IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) fe r « « f/i 1.0 I.I 1^ va 11-25 ill 1.4 2.5 22 1.8 1.6 V] V) ^;; '^ > .V y -(^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 iV A a>' :\ \ ^ %> /^ k" . '^ ^ i CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVI/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Instltut Canadian de microreproductians historlquas Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically Lnique. which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la methods normale de filmage sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. D D D D D D D D M D n Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur Covers damaged/ "* Couverture endommagee Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul6e Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque Coloured maps/ ' Cartes gdcgraphiques en couleur Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planchea et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Relie avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge int^rieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 film6es. Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppl^mentaires; □ Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur □ Pages damaged/ Pages endommag^es □ Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaur6es et/ou pelliculdes r^^ Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ I — I Pages d^colordes, tachetdes ou piqudes I I Pages detached/ ^ Pages d6tach6es Showthrough/ Transparence □ Quality of print varies/ Quality in^gale de I'impression □ Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du materiel supplementaire nOnly edition available/ Seule Edition disponibit D disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6t6 film^es d nouveau de faqon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. ( Fhis item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X y 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X n 32X The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grdce d la g6n6rosit6 de: Bibliothdque nationale du Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Les images sui'i/antes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetd de Cexemplaire film6, et en conformity avec I'es conditions du contrat de filmage. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and 9n<1ng on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. Les exemplaires cri^iinaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimis tzcnl filmis en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminbnt soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sent filmds en commengant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. The last recorded frame on e'ich microfiche shall contain the symbol ^^ (meaning "CON- TINUED "), or the symbol y (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — *> signifie "A SUIVRE ", ie symbole V signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est filmd d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 SEA, FOREST AND PRAIRIE: BEING STORIES OF LIFE AND ADVENTURE IN CANADA PAST AND PRESENT, BY BOYS AND GIRLS IN CANADA'S SCHOOLS. r u/c^'^^^"^ am 9 vlL /f^- MONTREAL. John Dougall and Son, "Witness" Office. 1893. PS§S s ior.o99 Printed from Linotypes at tlie "Witness" Print- ing House, 323, 325 and .32^, St. James street, IMontreal. CONTENTS. Adele: A True Story ^''^^ Loss of the "Blue Jacket" 17 Shipwreck, A 21 By Fire Troublous Times ,5 Icy Adventure, An .2 Tales of Acadie .^ Tragedy of the Avon . ^ The Woods and the Sea Have Ruined Me . . 57 Donald IMacdonald, The Rev. ... 6^ Seal Hunt, The ["" Jj_ Terrible Night on the Ice ,[[[ ^^ Loyalist Times, A Story of the .[ yy Indian Reminiscences g. Adventure on the Ice g^ Siege of the Fort of St. Johns .[[[ gy Raid on the St. Francis Indians .[ 90 An Ever>^ Day Hero [[ ^^^ Extinction of a Nation iqq Pioneer Life, Tales of ]\ 1 1 . James Garland ^20 Battle of Aloore's Corners 126 Pioneers of Glengarry ^^^ In the Snow ^ ^o How Did We Get Here? 145 Huron ]\Iission t -.^ ^oo VI. Contents. Page. ^Taric i -q P>ravc Laura Sccord i6s Grandfather's Indian Msitors 169 Hero of Cedardale 17^ T T • Historic House, An 179 Fast in a Cave 1 82 Eagle and Salmon Trout 187 Last Duel Fought in Canada 190 Incident in the Patriot's War 194 Noble Life, A ing Defence of Boyne Water, The 205 Two Nights in the Bush 211 Haunted House, The 217 Two Plucky Girls 224 Tecumseh o >- '-i^/ Lundy's Lane, On 23- Two Devoted Brothers 243 Devil's Mortgage, The 247 Storm of 1872 2"^ Left on the Prairie in a Blizzard 258 ^Motherless Still 26^ ]\Ianitoba's Homesteaders, One of 271 Brown's Last Shot 278 The Potlatch 284 An Adventure of John Tod 289 An Adventure in Caribou 295 Retribution ^^^, The Nova Scotia Giant 310 Cadieux's Grave ,j5 INTRODUCTION. On three succeeding years the school children of Canada wrote original stories for the Montreal ''Wit- ness", basing them on events which had happened in the country. These were judged by well known edu- cationists, who awarded them prizes Ijy counties and provinces, and tiie best in each province was submitted to a Dominion judge, who gave the palm to the best in the Dominion. The gentlemen who judged the stories in the first place were S. E. Dawson, Esq., D. Lit, Montreal, Que.; the Rev. Charies J. Cameron, A.M., F.H.S., Brockville, Ont.; Wm. Houston, M.A., Toronto, Ont.; J. M. Harper, M.A., Ph.D., F.E.I.S., Quebec, Que.; Mr. Justice Alley, Chariottetown, P.E.I. ; A. A. Stockton, M.P.P., Ph.D., D.C.L., LL.D., St. John, N.B.; Prof. Charies G. D. Roberts, A.M., F.R.S.C, King's College, Windsor, N.S.; W. H. Hus- ton, ALA., Woodstock, Ont.; J. A. Nicholson, M.A., Chariottetown, P.E.L; Dr. J. Hall, Truro, N.S. The' judges who awarded the Dominion prizes were the Marquis of Lome for the first competition and the Marquis of Dufiferin and Ava for the second and third competitions. In all neariy 5,000 stories were re- ceived and carefully judged. Many of these were pub- VIll. Introduction. ■ lishcd in the "Witness" and rei)ublislicd in local news- papers, where they were si)ecially interestin^r, and not a few came back to Canada in publications from foreign countries. The winners of the Dominion prizes were Miss May Selby Holden, of St. John's, Newfoundland, {or the first competition, and Miss Maude Saunders, of Lau- rencetown, Nova Scotia, for the second and third com- petitions. The task of editing these stories so as to form a little commemorative volume was given to the Rev. Charles J. Cameron, A.Af., F.H.S., whose work, or, more cor- rectly speaking, a portion of whose work, lies before the reader. Mr. Cameiion does not claim to have se- lected the best stories, but rather stories representative of the different provinces. A fair proportion of these are now published for the first time. These stories are presented to the public as a fair exponent of the literary powers of young Canada. 5 ADELE: A TRUE STORY. Chapter I. Placcinia stands in some respects unrivallccl aniontr the towns of Xewfoundland. It was the ancient capital and the scene of many a skirmish between tlie EnHish and Frencii. The town and outworks contain many and uiteresting relics of former ^\ory. Placentia is situ- ated m a lovely bay, at the base of a hiftli hill, and is readily suggestive of a pretty Swiss town, with cottac^es diversified by brig-ht gardens and sunnv spots of green- ery. The aspect of things has somewhat changed since the time of which I shall speak in the following narra- tive. The beautiful scenery, however, remains un- changed, and the picturesque harbor is as calmlv bright as of yore. ' On a certain July day in the vear 1692, the French tovyn of Placentia, usually so peacefullv quiet, seemed suddenly to have become the centre of confusion aiul excitement. The streets were thronged hv crowds of men and women of many gradations of rank, a pictur- esque, ever-shifting crowd, seeminglv bent on someim- portant mission. The thing which has disturbed the even tenor of the townspeople may be explained in a few words or, better still, by repeating the conversation which took place on that day between two officers who stood at the gate of the monastery. The taller and 10 Sea, Forest and Prairie. older of the men was tlie commander (A llie .garrison, Captain Devoux. He was a dark-browed, lianjj^lity man, liandscjme but for the sinister cast of his features and a cruel expression about the mouth. He spoke to a young I'rench officer whose frank face was lighted up with enthusiasm, listening as his superior officer ex- claimed, "Yes, Arnoud, it is quite true; while riding from the Block House I received a (lesi)atch informing me of the expected arrival of Commodore Williams to Newfoundland with a fleet sent from England with spe- cial instructions to take Placentia. "And," concluded the Cajitain, "as the enemy will be here in forty-eight hours, our work is to barricade the streets and get the soldiers ready." Then, in a lower tone, he continued to converse with the young officer, who was all atten- tion until his eyes rested on the figure of a lady walking towards them, when he exclaimed, "Pardon, Captain, but here comes my wife. I suspect she is wondering what has kept me from dinner." Then, in an anxious tone, "You must tell her, but be careful. She is not strong and a little unnerves her." The Captain nodded, and a curious light flashed in his eyes as he stepped forward, and, bowing low to Er- nest Arnoud's wife, said : ''Pardon me, ^NTadame, for detaining ^Monsieur from his charming house, but neces- sity compelled me to discuss with him the important in- formation just received." Madame Arnoud stood by her husband's side. She was young and sprightly, and very lovely did she look as she gazed inquiringly into the face of the young officer, who, in turn, glanced sig- nificantly at his superior. The Captain interpreted the glance. "Dear ]\Iadame, do not be alarmed, but we Adclc: A 'rriic Slor\'. II liavc had news of tlio coiiiins" <>f the Etitrlisli, and tliat means we shall have to stand a siege. The chief dilfi- cnlty has been to find a suitable officer to take charge (»f I'ort Louis." All this time the young wife's face was looking white and scared, for she dreaded danger for the husband whom she adored. But he passed his arm nnmd her waist as the Captain i)roceeded, "I am sorry yet proud to tell you. Madame, that your husband has promised to take command of Fort Louis !" "Is this true, Er- nest ?" cried the poor girl, in an agony of entreaty. Well she knew what such an undertaking meant. Fort Louis was a strong fortification just outside the entrance to the harbor, and as this would form the first and chief point of attack it would fare ill with the gallant few who defended it. Captain Devoux, looking at the sweet face of the officer's wife, said, in a strange tone, "Well, Arnoud, it is not too late yet to withdraw from the post — " But he was interrupted by the officer, who, drawing himself up proudly, replied, "I am a soldier, sir, and as such know^ my duty." So saying and clas])- ing the trembling hand of his young wife, Ernest Ar- noud passed quickly downi the street to his home. Ca])tain Devoux looked after the couple with an evil expression as he muttered, "Ere two more suns have set I may be the w'inner." Chapter IL During his year of married life Ernest Arnoud had enjoyed that pure and unalloyed hapj^iness which can only exist where there is a union of hearts as well as hands. 12 Sea, Forest and Prairie. ffi The evening before the important event of the arrival of the EngHsh Commodore our young officer was en- joying the evening air outside the door of his pretty liome. He had had a hard day's work in preparing Fort Louis, and could well appreciate the pleasures of home comforts. He was speaking to his wife and his voice sounded very tender, as he said, "Adele, my dear- est, you must loear up bravely for my sake. I have only a few hours left, and then I must take up my sta- tion at the Fort. If the enemy come before daylight I have no fear as to the result. We have stretched a boom across the harbor which will effectually bar their progress." "Ernest," replied his wife, "for \our sake I am brave, but I have a morbid feeling tliat Captain Devoux is not the friend to you that he pretends. "Adele," gravely remarked the officer, "you must re- member that the Captain is an old friend of your father, and when we all lived in sunny France how generously he behaved to us. I loved you and you returned my love, though your father wished you to marry Devoux, and I am sure that he loved you truly. How nobly he gave you to me when he found you did not care for him ! However," concluded the officer, "let us dis- miss this subject and forget the disagreeables." Ernest Arnoud would not have been so calm could he have overheard a conversation just then taking place at the lodgings of Captain Devoux. That gentleman was standing with his back to the window and facing him was a man, a soldier, seemingly of Esquimault origin, judging from his scanty hair and narrow forehead. The words which the Captain was saying were these : "Look here, Gilo, I have l3een a good friend to you, Adcle: A True Storv. 13 and if you do this job well I'll not forf^et you." "Ay, ay, sir," was the answer he received. "Well, tiien, there is a certain officer taking charge of Fort Louis ; the fray will be over by daylight to-morrow, whether successful or otherwise. That officer I do not wish to return from his post alive." The man addressed exhibited not a particle of surprise at this diabolical speech, luit simply nodded. The Captain ])roceeded : "That officer will be returning home when the afTray is over. He will walk to the point, where his small l)oat will be awaiting him. as his custom is to row himself home. I want you to take that l)oat in hand and see that he never returns to this town. Watch him to-night at twelve o'clock when he goes on duty. The rest can be managed with an auger. You understand ? It is not your first job of the kind." So, roughly dismissing his attendant, the gallant Captain resigned himself to a coir,fortal)le smoke. Chapter III. Night drew its curtains over the little town of Pla- centia. A bright moon rose high in the heavens, tip- ])ing the spires of the old monastery with silver and pouring a flood of light upon the dwellings of a thou- sand inhabitants. There was no sleep for Arnoud that night. He held a high ])osition of trust and no doubt entered his breast of the treacherous object of his com- mander in placing him there. At two o'clock the word was passed along that the enemy was in sight, and there, sure enough, was the English fleet sailing slowly into the roadstead. They anchored noiselessly, except the foremost, which made 14 Sea, Forest and Prairie. a dash for the entrance, but striking the Ijooni siretclied across the harbor she rebounded and stuck in the mud. Then commenced a brisk cannonade, whicli was re- turned with vigor from the three forts, but especially from Fort Louis. In about three hours Commodore Williams, finding it no joke to attack three well-armed forts witli the small force he had under his command, retreated from the scene of action with the Placentia joy-bells ringing in his ears answered by the thunder- ing guns from the garrison. "Well," sighed our young officer, as he descended the hill from Fort Louis, "it is orer, and so peacefully that I cannot believe we have been attacked by the English and have repulsed them without the loss of even a single soldier. Thank God, thought he, I am at li1)erty to return and relieve the anx- iety of my dear one." Thinking thus, he crossed the narrow beach to where his little boat lay on the sands. And poor Adele, what a night she spent ! Only the angels in Heaven know the amount of suffering which many women silently endure, or what nights of cease- less agony are passed over uncomplainingly. Men go forth into danger, but, perforce, they are in the midst of excitement, and time flies with them till they return to those who have waited so wearily during the lagging hours. It was wearily indeed that Adele Arnoud wait- ed for her husband during all that day following the siege. Until the evening she had been waiting, expect- ing him, and thinking he was with the commander, but on sending her servant to enquire she heard that the young ol^cer had not l)een seen since the morning, when one of the soldiers saw him dimly in the morning light walking down from the Fort. When this news Adelc: A True Storv 15 was brought to the poor young wife she uttered no sound hut simply sat Hke one stunned. Her pale, de- spairing face and sad eyes aroused much pity from those around her, but she would take comfort from none. That some evil had come to her husband she was sure, i:)Ut thoug'li the strictest search was made no tidings of hiiu could be found. Captain Devoux called at Ar- noud's cottage to ofTer his sympathy to the grief- stricken wife, but she refused to see him. On the third evening, as she paced the apartments with hands clas])ed and eyes cast down, she sighed, "Oh ! merciful heaven, 'leliver me from this dreadful suspense." She felt that soon she nuist give way if something were not done. Every nerve in her body seemed strained to its utmost tension. Each and every sound startled her. At last, unable any longer to bear the monotony, she caught up a shawl, and, opening the door, she was about to run down the lawn. Hark, a step in the gravel and in a moment a man stands before her. Is she dreaming ? Xo, thank God, it is a blessed reality, she is clasi)ed in her husband's arms. She remembers no more till she opens her eyes and finds herself in her own bed, her husband bending over her. She is about to speak when the young of^cer stops her by saying, ''My dear wife, you must not tire yourself by talking, but lie still and listen to me. You see I am still in the land of the living, but, my darling, you came near never seeing your husband again. When I left the Fort that morn- ing, just before daylight, I made my way quickly to the place where I had left my boat. As usual, I pushed quickly off and was about in the middle of the stream when, to my surprise, I found my feet in the water. i6 Sea, Forest and Prairie. Horror-stricken, I stood up, only to find my boat sink- ing rapidly. Quick as thought, I got off most off my clothing, and in about two minutes I found myselt in the strong tide being carried out to sea. You know I am a good swimmer, but I soon became exhausted, and though I managed to reach the land just as I touched the shore I lost consciousness. I remained all day in an unconscious state. This I learned from an old fish- erman, who took me into Freshwater and kept me all night. Yesterday, as soon as I recovered, I at once started for home, and here I am, my darling, thankful that things are not any worse." His wife made no re- ply, 1)ut clasped her arms around her husband's neck and hid her happy face on his breast. Thus ended w'hat was near being a tragedy in the lives of a devoted couple. Xeither Arnoud nor his wife ever had the faintest suspicion of the foul treachery of Captain De- voux. Shortly afterwards they returned to the sunny land of France, and never afterwards beheld the face of him who had so nearly destroyed the life of one and the happiness of the other. MAY SELBY HOLDEN. St. John's, Newfoundland. LOSS OF THE ''BLUE JACKET." I think that one of the earliest things I can remember is hearing my father tell of the burning of a packet steamer called the ''Blue Jacket," and how they saved an old lad\' named Mrs. Foley from the terrible death of burning. It was on a frosty night, one winter's eve, as we drew our chairs around the fireside, and said : "Now, dear father, tell us again about the time the ^Blue Jacket' was burnt." "Why, now, my children, aren't you tired of hearing me relate that story. I really thought you had it learnt by this time of¥ by heart. But since it appears not, and you are anxious to hear it again, I will relate it to you. "Well, here it is :— Li the year 1862, before either of you were born, your uncles, Stephen, Henry and Josiah (brcthersi and an t.ld man named Will Smith and my- self, set out one September's morning for Kelley's Is- land. As you know, it's just twelve miles from here. We arrived there early in the morning for the purpose of cutting wood and anchored in a bight called Martin's Cove, for protection from a strong wind that was blowing from the W.NAV. After being there about two hours we saw a steamer near Brigus, which proved to be the "Blue Jacket," apparently on fire, and in a helpless condition, driving down towards the island on which we were. While looking at her we perceived a boat leaving her side and making its wav towards us. i8 Sea, Forest and Prairie. On seeing this we all hastened to the beach which she was approaching, and by die time we arrived diere the boat was in. We found then, for a certainty, that the burning boat was die "Blue Jacket," which used to carry die mails and i)assengers between Portugal Cove and the various settlements on the north side of Concep- tion Bay. We were in hopes that all the passengers were in the boat, but what was our dismay to hear ^-oni those who landed that an old lady belonging to Brigus and the engineer were still on board the l)uming steamer. We thought it was a dreadful thing for those so-called gentlemen to leave a poor old woman in the ship when there was plenty of room in the 1.)oat. Now, there were a number of fishing-boats all anchored in ]\rartin's Cove, and all (jf them were larger tlian ours. So we were in hopes that some of the larger ones would volunteer to go to the rescue of the old lady and the engineer, for we were awfully afraid that our boat was not capal)le of contending widi such a breeze ; but no, no one would volunteer to go to the rescue. So we consented to make a trial, though it were at our life's risk. We told die man Will to bale out the water, as it was beginning to come over our boat in showers. Henry was at the helm, and Stephen was at the sheets minding the sails. They told me to stand on the fore- cuddy with a rope to cast to the old woman, for, sad to relate, the poor engineer by this time had to jump over- board because of the intense heat, and was drowned. We didn't care to go too near the burning steamer, as our sails were newly tarred, and w'e knew that just one spark w-ould set us on fire. We tried our best to reach her before she would drive on the rocks where the sea '^ Loss of the "Blue Jacket." 19 was rai^in,cf. When we approached near we saw the poor old woman as far out on the jib-boom as she could get, to save herself from being burned. I shall never forget that sight. Her bonnet was hanging down her back, and her white hair was being blown about iier shoulders. She had on, happily, a large cloak, which shielded her from being scorched. She was screaming and clapping her hands in a despairing mood. When we were near enough I threw the roi)e to the old lady, and it went around her several times. I then sang out to her to let go, which she did, and came down and caught in the bob stay. We were now running before the wind, so I slacked out, thirty fathoms of line being the length of it, and held on to the end of it, and down went the poor old lady into the water. We imme- diately hauled away on the line to get her on board, and during this time we fell under the bow of the steamer. There was no time to be lost ; so when we got her on board we gave her in charge of Will, and had to hoist the sails for dear life, as we were falling in on the rocks and breakers. Just as w^e had the old lady on board, the steamer struck on the rocks, her head fell away by the wind, and the flames wreathed all parts of her. The poor old lady lay on the deck of the boat quite unconscious of what followed after. After we reached the Cove and had made a fire on the beach, and after using every means we could think of, she at last rallied and came to. It was then that she told us how the engineer had jumped overboard with a life-buoy, and had also given her one, telling her it was best for her to jump after him. She told him that a boat was coming, but he replied that he could not stand the heat 20 Sea, Forest and Prairie. any longer : so the poor fellow jumped and was drowned. When we arrived at the Cove we learnt that the captain of the steamer had given twenty dollars to a l)oat's crew to take him to Portugal Cove on the other side, so as to enable him to reach St. John's. On hear- ing of the engineer having jumped overboard we in- stantly went out again, thinking to find him on the life buoy, but no sign of him could be seen. When we came back tiie second time we took the old lady to a house a mile from W., where we landed, and when she was able to talk she told us that she was a Mrs. Foley belonging to Brigus. The wind kept us on the island three days, and when the storm abated we took her on our boat again and landed her at Brigus. Strange to relate a boat from Brigus was on the island, but she re- fused to go with anyone but us, and said she would not leave the island if we did not take her. So we had to take her to her home. It was just like the dead raised, for the captain who went to St. John's telegraphed to Brigus that ]\Irs. Foley was lost in the ''Blue Jacket." This is a true story ; the old lady is still living, and often tells of the catastrophe, and the narrow escape she had from so melancholy a fate. She is now over 90 years of age, but^ sad to say, is blind. As a recompense for our heroic deed we received from Government the sum of one hundred dollars. The names of the rescu- ers are respectively Messrs. Stephen Gosse (teacher), Josiah Gosse, Henry Gosse (Harbor Grace), and Wil- liam Smith (Bishop's Cove). ALBERTA GOSSE. Spaniard's Bay, Newfoundland. A SHIPWRECK. On Cliristmas Day, 1850, the "Niobe," with a crew of eight persons, under the command of Captain Robinson, set sail from Leghorn, with a gentle breeze, Ijound for Cadiz. Arriving there, we took in our cargo, which consisted chiefly of salt, and on January 14th received orders to go to Newfoundland. Accordingly, the next morning we set sail, with a fair wind and every prospect of making a quick trip. We sighted land on the evening of February 29th, after having encountered a very severe storm in cross- ing the Atlantic. The next morning I ascended the maintop, and tiie first thing that met my view was a light. I instantly called the captain, who said that it was the light on Cape Spear (Newfoundland 1. He then ordered our sails to be set, the vessel to be steered north by east, and entertained us with the bright hope that we should, ere long, be at Catalina. About sunset, as we passed Bacalieu, things began to assume a different aspect. The wind, instandy changing, began to blow violently. In the meantime the snow was falling so thickly that we could scarcely see the jib-boom. We then received orders to close-reef, clear the decks —as everything gave evidence that a storm was fast ap- proaching. In a short time the wind had risen to a per- fect gale. 22 Sea, Forest and Prairie. As snon as we liad tlic sails reefed I was walkint^^ for- ward when I met ihe captain, who told me to go and take the helm, as he had altered the course for Catalina and was now going to Trinity. The vessel being now close-reefed everv' man was on the watch, looking out for land. We were scudding at a rai)id rate when I happened to glance toward the head of the vessel, where everything appeared to look dark. I called out to the captain and asked him if that was land ahead. At the same moment "Starboard the helm and bring her to" rang from the lips of the half- frantic ca]^tain. ''I see land all around us. We are lost ! We are lost !" he again shouted. Each one in a moment realized his fate. I was at die helm. I held it till she struck, which carried away all the foremost part. I then let it go, and threw of¥ both my coats. The ves- sel by this time had receded a little with the sea, but only to be precipitated with greater force against the cliff, carrying away the taf¥rail with the shock. Now a very pathetic scene presented itself. ]Men who, but a few hours before, were even cursing God and their existence, could now be seen crying to God for mercy. ^Meanwhile, the undercurrent had swept the vessel out into the middle of the cove. While she was staying in that condition I managed to cut the ropes which bound the jolly-boat to the ship's side. The mate and three others went below to die. The captain, Billy, George and myself stood out for life. x\bout the hardest thing that ever I endured w^as to hear poor little Billy scream- ing, and asking me to save him. George and I then went aft to get a block ready to hoist the jolly-boat on the outer side. Just as we had 1 ij? for- ^o aiul iatalina was on ding at ird the :o look I if that ard the le half- \Ye are )ne in a held it )st part, 'he ves- ;ea, l)ut nst the en who, id their lercy. ssel out ying in bound d three George >t thing 5creani- sady to we had A Shipwreck. 2.S it ready, and were almost down, the vessel came in with snch a crash as broke the foremast ofif, and both of us fell to the deck, having narrowly escaped being killed. At this moment a tremendous sea broke over us, caus- ing them that were under to rush on deck. Just as we had the boat ready and all were on board except myself, wIkj was holding the painter, another sea came, which swept tiie jolly-boat across the ship, turning her bottom up, and throwing all of us into the water. As I was being tossed about on the waves I felt my back touch something. I seized it, turned over, and got my head above water. In a moment, although al- most unconscious, I realized my situation. I climbed to the top of the mast, and when the vessel touched the cliff again I jumped and caught hold of a shiver with my fingers. In that manner I remained hanging, till I found a place to rest my feet. Imagine my position, gentle reader, if you can : In the middle of the night, dripping with wet and half-be- numbed with the cold, holding on to a shiver of a per- pendicular cliff several hundred feet in height with my fingers, and a narrow^ ledge about four inches wide to rest my feet on. Below me were the warring waves, dashing with united fury against the cliff, and at times would run so high as almost to wash me aw^ay. While I was holding on in this manner I heard the vessel coming in again, and by inclining my body a lit- tle to the left I saved my life, which w^ould have been lost by a stroke from the masthead. A tremendous sea then came and broke with such fury over me that I al- most fell a victim to it. As I was trying to wipe the water from my eyes I heard the vessel coming in again ; 1 24 Sea, Forest and Prairie. J Q i; and while I was thinkinpc wliether I would be killed this time or ncjt I heard somebody cominp^ up the ri^j^^in^. In a few moments I found it was my friend George. As soon as the vessel touched again he jumped, and, as hap- pened, a little way beyond me. I soon made myself known to him. He then told me that all the crew were lost. I told him that I would soon be gone too, as I could not hold out much longer. He then told me that T must try and get up where he was, as lie did not need t(^ hold on at all, but had a large shelf in rest r)n. As we were speaking, we heard another person com- ing up the rigging. I told George to keep a good look- out for him, and take liis cravat, if he had one, and throw to him. George tried to cheer him, and kept swinging his cravat to him. x\t last he cauglit the cra- vat and jumped, but, alas! owing to his clothes being wet he was so heavy that he could not jump far enough, but remained hanging, George not being strong enough to pull him up. Oh, how I wished I was there to help him. At length the cravat began to stretch till the last thread gave way, and the poor fellow fell into the surg- ing waters below. All that we then heard was the howling of the winds, the roaring of the waves, and the vessel beating against the cliff. It seemed to me the longest night I ever spent on earth. In the morning I could scarcely hold on. ^[y friend then told me that he had a ball of spun- yam in his pocket. He got it ready, threw it to me, holding one end in his hand. Then, thinking that I would be too heavy, I managed to slip off my boots and pants, and, by God's help and my own, I got up all right. We felt thankful to be together again, although the ; A Shipwreck. 25 illed this rij^'Sinp:. ir^c. As 1, as liap- e myself rew were too, as I told nio 2 did not rest on. ■ion com- xjd look- one, and and kept t the cra- les beings • enough, ^ enough e to help 1 the last the surg- le winds, ;• against It I ever :ely hold of spun- it to me, \g that I )oots and all right. )Ugh the worst had not then come. The nigiit was jjieiving cold, and I had hardly any clothing on. The next two davs and niglits we managed to keep in good spirits, hul, as we saw no way of deliverance, things began to look glo(»iny, and my cotnrade, getting so discouraged, laid himself down to die. It was a hard time witli me. I held him on my arm for the next three days and nights, bhiwing my breath to his heart. He talked much of his friends having ])lenty, and he without any- thing. ( )nce in the night I heard liim cxcUiim, "Cook, give me something to eat, or I'll tell the captain on you." I shook him, and when I got him a little sen- sible I tried to impress the idea on him that the cai)tain and cook were lost, that we were in the cliff, and liiat I had no I'ood to give him. He was deathly pale, and told me that he was going to die. ''George," said I, "if you die I'll eat yf)U." " () John," he exclaimed, "for Gcjd's sake don't eat me." With that thought stamped on his mind he kept alive till daybreak, and, thank God, it was the last daybreak we saw in that miseral)le abode. All that night I was trying to think of some way of escape. When the sun had risen I lifted him from my arm, and told him that I was going to leave him. "O John," said he, "don't leave; don't leave me." I took a last look, as t thought, at him, and then left him. When I had got a little way beyond him my hands began to fail me. I looked at them and found that they were frozen. I felt as if I could hold on no longer. So I got my chin to rest on a shiver, and in tliat man- ner bore the weight of my body for some minutes. On my right, a few' feet from me, I saw a place that, if I got diere, T could rest as long as I chose. I asked God to c 26 Sea, Forest and Prairie. •t! ■■\ help nie, and, after a great difficulty, I succeeded. Then I sat down and began to think. I knew I would not be able to climb any more, for my hands were severely frost-bitten. I put them in my armpits and began to squeeze them, meaning bitterly. While I was busy watching my eye was directed to a dark object, which appeared to move. In a very short time I found that it was a boat. It had been on the search for seals, and through a suggestion from one of the crew, determined to row around the shore on their way home. Fearing that we should be passed unobserved I be- gan shouting at the top of my voice. Being attracted by the sound the little boy on board began to look in all directions. It was not long before he saw me, and told his father that up in the clifif he could see an owl and hear it screeching. To satisfy the boy's curiosity the boat's head was turned directly towards the spot. In a short time all their doubts had disappeared, for they could see, and hear me shouting. After explaining the matter to them, they left us to get assistance. They soon re- turned, however, and in a comparatively short time we were taken down and carried to comfortable quarters, where, under careful nursing, we remained for some time. Space would not pemiit me to enter into the details of the story. Suffice to say, that, after tliree weeks, with my hands partly well, I left for home, leaving my friend with both legs amputated. From our parting then we have never seen nor heard from each other since. W. PERCIVAL WAY. Bonavista, Nfld. . Then I not be severely egan to ted to a rv short . on the 1 one of on their ed I be- attracted lok in all nie, and ) an owl ead was time all see, and latter to soon re- time we uarters, )r some etails of ks, with ly friend then we :e. ^VAY. 4 "BY FIRE." Chaj)tcr I. Tiie golden rays of the setting sun are casting their brightness over the beautiful slieet of water known as Annapolis basin, leaving a mass of crimson clouds in the west. A great deal of history is connected with these waters in the pioneer days of Nova Scotia. How much of carnage and bloodshed have been enacted on their now peaceful bosom ! The ancient capital, Anna- polis Royal, named in honor of the good Queen Anne, looks every inch a bustling seaport town. The old fort stands untenanted, a reminder of rebellious scenes in the early settlement of this fair "land of the Mayflower." Not yet has the shriek of the iron horse been heard in the picturescjue Annapolis \'alley, rousing the inhabi- tants to greater energy and enterprise ; but in this year, 1846, it was whispered about that these things were to be that have since taken place. On the south or Granville side of the blue basin the trees bend down to the water's edge, and on a fair situ- ation stands a handsome cottage house, gleaming white through the foliage. Surrounding it is a well-kept lawn, and an air of comfort pervades the whole. Just now, a child of about ten sununers, tlie bright- ness of the western sky shining on !ier golden curls, stands motionless among the flowers that line the front 111! 28 Sea, Forest and Prairie. !in f! walk, gazing silently and half sadly out upon the basin, and wondering, as some white-sailed ships drop anchor for the night, when her absent parents and dear little sister Tiny will return. Not very long now, surely, and then — oh, how full of happiness the days will be. But if the child's eyes could look beyond the glittering sun- set and the treacherous waters, they would see a noble vessel wrapped in flame, and among the white faces in a little boat, far distant, they would recognize father. mother, and sister. Chapter II. A delightful August morning. The ''Annie Laurie,"' a trading barque of largest size, had finislied loading, and lay in the harbor of Nev/ Orleans, awaiting the hour of sailing. The scene was grand. The deep blue sky contrasted finely with the deeper blue of the Mississippi river, covered at that moment with various kinds of craft, from the little row-boat to the vast iron- clad. The air was clear and fine, even in that smoky city of the South, The "Annie Laurie," laden witli cotton for the markets of New York, was preparing to start on her long voyage. The crew were" hoisting her sails, and on the deck stood Captain McArthur. By him stood his wife, a short, well-made }oung woman with a quiet air of reserve. Clasped by the hand she led a little girl about four years of age, her child you could tell at a glance, by the same quiet, reserved expression, and wonderfully bright grey eyes. The little one's eyes travelled now from the bright scene before them up to her mother's face and rested there. "Shall we start soon, mamma ?" she asked. ■yast Bv Fire. 29 lie basin, p anchor ear little rely, and be. But ring sun- i a noble I faces in le father. I Laurie,'' I loading, aiting the The deep ue of the 1 various •ast iron- at smoky iden witli paring to »isting her tliur. By g woman ik1 she led you could xpression, one's eyes lem up to "\'ery soon, I believe. vSee ! They're hoisting the anclior now. We're off !" (as the vessel began to glide slowly out of the harbor.) "How glad are you. Tiny ?" "Oh ! lots, mamma," cried Tiny, dancing u]) and down on the deck : "and how long before I shall see Grace ?" "In about two weeks," replied Mrs. McArthur, smil- ing at the child's eagerness. "Are we going to have a ])rosperous voyage, do you think ?" she asked, turning to her husband. "If this weather holds out," was the prompt reply, "and there are no signs of a storm yet." Mrs. Mc Arthur did not answer, but gazed with ab- sent eyes upon the mighty "parent of waters," its placid surface disturbed )w scarcely a ripple, and reflecting the blue and silver of the flecked sky above. And the good ship glided down tlie widening river, homeward bound. * A week passed away, and the "Annie Laurie" far, far out at sea. was rushing along through the Atlantic Ocean, towards New York, under a cloud of canvas. The sun had just risen, when the captain's wife, Mrs. McArthur, came on deck. She had not been there long before her husl)and joined her. "If this weather holds out," he said, we shall reach New York in a little less than a week, leave our cargo there, and then for home." A smile lit up his wife's face, and murmuring some exclamation of pleasure, she left him and went into the cabin without speaking again. An hour later. Captain jMcArthur saw with dread the unmistakable signs of an approaching storm. The sun was veiled with a hazy vapor, and masses of heavy black clouds were rushing 30 Sea, Forest and Prairie. By Fire. 31 erecl the 1 up the nds were A'Hiig on iters, her er masts nd hum- d waters, i-fife rail, rho were :1 pkinge. 2 a huge e captain m, wash- :i slender ed to the , twisting rept over nd of the His wife, as swept eeks and iimander. in such a md com- :)tain was snapping ope were 3airingly. .