 ill of fever, and the mother, not knowing what to 
 do for it, summoned the medicine-man to her aid. 
 He came with his assistant, in full costume, and, 
 having entered the wigwam where the poor little crea- 
 ture lay, in a bark cradle, filled with the dust of rotten 
 wood, began his doctoring by hollowing a mystic circle 
 in the ground round it, within which npne bftt those 
 
The Medicine-Man. 
 
 ^59 
 
 -An embassy— 
 ristian Indians — 
 ly of lUc Indians 
 
 jes of Indians 
 :hanged'is the 
 ■ sorcerer who 
 ind physician, 
 ins, or painted 
 scalp of some 
 dinary crest of 
 :h more power 
 lons of British 
 nt are strange 
 
 settlements lay 
 lowing what to 
 lan to her aid. 
 
 costume, and, 
 poor little crea- 
 le dust of rotten 
 ig a mystic circle 
 none bftt those 
 
 he permitted were to enter. Then, taking a drum 
 which lie had with him, or rather a double tambourine, 
 filled inside with little stones, he commenced rattling 
 it over the child, singing meanwhile with all his might. 
 The noise was enough to have given a fever to a 
 person in health, and was fit to have killed a sick baby 
 outright ; but he kept thumping away, first at its ears 
 —the little creature crying with fright — then at its 
 back and its sides, till the sound was well-nigh deafen- 
 ing. Next came a mysterious course of deep breath- 
 ing from the bottom of his stomach, all round the 
 child's body, which completed his treatment. Strange 
 to say, the child got better, and of course the faith in 
 the conjurer gready increased. 'There was a black 
 thing in its inside,' he said, 'which needed to be 
 driven out, and he had done it by the noise and sing- 
 ing.' It must, indeed, have been in spite of him, 
 instead of by his help, that the poor child was 
 restored. 
 
 The dress of the Indians varies at different times, 
 and according to the degree of civilization they have 
 reached. Here and there you meet with one who has 
 adopted European clothing, but these are rarely seen. 
 They held a feast on a mound, by the road-side, in die 
 summer after we went to the river — men, women, and 
 children mustering to take part in it. Their clothing, 
 excepting that of one or two, was about the same as 
 usual — that is, a shirt and leggings, or the shirt only j 
 but their faces showed a most elaborate care in the 
 

 a6o 
 
 Indian Dancing. 
 
 'getting up.' Taint of different colours was lavishly 
 expended on them. One had his nose a bright blue , 
 his eyes, eyelids, and <lieeks, l)lack ; and the rest of 
 his face a lively red. Others had streaks of red, 
 black, and blue, drawn from the ears to the mouth, 
 Others were all black, except the top of the forehead, 
 and the parts round the ears, and the tip of the chin, 
 Two lads amused me by the pride they evidently took 
 in their faces ; that of the one being ornamented by a 
 stroke of vermilion, broad and bright, upwards and 
 downwards^ from each corner of the mouth, in a 
 slanting direction ; while that of the other rejoiced in 
 a broad streak of red and blue, straight across his 
 cheeks, from each side of his nose. The solemnities 
 consisted of speeches from their orators, which were 
 fluent enough, and' were accompanied with a great 
 deal of gesticulation, but were totally incomprehensible 
 to me. Then followed a dance, in which all the men 
 joined ; some women, sitting in the middle, beating a 
 rude drum with a bone, while the men formed in a 
 circle outside, and each commenced moving slowly 
 round, lifting his legs as high as possible, at the risk, 
 I thought, of throwing the dancer before him off his 
 balance, by some unhappy accident, which, however, 
 they were skilful enough to avoid. Meanwhile, the 
 orchestra kept up a monotonous thumping, accompa- 
 nied by a continuous grunting noise, which passed for 
 singing. There could be nothing more ludicrous 
 than to see them with all solemnity pacing round, each 
 
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Indian Loyalty. 
 
 261 
 
 with a leg in the air, as if they had been doing some- 
 thing awfully important. Dancing ended, the reward 
 of their labours followed. A huge kettle, hanging 
 from a stout pole, over a fire close by, proved to have 
 for its contents the carcase of a large dog — one of the 
 many who prowl round all wigwams — but it must 
 have been fattened for the occasion, as they are lean 
 enough generally. Hands and mouths were the only 
 inplements for the repast, but they served the purpose. 
 The poor dog made its way, with amazing rapidity, 
 down the crowd of hungry throats ; but the sight so 
 disgusted me that I hastily left them. 
 
 The Indians are very loyal in every part of British 
 America. A number of old men are still alive who 
 hold medals for their services in the war of 18 12-14 
 with the United States, and very proud they are 
 of them. I remember finding a deputation from 
 some tribe returning from a visit to the Governor- 
 General, on board one of the lake steamers, and was 
 struck with the great silver medal, almost like a 
 porter's badge, which the eldest wore on his breast, 
 with the well-known profile of King George III. on 
 it. By the way, one of the three or four Indians of 
 the party was the handsomest man of the race I ever 
 saw — tall, of full figure, with exquisite features, and 
 soft curling hair. He must surely have been 
 partly white. The dress they wore showed strikingly 
 the meeting of the old wildness and the new civiliza- 
 tion. That of the old bearer of the medal consisted of 
 
262 
 
 Indian Loyalty. 
 
 .V 
 
 a very broad-brimmed, high-crowned, and broad- 
 belted black hat— such a hat as I never saw except 
 among the Indians, and which must have been made 
 from a pattern specially designed to please them by 
 its extraordinary size ; a light brown shabby frock- 
 coat, with very short tails and large brass buttons : 
 a great white blanket thrown over it, and a pair of 
 ordinary trowsers, with mocassins on his feet, com- 
 pleting the costume. There was a great slit in his 
 ears for ornaments ; a string of wampum hung round 
 his neck, and in one hand lay a long Indian pipe, 
 while, from the other, the skin of a fox, made into a 
 tobacco-pouch, hung at his side. One of the others 
 had leggings instead of trousers, with broad bands 
 of beads at the knees to fasten them, and a bag 
 about the size of a lady's reticule, with a deep fringe 
 of gieen threads nine or ten inches long, all round 
 it, hung from his arm. I have no doubt that even 
 the feeble remnant of the race that still survives 
 would at once offer to fight for our Queen if their ser- 
 vices should ever unfortunately be needed. 'Their 
 great mother across the waters' is the object of as 
 much loyal pride to them as to any of her count- 
 less subjects. Some years ago a United States 
 officer was removing some Indians from the settled 
 parts to the other side of the Mississippi, and had 
 encamped one day, when he saw a party approach- 
 ing. Taking out his glass, he found that thej- were 
 Indians, and forthwith sent off an Indian from his 
 
 % 
 
1 
 
 Religious Notions. 
 
 263 
 
 i, and broad- 
 ver saw except 
 lave been made 
 )lease them by 
 shabby frock- 
 brass buttons : 
 , and a pair of 
 \ his feet, com- 
 preat slit in his 
 xim hung round 
 ig Indian pipe, 
 ox, made into a 
 le of the others 
 bh broad bands 
 em, and a bag 
 th a deep fringe 
 long, all round 
 doubt that even 
 at still survives 
 ueen if their ser- 
 needed. ' Their 
 the object of as 
 y of her count- 
 i United States 
 from the settled 
 sissippi, and had 
 , party approach- 
 d that they were 
 I Indian from his 
 
 own band to meet them, with the stars and stripes 
 on a flag. No sooner was the republican banner 
 displayed than, to the astonishment of the officer, the 
 strange Indian unrolled the Red Cross of St George, 
 and held it up as that under which he ranged. The 
 American wanted him to exchange flags, but he 
 would not ; for, said he, ' I live near the Hudson 
 Bay Company, and they gave me this flag, and told 
 me that it came from my great mother across the 
 great waters, and would protect me and my wife and 
 children, wherever we might go. I have found it is 
 true as the white man said, and / will never part 
 
 with it.^ 
 
 One of the most intelligent Indians I ever met was 
 a missionary among his countrymen in the Far West, 
 who happened to be on a steamer \^'ith me. He gave 
 me a great deal of information respecting the religious 
 notions of his people, one part of which I thought very 
 curious. He said that the Indians believed that, at 
 death, the spirits of men went 10 the west, and came 
 to a broad river, over which there was no bridge but 
 the trunks of trees laid endwise across. On the farther 
 side stretched prairies abounding with all kinds of 
 game, and every possible attraction to the Indian, to 
 reach which, every one, as he came, ventured on the 
 perilous path that oS'ered the means of getting over. 
 But the wicked could not, by any means, keep their 
 footing. The logs rolled about under them till they 
 slipped into the river, which bore them hopelessly away. 
 
a64 
 
 Feast of the Dead. 
 
 ► 
 
 The good Indian, on the contrary, found everything 
 easy. The logs lay perfectly still beneath his tread, 
 some kind influence kept him safely poised at each 
 treacherous step, and he landed safe and happy, 
 amidst loud welcomes, on the amber bark beyond. 
 The poor creatures seem to think that their friends 
 need many things after death to which they have been 
 used in life. Lonely graves may be often seen in the 
 woods, or, perhaps, they only seem lonely from the 
 others having sunk down, and in them, as in those 
 which are gathered together in the common burial- 
 places of the different reserves, beneath a little birch- 
 bark roof raised over them, the surviving friends put, 
 periodically, presents of rice, tobacco, and other 
 Indian delights. It used to be the habit in all parts of 
 Canada, as I have been told it still is in the distant 
 places of the Continent, to gather all the dead of a nation 
 together, from time to time, and bury them in a 
 common grave. Twelve years were allowed to pass, 
 and then the old men and the notables of the different 
 divisions of the tribe assembled and decided when 
 they would hold 'the feast,' for so they called it, so as 
 to please each section and the allied tribes as well. 
 This fixed, as all the corpses had to be brought to the 
 village where the common grave had been dug, each 
 family made arrangements respecting its dead, with a 
 care and affection which were very touching. If they 
 had parents dead in any part of the country, they 
 
Feast of the Dead. 
 
 26$ 
 
 nd everything 
 ;ith his tread, 
 oised at each 
 ! and happy, 
 bark beyond. 
 
 their friends 
 ley have been 
 :n seen in the 
 [lely from the 
 1, as in those 
 mmon burial- 
 
 a little birch- 
 ig friends put, 
 0, and other 
 : in all parts of 
 ; in the distant 
 ead of a nation 
 ry them in a 
 owed to pass, 
 of the different 
 decided when 
 called it, so as 
 tribes as well, 
 brought to the 
 )een dug, each 
 ts dead, with a 
 hing. If they 
 
 country, they 
 
 spared no pains to bring their bodies ; they lifted 
 them from their graves, and bore them on their 
 shoulders covered with their best robes. On a given 
 day the peoph of each village went to their own 
 cemetery, where the persons who had charge of it — for 
 there were parties appointed to this ollice — raised the 
 bodies in presence of the survivors, who renewed the 
 grief they exhibited on the day of their first burial. 
 All the corpses were ranged side by side, and, being 
 uncovered, were exposed thus for a considerable time, 
 that all around might see what they would themselves 
 some day become. You may think what a sight this 
 must have been ; some of the bodies mere skeletons, 
 sonie like mummies, and others mere shapeless cor- 
 ruption. Those which were not reduced to skeletons 
 were, after a little, stripped of their flesh and skin, 
 which, with the robes in which they had been buried, 
 were burned. The bodies which were still uncorrupted 
 were merely wrapped in skins, but the bones, when 
 thoroughly cleaned, were put in sacks or in robes, and 
 lf,id on their shoulders, and then covered with another 
 skin outside. The perfect corps-s were put on a kind 
 of bier, and, with all the rest, were taken each to its 
 own wigwam, where the several households held, each, 
 a feast to its dead. 
 
 They have a curious idea respecting the soul, as the 
 reason of this strange custom— at least those of them 
 who, not being as yet Christians, still practise it They 
 
266 Feast of the Dead. 
 
 think that the dead have two souls, distinct and 
 material, but each endowed with reason. The one 
 separates itself from the body at death, and hovers 
 over the burial-place till the Feast of the Dead, after 
 which it is turned into a turtle-dove, or goes straight 
 to the Land of Spirits. The other is, as it were, 
 attached to the body, and still remains in the common 
 grave, after the feast is over, never leaving it unless to 
 enter the body of an infant, which the likeness of many 
 of the living to those who have died seems to them a 
 proof that they do. 
 
 When the feast is over, all the dead of each village 
 are taken to a large wigwam, set apart for the purpose, 
 and filled with poles and rods, from which the perfect 
 bodies and the bags of bones are hung, along with 
 countless gifts which the relatives present, in the name 
 of the dead, to some of their living friends. This dis- 
 play of their riches accomplished, it remains only to 
 take the ghastly loads to the common grave on the day 
 appointed, which they do with frequent cues which 
 they say lighten the weight and secure the bearers 
 from disease. At die central rendezvous, the same 
 hanging of the corpses on poles, and the same display 
 of presents, is again made, and then, amidst terrible 
 cries and confusion, the whole are put into the general 
 burial-pit, which is lined underneath with sable furs, to 
 make the spirits happy in their homes in the other 
 world. But they do not bury the presents with them, 
 
 L 
 
 ^ 
 
Christian Indians. 
 
 267 
 
 , distinct and 
 son. The one 
 th, and hovers 
 the Dead, after 
 or goes straight 
 is, as it were, 
 in the common 
 /ing it unless to 
 ikeness of many 
 ;eems to them a 
 
 [ of each village 
 for the purpose, 
 irhich the perfect 
 lung, along with 
 lent, in the name 
 ends. This dis- 
 remains only to 
 grave on the day 
 lent ciies, which 
 cure the bearers 
 :zvous, the same 
 the same display 
 I, amidst terrible 
 t into the general 
 ivith sable furs, to 
 mes in the other 
 resents with them, 
 
 nor the outer skins in which they were wrapped; 
 these they retain for themselves. In some tribes, in 
 former times, a great mound or barrow heaped over 
 the spot marked the resting-place of the multitude, 
 in others the ground was simply levelled, and then, 
 after rejoicings in their own wild way till they were 
 tired, the living crowd dispersed, each party to its own 
 village.* 
 
 A great change has come over the customs and feel- 
 ings of many of the Indians, since missionaries went 
 among them, and though in old settlements you often 
 meet Pagans even yet, there are others who give the 
 best proofs that they are true Christians. It is delight- 
 ful to see them on the Sabbath, wending their way, 
 calm and in a right mind, to their lowly church, through 
 the glades of the forest ; and wild though the sound 
 often is, I have listened to their singing the glorious 
 praises of God with an interest I hardly ever felt in any 
 more civilizeoj," gathering. One of the hjTnns which 
 have been made expressly for them, and of which they 
 are especially fond, has always struck me asparticularly 
 touching, by its exact appreciation of an Indian's feel- 
 ings, and its remarkably skilful adaptation to their 
 broken English. I feel sure it has never appeared in 
 print before, at least in Britain, as I got it from a 
 
 • Nothing like this is done in Canada now, so far as I know ; 
 but in the ' Relations des Jesuites ' it is spoken of as the general 
 custom. 
 
Indian Hymn. 
 
 168 
 
 missionary in Nova Scotia, who knew the author, him- 
 self a missionary, and told me it existed only m manu- 
 script so far as he knew. Here it is : 
 
 •THE INDIAN'S PRAYER. 
 
 ' In de dark wood, no In<lian nigh, 
 Deii mc look licb'n, and send up cry, 
 
 Upon my knee so low ; 
 Dat G> d on high, in shiny place. 
 Sec mo in night wid teary face. 
 
 My heart, him tell me so. 
 
 ' Him send him angel, take me care. 
 Him come himself, and hearum prayer, 
 If Indian heart do pray. 
 Him see me now, Ilim know me here, 
 Him say, ' Poor Indian, never fear, 
 Me wid you night and day.' 
 
 « So me lub God wid inside heart, 
 He fight for me. He takum part. 
 He sabe em life before. 
 God lub poor Indian in de wood. 
 And me lub He, and dat be good, 
 Me pray Him two time more. 
 
 ' When me be old, me head be grey. 
 Den Him no leab me, so Hin. say, 
 
 " Me wid you till you die." 
 Den take me up to shiny place. 
 See white man, red man, black man face, 
 All happy 'like* on high.' 
 
 One day, in the second summer we were on the 
 river, the clergyman asked me, in passing, if I would 
 like to go up Lake Huron with him, on a missionary 
 • y. ft, alike. '. 
 
Lake Httron. 
 
 269 
 
 : author, liim- 
 anly in manu- 
 
 i face, 
 
 it were on the 
 sing, if I would 
 on a missionary 
 
 visit to a settlement of Indians, and of course I told 
 him I should. It was soon settled when we should 
 stirt, which we did in a little boat, two men going with 
 us to take charge of it. We had oars with us, but the 
 boat was too heavy for their easy use, and we trusted 
 to a sail, the cord of which one of us held in his hand, 
 to prevent any sudden gust from upsQtting us. We 
 were soon out on the glorious Lake Huron, which, 
 like all the great lakes, cannot be distinguished from 
 the sea by ordinary eyes ; but we did not attempt to 
 get out of sight of the coast, intending to run in to it 
 if any sudden storm should rise. As darkness set in 
 the sight overhead was beautiful beyond anything, I 
 think, I ever saw. The stars came out so large and 
 bright that it seemed as if you could see behind them 
 into the depths beyond. They seemed to hang do^vn 
 like globes of light from the great canopy of the 
 heavens. It was deliciously calm, the soft wind from 
 behind, as it gently swelled the sail, serving to make 
 the feeling of repose the more perfect. After sailing a 
 day and a night, and the half of the next day, we at last 
 reached the point where we were to land— a narrow 
 tongue of sand, along which a stream, flowing through 
 an opening in the sand-hills that line the coast, crept 
 into the lake. It took us the rest of the afternoon to 
 row as far as we wished, and to get our supper of beef 
 and some hard eggs, with a cup of tea, without milk, 
 which wt :^ot ready at a fire on the beach. The water 
 we had to use was our greatest trouble. It was nearly 
 
a;© 
 
 A Night of Horrors. 
 
 the colour of ink, from the swamps through which it 
 had flowed, ami made our tea the reverse of pleasant 
 in Uste ; but there was no choice, so that we made 
 ourselves as contented as possible. Accommodation 
 for the night was soon i)rovided by stretching the sail 
 over the mast, which was laid on two forked poles, a 
 yard or so from the ground. This gave room for two ; 
 the two others were to sleep on the ground without 
 this apology for a covering. A huge fire, kindled close 
 to us, served to keep off the mosquitoes, or rather was 
 intended to do so. Wrapping an old buffalo robe, or 
 a quilt, round each of us, we were soon stretched out 
 to try to get sleep; but its sweet delight kept far 
 enough from us all. Oh 1 the horrors of that night. 
 The mosquitoes came down like the wolves on a fold, 
 piercing through smoke and fire, and searching in the 
 dark but too successfully for our noses, cheeks, and 
 liands. The ants, too, were in myriads, and made their 
 way up our boots to any height they thought proper. 
 Once in, there was no getting these plagues out. We 
 rose, went through every form of trouble to rid our- 
 selves of them, but some still remained to torment us 
 after each effort. Then the smoke itself was fit to 
 make one wretched. It swept in, in clouds, as often 
 as the fire was stirred. At last, however, morning 
 came, and, with its first dawn, we were up for the 
 day : but what figures we presented 1 My worthy 
 friend's nose seemed to have been turned upside 
 down in the night, the mosquito-bites having made 
 
Negotiation xuith an Indian. 271 
 
 gh which it 
 of pleasant 
 It we made 
 »mniodation 
 ling the sail 
 ed poles, a 
 )m for two ; 
 and without 
 indled close 
 r rather was 
 alo robe, or 
 retched out 
 ht kept far 
 ■ that night. 
 ;s on a fold, 
 ;hing in the 
 cheeks, and 
 [ made their 
 ght proper. 
 ;s out. We 
 to rid our- 
 \ torment us 
 " was fit to 
 ids, as often 
 er, morning 
 up for the 
 My worthy 
 ned upside 
 aving made 
 
 it much thicker near the eyes than at the bottom. It 
 was irresistibly laughable to us all, except the unlortun- 
 ate bearer, who was really unwell, partly through the 
 mosquitoes, i)artly through the exposure. Luckily for 
 our breaklixsl, a Potowattomie Indian — a short old 
 man, in a shirt, leggings, and mocassins, and crowned 
 with a tremendous hat — came in sight as we were busy 
 preparing it with some more of the villanous water. 
 He was soon amongst us, desiring to see what we 
 were, and what we were doing, and, fortunately for us, 
 the contents of the kettle attracted his attention, 
 With unmistakeable signs of disgust, he urged us to 
 throw it out fo-thwith, and very kindly went to the 
 side of the livn, and, by icooping out the sand at the 
 si(' dose to the stream, with his hands, obtained at 
 once a little well of water clear as crystal, which we 
 most gladly substituted for the liquid we had been 
 using. Meanwhile, an animated negotiation was being 
 carried on with our benefactor as to the terms he 
 wished to make for guiding us to the Indian settle- 
 ment — gnmts and dumb show having to do the 
 work of words. A few charges of powder and shot, 
 at last, secured his services, and ere long, all being 
 ready, we set out. Our route led us directly inland, 
 over the huge barrier of sand, with which the edge 
 of Lake Huron, at that part, is guarded. From its 
 top we looked, far and near, over the forest, which, 
 close at hand, was very miserable and. stunted, from 
 the hindrance to any chance of drainage offered by 
 
 jjnumt.w ■ -. nuuuwuJu.iiinJ.™.-.'-™ 
 
2'Jl 
 
 An Indian Settlement. 
 
 the hill on which we stood. At a distance, however, 
 it rose in all its unbroken and boundless grandeur— 
 the very image of vastness and solitude. Descending 
 the inner slope, we were soon making the best of our 
 way across the brown water of successive swamps, 
 with thin trees felled, one beyond another, as the 
 only bridges. ' Mind your feet there, George,' cried 
 my friend, as I was making my way, Blondin fashion, 
 across one ; but he had more need to mind his own, 
 for the next minute he was up to the knees in water 
 of the colour of coffee. An hour's walking brought 
 us to the setdement, which consisted of a number of 
 wigwams, raised among very small clearings, a log- 
 house at one part marking the interpreter's house— 
 himself an Indian. A messenger having been sent 
 round, we had before long a congregation in the 
 chapel, which was a log-house, without seats, but with 
 a desk at the one end, the other being approrjriated, 
 in great part, to the door, which was large enough to 
 have served for the door of a barn. The squaws, in 
 blankets, and blue cloth petticoats, and leggings, with 
 large silver brooches on their bosoms, and bare heads, 
 squatted down on the one side ; the men, in all varie- 
 ties of costume, from a shirt upwards, took possession 
 of the other ; the door standing open during the 
 whole service, so that we, at the upper end, looked 
 out into the forest, which was close at hand. The 
 dogs, of course, formed part of the audience, some of 
 them lying in the open space of the middle, and 
 
 iiliiMMiil 
 
~li 
 
 tlement. 
 
 t a distance, however, 
 
 boundless grandeur — 
 solitude. Descending 
 laking the best of our 
 af successive swamps, 
 :yond another, as the 
 t there, George,' cried 
 
 way, Blondin fashion, 
 need to mind his own, 
 
 to the knees in water 
 lour's walking brought 
 isisted of a number of 
 small clearings, a log- 
 e interpreter's house — 
 [iger having been sent 
 1 congregation in the 
 without seats, but with 
 ler being approijriated, 
 ch was large enough to 
 
 barn. The squaws, in 
 oats, and leggings, with 
 losoms, and bare heads, 
 ; ; the men, in all varie- 
 pwards, took possession 
 iding open during the 
 
 the upper end, looked 
 LS close at hand. The 
 f the audience, some of 
 ice of the middle, and 
 
 Stolidity of the Indians. iT^t 
 
 others at the door. One, which was more trouble- 
 some than the others during the service, walked 
 straight up the middle, and stood looking the clergy- 
 man in the face, to his no small annoyance, but was 
 soon made to suffer for his want of respect. One of 
 the men rose, silently as a shadow, and slipped up 
 behind the four-legged hearer till he came close to his 
 long tail ; on this his hands closed in a moment, and 
 then away went the poor brute, with a great swing, 
 over his head, in a succession of somersaults to the 
 door, out of which, when it reached the ground, it 
 rushed with prolonged howls, and was seen no more 
 while we were there. Not a countenance moved 
 while this extraordinary ejectment was being effected, 
 and the Indian himself resumed his place as solemnly 
 as if he had been performing only an ordinary duty. 
 It was very slow work to speak through the inter- 
 preter, but the Indians sat it out with patient fortitude, 
 trying as it must have been to these wild creatures, so 
 little prone to sedentary occupation, to listen to such 
 a tedious process. A walk back, after all was over, 
 brought us to our boat, which we had left on the 
 beach, and in due time, after a pleasant sail, we swept 
 down the St Clair once more, glad enough to get 
 safely home again. 
 
 The perfect stolidity of the Indians under any 
 amount of excitement is wonderful — unless, indeed, 
 under the influence of whiskey, or excited by the 
 pursuit of hunting— for, usually, you might as well 
 
 i8 
 
 ; 
 
 iirri inTt-ii-r-rr--^ 
 
 ijfl 
 
Hl>-, 
 
 274 Stolidity of the Indians. 
 
 expect to move the features of an image as theirs. 
 When railroads were introduced into Canada, they 
 were a source of wonder to every one who had not 
 seen them, the Indians alone excepted. They did not 
 even spare a grunt, but marched into the carriages 
 with the same composure as if they had been familiar 
 with them from their childhood. In any house they 
 may enter, you can detect no sign of curiosity, still 
 less of wonder, in any of their movements. The 
 same cast-iron physiognomy is kept from the first to the 
 last, whatever objects of interest you may have to 
 show them. 
 
 It is very hard for us to realize how difficult it is to 
 get a new idea into such minds. A minister of my ac- 
 quaintance, who lived among the Indians, told me what 
 great trouble he had to teach them the use of a mill. 
 He had got them to grow some wheat, and to cut it 
 down, by doing a large part of the work himself; and 
 when the time came to turn it into flour, he had to 
 help to put it into sacks, to help to get it into a canoe, 
 to go with them to the mill, to show them how to 
 give it to the miller, get back the flour, get it put into 
 the sacks again, and then into the canoe, and paddle 
 home. Everything had to be acted before they would 
 do it themselves. 
 
 As might be expected, they are superstitious in 
 proportion to their ignorance. One day, an Indian 
 came to Henry in great distress, telling him his gim 
 was bewitched, and could not shoot straight, and 
 
^ifr'r^''-'''""''',!'*'^''^'^ 
 
 IS. 
 
 lage as theirs. 
 Canada, they 
 ; who had not 
 They did not 
 ) the carriages 
 i been famihar 
 my house they 
 " curiosity, still 
 venients. The 
 1 the first to the 
 X may have to 
 
 difficult it is to 
 nister of my ac- 
 is, told me what 
 e use of a mill. 
 t, and to cut it 
 rk himself; and 
 lour, he had to 
 t it into a canoe, 
 w them how to 
 r, get it put into 
 noe, and paddle 
 efore they would 
 
 superstitious in 
 
 day, an Indian 
 
 ing him his gim 
 
 ot straight, and 
 
 Indian Superstition. 
 
 '^Ih 
 
 asking him if he could make it right. Henry, of 
 course, knew that the poor fellow was only labouring 
 under a delusion, and at once told him he would 
 make it all right. He, therefore, asked him to let 
 him have it for the night, his wish being to have an 
 opportunity of cleaning it thoroughly. Having made 
 it all right, on the Indian's return he handed it to him, 
 with all solemnity, telling him it was perfectly cured 
 now. ' Me shoot ten days— get nothing,' said the 
 unfortunate sportsman. ' It's all right, now, though,' 
 ' replied Henry, assuring him, besides, that there were 
 no more witches about it. Sometime after, we were 
 surprised by an Indian's coming to the house with the 
 hind legs of a deer, telling us they were from the 
 Indian for the 'man cured gun.' Henry was from 
 home at the time, and as he had said nothing about 
 his unbewitching the weapon, the gift was a mystery 
 until his return. The gratitude shown for so small a 
 favour was very touching, and impressed us all in the 
 Indian's favour. He must have published Henry's 
 wonderful powers, as well as rewarded them, for that 
 same wnter another Indian came to him in the woods, 
 where he happened to be, with the same story, that 
 his rifle was bewitched, and would not shoot. With a 
 good deal of sly humour, Henry determined to play 
 the conjurer this time, as he had no chance of getting 
 the weapon home. He therefore told the Indian to 
 sit down, and then drew a circle round him and the 
 infected rifle, and proceeded to walk mysteriously 
 
 \ 
 
276 
 
 Indian Superstition. 
 
 round him, uttering all the while any amount of gib- 
 berish he could think of, and making magic passes in 
 all directions. After repeating this a number of times, 
 he took the rifle into his hands, and proceeded to 
 examine it carefully, and seeing that it was in perfect 
 order, he announced the ceremony to be complete, 
 and handed it back again, with the assurance that he 
 was not to be afraid of it, that he had only to take a 
 good aim, and that there were no witches about it now. 
 The Indian grunted thanks, and made off; and Henry 
 heard no more of it till, some t onths after, when he 
 happened to be in a neighbouring village, the subject 
 of his charms, to his surprise, came up to him, and 
 told him ' he must be a great doctor— Indian's gun 
 shoot right ever since he cured it.' Henry answered 
 that it had needed no cure, and that he had only done 
 what he did because the Indian would not have 
 believed his rifle was right if he had not done some- 
 thing. What the effect was on the Indian's notions I 
 know not, but we certainly heard no more of bewitcn- 
 ed rifles. 
 
'^n 
 
 imount of gib- 
 lagic passes in 
 imber of times, 
 
 proceeded to 
 ; was in perfect 
 
 be complete, 
 urance that he 
 only to take a 
 s about it now. 
 )ff; and Henry 
 
 after, when he 
 ge, the subject 
 ip to him, and 
 — Indian's gun 
 [enry answered 
 : had only done 
 ould not have 
 lot done some- 
 dian's notions I 
 ore of bewitcn- 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The humming-bird-Story of a pet-Canada a good country for 
 poor men-A bush story of misfortune-Statute labour 
 — Tortoises-The hay season-Our waggon-driving-Henry 
 and I are nearly drowned-Henry falls iU-Backwood doctors. 
 
 |T was in May of the second year I first 
 noticed the humming-bird. There are 
 different species in Canada in summer, but 
 all seem equally beautiful. When I first 
 saw one, it was like a living gem, darting hither and 
 thither in the open round the house, never resting but 
 for a few moments, while it poised itself on its lovely 
 wings, which seemed motionless from the very rapidity 
 of their vibration. No bird flies so fast, small though it 
 be, so that it is impossible to follow it as it darts from 
 spot to spot. Later in the season, a bunch of flowers, 
 at an open window, was pretty sure to bring one quiver- 
 ing over them, preparatory to thrusting its long thin 
 till into the cups, to drink the sweets that lay at the 
 bottom. Sometimes in the evenings, they might be 
 seen, for half an hour at a time, darting at the little 
 clouds of flies which dance in the air, under the 
 branches of the trees, or in the open,— retiring to a 
 
278 
 
 The Humming- Bird. 
 
 twig to rest when tired. They seem, for a great part 
 of their time, to feed on such insects, the stomach of 
 several humming-birds, I have heard, having been found 
 full of them when opened. There is a charming 
 account in a Philadelphia magazine of one which 
 showed greater familiarity with man than has ever 
 been known from any other of its species.* One of 
 the young ladies of a family was sitting at an open 
 window, when a humming-bird flew in, very feebly, 
 and dropped on the floor, apparently exhausted. To 
 pick it up was the work of a moment ; and the 
 thought that it might be tired and hungry, after a 
 long flight, forthwith set its friend to try whether 
 she could tempt it to eat anything. Mixing some 
 cream and sugar, and pouring a little of it into the 
 cup of a bell-shaped flower, the beautiful creature, 
 to her great delight, at once began to sip, and gather- 
 ing strength as he did so, by and by flew off through 
 the window once more. Next day, and every day 
 thenceforth, through the summer, the little thing 
 came back about the same time, for another repast, 
 fluttering against the window, if it happened to be 
 shut ; and whenever he had not got enough, flying 
 backwards and forwards close at hand, in great rest- 
 lessness, till a fresh supply had been manufactured. 
 It did not matter who was in the room, the sight of 
 the flower held out brought him in, when he was 
 waiting for his meal ; indeed, his natural timidity 
 • Quoted in Gosse's ' Canadian Naturalist." 
 
r a great part 
 he stomach of 
 ing been found 
 5 a charming 
 of one which 
 than has ever 
 cies.* One of 
 ig at an open 
 J, very feebly, 
 xhaiisted. To 
 lent ; and the 
 lungry, after a 
 
 try whether 
 Mixing some 
 of it into the 
 
 utiful creature, 
 sip, and gather- 
 lew off through 
 and every day 
 he little thing 
 another repast, 
 happened to be 
 enough, flying 
 i, in great rest- 
 
 1 manufactured, 
 am, the sight of 
 , when he was 
 natural timidity 
 aturoilist.' 
 
 ■ Canada ^ood /or the Poor. 279 
 
 seemed to have been entirely laid aside. Late in 
 the season, a day passed without his visit, and they 
 found that, in all probability, he had tlown off to the 
 south for the winter. Whether he came back again 
 the next spring has not been recorded. 
 
 Some of the settlers in the bush, back from the 
 river, were striking examples of the benefits a poor 
 man may get from coming to such a country as Canada. 
 I used often to go back on various errands, and was 
 always delighted with the rough plenty of farmers 
 who, not many years ago, had been labourers at home, 
 with only a few shillings a week for wages. Now, by 
 steady labour and sobriety, many amongst them were 
 proprietors of a hundred acres of excellent land, and 
 sat down at each meal to a table which even well-to-do 
 people in England are not in the habit of enjoying. 
 But there were some cases of failure, which no less 
 strongly brought the peculiar circumstances of the 
 country before me. Ten miles away from us, and 
 lying back from the river, a person who had been 
 a baker in London, but had determined to turn 
 farmer, had settled some years before. He built 
 a log-house, and cleared a patch, but it was slow 
 ' work, as he had to bring on his back all the flour and 
 potatoes, or what his household needed, the whole way 
 from the river, through the forest, over swamps, and 
 every other difficulty that lay in his road. After a time 
 he fell ill of fever and ague— the great curse of new or 
 low-lying districts in Canada and the States. For eight 
 
28o A Bush Story of Misfortune. 
 
 months he could do no work, and meanwhile his family 
 were driven to the greatest straits to keep themselves 
 alive. At last, he was able to get about once more. 
 Everything was behind with him, but he was still 
 unbroken in spirit. But now came a new trial : a 
 great tree which had been left standing near his house, 
 fell down across it, breaking in the roof, though for- 
 tunately without killing any one. The axe and 
 patience offered the means of escaping from this 
 misfortune also ; and, before long, the tree was 
 removed, and the shattered dwelling restored. For 
 awhile all went on well enough after he had thus once 
 more got on his feet. But his troubles were not yet 
 at an end. Coming home one night with a heavy 
 load, on his weary ten miles' road from the front, in 
 crossing a swamp on a round log, his foot slipped, and 
 a sharp stake ran through his boot deep into the flesh, 
 impaling him, as it were, for a time. How he got 
 home I know not, but of course he left his load behind 
 him, and had to crawl to his house as best he could. 
 This last calamity fairly crushed his hopes of success ; 
 and, on recovering, he abandoned his land, moved 
 with his family to a town eighty miles off, and took 
 service at his old trade, in which, after a time, he was 
 able to recommence business on his own account. 
 
 When the roads got pretty dry in tlie summer-time, 
 we were all summoned by the ' pathmaster ' of our 
 neiglibourhood — a dignitary who is elected annually 
 to superintend the repairs of the different roads — to do 
 
 J 
 
rtnne. 
 
 Statute Labour. 
 
 281 
 
 nwhile his family 
 keei> themselves 
 bout once more, 
 but he was still 
 
 a new trial : a 
 g near his house, 
 roof, though for- 
 
 The axe and 
 aping from this 
 , the tree was 
 ; restored. For 
 ^le had thus once 
 ales were not yet 
 It with a heavy 
 roni the front, in 
 foot slipped, and 
 ep into the flesh, 
 e. How he got 
 ft his load behind 
 as best he could. 
 opes of success ; 
 his land, moved 
 les off, and took 
 er a time, he was 
 )wn account. 
 :he summer-time, 
 thmaster ' of our 
 elected annually 
 ent roads — to do 
 
 our statute labour. As money to pay a substitute was 
 out of the question, we had, of course, ourselves to 
 shoulder shovels, and turn out for the six days' work 
 required of us. My three elder brothers, and a number 
 of neighbours, were on the ground on the day appointed, 
 but they were an hour or two later than they would 
 have required any labourers they might have hired to 
 have been, and they forthwith commenced their task. 
 It was amusing to see how they managed to get through 
 the time, what with smoking, discussing what was to 
 be done, stopping to chat, sitting down to rest, and all 
 the manoeuvres of unwilling workers. A tree had to 
 be cut up at one part, and hauled together for burning 
 off; a ditch dug from nowhere to nowhere, at some 
 other point; a bridge to be repaired, at a third, by 
 throwing a log or two across it, in the places from 
 which broken ones had been drawn out j a mud hole 
 filled up, at a fourth ; and the corduroy road, over a 
 swamp, made more passable, at a fifth, by throwing a 
 large quantity of branches on it, and covering them 
 deeply with earth, so as to get a smooth surface. * I 
 guess I've done more for the Queen nor she's done for 
 me,' said John Courtenay, as he sat down for the tenth 
 time. ' I'll take it easy now, the boss is up the road,' 
 the ' boss ' being the pathmaster, who had gone off to 
 another gang at some distance. You may be sure our 
 engineering was very poorly done, but it was all we 
 had to look to to keep the roads passable at all in the 
 wet weather. Tlic vacant lots, every here and there, 
 
 
a8a 
 
 Tortoises. 
 
 were the greatest hindrance to any improvements 
 worthy the name, nobody caring to repair the road 
 through an absentee's land, though all suffered from 
 its being neglected. 
 
 There were a number of tortoises in the ponds in 
 the woods and by the roadside, and they used to give 
 us a good deal of amusement. They were of all sizes, 
 but generally not very large, and were really beautiful 
 in the markings of their shells, when you had them 
 close at hand. But to get near enough for this was 
 the difficulty. They used to coma out of the water, 
 in the middle of the day, to sun themselves, or to sleep, 
 on the dry logs which lay over it, and the great point 
 was to try to keep them from plumping off in an 
 instant, rather than making to the land. It was all 
 but hopeless to try it, but we would not give it up. 
 Sometimes we came upon them away from the water 
 a little, and then we had it all our own way with them. 
 They move very awkwardly on the ground, and seem 
 too stupid to do even as much as they might, but they 
 must not be handled incautiously, for they give terrible 
 snaps with their horny mouths, which are like the 
 sides of a smith's vice for hardness and strength of 
 hold. A poor Scotchman who came out one summer, 
 found out this to his cost. He had been coming 
 down the road, and saw a large tortoise, or ' mud turtle,' 
 as the Canadians call them, apparently sound asleep 
 at the edge of the creek. Of course he thought he had 
 come on a treasure, and determined to catch it if 
 

 iny improvements 
 ;o repair the road 
 h all suffered from 
 
 is in the ponds in 
 
 1 they used to give 
 ;y were of all sizes, 
 'ere really beautiful 
 len you had them 
 enough for this was 
 t; out of the water, 
 nselves, or to sleep, 
 and the great point 
 plumping off in an 
 le land. It was all 
 )uld not give it up. 
 iway from the water 
 own way with them. 
 e ground, and seem 
 they might, but they 
 for they give terrible 
 which are like the 
 less and strength of 
 me out one summer, 
 
 2 had been coming 
 toise, or ' mud turtle,' 
 )arently sound asleep 
 rse he thought he had 
 mined to catch it if 
 
 Tortoises. 
 
 283 
 
 possible. Stealing, therefore, breathlessly, up to the 
 spot, he made a grab at it before it suspected danger, 
 and in a minute had it swinging over his shoulder by 
 its foreleg. The leg was short, and the round shield 
 that covered the creature was therefore close up to his 
 head. He thought he would take it home, and show 
 the good folks this wonder of the woods ; periiaps he 
 thought of taming it, or of making combs for his wife 
 out of its back shell. At any rate, on he jogged quite 
 proud of his acquisition. He would soon get over the 
 five miles more he had to walk, and then what excite- 
 ment there would be at the sight of such a creature. 
 But, by this time, the turtle had recovered presence of 
 mind enough to look round him, and accordingly 
 poked his head out, and in doing so came invitingly 
 close to his captor's ear, on which his two jaws closed 
 in a moment. If ever a priioner had his revenge he 
 had it. The Scotchman might have pulled his ear off, 
 in trying to get free, but nothing short of that seemed 
 of any use. He could not let go the leg, for that would 
 leave the whole weight of the turtle hanging from his 
 ear, and he could not keep his arms up without getting 
 cramps in them. But he had to try. In misery, with 
 his wretched ear bent down close to the shell, and his 
 hands immovably raised to the same shoulder the 
 whole way, he had to plod on, the whole distance, to 
 his house, where his appearance caused no small alarm 
 as he came near. Nothing' could even then be done 
 to loosen the creature's hold ; it was like a vice— until 
 
a84 
 
 Tortoises. 
 
 at last they managcil to relieve him, by getting the head 
 far enough out to cut it off, after which the jaws were at 
 last parted, and the sulHerer allowed to tell his luckless 
 adventure. 
 
 One of our neighbours used to shock oUr notions of 
 propriety by eating the ' turtles ' he caught, ' There 
 are fish, there arc llesh, and there are fowl on a turtle,' 
 he used to say in his bad Kngh.^li, in describing their 
 charms, but the worthy Manksman got no one to join 
 him in his appreciation of them. The Indians have a 
 kind of religious veneration for them, and would not, 
 on any account, do them any harm. I knew one who 
 acted as interpreter at a missionary station, who used 
 to say that the hardest trial he had had, after he 
 became a Christian, was one day in summer, when, 
 having pounced upon a tortoise, he took it on his back 
 to carry it home, and was overtaken by a dreadful 
 storm of thunder and lightning. He said that he 
 could hardly get over the thought, that it was because 
 he had offended the sacred creature, and this notion 
 fairly made him perspire with terror ; but he had the 
 courage to resist his alarm, and after the sky had 
 cleared, he lifted it once more on his shoulder, and 
 went home resolved never to yield to fear of such a 
 kind again. 
 
 The hay in the neighbourhood was mown about the 
 end of June, and as our own supply was, as yet, far 
 short of our requirements, we had to buy a quantity. 
 To get it cheaper, we undertook to send our waggon to 
 
The I lay Season. 
 
 285 
 
 )y getting the head 
 1> tlu' jaws were at 
 to tell his hickless 
 
 ock our notions of 
 5 cauglit. 'There 
 e fo»vl on a turtle,' 
 in (lescril)ing their 
 got no one to join 
 rhe Indians have a 
 m, and would not, 
 I knew one who 
 ^ station, who used 
 had had, after he 
 in summer, when, 
 took it on his back 
 iken by a dreadful 
 He said that he 
 that it was because 
 ire, and this notion 
 or ; but he had the 
 i after the sky had 
 n his shoulder, and 
 Id to fear of such a 
 
 was mo\vn about the 
 pply was, as yet, far 
 i to buy a quantity. 
 J send our waggon to 
 
 the field for it, and bring it home ourselves. Henry 
 and 1 were detailed for this service, and started one 
 morning with the oxen and the waggon, a frame of 
 light poles having been laid on the orilinary box to 
 enable us to pile up a sufficient load. I had to get 
 inside, while Henry forked up the hay from the cocks 
 on the ground, my part being to spread it about 
 evenly. We got on famously till the load was well up 
 in the frame, the oxen moving on from one cock to 
 another, th ^h the stumps, at Henry's commands, 
 but without u .y special guidance. All at once, while 
 they were going at the rate of about two miles an hour, 
 the wheels on one side gradually rose, and before I 
 could help myself, over went the whole frame, hay and 
 all, on the top of Henry, who was walking at the side. 
 The oxen had pulled the load over a hillock at the 
 foot of a stump. I was sent clear of the avalanche, 
 but Henry was thrown on his batk, luckily with his 
 head and shoulders free, but the rtst of his body em- 
 bedded in the mass. Neither of us was hurt, how- 
 ever, and we laughed heartily enough, after we had 
 recovered our self-possession, the first act being to 
 stop the oxen, who were marching off with the four 
 wheels, as solemnly as ever, and had no idea of 
 coming to a halt without orders. Of course we had 
 to clear the frame, get it set up again on the waggon, 
 and fork up all the hay once more, but we took care 
 of the oxen the second time, and met with no more 
 accidents. 
 
 
a86 Henry and I nearly Drowned. 
 
 : Henry and I were very nearly drowned, shortly 
 after this, in that great lumbering canoe of ours, by a 
 very ridiculous act on our own parts, and an unfore- 
 seen roughening of the water. Some bricks were 
 needed to rebuild the chimney, and they could not 
 be had nearer than the opposite side of the river. 
 Henry and I, therefore, set off in the forenoon to get 
 them, and crossed easily enough. We went straight 
 over, ini?nding to paddle down the shore till we 
 reached the place where the bricks were to be had, 
 about two miles below. Having nothing to hurry 
 us, and the day being uncommonly bright and beau- 
 tiful, Ve made no attempt to be quick, but drew 
 the canoe' to the land, and sallied up the bank to 
 get some ears of Indian corn which were growmg 
 close by, and offered great attractions to our hungry 
 stomachs. At last, after loitermg by the way for an 
 hour or two, we reached our destination, bought the 
 bricks, and paddled our canoe some distance up a 
 stream to get near them, that we might the more easily 
 get them on board ; but ignorance is a bad teacher, 
 even in so simple a matter as loading a canoe with 
 bricks. We had no thought but how to pack them 
 all in at once, so that we should not have to come 
 over again, and kept stowing them in all the waj 
 along the canoe, except at each end, where we re 
 served a small space for ourselves. When the whoh 
 had been shipped, we took our places— Henry at th( 
 bows, on his knees ; I at the stern, on a seat made o 
 
 
xrly Drowned. 
 
 nearly drowned, shortly 
 ering canoe of ours, by a 
 )wn parts, and an unfore- 
 iter. Some bricks were 
 nney, and they could not 
 )posite side of the river. 
 3ff in the forenoon to get 
 lough. We went straight 
 
 down the shore till we 
 le bricks were to be had. 
 Having nothing to hurry 
 mmonly bright and beau- 
 t to be quick, but drew 
 i sallied up the bank to 
 corn which were growing 
 
 attractions to our hungry 
 oitermg by the way for an 
 )ur destination, bought the 
 ;anoe some distance up a 
 at we might the more easily 
 gnorance is a bad teacher, 
 ;r as loading a canoe with 
 jht but how to pack them 
 
 should not have to come 
 wing them in all the way 
 at each end, where we rc- 
 lurselves. When the whole 
 : our places — Henry at the 
 ;he stern, on a seat made of 
 
 r 
 
 Henry and I nearly Drowned. 287 
 
 a bit of the lid of a flour-barrel — each of us with his 
 paddle. It was delightful to steer down the glassy 
 creek, and when we turned into the river, and skirted 
 up close to the banks, it seemed as if we were to get 
 back as easily as we came, though Henry just then 
 bade me look over the side, telling me that the canoe 
 was only the length of a forefinger out of the water, 
 and, sure enough, I found it was so ; but we never 
 thought it boded any danger. In smooth water one is 
 not apt to think of the rough that may follow. We 
 got along charmingly for a time, under the lee of the 
 land, which made a bend out, some distance above 
 our house, on the American side ; we determined to 
 allow a good deal for the current, and go to this 
 point, before we turned to cross. Unfortunately for 
 us, in our ignorance of the proper management of a 
 canoe under difficulties, a great steamer, passing on to 
 Chicago, swept up the stream, close to us, just as we 
 were about to strike out for home, and the swell it 
 raised made the water run along the edge of the canoe, 
 as if it were looking over and wanted to get in. It 
 lurched and twisted, got its head wrong, and all but 
 filled, even with this slight agitation. W^e had got 
 over this trouble when we found, to our alarm, on 
 getting out . 'rom the shelter of the land, that the wind 
 was getting up, freshly enough to make the mid-stream 
 quite rough. If we had known the extent of our 
 danger we would have turned back and unloaded some 
 of our cargo, t at no such notion occurred to us. \. e 
 
288 Henry and I nearly Drowned. 
 
 therefore determined to make the best of our way 
 across ; but it was easier determined than done. The 
 wind and the short chopping waves together very soon 
 took the management of our frail bark out of our 
 hands, twisting the canoe round and round, in spite 
 of all our efforts. Every little while we would get 
 into the trough of the stream, and the water would 
 run along from the bow to the stern, shining over the 
 few inches on which depended our hope and life; 
 then, some would' find its way in. The bricks got 
 quite wet. The empty space in which I sat was filled 
 to my ankles with water, and Henry shouted that it 
 was the same at his end. ' Paddle hard, George, for 
 your life— paddle, paddle, and we may get over;' and 
 paddle both of us did, at the very top of our strength. 
 We must have been making way swiftly, but o-ving to 
 the noise of the wind, and the confusion of mind we 
 were in, for neither of us could swim a stroke, we 
 could not find out whether we made any progress, 
 and, to add to our bewilderment, round went the head 
 of the canoe the wong way once and again, in spite 
 of us. 'Shall I throw out the bricks, Henry?' I 
 cried. ' Yes, if you can ; ' but it was next to impos- 
 sible to do it. I did, indeed, manage to toss two or 
 three over, but I was helmsman, and my giving up my 
 paddle left us helplessly whiriing round. Henry had 
 his buck to the bricks, and of course could do no- 
 thing. He, therefore, kept paddling as hard as ever. 
 Seizing my paddle, I joined my efforts to his, and, 
 
Irowned. 
 
 best of our way 
 i than done. The 
 together very soon 
 
 bark out of our 
 lid round, in spite 
 lile we would get 
 d the water would 
 1, shining over the 
 ur hope and life; 
 . The bricks got 
 lich I sat was filled 
 iry shouted that it 
 i hard, George, for 
 nay get over ; ' and 
 op of our strength, 
 aftly, but o-ving to 
 ifusion of mind we 
 swim a stroke, we 
 nade any progress, 
 ound went the head 
 and again, in spite 
 bricks, Henry?' I 
 was next to impos- 
 inage to toss two or 
 nd my giving up my 
 round. Henry had 
 ourse could do no- 
 ing as hard as ever. 
 
 efforts to his, and, 
 
 Henry falls III. 
 
 289 
 
 ■Hi 
 
 after a time, found, to my great joy, that the water 
 was changing colour — a sure sign that we were much 
 nearer land than we had been a little while before. A 
 few minutes more, and we saw the bottom, and knew 
 we were safe ; but not so the bricks. The canoe sank 
 before reaching the bank, immersing us to the middle, 
 and though we dragged it to the land, the bricks were 
 in so bad a state that, from our neglecting to take 
 special pains with them, a great many mouldered into 
 red earth. 
 
 This was my only dangerous adventure with our 
 large coffin of a canoe, but many a hard pull I have 
 had with it. Poor Henry gave me one tough day's 
 work, much against his will. He had been working 
 in the field, and, being very warm, had drunk a large 
 quantity of water, vrhich brought on very painful 
 cramps of the stomach. There were none but our 
 two selves and the girls at home, and the nearest 
 place to procure medical advice was at the village 
 where I had got the bricks, across the river. There 
 was no time to be lost ; Henry was alarmingly ill, so 
 away I went with the canoe, paddling as hard as I 
 could, and got to my destination pretty quickly. But 
 to get the ' doctor ' was the difficulty. I found ' Major ' 
 Thompson, whom I knew by sight, standing in his 
 shirt-sleeves at the door of the coffee-house he kept, 
 and I asked him if he could tell me where I should 
 find the medical man. ' Good morning, doctor," said 
 the ' Major,' in answer — I was no more a doctor than 
 
 19 
 
 i 
 
 
apo 
 
 American Titles. 
 
 he a major, but the Americans are fond of assuming 
 and bestowing titles—' I don't know, p'raps he's to 
 Iwme— jist ask Gin'ral Northrop, yonder, if he's seen 
 him come out this morning?' The gentleman to 
 whom I was thus directed proved to be the leader of 
 the choir in the village chapel, and followed some 
 trade, but what, I don't know. He was dressed in a 
 great broad straw hat, blue shirt, linen trowsers, and 
 boots, and was very busy loading a cart with furniture 
 at a door up the street. He was very courteous when 
 I got up to him. ' I guess,' said he, ' you'll be all 
 right; 1 calculate he's not about yet; just go do^vn 
 the street, and turn round that there fence corner, and 
 you'll easy find his place.' Thither I went, and was 
 fortunate enough to find the old man, who, in spite of 
 a dissipated and miserable look, seemed to know his 
 profession. I could only suppose that he must have 
 been driven to such a place from pure necessity. He 
 gave me some stuff from a dispensary, as strange and 
 uncouth as that of the apothecary in ' Romeo and 
 Juliet:'— 
 
 • About his shelves 
 
 A b^garly account of empty boxes, 
 
 Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, 
 
 Remnants of packthread • • * 
 Were thinly scattered.' 
 
 Into this sanctum I was taken by the back-door, 
 and found it, in reality, more a lumber-room than a 
 shop, for the window made no sort of display, and, 
 
Backwood Doctors. 
 
 291 
 
 jnd of assuming 
 V, p'raps he's to 
 ader, if he's seen 
 le gentleman to 
 be the leader of 
 d followed some 
 was dressed in a 
 len trowsers, and 
 :art with furniture 
 y courteous when 
 lie, ' you'll be all 
 ;t; just go down 
 fence corner, and 
 I went, and was 
 1, who, in spite of 
 emed to know his 
 hat he must have 
 re necessity. He 
 ,ry, as strange and 
 • in ' Romeo and 
 
 es, 
 musty seeds, 
 
 * 
 
 by the back-door, 
 mber-room than a 
 rt of display, and, 
 
 everywhere, dirt reigned in undisturbed possession. 
 Having got the medicine, I quickly regained the 
 canoe, and paddled home as rapidly as possible. 
 But, instead of getting better, poor Henry seemed 
 rather to get worse, so that I had to set ofif a second 
 time, with a ) . account of the symptoms, on paper, 
 to hand to the uoctor. This time, thank God, he hit 
 on the right prescription, and I had the unspeakable 
 pleasure of seeing the poor sufferer greatly relieved by 
 an infusion we got made for him when I returned. 
 I verily believe that if he had had no one to go over 
 the river for him he must have died. 
 
 The want of sufficient medical help, and too often 
 the inferior quality of what you can get, is one of the 
 greatest evils of living in the backwoods. Henry all 
 but died a year or two after this, from the treatment 
 he had to undergo ai the hands of a self-styled doctor, 
 who caine to the neighbourhood for a time, and left it 
 when his incompetency was found out. The illness 
 was a very serious one — brain fever— and the treat- 
 ment resorted to was bleeding and depletion, till life 
 nearly ebbed away from sheer exhaustion. The poor 
 fellow was made to take medicine enough almost to 
 kill a strong man ; and was so evidently sinking, that 
 the other inmates of the house determined to send 
 over for old Dr Chamberlain, who had before saved 
 him, when I went to him. ' Killed with too much 
 medicine,' was all he said, when he had seen the 
 wasted form of the patient, and heard the story ; ' if 
 
2Q2 Backwood Doctors. 
 
 he should get through it, it will be in spite of what has 
 been done, not by its means.' He did get through, 
 but it was a long, weary struggle. I have known a 
 person come twenty miles in search of a medical man 
 for his wife, and when he reached his house, be bit- 
 terly disappointed to find the doctor off ten miles m 
 an opposite direction. Mr Spring, up the river, had 
 good cause to remember his being at the mercy of an 
 uneducated practitioner. He was going in the dark, 
 one winter night, to a friend's house, about two miles 
 off when suddenly slipping on a piece of ice, he fell 
 violenriy on his knee. Trying to rise, he found he 
 had injured the cap, so that he could not walk. He 
 had, therefore, to crawl back home again in the keeh 
 cold of a Canadian night, along the road, over the 
 field, and down the steep bank, all covered thickly 
 with snow. The 'doctor,' who lived five miles oft, 
 was, of course, sent for next morning as early as pos- 
 sible. But it would, perhaps, have been better if he 
 had never been sent for at all, for he bandaged the 
 kg so tightly as almost to bring on mortification ; and 
 this he did, too, without attempting to bring the 
 broken parts together. The result was a hopelessly 
 stiff leg, after the sufferer had endured many weeks of 
 
 pain. 
 
 We had occasional visits of gentlemen, who joined 
 the medical profession with other pursuits. They 
 would cure a fever, or act as dentists, and announced 
 their arrival by calls from house to house. A friend 
 
 ' ^ JWJi 
 
 ii 
 
spite of what has 
 did get through, 
 
 I have known a 
 )f a medical man 
 lis house, be bit- 
 
 oflf ten miles in 
 up the river, had 
 : the mercy of an 
 oing in the dark, 
 , about two miles 
 Ece of ice, he fell 
 rise, he found he 
 Id not walk. He 
 again in the keeh 
 le road, over the 
 
 II covered thickly 
 ed five miles oflf, 
 ig as early as pos- 
 
 been better if he 
 he bandaged the 
 mortification ; and 
 ting to bring the 
 t was a hopelessly 
 red many weeks of 
 
 lemen, who joined 
 :r pursuits. They 
 5ts, and announced 
 a house. A friend 
 
 Backwood Doctors. 
 
 ^93 
 
 
 of mine, who had unfortunately lost a front tooth, 
 thought he had better take advantage of sucfi an op- 
 portunity, especially as he was going in a short time 
 up Lake Huron to a public dinner. * But,' said 
 he, when relating the circumstance, ' the fellow was a 
 humbug ; he put in a hickory peg to hold the new 
 tooth, and when I was in the middle of my dinner it 
 turned straight out, and stuck before me, like a tusk, 
 till I got it tugged out.' 
 
 . There was a medical man of a very different stamp 
 who came among us some years after this, when I had 
 left the river, and of whom I have heard some curious 
 stories. Dr White — let that be his name — had been 
 in large practice in Ireland, but had unfortunately 
 fallen into dissipated habits, which compelled him to 
 emigrate. To raise the means of reaching Canada, 
 his wife had sold an annuity she enjoyed on her 
 own life, after his engaging that he would give up his 
 intemperate habits. He first settled in one of the 
 towns, but afterwards came to our part, and bought a 
 farm, intending to help his income by working it. 
 His old habit, however, to the regret of all, broke out 
 again, and destroyed his prospects, in spite of his 
 being looked up to throughout the district, as the best 
 * doctor ' in it. People often came from a distance to 
 consult. him, and were doomed to find him helpless ; 
 and this, of course, speedily ruined his practice. 
 Instances of his skill, however, still linger in the minds 
 of many in the settlement, accompanied with great 
 
294 Backwood Doctors. 
 
 regret, that a man at once so clever and comely 
 should have been so great an enemy to himself. He 
 . had a rough humour sometimes, when he was a little 
 under the influence of drink, which was very diverting. 
 Henry was one night at his house in the winter, when 
 a rap came to the door. The others being busy, Henry 
 rose to open it, and found two men, who had come 
 through the frightful cold to get the doctor's assistance. 
 The one, it appeared, could not speak, from some 
 abscess or boil in his throat, which he had come to get 
 lanced or otherwise treated. On being taken into the 
 hall, which had a stove in it, and was comfortable 
 enough, the doctor made his appearance, and walked 
 up to the sutferer with a candle in his hand. ' What's 
 the matter with you?' The patient simply opened 
 his mouth wide, and pointed into it widi his fingers. 
 ' Let me see,' said White. ' Open your mouth, sir '-- 
 taking the candle out of the candlestick, and holding 
 it close to the poor fellow's face. The mouth was, of 
 course, instantly opened as widely as possible, and the 
 blazing candle was as instantly sent dash into it, as far 
 as it would go, raising a yell from the patient that 
 might have been heard over the next farm, which was 
 followed by a rush outside the door to clear his mouth, 
 as he seemed half choked. ' Bring a light here,' cried 
 . White, coming to the door quite coolly. ' How do 
 you feel, sir?' The blow with the soft candle, the 
 fright, and the yell, all together, had wrought a miracle 
 on the poor fellow. His trouble was clean gone. 
 
1 
 
 Backwood Doctors. 
 
 ^95 
 
 vex and comely 
 ;o himself. He 
 he was a little 
 s very diverting, 
 the winter, when 
 ing busy, Henry 
 , who had come 
 ictor's assistance, 
 leak, from some 
 had come to get 
 ig taken into the 
 was comfortable 
 mce, and walked 
 hand. ' What's 
 t simply opened 
 with his fingers. 
 )ur mouth, sir ' — 
 tick, and holding 
 lie mouth was, of 
 possible, and the 
 lash into it, as far 
 the patient that 
 : farm, which was 
 [> clear his mouth, 
 I light here,' cried 
 :oolly. ' How do 
 ; soft candle, the 
 wrought a miracle 
 was clean gone. 
 