« "Xo earthly power can save him now. The rope will part long before we can get him alongside." Nearer — nearer, to the ship was the captain drawn. When he was within five yards of it, the rope held him only by one of .ts strands. This, going round and round, must part in a few seconds. With clasped hands, and eyes gleaming large and bright, Mrs. McArthur watched her husband, her lips compressed, as if by the power of her will alone she would prevent the rope giving way. The strain upon that one strand was tremendous. It cracked and snapped, but it still held. The first mate stood reaching far out over the rail to be ready to seize the captain the moment he would be drawn within reach. The men at the rope pulled him cautiously nearer to the side of the vessel. A little nearer and he could be reached. The mate made a grasp at the captain's hair, missed it, and seized him by the collar of his rough pea-jacket. "Thank God ! he is saved," cried the man hoarsely, as a dozen sailors rushed to his assistance, and Captain McArthur stood safe on deck once more. A marvel- lous escape from a watery grave. Chapter III. The gale had subsided and the angry waters were re- suming their wonted calm, the heavy clouds parting and showing the smiling blue beneath. The stomi ceased as suddenly as it had begun. In half an hour there was no trace of a cloud on the blue canopy above. The rays of the sun poured down with a fierce heat on the deck of the "Annie Laurie." The crew rejoiced at the change, all but a few of tlie oldest seamen, who ^ > 111 32 Sea, Forest and Prairie. shook their heads ominously and declared that the sud- den chanjT^e boded no good. These were ridiculed by the sailors who lounged about on deck enjoying the fierce heat, that, as the day wore on, grew unbearable. Great heavy masses of clouds were, for the second time that day, seen advancing. In a short time the sky was completely covered with a canopy of darkness. It seemed as though the predictions of the old seamen were about to be verified. The air was stifling. Suddenly a strange calm seemed to fall over the ship. Even the sea hushed its restless moaning and crept up the sides of the becalmed vessel in silence. Then the air grew dark as night, and a lurid sheet of light broke from the dark clouds, followed by a terrible crash of thunder, as the dreadful tempest closed round the doomed "Annie Laurie." The din of sea and sky was frightful. The waves rose mountains high, their terrible looks mingling with the very lightning of the sky, every pale brilliant flash of which lit up the scared faces of the crew, the inky sea, and the storm-tossed vessel with unearthly distinct- ness. Then one broad glare, accompanied by a peal of thunder that seemed to rend the heavens, and a ball of livid fire ran down the ship's foremast, splintering it like a reed, and setting fire to the deck. When the men had recovereid from the stupor into which the fearful shock had plunged them, it was too late. The flames, spreading faster than they had deemed possible, were creeping up the main-mast, licking up the boards of the deck, steahng above and below. Captain McArthur, who had been amongst his men, made a frantic rush for the cabin. He was met at the Bv Fire. 33 door by his wife, their httle girl in her arms. Without words, for none were needed, he took her liand, and to- getlier they jjassed up the cabin stair • and gained the deck. Through the forehatch a huge volume of flame and smoke \\\.z pouring. The glare of the flames shone for many miles across the dark raging sea. "The cargo! It's afire! The cotton's caught!" cried a sailor, rush- ing up to die captain, pale with fright. A glance around told the captain that it would be useless to at- tempt to subdue the flames. No human effort could arrest their progress, and so dreadful was the noise of sea and sky that the minute gun, after being discharged three times, was abandoned. "For," said the captain, "in any case assistance could not reach us in such an awful tempest." At this there was a fearful cry raised for the boats, and, useless as it w^as, they endeavored to launch them. As they touched the water one after another was dashed into a hundred fragments, and, while they were trying to launch the last, the mainmast fell over the side with a terrible crash. An immense column of flame and sparks shot up toward the dark, lowering sky. The captain's wife stood by the weather rail holding her frightened child clasped close in her arms. The flames darted tow^ard her, licking her very garments with their scorching tongues ; but she seemed uncon- scious of peril. Her eyes were fixed on the tossing sea, lit up by the glare of the flames w^hose dull roar she heard as they raged in the narrow walls below. Captain McArthur hastened to her side and laid his hand on her shoulder. J'iil m 34 Sea, Forest and Prairie. "Must we die ?" she asked, turning lier eyes to meet his gaze quite cahnly. "I hope not," he answered, turning his face away that she might not see the anxiety written on it ; "The sea has abated a Httle. The boat may, perhaps, Hve on it. Come !" He took the child from her arms, and strode toward the one remaining boat, in which the crew, frightened out of their wits, were fighting for places. The strug- gle ceased for a moment, however, at the captain's au- thoritative command, and Mrs. McArthur and her little girl were allowed to take their seats quiedy. Then the sailors, and last of all the captain, threw themselves into their places, and a huge wave swept them away from the side of the doomed ship, and just in time, for an instant later the vessel was completely wrapped in flame. The thunder tempest was followed by such a down- pouring of rain as can hardly be imagined. How eagerly the shipwrecked voyagers watched for the dawn need not here be told. The torrents of rain beat down the sea, the wind gradually abated, and towards morning the stars shone through broken masses of cloud. Lighter and lighter grew the sky in the east, over the horizon. The captain stood erect, and, shading his eyes with his hands, peered long and anxiously across the still heaving waste of waters. "Sail ho !" rang out in his stentorian tones, and the light of hope sprang to pallid faces, and glad eyes gazed across the sea at the ap- proaching vessel, which proved to be a French brigan- tine bound for New York. In half an hour the shipwrecked mariners were stand- Bv Fire. 35 ing safe on her deck and meeting witli all possible at- tention from the officers, who were deeply sympathetic for the misfortune they had encountered, and — Well ! to tell a long story in a few words, the next week saw them safely landed in New York, and, a little later, blue waters and smiling sky witnessed a joyous reunion on the shores of Annapolis basin. MAUDE SAUXDERS. Lawrencetown, Annapolis County, N.S. I ;| TROUBLOUS TIMES. In France, in 171 2, Louis, the eldest son of the Mar- quis of Montcahn, was born, and three years later a little sister, Marie, entered the household. Afterwards there were other brothers and sisters, but this sketch has to do only with Louis and i\Iarie. In childhood's days they were constantly together at play, in the ground surrounding the noble old house, and though, like other children, they had their little quarrels, they were very fond of each other. One great trial to Marie as she grew older was her brother's con- tempt for dolls ; neither did she take as much interest in military play as he desired. But Louis grew to be a large lad and was sent away to school, while Marie, robbed of her playmate, devoted more time to her studies and less to play, that Louis might not surpass her altogether. The Montcalms were Catholics, and when John Pay- zant, a man of integrity and some wealth, fell in love with j\Iarie, she knew that she could never marry him with her parents' consent. To do so without their con- sent meant to leave the old home so deai to her, never to return ; but she concluded that life without him would be miserable even though surrounded by all that before had made her so happy. So they fled together, dwelt for some time on the Isle of Jersey and finally sailed across the sea to make a home for themselves Troublous Tiiucs. 37 in tlie ,G:reat Western world, where Catholic or Hugue- not worshipped as his conscience dictated. They settled on an island in Mahone Bay, Xova Sco- tia, where they were very ha])py. Four children were born to them, John, Louis, Philip, and a little j^^irl. The parents instructed the children in the usual branches of learnings nor did they neglect religious training. They felt more secure in their island home than though the water about them had been the great walls of a fort, and the trees sohHers on guard. In the spring of 1756, soldiers from the fort at Lunenburg helped Mr. Payzant break up the soil. On Saturday afternoon they retired to the fort to spend Sunday. In die evening, when all was still, the family heard the report of a nnisket, followed by the scream of terror, and soon they saw a band of Indians approach- ing the house. The scream was from a man, captured by the In- dians, who led them thither, hoi)ing diat the plunder they would find would induce them to release him. As soon as they reached the island the Indians shot him. Poor wretch ! he little thought they were directed by a higher mind than his. As he saw the Indians coming John Payzant fastened the heavy oak door and stood behind it. Finding that the door would not yield the Indians pointed their mus- kets at it in different directions, and fired. A bullet entered the father's heart, and he fell backwards into his wife's arms, simply saying, "My heart is growing cold, ]\Iar}-," and his life en this earth was ended. Heretofore, their life had been as peace and sunshine which they had enjoyed together — now his heart had m Icf i (1 I 38 Sea, Forest and Prairie. grown cf)](l, and she was left in the jj^atlicriii^ef j^looni with her terrified children at her side. Inii)ossible it would be to protect the little ones she loved from the savages now breaking down the door. In agony she awaited her fate. The screams of a servant's child an- noyed the Indians, and they seized the innocent babe and dashed out its brains against a rock. Then, be- cause the distressed uMther gave vent to her grief, she was put to death by the tomahawk. Mary Payzant and her family were led to the canoes, and after the Indians had plundered the house, they fired it and paddled away. Silently, mournfully, the mother left her home where, but last evening, they had been so -lappy as they heard the children recite their lessons. As she looked back, she shuddered to think of her dead husband lying in the midst of the flames ; his ashes mingling with the ashes of their home. And these, her children, what tortures were they to endure ? Must she stand dumb and silent and see them put to death in some cruel manner, as were the servant and her child ? Horrible thought ! Leaving the bay, they passed through a river and several lakes, the Indians bearing the canoes on their shoulders as they tramped across portages. Long years afterwards, Mary Payzant told her grand- children how, passing down the Avon River, Hants County, in the silent moonlight, they came in sight of Fort Piziquid, now the town of Windsor. The Indians, fearing their captives would be seen by the men at the fort, forced them to lie in the bottom of the canoes. Many days passed and still they were on the march, sonietimes tramping through gloomy forests, and often •ifi ■i«_y Troublous Times. 39 moving over lake or stream in the canoes. Wearisome it was, but as the days went by and they suffered no vicjlcnce from tlie Indians, the j^^reat terror that at first had seized the chihh'en, wore awav. The redsl-cins be- came friendly and taught tiie boys the use of tiie bow and arrow. The motiier felt it was better for the children not to be alarmed, but deep in her heart was a nameless dread — a horror of the fate awaiting them at their journey's end; for oft had she heard of the treachery of the In- dians. On, on, they went. At last, leaving the forest, they paddled up a large river until they came to a city, built pardy on low ground and j^arUy on a high bluff. They landed and were led through the lower to the up- per town. And here a surprise awaited the weary, anx- ious woman. Lo, she was met by her brother Louis, General Montcalm, commander of the French forces at Quebec. Then, like a great flood, surged back the recollec- tions of a fond husloand, now dead ; a happy home, now- laid in ruins ; the long weary journey and the sicken- ing anxiety that had filled her heart; — and here was the author of all her misery, her i)rother. Bitterly, scornfully, she accused him of destroying her home and of murdering her husband. She would hear no explanation — she could never forgive him. Montcalm placed John, and Louis in the Jesuit Col- lege, where they were educated for Catholic priests, and he made his sister as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Ample time had she then to brood over her wrongs, and, as time passed, her heart did not soften toward her brother, who would fain have beheld in his sister the loving comrade of his early days. 40 Sea, Forest and Prairie. Weeks, niontlis, years went l>v, iiPitil in 173<). the city was l)esiet;e(l. For months Wolfe Hn,<;\MVil liefore the city, seeking;' some feasible point of attack, and still the French felt secure in their hii^h fortress. Tint wiien the sun rose beautifully, on vSej>t. 13, Wolfe and his men were revealed drawn up in line of battle on the [Mains of Abrahan' Montcalm heard as in a dream that the I'ritish had gainetl the heights, but resolved not to surrender with- out a strus;i;le, and at once tnade an impctuiuis attack ; the result )ou all know. I>orne from the battle-fiekl mortally wounded, being told he couUl live but a few hours, he sent al once for liis sister. As she entered the apartment he said, "Marie, I am dying. For the sake of the old days in h'rance, hear me. 1 heard of your arrival in Xova Scoiia, and wishing to shield you from the perils of this war, and the attacks of Indians, I sent some friendly In- dians with an order to bring \ou here unharnu'd, that I might see you again and act the part of a brother, lint unfortunately, your husbaml was killed, and you hate me. In this, my dying hour, 1 ask yt)u to forgive me for the misery I have brought to you ; thmigh, indeed, I meant but kindness. Will you ft)rgive mo. Marie ?" "Louis," she said, and her face became less stern, "you are dying — far, far away from the dear old home in France, and you ask my forgiveness. ! can forgive the loss of my (juiet, happy home ; the anxiety lor the safety of my children ; the long, weary march, and the trials that may come ere I again have a home ; I can forgive all these ; I cannot forgive the death of my hus- band." So Montcalm died without his sister's pardon. Troublous Tiiuos. ^[ After the iloatli of Iior hrothor Mary I'av/ant and her cliiklrcn waudcml hack to Xova Scotia, whcro in l-al- iiioutli, Hants County, she took up a i^Taut of laiuk Tliciv she spent the remainder of her iife, and there some of her ik'sceiuhuits hve at the present time. The two hoys, educated for priests, hecame Protestant preachers, one preachino- for many years in l.iverpot)!^ Many were the aih'entures they tokl to their j^rand- chiklren (often with tears in dieir eyes) of that terrihle journey with the Indians. TA'Cirj.A IWVZAXT. Windsor l'\)rks, Hants C'ouiUv, .\.S. M Ik If t^wJ^itMlfcMitiltfl'i aam AN ICY ADVENTURE. The island of Port Hood is situated on the western coast of Cape l>reton, about one and a-half miles from the village of Port Hood, in the County of Inverness, It is about three miles long and one mile broad, and was formerly connected with the mainland by a narrow strip of land. But in the year 1812, during one of the most violent gales that ever occurred in Cape Breton, the water was drawn over this neck of land, and the soil, being of a sandy nature, was unable to withstand the ac- tion of the Vv'aves and forthwith began to wash away. This wearing process has gone on ever since and the re- sult is that the island is now about a mile and a-half from the mainland. There are at present on the island about seventeen families, all of whom are well-to-do. They have erected a nice church and a schoolhouse. In the year 1787 David Smith, whose family came from Massachusetts, settled on Port Hood Island. He was a seafaring man, having gone to sea at the age of nine }'ears, and before he was eighteen years old was com- mander of a vessel. For two years after he came to Port Hood he farmed and fished, and from these two sources ol)tained a good living. In the year 1789. just a hundred years ago, his family consisted of himself and wife and three sons, Louis, David and Isaac, aged re- spectively eighteen, fourteen and ten years. These l)ovs, like tlieir father, were noted for their enterprise An lev Adventure. 45 and manly daring. One incident will illustrate these characteristics. When about seventeen years old, Louis, the eldest, encountered a bear. Fortunately, the boy had with him a gun loaded with shot. It was the first time he had ever a chance of killing a bear, and he had all a boy's ardor for the sport. Watching his oppor- tunity, he sent the charge of shot into the bear. This so enraged the animal that it attacked the boy, who, with the stock of his gun, succeeded in killing it. The place where this occurred, in commemoration of the event, is called "Bear Cove." In February, 1789, David Smith, senior, with his three sons, David, Louis and Isaac, accompanied 1)y two dogs, started out on the ice to hunt seals. They had gone quite a distance from the shore when one of them looked back and uttered an exclamation of dis- may. All turned towards the shore and to their terror saw that, on account of easterly winds, the ice between them and the shore had passed, leaving a wide stretch of dark water between. Had they at once attempted to jump across to the shore they might have saved themselves, but they tried to find a narrow place to cross, unheeding the fact that every moment increased their peril, as the ice was con- stantly shifting out to sea. At last the father, taking off his coat, said: "Boys, I will swim to the shore and get a boat: you remain on the ice; I shall return for you;" and. suiting the action to the word, the brave man sprang into the icy waters and swam towards slioro. He succeeded in reaching the ice near the shore and tlie boys said that they saw him get upon it, but it is su]- posed thcit he was in some way carried under, as he was never seen afterwards. ■ii 44 Sea, Forest and Prairie. 11 111!' This ha]:)pene(l in tiie morning. }^Ican\vliile, the boys were floating ont to sea. The wind was very cold, and they were witliout provisions. How long they conid stand it they did not kn<-w Even if they kept from freezing they had nothing with which to satisfy their hunger. . The two elder buys were more able to stand it, but Isaac was a boy of tender years, with a child's impatience at the unsatisfied desire for food. The day passed; night came on, and with it the cold increased. Before the ice parted they had killed one seal, and during the night they managed to kill another, and with the skins of these and tiie coat left by the father, they kept themselves from freezing. Imagine the agony and terror of those poor children. They were quite certain that their father was dn^wned, and saw nothing but a like fate for theiuselves. X'ay; there was, perhaps, in store for them a worse fate — that of being frozen or starved to death. They thought of their widowed mother and how she would feel when she discovered her loss. However, they did not lose courage. Committing themselves to die care of Him who rules the elements, they began to plan some way of escape. But all appeared ii<^pcless; there seemed no way out of their horrible position. The second day dawned. The children were not ab- solutely freezing, bnt their horror of their position was every moment ii. creasing. For over twenty-four hours not a morsel of food had passed their lips, and even if they were able to withstand the cold much longer, which did not seem probable, death by starvation stared diem in the face. To add to their misery, the dogs set up a pitiful howl as if imploring the Unseen to spare them. An lev Adventure. 45 All the time the ice was floating in a northerly direction. The boys coukl still see the shore, from which tliey were distant about three miles, but tlieir chances of escape seemed very faint. With two stout poles, which they had brought on the ice for the purpose of killing seals, thev broke of? a small cake of ice, on which, with their dogs, they embarked, and thus, in Nature's boat, they headed for shore. Their progress necessarily was very slow; they were almost exhausted with cold and hunger, and were sometimes tempted to give up the effort, which seemed nearly hopeless. But life was sweet to them, so with the desperate energy of despair they kept to their task. The exertion helped to keep up circulation and the hope of reaching land was stronger than their sense of exhaustion and hunger. It was in the early part of the forenoon of the second day that the boys, with their dogs, embarked on the cake of ice. Late in tlie after- noon of the same day they found themselves within a short distance of shore. Would they reach it? It was uncertain whether or not their strength would hold out, and now, to tlieir dismay, they became aware that the ice on whicli they were floating was gradually sinking. It had become thoroughly water-soaked. Had all their toil been in vain? Should they indeed be drowned when land was so near? Apparently there was little ground for hope, for the water was washing over the ice and their legs were wet to the knees. The poor dogs stood looking, now at their master and again at the shore, and all the while howling dis- mally. Poor brave boys ! It was enough to have moved sterner hearts than theirs. Summoning all the energy of despair they moved their paddles desperately r^ II 46 Sea, Forest and Prairie. for a few moments. At last they touched the shore ice and, by leaping from cake to cake, they succeeded in reaching mother earth safely. Their feelings can be l:)etter imagined than dci-cribed when they found them- selves again on firm footing. At once they looked around to ascertain tlicir where- abouts. They found that they had landed at Little Mabou, which they knew to be about seven miles from their home. So now thev were almost as badlv off as ever, for in their present exhausted state they could not think of walking so far. But to their joy they per- ceived a house only a short distance off. Whistling to their dop-s '-^ ^'-Jlow ihey started for it. But they were destined t'j . i-her disappointment, — the door was locked; the oc (ipants were away. -However, they knew that ^t any rate they must have food and shelter, so, breaking a j; ne . ^la'^s, they succeeded in gaining an entraiice. At once tuey built a fire, and, having found something to eat, they all lay down by the fire and fell asleep. Early the next morning they set out for home. In the meantime news had spread abroad that Davie Smith and his sons had been drowned. Much sympathy was felt for the widowed mother, and people came from far and near to comfort her. In fact the occupants of the house in which the boys had spent the night had gone to Port Hood to comfort, and, if necessary, to relieve the wants of the poor widow. Great was their surprise, on returning home, to meet the three boys and their dogs. The mother was overjoyed at again meeting her three sons, but her joy was, of course, terribly marred by the fact that her husl3and had found a watery grave. An lev Adventure. 47 The three lads g^rew to manhood, and were ahvays noted for their courage and enterprise. Louis and David afterwards removed to Mabou, and were the first settlers on that place. Some idea of the fertility of the land on which they established themselves can be got from the fact that for seven consecutive years the ave- rage of forty-five bushels of wheat was taken from one acre of land. Louis was killed by a bull when he was seventy -five years old. He had a family of ten chil- dren, the eldest of whom died this winter in her ninety- third vcar. JENNIE SMITH. Hillsborough, N.S. r I TALES OF ACADIE. The year 1775 is marked by "the expulsion of the Acadians." In that year, shortly before this event, a party of settlers came to Grand Pre from Martha's Vineyard, an island ofif the coast of Massachusetts. Among them were my great-grandparents, Charles Y and Elizabeth W , aged respectively four- teen and eight. When, on their arrival in Acadia, they heard of a ter- rible massacre, which had happened some months be- fore, they were much frightened and wished themselves back in their old home. A party of immigrants, wish- ing to cross the Cornwallis valley, hired French guides, camped for the night in a hollow, now called ''moccasin hollow," a beautiful place surrounded by hills and "the forest primeval," while through the centre a silvery stream wound its way. Here, as the sun sank to rest, the weary people fell asleep. Suddenly, at midnight, the terrible war-whoop of the Indian was heard. The terrified people rushed in all directions, only to be beaten and hacked to pieces by their dark and terrible foes. The sun rose. The band of immigrants slept their long last sleep. The Indians sitting by their camp fires told with hideous grins of the night's amusement. Now comes that event known as the expulsion of the Acadians ; but history tells us that, and it is my aim only to write things of which the world does not know. Tales of Acadic. 49 Shortly after the expulsion of the I*>ench a treaty of peace was made with die Indians, and the j^-un and tomahawk were buried, the tomahawk lowest as a si^n that the Indians would be the last to break the ]ieace. Our frienfis at Grand Pre, however, knew nothing- of die treaty, and so, when they heard that fifteen canoe loads of Indians were coming- down the river, the news spread like wildfire, and soon all were assembled in the fort. In the fort there was no ammunition, and no provisions. Therefore, it was seen by all that resistance was useless. At last diey decided what to do. (J)ne of their number, the father <>\ Charles Y , could speak French. He, v>'ith. two others, volunteered to g^o down to the river and have a jjarley with the Indians, and, if possible, to ar- range terms of peace. When the canoes came within hearing, "Can you speak French," Mr. Y demand- ed in French. "Yes, and English too," cried the chief in English. < ,)n diey came: and as the chief leapt ashore he turned the muzzle of his gun to the ground, and ex- tended his right hand, saying; "We are all one, brother," and as each dusky warrior leapt ashore he turned the muzzle of his gun to the ground, extended his hand and said, "We are all one, brother." All can imagine die de- liglit of the three men, when they heard of the relation- ship. Years have passed. The treaty lias never been broken. A new and beautiful village has sprung up in place of the old one destroyed by the English, while Bloniid Tinas Basin. Tlie lat- ter, which, of course, appears quite small on a large map is a beautiful sheet of water, more than twenty miles wide. Many rivers flow to it; and these, too, look small — like small brooks — on the map. They are, in realit\', very insignificant and nasty-looking when the tide goes out; for, of each of them, nothing is to be seen but a great muddy ditch, at the bottom of which only a few inches of water are flowing. One of these rivers emptying into ]\ Tinas Basin is the Avon, which the Indians called Piziquid, the muddy river; and this is the scene of my story, which I am sorry is not a pleasant one. A celebrated American, ;Mr. Dudley Warner, •;'!! ■i I 'i ^^1 i: ! I ,51 Sa Sea, P'orcst and Prairie. lauj^licd at our river when he was taken to see it at low- tide; but, if lie had seen the Avon in its full strengtii, — nearly two miles wide at its mouth, over sixty feet deep, and filled with a tremendous mass of water rushing alonpc with the speed of a mountain torrent, — he could not have helped admiring its greatness. While I am describing this river, I may as well ex- plain why it is that its waters behave so strangely, for the Avon is one of the chief actors in my story. Well, if you have been looking at your map carefully, you must have seen that the Bay of Fundy and Minas Basin are of a singular shape — like a thick wedge. This ac- counts for the remarkable tidal disturbance. The ocean tide, flowing westerly, ])ushes a great volume of water up the Bay of Fundy with such force, that, for a few hours the rivers are very full, and high banks, called dykes, are necessary to keep out the sea. Just when the tide is at its deepest the waters begin to turn ; and, a few hours later, the rivers are dry again. Our deep rivers and our splendid growth of timber have made us, in Nova Scotia, shipbuilders as well as seafarers. vSailing up Minas Basin into the Avon, one sees, dotting the shores, numerous pretty villages, at each of which a large vessel is on the stocks, being made ready for sea. Summerville, Burlington, Huntsport and Avondale are passed in turn, until you reach Wind- sor,, my home, an incorporated town of considerable importance. At Avondale, in the spring of 1889, the keel was laid for a ship of two thousand tons burden. A great deal of timber is needed for the construction of so large a vessel, and the raftsmen were busy for a long time, A Tra^^cdy of the Avon. 53 brins^injT^ material I'.own the Avon to the sliipyard. The spring liad opened early, and tlierc were p^ood pros- pects for a pnxsperous season. ( )n the tweiity-eii^-litii day of March a load of chain for binding- rafts was j^i^ot ready to he carried np the river in a boat. In the even- ing the little craft, with its weighty cargo, set ont to work its way np the tide, to the mills, wiiere the tim- ber-raft was waiting to be secnred. In charge of her were five men, the stontest and strongest that conld be got. Jnst how long the trip onght to take was not known. The boat was heavily laden, bnt her crew had the cnrrcnt in their favor at starting, and there w I THE REV. DONALD MACDOXAL:). My story is not one of adventure, or struggle for wealtli or j^owcr. It is one of the true heroism of a man who did not think of his own wealth or greatness, but went through all kinds of hardships to preach to men who had not heard the Word of God for years. Many a night he slept in a log hut, through which the wind had easy entrance. His bed on these occasions was of straw, or even the boughs of trees. In his life- long battle with the indifference and carelessness of those whom he was trying to save from worse than death, he exhibited rarer qualities, both of mind and heart, than is shown by the soldier on the battle-field, or by the man, who, on the impulse of the moment, leaps into the sea to rescue a drowning companion. The Reverend Donald Macdonald, one of the great- est preachers, and, perhaps, the most wonderful man who was ever on Prince Edward Island, was the founder of the sect of Macdonaldites, the most peculiar and original of religious bodies. He was born on the first of January, 1785, in Perthshire, Scotland. He chose the calling of a minister, and was educated at St. An- drew's University. He was ordained to the ministry of the Church of Scotland in the year 181 6. For the first eight years of his ministry he preached among his native hills. He then crossed the Atlantic and preached for two years in Cape Breton. He came to Prince M 64 Sea, Forest and Prairie. EcUvarrl Island in 1826. At first he had no church, but was obliged to preach in barns, houses, schools, and even in the open air. His clear, strong voice could be heard for a great distance, and people came in crowds to listen to him. The peculiarity of the Macdonaldites was, that while ]\Ir. ]\facdonald w'as preaching they gently swayed to and fro, or clapped their hands. As he waxed more elo- quent th.eir' motions became more animated. At first they pleaded aloud for mercy ; after a time they became joyful, and cried out, ''Glory ! Glory !" and that they had been taken out of the miry pit and their feet were set upon a rock. The women's bonnets came off, and their hair broke loose from all bounds and fell in wild profusion over their faces. Their movements were so violent that when they threw their heads back their hair snai)pctl like a whip-cord. People said that it was the mesmeric jiowcr that Mr. Macdonald possessed that caused this strange behavior on the i)art of his flock. A gentk'Hian tvild Mr. Macdonald that this was the case. He re])lied: "You blasphemous scoundrel ! Would you call the Holy Spirit of the Lord Donald ]\Iacdon- ald ?" It was not only good people who were influ- enced in this strange manner. It has been known that, on several occasions, people who went to laugh and scof¥, were, by the preacher's eloquence and their sym- pathy with the people, themselves afifected in the same wa>'. P>efore the sermon Mr. Macdonald always gave a discourse on the national, political and religious (|ues- tions of the day, and in this way taught his ]:)eople what was going on in the world, for in those days newspapers The Rev. Donald Macdmiald. 6; were not so ijlentiful as they are now; besides, many of his ijarishioners were very ig'norant. He was always displeased when people came late to church. One time when a .L;reat number were assembled, and waiting f(jr him U) Ijcgin, he remained silent. The people won- dered, but never a word he said. After a time one of his chief elders came in. "Well, James," he said, "did you pass anyone on the road?" "Xo;" answered the astonished elder. "Did you see anyone beliiiul you?" "Xo." "Well, then, we may begin." This is only one instance r.f the way he had of making his people punc- tual. Great was the respect and love his congregations had for him; but diey also feared him. He disliked to see gay l^onnets or dresses in church. It was no un- common thing for him to command a woman to take of¥ the gaudy bonnet she wore, and give it to him that he might hold it up to ridicule, saying : "What do you think of the like of that for a child of God to wear ?" He was very generous, and, although never married, had a great love for children. He always carried pen- nies in his pockets to give to any little one he might chance ti) meet. Like the ajiostles of old, "when he came to a village he went to the house of some wortliv man, and there abode till he went thence." He did not recei\'e a salary, but the people gave him all he needed. In living, first widi one and dicn anodier of his flock, he liecame personally acquainted with them all. He was c»f the opinion that to rock balyles was bad for them, He, therefore, told their parents to take the rockers off the cradles. ^lany a poor mother spent hours over a cross baby who was used to being rocked asleep; but 66 Sea, Forest and Prairie. still they had to obey — for the minister had spoken, and his word was law. Mr. Macdonald had a keen sense of the ridiculous. There was at one time a man in Charlottetown by the name of Sabine Kniii^ht. He was giving a religious lec- ture, and had some strange ideas about heaven. After his lecture he said: "I defy anyone to contradict what I have been saying;" and, looking over the audience, he saw Mr. Macdonald; "yes, and I even defy the Rev- erend Donald ^facdonald." ]\Ir. Macdonald, when thus challenged, rose quietly and said: "Mr. Knight need not concern himself so much about heaven; for does it not sav in the Bible, 'There shall !)e no night there?'" Tn his appearance he was stout, rather belw?»y'J^^^''*%'^^ THE SEAL IIUXT. One fine niDrnitiq:, in the winter of 1865, the inhabi- tants of a small country village heard the barking of nninennis seals in the Xorthumberland Strait. As far as the eye ci)uld reach the ice was black with them. It was determined to secure some of these animals, as their pelts were very valuable. Several ardent seal hunters sc-t out with sticks and knives, and were successful in killing a large number. At that time, as at present, there was an Old Country gentleman and his adop<-ed S(jn living in the place. Tnis man promised his boy if he would work well during the day, they would go down and watch the sealers killing their game toward night. Down they accordingly went, going far out on the ice. "While they were watching attentively, suddenly, to their lujrror, the ice parted. Eortunately the most of them got upon die bord-ice, that is, the ice that remains at- tached I') the shore. Five or six, however, were not so fortunate, among them the old gendeman mentioned •ab(n'e and his foster son. These two were together on a small cake of ice. The man told the lad to lie down flat on his stomach and he would try and paddle ashore. WTiile so engaged, however, the cake parted with their arm and leg on each piece of ice, and dien managed to hold them together. By this time the news was spread- ing rapidly respecting the danger to which some of the peoi)le were exi)ose(l, and two men, named Mc\'ean, of- fered to go to the rescue. By great exertion they saved '■f >: J M mmt ■ •■' '"I' The Seal Hunt. 7t the boy and his foster father, but not until the next niornnig. SeA-eral men, on another cake of ice, were also out all night. When they first saw their danger, one of dieni grabbed a slaughtered seal, hoping to live upon its flesh if carried out to sea One poor fellow took off his cap and threw it on the ice, exclaiming, "My wife is a widow to-night." But his fears were not realized, for they were picked up the next day, some miles to the eastward. Thus all were rescued, finally, from their perilous situa- tion. The seals that were killed, being on the bord-ice, were dragged ashore, and from that day to this the barking of seals, with very few exceptions, has never been heard i;i these parts. HARRY C. BISHOP. Kingsborough, Lot 47, P.E.I. 'i !*i A TERRIBLE NIGHT OX THE ICE. I' !) I.' >i' |{' It A little more than thirty years ago, when the now flourishing town of Suniniersidc iiatl grown only to the size of a small village, a very sad and tragic event hap- pened on the ice, in this harbor, which, for ilie time, cast a deep gloom over the neighborhood. Th.e winter had just fairly set in, and the first ice had completely closed up the navigation. It was ab(-)ut the time of the Christmas festivities, so much enjoyed by the young people in those days in the social and innocent pastime of sleigh-driving and visiting friends. At this time our railway was not thought of, nor yet our telegraph and telephone systems, now a seeming necessity of our every-day life; hence the utility i^i so much sleigh-driving in those days. In the narrative we are about to relate we shall aim at giving u< ahing but the simple facts in every detail, as there are many persijus still living who recollect this unfortunate « 'ccur- rence, and, therefore, it is the more necessary l<> be i)ar- ticular in this respect, only the names of the parties be- ing withheld. A party of four young persons, all unmarried, con- sisting of two ladies, their brother and a lady friend, left their home in Hedefjue to visit some friends resid- ing in Summerside, intending to return home the same evening. P)eing early in th" season, the icehalack- snakc. You see that Carleton County was the arena c^f one of the most romantic stories in, perhaps, the complete aimals of Canadian history. Maductic being tlic most '^l 1 1 If 88 Sea, Forest and Prairie. I Mk S' [.' central of the chain of forts which the French built from the Day of l-'iindy to St. Lawrence waters, was by far the strongest and most im])ortant. And even now t' trees are to be seen in the middle: beneath are the mounds and the remains of the old Indian burying-ground. Near by ?s the exact site of the i^nce famed fort now desolate and decayed as Babylon the Great. A Shoit distance below we can see a small mountain of iron pyrites, and not far above is the celebrated Maductic Falls, and on a small tril)utary within a few furlongs we can visit what is known as Hay's Falls. Messrs. Brown, Hay and Johnston are die owners of famis on this flat, and each has in his possession a large and varied collection of old relics which have 1)een ])loughed and dug up at dif- ferent times — old pistols and parts of firearms of curi- ous patterns, hatchets, French muskets, arrow-heads by the bushel, coins of old date, giant human bunes and skulls, broken spears and a host of other curiosi- ties, worthy of a place in the chief museums and anti- quarian collections of the world. Perhaps, if I continue, the limits of my paper will be exceeded. I will close, claiming for Carleton County, at least, a place in the past history of our country, be- cause the far-famed Maductic was within the limits. And, as a student of one of the best schools in said County, I candidly affirm that such thrilling and ro- mantic facts have a burning interest in the mind of every one worthy the name of a Canadian. And, fur- ! Tndiaii Ivcniiniscciiccs. §0 tlicr, tlicy have a .greater charm to my mind than any form of fiction, or the combined grandeur of Roman story or Grecian lore. LELAND L. CLARK. Ccntreville P.O., Carlcton Co., N.B. I' i 1 V I ll AN A])\'EXTURE ON TIIE ICE. On Jriiuiary 27, 1885, three icc-l)oats, contaitiiiii? t\v(.nty-t\v() persons in all, fifleeii boatmen and seven passengers, left Cape Traverse, PJU., with Her Maj- esty's mails, hound for Cape Tormentinc, N.il. The sufferint^s of these men were, perhaps, as severe as any ever experienced hy the hardy adventurers to the frozen North, and those in command of the party disj)layed as much hravery, hardihood and patience, as has ever been displayed hv the honored heroes in search of the North Pole. ' When the boats, under the command of Cajits. Muncy Irvini;', Newton Muttart, and llanford Allen, left ihe board ice at 9.15 a.m., everything betokened a fine day. After travellin.c: for about two hours, a stifl north-east breeze s!)ranjn^ up, which increased in vio- lence until it became one of the most terrific jci^ales ever experienced on the strait. The terrible tempest was accompanied by a blindin.q' snow-storm, so dense that it was impossible to discern an object even at a short distance. The thermometer fell to 21 deg. below zero, and tlien their sufil'erinG^s bej^an. The storm increased so rapidly that before they had travelled many hcnu's they became so completely bewil- dered that they did not know where they were {^coing. They, however, jnisherl steadily in the direction which their compass indicated ; but, not considering the rapid- It An Advciilurc on the Ice. 91 .lien, \ a stiff vio- cver was that lort zero, had cwil- oing. ,'hicU apid- itv witli wliicli the tide and ice were rnnnin^-, thev were carried considerahly nnt of tlieir conrse. The men toiled on. (h'awini,^ their boats over hiini- niocks and slieets of ice, ro\vin,[j^ them tiironL,di fields of water and "'"lolly," until exertion he^an at lens^th to tell n]»on the stroni;est arm, and the stoutest heart t^Tew faint. Already it was i^rowing- dark, and the fearful thouLrht that they would not reach land before nij;ht- fall, and that, jjerhaps, they had missed their way and had l.'een wanderini,^ in the wronii;' direction, ])asscd throuj:^h their minds. If such were the case, and it seemed to be, they would have to spend the nii;ht on the ice, and perish they certainly would in such a nij;'ht as that with so little to keep them warm. They lu>i)ed, lunvever, that after darkness came on their friends would lii^ht the lamps in the li.s;hthouse on Cai)e 'J'or- mentine side, and if this were done they felt sure that they would be able to see it ; but, althou^i^h the lij^-hts were lit, and the stronj^est reflectors put on, which, in clear weather would enable the li^ht to be seen fifty miles, yet so dense was the storm that even at the short distance at which they were from the land they failed to see it. So in the darkness they wandered on until six o'clock. Ilavinj^ no lantern they could not see their compass, and therefore further progress that night seemed use- less. IMiey, therefcjre, went to work to make them- selves as comfortable as possible under the circum- stances. Drawing their boats up on a large field of ice they turned them up on their sides and huddled around them on the lee side, using the more empty ^f the mail bags and such baggage as would serve for coverings to m. ■•• 92 Sea, Forest and Prairie. keep them warm. lUit what were these as'aiiist siieh a nij^'ht as that. 