 'I'm better, sir—what's to pay?' 'Nothing at all,' 
 replied White; 'good night to you,' and the scene 
 was over. Henry laughed, as he well might, at such 
 an incident ; and after a while ventured to ask the 
 doctor if there were no instruments that would have 
 done ? ' CerUinly there are, but do you think I'd 
 dirty my instruments on a fellow like that ? the candle 
 would do well enough.' Poor White died some time 
 after, through intemperance. His widow and family 
 were enabled to gel back to Ireland by the sale of all 
 the effects he had; and on their arrival, his friends 
 took charge of the children, and the widow went out 
 as a governess to India. 
 
 % 
 
296 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 American men and women— Fireflies— Profusion of insect life- 
 Grasshoppers— Frederick and David leave Canada— Soap- 
 making— Home-made candles— Recipe for washing quickly- 
 Writing letters — The parson for driver. 
 
 the delicious nights of summer drew on 
 again, it was a pleasure of which we never 
 wearied to ride over to some neighbour's 
 to spend an hour or two. The visit itself 
 was always delightful, for we could not have wished 
 better society, but the unspeakable loveliness of the 
 road was no less so. We very soon got a couple of 
 horses, every one else having them, for no one in 
 Canada ever thinks of walking if he can help it. I have 
 often wondered at this, for the same persons who 
 would not stir a step, if possible, in Canada, without 
 a horse, or some conveyance, would have been fond 
 of walking if they had remained in Britain. It can- 
 not be because they have horses in the one country 
 and had none in the other, for, in towns, there is no 
 such liking for walking, though there are few who 
 either own or can borrow a horse or vehicle, and 
 those in the country who have neither will send in all 
 
American Men and Women. 297 
 
 fusion of insect life— 
 ;ave Canada— Soap- 
 or washing quickly — 
 
 summer drew on 
 of which we never 
 some neighbour's 
 ). The visit itself 
 not have wished 
 loveliness of the 
 1 got a couple of 
 n, for no one in 
 ;an help it. I have 
 ime persons who 
 ti Canada, without 
 i have been fond 
 I Britain. It can- 
 1 the one country 
 towns, there is no 
 iiere are few who 
 s or vehicle, and 
 ler will send in all 
 
 directions to ask the loan of a neighbour's horse 
 rather than walk a few miles. Probably the great 
 heat of summer renders the exertion of walking irk- 
 some to most people ; and, on the other hand, in 
 winter, the cold and the snow are such hindrances as 
 to throw them out of the habit of it. There scams 
 no doubt besides, that the effect of the climate on 
 Europeans is to enfeeble them gradually, though they 
 may not exhibit any symptoms of rapid decay, or suffer 
 from any acute disease. The red cheeks of the inhabit- 
 ants of Britain are very soon lost in Canada, and you 
 very seldom see the stout, hearty people so common 
 in England. The native Canadian of the Western Pro- 
 vince is a very poor specimen of a man, unless he be 
 the child of foreign parents. A few generations takes 
 all the roundness from his figure, and brings him very 
 much to the type of the Indian, as in the case of the 
 New Englanders, who, though originally English, are 
 now Htde better in appearance than White Indians. 
 Indeed, the Indians themselves show the effects of 
 the climate as much as Europeans, for what can be 
 more opposite than the squat, fat figure of a Tartar, 
 and the thin, tall outline of his descendant, when 
 changed into one of the red tribes of North America. 
 I used to be amused watching the steamers which 
 came to the wharves on the river to get wood, crowded 
 with emigrants from the New England States to the 
 Far West. The men, if at all beyond youth, were 
 fleshless, long-necked, calfless, cadaverous-looking 
 
298 American Men and* Women. 
 
 creatures ; the women, in their coal-scuttle sun-bon- 
 nets, with a long green veil hanging down their backs, 
 and straight dresses tied loosely round the waist, 
 looked, for the most part, very strange apparitions to 
 one accustomed to the women of England. The girls 
 of America are often very pretty, but they soon lose 
 their plumpness, and grow old. Mr Brown, up the 
 river, one day amused me by telling how he had heard 
 a servant-woman who was in fierce dispute with a com- 
 rade, declare that she was no better than three broom- 
 sticks tied together. She was pretty nearly right as to 
 the appearance of not a few— the three broomsticks, 
 dressed up, would look almost as stout. It is the 
 same with animals as with human beings. A horse or 
 a bull, brought from Britain, loses its spirit in Canada. 
 Little or no trouble is needed to break in a colt, for if 
 he be put in a waggon he will very soon pull as steadi- 
 ly as any other. A Canadian bull is a very quiet and 
 inoffensive creature. Everything, in fact, seems alike 
 to degenerate in form and spirit from its native English 
 characteristics. 
 
 But I am forgetting my rides on the old mare, 
 Kate, in the summer evenings. I was walking her 
 slowly up the road one night, when I was struck by 
 innumerable .hashes of light among the trees in the 
 forest ^t ray siof. I tried every theory I could think 
 of to accr- j'»^ ibr it, some of them ridiculous enough, 
 but it v,as not till I came home that I hit on the 
 right one, which I might have been sure of at first. 
 
Women. 
 
 Dal-scuttle sun-bon- 
 ; down their backs, 
 
 round the waist, 
 inge apparitions to 
 ilngland. The girls 
 but they soon lose 
 Mr Brown, up the 
 ; how he had heard 
 dispute with a com- 
 r than three broom- 
 ty nearly right as to 
 
 three broomsticks, 
 IS stout. It is the 
 jeings. A horse or 
 its spirit in Canada, 
 ireak in a colt, for if 
 soon pull as steadi- 
 
 is a very quiet and 
 in fact, seems alike 
 )m its native English 
 
 on the old mare, 
 I was walking her 
 len I was struck by 
 ing the trees in the 
 :heory I could think 
 1 ridiculous enough, 
 J that I hit on the 
 »een sure of at first. 
 
 Fircjlies, 
 
 299 
 
 The phenomenon in question was nothing bu'- an 
 immense number of firctlies sporting among the 
 branches, and their motion made them seem as if 
 every leaf were a Lcyden jar giving off a succession 
 of electric sparks. I had often seen them before, but 
 never in such amazing swarms. They must have 
 been holding some grand carnival, some firefly's ball, 
 with endless dancing and wonderful illumination. 
 The insects that make this brilliant display are a kind 
 of beetle, about three-quarters of an inch in length. 
 They give out their light from different parts of 
 their bodies, but chiefly from the lower half, and 
 are often caught and kept for a time in bottles as 
 a curiosity. In other countries they are said to have 
 been put to various uses, but I never heard of their 
 being so employed in Canada. The Caribs of St 
 Domingo, a race of Indians whose memory is now 
 passing away, were formeriy accustomed to use them 
 as living lamps in their evening household occupa- 
 tions, just as we use candles. In travelling at night 
 they fastened them to their feet, and in fishing or 
 hunting in the dark they made them serve as lights 
 to guide them. Moreover, as the fireflies destroy 
 ants, they gave them the freest entry to their 
 wigwams to help to rid them of these pests. 
 Southey, in his poem of 'Madoc,' tells us that 
 it was by the light of this insect Coatel rescued 
 the British hero from the htmds of the Mexican 
 priests: \ 
 
300 Profusion of Insect Life. 
 
 • She beckoned and descended, and drew out 
 From underneath her vest a cage, or not 
 It rather might be called, so fine the twigs 
 That knit it— where, confined, two fireflies gave 
 Their lustre. By that light did Mac'ic first 
 Behold the features of his lovely guide.' 
 
 I am afraid he would have remained ignorant of 
 her lovehness, if the discovery had depended on the 
 light of Canadian fireflies, which are very beautiful, 
 indeed, in their momentary brightness, but are far too 
 dim for anything more. I have often been reminded, 
 as I have seen one, here and there, kindling his little 
 spark for an instant, and sailing in light, for a brief 
 glimpse, across the night, of the fine figure in which 
 Coleridge compares the illumination afforded by phi- 
 losophy, in the ages before Christ, to the radiance 
 with which ' the lanthorn-fly of the tropics ' lights up 
 for a moment the natural darkness. It is equally 
 beautiful and apt. 
 
 It is wonderful to see what a profusion of insect 
 life sometimes shows itself in the summer-time in 
 Canada. I was once mailing down the Niagara Rivei 
 to Chippewa, which is the last por^ above the Falls, in 
 the month of September, when, all at once, the 
 steamer entered a dense snowy cloud of white gnats 
 so blinding, from the countless numbers, that all or 
 deck had either to get below, or turn their backs, oi 
 stand behind some protection. You could see th( 
 land through them only as you would have seen i 
 
Insect Life. 
 
 led, and drew out 
 a cage, or n^t 
 so fine the twigs 
 ned, two fireflies gave 
 It did Mac'ic first 
 lovely guide.' 
 
 ave remained ignorant of 
 very had depended on the 
 , which are very beautiful, 
 brightness, but are far too 
 have often been reminded, 
 id there, kindUng his little 
 sailing in light, for a brief 
 of the fine figure in which 
 umination afforded by phi- 
 •e Christ, to the radiance 
 ly of the tropics ' lights up 
 I darkness. It is equally 
 
 vhat a profusion of insect 
 ilf in the summer-time in 
 ng down the Niagara River 
 last por*- above the Falls, in 
 r, when, all at once, the 
 inowy cloud of white gnats, 
 ntless numbers, that all on 
 low, or turn their backs, or 
 ction. You could see the 
 IS you would have seen it 
 
 Profusion of Insect Life. 301 
 
 through a snow-storm, and this continued till we 
 reached our destination — a distance of several miles. 
 How manv millions of millions of these frail creatures 
 must there have been ? There is another fly that I 
 have also seen in vast numbers— the May-fly, which, 
 however, makes its appearance not in May generally, 
 but in June. But it is so disagreeable-looking, that 
 my only desire on beholding it has been to get out of 
 its way. Butterflies are sometimes met with in similar 
 clouds. I have seen large numbers of them in the 
 air, or resting on the earth ; but Sir James Emerson 
 Tennent tells us that, in Ceylon, they sometimes fly 
 past in flocks apparenUy miles in breadth, and in an 
 unbroken stream, for hours and even days together.* 
 What a vast amount of life there must be over the 
 world, at any one time, when such an amazing fulness 
 of it is met at even a single point ! Canada has, 
 indeed, too much cause to feel this, as regards the 
 insect tribes, for, of late years, it has been visited by 
 such successions of pests as often to injure its har- 
 vests to a great extent. The 'army-worm,' as it is 
 called, the weevil, the wireworm, the midge, and the 
 locust, or, as the Canadians call it, the grasshopper, 
 have each invaded districu, which, on their appear- 
 ance, were rich with the promise of abundant crops, 
 but were left waste and ruined when they had passed 
 over it. The grasshopper is the most t -ly noticed 
 of these plagues, as its size and '•' . -Mr is noise in fly- 
 • Sir J. E. Ten" jnt's ' Ccvlon,' 1. 247. 
 
 iimflinihiVta 
 
 IBM 
 
I 
 
 m 
 
 302 
 
 Grasshoppers. 
 
 ing, and the way it strikes against your clothes, and in- 
 stantly fastens on them, are sure to draw attention. 
 They seem to be a new arrival in Canada, having 
 apparently travelled thither gradually from the vast 
 prairies of the Far West. At the Red River they are 
 met with in legions that enable one to realize what a 
 curse the locusts must have been to the Egyptians of 
 old. As soon as the dew is off the grass in the morn- 
 ings they take short flights, as if to prepare for the 
 day's work, and about nine o'clock rise ir cloud after 
 cloud and fly off. About noon the numbers seem 
 greatest. The light is then palpably obscured— t' ere 
 is an unearthly ashen light over everything— the a 
 is filled as if with flakes of snow, sometimes to nearly 
 a thousand feet in height, and changes from blue to 
 silver-grey, or to ash or lead colour, as the clouds 
 grow deeper or diminish, a quivering motion fiUing it, 
 as the light strikes on the myriads of moving wings. 
 A sound, indescribable, but overpowering, from the 
 thought of its source, comes down from the vast hosts, 
 filling the mind with a sense of awe and amazement. 
 Such flights have hitherto been seen and heard only 
 outside the settled parts of Canada, but in every part 
 of it there are multitudes. I have seen them in 
 countless thousands in the fields and on the roads, 
 and have often caught them to look at the wonderful 
 beauty of their limbs, which are finished far more 
 elaborately than the finest ornament, and are suited 
 
 I f 
 
 mm 
 
Frederick and David leave Canada. 303 
 
 ■our clothes, and in- 
 to draw attention, 
 in Canada, having 
 ally from the vast 
 Red River they are 
 le to realize what a 
 to the Egyptians of 
 e grass in the morn- 
 to prepare for the 
 k rise ir cloud after 
 the numbers seem 
 bly obscured — t' ere 
 everything — the a . 
 sometimes to nearly 
 hanges from blue to 
 )lour, as the clouds 
 ing motion fiUing it, 
 ds of moving wings, 
 [powering, from the 
 . from the vast hosts, 
 ,we and amazement, 
 ieen and heard only 
 da, but in every part 
 have seen them in 
 J and on the roads, 
 )ok at the wonderful 
 re finished far more 
 nent, and are suited 
 
 to the habits and wants of the creature in the most 
 admirable manner. 
 
 The summer of the second year saw a diminution 
 of our family circle by the departure of Frederick 
 and David to the United States to push their fortunes 
 there. They did not like farming, and were attracted 
 by the population and wealth of the States, as com- 
 pared with Canada. It was a sad time with us who 
 remained, when they left us. In those days a great 
 many young men left the province, from the difficulty 
 of finding suitable employment in it. Where neariy 
 all were farmers, and money was very jcarce, and the 
 towns mere villages, there was, of course, very little 
 to do, and it wa.s not to be wondered at that young 
 men did not relish the thought of spending their lives 
 as day-labourers on a piece of ground, with no better 
 remuneration for hard work than the food they ate and 
 the rough clothing they wore. Anythuig more was not, 
 in those days, to be hoped for. Since then, indeed, 
 there has been a great change. The first race of 
 settlers have made their farms valuable by many years' 
 hard work and careful culture, and fine brick houses 
 have taken the place of the shanties and log-houses 
 -vhirh served at first. Some years of high prices 
 ma'J'.' ' ii T> all think their fortunes sure at once, and 
 e\p:y oiie />t his gig and his piano, and the girls went 
 .> boa aiTig-scLovle, and the young men idled and 
 ^.tiu. *ed round iu fine clothes. If fewer leave Canada 
 
304 
 
 Hard Struggles. 
 
 for the States now, it is not because they are any 
 fonder than ever of hard work. Even where their 
 fathers' farms would pay for hiring men to work them, 
 they Uke to be gentlemen, and flock in crowds to 
 turn doctors or la'wyers in as easy a way as possible. 
 It is wonderful how many there are of both these 
 professions, and how many more hurry on to enter 
 them. But there were no such openings in the early 
 days of our settlement, and my brothers must either 
 >-''ve plodded on driving oxen and hoeing, ploughing, 
 h. 'TDwmg, and the like, or have left for the great 
 CO' -ry across the river. They did not find life very 
 sunny, however, even in the States, and both had hard 
 struggles at first to get on. Poor Frederick, indeed, 
 never got very far up in the world, a fever cutting him 
 off some years* after, when he was on a journey in the 
 South. He died without a creature he knew near him, 
 and indeed we did not know that he was gone till 
 nearly a year after. David gradually made his way, 
 and has long been comfortably settled in a rising town 
 in one of the Western States ; but his advancement 
 rose from his having had the good fortune to buy some 
 land where a town grew up shortly after, which en- 
 abled him to make a good deal of money. Our 
 household, when they had left us, was very quiet com- 
 pared with the past— only Robert, Henry, and I re- 
 maining, with my two sisters as the mistresses of the 
 mansion. 
 What a curious Robinson-Crusoe life we led in 
 
 Jmsi 
 
 •Amm 
 
use they are any 
 Even where their 
 len to work them, 
 ock in crowds to 
 a way as possible, 
 ire of both these 
 lurry on to enter 
 ;nings in the early 
 jthers must either 
 hoeing, ploughing, 
 left for the great 
 i not find life very 
 and both had hard 
 Frederick, indeed, 
 1 fever cutting him 
 •n a journey in the 
 he knew near him, 
 : he was gone till 
 illy made his way, 
 ed in a rising town 
 t his advancement 
 ortune to buy some 
 ly after, which en- 
 l of money. Our 
 iras very quiet com- 
 , Henry, and I re- 
 e mistresses of the 
 
 loe life we led in 
 
 Soap-making. 
 
 l^S 
 
 many ways in those first years. A. barrel raised on 
 a stand, the bottom full of holes, and covered with a 
 layer of straw, and a number of channels gouged out 
 in the board on which it rested, formed the primitive 
 machine for our soap-making. All the ashes from 
 the fires were thrown into the barrel, and, when it 
 was full, a quantity of water poured into it made the 
 alkaline ley that was needed, a pail at the edge of 
 the board below catching it as it drained off. In 
 summer-time it was enough merely to throw this ley 
 into another barrel, put in the fat left from our 
 daily table, and stir the mixture together now and 
 then, and the sun made soap of it, without any 
 further trouble on our part. In colder weather it 
 had to be put on the fire until the desired trans- 
 mutation had been effected. The ley looked so very 
 like strong tea that I was often afraid of some 
 accident, where any of it had been left in a cup 
 or bowl. To drink it would have been certain 
 and awful death, as we did not then know how 
 to neutralize the effect if we had taken it. Noah 
 Nash, a young lad in the neighbourhood, was all but 
 fatally poisoned by it one day ; indeed, nothing saved 
 him but his presence of mind, and the fact that he 
 had an acid in the house. Chancing to come in 
 very much heated, and seeing a cupful of nice 
 strongrlooking tea in the window, he swallowed 
 nearly the whole of it before he had time to think 
 that, instead of tea, it was the terrible alkali that 
 
 20 
 
 ■teiwMUMaM«itt» 
 
3o6 
 
 Home-made Candles. 
 
 had been dravm from the ashes. The serious con- 
 sequences of his mistake flashed on him in an instant 
 Snatching a tumbler, he rushed to the cellar, where, 
 providentially, there happened to be a barrel of vine- 
 gar, and in a moment filled the glass, and drank down 
 successive draughts of it, and was thus saved, the 
 acid effectually neutralizing the alkali in the stomach ; 
 but, quick as he had been, his mouth and throat were 
 burned to such a degree by the potash, that the skin 
 of the mouth peeled away, day after day, in strips, 
 and he had to be fed on the simplest preparations 
 long afterwards. Our candles were a branch of home 
 manufacture in which we rather excelled after a time, 
 though, to tell the truth, the quantity used was not 
 very great. We had bought candle-moulds of tin, 
 and put aside any fat suitable for candles, till we had 
 enough to make what would fill them ; and then, what 
 threading the wicks into the moulds at one end, and 
 tying them over little pieces of wood at the other— 
 what proud encomiums over one that kept fair in the 
 middle— what a laugh at another which had in some 
 eccentric way run down one side of the tallow, leaving 
 the whole round of the candle undisturbed by any 
 intrusion of the cotton. But we would not have 
 made the fortune of any tallow-chandler had we had 
 to buy all we burned, for we only lighted one at tea, 
 or for a minute or two on going to bed, or to enable 
 some one to read, when a craving for literary food set 
 * in. Lumps of pine, full of resin, were our more cus- 
 
-■.-^■«^v»S».ri-.i-.lSJ 
 
 ai<«gto ygi . irv» ' <in«^'v".VT"" ' '^ 
 
 lies. 
 
 The serious con- 
 him in an instant 
 the cellar, where, 
 le a barrel of vine- 
 s, and drank down 
 IS thus saved, the 
 ili in the stomach ; 
 ith and throat were 
 itash, that the skin 
 fter day, in strips, 
 nplest preparations 
 I a branch of home 
 celled after a time, 
 ntity used was not 
 idle-moulds of tin, 
 candles, till we had 
 :m ; and then, what 
 ds at one end, and 
 ood at the other — 
 hat kept fair in the 
 which had in some 
 )f the tallow, leaving 
 mdisturbed by any 
 'e would not have 
 landler had we had 
 r lighted one at tea, 
 o bed, or to enable 
 for literary food set 
 were our more cus- 
 
 Rtide Accommodation. 
 
 m 
 
 tomary Style of illumination, its flaming brightness, 
 leaping and flaring though it was, sufficing for our 
 ordinary requirements. We used to sit for hours 
 round the fire, talking and dozing; to read was a 
 huge effort, after hard work all day, and it was too 
 cold, while the fire was kept up, to sit at any distance 
 from it. In some houses I have known candles kept 
 as sacredly for doing honour to a stranger as if they 
 had been made of silver. A rag in some grease, in a 
 saucer, usually served for a lamp, and an inch or two 
 of candle was only brought out when a guest was 
 about to retire. Many a time I have known even 
 visitors, in the rough bush, sent to bed in the dark. 
 We were, however, in some things, wonderfully before 
 the people settied back from the river. Most of them 
 were content to put up with the very rudest accommo- 
 dation and conveniences ; one room containing several 
 beds, often holding not only a whole household, but 
 any passing stranger. How to get out and in, unseen, 
 was the great difficulty. I have often been in trouble 
 about it myself, but it must surely have been worse for 
 the young women of the family. As to any basin or 
 ewer in the room, they were Capuan luxuries in the 
 wild bush. 'I'll thank you for a basin, Mrs Smith,' 
 said I, one morning, anxious to make myself comfort- 
 able for the day, after having enjoyed her husband's 
 hospitality over-night It was gloriously bright out- 
 side, though the sun had not yet shown himself over 
 the trees. »Comc this way, Mr Stanley; I'll give it 
 
mi 
 
 308 
 
 Writing Letters. 
 
 you here,' said Mrs Smith. Out she went, and lifted 
 a small round tin pie-dish, that would hardly hold 
 a quart, poured some water into it from the pail at 
 the door, which held the breakfast water as well, 
 and set it on the top of a stump, close at hand, 
 with the injunction to ' make haste, for there was a 
 hole' in the bottom, and if I didn't be quick the 
 water would all be gone.' Luchily, I was all ready j 
 but there was no offer of soap, and so I had to make 
 my hands fly hither and thither at a great rate, and 
 finish as best I could by a hard rubbing with a canvas 
 
 towel. 
 
 To write a letter in those days was by no means 
 a light task. Ink was a rare comn^odity, and stood a 
 great deal of water before it was done. When we had 
 none, a piece of Indian-ink served pretty well ; and 
 when that was lost, we used to mix gunpowder and 
 vinegar together, and make a kind of faintly-visible 
 pigment out of the two. The only paper we could get 
 was dreadful. How cruelly the pen used to dab 
 through it 1 How invincibly shabby a letter looked 
 on it ! The post-office was in a store kept by a French 
 Canadian, and was limited enough in its arrangements. 
 I remember taking a letter one day a little later than 
 was right, as it appeared. ' The mail's made up, Mr 
 Stanley,' said the post-master, 'and it's against the law 
 to open it when it's once sealed ; but I suppose I may 
 as well oblige a friend.' So saying, he took down a 
 piece of brown paper from the shelf behind him, cut 
 
'ers. 
 
 t she went, and lifted 
 t would hardly hold 
 3 it from the pail at 
 ikfast water as well, 
 ;ump, close at hand, 
 laste, for there was a 
 didn't be quick the 
 K.ily, I was all ready ; 
 ind so I had to make 
 r at a great rate, and 
 rubbing with a canvas 
 
 ays was by no means 
 jmn^odity, and stood a 
 done. When we had 
 rved pretty well ; and 
 3 mix gunpowder and 
 kind of faintly-visible 
 nly paper we could get 
 ;he pen used to dab 
 ;habby a letter looked 
 store kept by a French 
 igh in its arrangements. 
 : day a litde later than 
 he mail's made up, Mr 
 and it's against the law 
 i ; but I suppose I may 
 aying, he took down a 
 ; shelf behind him, cut 
 
 Wew Occupations. 
 
 309 
 
 round some seals which were on the back of it, and ex- 
 posed the 'mail;' which, forsooth, I found consisted 
 of a single letter ! Mine was presently laid peacefully 
 at the side of this earlier sharer of postal honour, and 
 I hope did not make the bundle too heavy for the 
 mail-boy's saddle-bags. 
 
 It used to amuse us to see how readily every one 
 round us took to new occupations, if anything hindered 
 his continuing the one in which he had previously 
 been engaged. You would hear of a tailor turning 
 freshwater sailor, and buying a flat-bottomed scow, to 
 take* goods from one part of the river to another; one 
 shoemaker turned miller, and another took to making 
 and eelling 'lumber.' A young lad, the son of a 
 minister, who wished to get a gocd education, first 
 hired himself out to chop cord-wood, and when he had 
 made enough to buy books, and keep a reserve on 
 hand, he engaged with a minister over th*; river, who 
 had an ' academy,' to give him tuition, in retarn for 
 having his horse cleaned, and the house-wood split. 
 Working thus, he gained Latin and Greek enough to 
 go to college ; but had to return to his axe, and work 
 for another winter, to get money to pay the expenses 
 of the first session. This obtamed, off he set, and 
 ended by taking the degree of M.A. at Yale College, 
 Connecticut. In the mean time, however, a change 
 had passed over his mind as to becoming a clergy- 
 man ; and instead of seeking a church, he went into 
 partnership with his brother in the patent medicine 
 
 i^ 
 
 -A\ 
 
3 lo The Parson for Driver. 
 
 trade, in which calling, I suppose, he is now engaged 
 in one of the United States' cities, 
 
 I was once travelling on a winter night, in a public 
 stage, on the edge of Lake OnUrio. The vehicle was 
 a high waggon, with a linen cover stretched over a 
 round framework, like a gipsy tent. I was the only 
 passenger, and had taken my place in the body of the 
 machine. This did not suit the driver, however, who 
 seemed to feel lonely ; and, after a time, turning round 
 to me, he said-' I guess we'd be better together this 
 cold night. Come this way— won't you ? ' Of course, 
 I instantly complied ; and then received, among much 
 various information on matters interesting to coach- 
 drivers, a narrative of his own life, a portion of which I 
 still remember : — 
 
 ' I'm a reg'lar preacher, you see,' said he. ' I was 
 on the circuit round Framley for one turn, and they 
 promised pretty fair, but I didn't get enough to keep 
 house on. Then I got changed to Dover circuit, and 
 that was worse. Says I to my wife— "Wife," says I, 
 " preachin' wont keep our pot bilin', anyhow— I must 
 scare up somethin' else, somehow." So I heard that 
 there was a new stage to be put on at Brownsville ; 
 and I went to Squire Brown, and told him that, if he 
 liked, I'd drive it ; and so, here I am— for, you see, the 
 mail stage has to go even if a parson should have to 
 drive it ; ' and he ended with a broad grin and a long 
 laugh — ha — ha — hal .^ . 
 
Iriver, 
 he is now engaged 
 
 er night, in a public 
 0. The vehicle was 
 •er stretched over a 
 :nt. I was the only 
 ;e in the body of the 
 driver, however, who 
 \ time, turning round 
 e better together this 
 I't you ? ' Of course, 
 iceivcd, among much 
 interesting to coach- 
 , a portion of which I 
 
 ce,' said he. ' I was 
 •r one turn, and they 
 t get enough to keep 
 to Dover circuit, and 
 wife— "Wife," says I, 
 ilin', anyhow— I must 
 IV." So I heard that 
 it on at Brownsville ; 
 d told him that, if he 
 [ am— for, you see, the 
 parson should have to 
 broad grin and a long 
 
 311 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Americanisms— Our poultry— The wasps— Their nests—' Bob't' 
 skill in killing them— Racoons— A hunt— Racoon cake— The 
 town of Busaco— Summer ' sailing '—Boy drowned— French 
 settlers. 
 
 E were struck, as every new comer is, by 
 the new meanings put by Canadians on 
 words, the new connexions in which they 
 used them, and the extraordinary way in 
 which some were pronounced. Of course, we heard 
 people ' guessing ' at every turn, and whatever any one 
 intended doing, he spoke of as ' fixing.' You would 
 hear a man say, that his waggon, or his chimney, or 
 his gun, must be ' fixed ; ' a girl would be ready to 
 take a walk with you, as soon as she had ' fixed herself;' 
 and the baby was always * fixed ' in the morning, when 
 washed and dressed for the day. ' Catherine,' said a 
 husband one day to his wife, in my hearing, pronounc- 
 ing the last syllable of her name so as to rhyme with 
 line, ' I calculate that them apples 'ill want regulatin',' 
 referring to some that were drying in the sun. They 
 •reckon' at every third sentence. A well-informed 
 man is said to be ' well posted up' in some particular 
 
312 
 
 Amcncanisins, 
 
 sul)ject. Instead of ' what,' tlicy very commonly gov 
 ' how,' in asking questions. A pony was praised to 
 as being ' as fat as mud.' In place of our exclamatioub 
 of surprise at the communication of any new fact, the 
 hstener will exclaim, * I want to know.' Any log, or 
 trunk of a tree, or other single piece of timber, is m- 
 variably a ' stick,' even if it be long enough for a mast. 
 All the stock of a timber-yard is alike ' lumber.' An 
 ewer is ' a pitcher ; ' a tin-pail is ' a kettle ;' a servant 
 is ' a help ; ' an employer is ' a boss ; ' a church pew is 
 ' a slip ; ' a platform at a meeting is ' a stage ; ' children 
 are ' juveniles ; ' and a baby is ' a babe.' In pronouncing 
 the words engine, or ride, or point, or any other word 
 with vowels prominent in it, if you would imitate a 
 Canadian, you would need to open your mouth vei 
 wide, and make as much of each sound as you ' 
 Of course, I speak only of the country folks, ni 
 born J the town people, and the educated classes, 
 generally speak as correctly as the same classes in Eng- 
 land. We cannot help noticing, moreover, that all 
 these corruptions are trifling compared with those 
 which we find in the popular dialects of different parts 
 of our own country. You can travel all through Canada 
 and understand everything you hear, except a word now 
 and then ; but at home, to pass from one shire to an- 
 other is often like passing to a diflfevent people, so far 
 as regards the language. The great amount of travel- 
 ling now-a-days compared with the fixed life of our 
 forefathers, may serve to account for this. People of 
 
y. 
 
 Oitr Poullyy, 
 
 3^Z 
 
 jct<f commonly snv 
 y was praised to 
 of our exclamations 
 )f any new fact, the 
 now.' Any log, or 
 ce of timbci, is in- 
 ; enough for a mast, 
 alike ' lumber.' An 
 a kettle;' a servant 
 IS ; ' a church pew is 
 5 ' a stage ; ' children 
 be.' In pronouncing 
 t, or any other word 
 fon would imitate a 
 :n your mouth vei 
 I sound as you ' 
 country folks, m 
 e educated classes, 
 same classes in Eng- 
 , moreover, that all 
 )mpared with those 
 ;cts of different parts 
 el all through Canada 
 ir, except a word now 
 from one shire to an- 
 ffevent people, so far 
 eat amount of travel- 
 the fixed life of our 
 for this. People of 
 
 every nation meet in Canada, and all come to speak 
 very nearly alike, because they move about so much ; 
 but the various races that settled in England or Scot- 
 land ages ago kept together closely, and conse(iuently 
 each learned to speak in a way of its own. 
 
 Our poultry increased very soon after our com- 
 mencing on the river, until it became (juite a ffock ; 
 but we had a gootl deal of trouble with them. The 
 weasels were very destructive to the chickens, and so 
 were the hen-hawks and chicken-hawks, which were 
 always prowling round. But the hens managed to 
 beat oli the last of these enemies, and a terrible noise 
 they made in doing so. The whole barn-yard popula- 
 tion used to give Robert great annoyance, by flying 
 over the fence he had put up round a piece of ground 
 set apart as a garden j but he succeeded in terrifying 
 them at last, by rushing out with a long whip when- 
 ever they made their appearance. The very sight of 
 him was enough, after a time, to send them off" with 
 outstretched wings and necks, and the most amazing 
 screeches and cackling ; it was laughable to see their 
 consternation and precipitate flight. Our turkeys were 
 a nuisance as well as a comfort to us : they were much 
 given to wandering, and so stupid withal, that if they 
 once got into the woods we rarely saw them again. 
 The only plan was to have their wings cut close, and 
 to keep them shut up in the barn-yard. In compensa- 
 tion for this trouble, however, we took ample revenge 
 both on them and the cocks and hens, alike in person 
 
314 Large Qiiatitities of Eggs. 
 
 and in the harvest of eggs, which formed a main 
 element in most of our dishes. We needed all we 
 cculd get. As to eggs, it seemed as if any quantity 
 -;» ould have been consumed. There was to be a ' bee ' 
 one time, to raise a second bam ; and my sisters were 
 in great concern because they could not find out 
 where the hens were laying. At last, they saw one go 
 down a hole in the barn floor, and instantly concluded 
 they had discovered the secret hoard. A plank was 
 forthwith lifted, and there, sure enough, were no less 
 than twenty dozen of eggs lying in one part or other. 
 It was hard work to get them out, but Henry and I 
 helped, and we brought them all to the house. In a 
 week or ten dayb there were not two dozen left. The 
 men who had attended the 'bee,' and one or two 
 whom we kept on at wages, had devoured them all in 
 cakes and puddings, or in the ordinary way. But 
 what would these bush-fellows not get down? One 
 day, we had a labourer with us, and Eliza, to please 
 him, set out a large glass dish of preserves, holding, 
 certainly, a pound weight at the least. She thought, of 
 course, he would take a little to his bread ; bu^ his 
 notions on the subject were very different, for, drawing 
 the dish to him, and taking up a tablespoon, he supped 
 down the whole in a succession of huge mouthfuls. 
 I have known a hired man eat a dozen of eggs at his 
 breakfast 1 
 
 The wasps were very numerous round the house 
 in summer. A nest of these creatures ensconced 
 
, 
 
 Hes of Eggs. 
 
 i, which formed a main 
 hes. We needed all we 
 eemed as if any quantity 
 
 There was to be a ' bee ' 
 )am ; and my sisters were 
 they could not find out 
 
 At last, they saw one go 
 r, and instantly concluded 
 :ret hoard. A plank was 
 ure enough, were no less 
 ying in one part or other, 
 em out, but Henry and I 
 a all to the house. In a 
 
 not two dozen left. The 
 e 'bee,' and one or two 
 had devoured them all in 
 
 the ordinary way. But 
 3ws not get down? One 
 h us, and Eliza, to please 
 dish of preserves, holding, 
 
 the least. She thought, of 
 ttle to his bread ; bu^ his 
 
 very different, for, drawing 
 up a tablespoon, he supped 
 ession of huge mouthfuls. 
 eat a dozen of eggs at his 
 
 umerous round the house 
 these creatures ensconced 
 
 Wasps. 
 
 Z'^S 
 
 themselves in a hole between two logs, in the front 
 part of it, and, as they never troubled us, we did 
 not trouble them. But not so our little terrier. Bob. 
 The mouth of the nest was about a yard from the 
 ground, and admitted only one at a time. Below 
 this, Bob would take his seat for hours together, 
 watching each arrival ; sometimes letting them go in 
 peaceably, but every now and then jumping rp at 
 them, with his lips drawn back, and giving a snap 
 which seldom failed to kill them. The little fellow 
 seemed to have quite a passion for wasp-hunting. 
 The dead proofs of his success would often lie thick 
 over the ground by evening. How the colony ever 
 bore up against his attacks I cannot imagine. One 
 day we saw John Robinson, a labourer, whom we had 
 engaged, rushing down in hot haste from the top of 
 the field flinging his arms about in every direction, 
 and making the most extraordinary bobbing and 
 fighting, apparently at nothing. But, as he got near, 
 he roared out, 'I've tumbled a wasps'-nest, and 
 they're after me,' and this was all we could get out of 
 him for some time. Indeed they followed him quite 
 a distance. He had been lifting a log that was im* 
 bedded in the ground, >vhen, behold 1 out rushed 
 a whole townful, sending him off at once in igno- 
 minious flight. I used to think the nests of the 
 wasps, which we sometimes found hanging from 
 branches in the woods, most wonderful specimens of 
 insect manufacture. They were oval in form, with 
 
3i6 
 
 Racoons. 
 
 the mouth at the bottom, and looked often not unlike 
 a clumsily made boy's top. But of what material 
 do you think they were constructed? Of paper- 
 real true paper, of a greyish colour, made by the 
 wasps gnawing off very small pieces of decayed wood, 
 which they bruise and work up till it changes its cha- 
 racter, and becomes as much paper as any we can 
 make ourselves. It is wonderful that me- should not 
 have found out, from such a lesson, the oi making 
 this most precious production much sooner than they 
 
 did. 
 
 The racoons, usually called 'coons, were a great 
 nuisance when the corn was getting ripe. They 
 came out of the woods at night, and did a great deal 
 of mischief in a very short time. We used to hunt 
 them by torchlight, the torches being strips of hickory 
 bark, or lumps of fat pine. We could have done 
 nothing, however, without the help of our dogs, who 
 tracked them to the trees in which they had taken 
 refuge, and then we shot them by the help of the 
 lights, amidst prodigious excitement and commotion. 
 It was very dangerous to catch hold of one of them if 
 it fell wounded. They could twist their heads so far 
 round, and their skin was so loose, that you were 
 never sure you would not get a bite in whatever way 
 you held them. The Weirs, close to us, got skins 
 enough one autumn to make fine robes for their sleigh. 
 I never knew but one man who had eaten racoon, 
 and he was no wiser than he needed to be. He was 
 
A Racoon Hunt. 
 
 317 
 
 i often not unlike 
 of what material 
 ed? Of paper — 
 )ur, made by the 
 of decayed wood, 
 it changes its cha- 
 er as any we can 
 at me*^ should not 
 the oi making 
 sooner than they 
 
 ons, were a great 
 tting ripe. They 
 d did a great deal 
 
 We used to hunt 
 ig strips of hickory 
 
 could have done 
 p of our dogs, who 
 ch they had taken 
 )y the help of the 
 nt and commotion, 
 d of one of them if 
 it their heads so far 
 ose, that you were 
 )ite in whatever way 
 se to us, got skins 
 robes for their sleigh. 
 
 had eaten racoon, 
 ded to be. He was 
 
 a farm-labourer, who stammered in his speech, and 
 lived all alone, and was deplorably ignorant. Meeting 
 him one day after a hunt, in which he had got a large 
 racoon for his share, he stopped me to speak of it 
 thus — ' Ggre-e-at rac-c-coon that — there was a p-pint 
 of oil in him — it m-made a-a m-most beautiful short- 
 cake ! ' I wished him joy of his taste. 
 
 I remember one racoon hunt which formed a sub- 
 ject of conversation for long after. Mr Weit's field 
 of Indian com had been sadly injured, and our own 
 was not much better, so we resolved on destroying 
 some of the marauders if possible. All the young 
 fellows for miles up and down the river, gathered in 
 the afternoon, to get a long talk beforehand, and to 
 make every preparation. Some of us saw to the torches 
 — that there were plenty of them, and that they were of 
 the right kind of wood ; others looked to the guns, to 
 have them properly cleaned, and the ammunition ready. 
 ' I say, Ned Thompson,' said one, ' I hope you won't 
 be making such a noise as you did last time, frighten- 
 ing the very dogs.' But the speaker was only told in 
 return, to keep out of the way of everybody else, and 
 not run the risk of being taken for a 'coon himself as 
 he went creeping along. In due time all work was 
 over for the night on our farm, the dogs collected, a 
 hearty supper enjoyed, amidst the boasts of some and 
 the jokes of others, and off we set The moon was 
 very young, but it hung in the clear heavens like a 
 silver bow. A short walk brought us to the forest, 
 
3i8 
 
 A Racoon Hunt. 
 
 and here we spread ourselves, so as to take a larger 
 sweep, intending that the two wings should gradually 
 draw round and make part of a circle. We could see 
 the crescent of the moon, every now and then, through 
 the fretted roof of branches, but it would have been 
 very dark on the surface of the ground had not the 
 torches lent us their brightness. As it was, many 
 a stumble checked our steps. It was rough work- 
 over logs, into wet spots, round trees, through brush, 
 with countless stubs and pieces of wood to keep you 
 in mind that you must lift your feet well, like the 
 Indians, if you did not wished to be tripped up. The 
 light gleaming through the great trees on the wild 
 picture of men and dogs, now glaring in the red flame 
 of the torches, now hidden by the smoke, was very 
 exciting. The dogs had not, as yet, scented anything, 
 but they gradually got ahead of us. Presently we 
 heard the first baying and barking. We forthwith made 
 for the spot, creeping up as silently as possible, while 
 the dogs kept the distracted racoon from making its 
 escape. How to get a glimpse of it was the trouble. 
 ♦There's nothing there that I can see,' whispered 
 Brown to me j but the dogs showed that they thought 
 differently, by the way they tore and scratched at the 
 bottom of the tree. What with the leaves, the feeble- 
 ness of the moonlight, and our distance from the 
 object, every eye was strained, for a time, without see- 
 ing a sign of anything living. At last, Henry motioned 
 that he saw it, and sure enough there it was, its shape 
 
 *.,-*- 
 
 .•MMililMiiiWiMfk' 
 
:j.Ut.ai.*.i^iW»i*a?*- 
 
 The Town of Busaco. 
 
 319 
 
 to take a larger 
 should gradually 
 le. We could see 
 and then, through 
 would have been 
 ound had not the 
 As it was, many 
 was rough work — 
 ;es, through brush, 
 ivood to keep you 
 feet well, like the 
 : tripped up. The 
 trees on the wild 
 ng in the red flame 
 le smoke, was very 
 t, scented anything, 
 us. Presently we 
 We forthwith made 
 ly as possible, while 
 on from making its 
 it was the trouble. 
 :an see,' whispered 
 sd that they thought 
 nd scratched at the 
 le leaves, the feeble- 
 distance from the 
 a time, without see- 
 ist, Henry motioned 
 lere it was, its shape 
 
 visible far up on a branch. Another moment and the 
 sharp crack of his rifle heralded its death and descent 
 to the ground. We had good success after this first 
 lucky shot, which had been only one of many fired at 
 v.'h3t seemed to be the racoon, but had been only 
 a knot in the tree, or, perhaps, a shadow. We did 
 not come home till late, when, with dogs almost as 
 tired as ourselves, the whole party re-assembled, 
 each bearing off his spoils with him if he had won 
 any. 
 
 I was walking up the toad one afternoon with my 
 brother, when we came to an opening on the right 
 hand, apparently only leading into pathless woods. 
 Stopping me, however, Henry turned and asked, ' If 
 I saw yon post stuck up in the little open?' It 
 was some time before I could make it out. At last 
 I noticed what he alluded to— simply a rough post, 
 six feet high, stuck into the ground, in the middle of 
 unbroken desolation. 'That's the centre of the 
 market-place in the town of Busaco, that is to be,' 
 said he. * All this ground is surveyed for a city, and 
 is laid out in building" lots,— not in farms.' I could 
 not help laughing. There was not a sign of human 
 habitation in sight, and the post must have been there 
 for years. When it will be a town it is very hard to 
 conjecture, It stands on the outside of a swampy 
 belt, which must have deterred any one from settling 
 in it, and towns don't go before agricultural improve- 
 ment, but follow it, in such a country as Canada, or, 
 
320 The Town of Biisaco. 
 
 indeed, anywhere, except in a merely manufacturing 
 district, or at some point on a busy line of travel. 
 Some time after, a poor man effected one great step 
 towards its settlement, by a very unintentional improve- 
 ment. He had a little money, and thought that if he 
 dug a deep, broad ditch, from the swamp to the river, 
 he could get enough water to drive a mill, which he 
 intended to build close to the bank. But it turned 
 out, after the ditch was dug, and his money gone, that 
 the water, which he thought came into the swamp from 
 springs, was nothing but rain, that had lodged in the 
 low places, and had been kept there by the roots of 
 trees and the want of drainage. For a time the stream 
 was beautiful, but, after a little, the swamp got better, 
 and the stream diminished, until, in a few weeks, 
 the channel was dry, and the swamp became good 
 land. I hope the poor fellow had bought it be- 
 fore commencing his ditch. If so, he would make 
 money after all, as his improvement raised its value 
 
 immensely. 
 
 A number of the young men of the humbler class 
 along the river used to go away each summer ' sailmg ' 
 —that is, they hired as sailors on the American vessels, 
 which traded in whole fleets between the eastern and 
 western towns on the great lakes. It was a very good 
 thing for them that they could earn money so easily, 
 but the employment was not always free from danger. 
 One lad, whom I knew very well-William Forth, the 
 
:: ". Ml I ntietr'.ifi, - ■-*-* ■ 
 
 (saco. 
 
 lerely manufacturing 
 busy line of travel, 
 cted one great step 
 lintentional improve- 
 i thought that if he 
 swamp to the river, 
 ive a mill, which he 
 lank. But it turned 
 liis money gone, that 
 into the swamp from 
 at had lodged in the 
 here by the roots of 
 i"or a time the stream 
 le swamp got better, 
 til, in a few weeks, 
 swamp became good 
 had bought it be- 
 so, he would make 
 nent raised its value 
 
 of the humbler class 
 ;ach summer ' sailing ' 
 the American vessels, 
 tween the eastern and 
 . It was a very good 
 earn money so easily, 
 fays free from danger. 
 ll_William Forth, the 
 
 Summer ' Sailing! 
 
 321 
 
 son of a decent Scotch tailor— was lost in it in the 
 autumn of our second year. He had sailed for Lake 
 Superior, and did not return at the time expected. 
 Then his friends began to be anxious, especially when 
 they heard the news of a great storm in the north- 
 west. He was never heard of again, and no doubt 
 perished with all the crew, his vessel having foundered 
 in the gale, \ears after, it was reported that a 
 schooner, sailing along the upper coast of Lake Huron, 
 came upon the wreck of a small ship, down in the 
 clear waters, and found means of hooking up enough 
 to show that it was the one in which our poor neigh- 
 bour's son had been engaged. Curiously and sadly 
 enough, a second son of the same parents met a 
 miserable death some years after. He was attending 
 a threshing-mill, driven by horses, and had for his part 
 to thrust in the straw to ' feed it ; ' but he, unfortun- 
 ately, thrust it in too far, and was himself drawn in, 
 and crushed between the innumerable teeth by which 
 the grain is pressed out. Before the machine could be 
 stopped, poor James was cut almost to pieces. Thu.i 
 even the peaceful St Clair had its share in the trials 
 that follow man under all skies. 
 
 Occasionally, accidents and calamities of this kind 
 would happen close to us, and I could not but be 
 struck at the depth of feeling to which they gave rise 
 amidst a thin population. The tenant on the only let 
 farm in the neighbourhood, who lived a mile from us, 
 
 21 
 
A Boy Dro'wned. 
 
 32a 
 
 lost a beautiful boy in a most distressing way. 
 There was a wood wharf close to his house, from the 
 end of which the lads used to bathe on fine summer 
 evenings. A number of them were amusmg them- 
 selves thus, one afternoon, when Mrs Gilbert, the wife 
 of the person of whom I speak, coming out from her 
 work, chanced to look at them, and saw one who was 
 diving and swimming, as she thought, very strangely. 
 A little after, they brought her the news that her boy 
 was drowned, and it turned out that it had been h.s 
 struggles at which she had been looking with such 
 unconcern. The poor woman took to her bed for 
 weeks directly she found it out, and seemed broken- 
 hearted ever after. 
 
 The number of French in our neighbourhood, and 
 the names of the towns and places on the map, all 
 along the western lakes and rivers, often struck me. 
 Beginning with Nova Scotia, we trace them the whok 
 way-proofs of the sway France once had in North 
 America. The bays and headlands, from the Atlantic 
 to the Far West, bear French names. For instance. 
 Cape Breton, and its capital, Louisburg, and Maine, 
 and Vermont, in the States. All Lower Canada was 
 French; then we have Detroit ou Lake St Clair; 
 Sault Ste Marie at Lake Superior ; besides a string of 
 old French names all doNvn the Mississippi, at the 
 mouth of which was the whilom French province of 
 Louisiana, on the Gulf of Mexico. This shows sigm- 
 
1 
 
 I/. 
 
 distressing way. 
 s house, from the 
 
 on fine summer 
 e amusing them- 
 
 Gilbert, the wife 
 ning out from her 
 
 saw one who was 
 ;ht, very strangely, 
 news that her boy 
 at it had been his 
 looking with such 
 »k to her bed for 
 d seemed broken- 
 
 eighbourhood, and 
 
 es on the map, all 
 
 ^, often struck me. 
 
 ace them the whole 
 
 once had in North 
 
 s, from the Atlantic 
 
 nes. For instance, 
 
 lisburg, and Maine, 
 
 Lower Canada was 
 
 oil Lake St Clair; 
 
 besides a string of 
 
 Mississippi, at the 
 
 French province of 
 
 This shows signi- 
 
srf 
 
Ah Indian Device, 
 
 3»3 
 
 ficantly the great vicissitudes that occur in the story 
 of a nation. But our own history has taught us the 
 same lesson. All the United States were once British 
 provinces. 
 
 I had come out early one morning, in spring, to 
 look at the glorious river which lay for miles like a 
 mirror before me, when my attention was attracted to 
 a canoe with a great green bush at one end of it, floating, 
 apparently empty, down the current. I soon noticed 
 a hand, close at the side, slowly sculling it by a pad- 
 dle, and keeping the bush down the stream. As it 
 glided past, I watched it narrowly. A great flock of 
 wild ducks were splashing and diving at some distance 
 below ; but so slowly and silently did the canoe drift 
 on, that they did not seem to heed it. All at once, 
 a puff of smoke from the bush, and the sound of a 
 gun, with the fall of a number of ducks, killed and 
 wounded, on the water, plainly showed what it meant 
 An Indian instantly rose up in the canoe, and paddled 
 with all haste to the spot, to pick up the game. It 
 was a capital plan to cheat the poor birds, and get 
 near enough to kill a good number. There were im- 
 mense flocks of waterfowl, after the ice broke up, 
 each year ; but they were so shy that we were very 
 little the better for them. It was very different in 
 earlier days, before population increased and incess- 
 ant alarm and pursuit had made, them wild, for the 
 whole province must once have been a great sporting 
 
 
3^4 
 
 Coolers Paradise. 
 
 ground. There is a mars . on Lake Ontario, not far 
 from Hamilton, called Coote's Paradise, from the 
 delight which an officer of that name found in the 
 myriads of ducks, &c., which thronged it thirty or 
 forty years ago. 
 
radise. 
 
 Z'^S 
 
 )n Lake Ontario, not far 
 ite's Paradise, from the 
 that name found in the 
 ch thronged it thirty or 
 
 Ctl AFTER XX. 
 
 Apple-bees— Orchards— Gorgeous display of apple-blossom— 
 A meeting in the woods— The ague— Wild parsnips— Man lost 
 in the woods. 
 
 |E had a great deal of fun when our orchard 
 got up a Httle, and when we were able to 
 trade with our neighbours for fruit, in 
 what they used to call ' apple-paring bees.' 
 The young folks of bolu sexes were invited for a given 
 evening in the autumn, and came duly provided with 
 apple-parers, which are ingenious contrivances, by 
 which an apple, stuck on two prongs at one end, is 
 pared by a few turns of a handle at the other. It is 
 astonishing to see how quickly it is done. Nor is the 
 paring all. The little machine makes a final thrust 
 through the heart of the apple, and takes out the core, 
 so as to leave nothing to do but to cut what remains in 
 pieces. The object of all this paring is to get apples 
 enough dried for tarts during winter, the pieces Avhen 
 cut being threaded in long strings, and hung up till 
 they shrivel and get a leather-like look. When wanted 
 for use, a little boiling makes them swell to their 
 original size again, and brings back their softness. 
 
 MWH 
 
326 
 
 Orcliards. 
 
 You may imagine how plentiful the fruit must Tje to 
 make such a liberal use of it possible, as that which 
 you see all through Canada. You can hardly go into 
 any house in the bush, however poor, without having 
 a large bowl of 'apple sass' set before you— that is, 
 of apples boiled in maple sugar. The young folks 
 make a grand night of it when the 'bee' comes off! 
 The laughing and frolic is unbounded ; some are busy 
 with their sweethearts ; some, of a grosser mind, are 
 no less busy with the apples, devouring a large pro- 
 portion of what they pare; and the whole proceed- 
 ings, in many cases, wind up with a dance on the bam- 
 
 floor. 
 
 While speaking of orchards and fiuit, I am re- 
 minded of the district along the River Thames, near 
 Lake St Clair. To ride through it in June, when the 
 apple-blossom was out, was a sight as beautiful as it 
 was new to my old country eyes. A great rolling sea 
 of white and red flowers rose and fell with the un- 
 dulations of the landscape, the green lost in the uni- 
 versal blossoming. So exhaustless, indeed, did it seem 
 even to the farmers themselves, that you could not enter 
 one of their houses without seeing quantities of it 
 stuck into jugs and bowls of all sorts, as huge bouquets, 
 like ordinary flowers, or as if, instead of the blossom 
 of splendid apples, it had been only hawthorn. 
 Canadian apples are indeed excellent— that is, the 
 good kinds. You see thousands of bushels small and 
 miserable enough, but they are used only for pigs, or 
 
fruit must be to 
 )le, as that which 
 an hardly go into 
 r, without having 
 fore you — that is. 
 The young folks 
 ' bee ' comes oft 
 i ; some are busy 
 grosser mind, are 
 uing a large pro- 
 le whole proceed- 
 lance on the bam- 
 
 a fiuit, I am re- 
 iver Thames, near 
 in June, when the 
 ; as beautiful as it 
 A. great rolling sea 
 I fell with the un- 
 en lost in the uni- 
 indeed, did it seem 
 you could not enter 
 ig quantities of it 
 !, as huge bouquets, 
 ;ad of the blossom 
 !n only hawthorn, 
 client— that is, the 
 f bushels small and 
 id only for pigs, or 
 
 A Meeting in the Woods. 327 
 
 for throwing by the cartload into cider-presses. The 
 eating and cooking apples would make any one's 
 mouth water to look at them— so large, so round, so 
 finely tinted. As to flavour, there can surely be no- 
 thing better. Families in towns buy them by the bar- 
 rel : in the country, even a ploughman thinks no more , 
 of eating them than if they were only transformed pota- 
 toes. Sweet cider, in its season, is a very common drink 
 in many parts. You meet it at the railway stations, and 
 on little stands at the side of the street, and are offered 
 it in private houses. Canada is indeed a great country 
 for many kinds of fruit. I have already spoken of 
 the peaches and grapes : the plums, damsons, melons,, 
 pears, and cherries, are equally good, and equally 
 plentiful. Poor Hodge, who, in England, lived on a 
 few shillings a week, and only heard of the fine things 
 in orchards, feasts like a lord, when he emigrates, on 
 all their choicest productions. 
 
 They were wonderful people round us for their 
 open-air meetings— very zealous and very noisy. I, 
 was on a visit at some distance in the summer-time, 
 and came on a gathering in the woods. There were 
 no ministers present, but some laymen conducted the' 
 services. All round, were waggons with the horses 
 unyoked, and turned round to feed from the vehicles 
 themselves, as mangers. Some of the intending 
 hearers sat on the prostrate logs that lay here and 
 there, others stood, and some remained in their con^ 
 veyances. There was no preparation of benches, 
 
 I 
 
3^8 
 
 The Ague. 
 
 or convenience of any kind. It so happened that I 
 came only at the close. The proceedings were over, 
 and there was nothing going on, for some time, but a 
 little conversation among the leaders. In one waggon 
 I noticed a whole htter of pigs, and found, on asking 
 how they came to be there, that they belonged to a 
 good woman who had no one with whom to leave 
 them at home, and had brought them with her, that 
 she might attend to their wants, and enjoy the meet- 
 ings, at the same time. There were often open-air 
 assemblies in the woods. Temperance societies, with 
 bands of music, drew great crowds. Rough boards 
 were provided for seats, and a rough platform did for 
 the speeches. All the country side, old and young, 
 went to them, for most of the people in the country 
 districts are rigid teetotallers. There are poor drunk- 
 ards enough, after all, but it is a wonder there are no 
 more, when whiskey is only a shilling or eighteen- 
 pence a gallon. 
 
 The great plague of the river was the ague, which 
 seized on a very large number. The poisonous va- 
 pours that rise from the undrained soil, in which a 
 great depth of vegetable matter lies rotting, must be 
 the cause, for when a district gets settled, and opened 
 to the sun, so that the surface is dried, it disappears. 
 I never had it myself, I am happy to say, but all my 
 brothers suffered from its attacks, and poor Eliza 
 shivered with it for months together. It is really a 
 dreadful disease. It begins with a burning fever, 
 
 i^'i^-.' 
 
Wild Parsnips. 
 
 3^9 
 
 happened that I 
 sediiigs were over, 
 ■ some time, but a 
 i. In one waggon 
 1 found, on asking 
 liey belonged to a 
 th whom to leave 
 lem with her, that 
 d enjoy the meet- 
 ere often open-air 
 ince societies, with 
 Is. Rough boards 
 jh platform did for 
 ie, old and young, 
 )ple in the country 
 ;re are poor drunk- 
 I'onder there are no 
 lining or eighteen- 
 
 •as the ague, which 
 The poisonous va^ 
 :d soil, in which a 
 es rotting, must be 
 settled, and opened 
 iried, it disappears. 
 ' to say, but all my 
 :s, and poor Eliza 
 her. It is really a 
 1 a burning fever, 
 
 occasioning a thirst which cannot be satisfied by 
 drinking any quantity of water, and when this passes 
 off, every bone shakes, the teeth rattle, the whole 
 frame quivers, with the most agonizing cold. All the 
 bedclothes in the house are found to be insufficient to 
 keep the sufferer warm. After a day's misery like this, 
 the attack ceases, and does not return till the second 
 day. Its weakening effects are terrible. If severe, the 
 patient can do nothing even in the interval of the 
 attacks, and they sometimes continue for seven and 
 eight months together. The only real remedy known 
 is quinine, and it is taken in quantities that astonish a 
 stranger. Of late years there has been far less of the ^ 
 disease in the older districts than formerly, and it is to 
 be hoped that, some day, it will disappear altogether, 
 but meanwhile it is a dreadful evil. It used to be a 
 common English disease, but it is now nearly un- 
 known in most parts of our country. Oliver Cromwell 
 died of it, and in Lincoln it was one of the most 
 prevalent maladies. I remember meeting an old 
 Englishwoman who firmly believed in the old recipe 
 for its cure, of a spider steeped in a glass of wine 
 and swallowed with it. That was the way, she said, 
 it had been cured in her part, and nothing could be 
 better ! 
 
 A terrible misfortune befell a worthy man residing 
 back from the river, one spring, through his son — a 
 growing boy — eating some wild parsnips in ignorance 
 of their being poisonous. The poor little fellow 
 
330 
 
 Children in the Wood^. 
 
 lingered for a time, and at last died in agony. This 
 must be reckoned among the risks families run in the 
 bush. I have known a number of cases of a similar 
 kind. 
 
 One day we were startled by a man crying to us 
 from the road that two children of a settler, a few 
 miles back, were lost in the woods, and that all the 
 neighbours were out, searching for them. We lost 
 no time in hurrying to the place, and found that the 
 news was only too true. The two little creatures — 
 a sister and brother — had wandered into the woods 
 to pull the early anemones, which come out with the 
 wild leeks, by the sides of creeks and wet places, at 
 the beginning of spring, and they had gradually run 
 to one flower after another, till they were fairly lost. 
 The excitement was terrible. Men and women alike 
 left everything, to search for them. The forest was 
 filled with the sound of their names, which voice 
 after voice called out, in hopes of catching an an- 
 swer. Night came, and all the searchers returned 
 unsuccessful, but there were others who kindled 
 lights, and spent the darkness in their kind efforts. 
 But it was of no use. Two — three — four — five — 
 six days passed, and the lost ones were still in the 
 great silent woods. At last, on the seventh day, 
 they came on them, but almost too late. The two 
 were lying on the ground — the little girl dead, the boy 
 far gone. Tender nursing, however, brought him 
 round, and he was able to tell, after a while, that they 
 
{^. 
 
 Lost in the Woods. 
 
 Zl"^ 
 
 n agony. This 
 lilies run in the 
 ies of a similar 
 
 n crying to us 
 1 settler, a few 
 nd that all the 
 hem. We lost 
 found that the 
 ttle creatures — 
 into the woods 
 ne out with the 
 i wet places, at 
 d gradually run 
 kvere fairly lost, 
 nd women alike 
 The forest was 
 ;s, which voice 
 ;atching an an- 
 rchers returned 
 s who kindled 
 eir kind efforts. 
 ;e — four — five — 
 vere still in the 
 lie seventh day, 
 late. The two 
 irl dead, the boy 
 r, brought him 
 , while, that they 
 
 had wandered hither and thither, as long as they could, 
 eating the wild leeks, bitter and burning as they 
 are, until the two could go no further. He did not 
 know that his sister was dead till they told him. It 
 was touching to see his father and mother swayed by 
 the opposite feelings of grief for the dead and joy for 
 the living. 
 