'I'hev soon found that unless they could j:jet some other means of warmth they would all in a short time perish. Accordinj^ly they opened the hajj^s, took out the letters, and used the papers and hajj^s for fuel. r»ut these could not last lon^", and havinjjf proved by what little heat they j^^ave that life could he sustained they resolved to have somethinj;' more. Capt. i fans- ford Allen volunteered his boat, and .soon .she was broken up and burninL? with the papers. The poor men now sup|)ose(l they could keei) alive until morninp;'. The nii^ht (lraj^,ned wearily alonj;!;' until about two a.m., when the wind chani^ed to the north-west. .'shortly after this one of the men who had wandered away from the fire returned and announced that the ice was breakin.i,'' Uj) all around them. Gathering' up their l)ieces of burning- boat, and whatever else they had, they turned down their boats, and drew them about one- quarter of a mile nearer the centre of the field of ice ; then, turning them up again, they rekindled their fire. Happily, they had ])lenty of food, consisting^ of bread and meat, and so long as it and the boat la.sted they hoped for life. The storm and the cold continued, so they stayed in this place until three o'clock in the af- ternoon. Their stock of fuel was now running low, and if land were not sighted soon they must all die. All day long they had kept a sharp lookout for land, but nothing could be seen. At last one of tiic men ex- claimed, "Land ahoy !" and, turning^ towards the east, all hands saw the stec]-)lc of De Sable church when the next cloud of snow had passed by. Soon the straps were once more over their a1)le iU Advoiitutv on tlu' I I'C, <>;> le I, so af- low, All , 1)Ut n cx- cast, n the a1)le slioiildors, and the iiicii wore hciidinL,^ ai^Min to tlu'ir work. lUit with what ditTiciilty thov travcl'ol ! Their clothes were frnzcn solid ; their feet, hands and faces were frozen, and some of the passengers were so stilY tliev had to be drawn into the boat. The dilTicnlty of travelling- was i^feat. The "lolly" was so thick and tlie ice rnnninir so fast that little headway conld be made. At 4.35 p.m. they reached the board ici' off Ar^^yle shore, and then Capt. Allen and one of tlie boatmen started for tlie land. 'J'he snow had drifted on tlie ice to the depth of about two feet, so that prosj^ress was but slow. After three hours the two men reached tho shore. Tlicy went up from the ice to the land, but were so bewildered and blind that they passed several houses without knowini;^ it. Tliey were about to pass another, when they smelt smoke, but failiiii;' to see any house they shouted f')r help. 'i'he occupant of the house, upon hearint^ their cries, hastened to their relief. They were soon ushered into the warmth of a hospitable kit- chen, where they recovered sufficiently to explain the condition of the men on the ice. The ^ood old farmer soon spread the news, and a body of men were not lonj;' in preparinj^ U)V the expedition. After a time t.iey reached the boats, but found that all the men had left except those who were unable to walk, Tiie boat-? were ar. speedily as possible drawn to the land and the 'perishing men cared for. Some of those who wandered away from the boats found their way to houses, others into barns, and some into the woods. One poor fellow who wandered into the woods caught hold of a branch to keep himself from falling into the snow, and in this condition they found IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // {./ k " i% %^ t Ac M/.i It 1.0 I.I 11.25 1^ Mi. K& 1^ Hgi IIIIM IIIM 1.4 1.6 — ^ ^ /; <^ ^/. y /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 V iV <^ ^^ •SJ N> O^ i'^-"^ *^ ^ u 94 Sea, Forest and Prairie. nim ill an unconscious state. He had such a firm hold that his grasp could not be loosened, so that they had to break off the branch and take it along- with him. As may well be supposed, the anxiety of tlieir friends and relations was great. At Cape Tcjrmentine an ice- boat had l)een fitted up with ])rovisions and clothing, and a crew of the ablest and bravest men were in wait- ing for the train to take them and their boat down to Pictou, where tliey intended to set out in search of those who, it was suj^posed, had perished, when a despatch was received that they had safely landed on the other side. Rut their sufferings lasted for a good while after they landed. Their linil>s had to be thi:\Ned out, and in sonie cases amputated. With some their health was so com- pletely broken that it was not long bcrore they were laid beneath the sod in their own country churchyard, instead of under the snow and ice on Northumberland Strait. The majority are still living, and doubtless they will never forget their terrible adventure on the ice. EDWARD J. DOBSON. Cape Tonrentine, N.B. *NOTE. — The writer says in regard to the word "lolly:" — "You will i)lea5e excuse me if I say a word or two al)out my story. Doubtless that word 'dolly" is one which you are not familiar with. When I wrote my story I could not find it in any dictionary, so I came to the conclusion that it must be a local word ; how it originated I do not know, unless it is from the way in which the boats loll around or roll about in it. It means ice which has been broken into very small pieces ,/ li An Aclvciilure on the Ice. ne by the janiniin- together of the ice-fields, moved quiie rapidly l.y tlic tide and wind. This powdered ice often extends nnles in length and l>readtli, and is sonietime.j several feet deep. Being s(. much more stiff and heavy than slush, it is dreaded and shunned bv the boatnu^n very much, for often after several hours of the n^ost arduous toil only a few hundred xards of headway is made. The story is perfectly true an>l original, as it happened within my own recollection, and some of my friends were with the crew. j? r d ' 4 t 1^ If I I! p i SIEGE Ol- THE FORT OF ST. JOHNS. St. Johns is a picturesque town situated on the beau- tiful river Richeheu. It is peopled by about six thou- sand inha1)itants, who dwell within its boundaries in perfect security, seldom thinking of and never fully rea- lizing the scenes of strife and bloodshed which took place here one hundred and fifteen years ago. Tlic first fortification erected on the present site of the tcnvn of St. Johns was built by the order of W. De Tracy in the year 1748, but this fort was destroyed by M. De Roquemauri soon after the battle of the Plains, and (luring the fifteen years of peace which followed its ashes were not disturbed. In 1775, however, Sir Guy Carleton caused it to be rebuilt in order to stop the de- structive raids of the Green ?\ Fountain b{\vs, and it was during the same vear that the most exciting events in the history of the ])resent town took place. On v^eptembcr lO, 1775, General Schuyler landed at the mouth of the Montgomery Creek, about a mile and a-half from vSt. Johns; but his force of one thousand four himdred men were defeated by a few Canadians and Indians. On the following day General jMontgoni- cry landed at the mouth of the same stream; the main l^ody of his army was barricaded at this place, a bat- talion imdcr ^Major Brown was encamped on the north iide of the fort, and a battery was placed on the east side. Thus the fort was entirely surrounded, and its 4 Siege of the Fort of St. Johns. 97 only way of v:omniunication between Chanibly and T.'Iontreal was by the river. Tlie garrison consisted of the i<()val Fusiliers, the 26th Regiment, and about one hundred and twenty French-Canadian volunteers, head- ed by Al. De Longueuil. The whole was commanded by jNIajor Preston. On the 1 8th the latter sent out a party of soldiers to bring in some rattle tliat were in a bush near St. Johns, and on their return they informed him that two or three hundred Americans were on the other side of a bridge about half a league from the town ; tliat they were for- tifying their position, and that they had captured four cart-loads of provisions which were being carried to St. Johns, as well as the cattle sent for ; they had also de- stroyed the bridge, so that communication was cut off between vSt. Johns and Laprairie. A iorcc under Cap- tain .Strong was despatched at once to beat back the in- vaders. This they succeeded in doing, taking four prisoners. On the 22nd a deserter came from the enemy's camp, and informed our defenders that they were Ijuilding a battery on Big Point, and that their entire force con- sisted of tliree hundred men in can.ij), five hundred blockading the fort and two lumdred spread over the country. On October 20, General Montgomery sent a mes- senger to IMajor Preston to inform him that the fort of Chambly had surrendered after a siege of tliirty-six hours. On November i the enemy kept up a fire on the fort for seven liours after which General Montgomery sent a letter demanding him to surrender. The letter gave \ :ii m m ii 98 Sea, Forest and rrairic. account of General Carleton's defeat, which assured liini that he need not expect any help from that quarter. So on the following- day, November 2, 1775, ^lajor Preston surrendered the fort of St. Johns to General Alontgomery of the United States army, after having frallantly defended it for over two months. IMMTLAND ST. G. DAVIES. St. Johns, P.Q. A RAT!^ OX THE ST. FRAXXIS IXDIAXS. WluMi Walk captured Ouchcc, in 1759, a division of the French forces was stationed in a stronj;^ position at Isle-aux-Noix, on Lake Champlain, and for some time prevented the EngHsh from entering Canada ])v that their opponent, General Amherst, who liacl command of the ]3ritish at Ticonderoga and Crown Point, did not think it advisable to attemi)t dislodging them till he had a better naval force. While he was !>nnging this about he resolved that he would put a stop to the incursions of the St. Francis Indians fAbenquins), who had been making raids on the frontier colonists and carrying away their wives and children. This tribe had their headquarters at the mouth of the St. Francis River, where there was quite a village, called St. Francis. Major Rogers, an officer of the Colonial force, was a sufferer from these incursions, his wife and children having been murdered during his absence from home. He was so enraged at this that he inmiediately proceed- ed to Amherst and desired to be given command of the expedition, which, it was hoped, would put an end to the cruelties of the Indians. His wish was complied with, and, with a bodv of two hundred provincials, thoroughly accustomed to Indian warfare, he eml.varked on Lake Champlain, Oct. ist, and proceeded down the lake to Missisquoi Bay. He i\ i f I, : T loo Sea, Forest and Prairie. iil i ''■ concealed his l)oats among the bushes and advanced into tlic w ilderness. While encami)ed on the east shore of the lake a bar- rel of gunpowder exploded, injuring a number of his men. These had to be sent home, thus reducing his force to one hundred and forty-two. The boats which he had concealed were fecund by a party of French and Indians, who at once started in pursuit. Jvogers reached St. h'rancis on the fourth, at dusk. Disguising himself in an Indian costume, which he brought for that purpose, he proceeded to reconnoitre the village. He found tlie Indians engaged in a grand dance, which was continued till four (/clock, when they retired to rest, completely worn out. Then Rogers, whose wrath had been boiling for months, having stationed his men in the most favorable positions, made the attack. The Indians were taken completely by surprise; and, as most of the- braves were away hunting and fishing, not much resistance was made. The Colonials adopted the Indian mode of warfare, and scalped and butchered wdthout mercy. Their rage rose still higher when they beheld the scalps of several hundred of their countrymen dangling from poles. Out of the three hundred inhabitants, two hun- dred were killed on the spot. A considerable quantity of plunder was taken from the little church. Some golden candlesticks are mentioned as being among the booty. Having been informed that the French and Indians who had taken their boats were near, Rogers at once began to retreat by way of the St. Francis River. In the meantime, a number of the Vv'arriors had re- Wi. A Raid on the St. I'^rancis Indians. lol turned, and, a council havincf been held, they decided that part of them should follow Rogers at once, and as many as could be called in should come and join tliem the following day. This was done, and with their com- bined forces they came up with him at Kingsey. A skirmish took place, in which the Lndians were driven back, losing several men. This so disheartened some of the braves that they wished to abandon the pursuit at once; but they were persuaded to continue on to the "Little Forks" (now Lennoxville), the junction of the Massawippi and St. Francis rivers, and there to give battle once more. Rogers rushed on as rapidly as possible, and on the tenth reached an elevated point near the "Big Forks'' (Sherbrooke), the meeting of the IMagog and St. Fran- cis. The residence of Colonel Bowen, Melbourne street, is near this point. From this spot the flats below Sherbrooke can be seen for nearly two miles, and a fairly good view of the river obtained. Rogers, being tired of being pursued, saw that was a favorable place for an ambush, and he hoped to be able to give the enemy such a chastisement as would put an end to any further annoyance. He sent a few of his men on to the "Little Forks" to build fires, as if the whole party were intending to camp there for the night. Then he posted the remain- der of his men along the south shore in the most ad- vantageous spots, with orders for each to cover a single Lidian as they came past in their canoes, but in no case to fire until ordered. The Lidian scouts, following on the Ascot or north side of the river, had seen the fires at "Little Forks," t!f. i| J';: I' ill ■ I' im^. II ; I if 1 02 Sea, Forest and Prairie. and liastcncd back to inform the main body, which at once came on. l^ot^ers allowed al)ont half of them to pass, when he .ci^ave the sit^cnal to fire, and so carefully did each man take aim thiii almost L'VQvy savage on the river was killed or mortally wounded. Those on the north hank had j:^ot on in advance of the party on the river, and on hearini^ the firint:^ they at once came hack to aid their comrades. An irregular skirmish tcxik place, in which the Colonials had the ad- vantat^e, for, hein.c;' sheltered by the thick forest on the upland, they could pour their fire with deadly effect on the Indians in the open .^lade below. There were then, as now, not many trees on the flat. The banks of the river were covered with undergrowth which did, not afford much shelter. Finally, the Indians drew off, after losing nearly the whole of their party. Rogers gave orders to go on to the ^'Little Forks." Here he addressed the men, thanking them for their assistance in ridding the country of their foes, and, having resigned his command, advised them to form small parties, as they w^ould thus get more game, and to proceed to the rendezvous on the Connecticut. The sufiferings which some of the parties endured before reaching Crown Point were very severe. The plunder which they had taken was entrusted to one of these parties. At one time, hearing firing, and, thinking it was the enemy, they buried it in what they considered a safe place, and continued their march un- encumbered. Tradition has assigned many places as the spot where the treasure was buried; but, up to the present, no trace has been found of it, or, if there has been, it has been kept secret. A Raid on the St. Francis Indians. 103 y A rumor was lately circulated that S(Mne ol this plun- der was concealed in the Mago.q^ River, just above the mouth. This river falls one hundred and fourteen feet in the short distance of half a mile from its junction with the St. I'Vancis. All aloni^ the bed are holes or pockets, worn in the solid rock, probably by stones be- in^ whirled round by the force of the rapids. It was in those "pockets" that the buried treasure was sup- posed to be. The i)on(l above was drained and a search instituted, which, however, met with no success. Some of the men took a course up the St. Francis, on to the Faton river. A bayonet was recently found, supposed to have been dropped by that l^arty, which may now be seen in the nuiseum of the Morey Art Buildinj^, Sherbrooke. In 1852, when the St. L. and A. RR. Company were cuttincc the bank south of Colonel Bowen's house, a number of flintlocks, skulls and Indian weapons were found. A s^entleman, while preparincr a tennis court near the same place, also found traces of this engage- ment. It is with horror and disgust that wc read of such bloody massacres, but it must be remembered that, at that time, with an Indian, pity was unknown, and any- thing like mercy was considered a mark of cowardice. The scene of this engagement is a little north of the centre of Sherbrooke citv. A. L. PARKER. In U II i '' 'i Sherbrooke, P.Q. :-m sni i''i ), ! if*' I 'ii II! AN EVERY DAY HERO. My story will be a short and simple one, — only an incident in the life of a Cliateau.q'nay boy. I say a boy, for he died before he reached his twentieth year. The title might seem worthy of a better sketch, but I think often that a secminq;ly simple action, one that ini,i;ht re- main unknown but to a few who were immediately con- nected with the actors, is often i)rompted by stronj^-er and higher motives than those that have gained the praise of nations. A man who will lead thousands of his countrymen out to be slain, only to prove the stub- borness of a fraction, is more often made a hero than a man who in some crisis will give his life for a friend. Yet we are told "greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend," and love must be the highest and purest motive of action. To begin my story I wall give a short sketch of the lives of the parents of my hero. On die river Chatcau- guay that runs through the beautiful valley, of wliich we natives are so proud, there lived in the first half of the present century a farmer who had emigrated from the south of Scotland, bringing with him his w^ife and family, consisting of three boys and two girls. On ar- riving at Montreal the boys all died of ship fever, and the dauntless man, leaving his sons in an unrjiarked grave in a strange country, with the remainder of his family pushed towards the West, travelling on foot i.p; An Every Day Hero. 105 and earryinp^ witli thcni their few possessions. Coming to tlie Cliateangnay river this was followed till they came upon a little settlement of Scoteh people. Hero the weary and disheartened travellers were received with the nsnal warmth and kind-heartedness of Scotch- men when they meet in a new country with people from their own land. Here the farmer finally settled. Burying" his sorrow under his native (juietness he set to work to make himself and family a home, and some years after, when, by dint of carefulness and thrift, they had overcome most of the hardships of the new coun- try, another son was born, who, in the father's and mother's fond imaginations and pictures of the future, was to be the comfort of their old age. The lad grew quickly to be a bright, active boy, who, in sunnner time, helped his father on the farm, and in winter went to the district school. His teacher was a man who had spent the earlier years of liis life at sea, and still carried an old sailor's liking for all that related to ocean life. The farmer's son, who ^\c shall call Sandy, and another boy named Xeil, a near neighbor and intimate friend of Sandy, soon became their teach- er's chief favorites. The man, having neither family nor relatives, lived a lonely life, and, enjoying the com- panionship of his two boy friends, encouraged them to spend their spare hours and evenings in his little log cottage. Here the boys were entertained with long stories of sea life, wonderful sights and adventures, and shown many relics or mementoes of past voyages in the way of shells, woods from foreign countries and rocks; but the great delight of all was a full-rigged ship in miniature, which the boys were allowed to ex- H i! io6 Sea, Forest and Prairie. amine, while tlieir old schoolmaster explained the dif- ferent parts and their uses, and the meaning of the nau- tical terms. All this was interesting and amusing, but it was gradually awakening in them a desire for something beyond what their simple life held out for them. To reach the sea, to sail over it to countries that they had only heard of, became tt) them the height of their am- bition. Their teacher had no intention of beguiling the thoughts of these boys away from their home and dis- appointing their parents in the plans they had laid for their future when they would grow up steady and well- doing farmers, taking their place amongst the pros- perous and influential of their community. This, how- ever, was not to be. As summer and winter passed by, these lads clung quietly and steadily to their pur- pose, and would meet each other in an old log barn on a vacant lot, and there in the summer evenings would talk over the future and its possibilities. Neither shun- ning nor avoiding other boys of their own age, but be- ing drawn together in their mutual hopes, there sprang up a friendship between the two which was soon to be put to a severe test. As a step toward the goal of their ambition, and be- cause the sea seemed at first almost beyond their reach, the two lads in the spring of their eighteendi year crossed over to the American side, w^here the larger rivers and lakes were then navigated,and soon they both got employment on a steamboat rutming between some of the lake ]:)orts. One summer passed away quickly to them, and they went back to their homes for the winter months. Here they were received by their I An Every Day Hero. 107 youthful companions, and even by tlie older people, as heroes almost, or as young men who had seen not a lit- tle of the outside world, with its wonders and adven- tures. Their old schoolmaster rcp^arded them with great admiration and pride, encouraging them to work toward a higher position. On the return of spring they again left their homes to return to their work. This time their parents felt more pride than regret at their going, and many of their young friends felt that these two were stepping beyond them. Going to work again, all went well for a time; botli the young men were advanced in their work. The boat's crew noticed the attachment between the two, and the pride they each took in the other's success, and often made fun of them for it, but one would champion the other, and it seemed only to draw them closer together. One evening in August, as their boat was going from Saginaw Bay, on Lake Huron, to some port further west, Neil, the older of the two friends, was watch for the night on deck. After all hands had gone down to their bunks he noticed flame suddenly burst from below the deck right behind the engine-room, shutting off the latter half of the ship from where he was. He gave the alarm, aroused the crew, then went quickly below to find his friend, whose cabin was close to the engine. \\'iiile he was making his way down the fire had reached the machinery, and it stopped working. On reaching his friend's cabin, either from the bursting of boilers, or from escaping steam, he found that he was terribly scalded about the body, and had l)oth of his legs off or broken ; yet he was still alive. His brave friend raised him in his arms and carried him on deck. Here, they ■1 t' I- ': I «; i.; r , ' i i'i ! i H il i* I I r * ) j it I (ill iJ! ^li 1 08 Sea, Forest and Prairie. I 'I 'i found that the boats had pushed off, and they were left with two or three other unfortunates, who were prepar- ing to swim to tiie shore. Sandy begged of Neil to leave him and swim to the shore with the others. His friend firmly but steadily refused to take the means of safety that others were offering him if his friend could not be saved as well. Neil said he could never go home and tell how he had left his friend to such a horrible death. Meanwhile, the fire was rapidly reach- ing them, and his companions had already sprung into the lake ; so, seizing his companion, he followed them into the darkneess. On the following morning the survivors were gathered together on the shore, and the dead bodies that had been washed up by the waves were identified. The bodies of the two friends were found close together, and those who were on the deck with the two told how they clung to each other to the last. News was sent home to the Chateauguay valley of the sad death of the two young lads, who were buried on the shores of the lake where they met their death. This incident was told me by the niece of one of the young men, and, though it serves to prove no point in the history of our countr}', it may show that heroes may be found in out-of-the-way places and amidst com- monplace surroundings. LIZZIE A. BAIRD. Ormstown, P.O. THE EXTINCTION OF A NATION. '7 vltl m When the soHtucle of the primeval forest was invaded, and European voices first re-echoed in the hitherto un- disturbed wilds of the New World, the Huron or Wyan- dot Indians were almost as numerous and powerful as their hereditary and implacable enemies, the Iroquois. Where is their ancient glory now? They have dwin- dled and disappeared, and their descendants, half-breeds, scarcely know or care for the ancient legends of the by-gone pow-wow or scalping raid, which, for years, were handed down from father to son by tradition. Harassed by repeated wars and incursions into their territory, and terrified by the cruelties practised on all unhappy captives by the vindictive Iroquois, the rem- nants of the poor Hurons at last determined to seek lefuge near srime niihtary station of the Frencli, where tliey migiit hope for protection. In charge of a mis- sionary, Pierre Ragueneau, they fled to Quebec on the 30th July, 1650, and were given land on the island of Orleans, at a part since called L'Anse du Fort. At the time of their arrival they were about four hundred, but their number was augmented by refugees of the tribe. But, even so close to the French fort, they were not allowed to dwell in peace. On the night of the 19th of May, 1656, under cover of darkness, the light birch canoes of the Iroquois glided noiselessly, swiftly, stead- ily down the broad river, and, when morning dawned, 3f t II (; I; I If H! ! IIO Sea, Forest and Prairie. the French heard that another horrible outrage had been perpetrated, tiiat the Iroqnois had (Hscovered the asyhun of their foes, massacred six, and carried off eighty-six to torture and death. And as they paddled triumphantly up past the town they mocked the French upon the heights, for dieir inability to preserve the IIu- rons from the attacks of their adversaries. Let us suppose that on a fine autunui day we stajul upon Durham Terrace, overlooking the St. Lawrence. From the highest point in the Glacis we can see all the points to which the Indians successively removed. At the entrance of the harbor lies the beautiful Island of Orleans, dividing the St. Lawrence into the north and south channels, where the Hurons remained for some years previous to the midnight descent of the Iroquois upon *)ie settlement. Then the persecuted tribe begged for leave to form a village directly under the walls of the French fort, built on the edge of the cliff. Receiv- ing permission, they came into the town, and erected their dwellings a few yards from the spot where we stand, and which is now one of the squares of Quebec, known as the Place d'Armes. The ])icturesque parish of Beauport was their next place of refuge, but in a short time they were placed at St. I'oye, about eight miles from Quebec. In 1676, driven by the terror which had haunted all their w-anderings, they sought an asylum in a retired spot nearer the mountains — Ancienne Lorette. After twenty-five years of comparative prosperity, they finally settled at Indian or Jeune Lorette, and formed a pretty village, nestling at the base of the Lau- rentian Mountains, close to the Falls of St. Ambroise. The Extinction of a Nation. Ill 7 J I Here it was tliat the Iluroiis, as a nation, became ex- tinct. The scenes wliich witnessed the proudest days of the race, saw also its de.j^radation, its ruin, and finally became its deathbed. Autunm spread its darkening mantle over the scene, a fit emblem, widi its sombre vestments, of a dead i)eople. In the picturescjue villaj^e of Lorette the renuiants of the once great Huron nation now dwell, having passed from under French to English rule after the conciuest of 1759. The settlement numbers about three hundred odd souls. The village is much visited by tourists from all parts of Canada and the Unite.d States. The houses are arranged in rows, as in an encampment, and in front of the little Indian church stands a cannon, which on great occasions is fired with ])ride. The boys are always eager to earn pennies by firing at them with a bow and arrow, in the use of which weapon they are very exi)ert. The inhabitants of the village gain a live- lihood by making moccasins, snow-shoes, bark, bead, and other ornaments, and their skill is remarkable. They also act as guides to huntsmen. About three years ago died Zacharee The-lari-o-lin, a figure well-known around Quebec, and who was the last pure-blooded Indian of the band. He was known as *'The last of the Hurons." All who remain are half- breeds, and speak the French language. Zacharee's parents were true Indians, and he came to be a chief of the tribe. He excelled in carving, was skilled in basket and moccasin making, etc., and sold a large amount of his work in the city. He also possessed a remarkable aptitude for drawing, and, had it not been for his failing — his fondness for the *'fire water," the H m ^ is* W f ^1 w 112 Sea, Forest and Prairie. bane alilve of the Indian and the white man — would have been sent to Rome to study his art by the priests of the Roman Cathohc Church. We have his portrait, done in oils by himself, in the dress of his tribe, paints, feathers, and all the ornaments which possess such a fascination for the heart of an Indian. Incredible as it may seem, this wholly untaught na- tive sat before a mirror, and painted hi*s own picture. Unfortunately, he was too fond of the ^'fire-water," and this taste kept him poor in his old age. He died at the Marine Hospital in Quebec, aged about seventy-five years, and with him the great Huron nation may l)e said to have passed away. MABEL CLINT. Quebec. Id ts it, :s, a a- e. id id TALES OF PIONEER LIFE. The sixteenth day of a weary pilgrimage through desolate forests, over trackless snow, in cold and wintry weather, was near its close, as Johnson Taplin crossed the ice-hound Toniifobia and with weary feet accom- plished the diflficult ascent of the hill now crowiT^d — after the lapse of ninety years — by Stanstead Wesleyan College. He drew his little children on a hand-sled, and was accompanied by his wife carrying a bundle of clothing. Resting at the top of the hill, and taking in with his eagle glance the possibilities and beauties of the landscape, glistening in the last rays of the setting sun, he exclaimed, ''We shan't find a better place than this, Miriam, if we travel all winter." Clearing away the snow, and collecting some hemlock boughs, they founded, upon the seventh day of ]\Iarch, 1796, the rude beginnings of a home and of the village of Stanstead Plain. Not long did they enjoy alone this primeval solitude. Soon after Samuel and Selah Pomeroy, with others, left the old Puritan towns of New England, followed the needle of the compass which pointed northward, and founded a name and fame on Canadian soil. With strong, swift axes these brave men battled with the mon- archs of the forests. The hemlock lodges were soon re- placed by log cabins covered with rough shingles, pinned on wltli wooden pins, nails being then an un- known luxury. ■»i t ij M 'II I? ■-It. m 114 Sea, Forest and Prairie. But, rude as were all the cal)ins, a hearty welcome was extended to each new arrival, and the most friendly intercourse was kept up between these strangely isolated families. The house of Samuel Pomeroy became a ''rendezvous*' and general news depot for the whole county. It was supposed to be built upon the exact boundary between the United States and Canada, and for the con- venience of debtors and other fugitives from justice a broad chalk mark across the hewn log floor clearly defined the line of separation. About the time that the eighteenth century glided into the nineteenth, a severe and unexpected snow-storm completely blocked the forest trails, and many of the sturdy settlers who were endeavoring to collect their winter stores, found themselves unable to return to their waiving families. As night drew on many of them gathered, as in a haven of refuge, around the blazing wood fire in ^,fr. Pomeroy's house, where they whiled awav the tedious hours with reminiscences of pioneer life.' Squire Hood told of the painful march of his boy- hood, when, accompanied by his mother, leaving his home in ashes and the dead body of his father lying un- buried beside it, he was carried away captive by the In- dians to the Canadian wilderness. When this story was ended the listeners viewed with horror the cruel scars caused by the blows of his savage captors. Mr. Johnson, another settler, reached across the hearth-stone to give a sympathetic hand-clasp to the last speaker, for he, too, had been held in captivity by the same bloodthirsty tribe, and had experienced hor- IH'i ■'-*-r^:.-^;«i.^j.-:^-vJ^-J!l ;ii! Tales of Pioneer Life. 115 rible suffering's from tlieni. His companions antl him- self were ol)ligecl to £>-ather the fuel needed for then- roasting'. Bound hand and foot to the stakes, the flames were kindled around them ; but, as the fire leaped up upon their bare and quivering flesh one of their number gave the ^Masonic sign of distress. Strange to say, the leader of the savage band was a renegpcle from the Masonic order, and the vows of that mystic brother- hood, still strong upon him, was sufificient^ to cause him to save their lives, though not to protect them from horrible tortures. Having arrived ?l the lodges of the tribe on the St. Lawrence River Miey were made to "run the gauntlet." In this operation the unhappy captives were driven naked betv,''?en two rows of In- dians, squaws and pappoose:,, who beat them unmerci- fully. This was often repeated for tiie gratification of their fiendish tormer;tors. At one time they marched nearly forty miles, the Indians allowing them no food save tlie wild berries and roots which they gathered on the way. iNFr. Jchnson exhibited the ends of his fingers, scarred and nailless, w4iich had been burnt to the bone by being held in red-hot pipe bowls. Ransomed at last by the British authorities, they were permitted to re- turn home. A hush of sadness seemed to settle over the little company after this recital. Indians were still to be found in the vicinity, and even those brave men could hardly fail to tremble at the thought of what might be- fall their unprotected families in their lonely and distant cabins. Joseph Kilborn, deputy surveyor of Quebec, was the son of one of the neighbors, and had happened in to 'i I'll i i iir i">i Ji6 Sea, Forest and Prairie. pass an idle hour. He broke the spell of silence by tell- ing a story which effectually banished the serious thoughts of his hearers. He was at one time survey- ing with Col. George Fitch, near the bay which bears that gentleman's name. The Colonel proposed to Kil- born a trial of eye-sight for a wager of five gallons of rum for the party. The challenge was accepted, the compass set and sighted. Col. Fitch made the first trial and pointed out a large tree as being the farthest object he could discern. Kilborn made his trial and admitted that he could see as far but no farther than the tree in question. As the loss of the wager would make a large hole in his slender salary, Kilborn's quick wit devised a way out of the diffi- culty. He insisted that there should be made an accu- rate measurement of the length of their noses and the distance of their eyes from the compass sight. This was done, and Kilborn, having a very long nose, won the wager by more than half an inch. After the laugh occasioned by this episode had sub- sided, the Yankee curiosity, which was tlie inalienable birthright of these men, impelled them to question a quiet young fellow who had taken no part in the conver- sation. So pertinent and searching were the inquiries that they were soon in possession of the following facts. His name was Joseph Bartlett. His father had set out to make a settlement in Barnston in the spring of 1797, before the accumulated snows of that severe winter had melted. His father, an elder sister, and a younger brother, with himself, comprised the party. Wearing snow-shoes, and carrying packs of clothing and furni- ture, they slowly made their way twelve miles from m Tales of Pioneer Life. 117 Stanstead Plain due east into the unbroken forest. Having cleared a piece of land and planted a small crop, the father was obliged to return to Vermont, where the remainder of his family lived. Before he left he pro- mised his children that he would send them provisions for their sustenance during the summer. He purchased provisions and paid a man in Derby to take them to his cabin, but in this man's heart dishonesty was stronger than mercy and honor. The provisions were never de- livered, and roots, berries, birch bark, and a few brook trout formed the only sustenance of those three poor children for several months till their father arrived with a supply of food. Almost famished as they had been, the brave children had succeeded in making several hundred weiglit of ''salts of lye" which was the principal commodity of the country, and worth four dollars per hundred weight. In the ensuing winter Mr. Bartlett moved, on hand-sleds, the remainder of his family and household goods. Two journeys from Stanstead wer.^ necessary to complete the removal. The father was as- sisted by the narrator, then but a boy. The first trip was made in comparative comfort ; but on the second the weather became intensely cold, and a pitiless wind obliterating all traces of the path made progress ex- ceedingly slow and painful. Then the poor boy, whose courage had not failed through all the lonely, famish- ing hours of tlie previous summer, gave up, and, sink- ing down in the cold and drifting snow, begged of his father to go on and leave him. But the fatlier, know- ing that sucli a course would lead to certain death, de- posited the boy's load in a safe place in the woods, and, cutting a beech switcli, drove his son before liim till 1 il 1 1 I Ii8 Sea, Forest and Prairie. ihcy readied home. Tlic unfortunate lad fainted on the very tluTshold of tiie hut, and many days chipsed before he recovered from the effects of that terrihle tramp. Tlie speak'er went on to tell of the grim relics found all about their farm, and of the ill-fated expedi- tion of Rocers. That band of brave men started with high hopes of victory from Crown Point, N.Y., in 1758, to vanquish the St. Francis tribe of Indians. Jiut they were themselves defeated on the spot where the city of Sherbrooke now stands. The shattered renmant es- caped from the cruel tomahawk and from the raging waters of the Magog into the strange and unfriendly wilderness, where, wounded, weary, starving and home- sick, they sank down to die, leaving their flesiiless skeletons beside their rusty nuiskets to tell their sad tale to the awe-stricken settlers coming after them. Just at this point in the conversation a knock upon the outer door was heard. When it was opened a man stepped into the room. He was of commanding stat- ure, but gaunt with weariness and hunger ; his clothes, burnt, torn, and hanging in shreds, illy protected him from the wintry blasts. With many exclamatidns of surprise and sympathy from the assembled company, lie was [wrought forward to the warmest seat before the glowing lire. Food was quickly prepared and offered him, but he devoured it with scant ceremony. Not until under the genial influence of the surroundings he became thoroughly warmed and fed did he attempt to gratify in any wise the curiosity of his companions. To them he was well known as wSimon Kezar, of HaUey, a famous hunter even in those days when every man car- ried a gun on his shoulder and a knife in his belt. Tales of Pioneer Life. 119 ion lan at- es, im of ">'» Ithe evi 'ot he to To , a ar- He liad .c,^one forili alone into the traekless forest to explore its dim recesses, and to discover, if possible, the favorite hannts of the moose and the heaver. He took his course easterly to the Coaticook River, then, leav- inj:^ his traps and most of his provisions on a tree in Conipton, he went southward towards Island Pond. .Soon the severe storm set in, hut still he pushed on, hoping to find some friendly settlement ; hut nothing but drifting, blinding snow met his gaze. Two days he travelled on without food over snow three feet deep, and at a distance of thirty-five miles from home. The first night, not being able to make a camp, he stood up ; the second night he cleared away the snow, made a fire, and, lying down on some boughs before it, soon fell asleep. In the night he was awakened by scorching heat, the flames of the fire having burnt the back of his coat completely of¥. vStarting on again, he at last reached a hut where he procured a sc?nty meal, and found out his whereabouts, so that he could once more turn his course homeward. Thus, weary and faint, he had reached this haven of rest, and found, with the others, how sweet are the comforts of hospitality. Put even the longest evening must have an end. and one by one the members of this friendly company sought their rude but comfortable couches, hoping for a calm and pleasant morrow. These austere men, living continually face to face with the stern realities of life, were ever ready to ex- tend helpful sympathy to each other, and their descen- dants remember them as "without fear and without re- proach. MCTOR .MORRILL. Stanstead, Wesleyan College, P.Q. h ! 4 ft , il : p II ]! I • I JAMES GARLAND. The subject of this sketch was born in the north of Ireland. We take up his history when he was hving in the vicinity of Cornwall, after having been about two years in Canada. He was at this time a tall, slim youth, in his nineteenth year. He made the acquaintance of an old pensioner by the name of Armstrong, who spent most of his time hunting and exploring. Armstrong gave him glowing accounts of the country south of the St. Lawrence in Lower Canada, that section which now forms the County of Huntingdon. He finally per- suaded young Garland to accompany him thither for the purpose of procuring a farm. There were no steam ferries in those days, in fact there were no ferries of any kind, so they had to procure a canoe. The season of 181;^ was well advanced. The trees were just beginning to take on the tints of autumn when our bold adven- turers launched their tiny bark, not only upon the waters of the St. Lawrence but upon what was destined to he, at least on the part of young Garland, a long career of almost unparalleled adventure, in which suffering, hard- ship, loneliness and privation were met with a degree of heroic fortitude and determination that must call forth the highest admiration and respect from all who are ac- quainted with his eventful career. When their little craft touched the southern shore, about twenty miles distant, at the mouth of the Salmon ten- :ers 1)6, -of ird- of .rth ac- )re, lion James Garlaiul. 121 river, they ininiediatcly set off on tlieir trip of explora- tion. Tlie country before tlieni was an unbroken wil- derness. They hid their canoes among the reeds on the shore, strapped their provisions and outfit on their backs, and struck boldly into the forest. It was a noble forest with trees of gigantic proportion. There was no brushwood or fallen timber, and it was so open that a waggon might have been driven with case. After they had penetrated the forest several miles, they struck a stream which flowed in the direction they were going, and which they rightly conjectured to be a tributary of some large river. Here they made their first camp in the wilderness. Next morning, concealing their pro- visions, they returned to bring up their canoe. This they accomplished by dragging it after them like a sledge. They launched it in the little stream which, though swelled by the heavy rains, was scarcely suffi- cient to float their tiny bark canoe. At some places they had to walk in the stream and drag it after them, at others they had to carry it overland around obstructions. But after another day of hard toil their tiny stream emp- tied itself into a larger one, afterward known as Trout river. Here tb.eir work became comparatively easy. The great trees on either side formed a continuous arch over their heads. The river beneath them swarmed witii fish, while the resonant crack of their rifle relieved the tedium, and brought fresh supplies to their larder. Still they saw no sign of human life, nor anything to indicate that the white man had ever trod these solitudes. They expected, or at least young Garland expected, to find the country all surveyed, and probably colonization roads constructed, or under construction. However, III: I u :t1!i ii !il 1 :ij;;l !IJ Ii' 122 Sea, Forest and Prairie. they were keeping a sharp lookout on either side the river for a desirable locality upon which to settle and await the advent of the surveyor and an opportunity of purchasing their holdings. On the second day after they had launched their boat on Trout river they arrived at the point where it joins the Chateauguay, forming a bold, deep river, fully one hundred yards wisotn, Ihit eladlv we'll welcome thee here." ^1 Hi "What Cvnnpany is this tliat approaches. With music that echoes doth win ? These are the tartans oi .Scotland ! These are owv kith and ouv kin !" (ilidK we hastened [■-> meet tiiem. (iently we helped tliem asluu'c ; ( hu" '';eart^ wcie too full for expression. We wept on their necks Ion*;' and sore. "I'^h, welcome ! Thrice welcome we inake you ! A w.arm lli)^hland welcome we L;ive ; Tako shelter beneath our lo;^- cabins. 'l\ nether like brfdiren we'll live. 'Thd'c'"^ room and [o spare at our table ; N'ou will tell us oi country aiul friends ; We'll delii^ht in the blessiuj;- of fathers, And the luessaire each In^'^om friend sends. ■ ;? ;( i 'i.ij ■ i'i u 1*1 7 ^f il Hi lt« 136 Sea. Forest and Prairie. "A fertile home lies before you ; It waits for the strength of your arm ; We'll help you unfold its rich bosom, And shelter its harvests from harm. Together we'll build you a dwelling E'er the earth her cold mantle resumes ; Let your roses first bloom in our cabins, And your tartans first grow on our looms." "As rain to the earth is your welcome, Like food to the perishing one, It is health to ourselves and our children, — They whose span on this earth is begun. We'll gladly rest under your shadow ; In our Gaelic tongue we will sing : 'Together we'll sit down in friendship, Together we'll rise for our king.' " * * * * i: Soon, the clarion summons resounded: "Ho, Westward ! Ho, Westward ! The foe ! As Edward the First sought to conquer And cover your Scotland with woe ; The Southrons are now fast approaching. Their conquest already they laud: *We fear not the monarch of England, — Their wool gathering shepherd's abroad ; " *A greater than he to contend with, — Napoleon, the Hero of France, — This treasure is ours for the taking ; Advance ! To the front, boys, advance !' " e ! The Pioneers of Gleiig-arry. Indig-nant the clans rose together : "As tow be the fetters they'll forge •" iliey hewed them a path through the forest And named it for Royal King George. ' Hast heard of the Fencibles' courage ^ Hast read of the deeds thev have done ? Uost see them as victors returning To provide for their hearth and their home ? Whence comes it that Britain is mightv ^ ' How is it she's mistress of seas ^ ^ ' Wherein lies the strength of her arniv ^- In havmg such subjects as these ! ' Hearken, ye sons of Glengarry ! Xo treason your heritage knew ; V ca, truly your lineage was h^val To the flag of the red, white and blue. As dwellers in this fair Dominion Ever may ye to England prove truc,- Oh, may ye be worthy of fathers ^^'ho surely were Vvorthv of vou ' rr ^37 Lancaster, Out, East. FLORA CUMMIXG. m K n\ t:| lU n . !- IN THE SNOW. HI I a ji! Chapter I. Tlic incidents of tliis story occurred some years since when the settled portions of Parry Sound were confined to spots here and there throughout the vast expanse of woods of that district. Communications with the dif- ferent settlements were made at rare intervals. Mere trails through the forest were the only roads. In sum- mer, use was made of the rivers and lakes tor travel ; but in winter, owing to the depth of snow and the diflficulty of keeping the tracks open, it was seldom that news was received from the outer world. This wild region was relieved by the glittering region of lakes, and intersect- ed by the waving lines of rivers. Beside one of those pretty lakes an Englishman, with his wife and two chil- dren, built a small log ca])in and cleared a few acres of land. The produce of his land he transported by water to the nearest settlement, some twenty miles distant. His nearest neighbors lived about seven miles away. W'hen ^Ir. Warneford settled there he had not nuich means, and as his clearing would not support them yet, his capital was getting smaller and smaller. He, there- fore, resolved to go to some city and get employment during the sununer, and return with provisions and other necessaries. There was enough food in the house to last the family until his return in vSeptember. In the Snow. 139 Chapter II. The sun is shedding its parting lays over the home- stead of jMr. Warneford, tinging the tops of tlie tall, stately trees with a soft radiance. All, within die dark setting of the woods, lies in the quiet rei)ose of a calm September night. In the little cabin all is joyful expec- tancy, for this is the night of the promised return of the dear husband and father. The mother and children de- scend to the edge of the water and gaze across the placid surface of the lake, but no sign of their beloved. The sun has set, darkness gathers round, and they are forced to return to the house. That night, and many more, pass, when a stranger brought them a letter from Mr. Warneford, dated three months back, which partly tran- quilized the eager watchers. As winter approaches, with its deep snow and intense cold, fuel and provisions become scanty. Mrs. Warneford's strength gradually diminishes as the wrecks roll on. .;i iJh ',', if .' Ml It was a cold, bitter day near the end of January. ]\Irs. Warneford was sitting by the window, vainly try- ing to sew with her cold benumbed fingers, and watch- ing her son, as he trudged through the deep snow, carrying in an armful of faggots for the fire. Her work falls from her hands. She is growing faint. Archie, coming in with the wood, catching sight of the deathly paleness of his mother's face, flew to her side. "Oh ! mother, what's the matter ? are you ill ?" he exclaims in terror, catching her swaying figure. "Lucia ! Lucia ! some water, quick !" In a few minutes, however, she recovered, and has- tened to reassure them. Thev led her to the fire, and I40 Sea, Forest and Prairie. i ' \l : !J 'nil! covered her with a warm shawl. Archie i)iled the fag- g-ots on the fire, and soon a hright blaze s[)rang up. The lamp was lit and the table set for supper. A loaf of bread and a little tea were all the provisions in the house. A small ])iece was cut off and given to Airs. Warneford; another piece to the daughter, and Archie, without tak- ing any himself, put it away. Brave Archie, although he had eaten nothing all day, yet, for the sake of his mother and little sister, denied himself. After watch- ing by their side until he fancied they were asleep he sought his own cold cot, and fell into a restless sleep, but towards morning he fell into a more tranquil slum- b'^r. ()n awaking, the sun was shining through the lit- •^'indow. Hastily springing out of bed, and dress- mv: c- quickly as his thin, trembling fingers would per- mit, he hastened to build the fire. Presently, there came ;< :r's eCi'- ^'m? feeble murmur of his name by his mother, and iie ha^iei: d to her bedside, looking down on her ashy face with a strange wistfulness in his eyes. "Archie, my boy, do not go out this morning; it is so cold;" she said in a faint whisper, as if she scarcely iia^rl the strength to form the words. The boy ])romised, and insisted, as his mother at- tempted to rise, that she would be better to lie longer. With a weary sigh she sank back on the pillow beside her daughter, who moaned frightfully in her sleep. With shaking limbs the little fellow went back to com- plete his task. Having succeeded in this, he made some tea for Airs. Warneford and Lucia, and then sat down to think. Their nearest neighbor lived seven miles away. Could he manage to travel that far in the deep snow and with the intense cold? He must try. v'l > 1l In the Snow, 141 He had .t,^athcrc(l cnouoh wood to last thcni till liclp sliould arrive, if he could reach Mr. I'rown's alive. He went and sat hy his mother's hedside. How wan and delicate she looked ! her sunken cheeks: her hair turn- ing grey: the patient look upon her face. Poor mother ! The tears dimiued his eyes as he watched and heard her murmur his father's name. The brother and sister would sit by the bedside clasped in each other's arms and listen to the wild rambling talk of their mother. The day passed and the niglit nlso. In the morning Mrs. Warneford appeared more sensible, and Archie, who had been watching her, l)ent over and whis- pered, ^'Mother, I must seek help, or we v.'ill jierish !" "No ! No !" she exclaimed, "vou never could walk so far in the deep snow and cold." "I must, mother," replied Archie, gently but firmly ; ''you are dving with hunger. I have been there before." Archie pleaded, and at last Mrs. Warneford gave way, but with many misgivings. "Oh, Archie, flear, take care of yourself. Ki^s me before you go." He could not speak a word as he kissed her tenderly. He put his arm around his sister's neck and kissed her too, and then hurried out into the biting cold, his heart nigh bursting. It was a bitterly cold morning. A keen wind was blowing from the nortli, and rushed against him fiercely ; now moaning through the woods, then forcing the tall trees to bend their stately heads, making the snow Vvhich had accumulated during the night to whirl away like dust. Ilrave little Archie ! He trudged on manfully through the snow, crawling on his hands and knees where he could not walk. No i -ll HI i t i^ I- i; i 142 Sea, Forest and Prairie. track was to be seen. Even the place wliere the road should have been was scarcely discernible. Hour after hour passed and no sign of his destination. How weak, and cold, and hungry, he felt ! Would he ever reach there ? If he only could lie down and rest, but he knew that by so doing he would never rise again, and the thought of his mother and sister dying for want invigo- rated him with new strength to press forward. It was beginning to grow dark, and no appearance of a house. Where was he ? Was he on the right track ? Or was he lost? With a cry of despair he felt that he was lost, lost in the pathless forest, and then with a low, wailing sound he sank in the cold snow. Chapter III. For hours after Archie left Lucia sat motionless, hold- ing her mother's cold hand in hers, while the tears <.f pain and hunger trickled down her cheeks. Mrs. Warneford had only spoken twice since, but they were sweet words of comfort to the little girl, though diey came from a heart that was breaking. As darkness fell and no sign of Archie or help, the mother's anguish of soul grew almost intolenable. It seemed to overmas- ter her bodily pain, and render her nearly insensible to it. She would not touch the food Lucia brought her; but insisted on the little girl taking some. That night passed as the one before; morning broke, but no ap- pearance of Archie. Husband and son both gone, it was more than she could bear. She fell into a stupor, which lasted all through that day. Lucia could not rouse her — want of food, exposure to the cold, and anx- iety, had nearly done their work. The little girl im- !1 In tlie Snow. 143 (.f rs. IX- plorcd her mother to speak to her, just to say one wore!, but the mother answered not, and poor L\icia, worn out with hun'■ reach the New World. Tn those days tlie Indians had no ships or boats of any kind, and the country was ahve with wild beasts of every sort ; now the (juestion natu- rally arises, How came they here with the Atlantic (^cean on the east, and the Pacific on the west, and the Arctic Ocean on the north, and the nearest shore from Asia to America is about sixty miles across ? The same (|uestion may also be very correctly asked cerninp^ all the wild beasts found in the country, with which the country teemed previous to the clearinpf av y of our forests by the white man who broujTfht us civili- zation, education and rclij^fion, but who at the same time robbed our fathers of their beautiful hunting- grounds. That it was impossible for those animals to have swum across a distance of sixty or seventy-five miles we all believe, and that those animals must have come to our country from the continent of Asia we edu- cated Indians, as well as our forefathers, believe. We read in the Bible that God said to Noah ii ^ 6th chapter of Genesis and the 17th verse: — "Anti ._.- hold T do even bring a flood of waters upon the earth to destroy all flesh wherein is the breath of life from under heaven; and everything that is in the earth shall die." Therefore God could not have drowned one part of the earth and preserved the other part from such doom. Again, we read in the seventh chapter of the same book, at the eleventh verse, that when the fountains of the great deep were broken up, a.nd the windows of heaven were opened, that on the selfsame day Noah entered into the ark with his three sons, Shem, Ham and Ja- pheth and their wives, and that they also took with them two and two of every kind to preserve seed alive upon k V How Did We Get Here. 147 the eart! 'And tlie flood 1(1 me nood was forty days upon tlie earth, and tlie waters increased and bare up the ark, and it was lifted up above the earth. And the waters prevailed and were increased greatly upon the eartli, and the ark went upon the face of the waters. And the waters prevailed exceedingly upon the earth, and all the hiji^h hills that were under the heavens were covered Fifteen cubits upward did the waters ])revail, and the mountains were covered. And all flesh died that moved upon the earth, both of fowl and of cattle and of beast, and of every creepinp^ tiling that creepeth upon the earth, and every man. All in whose nostrils was the breath of life of all that was in the dry land ench orphan girl whose parents had both been murdered by a band of Iroquois. At length 'S II ! '\ *i ■'. 1 \ q i i i| ; ( '! ■ . }C}i Sea, Forest and Prairie. liflin.qfs reached Quebec thai the hltlc .q'irl, lately Messed with kind parents, was now an orphan, leather I're- heuf, then on a visit to Onehec, received her as his ward, and when he join*neyed back to his home in the Huron country Marie accompanied him. Marie soon p^rew to love her kind i)rolector, and under his patient instruc- tions .she became skilled in all the accomplishments necessary to every lady. V>y her pious acts amonfr her associates, the Hurons, she won for herself the i^-ood-will of the whole tribe. One eveniiif^, as the i;l(^rious sun was setting behind the distant horizon, ^larie left the fort to enjoy the cool air of the June eveniiii^'-. Slie j(Mirneyed to a distant ,qTove of stately l.'alsams, and, walkini^: up and down the beaten path by the river's e(l.q;e, she sanc:^ a sweet love sonj^ in her native toni^'ue, the French. Soon she ceased as she heard the monotonous notes of a chicka- hou (a gourd filled with pebbles) sound on the tranquil air. She retraced her steps, but, owing to her haste, she slipped and fell forward into the swiftly flowing river. When IMarie regained her consciousness she found I'^ather Ih-ebeuf by her side in old Fort St. Tgnace. The priest stated that she owed her life to a stranger — an Italian who had lately arrived in their country. Bre- beuf then stated that he w(nild introduce her deliverer, and, withdrawing from the room, he soon returned to Marie with the stranger. The French girl briefly thanked him and the ])riest begged him to stay with them for some time. Manfred Gonzaga, for such was the Italian's name, thanked Brebeuf for h's ki .dness, and, in accepting the invitation, he said : '• .1 friends, when I turn from your door I go forth iub the A\orld Marie. lOi ;re- Ter, to efly ith ess, ids, .rid alone, for, althouj^fh of a lii.y:li Italian family, T am an outlaw from my Italy." lie tbcti retired to rest. Marie and Manfred, as the days went by, lirew more intimate, and, as they were both possessed of many accomphsh- ments, this intimaey soon ju^rew, on his part at least, intt) a passionate atYeetion. lUit his overtures were coolly received by Marie, for, althon^ii she loved Manfred with a deep, silent love, yet she did not betray her weak- ness to him. Marie would soon return t<^ France, where she had rich relatives, take her vows, and become a nun. This was her intention, and she had taken an oath never to disrespect her vows. Thus it was that Manfred's love soon grew cold for Marie. She ob- served a c1ianG;-e in him ; no sonj^s did he sinpf, no com- pliments did he now pay the fair Marie. At lenjT;-th, as the days went by, Manfred plucked up courai^e, and asked the old, old question, which is always to be an- swered by the word "Yes" or "No." Marie, with seem- ing indifference, dismissed him with a smile. Manfred then went to her guardian P.rebeuf and bid him farewell. He told the priest that he c3 the warriors. Here lie fcniiul Fathers Brebciif and Lallcmant, and, reserving them for future tortures, he sent them forward with an advance party. Tlie flames of St. Louis warned diose of St. Marie of some dire calamity. Marie was in the fort and she reasoned with its Huron defenders, advising them to fight till the last. Accordingly a party of Hurons threw themselves before the advancing tide of victorious warriors, and all day long the battle raged. Fort Marie was captured, and the good Fathers Brebeuf and Lallement were bound to the stake, and, after entluring untold sufferings, they died, sure of a martyr's reward. The destruction of all their chief stations among the Huron nation compelled the priests to abandon their mission. An attempt was made to establish Ste. Marie on the Isle of St. Joseph in Matchedash Bay, but the adventurers were driven from it by famine and the Iro- quois to seek security by the banks of the St. Lawrence. The Mission was established at Sorel in Quebec. Com- plete desolation reigned in the Huron country, and the remnant of the people found shelter and became incor- porated with the tribes dwelling by the Lakes Erie, Michigan and Superior. Thus was the Huron Mission wrecked l)y the vengeance of a rejected lover. Marie escaped among others, but, being closely pur- sued by parties of the Iro(|uois, and suffering untold privations, she at length died on the shores of Lake Veritasni, now Lake ."^inicoe. Her lover found her body a few days later, and, seeing the dire consecjuences of his acts, he became insane. After leading tlie war- riors home again he crossed the ocean to a>serl hi.s rights ill sunny Italy Ihit liis appearance and h.is I! !| 164 Sea, Forest and Prairie. j! stran^£^c actions won for him a cold reception by his stately relatives. They declined to acknowledp^e his rights. Manfred crossed the broad Atlantic ae^ain, and, travelling to the Iroc|uois country, he bade farewell to the chiefs. This done, he joun.eyed to Marie's q^rave — near the site of the present village of Beaverton. He carefully erected a rouG^h stone and chiselled on it by some means the word ''Marie." He commenced an- other wonl, but, cfrowinfT weary, he (piit his work and arrancfed the grave of the French orphan. This done, he fell unconscious over her j^rave, where he remained until death released liim from his trouble. Many years n^o the early settlers by the shores of Lake Simcoe wondered nuich at the sii^ht of a weather- beaten cross erected over a solitary c^rave. They con- cluded that it was some i)erson of rank who had per- ished in the wilderness long ago. The cross stood in its old position for many years, till some worldly pio- neer desecrated the sacred spot by removing the cross and with his rough ploughshare obliterating all traces of the lonely grave. The gray ruins of some of these old forts still stand to attest the story of the fate of the Huron Mission, and, as I gaze on them, and consider life in Simcoe County two centuries ago, I cannot forbear quoting in conclu- sion the familiar lines of the famous American poet : — ''Thus arise Races of living things, glorious in strength, And perish, as the (juickening breath of God Fills them, or is withdrawn." WM. A. LAUGHLIN. Cannington, Out. BRAVE LAURA SECORD. Often have I listened to a clear old friend telling us Ftories of the far-away past, and I have so admired this brave heroine of 1812 that I have taken her adventures as the dieme of my story. While the American troops still held Fort George, and their soldiers patrolled the surrounding country at their own sweet will, and demanded of the neighboring farmers anything that they pleased, the heroine of our story learned of the intended attack on Colonel Fitz- gibbon and his handful of men at the Beaver Dam in this way. Some American soldiers came in and de- manded their supper of the best the house aff'orded, and while they ate and drank they discussed their plan of at- tacking Fitzgibbon's camp the next evening, and she secretly listened. Her husband had only partially re- covered from a gunshot wound received while fighting under the gallant lirock, and so, being unable to be the bearer of the tidings himself, she prevailed upon him ti let her go ; not, however, without a struggle in his heart between duty to country and love to her. Love of coun- try gaining the day he commended her to the care of him who rules the destinies of men and nations, antl she started out. She had gone but a short distance from the house when she was challenged by an American sentry, and seeing a cow beyond him cpiietly grazing she made answer that the ccw had strayed during the night, and as T hi i66 Sea, Forest and Prairie. : \ 3 I* he allowed her to pass she entered a barn, where luckily an old tin pail had been left, and, taking it with her to avoid suspicion she followed the cow, who made straight for a strip of woods. Just on entering the wood she cast a long lingering glance at the home that had shel- tered her and her loved ones, and hoped that her at- tempt to give warning might be successful, since so much was at stake. It was a glorious morning in June, and she arrived at St. David's, where her brother lay ill, just at breakfast time. Her sister-in-law, after learning her errand, gave her a lunch to eat on the way, and she resumed her jour- ney, not, however, l^y the public highway but through the bush, without even a blazed path to leatl her on, often crawling on her hands and knees, her clothing being much torn by the underbrush, while her terror of creeping things was great. Once a rattlesnake crossed her ])ath, which caused her great alarm; but she soon recovered strength enough to continue her journey, and in this way she reached the Twelve ]\Hle Creek, where now the city of St. Catherine stands. Here she heard a ''Who goes there?" from the British sentry, and she replied, ''Laura Secord, a friend, with news for L^itzgibbon." She walked the beat with the sentry, while he told her the path to take ; also that she would have to pass a camp of Mohawk Braves, but by telling the chief her errand she would have nothing to fear. r»ut as the shades of night were falling she trem- bled at every sound, for she could hear in the distance the howling of th** wolves, mingled with the screech of the wild-cat; and iith a prayer for protection she went on. lirave Laura Secord. 107 Presently she was saluted by the war-whoop, and challenged as a spy by a brave ; but by throwing herself on the Chief for protection, and explaining her errand, he, so glad to have heard of the intended attack of the Long Knives (as he called the enemy) on the Big White Chief, sent one of his warriors with her to the house where Fitzgibbon was stationed. Having been admit- ted by the sentry, a corporal on guard made known to Colonel Fitzgibbon that a woman accompanied by *in Lidian wished to see him. Having told him all her storj' — her bedraggled appearance speaking nuich for the truth of it — while he sympatliized with her suffer- ings, and praised her l)ravery, exhausted nature gave way, and she fainted. The brandy flask being near she soon recovered composure enough to resume her jour- ney, under an escort sent by Lltzgibbon, to the house of an intimate friend, where she slept soundly, having walked twenty miles that day. In the grey dawn of the morning Fitzgibbon went out to see if the enemy were in sight. Meeting two of the advance guard, by strategy he obtained their arms, and they being thus obliged to surrender, he took then: prisoners to his camp. He had already sent messengers to Dc Haren, asking his help, and as the enemy ad- vanced the bugles sounded from different quarters, min- gled with the war-whoop of the Indians. This led Beoestler and McDowell, tlie American officers in com- mand, to believe that they were completely surrounded, and thus they were made an easy prey to the terms of surrender. These were dictated by De Haren, atid written on the top of a drum, and signed by Colonel Beoestler and Pi I s I: I. i68 Sea, Forest and Prairie Captain McDowell, and so a victory was gained without bloodshed, all through the wonderful fortitude and un- daunted courage of the brave woman whose name will go down to the succeeding generations in Canada as Brave Laura Secord. When the Prince of Wales visited us, in i860, he did not forget to recompense our heroine with substantial aid as well as kind words. Mrs. Curzon, an English lady, a resident of Toronto for many years, who takes great interest in Canadian history, has written a ballad and a drama describing this noble deed, and gives us the inscription on the tombstone which is in Drummond's Hill graveyard, on the scene of the Battle of Lundy's Lane. The inscription reads as follows : — Here rests LAURA, Beloved wife of James Secord. Died October 17th, 1868, Aged 93 years. ANNIE HUTCHISON. Niagara, Out. GRANDFATHER'S INDIAN MSITORS. 2 111 the year 1824 my grandfather aiul grandmother settled on a farm in the townsliip of Dawn, County of Lambton, on the west bank of a stream called IJear Creek (so called by the Indians because of the bears and other wild animals that were found around that riven, now called the Sydenham. My grandfather was a man about five feet nine inches in height, well built, very quick in his movements, and temperate in all things; therefore he was able to stand a great many hardships to which all early settlers at that time were subjected. One evening, in the fall of 1827, grandfather enter- tained two visitors, the Rev. ^Ir. C and ^[r. A , old friends of his ; and after the evening repast was over he reached the giui down from its accustomed place in order to clean it so that it would be ready for use on the morrow, as they had to shoot wild animals or fowls every day in order to provide themselves w'ith meat. He got down upon his knees, and was quite intent upon his work, in front of a large fireplace, and standing near by was a pot of water which he was using. He had just got the barrel apart from the stock when in walked three large Indians, each armed with their favorite wea- pon, the tomahawk. Grandfather, not wishing them to feel he was at all embarrassed by their appearance, quietly passed the time of day with them, but they made no reply, and, after looking around the room, and see- I I J-- 1; ■laMHMliM 170 Sea, r^orest and IVairie. B''.; ' ; m^ tlic other visitors who were present, tliey sat clown amidst the rest of the company and watched him until he completed the task of washing the gun. Then, when he was ahout i)Utting it together again, they, with a wild wh(;op that would strike terror into the heart of any man unless he belonged to their own savage tribe, rose to their feet, and, with glittering tomahawks held high above their heads, rushed, one in advance of the other, in their customary method, towards grandfather. He had not time to get on his feet, but, quick as a flash, he caught the first one by one of his legs, pulled him down, and at the same time jerked him forward on the hearth with his face downward, and, putting one knee on his back, held him there, liefore he had settled Indian numl)er one in this way the second of the number came up, and he met with a similar fate. He had now one under each knee, and the third number of this villanous l^artv was just bringing his tomahawk down on his head when one of the visitors took courage, sprang forward and knocked the weapon out of his hand. Then grand- father took charge of all three weapons, and springing U]) with one of the tomahawks in his right hand raised it above his head as if intending to split their heads open. He then went to the door and dropped the wea- pons outside, then came back and sat down quietly as if nothing extraordinary had occurred. The Indians remained motionless in the same position in which they were left (two lying on the hearth and one standing quietly beside them), and witl^-^'ieir eyes fixed on grandfather. When Uirl^at down tlie expression on their faces seemed to change from that of anger to that of astonishment, for they knew that the man who had Grandfather's Indian \'isitors. 171 lil so gallantly defended his life a few moments before could, if he were further provoked, easily kill them all. The hero of the evening was the first to break the silence by asking them why they had tried to kill him. Then the two who had been prostrated on the floor arose, and one of them said (at the same time pointing to the gun lying on the floor), "Me want it. Me got none. Kill deer. Indian deer. No white men deer." So these poor ignorant and bloodthirsty men were forced to ad- luit that they intended murdering this brave man in or- der to stop him from killing deer, and at the same time get jDossession of the gun. Then this messenger of peace told them about our Father in heaven ; told them that God made white men and also Indians; that he also created all wild animals and fowls for the Indians and for the white men to use as they thought best. He told them that God was a father to the Indians as well as to the white men, therefore we should all love one another. He also narrated to them the story of the cross. Before going away grandmother gave them a good hearty supper. Then the one who spoke before came near grandfather, and, with tears running down his cheeks, said, "Indian no hurt white man." The next New Year's Day two of them returned and presented him with a saddle of venison. They were kindly and hospitably treated by grandmother, and grandfather, not wishing to miss the opportunity of doing good, talked to them of Jesus and his love. After this they returned regularly with an offering of some kind, and they were always welcomed and kindly entertained. Grandfather said that he could never forget the last time one of them came. He appeared to be about 1 i* 172 Sea, Forest and Prairie. eighty years old, and was very feeble. When sitting down to dinner the old man pnt his hand up to his face and asked a blessing in his own language. That was the last time grandfather ever heard from them. May each of us learn that a small word spoken in season, though it costs us nothing, will surely grow and bring forth fruit. BELLE R. SCARLETT. Florence, Lambton County, Ont. "THE HERO OF CEDARDALE." Cedardale, on the north shore of Lake ( )ntario, is famous as an enterprising, energetic and intelligent vil- lage, whose skilled mechanics turn out matuifactures known all over Canada, and, indeed, in all parts of Eu- rope. All classes and ages are i)ervaded by the same spirit of contentment and activity, and, of course, this disposition in those of the schoolboy age shows itself in youthful buoyancy and vigor. Over this village the thirteenth of December, 1884, dawned cold, frosty and clear. A day exhilarating to anyone, but to the schoolboy especially, enjoying his holiday, it meant enjoyment to the full, from the mo- ment when the first streaks of dawn ajipeared until the pine-clad hills were wrapped in the silence of night. A bracing north wind was careering over the glare of mirror-like ice — a wind that sends the blood bounding through the veins of the young, and makes the old long to be young again, that they may enjoy as they once did that which now gives their merrv children ])lcasure. North-west of the village is the Cedardale pond, lying low, and fringed with cedars, so that it is, in a measure, hid from the village. On the morning mentioned the pond lay glittering in the bright rays of the morning sun and looking as if it invited the young villagers to come and sj)ort upon its silvery surface. The pond is deep in the centre, with a creek running through, which at all ■ ■ 5 SI II , M I w 174 Sea, Forest and Prairie. Hij Mi > i times makes more or less of a current, and, when win- ter frosts conp^eal the water, this current causes a tliin- ning of the ice in the deepest part, which fact every vil- lage boy is aware of, and is careful to guard against. Soon after daylight groups of hoys might be seen eagerly discussing the prospect of a good day's skating, carefully fitting skates and providing themselves with '^shinnies'* in order to be sure that no time should be lost when they betook themselves to their day's amuse- ment. Then all wended their way to the pond, skates strapped together, "shinnies" over their shoulders; hel- ter-skelter down the hill they went to the edge, where the sight of such a sheet all ready for their sport called forth a genuine burst of pleasure from the happy lads with hearts so light and free from care ! Here and there a boy with a hand-sled might be noticed, coming slowly after his companions, accompanied, perhaps, by his little sister, or carrying the rosy-cheeked, fat little baby, well-protected by loving hands against the cold, the boy looking proud at having such a privilege as be- ing allowed to take out "the baby" for a ride on the ice on his sled, and heedless of the jokes of his merry com- panions at him giving up his day's sport and ])lcasure. Quickly the skates were fitted on — all striving to be the first on the ice ; and proud, indeed, was the boy who made the first stroke on that unmarked sheet. A few boys looked ruefully at their chums swinging along, as they put on the skates of their little brothers, who had expressed their determination to come to the ice "to have some fun too." But soon everyone was gliding over the glassy surface, and hill threw back to hill the sound of joyous voices and peals of laughter, while ''The Hero of Ccdanlalc." /D "to everywhere was heard the sliarp, ringing sound of the skates as their owners dashed along. lUit soon ''shinnies" were brought into requisiton, and all the larger boys joined in a grand game, while the little fellows pursued one of their own in a secluded corner and enjoyed themselves just as nuich as their ' big briUhers." The game of "shinney" recjuires great powers of en- durance ratlier than robust strength, so that often the spectator mav sec some little wiry fellow, swift-footed and long-winded, pursue the game with unconquerable vim, while some tall, strong rival is ready to throw him- self down and pant for breath. Among the boys foremost in the game were Johnny and Eugene Riordan, who, with flushed faces, watched opponent after opponent weary and droj) away, until only one, Zera Fletcher, remained. If anything, these three boys were the most active of those assembled, and, although Zera was the older, they made a very fair match. Often had they found themselves pitted against each other in their active, boyish games; and now the contest was witnessed by the n st without the thought ^f sharing or interfering. The two Riordan brothers were short, firmly-built boys, never yielding an inch of ground when attacked by their opponents, and, although they were showing some slight signs of fatigue, still pressed onward with unflinching courage. Zera Fletcher was taller and more withy, while his long legs enabled him to speed (juickly to any point of danger, and his long and ]K)w- erful arms could stretch out and strike before his rival thought him within reach. Thus there was momentar- i i II lit Ir^ 176 Sea, Forest and Prairie. H ily acciinuilatinp;" that intense interest which is usually manifested by 1)oth nouns' and old in the progress of well-sustained and clo'>ely contested g-anies. Here and there the "puck" was driven by tho^e active lads. Sometimes the .^^ame was so nearly won lliat the boys shouted in their excitement, but, seeming-ly, just at the rif^ht moment, it was sent whiz7.in,c;' back by a timely blow. Yet still more and more excitinjT;' ^rew the jL^ame; and each boy ^^•atched intently and in silence every motion of the players, who, carried away by the interest they were arousinj^, played e\en more excitedly and wildly, until tliey seemed to abandon every feelinpf of caution and to have their whole enerq-ies bent only on success. Summoninj^ all his stren.qth Johnny Kior- dan drove the "jiuck" up toward Fletcher's .^'oal, and, callin.^" to his l)r(»ther to follow, darted after it, liopins^: to win the ^q'ame before his opponent could come up. Fletcher saw the danger a!id came at full speed to avert it, but just as he raised his stick tt) strike his skate struck a twii;" frozen into the ice and he fell. Johnny sprang forward to follow up this advantage, and, raisiiig his "shinney," struck with all his might, but the blow was only a glancing one, and, instead of deciding the game 1)y sending ih<.^ "puck" through the goal, it sent it far out over the ice. Laughing, and heedless of the warning that came from the bank, the two l)rothers s]uxl after it before Zera could recover himself. Out and still farther out diey went ; and. as Johnny stooped to strike the "puck," with one lengthened crash the ice broke under them, — a black chasm yawned, and the two brothers, clasped to- gether, sank in the dark chilly waters. A cry of horror "The Hero of Ccdanlale." 177 pnie Ifore out -a to- Tor arose from their youthful coiupanivMis, most of wlioni socnied i)aralyze(l witli fear, as they .qfuzcd witli a^ony and terror on the spot wiu^T tlie two l)rothers were now strugolin^ amid the broken iee and water. P)Ut one brave youn,q; lieart (juailed not at the ic-rrible sight. Zera Fletcher thou.q'iit only of ilie two lives in peril in that abyss. He s])ran^' impetuously forward over thin ice, crackliujL;- and yielding?; beneath his feet, and, carried safely over by his speed, was lieside the 1)rothers in a moment ! Mis j:>-enerous heart would save them or he would i)eris]i; and lie know, moreover, that while lie was a tjood swinnner, neither of the others could swim a stroke. Yet Zera found that his weijj^ht of clothes, his skates, the ice-cold water, the limited s])acc, the boys clutching- him with the ^rasp of despair, as well as the dan^qer of tiie current bearint:^ lliem down under the ice, made rescue almost impossible. After several efforts, by exertin^q;' all his strentrth, he succeeded in placinq; Johnny, the older boy. on tlie un- liroken ice. He then turned to .Q'et hold of iuiq^ene, but, alas, just as the hope of saviiig Ix^th of them sprani;' up within him, another crash is heard, and Jolmny is again seen in the v.ater. N'oung Idofcher had the heart and bravery to save botli of them, but he was rapidly becoming benumbc:l and losing ])ower, and at that moment Eugene seized him with the death grip of a drowning person, and l-oth I)oys sank togetlier, in this world to rise no more ! As the accident occurred, although the smaller boys were struck witli horror, yet some of the larger ones ran toward the village for hel[). This was speedily fur- nislicd, and when some of tlie foremost reached the 178 Sea, 1m)1Vs1 and rrairio. illi pond tlicv ft)un(l Inhiiny aj;'ain lifted on the ice, yet still unconscious, — rescued from his second stru^^le in the water, ere life was extinct, by a gentleman named Anderson. As soon as men arrived it was only the work of a mo- ment to use all the a|)i)liances possible to find the two hoys that had i^one down: hut they were not successful for some time, and, when found, all means to restore ani- mation in their case i)roved unsuccessful, although everything that kindness, perseverance and skill could bring to the task was abundaiuly tried, johnny, how'- ever, slowly returned to a state of consciousness by a faithful application of the usual remedies, although it was some time before he fully recovered from the ter- rible shock. Thus ended this memorable tlay in tlie village: a day of mercy, yet of warning and gloom to both ])arents and children. As to /era l*'letcher, he is remembered as a hero of the truest type, lie lost his young life in a manly effort to save the lives of his companions, aiul over his imtimely grave let us drop a tear of grateful re- membrance and admiration ! "There is no llock, however watched and tended, lUit one dead lamb is there; There is no fireside, howso'er defended, lUit has one vacant chair I" FRED. TATTERSON. Oshawa, Out. AN HISTORIC IIOUSI- The house in wiiieh I now Hve is situated on th^c hanks of the heautiful Xiajj^ara river. It was huilt in iSoo, and has witnessi-d many seenes dnrinj^- the stn'- ring^ times of 1812 and I1S14. As it was one of tlic larf^^est and most comfortahk' houses of those times it was used as a hospital hy hoth British and Aiueriean, as eaeh had possession of it. The hall was sometimes so filled with tlie dead and wounded that it was almost im- possihle to reaeii the upper story of the house without treading on their bodies. A few yards to the north of the house is a ravine wliieh was, no douht, at that titne covered with shrubbery, in which the l)oats were con- cealed which were intended to be used in the capture of Fort Niai^-ara. Perhajjs some of your readers may not have heard how the I'ort was captured without the firinp^ of a p^un. It was on December H), 181 3, that Colonel Murray came from T)urlinj2;-ton to Niagara, with portions of tlic looth and 41st Rcp^imcnts, to take the Fort. They did not cross at Niai^ara town, but came about two miles up the river. My uncle, who was taken prisoner by the Americans, made his escape out of the Fort early one morninjT^, and walked up the river along- the shore imtil he came to a house where he was well kn()mi. These kind friends of his hid him in the cella' •' dl nit:;'Iitfall, when he crossed to his own country. Colonel Murra)', 4 i8o Sea, Forest and Prairie. hcarinpf of his return, sent for him to consult with him as to the i)roha))iHty of taking the Fort. He said he thought that their chances were good, and was at once appcjinted jnlot of the expechtion. They embarked a little below the house, then went up the river for a short distance, and landed on the opposite shore wliere two pine trees now stand. It was ten at night when they started off and walked down on the other side, killing all the sentries with their bayonets as they went along, so as not to alarm the garrison at the I'ort. So silently and successfully was the capture made that the Americans did not know that the enemy was near until one of the British soldiers, opening a door in the upper story of the Fort, where a number of Ameri- can officers were engaged in playing cards, heard one of them ask, "What is trump ?" and inunediately replied, ^'British bayonets and we've won the game." After this all was in confusion, and many of the Americans, in trying to make their escape through the windows, were caught on the British bayonets below. In the skirmish that took i)lace only six P>ritish were killed and three wounded. The American conunander Leonard was not in the Fort at the time it was taken, as he had been spending the night near Lewiston, and returned next morning only to find himself a prisnucr in the hands of the British. Tt was on the top of this same ravine in which the boats had 1)cen concealed that General Brock, on his way from Fort George, on the morning of October 13, 1812, to command at the battle of Queenston Heights, said to my grandfather, "This is going to be a hard day for me." It was about sunrise when he went up, and I >l An Historic House. i8i the his rhts, (lay aii«l his words proved only too true, for about ten o'clock the "Hero of Upper Canada" was brout^ht down a corpse. His body was taken to St. Georjj^e, where it found a temporary buryin^-ground, but was afterwards removed to Queenston Heights, the scene of tiie battle, where a magnificent monument was erected to him by the Canadian Militia. One day, as my grandfather and great-grandfather were at work in the field, each with a pair of horses, three American dragoons rode up and tried to capture both men and horses; but my two grandfathers, each seizing a rail from the fence near at hand, soon put them to flight. However, it was not long before they came back, consider ably reinforced. This time they seized the horses, took my greiit-graiul father prisoner, and carried him away to Greenbush, New York State, but my grandfather fortunately made his escape. It had been reported that money was buried in the cellar, and it seems there is some foundation for the rumor, for my grandmother being in tlie cellar one day, noticed something bright where the rats had been scratching up some earth on the ground rt(K)r, and, on picking it up, it proved to be a gold Spanish coin, nearly twice as large as an English guinea. We have an old clock in the house nov which tradition .sav> \\-as buried during the time of the war; but as this is a true tale I cann()t vouch for the truth of the "clock" storv. JESSIE McKEXZIE. Niagara-on-the-Lake, Out. .1 hi it:, 1 fl L I r r I'ASr IN A CANi:. It was ill tho M'.ir iS.jj thai my iiiu-K\ Jolm I'axtor, wiio was lluMi liviiii; in llio (oiitily of W't-ntworlh, mot with an aiivontinv wliioli miqlit havo nidod his rarthly caii'or. Ill' atul his I'riond, C'hailos llaiupdiMi, had do- ci(K'»l \o mako an ownrsion intu tho wonds i-ast of tlioir hnmos. and whiU" <»n this trip lhi> advontnri' of whioh I am ahont to spoak hofol thom. It was a lino snmmor aftiM'iioon whon ihoy staitod. 