 Another time, in the winter, on a piercingly cold 
 night, we were roused from our seats round the fire, by 
 the cries of some one at a distance. Going to the 
 door, we found it was an unfortunate fellow who had 
 got bewildered by the snow covering the waggon 
 tracks in a path through the bush, and who was 
 trying to make himself heard, before the neighbours 
 ■went to bed. It was lucky for him we had not done so, 
 for our hours were very early indeed. It was so cold 
 that we could only stand a few minutes at the door 
 by turns, but we answered his cries, and had the 
 satisfaction of finding that he was getting nearer and 
 nearer the open. At last, after about half an hour, 
 he reached the high road, and was safe. But the 
 fellow actually had not politeness to come up next 
 day, or any time after, to say he was obliged by our 
 saving his life. 
 
 A poor woman, not far from us, had lost her hus- 
 band in the forest, many years before, under circum- 
 stances of peculiar trial She was then newly married, 
 and a stranger in the country, and he had gone out to 
 chop wood at some distance from their house, but 
 
 I 
 
33^ 
 
 Lost in the Woods. 
 
 had been unable to find his way back. His wife and 
 the neighbours searched long and earnestly for him, 
 but their utmost efforts failed to find him. Months 
 passed on, and not a word was heard of him imtil, at 
 last, after more than a year, some persons came upon 
 a human skeleton, many miles from the place, lying 
 in the woods, with an axe at its side, the clothes on 
 which showed that it was the long-lost man. He had 
 wandered farther and farther from his home, living on 
 whatever he could get in the woods, till death, at last, 
 ended his sorrows. 
 
 I shall never forget the story of a man who had 
 been lost for many dajs, but had, at last, luckily 
 wandered near some human habitations, and had 
 escaped. He was a timber-sciuarer — that is, he 
 Squared the great trees which were intended for ex- 
 portation, the squaring making them lie closely to- 
 gether, and thus effecting a saving in freight, and had 
 been employed on the Georgian Bay, amongst the 
 huge pine forests from which so many of those won- 
 derful masts, so much prized, are brought. His cabin 
 was at a good distance from his work, which lay now 
 at one point, and now at another. Fortunately it was 
 fine mild autumn weather, else he would have paid 
 with his life for his misadventure. On the morning of 
 the unfortunate day, he had set out at a very early 
 hour,leaving his wife and family in the expectation that 
 he would return at night, or within a few days at most. 
 For a great wonder, a fog chanced to be lying on the 
 
is. 
 
 ck. His wife and 
 earnestly for liim, 
 nd him. Months 
 rd of him until, at 
 )crsons came upon 
 m the place, lying 
 de, the clothes on 
 ost man. He had 
 lis home, living on 
 1, till death, at last, 
 
 if a man who had 
 .d, at last, luckily 
 )itations, and had 
 irer — that is, he 
 e intended for ex- 
 liem lie closely to- 
 in freight, and had 
 Bay, amongst the 
 nany of those won- 
 irought. His cabin 
 ork, which lay now 
 
 Fortunately it was 
 e would have paid 
 On the morning of 
 out at a very early 
 the expectation that 
 a few days at most. 
 
 to be lying on the 
 
 Losi in the Woods. 
 
 ZZ3> 
 
 ground, hiding everything at a few yards' distance, but 
 he took it for granted that he knew the road and 
 never thought of any danger. On, therefore, he 
 walked for some time, expecting, every moment, to 
 come on some indication of his approach to his place 
 of work. At last, the fog rose, and, to his surprise, 
 showed that he had walked till nearly noon, and was 
 in a spot totally unknown to him. Every tree around 
 .seemed the counterpart of its neighbour, and flowers 
 and ferns were on all sides the same ; nothing 
 offered any distinguishing marks by which to help him 
 to decide where he was. The path along which he had 
 walked was a simple trail, the mere beaten footsteps 
 of woodmen or Indians passing occasionally, and to 
 add to his perplexity, every here and there other trails 
 crossed it. at different angles, with nothing to dis- 
 tinguish the one from the other. 
 
 It was not for some hours more, however, that he 
 began to feel alarmed. He took it for granted he had 
 gone too far, or had turned a little to one side, and 
 that he had only to go back, to come to the place 
 he wished to reach. Back, accorrVlngly, he forthwith 
 turned, resting only to eat his dinner which he had 
 brought with him from home. But, to his utter dis- 
 may, he saw the sun getting lower and lower, without 
 any sign of his nearing his ' limit.' Grey shades began 
 to stretch through the trees ; the silence around 
 became more oppressive as they increased ; the long 
 >vhite moss on the trees, as he passed a swamp, looked 
 
334 
 
 Lost in the Woods. 
 
 the very image of desolation ; and, at last, he felt 
 convinced that he was lost. As evening closed, every 
 living thing around him seemed happy but he. Like 
 the castaway on the ocean, who sees the sea-birds 
 skimming the hollows of the waves or toppling over 
 their crests, joyful, as if they felt at home, he noticed 
 the squirrels disappearing in their holes j the crows 
 flying hzily to their roosts ; all the creatures of the day 
 betaking themselves to their rest. There was no 
 moon that night, and if there had been, he was too 
 tired to walk further by its light. He could do no more 
 than remain where he was till the morning came again. 
 Sitting down with his back against a great tree, he 
 thought of everything by turns. Turning round, he 
 prayed on his bended knees, then sat down again in his 
 awful loneliness. Phosphoric lights gleamed from the 
 decayed trees on the ground ; myriads of insects filled 
 the air, and the hooting of owk, and the sweep of 
 night-hawks and bats, served to fill his mind with 
 gloomy fears, but ever and anon, his mind reverted 
 to happier thoughts, and to a growing feeling of 
 confidence that he should regain his way on the 
 
 morrow. 
 
 With the first light he was on his feet once more, 
 after offering a prayer to his Maker, asking His help 
 in this terrible trial. He had ceased to conjecture 
 where he was, and had lost even the aid of a vague 
 track. Nevertheless, if he could only push on, he 
 thought he must surely effect his escape before long. 
 
(s. 
 
 , at last, he felt 
 ning closed, every 
 )py but he. Like 
 sees the sea-birds 
 
 or toppling over 
 
 home, he noticed 
 
 holes J the crows 
 
 reatures of the day 
 
 There was no 
 
 been, he was too 
 : could do no more 
 orning came again. 
 it a great tree, he 
 rurning round, he 
 it down again in his 
 s gleamed from the 
 ads of insects filled 
 
 and the sweep of 
 fill his mind with 
 
 his mind reverted 
 growing feeling of 
 n his way on the 
 
 his feet once more, 
 er, asking His help 
 ;ased to conjecture 
 the aid of a vague 
 only push on, he 
 escape before long. 
 
 Los/ in the Woods. 
 
 335 
 
 The sun had a great sweep to makf, and he was young 
 and strong. Faster and faster he pressed forwards as 
 the hours passed, the agony of his mind driving him 
 on the more hurriedly as his hopes grew fainter. 
 Fatigue, anxiety, and hunger were meanwhile growing 
 more and more unbearable. His nerves seemed fairly 
 unstrung, and as he threw himself on the ground to 
 spend a second night in the wilderness, the shadow of 
 death seemed to lower over him. Frantic at his awful 
 position, he tore his hair, and beat his breast, and 
 wept like a child. He might, he knew, be near home, 
 but he might, on the other hand, be far distant from 
 it. He had walked fifty miles he was sure, and where 
 in this interminable wilderness had he reached ? His 
 only food through the day had been some wild fruits 
 and berries, which were very scarce, and so acrid that 
 they Dained his gums as he ate them. He had passed 
 no stream, but had found water in holes of fallen trees. 
 What he suffered that niglit no one can realize who 
 has not been in some similar extremity. He had no 
 weapon but his axe, and hence, even if he came upon 
 deer or other creatures, he could not kill them— there 
 seemed no way to get out of the horrible labyrinth in 
 which he was now shut up. From the morning of the 
 third day his mind, he assured me, became so be- 
 wildered that he could recollect very little of what 
 then took place. How he lived he could hardly say- 
 it must have been on frogs, and snakes, and grass, 
 and weeds, as well as berries, for there were too few 
 
33^ 
 
 Lost in the Woods. 
 
 of these last to keep him alive. Once he was for unnle 
 cnou,h to come ou a tortoise, wlmh he cuukl not 
 resist the temptation to kill, though he knew that .f he 
 f..l!<,wea it .ini.tiy it wouUl guide hin. to some stream, 
 an.l thus allord him the means of escape. Its raw 
 flesh gave him two great meals. His clothes were m 
 tatters, his face begrimed, his luur and beard malted 
 his eyes hot and bloodshot, and his strength was fad- 
 ing fast. On the tenth day he thought he could go 
 no farther, but must lie down and die. But dehver- 
 1 1 Ac he Iw half unconscious 
 ance was now at hand. As ht lay, 
 from weakness of body and nervous exhaustion, he 
 Icied he heard the dip of oars. ^^^^^ 
 faculty was revived. His ear seemed to gather m. 
 natural quickness; he could have heard the ^n.^ 
 
 sound at a great distance. Mustermg all h. strcng , 
 he rose, and with the utmost haste nude lor the 
 .Section from which the cheering -"^ P-^^^^^^ 
 Down some slopes-up opposite banks-and there a 
 Lt the broad water lay before him. He could no 
 ett with the mere vision of hope, s. on he rushed 
 
 through the thick brush, over the fretung of fa Uen 
 „.ber and the brown carpet of leaves, till he reached 
 tfnver-bank. which was sloping at the po^^^^^^^^^ 
 he emerged, a tongue of land jutting out mto the 
 wat r cltar of trees. To the end of this, w.th anxiety 
 r;::cribable. he ran, and kneeled in the^tU^^f 
 prayer at once to God for his merciful deliverance, 
 and to man, when the boat should come, whose ap- 
 
h. 
 
 Lost in t/ie yVoods. 
 
 337 
 
 •c he was fortunnte 
 hidi ho coiilil ncjt 
 
 lie knew that if he 
 im to some stream, 
 f escape. Its raw 
 lis ilothcs were in 
 and beard malted, 
 s strength was fail- 
 loiight he could go 
 I die. But delivcr- 
 ,y, half unconscious 
 ous exhaustion, he 
 
 In an instant every 
 ;med to gather un- 
 ; heard the faintest 
 ring all his strength, 
 laste made for the 
 g sound proceeded, 
 junks— and there at 
 lim. He could not 
 e, so on he rushed 
 he fretting of fallen 
 eaves, till he reached 
 ; at the point where 
 jutting out into the 
 I of this, with anxiety 
 ;d in the attitude of 
 merciful deliverance, 
 luld come, whose ap- 
 
 proach he now heard more clearly from afar, — that he 
 might be taken to some human dwelling. The boat 
 did come — his feeble cry reached it, antl in a moment, 
 when they saw his thin arms waving for help as he 
 kneeled before them, the bows were turned to the 
 shore, and he was taken on board — the lost one 
 found 1 lie fainted as soon as he was rescued, and 
 such was his state of exhaustion, that at first it seemed 
 almost impossible to revive him. But by the care of 
 his wife, to whom he was restored as soon as possible, 
 he gradually gathered strength, and when I saw him 
 some years after was liearty and vigorous. The place 
 where he was found was full thirty miles from his own 
 house, and he must have wandered altogether at least 
 a hundred and fifty miles — probably in a series of 
 circles round nearly the same points. 
 
 aa 
 
338 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A tornado— Bats— Deserted lots -American inquisitiveness— 
 An election agent. 
 
 HAVE already spoken of the belt of trees 
 running back some miles from us, fami- 
 liarly called 'The Windfall/ from their 
 having been thrown down by a hurricane 
 many years before. Some years after, when living for 
 a time in another part of the province, I had a vivid 
 illustration of what these terrible storms really are. It 
 was a fine day, and I was jogging along quietly on my 
 horse. It was in the height of summer, and every- 
 thing around was in all the glory of the season. The 
 tall mints, with their bright flowers, the lofty Aaron's 
 rod, the beautiful Virginia creeper, the wild convol- 
 vulus, and wild roses, covered the roadsides, and ran, as 
 far as the light permitted them, into the openings of 
 the forest. The country was a long roll of gentle un- 
 dulations, with clear streamlets every here and there in 
 the hollows. The woods themselves presented a per- 
 petual pirture of beauty as I rode along. High above, 
 rose the great oaks, and elms, and beeches, and 
 maples, with their tall trunks free of branches till they 
 
SCXI. 
 
 imerican inquisitiveness — 
 ;ent. 
 
 len of the belt of trees 
 le miles from us, fami- 
 ; Windfall,' from their 
 rn down by a hurricane 
 rs after, when living for 
 province, I had a vivid 
 le storms really are. It 
 ing along quietly on my 
 of summer, and every- 
 )ry of the season. The 
 owers, the lofty Aaron's 
 eeper, the wild convol- 
 ve roadsides, and ran, as 
 2m, into the openings of 
 a long roll of gentle un- 
 s every here and there in 
 nselves presented a per- 
 ode along. High above, 
 :1ms, and beeches, and 
 free of branches till they 
 
 A Tornado. 
 
 339 
 
 stretched far overhead; while round their feet, not 
 too thic!:ly, but in such abundance as made the scene 
 perfect, waved young trees of all these kinds inter- 
 mixed with silver birches and sumachs. My horse 
 had stopped of his own accord to drink at one of the 
 brooks that brawled under the rude bridges across 
 the road, when, happening to look up, I noticed a 
 strange appearance in the sky, which I had not ob- 
 served before. A thick haze was descending on the 
 earth, like the darkness that precedes a storm. Yet 
 there was no other sign of any approaching convul- 
 sion of nature. There was a profound hush and gloom, 
 but what it might forebode did not as yet appear. I 
 was not, however, left long in ignorance. Scarcely 
 had my horse taken its last draught and forded across 
 the brook, than a low murmuring sound in the air, 
 coming from a distance, and unlike anything I had 
 ever heard before, arrested my attention. A yellow 
 spot in the haze towards the south-west likewise at- 
 tracted my notice. The next moment the tops of 
 the taller trees began to swing in the wind, which 
 presently increased in force, and the light branches 
 and tv igs began to break off. I was glad I happened 
 to be at an open spot, out of reach of immediate 
 danger, the edges -of the brook being cleared for some 
 distance on both sides. Two mi lUtcs more, and the 
 storm burst on the forest m all iu violence. Huge 
 trees swayed to and fro under its rude shock like the 
 masts of ships on a temp jstuous sea ; they rubbed 
 
 ■mm 
 
340 
 
 A Tornado. 
 
 and creaked like a ship's timbers when she rolls, and 
 the sky grew darker and darker, as if obscured by 
 a total eclipse of the sun. It was evident that the 
 fury of the storm would not sweep through the open 
 where I stood, but would spend itself on the woods 
 before me. Meanwhile, as I looked, the huge oaks 
 and maples bent before the tornado, the air was thick 
 with: their huge limbs, twisted off in a moment, and 
 the trees themselves were falling in hundreds beneath 
 the irresistible power of the storm. I noticed that 
 they always fell with their heads in the direction of 
 the hurricane, as if they had been wrenched round 
 and flung behind it as it passed. Some went down 
 bodily, others broke across, all yielded and sank in 
 ruin and confusion. The air got blacker and blacker 
 —a cloud of branches and limbs of trees filled the 
 whole breadth of the tempest, some of them flung by 
 it, every now and then, high up in the air, or dashed 
 with amazing violence to the ground. A few minutes 
 more, and jt swept on to make similar havoc in other 
 partsi But it was long before the air was clear of 
 the wreck of the forest. The smaller branches 
 seemed to float in it as if upheld by some current that 
 was sucked on by the hurricane, though unfelt on 
 the surface of the ground. In a surprisingly short 
 time a belt of the woods, about an eighth of a mile in 
 breadth, and running I cannot tell how far back, was 
 one vast chaos, through which no human efforts could 
 
 J 
 
1 
 
 A Tornado. 
 
 341 
 
 en she rolls, and 
 5 if obscured by 
 
 evident that the 
 hrough the open 
 elf on the woods 
 d, the huge oaks 
 
 the air was thick 
 n a moment, and 
 liundreds beneath 
 . I noticed that 
 , the direction of 
 1 wrenched round 
 
 Some went down 
 Ided and sank in 
 lacker and blacker 
 of trees filled the 
 ; of them flung by 
 
 the air, or dashed 
 id. A few minutes 
 ilar havoc in other 
 e air was clear of 
 smaller branches 
 f some current that 
 , though unfelt on 
 I surprisingly short 
 . eighth of a mile in 
 1 how far back, was 
 liuman efforts could 
 
 find a way. The same night, x«r we afterwards 
 learncil, the tornado had, struck points incredibly dis- 
 tant, taking a vast sweep across Lake Ontario, ravaging 
 a part of New York, and finally rushing away to the 
 north in the neighbourhood of Quebec. 
 
 The destruction it caused was not limited to its 
 ravages in the forest; farmhouses, barns, orchards, 
 and fences, were , swept away like chaff. I passed 
 one orchard in which every tree had been dragged 
 up and blown away ; the fences for miles, in the path 
 of the storm, were carried into the air like straws, 
 never to be found again ; the water in a mill-pond 
 by the roadside was lifted fairly out of it, and the 
 bottom left bare. At one place a jjarn and stables 
 had been wrenched into fragments, the contents scat- 
 . .v>d to the wu:cs, and the very horses lifted into 
 ih^ air, and carried some distance. Saw-mills were 
 stripped of their whole stock of ' lumber,' every plank 
 being swept up into the vortex, and stre\vn no one 
 knew whitlier. There were incidents as curious as 
 extraordinary in the events of the day. A " sheep 
 was found on one farm, uninjured, beneath a huge 
 iron kcUle, which had been carried off and capsized 
 over the poor animal, as if in sport. Wherever the 
 storm passed through the forest was, from that mo- 
 ment, a tangled desolation, left to itself, except by 
 the beasts that might choose a safe covert in its re- 
 cesses. Thenceforth, the briars and bushes would 
 
34a 
 
 Bats. 
 
 have it for their own, and grow undifturbed. No 
 human footstep would ever turn towards it till all the 
 standing forest around had been cut down. 
 
 The bats were very plentiful in summer, and used 
 often to fly into the house, to the great terror of my 
 sister Margaret, who used to be as afraid of a bat as 
 .Buffon was of a squirrel. They were no larger than 
 our English bats, and undistinguishable from them to 
 an ordinary eye. Almost as often as we went out on 
 the fine warm evenings, we were attracted by their fly- 
 ing hither and thither below the branches of the trees, 
 or out in the open ground, beating the air witli great 
 rapidity with their wonderful membranous wmgs. A 
 bird peculiar to America used to divide attention witn 
 them in the twilight-the famous ' whip-poor-will,' one 
 of the family of the goatsuckers; of which, in Eng- 
 land, the night-jar is a well-known example. It is 
 amazing how distinctly the curious sounds, from which 
 it takes its name, are given ; they are repeated incess- 
 antly, and create no little amusement when they come 
 from a number of birds at once. The flight of the 
 whip-poor-will is very rapid, and they double, and 
 twist, and turn in a surprising way. Their food is the 
 larger moths and insects, any of which, I should think, 
 they could swallow, for it is true in their case at least, 
 that their ' mouth is from ear to ear.' The gape is 
 enormous, reaching even behind the eye ; and woe 
 betide any unfortunate moths or chaffers that may cross 
 their path. It sees perfectly by nighl, but is purblind 
 
 J 
 
ndifturbed. No 
 ards it till all the 
 iown. 
 
 immer, and used 
 reat terror of my 
 afraid of a bat as 
 re no larger than 
 ible from them to 
 IS we went out on 
 racted by their fly- 
 iches of the trees, 
 the air witli great 
 ranous wings. A 
 vide attention witn 
 vhip-poor-will,' one 
 of which, in Eng- 
 1 example. It is 
 sounds, from which 
 ire repeated incess- 
 :nt when they come 
 The flight of the 
 they double, and 
 Their food is the 
 lich, I should think, 
 r\ their case at least, 
 ear." The gape is 
 the eye ; and woe 
 laffers that may cross 
 light, but is purblind 
 
 Deserted Lots. 
 
 343 
 
 by day, its huge eye showing, the moment you see it, 
 that, like that of the owls, it is for service in partial 
 darkness. The light completely confuses it, so that, 
 until sunset, it is never seen, unless when one comes 
 by accident upon its resting-place, where it sits sleep- 
 ing on some log or low branch, from which it will only 
 fly a very short distance if disturbed, alighting again 
 as soon as possible, and dozing off" forthwith. They 
 used to come in June, and enliven the evenings till 
 September, when they left us again for the south. 
 Some people used to think it fine sport to shoot birds 
 so swift of flight ; but, somehow, I could never bring 
 myself to touch creatures that ^oke my own language, 
 however imperfectly. 
 
 Immediately behind our lot was one which often 
 struck me as very desolate-looking when I had to go 
 to it to bring home the cows at night. A field had 
 been cleared, and a house built, but both field and 
 house were deserted : long swamp grass grew thick in 
 the hollows ; nettles, and roses, and bushes of all 
 kinds, climbed up, outside and in j the roof was gone, 
 and only the four walls were left. I never learned 
 more than the name of the person who had expended 
 so much labour on the place, and then abandoned it. 
 But there were other spots just like it all over the 
 bush ; spots where settlers had begun with high hopes ; 
 had worked hard for a time, until they lost heart, or 
 had been stopped by some insurmountable obstacle, 
 and had deserted the home they had once been so 
 
 fl 
 
344 American Inquisitiveness. 
 
 proud of. One case I knew was caused by a touching 
 incident of bush-life. A young, hearty man, had gone 
 out in the morning to chop at his clearing, but had 
 not returned at dinner, and was found by his wife, 
 when she went to look for him, lying on his back, 
 dead, with a tree he had felled resting on his breast. 
 It had slipped back, perhaps, off the stump in falling, 
 and liad crushed him beneath it. What agony such 
 an accident in such circumstances must have caused 
 to the sufferer ! The poor fellow's wife could do no- 
 thing even towards extricating her husband's body, but 
 had to leave it there till the neighbours came, and 
 chopped the tree in two, so that it could be got away. 
 No wonder she ' sold out,' and left the scene of so 
 great a calamity. 
 
 Every one has heard of the inquisitiveness of both 
 
 Scotchmen and Americans. I allude more particularly 
 
 to those of the humbler ranks. I have often laughed 
 
 at the examples we met with in our intercourse not 
 
 only with these races, but with the less polished of 
 
 others, also, in Canada. I was going down to Detroit 
 
 on the little steamer which used to run between that 
 
 town and Lake Huron— a steamer so small that it was 
 
 currently reported among the boys, that one very stout 
 
 lady in the township had made it lurch when she went 
 
 on board— and had got on the upper deck to look 
 
 round. The little American village on the opposite 
 
 side was 'called at,' and left, in a very few minutes, 
 
 and we were off again past the low shores of the river. 
 
eness. 
 
 sed by a touching 
 ty man, had gone 
 clearing, but had 
 )und by his wife, 
 ^^ing on his back, 
 ing on his breast. 
 e stump in falling, 
 What agony sucli 
 must have caused 
 ivife could do no- 
 usband's body, but 
 hbours came, and 
 ;ould be got away. 
 ft the scene of so 
 
 isitiveness of both 
 e more particularly 
 liave often laughed 
 lur intercourse not 
 e less polished of 
 ag doAvn to Detroit 
 ) run between that 
 so small that it was 
 that one very stout 
 irch when she went 
 pper deck to look 
 je on the opposite 
 1 very few minutes, 
 shores of the river. 
 
 American Inqidsitiveness. 345 
 
 A little pug-nosed man, in a white hat and white linen 
 jacket, was the only one up beside me ; and it was 
 not in his nature, evidently, that we should be long 
 without talking. ' Fine captain on this here boat ? ' 
 said he. I agreed with him offliand ; that is, I took it 
 for granted he was so. ' Yes, he's the likeliest captain 
 I've seen since I left Ohio. How plain you see whar 
 the boat run— look ! Well we're leaving County- 
 Seat right straight, I guess. Whar you born?' 
 * Where do you think ? ' I answered. ' Either IreUmd 
 or Scotland, anyhow.' ' No. You're Irish, at any rate, 
 I suppose ? '—I struck in. ' No, sirr— no, sirree— I'm 
 Yankee born, and bred in Yankee to\vn, and my 
 parents afore me. Are you travelling altogether ? ' I 
 asked him what he meant, for I really didn't under- 
 stand this question. 'Why travelling for a living— 
 what do you sell ? ' On my telii.ig him he was wrong 
 for once, he seemed a Uttle confounded ; but presently 
 recovered, and drew a bottle out of his breast-pocket, 
 adding, as he did so — ' Will you take some bitters ? ' 
 I thanked him, and said, I was ' temperance.' ' You 
 don't drink none, then ? Well, I do ; ' on which he 
 suited the action to the word, putting the bottle back 
 in its place again, after duly wiping his lips on his cuff. 
 But his questions were not done yet. 'Whar you 
 live ? ' I told him. ' Married man ? ' I said I had 
 not the happiness of being so. ' How long since you 
 came from England ? ' I answered. ' You remember 
 when you came?' I said' I hoped I did, else my 
 
346 An Election Agent. 
 
 faculties must be failing. 'I guess you, were pretty 
 long on the waters?' But I was getting tired of his 
 impudence, and so gave him a laconic answer, and 
 dived into the cabin out of his way. 
 
 I was very much amused at a rencontre between 
 the 'captain,' who seemed a really respectable man, 
 and another of the passengers, who, it appeared, had 
 come on board without having money to pay his fare. 
 The offender was dressed in an unbleached Unen 
 blouse, with 'dandy' trowsers, wide across the body, 
 and tapering to the feet, with worn straps of the 
 same material; old boots of a fashionable make, an 
 open waistcoat, and an immensity of dirty-white shirt- 
 breast ; a straw hat, and a long green and lilac ribbon 
 round it. A cigar in his mouth, a mock ring on his 
 finger, and a very bloodshot eye, completed the picture. 
 It seemed he was a subordinate electioneering agent, 
 sent round to make stump speeches for his party, and, 
 generally, to influence votes ; and the trouble with the 
 captain evidently rose from his wishing to have his fare 
 charged to the committee who sent him out, rather than 
 pay it himself. The captain certainly gave him no 
 quarter. ' He's a low, drunken watchmaker,' said he, 
 turning to me ; I saw him last night spouting away for 
 General Cass on the steps of the church at Huron. 
 The fellow wants to get off without paying— I suppose 
 we'll have to let him.' And he did. He got through 
 to the journey's end. 
 
IJiiSLtS-^Ot-^Sx 
 
 you, were pretty 
 ;tting tired of his 
 ;onic answer, and 
 
 rencontre between 
 r respectable man, 
 », it appeared, had 
 ley to pay his fare, 
 unbleached linen 
 e across the body, 
 om straps of the 
 hionable make, an 
 of dirty-white shirt- 
 2en and lilac ribbon 
 a mock ring on his 
 impleted the picture, 
 ilectioneering agent, 
 ts for his party, and, 
 the trouble with the 
 hing to have his fare 
 ; him out, rather than 
 rtainly gave him no 
 vatchmaker,' said he, 
 ;ht spouting away for 
 le church at Huron. 
 at paying — I suppose 
 lid. He got through 
 
 347 
 
 CHAPTER XXn. 
 
 ^ journey to Ni.agara-River St Clair-Detroit-A slave's escape 
 —An American steamer-Description of the Falls of Niagara 
 —Fearful catastrophe. 
 
 |HE country on the St Clair, though beauti- 
 ful from the presence of the river, was, in 
 itself, flat and tame enough. All Canada 
 West, indeed, is remarkably level. The 
 ridge of limestone hills which runs across from the 
 State of New York at Niagara, and stretches to the 
 north, is the only elevation greater than the round 
 sweHs, which, in some parts, make the landscape look 
 like a succession of broad black waves. The borders 
 of the St Clair itself were higher than the land imme- 
 diately behind them, so that a belt of swamp ran 
 parallel with the stream, rich reaches of black soil 
 rising behind it, through township after township. 
 The list of natural sights in such a part was not great, 
 though the charms of the few there were were unfad- 
 ing. There was the river itself, and there was the vast 
 leafy ocean of tree-tops, with the great aisles with in- 
 numerable pillars stretching away underneath like 
 some vast cathedral of nature; but these were common 
 
348 
 
 Detroit. 
 
 to all the country. The One Wonder of the and w 
 at a distance. It was Niagara. How we longed o see 
 Ui But it was some years before any of us could 
 and there was no opportunity of g-"g /^ecthe^ I 
 had to set out by myself. It was m te month o 
 September, just before the leaves began to ^-n ^e 
 weather was glorious-not too warm, and as br., as 
 in Italy. I started in the little steamer for Uc rot 
 pass ng the Indian settlement at Walpole Island 
 th broad flats covered with coarse grass, towards the 
 the broaa n threadmg the 
 
 entrance of Lake bt Clair, anu. , 
 
 lake ilself, through .he channel marked o aeros ^^ 
 
 like telegraphs on each side ot a street, 
 the London of all the folks on the nver. Ihey 
 tougtt everything they wanted ^ere it bemg easy^^^ 
 access and its size offering a larger choice than cQuld 
 roblined elsewhere. It is a great andjow.^^^^ 
 Place • though, in the lifetime of a person st 11 hvmg 
 !LGei;eral Ca;s-it was only the ^^^:^ 
 which it had been for a hundred years before. Takmg 
 t s ler to Buffalo, which started in an hour or wo 
 after I got to Detroit, I was once more on my way a 
 Wternoon was drawing to a close. We w.e to c. 
 at various British ports, so that I had a chance o 
 ling different parts of the province that I had no 
 vet V sited. The first step in our voyage was to cross 
 r rdwich, the village on the Ca^^^^^^^^^ 
 opposite Detroit, from which it xs less than a mde dis- 
 
A Slave's Escape. 
 
 349 
 
 ;r of the land was 
 V we longed to see 
 any of us could, 
 joing together. I 
 i in the month ot 
 ;gan to turn. The 
 1, and as bright as 
 ;eamer for Dctro'.t, 
 t Walpole Island, 
 ; grass, towards the 
 last, threading the 
 arked out across its 
 long lines of poles, 
 street. Detroit was 
 n the river. They 
 ere, it being easy of 
 zx choice than could 
 great and growing 
 a person still living 
 little French village 
 ^ears before. Taking 
 •ted in an hour or two 
 ; more on my way as 
 lose. We were to call 
 [ I had a chance of 
 jvince that I had not 
 ir voyage was to cross 
 the Canadian shore, 
 is less than a mile dis- 
 
 tant. I was glad to see a spot so sacred to liberty— 
 for Sandwich is the great point which the fugitive 
 slaves, from every part of the Union, eagerly attempt 
 to reach. I felt proud of my country at the thought 
 that it was no vain boast, but a glorious truth, that 
 slaves could not breathe in England, nor on British 
 soil ; that the first touch of it by the foot of the 
 bondsman broke his fetters and made him free for 
 ever. I was so full of the thought, that when we 
 were once more under weigh it naturally became the 
 subject of conversation with an intelligent fellow- 
 traveller, who had come on board at Sandwich. ' I 
 was standing at my door,' said he, ' a week or two 
 ago, when I saw a skiff with a man in it, rowing, in 
 hot haste, to our side. How the oars flashed— how 
 his back bent to them— how he pulled ! It was soon 
 evident what was his object. As he came near, I saw 
 he was a negro. Though no one was pursuing, he 
 could not take it easy, and, at last, with a great bend, 
 he swept up to the bank, pulled up the skiff, and ran 
 up to the road, leaping, throwing up his hat in the air, 
 shouting, singing, laughing-in short, fairly beside him- 
 self with excitement. " I'm free ! I'm free !— no more 
 slave !" was the burden of his loud rejoicing, and it 
 was long before he calmed down enough for any 
 one to ask him his story. He had come all the way 
 up the Mississippi from Arkansas, travelling by night, 
 lying in the woods by day, living on com pulled from 
 the fields or on poultry he could catch round farm- 
 
A Slaves Escape. 
 