'J'ho snn shono hiii^htly thfoni^h tiio hfanoho.-. ovt'Hioad on tho damp s^roon moss anoil many a si|nirtol was t«> ho hoard ohatloiini;' at a distanoo, Init disappoatvd as soon as thoy oamo in si,i;ht. Thoy liatl matlo npthoirminds toproooodtoa oortam spi^t on tho hanks c^f a lari;o orook whioh r.an into l»iir- linj^ton I'ay, to oamp thoiv for a fow days, and Ihon ro- tnrn. Ahnndanoo of s;amo was to ho had in tiiat dis- triot, si> it was with li5;ht hoarts, and minds oonfidont of hrini^iiii; homo a i;ood snpply, that thoy dopartod. Thoy took with thom a pony, i>n whioh thoir tout .'ind othor nooossary artiolos woro oarriod. I'roooodinj;- on thoir way at a rapid walk thoy soon loft thoir dwollinj^s far holiind tlion\ mil hy snndown fonnd thomsolvos at tlioir dostination. Thoy immodiatoly sot ahont pnttinj^ up thoir tout, and a littlo lator on luul a hrisk tiro hurnini; in front of it. \ftor tothoring the pc^ny at sonio litilo dis- til ast ill a ( avr •^i ush- at a i.ulit. rtain I'.ur- 1 rc- (lis- it of riicy (her (heir ^ far heir up irin (lis- taiuH- away, llicy ^**\ supper, and Ix'^aii !•» I.iy plans as (m wlirir llu'y wnnid ^n In Innk f(»r j^amc on llic inor- row. At last (lu-y dccidcfl to prncci-d up ihc sircam, near wliirli llicir lent was pilrlicd. Ilaviii^ IcanuMl frniii an Indian, wlioiii llicy liad im-l, llial plenty of (U'vr \oiild l»e j^'^ot at a certain spot faitlier np, tiiev tlictindit llieit- would he no haiiii in tiyiii^% anvwav. I hev sla\e exani- iue the interior. This (hey did hy rollinpf up some damj) powder ill paper, and (hen liL,di(inj4' i(. This (hrew .lUt such hrilliaiU sparks (hat (hey were enahled (o examine (lie whole of (he cave. It was uo( a very larL;e cave. The floor was covered with fine sand, and a( (he upper cud a (|uanti{y of diy drif(wood lay sca((ered ahou(. showinj^^ tha( some time or odier (he \va(ers had risen and invaded it. and on q'o- inir out had left tlic wood that had floated in. With i mp 184 Sea, Forest and Prairie. iill V 4 this wood they made a fire near the entrance and dried their clothes, which were wet thronj^-h. The rain was still unabated. So, after waitinj:;' an hour or so for it to clear off, they decided to have their dinner, which consisted of a few larjj^e biscuits, and a small piece of dried beef they had brou.c^ht in their pock- ets. With some difficulty they succeeded in draj^^inj:^ the deer inside, placinj^^ it at the upper end of the cave. ^ Then they went outside to view the weather, but, as ^^t was showing no signs of clearing up, they retired in- side, but both, sni' hoped it would stoj) raining in time to allow them to get 1 ack to camp. Charlie proposed that while they were tliere they might as well rest them- selves, as they had yet to carry the deer about two miles before they reached their camping-ground. They ac- cordingly stretched diemselves out at the upper end of the cave, where they soon dvoi)ped asleep. It was with a feeling of sui-"ocation that my uncle awoke an hour or so afterwaicls. It was as dark as pitch, and for a few moments he could not realize where he was. Then the thought dawned upon him that while they were sleeping the waters had risen and were now higher than the opening. He hastily awoke Charlie and explained to him the state of affairs, though he could not make him understand for some time what had taken place. Grasping each other's hand they proceeded toward the opening, but the first step they took they splashed into water, and by the time they got to the other end it was nearly four feet deep. They im- mediately tried to make their way out, l)ut in this they were unsuccessful, as the opening had become choked up with the wood and other debris that had floated I'^ast in a Cave. i8: iiiicle .rk as iwhcre while c now !liarlie •li he what they they ;y got V im- they lioked loated down. After one or two unsuccessfnl attempts to elear the passaj.![e tliey returned to the upper end of tlie cave, "Oh,Jolni!" cried Cliadie, "what shall we do?" "Do!" echoed niv uncle, "whv we shall have to remain here until" — the water i^ets hi.\T^h enoujj^h to drown us, he was goingf to say, but he refrained himself and said, "until the water gets lower." The water was by this time about a foot and a half deep at the place where they were now standing, and was rising rapidly. They re- mained silent for some time, each occupied with his own thoughts of the fate before them. Every wrong act that my uncle had ever connnitted flashed before his mind like lightning, but at last he was startled to hear a loud splash in the water beside him. He called to Charlie, but, receiving no answer, he concluded it must have been he that had fallen, and so it proved to be, he having fainted away, owing to the air, which every ukj- ment was getting more impure, lie immediately dived in the water, which had now risen to the height of five feet, and succeeded in bringing up Charlie. As he did so his foot struck against something, and finding out it was the deer he stepped upon it, and was thus enabled to raise his friend's face a few inches ai)ove the water. With one arm supporting Charlie, and with his other hand hanging on to a small projecting rock behind him, he stood for some time, although he felt almost ready to drop. He then let go the rock, and put his hand up to his forehead, btit as he took it away again he thought the waters had lowered a little. Feeling the buttons on his coat he found that one of them was still above the water, and, after waiting a minute or two, he felt again. It was with joy that he found there were N ■i i ! 1 86 Sea, I'orcst and Prairie. now two above tlie water. In a little while the water had sunk below the opening, and the sweet fresh air came stealing in. Charlie came to on breathing the fresh air, and soon after that they were both outside the cave, safe at last. It was six o'clock in the evening before they reached the camp, where they dried their clothes, and got some- tliing to eat. I>oth passed a sleepless night, and next morning they decided to start for home, which they reached about four o'clock in the aftern ^n>^ i88 Sea, Forest and Prairie. 'H'. ii ■It; |; ! ■j I; ■] Ii i '. II : * il 1 :i^ ing from his high elevation, drove his claws into the back of his victim. So rapid and strong was his swoop that he buried himself out of sight in the water, but the next moment emerged into view, and, flapping his wings, endeavored to rise with his prey. But he had misreckoned his strength ; in vain he struggled to lift the fish from the water. The frightened and bleeding salmon trout made a sudden dive, and took the bird down with him, being out of sight at least half a min- ute. Again they rose to the surface, and the strong bird spread his broad, dripping wings, and, gathering force with his rapid blows, raised the fish half out of the water, Tiie weight, however, was U*k. great for him, and he sank again to the surface, beating the water into foam about him. The salmon trout tlien made another dive, and they both went under, leaving only a few bub- bles to tell where they had gone down. This time they were out of sight for more than half a minute, and Mar- shall said he thought it was all over with his bird. In- stantly the eagle reappeared with his claws still buried in the flesh of his foe, and again made a desperate effort to rise. All this time the fish was shooting rapidly through the lake, carrying liis relentless foe on his back. He could not keep the eagle down, nor could the bird carry him up, and so, now beneath, and now upon the surface, they struggled on, presenting one of the most singular and exciting spectacles that can be imagined. It was fearful to witness the blows of the eagle as he lashed the lake with his wings into spray and made the shore echo with the report. At last the bird, thinking that he had awakened the wrong passen- ger, loosening his clutch, soared heavily and slowly Eagle and Salmon Trout. 189 away to his pine tree, where he sat for a long time sul- len and sulky. ^ iMarshall said we easily could have captured the con- testants, but we wished to see the fight to a finish. Whether the eagle in his rage was bent on capturing his prize and would not release his hold even at the hazard of his life, or whether in his terril)le swoop he had struck his crooked claws so deep into the back of the salmon-trout that he could not withdraw tiiem, we cannot tell. Probably he would have been glad to let go long before he did. The old fellow, however, spent the afternoon in studying avoirdupois weight, and ever after that he tried his tackle on smaller fish. As for the poor salmon, he doubtless never fully understood the operation he had gone through. Perth, Out. BEN7AMIN RATHWELL. im m iii THE LAST DUEL FOUGHT LN CANADA. f m H i .1 At the close of the war of 1812 there settled on the Grand River a shrewd, middle-aged Scotchman, of the name of John Norton, known in later years among the settlers as Colonel Norton. Norton, like most of his countrymen, had an eye to the main chance, and soon cast about him for some means of improving his world- ly position. The great j\Iohawk chief, Brant, was alive at the time and exercised unbounded influence among the Six Nations settled on the river. The canny Scot, who was a real soldier of fortune, took a cool survey of the whole position of afifairs on the river, and laid his plans accordingly. Securing the friendship of the great chief he contrived to make him understand that he, John Norton, would not be at all averse to conferring the honor of his name on any dusky maiden who was the possessor of a good "tocher in siller or braid lands." Brant told his friend that if he could find a suita1)le squaw his (Brant's) influence should not ])e wanting to further the match. Norton attended several pow- wows, and finally selected as his future wife a very handsome young squaw, the possessor of a Alilesian name and five hundred acres of land. Capt. Brant and Squire Warner Nelles made John Norton and Kate Docherty man and wife, and immediately after the cere- mony the Colonel set to work building a mansion on his newly-acquired estate. Possessed of great execu- The Last Duel Fought in Canada. 191 tive ability and energy the shrewd Scotchman soon made his wife's lands the source of a handsome income, which he spent in princely hospitality. He dressed his Indian wife in regal style, and for some years their niar- ried life was as hapi)y as could be desired. In company wiUi his wife Norton visited liis native land, and while there pretty Kate had the honor of being presented to royalty in the person of Queen Caroline, the spouse of George I\'. The Queen was very gra- cious to the red daughter of the forest, and loaded lier with jewellery and trinkets, which many persons yet living on the Grand River remember to have seen on her person after she returned to Canada. The Queen also caused two ])ortraits of the Indian matron to be painted, cjne of which siie kept for herself, and gave the other to Norton. Three or four years after the visit to 1 Jritain the cloud that vvas to darken their married life, and e\entua11y de- luge it with utter ruin, apj)eared no bigger than a man.'s hand. A certain Indian, known as ( )nondaga Joe, l)e- gan to pay court in a sly way to Mrs. Norton. The foolish wife smiled on her new lover. The result was disgrace and exposure. The injured husband deter- mined to be avenged on the scoundrel who had brought dishonor on his house. He gave him his choice of fighting a duel or being shot down in his tracks. The Indian, who, to do him justice, seems to have been no coward, cheerfully agreed to the duel, remarking, that, after he had put a bullet througli Norton, he would have undisputed possession of Kate and all her ])ro- perty. Two heavy pistols were loaded l)y one William Weir, who kept a hotel on the river up t(j tjuite a recent li I ill! r.v 11 li! 192 Sea, Forest and Prairie. date. The Indian jTi^ot the first choice of weapons. Then the two (hiellists stood up l)ack to back, and, at tlie word of command, j^iven l)y Weir, stepped off six paces each, then turned and fired. Both stagi^^ered, but ncitlier fell, and wikl with rage they flew at each other with tlie discharq-ed weapons. After several ineffectual attempts to knock each other down witli tliese they gra})pled and fell, locked in a deadly cmljrace. Both were active, muscular men, but the redskin had the ad- vantag'c in weit^ht and years, and for some time it looked as if Norton was to Ijc vanquished. But the Scot, like the majority of his countrymen, was a man of resources, and, by a skilful trick of wrestlin.q-, got the Indian under him, and began to batter his brains out widi the butt end of the pistol. Then the cur begged for mercy, saying that he was shot in the thigh and was bleeding to death. The Colonel, like a modern Du- gald Dalgetty, desired a bystander to examine his enemy's thigh, and report on its condition before giving up the advantage he had obtained by his skill in wrest- ling. When assured of the severe nature of the wound he released his grip, and rose to his feet. The Indian died of hemorrhage two days after. His bullet had grazed Norton's scalp. Having a wholesome dread of the penalties attached to duelling, Norton gathered together his portable pro- perty, and, converting what else he could into cash, disappeared, attended only by a young lad named Sam Cheu. As neither of them were afterwards seen on the Grand River it was generally supposed that they made their way to the far West, there to commence life anew. Kate Norton met the fate of all false wives — a 5' Tlic Last Duel Fought in Canada. 193 ^yretcl^cd life and a niiseral)le death. ^Fanv in this sec- tion of Canada yet remember the dirtv old squaw, lep- rous with disease, who beg.o-cd her l)read at the doors of white people for many years before her death. That was the once handsome Kate Dochertv, who had kissed the hand of royalty. The -Red House" built by Xorton. in front of which t le last duel fou.crht in Canada took place, has been thoroughly renovated, and is now the elegant residence of AFr. Fred. Xelles, of the fow!iship of Seneca. This story, which is i)erfectly true in all its details I heard from the lips of Mr. Isaac Xelles, sr., who, at 94, IS hale and hearty enough to drive two miles and record his vote for Mr. Colter, and even to dance a livelv step on hearing that a Reformer had been returned for the county in which he was born, and in which he has had a vote for three-quarters of a century. 1 I ■ 4 FRANK NELLES. York, Haldimand, Ont. i' : m INX^IDEXT /N THE PATRIOTS' WAR. On a l)cautiful niorniuL;' in the sprint;- of 1S37 Wil- liam Coll, a pioneer of Kent County, was siltint;' in his bouse nuisini;' over the stirrinj;- (juestions which were at that time a^italinin" men's minds. Cp to this time he had held aloof from the political strife that was s;()in,c^ on around him, and had carefully refniined from takini; an active part in the war, but on the morninj^ of which I write as he sat thinkini;- of these thini^s be heard alow knock at his back door. He o])ene(l it and admitted (Mie of his nearest neij;bbors, who was also a relative. The latter came in, looked uneasily about, and, after a few minutes ctMiversation on indiffeixnt subjects, in- formed ^Ir. Coll that he was suspected of beint;- a rebel, and that arraui^ements had been made to have him ar- rested and lods^'ed in London i;aol on the afternoon of that very flay, and at the same time advised him to leave the place (juietly and so avoid troul)le. Coll made no answer, but, as soon as his neii^hbor was S'^)ne, went upstairs to a .qarret, ii which was stored away such thiui^s as were n,)t often wanted, and brouj^'ht out seven old nuiskets that he and his six brothers had used dur- ing the war of 1812, and spent the remainder of the day in cleaning, jiolishing and loading them. Towards nightfall, as he was looking out of the win- dow, he saw several men approaching his house through the woods, moving cautiously, so as to avoid observa- Incidcnl in the Patriots' War. 195 the Iwin- )ugh trva- tion, lie at once conchulod that tlicy were the men coniinj^ to arrest him, and prepared for action. Takinj^ the seven muskets he leaned them against tlie wall be- hind the door. Then setting his foot firmly agair.st the door, so as to i)revent it from opening wide, he waited for them. In another moment a hand was laid upon the latch and the men were .ilx ut to enter unceremoniously, hut were rather taken aback when they found that the door did not open as they expected, and that through the small o]KMiing which they managed to force protruderl the nuizzle of a nuisket pointing directly in their faces, while a loud voice cried out, "Who's there ?" "We have come to take you prisoner, a rebel and a traitor," exclaimed the leader. In answer to this Mr, Coll showed them the scar of an ugly wound on his arm which he had received dur- ing the previous war and said, "Does this show that t am a traitor ? I got this wound fighting for my coun- try as you cowards never dared to fight." One of the two men now grasped at the gun only to receive a large ])ortion of the charge in his arm. With an angry cry his companions rushed forward to avenge their leader, but they were rewarded by see- ing another of their party severely wounded. Upon the third musket being produced they came to the con- clusion that their intended prisoner must have assis- tance, and, picking up their wounded comrades, retreat- ed as fast as they could towards the woods. In the "wee sma' hours" in the morning, about a week after this event, tw^o stalwart men could be seen walking rapidly down the Longwoods Road. Upon 1 , •<■! 1 u f fl ■ J KjG Sea, I'Orcst ami Prairie. I ;-; reachiiip^ a spot where the buslies grew very thickly, they entered aiul lay in anihush until long after the noon hour had passed. Their watch was rewarded by seeing a single horseman coining in the distance. On- ward he came, admiring the beautiful scenery, wholly unconscious of the danger. Upon approaching the thick'jt !ie was accosted with the sliaq) cry of "Halt!" and innnediately the two men sj)rang out from among the bushes. This was so unexpected that the rider lost his iiresence of mind, and, before he could collect his thoughts, he was well under cover of their muskets. It was useless to resist such odds, so he ([uietly sur- rendered himself, and was soon securely bound, and they seated him on a log. The men did not seem to be in a hurry to search tlieir jM-isoner, but busied them- selves in preparing their dinner now that he was se- cured. Upon looking at the man who was bound we recog- nize our old friend Mr. Coll, for it was indeed he who had been selected by the leaders of the rebellion, for his former brave conduct, to convey some important papers from London to Sandwich. This was a perilous mo- ment for our hero. To be found with the papers on his person meant the cruel death of being hanged on the nearest tree, besides the loss of the papers. What was to be done ? Something certainly, and quickly. An idea entered his mind. Feigning to be very much fatigued he rolled off the log his enemies had set him on, and to all appearance went to sleep, but instead of this he succeeded in freeing his hands after much diffi- culty. He then dug a hole in the sand with his fingers, and, placing the papers in it, covered them up by scrap- Incidciit in the Patriots' War 197 ing the eartli over them; then he smoothed the ^rmmvl with his hand and rolled over the place so as to make it ook natural. He slipi.ed his wrists a^^ain into the bonds as if they had not been loose at all, and looked the picture of iniKJcence. After his captors had searched him thoroughly, with- out f^ndin.^: anything- to prove his guilt, they bound him to his horse and were taking him to gaol, but, after some consultation, they concluded to let him go, as they were probably losing the right man while attending to him. So, letting him go, they went to see if the papers had been carried along Talbot street, a road about twelve miles south of this place. After the danger had passed, Mr. Coll, who had been watching the movements of the men, secured the assistance of a friend, and they to- gether dug up the papers and carried them to vSand- wich without further molestation. JOPIX FREEL. Morpeth, Kent, Ont. J I 1 A NOBLE LIl'E. Of tlic iiiaiiv iio1)lc lives tint have l)ccn lived few have been writtei', and it is quite possible that the no- blest is miknown to the world of letters, for die One who gave us the standard of true nobility tells us that we often find the greatest among the least. Wlien we remember how the artist finds it die work of years, often, to catch and put on canvas the one ex- pression that to him reveals the soul back of tiie face he would immortalize, then do we realize how vain is the attempt of one not even a ready writer to place on paper a life lived. I would open my story in the year 1844, in what we now know as the city of Toronto, and in the home of one of its merchants, where the young Barbara Mc- Gregor was at diat time living with her brother Donald and his wife, and thoroughly enjoying the gay life of a garrison town, with which she contrasted the monotony of the quiet country home in the bush of that county of our province from which so many prosperous men have come — the County of Oxford, in which Barbara's father, a soldier who had seen service under McNab in tho Canadian Rebellion of ^yj ^^"^^ '38, had settled some five years before. "Your brother has had a letter from his father to-day, Barbara, in which he says diat your mother is not at all A Noble Life. i»j9 tliO )me lay, all well lately, and that he wishes you were home," said her sister-in-law, Alice, as she entered the drawing-room one evening. The words smote Barbara's heart with the cold chill of death. vShe could but think that her sister-in-law's words meant more than an ordinary illness to the frail little mother who was the chief controlling power in the heart of her high-spirited daughter. "Donald thinks he might acconijjany you home, as he has not seen his parents now for more than a year, and it might do his mother good to see her l)oy as well as her girl," ct)iUinued Alice, whose kindly heart would soften the news she could not withhold. Jler heart ached because of all she saw in store for her bright young friend. She knew it meant perhaps years of training, necessary but not pleasant. In fancy she saw the proud, gay, fun-loving, jealous, and in every way in- tense, nature developed, through trial, into the fac-simile of the sainted mother now almost ready to depart. lUit of all this Barbara had now no thought. The one present sorrow shut out all others. "Oh, why did you not tell me before ? Why did you let me be so selfish as to stay here having a good time when every minute was so precious ? Oh, why was I so blind ?" At last the strong calm was broken and the very flood-gates of her heart seemed open. Early next morning the brother and sister set out on their trying journey, taking the boat to Hamilton, and the stage from there to Woodstock. It being late when they arrived at the latter place the friend to whose house they went persuaded them to stay with him till morn- ing, when he would take them home in his ox-cart. .'V. 1 p 200 Soa, l"\>rcst aiul Trairic, 1:^: n I It was tlio most beautiful season of the year, autl, as they ih-ove thnnii;li hush and oecasioual eleariiig, it seemed to l>arhara as if Mother Nature were tryinj;- to comfort lier by makitij;' tlie world look more beautiful than it ever looked before. The wood-clad hills had never before seemeil so l)eautiful, as they nxse in the dis- tance, step above step. The birds had never sung more sweetly nor the (lowers been so fragrant. iLverything without so bright tended but to deepen the gloom within. "Why need Death come and with his cold hauil claim the mother who had taught her to love the beauty (^f the wi>rld ?" was the bitter cry of her young heart. Death seemed so nuich more akin to the dark, drear days oi winter, when her heart rebelled against the monotony oi her country home, and she felt as though any change would be a relief. Tlu)se were the days when she wished she had been "a book-worm like John," who, after the rest were in bed, would lie, for hours, on his back before the blazing iireplace, devour- ing some book that had fallen in his way. Arrived at home, everything lookeil the same as when last they saw it — the same low log-house, whose walls were by no means wind and rain proof ; the same great fireplace into which Barbara remembered lifting, many a time, a great back-log such as proved a weight to both father and brother ; the same old spinning-wheel that had both shortened ami lengthened time for her ; but, above all and before all in the dear home picture, was the same dear gentle, little mother, whom 15arbara could lift as she would a child. Mow her heart glowed as the loving arms wound about her, and the soft, low voice murmured, "My darling, thank God, you have come." ^1 li ^^ ! I hen •alls reat naiiy )oth that hut, was ;ould s the :oice Une." A Xohlo Life. 2()I Sotnctiiinj;- in thcso words hronj^iit hack the eliill dread which the natural UH)k of cverytiiing in the home had dispclleil. As the (lavs went on mother and dauijhter had manv a l)ri.L;ht talk and many a serious word ; for, while the mother listened sympatlii/ini^ly to all the descriptions of happy doini;s in the city home, slie tried at the same time to prepare i'arhara f»)r the eliani^e, sometimes by a direct reference to the comini;- sorrow, hut more often without such a sorrowful reminder. In after days I'.ar- bara sinj^led out two t)r three wt)rds that decided her fu- ture course : "I'.e very {K\ and lovin<;" to your poor fther;" "lU* a j^entle sister;" "'J>y to (ill mother's place;" "Ihit, above all, remember that 'lie that ruleth his own si)irit is j;reater than he that taketh a city.' \\n\ have in you a stronj^ love of power and of eon(|uest, and here is offered you the opportunity to enj;ai;e in the j^reatest con((uest. Do not attempt to enter the battle without the armor the (Ireat C'onimander i;ives, and never for- ijet, dear, that lie is inllnitely more i;entle and tender than even yom* mother could be." At first, milder the i)ower of such words, it was not hard to _<;ive up the i;ay life of enjo\inent and of free- dom from care offered her ai;ain by her elder brother. Then she was ready for any sacrifice, but as the weeks and the months rolled into years, occasional nuu'murs arose. "I do not know why I am the only one who has to j^ive up everything;; ! Everyone else has a chance to be somebody, but 1 can only be a maid-of- all-work," and the weary heart, cravinj^; a loving word of sympathy from those served, took up the load ag:aiii and went on more bravely than ever. What a pity that I) ii •i ill '1 Mr j; ii !. ij i.iif • Wma 11 m 202 Sea, Forest and Prairie. the brothers and sisters did not think to say to her what tliev so often said of her, — "She is the dearest and the best sister in the world." Si)acc and time fr.il to tell of the many little self-de- nials, the many gentle words of die sister who had the place of such a mother to fill. Much was monotonous, and much was hard, but under all lay the central thought, the great foundation of a noble character built, the m_ycto of her life. "He that ruledi his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city." To her each came with his or her a:nbitions, hopes and fears, and in turn each re- ceived help and sympathy. And many a book did John owe to her fifteen mile walk to town with butter and eggs. When five years had gone a new brightness entered her life one evening with the opening of an outer door, which admitted her father and a you.ig stranger, whom the former introduced as "Mr. McKay, who has come to work on the kirk and wishes to board with us." Not an item of the trim figure and bright face escaped the eyes of the stranger. At the first sight he had a miniature of the jet-black hair, dark grey eyes, bright coloring, finely-formed nose, beautiful mouth and shape- ly chin, and of the soul and character back of them. Neither did the spotless collar and apron, neatly made homespun dress and neat slippers escape his eyes, for all went to make up a whole, and that whole his soul's afBnity. He had been with the McGregor's but a week when one morning he told John that he had given up his work, and that they need not expect him for dinner, as he intended leaving at once. As no explanation was A Noble Life. 203 ape- lem. nade for oiil's vhen I his r, as was offered John asked none. When he reported ^^cKay's absence at the house he did not report what, wlien he heard it, he thought were words spoken in sleep : "I dare stay no longer. Aly word is plighted, and I can never lose my honor. Poor Maggie has given me her whole heart, as I thought I had given her mine." No word concerning Charles McKay escaped Bar- bara's lips either then, or during the four years that fol- lowed. She did not sit down and pine, though a great happiness had left her life as suddenly as it had entered it. She had lived years in a few days, and now she lift- ed the old life with its added weight of a sorrow, whose principal element was doubt. Two years later a cousin of McGregor's came to spend a few days with his friends, and, during a talk with Barbara's brother Hugh, mentioned that a Charles McKay had spoken of them all. ''Oh, do you know him ?" said Jack. ''Well, yes, I have known him about as long as I have known myself." "Queer, is he not ?" said Hugh. "If you like to call him so. We have been friends since boyhood, and I would trust him with my life." '•Where is he now ?" questioned Jack. "He went back to Scotland shortly after his wife died a year ago." "I didn't know he was married," said Hugh. "Neither was he when you knew him, but was mar- ried a short time after he left here to a very pretty girl to whom he had been engaged a year or more. She belonged to a consumptive family, and lived only a year after her marriage, although she had every care Charlie !if 204 Sea, Forest and Prairie. could give her. Tliey had grown up together, and were strongly attached to each other." All doubt was now removed from Barbara's mind, and she respected now, even more than she admired be- fore, the man who was so worthy of respect. When McKay returned to Canada and to Oxford he found many changes. From the McGregor home John had gone into the backwoods of Huron to "preach the Word.'" Hugh and his younger sister were in other homes, and only Barbara and her father were left. The old home, not long after, was sold, and Barbara with her father moved to the new home, in which she proved as great a blessing as in the old. SARA ROSS. Strath roy, Ont. West. irr THE DEFENCE OF BOYNE WATER. ,\ I Cliapter I. The little village of Boyne Water is picturesquely situated at the crossing of the two main county gravel roads of Grey, and has been compared to ancient Rome, being built on seven hills. The Boyne water, which flows through a deep gorge cleaving the village in twain, is crossed by a rough wooden bridge, in constant need of repair. Dear to the memories of the children who played about it is the little river, with its quiet flow of brown waters; for they had followed it in all its windings from the flour mill to the woollen mill, named all its islands and peninsulas, and sailed boats in its tranquil lakes. It was in the fall of the year 1866, just after the Fe- nian invasion of Canada, when excitement was at fever heat, and the sleeping patriotism of the whole country was aroused, that volunteer companies were formed in every town and village in the Dominion. Boyne Water had its company, which every Saturday afternoon assembled to be drilled in the fine open square, oppo- site the corner store, where Morrison, the proprietor, as regularly left his business to take care of itself while he took command of as fine a body of men as ever took up arms. A discharged Irish soldier acted as drill in- structor, and was as proud of his little company as any distinguished general. This weekly drill drew crowds :.! ■'■X\ i': i ' f': i ' 206 Sea, Forest and Prairie. I i' li a- oyne Water hotel. The jolly fat land- lord had just retired for the night, when he was aroused by a violent battering on the door. At first he did not heed it, but the boisterous crowd were determined to get in, so, thinking that he might do some more busi- ness, he carefully descended the ladder which led to the upper story, and, rubbing his eyes with his little fat knuckles, he let the crowd in. "Well, whose treat is it," said hcj^'and for how many?'' But they, informing him that they had not come for treats but for something more serious, began to discuss matters as to how many guns could be had in the vil- lage. Messengers were sent to summon as many of the volunteers as lived within two miles around. The first armed man that apjoeared was old one-eyed Yorkshire Tompkins, with a long barrelled fowling- piece, measuring ten feet from muzzle to stock ; the next was Tim Flannigan with an old flint lock that would not go ofif, and Paddy O'Harc, the only man suspected of Fenian tendencies, put in his appearance with a crow- bar. Mr. O'Hare had a kind of spring halt when ho walked, lifting one leg as if he had stepped on a tack. His face wore an expression of disgust, and the little knob in the middle of his face which served for a nose seemed to bristle up with more than ordinary fierce- ness as he vowed he would "put a howl in ary a Fenian dat comes \A'idin rache of me crowbar." Two men were then sent to wake up Peter Piper, who always offered advice on all occasions. When they suc- ceeded in waking him he poked his niglit-capped head out of the window and asked what business had thev to ;M ■ i i i i ■>■ \: 1 In i 208 Sea, l*\)rcst and Prairie. come prowlin,cf around his house this time of night; but the only answer he got was ''Fenians, Fenians." He rephcd there would be two dead Fenians if they didn't clear out, — and went back to bed. Another meeting was being held in ^forrison's cot- tage, where their local magistrates and others were dis- cussing what defence they had and how best to use it. Morrison willingly offered all the scythes, pitchforks, or anything else tliat could be used as weapons from his little stock. Meanwhile, his wife was busy preparing coffee and sandwiches for tlieir gallant defenders. As midnight approached tlic excitement only increased. After the ammunition was all gathered it was found that the (juantity of powder was far greater than tlie shot or ball. The lead was taken from the tea boxes in the corner store and carried to the black.sinitli's shop to be made into bullets, while every rod or bar of iron was being made into j)ikes. The oldest men with the boys were to keep three fires blazing-; these, with the ringing of the lilacksmith's an- vil, the barking of dogs, clamor of frightenwl fowl, and flitting of lights in every house, left an impression never to be forgotten. From which side would the attack be made? — from the north over the bridge, or from the west through the defile at the head of the mill pond ? Sentries were quickly posted at these points. Volunteers were com- ing in ones and twos, and reporting themselves at Mor- rison's cottage. As the armed force would be very small it was decided to barricade the entrance by the bridge, which was less likely to be the point of attack, and give all attencion to the western entrance. The Defence of Boyne Yater. 209 Meanwhile the doctor, moving about from place to place, fanned every spark of alarm into a flame. He had just returned from the western defile; he said that an Indian had crossed the road and told the sentry, after listening with his ear to the ground, that he heard the tramp of hundreds approaching in that direction. The command was immediately given, and the volun- teers, followed by all the stragglers who dared not stay behind, marched to the western defile, determined, like the Greeks at Tlicrmopylac, tc hold the pass or die. There they were halted to wait for the enemy; but be- fore long an alarm came from the barricaded bridge, so a few of the men were ordered back to that point. The doctor boldly offered, like brave Horatius, to defend the bridge, and seemed to say : — m h II *om the ^ere 3m- or- ery the ck, "In yon strait path, a thousand, May well be stopped by three, Now who will stand on either hand. And hold the bridge with me?" Then out spake the bold blacksmith, A Cornishman proud was he, "Lo! I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the bridge with thee." And up spake one-eyed Tompkins, Of Yorkshire blood was he; "I will abide at thy left side. And hold the bridge with thee." The gray streaks of approaching day had scarcely tinged the sky when the doctor fired his gun and cried SI i'^*' n ir IV. ji w '4' I 4' ) I m !! I I f ■; i «'ili 2IC3 Sea, Forest aiul Prairie. in a hoarse whisper, "They're coming." Qnickly the news was carried, and tlie rest of tlie vohinteers at a double quick march came round the comer. The doctor was blazing away in the darkness, and Yorkshire Tompkins was shouting. "Come on lads, we'll give it un." The men had scarcely time to get behind the barri- cade when rapid firing was heard from the point they had just left, and some of the men, without waiting for orders, rushed back to the west. The firing was fearful, but still the enemy did not show themselves. Rosy tints were creeping up the eastern sky and lift- ing the shades of night. It was evident the enemy had withdrawn. A cheer rose from the east, re-echoed from the west north and south, and everybody declared, "It was a famous victory!" The doctor enjoyed his practical joke, and often said it was the best night's fun he ever had. |! T CHRISTINA RICHARDSON. 11; Flesherton, Out. I i\ TWO NIGHTS IN THE BUSH. About tlie year 1852, near the town oi Walkertoii, lived a family by the name of McDonald. Willie, the eldest boy, helped his father on the farm, and it was his job to bring home the ct)\vs at night. Xear McDon- ald's farm a neighbor had two boys about Willie's age, so the three boys generally went togcdier. One day in July, as usual, Willie and his two friends, Ned and Jack, started out to find the cows. The boys wandered along in the bush, stopping every now and then to listen for the sound of the cow bells. The day was very warm, but they did not mind that, as they ran along in the shade, sometimes throwing stones into the creek or at a squirrel. Time passed on, and it began to grow dark, but still no sound of the cow bells. They were in a strange bush, and thought they had better turn and go home. At that minute the sun sank behind a cloud, and it soon got dark. The boys wandered on and on, but could not find any clearance. It was now very dark, for the clouds had covered the sky and not even a star could be seen. The boys thought they were lost and then they began to get frightened. Willie was not a cowardly boy, neither was Ned nor Jack, but to be alone in a strange bush at night was not ])leasant; besides, the inhabitants had seen bears and wolves. "Oh, Willie! what is that noise?" exclaimed Ned, who was the youngest. ,ii I M •ii m m 1 212 Sea, Forest and Prairie. ' I ' ! i ( i f' :" i I H » "Nothinpf but a squirrel," replied Willie, who tried to let the other hoys see that he was not scared. "Goodness, hoys! do you see that black-looking thin,q; ahead of us," said Jack. ''Oh, it's coming straight for us," cried Ned. "Don't be silly," answered Willie; "it is nothing but a log." Thus they walked on, but could not tell which way they were going. At last Ned's strength could not last much longer, for what with his long walk and want of food he was tired out. So he said: "I wish I could hear a cow-bell, for I cannot walk much farther." The boys stopped. "I guess. Jack," we might as well stay here all night," said Willie." We may be going further from home in- stead of nearer." Ned sat down, while Willie and Jack gathered a few hemlock branches and laid them under a thick-leafed tree; and the three boys lay down and soon went to sleep, though Ned declared he could not sleep, for if he did the wild beasts would eat him, or the Indians would come and kill him in the night. Quick as dawn Will and Jack were up; the sky was still covered with clouds. They looked round for some- thing to eat. They soon found some berries, so they gathered them in Willie's hat and came to where Ned was still sleeping. They woke him up and the boys ate the berries. Fortunately, there was a stream of water close by their resting-place, so they got a drink and started out to find their way home. The second day was much like the first. When they started out the boys tried to cheer each other, but they soon tired and Two Nights in the Bush. 213 the md walked on in silence. When they were lutnp;-ry they gathered berries, which were very plentiful. Some- times the boys would imagine they heard a cow-bell or a woodman's axe, and start joyfully forward, but always to be disappointetl. Towards the afternoon it began to rain, not an ordinary summer shower, but a fine drizzly rain very much like a ''Scotch mist." As it was not raining heavily the boys went on, but the trees soon g( »t very wet, and large drops fell on them as they went along. They were wet to the skin, but still they walked on. They were very hungry, too, for berries did not satisfy their hunger as did porridge and milk. Ned's spirit was all gone; still Willie and Jack would not say to each other that they were lost, but their faces were not very hopeful. The dusk set in quicker than usual on account of the rain; the boys concluded to stop for the night; when, greatly to their surprise and disappoint- ment, they came to the identical spot that they that they had rested the night before. The boys lay under the same tree, and though they were wet, tired and hungry, they soon fell asleep. Next morning was clear and bright; the boys arose and ate some more berries. Wil- lie, who was a good climber, said he would climb the highest tree near and see if he could see anything like a clearance or smoke from a shanty, but it proved a failure; he could see nothing but bush, so he came down. The boys started out once more; they all felt hopeless, when Jack said: "Lake Huron is west of us when we are home, is it not?" "Good!" cried Willie. "If we keep the sun on our back we will come to it some time, and fadier said that along the lake shore is mostly settled, so if we get there we will surely find somebody." I I 214 Soa, I'orcst ami iVairic. ';!.! Tlie (lay kept clear aiul bright, so the hoys had the sun for a t^uide, and towards eveiiitig- they came to the Lake shore, where they six>n found a shanty. When they went in and told their tale the folks were very kind; they gave them some supi>er, and the hoys went to bed. Next morning the man of the house sakl he had to go down througli the bush to see a neighbor on business. He hitched his oxen to a jumper, and the boys got a riile as far as he went. When they got off the man directed them to a path through the bush tliat would lead them to W'alkerton. They thanked the man for his kindness and started out: tliey soon fmnul the path and went joyfully on towards home. W'e must tunv go back \o the night the boys left home to hunt the ccnvs. Abtnit tlusk Xed and Jack's mother, Hetty, came up to McDonald's shanty where Willie's mother, Peggy, was making" supper ior her hus- band and children. When she looked up and saw her neighbor standing at the door, she said: "Keep us a' this day, Hetty, an' hoo are ye a'?" "I'm weel, thank'ee: I've just stepet up to see if tha' laddies had come hame wi' the kye." "Xa; I've been UH)kin' for Willie this while back. Is Ned and Jack wi' him the day?" "Ay, an' they were never so late in gettin' hame as this afore." "Touts, woman, ye needna freet ; the laddies will be at some of their plays." The two woiuen then beg'an to talk of the "Auld Country." McDonald came in at dark, and the women were still chatting. ' if Two Xiiihls ill the lUisli. -'15 'Good nicht, l^ottv, ami luxVs the hairns?' sau 1 M( tha' Is Lltld 111011 Doiiakl. "Gooil losh, lV.u\i;v, &d yo see hoo dark it's nvttin?" cried l»etty, who at this momoiit ihscovered tliat tiii^^ht was faUiiii;- fast, "aiT the ealhitits are 11a iuitiie wi' the coos yet." "Lord preserve us! lVi;i;y." cried McOotiald: "isiia W'lillie oo\ o' the bush yet?" W'heu lVj;s;y saiil, "Xa, inau," he ch'tched u|> liis bon- net and started oui to tiud the .)oys. lie met two of his ueii^hbors, who kindly turned and helpeil him. They hunted far and near, called the boys by name, but could not hear a sound. Towards nu^rniui;- they came upon the cows lyini^- cpiietly i'.i the bush, but still no boys. They drove the cows home, and when the two tcrritied women, who had been waitins;- all this time, heard the sound, they rushed out, but when they saw the l)oys were lun there they could not keep up any lon- ger, but wrunj;- their hands, and cried, "W'ae's me, but oor boys are eaten by the bears." The men j^ot some breakfast and started out aijain {o resume their hunt. Towards evenini;- the father of Xed ami Jack arrived In .ne. He luul been to Ciuelph with a load of i^rain, and had been away for three days. When he heard the news he went straii^ht to Walkertmi, and got all the men he could, and three or four dt\t;s, and started out io hunt. The tmvn parties hunted all that evening. They met with each other about nineoVKx'k, and as it was very wet they returned home for the night. Most of the men that were helping said it was lu>peless, and went to their own homes. Next morning, as we know, was clear, ami the boys' fathers started out again ''I 4 11^ ' i ■')' f 2l6 Sea, Forest and Prairie. with a kind neighbor or two, who, though they thought the search was useless, did not Hke to see the men go alone. They hunted all that day without seeing a trace or footmark of the boys. When dusk came on they gave them up and went home. The distracted parents now were hopeless of ever seeing their children again, for they believed them to be killed by wild beasts. Imagine their delight the next evening when home walked the three boys unhurt, except from hunger and fatigue. When Peggy saw them she cried, "Lord save us a', it mun be their ghaists. For didna I hear the death-cry round the shanty these last twa nichts, and the auld spreckled hen was on the fence yesterday crawing like my cock. Besides, Betty telt me yester'e'en she dreamt the nicht afore that her an' I were sooming in muddy water." The boys soon told their story, and proved by the way they ate that they were not spirits. The distance diey had come was about thirty miles, and they had walked most of the way. The three boys are men now, but I think they will never forget their two nights in the bush. LIZZIE DOUGLAS. County of Bruce, Ontario. THE HAUNTED HOUSE. Us liki the Tliere stands to-day on an elevated rocky foundation in the western part of what is now the capital of the Dominion, a very respectable looking residence even for this age. It is built of cut-stone and is three stories high, and no doubt attracted much attention when frame buildings were almost the only kind to be seen. It was owned many years ago by a very learned, popu- lar and successful, but eccentric, doctor, whose late years were embittered by reverses which drove him to excesses that finally caused him to be shunned by many who wished to be his friends. Neglect, excess and ex- posure brought on disease, and death at length ended what at one time was a brilliant and useful life. Some time after his death the family decided to re- move to a distant town, leaving, however, some of their furniture in the old home. At the time of their re- moval it began to be whispered that the house was haunted. Soon it was spoken aloud that ghosts had made the old house their home, and it has been known ever since as the Haunted House. I do not remember the time when it was not called by that name, and few passed by the place without thinking of the curious things said to have been done within its walls. Some even imagined dreadful scenes. We children were at all times glad when permitted to pass it in safety, and there were l)ut few who were not anxious and hopeful, yet at all times dreaded, to get a glimpse of the super- natural inhabitants of the Haunted House. 9 I: I i?' Ml- 2l8 Sea, Forest and Prairie. As time passed, and the house 1)ecanie more and more dilapidated from neglect, I never passed without feeling as if I were "•oino- to meet one of those white-shrouded creatures. Not only were children afraid, but older people entertained kindred feelings. A strange curi- osity grew for tangible evidence of the inhabitants that were not tangible. I have even heard my mother de- clare she would like to live there, so as to be able to un- ravel the m}-stery, for, though she had no faith in the ghostly presence, she had a strong belief diat some ac- countable reason existed for the stories told. Timid people who found it necessary to go on that street al- ways took the opposite side; even policemen prefe.Tcd the other side, especially at night time. ]\Iany rumors were abroad of strange antics per- formed at times by the spirits, when in a frolicsome mood. And one story told indicates that they were strongly attached, not only to the old house, but even to the furniture, for when the family sent men to bring it away it is reported that chairs, sofas, and even the piano, when lifted, deliberately refused to go, by springing from the arms of the intruders, and returning to their accustomed places in the rooms. At times, the light fantastic seems to have taken their fancy, and they danced and jigged about like the witches in "Auld Kirk Allowa}^," to the music of the call bells plentifully displayed about the house. Sometimes they engaged in games of pitch-and-toss with skulls and various other human bones, but on dismal nights, when storms raged without, the ghosts seemed to rage within, and blood-curdling yells would starde even a sleeping policeman, and heavy chains, borrowed, perhaps, from m The Haunted House. 219 |i their fitches bells [s they Is and when fithin, ^eping from some of tlie great mills at Chaudiere, would be heard, as if dragged up stair after stair, even to the attic it seemed, and then, suddenly being let go, would crash to the bottom again, dragged down by their own weight, vicmg in noise with the thunder overhead. These were some of the tales told by believers in the superhuman. Many, however, had no faith in the truth of these stories, but insisted that if any strange and un- usual thing happened there, there must be some natural cause which would account for it, otherwise than by spirits. So, in course of time, two adventurous young men, with whom my brother is well acquainted, entered the house to prospect, and in a cellar or vault found a collection of bones, and what they thought was a mummy. Taking a skull and some bones, as solid pal- pable evidence of their bravery, being unable to secure any of the ethereal matter of which ghosts are com- posed, they made their way out again as quickly as pos- sible, for fear of being detected in their act of desecra- tion by the former tenant or tenants, or possessor of what they had secured. At another time some young Swedes, who labored in that vicinity, and were daily brought together in the neighborhood of the Haunted House, gradually became interested in the mysterious doings over the way, and became anxious to see and hear for themselves to what extent there was truth in the tales. They formed themselves. into a syndicate, and pledged themselves by their fatherland to stand by each other in case of danger to any ; and as they intended to make their explorations at night, and might encounter spirits, concluded to for- tify themselves with courage-creating spirits, and that "i • is u % r ' 1 r , ; i I 220 Sea, Forest and Prairie. very night, while the pale moon was sailing silently over the slumbering city, with bated breath they crossed the street and breathlessly entered an open window of the first flat, one by one, close together, the leader, a perfect "Tell" for bravery and nerve, holding his lantern at ami's length. So silently they entered not even a spirit vvas aroused, but it was not yet midnight. There was some furniture in the room, and in silence they took seats. The silence was so intense that each could only hear the beating heart of his neighbor, nothing else. This silence, so like the tomb, soon became unbearable, and yet none dared to breathe freely. At length relief came, and it was a relief, indeed, even v/ere it a ghost. "Hist! what is that?" the "Tell" of the party whis- jjered in a very Ic w undertone. Tramp, tramp, slowl}', ?teadily on and on it came, and ghostly visions rose up in the darkness, made visible by the dim lantern. Tramp, tramp, tramp, and lo! the sound has passed by, and the bold "Tell" discovered that it was caused by the slow, tired tread of a policeman on the opposite side of the street, and, uttering a low laugh, he dispels the fears of the waiters, and the relief makes them thirsty. Flasks are produced, the result being a loosening of the tongue somewhat. It had such an effect on their courage that they repeat and re-repeat the remedy until the tired company (for they had all worked hard during the day) fell asleep, and remained in that condition until day- light, with the mystery still unsolved. Some of the watchers, however, declared that the spirits had exerted an influence to prevent their design of discovery. So think I also, but I allude to spirits of the flask and not to disembodied spirits. .**^' ■*■#■ The Haunted House. 221 not About five years ago several young bloods became anxious to unravel the tangle of ghosts in the Haunted House; otherwise to find, if pcosible, a clue by which to account for the various stories afloat, that led to the be- lief in the Haunted House: so they ajjpointed a time and place of meeting from which to emerge on their voyage of discovery. They were not discreet, at least some were not, and intimated their intention to outside friends who happened to be fond of practical joking. These getting all the information about the intended raid made preparations to astonish the venturesome curiosity-hun- ters. They procured some lengths of tubing, which they placed in position by boring through the walls of several rooms, and secured in such a manner that a variety of sounds could be produced by secreted opera- tors. They then fastened several shingles in as many places on floors in such a way that by pulling a hidden string they made a sharp, snapping sound, followed by a series of ripples by vibration, thus imitating the dying gasp, and gurgling death-rattle sometimes attributed to those suffering violent death. These arrangements were only completed in time, for the volunteers in the cause of science were promptly at their post on the evening selected. The time was very near twelve o'clock, midnight, when ghosts are credited with emerg- ing from their secret nooks and corners throughout space, to revisit scenes wherein they dwelt when in the flesh. One of the party, Frank Rossin by name, was a violinist of no mean order, who brought along his fiddle to keep his friends in tune. They proceeded at once to explore the premises and penetrated to the basement, where they discovered a quantity of bones, a skull or tu 'ir r 222 Sea, Forest and Prairie. H rs:i Hn;;r>:'' ni^rv' mm ^ IT. ■ :l ; r ■' , ■ two, and wliat appeared to be a dissecting table, and, on opening some doors in tlie study, an articulated skele- ton was presented to view ; but these gave no indication of being more than inanimate remains of some former animate beings, yet it was more than they expected to encounter. Their faces became blanched with terror, and some of the more timid ones, looking upon the white faces of their friends, were struck with the impres- sion that they were then in the presence of materialized spirits, and became so much demoralized that some diffi- culty was experienced by the stronger ones to overcome their fears. At length they groped their way upstairs, and were soon again laughing and wondering where the ghosts would put in an appearance, when a troubled, piping voice within the room, but unseen, announced, "High time. Come forth. The world sags with the weight of sin. Come forth." Suddenly the shingles are snapped, and the sound reverberates throughout the building, when the young men break for the door, which was at hand, out into the bracing night air and freedom, followed by the uproarious laughter of their friends who had perpetrated the joke on them. From such tricks are ghosts made. I have not been able to discover any good reason for naming the building referred to the Haunted House, but I suppose it is on the principle that "give a dog a bad name and you might as well kill him." Some one, no doubt, out of a spirit of mischief or worse, or it may have been a mere careless remark, from its tenantless condition, implied that it was haunted, and the seed being sown the story grew, and soon found persons not only willing to believe the statement, but The Haunted House. 223 ready to give eredence to the report, by reporting that they themselves heard strange soiuids and saw curious Hghts flitting hither and thitiier through the old house, and I have no doubt many noises were heard which might have seemed strange to the thougluless; but tlie wind plays mad pranks in unoccupied buildings having openings by which it may enter, causing unfastened doors to creak on their hinges, making loose wall paper to flutter, and in many other ways producing to minds unaccountable noises, and the flicker of street lamps or the constant moving of lamps or other lights in adjacent houses would province a movement within such a build- ing as would bewilder the superstiti(jus, and cause re- flections which would impress the image of spectres on the vague comprehensions. The whole, however, has had the effect of making valuable properties very unjiopnlar. W'e have reason to be thankful in our generation that the practice for- merly allowed of allowing children to listen to stories of ghosts, fairies, witches, goblins, and all such gentry lias been abolished, and now scarcely anyone will dare to express a belief in such nonsense ; and I have hope that ere long the "Haunted House" will have lost its ghostly character, and take its place among the respectable class, so numerous here now, as it really deserves to do. And this seems likely to be the case, as a short time ago a prominent manufacturer purchased the property and spent considerable money in alterations and improve- ments, and finally moved into it with his wife and fam- ily, thereby laying the ghosts. ^lARY GIBSON. Ottawa, Out. ft •1 ■ ^ !"=F TWO PLUCKY GIRLS. I have l)cen readinfTf in tlie "'Witness" all about the prizes offered for pioneer stories, and I am sure I should like to g-et the typewriter. My papa is a perfect store- house of these stories, not only from his o\vn experi- ence, but his business takes him among people, and he deliq-hts in hearinj;- and tellinj*- aji^ain talcs of that char- acter. My story is about two younj^ .efirls, who had what I have heard described as "a bad quarter of an hour." It may not seem very exciting-, but the experi- ence was present in their memories till the last day of their lives. Those who only know Kent County as it now is can form no idea of what it was fiftv or sixtv vears acfo. Now it is nearly all fine farms, orchards and g^ardens, with good houses and buildings; you see nice towns and villages every few miles, with manufacturies, stores, churches and schools in abundance. And we have good roads and bridges for travel, besides the railways In the days of my story the country was a nearly un- broken forest ; settlers were few and far between ; there were no roads, only a blazed track through the woods, and no bridges, and a railway was not thought of. Well, such as the country was, a settler, whom we will call Berkley, had made his home in it. His family consisted of himself, his wife, and two daughters of six- teen and fourteen. At the present time there is hardly a country village where you do not see a three or four story roller mill, ready to take your wheat and give you ■■ i- u^ Two Pluckv Girls. 225 ! ily ix- ily Kir )U flour for it, but in tliose clays pco|ile pounded corn with a mallet in a hole l)urned out in a stump. There was only one mill in the county where they g^round grain, that was on the banks of the river Thames, near Chat- ham. It was only a small affair, turned by horses or oxen, and a man might, perhaps, after his long and painful journey, have to wait a day or two to get his grist. Sometime they went by boat down the shore of Lake Erie to Port Stanley, to a similar mill there. It happened that the head of this household had gone to the mill, and was not expected back under three days, the mother and the two girls being left alone. The day after he had left a neighbor came in to get the mother to go to his wife, who was sick; there was no doctor to be had within twenty miles, and no other neighbor within five. The need was urgent, and the only thing Mrs. Berkley hesitated about was that the girls would have to be left alone. The girls themselves did not mind it; they were no soft, chicken-hearted non- entities, but two strong, healthy, hearty, vigorous girls, and some ideas of a nutting excursion they had long ago planned seemed to mature. They bid their mother go, and, after giving some instructions, she went away W'ith the neighbor. The worst wild animal to be found to-day in Ketit County is a raccoon, or perhaps an occasional skunk: in those days wolves and bears were numerous enough to be troublesome and dangerous to the settlers. Peo- ple used to have a large stockade put up, into which they put the cattle at night, and within it thev were safe from harm. They used to come up themselves from the bush, as there was no dan- ii ! '^ i nil if 1: ■' '; 1 :V .'; 226 Sea, l-'orcst atul I'rairic. p^cr (hiring- tlie day. Well, the g-irls liked bciiifj housekeepers very nuicli. The day went well, and when night came they began to look out for the cattle. They (lid not come as usual, and our girls set off into th(» bush to hunt them up. They did not find the cows in their usual feeding places, but they had not been in the woods long before they heard not only the cattle, but the dreaded wolves also! The girls dared not go near the cattle, and they made the i)est of their way home- ward, lamenting the probable fate of the ])oor cows. Suddenly, a bright idea occurred to the younger girl. She had heard that wild annuals were frightened by fire, and that cattle were not, so they set the gate of the pen open and built a large fire right in the road to it. Just as ticy had got it nicely started they were gladdened by seeing all the cattle dash up, and into their place of re- fuge. They came up all in a circle, horns outward, and they had the weakest cattle and a newly-born calf in the centre of the circle. The wolves at the sight of the fire sullenly retreated, but kept up a fearful howling all night. The girls kept up the fire and passed a sleepless night. In the morning they found that the cattle were all safe, and that a fine deer had come in widi them. For fear of a similar experience they (hd not let the cattle out that day, but cut brush and grass for them, and in the evening they were gladdened by their father's return. They received great praise from him for their bravery and thoughtfulness, and the deer that had sought protection from one enemy — the wolves — at the hands of another — man — was allowed to escape. IMARY ELIZABETH SMITH. Ridgetown, Kent Co., Out. TECUMSEH. in not for leir lim that s — pe. Diirinp^ the sinnnier of 1785 a noted United Empire LoyaHst named Ji)seph lircnton came with his family to the village of C , Soulanges County, Quebec. For some time Brenton lived (|uietly, but the stirring scenes he had passed through duri.ig the Revolution unfitted him for the quietude of peace, and he longed for a life of greater activity. Unable to resist this de- sire he engaged a former conu-ade-in-arms to work his farm under the supervision of his wife, and, in the year 1808, he departed for Montreal, where, through the in- fluence of some officers under whom he had served, he was appointed to the leadership of a large exploring and surveying party, detailed by the Government to ex- plore the country lying north of the great Lakes, of which little at this time was known. This was before the days of steam navigation, and the Brenton party had to make the journey westward in bateaux, a very slow mode of travelling for a large party burdened, as they were, by large quantities of provisions, arms, am- munition and accoutrements. Late in the fall our friends found themselves at the entrance of Lake St. Clair, but they still pushed on, hugging the shore, aUhough their progress was greatly impeded by floating ice, which finally forced them to go into winter quarters, at what is now called Mitchell's Bay. Brenton thought it advisable to be prepared for every emergency, and, although there were no hostile ' M I,- : ircst ;\\u\ I'rairie IiuUans alxnit, ho at oucc sot about hiiildiiijL^ a small log fort, oiioirolod by palisatlos, on iiit;li i^nnnul noar tho bay. >potiO(l, 'IMi lis work oooupiod tlioir tiiiio until spnni;' o aftor wliioli notliinu" oouKl bo done but hunt tho uauio which thoro aboundod. 'Tho nion would ir*> out in small partios and soldoni roturn without ample proof of their prowess as huntors. ( )noe, when 1 'ronton was out with four others, and had i;n)wn tirotl of the sport, ho dospatohod the men io the fort with tho j^anio, sayiuQ" that ho W(Mild make a dottnir thron<;h the woV:C morning. This was welcome news to Hrenton, who scented a fray with his old enemies, the Yatdrenton and Tecumseh were upon them, and two more were knivecl in a twinkling. The fiftli started to run, hut had not gone twenty yards when Tecumseh, i)Ieking up one of the undischarged rifles, fired anil brought him down. Well pleased with their morning's ^vork, they gath- ered the arms of the slain; Tecumseh ignored the scalps, and, in due time, they reached the fort. At the earnest request of l>renton Tecumseh remained some time with him, and the friendship, so strangely begun, grew into a love that was almost brotherly. It is needless for me to dwell on the numerous vir- tues of the noble Tecumseh. His name is familiar to every school bc\v and girl in Canada, lie finally left the fort, after having given Brenton a peculiarly con- structed belt of wami)um, which he said w'ould secure him the friendship of all the Indian tribes along the lake. llrenton was in this Ux-ality for more than four years. During this time war broke out between Great P>ritain and the Ignited States, and our friend at once offered his services to the Canadian Government. We therefore find him acting as scout under General Proctor early in the war. This officer, upon his retreat from Detroit, was joined by the Shawnee Chief, Tecumseh, with about six hundred warriors. This force, with the companies of the 41st regiment under Proctor, made the British force about twelve hundred strong. The line of retreat t? Il Tccuiiisch. 2U w as up the 'IMiaiiK'S river. ( )ne nij^ht, late in Septe Ill- ears, 'itain Id his "fore |ly in [roit, )OUt inies itish reat ber, 1813, the conihined I'ritish and huHan forces f reached the v^herinan farm, near which the villai;e o Thaniesville now stands. The American pursninj^' force was close upon them. J'roctor connnanded a halt, and said that he could iij^ht the enemy there, hut IVcumseh said that there was a better battle-j^round three miles farther up the river. To this Proctor i)ai(l no heed, and ordered his men to bivouac in Sherman's barn, while Tecumseh marched on u)) the river with his braves. Brenton here renewed his friendshij) with Tecumseh, and after advisinj^ Proctor to follow Tecumseh's advice, he joined his friend on die j^round where the brave Chief had determined to j^ive battle. The ground cho- sen was on the bank of the Thames, on a farm now owned by Mr. W^illiam Watts. It was a place of j^reat advantage to Tecumseh, as the river ran in a south- westerly direction, while a ridge about four t(3 ten rods wide ran westward from the river bank towards Detroit, and, as the ground on both sides of die ridge was swampy, and mostly covered wiUi w'ater, the American army had to march up this narrow ridge, and would be exposed to die raking fire from the Indians concealed in the swamp on both sides of it. Tecumseh, having disposed his men in a position of great strength, sent Brenton to Proctor to inform him of the dispositions which had been made. ]>renton went, and at the same time urged the stubborn Eng- lishman to march his forces to Tecumseh's support. At last he prevailed, and early next morning the 41st regiment was marched out to the position which Tecum- seh had chosen. Proctor at once saw the natural ad- 232 Sea, Forest and Prairie. ~, i ^'i vantages of the place, and, placing the two field pieces which he carried at the angle which the ridge made with the river, which was also the highest point on the ridge, he drew his men up behind the guns to support them, and thus awaited the coming of the enemy. About ten o'clock in the morning the head of the American column filed into the ridge. They were al- lowed to stretch out their line till within a hundred yards of the guns, when a deadly storm of shot and nmsketry v/as poured on their extended ranks from cannon, sol- diers, and hidden Indians. They were unable to resist the storm and the remnant of the van fled along the ridge, back to the main body. Again the Americans in larger numbers crowded along the ridge; but the way was so narrow and the position of the enemy so strong that they could never have forced a passage had not the cowardly Proctor ordered a retreat of his men, thus leaving the way open to the enemy. But the brave Tecumseh still held on. He animated his braves to fresh exertions, and the battle continued, hour after hour, till it seemed that the Indians would win the day. Towards evening, at a critical moment in the fight, Te- cumseh attempted to cross the ridge in the face of a storm of bullets. He would have succeeded had no^t an American ofificer galloped up to him, and at point- blank range shot him as he was stepping over a button- wood log. But even as he fell the indomitable Shawnee hurled his tomahawk with such precision that he cleft in twain the skull of his slayer. A body of Americans tried to get possession of the body of the dead Chief, but Brenton, who had united his fortunes with those of Tecumseh on the retreat of Proctor, issued from the Tocuniseh. ^i:> swamp at the head of a luinclred vengeful ^^olla\vks, and hurled dieni widi rcsisdess force on die enemy, and, after a desperate light, carried the Chief's Ixxly away in triumph. Niglit was falhng; their leader slain, the Indians fought without concert. A fitful fire con- tinued till nightfall, when the Indians silently drew off the field in detached parties. At midnight six Indian chiefs and a white man might be seen carrying the body of the beloved Tecumseh to its place of burial. It was laid on the bank of a rush- ing stream while the seven set to work to dam the tor- rent. This done, a grave was dug in the bed of the stream, the Chieftain buried, the dam broken, and the waters rolled over Tecumseh. The burial over, the Chiefs, laying their hands on their hearts, vowed to be avenged. Then, without speaking, they plunged separately into the forest. Bren- ton remaiuf^d standing beside the stream. He leaned on his ritle, and looked gloomily at the rushing water for some time, and then he plunged into the woods, and the grave of Tecumseh was never again seen by man, for of those who buried him some were killed in the war, and the survivors had so successfully hidden the grave from human eye that they could not them- selves find the exact place where Tecumseh was buried. After the war Brenton returned to ^lontreal, having been five years away. He lost no time getting back to C , where he found his family all alive and pnjs- perous. But the excitements and hardships he had gone through had broken his health, and he did not live long to enjoy his well-earned repose. Before he died, Q 11 :t 1 . J;.M n M 234 Sea, Forest and Prairie. v.i HI m •1 ; f .' is s; however, he secured a United Empire LoyaHst grant of land in the present county of Kent. He passed away quietly in the summer of 181 5, and a beautiful monument erected by his family is still to be seen in the little churchyard of C . ABIGAIL SMITH. '■M Harwich, Kent Co., Ont. \ • ON LUXDY'S LANE. After the "Declaration of Independence," my great- great grandfather, finding his stay in the United States becoming unpleasant on account of his loyalty to his King, determined to come to Canada with his family, which he accordingly did, crossing the river at Queen- ston, on an old flat boat, and reaching Niagara P^alls about the middle of September, 1786. They were among the first settlers on the Niagara Frontier, and just eight days after their arrival my great-grandmother was born. Niagara Falls was at this time in all its wild grandeur; no villages, no roads, no bridges, no comfortable farm- houses, but all a wilderness of forest, with Indian paths here and there, and Indians prowling about, fishing, hunting, plundering everywhere. The first two or three years they suffered severely on account of the scarcity of food. The country not being sufficiently cleared up to grow grain enough to supply their wants, they lived principally on fish and game, bread being a great lux- ury. Years passed away; the country became more thickly settled; roads were marked out, log houses built, and our frontier country homes began to look prosperous. ]\Iy great'grandmother grew up and was married to a ?ferred the King's domain and prei the Union Jack to the Stars and Stripes. They built 236 Sea, Forest and Prairie. 1 1 ,•' their log house and made their liome in a little clearing north of Lundy's Lane. Here they hegan honsekee])- ing in the simplest way, with a few pewter plates brought from the States, three tea-cups and <^aucers, some borrowed knives and forks, three chairs, a bed and a piece of plank with stakes put in for legs to answer as a table, and a silver English dollar as her marriage jior- tion. l^ut they were happy, and style did not trouble them. By steady industry and thrift dollars increased, the log house made way for a comfortaljle farmhouse, and prosperity smiled upon them. About diis time the War of 1812 broke out; the coun- try was in an unsettled state; people lived in constant fear. The Americans, with hordes of Indians, had in- vaded our frontier; homes were being plundered and destroyed; Niagara and St. Davids were burnt; the war- cloud seemed to grow thicker and darker, and danger was upon every side. After the militia was ordered out my great-grand- mother was alone a great deal, though permission was granted to those having families to go home when not in active service, to provide for the wants of their fami- lies. So it often happened that my great-grandmother was alone with her two little children for days and nights together. Indians were all through the country, and every day they became more daring. One day she was terrified by seeing a great Indian, hideous in paint and feathers, and carrying a murderous-looking tomahawk, come into the house. The Indians know nothing of polite- ness, but went in and out and took what they pleased without ever saying ''by your leave." This time the On Lunch's Lcine. 2\- Imlian can.e in bra.Klisl,i„g l,is to,„al,awk, tossi,,^ it ..P several t,„,es „ver ,„y great-ffra,Kh„o,l,er's hcadL catch.n. ,t aj,ai„. She, foarinR even- mo^^ ' l""i f( ocl. Tins seemed t,> be what l,e wanted for he -o,, dren to spare them a little, ln,t her red friends "riL th ■ r""™'^" '"^'^ '"■■ --'» -d deelined sLarmg the.r booty even vvith the owner, and it was only when one tnrned antb the sleeves tied round his neck. Altogether he presented a most laughable appearance as he^n ch d off proud as a peacock. My great-grandn.other, fear ng a repeffon of the tomahawk scene, said no hing but, with a sorrowful sigh, saw her best bonnet di 15: pear among the bushes. ^ Goods of all kinds were very dear'! contn.on white and blue pnnt and factory being a dollar a yard, and other goods equally high-priced, so that the loss of 1 iPlI m -238 Sea, l''urcst and I'raine. r ; best bonnet and the Sunday eoat was really no laughing matter. Many nights, while sitting alone, my great -grand- mother would hear some slight noise and look up to find two or three red faces pressed against the win- dow, witli the bright eyes watclnng her closely. At such times eggs, or some other trifles, would be found missing, and yet, on the whole, the Canadian Indians were very friendly, and never did anything worse than skulk about and steal, and frighten timid womcii. So the summer of 1814 wore on, my great-grand- father coming home often, and usually bringing with him some of the P)ritish officers. It was expected that all having houseroom and bctls to spare would board and lodge the officers with their wives; so, as the British forces were stationed near Lundy's Lane, my great- grandmother's house became a home for officers. On the third of July Generals Scott and Ripley moved down the river from b^ort Erie towards Chippewa with a force cf four thousand men. They were met by Gene- ral Riall, whose entire force of Militia, regulars and In- dians numbered only a few himdred. The engage- ment was short and severe. The enemy lay in ambush in the woods, and on the advance General Riall's forces were attacked on all sides; my grandfather described the shot as falling around him like hail. After a heavy loss on our side, and when nearly overpowered, the or- der came for retreat. The enemy followed in hot pur- suit. Crossing the bridge at Chippewa our artillery waggon wheels became entangled, a thing not pleasant with the enemy close upon their heels. The drivers whipped and swore, while the horses reared and ■: i m ( )n T.iukIn 's T.anc. 2y) >vcd vith ne- In- ge- iish ces 3ed vy or- ur- ry nt lers nd plunged. Finally, the way was cleared, Riall retreating to Twenty Mile Creek. In the meantime my great-grandfather, not liking the enemy so close, climbed along the rail of the bridge, and, with a companion, fled and took shelter in the woods. Here they found a large fallen tree, with one end raised a little from the ground, and by considerable d to d( (1 lav hid squccznig mann the weeds and grass. Tliey were followed, but, dark- ness coming on, their hiding-place was not discovered. All night they lay hid, scarcely daring to move, listen- ing to the stealth V tread of the American Indians as they passcut death soon claimed the father, and his family were left but poorly provided for. About twelvv* months later Mrs. Allen met James Dakers, an old ac- quaintance, and subsequently they were married, and the family removed to Canada, and settled on a fann north of Rice Lake. The two boys, Tlugh and Alexan- der Allen, becoming dissatisfied with their life in the backwoods, ran away together to the United States, where they separated, and at the o])ening of the Rebel- lion Alexander was residing in Virginia and Hugh in Boston. At this time they had lost sight of each other. Both enlisted, the one in the Xorthcrn army, the other under General Lee. The LTnion Army met the Confederate Army at , where the CiMifederates were completely routed, and many of them were taken ])risoners. Amongst the lat- ter was Alec Allen. What was the amazement of Hugh to see among the ])risoners when they were brought in his brother Alec. "I must try to help him to * cape," he said to himself : "but I am afraid that it is easier said than done; however, I think I know of a plan." i i I « 1 U i 1 ;■; II:! R H i; 244 Sea, I'^orcst and Prairie. E ' " i '. ', Before long, he managed to get speaking to his brother. "You see I'm in a bad fix, old boy," said Alec. "Yes, but Alec, you are my brother, and I could never forgive myself if I did not help you to escape. If you had the uniform of a Union officer, and knew the pass- word, you might manage to get away all right. I will try by some means to get you the uniform; this is the password." Bending his head he whispered something in his brother's ear. He then left and went to the scene of the battle, where he took the imiform off the dead body of a Union officer. He soon managed to give it to Alec, who speedily made his escape to Buffalo. From Buffalo he pushed his way on to Canada. He went to see his mother, and finding her again a widow and over- joyed to see him, he remained at home several months. But one day, as he was reading the newspaper, he saw his brother Hugh's name among the list of prisoners taken by the Confederates at Vicksburg, and he imme- diately set out to his rescue. As he disguised iiimself he had not much difficulty in reaching the town where Hugh was held a prisoner. He passed himself off as a Confederate soldier, who had lately made his escape from the North, and thus succeeded in seeing his brother. He told Hugh that he would try to plan a means of escape for him. They made several futile at- tempts. At length they did escape, but they had not proceeded far on their way when they were recaptured, and brought back again. They were then tried by a court- martial and condemned to be shot. They were kept I Two Devoted Brotliers. 245 his such close prisoners that they were compelled to aban- don all hopes of escaping^ again. Hugh pleaded eloquently for his brother's life. "He is not to blame," he said. "He came to my res- cue as a brother naturally would. He is not to blame. Besides he was not taken prisoner in the war. He even fought on your side in the battle of . So why should you shoot him?" The Confederates, after considering the matter, con- sented to spare Alexander's life, but Hugh they con- demned to be shot. The last interview between Alexander and Hugh was very touching. "You will take sad news home with you, Alec," said Hugh ; "but tell mother that I was taken prisoner while fighting for justice and liberty. Tell her that I would like to have seen her again before I died. I thank you for coming and risking so much for my sake, but it was not the will of God that I should escape." "I will tell her all; but don't thank me, for my coming has done no good. I must go home without you, knowing that in this world we will never meet again." "Hark! I hear some one coming," said Hugh. "You will have to go, Alec, old boy ; don't grieve. Good-by, good-by." Alec took a long last look at his brother, and then turned and left. He was still retained a ]:)risoner, but he was finally exchanged for a Confederate soldier. After some time he made his escape, and, crossing the boundary, he re- turned to his home in Canada. • I. r3 i. mmm 246 Sea, Forest and Prairie. He gently told his mother of his brother's sad death, and gave her his message. lH>r a eouple of years he resided at home. Then he returned to the States, and was there killed in a railway aecident. Mrs. Dakers took the death of her sons very nuieh to heart; so renting the farm, she moved into an adjoining town, where she resided until she died. FLORENCE BYERS. Omemce, Out. THE DEVIL'S MORTGAGE. The Devil's Mortgage! Surely tl,e ^umh were startling enough to suggest the possibility of my hear- in^-- a story; so 1 listened attentivelv to the conversation that was going on, j"l'n J'ierson, an old-time ac(juaintance of father's, liad called to see him, and he and father were talking about the drinking habits of the country a great many years ago. I like to hear John talk; he has a -ood memory, and is a clever mimic of dialect, but this"time the conversation drifted into a channel too sad to be en- joyable. *'It was a bad spot for drink at the corners," said John. -Pat Doolan used to sav that the devil held a mortgage from there to the next tavern on the road." "Did you ever hear of the visit he paid them one night at the tavern ?" asked grandma. "I should think I did," replied [ohn. -There was plenty of talk about it at the time. You should hear the Sullivans tell the story. Thev were there when !