 350 
 
 houses or negro quarters ; sometimes eating them raw, 
 lest the smoke of liis fire should discover hnn. At 
 last he reached Illinois, a free State, after long weeks 
 of travel ; but here his worst troubles began. Not 
 being able to give a very clear account of himself, they 
 put him in jail as a " fugitive." But he gave a wrong 
 name instead of his own, and a wrong State mstead of 
 that from which he had come. He told them, m fact, 
 he had come from Maryland, which was at the very 
 opposite side of the Union from Arkansas, and was 
 kept in jail for a whole year, while they were advertis- 
 ing him, to try to get some owner to claim h.m, and 
 they let him off only when none appeared m the 
 whole twelve months. This ordeal passed, he gradu- 
 ally made his way to Detroit, and now, after runnmg 
 such a terrible gauntlet, he had risen from a mere 
 chattel to be a man ! ' Seeing the interest I took m 
 the incident, he went on to tell me others equally 
 exciting. One which I remember, was the rescue of 
 a slave from some officers Avho had discovered hnn m 
 one of the frontier towns of the States, and were 
 taking him, bound, like a sheep, to Buffalo, to carry 
 him off to his master in the South. Indignant at such 
 treatment of a fellow-man, a young Englishman, who 
 had since been a member of the Canadian Parliament 
 and was then on the boat with him, determined, if 
 possible, to cheat the men-stealers of their prey. 
 Breaking his design to the coloured cook, and through 
 him, getting the secret aid of all the other coloured 
 
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An American Steamer. 
 
 ZS"^ 
 
 men on the boat, he waited till they reached Buffalo, 
 some of the confederates having previously told the 
 poor slave the scheme that was afoot. As the boat 
 got alongside the wharf, seizing a moment when his 
 guards had left him, the gallant young fellow effectu- 
 ally severed the rope that bound the slave, and, telling 
 him to follow him instantly, dashed over the gangway 
 to the v.rharf, and leaped into a skiff which was lying 
 at hand, with oars in it ready, the negro following at 
 his heels in a moment ; then, pushing off, he struck 
 out into the lake, and reached Canada safely with his 
 living triumph. The story made a thrill run through 
 me. It was a brave deed daringly done. The risk 
 was great, but the object was noble, and he must have 
 had a fine spirit who braved the one to accomplish the 
 other. 
 
 The ster.mer itself was very different from those 
 with which I had bee-, familiar in England. Instead 
 of cabins entirely below the deck, the body of the 
 ship was reserved for a dining-room, surrounded by 
 berths, and one portion of it covered in for cargo; 
 the ladies' cabin was raised on the back part of the 
 main deck, wth a walk all round it ; then came an 
 open space with sofas, which was like a hall or lobby 
 for receiving passengers or letting them out. Next 
 to this, at the sides, was a long set of offices, facing 
 the engine-room in the centre, and reaching beyond 
 the paddle-boxes, both the side and central structures 
 being continued for some distance, to make places for 
 
352 An American Steamer. 
 
 the cook's galley, for a bar for selling spirits and cigars, 
 for a barber's shop, and for I know not what other 
 conveniences. Covering in all these, an upper deck 
 stretched the whole length of the ship, and on this 
 rose the great cabin, a long room, provided with sofas, 
 mirrors, carpets, a piano, and every detail of a huge 
 drawing-room,-innumerable doors at each side open- 
 ing into sleeping places for the gentlemen travellers. 
 It was a fine sight, with its profusion of gildmg and 
 white paint on the walls and ceiling, its paintmgs on 
 panels at regular intervals all round, its showy furni- 
 ture, and its company of both sexes. You could get 
 on the top even of this cabin, if you liked, or, if you 
 thought you were high enough, might go out on the 
 open space at each end, where seats in abundance 
 awaited occupants. The whole structure, seen from 
 the wharf when it stopped at any place, was liker a 
 floating house than a ship, and seemed very strange 
 to me at first, with its two stories above the deck, 
 and its innumerable doors and windows, and its 
 dazzling white colour from stem to stern. Such 
 vessels may do well enough for calm weather or for 
 rivers, but they axe far from safe in a storm at any 
 distance from land. The wind catches them so 
 fiercely on their great high works that they are like 
 .' to capsize, when a low-built ship would be in no 
 ■ danger. Indeed, we had a proof of this on coming 
 out of Buffalo to cross to Chippewa ; for as the wind 
 had blown during the night while we were ashore, 
 
 -^ ^>^ 
 
 I .. ■jAV!C ||-.jrt ---^- ■' -- " -"-"'-«•■- 
 
An American Steamer. 
 
 iS^ 
 
 3 and cigars, 
 :what other 
 
 upper deck 
 and on this 
 d with sofas, 
 il of a huge 
 ;h side open- 
 en travellers. 
 
 gilding and 
 
 paintings on 
 
 showy furni- 
 rou could get 
 ed, or, if you 
 out on the 
 n abundance 
 re, seen from 
 e, was liker a 
 i very strange 
 >ve the deck, 
 lows, and its 
 
 stern. Such 
 Breather or for 
 
 storm at any 
 ches them so 
 
 they are like 
 )uld be in no 
 (lis on coming 
 jr as the wind 
 J were ashore, 
 
 we found when we started again next morning that 
 the shallow water of that part of the lake was pretty 
 rough, and our way leading us almost into the trough 
 of the waves, the boat swayed so much to each side 
 alternately that the captain got all the passengers 
 gathered in a body, and made them run from the low 
 to the high side by turns, to keep it from swamping. 
 The water was actually coming in on the main deck 
 at every roll. It was very disagreeable to have such 
 a tumbling about, but this ugly state of things did 
 not last long. The smooth water of the Niagara was 
 soon reached, and we were gliding down to within 
 about three miles or so of the Falls, as quietly and 
 carelessly as if no such awful gulf were so near. I 
 could not help thinking how terrible it would have 
 been had any accident. injured our machinery in such 
 a position. There certainly were no sails on the 
 boat, and I greatly question if there was an anchor, 
 the short distance of her trips making one generally 
 unnecessary. At last we got safely into Chippewa 
 Creek, and all chance of dan^^er had passed away. 
 
 Long before reaching this haven of refuge, a white 
 mist, steadily rising, and disappearing high in the air, 
 had marked with unmistakable certainty our near ap- 
 proach to the grand spectacle I had come to see. 
 Never for a moment still, it had risen and sunk, grown 
 broader and lighter, melted into one great cloud, or 
 broken into waves of white vapour, from the time I 
 had first seen it, and had made me restless till I was 
 
 23 
 
 \,a\ 
 
354 "^h^ Falls of Niagara. 
 
 safely on shore. The sensation was painful — a kind 
 of instinct of danger, and an uneasiness till it was 
 past. Having nothing to detain me, I determined to 
 lose no time ih getting to the Falls themselves ; and 
 therefore, leaviftg my portmanteau to be sent on 
 after me, I set out for them on foot. There is a 
 beautiful broad road to the spot, and it was in ex- 
 cellent order, as the fall rains had not yet com- 
 menced, so that I jogged on merrily, and r/as soon at 
 my journey's end at Drummondville, the viUage near 
 the Falls, on the Canada side, where I resolved to 
 stay for some days. One of the finest views of the 
 great wonder burst upon my sight during this walk. 
 On a sudden, at a turn of the road, an opening in the 
 trees showed me the Falls from behind, in the very 
 bend downwards to the gulf beneath. The awful 
 gliding of the vast mass of waters into an abyss which, 
 from that position, only showed its presence without 
 revealing its depth, filled me with indescribable awe. 
 Over the edge, whither, I as yet knew not, were de- 
 scending, in unbroken volume, millions of tons of 
 water. Above, rose the ever-changing clouds of 
 vapour, like the smoke from a vast altar, and behind, 
 looking up the river, were the struggling waves of 
 the rapids, covering the whole breadth of the stream 
 with bars of restless white. After seeing Niagara 
 from every other point of view, I think this is one of 
 the finest. The leap into the hidden depths has in 
 it something awful beyond any power of description. 
 
*H 
 
 ill — a kind 
 till it was 
 termined to 
 selves; and 
 )e sent on 
 There is a 
 was in ex- 
 )t yet corn- 
 was soon at 
 vlUage near 
 resolved to 
 views of the 
 ng this walk, 
 pening in the 
 I, in the very 
 The awful 
 abyss which, 
 sence without 
 icribable awe. 
 not, were de- 
 ls of tons of 
 ig clouds of 
 r, and behind, 
 jling waves of 
 of the stream 
 eeing Niagara 
 L this is one of 
 depths has in 
 f description. 
 
 The Falls of Niagara. 355 
 
 You may be sure I did full justice to the oppor- 
 tunities my visit aflforded me, and kept afoot, day after 
 day, with praiseworthy diligence. My first walk to 
 the Falls, from the village, brought me, through a 
 break in a sandy bank, to a spot from which nothing 
 could be seen at the bottom of a gorge but the' 
 white foam of the American Fall. The trees filled 
 each side of the descent, arching overhead, and made 
 the vista even more beautiful than the wild outline 
 of the bank itself would have been ; the water, like 
 sparkling snow, drifting in long tongues down the 
 face of the hidden rocks, filling up the whole view 
 beyond. It depended on the position of the sun 
 whether the picture were one of dazzling white or 
 more or less dulled ; but at all times the falling water, 
 broken into spray and partially blown back as it 
 descended, by the force of the air, was one of sur- 
 passing beauty. The American Fall, though nine 
 hundred feet wide, hasi only a small part of the cur- 
 rent passing over it, and it is this shallowness that 
 makes it break into foam at the moment of its de- 
 scent. Emerging on the road at the edge of the river, 
 the great Horse-shoe was at once before me on my 
 right hand. No wonder the Indians called it 'Ni- 
 wa-gay-rah'— the 'Thunder of Waters.' A mass of 
 a hundred millions of tons of water, falling a depth of 
 a hundred and fifty feet in the course of a single 
 hour, while you stand by, may well give suoii a sound 
 as overwhelms the listener's sense of hearing. It is 
 
356 The Falls of Niagara. 
 
 „o use attempting .0 picture .he seen. I.™ -c 
 
 time before I could go near the edge, b» a. IM^ 
 r„ my head was less diz.y, I wen. ou on the 
 ;^ec.ing point called the Table Ro*, wh.ch h , 
 however long since fallen into the abyss, »nd 'here, 
 r»ere ledge from which all beneath had been 
 ten :Zb*e spray, I could let the spectacle 
 
 plallyfll my mind. You ca"- - N.»J» »' 
 Jnce; it takes day after day to reate '^ "-»';'; 
 , „a astonished at the slow unbroken fall of the 
 \\„ So vast is the quantity hangmg m the a. 
 Tany one moment, that it moves down m a grea 
 r sheet with a slow, awful descent. The patches 
 S^:rrd in spot: here and there showed how 
 
 rlir^e -u?dtT->Picc-.He smooth 
 
 ^trsrsir^^rsThr^edf e 
 insrrwrfi^r^r-rifin:. 
 
 had be n it was since washed away, and no efforts 
 had been, Tlescending a spiral staircase close 
 
 could recover it. Uescenaiub •>■ ^ 
 
The Falls of Niagara, 
 
 357 
 
 It was some 
 
 but at last, 
 
 out on the 
 , which has, 
 s, and there, 
 ,th had been 
 the spectacle 
 :e Niagara at 
 ; its vastness. 
 ti fall of the 
 ng in the air 
 ivn in a great 
 
 The patches 
 e showed how 
 ,ss. Think of 
 
 thousand feet 
 
 ; the smooth 
 
 Lssy solidity of 
 ■able clouds of 
 \fet at the edge 
 ire waded some 
 rer. Indeed, I 
 ck some feet, in 
 of a poor man 
 ; would be found 
 im, within reach, 
 But if it ever 
 y, and no efforts 
 ral staircase close 
 
 to the Table Rock, I had another view from below ; 
 and what words can convey the impression of tlie 
 deep, trembling boom of the waters, as you caught 
 it thus confined in the abyss ? It was terrible to look 
 into the cauldron, smoking, heaving, foaming, rush- 
 ing, as far as the eye could see through the mist. A 
 slope of fragments from the side of the rock offered 
 a slippery path up to the thick curtain of the Falls, 
 and you could even go behind it if you chose. But 
 1 had not nerve enough to do so, though several par- 
 ties ventured in, after having put on oil-skin clothes ; 
 guides, who live in part by the occupation, leading 
 them on their way. Overhead, Table Rock reached 
 far out, awaiting its fall, which I felt sure could not 
 be long delayed. In crossing it I noticed a broad 
 crack, which each successive year would, of course, 
 deepen. On every ledge, up to the top of the pre- 
 cipice, grass and flowers, nourished by the incessant 
 spray, relieved the bareness, and in the middle of l.he 
 river, dividing the Horse-shoe Fall from the American, 
 the trees on Goat Island dimly showed themselves 
 tlirough the ascending smoke. The vast sweep of 
 waters bending round the Horse-shoe for more than 
 the third of a mile, was hemmed in at the further 
 side by masses of rock, the lower end of Goat Island 
 projecting roughly from the torrents at each side, 
 so as to hide part of the more distant one from ray 
 sight. A hill of fragments from its face lay heaped 
 up in the centre, and more thinly scattered at the 
 
 :f 
 
358 
 
 The Falls of Niagara, 
 
 farther side. But I could pay little attention to de- 
 tails, with the huge cauldron within a few yards of 
 me, into which the great green walls of water were 
 being every moment precipitated, and which, broken 
 into sheets of foam, hissed, and lashed, and raged, and 
 boiled, in wild uproar, as far as my eye could reach. 
 The contrast between the solemn calmness of the 
 great sheet of green ever gliding down in the centre, 
 with the curtain of snowy wreaths at its edges, where 
 the stream above, from its shallowness, broke into 
 white crystalline rain in the moment of its first descent, 
 and the tossing, smoking storm beneath, was over- 
 powering, and — accompanied as it ever was with the 
 stunning, deafening noise of three thousand six 
 hundred millions of aibic feet of water falling ia 
 an hour, from so great a height— filled my mind with 
 a sense of the awful majesty and power of God such as 
 I scarcely remember to have felt elsewhere. 
 
 Being anxious to cross to the American side, I 
 walked down the side of the river, after having as- 
 cended to the top of the bank, and at last, about a 
 mile below, found a road running slowly down to the 
 level of the water, the slope having brought me back 
 to within a comparatively short distance of the Fall. 
 It would have been impossible to have reached this 
 point by keeping along below, the broken heaps of 
 rock making the way impracticable. The river at 
 the place I had now gained is, however, so wonder- 
 fully calm that a ferry-boat plies between the Britisl^ 
 
 I 
 
 -^j:^tl.^..■^>■yJlU■c^. 
 
«jMli«-ia**l|*i 
 
 The Falls of Niagara. 
 
 m 
 
 ition to de- 
 ;w yards of 
 water were 
 dich, broken 
 d raged, and 
 could reach, 
 ness of the 
 I the centre, 
 edges, where 
 , broke into 
 first descent, 
 1, was over- 
 was with the 
 [wusand six 
 ar falling ia 
 ly mind with 
 God such as 
 e. 
 
 ican side, I 
 :r having as- 
 last, about a 
 down to the 
 ght me back 
 ; of the Fall, 
 reached this 
 ken heaps of 
 rhe river at 
 •, so wonder- 
 n the Britisl^ 
 
 and American shores, and by this I crossed. Some 
 ladies who were in it seemed, at first, in some measure 
 alarmed by the heaving of the water, but as the sur- 
 face was unbroken, and reflection showed that it must 
 be safe, they soon resigned themselves to the charms 
 of the view around. Forthwith, tlie boat was in the 
 centre of a vast semicircle of descending floods, more 
 than three thousand feet in their sweep, and on the 
 edge of the foaming sheets of the unfathomable gulf, 
 into which they were thundering down. The grand 
 cliffs on each side, the brown rocks of Goat Island 
 in the midst, the fringe of huge trees in the distance 
 on every hand, the clouds of spray which rose in 
 thick smoke from the tormented waters — the whole 
 pierced and lighted up by the rays of a glorious sun, 
 made a scene of surpassing beauty. I could not, 
 however, take my eyes for more than a moment from 
 the overwhelming grandeur of the main feature in the 
 picture. Still, down, in their awful, dense, stupendous 
 floods, came the waters, gathered from the inland seas 
 of a continent, pouring as if another deluge were 
 about to overwhelm all things. But, high over them, 
 in the ever-rising clouds of vapour, stretched a great 
 rain-bow, as if to remind us of the solemn pledge 
 given of old, and the very edges of the mist glittered, 
 as each beat of the oar sent us on, with a succession 
 of prismatic colours, the broken fragments of others 
 which shone for a moment and then passed away. 
 The ascent at the American side was accomplished 
 
360 
 
 The Falls of Niagara. 
 
 by a contrivance which I think must be almost unique. 
 A strong wooden railroad has been laid, at a most 
 perilous slope, from the bottom to the top of the cliff, 
 and a conveyance which is simply three huge wooden 
 steps on wheels, furnishes the means of ascent, a 
 wheel at the top driven by water, twisting it ui), by a 
 cable passed round a windlass. I could not help 
 shuddering at the constniuence of any accident that 
 might occur, from so precarious an arrangement. 
 Goat Island is one of the great attractions on this 
 farther side, and is reached by a bridge which makes 
 one half forget the wild less of the gulf across which it 
 is stretched. There is a house on the Island in which 
 I found refreshments and Indian curiosities for sale, 
 but as I was more interested in the Falls for the 
 moment than in anything else, I pushed on by a path 
 which turned to the right and led straight to them. 
 A small island on the very edge of the precipice, and 
 connected by a frail bridge with Goat Island, lay on 
 my road. It was the scene of a very affecting accident 
 in 1849. A gentleman from Buffalo had visited it 
 along with his family and a young man of the name of 
 Addington, and after looking over it, the party were 
 about to leave the spot, when Addington, in his 
 thoughtless spirits, suddenly took up one of the little 
 children, a girl, in his arms, and held her over the edge 
 of the bank, telling her that he was going to throw her 
 in. The poor child, terrified, unfortunatly made a 
 twist, and rolled out of his hands into the stream. 
 
 MilM)MMMftMMM«4MM«M« 
 
The Falls of Niagara. 
 
 361 
 
 jost unique. 
 , at a most 
 
 of the tliff, 
 lUge wooden 
 jf ascent, a 
 ; it up, by a 
 Id not help 
 iccident that 
 arrangement, 
 tions on this 
 which makes 
 cross which it 
 land in which 
 sities for sale, 
 
 Falls for the 
 I on by a path 
 light to them, 
 precipice, and 
 
 Island, lay on 
 ecting accident 
 
 had visited it 
 
 of the name of 
 the party were 
 dington, in his 
 ane of the little 
 ler over the edge 
 ing to throw her 
 rtunatly made a 
 into the stream. 
 
 Poor Addington, in a moment, with a loud cry of liorror, 
 sprang in to save her, but both, aliu<jst before the 
 others at their side knew that anything of so fearful a 
 kind had hajjpened, were swept into the abyss 
 beneath. Beyond Goat Island, u singularly daring 
 structure has enabled visitors to cross to some scatter- 
 ed masses of rock on the very brink of the Great Fall. 
 A tower has been erected on them, and a slight bridge, 
 which is always wet with the spray, has beon stretcheti 
 across to it. From this point the whole extent of ine 
 Falls is before you. It was an awful sight to look, 
 down on the rushing terrors at my feet. I felt conf i: d, 
 overw'^elmed, and almost stunned. Once ifter, on 
 aiiOih^L visit, I c'.ambered out to it over the mounds of 
 ice in winter, but I hardly know that the impressi<jn 
 was deeper then. 
 
 There are accidents every now and then at Niagara, 
 but it is only wonderful that, amidst such dangers, 
 there are no more. The truth is that, here, as well as 
 elsewhere, familiarity breeds contempt. Thus, in 1854, 
 a man ventured, with his son, to cross the rapids above 
 the Falls, in a skiff, to save some property which hap- 
 pened to be on a flat-bottomed ' scow,' which had 
 broken from its moorings, and stuck fast at some 
 distance above Goat Island. The two shot out into 
 the broken water, and were carried with terrible swift- 
 ness down towards the 'scow,' into which the son 
 sprang as they shot past- lastening the skiff to it as he 
 did so. Having taken off the goods they wished to 
 
 0& 
 
2fi% 
 
 The Falls of Niagara. 
 
 I 
 
 save, the skiff, with both on board, was once more 
 pushed off, and flew hke an arrow on the foaming 
 water, towards the Th'ree Sisters— the name of some 
 rocks above Goat Island. The fate of the two men 
 seemed to be sealed, for they were nearing the centre 
 Fall, and, to go over it, would be instant death. But 
 they managed, when on its very verge, to push into 
 an eddy, and reached the second Sister. On this, 
 they landed, and having dragged ashore the skiff, car- 
 ried it to the foot of the island, a proof that the 
 'property' they wished to rescue could not have 
 weighed very much. There, they once more launched 
 it, and making a bold sweep down the rapids, their 
 oars going with their utmost strength, they succeeded 
 in reaching the shore of Goat Island in safety, though 
 it seems to me as if, after thus tempting their fate, they 
 hardly deserved to do so. 
 
 I was very much struck by the appearance of the 
 rapids above the Falls, on a visit I made to an island 
 some distance up the river, in the very middle of them. 
 A fine broad bridge, built by the owner 6f the island, 
 and of the neighbouring shore, enables you to reach it 
 with ease. It lies about half-way between Chippewa 
 and the Falls, on the British side. The whole surface 
 of the great stream is broken into a long cascade, each 
 leap of which is made with more swiftness than the 
 one before. It is a wild tumultuous scene, and forms 
 a fit prelude to the spectacle to which it leads. Acci- 
 dents occasionally happen here also. Just before I 
 
■a. 
 
 The Falls of Niagara. 
 
 ?>^3 
 
 vas once more 
 )n the foaming 
 name of some 
 of the two men 
 iring the centre 
 int death. But 
 ;e, to push into 
 ister. On this, 
 re the skiff, car- 
 proof that the 
 ;ould not have 
 ; more launched 
 ;he rapids, their 
 , they succeeded 
 n safety, though 
 g their fate, they 
 
 ipearance of the 
 lade to an island 
 middle of them, 
 ler 6f the island, 
 s you to reach it 
 tween Chippewa 
 he whole surface 
 mg cascade, each 
 nftness than the 
 scene, and forms 
 1 it leads. Acci- 
 , Just before I 
 
 visited it, a little child had strayed from a party with 
 whom she was, and must have fallen into the stream, 
 as she was never seen again after being missed. 
 
 Some years ago, a number of people in the neigh- 
 bourhood formed the strange wish to see a boat laden 
 with a variety of animals, go down these rapids and 
 over the Falls. It was a cruel and idle curiosity which 
 could dictate such a thought, but they managed to 
 get money enough to purchase a bear and some other 
 animals, which were duly launched, unpiloted, from 
 the shore near Chippewa. From whatever instinctive 
 sense of danger it would be impossible to say, the 
 creatures appeared very soon to be alarmed. The 
 bear jumped overboard on seeing the mist of the Falls, 
 as the people on the spot say, and by great efforts^ 
 managed to swim across so far that he was carried 
 down to Goat Island. The other animals likewise 
 tried to escape, but in vain. The only living creatures 
 that remained in the boat were some geese, which 
 could not have escaped if they had wished, their wings 
 having been cut short. They went over, and several 
 were killed at once, though, curiously enough, some 
 managed, by fluttering, to get beyond the crushing 
 blow of the descending water, and reached the shore 
 in safety. 
 
 vMJMilliHi 
 
364 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The suspension-bridge at Niagara-The whirlpool-The battle 
 . of Lundy's Lane -Brock's monument -A soldier nearly 
 drowned. 
 
 aWO miles below the Falls an attraction 
 presents itself now, that was not in exist- 
 ence when I first visited them, though I 
 have seen it often since ; the Great Sus- 
 pension Bridge over the chasm through which the 
 river flows below. Made entirely of iron wire, twisted 
 into ropes and cables of all sizes, the largest measur- 
 ing ten inches through, and containing about four 
 thousand miles of wire, it stretches in a road twenty- 
 four feet in breadth, in two stories, the under one for 
 foot passengers and carriages, the other, twenty-eight 
 feet above it, for a steady stream of railway trains, at 
 the height of two hundred and fifty feet over the deep 
 rushing waters, for eight hundred feet, from the Cana- 
 dian to the American shore. Two huge towers, rismg 
 nearly ninety feet on the American side, and nearly 
 eighty on the British, bear up the vast fabric, which is 
 firmly anchored in solid masonry built into the ground 
 beyond. It is hard to believe what is nevertheless 
 
^*- 
 
 The Whirlpool. 
 
 3^5 
 
 ,1— The battle 
 soldier nearly 
 
 n attraction 
 not in exist- 
 ;m, though I 
 e Great Sus- 
 li which the 
 wire, twisted, 
 rgest measur- 
 g about four 
 road twenty- 
 inder one for 
 , twenty-eight 
 way trains, at 
 over the deep 
 om the Cana- 
 towers, rising 
 e, and nearly 
 ibric, which is 
 ito the ground 
 s nevertheless 
 
 
 the fact, that the airy and elegant thing thus hanging 
 over the gulf is by no means so light as it looks, but 
 weighs fully eight hundred tons. When you step on 
 it and feel it tremble beneath any passing waggon, the 
 thought of trains going over it seems like sending 
 them to certain destruction. Yet they do go, hour 
 after hour, and have done so safely for years, the only 
 precaution observed being to creep along at the slow- 
 est walk. It is open at the sides — that is, you can 
 see up and down the river, and over into the awful 
 abyss, but my head is not steady enough to stand 
 looking into such a depth. How Blondin could pass 
 over on his rope has always been incomprehensible, to 
 me ; the bridge itself was not broad enough for my 
 nerves. Yet he performed his wonderful feat again 
 and again, close by, and each time with accumulated 
 difficulties, until, when the Prince of Wales visited 
 Niagara, he actually carried over a man on his back 
 from the Canadian to the American side, and came 
 back on stilts a yard high, playing all kinds of antics 
 by the way. 
 
 Every one has heard of the whirlpool at the Falls, 
 and most of the visitors go down the three miles to 
 it. To be like others, I also strolled down, but I was 
 greatly disappointed. I had formed in my mind a 
 very highly-wrought picture of a terrible roaring 
 vortex, flying round in foam, at the rate of a great 
 many miles an hour ; but instead, I found a turn in 
 the channel, which they told me was the whirlpool ; 
 
366 
 
 The Whirlpool. 
 
 though, to my notion, it needed the name to be written 
 over it to enable one to know what i<- was, like the 
 badly-painted sign, on which the artist informed the 
 passer-by, in large letters, ' This is a horse.' I dare 
 say it would have whirled quite enough for my taste 
 had I been in it, but from the brow of the chasm it 
 seems to take things very leisurely^ indeed, as if it 
 were treacle, rather than water. There are stories 
 about the strength of the current, however, that shows 
 it to be greater than is apparent from a little distance. 
 A deserter, some years ago, tried to get over below 
 the Falls to the American side on no better convey- 
 ance than a huge plank. But the stream was stronger 
 than he had supposed ; and in spite of all his efforts, 
 he was forced down to this circling horror, which 
 speedily sent him and his plank round and round in 
 gradually contracting whiris, until, after a time, they 
 reached the centre. There was no pushing out, and 
 the poor wretch was kept revolving, with each end of 
 his support sunk in the vortex by turns, requiring him 
 to crawl backwards and forwards unceasingly for more 
 than a day, before means were found to bring him to 
 land. Somebody said at the time that he would surely 
 become an expert circumnavigator after such a training ; 
 but his miraculous escape has most probably not induced 
 many others to make the same venturesome voyage. 
 
 The village of Drummondville, a little back from 
 the Falls, on the British side, is memorable as the 
 scene of the Battle of Lundy's Lane, in' the war of 
 
;o he written 
 vas, like the 
 nformed the 
 se.' I dare 
 for my taste 
 :he chasm it 
 ;ed, as if it 
 J are stories 
 r, that shows 
 ttle distance. 
 : over below 
 5tter convey- 
 was stronger 
 11 his efforts, 
 lorror, which 
 md round in 
 
 a time, they 
 ling out, and 
 
 each end of 
 •equiring him 
 ngly for more 
 bring him to 
 ; would surely 
 Lch a training ; 
 ly not induced 
 »me voyage, 
 tie back from 
 orable as the 
 in' the war of 
 
 
 A Sad Mistake. 
 
 1812 — 1814. I was fortunate enough to meet with an 
 intelligent man who, when a boy, had seen the battle 
 from a distance ; and he went with me over the ground. 
 In passing through a garden, in which a fine crop of 
 Indian com was waving, he stopped to tell me that 
 on the evening after the battle, he saw a number of 
 soldiers come to this spot, which was then an open 
 field, and commence digging a great pit. Curious to 
 know all they were doing, he went up and stood 
 beside them, and found it was a grave for a number 
 of poor fellows who had been shot by mistake in the 
 darkness of the night before. An aide-de-camp had 
 been sent off in hot haste down to Queenston from 
 the battle, to order up reinforcements as quickly as 
 possible, and had been obeyed so promptly that our 
 forces on the field could not believe they had come 
 when they heard them marching up the hill, but 
 supposing they must be Americans, fired a volley of 
 both cannon and musketry into their ranks. There 
 they lie now, without any memorial, in a private 
 garcjen, which is dug up every year, and replanted 
 over their bones, as if there were no such wreck of 
 brave hearts sleeping below. In the churchyard there 
 were a number of tablets of wood, instead of stone, 
 marking the graves of officers slain in the conflict. I 
 picked up more than one which had rotted off at the 
 ground, and were lying wherever the wind had carried 
 them. Peach-trees, laden with fruit, hung over and 
 amidst the graves, and sheep were nibbling the grass. 
 