♦ happened, and I've often heard them tell the particulars. You see, the fellows always used to meet at the tavern on a Saturday night, ai^l have a high old time of it drinking and playing cards. Well, this night they were gathered as usual, both young and old, in the bar-room The fellows were sitting around a table plaving cards ,.t ; : II: .-,::i IjiMi ! K I f i " •Mi 'r •I' ■ # m 248 Sea, lM)rost and Trairie. the bench, sh Old Joe EfT;-bcrt was stretched ont on me Dencii, sieej)- ing. Near by hitn sat I^at Doolan and Mick l'\)ylo. Pat was a great old gossip and liked to hang rounrl the tavern till it was closed for the night. Mick was a ([uiet, harmless old send, and wasn't one to say much, and as he always agreed with everything Pat would sa> , he was mostly Pat's chosen crony. Poor old Mick loved the whiskey well, but he never had any money, and he would sit hour after hour at the tavern waiting for some one to treat. 'lie be a dacent sort of a fellow,' Pat used to say, 'if he wasn't such a s[)onge.' " *'Hear thim b'ys now, will ye, Mick ?" said Pat ; '^ 'tis a shame to sell the drink to the loikes of thim. Look at that gossoon now. Faix an' tisn't whiskey '11 do him, 'tis brandy he's drinkin'. Sorra a bit o' good'U he ever do his father and mother, and they so proud of him too. lie's spindin' the money like dirt that they've worked and scrimped so hard for. They thiidv to make a gintleman of him, an', as I was sayin' to Peggy the other night, a foinc gentleman they'll make o' him wid his dirty ways. They've sp'iled him beca'se he's the only b'y, all tiie rest bein' girruls, and girruls don't count for nuicli wid some. They say he's brakin' his mother's heart, an' she's sick now wid the throuble." Just then Joe Egbert's snoring became so alarming that Pat could not stand it any longer. ''Be aisy Joe, wid yer brathin'," cried Pat; ''a fellow can't hear himself spake for ye !" Joe was awake now and trying to collect his sleepy senses. "lii guess 'tis time fer me to be movin'," ho muttered ; "Nancy '11 be keepin' my supper 'ot for me." "Shure thin," said Pat, "I'm thinkin' she'll have some- slccp- l"\)ylo. lid the was a niucli, Id sa>, Mick noney, vaitin.u: fellow,' ,t ; '' 'tis Look '11 do Dd'll he of him they've n make s^y the im wid e's the don't iland was half submerged. The gale was truly awful and steadily increased, and the waves dashed completely over the island. ''Jump in," shouted Jack, "or we'll be drownetl out." In a few seconds the skiff was bounding over the foaming waves like a cork. The wind was simj)ly terrific and sent the litde boat flying over the water, but that did not last long, for the boat suddenly capsized, and the two brothers were struggling for their lives in the raging billows. By good fortune they managed to catch on to the ro])e wliich was tied to the boat. The darkness of midnight had settled over the water and it was bit- terly cold. Now it. began to snow hard, but the storn\ showed no signs of abating. Hour after hour dragged along; still the waves ^''*«« dered and roared, and still the two men clung t le 'Pac Storm '4 ' boat. 'IMicy were p^cttinj^- exliaustcd at last with tlic ter- rible stru^(;;le for life, livery minute they were burie-l utuler water by the luij^e billows, and they were contiiUi- ally tossinjaf about in the marinj;- waves. .Suddenly they brushed aj^'aiiisl the tojjs of some willow bushes. The boat was lloatinjj;' over the prairie. The terrifie north wind had piled up the water at tlie southern end of the lake until the low delta at the mf)Uth of i'ied River was ten feet under water. Then another hour passed avvav, — an hour of terriljle anxietv to the half-drowned men, for they were very weak and could scarcely hold on. After awhile the boat swept past more bushes and the men could touch bottom, but it would be drmi^'enjus to let go, so they clun.n' fast to the boat, which was dashed al)out by the waves like a www chip. Al last they jammed into a mass of logs and brushwood which covered the temporary beach, and managed to crawl ashore. Creeping painfully al(»ng through the blind- ing snoW', for their limbs were .ahuost paralyzed by the icy water, they succeeded at last in reaching a house which was crowded with excited halfd)reeds, most of them driven from their homes by the rising water. Next morning the sun rose in a cloudless sky and the day was calm and cleai*, but the scene had completely changed, and, instead of the green trees and stacks of grain, nothin'j" could be seen but snt)W. ten inches deej) over everything, covering the bushes, the fields and the forest with a mass of glitlermg white. 'Jdie trees were yet in full leaf, and some of the grain was still uncut, when that storm swept over Lake Winnipeg. The lake had fallen to its usual level by noon, and the delta over which the two half-drownod men had driftee awav we would wait at the house, instead of freezing at the sleigh. We were both going, when ma said I had better stay at the sleigh, so if Harry came back I would be there. I did not want her to go ak^ne, for the wind was bhjwing fiercer, and the snow was drifting and blowing furiously. She got there all right, however, and came back to tell nie that Mr. Cameron was away, but they were expect- ing him home every minute. At all events we would go to the house and wait, that being a good deal better than remaining at tlie sleigh and freezing. According- ly, we went to the house, where we received a very warm welc<^me indeed. We waited in great anxiety for about Iialf an hour, when we heard a team going to town. I went out, and it proved to be an agent for the Massey Co., who knew our team. I asked him if he had seen anytliing of the runaway horses. He sai71 yes. They were about half way home when he saw them. He thought they would l|! • i1 - < i; M I! I ■<■] I m m ■} 260 Sea, ]'(jrcst and IVaine. be there by that time. Had he seen Harry ? No, he had neither seen nor heard him. Saying that, he went on, leaving us in a state worse tlian before, for we were sure Harry would be lost and frozen to death. Mother was crying and moaning, but I did neither, for after shedding a few tears I thought of a plan. Mr. Came- ron having walked to town I thought I might take his horses and try and find Harry, and having plenty of robes and a fur coat I thought I would not freeze at all, while Harry had no overcoat and would not be out very long before he would be overpowered by the in- tense cold anrl frozen to death. I proposed the plan to the rest, but they would not hear of it. But after a little while I went out on pretence of looking for a team, went straight to the stable and harnessed the horses, thinking how fortunate it was that I had been a tomboy, and knew all about the harness. Just as I got the horses out mother came out, and, seeing what I was doing, told me to put them into the stable again and come into the house, calling me a foolish girl, as I suppose I was. I did as I was bid, after considerable grumbling, but thinking, after all, that they were right. I spent the next half hour in gazing out of the window at the bliz- zard, and, seeing that it was calming down a little, 1 proposed that we should go to the sleigh and bring back the parcels, as there were quite a few things that would freeze. Mother said she would go if I would, as anything would be better than waiting in suspense. Bertie Cameron said he would go too, so we three started off armed with a lantern and a box of matches, in case the lantern s 'ould go out. We reached the sleigh all right, but this was the easiest part, for wading t "'I SIo, he e went e were Vlother •r after Came- ake his enty of e at all, 1)6 out the in- plan to r a little m, went hinking oy, and I horses ; doing, )me into e I was. ing, but lent the he bliz- little, T id bring ngs that ould, as uspense. vc three matches, :hed the • wading On the Prairie in a lUizzard. 261 through the snow witli heavy bundles is no small work at all. The conteiUs of the sleigh-box consisted of two boxes, one large and one sn.iall, besides some smaller parcels and the rugs. 1 managed to get the larger box on to my shoulder, Bertie took the smaller one, while mother followed, or led rather, with the smaller parcels and rugs. We managed to reach the house after a great deal of tumbling anjd stumbling, where Mrs. Cameron was anxiously waiting our return. Mother was com- pletely exiiausted, so Mrs. Camenjn took her off to a bedroom and made her lie down, which she gladly did. She had been gone about two hours when 1 heard sleigh-bells. 1 rushed out, and it proved to be father. He told me to hurry and get ready. I asked hitn where Harry was. He said in the sleigh, and told me again to hurry up. I went in and told them tliat father and Harry were in the sleigh waiting for us. Mrs. Cameron went and begged that we might stay all night. "You will surely be lost," she said. l»ut father said no; that as long as we could keep warm we would be all rigiit as the horses would keep the trail. We hurried ourselves and were soon ready. When we reached liome we found that Harry's big toes, one of his cheeks, his two ears, nose and cliin were frozen. We quickly applied snow and drew the frost, but the skin came off too. The frozen parts were a long time healing and left their marks beiiind. He said he did not know when he got off the trail, for he was walking along all right (as he tliougiu), when he heard bells at his left. He called and fatlier answered, and so he was saved. I caught a severe cold from getting thoroughly chilled, and one of the horses had his heels cut from the ,1 !f, H 262 Sea, r'orest and Prairie. wliiffle-trees banging on them. That was the extent of tlie damages, but tiiink how serious tliey might have l)een if Harry had been lost and frozen to deatli. Had we stayed at Airs. Cameron's we woukl not liave got iiomc the next day, for there was ))lowing a regular "Manitoba blizzard," such as only those who have seen can appreciate. JEXME S. THOMPSON. Roval Sc1kx)1, Boissevain, Afanitoba. MOTHERLESS STILL. irir i '■■ Chapter L In Manitoba there are probably no other months in the year so enjoyable as those of October and Novem- ber. Unhke tlie same time in the Eastern provinces, liere IS rarely a drop of rain, and, although there is hard frost every nig-ht, snow before the f^rst of Decem- ber ,s a novelty. By the middle of November most of the rivers and lakes are frozen over, and then the tvpical day IS bright and frosty, with scarcely a breath of 'wind, while the air is clear and invigorating. The 22nd day of November, 1890, was just such a da^^ That morning Alderman Andrews left his home in Fort Rouge, to go to his office, for the first time in SIX months. As he walked along he could not help thinking of the last time he had passed over that road He had taken his little five-year-old daughter, Eunice who had never known a mother, to the brick house in which he now lived, and had there told her of his inten- tion to give her a mamma. ''Will we come here to live right off ?" she had asked. "Not right off," the answer had been. ^'Mamma and I are going to spend a few months in Europe, and when we come home we shall all live here." She had been so pleased. As they had returned she ■if ■ I 264 Sea, Forest and Prairie. had run about from place to place, chasing the butter- flies, or gathering- the fresh green leaves, and now, how time had sped on ! As he approached the bridge which spanned the Assinaboine river the shouts of a bevy of boys, who were gliding over the ice, greeted his ears. But here his reveries were broken. He had reach(!id his ofHce, and work was waiting for him. He worked steadily on till about three o'clock that afternoon, and then the sun shone so brightly through the window, and the ice looT^ed so smooth, that it seemed almost a sin to spend all the day in the office. Gosing his desk he called to his brother and partner ; "I see the river is frozen over, Alf., so I think Mamie and I will take our first skate of the season. I may not be back to-night." "All right," replied his brother. On his wav home he called at the residence of the Rev. Mr. McBean, his wife's former home, for her skates, which had been left there, telling his invalid mother-in-law that he was going to take Mamie for a skate. "Are you sure the ice is safe ?" she asked, woman like. "Since it has proved itself capable of upholding the bevy of boys I saw there this morning I think it will bear our weight," was the laughing reply, as he hurried away. Eunice had been watching at the window, and was waiting at the door when papa reached it, but a look of disappointment spread over her face when she saw the skates. "Ain't you goin' to stay with me ?" she asked. Mi.tlicrlcss Slill. 26 : )Utter- j, how bridge s of a ted his [c had :k that 1 rough that it ; office. artner : Mamie nay not '*Just till nianima gets on her iiat and jacket," he re- plied; "but you may tell Rachel to have supper by six o'clock, and we'll spend the evening with you." Her face brightened. "All right," she replied; "but won't you Iniild a tower wif my b'oks 'fore you go ?" Patiently he went to work, anjil by the time mannna was ready to go a very handsome tower had been erect- ed. l»oth kissed her: jmpa caressingly telling her to be a good girl till tliey retvu'ned, and together they went out. Little thought mother, brother, or daughter, that they had heard their voices for the last time, and that the next time they saw those forms : "Th' immortal spirits, in the skies would bloom." of the or her invalid e for a woman ing the it will uirried Lud was look of saw the Chapter TT. The brightness of the day, and the tempting smootli- ness of the ice, had proved an attraction for more tiian one, Mr. Chisholm, too, on his way fo the bank that morning, had heard the shouts of the merry groups of boys, and had resolved, if possible, to steal a few hours of that afternoon from business for his favorite pastime. He succeeded, and tliree o'clock found him gliding over the ice, enjoving himself as thoroughly as any schoolboy of the morning had done. He had skated for perhaps half an hour, when he parsed a ladv and gentleman, who were gf)ing up the ri\'er He did not know who they \vere> !>ut as they glided by he noticed that the lady was sligiitly the taller of the two. After passing them he remembeicd the oi)en water a little farther up the river, and turned ' I' it lli: .1 'i.. 266 Sea, i'"urcst and I'rairic. In warn the stranjj^ers of it, hut evidently lliey knew of it, as thc\- were skating toward the bank, as if to evade it. lie had seareely started a^ain, when suddenly he heard a sharp "crack." lie paused an instant, but, thinking- it \vas only the ordinary cracking of tlje ice, started again, but scarce had he started when that in- evitable cry, which seems to come alike from Infidel an(l Christian in the moment of danger, rang through the air : ''(iod help me !" "God save us !" Quicklv he turned, only to see both lady and gentleman strug- gling in the icy waters. Shouting for help, he rushed to the bank in search of a plank, i)ole, anything that could be handed to the struggling couple. .Nothing could be found save a i)lank of an olm we immediately recognize as "Alf.," jumped out. Some- thing in his face made the crowd give way. He pushed on to the edge of the river, and was there met by Mur- ray McBean, on whose face anxiety was pictured as plainly as on his own. Neither spoke, but the look which they gave each other showed only too plainly what their fears were. Alfred Andrews' voice was husky as he said : "Tell me all that is known." It was told, and little as there was the anxiety on either face had deepened into dread ere it was finished. ''I am afraid it is they," was all he said, and together the brothers turned away. They dnwe to the home of Alderman Andrews, and were there met at the door by Rachel, who was becom- ing anxious and nervous over the prolonged absence of her master and mistress. "Are tliey not home yet ?" asked Murray, as if almost (Ireajding the answer. "No. Surely something must have happened. They were to be home by six o'clock. Something has hap- l)ened !" she exclaimed, as she caught sight of his face. "Tell me what it is." Without answering they turned away, and hastened to the river. "Who is it ?" asked some one, as they approached. "J. am afraid — it is — my brother and — his wife," was the broken answer. "Alderman Andrews and his wife." A silence seemed to fall on all who heard it. Scarce anyone there that did not remember some kind word or action from one of them, and none that had not heard of the recent wedding, the wedding tour, or the return of the bride ■|. ,1 H *l 268 Sea, I'orost and Prairie. and fi^rooin. All sccincd to unite to make it sadder, more solemn, more terrible. Hoats had been pushed out as soon as the alarm was given, and the work of searehinjj;' had been steadily pfo- inpf on, but now more eai^i-erly than ever did the search- became t(K) tired to work lonj^er. Hut oh ! how the moments dragj^ed for the anxious throncc on the bank, especially the two brothers, standinji;- silently side by side. Kii^ht o'clock. Nine o'clock. 'i'en o'clock. Not a sign of either bodies yet. Eleven. Half-pa^^t eleven. It wanted but five minutes to twelve, when suddenly — "Help." Every eye was strained, as the peo- ple with bated breath watched the boat from which the cry was sent. Help was given, and then slowly, — o!i ! so slowly to those who were watching, — the hooks were ilrawn up, and the last ray of hope was gone from the brothers. At twelve o'clock the body of Aldermaii Andrews was tenderly lifted from the boat, and laid at his brother's feet. Carefully were his remains carried away, and steadily the searchers went on, but not until twelve o'clock the next day was the body of Mrs. An- drews laid beside that of her husband. The bodies were taken to the residence of the de- ceased, and there, on the morning of the twenty-fifth, a private funeral service was held, after which they were reiuoved to the Council Chamber, where for two brief hours th.ey lay in state. During that short time over two thousand persons took their last look at the re- mains. At two o'clock, as the market bell tolled the Icnell for the dead, the funeral procession — the largest ever witnessed in Winnipeg — was started, and by three o'clock the last solemn rites haid been performed. Mntliorlt'ss Still. J(H) And little Riiiiicc r IJy the time it was known who liad been drowned she had criod herself to sleep, 'Vause manitna and papa didn't tuin home to sni)per," and even when thev had -one in and told the fri.trhtened servant what had happened she had not awakened, hnt her first question the next nioniin«r had heen : "Is pai)a home vet ?" PitvitiiT friends tollovors, snipe, (lucks ane of his im- promptu rising, and gel an ear'y start on the ro.id, so he went to liitch U]) the mxcu, but c<»uld not fin*l tiiem. They had broken their ropes and g(tt away, much to his disappointment. ITe liad gone all da\' looking for them, and came to camp tired, but was agreeably sur- prised to see the animals lying near the waggon, chew- ing their cud ([uite contenledl}', no doubt congratulat- ing themselves upon the fact that the\- ha«{ escaped a dav'swMik. 'i1iey ha'l ci ine niit nf tlu- lon-j; grass d(.>\M\ in a little ravine, within one hundred ya:'us of tlie camp. ^3 2-J2 Sea, I'divsl .'111(1 I'rairit.'. I \l Tlie next flay we crossed the heautiful IVnibina val- ley, in the centre of which Hows the little river, seeming aUoj^etlier out of iiropnriinn t<> its wide valley and very hi<:;^h hanks, which rise in some places to the hei.c^ht of four hundred feet. The ascent was very steej). The oxen could hanllv pnli the load up, but after many twists and windin,i;s reached the to]). After a few more adventures, and three days travel, the vSouris Kiver appeared in sijj^ht. This river and valley very nnich resemble tlmse of the Pembina, except that the river is wider. 'I'here does not seem to be much to attract attention at first sij^iit, but as you travel alonj;- the v.ell-wnt, to return to my subject. I'atlier, having made a small raft, put us and the load over on it, and made the oxen swim. When we reached the farm mother could not help but admit that it was a beautiful one. A build- ing place was chosen that very evening, and in a few days father had made (piite a comfortable sod-house and outbuildings. Everything went well on the new farm; each year brought in a line harvest, and "luck" was good. Mother, however, was troubled greatly from fear of the Indians, who now and then made their appearance, and she was startled more than once, upon looking up from her w<»rk, to see a s(piaw's broad face pressed against the window pane, and peering in at her with a grin that made her slmdder. During the remainder of that fall a great many In- dians seemed to be on the move. An Indian who was talking with father explained the fact in this way: "The Indian will fight the white man in the spring," said he, ''and we are urn-ing our wives to Turtle Mountain. My son is a chief. He will fight, too. The white..' : uses k I 274 Sea, I'orcst and I'rairie. the IiKlian l)a(lly." He then went over a list of j^rio- vances, but fallicr tli about, i^enerally near the river, and occupies his time in huntin.i;;. The scjuaw is always much imposed upon by her lie^e. The s((uaw does all the work; loads the carr, hitches up the team, then, after the day's travel, stakes out the tent, cuts the wood, and does every mean task. Those who have infants carry them in the most careless manner, slnni;' at their backs. The little brown crea- tures are apparently (|uite content with their cradle. .Many a hm.L;- journey in the hot summer does the In- dian mother take with her baby sluni;- at her back in the manner 1 have described. The Indians' t^^reat days and dances form an intercsl- inpf part of their lives. The pow-wows and sun dancer are the principal. In the f(jrnier the Indians ^aiiier to- ^•ether, and their chief makes a speech which seems to .q'reatly excite his hearers; then a dance follows, and, as they s^row more excited, wild yells burst from them. Their faces are usually i)ainted, so that their features ar? (juite disfii^ured. There is something fascinatinj:^ about the scene, especially if it has for its background thv: darkness of night and the light of a big bonfire that casts a weird and ghostly expression on their excited and paijited faces. The performance sometimes lasts for two (lavs. One of Manitoba's llcjnicstcadcrs. ^T:^ tcrcsi- ancc'^ cr to- ns to Ul, il'^ thcni. OS ar.' about 1 the c tlial Kcitc*! last- The sun dance is much like a pow-wow. Thorc is this difference, however, in it; the disunity of bein^ a brave is conferred upon those who underq-o a certain treatment which I sliall descril)e. Tn the first place a space is inclosed by a hi<:;-h wall of small trees and brush; in the centre of this inclosure a lon^ pole is planted, at the the top of which a strinj^ is fastene-in at the be- i^innin.c;- of my story. I think you know that Dan (meaning her husband) is overseer of this reserve. Well, i| 'I ■i| 2/6 Sea, ]'\)rcst and IVairic. m m we had for sonic time noticed the general quietness of tlie Indians, and frequently, when they supposed they were unobserved, we saw them talking among them- selves. So 1 )an resolved t(j go into town and see it there was any news. I watched for his return, and when he came I saw by a glance at his pale face that ihcre was indeed news. He leaped from the buggy — came into the house and said, "Pack what you can lay your hands on quickly. We nnist fly. Poundmaker has been on the warpath three days; his scpiaws are sing- ing the death-song, and he intends this very night to make a raid on the Government storehouses of this re- serve." Tt was then almost dark. I did not stop to pack anything, but snatched my bonnet and ran for the buggy. Two of our friendly Indian boys had put on fresh horses. They knew, no doubt, our danger better tlian we did ourselve^.. Dan took the lines, cracked the whip, and the frightened bronchos sprang on their way to the town. We haxl gone but four hundred yards when the echo of a frightful yell reached us. We turned in our seat and saw in the distance Poundmaker'j> furious braves coming on at the (k)uble (juick. In a few minutes our house was blazing. It was plain they saw us too, for they kept right on after us, yelling and running harder than ever; but they soon saw that our good horses were too fast for them, so they returned fc^r the ])lunder of the storehouse. We could see them in the light of our burning home running around with the captured goods. We reached the barrack, however, and were safe. I feel quite confident that when Mid- dleton with the volunteers arrives that the rebellion will be quickly repulsed. For the Indian at heart is a cow- One of Maiiitoha's llonicslcadcrs. -77 ard; his chief stren^tli hes in his cnnniii^r„ess. Do not be uneasy if you do not hear from us soon, as tiie mail is very uncertain; even this letter may not reach you. ^'our loving sister, KATK. This letter, of course, caused great cxcitemeiit in our home. Hut the rebellion was soon ended (as we kn.)wi. very much to the relief of all concemed; and soon all was peace again. liut memories of those davs of sus- pense will live in the imagination of at least one home- steader. JOHN LI\r\GST().\, Melita School, Souris River County, .Manitoba. BROWN'S LAST SHOT. The followinjT;' story is one of many tliat could be told of frontier life and the early days of the gold mines. At that time there were few families in the country and no schools. There are now many of the scholars in cur schools who were born and brought up here and who know nothing of the outside world, who never saw many of the things seen by everybody at the sea-coast or near civilized places, such as ships or steamers, railways or locomotives, electric lights, phonographs, even corn- fields or orchards. This story is about Jack L , one of Canada's sons who was, twenty-three years ago, a constable at Koote- nay. A man came into the camp at Wild Horse Creek who bore a bad name. He had got out of gaol l)y act- ing as hangman at the execution of some Indians at Lillooet, and, having got his liberty, proceeded to the American side; but in passing through the Colville Val- ley stole the horses of some Dutchmen, rode one and packed the others into the mines. The Dutchmen fol- lowed him, but were afraid to stop him, and came after him 400 miles to Wild Horse Creek before they had an opportunity to take legal measures to recover their pro- perty. They acquainted the Commisssioner of the cause of their visit, and Jack L was authorized to arrest the culprit. So Jack got one of Portugee Joe's mules, the Gov- m nrowii's Last Sliot. -79 Gov- i-ninu'iit liorsos l)cintr al llic randie several miles out of camp. 'J'lic Recorder cautioned Jack aj^ainst going out alone, for Brown, as we will call him, was known to be a hard case. iicsides this, he woukl be into camp, and then there would be no difficulty in arresting him. But Jack th(jught it would be a feather in his cap to arrest him single-handed and he pnjceeded to Brown's camp, which was four miles out on the Kootenay bottom, and about the .same distance from what is now known as I'^ort Steele. Before going Jack went in to bid Judge G good- bye. Judge and constable were hail fellows well met. and allowed no ceremony to stand in the way. The Judge had been gradually failing and was not expected to live through the day, but retained his senses and good spirits to the last. So Jack says : *'Well, Judge, keep ui) your si)irits, you will soon be up again. You are better than half a dozen dead men." ''Oh! get out widi you, Jack," says the Judge, "I'll outlive you yet." And so he did. Jack, having mounted the mule, Joe came out, and, seeing for the first time what mule he had, said: "Jack, don't you go on dat mule; she's bad luck, — too many got killed off her." ]>ut Jack was determined and start- ed out, accompanied by the Dutchmen. When about three miles out they met a gootl-looking man with mild l)luc eyes, but the Dutchmen said excitedly, "That's him, Jack."' "Throw up your hands," called Jack, and l>rown in.i- mediately did so. Thinking of what an easy capture he had made. Jack got off his mule, but he had not no- I! 28 < ) Sea. I'Orc'st and I'rairic, 111 ill ticed that while lie was (lisniouiititip^ lirown had taken off his j;aiintlet and slipped his hand under his blankets, which were done np Anstralian fashion (i.e., in a lony^ coil and thrown over one .shonlder), and pnllinj^- ont a Colt's revolver he^an firing at Jack; the Dntclnncn keepinj^ at a safe distance and lookinj;- on. Jack lo^t presence of mind and ran, llrown firinjjc at him, till at the fonrlh shot a bnllet went ri^ht through his heaposed that he had crossed the river. He had jj^ot out of their reach for the present, but there were only two ways for him to get out of the country, viz., (^lown the river on his raft, or to .strike the trail some distance down and follow it. So they all came back to the camp and arranged parties, two squads to go down the river, one on each side, au'l two to go down the trail. Brown's Last Shot. 2.S1 The Bhickfccl IiuHans were at war witli the Kooto- nays, and hostile parties had picked off several miners travelling between Helena and Wild Horse, so that these scouts had to be careful. After five days and nights of fruitless watching the party returned to camp. The men were afraid that lirown had got clear away when some packers came in from Jose|)irs Prairie, si>- tcen miles out, and said that a man came to their camp and demanded grub at the point of his pistol, and, alter getting it, retreated backwards, keeping his pistol poitit- ed at the poor packers, who knew nothing about the nuu'der. At once a fresh i)arly started out, for they knew that he would take the trail. Two of the party from the lower trail also came in. They had seen him crossing the Mouville River. ( )ne of them was examining the banks for tracks when the other, who was holding the horses, was startled by the sound which I'rown made in striding along. As soon as Brown saw the horses he darted into the bushes. The two men, K and H . innuediately returned to camp, seventy miles, anrown, to avoid the ferrx-, had dellected to the east to cross the river and strike the trail three miles on the other side of the ferry. The men put up their horses at Bonner's, put on their moccasins, an(l,go- ing along the trail past where Brown would come, wait- ed in a clump of bushes. The intention was to wing r 1^ I I ■ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ // ^#f/ M?, 7. 1.0 Ifia III I.I 11.25 Mi Uk 2.5 2.0 IIIIlM 1.4 illli.6 ^^^ <^ /2 ^l % •> % .s^^ ^>/ y A m W/ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 873-4503 ^ rO^ V iV :\ \ ^9) V «' "t^""^ ^y. ci^ V «» 1> 282 v^ea, i'orcst and i'rairic. ■v. 'i m liim aiifl ^"ive liiin a chance to cxnlain. So. when he appeared, one of them sent a bullet through his right hand, in which he carried his revolver. He cursed them and, changing the pistol to the other hand, began firing, for though he had crossed four rivers he had man- aged to keep the pistol barrels dry. There was nothing for it but to put an end to him. This being done, they dug a hole, ])ut him in and covered him up; and came back and reported to N , tlie Recorder. Jack and tlie Judge, warm chums in life, lie side by side on tlie sunnv side of a brae in Kootenay. KATIE BROWN. Barkerville. B.C. THE POTLATCH. We were seated round the fire one winter evening ™ a ew fnends who had lately eo„,e fro„, England Suddenly tl,ere eame a ring at tiie door bell, and in eamc one of the neighbor lads. He told us tl at the Z -Ke of he Potlatch can,e off that night, and aske^" 1 PntlTf "7 ,'° ^°- ""^ S"^^'' ''^'' "«ver been to a Potlatch, and did uot know what it meant so n v brother explained it to them as follows — ^ It IS a custom amongst the Indians that when one of chief, and the easiest way to do so is to give away gifts of blankets and other things to the tribe to which he b - longs. The word "Potlatch," in the lang-ttage of the Chinooks, means a gift, and one of these gatherings to give avvay gifts is called a potlatch. It usually lasts for about four days, and the third night is the grand event of the occasion, as it is set apart almost entirely for danc- ing-not the stately dance of our forefathers, nor the mad whirl of the modern ball-room, but genuine Ind an dances, danced in their own way, and to their own music. ' We all decided to go, but the first difficulty that pre- sented Itself was the methcxi of going. We had ^nTy one sleigh at home and that would onlv seat si.x and there w,.re in all twelve of us; but we did not n,i„d . 284 Sea, I'Orest and Prairie. li little squeezing-, and as it was only three miles we all managed to get in some way, and off we r .ent. My big brother, or the professor, as we commonly called him, had a mouth organ with him, and, in spite ( f the uncom- fortable position in which he was placed, managed to enliven us with various selections all the way to the ranche, as the Indian village is called. Arriving there we were conducted by one of the chiefs to the house in which the Potlatch was held. Let me pause for a moment and try to describe the house. Imagine to yourself a building about forty by eighty feet, with walls about sixteen feet high and a very flat roof. The frame is made by sinking posts into the ground and laying logs across the building for ceiling beams. Then, on top of these, are laid pieces almost like a wall plate, to which the sides are nailed. There are no rafters used at all, but short posts are set on end ^on the beams, and a kinid of purline plate put on, and the boards of the roof run lengthways. In the construc- tion neither square nor level is used, so you can have a slight idea of one of the structures. The fire is built in the middle of the floor and smoke escapes through the cracks in the roof and walls as well as through the hole left in the centre of the roof just over the fire. The ground is levelled down and packed solid, only one por- tion, which is set apart for sleeping purposes, having any floor. When we arrived there were about two hundred In- dians present, and about twenty whites, who had come to witness the performance. Amongst them was the Indian agent for the district, Mr. Lomas. As we were acquainted with him he secured us seats in the most 5 we all My big led him, iincoiii- laged to / to the ig there louse in ribe the forty by d a very into the • ceiling- ; almost There on end on, and Dnstruc- i have a built in Ligh the he hole , The >ne por- having red In- d come vas the le were 2 most The Putlatch. ..35 favorable position and f om time to time interpreted to us the meaning of the different dances. They commenced the performance by giving away about fifty pairs of blankets and a few shawls and other similar articles. Just as they had finished this we heard a loud noise of yelling outside, and we knew the fun was about to commence. Presently the door opened and in came about a dozen braves dressed in costumes repre- senting different animals. As each came inside he would spin round on one foot and make a bow towards the new chief, and then would commence racing and capering round and round the fire. They came in one by one and the last had gone round the fire a couple of times, when, at a signal, they made a rush towards the spectators. The one that came towards us was dressed as a pig, but carried a knife in one hand and a toma- hawk or hatchet in the other, which he brandished round and round his head. I am only a small boy and was in the second row of scats, but I felt my blood run cold, and, if there had been any possible way of escape, I would have run for my life, but as the rest did not seem very much terrified I thought it best to remain where I was. Each of the dancers came round in turn and ex- hibited himself to us and looked very inquisitively into our faces. When each had fully satisfied himself about the audience they all retired and a number of girls took up the dance. Mr. Lomas explained to us that this dance was intended as a prayer for success in hunting during the next year. I had almost forgotten to describe the music. About a dozen Indians were seated tailor-fashion beside a small log, each having a couple of sticks about a foot long and 286 vSca, l''oic.st and i'niiric, H an inch or so in diameter. They heat on the log- with these sticks and all kei)t time while they sang-. As nearly as I can remeniher the words were, ''Hi, ya, ha, ha, ha; hi, ya, ha, ha, ha, ha," prononnced in a guttural monotone, and as loud as they could yell it. The g-irls all had their hair hanging loose about their shoulders and wore bright-colored petticoats and jack- ets, but were barefooted. I cannot describe the step used in the dance, but it was not unlike the polka step. Each danced alone, and as she swayed back and forth she waved her hand round her head and twirled her fin- g-ers. Some of them looked very graceful. Our inter- ])reter told us this dance was called ''The Maiden's Prayer," as none but maidens were allowed to take part in it, and that each one prayed for a husband. The next dance was what we called the feather dance, and while they were preparing- for it some of the Indians joassed round refreshments in the shape of pilot bread and smoked salmon. Air. Lomas told us they would be affronted if wc did not eat something- so we each took a couple of biscuits and a portion of the fish. I suppose the Indian small boy is like his white brotlier, or at least he must have that reputation, as they insisted on my hav- ing a double portion. I tried a piece of the salmon, but as it had not been cooked I did not care for it, and put it in my pocket. They nuist have thought I ate it and enjoyed it immensely, for one of them came along and forced another large piece upon me, which must have weighed at least a pound. I kept this in my hand until after the dance had begun again and then put it into my pocket. Fish makes a good bait for a mouse-trap, so I was provided with bait for another month. The J'otlalch. 287 When the nuisic hcg-an a.q'ain a Iarp;-e wash-tub was broiiii;-lit into the mifldlc of the ring near the fire. About a dozen Indians in full war-paint and (hx\ssed in Inick- skin came in, each with an ordinary eagle's feather in liis hand. They began dancing round and round the tub, — suddenly each threw his featlur into the air, when to our intense surprise they remained floating in mid- air, each feather keeping above the chief who had thrown it. In a few minutes the feathers went off in a kind of independent dance, sailing here and there through the rocim. When beckoned lo, each would turn to its station above the head of the cliief who threw it. Presently the cliiefs stood in a ring round the tub and walked backwards, when the feathers all fell into the tub. The Indians standing round dashed buckets of water on the feathers, and thoroughly soaked them. Suddenly the feathers rose fnim the water and com- menced sailing all round die room, shooting hither and thither. As each chief retired a feather would come sailing from the opposite end of the room and go out with him. We could not discover the means by whicli it was done, but we were all satisfied there was some trickery about it. The Indians appeared intensely ex- cited about the niatter, and gave forth various vocal sounds, which can only be pronounced bv an Indian. There was no particular meaning to this dance, it being done to show the whites how clever they were. Next followed the mourning for the dead, or die sob dance. All the old squaws on the ranche took part in this. They marched round the room once, widi dishev- elled hair anrl ragged clodiing, before the music com- menced. Then, widi one accord, they began to wail 28cS Sea, I'orcst and I'rairic. i I and sol), each one Inigging herself and swaying back and fordi. Occasionally, one would become frenzied with grief and tear her hair, giving vent to the most doleful wails ])ossible to imagine. liy this time we had become somewhat wearied with the performance and wished to go; but the Indians would not allow us to go before the dance was over as it would l)ring bad luck on them, so to please them the rest decided to stay, much to my disai)pointment, as I was so slee])y and tired that I hardly knew what to do with myself. There were only two more dances, and I assure you I was not sleepy when once they started. The first was a regular war dance, in which an imagin- ary battle was fought, and ended with a hand-to-hand fight. It was frightful to witness it, even though it was only sham. They yelled with the real war-whoop, and occasionally a man w'ould fall as though he were dead and the process of scaljiing was gone through. Those who fell groaned most dismally. The new chief led one side, while an old warrior led the attacking party. They bcth showed considerable military talent. Finally, the attacking party was repulsed w'ith great loss. We all cheered most heartily, which pleased the Indians very nuich. The last dance was a general one, in which everybody (except the whites) joined. Each seemed to vie with the other in making a noise, and the racket was terrific. As soon as we possibly could we got away, and arrived at home about two o'clock in the morning. MERLE HALLIDAY. \'ict()ria, B.C. AN ADVENTURE OF JOHN TOD. John Tod ruled at Kaniloops. He was a chief trader of the Hudson's I'.ay Coni])any, and was at the head nf the Thuswap District. He lived at Fort Kamloops, which was one of the oldest tradini,- places in the Far West, and frequented l)y seven different tribes of In- dians. They were the Atnah, the Kootenia, the Oka- ni.jran, the Similikameen, the fierce Feet, and die hospit- able Kaniloop. These all belonged to the Thuswa]) family. The surface of the county around Kamloops and Thuswap was chiefly an open plateau, covered with g-rass. and occasional trees. In winter it is cold and in summer hot. In the spring there are many flowers, and in autumn there is plenty of food. The scenery is bold and varied. Now John Tod rui.ed over all the land above and below him, and on either side as far as he chose to go, but his subjects were few. At this time there were with him at the Fort, besides his wife and three children, only half a dozen men, and a half-breed boy. John Tod was not what we might call a hand- some man, nor was he learned or polished. He was a Scotchman, who, after coming to America, Iwl fallen back into the primitive ways of mankind, and had be- come like a savage. He was tall and bony, with a small neck rising from sloping shoulders, and had a narrow high head, with light brown hair, matted and stifY. Above a Scotch nose were glittering gray eyes full of J(J() Sea, I'oR'Sl ,'111(1 Trairic, pcrpoliial fun and intolH.tii'cncc, and hclovv it a lar^^^e niotilli. \n\\ mio-lit say when ho talked that he talked all over, every inch of his hody niovinp;'. Anion.u;' the Indians he was verv !>( werfiil, there 1 eini;- a srpcistit'on that they eonld not kill him, as he had heen starved, cnt, shot at, and yet never heen killed, thouq'h even the bravest warriors had taekled him. They considered him a trne kini;-. There was also another man, a white- washed Thnswap sava.m'C, in this re.qic^i, who was a mon- arch too. Tie was called by the Company ''St. Paul," hut by the ( atliolic priests [ean I'aptiste Lolo. He was noted all mer and every vsava.i^e had heard of his deeds of darini^'. Vov twenty years before Tod's time he had lived near the Fort on qdod terms with the fur traders. His authority amonq- his people was absolute. Being" a man of mental force, dissatisfied with die Company's trade jari;'on, he had learned Canadian French, and spoke it fluently in old a.^e. He loved horses, and kept many for his own use. Now in this year, 1846, those two kin,£;s were at their best. Tod domineerin.c;' and reck- less, Lolo not so wealthy in horses. But there was one horse of a band of three hundred belon,f lolni Tnd. 291 kept those reck- as one Fort t, and l^est •ty of a^nty- siip- itives. d the lights jtting- ready to ^n to hed, a knock was heard at tlie door, and Lolo ai)pearcd. 'I'he \'\)yi J^^'ltcs were open as it was .1 time of peace, and Tod was alone witii his family and unprotected. Thout^h much amazed and frii;htened lest the party was in danj^er, he was Indian en(-)U,i;h not to seem sur- prised at anything. He continued to prepare for bed, hut he was becoming anxious. Tod motioned Lolo to a seat, and offered him a pipe and tobacco. "Your family will be glad to see you," saiT on next moming, and amis were carefully attended to At sunrise they started at tiie usual i)lace. Soon they reached a little plain surround ;;d by thick bushes and extending to the river. He told his men that he would go ahead three hundred yards, and for them to march when he did, and stop when he did. Then he went on apparently careless, but with his eyes and ears wide open. He spied on one side of the plain behind some bushes a large band of painted Indians in war ar- ray, with no women or children among them. They had seen liim and were brandishing their knives and guns threateningly. What was he tc- do? He vowed on the spot that if he won the day Lolo should have the horse, as he was right. But what was needed to be done must be done quickly. So he told cue of his men to take back the horses, and if he was killed to make haste to the Fort. The horse with which he hoped to win was a magnificent animal, strong and swift. The enemy, coming out from behind the bushes, watched the fur trader's movements closely. An Adventure of lolm Tod. ^93 Tlie conflict would he one man aj^fainst three liundrcd; there is no use for a ^un row. Turning his horse toward the savap^cs, Tod spurred him and gallo[)ed straight toward tlie Indians. They raised tlieir guns, but lie did not flinch or stop. On he went, and then, with eyes flashing and head erect, the horse was turned to the left and right, and then made to describe a half circle directly for their midst. Any one else would have been killed instantly, but they were curi- ous, as it was not every day they could see the chief trader before them prancing around, so they did not fire. When he was angry his smile was most terrible, and he was very angry then. He spoke fair, but they were afraid. However, they could soon kill him. "Now, what is this you want?" said the trader. "We want to see Lolo," they replied. " Where is Lolo ?" "Oh! he is at home, poor fellow!" "What is the matter?" they asked, crowding round him. "Oh! I am very sorry for you, my friends," said Tod, "the small- pox is upon us, the terrible, horrible small-pox — an Okangan brought it from Walla Walla. Yes ! the dreaded disease is here, and that is why I came, — I came to tell and save you. But do not come near Kamloops till I send you notice. I have brought you medicine so you Avould not die. Indeed, I could not sec you die !" The Indians then began to cry, "O Mr. Tod, save us, do save us!" Not more than ten minutes had been wasted in this achievement. It was true that the trader would help them to medicine to his full extent. Between his thumb and finger Tod held the will of the nuiltitude. Not a word about conspiracy or murder, but fear must be kept alive. It was not enough that they should ->.;4 Sea, I'Orcst and Trairio escape, hill llie salmon must he had. "You sec yonder tree?" "^'es." "Cut it down." The women now came t)ut, and 'J'od, pointing;' to the smoke arising from the hnslies, said, "Sell salmon to the men at my camp." As soon as the h«)rses were loaded with salmon they were slarlCKl for home, and then, desiring that they should gel well on their way without molestation, Tod sat down on one log with his feet on another, and said, "I'^ifty of your hravest chiefs strip each right arm." The foremost chiefs were selected. "Go down to the river and wash the arm," was the next order. Then, drawing from his pocket a knife and siMue vaccine matter, he set to work Soon they were vaccinated, and then they were instructed how to vaccinate the others hy the seal). "It was a strange sight," said Tod afterwards, "to see them walking around with their right arms in the air, and as they could not use any weapons till they were healed, we were quite safe." Lolo got his much-covet- ed horse, and Tod was worshipped ever after. The conspirncy was thus hroken up without any loss of life bv a clever artifice. FREDERICK LYMAN BEECHER. New Westminster, B.C. yonder Ml now g from camp." n\ they It they )n, Tod lid said, I." The ic river Irawing ittcr, he len they l)y the irds, "to in the ley were i-covet- The of Hfe ER. A.\ Al)\ I':.\'IIK1': l.\ ('ARIUol . It was tlic autumn of the year 186 — . About one hundred men were miniiif^ on the yuesnelle Lakes in a corner of Cariboo, wliich, in 1854, turned out tons of gold \v('rth al)out four million dollars. JUtt this was the maximum, and year after year the (juantity dimin- ished, so the miners struck farther inland into more diffi- cult places. They had seen the surface of the bed-rock strewn with gold mixed with dii% like the grains of wheat mixed with chaff at the tail of a fanning-mill. Now they dreamed that, farUier in the hills and nearer the sources of the rivers, they would discover the har- vest-fields of gold rii)e for i)icking. Jjut as the autumn of this year came on many of the miners got away from the camps at the head of these lakes, and it was felt that if, when all hands met in winter quarters at Yale, die re- ports from lione Lake, ]U)na]\arte, Chiscoozle, or the North Tlionii)son rivers, told of rich strikes, that the workings on Uie Horsefly wonld never have the water baled out of them; and widi diis pros])ect in view the shopkeepers let their stock run down. Mat vSimons held an auction, and sold watches as low as seventy dol- lars, and oilclodi suits for three ounces of gold-dust. Then he packed his needles and thread over to Skook- iimchunk Creek, where he explained to Black Bear, the chief, that the man who made needles was dead, and then sold die ])alance of his stock, twenty-seven needles, for a dollar apiece, and diread for a dollar and a lialf a 296 Sea, Poorest and I'rairi^'. i i'!»;! spool, after which he parted with his pipe, a red sash, and four buttons from his vest, for three strips of veni- son, and tlicn strucl< the main trail for home. ]\Iat had seen a good many camps, and the sacrifice of his stock and desertion of the Horsefly discouraged tiie boys. Beer and whiskey went down to a dollar a drink, or twenty drinks for an ounce of gold-dust, and Johnson, who dealt in other su])plics, put out a shingle offering bacon, butter, tobacco, tea and sugar, at a dollar per pound, and flour, salt, beans and dried apples, for seventy-five cents. It was expected that Antoine Mileto, the Italian freighter, would bring in another load of supplies, but the weather got very wet and he turned out his six mules to grass, and lived mostly on fish which he caught in the lakes. The men were loth to quit the mines, especially as they did not know whether they would be back to the same diggings next year, so they stayed on till the rains got colder, and the snow-lines crept down the mountain- side. They all said "the fall was early, but there would be fine weather yet, and any time before Christmas was all right to get home." The 28th of November was a cold, rainv dav, and trees on the mountains were cov- ered with snow. During the night die wind blew in gusts, and the miners in their cabins had to bury their heads under the blankets for shelter from the snow, which drifted in through the roofs, and in the morning many a man went kicking around to find a shovel with which to shovel the snow from the fireplace so as to build a fire. It was bitterly cold — twenty below zero — and every man knew it was time to start. About thirty- An Adventure in Caril)oii. 297 cl sash, :>i veni- lat had is stock 2 boys, rink, or ohnson, offeriuij liar per lies, for ItaHan Hes, but ix mules ht in the cially as k to the he rains untain- e would liias was r was a re cov- blew in ry their snow, [lorning el with o as to zero — It thirty- five, under the leadership of Donald McArthur, started that day. The rest waited till the day after. Some made huge packs of clothing and food ; others took but little. McArthur was from one of the Eastern provinces. He had come to California in 1850, and was at one time worth a great deal oi money. He now led the proces- sion, broke the track, and built the fires. In two and a- half days he was at the Forks, where an old man namel Hatch lived, with every one of the thirty-five men that had started with him. Hatch was gone, his cabin left empty and desolate. Hauled up in an obscure place was a large scow, with a mast in it like a sloop, a craft which ]\IcArthur had used while freighting on the river. It was seventy miles to Quesnelle Mouth, where there was a town. But no shelter was nearer. There were rapids, dangerous for a deeply-laden boat, wide places where the scow must be rowed, and shoals where she would go aground; but, thankful that they would not have to tramp through the snow, they crowded on board. The weather was very cold and the scow leaked, but hour after hour McArthur kept his place at the steering oar. He was first to take an oar when more headwa\' was needed, and first to jump overboard and lift, when the scow ran hopelessly aground. At four o'clock the third day the scow ran into the landing at Quesnelle Mouth. Here they were told that all the miners were in except those at the Horsefly diggings. McArthur knew that there was no food at any place on the road, and no boat but the one he had come in. "Those men will never get in," he said; "we must send them food." ;<- barrens, dotted here and there with grey rocks, and the monotony unrelieved, for ten miles on either side, by a single house, or tree. In front of it lay the road, long, white and dusty, stretching away like a narrow ribbon toward Liverpool, forty-five miles distant. About the old house this October morning, in the year 1850, there was no sign of life, save the thin wreath of smoke curiing upwards from the large old-fashioned chimney, until a rattle of wheels broke the stillness, and around a bend in the road came a ramshackle okl waggon, drawn by a gaunt sorrel horse, and in the waggon sat a stout, middle-aged man, roughly and shabbily dressed. Just in front of the Half-way House he stopped, or, rather, the horse stopped (the only thing it ever did 3C2 Sea. Forest and Prairie. 111! willingly), and the man, liaving alighted, led him to the barn, and, leaving him to enjoy his feed of oats, advanced towards the house, and, lifting the latch, stepped into a long, low room, the very ideal of an old- fashioned kitchen, with its bare, spotless floor, and huge fireplace, in which a great pile of logs was l)laz- ing. Although the hands of the old-fashioned clock pointed to the hour of noon there was no sign of din- ner. As the man noted this a dark frown rose to his face, and he spoke sharply to a woman who had turned from her occupation of spinning at his entrance. "Why is it that dinner is not ready, Mary?" "I did not notice that it was so late," answered the woman in surprise; "and, besides, I wanted to finish spinning to-day. I will call Jennie, thougn, and we will get the dinner at once." "And must myself and the mail wait because of your carelessness?" growled the aggrieved one, flinging his hat into a corner, and himself into a chair by the fire- side; "but there's always something the matter in this house." "If this house had a good master thee would be nothing whatever the matter with it," retorted the wo- man, shaiply, as, with the assistance of her little daugh- ter, she began to prepare the plain meal. The face of the "master of the house" flushed a deep red at this thrust, and there were roughly spoken words in that kitchen after that. Things went on from bad to worse, and at last the quarrel reached a climax. Springing to his feet Annison confronted his wife with clenched fists and fliishing eyes. %,^r4»;il*t?«a:>i.'^ Retribution. 3<^3 "As surely as there is a Heaven above us," he ve- hemently declared, ''I will never speak to you again!" Without another word he turned and left the house and in another moment was driving swiftly awav, while his wife went about her work, her anger turned to r)e.ii- tence, but trusting to time to make all right between them. John Annison had carried Pier Majesty's mails for years, ever since he had brought the young bride to the Half-way House as its mistress. Far and wide he was known as a man of unyielding pride and iron will. In all his life he had never broken his word. He made it his boast, and he did not intend to break it now. When he next saw his wife there was not the slightest gesture or look that might have been construed into penitence for his rash vow. The few remarks she ven- tured to address to him were not replied to. The next time he came home he fou)id her alone when he entered the kitchen. After wanrn'ng himself before the fire he took a small slate from his pocket, and writing upon it, "Where are the children?" passed it to his wife. Not at first comprehending what this strange proceeding might mean, she look the slate and read the sentence. Then, as it slowly dawned upon her thai her hus- band had really been in earnest, her face blanched lo a deadly white, and she raised her unbelieving eyes to his stern face. "John," she said, "does this really mean that you will never speak to me— to your wife again?" He took the slate from her hand and wrote upon it the single word. "Yes." 304 Sea, Forest and Prairie. i !! Mrs. Annison's face turned even whiter, and, rising, siie s^lided noiselessly from the room. Reaching- her own chamber slie cast licr.self prone upon the floor, and the grief that swelled h.er herirt al- most to bursting found vent in tears. When she had wept until she could weep no longer she arose. "I have not deserved this treatment at my husband's hands," she said, slowly. "Since he lias cliosen to put a gulf between us I shall make no effort to bridge it * (jver. Silence be it then." After bathing her swollen eyes, and arranging iier disordered hair, she descended to the kitchen. Her iutsband was still there, and also the three chiklren — two sturdy boys and one daughter. Mr. Annisc n was talking to his children, and all four were laughing noisily. A sharp pang pierced the mother's heart like a dagger, but she made no sign, only went quietly about her work as usual; and as the days and weeks wore on, as they lengthened into months, she found it less hard to bear her husband's silence, but the old weary ache never left her heart. And so the years glided by, leaving her with the old burden and the old pain, but bringing no changes. H: :|! H« * ^- ■'>■ The snow had fallen heavily for a week past, and on this wild November night was falling still. The shrieking wind seized the huge white drifts, and Hmig them about in the air, and against the v.'indows of the Half-way House, with savage energy. And on this terrible night, w^hen the spirits of the air were fighting each other, the mistress of the Ha If- way Flouse lay dying: in the little chamber in which she had sobbed Retribution. .m this lier heart out, more than twenty years before, lay wait- ing for the coining of that mystoritnis messenger whom men call "Death." The wood fire, built upon the hearth, threw its fitful gleams about the j^lain room, bri£:^hteninc!f the time- worn furniture, and, casting its light across the pale face of the dying woman, propped high among the pil- lows. She had aged terribly during those twenty }ears of silence, for not once had her husl'and s])oken to her since the day of that quarrel so long, long ago. Their children had grown to manhood and womanhood, bad each in turn pleaded with their father in the hope of softening his heart towards his wife, but in vain. Even when he knew that her days on earth were nearly imm- bered, his stubborn pride refused to yield. He still carried Her Majesty's mails between Anna- polis and Liverpool, and to-night he was somewhere, on the road, perhaps lying dead under a snow-drift. The dying woman stirred, resdessly. "John!" she moaned; "oh, where is John? Surely he will speak to me before I die. Jennie, come here!" A young lady rose from her kneeling position by the fire, and advanced to the bedside. "I am here, mother," she said, softly. "Has he come?" whispered the mother. "Not yet," answered Jennie, sadly. "If he should come too late you'll tell him to come — to come — too late. I — I — " Her voice died away in husky whlsper>, and she* sank back among the pillows once more, while the daughter returnerl to her sorrowful vigil. 3o6 Sea, I'^orest and Prairie. 'i Silence fell over the chamber of dcatli. Flic fire flickered and gleamed, and piled die corners full of dusk> shadows, while outside die snow sifted against the windows, and the winds sobbed a requiem for the dying. Then there was a sound of hasty footsteps; the latch was lifted, and John Annison stood on the threshold. He, too, had changed, but the old expression of self- will still lurked about his mouth. He .^ockI silent for a moment, and then crossed die room to his wife's bed- side. The dying woman opened her eyes. ''I knew you would come," she said, in a quick, excited whisper. "I'm dying, John! Speak to me once, just once.** The old man stood looking at his wife, and his strong face gave no sign of the storm raging withhi his heart. He had forgiven her long ago for the angry words she had spoken to him that day, but the thought of his vow had prevented him from telling her so. He had never broken his word. Should he break it now? ^'I'll never s])eak to you again!" The v/ords seemed written on his brain in letters of fire. Every way he looked they confronted him. Then his eyes fell iipon the pleading, upturned face on the pillow. Couid he let his wife die without one word from liim, her hus- band. He took the thin hand lying on the coverlet in his, and his lips i)arted to speak, but no sound came from them. Jennie sat with tear-blinded eyes fixed on her father, wondering at the hardness of liis heart. Silence for a time, and then the dying woman whis- pered: "Good-bye, John! Say good-bye to me." The old man began writing something on the little Retribution. 307 now: cctiied ray he upon d he hus- et in came fixed eart. whis- Httle slate lie carried, and then handed it to his wife, who had watched him with yearning eyes and parted lips. With an anj^^uished face she motioned it away, and sinking- back on the pillows covered her pallid face with her hands. Silence again. There was a bitter strug- gle goine* on in the old man's heart. Jennie stole close to him, and laid her hand on his arm. "Have you no heart?" she whispered. "Will you — *' There was a gurgling sound from the bed, and with a quick breath of alarm the girl hastened to raise the pallid face on which the damp of deatii was gathering. In vain! The messenger had come, and for the suffer- ing woman life, with its stonns and sunshine, its joys and sorrows, was nearly over. The old man saw this, and he forgot his rash vow, forgot everything except that she was his wife, and he loved her, and the name that had not passed his lips for twenty years broke the stillness. "Mary! Forgive me!" The pallid lips made no response. The dimmed eyes did not brighten. The old man knelt beside the bed, and as he saw death creeping over her face, he cried: "Tell me that you forgive me!" There was a light in the dull eyes now, but it was not of earth. The snow-white head sank lower on the ten- der hands that supported it, and in the solemn presence of death the old man bent over her, and his cry of an- guish rang through the silent room: "Mary! Speak to me once more!" Too late! With noiseless footsteps the messenger had departed, and the first beam of day, falling into the still chamber, glorified the sweet, dead face upon the 3o8 Sea, Forest and Prairie. pillow, until it looked like a "beautiful petrified prayer/' With a face of marble Annison turned, and pointed to - wards the door. "Go!" he commanded hoarsely; "leave me alone with my dead." And the sobbing girl passed from the room, leaving the old man to reap the whirlwind which he had sown. "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord; I will repay." ^r 3|C 3(* "p »j* »t* "It is time old Annison was along," said the upper hostler, shading his eyes with one hand, and gazing up the street, through the blinding storm. "Haven't known him to be so late since the night his wife died, five years ago. He says that he'll die on the road, and blamed if I don't believe him. Not to-night though," added the man, "or here he comes now." A horse of marvellously attenuated frame walked slowly up to the inn, and, halting, stood with drooping head and wind-tossed mane, evidently waiting for his driver to alight. But the snow-covered figure sitting in the old sled never stirred. "Hello, old chap," called out the upper hostler, cheerily. "Pretty tough night this, but you pulled through all right, as usual. Rather stifif, eh?" Silence. The wind stirred the bufifalo robe and blew the snow up against the motionless figure, but it never moved. "Is he asleep, or drunk, or stupid, or what?" asked the man impatiently. "Here give me the lantern. Now, then, old fellow, whal's the — oh, my God, Joe, he's dead!" Retribution. 309 For the man raising the lantern so that its rays might fall on the motionless figure, had peered into the face of a corpse. "Frozen to death!" was the verdict given at the in- quest. "The Judgment of God," whispered the neighbors, as they stood by the coflfin, and looked down at the face which the Death angel had touched. But the blind eyes could not see them. The deaf ears could not hear them. At last he had found rest, and the remorse gnawing at his heart was stilled. For him no vain repentance, no more sorrow, no more cold, no more hunger. - He was — dead! E. MAUDE F. SAUNDERS. Laurencetown, Annapolis Co., N.S. THE NOVA SCOTIA GIANT. 11 Nearly every person in the Dominion of Canada, and a g^reat many in the United States and other coun- tries, have heard of Ang^us MacAskill, the Nova Scotia giant. He Hved on the north side of St. Ann's Harbor in this county, and only about two miles distant from where I live. My father was well acquainted with him, they having fished while boys out of the same fishing station, Neils Harbor, and from him as well as from neighbors and a few other sources I have learned some- thing of the character, size, strength and career of this remarkable man. Fishing then being the principal industry, in early life he followed that occupation with his fathers and brothers at the station above named. His father was a small man but very strong for his size, w'hile his mo- ther was somewhat taller than the common. They were both born in Lewis Island, Scotland, where their famous son was also born. They had five sons, exclu- sive of the giant, and two daughters, all of the ordinary size and strength, and the most of them still living. Previous to sixteen his growth and strength were nothing unusual, but after this a great change was not- ed in his size, as he grew wonderfully fast and at times showed his wonderful strength. Being of a mild dis- position and somewhat inactive in his motions, it was only when his nature was aroused that he gave proof The Nova Scotia Giant. 31 i rly life 3 and r was s mo- They their xclu- inary ng. were not- Itimes dis- was roof of his strength. His heiglit was seven feet nine inches, and this being so much higher than the common his father had to raise tlie loft a foot or two to enable his son to walk in without stooping. I have seen his coat and boots and other articles which he used and are preserved by his brothers. I tried the coat on and finding it, of course, too large I called two other friends who accompanied me to come into the coat with me, which they did, and it easily but- toned over the three of us. The length of the boot was eighteen inches, and I could readily put my two feet into it. Although of this size he ate no more than an ordinary man. It will be seen from the following incidents, which happened when he was quite young, that his strength was great even then. Being ploughing one day with a pair of young oxen who, toward evening, were get- ting lazy and required a great deal of driving, he got rather angry with them, and, unyoking them, took hold of the chain himself, told his father to hold th^ plough, and before dark had the piece of land plough- ed. At another time three or four men were vainlv endeavoring to haul a boat of codfish. At last the giant came along. He told half of the men to go to each side and hold the boat level while he went him- self to the stem to pull; but what was the surprise of the men to see him carry off tlie stem, gunwales and part of the upper planks. On another occasion he was coming ashore alone in a boat on a stormy day when his boat upset in the surf near the shore. Tlic boys ashore began to laugh, thinking that the giant had now his hands full; but vou can imagine their wonder to 312 Sea, Forest and Prairie. II, see him shoulder the boat and triumphantly wade till he reached the shore, and then walk up some distance till he came to a big rock where he smashed the boat to atoms and then emphatically declared that that boat would never be the means of drowning another man. After this he was another time at home hauling a birch log with an ox, which either refused or could not haul it. The giant, getting a bit aroused, shouldered the stick and carried it home. Not long afterwards a con- ceited Frenchman from Cheticamp, who thought him- self quite a pugilist, came over to have a fight with the giant. On the eve of fighting they shook hands, but such was the shake and the squeeze the hand of the poor Frenchman got that he spent a good part of the remainder of his life in an hospital trying in vain to mend his broken bones. Another day he came over to buv some articles of a Mr. Munroe who was doing business on the place now occupied by my father, and on which I live. Mr. Munroe, who was a big, power- ful man and a good wrestler, wished to try the giant's strength. After much pleading the giant consented to grant his request, and before Mr. Munroe knew where he w^as had grasped and pitched him about ten feet over flour barrels to the other end of the room. Mr. Munroe afterwards asserted that there were lumps on his sides from the grip the giant gave him. I could give many incidents in his earlier life illustrating his great power before he left home, but must refrain as I wish to give some account of him after going abroad. While he was fishing, as stated above, a Mr. Dun- seath, a sagacious Englishman who was trading around the coast, noting* the giant's size and strength, thought The Nova Scotia Giant. 3^3 It would be a profitable investment to hire him and ex- hibit him in foreign places. Accordingly, after much pleading, the giant consented to go. At this time \vas:es were low everywhere. Dunseath at first exhib- ited hmi through Nova Scotia, and afterwards through the whole of Canada, the United States, West Indies, England, etc., and made a fortune out of him. The second year the giant engaged differently with Mr. Dunseath. They were to divide the profits equal- ly, and this year the giant amassed quite a sum of money. On this tour he was exhibited with Tom Thumb, and it was one of the most interesting features of the show to witness the contrast between the two — the dexterity with which Tom Thumb went through some performances in conjunction with the giant. He would dance on the palm of the giant's hand and jump from one hand to the other, and then the giant would put him in his pocket without the least trouble. The next year he engaged with a different man on much the same agreement. During this trip he was presented to the Queen, who expressed herself as be- ing happy to see that giants were reared in new as well as old Scotland. He also visited the West indies, where he was known as Mount Kaskell, and on the voyage hence they were pursued by pirates, and but for the giant's strength and bravery they would, in all probability, have been killed or made captives. After this he visited New Orleans, where a bet was laid against him that he would not lift an anchor weigh- ing a ton. He raised the anchor easily and put it on his shoulder, but when throwing it orf the fluke in some way caught on his shoulder and is supposed to have 314 Sea, Forest and Prairie. something to do with his untimely death, as that shoul- der was ever afterwards lower than the other. He visited Spain, where he saw the brutal bull fights, and there, also, he saw the desecration of the Sabbath as he had never seen it before. Although that was the most profitable to him of all countries he had traversed the utter ungodliness of its people had such an effect on him — he being a God-fearing man — that he longed for his old home where he could have quietude and live in the midst of Christian people. Accordingly, he started for home, where he arrived in not very good health. He started in the mercantile business and prosecuted on a large scale the salmon fishing, in which he was very successlul. He bought farms for all his brothers and put them all in good circumstances, and in more ways than one showed his generosity, hon- esty, patriotism, and every other good principle. But an attack of slow fever utterly prostrated him, from which he never recovered. He died in the prime of life at the early age of thirty-eight years, and was buried at Englishtown. The length of his cofifin was thirteen feet. Only a common gravestone marks his resting-place, and in no other place would such a man fall but a monurnent would be erected to his memory. DAN McLEOD. Munroe's Point, St. Ann's, N.S. A correspondent in a post card to the "Witness" asked if such a man as the Nova Scotia Giant, as de- scribed by Dan. McLeod in his story in the "Witness" ever lived, and hinted that there were grave doubts on ,»> The Nova Scotia Giant. it:; the subject. This card was fonvarded to Master Mc- Leod who, in reply, sent this letter: Munroe's Point, St. Ann's, Oct. 29th, 1890. ^ Gentlemen,— Yours of the 23rd inst. to hand, and in reply heg; to say that I am very much surprised at the card you received, as I thought nobody within the bounds of the Dominion had any doubts as to the ex- istence of the "Giant" (at least those of mature years) The fact that the story was published in all the leading local papers of the island without any contradiction by the newspapers or the readers thereof shows conclu- sively that the authenticity of the story was undisputed. Now, m conclusion, I beg to refer you to the follow- ing uninterested parties, to whom you mav write for credibility. Hoping that this will settle their unbelief, I am, sincerely yours, DAN McLEOD, Victoria Co., Cape Breton, N.S. John. A. McDonald, M.P., Jolin L. Betluine, MD M.P.P.; Rev. K. McKenzie, Baddeck; Donald McAu- lay Customs officer; Lt.-Col. Bingham, Englishlown ; John McLeod, J.P., St. Ann's; Alex. McLeod, mer- chant, Jane McLean, Postmistress, Englishtown; J. McLeod Postmaster, St. Ann's; M. Munroe, Postmas- ter South Gut of St. Ann's; M. McLeod, Postmaster, Eel Cove; D. McLeod, Postmaster, Nordi River Bridge; Capt. A. Carmichael, Munroe's Point St Anns. All of Victoria Co., Cape Breton, X.S CADIEUX'S GRAVE. Many years ago, when the Canada of to-day was yet in her infancy, and before the axe of the settler had diminished her virgin forests, or the influence of civili- zation had begun to be felt among her savage inhabi- tants, the Ottawa region was often the scene of atro- cious cruelties and bloody conflicts between the various Indian tribes. The most powerful and fiercest of them all was the Confederacy of "Five Nations," commonly called Iroquois. This warlike league, when not haras- sing the colonists, made incursions into the territories of the Indian tribes friendly to the French settlers, or lay in wait for the trappers descending the Ottawa with their packs of valuable furs. These incursions almost invariably proved disastrous, not only to the Hurons, allies of the French, but often to some adventurous white trader or trapper, who, as agent for one of the fur companies of those days, or attracted, perhaps, by the large profits to be made in the "Peltry Trade," would leave the settlements to hunt with the friendly tribes through the winter months. It is the fate of one of those daring men we wish to describe. In a secluded spot on the eastern side of Calumet Island, immediately above the Grand Calumet Falls, and distant from the water's edge a hundred yards, more or less, lies a rude and lonely grave. A small heap of stones, supporting in an upright position a decayed wooden cross, roughly put together, is all Cadicux's Grave. 317 or [met [alls, Irds, nail In a all that serves to mark its site, if we except the innumer- able crosses and short prayers cut in the bark of the surrounding trees. More than a century has elapsed since this litde cross, standing alone in the forest, was first erected; vet it still stands a humble memorial of French courage and Indian gratitude. The story to which it bears silent witness is as follows: In the spring of 17 — , tradition has it, two French trappers, accompanied by a small party of Hurons, were descending the Ottawa river in bark canoes with the furs they had collected during the winter, and had proceeded in safety as far as the head of the Grand Calumet Falls, when scouts brought in the alarming intelligence that a large band of Iroquois was lying in ambush at the foot. At the moment of receiving this direful news the little party was busily engaged in packing all its effects in the most convenient shape for carrying around the falls, and we may be assured that the unwelcome tidings of the scouts brought an ab- rupt pause to the operations of the party. Tlie pre- sence, in force, of the dreaded Iroquois at this particu- lar point made the position of the Hurons very perplex- ing. To proceed along the portage loaded with their effects would be to fall an easy prey to the waiting foe ; to return the way they came was, for many reasons, not to be thought of, and to remain where they were would be utter folly. The only other alternative was to bodily embark in their canoes and run the falls. This way of escape was truly a hazardous one, and yet after debating their situation, they resolved to adopt it. From the fact that they should have decided on such a perilous enterprise as the best or only means of escap- 3i8 Sea, I-'orest and Prairie. ♦I incf tlicir enemies we may infer tliat tiieir position was desperate in the extreme. To run the ra])ids widiout accident was not all that they hoped to accomplish. To ensure their safety it was absolutely necessary that their enemies should net become cof^nizant of their de- sign, and as the Iroquois from their place of conceal- ment had a good view of the rapids the first duty of the Hurons must be to dislodge them, or at least dis- tract their attention. To efifect this they had recourse to stratagem. Two Hurons were to retire into the woods a few hundred yards, discharge their firearms and utter loud cries, after which they were to conceal themselves until such time as they could in safety fol- low their companions; or, finding this impossil)le, they were to await the return of the party. The remainder of the Hurons were to launch their canoes as soon as they heard the cries of the two in the forest, trusting in the probable result cf which, and their skill with the paddle, to elude the foe and cope successfully with the angry waves. It appears that there was some dii^culty at first in getting volunteers to play the dangerous part of de- coys, all preferring to trust themselves to the mercy of the raging waters sooner than run the risk of falling into the hands of the cruel Iroquois; but eventually one of the two French trappers took up his gun and pro- ceeded towards the forest, upon which one of the Hu- rons, not to be surpassed in courage by a white man, immediately followed his example. In the course of a few minutes the welcome sounds which were to be the signal of departure resounded through the forest, and the litde fleet, without the loss Cadicux's Grave. 319 of a moment, pushed from tlie shore. Strange t(j re- late (and to many this part of the story is incredible), the passage was effected without the loss of a single man; and after a most fatiguing voyage they reached their destination in safety, there to tell the dangers they had cscaned, and the wonderful feat tliey had achieved. In tiic meanlime what liad become of the Huron hunter, and his ally, the brave Cadieux, for by that name the devoted Frenchman is remembered? Left in the midst of fierce bloodthirsty savages, keen as bloodhounds in scenting their prey and less merciful than they in destroying it when found, were these two generous men so fortunate as to cover their tracks and to baftle the trackers? As to the fate of the Huron tradition does not tell us much; but it is generally sup- posed that after playing the part assigned to him he contrived to join his party lower down the river. Of poor Cadieux, however, we can speak more confidently. Less crafty than the Huron, he found it impossible to traverse the labyrinths of the forest, infested with ene- mies, in safety; and it is said that after performing his part he hastily climbed a large birch tree and concealed himself amongst its branches. Here he was compelled to remain several days, as the Iroquois kept continual- ly prowling around his hiding-place. Picture to yourself, sympathizing reader, the miser- able position of this poor man. Surrounded by watch- ful enemies, he dared not move to ease his cramped limbs, lest the observant savages should detect the movement. A rustle of the branches, a falling twig, or the crv of a scared bird, alone might serve to betray his place of concealment to those interpreters of the 320 Sea, Forest and Prairie. laiifjuage of the forest. Mow slowly, how tediously the cold spring nights to this chilled and famishing man must have dragged their weary lengths along. The cold glittering stars above — were he capable in his cheerless situation of contemplating their beauty — could bring no comfort to his despairing heart; the stealthy footstep beneath, denoting the proximity of a foe, could but augment his fears. I'^or days he pa- tiently, wearily, clung to his branch, but human en- durance has its limits; and at last, when utterly worn out and unable to retain his position longer, he ven- tured to descend. Happily the Indians had vacated the woods in his vicinity, but as they might be still on the aj It, not far off, he resolved to practise every cau- tion. Starving, he refrained from using his gun when a well-directed shot would have procured him food; and, shivering with cold, he denied himself the luxury of a fire. He was too cautious. For a few days, cer- tainly, it was advisable that he should pursue this course: but to continue it until the return of his party was sheer follv. We must not censure his conduct, however, for perhaps he had disadvantages to labor under of which we know nothing. His powder may have become, useless through exposure to damp, or he may have expended all he had brought with him be- fore climbinc the tree; and he may have wanted the ma- terials to make a fire. We cannot say. We only know that for some very strong reason he used not his gun, nor kindled a fire, and in consequence found it a hard matter to keep soul and body together. To ap- pease his hunger he dug in likely spots with his hunt- ing knife for roots and shrubs, and to shelter himself CiKlic'ii\'s (ji"i\e. .^-»: le this party »nduct, labor |r may or he im be- ma- only lot his id it a o ap- hunt- limself from tlie ilcws of iiicht lie fashioned frt)m the bark of the birch tree a large seiiii-cyliiidrical ("ut no sound issues from his lips. He tries again, but a husky whisiuT, scarcely audible to himself, is the only result. His voice is gotie, and with it tlei)arts his last hope. With a tlespairing sigh he tails back with closed eyts into a state of lethargy. Poor Cadieux! Thou art very unhapi\v, but a joy- ful surprise is in sti.re for thee. Deliverance is at hand. Tust at the moment of his falling back into his bark- en cotTui an Indian, who had penetrated deeper into the forest than his companions hapjUMied to be passing, and the slight sound made by ("adieux did not escape the acute ears of the savage. He paused in a listening attitude; the sound was uoi repeated; Init possessed in a hii:h des2ree. as all Indians are, of the (luality oi in- ((uisitiveness, he stepped through the undergnnvth in the direction whence the noise had proceeded, and tiiere at his feet lay the object of his search, the dying ('adieux. His white, emaciated countenance and im- mobile features resembled death so closely that the joy of the Indian was somewhat danijunl. He clutched the shoulder (^f the dying man, sluKtk him, called him bv name, and at the jsounds uttered in well-known gut- turals the dying trapper unclosed his eyes. For an Cadioux's (iravo. 3-23 instant ho gazed feebly upwards at the duskv form iHMuimg over him; for one instant only liis confused "Hnd failed to take in the situation; and then, as mem- ory came back and mind grew clear, there passed into his eyes the light of recognition, and with a half-articu- lated cry of joy he sprang upward with arms (Uitstretch- cd to clasp the neck of his saviour. The strength which enabled him to rise was bnit momentarv, and de- parted ere he had touched the object of his gratitude. He fell feebly back, his face illuminated bv happiness and when his Indian friend bent to lift iiim he was (load. In his feeble state he was ill able to bear ex- citement, and the dc.paired-of joy coming s<. suddenlv Killed him. On the very spot he died the s.^rrowful Indians hol- Knved out a siiallow poor Cadieux had rendered them tl for tl le servK grave, over which, out of gratitude erected a small wood ie\- Ion cross. An Indian, it the saving IS verified in th is said, never forgets a good turn, and IS instance, for, for more than a hundred years the story of CmVwux has descend- ed from fatl KT to son, so that to-dav it is well I the descendants of the Huron 1 when the rafts of ui liters. E known to ver\- vear met little parties of Ttul scjuare timber are passing the Cal u- often be seen wendinir tl ians and bVench-Canadians m IV and should a .strain g tiieir way toward the forest th rer ask the ([uosti on. ey going to do?" he would 'What are Thev receive for I are going to murmur a praver, and lis answer. bv 'Cadieux's Grav cut a cross. Bryson P.O., O MINXTR ARHIIJ. ue.