368 
 
 The Seneca Indians. 
 
 But what seemed the most vivid reminiscence of the 
 strife was a wooden house, to which my guide led me, 
 the sides and ends of which were perforated ^vlth a great 
 number of holes made on the day by musket-balls ; a 
 larger hole here and there, showing where a cannon 
 had also sent its missile through it. I was surpnsed to 
 see it inhabited with so many apertures unstopped out- 
 side ; but perhaps it was plastered within. 
 
 Every part of the Niagara frontier has, mdeed, its 
 own story of war and death. On the way to Queens- 
 ton I passed a gloomy chasm, into which the waters 
 of a small stream, called the Bloody Run, h\ on their 
 course to the river. It got its name from an incident 
 in the old French war, very characterist:r, of the times 
 and the countr3^ A detachment of British troops 
 was marching up the banks of the Niagara with a 
 convoy of waggons, and had reached this pomt, when 
 a band of Seneca Indians, in the service of the French, 
 leaped out from the woods immediately over the pre- 
 cipice, and uttering from all sides their terrible war- 
 whoop, rushed down, pouring in a deadly vol ey as 
 they closed, and hurled them and all they had, soldiers, 
 waggons, horses, and drivers, over the cliff into the 
 abyss below, where they were dashed to pieces on the 
 rocks It was the work almost of a moment; they 
 were gone before they could collect themselves to- 
 gether, or realize their position. The httle stream was 
 red with their blood, and out c^ the whole number 
 only two escaped-the one a soldier, who, as by 
 
Brock's Momiment. 
 
 369 
 
 :ence of the 
 uide led me, 
 i wth a great 
 isket-balls; a 
 ;re a cannon 
 5 surprised to 
 [istopped cut- 
 is, indeed, its 
 ay to Queens- 
 ch the waters 
 , fpM, on their 
 m an incident 
 f, of the times 
 British troops 
 [iagara with a 
 lis point, when 
 of the French, 
 yr over the pre- 
 ir terrible war- 
 jadly volley as 
 •y had, soldiers, 
 J cliff into the 
 o pieces on the 
 
 moment; they 
 themselves to- 
 little stream was 
 
 whole number 
 ;r, who, as by 
 
 miracle, got back, under cover of night, to Fort Ni- 
 agara, at the edge of Lake Ontario ; the other a gentle- 
 man, who spurred his horse through the horde of savages 
 on the first moment of the alarm, and got off in 
 safety. My attention was drawn, as I got farther on, 
 to the monument of General Brock, killed at the 
 battle of Queenston, in 181 2, which stands near the 
 village of that name, on a fine height close to the 
 edge of the river. It is a beautiful object when 
 viewed from a distance, and no less so on a near 
 approach, and is, I think, as yet, the only public 
 monument in the western province. I had often 
 heard it spoken of with admiration before I saw it, 
 and could easily understand why it was so. I could 
 not but feel that besides being a tribute to the memory 
 of the illustrious dead, it served also to keep alive 
 through successive generations an enthusiastic feeling 
 of patriotism and of a resolute devotion to duty. 
 
 Taking the steamer at Queenston, which is a. small, 
 lifeless place, I now struck out on the waters of 
 Ontario, to see Toronto once more. As we entered 
 the lake, I was amused by the remark of an Irish lad, 
 evidently fresh from his native island. Leaning close 
 by m? over the side of the vessel, he suddenly turned 
 round from a deep musing, in which he had been 
 absorbed, and^ broke out — ' Och, sir ! what a dale o' 
 fine land thim lakes cover i' Such a thought in a 
 country where a boundless wilderness stretches so 
 closely in one unbroken line, seemed inexpressibly 
 
 24 
 
 )\ 
 
 I 
 
 F- 
 
370 A Soldier nearly Drowned. 
 
 ludicrous, not to speak of the uselessness of, all the 
 land that was ' uncovered,' if there had been no lakes 
 to facilitate passage from one point to another. As 
 we left the wharf at the town of Niagara, which stands 
 at the mouth of the river, on the lake, a great stir was 
 caused for a short time by a soldier of tlie Rifles 
 having been tumbled into the water, and nearly 
 dro^vned, through the stupidity of a poor Connaught- 
 man who was in charge of the plank by which those 
 who were leaving the steamer, before she started, were 
 to reach the shore. He was in such a breathless 
 hurry and wild excitement, that he would hardly leave 
 it in its place while the visitors were crowding out ; 
 once and again he had made a snatch at it, only to 
 have some one put his foot on it, and run off. At 
 last the ooldier came, but just as he made a step on it 
 the fellow who had his face to the shore, and saw no- 
 thing except the crowd, gave it a pull, and down went 
 the man into the water, cutting his chin badly in fall- 
 ing. He evidently could not swim, and sank almost 
 at once, but he came up to find ropes thrown out to 
 him to cling to. But somehow he could not catch 
 them, and he would, in another moment, have gone 
 do\vn again. Luckily, however, some one had sense 
 enough to thrust down a broad ladder, which was 
 standing near, and up this he managed to climb, we 
 holding the top steadily till he did so. Every 
 attention was instantly paid him ; and I dare say the 
 mishap did him no harm beyond the ducking. In a 
 
d. 
 
 A Colonel's Kindness, 
 
 m 
 
 is of. all the 
 een no lakes 
 mother. As 
 which sUnds 
 great stir was 
 ,f the Rifles 
 
 and nearly 
 r Connaught- 
 ' which those 
 i started, were 
 
 a breathless 
 d hardly leave 
 :rowdir,g out ; 
 1 at it, only to 
 i run off. At 
 de a step on it 
 re, and saw no- 
 ind down went 
 in badly in fall- 
 id sank almost 
 i thrown out to 
 ould not catch 
 lent, have gone 
 
 one had sense 
 Ider, which was 
 ;ed to climb, we 
 iid so. Every 
 i 1 dare say the 
 ; ducking. In a 
 
 few minutes he was ashore again ; and I was delighted 
 to see the colonel, who happened to be present, give 
 him his arm, and walk away with him, talking kindly 
 to him as they went. 
 
 tiliiiiiiii 
 
 iMiii 
 
37^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ,. 1 1 Tl,,. exile's love of home— The coloured 
 
 S-A nTow Jd-A .rumUer-New England en.i«.„t, 
 _a potato-pit-The winter's woal. 
 
 iHAT vast sheets of water the lakes of 
 Canada are 1 Beginning, in the far north- 
 west, with Superior, nearly as large as all 
 
 Scotland, we have Michigan, Huron, Ene, 
 
 and Ontario, in succession, each more like a sea than 
 a lake On crossing them, you have no land m .ght 
 any more than on the ocean ; and, like it. they have 
 whole fleets on them, all through the season of naviga- 
 tion They yield vast sums from their fisheries, and 
 their waves wash shores as extensive as those of 
 n.any kingdoms. It is striking how gigantic i. he 
 proportion of everything in nature m the New World 
 Vast lakes and rivers, the wonderful Niagara end- 
 less forests, and boundless prairies-all these form a 
 great contrast to the aspects of nature in Europe. 
 The chain of lakes, altogether, stretch over more 
 than a thousand miles, with very short mtervals 
 between any of them, and none between some. 
 
The Exiles Love of Home. 373 
 
 e— The coloured 
 [ist — Home-spun 
 iigland emigrants 
 
 the lakes of 
 1 the far north- 
 as large as all 
 n, Huron, Erie, 
 like a sea than 
 land in sight 
 ce it, they have 
 eason of naviga- 
 :ir fisheries, and 
 ve as those of 
 gigantic is the 
 the New World, 
 il Niagara, end- 
 all these form a 
 ture in Europe, 
 etch over more 
 ' short intervals 
 between some. 
 
 KS^55^^I -MSHT'/-^ 
 
 Even Ontario, which is the smallest, is nine times 
 as long, and from twice to four times as broad, as the 
 sea between Dover and Calais. I could not help 
 thinking of the fact that there were men still living 
 who remembered when the Indians had possession 
 of nearly all the shore of Lake Ontario, and when 
 only two or three of their wigwams stood on the 
 site of the town to which I was then sailing. I 
 found Toronto much increased since my first visit to 
 it — its streets macadamized in some places, pave- 
 ments of plank laid down on the sides of several, the 
 houses better, and the shops more attractive. When 
 we first came, it was as muddy a place as could be 
 imagined; but a few years work wonders in a new 
 country like Canada. There was now no fear of a 
 lady losing her India-rubber overshoes in crossing 
 the street, as one of my sisters had done on our first 
 coming, nor were waggons to be seen stuck hard 
 and fast in the very heart of the town. I found my 
 married sister comfortably established, and spent 
 a very pleasant time with her and her husband. 
 There is, however, not much to see in Toronto even 
 now, and still less at that time. It lies very low near 
 the lake, though the ground rises as it recedes from 
 ,it. The neighbourhood is rather uninteresting, to 
 my taste, from the tameness of the scenery. It is 
 an English town, however, in its feelings and out- 
 ward life, and that made it delightful. It is beau- 
 tiful to see how true-hearted nearly every one be- 
 
 ■MMMiiiijiil^ 
 
-V^rr.-'V*^ ' 
 
 ; V"»*^-^'* 
 
 374 Loyalty of the Canadians. 
 
 comes to his mother-country when he has left it. 
 There has often seemed to me to be more real love 
 of Hritain out of it tliau in it, as if it needed to be 
 contemplated from a distance, in order thoroughly 
 to appreciate all its claims upon our love and respect. 
 In Canada almost every one is a busy local politician, 
 deeply immersed in party squabbles and manceuvres, 
 and often separated by them from his neighbour. 
 But let the magic name of ' home ' be mentioned, 
 and the remembrance of the once-familiar land causes 
 every otlier thought to be forgotten. In the time of 
 the Rebellion in 1837, before we came out, it was 
 found that although multitudes had talked wildly 
 enough while things were all quiet, the moment it 
 was proposed to rise against England, the British- 
 born part of them, and many native Canadians as 
 well, at once went over to the old flag, to defend 
 it, if necessary, with their lives. And when it seemed 
 as if England needed help in the time of the war with 
 Russia, Canada came forward in a moment, of her 
 own accord, and raised a regiment to aid in fighting 
 her battles, and serve her in any part of the world. 
 Later still, when the Prince of Wales went over, they 
 gave him such a reception as showed their loyalty 
 most nobly. Through the whole province it seemed 
 as if the population were smitten with an universal 
 enthusiasm, and despaired of exhibiting it sufficiendy. 
 And but yesterday, when rumours of war rose once 
 
s. 
 
 lias left it. 
 ore real love 
 lecdcd to be 
 T thoroughly 
 
 and respect, 
 cal politician, 
 
 mancEUvres, 
 is neighbour. 
 e mentioned, 
 ir land causes 
 n the time of 
 e out, it was 
 talked wildly 
 le rnoment it 
 , the British- 
 Canadians as 
 ag, to defend 
 hen it seemed 
 f the war with 
 jment, of her 
 lid in fighting 
 
 of the world, 
 /ent over, they 
 1 their loyalty 
 ince it seemed 
 1 an universal 
 ; it sufficiently, 
 war rose once 
 
 T/tc Coloured People. 
 
 375 
 
 more, the whole people where kindled in a moment 
 with a loyal zeal. 
 
 I was very much struck, on this trip, with the 
 number of coloured people who have found a refuge 
 in Canada. In all the hotels, most of the wait'jrs, 
 and a large proportion of the cooks, seemed to be 
 coloured. They take to these employments naturally, 
 and never appear to feel themselves in gieater glory 
 than when fussing about the table at meals, or wield- 
 ing the basting-ladle in the kitchen. They very 
 seldom i. to trades, and even their children, as 
 they grow up, are not much more inclined to them. I 
 used to think it was, perhaps, because, as slaves, they 
 might not have learned trades, but this would not 
 apply to those born in Canada, who might learn them 
 if they liked. They become, instead, whitewashers, 
 barbers, or waiters, and cooks, like their fathers before 
 them. I was told, however, that they are a well-con- 
 ducted set of people, rarely committing any crimes, 
 and very temperate. They have places of worship of 
 their own, and I was amused by a friend telling us, 
 one night, how he had met their minister going home, 
 carrying a piece of raw beef at his side by a string, and 
 how, when he had one evening gone to their chapel, 
 the official, a coloured man, had told him that ' the 
 folks had tu'ned out raither lean in the mo'nin, and, 
 'sides, the wood's sho't — so I guess we sha'n't open 
 to-night.' Poor, simple creatures, it is, indeed, a grand 
 
 ».^ 
 
37<5 
 
 Hamilton. 
 
 thing that there is a home open for them like Canada, 
 wheie they can have the full enjoyment of liberty. 
 Long may the red cross of St George wave an invita- 
 tion to their persecuted race to come and find a refuge 
 under its shadow ! 
 
 I went home again by way of Hamilton, to which 
 I crossed in a steamer. The white houses, peeping 
 through the woods, were a pretty sight at the places 
 where we stopped, the larger ones standing on all 
 sides, detached, in iJie midst of pleasant grass and 
 trees; the others, in the villages, built with an easy 
 vaiiety of shape and size that could hardly be seen 
 in an older country. The tin spires of churches 
 rose, every here and there, biightly through the 
 trees; reminding one that the faith of his dear native 
 land had not been forgotten, but was cherished as 
 fondly m the lonely wilderness as it had been at 
 home. Hamilton, the only town of Canada West 
 with a hill near it, gave me a day's pleasure in a 
 visit to a friend, and a ramble over 'the mountain,' 
 as they called the ridge behind it. The sight of streets 
 built of stone, instead of wood, or brick, was posi- 
 tively delightful, bringing one in mind of the stability 
 of an older country. ' Have you ever seen any of 
 this?' said my friend, when we were back in his 
 room, and he handed me a grain different from 
 any I had ever noticed before. I said I had not. 
 It was rice ; got from Rice Lake when he was do\vn 
 tliere lately. The lake lies a little north of Cobourg, 
 
 MKdta 
 
 ■tm 
 
m like Canada, 
 lent of liberty, 
 wave an invita- 
 nd find a refuge 
 
 nilton, to which 
 houses, peeping 
 It at the places 
 standing on all 
 asant grass and 
 iltwith an easy 
 
 hardly be seen 
 res of churches 
 ;ly through the 
 f his dear native 
 'as cherished as 
 it had been at 
 if Canada West 
 's pleasure in a 
 : ' the mountain,' 
 le sight of streets 
 
 brick, was posi- 
 i of the stability 
 ever seen any of 
 ■ere back in his 
 1 different from 
 
 said I had not. 
 len he was down 
 orth of Cobourg, 
 
 Lake Rice. 
 
 37) 
 
 which is seventy miles or so below Toronto. He was 
 very much pleased with his trip. The road to it lies, 
 after leaving Cobourg, through a fine farming country 
 fbr some distance, and then you get on what the 
 folks call ' the plains ' — great reaches of sandy soil, 
 covered with low, scrubby oak bushes, thick with 
 filberts. As you get to the lake, the view is really 
 beautiful, while the leaves are out. The road stretches 
 on through avenues of green, and, at last, when yju 
 get nearer, there are charming peeps of the water 
 through a fringe of beautiful trees, and over and 
 through a world of creepers, and vines, and bushes of 
 all sorts. The rice grows only in the shallow borders 
 of the lake, rising in beds along the shore, from the 
 deep mud, in which it takes root. It looks curious to 
 see grain in the middle of water. The Indians have 
 it left to them as a perquisite, and they come when it 
 gets ripe, and gather it in their canoes, sailing along 
 and bending down the ears over the edges of their 
 frail vessels, and beating out the rice as they do so. 
 They get a good deal of shooting as well as rice, for 
 the ducks and wild fowl are as fond of the ears as 
 themselves, and flock in great numbers to get a share 
 of them. There are great beds along the shores of the 
 Georgian Bay, on Lake Huron, as well as on Rice 
 Lake, but there also it is left to the Indians. 
 
 Of course I was full of my recent visit to the Falls, 
 and dosed my friend with all the details which occur- 
 red to :ne. He had noticed, like me, how the 
 
 <»*■ 
 
 nmmm 
 
 VnVjNWumMatvi^ 
 
 ■MauMiMiMia 
 
 i«MI)M*M>MnMiMAHMilMii» 
 
378 The' Maid of the Mist: 
 
 windows rattle unceasingly in the neighbourhood, 
 from the concussion of the air, and told me of a cu- 
 rious consequence of the dampness, from the minute 
 powdery spray that floats far in every direction ;-*- 
 that they could not keep a piano from warping and 
 getting out of tune, even as far as a mile from the 
 Falls, near the river's edge. The glorious sunrise I 
 had seen from Drummondville came back again to 
 my thoughts ; how, on rising early one morning, the 
 great cloud at the Falls, and the long swathe of vapour 
 that lay over the chasm for miles below, had been 
 changed into gold by the light, and shone like the 
 gates of heaven ; and I remembered how I had been 
 struck with a great purple vine near the river's edge, 
 which, after climbing a lofty elm that had been struck 
 and withered by lightning, flung its arms, waving far, 
 into the air. ' Did you see the Maid of the MistV 
 he asked. Of course I had, and we talked of it ; how 
 the little steamer plies, many times a day, from the 
 landing-places, close up to the Falls, going sometimes 
 so near that you stand on the bank, far above, in 
 anxious excitement lest it should be sucked into the 
 cauldron and perish at once. I have stood thus 
 wondering if the paddles would ever get her out of 
 the white foam into which she had pressed, and it 
 seemed as if, though they were doing their utmost, it 
 was a terrible time before they gained their point. If 
 any accident were to happen to the machinery, woe to 
 those on board I As it is, they get drenched, in spite 
 
Homespun Cloth. 
 
 379 
 
 ibourhood, 
 ne of a cu- 
 the minute 
 iirection ;-*• 
 rarping and 
 le from the 
 us sunrise I 
 ck again to 
 norning, the 
 he of vapour 
 ir, had been 
 Dne Uke the 
 J I had been 
 river's edge, 
 1 been struck 
 3, waving far, 
 ^f the MistV 
 ;d of it ; how 
 day, from the 
 ing sometimes 
 far above, in 
 jcked into the 
 ^e stood thus 
 get her out of 
 •ressed, and it 
 their utmost, it 
 their point. If 
 chinery, woe to 
 inched, in spite 
 
 flSIr^'- 
 
 of oil-skin dresses, and must be heartily glad when 
 they reach firm footing once more. 
 
 I was sorry when I had to leave and turn my face 
 • once more towards home. As the stage drove on, the 
 roads being still in their best condition, I had leisure 
 to notice everything. The quantity of homespun gray 
 woollen cloth, worn by the farmers and country people, 
 was very much greater than I had seen it in previous 
 years, and was in admirable keeping with the country 
 around. The wives and daughters in the farmhouses 
 have a good deal to do in its manufacture. The wool 
 is taken to the mill to get cleaned, a certain weight being 
 kept back from each lot in payment ; then the snowy- 
 white fleece is twisted into rolls, and in that condition 
 it is taken back by its owners to be spun into yarn at 
 home. I like the hum of the spinning-wheel amazingly, 
 and have often waited to look at some tidy girl, walk- 
 ing backwards and forwards at her task, at each 
 approach sending off another hum, as she drives the 
 wheel round once more. But the cloth is not made at 
 home. The mill gets the yam when finished, and 
 weaves it into the homely useful fabric I saw every 
 where around. At one place we had an awkward 
 stoppage on a piece of narrow corduroy road. There 
 happened to be a turn in it, so that the one end could 
 not be seen from the other, and we had got on some 
 distance, bumping dreadfully from log to log, when a 
 waggon made its appearance coming towards us. It 
 could not pass and it could not turn, and there was water 
 
 
 :.>^..»>MliMiitliyii>>>v.i>. 
 
 ■iAiii£iiUJKiid«UUi*«alMi 
 
 KM 
 
380 A Grumbling Scotchman. 
 
 at both sides. What was to be done? It was a great 
 question for the two drivers. Their tongues went at a 
 great rate at each other for a while, but, after a time, 
 they cooled down enough to discuss the situation, as 
 two statesmen would the threatened collision of empires. 
 They finally solved the difficulty by unyoking the 
 horses from the waggon, and pushing it back over the 
 logs with infinite trouble, after taking out as much of 
 the load as was necessary. Of course the passengers 
 helped with right goodwill, turning the wheels, and 
 straining this way and that, till the road was clear, 
 when we drove on once more. The bridge at Brant- 
 ford, when we reached it, was broken down, having 
 remained so since the last spring floods, when it had 
 been swept away by the ice and water together, and 
 the coach had to get through the stream as well as it 
 could. The horses behaved well, the vehicle itself 
 slipped and bumped over and against the stones at the 
 bottom; but it got a cleaning that it very much 
 needed, and neither it nor we took any harm. A great 
 lumpish farmer, who travelled with me, helped to pass 
 the time by his curious notions and wonderful power 
 of grumbling. A person beside him, who appeared to 
 know his ways, dragged him into conversation, whether 
 he would or not. He maintained there was nothmg in 
 Canada like what he had seen in Scotland ; his wheat 
 had been destroyed by the midge, year after year, or 
 by the rust ; hi= potatoes, he avened, had never done 
 well, and everything else had been alike miserable. 
 
An Irish Labourer. 
 
 381 
 
 (ras a great 
 i went at a 
 "ter a time, 
 Ituation, as 
 of empires, 
 yroking the 
 :k over the 
 as much of 
 
 passengers 
 i^heels, and 
 
 was clear, 
 ;e at Brant- 
 >wn, having 
 irhen it had 
 )gether, and 
 is well as it 
 'ehicle itself 
 stones at the 
 
 very much 
 m. A great 
 ;lped to pass 
 ierful power 
 
 appeared to 
 tion, whether 
 as nothing in 
 d ; his wheat 
 after year, or 
 i never done 
 ke miserable. 
 
 At last he seemed to have got through his lamentations, 
 
 and his neighbour struck in—' Well, at any rate, Mr 
 
 M'Craw, you can't say but your turnips are first-rate 
 
 this year ; why one of them will fill a bucket when you 
 
 cut it up for *he cattle.' But Mr M'Craw was not to be 
 
 beaten, j... lad a ready answer. ' They're far owre 
 
 guid— I'll never be fit to use them— the half o' them 'ill 
 
 rot in the grund, if they dinn.a choke the puir kye wi' 
 
 the size o' them.' The whole of us laughed, but Mr 
 
 M'Craw only shook his head. As we were trotting 
 
 along we overtook an Irishman — a labouring man — 
 
 and were hailed by him as we passed. ' Will ye take 
 
 us to IngersoU for a quarter (an English shilling)?' 
 
 The driver pulled up — made some objections, but at 
 
 last consented, and Paddy instantly pulled out his 
 
 money, and reached it into the hand which was 
 
 stretched down to receive it. ' Jump in, now— quick.' 
 
 But, indeed, he needn't have said it, he was only too 
 
 anxious to do so. The coach window was down, and 
 
 the pane being large, a good-sized opening was left. 
 
 In a moment Pat was on the step below; the next 
 
 first one leg came through the wndow-frame, amidst 
 
 our unlimited laughter ; then the body tried to follow, 
 
 but this was no easy business. ' Wait a minit. I'll be 
 
 thro' in a minit,' he shouted to us, ' Get out, man, do 
 
 ye no ken the use o' a door ? ' urged Mr M'Craw. But 
 
 in the mean time Pat had crushed himself through, in 
 
 some way, and had landed in an extraordinary fashion, 
 
 as gendy as he could, across our knees. We soon got 
 
382 A Gentleman and his Dog. 
 
 him into his seat, but it was long before we ceased 
 laughing at the adventure. He could never have 
 been in a coach in his life before. I saw a misfortune 
 happen in an omnibus some years after, on the way 
 down to Toronto from the North, which was the only 
 thing to be compared to it for its effect on the -isible 
 powers of the spectators. A gentleman travelling 
 with me then, had a favourite dog with him, which he 
 was very much afraid he might lose, but which the 
 driver would not allow him to take inside. At every 
 stoppage the first thought of both man and beast 
 seemed the same, to see if all was right with the other. 
 The back of the omnibus was low, and the dog was 
 eager to get in, but he and his master could only con- 
 fer with each other from opposite sides of the door. 
 At last, as we got near the town we came to a halt 
 once more. The gentleman was all anxiety about 
 his dog. For the fiftieth time he put his head 
 to the window to see if everything was right. But 
 it happened that, just as he did so, the dog was in 
 full flight for the same opening, having summoned 
 up all his strength for a terrible jump through the only 
 entrance, and reached it at the same moment as his 
 master's face, against which he came with a force 
 which sent himself back to the ground and sorely dis- 
 turbed his owner's composure. It was lucky the 
 animal was not very large, else it might have done 
 serious damage ; as it was, an astounding shock was 
 the only apparent result. It was a pity he was hurt 
 
we ceased 
 ever have 
 misfortune 
 m the way 
 is the only 
 the "isible 
 
 travelling 
 
 I, which he 
 
 which the 
 
 At every 
 
 and beast 
 1 the other, 
 lie dog was 
 d only con- 
 f the door, 
 e to a halt 
 jciety about 
 ; his head 
 right. But 
 dog was in 
 
 summoned 
 igh the only 
 ment as his 
 nth a force 
 1 sorely dis- 
 i lucky the 
 
 have done 
 y shock was 
 he was hurt 
 
 New England Emigrants. 385 
 
 at all, but the thought of blocking off the dog with 
 his face, as you do a cricket bail with a bat, and the 
 sublime astonishment of both dog and man at the colli- 
 sion, were irresistibly ludicrous. 
 
 On our way from London to Lake Huron we came 
 on a curious sight at the side of the road — a New 
 England family, on their way from Vermont to Michi- 
 gan, travelling, and living, in a waggon, like the Scy- 
 thians of old. The waggon was of comparatively slight 
 construction, and was arched over with a white canvas 
 roof, so as to serve for a conveyance by day and a 
 bed-room by night, though it must have been hard 
 work to get a man and his wife, and some children, all 
 duly stretched out at full length, packed into it. Some 
 of them, I suppose, took advantage of wayside inns 
 for their nightly lodging. A thin pipe, projecting at 
 the back, showed that they had a small stove with 
 them, to cook their meals. Two cows were slowly 
 walking behind, the man himself driving them ; and a 
 tin pail, hanging on the front of the waggon, spoke of 
 part of their milk being in the process of churning into 
 butter by the shaking on the way. They were verj' 
 respectable-looking people — as nearly all New Eng- 
 landers are — and had; no doubt, sold off their property, 
 whatever it might have been, in their native State, to go 
 in search of a new ' location,' as they call it — that is, 
 a fresh settlement in the Far West, with the praises of 
 which, at that time, the country was full. It must 
 have taken them a very long time to get so far at such 
 
 3 
 
384 N^"^ England Emigrants. 
 
 a snail's pace ; but time would eventually take a snail 
 round the world, if it had enough of it, and they 
 seemed to lay no stress whatever on the rate of their 
 progress. They had two horses, two cows, and the 
 waggon, to take with them, until they should reach 
 their new neighbourhood ; and to accomplish that was 
 worth some delay. One of my fellow-travellers told 
 me that such waggon-loads were then an every-day 
 sight on the road past Brantford j and, indeed, I can 
 easily believe it Michigan was then a garden of 
 Eden, according to popular report; but it was not 
 long in losing its fame, which passed to Wisconsm, 
 and from that, has passed to other States or temtones 
 since. The New England folks are as much given to 
 leaving their own country as any people, and much 
 more than most. Their own States are too poor to 
 keep them well at home; and they have energy, 
 shrewdness, and very often high principle, which make 
 them welcome in any place where they may choose to 
 settle in preference. I know parts in some of the New 
 England States where there are hardly any young 
 men or young women ; they have left for the towns 
 and cities more or less remote, where they can best 
 push their fortunes. It is the same very much in 
 Nova Scotia, and, indeed, must be so with all poor 
 
 countries. 
 
 I was very glad, when I got home, to find all my 
 circle quite well, and had a busy time of it for a good 
 while, telling them all I had seen and he^d. They 
 
ake a snail 
 and they 
 ite of their 
 s, and the 
 ould reach 
 sh that was 
 irellers told 
 1 every-day 
 deed, I can 
 , garden of 
 it was not 
 Wisconsin, 
 )r territories 
 ich given to 
 , and much 
 too poor to 
 ave energy, 
 which make 
 ay choose to 
 i of the New 
 r any young 
 jr the towns 
 hey can best 
 ery much in 
 ivith all poor 
 
 I find all my 
 it for a good 
 heard. They 
 
 A Potato Pit. 
 
 385 
 
 VISIW- 
 
 were busy with their fall-work — getting the potatoes 
 and turnips put into pits, to keep them from the frost 
 when it should set in, and getting ready a great stock 
 of firewood. Our pit was a curious affair, which I 
 should have mentioned earlier, since we made it in 
 the second fall we were on the river. We dug a great 
 hole like a grave, many feet deep, large enough to 
 hold a hundred bushels of potatoes, and I don't know 
 what besides. The bottom of this excavation was 
 then strewed with loose boards, and the sides were 
 walled round with logs, set up side by side, to keep 
 the earth from falling in. On the top, instead of a 
 roof, we laid a floor of similar logs, close together, 
 and on this we heaped up earth to the thickness of 
 about three feet, to keep out the cold, however severe 
 it might be. The entrance was at one end, down a 
 short ladder, which brought you to a door, roughly 
 fitted in. The first year it was made, we paid for 
 imperfect acquaintance with such things by bringing a 
 heavy loss on ourselves. We had put in eighty, 
 bushels of potatoes, and, to keep out the least trace 
 of frost, filled up the hole where the ladder was with 
 earth. But in the spring when we opened the pit to 
 get out our seed, we found the whole hoap to be 
 worthless. I remember the day very well> it was 
 very bright and beautiful, and we were all in high 
 spirits. The earth was removed from the ladder end 
 in a very short time, and young Grahame, one of a 
 neighbour's boys, asked leave to go in first, and bring 
 
 as 
 
 MMKiM)'M!-<-> ■iiM^,'.j«H».f 
 
386 The Winter's Wood, 
 
 out the first basketful. Down he leaped, pulled open 
 the door, and crept in. We waited a minute, but 
 there was no sign of his coming out agam We 
 called to him but got no answer ; and at last 1 
 jumped down to find the poor little fellow overpowered 
 from the effects of the carbonic acid gas, with which 
 the pit was filled. v.The earth at the ladder end had 
 entirely prevented the necessary ventilation, and the 
 potatoes had « heated,' : and had become perfectly 
 rotten We managed better after this by puttmg 
 straw instead of earth into the opening ; but the 
 right plan would have been to sink a small hollow 
 tube of wood-a slender piece of some young tree, 
 with the middle scooped out, through the top, to 
 serve as a ventilator. It was a great loss to us as 
 the potatoes were then at the unusual pnce of a dollar 
 a bushel, and eighty dollars were to us, at that time, 
 
 a small fortune. ,. 
 
 The laying in the winter's wood was a tedious 
 affair; it was cut in the fall, and part of it dragged 
 by the oxen to the house in the shape of long logs , 
 but we left the greater part of the drawing tdl the 
 snow came. It was a nasty job to cut off each day 
 what would serve the kitchen, and keep the fires 
 brisk • and I sometimes even yet feel a twinge of 
 consdence at the way I used to dole out a fixed num- 
 ber of pieces to my sisters, keeping it as small as 
 possible, and much smaller than it should have beer. 
 \ was willing enough to work at most thmgs, and 
 
Chopping Fireivood. 
 
 s«y 
 
 pulled open 
 minute, but 
 
 again. We 
 d at last I 
 overpowered 
 I, with which 
 der end had 
 :ion, and the 
 me perfectly 
 J by putting 
 ng; but the 
 
 small hollow 
 e young tree, 
 I the top, to 
 loss to us, as 
 ice of a dollar 
 , at that time, 
 
 vas a tedious 
 of it dragged 
 : of long logs ; 
 rawing till the 
 !t off each day 
 keep the fires 
 ;1 a twinge of 
 lut a fixed num- 
 it as small as 
 )uld have been, 
 ost things, and 
 
 can't blame myself for being lazy ; but to get up from 
 the warm fire on a cold morning to chop firewood, 
 was freezing work ; though this should certainly not 
 have kept me from cutting a few more sticks, after all. 
 I am afraid we are too apt to be selfish in these trifles, 
 even when we are the very reverse in things of more 
 moment. If I had the chance, now I am older, I 
 think I would atone for my stinginess, cost me what 
 freezing it might. 
 
388 
 
 CHAl'TER XXV. . 
 
 Thoughts for the future-Ch.nges-Too-hard study-Kducntion 
 in Canada-Christmas marl<cts-Wintcr am«scment.-ke. 
 boats-Very cold ice-Oil-8i>rings-Chant'es on the farm- 
 Growth of Canada-The American climate-OUl England 
 again. 
 
 IHEN we had been five years on the farm, 
 and Henry, and I, and the girls, were now 
 eetting to be men and women, the ques- 
 ^ tion of what we should do to get started 
 
 in the world, became more and more pressirtg. 
 llobert wished to get married ; Henry and I, and the 
 two girls, all alike, wanted to be off; and the iarm was 
 dearly unfit to support more than one household. I 
 took a long time for us to come to any -o-^'^^^^,^' 
 at last we decided that Robert should have the land, 
 ,,at the girls should be sent for a time to a schoo 
 down the country, and Henry and I should go to To- 
 tTo, he to study medicine, and I law. Ofcou.. 
 all this could not be managed at once, but it was 
 greatly facilitated by remittances from my brothers m 
 Ltod, .ho undertook by far the larger proportion 
 of L ost I confess I felt moie sorrow at leaving 
 the old place than I had expected, though it was still 
 
T 
 
 3y— Educntion 
 isements — Ice- 
 )n Ihe farm— 
 -Old England 
 
 on the farm, 
 rls, were now 
 en, the ques- 
 :o get started 
 )re pressing, 
 nd I, and the 
 , the I'arm was 
 ousehold. It 
 jndiision, but 
 lave the land, 
 le to a school 
 luld go to To- 
 t. Of course, 
 ce, but it was 
 my brothers in 
 ger proportion 
 TOW at leaving 
 ugh it was still 
 
 Too-hard Study. 
 
 389 
 
 for years to be my home •. hcncver I got free for a 
 time; and it was long be. .ic I could get fairly into 
 lilackstone, and Chitty, and Smith. Had I known 
 how my life would ultimately turn, I don't think I 
 should ever have troubled them, for here ' am now, 
 my l;iw laid aside, snugly in England again, a partner 
 in the mercantile establishment of my brothers, who 
 had continued at home. I did not like the law in its 
 every-day details of business, though all must recog- 
 nize the majesty of the great principles on which the 
 whole fabric rests ; and I got tired utterly of the 
 country, at last, perhaps from failing health, for I bent 
 with too much zeal to my studies when I once began. 
 The chance of leaving Canada fo- my native land was 
 thus unspeakably pleasing ; and it has rewarded the 
 gratitude with which I once more reached it, by giving 
 me back a good part of the strength I liad lost. 
 When I look back on the years I spent over my books, 
 and remember how I presumed on my youth, and 
 tasked myself, night and day, to continuous work, it 
 seems as if my folly had only been matched by my 
 guilt. To undermine our health is to trifle with all 
 our advantages at once. Honest, earnest work, is all 
 well enough, and nobody can ever be anything without 
 it, but if there be too much of it, it defeats its own 
 object, and leaves him who has overtaxed himself 
 behind those who have made a more discreet use of 
 their strength. I would gladly give half of what I 
 learned by all my years of close study, for some of the 
 
390 Too-hard Study. 
 
 health I lost in acquiring it. Indeed, I question if I 
 gained more, after all, by fagging on with a wearied 
 body and mind, than I would, if I had taken proper 
 relaxation and amusement, and returned fresh and vigor- 
 rous to my books. The Genor e archers lost the 
 battle of Cressy by a shower falling on their bow- 
 strings, while those on our side gained it by having 
 had their weapons safely in cases till the clouds were 
 past. So, no doubt, it should be in our management 
 of those powers within, on which our success in stu- 
 dent life depends-let them be safely shielded betimes, 
 and they will be fresh for action when others are re- 
 laxed and useless. How much time is spent when the 
 mind is wearied, without our being able to retain any- 
 thing of what we read ! How often have I closed my 
 book, at last, with the feeling, that, really, it might as 
 well have been shut long before. I read in the office, 
 and out of it, whenever I had a chance ; had some 
 book or other on the table at my meals ; kept ngidly 
 from visiting friends, that I might economize every 
 moment ; poked my fire, and lighted a fresh candle at 
 midnight, and gained some knowledge, indeed, but at 
 the cost of white, or rather yellow cheeks— a stoop 
 of the shoulders, and a hollow chest-cold feet, I fear, 
 for life, and a stomach so weak that I am seldom 
 without a memento of my folly in the pain it gives 
 me. An hour or two in the open air every day would 
 have saved me all these abatements, and would have 
 
Education in Canada, 
 
 391 
 
 , I question if I 
 
 with a wearied 
 id taken proper 
 i fresh and vigor- 
 irchers lost the 
 r on their bow- 
 led it by having 
 
 the clouds were 
 our management 
 ir success in stu- 
 shielded betimes, 
 en others are re- 
 is spent when the 
 ble to retain any- 
 have I closed my 
 really, it might as 
 read in the office, 
 dance; had some 
 leals ; kept rigidly 
 economize every 
 i a fresh candle at 
 Ige, indeed, but at 
 
 cheeks — a stoop 
 —cold feet, I fear, 
 ;hat I am seldom 
 
 the pain it gives 
 tr every day would 
 :s, and would have 
 
 quickened my powers of work so as more than to 
 make up for their being indulged in a little play. 
 
 Since my day, great facilities have been afforded 
 m Canada for education. There are now grammar- 
 schools, with very moderate fees, in every part of the 
 country, and a lad or young man can very easily get 
 a scholarship which takes him free through the Uni- 
 versity at Toronto.* Every county has one or more 
 to give away each year. There is thus every chance 
 for those who wish to rise, and Canada will no doubt 
 show some notable results from the facility she has 
 liberally provided for the encouragement of native 
 genius and talent 
 
 My being for a length of time in a town showed 
 me new features of our colonial life which I should 
 in vain have looked for in the country. In many 
 respects I might easily have forgotten I was in Canada 
 at all, for you might as well speak of getting a correct 
 idea of England from living in a provincial town, as 
 of Canada by living in the streets of Toronto. The 
 dress of the people is much the same as in Britain. 
 Hats and light overcoats are not entirely laid aside 
 even in winter, t^ough fur caps and gauntlets, after 
 all, are much more common. The ladies sweep along 
 
 ♦ Thp University has been long established, but since I at- 
 tended its classes, it has been put on a ..ore liberal basis— the 
 number of chairs enlarged . d ■» ilities for obtaining its ad-, 
 vantages greatly incre ;ac J. 
 
39^ 
 
 Christmas Markets. 
 
 with more show than in England, as if they dressed 
 for out-of-door display especially; but they are, no 
 doubt, tempted to this by the clearness and dryness 
 of the air, which neither soils nor injures fine things, 
 as the coal-dust and the dampness do in Engli '« 
 towns. The most plainly-dressed ladies I used to see 
 were the wife and daughters of the Governor-general. 
 
 The markets at Christmas were usually a greater 
 attraction to many people than they used to be in 
 England. If the weather chanced to be cold, you 
 would see huge files of frozen pigs standing on their 
 four legs in front of the stalls, as if they 1 '1 bi .;i 
 killed when at a gallop; countless sheep hunf . wer- 
 head, with here and there one of their heads carefully 
 gilded, to add splendour to the exhibition. Some 
 deer were almost always to be noticed at some of the 
 stalls, and it was not unusual to see the carcase of a 
 bear contributing its part to the general show. As 
 to the oxen, they were too fat for my taste, though 
 the butchers seem to be proud of them in proportion 
 to their obesity. The market was not confined to a 
 special building, though there was one for the purpose. 
 Long ranges of farmers' waggons, ranged at each side 
 of it, showed similar treasures of frozen pork and 
 mutton, the animals standing entire at the feet of their 
 owners, who sat among them waiting for purchasers. 
 Fiozen geese, ducks, chickens, nnd turkeys abounded, 
 and that household was very poor indeed which had 
 not one or other to grace the festival. 
 
they dressed 
 :hey are, no 
 
 and dryness 
 1 fine things, 
 in Engli '« 
 [ used to see 
 nor-general. 
 lly a greater 
 led to be in 
 je cold, you 
 ding on their 
 ley 1 '1 bi .;! 
 p hunf .ver- 
 ads caretuliy 
 ition. Some 
 
 some of the 
 carcase of a 
 il show. As 
 taste, though 
 n proportion 
 :onfined to a 
 
 the purpose. 
 . at each side 
 ;n pork and 
 s feet of their 
 r purchasers, 
 ys abounded, 
 :d which had 
 
 Winter Amusements, 
 
 393 
 
 Winter was a great time for amusement to the 
 townspeople, from the nearness of the broad bay which 
 in summer forms their harbour, and, after the frost, 
 their place of recreation. It was generally turned into 
 a great sheet of ice across its whole breadth of two 
 miles, some time about Christmas, and continued like 
 rock till the mir'dle of April. As long as there were 
 no heavy falls of snow to bury it, or after they had 
 been blown off by the wind, the skating was universal. 
 Boys and men alike gave way to the passion for it. 
 The ice was covered with one restless throng from 
 morning to night. School-boys made for it as soon as 
 they got free ; the clerks and shopmen were down the 
 instant the shutters were up and the doors fastened ; 
 even ladies crowded to it, either to skate with the 
 assistance of some gentlemen, or to see the crowd, or 
 to be pushed along in chairs mounted on runners. 
 The games of different kinds played between large 
 numbers were very exciting. Scotchmen with their 
 ' curling,' others with balls, battering them hither and 
 thither, in desperate efforts to carry them to a par- 
 ticular boundary. Then there were the ice-boats 
 gliding along in every direction, with their loads of 
 ^ • .;tldresseu people reclining on them, and their huge 
 .ail .illing overhead. These contrivances were new 
 f -..ic, though I had been so long in Canada. They 
 »x isist of a three-cornered frame of wood, large 
 I -/gh to give room for five or six people lying down 
 or sitting on them, the upper side boarded over, and 
 
 i 
 
 ,iJ 
 
394 The Ice-trade of Toronto. 
 
 the lower shod on enrh angle with an iron runner. A 
 mast and sail near the sharp point which goes fore- 
 most furnish the means of propulsion. The two 
 longest runners are fixed, but the short one at the 
 back is worked by a helm, the steersman having ab- 
 solute control of the machine by its aid, and keepmg 
 within reach the cleats of the sail, that he may loosen 
 or tighten it as he sees necessary. Many of the lads 
 about were very .kilful in managing them, and would 
 s-il as close to the wind, and ve^r and tack, as if they 
 were in an ordinary boat in che water, instead of an 
 oddly-shaped sleigh on ice. Avery little wind suf- 
 ficed to drive them at a good speed if the ice was 
 good and there was a good deal of excitement in 
 watching the cracks and airholes as you rushed over 
 them I iiave seen them sometimes going with great 
 rapidity. They say, indeed, that occasionally they 
 cross the harbour in less than four minutes-a rate of 
 speed equal to nearly thirty miles an hour. 
 
 The ice-trade of Toronto is a considerable branch 
 of industry during the winter, and gangs of men are 
 employed for weeks together sawing out great blocks 
 about two feet square from the parts of the bay where 
 it is clearest and best for use. These are lifted by 
 poles furnished with iron hooks, into carts, and taken 
 to houses specially prepared for keeping them through 
 the hot weather of the following summer. An ordi- 
 nary wooden frame building is lined inside with a 
 wall all round, at from two to three feet froin the outer 
 
 .■•iaiiii'wiflii»'"r'^i»"iit > If lyUiiiiiMMii '« 
 
■unner. A 
 gees fore- 
 The two 
 one at the 
 having ab- 
 nd keeping 
 may loosen 
 of the ladb 
 , and would 
 a, as if they 
 stead of an 
 e wind suf- 
 the ice was 
 :citement in 
 rushed over 
 g with great 
 ionally they 
 s — a rate of 
 
 rable branch 
 of men are 
 great blocks 
 \Q bay where 
 ire lifted by 
 :s, and taken 
 them through 
 :r. An ordi- 
 nside with a 
 rom the outer 
 
 Spring Ice. 
 
 395 
 
 one, and the space betweea is filled with waste tan 
 bark rammed close, to keep out the heat when it 
 comes. In this wintry shelter the cubes of ice are 
 built up in solid masses, and, when full, the whole is 
 finally protected by double doors, with a large quan- 
 tity of straw between them. In the hot months you 
 may see light carts with cotton coverings stretched 
 over them in every street, carrying round the con- 
 tents — now broken into more saleable pieces— the 
 words 'Spring Ice' on each side of the white roof 
 inviting the housekeepers to supply themselves. In 
 hotels, private dwellings, railway carriages, steamers, 
 and indeed everywhere, drinking-water in summer is 
 invariably cooled by lumps of this gelid luxury, and 
 not a few who take some of tlie one finish by suck- 
 ing and swallowing some of the other. I saw an 
 advertisement lately in a New Orleans paper begging 
 the visitors at hotels not to eat the ice in the water- 
 jugs this season, as, from the war having cut off the 
 supply from the North, it was very scarce. At table, 
 in most houses, the butter is regularly surmounted 
 by a piece of ice, and it seems a regular practice witli 
 some persons at hotels and on steamers to show their 
 breeding and selfishness by knocking aside this useful 
 ornament, and taking the piece which it covered, as 
 the coolest and hardest, leaving the others to put it up 
 again if they like. 
 
 Boiling water never gets hotter than two hundred 
 and twelve degrees, because at that heat it flies off in 
 
 Btr ii »*r v> v^dt m t\\. ■ 
 
39^ 
 
 Canadian Tee. 
 
 steam, but ice may be made a great deal colder than 
 it is when it first freezes. English ice is pretty cold, 
 but it never gets far below thirty-two degrees, which 
 is the freezing-point. Canadian ice, on the other 
 hand, is as much colder as the air of Canada, in which 
 it is formed, is than that of England. Thus there is 
 much more cold in a piece of ice, of a given size, 
 from the one country, than in a piece of similar size 
 from the other, and where cold is wished to be pro- 
 duced, as it is in all drinks in summer in hot xUmates, 
 Canadian ice is, of course, much more valuable than 
 any warmer kind would be. The Americans have 
 long ago thought of this, and have created a great 
 trade in their ice, which is about as cold as that of 
 Canada, taking it in ships prepared veiy much as the 
 ice-houses are, to India, and many other countries, 
 where it is sold often at a great profit. You read of 
 the ice crop as you would hear farmers speak of their 
 crop of wheat or potatoes. They have not got so 
 far as this that I know of in Canada, but if Boston 
 ice can command a good price in Calcutta or Madras, 
 that of the Lower St Lawrence should, be able to 
 drive it out of the market, for it is very much colder. 
 A few inches of it are like a concentrated portable 
 
 winter. 
 
 In the fine farms round Toronto a great many 
 fields are without any stumps, sometimes from their 
 having been cleared so long that the stumps have 
 rotted out, and sometimes by their having been pulled 
 
 "hmitJiimmtMtmim 
 
 ■ if f li liitiiiri iintiTiilrtiHiTiifiitaiii 
 
colder than 
 pretty cold, 
 ;rees, which 
 
 the other 
 
 ia, in which 
 
 lus there is 
 
 given size, 
 
 similar size 
 
 to be pro- 
 ot climates, 
 .luable than 
 ricans have 
 ted a great 
 I as that of 
 luch as the 
 r countries, 
 You read of 
 eak of their 
 not got so 
 It if Boston 
 I or Madras, 
 be able to 
 luch colder, 
 ted portable 
 
 great many 
 
 J from their 
 
 stumps have 
 
 been pulled 
 
 Oil Springs. 
 
 397 
 
 out bodily as you would an old tooth, by a stump 
 machine. It is a simple enough contrivance. A 
 great screw is raised over the stump on a strong frame 
 of wood which is made to enclose it; some iron 
 grapnels are fastened into it on different sides, and a 
 long pole put sticking out at one side for a horse, and 
 then — after some twists — away it goes, with far more 
 ease than would be thought possible. The outlying 
 roots have, of course, to be cut away first, and a good 
 deal of digging done, to let the screw and the horse, 
 or horses, have every chance, but it is a much more 
 expeditious plan than any other known in Canada, 
 and must be a great comfort to the farmer by letting 
 him plough and harrow without going round a wilder- 
 ness of stumpis in. each field. 
 
 A singular discovery has been made of late years 
 about ten miles behind Robert's farm in Bidport, of 
 wells yielding a constant supply of petroleum, or rock 
 oil, instead of water. The quantity obtained is 
 enormous, and as the oil is of a very fine quality and 
 fit for most ordinary purposes, it is of great value. 
 Strangely enough, not only in Canada, but also in the 
 States, the same unlooked-for source has been found, 
 at about the same time, supplying the same kind of oil. 
 The * wells ' of Pennsylvania are amazingly productive. 
 I have been assured that there is a small river in one 
 of the townships of that State, called Oil Creek, which 
 is constantly covered with a thick coat of oil, from the 
 quantity that oozes from each side of the banks. The 
 
 I 
 
398 
 
 Oil Springs. 
 
 whole soil around is saturated with it, and this, with the 
 necessity of fording the water, has destroyed a great 
 many valuable horses, which are found to get inflamed 
 and useless in the legs by the irritation the oil causes. 
 Wells are sunk in every part of the neighbourhood, 
 each of which spouts up oil as an artesian well does 
 vater, and that to such an amazing extent that, from 
 some of them, hundreds of bi.- lels, it is affirmed, have 
 been filled in a day. Indeed, there is one well, which 
 is known by the name of ' The Brawley,' which, if we 
 can believe the accounts given, in sixty days spouted 
 out thirty-three thousand barrels of oil, and some 
 others are alleged to have yielded more than two 
 thousand barrels in twenty-four hours. Unfortunately, 
 preparations had not, in most cases, been made for 
 catching this extraordinary quantity, so that a great 
 proportion of it ran off and was lost. The depth of 
 the wells varies. Some are close to the surface, but 
 those which yield most are from five to eight hundred 
 feet deep, and, there, seem to reach a vast lake of oil 
 which is to all appearance inexhaustible. They 
 manage to save the whole produce now by lining the 
 wells, which are mere holes about six inches in 
 diameter, for some depth with copper sheathing, and 
 putting a small pipe with stop-cocks in at the top, 
 which enables them to control the flow as easily as 
 they do that of water. If we think of the vast quan- 
 tities of coal stored up in different parts, it will dimin- 
 
lis, with the 
 red a great 
 ;et inflamed 
 oil causes, 
 hbourhood, 
 1 well does 
 t that, from 
 irmed, have 
 well, which 
 vhich, if we 
 tys spouted 
 and some 
 ; than two 
 fortunately, 
 1 made for 
 hat a great 
 lie depth of 
 surface, but 
 ht hundred 
 lake of oil 
 )le. They 
 ■f lining the 
 inches in 
 lathing, and 
 at the top, 
 as easily as 
 ; vast quan- 
 will dimin- 
 
 Oil Springs. 
 
 399 
 
 ish our astonishment at the discovery of these huge 
 reservoirs of oil, for both seem to have the same 
 source, from the vast beds of vegetation of the early 
 eras of the globe ; if, indeed, the oil do not often rise 
 from decomposition of coal itself, for it occurs chiefly 
 in the coal measures. We shall no doubt have full 
 scientific accounts of them, after a time, and as they 
 become familiar we will lose the feeling of wonder 
 which they raised at first. Except to the few who are 
 thoughtful, nothing that is not new and strange seems 
 woithy of notice ; but, if we consider aright, what is 
 wonderful in itself is no loss so because we have be- 
 come accustomed to it. It is one great difference be- 
 tween a rude and a cultivated mind, that the one has 
 orJy a gaping wonder at passiiig events or discoveries, 
 while the other seeks to find no^ city in what is already 
 familiar. The one looks only at a result before him, 
 the other tries to find out causes. The one only 
 looka at things as a whole, the other dwells on details 
 and examines the minutest parts. The one finds food 
 for his curiosity in his first impressions, and when 
 these fade, turns aside without any further interest; 
 the other discovers wonders in things the most com- 
 mon, insignificant, or apparently worthless. Science 
 got the beautiful metal — aluminium— out of the clay 
 which ignorince trod under foot ; through Sir Hum 
 phrey Dav^/ it got iodine out of the scrapings of 
 
 soap-kett);;s which the soap-boilers had always thrown 
 
4C0 
 
 Changes on the Farm. 
 
 out, and it extracts the beautiful dyes we call Magenta 
 and Solferino, from coal-tar which used to be a worth- 
 less nuisance near every gas-house. 
 
 My brother Robert's farm, when I last saw it, was 
 very different from my first recollections of it. He 
 has had a nice little brick house built, and frame 
 bams have taken the place of the old log ones that 
 served us long ago. After our leaving he commenced 
 a new orchard of the best trees he could get— a 
 nursery established sixty miles off down the river 
 supplying the young trees of the best kinds cheaply. 
 They have flourished, and must by this time be 
 getting quite broad and venerable. He has some good 
 horses, a nice gig for summer, with a leather cover to 
 keep off the sun or the storm, and a sleigh for winter, 
 with a very handsome set of furs. Most of the land 
 is cleared, and he is able to keep a man all the time, 
 so that he has not the hard work he once had. His 
 fences are new and good, and the whole place looked 
 very pleasant in summer. All this progress, however, 
 has not been made from the profits of the farm. A 
 little money left by a relative to each of us gave him 
 some capital, and with it he opened a small store on 
 his lot in a little house built for the purpose. There 
 was no pretence of keeping shop, but when a customer 
 came he called at the house, and any one who happened 
 to be at hand went with him and unlocked the door, 
 Opened the shutter and supplied him, locking all 
 
 ■■■■■■■ 
 
Growth of Canada. 
 
 401 
 
 all Magenta 
 be a worth- 
 
 ; saw it, was 
 of it. He 
 and frame 
 )g ones that 
 commenced 
 ould get — a 
 n the river 
 [ids cheaply, 
 lis time be 
 s some good 
 her cover to 
 h for winter, 
 of the land 
 all the time, 
 e had. His 
 place looked 
 ;ss, however, 
 he farm. A 
 us gave him 
 lall store on 
 )ose. There 
 n a customer 
 ho happened 
 ed the door, 
 , locking all 
 
 safely again when he was gone. In this primitive way 
 he has made enough to keep him very comfortably 
 with his family, the land providing most of what they 
 eat. They have a school within a mile of them, but 
 it is rather a humble one, and there is a clergyman for 
 the church at the wharf two miles down. Henry 
 established himself in a little village when he first got 
 his degree, but was thought so much of by his profess- 
 ors that he has been asked to take the chair of sur- 
 gery, which he now holds. My two sisters, Margaret 
 and Eliza, both married, but only the former is now 
 living, the other having been dead for some years. 
 Margaret is married to a worthy Presbyterian minister, 
 and, if not rich, is, at least, comfortable, in the plain 
 way familiar in Canada. 
 
 When we first went to Canada no more was meant 
 by that name than the strip of country along the St 
 Lawrence, in the Lower Province, and, in the Upper, 
 the peninsula which is bounded by the great lakes — 
 Huron, Erie, and Ontario. Since then, however, the 
 discovery of gold in California and Eraser's River has 
 given a wider range to men's thoughts, and awakened 
 an ambition in the settled districts to claim as their 
 domain the vast regions of British America, stretching 
 away west to the shores of the Pacific, and north to 
 the Arctic Ocean. I used to think all this vast tract 
 only fit for the wild animals to which it was for the 
 most part left, but there is nothing like a little know- 
 ad 
 
 ■AA*MWMMiriMbdiMA«M 
 
402 
 
 The American Climate, 
 
 ledge for changing mere prejudice. There is of course 
 a part of it which is irredeemably desolate, but the. 
 immense reaches which will, certainly, some day, oe 
 more highly valued than they are now. The nearly 
 untouched line on the north of I^ke Huron has been 
 found to be rich in mines of copper. The Red River 
 district produces magnificent wheat. The River 
 Saskatchewan, flowing in two great branches from the 
 west and north-west to Lake Winnepeg, drains a 
 country more than six times as large as the whole of 
 England and Wales, and everywhere showing the 
 most glorious woods and prairies, which are proofs of 
 its wealth as -^n agricultural region. The Mackenzie 
 River drains another part of the territory eight times 
 as large as Englard and Wales together, and ''^e 
 lower parts of it, at least, have a climate which 
 mises comfort and plenty. It is no less tha- 
 thousand five hundred miles in length, and is navigable 
 by steamboats for twelve hundred miles from its mouth. 
 It is a singular fact that the farther west you go on the 
 North American continent, the milder the climate. 
 Vancouver's Island, which is more than two hundred 
 miles farther north than Toronto, has a climate like 
 that of England ; instead of the extremes of Canada, 
 as you go up the map, the difference between the west 
 and east sides of the continent becomes as great as if 
 we were to find in Newcasde the sdme temperature in 
 winter as French settlers enjoy in Algiers. The musk, 
 
The American Climate, 
 
 403 
 
 9 of course 
 
 It the. 
 le day, oe 
 riie nearly 
 n has been 
 Red River 
 rhe River 
 s from the 
 , drains a 
 e whole of 
 lowing the 
 e proofs of 
 Mackenzie 
 eight times 
 r, and ''^e 
 which 
 1 tha- 
 
 s navigable 
 1 its mouth. 
 I go on the 
 le climate, 
 ro hundred 
 limate like 
 of Canada, 
 en the west 
 i great as if 
 perature in 
 The musk 
 
 oxen go more than four humlred miles farther north 
 in summer, on the western, than they do on the eastern 
 side, and the elk and moose-deer wander nearly six 
 hundred miles farther north in the grass season, on 
 the one than on the othei. 
 
 It is indeed more wonderful that the east side of 
 America should be so cold than that the west should 
 be so much milder. Toronto is on a line with the Py- 
 renees and Florence, and yet has the climate of Russia 
 instead of that of Southern France or Italy; and 
 Quebec, with its frightful winters and roasting sum- 
 mois, would stand nearly in the middle of France, 
 if it were carried over in a straight line to Europe. 
 Yet we know what a wonderful difference there is a 
 England, which is, thus, far to the north of it. It 
 is to the different distribution of land and sea in the 
 two hemispheres, the mildness in the one case, and 
 the coldness in the other, must be attributed. The 
 sea which stretches round the British Islands, warmed 
 by the influence of the Gulf Stream, is the great source 
 of their comparative warmth, tempering, by its nearly 
 uniform heat, alike the fierce blasts of the north and 
 the scorching airs of Uie south. In Sir Charles Lyell's 
 ' Principles of Geology,' you will find maps of the land 
 and sea on the earth, so arranged that, in one, all the 
 land would be comparatively temperate, while, in the 
 other, it would all be comparatively cold. In America 
 it is likely that the great mountains that run north and 
 
 h 
 
 u 
 
404 
 
 Old Englajtd again. 
 
 south in three vast chains, beginning, in the west, 
 with the Cascade Mountains, followed, at wide dis- 
 tances, by the Rocky Mountains, rising in their vast 
 height and length, as a second barrier, on the east of 
 them, and by the vast nameless chain which stretches, 
 on the east side of the continent, from the north 
 shore of Lake Superior to the south of King William's 
 Land, on the Arctic Ocean — modify the climate of 
 the great North-west to some extent, but it is very 
 hard to speak with any confidence on a point so little 
 known. 
 
 I have already said that I am glad I am back again 
 in dear Old England, and I repeat it now that I am 
 near the end of my story. I have not said anything 
 about my stay in Nova Scotia, because it did not 
 come Tvithin my plan to do so, but I include it in my 
 thoughts when I say, that, after all I have seen these 
 long years, I believe ' there's no place like home.' If 
 a boy really wish to get on and work as he ought, he 
 will find an opening in life in his own glorious country, 
 without leaving it for another. Were the same amount 
 of labour expended by any one here, as I have seen 
 men bestow on their wild farms in the bush, they 
 would get as much for it in solid comfort and enjoy- 
 ment, and would have around them through life the 
 thousand delights of their native land. Some people 
 can leave the scene of their boyhood and the friends 
 of their youth, and even of their manhood, without 
 
 istiimisiittlttmtm 
 
J, in the west, 
 i, at wide dis- 
 g in their vast 
 ', on the east of 
 ivhich stretches, 
 rom the north 
 King William's 
 the climate of 
 , but it is very 
 a point so little 
 
 am back again 
 now that I am 
 t said anything 
 use it did not 
 iclude it in my 
 jave seen these 
 like home.' If 
 as he ought, he 
 jlorious country, 
 le same amount 
 as I have seen 
 the bush, they 
 ifort and enjoy- 
 through life the 
 Some people 
 and the friends 
 mhood, without 
 
 Feelings towards England. 405 
 
 seeming to feel it, but I do not envy them their in- 
 difference. I take no shame in confessing that I felt 
 towards Engbnd, while away from it, what dear Oliver 
 Goldsmith says so touchingly of his brother : — 
 
 ' Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see. 
 My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee : 
 Still to my country turns, with ceaseless pain, 
 And drags at each remove a lengthening chain. 
 
 THE END- 
 
 JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. 
 
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